#i promise this is just because it's the number eight and all that

[a-quilted-milky-way]

well i suppose that means that the vriskening™ will 8e upon us once i finish posting these kenochoric homestuck gendies

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

-----

You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel.  You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home.  The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy’s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

(Patreon)

[1d1195]

Two Negatives

~9.8 k words

From me: I promise it’s not going to be about math that much. This is an academic rivals sort of thing. It’s going to have at least two follow ups but this is the whole story overall. I think there are parts of it that are kind of hand-wavy and whatnot. Not completely connected or explained.

Warnings: Maybe if you read this the right way you may notice that Harry's a little bit of a sugar-daddy. Low self-esteem, cheating, mentions of sex stuff.

Summary: Harry loves annoying the girl in his classes. She's an easy target. And more often than not, she teases him right back.

Which Harry is an absolute sucker for.

“Hey,” he hissed.

She ignored him. Instead, her gaze bounced back between the board where Professor Charles was writing on the whiteboard and the paper in front of her alongside her notebook, dated and titled ready to jot down any issues she had as they worked through the new material.

Something hit the back of her head. Nothing that hurt. But she felt it in her hair. Probably a gum wrapper. Or maybe the actual piece of gum. She wouldn’t have been surprised. She reached behind her head without looking, grateful it wasn’t a piece of gum, and she dropped the wrapper in her bag beside her to dispose of later.

He dropped his calculator off his desk (flung it was more accurate) so it landed right by her foot. She didn’t flinch as it clattered and ignored the curious peeks of others looking at her like she was the one causing the noise.

“Give me a pencil,” he was right next to her, grabbing his calculator.

“Go fuck yourself,” she whispered so quietly she wondered if Harry could even hear her.

“Please! I forgot!”

“You always forget,” she hissed back.

Professor Charles cleared his throat. She glared at her paper as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. How dare Harry embarrass her in front of her professor because he was too stupid to bring his own pencil again. She placed dots on her graph as her professor did, stabbing at her paper a little too hard. Pretending it was Harry’s Voo Doo doll. Just so it would stop. So he would stop. But no. He was still knelt beside her.

“Mr. Styles, is everything alright?” Professor Charles asked.

“Yup, just tying m’shoe,” he said and stood up with a grin. That grin probably got Harry out of a speeding ticket, especially if he was pulled over by a female officer. Probably got him out of homework when he was in school because he knew how to make anyone feel flattered and good about themselves.

That stupid, pretty smile of his with the most adorable dimples probably melted any woman that looked his way.

Professor Charles rolled his eyes as he turned back to the whiteboard. At the same time Harry plucked her pencil from her grip mid stroke of the number eight she was writing. Before she could protest or even fully grasp that her writing utensil was stolen, Harry was back in his seat... right behind her. She took a deep breath and tilted her head to the ceiling trying to keep herself calm so she wouldn’t scream at him in front of everyone. So, she wouldn’t look like a lunatic. Why did he have to sit behind her? She reached into her bag and pulled out her pencil case and continued writing as if Harry hadn’t interrupted her at all.

*

She didn’t have a class following her lecture so she would have a second to breathe and eat, which wasn’t the case most days. Fortunately, she was head tutor at the academic center in the library which wasn’t far from the dining hall. It was also pretty easy going at the center, so she could eat while working. But it was always nice to pretend and be a regular student and eat in the hall. She listened to music and read her book. The only hour she got to read much these days. After tutoring, she would be headed to one more class before she was back to work at the college bar in the center of town.

Her schedule was mapped out to the minute. Her days filled to the brim with school and work. Because she didn’t have a choice. It was the same way every penny of her budget was scheduled and allotted for other things as well. It didn’t leave time for friends.

“Hey gorgeous.”

Well, one friend.

He pecked her cheek before sitting across from her. “Class good?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, how was yours?”

He reached over the table, held her hand, and skimmed his thumb along her knuckles. It was sweet. If it wasn’t so forced. “Good,” he smiled.

Isaac was an extremely handsome guy. He was popular, smart, and funny. His family had big plans for him and that was why he was on this prestigious college campus.

“Hi Isaac,” a flirtatious call sounded from across the room. He turned to find the culprit but came up short.

“By the door,” she said. Isaac turned releasing her hand as he did and waved at the girl who dissolved into giggles. After greeting the masses, he turned his attention back to her. “Can I suggest something?”

“Of course you can, girlfriend.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you really want to be with the kind of girl who will openly flirt with someone in a relationship?”

“I think everyone knows it’s a fake relationship.”

“Regardless,” she shrugged.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, my love,” he winked. He grunted when she tossed one leg over the other beneath the table and perhaps overshot just a hair.

She met Isaac on the first day of college. She was bringing her own stuff into her dorm room alone. His parents caught sight of her. Recognized her as she looked like her mom’s twin from way back when they all roamed this campus themselves. But unlike them, she was there under very different circumstances. She greeted them politely, smiled, and chatted as she knew best.

But Isaac approached her later that evening. She was sweaty from unpacking all alone. Her saving grace was a dorm room to herself. Perhaps the only lucky thing about her freshman year. This place screamed money. Money that she didn’t have anymore.

Isaac screamed money. “I need your help.” So, Isaac made sure she didn’t die of hunger and didn’t become a complete social pariah. Made sure she was taken seriously because of course this campus was littered with people who didn’t believe smarts could come without money.

In return, she was to be a doting girlfriend. When his parents were around, she was to be a fixture on his arm. Would it last forever? Probably not. But at least she would be okay for four years. She was kind, lovely, the exact kind of girl they expected their son to find and help keep him stable to take over his father’s company.

The kind of girl that would let Isaac be with whoever. Of course they had their moments. Like the lunch breaks such as the current one. Making appearances so that if anyone asked it wouldn’t be unheard of that they were together.

But she was no stranger to the whispers. That poor girl has no idea her boyfriend is cheating on her.

Fortunately, she didn’t have time for a boyfriend. Especially not one like Isaac. So, if her fake boyfriend was cheating on her, then at least she didn’t have to deal with it. Each time his parents came to town it wrecked her schedule. Wreaked havoc on her study time. Her work time. After three years, it was starting to feel like more of a give and less of a take in comparison to him.

But Isaac was nice enough. He still thanked her profusely—especially when his parents were in town. He didn’t use a lot of tongue when he kissed her in effort to keep up appearances. Knowing where his tongue had been, she was grateful.

“I’m not jealous,” she told him. “I care about you enough that I don’t want your heart to get broken.”

“You know I don’t have one of those.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, I’d be happy to throw you a bone, my love,” he leaned toward her, his eyes flirty and his smile lascivious.

She snorted. “Not even if you boiled it in disinfectant.”

“Orgasms help with stress.”

“I’m not lacking in orgasms. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Kinky, baby,” he winked. “You actually got me hard,” he told her. He wasn’t trying to sleep with her so much as he was willing to sleep with her. When they first arrived at college there were several firsts that both needed to accomplish and well, the fake dating wasn’t the only thing they were able to help each other out with. But after three years of rumors and knowing what Isaac was like outside their fake relationship, she was glad she got to him before all of the rumors swarmed around her.

“I have to go to work,” she told him getting up from the table.

Isaac really was a nice friend. Lovely even. But only if they were really alone. As time wore on, he got cocky and annoying—especially in public. It seemed like he was doing more of a favor for her than she was for him (even though she stopped asking him for things almost a month into their arrangement—shortly after she heard a rumor of a threesome).

But his parents loved her. They didn’t ask questions about his schooling or dating life because of her sweet nature. Originally, she felt guilty over their lie. But now, she was resenting that part of him more and more. He was a pretty good friend. But he was a dick of a boyfriend. “Are y’hungry, baby?” He asked.

She shook her head, cheeks blushing, and anger tingling in her blood. She hated the way he spoke to her in public; he sounded so condescending. Not at all like the kind and caring boyfriend he was supposed to pretend to be or even the kind and sweet friend he was behind closed doors. “Shut up, Isaac,” she sighed. His ego played a massive part in their friendship. He was rich and popular. She was not. “You sound like a douchebag.”

He pressed his lips to her ear, wrapped his arm around her waist. If she was looking in from the outside, she was sure it looked cute and romantic. “Mm,” he hummed ignoring her insult. “Can feed you something later,” he winked.

She knew people were watching so she smiled, leaned toward his ear. “If you’re going to feed me, I need a full meal.”

He chuckled, rolled his eyes and pecked her lips. “See you later, baby,” he kissed her softly again as he said it. “Gonna make sure you’re nice and full,” he promised loudly as he walked away. Not so loudly, that everyone would hear. But certainly loud enough for Harry Styles, who walked into the dining hall at that precise moment, to hear.

“Wow, bit extra for the dining hall,” Harry smirked. She glared at him, her cheeks warming.

“Don’t suppose you have my pencil?”

“Hmm,” he tapped his hands over his pockets. “Sorry Your Majesty,” he bowed in his over-the-top kind of way. “Clean out.” She rolled her eyes, grabbed her stuff, and made her way for the exit. Harry grabbed her hand at the last second pulling her back to look at him. “Y’okay?” He asked. “Y’look tired.”

She snatched her hand away. She was tired. But it didn’t feel good for it to be pointed out that she looked tired. “Thanks, I guess,” she rolled her eyes again. “I’m going to go now before you have a chance to insult me again.”

“Hey,” he frowned and called after her again as she continued walking away. “M’serious. Y’look like you’re getting sick.”

It was extremely unfair that Harry noticed that. “Are you concerned about me, Styles?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Someone has t’remember t’bring me a pencil.”

“You could very much bring your own pencil.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t get t’have these lovely conversations every day, would I, Your Majesty?” She shook her head and ignored him as he continued speaking to her. “Hope he fucks y’good and full or whatever,” he called. She glared but refused to look back at him.

*

Harry appeared in one of her classes on the first day of her second year. A transfer from another school. His smile was panty-melting. Truly. Even she could recognize that. But regardless of how pretty he was, it was obvious how annoying he was going to be. He slid into the seat right behind her. “Hi,” he smiled. She ignored him, focusing on her professor starting class syllabus stuff. Besides, it seemed unlikely that someone like Harry was talking to her. “M’Harry,” he whispered.

She started scribbling on her notebook.

“He hasn’t even started yet,” he mumbled.

“Can I help you?” She turned around to look at him.

His smile was breathtaking. It really felt like he stole the breath from her lungs. “Sorry, Your Majesty. Didn’t mean t’interrupt y’doodle. Do y’have an extra pencil?” He asked.

She stared at the twenty-year-old man in his second year of college unprepared for his first day of classes. Perhaps if she rolled her eyes and ignored him, the trajectory of her life might have been something else entirely.

Instead, she handed her pencil to him.

“Thanks, Your Majesty.”

She rolled her eyes, anyway, facing forward.

*

In her Abstract Algebra class Harry was right behind her once more. “Psst.”

She ignored him. But his body was closer, his voice was closer. “Your Majesty,” he practically sang.

“What is your deal?” She hissed.

“I need a pencil.”

“Bring your own.”

“I like the one y’gave me. It wrote so smooth.”

She doesn’t know why she gave him a pencil.

But she really did know.

Harry was obviously handsome and from the way he chuckled under his breath over the lame jokes their professors made, he was quick and probably funny in his own way. But moreover, he had to be intelligent. Really intelligent to understand a pun about probability theory. The way others in the class fawned over him (guys and girls alike) it was apparent he was popular. Maybe popular like Isaac which made her dislike him just a bit.

It went that way every class. Harry was in four out of five of her classes both the fall and spring semester. Every class he needed a pencil. Each day he thanked her in his ridiculously attractive accent. Your Majesty.

What a dick.

But Harry talked to her. Even if it was just asking for a pencil. Or a picture of the notes he missed from when he went to the bathroom. He didn’t care that her family was broke. That she was broke. That she worked three jobs and hardly slept. He didn’t make her feel like she didn’t deserve to be on that campus.

“Did y’get the answer t’number nine?” It wasn’t a trick; he wanted her answer. Her opinion. “I got two different answers three different ways. There was no judgment that she couldn’t afford the extravagant lifestyle that her peers did. She had one winter coat. Not six to match her outfits. She didn’t have a car. She didn’t go out to eat and she made her own coffee except for on Saturdays when she splurged and treated herself to her favorite bagel and her favorite coffee.

Maybe it was because she saw him at a party. A girl at his side, smiling at him. Twirling her hair and touching his pretty chest. It was effortless. She didn’t have to try to flirt with Harry. It was a given. Rich, popular, perfectly pretty. The same as Harry.

Everything she wasn’t. Everything Harry would never want.

So she tended to Isaac. Kept to herself.

Gave Harry an absurd number of pencils.

Which continued into their third year. Where things got busier, harder, and more overwhelming.

But Harry was always right behind her. Asking for a pencil. Making her cranky.

But always making her feel normal when no one else did.

*

It was obvious Harry had money. The key on his ring had a symbol for a car that would never be in her price range. His clothes were pretty, the latest trends. Even his sweatpants looked like they were designer.

Maybe it could have been that way for her. Maybe if her dad hadn’t embezzled all their money. Hadn’t gone to jail and left her and her mother with anything more than a penny. Growing up she didn’t feel rich, but she never wanted. But right as she was applying to colleges, with only one college campus that made her heart happy, it was the first time in her life she thought about and hated money.

She imagined no one on campus ever felt that way.

But even if Harry had the nicest clothes and the nicest car, he never flaunted what he had. Not even to his friends. He didn’t show off or act like he had a ton of money. He was just there.

Which is why perhaps, when he annoyed her to pieces, she didn’t mind giving him a pencil in the end.

*

It was a bad day. She missed her mom. She was exhausted. Didn’t have time to make herself a coffee which just felt criminal. The test on her mind nearly brought her to tears as she sat down in her seat, seconds before her professor walked in.

Her pencil case was empty.

Part of her felt sad she wouldn’t have a pencil for Harry. Would he ask someone else? Would he stop asking her because of it? God, why did she even care? It was a blessing. He would stop asking her. She wouldn’t have to keep wasting money she didn’t have on pencils.

Plus, he wasn’t even there.

The test landed on her table. Her brain felt weary. Was she getting sick? Probably. Stress did a number on her immune system. It was a miracle she wasn’t sick all the time.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes she tried to calm her mind. It wasn’t the time to think about the reading she needed to complete, the shift she was covering at the academic center, or the dinner she was really looking forward to splurging on. It had been ages since she had chicken in her pasta dish.

“Hey,” how long were her eyes closed? How did she miss him coming to his seat.

“I don’t have a pencil, Harry,” she hissed back.

“Of course, y’do,” she could hear his eye roll.

“I don’t, I forgot my pencil case.”

He snorted. Her eyes flicked to Professor Charles who didn’t look up from his own paper at the front of the room. “C’mon, quit being a brat.”

“A brat?” She whispered.

“Quiet,” Professor Charles still didn’t look up.

“Sorry Your Majesty, jus’ give me a pencil and—”

“I don’t have one!” Her voice was quiet and maybe if she wasn’t only two rows from the front of the room, it wouldn’t have been a big deal when he pulled it out of her grip.

But she was towards the front.

Professor Charles stood beside their desks. “You’re both excused.”

Her face felt hot and pale at the same time. She felt like she was going to throw up. The feeling of eyes on her made her more embarrassed than the time she tripped and fell at her third-grade band concert. “Professor Charles,” she started.

“Enough,” he snagged her paper from her desk. Her throat felt tight, her eyes prickled, and she thought that maybe in a different life she could have been friends with Harry. Liked him, even.

But not then.

She bit on her lip to keep from crying as she packed her stuff into her bag and marched out of the room, head held high, and ignoring everyone’s stare. Especially the guy following her out of the classroom.

*

She slapped the door to the building as Harry continued following her. She was fuming. Practically steaming from his perspective. Yet he couldn’t help but think she looked absolutely adorable. “Quit fucking following me!” She snapped.

“My God, you’re so uptight,” he rolled his eyes.

“Harry Styles, you’re an absolute dick. Just leave me the fuck alone, for God’s sake.”

It garnered the attention of a few onlookers. But their path to the dining hall was quiet given it was the middle of class time. "Jesus Christ, do y’ever jus’ take a break? S’one fuckingtest, Your Majesty. For fuck’s sake. He’ll probably drop it. Quit being a baby."

A sniffle. One small, tiny noise.

"You don't get it do you?" She snapped. She didn’t want to. But she couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was too much. The final straw.

In the entire time Harry had known her he had never seen her this upset. Not like this. Not to the point where she was crying.

Because of him.

He made her cry.

"I have a squeaky-clean record. I have to be perfect all the time. I can't let one hair be out of place. I can't get one bad grade. If I do, then everyone around me makes comments and they assume it’s because I have no money. The poor girl can’t hack it here. It's this massive pressure on me all the time. I can't get caught doing normal party things. I can't get caught cheating on a test, Harry. I can’t. I lose my scholarship if I don't maintain my GPA. I can hardly afford to be here, Harry. I have to work three jobs. I have to budget every minute of my time as much as every dollar of my bank account. Do you know I haven't been home in three years? I miss my mom so much and I can’t even afford to go see her and I just pretend because—” she covered her mouth and Harry swallowed hard, willing himself to not cry as well. This wasn’t about him. This was all about her right now. “And now,” she croaked. “I’m going to have to skip dinner because I need to buy new pencils because I have been giving them to someone who’s too fucking inconsiderate to even fucking return them after annoying me for no better reason that for kicks.”

Her sniffles turned into sobs and Harry had never felt like more of an ass. He thought she was annoying at worst, but he never wanted her to cry.

Her crying, all her tears, they were all his fault.

"I study so hard. I have to. But I want to. I want to make enough money to support my mom, and I can’t do one thing wrong because if I do then I’ll lose everything. I have to study. I’m not like you, Harry. You just know everything and that's amazing, Harry, it really is,” and for the first time since he started interacting with her, Harry felt horrible for the way he had treated her. The compliment she gave was so thoughtful. The kindness in her voice was unmissable. He was practically shocked it even came from her mouth. “But not all of us are gifted with insane intelligence like you. Not all of us are God's gift to women and can go out and party and not be judged for kissing someone I like. Not all of us can afford to be here without help."

Harry kept his lip between his teeth to keep from speaking.

“I’ll get over it,” she sniffed. “Sorry for being so uptight.” She wiped her face and stalked off toward her dorm.

Harry had never felt worse about himself.

*

She wore her best interview dress. Her hair was pinned precisely so that the pieces that constantly flew away were at bay. She swallowed the rock that formed in her throat as she knocked on her professor's office door.

"Come in."

"Professor Charles," she was grateful he didn't look up because she was worried, she was going to curtsey or something equally ridiculous. "I wanted to apologize—"

"Your boyfriend already came to tell me he's at fault for the fiasco in class. He took full responsibility and said it was extremely unfair of me to refuse you the exam."

Her heart skipped a beat. "M-my boyfriend?" She whispered.

"Mr. Styles is very bold and I suppose I was a bit harsh. You are a brilliant young woman and role model to your peers," he praised. "Would you like to take the test now or schedule another time?" He asked looking up from his work.

She swallowed. "Um..."

"I would appreciate it, if you took it now. I need an answer key to grade the rest of them," his voice was steady, but she felt the compliment down to her bones. "I have a class in two hours, and I was hoping to check grading off my to-do list before it started," he explained.

She felt uneasy, overwhelmed, but not like she did when she sat down the first time to take the same exam. "I can do it now," she whispered and dropped her bag at her feet and situated herself at the table on the side of his office below the window. She got to work and completed the test as if all it asked was for her to write the alphabet down. She was checking over her work when she glanced out the window and saw the sprawling campus. There were people walking by at fast clips. Eager to get to the dining halls and rushing to make it to their classes on time.

But in the midst of all the people running by, there was Harry, sitting on a bench. His arm stretched across the back of it, while the other held his phone. He crossed his feet at his ankles and looked like a model for relaxation.

He took the complete blame for the test. She felt her heart aching and she stood from the table and went over to her professor's desk. "Is... Mr. Styles able to retake the exam as well?"

"I wasn't planning on it," he looked up at her. "Why?"

She bit her lip, looked at her feet. "I could have just given him a pencil."

"Mr. Styles should be prepared for his own education," he said knowingly. There was no way she was going to explain her relationship with Harry to her professor. Plus, she wasn't sure she'd be able to. She dropped her gaze and handed off her exam. "You can tell Mr. Styles he can come up and take the test," he said simply. "I have the answer key now."

She blinked.

"He'll probably ace it as well, but your handwriting is neater," he shrugged, tipped his glasses further down his nose and silently read her answers. She stood still, like she was waiting for the danger to pass. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?" He asked glancing back up. She shook her head, pinned to her spot. The strangeness of it all was overwhelming. "Men like Mr. Styles are going to have it a lot easier than you. The field you’ve selected is male-dominated and many will sell you short because of your gender," he said. "That doesn't mean you need to worry about your worth," he assured her. "You are a brilliant, hardworking, and talented individual. Mr. Styles should be bringing you pencils to class."

Her cheeks felt warm.

"Also, to be fair, it's nice to know you're not cheating off of each other because it was getting a little suspicious," he turned her exam back across his desk and wrote her score at the top of her page, upside down—98%. "Missed a negative."

"If Harry misses it, can you knock off more points?" She asked before she could stop herself then felt herself blush at how ready she was to throw him under the bus. She looked down shyly and covered her mouth before she looked up at him again.

Her strict professor made a face that resembled somewhat of a smile. "Of course."

“Thank you,” she hoped she sounded as gracious as she felt.

“Great work,” he nodded in response.

She headed out of the office and walked toward the bench. She sat beside him and faced forward. Harry put his phone back in his pocket and turned only his head toward her. "How'd y’do?" He asked.

"Ninety-eight."

He tutted. "Too bad," he smirked.

A smile twitched at her lips. She looked up at the sky briefly. "He said you can go on up and take it now," she told him.

He blinked. Surprise coloring his pretty features. Harry rarely seemed stunned, especially because of her. It was cute and also exciting that he was surprised by her. "What?"

She looked at her lap, trying to focus on her nails but not for too long because she was worried that she would gnaw on them if she let the nerves overtake her. "That was... the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she whispered. "Especially for Professor Charles' class," she continued. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him. "I was obnoxious. Bad day or whatever... it wasn't your fault and I’m sorry I made a big deal of it."

"I just wanted you to stop crying. You look ridiculous when you cry."

She smiled. A genuine one. Not a forced one that Harry had seen her give everyone under the sun. Not the one that she plastered on her face during presentations. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. “Y’had every right t’be mad at me. I was a complete dick.”

She shrugged. “I... I should have just given you a pencil... it turned out there was one at the bottom of my bag and... I kind of... like giving you a pencil. You just caught me at a really bad moment.”

“I know. M’sorry. I knew y’looked off.”

She tilted her head at him. “You knew I looked off?”

“M’pretty good at memorizing all your different looks,” he had a smile that made her melt. “Like right now, s’one of m’favorites. Y’look relaxed. It happens once, roughly, every three weeks, I think. Lasts maybe four minutes if m’lucky,” he winked. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. But Harry noticed how her cheeks turned red. It made him want to continue flirting with her. She was fun to flirt with. Her sarcastic comments were funny, even when directed at him, and it only amplified how smart he knew she was.

As much as Harry wanted to stay on that bench for as long as she did, he finally stood. Then rubbed the back of his head squinting at her, one eye closed. "Do you have a pencil?" He asked shyly.

She snorted, plucked hers from her pocket, and held it out to him. "I'd like it back," she reminded him. Even if he didn't, it was their thing now.

He rolled his eyes. "Wait here. It'll only take me half the time it took you." She rolled her eyes but pulled out a book from her bag and opened it to the page she was previously reading. "Hey kitten?" He asked. She didn't look up and Harry realized he never called her anything other than Your Majesty. He nudged her foot to make her look up. "Who did y’think I was talking to?" He chuckled.

"Who me?" She asked, but Harry noted the way her cheeks turned red. He rolled his eyes. "Sorry," she shook her head. "Did you need something else?"

His expression softened and he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," her voice was so gentle. "I'm sorry too."

"There's nothing y'need t'apologize for,” he shook his head quickly. “I was a complete ass," he admitted. She shrugged.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said seriously. “Please don’t let anyone treat you that way.” She nodded silently. Knowing that she couldn’t promise that. Nor did she expect Harry to make her keep such a promise, but it made her heart squeeze with disappointment in herself. “Be right back,” he nudged her foot again as he headed back to the math building. She returned to her book and tried not to think about how Harry was probably right. This was the most relaxed she felt in months.

About forty minutes later Harry exited the building, walking at a leisurely pace. He sat on the bench once more. She didn't look up as he did but the butterflies in her stomach reminded her that he was there. Harry draped an arm across the back of the bench and then presented her pencil to her as if it were a bouquet of flowers. "How'd you do?" She asked gently.

He sighed, clucked his tongue. "Ninety-five,” she smiled but tried and failed to hide it from him. "I missed two negatives."

She giggled. "How embarrassing."

"How embarrassing," he mocked in a voice that was meant to sound like her. "You're so annoying. Do y’know he uses your work as the answer key?"

It had to be a record. The longest time they had been together without bickering. The number of times she smiled because of him.

The fastest someone had ever fallen for someone she was supposed to hate.

*

When Harry saw her boyfriend, he started looking for her. He was clearly busy with his friends and the women they were entertaining. But she wasn’t amongst them. He did a loop around the party. Looking for her even if he shouldn’t have. He stopped and chatted during his search so it wouldn’t be obvious. But even when he did stop and leaned against the wall, or grabbed another drink, he kept scanning for her.

When his loop came up empty of the pretty girl he liked to annoy, he wondered where she was and how he could ask without it being weird.

“Hey stranger,” Eleanor smiled and kissed his cheek. “Where’ve you been?”

Louis gave a polite wave to his best friend from across the way, a knowing smile on his lips, grateful that someone he trusted could keep an extra eye on his lady.

“Jus’ wandering around,” he mumbled.

Did he sound disappointed? He felt disappointed.

She stared at him and stood on her toes to reach his ear so she could speak to him directly over the loud music. “She’s not here.”

“What?” Harry pulled back like she slapped him. Was it that obvious? It couldn’t have been. He was just… wandering. Like a lost, lovesick puppy wondering where she was and hoping he would find her to make the weird feeling in his chest go away. Eleanor cocked an eyebrow at him. Silently telling him that hewas not fooling her. “Fuck,” he mumbled sipping his drink. It was pathetic and obvious.

“She doesn’t come to these things,” Eleanor shrugged.

“Why?”

She sighed, rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t want her here.”

Harry felt like the words Eleanor said were spoken in a language he didn’t know. “Who doesn’t want her here?”

“Her boyfriend.”

The grip on the bottle Harry was holding tightened. “Oh.”

“Go ahead. Ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Harry.” He closed his eyes and looked around to find him. It was like he already knew it was going to break him. He didn’t want El to continue even though he knew he needed to hear it. “What he told her to keep her away? She dotes on him too much. Worries too much about her reputation and everyone else’s. She doesn’t have fun. So, he doesn’t want her here. At these kinds of things.”

Honestly, a party didn’t seem like her vibe. She was more of a game night kind of girl. Someone you could take to a family cookout or a pool party with kids. But calling her not fun? Because frankly, Harry realized he hadn’t liked a single party he’d been to in months and it’s because her banter wasn’t there to keep him company.

“Oh,” he murmured. Trying to feign indifference.

“Don’t you want to ask what I think?” Harry didn’t look at his friend. His eyes finally landing on the man that didn’t deserve the sweet, intelligent, and beautiful girl he didn’t invite. He followed his path up the stairs to the second floor. Right as Eleanor told him the worst thing he had ever heard. “He hooks up with other girls and he has the common decency to do it behind her back,” she shrugged.

“What?!” He spit his eyes dropping to Eleanor again. How could she be so casual about this?

“She knows…or I would imagine she suspects,” she shrugged. “But she’s good for his family. They adore her. And he helps her reputation. She’s trying so hard to dig her family—”

It was like he knew. Everything. All of it made sense. Every tiny fiber of her being was made for someone else—whether it was her family who she adored and helped as much as possible, Isaac who didn’t deserve her at all, or even Harry, who honestly wasn’t sure he was much better than Isaac. “Does she know he sleeps with them?”

Eleanor looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know if they sleep with him. I’m assuming. But I think it’s a pretty good assumption. He’s probably—”

Harry slammed his bottle on the ground shattering it and drawing the attention of those around him. He took the stairs two at a time and opened every door to every room—an unspoken party rule: never open a closed door.

He was breaking it.

A girl shrieked and he just knew he had found the right room. He didn’t pay any attention to her scrambling to cover up her naked chest and instead yanked him clean off the bed. “What the fuck!?” Harry shoved him back into the hall. He was only in his boxers. Piece of shit. Someone whistled and Harry shoved him harder as he tried to push him back and make his way for the bedroom again. “What the fuck, Styles?!”

“Call her,” he snarled. Shoving him against the wall again when he tried to continue escaping. “End it. Now.”

“What are you—”

“You’re going t’cheat on her?” Harry’s voice was venomous. “Her?” He repeated. Like that was really all he needed to say. Everyone was staring now. Harry kept going. “Call her and end it. Or I’m going over and telling her you’re done.”

The stupid prick tilted his head at Harry almost condescendingly. “Do you want her? She’s not like us.”

Harry didn’t like the way he said us. There wasn’t a single connection he wanted to be associated with in context of the vile piece of trash in front of him. Other than he managed to pick the sweetest girl he had ever met. But simultaneously, the very wrong girl to fuck with, because Harry also picked her. Unlike the moron in front of him, he was going to do everything he could to protect her and her heart.

“She’s doesn’t have money. She won’t understand—”

Harry punched him across the cheek before he could stop it and someone else watching groaned at the impact and Harry continued talking. “Tell her now.”

“Christ, Styles! What the fuck!” He rubbed his jaw.

“Tell her.”

“I’m not telling her shit. She knows she needs me more.” Harry jerked back like he had punched him back. “What? You don’t think she’d give up the reputation I have, do you?”

Harry watched him silently for only a moment longer. Without a word, he headed back into the bedroom grabbing the stray clothes. Before anyone could rationalize exactly what he was doing, he was sprinting down the steps and outside.

He threw them in the pool without thinking, ignoring the laughter and shouts from him as he hurried around the side of the house. He continued running and didn’t look back.

*

Harry was in her dorm. On her floor. Stopped in front of her door.

He knocked.

Repeatedly.

There was no answer, but he knew she was there.

So, he knocked again.

And again.

Eventually there was a click of her lock despite the fact it couldn’t be opened without her key card. Of course she was all about safety. Finally, he heard her voice starting to speak as she opened the door. “I’m off duty if you have an emergency, you’re supposed to see the RA on duty and—” The door was open and out of the way before she finished talking. Harry pressed himself inside. “Harry! What are you—”

“Tell me s’not true.”

“What’s not true?”

“Y’know he hooks up with other women?” He glared at her.

The color drained from her face.

Harry rubbed his hand across his face. “What is the matter with you?! Are you so desperate for a scrap of affection you’ll open yourself up t’diseases and shit because you—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed tears stinging her eyes instantly.

“—need him? You don’t need him. You’re a thousand times better than him. A million! Y’could have any guy y’want, and they would still want t’grovel at your feet. Why would y’pick the one Goddamn asshole who—”

“You don’t know shit. Harry Styles. Stop pretending like you know me because —”

“Then explain it t’me because I can’t think of one fucking reason someone as intelligent, kind, beautiful, and hilarious as you would—”

A weird noise left her throat. Almost a squeak. It was adorable. If Harry wasn’t so mad. He would have told her such. Would have reveled in it because she was so fucking sweet and cute. But instead, she asked the most heartbreaking question known to man.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Her question was so soft. So unbelievably shocked. Innocent. All the words left his head. It was too quiet. His shoulders were rising and falling too hard and too fast. “What?” He shook his head.

She looked at her feet. Harry scanned her. Her shirt was too big. It didn’t look like she was wearing pants. Maybe she wasn’t. Harry hoped she wasn’t. She only wore one sock. Like she lost the other in her sheets or maybe she only purposefully put one on because only that foot was cold. Those pretty eyes looked at him, anxiety, frustration, sadness, all staring back at him from the depth of her soul. “No one has ever said I’m beautiful before.”

Harry felt something die in his chest. He really thought he would start groveling on his knees for her because he was one of millions of guys who wanted to grovel at her feet. He wanted to be better. As soon as he made her cry over missing a test, he wanted nothing more than to be better for her. “No one?”

“Just... my family...” She shrugged.

“Kitten,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re… you’re really beautiful,” he rubbed a hand over his mouth, pinching his lower lip, as he scanned her. “In a way that probably makes a lot of girls jealous,” she snorted. He sighed. “Seriously. Your hair, kitten. It’s... so silky and shiny and your eyes,” he shook his head. “And your brain, my God,” he smiled softly. “M’not even going t’mention your body. Because you’re more than your appearance, but m’really...” he nearly sighed like a lovesick teenager. Maybe part of him still was. “You’re stunning, kitten.”

She blushed. Really blushed. So hard that Harry could see it in the dim light of her room cast from the twinkly lights she had strung around the window. Her cheeks were so red and utterly beautiful. For a second Harry thought it would be easy. All of it. Getting her to like him. Trust him.

Her face morphed into one of utter distrust. “That’s mean,” she whispered. “You’re... that’s mean to...” she shook her head.

“Kitten,” he frowned. Unable to believe she could think like that. He didn’t even know where to begin. Everyone had to like her. She was lovely, beautiful, so intelligent it took his breath away.

But she mistook his hesitation for the worst. She shook her head. “Forget it. You’re just... being nice to me because... because you feel bad or something,” she sniffled. The poor thing couldn’t even take his compliment. Harry wanted to cry. “Just the way everyone else does,” she laughed bitterly. “Thank you for being nice. Or whatever. For wanting to protect me. I don’t need it,” her voice cracked. “You can go back to your party or... whatever it is that—”

“Love,” his heart felt achy.

“No seriously. I get it. I’m too nice. I’m stupid to let him walk all over me but you don’t know the kind of reputation my family has in comparison to everyone here. So yeah. I let him use me as a prop—”

“Stop it,” he snapped and shook his head.

“—because I’m good for his image, too. Even if it makes me miserable and—”

“Kitten, I’m serious. Stop it,” his voice was almost raw. Like he had been screaming for hours. Maybe it was the combination of anxiety and frustration rushing through him. Like adrenaline but worse. He wanted to cry.

“—it’s pathetic that when people see me with him, they see this innocent—”

“Shut. Up.”

“—intelligent girl who doesn’t know anything because her family is poor and broken—”

“Stop it!” His voice took on a new octave. It made her words fall away.

They were both seething with anger and frustration. The tears in her eyes made him sick. Like when he made her cry because she couldn’t take her test. It was only the second time, but he quickly realized he hated it when she cried. “Stop what, Harry?”

“Stop minimizing who you are,” he practically growled.

“Everyone else does it.”

“Oh yeah? Name one time I’ve done that. If everyone has done it; tell me, kitten. When have I. Ever. Made you feel like less?”

She was silent. Finally.

Harry never made her feel like less. He annoyed the shit out of her. Pissed her off and made her sad. But he never made her feel like she didn’t deserve to be on that campus. Never made her feel inferior.

“M’going t’kiss you,” he warned stepping closer to her now that he made his point.

Her brain restarted. Her cheeks flushed again. “Harry, we can’t I’m... in a relation—”

He glared at her as her back pressed to her bed frame. Cornering her in her open room that was suddenly infinitesimally smaller than it was seconds before. “S’not a fucking relationship,” he snarled. “M’not sure what y’were doing. But you’re not doing it anymore. Not with him. Never again.”

“But we were—”

“Y’don’t need him,” he assured her. “Trust me.”

“But—”

“Y’have me, kitten. M’gonna do whatever y’need,” he cupped the back of her neck, making the words stop on the tip of her tongue and put one hand on the small of her back, pulling her to him swiftly and devouring her lips. She moaned instantly, seconds into the kiss. His lips felt like warm little pillows. Cushioning her own. It was intoxicating. Unfairly, he pulled away almost as quickly as it started. “Oh s’nice, kitten,” he praised. “Moaning already,” he pulled back and peppered kisses along her jaw. She whimpered softly, making him groan. “Y’make pretty little noises like that, kitten. M’not gonna be responsible for what comes next,” he warned pressing his lips back to hers.

Her fingers tangled in his hair at the back of her head. Harry leaned forward arching her backward and wrapping his arms around her tightly. He didn’t want to be aggressive, but there was something in the way her mouth tasted, the way her body felt, that he couldn’t stop kissing her. Hardly breathing, or maybe he was trying to breathe all of her in, he continued pulling her lips into his mouth. Hoping that somewhere along the way, they would get stuck like that. Destined to spend eternity attached by their kiss like a Greek punishment. Except the endless touch of her mouth wouldn’t be punishment. Because he wanted it to be endless. Wanted to spend forever showering her with affection because she deserved that and so much more.

“Can I stay the night, kitten? I’ll sleep on the floor if y’want,” his voice was practically ragged. His forehead pressed to hers. “I jus’ don’t want t’leave you. Please don’t make me leave.”

“You can stay,” she whispered, her voice breathless and airy. “Not on the floor, though.”

“M’not a bat, kitten. Can’t hang from your ceiling,” he joked.

She snorted. “C’mon,” she tugged him to her bed and pulled her in right behind her beneath her covers.

There weren’t many times Harry felt peace. “Harry?” She asked, as she settled into his embrace. His lips skimmed along her face, pressing every so often to whatever he could reach. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

He squeezed her. “You’re welcome, beautiful.”

She sighed. “Your mouth is pretty nice when you’re not talking,” she said quietly.

He chuckled. “Just you wait and see, kitten.”

*

As lovely as the night before was, she tried to maintain a semblance of her routine between replaying the kiss(es) and the angry confession over and over in her head. At the moment, she was grabbing lunch for herself. It was probably going to set her back a bit since she’d need to buy more pencils since Harry stole them all, but she was a little too tired to go without supplying herself with more energy. She pulled her wallet out as the cashier rang her up. “It’s all set, love,” she said sweetly. Tilting her head, she gazed at the woman as if it were a joke.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s all set,” she repeated. “Your food’s been paid for already.”

She blinked, glanced around, looking for someone that fit the description of Good Samaritan. “Who...?”

“I’m not sure. I was just told that if you came through the line to tell you it’s been taken care of. You can get whatever you want,” she shrugged.

Blinking again she glanced around again. A line formed rapidly behind her. She gathered her items and headed for a seat. The one where Isaac usually joined her. But there was no Isaac. She read her book and listened to her music in silence. It was peaceful. When the hour was up, she headed back to the kitchen area to grab another snack, lining up behind the others waiting to check out as well. “Your food’s paid for.”

She felt like she was being pranked. “Again?”

“No, always.”

She felt like her mind was short circuiting. “What?”

“Your meals. All have been paid for. For the year.”

The snack she got was going to be uneaten because she felt like it was a prank. “I don’t understand.”

“I really don’t have more details than that. We were just told your food was paid for.”

“We?”

“My boss left, but I can have him reach out and explain it.”

“Please. Thank you.”

Stunned, she left with her snack. She headed to the library academic center. The tutors on her shift all waved to her. “That gift is for you,” Gabby said. At the front table was a fairly large giftbag. The kind you get for a kid’s birthday and put a board game in it. She looked at it curiously and pulled the tissue paper out of the way. She swallowed the lump in her throat realizing she didn’t need the dining hall manager to reach out to her after all.

She plucked the card from the slot on the side of the bag.

Half are probably for me anyway.

The bag was filled with packages of her favorite pencils. More than she would need for the rest of her undergraduate degree. Maybe even graduate. Or even the rest of her life.

She took a deep breath and pulled out her laptop and opened her email. She typed in Harry’s address, because she still didn’t have Harry’s phone number. Even after making out with him for hours. After waking up in his arms later than she was supposed to and letting his lips linger on her skin.

She wrote her message and pressed send before she could overthink it.

You didn’t have to do that. It’s way too much, actually. I’m a little uncomfortable imagining you spending THAT much money on food and pencils.

Well. If you died of starvation, I wouldn’t have anyone to bother. Kind of a boring way to suffer through the last two years of college—we have Real Analysis I and II next year. I can’t do that alone.

Thank you. That was... very nice of you.

You’re welcome, kitten. Coffee is free too; I went to every shop within walking distance and left your picture. An old ugly one from your mom’s Facebook page, don’t worry. Didn’t want you to get a big head about all of this. It’s not a big deal.

Help yourself to whatever you need and if you need something else let me know.

And this is my phone number so you can stop emailing me like it’s 2003.

She smiled fondly at the message. Closed her laptop and felt happier to be at work than she had in weeks.

*

Harry didn’t force anything. She was lying against his chest in her small room, on her small bed. “I’m sorry it’s so cramped,” she whispered.

“S’better for snuggling,” he shrugged and kissed the top of her head. “Go t’sleep, please, kitten.”

“Don’t you want to... I don’t know, fuck or something?”

“Well, when y’propose it so romantically like that,” he murmured.

She pouted. “I don’t know... I just assumed that...”

“That m’like Isaac? Please don’t make that assumption anymore.”

“So, you don’t want to fuck me?”

“Oh, more than anything,” he tilted her head up and brushed his finger on her warm cheek. “But not until you’re ready.”

“I literally just—”

“No. Y’think s’because we’re supposed to. Not because y’want to,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll wait,” he promised and kissed the tip of her nose, and it was the lamest kind of kiss imaginable. Being twenty-one and melting over a kiss on the nose.

Yet it made her want a thousand more of them. Made her want to cry with how adored she felt. Harry didn’t care that she worked a thousand hours. He didn’t expect her to make out with him. Or blow him. Or anything sexual. No, he practically begged her to sleep in his arms.

It was unfair how sweet he was wrapped up in the body of someone that made her infuriated for the last year and a half. Right as she was about to pass out, she jerked herself awake involuntarily. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed as if she so much as coughed and not nearly punched Harry in the face with her movement.

“Tired.”

“I know, baby. M’trying t’make y’sleep,” he combed her hair down. Traced her spine in the same movement. “Surprise, surprise, you’re a bit stubborn.”

“Who me?”

“Want me t’sing?”

“Don’t want my ears to bleed, no.” Harry chuckled softly. Ignored her.

Then hummed.

It was so warm, so soft, it felt like magic. Harry could sing. That wasn’t on any Bingo cards when she thought about Harry. She didn’t even know what song he was singing. But it lulled her right to sleep.

*

Harry was wrapped around her in the small bed, his head tucked below her chin, his face smushed into the front of her shirt. If she wore a lower cut shirt, Harry would have been drooling on her boobs. “You’re able to breathe in there?” She whispered, threading her fingers through his hair.

“S’the only way I want t’go,” he promised, his voice muffled with sleep and the fabric on her body. “Or with y’legs wrapped around m’head,” he shrugged one shoulder. If Isaac said that to her, she would have punched him. When Harry said it, it made her want to wrap her legs around his head. Made her squeeze her legs together. “Felt that,” he mumbled. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, so he had no choice but to feel it. “Did y’sleep okay?”

She nodded. “Did you?”

“Extremely. Wrapped up in m’favorite girl.”

Her heart fluttered and she kissed the top of his head. Never would she have imagined Harry being so sweet and lovely like this. “Are you... going to be mean in public to me?”

“I hope not,” he pulled away and rubbed his eye. He looked sleepy and boyish. A devilish combination for her skeptical heart. “Have I been mean t’you?” He asked. “I know I tease, but mean?” She supposed he wasn’t mean. Maybe the teasing tricked her.

“I guess the teasing—”

“M’so sorry love,” he frowned and cupped her cheeks, kissed her softly on the lips. “No more teasing,” he promised.

“Well,” she laughed softly. “I kind of like teasing you.”

He smirked. “I don’t want you to think m’mean,” his eyebrows pinched together.

“Can I ask you a question without making fun of me?”

“I think that depends on the question, kitten. If y’ask me some basic math problem like what’s the indefinite integral of x-squared times cosine x or what’s a negative times a negative—”

“Are we dating?”

He stopped his joke and cupped her face. Dropped his forehead to hers and brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I would fucking hope so, kitten.”

She swallowed. “You don’t care that I’m broke? Or that I work a lot and I’m crazy and—”

“No, I don’t care ‘bout any of that. You’re m’favorite person to annoy. The person I look forward t’seeing most in class. You’re the entire reason ‘ve never skipped class.”

Her heart fluttered. “You can’t pay for everything, Harry. It was a sweet sentiment but—”

“M’not letting m’girlfriend starve,” he rolled his eyes.

Her heart definitely fluttered. He was sweet. Harry was sweet. What a revelation. Or maybe she always knew that.

She looked into those beautiful green eyes that made her feel overwhelmed in the best way. “Why do you call me Your Majesty?” She whispered quietly. Almost scared to hear the answer.

He rolled his eyes again. A favorite past time of his. “Because kitten,” he pressed his lips over hers briefly, then kissed her forehead, and finally the tip of her nose. He met her gaze and made sure she was focusing when he spoke again. In a few minutes she would be busy, overwhelmed, and stressed. For the moment, Harry wanted to make sure she knew just how important she was to him. “I think you’re a queen.”

--

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[fuiru]

A 44 year old man goes to a K-Pop Concert

I promised you a report on the K-pop concert that I, a 44-year-old accountant, went to a couple of weeks ago with my wife and daughter in Toronto. So here it is.

The band we saw were Ateez. They're my daughter's favourite band and my wife's second favourite. I know most of my mutuals are similarly aged like me and may not be familiar with them so let me give you a brief primer on Ateez.

Imagine the most attractive eight men you can think of, just unfathomably beautiful specimens of aesthetic perfection, and make them sing songs that somehow combine the subjects of 'dancing like nobody is watching' with 'we live in a dystopian hellscape that we must all work together to overthrow'. Give them an ongoing music video story lore that literally nobody - not even the band themselves - understand, so that online discussion of their visual motifs looks more like the fevered rantings of a conspiracy theorist, complete with speculation about alternate realities and time being a Moebius strip. There is also a giant sand timer, for some reason.

That's Ateez. That's what you need to know.

Now, K-pop concerts are very different to the gigs I've been going to for the last 28 (!) years. There's no support act, for a start. Also the band perform for like, three hours, with breaks for costume changes and interpretive dance. Furthermore, hanging above everything is the constant looming threat of mandatory military service.

So this being my first such concert, I wasn't sure what to expect. What happened was difficult to explain, but I will try as I am already six paragraphs into this write-up and I'm too invested to stop now. Here goes:

In his Wicked + Divine comics series, Kieron Gillen places modern pop icons as deities, feeding upon and gaining strength from the worship of their fans at the altar of musical performance. I thought I understood that metaphor. I thought I understood it AS a metaphor. I was wrong, because that night Ateez WERE Gods with a capital G and we were their worshippers, a crowd emanating adoration (in the religious and non-religious senses), bestowing strength upon them and gaining their strength in return.

If that sounds weird, it probably is. But as pointed out above, I have lived over four decades and never yet experienced anything like the overwhelming passion of that crowd, the utter abandon with which they conveyed their love for the band.

"But Fuiru, what of the actual music?" you ask. Thinking back, there was a moment in one of their songs - I can't remember which - where I watched the stage, and the people around me, taking it in, and I thought, "Man, I just love Music". But that doesn't answer your question, sorry.

Ateez's music is bloody great. As a tiresome indie/rock/metal kid I'm resisting the urge to add the usual tiresome indie/rock/metal caveat of "...for pop music" because honestly that does it a disservice. They have some genuinely amazing songs. Halazia is an absolute fucking masterpiece that descends into furious hardcore breakbeat. Bouncy is a big, brash racket that somehow is also a perfect pop song. Utopia, Wonderland, and Guerrilla are similarly superb. The obligatory boy band slow number is represented by Dancing Like Butterfly Wings which will make you cry because you will forever associate it with your twelve year old daughter being pointed to and waved at by her favourite Ateez member (Seonghwa) because of her Seonghwa-branded lightstick.

That might just be me, though.

So in summary: being a 44 year old dad at his first K-pop concert rules and you should endeavour to partake in the experience if the opportunity arises.

Finally, for any Atiny reading this: my bias would be San or Seonghwa but my wife and daughter said they were taken so it’s Mingi. My concert outfit (designed and created by my offspring) reflects this.

[mariasont]

maria, i have an ideaaa!!

bimbo!assistant!reader goes on a date with a really shitty guy. and she sneaks away to the back door and calls hotch in the alley to come and save her (it’s also raining). she’s all wet and her makeup’s all ruined when hotch comes.

he then takes her back to his place and takes care of her… and… mushy soft fluffiness happens… and maybe feelings are confessed… and maybe a kiss or 2 happens…🥰💖

TALK ABOUT A BAD DATE - A.H

a/n: genius, genius, you are an absolute genius!!!!!!!!!!! this was probably my fav bimbo!reader fic to write <3 thank you sm for requesting

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: um the rain takes out reader's shirt, so she does kinda flash him for a hot sec, hotch also blatantly checks out her ass, cuties being sickeningly cute, cuties kiss in 4k

wc: 2k

A perfect, flawless, stunning, never-been-done before outfit wasted on a loser of a guy. Your makeup had taken an hour alone, your hair—well, you didn't even want to think about it because you were certain you were starting to break out in hives.

You steadied yourself against the brick wall, the uneven asphalt beneath your heels threatening to take you down as you fished your phone from the depths of your purse.

You dialed the first number you could think of--Hotch's. His was also the only one you had memorized. The battery icon flashed a warning of five percent as you hunched beneath the alleyway's awning, trying to shield yourself from the rain. You desperately hoped he'd pick up.

There was frankly no plan B if he didn't. Go back inside and ask you so-called date for a ride? That was not an option. The moment he pulled up in one of those big trucks, with its deafening music and roaring engine, you regretted not driving yourself. After all, you were well aware what men were compensating for with a big truck.

"Hotchner."

His voice was gruff, the sound slightly distorted by the speaker. You imagined he had just walked through his door, despite the time being eight o'clock on a Friday night. He was presumably preparing to pour his routine glass of scotch.

"Sir, it's me," you said, attempting to ignore the relentless raindrops assaulting your makeup--a battle they seemed intent on winning. Clearly, the concept of setting spray was foreign to them. "Can I ask you for a favor? If you say yes, I pinky promise I'll stop rearranging your desk. I know you have a system, but it just looks so bland sometimes."

"I'm going to overlook that desk comment," he stated, his sigh audible through the phone. You could picture the pensive frown that came with it. "What do you need?"

You drew your lips into a tight line, looking down to watch the rain mock the effort you had put into your outfit.

"Can you come pick me up? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"Pick you up? From where? Are you okay?"

You shivered slightly, your free hand instinctively rubbing warmth into your arm. You should've brought a jacket. The thought of sharing this evening's failings with your boss did not sound appealing, so you avoided most of his questions.

"I'll text you the location, okay?"

"Okay, yes, I'll be there. Just stay put."

You thanked him and followed that by a double promise to stay put (he didn't believe you the first time). You also told him you'd wait inside, which was less than truthful. The thought of getting drenched was far more attractive than the prospect of bumping in that women-hating boy again.

You didn't have to wait long, thankfully, spotting Hotch's car turn into the alley, the headlights flaring up like spotlights against your face. You used a manicured hand to shield your eyes, narrowing them against the glare. The distinct sound of a door opening and closing signaled his arrival, and soon, Hotch was striding towards you.

"Christ, get in the car," Hotch insisted, more a command than a suggestion.

He was by your side in an instant, his arm on yours as he opened your door and helped you in. Then, unexpectedly, he reached over you to fasten the seatbelt. You giggled, his hand pausing just above your thigh.

"What?"

The rain gently streamed over his perfect skin, his hair now saturated and plastered to his brow, his blue dress shirt bearing the brunt of the downpour.

"You don't trust me to buckle my own seatbelt?"

"I don't trust you with a lot of things." Completely false. "For instance, your choice of men." Completely true.

He clicked the seatbelt into place and swung the door shut, cutting off any chance of a response, then moved around the car to the driver's side.

You can't help but pout, even as your eyes traced the line of his jaw. "How'd you know?"

Any trace of annoyance vanished as quickly as it came as he placed a hand behind you, giving you an even better view of his profile while he reversed the car. Your focus shifted to the ripple of muscles under his shirt.

"I'm trained to know when someone is in distress and you practically spelled it out. The restaurant, the clothes..." His voice tapered off, disguising his pause with a cough while his gaze flickered over your outfit, his cheeks tinged with a fleck of red. "I've got a spare sweatshirt in the back if you need it."

You traced his line of sight to your chest. Emitting a small squeak, you quickly shielded yourself with your arms, realizing that your white top had become completely see through.

"Totally not embarassing," you say, pursing your lips as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"It's fine," Hotch insists, but you don't miss how his eyes are now careful not to drift from the road. "Put your seatbelt back on."

"I can't reach the sweatshirt."

You shift to face the back, knees planted on your seat as you lean over to grab just the thing you were looking for. In the rearview mirror you catch the brief moment his eyes do stray, discreetly (or so he thought) sweeping over your ass.

A self-satisfied smile crept across you face as you slid back into your seat, slipping on the sweatshirt. It smelled like him—an intoxicating blend of aged leather and pine. You liked it. A lot.

"So do you wanna talk about it?"

You really didn't. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your lip gloss. Flipping down the passenger mirror, you froze, confronting your reflection.

"Hotch, didn't you think to mention my face is all... smudgy?"

Your mascara (and setting spray) had betrayed you, leaving dark trails down your cheeks and a slightly unhinged look.

"Your face is perfect," Hotch remarks dryly, like he was tired of you, he undoubtedly was. You were a handful after all. "Why are you avoiding my question?"

You let out a delighted gasp.

"Did you just say my face is perfect?" Leaning over the console, you tap his nose with your finger. "You're just the sweetest."

The look Hotch gives you is flat, expectant as if he knows just what you were trying to do.

"Okay, okay, fine, it was just a terrible date. Like, Hotch, I'm talking disaster-level bad. He made fun of my job, ate like a toddler, and his truck? He wouldn't shut up about it." Your hands are now shuffling through the contents of your purse in a panic. "And now, I can't find my keys."

"Your house keys?"

A breath of frustration flows from you, fingers pulling through your hair as you nod. "Dang it."

You felt a slight unraveling in your usual poise, and the panicking that came with it. Hotch's hand landed on your shoulder, his thumb grazing across your collarbone.

"Hey, it's fine. It's late, and you're upset. You can stay at my place tonight, I'll crash on the couch, and we'll find your keys in the morning."

He made everything seem so simple.

"I'm not upset," you insist, lips pursing as you angle your body just enough to feel his touch more fully.

His hands felt right on you.

He chuckled quietly, his thumb tracing a path from your shoulder to brush away the solitary tear beneath your eye that you hadn't noticed before.

"Must be a raindrop," you shrug. Hotch's soft laugh tells you he doesn't quite buy it. "Are you sure you don't mind me staying over?"

"I'm certain."

"Okay."

"So why did your date make fun of your job?"

"Because," you start, your fingertip lazily sketching doodles on the misted car window, "when I was telling him about being an assistant and working for you, he implied that the only reason you hired me was so you had something pretty to look at."

"Well, he's not entirely wrong."

You let out a surprised giggle. "Hotch!"

You reach over the console, pinching his arm which he just laughed off, pulling into what you assumed was his driveway. You had never been to his house. It was nice. Really nice, the kind you'd find in movies—not imposing, but inviting, with its brick walls and stout brown pillars framing the porch.

You were even more surprised when you entered the house. The image you had of Hotch's house one of meticulous order, a place where you could hear the tick of a clock from rooms away. But this... this was a home. There were throw blankets casually draped over the couch, books overflowing, armchairs worn in just the right places.

You lean down, intent on stripping off the torturous heels, but a wobble has you teetering. Hotch is quick to step in.

"Here," he offers, lifting each foot in turn to his knee, skillfully undoing the straps and easing them off you.

Standing flat-footed, you suddenly feel much shorter, and you wonder if Hotch has ever seen you without them.

You look up at him, smiling cheekily. "My very own prince charming."

He ignored you and moved through the living room. "Do you want a pair of sweatpants?"

"Sharing clothes now, are we? I bet there's a clause against this in the employee handbook."

Hotch raises an eyebrow, "I don't think I need to remind you of the numerous times I've overlooked your creative interpretations of the handbook rules."

"So you're admitting to showing me favoritism?"

You plucked the sweatpants from his hands, not giving him an option to respond as you shuttled yourself into his bathroom. You changed quickly, trading your sopping wet clothes for Hotch's dry, warm ones.

You reentered the living room to find Hotch reclining on the couch with an ease that was new to your eyes. He, too, had slipped into something more comfortable—sweats and a form fitting grey long sleeve that threatened to distract you completely.

You dropped your purse onto the coffee table and settled next to him, maybe a little closer than you should have.

He let out a sound that was more a breath than a laugh, a sound that all the same made your heart flutter unexpectedly. "You've still got some, uh, makeup under your eyes."

He reached up to wipe it away with his thumb.

"It won't come off that way," you said, grabbing his wrist with a soft smile. "I have makeup wipes in my purse."

But he didn't hand you your bag like you would've thought, instead he dug through it, pulling out the wipes and starting to dab at your face. The softness of his touch felt disarmingly intimate, so gentle it coaxed your eyes to flutter more slowly, eyelids becoming more heavy.

Your head tilted downward and Hotch used his free hand to tilt it back up. "Stay still, or I'm going to poke your eye out."

"You're making me sleepy," you murmur, your voice a soft, drowsy hum, but then he moved the wipe to your lips and suddenly you were anything but.

He was even more gentle with your lips, if that was possible, wiping away the gloss like you were made of glass.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself gazing into his warm, brown-sugared eyes, your heart thundering in your chest. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. How did you get so close? You weren't sure, but he was there, noses almost touching.

He pulled away the wipe, using his thumb to clean up left over gloss though you were sure there wasn't any. His hand paused there, resting on your lower lip like it was meant to be there. You felt every fiber of your being stand on high alert. You wondered what he was thinking.

Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him?

"Are you going to kiss me?" You asked, half-hopeful, half-daring, giving a microphone to your inner monologue.

He took a moment, eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes then back down again. "Yes."

It was certain. Like there was no doubt about it, but he didn't move.

"Okay, I'm ready," you breathed out, pulse roaring in your ears.

Hotch's laughter was a low and warm sound. You had heard it a lot tonight.

"You kill me," he said, and it wasn't patronizing—it was affectionate and genuine, and it made your whole body turn to mush.

Then his lips were on yours, and you were both laughing, the sound muffled by lips. It was tentative at first but it quickly morphed into something sweet and soft and perfect.

"Aren't you glad my date went terribly?" you mumbled into his soft skin.

"Devastatingly glad."

One thing was clear—Hotch was not going to end up sleeping on the couch tonight.

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[blueicequeen19]

Eight

Warnings: dark, mean Rafe, Non-Con, oral, face fucking, public-ish setting, blackmail, sex for money

You stop at the edge of the in ground hot tub, crossing your arms when you see the way he's eyeing you like a prize. You hate that smug smirk and how good he looks no matter what. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. No one realized how deadly he really was beneath the nice guy act.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask, diverting your eyes when he stands in all his naked glory. Every inch of your body heats uncontrollably. Why was he naked in a hot tub at a party?

"Now, now, that's not a good tone to have. You should be happy you’re here." You level him with a glare as he comes to stand at the side of the hot tub closest to you, looking up under his lashes.

"I thought I wasn't allowed at your parties."

"You're not but I'm bored." Rafe shrugs a shoulder.

"You summoned me out of bed because you're bored?"

"Get used to it, darling. You're mine for a month, remember?" How could you forget? You kept waiting for the moment that he demands you spread your legs for him. So far it had just been running errands, answering his work phone, or cleaning up after him. But he’d made it clear in the beginning that he could have whatever he wanted from you.

"Let's play a game. Pick a number."

"I don't want to play."

"Pick a number, one through ten. I promise you'll love it." You bite your lip, hating yourself for the mess you'd got yourself into.

"Eight."

"Like Figure Eight, your new home."

"Rafe--."

"Okay, so if you can endure me for eight minutes, I'll let you leave, no questions asked."

"Endure you?"

"If you lose, then you have to take care of me too." You swallow the lump in your throat, the look in his eyes telling you this wasn't a game you wanted to play.

"Or you can refuse and find another way to pay your tuition." Rafe smiled, knowing he'd won as he sat back down on the opposite side of the tub. Your legs shook as you looked for a way out but once again, Rafe had you cornered.

"Fine." You bit out, looking around to make sure no one else was outside from the party.

"Strip." There was no use arguing so you quickly slipped off your sleep shirt and shorts, leaving you in just your panties as you quickly crossed your arms to conceal your breasts.

"Get in." Rafe's breathing became labored as you slowly descended into the hot water. You couldn't believe the way he was looking at you. Like you were the most desirable thing he'd ever seen. It was nearly impossible to keep from looking under the water to see how much you affected him. Rafe took your hand, guiding you to plant your feet on either side of his hips on the seat, his head eye level with your panties.

"What are you going to do?" You whimpered, watching as he kept his eyes trained on you while he brushed his nose against your panties.

"Savor this." His nose nudged your clit and your knees nearly gave out. Two firm hands found the back of your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to tease with his nose.

"Rafe, please. This is humiliating." What if someone came outside and saw?

"So? I can feel how wet you are for me." Rafe breathed, jutting out his tongue and flicking it against your clit. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you bit back a moan, a wicked look in his eyes as he continued his torture.

"Eight minutes." Rafe said, setting a timer on his phone then tugging your panties aside with one hand while his free hand tightened on the back of your thigh. How could you endure eight minutes of this? You were already shaking.

You gasped when his hot, wet tongue swiped up your slit, circling your clit a few times before sucking it into his mouth. Again and again. Rafe set a perfect rhythm. The pleasure was unlike anything you'd ever felt. Your hands found his hair as you fought to remain standing. Rafe groaned like you were the best thing he'd ever tasted, the vibrations going straight to your core.

"Please Rafe, this isn't fair." You whined as he applied more pressure, his hands squeezing your ass to hold you in place. A sound like a growl and a groan left him before he plunged his tongue inside you, fucking you like he would with his..

You came with a cry, your entire body nearly dropping into the water if not for his hold on you. There was a sudden feeling of being weightless then your back was on his towel on the deck, his mouth attached to your pussy again.

"Rafe, please." You cried, squeezing his head with your thighs just as the timer went off on his phone. Rafe pried your legs back open and your body bowed off the towel as another release hit you. Rafe sucked and slurped the tiny nub until it was too much. Until the pain overruled the pleasure and you were trying to roll away.

Finally, Rafe released you, his lower half still in the hot tub as he wiped his mouth. Even his nose glistened with your release. Your entire body shook as you watched each other. You'd never felt anything so powerful. His cock flexed between his legs, drawing your attention to the angry looking member.

"My turn." Rafe pulled himself up on the side of the tub, jerking you into a sitting position before you could grasp what he meant. His fingers knotted in your hair then he was forcing your head down. You opened your mouth, gagging as soon as he hit the back of your throat. Tears sprung in your eyes as you tried to get your bearings but his cock was impressively long.

"Suck." Rafe demanded, his own body trembling as you pulled your teeth back and wrapped your lips around him. His hips jerked up with each push and pull of your head, each time making you gag. Despite hating the circumstances of the events, you wanted him to enjoy it. There was nothing worse than rumors about being a terrible lover but the angle was awkward.

"I'm cumming." Already!? A throaty groan filled the air as he held your head down, spilling down your throat so you had no choice but to swallow all of it. When your tongue met his shaft, he shuddered as he emptied every drop. You swallowed repeatedly, your throat tightening around his shaft until he was tugging you free by the hair.

"Fuckkkkk." Rafe dropped down on the towel next to you, his cock glistening and still standing to full attention. You reached for your shirt but Rafe snagged it, tossing it away before pulling you onto his lap as he sat upright.

"Rafe." You breathed, your throat sore and your head pounding from the lack of air. His cock pressed against your panties and your clit throbbed harder than ever. The night air was cool compared to the hot tub, making your pebbled nipples press hard against his chest.

"You're lucky I didn't cum all over your face like you did mine." The look in his eyes was crazed, thirsty for more.

"Please let me leave." You murmured, cheeks heating with humiliation. You could smell yourself on him. Rafe chuckled, reaching to turn the timer off on his phone before turning his attention back to you. His hands rocked you on his lap, making you grind against his hardening erection as your nipples rubbed against his chest.

"You lost, baby. You don't get to leave now. I still need to be taken care of."

[muchosbesitos]

DOUBLE OR NOTHING— featuring toji fushiguro x wife! reader

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

contents: 18+ content, minors dni. marriage problems, talks of divorce, (some) angst, smut, porn w minimal plot, cunnilingus w fingering, toji being a panty sniffer briefly mentioned, unprotected p in v, spanking (twice), backshots, missionary against a wall, toji kinda being an ass (what did you expect), pet names (ma, doll, etc.)

word count: 5k

author’s note: back from the dead sry

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers. 

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Right Answer

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: What you need is a road trip with your crush, aka your older brother’s best friend, to get your mind off your problems and stress. When he goes to get gas, a woman shows up and starts to flirt with Bucky, causing you to be jealous. How do you show Bucky that you want him without actually telling him that?

Squares Filled: road trip (2020) for @buckybarnesbingo

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

x

It’s been one of those days. Your brother is out of town with his girlfriend so you have the house to yourself, but you hate being alone. You hear every creak the house makes, you think someone is watching you, and you hate sleeping inside an empty house. He’s only been gone for a week but he still has two more weeks before he’s back from vacation. He made his best friend promise to look after you while he’s gone but he’s been over once since he left.

Not that you minded much. You have a major crush on Bucky but the last thing you’re going to do is tell him that. You’re eight years younger than him and Steve, so you’re afraid all he’ll ever see you as is his best friend’s little sister. You and Bucky have a good relationship since he’s always over to hang with Steve, but you two rarely hang out together. You might have the opportunity now since Steve is gone, but you’re having such a bad day that you’re not sure Bucky will be able to cheer you up.

However, it would be nice to hang with Bucky after the shitty day you’ve had at work. You pace the empty living room silently with your phone in your hand, debating whether or not you should call Bucky. It would be nice to talk about your day with someone. You dial Bucky’s number before you can talk yourself out of it and put the phone to your ear.

He doesn’t let it ring past the second one.

“Hey, Doll,” he drawls.

“Hey. Are you busy?”

“I’m free for you.” Your cheeks heat up and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “What’s up?”

“Do you want to go for a drive? I need out of this house.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”

Bucky is there in ten. He even shows up with flowers in hand which make the butterflies double in size. After putting them in water, you two get in the sleek black muscle car that he loves so much. He has always wanted a 1970 Chevy Camaro and was only able to get his hands on a convertible. He doesn’t use it much unless you’re in the car with him because he knows how much you love the wind in your hair.

You tie your hair in a low ponytail to keep it down, and he puts the top down before pulling out of your driveway. There are plenty of backroads to avoid traffic which Bucky takes instead of the main highway.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he asks after ten minutes into the drive.

“I think my boss wants to fire me or wants me to quit. He’s been cutting my hours and taking responsibility away from me even though I’m working my ass off for him. I work harder than everyone else and put in more hours than everyone, and he still treats me this way. I don’t want to quit because I finally do something in my field. I’m a good photographer but he either doesn’t see it or doesn’t like me.”

“You’re one of the best photographers I know.”

“I’m the only photographer I know,” you chuckle.

“Still. I’ve seen your work. You’re natural talent. I think I might want pictures of this car.”

This causes you to laugh at the thought of Bucky with pictures of his car hanging on his walls. He doesn’t have a girlfriend to hang so may as well hang his car. Bucky looks over at you and admires the smile on your face. He loves seeing you smile.

“I like seeing you smile.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks and you look away while trying to hide your smile. Stop. He’s your older brother’s best friend. He is nearly a decade older than you. He’s just trying to be nice. Whatever he’s doing is working. It’s getting your mind off your shitty day. Bucky continues to drive for another hour with the wind in your hair and music blasting through the speakers.

“Hey, I have to stop at the gas station.”

“Sure,” you nod.

Bucky pulls into the closest gas station and gets out while you stay seated. You pull out your phone and begin browsing your social media. The gas tank is on your side so Bucky walks around the car and starts filling her up.

“Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Oh, I do?” you chuckle and look up at him.

“Yeah. I know for a fact that you haven’t eaten anything all day so I know you’re hungry. If you don’t get food in you now, you’ll be cranky and wake up with a stomach ache. Now, do you want taquitos or hot dogs?”

What…? How does he know that? The only two things you eat from a gas station are taquitos or hot dogs. The pizza always tastes like cardboard, and you don’t want to dine on junk food all the time.

“Taquitos.”

“Be right back.”

Bucky goes inside the gas station and returns two minutes later with some blue Powerade and three taquitos. The pump is still going so he leans back and crosses his arms while waiting for the gas pump to stop.

“Hey, nice car.”

You look over your phone and see a skinny blonde woman walk up to Bucky with flirty eyes.

“Thanks.”

“Makes sense you would own something like that. Fitting for your type.”

His type? Who the hell does she think she is? She doesn’t know Bucky.

“My type? What type would that be?”

“Gym rat, maybe a motorcycle driver, always wanting to show off what he has, but loyal to the ones he loves. Am I getting close?” she smiles.

“Yeah, you are.”

Bucky shifts his weight to his other foot which you take for him being uncomfortable. He puts his hand on top of the window and since the top is still down, you can easily grab it if you want to. Grab it. Show her that he’s yours. Bucky isn’t yours. He only sees you as a little sister. Suddenly, you’re not so hungry. The little green monster known as jealousy sits on your shoulder even though you have no reason to be jealous. Bucky isn't yours and he would never go for you.

Still, you can’t help but reach up and grab his hand. You don’t have to look at Bucky to know he’s smirking.

“So, look, I’m free this Friday and you’re very cute. Want to do something with me? Get to know each other?” she boldly asks.

You squeeze his hand instinctively and he moves his hands in further to grip your hand more. She hasn’t looked in the car since arriving otherwise she’d see you sitting there.

“Sorry, but I gotta go. My girl’s in the car.”

You take your hand away from Bucky as he turns to the pump that has stopped. The woman finally looks at you but you can’t meet her eyes. She nods and walks off without saying a word, and Bucky gets back behind the wheel. You can’t seem to look at him because not only do you have a bunch of butterflies, but you’re kind of embarrassed. You didn’t mean to take him from what you’re sure was a heartfelt moment but you don’t want to think about Bucky with anyone but you.

Does that make you selfish? Maybe.

He pulls out of the gas station and returns to the back roads to get home. The ride is silent for the first ten minutes before Bucky turns the music down.

“So, are we gonna talk about that?”

“Talk about what?”

“You really playing dumb now?”

“What? That woman clearly wanted in your pants. There’s nothing to talk about it.”

“Oh no, there’s clearly something to talk about.”

Bucky reaches over and grabs your hand before pulling it into his lap. You try to yank it away but he has a strong grip on your hand.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Just take me home.”

“Whatever you say, Doll.”

The rest of the ride is spent in complete silence. As soon as Bucky parks the car in front of your house, you’re bolting out of it. Bucky is quicker than you are so he chases after you to the front of the house. You shove the key inside the lock and twist it, pushing the door open to get inside before he can get to you. Luck is not on your side, unfortunately, and he pushes his way in before you can close the door.

“Where are you going, Doll? We’re talking about this.”

“For the hundredth time, there’s nothing to talk about. She was clearly annoying you. I was just trying to save you.”

Bucky keeps the door open and walks you backward into the wall.

“Nope, you’re going to tell me the truth.”

“What truth is there to tell?”

“You were jealous,” he smirks.

“What?! No, I wasn’t.”

“Wrong answer. You didn’t want me going out with her.”

“No. You can do whatever you want.”

“Wrong answer.” Bucky presses you more into the wall and puts his hand on it right next to your head, caging you in. “I’m gonna ask you one more time. Were you jealous?”

“Please, if the roles were reversed, you would have been fine,” you scoff.

You try to ignore how hard your heart is beating or how sweaty your palms get.

“No, I wouldn’t have. Every guy who touches you, talks to you, or looks at you makes me rage. So, no I wouldn’t have been okay. I would’ve been jealous, and I would’ve been able to tell you that.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. You might be Steve’s little sister but you’re more than that to me. I don’t give just anyone rides in my car, and I hate the top being down but I do it because you love it. So, were you jealous?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Right answer,” he smirks.

He closes the distance between you two and kisses you, and he slides his fingers through your hair. This is the moment that changes everything. Everything you’ve ever wanted is right here kissing you, and there’s no way you’re gonna let him go now.

x

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[lueurjun]

f1 driver!boyfriend heeseung.

request — if you are accepting requests i was thinking maybe something like formula one driver heeseung x reader where they travel to support him at his races all around the world, and also watching their boyfriend become world champion at the end of the season? thank you <3 !! 🎀

eek ! sorry this took so long. i have been in a deep writers block. but i hope you enjoy this lovely <3 this is long, my bad… i got carried away because i loved writing this. i had so much fun im not even kidding, i think i’m going to turn this into a written series for heeseung.

refer to this edit for the vibes—it has me in a chokehold and gave me the motivation for this.

rocking back and forth because ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

LEE HEESEUNG?? FORMULA ONE DRIVER?

SEDATE ME ! I NEED THIS

ahem anyways :)

heeseung’s career began at eight years old when his parents finally gave in and allowed him to start go karting.

f1 was his dream! he had posters in his room. miniature car figurines in a glass case that he didn’t let anybody touch. he sat for every race, knew every driver and owned so much merch that his mother had to hide her credit card

it’s giving maddy knew who she was from a young age- it’s giving obsession- it’s giving me with my enhypen obsession-

it was clear from the get go that this kid had some talent. he knew what he was doing and he knew how to do it better than anyone else

though he’s always been a little bit of a shit talker and ended up in several friendly feuds with other upcoming drivers.

lmao can you imagine 8 year old heeseung bickering with max verstappen?

as he grew older, he began competing in various competitions, and won the majority of them which opened up the doors to competing internationally

years later, he secures a position in F3 and gradually works his way up to F2. eventually, he makes it into F1 as one of the most promising drivers, under the guidance of red bull

now let’s introduce you

*louder than heeseung* hey 😘😉

you met Heeseung at one of his karting races when he was 15. instantly recognizing his potential, you had him sign your phone case, insisting that he was going to be famous one day and you wanted to sell it on ebay when he did.

absolute icon if you ask me

he thought you were being ridiculous, but he couldn't help but feel flattered by your confidence. after signing your phone case, he surprised you by asking for your number.

and who are you to pass up on the opportunity to keep in touch with a soon to be famous racer?

i can race faster than him just sayin ✋🙂‍↔️🤚 broom broom

the two of you remained in touch, and you attended as many races as possible to support him as a best friend. two years later, just as he secured a seat in F2, heeseung nervously asked you to be his partner.

which, of course, you were more than happy to.

now, onto present day: f1 driver heeseung with you, his beloved partner.

not you in your wag era-

i genuinely see you owning a tiktok account where you kinda just post daily grwms or vlogs which feature heeseung and your life travelling with him

and everybody eats it up because they get to see the human side of heeseung not just the aggressive driver that shit talks everything and everyone

yes i’m making him a sassy shit talker because i want to SUE ME

you kinda prove to his haters that he’s actually a huge nerd with the cutest personality, which garners him a lot more support

his team ADORES you for this

but it’s also really funny because why is the p2 winner, cocky red bull driver giving your followers a haul on all of his toy story merch?

his helmet is definitely custom designed as buzz lightyear and i find that absolutely adorable

he also has your initial on his helmet somewhere that everyone thinks is so sickeningly cute

he calls it his good luck charm

you receive some hate with jealous people accusing you of only wanting his money and fame

haters come outside i’m not gonna do anything. haha. i just wanna talk ( and set their hair on fire ) just a lil chit chat 😃

but for the most part, you are actually very much adored

if fans see you walking around, they call out for you to take pics with them

which you do, albeit with a little hesitance, as you’re not used to the spotlight and don’t quite understand why people idolise you.

ummmm because you’re perfect🫶 hope this helps

in this scenario, you’re a full time influencer which makes it easy for you to travel alongside him and attend all of his races

which is good because you couldn’t make his japan gp due to an issue and he damn near lost his mind

bro was STRESSING

i would be too if i had u and had to deal with a couple days without u 🫶

he made it everyone’s issue

his team were so tired of him that they sent you multiple texts begging for you to get on a flight

he was so sassy during his interviews and the viewers immediately knew it was because you weren’t there

‘bringy/nback’ trended with memes making fun of him for being a brat without you there

he finished really badly that weekend

bro relies on you fr

when you eventually returned at his side for his next race

he was back to his angelic self

you made him apologize to all the team

imagine you stood behind him with your arms crossed, shaking your head while he sheepishly apologises in front of everyone for being difficult HAHHAHA

he was all smiles in his interview and got p1 because he was eager to impress you

gigglin and kickin my feet BECAUSE HES SO CUTE

and you’re stood in the paddock, watching with the biggest grin on your face

when the podium celebration rolls around, you’re front row and he makes sure you get hit with some champagne with the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen

he ruined your very expensive outfit but you didn’t have it in you to be mad

i would never do that to you personally- just saying, your clothes would always be in pristine condition if you were with me… just sayin ✋😌🤚

when the two of you leave literally anywhere, he gets swarmed by fans

tells them to wait a second, and gets you to the car safely before he jogs over to sign some stuff

if you can’t get to the car, he makes sure your hand is in his, keeping you close whilst he signs things

he’s always hyper aware of your safety in public

if you’re instantly met with flashing lights, he will either cover your eyes or take off his hat and put it on your head to shield you

your safety always comes before his

also can we talk about your fashion?

you always dress to impress, never a bad outfit day

pfft is anyone surprised? you’re literally gods gift to earth- MOVE HEESEUNG

travel days are always so tiring for heeseung

which is when you become the protective one

holding him protectively whilst you both wait for your flight

running your hands through his hair

he holds you so tight; he doesn’t care who sees or about getting teased by his fellow drivers

when you’re finally in the air, whether it be private jet or not, you always make yourself into a personal pillow for him

it could be the cushiest flight known to man, and you’d still be his pillow

that should be me fr

he sleeps like a baby the whole time

and you don’t mind because you know he needs it

in the days leading up to the championship, he becomes…

unbearable? whiny? annoying? come here, i’d never- sorry sorry 😔

tense…

his stress levels are through the roof and nothing really helps other than just letting him be

he’s snappier than usual, but after many years together, you’ve learned to let it go

because you know this is a huge deal for him and he always apologises afterwards

the only thing you can really do is serve as his support and try to relax him as best as you can

like couple spa days when his schedule isn’t crammed

sightseeing to enjoy the beautiful country

even lying in your hotel room the night before, reminiscing about your relationship and his journey to becoming one of the best

you’d feel his heartbeat beneath your back which would be pressed up against him

his shaky breaths against the side of your neck as he pressed nervous kisses beneath your ear, nibbling slightly on the lobe

god… i’ve seen what you’ve done for others

“will you still love me if i don’t win tomorrow?”

you can tell he’s straddling the line between joking and genuinely needing reassurance

so, you do what you always do

you turn, cup both of his cheeks in your palms, and press your forehead against his

“you look funny.”

he’d giggle, and you’d start wiggling your eyebrows to make him laugh harder

and he always does, because to him, you’re the funniest person he’s ever met

then, you’d scrunch up your nose and gently sweep it against his, eventually leaving a kiss on the bridge.

“i will love you no matter what. even if you wake up tomorrow and decide that you want to quit, i will love you. even if you decide to walk away from it all, i will love you. because at the end of the day, it’s not the trophies that matter or the podiums. it’s you. you, you, you! your happiness, your peace of mind. you are my greatest achievement; you are my championship win. and i will love you until my heart beats its last pump of blood.”

if you look closely, you can see me drowning in the shower-

a million kisses are shared that night before the two of you finally slip into a steady sleep

when the next morning rolls around, heeseung doesn’t talk much as he gets himself ready for the race

you’re a bundle of nerves as you follow behind him, hand clutched in his own

pre race cuddles are a must in his little rest room

there’s not much talking, heeseung quite likes his silence to gather his mind and enter his racing headspace

but his hold on you, and the way he looks at you speaks for itself. you don’t need his words to know that he loves you and he wants to win not only for himself or red bull, but you.

“if we win this, i’ll give you my helmet to sell on ebay. i think it would go nicely with the signature i gave you at 15.”

your heart quite literally melts into a puddle at the memory

you grin, peppering a bunch of kisses all over his face until you finally land on his lips, soaking in the pre race nerves and savouring the taste of nutella from his pancakes he had that morning

“oh, i am going to be absolutely loaded.”

the two of you share a laugh, knowing silently that you’d never sell it on ebay because it’s tucked away in your memory box, where it will stay until you’re grey and old

a piece of the past where the two of you very first met

the peace drains from the room as though a plug had been pulled from the bathtub, with tension and nerves flooding in

look at me getting all poetic 😌

heeseung doesn’t let go of your hand until he absolutely has to

leaving you alongside his family members with a kiss so passionate it left your mind reeling

his mother grabs your hand after sharing her own moment with him, and the two of you hold on tight to the hope that he’s going to win

the race is tense, you’re almost in tears from the chaos and the nerves

your heart feels like it’s seconds from stopping as the end to the final lap approaches with heeseung in close second

he’s going to overtake, and you’re not quite sure whether your heart could handle it

STOP WHY IS MY HEART POUNDING AS IF IM THERE PLS

you grip onto his mother, the two of you holding onto each other in anticipation

it happens within seconds, you barely have time to process it

heeseung overtakes, barely missing the Ferrari car as he does so

several seconds later, your world stops as the red bull team bursts into celebration

someone is shaking you, gripping onto you with pure elation but everything is in slow motion

heeseung just won the world championship

your heeseung just won

nah because why am i crying? someone take my laptop i’m far too into this

you choke out a sob, allowing his mother to cradle you in her arms with tears flowing down her own cheeks

you’re a crying mess, blubbering proudly and unable to make sense of anything

you don’t even care that the camera is on you, displaying your reaction for everyone to see

“he did it!”

“he absolutely did!”

you don’t know how much time has passed before he’s running towards you, yanking the helmet off

there’s no time to process anything before he sweeps you up into his arms, pressing kisses all over your skin wherever his lips could fit

he holds you like you’re the trophy, lifting you up proudly like a medal

tears cascade down your cheeks like a summer waterfall, while warmth and joy spread through you

he did it. he actually did it.

“get that helmet signed, boy. i’m gonna be rich!”

[seventhcallisto]

DEEP DOWN.

alpha!Ateez x omega!f!Reader

Idol!Ateez x Idol!F!Reader (A/B/O!AU 9th Member!AU)

You've got every right to be upset. How you tossed and turned the last time. In misery, you dealt with it on your own. You've felt so hot for so long with nothing to keep you cold, although it's only your second heat. They seem the worse they can get. You've got whatever you can reach in a vice grip. God, if only you hadn't spent so much time with so many alphas in a cramped area. If only you heard the valcano errupting in your dna. Maybe it'd be different. Maybe you'd still be a beta, living your life normally. Rather than suffering in a cold dim room, keeping yourself away from the 8 guys your silly half omega brain yearns for. Something you never asked for. Yet, deep down you beg for.

Synopsis: When the 9th member of ateez figures out her beta dna changed because she's spent years surrounded by alphas. Now, a late bloomed omega, she finds herself losing control of the reins of her body and feelings. With the alphas hot on her trail, exposing her secret, she can't decide if she's willing to risk letting them in or cutting off the guys entirely.

CW and content; She/her pronouns used, female anatomy, ot8 x reader, polyamorous relationships. MATURE THEMES! A/b/o, implied soulmates, imprinting, marking, mating bites, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding kink, all that jazz. This is purely self indulgent. 9th member! reader. alpha! ateez x beta turned omega! reader. (I'll explain that later) ANGST! lots of it at first. and lots lots lots of fluff. mutual pining(they don't know it yet tho). number of chapters will be updated as I go down the line. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. PERIOD.

All the content in this story is fictitious. This fanfiction contains mature content. This is an original work of fiction made by seventhcallisto. Do not steal, copy, or plagiarize my works.

WORLD BUILDING— scents.

My masterlist ☆ | 71.8k word count.

Prologue. — 💠 4.5k

Chapter one 6.3k ❝why didn't you answer my calls?❞

Chapter two 6.3k ❝you promise?❞

Chapter three 6.7k ❝meet me halfway.❞

Chapter four 6.1k ❝mirrors❞

Chapter five 11.6k ❝just one.❞ (nsfw)

Chapter six 12.3k ❝lips & hips.❞ (nsfw)

Chapter seven 9.0k ❝your best girl.❞ (nsfw)

Chapter eight 8.6k ❝sensitive.❞ (nsfw)

Chapter nine. Chapter ten.

To Be Continued. 🪼

Comments keep me motivated ! Thank you for supporting.

© seventhcallisto 2023

[yoon-kooks]

seven tattoos later | jjk

🐰pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x tattooartist!reader

🐰genre: fluff, smut

🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?

🐰word count: 3.3k

🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry

As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.

Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.

It’s lonely.

You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay. 

That was around two months ago.

“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.

“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.

“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.” 

At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)

“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.

After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”

“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”

For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.

But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.

What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?

You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.

It was for the best.

So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)

Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”

He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.

“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.

Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.

You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.

A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.

Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.

You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.

Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in. 

Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot. 

Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.

Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)

When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.

jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”

[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]

[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]

jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”

Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”

Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”

You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?

Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.

“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”

“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?

“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.

“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.

You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.

You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.

“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.

“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”

He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.

“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”

Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.

“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”

You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.

At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”

“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.

“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.

“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”

After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.

“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”

You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.

“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”

“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”

“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.

“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”

That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.

“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”

“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.

“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.

Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.

You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top. 

Your hips start to roll against him.

“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”

You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.

Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.

You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette. 

“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.

“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.

“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.

“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”

Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.

“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”

“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”

As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.

The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.

“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”

He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.

He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.

This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.

“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.

“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”

Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.

He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can’t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.

“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”

“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.

As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.

He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.

This boy is different.

He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.

“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”

He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”

You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)

“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.

Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.

You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”

[icyg4l]

PAC: Your Future Partner's Love Language

Hello beautiful people, tonight marks the third post of the week regarding love! (meaning I kept my promise, yay!) I have a sale going on tomorrow, so be sure to tune into that. If you would look to book a reading, please read my guidelines and then dm me! If you have any inquiries, also dm me! Without further ado, please select your pile!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile 1: I feel like you’re the independent woman trope, Pile One. This person will be attracted to you because you have your own. But that doesn't mean that they won’t be giving. This isn’t a stingy lover at all. I get Cancer/Capricorn/Aquarius energy from this person. I see this person will be big on gift giving. They will also shower you with compliments. They don’t expect this in return, to be honest. They’re also really big on paying the tab every time at restaurants. I feel like this person is calm and collected. This person wants to follow in their family’s footsteps. They’re big on marriage and doing things the proper way. They would like to show you off, this is part of their love language as well. And lastly, this person really likes to see people stand on business. Part of their love language is helping you plan and put things into action. They’re going to be your number one fan. Expect roses and romance with this person, Pile One.

Cards Used: The Hierophant, The Hermit, 4 of Discs, Queen of Swords

extras: tacos. party pooper. mellow. skilla baby. carrie underwood. bartleby.

Pile 2: So when I was shuffling for this pile, I heard the term ‘yapper’. This person really likes to talk, even if it’s about nothing. I thought of this guy who I sit next to in my English class, and he says whatever comes to mind. I feel like this person just really wants a listening ear since they didn’t get that when they were younger. They could have been the type of kid to have “talks too much” on their report card. They have big Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Virgo energy. This person just wants to be heard and valued for once, they feel taken for granted. This person has the tendency to go down memory lane as well. They also have a thing for tickling. They honestly seem like a big kid. They are really big on humor. Their sense of humor can be deadpan or they could say a lot of one-liner punchlines. Be prepared to laugh a lot. I think this person values one-on-one time a lot as well, Pile Two.

Cards Used: Judgment, Ace of Swords, Death (RX), Eight of Discs (RX), 7 of Discs (RX)

extras: bright teeth. nice style. black beanies. toby from this is us. “kiss the ring.” wrestlers.

Pile 3: Oh man, the chemistry is hot here. This person really likes PDA. They enjoy physical touch. They want you to find any reason to touch them & they want to do the same for you. This person wants everyone to know that y’all are together. They could be a little clingy, let them know if that’s too much for you. I get the feeling that this could be their first real relationship so please be gentle with them. I feel like this person is like a big teddy bear. They really enjoy hugs, sharing drinks with you, cuddling, hand-holding and sloppy kisses. It all makes their world go round. You guys will be engaging in a lot of sexual activity together so please protect yourselves! Overall, this person is not shy. This person is quite the flirt, very physical. They give big Leo, LIbra, Aries energy. You guys are going to be like that one couple in high school that got detention for kissing by the lockers. People might be uncomfortable by your dynamic because you’re so physical with one another, but fuck it!

Cards Used: Knight of Wands, The Chariot, Princess of Cups, The Lovers, Ace of Cups.

extras: sweet face. wink. “hold me.” soft hands. racy. lord farquaad. monochromatic. skin-to-skin.

Pile 4: Can we say dramaaaa? I feel like your person is really dramatic. They’re the epitome of go big, go home. They give off Pisces, Leo, Sagittarius energy. They’re the epitome of male R&B singers in the early 2000s. This person has the best intentions but it can be overwhelming for you at times. Know that this person is doing their best. This is a part of who they are, there’s no faking this personality. I think this person would literally do anything for you. If you were to ask for a cookie from the store, they would bring you the cookie, a sandwich, a drink, chips and flowers just to make your day. This person is really good at planning parties and spending money. If you were to have a birthday coming up, they would have a surprise party planned with all of your favorite people there and thoughtful gifts. This person wants to give you the world, honestly. Don’t feel embarrassed by the things that this person does because you deserve it. They do it out of purity, but you can tell them to tone it down if it’s really getting to you.

Cards Used: The Emperor, The Fool, Justice, 7 of Cups, Ace of Discs, Princess of Cups

extras: my way by usher. “It’s camp.” new edition. clown colors. teezo touchdown. rich uncle vibes.

[bedazzlecunt]

i get sooo many asks and DMs asking for tips on how to get better at edging so i wanted to make an actual post about how i turned myself into a total edgeslut — and how you can, too! there's really only one main 'rule' to follow while you're learning how to edge, so i promise you can do it! this info should still be applicable regardless of your particular genitalia, but i mostly reference cunts because that's what i've got.

the one rule!

my ultimate suggestion for people who are new to edging and finding it almost impossible is to STOP TRYING TO EDGE. some of you are going like that's crazy edging is all i want to do! but listen to me. listen to me. we are going to get you there.

if horniness is a scale of one to ten, with one being 'not horny at all' and ten being 'orgasming' the ideal edging situation is that you get to a nine and then stop. that's really hard to do, though! but you could probably get to a four and stop, right? pretty easily, even.

that's what you want to do. figure out that highest number on that scale you can go and still stop, and go to that number. do this a lot. i love, love, LOVE touching like this, even now that i am a pro at edging, because there's zero risk of going over and it's still a great tool to keep you horny / submissive / feeling hot as hell / whatever it is you want to get out of edging.

start at bringing yourself to a four and then stop. once you've mastered that, once that feels almost too easy, move up to a five. then a six. seven. i encourage you not to cum at all while you're doing this, but also, i'm not your dom! do what you want! the point is you're touching-without-cumming a lot (which is great practice all on it's own) and you're acclimating your body to getting horny, sometimes even REALLY horny, without actually cumming every time it happens.

doing this regularly also has the pleasant side-effect keeping you aroused more often than not. if you're constantly bringing yourself to level seven horniness and then stopping, you are almost never going to drop below level three. you are going to be turned on a LOT, which feels sooooo good. which leads to...

getting addicted*!

the thing about being always horny, about touching yourself all the time, about never cumming, is that it feels really, really good. people wouldn't do denial if it didn't! and once you've had a month or so of touching-but-not-edging and your body's adjusted to the sense of being constantly turned on and how good it feels, it gets to a point where cumming is a lot less appealing. you know it's going to take away the good, horny, happy feeling that you're getting addicted to! once you've come to really, really enjoy being constantly horny, and come to associate the idea of cumming with losing that good feeling, that makes it a lot easier to keep from going over as you creep up to higher levels like eight and nine. and even when you do go over, the fact that you'll lose the sensation that you've come to enjoy so much will just reinforce for you that it's better not to cum!

*i'm using addicted as a fun little hyperbole word here, but i do want to add the disclaimer that if your edging / horniness / etc. starts to interfere with your life like a real addiction then you gotta stop that before you hurt yourself. do not actually jeopardize your job/relationships/etc. for kink.

edging!

by this point, you'll have lots of practice at masturbating without going over and you'll be addicted to the feeling of being constantly turned on — and you'll dread the thought of losing that feeling. those things combined are the peak edging scenario. this is the point when you can start trying to edge seriously; bringing yourself to a nine on our horny scale and stopping.

you will probably still go over occasionally as you figure out your actual limits — don't be angry at yourself for this, but do refrain from trying to edge again on days you go over. the last thing you want is to reacclimate your body to coming regularly. if you try to edge in the morning but go over by mistake, just bring yourself to a level eight for the rest of the times you masturbate and try again tomorrow. eventually, you'll know your limits, be addicted to the feeling of being edged, and be really practiced at doing it!

if you're still having trouble or just want to play in new ways, then find out what turns you on but you can't orgasm from. your nipples are sensitive enough to break your brain but you can't orgasm just from that? well then get to playing with them, dummy! love penetration but can't come from it without clit stimulation? tape off your clit and get fucking! i can never cum just from humping a pillow or grinding on something, so grinding is a great way for me to edge! try to find stuff that makes you really, really horny but that you can't orgasm from and really lean into those things!

[copperbadge]

I took a survey when I left the Country Music Hall of Fame that asked me about "artifacts" in the collection, which isn't wrong but did crack me up as a term to use, so here are two of my favorite weird artifacts:

The photo of the front seat of the car is just so unhinged. I'm going to do the description of it here because I want to make sure you guys notice that this is a white open-top car with front hybrid bench-bucket seats upholstered in leather, but that is where the normalcy ends. The door handles on both outside and inside are made of SIX SHOOTERS with mother-of-pearl grips, the sun shades are embossed leather flaps like cowboy boots might look if you flattened them, and between the two front seats where the gearshift normally goes is a large saddle covered in silver dollars. The horn of the western-style saddle might be the gearshift, it's tough to say. According to a placard nearby, this is the Nudie Mobile, so called because it was customized by "Nudie's Rodeo Tailors" which did a lot of early costume design for country performers.

This image looks more normal but I promise you it is not.

This is a Gibson F-5 mandolin, billed in the placard as the most famous mandolin in American music history, which seems like a low bar to clear, but I'm not a mandolin aficionado. Again, for an image ID, it is an extremely worn-looking eight-string instrument, a fairly standard modern mandolin. It has a number of bare patches and scratches on the soundboard. Wanna know why?

It's because this famous mandolin belonged to Bill Monroe, who bought it from a barbershop (how a Gibson made by Lloyd Loar got into a barbershop is a mystery) in the 40s. He played it for decades until 1985, when an intruder broke in and beat the mandolin to pieces with a fireplace poker. So what you're seeing in that image is the original Gibson -- reassembled from about 150 splintered pieces by Gibson company. Monroe kept playing it, including in recordings, until he died in 1996.

I have to say, I spent maybe five, ten minutes standing in front of it, leaning this way and that, looking like an idiot I'm sure as I tried to detect seams and cracks where it was reassembled, and whoever at Gibson put this back together did a spectacular job. For all it looks kicked to shit in this picture, it looks fantastic in person.

[niniluvsainz]

sad beautiful tragic ☽ cs55

(5.1k words)

masterlist |

in which... falling out of love was both relieving and terrifying.

carlos sainz x wife!fem!reader

(PLEASE READ) warnings... pregnancy, falling out of love, angst, pregnancy symptoms, baby delivering, carlos is a dad, reader is a mom, no use of y/n, public marriage proposal, yelling, yelling in front of a child, ferrari, how is it a carlos fic without lando norris being the adoptive son, abortion mention, aggressive carlos, slamming hands on surface, slight unwanted pregnancy, divorce, confusing ending bcs its eleven pm and im sleepy, not proofread.

WHEN YOU AND CARLOS MET, it was unprepared and you were both two naive children. carlos was just jumpstarting his motorsport career, and while he was in england, he met you. it was a small moment, at a nightclub, but the moment he laid eyes on you he knew he had found his person. the spaniard didn't know that night, july ninth, would change his life forever.

you, in your elegant maroon dress, swaying your body to the beats echoing around the small room. he had offered to buy you a drink, and you, already one too many drinks in, could not reject a handsome young man's offer.

you exchanged numbers that same night, and promised to go out one day again. two weeks later, that promise was fulfilled.

"i hope you like sushi," carlos mentioned, opening your side of his car door. you smiled, as you both walked hand-in-hand into the luxurious restaurant.

after hours of getting to know each other over sushi, a few appetizers, and two bottles of wine, you both decided to give the relationship a try. of course, with his career came many different events for carlos to attend around the world, but when he would be back in england, he'd spend all his time with you.

when carlos was called to be promoted into formula one to join the scuderia toro rosso alongside max verstappen, you were the first one he called to deliver the news. the next week, carlos had flown in to england to celebrate with you. you had both celebrated in multiple ways, and in one of those particular occasions, you became pregnant.

the symptoms began lightly, you became dizzy very frequently, and it wasn't until you could not take the sickness anymore that you went for a doctor visit.

when you heard the phrase, congratulations--you are six weeks pregnant, the pit in your stomach enlarged. how would you tell carlos? would he want to be a father? were you ready to be a mother? you didn't know who to tell, you felt alone. your parents were not in the picture, so you were actually and completely alone.

carlos was in italy, preparing for his formula one debut, and he would not be coming to visit you in two weeks. those two weeks were absolute misery, you couldn't pass down food, you'd felt horrible. when carlos arrived in your house, you tried applying makeup to hide the hollowness in your cheeks and how your warm skin tone had faded. however, carlos immediately noticed, including the drastic weight loss on your body.

"amor, what happened?" carlos had concern laced in his tone and features, holding you delicately as he pulled away from the welcome embrace. carlos' eyes scanned over you, as you tried to swallow the breakdown climbing up.

"let's go sit, please." you whispered, motioning to your couch. carlos had a million thoughts run through his head, all leading to different outcomes.

"i'm pregnant; eight weeks." you paused for a few seconds to register carlos' reaction.

being pregnant was not on carlos' mental list.

carlos' body language said it all, according to you. the slight arm hold loosening, his body slightly jerking away, and his eyes--oh, the eyes you grew to love and adore, now you could see the numerous emotions flooding him.

before he could say anything, you spoke first. "listen, i understand if you do not want to keep this baby. but, i made my decision, and i'm keeping it. i'm not going to force you to be in the baby's life, because i understand having a baby right now when the most important part of your career is just about to start--" carlos leaned in and placed his lips on yours. the tears began falling to your cheeks, staining his own.

when he pulled away, he stared deeply into your eyes. "corazon, you just made me become the happiest man alive. i love you." a smile formed on your lips, before you embraced him tightly. you clung to him for dear life, happy and relieved you wouldn't be alone in this after all.

"i can speak with my family, my mother and sisters can help you. but, you would most likely have to move to spain with me." carlos explained, releasing from the hug. "oh," was all you could mutter.

you had never seen past britain, it's always been home to you. but you knew if you wanted help you couldn't do it alone. "wouldn't you think it's kind of weird, that the first time i'm meeting your family it's because i'm pregnant with your child?" you asked, nervousness beginning to bubble in your stomach.

"no," carlos immediately answered. "i was thinking either way of taking you to meet my family during my time here, so they are expecting you, and they're really excited to meet you." carlos reassured. you nodded with a small smile. with one last look, carlos got up and headed to the kitchen.

"what are you going to do?" you asked, facing the direction he walked. carlos began grabbing pans out of your cabinet and multiple ingredients.

"i'm going to make sure my girlfriend and little carlitos are well fed. now, what are you craving?"

when you knew your baby would be on the way, you were actually on a boat with ana and blanca, carlos' sisters. you felt the painful kicks, and immediately told both sisters. the first thing they did was tell the boat to turn back to shore as fast as humanly possible, and then they called carlos, who was with his parents. you don't know how, but you truly believe a higher power was helping you. you blacked out for everything, and it wasn't until you regained consciousness again that you were being given your baby into your arms. carlos was right beside you, staring down at your newborn child. he was crying, just as you were. "it's little carlitos." you whispered, looking up at carlos with a large smile on your face.

carlitos seemed to grow very quickly in your eyes. you were eternally grateful for carlos sr and reyes, for being the most loving grandparents for your baby. they both took you in and treated you just like their own blood, "como una verdadera familia." (like a real family.) ana and blanca became close to you, and were the aunts that would spoil every little dime for carlitos.

carlos, of course, was the best father ever. you will admit, both of you walked into parenthood not knowing almost anything, but with the help of carlos' family, you both learned. you had decided to not yet accompany carlos to his formula one races, as you did not want carlitos out with the media at such a young age. carlos understood your reasoning, but you both were always supporting him by the television screen.

birthday celebrations were surrounded by friends and family, and carlitos was over the moon when he would see all the candy, piñatas, and colorful decor around the backyard of the sainz home.

a few weeks before carlitos turned three, you noticed carlos being very suspicious. you would catch him in his own lies, but decided on not commenting anything. instead, you tried speaking to ana and blanca but they would just divert your concerns to something relating to carlitos, and you would always fall for the trap, because you loved everything about your son.

of course you were not knowing what was about to come when carlos had simply invited you out to dinner. carlitos had stayed with reyes and carlos sr, the couple claiming they were wanting to spend quality time with their grandson.

it was a lovely dinner with carlos, as it had been quite a while since it was you two without carlitos around. your waiter had come to receive the check, but before leaving he informed you two, "there's a live band on the other side of the restaurant if you would like to enjoy some live music." you looked at carlos, a sparkling glint in your eye. carlos chuckled, and he got up from his chair, extending out a hand for you to grab.

you both walked towards the back of the restaurant that would oversee the city of madrid. the band, who was playing soothingly, added to the nice touch where one would stare out to the beautiful city and be able to listen to a calming tune.

“corazón,” carlos said beside you. you turned to look at him, only to see his gorgeous brown eyes staring at you with admiration. you smiled, and carlos cleared his throat before glancing down at the ground. he only looked back up to the band and gave them a slight nod, before getting down on one knee. he reached for his pocket, and you quickly glanced around your surroundings to see clients of the restaurant begin to take notice of what was about to happen in front of them.

the band’s music quieted down; you were sure carlos left them the notice in advance. your lips parted in shock, as you stared down at him. “mi vida, you are the love of my life. you have given me the gift of becoming a father to our son. i love you more than words and actions can describe,” carlos paused for a moment, as he saw you beginning to release tears from the corner of your eyes. he knew you hated ruining your makeup because of crying.

when carlos opened the small box he had put into view a few moments ago and positioned it in front of him to display to you, you felt the entire world stop for this one moment.

carlos said your full name, it sounded quite unnatural since he's only ever called you loving nicknames. "i'm already the happiest man right now, but will you add to that happiness and marry me?"

you nodded your head yes immediately and grabbed both his hands, helping him stand up and leaning in to meet your lips with his. the clapping sound surrounded you both as well as cheering sounds, but you paid no mind as you had everything you've cared for right in front of you.

once separated from the loving kiss, you opened your eyes to see carlos placing the gorgeous engagement ring on your finger, and you looked up as you saw the entire family standing feet away from you two. the tears from your eyes were uncontrollable, your emotions all over the place.

carlitos, only having a few months experienced in walking, wattled over to you and carlos. carlos picked his son up, and you placed a small kiss on carlitos' hand.

the family walked towards your own, congratulating you and carlos. "you knew, didn't you?" you asked blanca and ana. they both giggled, and you shook your head laughing. this is what family was. and you were so unbelievably happy you had won the lottery in that department.

the wedding came months later. it was a beautiful reception. a few of carlos' colleagues in formula one were invited. it was a wedding in december, so you and carlos would have enough time for your honeymoon before he would be back in racing. he was given his biggest opportunity yet in formula one, being promoted to drive in mclaren by the upcoming season.

both you and carlos agreed you wanted to expand your tiny family by adding another member. and by the time carlos had begun his new formula one season, you were already confirmed to be expecting.

being a mother in waiting is not pretty. you had gone through this process once with carlitos, and going through it again one would expect for it to go smoother, but it was just as difficult. this was all motherhood, was your motivation to keep going. for you, your husband, your son and your new baby on the way.

carlitos understood many things, including the fact he was going to become a big brother. when asked if he wanted a brother or a sister, he always answered he wanted "una pequeña hermanita." (a little sister.) you had also encouraged the entire family to speak spanish to carlitos so he would be fluent in both english and spanish.

your second child arrived during a very special event in spain. dia de los muertos (day of the dead.), to be exact. carlos was not with you, as he was halfway across the world in austin, texas.

you were with carlos sr and reyes, and they both took great care of you. ana and blanca took care of carlitos while you were in the hospital. you asked both in-laws to please do not tell carlos, as you thought this could completely flood his mind and he would not do good in the race.

your second child, camilo, was delivered on the second of november. if you were not mistaken, this day was the day of qualifying for carlos. and no way in hell would you ever call him for him to go ballistic and fuck it all up. and that's how it went. carlos did not hear from any of the family for the entire weekend, and even going into the next race. you did not want to tell him over the phone his newborn son was born. you didn't think he would take it so far, but he did.

after the brazilian grand prix, carlos was going back to spain to you. he would have a week and then he would fly to abu dhabi for the final race of the season. camilo was two and a half weeks already, and looked like the carbon copy of carlos. carlitos had more of your own features, but if someone were to definitely see camilo they would immediately recognize carlos sainz jr as the father.

when carlos arrived, you were putting camilo to sleep. carlitos promised to wait for his papi in the living room of your recently purchased family home. you didn't hear when carlos arrived, so when you heard the door of your shared bedroom open and you heard your husband's voice behind you say your name, you were startled and quickly turned around, not forgetting camilo was still in your arms.

"is camilo asleep?" carlitos asked in a hushed whisper. you turned around and placed your newborn son in his crib, before placing his blankets over him, and turning on the baby monitor.

"yes, he just fell asleep." you responded to your son's question. carlos' eyes were burning your skin, and you couldn't dare to look him in the eye. you even flinched when carlos spoke, but not to you.

"campeón, why don't you go to your room, i need to speak with mamá first. and then you can show me your new balón de fútbol." you pursed your lips before carlitos turned his head to look at you for reassurance, which you gave with a small smile and nod, and seconds later carlitos left to his own room happily skipping down the hall.

once carlos was sure his son was out of hearing distance, his attention was brought back to you. "i find out by my son, as soon as i walk through the door, that you had the baby?" carlos asked cautiously. his tone was neutral, but you felt the argument begin to approach. "you didn't even call to let me know?"

you took a deep breath before answering. "i didn't want you to find out over the phone, and you weren't going to be here because of your races."

carlos let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. "i had the right to know was son was born the minute someone had a hold of a phone at that hospital." his tone was aggressive, but not loud to wake up camilo or let carlitos hear.

"i didn't want you to mess up your races because i was having the baby and you wouldn't be around," you tried explaining. if it wasn't for camilo sleeping, carlos would be yelling right now.

"no, i would be flying back because i would want to see my wife and be there for her and for our new child!" carlos began whisper-yelling as he motioned to the sleeping baby behind you.

"i'm--i'm sorry, carlos. i thought i was doing what was best for you--" you were cut off by carlos' following words. "how do you know what's best for me? what's best was, knowing i had a son the second he arrived. i would have come back, and taken care of you and our sons. where the hell did you leave carlitos in all of this?" he asked, his face turning red from the anger he was projecting.

"he stayed with your sisters." you whispered, looking down. carlos nodded his head slowly before scoffing again. "when i could've been there!" he countered. you looked up to meet his gaze. "okay, but it happened! it's over, we can't erase time."

carlos stayed quite for a few moments, as if thinking his thoughts through. the argument was immature; of course on some parts you were wrong by not letting carlos know immediately, but carlos immediately went to argue instead of seeing his newborn baby for the first time.

carlos walked over to you and looked down at the sleeping child. you stared at the small interaction between both father and son, as carlos slowly gave camilo his pointer finger, to which the child, even sleeping, gripped the finger.

"he looks just like you," you whispered, staring between your husband and son. the corner of carlos' lips turned upwards, non-verbally agreeing with your statement.

"i'm sorry for the argument," carlos whispered, as he began carefully caressing camilo's head, which surprisingly had already a lot of hair.

"i should be the one apologizing. i wasn't thinking about anyone but myself in the moment." you muttered. camilo's grip on carlos' finger loosened, and he stepped back from the crib to embrace you into his arms. you hugged back tightly, in the end happy your husband was back with you to complete your growing family.

when the worldwide pandemic came about in the beginning of 2020, you were worried for carlos. worried how exposed he was to the sickness. that was until, the formula one season would be postponed until further notice. therefore, carlos went back to spain and although he was still staying in shape and training for when the season would resume, he also took this time to cherish the family bonding with his wife and two sons.

there were small moments, whether it would be playing fútbol with carlitos, both father and son teaching baby camilo how to play, but a baby can only watch. in carlitos' words, "when camilo is older we can team up and score the goals." you would be cooking, feeding your family, having movie nights, or even sometimes when the children would go to sleep early, you and carlos would cook a dinner for the both of you. it was these moments that made you cherish life.

in may, carlos was in talks with a new formula one team seeking him. carlos had accepted the deal, and it was a family celebration when he announced he would be driving for the scarlet red team next season, scuderia ferrari.

however, because of this, another person joined your family. and not in the way you thought. no, carlos' best friend, lando norris. you had not interacted much with the brit, but he seemed like a very funny guy based on interviews and crazy stories your husband would mention.

what lando norris decided, was that he would stay in your house for about a month before he would depart from his 'best mate.' staying as a house guest would later come to mean having another child and baby-ing him. the stay turned to two months, as lando also stayed to celebrate christmas, before he departed to his family for new years. lando meeting carlitos and camilo was wholesome, the brit would teach carlitos about golf, while camilo --who had began walking when he turned a year old-- would waddle the golf balls back to lando and carlitos, as this was his own way of playing with the two.

by the end of lando's stay, he was exclusively "uncle" or "tio lando" to carlitos. and lando spoiled the hell out of carlitos and camilo for christmas.

the 2021 formula one season brought many changes, one including carlos finally convinced you to attend a race. carlitos was not on your side either, as he has wanted to see his papa driving fast cars. it was three against one (as when camilo was also asked if he wanted to attend a race with carros, he would smile and laugh, which father and son took as a yes). you flew to bahrain with carlos and your two sons, and were actually entertained by everything going on in the paddock. carlos' new teammate, charles leclerc, was in awe of your children. carlos never talked about having a wife or even children, so your family entrance definitely turned heads from all around. you spent most of your time with your children, and sometimes accompanied by charles leclerc's girlfriend, charlotte, who also adored your children from the moment she saw them. your little family was cheering on for carlos in red the entire weekend.

however, as the year went by, you felt a shift. of course, family bonding was still there. you tried to hide it, but you felt a change when you were with your husband. sometimes you shrugged off the feeling, not wanting to think too much about it, but you knew. even if it wasn't spoken, your love for carlos had diminished. you almost felt empty inside at times, and maybe you blamed it on how back to back you had children and now that they're growing you just feel the nostalgia. this is what led you to ask your husband in the middle of the night the question.

"do you want to have another baby?"

carlos had turned his head toward you, staring deeply into your eyes. he held the eye contact for a few moments before responding. "i think we are perfectly well with carlitos and camilo, don't you think?"

"but wouldn't you like another one, carlitos keeps asking for a sister," you chuckled. "and our family will be complete."

"our family's already complete," carlos stated in a tone that projected, the conversation's over.

you nodded with a smile that didn't reach your eyes, before kissing his cheek and bidding goodnight. you turned on your side and closed your eyes, not another word spoken for the night. nights where you two would stay up until the next morning, whether it be to feed or change diapers, lay tangled in each other's arms, or just talk nonsense, too delirious to understand what the other would be speaking about. those nights were now a kiss goodnight, or just laying by each other and not speaking a word at all until you two would fall asleep, centimeters separating you both.

attending the grand prix's became a more regular thing, your boys always happy to be following their father, and you always cheering on your husband.

because carlos' good friend, max verstappen, had won his first world championship, he invited you both to celebrate. that night, both you and carlos had too much to drink, and weren't thinking of your decisions.

a month later, you're pregnant again.

carlos said he did not want another child, but what did you want? it was an innocent child's life, one who didn't even have an opportunity to see and experience the world.

you decided on telling carlos over dinner (the good thing is that tradition hasn't ended yet), and you were terrified to see his reaction.

"when did you find out?" carlos asked, taking a sip of his wine. "earlier this morning, i went to the doctor." you answered, trying to rub the sweat off your palms on your pants. "she said i was a month in."

of course, the night of max's celebration. that's the most recent time you have had sex, and before that it had been almost eight.

"i know you said you didn't want another baby, but carlos--" you were cut off by your husband slightly slamming his hands on the table, making you flinch. "you're pregnant, and now we move on with the pregnancy until the baby is born." he got up from the table and grabbed empty plates and silverware before taking them to the washing sink.

"goodnigtht." carlos said before departing to your shared bedroom. you stayed still in your seat, processing what you heard. one thing you were sure of, this baby was not wanted by its father.

the news was later given to your sons that they would become big brothers soon. carlitos jumped up and down in excitement, while camilo, still learning to understand words, only smiled widely.

nine months later, and you had a baby girl. carlos, someway between seven and eight months into the pregnancy, was deciding on girl names. you had chipped in that you wanted a 'c' name, as both your sons had one, so it would be neat if your daughter also had one. after much thought and debating, you both settled for carla. carlos sr and reyes helped calm the debate.

luckily, carlos was home for carla's birth. carlitos and camilo were with their grandparents, but carlitos had insisted he wanted to see his little sister before anyone.

when you and carlos arrived with carla back home, carlitos immediately wanted to hold her, while camilo was staring at her like she was an alien.

over time, carlos and you continued to try to make the family functional. but it started crumbling down, and you knew it was a matter of time.

your daughter was more difficult than how carlitos and camilo had been, so at some instances in the middle of the night carlos would get up from the bed while you were feeding carla and go sleep in the guest bedroom.

you took carla to the paddock earlier in age than you did with your sons. carlos insisted you accompany him, and to bring the entire family. you didn't want to, as carla was still small. but carlos begged and insisted.

the beginning of the 2023 year did not go as you thought it would. you tried hard, you really did, to keep your family in one stand. but carlos wasn't helping.

you tried showing you were a happy family to your children, because you did not want them to go through what you did. which is what made your parents divorce and leave you in the middle of it. you did not want that for your family.

your routine was now: wake up, feed the kids, do chores, feed the kids again, maybe go visit reyes and carlos sr, and if carlos was home take the kids to play, go to sleep. no more traditions, no more nothing.

you weren't happy anymore. you saw carlos wasn't either. it was just routine at this point.

when carlos got the call he was no longer driving at ferrari, he isolated himself. he didn't speak to you, he ignored the children, even his parents. you would be folding laundry and he'd come out of the guest room (which was now declared his) to see if there was food. you would just start cooking after you finished laundry, but he wasn't patient.

"the food isn't ready?!" he would ask agitated. you swallowed hard, not wanting to cry and seem weak. "i'll get started on it in a bit, let me just finish folding these clothes and--"

you would stop speaking because he would grab a jacket and the car keys, and leave without another word. carlitos would be the one to come out of his room, and ask if you were okay.

"yes, i am. dad just went for a pizza." you smiled. carlitos would jump in delight, before running to tell his siblings in the other room. you would grab your phone and order pizza delivery.

2024 was the year you were just exhausted. and the last turning point was after carla's second birthday party. you had both agreed to celebrate her birthday a week before, as carlos would be in baku for a race weekend on her actual day.

the whole day, carlos didn't show up. he didn't show up to his daughter's birthday at all. when you called numerous times, it would send to voicemail. you asked ana and blanca, even his parents, to contact him. it was carlos sr who he answered to. he was training, not even knowing his daughter was waiting for him.

when carlos arrived home well after the party had ended, you didn't direct a word to him.

carlos called out your name. "look, i'm sorry, okay?" you stopped washing the dishes and scoffed looking his way.

"you are apologizing to me? it's your daughter you dissapointed!" you yelled. you knew the children would hear, but that wasn't your current thought process at the moment.

"and i'm just, i'm sick of it all! i'm sick of excuses, i'm sick of you pushing me away, i'm sick of not being good enough for anything anymore!" you aggressively wiped your hands on a towel, before wiping your tear-filled eyes.

"what do you want me to do? be happy when i'm clearly not? fake a happy family when it's far from that?" the last statement was like a puncture to your breaking heart.

all you wanted, was a happy and loving family. you had it for a while, but now that was over. and maybe if you wanted to continue being happy, you had to step away this time.

"i can't be with you anymore." you spit out. carlos widened his eyes, your statement hitting him like a rock. "what?" he managed to blurt out.

"i can't pretend to be a happy family anymore. i won't."

your lawyer grabbed your arm lightly. "hey, are you okay?" he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked and nodded your head.

the judge had decided both you and carlos would share custody of your children. two weeks, they would be with you, the other two carlos would have them. you and carlos would still interact and would need to have 'family bonding' once every month with the children. carla would be the only exception, as until she is five years old she would be able to stay with carlos.

it would be hard learning outside a life you had always known, but you had your children to motivate you. you had supporters, who at the end of the day were your family.

it was a sad, beautiful, tragic love story. one you learned, cried, and were both happy and sad in.

author's note: OH MY GOSH. anyways hope y'all like it mwah. as inspo i was listening to sad beautiful tragic, all too well, tolerate it, and you're not sorry. i definitely prefer smau better than written fics, so expect more of those soonnnn

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Fourteen

This was a bit of a rollercoaster of a chapter, with angst, fluff, maybe a bit of romance too, but overall ends on a sweet note. This is also my longest chapter in a bit oops

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: Yunho's fight and getting called back to the company, plus more angry Hongjoong because we love an angry captain. wc: 4.8k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: fighting, non-graphic descriptions of injuries, angry alphas, slight panicking by y/n, Hongjoong being angry aover many things, talks about supressing heats for not good reasons, clingyness, mxm interactions, growling masterlist

She would come to find out later that the bystanders were almost smothered in the scent of her distress. But in the moment, y/n could only watch in horror as Yunho fought the other alpha, fists flying and too much movement to keep track of, until you noticed something fly out of Yunho’s pocket.

Watching as it flew towards her, she found it was Yunho’s phone. Y/n wasn’t able to catch it, but she picked it up from the ground. However, it was locked, and there was no way for her to guess his password. Though, just with her luck, she was able to open up the emergency call, and found that there was a number ready to be called. Calling that number, she hoped it was someone who would be able to help.

“Yunho?” She heard the person answer, and it took her a few moments to reply, prompting the other person to repeat Yunho’s name once again.

“This isn’t Yunho, but who are you?” Y/n asked the person on the other line, not recognizing the voice.

“Y/n? Why do you have Yunho’s phone? It’s me, Hongjoong.” He said, and y/n just breathed in a sigh of relief to hear the captain’s voice.

“There’s a bit of a situation here, can you come find us?” You asked him, whining at the end as you watched Yunho take a particularly brutal punch.

“What’s around you? Tell Alpha Hongjoong so he can find you,” Hongjoong said, finding that you couldn’t help but tell him after hearing his last words to you. Hongjoong had added a bit of his alpha voice into his last sentence, needing y/n to focus on what was around her so they could find her and Yunho quickly.

“Umm, there’s a convenience store to the left of me? It looks like a 7/11 I think? And there’s a bunch of food stalls around here too?” She said, looking around quickly.

She heard one of the other’s voices in the back, “I know where they are, let’s go!” She couldn’t tell who that was, but she knew they were on their way.

“Keep yourself safe, sweetheart, okay? We’ll be there as quickly as we can be, I promise.” Hongjoong told her before hanging up on her. 

She watched as Yunho took control of the fight, pinning the other alpha to the ground. It seemed she had missed a bit while talking to Hongjoong. She held her breath as she watched him, eyes flicking up every few seconds as she hoped the others would get there already.

It wasn’t until Yunho had beaten the other alpha half to unconsciousness, that the other seven arrived. Jongho, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa rushed over to your side as you watched the alphas pull Yunho off of the other alpha, who laid there for a moment before stumbling up and running away, not looking back.

“Yunho, what were you thinking?” Hongjoong asked him, his voice stern.

“He insulted y/n. He was being an asshole.” Yunho said, anger still clear in his voice and scent as the smell of oranges was taken over by the spicy smell of ginger, causing y/n to step back.

“This isn’t the time or place to do this. We’re going to head back to the company now. I’ve been requested to bring you all back with me.” Hongjoong informed him, placing a hand on the taller alpha’s shoulder and pulling him along, the smell of bitter coffee that stung her nose emanating from the shorter man as he passed by the three omegas and beta.

The four joined the group as the nine of them walked back to where their security would pick them up. When they arrived, there were two vans waiting for them, as well as one of the group’s managers, who ushered the group into two separate ones as they climbed into the black vans. Y/n chose to stick with Jongho, Wooyoung, Mingi and Yeosang as the other four climbed into the van behind theirs. They quickly took off towards the company, and for the first little while the car was silent. 

Yeosang was the first one to break the silence, “What do you think the company wants us for?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find out soon.” Mingi answered his fellow alpha, and the car once again fell silent, and that continued until they arrived at KQ.

The four exited the van, only waiting a couple minutes more for the other half to arrive, and the full group entered the company building and followed Hongjoong as he took the lead and guided them to the same conference room they had been in earlier that day.

It was almost a mirror image of that morning’s meeting, except it was just her, Ateez and their management team.

“We want to get y/n’s contract signed quickly, so that we can get to work on adding her into the group.” One of the staff members stated.

“Hand over the contract then, please.” Hongjoong took charge, as he had pulled y/n to sit next to him for this meeting, having had a clue what was going on. 

Knowing that Hongjoong wouldn’t relent, they handed over the contract to him, who placed it in between himself and y/n, and Hongjoong helped y/n look over the major parts of the contract. While they did that, Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, who was already messaging the group’s independent lawyer, so that they could look over the contract before their newest member signed it.

“It’s a standard contract that all of our artists sign,” Another staff member said, “The clauses in there are all industry standard.”

“No it’s not,” Hongjoong said, having found a couple clauses that he very much disagreed with, “I know neither of these clauses are industry standard. I negotiated them out of our renewed contracts, so why are they in hers?” He said, looking up at the staff with a raised eyebrow and a grin that no one wanted to be on the receiving end of.

“This is the standard contract. Why should she be given any other contract?” The same staff member asked.

“Because she’s part of my group now. She’ll get the same contract we have. She will not be forced to suppress her heats, nor will she have a separate dorm unless she explicitly requests that.” Hongjoong said, his voice teetering on the edge of anger.

“Well, we’d have to have a valid reason why she can’t follow what we’ve put in the contract.”

“The valid reason is the omegas in my group do not and will not risk their health for your ability to make us work.” Hongjoong states with a tone of finality, not willing to budge.

“Our lawyer is on their way, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa leaned over to tell him.

“Your lawyer?” Y/n finally spoke up, looking over at the two eldest.

“Yes, he’ll make sure that your contract matches ours, and will make sure that there’s nothing shady in it.” Hongjoong reassured y/n.

She was surprised that they would go this far for her, but in reality she shouldn’t be too surprised. As a group, they’ve done a lot to make her feel like a part of the group and this is just another way they’re doing that, but ensuring she would have a fair contract.

Mingi leaned behind Jongho, whispering, “Hyungs will make sure your contract is like ours, they won’t stand for anything being unfair to you. It’ll be okay. But bring it over between Jongho and I so we can tell you what else is in it.”

She managed to slide the contract between the three of them, and the two explained exactly what was in the contract to her, sometimes using a translator when things didn’t transfer between languages. She found the parts that Hongjoong pointed out to be the most egregious, with the exception of the one other part of the idol contract, that she felt was potentially malicious in its wording. She was intending to bring up that clause as well, as she wouldn’t abide by it.

It wasn’t long before the Ateez’s lawyer arrived, and Hongjoong, having realized that the contract was no longer in his possession, looked to find that y/n and the two men had nabbed it. He coughed to alert them to his presence, the three looking over and seeing that the captain had his hand out for the contract. 

Y/n handed it over, looking a little sheepish that she had taken it, despite the fact that it was her contract, so she was allowed to look at it. Hongjoong handed it over to the lawyer, who immediately took the seat offered to him by Seonghwa, who moved to stand behind the chairs of Jongho and y/n, his hands resting on the backs of the chairs.

“Hi baby omega, Joong-ah will get this sorted for you.” Seonghwa said to her as he leaned down closer to her, as she nodded.

“There’s another part of the contract I don’t like. It’s the one beneath the accommodations.” She looked up at the older omega as she spoke.

Though neither of them had to say that to Hongjoong, the man somehow heard her words despite his focus, and immediately pointed that out to the group’s lawyer, to the protest of one staff member. The same one who continued to insist that y/n’s contract was fine as is.

“It is not fine as it is,” Hongjoong fired back, before turning to y/n, “Y/n, what do you want to do for your accommodations? Do you want a separate apartment? Or would you like to stay with us in our dorm?” He asked her.

Y/n took a minute to think. It would be nice to have her own space, it would allow her the downtime she sorely needed sometime, and the space to be by herself. But on the other hand, she’d grow closer with the others if she moved in with them.

“I’m okay moving into your dorm, Hongjoong-oppa,” She answered, looking at him.

Hongjoong didn’t have to say a word as the lawyer amended that part of the contract. This was how the rest of the amendments went, Hongjoong asking her what she wanted, and once she answered him, that change was implemented in the contract. Hongjoong also changed the contract to allow for her to have as many heats during the year as her body required, though usually she only had two or three a year.

“Here’s the amended contract. We won’t accept any less than this.” The lawyer, whose name she never caught, said as they handed over the changed contract.

“You can’t go changing her contract for her,” That same staff member sputtered out.

“I can and I have. If you want to get fired, by all means keep protesting. I can and will walk away from KQ if you or other staff continue to cause trouble,” Hongjoong said.

“You’re going to this trouble for an omega. If you had gone with the nice beta, we wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nonsense.”

And that was where they stepped over the line. And where specific staff’s involvement that resulted in the chaos this morning was revealed. Hongjoong growled in anger at this information, and the younger four took to letting their frustration out on the poor (and not so poor) staff members. Hongjoong, who really seemed to work on instinct, pulled y/n close to him and led the omega out of the room to his studio, wanting to get away from the stress that their staff kept causing.

Y/n didn’t really have any choice but to let Hongjoong lead her away, watching as the alpha’s shoulders started to slowly relax, though his body was still tense. The captain of the group pushed open his studio door, pulling her inside before locking it and dragging both of them to the couch. Y/n was not expecting for the alpha to pull her down almost on top of him as Hongjoong pulled off the scent patch that he must have put on earlier while in the other van. The smell of bitter coffee and burnt vanilla permeated the room while y/n almost choked on the bitter scents.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said, pulling her close and making her squeak in surprise.

“Sorry about what?” Y/n managed to get out, pushing away her surprise for the moment.

“For pulling you into this mess. I know I didn’t want anyone else joining at the beginning, and I surely didn’t want KQ to meddle with my group, but I’m grateful that you’re the one that we chose.” Hongjoong said, pulling her down at the end, burying his head in her neck to get better access to her scent, shocking y/n. 

She wasn’t expecting this today, even after what had happened the night prior. Where did this clingy Hongjoong come from? She couldn’t deny loving it, who wouldn’t want to be this close with Kim Hongjoong? But at the same time, this feels like something that should be reserved for packmates, not her, a random omega.

Her train of thoughts was broken by Hongjoong mumbling into her neck, “Why do you smell sad?”

“Sad?” She asked, confused.

“Yes, sad.” Hongjoong said.

“I’m not sad, Hongjoong-oppa.” Y/n told him.

“You smell sad, there must be something wrong. It’s okay, alpha is here.” Hongjoong said to her, his alpha feeling the need to try and make her happier.

Thankfully, for y/n’s poor heart, Seonghwa unlocked the door and let himself in to find the two on the couch.

“Hi y/n dear. Are you okay?” Seonghwa asked, to which she nodded.

“She’s sad.” Hongjoong told the omega, his face still buried in y/n’s neck.

Before Seonghwa could reply, two more members stumbled into the now unlocked studio. It turned out to be Yeosang and San, who looked sheepish at the stares being leveled their way.

“Hi hyungs, hi y/n,” San greeted the trio, “Hongjoong-hyung, looks like you’re getting comfy with y/nnie.”

Hongjoong didn’t grace San’s teasing with a reply, instead opting to reach out for Seonghwa, pulling the omega down next to himself and y/n.

“We’re here to fetch y/n. They’ve redone the contract with the new terms, and they want her to sign it.” Yeosang informed the duo.

Y/n nodded and tried to remove herself from Hongjoong, but was unable to. “Hongjoong love, you have to let go.” Seonghwa tried to coax the alpha into releasing the youngest omega.

“Don’t want to.” He grumbled, pouting.

“If you let go of y/n, and let her sign the documents, we can go grab her stuff from the trainee dorms later.” Seonghwa said, trying to entice the pack alpha into letting go. Honestly, Hongjoong’s behavior was not the norm for the alpha, he wasn’t very clingy to people he didn’t know well, and y/n counted as one of those people currently.

Thankfully, Seonghwa’s reminder worked and Hongjoong pulled his arms away from where they were wrapped around y/n’s waist. This allowed y/n to get off of the captain’s lap, unable to look at him while she felt her face heat up. She walked over to Yeosang and San, who promised the two eldest that they’d bring her back afterwards.

While y/n went off to go sign the contract, Seonghwa turned to Hongjoong, an eyebrow raised at his leader and pack alpha.

“What was that behavior about, hmm?” Seonghwa asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hongjoong tried to deflect, but it wouldn’t work with his mate and he knew it.

“Yes you do, but if you want to deny your actions, then go right ahead.” Was all the omega said in reply, falling silent afterwards.

The two sat in silence until y/n and the other six members returned from her contract signing. The door opened slowly and Yunho was the first to step inside, followed by y/n and then San and the others were right behind her.

“Did it go well?” Seonghwa asked, to which y/n hummed and nodded.

“Her contract was altered the way that we wanted, and we all double checked before we let her sign it, but now y/n’s an official member of Ateez!” Yunho said, washing away any worries that the staff had sneakily changed the contract, and to which everyone celebrated her officially joining them.

However, the cheering was cut short by an interruption by one of the members.

“Can we go home now?” Wooyoung whined from behind the group in the doorway.

“Well that depends on what y/n wants to do,” San said, looking to the omega in front of him for her answer.

“I can go back to the dorms I’m staying in if you all want to return to yours,” Y/n offered.

“We were maybe planning to offer for you to grab your things from the dorm you were staying in, and bring them to our dorm, since you’ll be moving in soon anyways.” Seonghwa said.

Y/n looked around, seeing that there wasn’t anyone opposed to that idea, and she nodded, saying, “Okay, we can do that.”

This started another round of cheers and San wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her back to him. 

“You’ll get to experience the craziness that is Ateez now. I hope you’re prepared for it. I’ll have your back if anyone gets too much, okay?” He told her, as they watched the others cheer and plan out the rest of their day.

“Who’s ever prepared for the craziness and chaos that is Ateez?” Y/n said in response, making San chuckle, feeling his chest rumble and making her slightly flustered at how  close she was to him, and to have this privilege of becoming one of them.

“Look at you two getting cozy here,” They heard from behind them, y/n pulling away slightly.

“Are you jealous, Mingi-yah?” San teased back.

“No, but hyung might get jealous.” Mingi said, nodding over to where Hongjoong was staring right at them.

Y/n looked over and saw the very intense stare from Ateez’s pack alpha, quickly looking away again. The stare was too much for her right now, she couldn’t keep eye contact with him. 

Mingi and San chuckled at her reaction, and y/n pouted in response, “Don’t laugh at me.” She slightly whined, annoyed.

“You’re adorable though sweetheart,” Mingi drawled, “You’re gonna have to learn to keep eye contact with hyung when he stares like that, y’know.”

“Well maybe one day I will, not today.” She mumbled, looking down at her shoes and the ground.

Suddenly everyone started moving, and San pulled her along, y/n stumbling as she wasn’t ready for the sudden movement. San stopped her from falling over, apologizing and instead moving to grab her hand instead. He guided her through the halls as they followed the other seven out of the company building and down to the same two vans that they had arrived here in. This time it seemed to be split between the maknae and hyung lines, and with San holding her hand, she joined the younger four in their van.

“The hyungs will meet us at our dorm, and the four of us will go with you to collect your things.” Jongho said to her as the van took off in the direction of the auditionee dorms.

“Okay. I’ll make sure to be quick so that you all don’t have to wait too long.” She said in reply.

“Mingi and I were going to come up with you, so you don’t have to carry everything yourself.” San said to her, smiling.

“You don’t have to do that,” She protested, “I can do it myself.”

“Let them help,” Jongho said, “They’ll whine about it if you don’t.”

Sighing, she nodded in agreement to letting them help. The two smiled brightly at her, and it was only a few minutes later that they arrived at the apartment building that housed the dorm she had stayed in.

After the trio exited the van, San motioned for her to lead them to the dorm. She took them up to the sixth floor, and down to the end of the hall. Typing in the keycode, the door unlocked and let them in, where they found the others packing up.

“Oh, you’re here.” One of them said, “And you’re special enough to have Ateez members with you too.”

“I’m here to collect my things. It was nice to stay with you for these few days, and I hope you have a safe trip back home.” Y/n said to them, not wanting to get into it with any of the auditionees who were now heading back to their homes.

She led the two men to her room, unlocking it with her key and letting them into the room. Because she hadn’t really had much time to do anything here, or go out and explore, most of her clothes and other necessities were still in her suitcase. 

She directed the two to put away the clothing that was strewn about the room as she reluctantly dismantled her nest, or an attempt at one anyways. Once she finished that, she moved to leave the room so she could collect what was left of her stuff in the bathroom. She found and grabbed everything, packing it in her toiletries bag and bringing it back to her room, where she found her suitcases packed, and her backpack waiting for whatever else she had to put in it.

“We packed everything else we could into your backpack, if that’s okay?” Mingi said, a bit unsure.

“That’s okay, I think you actually packed everything where I usually put them, so it’s less work for me,” She told him.

“Then let’s go, the others at our dorm are getting a bit antsy.” San said, grabbing one suitcase and pulling it along while Mingi grabbed the remaining ones, as y/n took her backpack.

The three navigated their way out of the apartment and down to the van, the two men packing her bags into the back of the van while she hopped in with her backpack. Once they were all back in the van, they headed to their final destination, Ateez’s dorm. Thankfully, they weren’t actually far from it, which is slightly concerning, but their building did have good security, so she shouldn't have to worry.

Arriving at their building, they found that Hongjoong was waiting outside. He greeted them as they climbed out of the car, and followed San and Mingi and the three grabbed her suitcases while y/n slung her backpack onto her back. Seeing as Wooyoung and Jongho had very little to nothing to carry, they lead the way into the building, stopping to get another keycard for y/n, before heading up to their dorms, y/n paying attention to the details this time.

Jongho unlocked their door, leading everyone inside, and while y/n was taking off her shoes, Hongjoong led San and Mingi away further into the dorm so that y/n’s bags could be left in her room for now. 

Seonghwa showed up in the hallway, greeting the three at the entrance of their home, “Hello you three, and welcome to your new home, y/n.”

“Thank you Seonghwa-oppa,” Y/n said, bowing to the older omega in thanks. 

Seonghwa waved off her thanks, insisting that it was nothing, and that they were happy to have her here with them. The two omegas and one beta lead her to the living room for now, promising that they’ll give her a proper tour later.

The trio found the other two ‘99 liners that hadn’t been in her van in the living room, Yeosang had taken to laying on the floor, while Yunho had situated himself in the only chair in the room.

“Welcome to your new home!” Yunho said, smiling at her and waving her over to sit on the nearby loveseat. 

“Thank you, Yunho-oppa,” she said, moving to take the seat he was pointing at, and Wooyoung moved to sit next to her, taking the remaining spot.

“Yah, stop hogging her, let someone else sit next to her if they want to.” Seonghwa scolded Wooyoung, making the other omega get up.

The moment the spot was free, both Jongho and Yeosang moved to sit next to her before freezing when they noticed the other. Jongho won that silent debate, and Yeosang took the spot in between y/n’s legs, after asking her for permission.

Wooyoung pouted at this, before Seonghwa pulled the omega down onto the couch with him, the younger omega sitting on Seonghwa’s lap and his head being pushed into the older omega’s neck. Wooyoung’s body relaxed so quickly once his nose was buried in Seonghwa’s scent gland, it was almost like watching a puppet with its strings cut.

Y/n quietly giggled at the sight, it was cute but amusing to see how quickly Wooyoung went quiet. The trio that had been putting away her bags in her new room emerged from one of the hallways, their leader smiling at the sight they came back to.

“It looks like everyone’s settling in well.” Hongjoong commented as the two behind him moved to find their own spots, Mingi gravitating towards Yunho while San moved to sit in the spot next to where Seonghwa and Wooyoung were, as Hongjoong took the final open spot, on the other side of the two omegas.

The nine of them stayed quiet for a while, just taking in the silence after a long day, and while they had promised y/n a proper tour, it wasn’t to be as one by one, they fell asleep. Y/n watched as Seonghwa and Wooyoung fell asleep, wrapped up in each other, and it wasn’t long before San joined them, his head resting on Seonghwa’s other shoulder. 

Mingi and Yunho almost fell asleep, however Mingi stood up, stumbling as he was fairly sleepy, and pulled Yunho out of his chair and down one of the hallways, to one of their bedrooms. 

Yeosang was next, and y/n felt his head lean more on her thigh as he lost the battle to sleep. Jongho chuckled next to her, the sound so quiet she almost didn’t hear it.

“He tends to do this, it’s always adorable.” He explained, whispering to her. 

Hongjoong, still awake, moved over to the two still awake, sitting down in between Jongho’s legs.

“This doesn’t usually happen, well not like this. This is usually how it happens in the pack nest, but it seems everyone is really tired today.” Hongjoong said to y/n, explaining further about days like this.

The combination of all of the scents in the room, all happy and content, made y/n feel sleepy. She had already had a very active day that was full of surprises, so this quiet downtime made her become very sleepy very quickly. She felt her head lolling to the side, and despite her attempts to stay awake, the comforting smell of a fireplace, as that was all she could think of it as, burning wood in a fireplace, a hand moved to pull her head onto their shoulder.

“It’s okay to sleep, y/n,” Hongjoong whispered, looking up at her from his place on the floor, some emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t place at the moment.

She felt her eyes get heavy, and the calming scents from those around her, lulled her into sleep. Hongjoong and Jongho watched as her breathing became slower and evened out, before the captain looked around at the others, smiling at how content everyone seemed right now. He looked back at Jongho to find the maknae looking down at him.

“You should sleep too, hyung,” Jongho whispered, just loud enough for the older alpha to hear.

“I’m not that tired,” Hongjoong started, before his body betrayed him, a yawn coming out of his mouth.

“You can come here and sleep, if you want?” Jongho offered, his voice unsure.

Hongjoong took him up on his offer, climbing into the younger man’s lap and resting his head on Jongho’s unoccupied shoulder, and like y/n, started relaxing as Jongho’s scent comforted him and made him grow sleepier.

“It’s okay hyung, I can take on your burdens for a little while, you can rest.” Jongho whispered into Hongjoong’s ear, and it was those words that convinced Hongjoong it was okay to rest for a while.

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