#i really really need to stop looking at replies to important topics it just breaks my heart

[suzakus-canon-wife]

God Twitter is such a genuine ceasepool of ignorance and beyond braindead takes like wtf is wrong with people genuinely so many people are so fucking heartless and gross

[cookiescribble]

Innocent Love

Flufftober Day 16: “Yes, No, Maybe” + bonus prompt “I’ve Got You.” (this one gets an actual title because i was planning on posting this as a regular fic)

A/N: I don’t think this is quite what the prompt meant (and the words are out of order) but I was already in the middle of writing this when we decided we were doing flufftober and had written that line so I figured I’d use it for this prompt 🫶🏻 - mod angel 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: After talking through some emotional concerns, you and Spencer finally feel comfortable getting intimate with each other. 

CW: very fluffy smut (18+), mutual loss of virginity, discussion/description of SA (based on the memories he talked about in 3x16)

~~~

You were sitting on the couch, originally watching a movie that had since been forgotten about. Your hands were tangled in Spencer’s hair, your lips against his, your kisses feeling like they were the air you need to breathe. 

You pulled away for a moment, both of you trying to catch your breath, your heart pounding as if you just ran a marathon. You looked at each other, letting out a little laugh, still holding onto each other. 

“Do you remember anything that happened in the last 20 minutes of this movie?” He asked, still laughing softly. 

You laughed harder, shaking your head. “No, I was focused on something way more important,” you murmured, grinning as you pulled him in for another kiss. 

He hummed against your lips, his hands automatically coming to hold your face, and you were back to kissing fervently. 

After a few more minutes of this, you slowly pulled him on top of you, never breaking the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. You could feel his heart beating fast against yours, as you slowly slid one hand under his shirt…

Suddenly, he pulled away, wincing, his breath shallow and shaky. You pulled your hand back, holding it out in front of you. “I’m sorry, was that too much?” You asked, worried that you were going to scare him off. You hadn’t been dating for too long, and you didn’t want to rush things, but it had just felt… right. 

He hesitated, still catching his breath. “No… Yes? Maybe? I…” He sighed, and you could feel his breath on your face since he was still so close to you. “I don’t know…”

You reached up to touch his face, consoling him and giving him a soft smile. “Let’s stop for now, okay?”

He nodded, sitting up, running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. “Sorry…” he muttered, looking at you apologetically. 

You shook your head, putting your arm around him. “Nothing to be sorry about,” you assured him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his breath finally going back to normal. “I just… I-I don’t know,” he sighed, as if he was frustrated with himself. “I haven’t… I don’t…” he kept stumbling through starts of sentences he never finished. 

You pat his shoulder in a comforting gesture, letting him know you understood. You were trying to think of words yourself; you and Spencer had gotten far enough in your relationship that it was probably time to have a “talk,” but you felt shy about it. It was a slightly uncomfortable topic, especially since you didn’t know how to bring up your total lack of experience without sounding like a complete loser. 

He took your hand off his shoulder to hold it, linking your fingers together. The sweet gesture gave you the bit of courage you needed to keep talking. 

“So…” you started hesitantly, “do you… want to do… that, someday?” You tried not to blush, it shouldn’t be this big of a deal to talk about it. “Because some people don’t, and that’s totally okay too, and I really wouldn’t mind if-“

“No, I do,” he cut off your babbling. “I… I really want to try this with you. I just…” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t… have any actual experience with… that, but I’ve had some experiences kinda… related to that, and they were… bad.”

You were kind of relieved to hear the first part of that, but hearing the last part of what he said made you furrow your brows. “I… also don’t have any experience, if that makes you feel better.” You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. “But, the other thing… Do you want to talk about it?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, just letting himself feel your calming touch. “I just… I’m worried I’ll start to freak out.” He sighed, gripping your hand a little tighter. “It’s… kind of a long story.”

“Well, I’m more than willing to listen,” you replied softly. “Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

That caused him let out a soft chuckle, making you smile. “Okay, well… it started when I was in high school.” He stared into the distance as he talked, almost as if he was somewhere else, describing the events happening. “I was… well, less than popular in school, which I guess is to be expected when you graduate at 12.”

You nodded, giving his hand a little squeeze to try to ground him. You’re sure that wherever he was right now, it wasn’t a good place. 

He closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. “And… sometimes, people would just pretend to like me, and I didn’t know any better and I just believed them.” He gave your hand another squeeze. “One day… one of the girls in my class came up to me, and she said her friend wanted to meet me, and I was excited because I thought I liked her, and the idea of someone liking me was, like, unheard of at the time…”

You frowned, starting to soothingly stroke his hand with your thumb. He’d told you about his time in school being emotionally difficult, but he never told you any specifics. 

He opened his eyes again, still not looking at you. “So I met this friend at the time she told me, and when I got there… she was there, but it wasn’t just her; the whole football team was there, and…” His eyes were starting to water now. “And they… took my clothes off and they tied me to the goal posts… and they just laughed at me when I begged them to let me go.”

“Oh, Spence,” you whispered, reaching up to wipe away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “That’s awful.”

He sniffled, looking like he was trying to hold his breath so he wouldn’t cry. He reached up to touch your hand that was on his face, closing his eyes again. 

You felt your heart breaking at his story. How could people be so mean to him? Especially when he was so young and vulnerable.

You pulled him into a tight hug, stroking his hair soothingly. “It’s okay now, honey,” you cooed in his ear. “I’ve got you. No one’s ever going to hurt you like that ever again.”

“I know…” he sighed, his voice still a little wobbly. “But I just… can’t forget it, and when you started to take my shirt off, it just brought me right back there.” He hugged you a little tighter, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil the moment…”

You shook your head. “You have nothing to apologize for, Spence,” you assured him. “I would never ask you to do something you weren’t ready for.” You pulled back slightly to look at him, pushing his hair back so you could look in his eyes. “If you want to try to go further, we can take things slow, okay? We can take our time.”

He nodded, looking up at you with those big, sad eyes of his. “Yeah, I think I like that idea.” He gave you a soft smile. 

You smiled back, kissing his forehead. “C’mon, let’s finish this movie.”

“I think we’re gonna have to rewind it,” he laughed softly, sitting up again. “I barely even remember what movie we were watching.”

…

You both kept your word about going slow. Every time you were alone together, you started to slowly get further and further. He eventually got comfortable with you taking his shirt off, and you both got a bit more comfortable letting your hands roam. 

One day, everything seemed to fall into place, and you were both finally ready. 

Spencer had come home after a rare slow day at the BAU, and he scooped you into his arms immediately when he entered your apartment. 

He was on you instantly, pulling you close and kissing you, his hands gently gripping your face as you fell back onto the couch. You let out a surprised hum against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss started to get very heated. You took his tie off, throwing it on the side of the couch. He let you unbutton a few of the top buttons on his shirt, eventually breaking the kiss to look at you with half-lidded eyes. 

“Can we… go to the bedroom?” he asked softly, panting from the intense kiss. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure?” you whispered back, reaching up to touch his face. 

He nodded, putting his hands over yours. “I’m sure. If… if you want to, that is…”

You nodded immediately, standing back up as you both walked to the bedroom, Spencer pulling you by your hand as you both giggled excitedly. 

You closed the door behind you, and Spencer slowly walked towards you, pulling you in by your waist. He kissed you, slower this time, with more intention. His hands slowly slid up your sides as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

You let out a dreamy sigh, hugging him tightly. You lifted your arms as you let him pull your shirt off, tossing it off to the side somewhere. You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, and it joined yours on the floor as you fell back on the bed, Spencer quickly moving on top of you, his touch on your body feather light. 

His hands worked achingly slow, feeling every inch of you. Starting at your neck, slowly sliding down your arms, back up your waist… his touch so gentle you might not have felt it, if you weren’t paying attention. 

But, oh, you felt it. It felt like electricity was flowing through your body with every touch of his fingertips. He looked into your eyes as his hands kept roaming your body, you never thought you could feel so loved by somebody.

Eventually, his hands came to slowly push down your bra straps, making your breath catch in your throat. “Can I take this off?” He asked, his voice soft and sweet like honey. 

You nodded, sitting up so he could reach your back to unhook it. After a few moments, it joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. 

You looked up at him, and he was looking into your eyes. His eyes were slightly widened, and he seemed as though he was keeping himself from looking at you. 

You let out a warm laugh, reaching up to touch his face. “You’re allowed to look, Spence.”

He blushed as his eyes roamed down your body, leaning you back so you were laying down again. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hands resuming their search on your body. You closed your eyes, just letting yourself feel the sensation. 

Eventually, his hands reached your chest, making you gasp lightly. Your eyes opened instinctively as you felt him hesitate. “Is… is that okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your face slightly flushed. “It’s just… new. But not bad.” You looked up at him sheepishly. “It feels… nice.”

He gave you a soft smile, his head coming down to meet yours, your foreheads and noses touching. His hands resumed the soft touch, making you let out a soft moan when he touched the sensitive part of your skin. 

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then started planting soft kisses down your neck and your shoulders until his lips finally found your breasts. You let out a gasp, your eyes closing as your hands tangled in his hair. Your heart was pounding like crazy; you wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel it from where he was. 

His kisses were achingly gentle, before his tongue started moving in circular motions. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you were letting out soft whimpers. Eventually, he made his way back up and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. 

You both looked at each other, giggling softly, feeling like two teenagers sneaking away on prom night. You felt giddy, but serious at the same time. This meant a lot to both of you. 

You bit your lip, your hand slowly sliding down his side before you started to undo his belt. He let out a shaky breath, and soon you were working on his button and zipper, pulling it down…

“Wait!” He exclaimed suddenly, making you pull your hand away, slightly startled. 

“D-do you want to stop?” You asked, worried you did something wrong. 

“No, no, I don’t want to stop,” he shook his head. “I just… can’t forget…” he trailed off as he pulled something out of his pocket, placing a condom on your bedside table. 

You blushed fiercely, that one gesture suddenly making everything feel more real. 

He settled back on top of you, reaching his hand out to gently cup your cheek. “Had to make sure that didn’t get stuck in the clothing pile,” he laughed warmly. 

You laughed back, touching your noses together again. “Well, is it okay if this goes in the clothing pile now?” You asked, tugging at the waistband of his pants. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, his face looking a little red. “All good now.”

You reached down to tug at his pants again, pulling them down as Spencer helped you slide them off. Your eyes wandered down his body, seeing something very prominently bulging in his underwear. Your eyes darted back up to his face, your cheeks turning pink. 

His hands were back on you, sliding down your sides before resting on your hips. “Your turn?” He whispered. 

“Y-yeah,” you whispered back, swallowing and nodding. You reached down to unbutton your own pants before Spencer’s hands were sliding underneath them, and soon they were discarded to the clothing pile. 

He got closer to your face again, biting his lip. “I’ve, uh, been doing some… research…” he murmured, sounding a bit flustered. 

“Research?” You repeat, laughing lightly. “What kind of research?”

“Well,” he started, his hand resting on your hip. “I just… really want to do this right. And I want you to feel good. So I, uh…” he looked a bit embarrassed. “I looked into… what women say feels good. And like, how to… get you… prepared…” he let out an awkward laugh, running his hand through his hair. 

You giggled, covering part of your face with your hand, your face feeling hot. “Yeah? And what did you discover?”

“Well, there were things they said help so it doesn’t hurt,” he explained, his hand trailing down your leg now. “So… I wanted to try it, because I don’t want you to be in pain while we do this.”

He was so sweet you could almost cry. Instead, you just nodded. “Okay… let’s try it, then.”

He nodded back, lifting your legs up and slowly pulling your underwear off. You looked up at him, a bashful look on your face as you lay bare underneath him. 

He took a moment to look over your body before clearing his throat. “Okay, so, the first thing they recommended was putting a pillow under your hips.”

You nodded, taking one of the pillows you weren’t laying on and handing it to him. 

He furrowed his brows, the way he did when he was concentrating hard on something. You picked up your hips so he could slide the pillow underneath you. 

“Comfortable?” He asked softly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, adjusting your position slightly. Your hips were angled slightly upwards now. “What’s next?” 

“Next is to… get you… ready.” He reached up to  push a strand of hair out of your face. 

“R-ready?” You asked, your face a bit flushed. “So you’re gonna… t-touch me?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Is that okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, it’s okay. I guess I’m just a bit… nervous. I’ve never had anyone touch me like that before,” you mumbled, looking away. 

“Me neither,” he replied, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “But, this is supposed to help you feel less nervous, on top of trying to get your body used to… something being… in there,” he chuckled awkwardly. 

A giggle bubbled in your throat, your face bright red now. “Right, yeah,” you took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for what was about to happen. “Okay.”

His hand trailed down your body again, watching your face for any reactions. He parted your legs, his hand resting on your lower stomach. “Ready?” He whispered. 

“Ready,” you whispered back, taking another deep breath. 

His hand trailed down until he finally reached the bundle of nerves between your legs, touching it tentatively. 

Your breath hitched, and you let out a little whimper. Just one small touch and you were already feeling your body react. Your arms reached out to wrap around his shoulders, hugging him for support. 

“Does that feel good?” Spencer whispered in your ear, his fingers pausing to make sure you were still okay. 

You nodded vigorously, threading your fingers in his hair, your faces so close that you could feel his breath. “Yeah…” you whispered back, your face flushed. “It… it feels really good.”

His other hand moved to stroke your hair soothingly as he started circling your bud, earning a soft moan from you. 

The juxtaposition between the innocent sweetness he was showing and the very not innocent thoughts you were having were starting to make your head spin. You didn’t think you could ever feel so good, but you were already getting so worked up that you couldn’t imagine yourself lasting much longer. 

After a few minutes of Spencer rubbing you achingly slowly, he whispered to you again. “I’m gonna, um…” He seemed like he almost felt too shy to say the words. “… put my finger in now, okay?” He cleared his throat, his eyes looking into yours. “It’s supposed to help stretch you out a bit, so it doesn’t hurt… l-later.” He was blushing, his awkward mumbling sounding very endearing to you.

“Y-yeah, okay,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I can handle that.”

He nodded, stroking your hair before he went any further. “Just relax,” he whispered. “It said that tensing makes it more likely to hurt.”

You took a deep breath, relaxing your body as much as you could manage. It didn’t help that he had gotten you worked up so quickly. 

He pressed your foreheads together as he slowly slid one finger in, making you hug him a little closer, letting out a quiet whine as you felt this new sensation in your body. It was almost like a slightly full feeling, except that you felt like you wanted more. 

“Is that okay?” He asked softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Doesn’t hurt?”

“N-no,” you stammered, deciding you’d answer his last question first. “It doesn’t hurt, it feels really good.”

“Do you think you can manage a little more?” He searched your face to look for any signs of discomfort. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, swallowing. “I think I can.”

He nodded at you, pressing his face to yours as he slowly slipped another finger in. 

You let out another soft whine, holding him a bit tighter. He looked at you, silently asking a question. “I’m alright,” you whisper softly. “It feels good.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he started moving his fingers, the new sensation filling you with excitement, already feeling like you were close to coming undone. 

“Spence…” you moaned softly as he suddenly kissed you hungrily, his tongue in your mouth causing you to tangle your fingers in his hair tightly. 

You didn’t think anything could feel this good, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, hitting you where it felt the best every time as if he was an expert. You felt something building in your stomach, your toes starting to curl as you let out a string of moans and whimpers. 

You pull away from the kiss, breathing shakily as you try to speak. “Spence… I-I’m…” you squeezed your eyes shut as you suddenly felt overwhelmed by how much pleasure was coursing through your body. 

Spencer ran a hand through your hair, the gesture very gentle compared to the relentless way his fingers were moving inside of you. “Just let it happen. I’ve got you,” he murmured in your ear before his lips were back on yours, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. 

The tenderness in his voice and feeling of his lips and the movement of his fingers finally sent you over the edge, moaning loudly as you felt waves and waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Your back arched off the bed as you got lost in the pleasure, almost feeling like it was never going to end. 

Finally, you felt yourself come down, panting as you tried to process what just happened. You’d never really felt that kind of sensation before.

Spencer was looking at you in awe when you finally looked back over to him, also seeming to be processing what just happened. 

You blushed, feeling a bit shy after all that. It made you feel more exposed than taking off your clothes had. 

After a few moments, he broke the silence by whispering, “You’re so beautiful.” He pushed your hair back, getting a better look at your flushed face. 

You smiled sheepishly, your heart warming at how sweet he was. He was really good at comforting you during such a vulnerable time. 

“So, uh…” you started, absentmindedly running your finger up and down his arm. “Do you think that was… sufficient?” You chuckled awkwardly, feeling like you sounded ridiculous. 

He was also blushing, his voice warm and sweet. “I hope so,” he laughed lightly back. “Do you feel… ready?”

You leaned in, looking into his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ready for anything in my life,” you murmured. 

You both smiled at each other, Spencer’s face getting more and more flushed as your hand traced down his side to his hip. 

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one not wearing any clothes right now,” you teased as your fingers stopped right under the waistband of his underwear. 

He bit down on his tongue, his hand moving to help you finally take off the rest of his clothes. 

Soon, you both lay there, completely bare. Your face was a bright red, your eyes widening automatically as you looked over his body. You moved your eyes back up to his face and he met your gaze, pressing his forehead to yours and gently cupping your cheek. 

“Are you, ah…” You felt a bit embarrassed as you spoke. “Are you sure it was enough… preparing?” As stereotypical as it sounded, you were having trouble imagining him fitting inside of you.

He smiled softly, tangling his legs together with yours, the sense of closeness feeling reassuring to you. “You can tell me if it hurts… I want you to tell me if it hurts, okay? Or if you changed your mind-“

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I didn’t change my mind. I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into another kiss, slowly moving on top of you so he was straddling your waist. You stifled a moan when you felt something hard pressing against your stomach.

After a few more moments, he pulled away slightly, his mouth still inches away from yours. “Okay, I… I’m going to…” He trailed off as he sat up a bit more, his hand right next to your face as his other reached for the condom on the table. 

You felt a bit embarrassed just staring at him, but you kind of couldn’t help it. “So, there’s like… a right and a wrong way to wear it, right? I remember being taught that in high school.”

He nodded, tearing the wrapper open and starting to slowly roll it down his length. “Yeah, I’ve been, uh… practicing,” he admitted sheepishly. 

A giggle bubbled in your throat as you thought about what that “practicing” meant. For some reason, it excited you how much he prepared for this. It meant that he really cared a lot for you. 

After it was on, he came back down to face you again. “Ready?” He asked softly, his hand finding yours and interlocking your fingers together. 

You gave his hand a little squeeze. “Ready,” you replied, nodding determinately. 

He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed himself in, both of you letting out a little gasp as you finally joined your bodies together in this intimate harmony. 

You let out a little whimper when he was all the way in, feeling perfectly full. You fit together perfectly, like you were made for each other, as cliché as that sounded. 

After a few moments of just staying like that, your foreheads pressed together as you both adjusted to this new feeling, Spencer spoke breathlessly. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels… amazing,” you admitted, whispering to him. 

He smiled softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “Can I start moving?”

You nodded quickly. “Please,” you practically begged, your body already aching for this pleasure that was only just starting. 

He wasted no time, his eyes closing as he started a steady rhythm, his movements almost achingly slow. 

He leaned his head down for another heated kiss, letting out a quiet moan against your lips. You squeezed his hand tight, matching his moan as his thrusts started getting a little faster. 

You could immediately feel the pleasure building inside of you again. He was able to hit the exact spots that made you whimper and moan, and hearing his own muffled noises of pleasure against your lips was making you feel dizzy. 

After a few minutes, he pulled away from the kiss to bury his face in your neck, his movements starting to get erratic. He sounded like he was mumbling something to himself, his voice vibrating against your neck. You think you heard him listing some of the periodic table elements, which could’ve almost made you laugh if you weren’t so lost in the feeling of him. 

“Spence…” you whimpered, trying to pull his head up to press your face against his. “It’s… I…” You tried to convey the feeling building inside you as you felt yourself getting more and more worked up with each of his thrusts, but you couldn’t even form a cohesive thought. Instead, you squeezed his hand tighter, letting out a loud moan. 

Thankfully, he understood you, and you could feel his hair tickling your forehead as he nodded. “Me too,” he breathed, his voice slightly whiny. “God, me too.”

You wrapped your arm around him, the movement of his hips getting faster and faster as the room was filled with the noises you both were letting out. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore; your back arched, pressing your body against his, your feet tangling together as you felt his tensing against yours. You felt yourself hit that high for the second time tonight, your hips moving to meet his as he moaned loudly, his hips shuddering as he came right there with you, the frenzied movements dying down until he finally stopped, collapsing on top of you. 

You were both panting, trying to catch your breath after such an intense moment. He let go of your hand to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug as he buried his face in your neck. You reached up to gently stroke his hair, your other hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on his back. 

You stayed like that for a few minutes, keeping each other close, your hearts thrumming in your chests against each other. His body was warm on top of yours; he almost felt like your personal weighted blanket. 

Eventually, Spencer lifted his head up to look at you. As you met his eyes, you both let out a little giggle, the giddiness of what you just experienced really hitting you. He moved so he was laying on his back, scooping you into his arms as you curled up into his side. 

“That was… wow,” you finally broke the silence, a big smile on your face. 

He smiled back at you. “Incredible,” he finished for you. “I… I never thought I could feel quite like that.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, your tone slightly teasing. “Your ‘research’ didn’t prepare you for that?”

He laughed warmly, pulling you closer against him. “Nothing could’ve prepared me; you’re a one-of-a-kind person, and everything with you just feels so… special,” he gleamed at you, putting his hand over yours. “I… I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you breathed, getting slightly teary-eyed. You weren’t prepared for just how emotional this would make you. “I can’t imagine myself doing that with anyone besides you.”

“Agreed,” he nodded, his tone soft as his thumb wiped away the tear that was forming. “You okay?”

You nodded, turning your head to give his hand a little kiss. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you smiled softly at the comforting touch. “Just feeling a lot of emotions, I guess.”

“That’s normal,” he replied, pushing your hair back so he could look at you better. “The hormonal release can cause a flood of emotions, sometimes causing postcoital tristesse. It’s normal to feel some anxiety or sudden sadness-“

“It’s not sadness,” you cut him off. “I’m crying because I'm so happy.” You smiled wide, nuzzling his nose with yours. 

He couldn’t help but smile back, his eyes closing as he nuzzled your nose back. “That can also happen. I’m glad that’s the one you’re feeling.”

“Me too,” you sighed contentedly, resting your head on his shoulder as you closed your eyes, exhaustion suddenly hitting you. 

He let out a warm laugh as he saw you getting comfortable, hearing the drowsiness in your voice. “How about we get dressed and go to sleep?” he whispered. “I think we’ll both sleep really well tonight.”

“Mhm…” you mumbled, trying to will yourself to sit up after your body suddenly felt really heavy. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

After a bit of effort, you both got up to change into your pajamas, stealing a few quick kisses as you did so. You settled back into bed, snuggling up under the covers, whispering “goodnight”s before you both fell asleep almost instantly. 

After that night, you were practically inseparable. This had basically become a nightly routine; you tried out a whole bunch of positions to test what felt the best for both of you. His favorites were the ones where he could hold you in his arms. 

It always ended with lots of snuggling afterwards, the intimacy making your relationship even stronger than it was before. You never thought you could feel this much love for someone, but you felt it every day with Spencer.

[calicoheartz]

Embracing Truth ; Paige Bueckers ┈﹒

꣑୧ — summary | paige helps her gf come out of the closet 💐💌❤️

wc ; 870

— warnings | smalll hints of homophobia , anxiety related topics , mainly fluff + established relationship

my master list ㇀♡

1) i am sooo sorry for not responding to ur request anon! I accidentally deleted it from my drafts :(

a/n : this was so sweet and cute to write 🥰 this definitely healed something in me. Enjoy ◡̈

Paige sat on the edge of the bed, watching as her girlfriend, y/n, paced nervously back and forth between the blondes dorm. She could tell something was weighing heavily on your mind, and her instincts told her it was something serious. 

You and Paige had been dating since your second year of college, meeting during one of your shared classes. You knew you had always been into girls, often experimenting with them in highschool. But there was one problem, your parents didn't know.

They weren't necessarily homophobic per say, but to be fair the conversation of you being gay never was a topic of conversation. But the idea of one day having to tell them terrified you, especially since you knew the relationship with your girlfriend was becoming serious.

“Y/n, what's wrong?” Paige asks, snapping you out of your thoughts as she stood up and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing.

You took a deep breath, looking up at your girlfriend with tears welled in your eyes managing to croak out , “I don't know Paige, I really need to tell my parents… I need to tell them about us. But I'm just afraid that they won't accept me, accept us. What if they kick me out? Disown me??”

Paige’s heart ached at the sudden fear that lingered in your voice,  as she pulled you into a warm, comforting hug, holding you tightly. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’ll be right by your side every step of the way. We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that Paige would be there for you, and be by your side. “Okay,” you whispered, “Okay, let’s do this.”

A few days had passed since you had the conversation with your girlfriend, part of you wanted to procrastinate for as long as possible, because they would eventually find out regardless of when they were told. But your subconscious knew that now was the time, especially since you were serious about the blonde. You had to embrace the truth, your truth.

You and Paige drove over to your parents house one Friday evening, in the hopes of possibly sharing this important news over dinner. You were a bundle of nerves, but the blonde held your hand reassuringly as the two of you began to walk towards the front door. You took a pause, hesitating to ring the doorbell , after gathering your thoughts, you gently pressed on the round button in front of you, revealing a small chime in reply. You were soon greeted by your parents, who were surprised but happy to see them. 

“y/n, Paige, what brings you here?” your mother chirps. Hugging the both of you before inviting you two inside.

As you walked through your house, skimming past the dining room and making your way towards the living room, you plopped down on the couch before breaking the silence, “We have something we need to talk to you both about” your voice trembling slightly.

Once the rest of them had joined you on the couch and surrounding seats, you took a deep breath and began to speak again. “Mom, Dad, you know how I’ve known Paige since freshman year of highschool? And how we’ve spent a lot of time with each other since then..” the two of them nodded in response before you continued, “well.. I realized that I like her  more than a friend way. What I’m trying to say- I’m saying is that I’m with Paige. Like we’re dating..” your voice trailing off before facing them both in the eye, as your eyes had been previously wandering and focusing on different objects in the area. “Im gay.”

There was a brief moment of silence as your parents processed the information. You feared the absolute worst as the seconds of silence passed by, but then you mom spoke up, her voice filled with love and acceptance. “Sweetheart, we love you no matter what. We just want you to be happy.”

You couldn't hold back your tears as you hugged them both, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. Paige wrapped her arms around them all, feeling grateful to be a part of such a loving and accepting family.

After the initial shock wore off, your parents welcomed Paige with open arms, eager to get to know her now officially as their daughter's girlfriend. You all spent the evening talking and laughing, and you couldn't have felt more loved and accepted. 

As the night came to a close, and as the both of you drove back to the blondes dorm, you couldn't stop smiling. Your heart was full of love for Paige and your family, as you squeezed her hand as a way to silently say I love you.

“I love you, P,” you whispered quietly, your voice filled with emotion. “I love you too, y/n” Paige replied, squeezing your hand back gently. “I'm so proud of you.”

And in that moment, that's when you knew that no matter what challenges you both faced in the future, as long as you had your girlfriend by your side, you could handle anything.

as always, thank you guys so much for reading!! don't forget to leave reqs :)

[angsthology]

“and this is...?” — or an alt title: secret santa time (and maybe santa’s secret too?)

it’s that time of the year!

a/n hehe this was fun to write and i had more fun looking for gifts for her

THE KANGAROO VS. THE WORLD

“who is it?” the interviewer asked, trying to read the expression on the driver’s face as she reads the small piece of paper.

she nods with satisfaction, turning the paper around to face the camera. on it read: oscar piastri.

“i’m actually alright with this.”

“yeah?”

“yeah, i feel like i could do this. i’m happy with this.”

“would you consider yourself and oscar close?”

the driver made a face in thought before she spoke, “uh—not really. i mean, if i’m being honest, i haven’t really been that great of a person this entire year—like, i’m just going to say this, cause, y’know, it’s not really a secret, everyone’s noticed it: i’ve been pretty distant from everyone so really, i haven’t exactly took the time to get to know this year’s rookies, especially oscar.” she paused, mulling over everything she just said, “why did i feel like i just ended up oversharing?”

she chuckled awkwardly before (still very much awkwardly) leaving—she bowed her head slightly, for some reason.

“okay, i was definitely way ahead of myself.”

the younger girl looks up from her textbook to see her friend flopping down on the single couch on her front left, huffing then turn towards her.

“help me.” she said, then noticing the large textbook in her hand, giving her a judgy look, “what the hell are you doing? it’s winter break.”

daisy-mae rolled her eyes, “for you, yeah, me; i still gotta suffer for a couple more weeks.” then remembering something, “actually—no, you’re in this too!”

she shrugged meekly, eyes turning downward avoiding her friend’s slowly death-turning glare.

“no!” the brown-haired girl whined in disbelief.

“yeah—”

“dude!”

“sorry, chee.”

“you graduated early?!”

“i’m sorry, okay! they offered me and by proper calculations it was the better option! i was dying enough already this year i needed to at least let go of one weight!”

daisy-mae scoffed, “is there anything you can’t do?”

from across the room came a snort, “math.”

the racer pointed at her standing friend in agreement.

“whatever.” she huffed, going back into her book. “—congratulations. can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“i didn’t see the big deal.”

oh now she really brought her out.

at that, daisy-mae abandons her textbook and faced her friend, “are you kidding me?! you graduated university all-the-while being a very busy athlete? it’s more than important! we could’ve celebrated!”

roo couldn’t help but smile at her best friend. she truly didn’t deserve her.

nika, unbothered to the previous conversation, walked over with an open tub of ben and jerry’s and flopped down next to where daisy-mae sat on the large couch.

“we’re getting off topic here—”

“dude! that’s my last one!”

ignoring the flat-owner’s complaint, she continued after a spoonful of the ice cream, “—so, piastri?”

at that, roo covered her face and groaned loudly.

“so dramatic.” commented nika, grabbing another spoon, “he is australian, correct?” by now the racer had moved seats and snuggled herself next to the last spot on nika’s right on the couch—the three of them now smushed together on the same couch.

“yeah, so?” she replied, taking the spoon off of her friend’s hand and grabbing one bite of her own.

“get him a big jar of vegemite or something,” she says as she swallows her ice cream and snatching the spoon back from roo.

the latter blinked, the girl on the other side of the couch stopped in her tracks too, both of them then slowly turning their head to look at the girl in the middle happily scooping another spoonful.

roo then moved her eyes to look at daisy-mae instead, “is it bad that i’m considering that as an option?”

“a little.”

then, out of the blue, the racer’s eyes widened in revelation and without saving another word she bolted off the couch into the corridor into all the rooms. leaving nika and daisy-mae to stare at each other in confusion.

minutes later, she came back holding a basket of her (daisy-mae’s) crochet supplies.

the two girls paid her no mind as they all went back to their own things.

“tada!”

nika, unable to hold it in, accidentally let a squeak escape her.

roo’s shoulders slumped at that, her expression falling to an unamused one. “you’re the worst.”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! it’s cute! seriously,” then she burst out a little (big) laugh, ��like a toddler had made that.”

“alright,” still very much unamused, she dropped the attempted kangaroo crochet in her hand to her side then moving to walk away.

atticus, ever the great friend he is, walked over to her front and grabbed both her shoulders affectionately, “it’s okay, it really is cute. it’s the thought that counts.”

“sunny, i assure you, no one wants my thought.” she countered, walking away towards the couch. “may as well order that vegemite now.” she grumbled, sitting next to the cat and dog happily snuggling on her couch. petting the cat, she complained once more, “i don’t get it, i can literally crochet anything else but a kangaroo? i’m the kangaroo.”

confused, nika furrowed her eyebrows—now sitting comfortably on the couch next to her friend, “the hell does that gotta do with anything?”

“it means that, if i’m the kangaroo and i can’t crochet a kangaroo what does that mean for myself—like, do i even know myself?”

the other three in the room blinked, looking at each other as if the other would have an answer.

alas, nika was the first to comment, giving the racer a judgy—and confused still—look, “you just gave me an aneurysm. look; it means nothing, okay? just because you have a psychology degree now does not mean you gotta overanalyze everything, seriously.”

taken aback, she looks at her friend, “have i really been doing that?”

“yes. now just wrap the damn gift.”

“wow.” the australian opened the paper bag and grabbed the first thing he saw. holding it up with his hands, he inspects it closely, “this is…” he trailed off, still looking at the item in his hands, “—what is this?” he chuckled awkwardly asking the person behind the camera.

they couldn’t help but laugh too, though much more genuine, less confused, “i think it’s a kangaroo.”

he paused. inspect it once more before looking back at the camera, “—you think?”

in response, they just shrugged.

oscar, still in doubt, stares at the deformed plush of sorts for another good minutes before moving on.

his face unchanged in its usual flat state, though his eyes gave away the slight shift in his mood when he pulled out the large yellow jar of vegemite out of the paper bag.

showing the logo to the camera, he says while dead-staring into the camera (again), “very nice. thank you to—whoever.”

“can you guess who it’s from?”

still inspecting it—though now trying to figure out who it’s from rather than trying to figure out what it is, he looks back into the camera and tried to guess her name first.

and to his surprise (but also not really), “it is!”

“ohh, alright. i mean, i always thought she was someone who crochets but i never thought…” he wanted to finish his thought, he did, until he remembered that his actions has consequences and he isn’t exactly fond of facing the consequences.

“there’s a note,” the person informs.

oscar then looked into the paper bag once more, finding the said note. when he pulled it out, the small card had two cartoon dogs with reindeer ears on and a cat with a santa hat in the middle, below it says ‘meowry christmas!’ he chuckled at the cover then continue to open it.

“merry christmas, oscar! (or is it ‘aurscar’?),” he read then looking towards the camera, “that’s a first,” then he goes back to reading the card, “i promise i’m not this bad. i am actually very good at crocheting other things but i hope you like your gifts! love, me!” he finished reading and put the card down on the table in front of him, grabbing hold of the two gifts back up, he smiles, “thank you, for the gifts. i appreciate them especially the vegemite, i think. from one kangaroo to another.”

“are you excited?”

“very.” she says with a smile, hands ripping open the wrapping heartlessly.

she had already tried to guess what was inside, feeling a soft plush-like feeling underneath the crispy deer-patterned wrapping paper.

“how thoughtful of you,” her publicist comments sarcastically at her unwrapping skills.

ignoring her tone, she continues to break apart the paper, “why thank you, did you know how hard it was making oscar’s gift?” she paused her abuse on the wrapping paper to look at the camera—seriously? jokingly? no one knew.

finally, she was met with the gift(s) in hand. the first thing she saw being the large kitten plush inside of a wicker basket and she instantly recognize it.

“it’s the rock-a-bye kitten jellycat!” she exclaimed with the biggest smile on her face, showing off to the camera her large kitten in wicker basket. when she picked it up, she could feel the heaviness the basket carried—heavier than what a plush would weigh. her first instinct was to take the cat out of the basket and when she did, she couldn’t hold in the laughter that made its way to her lips. her smile was wide enough already before, the sight she was met with somehow made her smile bigger. she pulled it out and faced it to the camera, “guess we know who this is from,” she smiled goofily holding up the calendar with the white man’s ass on it.

still laughing, she puts the calendar down white a head shake, “thank you, valtteri! now i don’t need to find one for next year.”

when she thought she was done, the woman behind the camera informs, “there’s another one.”

“huh?” she looks at her confusedly before shuffling around the torn up pieces of paper on her lap. when she saw what was left in it was, her jaw dropped.

pulling them out, she puts at the camera, “new drumsticks!” she inspects the two pieces on her hand with a small smile, “ah! and it has my nickname on them too!” still pouting in disbelief she smiles at the camera, “this is so good. thank you, again, val, such great gifts.” then she remembered, “oh, right! the card! hold on,”

she shuffled for the card once more and open it happily, “‘dear, kid, merry christmas, i hope you have a great one, here’s some things i know you’d like and a little something for next year. always a pleasure working with you.’” she smiles looking as if she was holding back a cry and hugged the card to her chest.

she waves with a smile at the camera, “kiitos valtteri! hyvää joulua!”

(“thank you, valtteri! merry christmas to you!”)

bonus, 2022:

“so, who did you get?”

she smiles, “lando!”

“any idea what you’re going to give him?”

she pauses with a hum in thought, then a smile cracked in her lips. looking into the camera mischievously, “his first win, maybe.”

(she did not, in fact, got him that. she crocheted him a frog hat and one of those singing fish wall decoration.)

te1enovia

liked by f1porsche, danielricciardo, and 5,735,635 others

tagged: daisymaerose, selvnika, and atticusingh

te1enovia merry christmas from ur resident racer girl, scholar girl, and jobless girl <3

(and my favorite boy 🤏)

see all 2,826 comments.

f1porsche merry christmas cuties 🎄☃️❄️✨️

liked by te1enovia

mickschumacher merry christmas!!

liked by te1enovia

atticusingh was the tag... to hurt my feelings?

selvnika atticusingh yes

te1enovia atticusingh nooo it just means u were there TO ME

schupastry te1enovia lovesick i tell you

backbiteroo schupastry DONT DO THAT. please. i need her to be single for ME

fiftyfivetexts sooooo.... are we gonna talk abot ur favorite boy??????

backbiteroo fiftyfivetexts its reggie please PLEASE

selvnika how DARE you

te1enovia selvnika yeah, i do

selvnika te1enovia i have power over ur sponsorship.

te1enovia selvnika ur father does. and he loves me more.

gaslytv te1enovia GET HER JADE

formulasos merry christmas to our favorite girlies!!!!!

f1porsche

liked by mickschumacher, te1enovia, and 5,069,726 others

tagged: te1enovia and mickschumacher

f1porsche merry christmas from our team!!! <33 🎄☃️❄️✨️

see all 726 comments.

te1enovia YOU GUYSSS 🥹🥹🥹

f1porsche te1enovia 😋❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

mickschumacher ☃️☃️

f1porsche mickschumacher ❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra

[simping-for-joe]

Someone Who Enjoys Life

Leon Kennedy X Chubby! Reader

It's been one of those weeks and your self-esteem has been having a rough moment. Leon won't just let that stand.

Warnings: Body image issues, bad eating habits (mentioned)

A/N: I was using a character AI for Leon and he said something to me since like sometimes I do basically storylines about body image issues and it gave me this line that I just adored.

It's been one of those weeks for you. You've struggled with your body image issues before so this wasn't exactly new territory. It's just this time it was practically bad.

Small things were getting under your skin this week. Little things like having to go buy a new pair of jeans due to the inner thigh fabric being worn out. Reminding you of the size of your thighs, and all it did was embarrass you. Noticing how your clothes fit on you, things like that.

It definitely doesn't help Leon has been distant this week due to work. Not that you could blame him, it's just when he's like this he's close to impossible to get support from. So, you kept it to yourself this week. Dealing with it in small ways, and you weren't sure if it was actually helping or not.

Leon immediately something was off this week, he knows you better than anyone at this point. He watched from afar as you avoided the shared bathroom mirror. He swears up and down that you didn't eat dinner one night, and he noticed you were more reserved when it came to physical affection.

He wanted to say something, he really did but he knows from past experiences that body image issues are a delicate topic. Not to mention while he's had some experience with it, it wasn't quite the same experience as you. On top of that, he was currently dealing with something work-related, meaning he shit out of ideas on how to handle this.

It was a quiet night in the week of chaos, Leon looked up from his paperwork as you were making something in the kitchen.

"So..." Leon speaks up, you look at him with a raised eyebrow as you can sense the awkward tone in his voice. "I um saw your jeans in the trash." He suddenly brings up. You stop preparing dinner, freezing as the faint feelings of shame and embarrassment rise up in you.

"Y-yeah... just you know... they got worn out." You reply stiffly, refusing to look at him.

"Oh, do you need to go shopping?" Leon was hoping this was going to be an easy fix.

"It's a-alright Leon really." You try to insist just wanting this conversation to end.

"No, if you need jeans you need jeans." He tries to argue with you, he just wants to be helpful. On some level, you understood that, but you were just so embarrassed.

"Leon."

"What? We can even get you a bigger size if you need." He offers, and that's the straw that breaks the camel's back. You don't know the exact reason why but you just start crying at hearing that, causing Leon to look at you with a mix of confusion, worry, and guilt. He rushes out of his seat at the table and heads over to the kitchen. "Sweetheart... what's wrong?" He asks you, his voice soft and low to be more soothing. "This isn't just about the jeans is it?"

"No..." You reply through tears, and before you know it he pulls you into a tight embrace. His strong arms make you feel secure and loved even as you sob against his chest. You feel his fingers in your hair as he just sways you both a bit as he just lets you cry. Letting out whatever you've been bottling up all week.

After a few minutes, you move away from him taking a deep breath as you finally start calming down from your outburst. It's quiet as you grab a paper towel and blow your nose.

"Do... do you want to talk about it?" Leon asks you quietly.

"I-It's... just been a rough week..." You mumble softly, almost numbly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He questions, his eyebrows pinched together with worry.

"You have work and me having some body image issues isn't-"

"No, no, no, this is important to you so it's important to me. I know how hard it is for you sometimes. I will tell you as many times as you need that you are beautiful and I will always love you." You look at him with slight disbelief. Leon did not care, he'd do this song and dance for the rest of his life if he had to, as long as you believed you were beautiful.

"I just... don't you want someone who's-" You begin, hesitating to say the word he knew was coming.

"Thinner?" He asks crossing his arms, you nod almost sadly. Leon is quiet for a moment before sighing and uncrossing his arms. "I love you so much, that words cannot describe. I love the extra weight you have on you, I really do. You're my soft, squishy partner in crime." He tells you cupping your cheeks gently as you blush brightly. "Do you know why I love your body?" He asks softly, and you shake your head gently. "Because you have the body of someone who enjoys life, and I think that's beautiful..." Your quiet as you think about that, and you feel your throat tighten again with emotion. "I see you and I immediately see someone with so much life and love in them. That's why I love you..." Leon tells you sincerely. "The really nice hugs are just a bonus." He adds on, getting a chuckle from you as you look up at him. You just hug him tightly, catching him a bit off guard but he embraces you back.

"I love you..."

"I love you too sweetheart, and I always will."

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Carefully heal the flower

Mark Hoffman x girlfriend!reader

warning : depression, attempted suicide, emotional, comfort, no use of y/n

summary : In a dark city, there was the law and the lawless, and even though Mark and his steady girlfriend had been through a lot, they seemed to be okay. But when hopefulness settles in their hearts, their love Hoffman stays away longer and longer, pain becomes too great and only one way out seems logical….

info : I'm sorry that you have to wait a little I hope you @hoffmangirl and everyone else likes it and I hope I could do justice to the topic, have fun :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a town where they both lived there was never really hope or the light of improvement, it always seemed to be dark. During the day it was foggy and stuffy and at night it was cold and harsh and the only thing you could rely on was yourself…or so it seemed to everyone else, except Hoffman and his girlfriend.

The two who had found each other in this town in the early days had something like hope, his work with the police quickly made him a career and with every medal, with every case he solved, the happier they both seemed to become and the prospects of making something of this town seemed close at hand.

However, as you went up the ladder you felt more responsibility, with every meal in a restaurant you ate the more you realised how much was actually going on beneath you, how horrible everything seemed and a feeling of helplessness began to fill her more and more.

She loved Mark, loved him for his strong character that even in the darkest days of his career when he was confronted with death and violence he never lost his cool, he was strong but the more he became the hero of the city the more he was gone.

She always had to wait longer for him in the evenings, and during the day when she was at work she would write him a few messages which were answered less and less.

The little heart or a short ‘I love you’ was always missing, ,,Mark…you love me, don't you?" she had asked one day when he came home at one o'clock in the morning and she had waited with dinner to spend time with him. It was a question that made him stop, not because he had been caught, but because she could see that he saw her pain, her need for help.

,,Nothing changes, you're the most important thing," he had replied, putting his hand on her cheek for a moment, but if he had just put his hand on her bare forearm for a moment, he would have seen how badly she was actually feeling, what this hopelessness had driven her to.

Until it was that evening when her gaze went back to the window, to the balcony of her top floor flat and a thought formed, a thought that seemed to be stronger than Mark who had already disappeared again in the morning and she didn't go to work that day either just to walk around the flat for hours trying to decide whether she should call Mark or whether it would be worth it because in this town there would never be any hope.

A hope she saw like the coloured lights below her as the wind picked up around her and her cold hand clung to the railing through the night, her foot about to lift onto the railing and her decision seemed as sure as the wind that would carry her down, in a short fall before it ended with the thud.

That's how it should have gone as she pushed herself up and saw the end when she heard someone shout her name and she felt a hand on her arm pulling her back, someone holding her close and in her tear-blurred gaze she saw Mark looking at her in fear, ,,I've got you…don't worry I've got you, don't jump…I'm here" he said slowly seeming to search for his words for fear she would break in his arms.

Her hands clutched at him she herself was now afraid that she was dead, that he hadn't caught her but when he took her in his arms and carried her back inside and laid her softly on the bed kissing her cool hands and she heard the ,,Everything will be alright little butterfly" she released his name from her lips.

She seemed to come back to him and fell into his arms again as she apologised, crying bitterly and yet he just held her not wanting her to ever feel alone again ,,I won't go away I promise" he returned and sat down on the bed she snuggled into his lap and he pulled the covers lightly over them both.

,,Nothing will happen again, I got you dreamer okay?" she nodded her voice too heavy, her eyes too tired as she just snuggled up to him and yet that pain, the ache her heart had escaped at least for that night as she felt him beneath her, his calm heartbeat soon easing her into a gentle sleep…perhaps even in such a dark place as this there was hope for a better future.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[your-divine-ribs]

Forbidden Part 35

Words: 3.8k

Forbidden Masterlist Main Masterlist

You manage to make your way back to your hall relatively unnoticed. It's early enough in the morning that most people you pass are members of staff on their way to work. They look at you but they don't really see you, to them you're just another face in the crowd, another student stumbling unsteadily back to halls after a night of debauched and wild partying. They don't know what you've really been up to. The fact that with every step you take you can feel the delectable ache between your legs from the pounding you took last night, the way the moreish tang of your Professor's cum still lingers on your tongue.

You can't help but smile to yourself. There's something so exhilarating about having a secret that nobody else knows about.

Nobody apart from Bob...

You let out a gasp as the door of your block pulls open as soon as you push the key through the lock. Bob's right there, his smile on greeting a fellow housemate faltering as his eyes slip down to take in the t-shirt you're wearing, your dress bunched up in your hand. Your gut drops like you've just plummeted 200 feet on a rollercoaster.

"Bob! What the hell? I didn't think you'd be back yet! Thought you'd still be in London."

His face scrunches up in a puzzling way as he stands back to let you through and you slip past him into the hallway, kicking off your shoes as you go and then turning to face him. He's blushing furiously even though he tries to hide it by dropping his head to look at his wristwatch.

"I should be in London really... should probably be sitting down to breakfast in the hotel right about now..."

"So what happened?" You cut in, heart thumping double-time as you imagine what might have occurred if Kathleen had arrived home unexpectedly whilst you were perched on her kitchen worktop, freshly fucked and dressed in her fiancés clothing.

"It was... errr... it was Kathleen," he mumbles, eyes meeting yours briefly before quickly darting away. "She... errr... she needed to leave early so I came back with her, that's all."

He turns his body towards the kitchen, starting to walk quickly away and you follow him, cold dread gnawing at you as you try to imagine what could possibly have happened for Kathleen to want to get home so urgently. Had she somehow found out about you and Van? Had one of the neighbours seen you together and called her to break the devastating news?

You do a quick calculation in your head. "You must have left about 5am! London's at least a hundred miles away and it's a nightmare getting out of the city even at that time in the morning. What the hell's so important that everyone had to come back so early for?”

"It wasn't everyone... it was just me and her... errr... d'ya want a cuppa? I was just about to make one. Not had one all morning."

You grab a mug from off the draining rack and plonk it down in front of the kettle by way of reply, not wanting to detour from the topic of conversation. "Hold on, let me get this straight... you're telling me that you and Kathleen travelled back from the trip on your own and left everyone else there? What happened? Must've been something bad for you to leave so quickly... like an emergency or something?"

Bob doesn't reply straight away, taking his time digging in the box of teabags, his cheeks glowing redder by the second. You just stand there, tense and as stiff as a board, waiting to hear what might potentially be your fate.

"It's nothing..." he finally says, but this does nothing to assuage your fears, in fact they increase. "It's just some personal stuff she's got going on, I probably shouldn't say.”

"Come on," you urge, impatient. "You can't leave me hanging, only telling me half a story. Something pretty bad must've happened for you to have to take off like that without everyone else."

He's stirring the tea but he stops, letting out an audible sigh as he rests the teaspoon down on the counter. His brow's folded into a crease, his lips downturned. He looks conflicted, like he's stewing over something, like he knows he shouldn't say anything but he wants to let it out. But even good boys like Bob find it hard to keep secrets. So you push him a little, gently insistent without too much force.

"It's pretty obvious that something's up, you look like something's really bothering you. Maybe I could help? I'm not gonna say anything to anyone... promise."

Even as you say the words you're cringing inside. You know you're not Bob's favourite person right now, and why should he entrust you with a secret? You've not exactly proven yourself to be trustworthy with your recent antics. It's quite obvious that he has something he wants to get off his chest though despite his reluctance to open up.

"I don't know Y/N... I mean it's not like I have any proof or anything but I'm sure it was him!"

He spits the last word out with vitriol and it makes you wince. You're certain he's talking about Van... who else could it be? Bob's not hidden his disdain for him since he heard the two of you at it in the kitchen only days prior. He thinks he's a sly bastard for taking advantage of you and cheating on his girl, and if Van's the cause of Kathleen's problems that can only mean one thing... you're in deep shit.

"Oh fuck," you gasp, your legs feeling weak as your heart races. "Did Kathleen find out about me and Van? I called it off! I swear I did. It was over when I told you! I thought that was the end of it!"

The ache between your legs seems pronounced all of a sudden, like your own body's protesting at the lies you're spouting. You feel nauseous, slumping back against the counter.

"It's not that!" Bob says quickly, his eyes widening as he reaches out to lay a hand on your arm in a reassuring gesture. His voice drops in volume as his eyes dart towards the kitchen door. "It's not even Van, although I'm sure he's not helping matters." He mutters the last part and your breath catches, hope temporarily halting your panic.

"So what's happened? You can't tell me all of this and then not say anything else! I'm bloody freaking out here!"

Bob moves back, reaching out for a chair and drawing it out, gesturing for you to sit. You do, hunching over your tea, eager to hear as he takes the seat across the table from you.

"You promise not to say anything... okay?"

"Sure, of course!" You reply, leaning even further forward, conspiratorially. "It'll go no further I swear."

Bob takes a sip of his tea, his lips curling in distaste as he starts to talk, but it's not the beverage that he finds unpalatable, that much is clear. "You ever hear me talk about Professor Turner?"

"Alex?"

You loudly blurt out the name on impulse, slapping your hand over your mouth when Bob shoots you a glare. "I'm sorry... but no one'll know what we're talking about."

"That's not the point, I still don't want anyone to hear. This is all speculation on my part and I know how rumours tend to spread. I don't want to be the source of starting anything, it's not fair on Kathleen. None of this is her fault."

At the mention of her name Bob's cheeks tinge pink yet again, and you bite back a smirk. Now he's assured you that whatever's happened has nothing to do with your affair your anxiety has faded, curiosity replacing it, your wicked side drawn to the surface. If there's one thing you love it's a bit of salacious gossip. You're always drawn to it, sniffing it out like a bee seeks nectar. And this just reeks of a potential scandal. You can't help yourself.

"Is something going on between the two of them? Are they having an affair?"

You hiss out the words in a whisper, trying to look concerned even though you're anything but. Finding out that Kathleen's traversing the same immoral path that Van's taking would be music to your ears. It's not like it'd absolve your sins completely but it'd make you feel a little more justified in your sordid actions.

"What makes you say that?" Bob wants to know, a deep frown crinkling his forehead. "Not everyone's a cheater. Kathleen wouldn't do that."

"And you know that how?" You counter, not quite managing to keep your smugness at bay, the temptation to fan the flames of gossip too hard to resist. "They certainly looked very cosy when I saw them together at that cafe down by the river a few days ago."

Bob's mouth's a tight line, his fingers tightening their grip on his mug. "I knew it was a mistake telling you. I knew you'd react like this. Kathleen's not done anything wrong. You should have seen how upset she was this morning!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it," you quickly backtrack. The last thing you want is for Bob to clam up, you're eager for more information and you won't get it if you carry on like this. "I was just saying I saw them together and they looked close, that's all. They weren't actually doing anything apart from having coffee. So what happened? Why was she upset? What did he do?"

Bob eyes you for a moment, considering whether to reveal his suspicions. He wants to unburden what he's thinking but you probably wouldn't be his first choice of confidante. "I won't say anything," you assure him again. "I mean it, I really do. It's quite obvious that you mean well. I know you're not one to gossip for the sake of it."

Not like you...

You're thinking it and you can tell Bob is too, but even so he seems to soften, giving you the benefit of the doubt. He leans back slightly in his chair, his mug of tea forgotten as he pushes his glasses up his nose then folds his arms across his chest. "I don't trust Professor Turner... Alex. I don't trust him one little bit. I think he's trying to make a move on Kathleen. I was watching him the whole trip and he was not acting professionally."

This is more like it...

You hide your smile by taking a sip of your own drink, eyes wide over the rim. "What do you mean? What was he doing?"

Your thoughts go to that afternoon down by the river, the way Alex's eyes had bored into you in the most unsettling way... unsettling... but tantalising. It was the sort of loaded gaze that carried a promise of dark pleasures, like he could fully corrupt you. If all this was true then Kathleen was one lucky lady. First she'd snared Van, and now Alex was pursuing her. She only needed Johnny and she'd have scored a hat-trick... but maybe that's more your goal than hers.

"I don't know," Bob groans frustratedly. "I mean I could be getting this all wrong, but he just seemed... very attentive... like way over the top. Whispering stuff in her ear, pulling her aside all the time, secretive smiles, his hand on her waist... little touches all the time. He was full of it."

You nod, hoping there's more. It sounds pretty tame so far and you're beginning to wonder what all the fuss is about. You think back to Kathleen's behaviour when you last saw her. She was definitely preening at Alex's attention but it was hardly scandalous. "That doesn't sound so bad. I mean, how did she react? Did she do the same back? Did she like the attention?"

"I told you she's not a cheater!" Bob exclaims, instantly looking sheepish as he realises how loud he's being. The sound of a door shutting somewhere in your block carries to the kitchen.

"Jeez Bob, chill out," you murmur quietly. "I didn't say she was did I? A bit of playful flirting between two consenting adults isn't grounds for infidelity you know."

You're starting to wonder whether Bob's obvious crush on his lecturer is skewing his perspective, his protectiveness of Kathleen's honour exaggerating a harmless incident.

"I know that, I'm not over-reacting though, I told you how upset she was didn't I?" He sits forward, elbows on the table, leaning right over, his voice low. "This was all day yesterday, on the coach, walking around London, at the theatre... it got worse when we got back to the hotel."

"Oh?" Your ears prick up and you lean in too.

"Yeah," Bob nods, looking agitated. "A lot of wine got consumed at the meal last night, everyone was loud, a bit rowdy, even the staff. I was sitting opposite Kathleen and Alex and he was definitely coming on to her. No one else really noticed 'cause they were drunk but I only had one glass. He was all over her, topping up her wine, acting real smarmy." He pauses, almost grimacing. "She ended up leaving the table pretty quick, making some excuse that she was tired even though anyone could clearly see that she wasn't. Alex followed her and that was the last I saw of the pair of them. Poor Kathleen, she just looked plain embarrassed, bright red and totally flustered. I think she couldn't wait to get away."

Or couldn't wait to slip away to Alex's room for a good fucking...

The words are on the tip of your tongue but you bite them down, marvelling at how innocent Bob sees the object of his affection in all this whilst you just see the perfect opportunity for her to misbehave. You could be completely wrong of course but alarm bells are ringing in your head... Johnny's demeanour when you quizzed him a few days previously, the fact that Van and Kathleen sleep in separate bedrooms, and now Bob's story. There's something going on, you're sure of it. God... the not knowing is killing you.

Then a thought pops into your head. "So why was she crying then? I thought you said you didn't see her after that? And why the hell did she wanna leave at the crack of dawn?"

"I didn't see her for the rest of the night," Bob confirms, stifling a yawn like you've just reminded him how tired he is. "I had a crap night's sleep, just couldn't settle, the beds were rock hard. I ended up getting dressed and coming back down to reception at like 4.30am, thought maybe I could get the code for the Wi-Fi from reception. That's when I saw her, sitting in the reception area on her own. I went over to speak to her and I could see that she'd been crying even though she tried to hide it."

"Shit..." you blow out a breath, shaking your head. "I wonder what happened?"

"I don't know, she wouldn't tell me, she just kept saying she was okay and how sweet I was for worrying about her." He can't hide the hint of a smile thats fighting to break through, disguising it by clearing his throat, the telltale blush present yet again.

"You are sweet Bob," you agree, and he chuckles bashfully. "So what happened after that?"

"She just kept saying she needed to leave, fussing around on her phone on the Uber app. I think she was still a little drunk to be honest. I told her it was crazy, that it'd cost a fortune from London all the way back here. She assured me that the English faculty would cover all costs. I couldn't let her travel back on her own of course, that's why I offered to go with her."

You sit back in your seat, trying to process all that you've heard, scrolling through the multitude of questions it's thrown up. Bob just looks disgruntled now, and very tired. He yawns again and this time he doesn't try to stifle it. "Think I need more sleep," he says wearily, getting to his feet. "Thanks Y/N... for listening... I know you always think the worst of people but I'm positive Kathleen wasn't in the wrong here, despite what you might think."

You follow suit, standing up and pushing your chair under the table. "I believe you, but I guess you'll never know what happened unless she tells you. The important thing is that you were there for her, I'm sure she appreciated it." You smile at him and he returns the gesture. "You really are a gentleman, one of a dying breed!"

"Who's a gentleman?"

You hadn't noticed Lizzie shuffling into the kitchen, bleary eyed and dishevelled, yawning animatedly whilst she reaches for the jar of instant coffee.

Your eyes meet Bob's and he looks pointedly at you, a reminder of your promise to keep a secret. Your pause in answering causes Lizzie to look around, and she does a double take when she clocks your attire, the dress that you'd worn to go out in last night crumpled up in a heap on the table.

"I was gonna ask if your date was the gentleman but I'm guessing he's not judging by the state of you! You obviously stayed out all last night. Get lucky then did ya?"

"You went on a date?" Bob asks, surprised. You suddenly feel under the spotlight standing there under scrutiny. "Thought you'd just been at some wild party like usual. So... who is it? Anyone I know?"

"Nah, he's errr... he's not a student, you wouldn't know him," you mumble dismissively, hoping he'll lose interest and skulk off to his room.

"Oh no, he's definitely not a student," Lizzie sniggers, and you feel Bob's eyes on you as you glare daggers at your friend, willing her to shut up. "Bagged yourself an older man haven't you Y/N?"

"Shut the fuck up Lizzie!" You cry, and thankfully she does, cackling cheekily at your panicked expression.

You steal a furtive glance at Bob but thankfully he's already heading for the door, mumbling something about needing his bed. You let out a huge breath of relief, whirling around to face Lizzie.

"What the hell?" You hiss as soon as Bob's out of ear-shot. "You can't go around telling people stuff about this guy! You promised not to say anything!"

Lizzie holds her hands up. "I'm sorry, my bad. Your secret love-life's safe with me, don't worry. I'm just excited for you, that's all."

"I'd rather people not know anything about him at all to be honest. If it gets out that I'm seeing someone who's already in a relationship it's only going to cause problems. Gossip spreads like wildfire around here, everyone just loves knowing everybody else's business."

Lizzie nods her head in agreement. "Tell me about it, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. I mean it's not like anyone knows this guy... right?"

It seems like a harmless question but her change in intonation makes you tense and you watch as a tiny smirk takes shape on her lips.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" You ask, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. You're a bundle of nerves at the moment and maybe you're just being paranoid, but there's something about the way that Lizzie's looking at you that strikes dread into your heart.

"It's just that I've been thinking... about what you said... and how you've been acting recently..." She steps towards you, voice hushed. You can practically hear the cogs in her mind turning like she's trying to piece the puzzle together. It's an unnerving thought. "It's making me think that maybe this guy is someone we know after all. Someone who's recently got engaged... someone you've been lusting after for quite some time..."

"Of course you don't know him!" You whisper harshly. "I met him on Tinder just like I said!"

This doesn't deter Lizzie. You never could lie convincingly, especially not to a close friend and the hot flush that stains your cheeks makes you look guilty as hell. You're tempted to huff in annoyance and push past her and slink off to your room but when she starts speaking again her words freeze you to the spot.

"C'mon Y/N, you can tell me, I swear I won't breathe a word. It's just all too much of a coincidence, the sudden keenness to work and winning that all expenses paid trip to Italy, the way you've been acting so secretively... and if that wasn't a big enough tell now there's this mystery date that conveniently coincides with Bob's London trip where the whole English department is away for the whole night..."

Crap... this is worse than you thought. Why the fuck did you tell Lizzie you were going on a date at all last night? You should have kept it to yourself.

"I don't know what the hell you're trying to imply, but whatever you think you know, you're wrong!"

It's a weak last ditch attempt at denial but you know it's too late. It's all too obvious that you're lying, standing there shame-faced and unusually flustered whilst you splutter out your ineffectual protest.

"I don't think so!" Lizzie giggles. "I'm always right about this stuff... just call it intuition."

You can feel your resistance waning, the fight inside you dying swiftly as you watch your friend's smile widening. You suppose that out of all the people that could find out about your affair Lizzie's one of the least problematic. She's not got Benji's big mouth or Erica's desire to see you crash and burn or Bob's strict sense of morality... and what's more she's your best friend. She's always got your back. Maybe it would actually work in your favour to have an ally in all of this.

You allow a tiny smirk to surface, tentative like you're testing the waters before you dive fully in. Your subtle hint at a reveal is rewarded with an excited squeal.

"I knew it! It's him isn't it?" She gushes, eyes gleaming with a playful kind of excitement like she's just hit the jackpot of hot gossip. "It's Van who you're seeing isn't it? You're fucking your Professor! Y/N you are so so bad. I want to know everything! Don't miss anything out... I want all the gory details!"

[swiftsdelucaa]

Hello!

I was re-watching greys firsts seasons and saw that scene with izzie and george when she hugs him and says "i want you to be happy, if callie makes you happy then go be with callie".

So maybe you could could make a jackson avery finding out that his ex is getting married to alex karev and he feels like his world is falling apart?

Maybe they broke up because he was falling for kepner and she started hanging around with alex and he was like "i would never let you go if you were with me"

Alex and y/n are engame :)

❛ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ❜

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Alex Karev x reader ♡

𝘼/𝙣: Yes omg sorry I haven't died, I'm lowkey back now 😭 Hope you like it btw !

Since the day you and Alex decided to get married every day seemed to be so good for you. Believing it was still difficult, but indeed it was all real and you were so happy.

Alex Karev getting married? Hell, you must have really changed him. When you and him started to hang around and getting close he made you feel like the luckiest girl ever, which was difficult to believe. It was a moment where you were still feeling so bad from your last relationship.

Jackson had been one of the most important people in your life, of course you couldn't forget it. But he chose someone else. And that hurt you a lot.

You found so much comfort in Alex that actually you didn't even think was possible, but he suddenly became so important to you. At first it wasn't really easy, you knew he wasn't really a people's person, but you found a way with him and he was always the best with you.

The moment where everything started was maybe one of the cutest that you could've never forget. It was a late evening and you both have had a long ass shift; between random but nice talks he couldn't stop listening at you yapping even if he was so tired, he just loved that, he loved every simple little detail of you.

“Damn, I would never let you go if you were with me” those words had came out of his mouth in such a spontaneous way that you finally understood he was the one, well just the one you really needed. And look at you now.

However, the news had already spread in the whole hospital and everyone looked so excited for you two. Everyone but Jackson. You couldn't understand why as you both moved on, yet his reaction was so... cold. You decided not to touch the topic, after all it would have been useless. This was a new chapter of your life that you clearly wanted to enjoy.

When Jackson had heard about you and Alex he couldn't exactly describe what kind of feelings started to manifest inside him. All that you had was perfect and he screwed up everything, he knew that. And right now it seemed like if the idea of you with someone else was unacceptable.

Today you had to scrub in together in a surgery, it didn't bother you that much. Luckily for the whole time in that room everything stayed professional. Just silence and medical talks. Until the end of the operation.

“So” he started as you two were still scrubbing out “You and Karev...”

“What?” he did it. He had started with that and you couldn't believe that.

“Nothing, just... I'm actually happy for you guys. But don't you think you're rushing a bit too much?” he went straight to the point.

“No. He really loves me Jackson, and so do I” you simply replied. You could still feel his gaze on you. “And you are the last person I'd rather to talk about this honestly” you then said.

“I didn't mean anything else with that Y/n, I just want you to be happy. And if Alex makes you happy then go and be with Alex” his tone sounded really honest as he pronounced those words.

“Well, thanks, but I didn't need your permission. Like you didn't need mine to run to Kepner. But what matters now is that we are both happy I guess” you took off your scrub cap. “See you around” was the last thing you told him before leaving the room. As you walked out you let out a deep sighed, thinking about the last five minutes. You and Jackson never had a real conversation after the break up, so this felt almost right. Maybe you needed it.

Jackson watched you leave, knowing well he couldn't do or say anything else. He couldn't accept the fact he was losing you, but he had already lost you.

After your shift was done you came back home to Alex, who was already there. He smiled at you when he saw you walking in and got up from the couch. He greeted you with a soft kiss that you reciprocated. Then he looked at you, noticing a hint of overthinking in your face.

“Is everything ok?” he asked.

You looked at him, your lips curved into a smile as in that moment you were able to forget the whole day. “Yes... Just tired” you gave him another little kiss.

For the rest of the evening you've been laying in bed together and dicussing about some details for the wedding, you two had so many different ideas, but it was funny. That was definitely the best part of the day.

[my-own-walker]

Kyle request...: could you do one where Kyle opens up to female reader about that stuff with his mom pls, because like, omg that boy was so pure and sweetie, he deserved so much moreee 💔💔💔😭

Motorcycle On The Front Lawn

if you want a good cry while reading, try pairing this story with the song $20 by boygenius. lyrics kinda have nothing to do with this but very emo song/feeling.

note: this one is gonna need a MAJOR TW for SA. pls don't read if that will trigger you or make you uncomfy. love u all.

warnings: TW for talk about SA, angst, mention of su!c!de, very sensitive topics so proceed with caution.

+++

There was strange air around intimacy in our relationship that I didn't quite get. I didn't entirely mind. I loved Kyle. But I didn't understand where the strain came from.

We were intimate. We had sex often. But there was a disconnect. He wouldn't make eye contact with me during the act. He would be avoidant of conversations surrounding our sex life.

He showed love to me through physical touch, yes. It was an important part of our relationship. When we weren't in a bedroom with our clothes off, he had no problem being all over me. Behind closed doors, though, he froze up.

I didn't think much of it at first, chalking it up to beginning-of-relationship nerves about sex. Soon, though, it began to upset me. I thought it was all my fault. That he wasn't attracted to me. I began to doubt myself majorly.

It became time to have a conversation with Kyle about it. I wasn't angry with him. I was upset with myself for making this such a big deal in my head.

+

Kyle and I were making out in my bedroom. It was hot and heavy. Things were escalating until again, I sensed a strain. Kyle began to tense up, refusing to make any moves unless I initiated them.

I tore myself away from him and threw my legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up and facing away from him. Tears stung at the back of my eyes.

'Hey, Y/N, hey,' he sat up quickly and moved closer to me, sitting next to me on the edge of the bed. He stooped down to look at my face, peering through the curtain of blonde hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. 'What happened?'

I sniffled, turning my head up to the ceiling in an effort to stop the levy from breaking. To steady myself before I made a fool of myself by crying.

'Kyle, I really need to talk to you about something,' I muttered, finishing by drawing in a shaky breath and sighing.

'What, baby?' concern crept into his voice in a stomach-turning way. He was fearing the worst. He took my face in his hand to make me look at him.

'What is going on with us? With this?' I whined, exasperated.

'With what? With our relationship?' he replied in a quick hushed tone.

'Yes, but- I mean- no, it's just,' I stuttered. 'Are you not attracted to me?' My tone fell dark and tears slipped out of my eyes.

'What? Baby, you are so beautiful to me,' he assured me, wiping tears from both of my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. 'Why did you even ask that?'

'It has been so hard, Kyle. When we have sex. It's like...being with a ghost. A shell of you,' I explained. 'I love you. So much. Everything is fine until it's not. Like, you just, shut down. Am I doing something wrong?'

Kyle dropped his hands into his lap. A thousand-yard stare glazed over his eyes, looking past me, no longer at me. He swallowed thickly and breathed in shakily.

'I gotta tell you something,' he whispered, so quietly, almost no sound came out.

'You can tell me anything. Please. I just want to understand,' I pleaded. He turned away from me, body language completely closed off. I watched as he prepared himself to speak.

'So, uh, you know my family was hit really hard by Katrina. My whole neighborhood, ya know? It was really rough,' he started. 'And like, right after it, my dad left. But you knew that...' he began to trail off.

'Yeah Kyle, I remember,' I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stiffened at the touch.

'Well after that, my mom and I had a really hard time, just, tryin' to keep the house and all. The repairs and just, everything. It was a lot on her,' he continued. 'She was uh, really lonely. I felt so bad for her, like, I could tell she was having a hard time.'

'I'm sure it was really hard on you, too, Kyle,' I assured him.

'No, yeah, it was. But my mom- she really needed help from me. As soon as I became a teenager it really started. She would- uh, come into my room at night and stuff.'

My heart dropped. I sat in stunned silence to allow him to continue.

'It started with just kissing. She'd kiss me all over. But she'd tell me it was because I was her beautiful boy. That she was so proud of who I was. Uhm, but then she'd start asking me to like, take off my clothes. Or um, wear less clothes to bed. She would-' his voice cracked. He paused to clear his throat.

'Kyle-' I started.

'She would help me shower. Said she was saving water, ya know if we showered together? We really had no money back then. She would always say that to me. Stuff like oh Kyle, you're gonna get us out of here. You're gonna save us from this. There was a lot of pressure on me to make her happy.'

I laid my forehead down on his shoulder. We sat in silence for minutes, letting the weight of his words settle into the space.

'She told me she'd kill herself if I stopped letting her touch me,' he blurted, breaking the silence. 'So things got more intense. Just to keep her...happy, I guess.' The room fell silent again, his words hanging from the rafters until he let out a stifled sob.

'Oh Kyle I am so sorry,' I breathed, 'I am so, so sorry.' My head was still on his shoulder, but at long last he relaxed into the contact. I grabbed his shoulder and nestled my head into his neck, crying softly.

He finally let go, beginning to weep with me.

'Can I hug you, Kyle? Is that okay?' I asked, finally understanding the full extent of his boundaries.

He didn't even respond. Instead, he turned to me and curled up in my lap, nestling his face into the crook of my neck. His cries turned to sobs. Heart-wrenching wails that I felt in my soul.

'It's not your fault, Y/N,' he bawled. 'It's not. I'm sorry.'

'Baby, you don't have to apologize,' I sighed, hugging him tighter.

'I should have told you sooner,' he sobbed.

'No, Kyle. You don't owe anyone that information,' I assured him. 'You never had to tell me, but you did. Thank you for trusting me with it.'

'Of course I trust you,' he sniffed, cries calming down. 'I'm glad I told you.' I smoothed my hands over his hair and kissed him on the head. 'I'm glad I got it off my chest,' he continued.

'You are so brave. I am so sorry you went through that,' I maintained. 'Please know that you can take your time with me. I don't want to pressure you at all.'

'Thank you, Y/N, I love you.'

+++

I really wasn't sure how to end this without it seeming rushed. I love u all, and thanks for this request. It's VV sensitive topic, so I hope I did ok. Kyle deserved better.

[kiankiwi]

Elvis was in the studio, setting up tracks for his next movies soundtrack but his mind isn't all there. He doesn't have rockstar brain that allows him to focus solely on the music. No, he's slipped into dad brain and is in full worrying dad mode since you called the studio not even an hour after school drop off this morning to inform Elvis that your daughter was throwing up with a fever, that if he needed you, to call Graceland because that's where you'd be taking care of your four year old daughter but not to worry and not to hurry because you knew these tracks were important to the timeline of shooting this next picture.

Elvis was really struggling. He thought he was doing a good job at acting like nothing was wrong but Jerry had unfortunately heard the call from you talking about your daughter so he was keeping an eye on him.

Jerry, knowing how rattled E was, he stopped him in the middle of a take and told him, "Just go home man, be with Gigi, I'll take the heat with the Colonel, just go." Elvis removed his headphones and looked around the studio, considering what Jerry told him. "No, not yet because if I do just disappear, the old vampire'd just make it ten times worse on me tomorrow. I'll wait a bit more. Plus I'm sure Y/N's got it handled."

Just then the colonel came back in to "supervise" and so the topic was dropped and the men once again acted like nothing was wrong even though Elvis was fighting his dad brain and instinct to just go be with his sick baby.

He couldn't ignore his dad brain two hours later though when you called the studio again, this time and this phone call was absolutely breaking his heart.

"Hey, so I just wanted to give you a little update. She's still warm, she's slowed down on puking though but she's asking for you. Incessantly. Refusing to lay down at least until she knows your home and is repeatedly asking for daddy cuddles, wants nothing to do with mama today." Elvis put his hand on his hip, sighing through his nose, and leaning his head back pointed at the ceiling.

"Ah jeez, love. You guys are breaking my heart here. I want to go home so bad but I don't know when the Colonel will let me outta here. You know how he is." You sighed over the line. "I do and hold on- Genevieve it's daddy. You want to talk to him?" Elvis can hear whimpering on your end and then, "Daddy?" He smiled. "Hi munchkin. How you feeling?" She whimpered. "Yucky daddy. Want snuggles." Elvis looked down, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know Gigi but daddy's at work, honey. Daddy's trying to hurry though, you'll get your cuddles soon I promise." Jerry eyed him as soon as he heard the word 'promise' He knew how serious Elvis took his promises to his children.

"Can't you ask the bossy man? Please daddy?" Your daughter whimpered and Jerry just knew that was when Elvis totally melted, having his daughter wrapped around his finger. "I'll talk to him baby," Elvis replied. "I'll see you so soon okay." Gigi just continued to cry as she handed the phone back to you.

"I'm gonna get her in the tub, we need to get her fever down." Elvis nods. "Okay, I'm leaving here whether the Colonel likes it or not." You nod. "Just don't throw any punches E, okay?" He sighs. "Okay fine I won't."

Elvis hangs up the phone and lets the anger of being kept here while he has sick babies at home consume him. He's asked nicely the first time you called but he had said Elvis couldn't leave so he'd much rather use his anger.

"Hey, Gigi's gotten worse, I gotta go Colonel." The Colonel stamped his cane on the ground. "Not yet my boy, you still have four tracks you need to finish." Elvis sighed. "Listen to me you old bastard. My kid is at home miserable and sick and is asking for her daddy. I am a daddy and husband first before I'm a performer or your client so you can wait until my baby's well again before I come back into the studio, got it. Now if you don't mind, I'm going home to my baby." And with that, Elvis turns and walks to his Cadillac.

*

When he got home, Elvis slammed the door and immediately could hear Genevieve sobbing somewhere inside Graceland. "Baby? I'm home! Where are ya?" He shouted as he searched all 18 rooms. "We're in our bathroom baby!" You yell back from upstairs. Elvis finds you bathing your daughter in your and his bathroom and she is absolutely having a meltdown. She stops a minute when she sees him walk through the bathroom door and then resumes crying. Whether from relief or happy crying that he's finally there, he doesn't know. "Look who it is baby!" You chirp to her as you pull the plug of the tub and wrap the fluffiest towel around her.

Elvis reaches his hands out and cuddles your overwhelmed little girl to his chest. "Hiya lovebug, what's the matter? Daddy's here now, it's all okay?" Elvis helps her adjust the towel so she's still covered up but so she can wrap her arms tightly around her daddy's neck. "Daddy! Feel yucky." He rubs her back, cooing at her. "Oh Gigi, I know. Let's get you all cozy and you and daddy will lay down, huh?" Genevieve nods, snuggling close into Elvis's neck.

You wave him off. "Go get her settled. I'll clean this up." Elvis nods, leaning in quickly to give you a peck on the cheek before walking to her bedroom to find her another change of pajamas.

Once the bathroom is all picked up, you decide to grab a blanket and cuddle up with Elvis and your daughter. You find them in the TV room watching a show, her head on Elvis's chest. Elvis is the only one who notices you come into the room, Gigi is too focused on the show to notice you. Elvis reaches out and takes your hand. "Did you get in much trouble with the Colonel?" You ask, running one of your hands through his hair, one of your favorite activities.

"Honestly? Probably but I don't care. All I care about is doing this right now. She asked for me and I left." Elvis wraps an arm over your daughters chest, kissing her wet hair. "You're an amazing dad, E." Elvis blushes at the compliment.

Elvis pokes Gigi's cheek to get her attention and only then she notices your standing next to Elvis. "Hey, can mama crash our cuddle party and lay with us?" She leans her head back on his belly so she can see him without moving. "You stay though?" You chuckle as you sit on your daughters other side. "Yes," He says. "Daddy's gonna stay with you. Why don't you try to sleep love. Take a nap with me?" She sighs, tiredly and just wordlessly snuggles into her father.

With you on the other side of her, you whisper over her, "Hey, thank you." He shrugged. "Of course. I knew coming home would make her feel better." Whatever he could do for her he would.

**

I finally wrote dad!E I hope you like! @ellie-24 @arianatheangel-girl

@mooodyblue

[ladyalienist]

I thought I’d just give the quick answer but no. You actually sent me such an idiotic ask that I will elaborate and that is a threat. Not because of you, but because there’s other people who may benefit.

So first of all: let’s start with your wording. “It’s gross of you”, you say, and I cannot help but wonder what you think mental illness looks like in real life. Working in healthcare, at every level, means dealing with quite a lot of things that might just fall under the definition of grossness, like cleaning up bodily fluids such as vomit, shit, piss, blood, and dealing with quite a lot of unpleasant situations. If such was not the case, we’d have no reason to work. The fact that you cannot deal with the ✨grossness✨ of me describing a problem, in the gentlest possible way without outright lying, tells me a lot about you and let me tell you that: it’s not that you are a kind soul worrying about the welfare of people.

Second thing, tied to the first: people who have problems will not act in the most perfect way. I do not know, again, what you think mentally ill people look and act like, but I can assure you that they need help because they act in problematic ways, incredible, I know: if you manage to function consistently in your daily life and avoid any bad reaction to things, you do not need a therapist, let alone a psychiatrist.

Third thing: not being able to describe the problems and the various conditions people may suffer from in a blunt way is a huge issue in psychology/psychiatry. Because of people like you, who think that kindness means, somehow, never ever dealing with the ugly side of things, never ever describing reality, because reality is upsetting and imperfect and complex and, in your words, gross.

Now let’s move to an elaboration of the previous post:

1) in the original post you refer to I deliberately chose a few examples of behaviours I’ve seen or have been told about, from people I know in my real life, out of here. You know what the criteria for the choice was? That they were pretty tame and believable for someone who has never witnessed actual mental illness before. Every single person I’m talking about could and would do, in fact has done, absolutely worse things. This being said, if we put the car affair aside (and I swear to God I’d rather bail her out for arson a thousand times than having to deal again with other things she’s done) and look at all the rest… I thought it was pretty self evident but it wasn’t:

All of the shit I described stems from an incredibly deep and virulent self-hate. The same feeling that makes these people cut themselves makes them seek destructive relationships and destroy whatever “good” happens to them. When your mind is dead-set on the path of self-destruction it will stop at nothing, and yes, hurting people you love to punish yourself can and will become part of the pattern. One can learn to cope with the pain in different ways, but first you need to be able to define the pattern and where it needs to break. This doesn’t make you an abuser (in fact I think I specified that many of these people were victims of abuse), but it makes you treat your friends and lovers in horrible ways.

2) when you reach a certain level of suffering you cannot actually wrap your head around that, and of course it’s not deliberate nor wanted (that is why self-harm happens in secret), and of course it’s the least important side to this topic, but… in the kindest possible way, self-harming harms people who love you, too.

What do you think it feels like to love someone and deal with their self-harming? Loving someone and disinfecting self-inflicted wounds, cleaning up the blood? Loving someone and having any loving words and compliments being replied to with something along the lines of “well you don’t really mean that” or “well you make shitty choices in friendships”, over and over and over again? Loving someone and having to worry anytime they are out of your sight, because you don’t know what they might do and what might happen?

Again, when the mind is that set on the path of self-destruction it will not matter to the self-harmer, who will probably not even realize that other people are worrying or suffering, but it is a consequence, an inevitable one. And do you think that someone who cannot manage to realize that others are worrying/suffering about them will care if their direct actions are damaging said others?

That is why there are therapeutic interventions also for parents/relatives/spouses/friends of people with mental distress. Because it never affects only one person.

3) one thing I didn’t stress hard enough, apparently, is the presence of very risky behaviours such as substance addictions, reckless driving, hypersexuality, you name it.

Now, risky behaviours aren’t risky solely for the person who acts them out.

You drink and drive because who cares if I kill myself? You are putting at risk everyone who might encounter you on the road.

You start doing hard drugs because I don’t want to feel the pain anymore? I will at some point talk about addiction, but I think it might reach unbearable levels of ✨grossness✨ (at least to you) so it will be for another day; let me just tell you, it’s not a nice thing to deal with.

You have unprotected sex every night with someone different because being a slut is all I’m good for? Here you are, exposing other people (and yourself) to quite dangerous risks, such as pregnancy or STDs.

Again, the one thing that is incredibly clear from your ask is that you have absolutely no clue what mental distress looks and feels like in real life. And it possibly scares you and grosses you out.

But the thing is, you don’t know this reality, but I do. I live in it.

And it’s not people like me who make suffering individuals be ashamed and afraid to seek help. If anything, it is people who are so scared and grossed out by the tamest possible description of dysfunctional patterns that they feel the need to distinguish that from their polished image of a suffering person, who clearly only self-harms in silence with no inconvenience for anyone else.

I think I might just be talking to someone like that.

I think it’s gross of you to equate self-harmers to people who set cars on fire and are violently abusive. Attitudes like that are why so many people are ashamed and afraid to get genuine help.

If you don't think self-hate and hatred for others can coexist, and that one person can be violent towards oneself and others alike, then I do not know what to tell you. Maybe you're the one who does not understand how much humans can be complex, and maybe you're the one who lacks the nuance that is necessary to deal with such complexity.

People are ashamed to seek help, that is true. But it's not because someone calls a spade a spade and straight up says that setting cars on fire and self-harming are both wrong ways to deal with pain, even when it's always the same person acting on it.

Especially if that someone is a perfect stranger on the internet.

[ravensliterature]

Mission Failed Successfully?

A/N: Hehe I posted again

pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

warnings: Violence, description of wound

w/c: 2743

Prompt: You and Obi-Wan go on a mission but things don’t really go according to plan. Will you make it out in one piece? 

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You did not want to go on this mission with Obi-Wan. It wasn't that you didn't like him, you actually did a lot. It could even be said that you liked your fellow Jedi too much to the point of concern. You had no idea if he felt the same way and you never were going to ask. You knew it was wrong and were content with his company. 

The mission was supposed to be simple enough. There were slavers Tatooine who were raiding villages and taking the villagers as slaves and captives. They were also apparently forced senstive according to some reports. Your job was to stop their activities and free the captives. 

Currently, you were on your ship sailing to Tatooine. The ship was on autopilot as you and Obi-Wan talked in the cockpit. 

"So what are you thinking about Y/N?" Obi asked, breaking the silence.

"Oh um nothing really," you replied awkwardly. Your face heating up. Damn Obi for being perceptive.

Obi looked at you skeptically and raised his eyebrows. "I think I know better."

Your cheeks grew hotter and you couldn't say anything else before Obi turned to look ahead again. Your hands clenched around your knees and your lips pursed together in annoyance and embarrassment. Obi would find out anyway since it was impossible to hide something from Obi. You hated when he did this. He would always figure out everything so it's better not to bother trying to keep secrets.

"You've been spacing out a lot lately, are you nervous about the mission?" He questioned. His eyes were still forward on the ship.

"No," you lied. Well, you weren't sure exactly what to say. Maybe you should tell him the truth? No that wouldn't make sense either, why lie now? You sighed defeatedly. "Fine fine," you groaned, looking down in defeat. "I guess my heart is beating really fast because of anxiety or something." That sounded believable enough to Obi.

"Do you have any problems you need help with, Y/N?" He asked, still not turning to look at you. You shook your head.

"No, but can we talk about something else?" You asked, your voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He glanced at you before returning his attention forward to the stars. "Sure, just don't feel pressured to speak about anything, Y/N." He assured. Your mouth slightly parted before you snapped it shut again. "What do you want to talk about?" He continued. He wanted to change the topic so he could get to know you more. 

"Uh well," you started. "Have you ever seen a holofilm called Love Actually?" You asked.

Obi laughed a little before replying. "Actually yes I have." This caused you to turn to look at him in surprise.

A few weeks ago during one of the missions, there was an incident in a cantina on Tatooine where a gang was fighting over the women in the bar. The weird thing is that he would not stop talking about an old holofilm called Love Actually. You an Obi-Wan after that mission vowed that you both needed to watch this film. 

"What did you think?"

" You asked. Obi shrugged before answering you.

"It's pretty good," he answered honestly.

"Really?" You exclaimed in disbelief. "I never pegged you as a Jedi interested in romance films!" 

"They're just a genre.  Besides, I'm quite fond of them." He explained while grinning. His smile seemed contagious and you found yourself smiling too. "There is something about them... They just make you wonder..." 

 He trailed off before shaking his head, dismissing his musings and wants. 

"Wonder what?" You pressed curiously.

"Nothing important, Y/N." He answered shortly.

"You're such a bad liar." You retorted playfully. Obi chuckled softly under his breath, a small smirk making its way onto his lips.

"You always can tell."  He stated before returning back to gazing at the stars. The silence lingered between the two of you and neither of you dared to break it. Eventually, Obi broke the silence by saying, "So you haven't watched it yet have you?"

You chuckled. "Not yet," you confessed. "But now I have to with your glowing review!" You joked. Obi glared playfully at you but eventually gave in a smile, laughing along with you. "Well if you're really that curious, we should watch it together sometime." You said matter of factly.

"Okay," Obi answered without hesitation.

You both joked and laughed discussing various movies that you decided you need to watch together. You ended up telling him all about your favorite movies and how you thought they were better than others. In exchange, he told you all about movies like Titanic which he enjoyed greatly. As usual, your conversation quickly drifted away from the film and towards each other.

"Can I ask you something?" You questioned hesitantly. You had a feeling that you'll regret asking, but this was Obi so you probably had to continue anyways.

"Hmm?" Obi hummed inquisitively, glancing up at you.

"Do you ever wonder about what life would be like if you weren't a Jedi? " You questioned quietly.

Obi looked surprised.

"Like what would your job be? Where would you live? Who would you be with?"

" You asked, knowing full well the answer. But you felt like you needed to hear him say it anyways.

"Y/N…"

Your breath caught in your throat when Obi looked at you, his eyes searching for something you did not know.  You waited patiently, hoping for a response.

"…I would have been very happy with someone like you." He answered quietly. It seemed like he was struggling to say it.

"Someone like me?" You repeated, your heart skipping a beat. Did you read him wrong?

"Yes. Someone… special."

His eyes searched yours for a sign of uncertainty or doubt. Finding none, he continued speaking. "For years you inspired me to do more as a Jedi. You helped to give me purpose." His words warmed your heart. Even though you knew he meant well, you still didn't feel like he fully realized the extent of his feelings toward you. "You showed me how wonderful living could be." He added before leaning in closer to you.

You closed your eyes and held your breath, unsure whether or not you should respond.

"But... We are Jedi." You were finally forced out.

You opened your eyes and saw Obi staring right at you, waiting for you to continue.

"We fight evil, we save people. We are nothing more than a soldier." You concluded. A tear slipped down your cheek as a single word echoed in your mind.

Silence loomed once again in the cockpit until you saw Tatooine in your sight.  

"This is it," you mumbled to yourself. 

--- 

You and Obi-Wan were on the perimeter of the town, seeing where your best advantage is. The slavers had all their captives huddle together guns pointing to their heads. They were also force sensitive so that was nice for you both. You had to be extra cautious. 

Obi took out his lightsaber, holding it against his palm as he approached a group of the men with his head tilted slightly upward. You followed behind closely, staying in the shadows and ready to attack when necessary.

Apparently, Obi-Wan was not as stealthy because when they saw him they immediately started firing. Obi ducked out of the way to avoid being hit by the bullets. He grabbed the captive closest to him, pulling them out of harm's way with him to safety. You went to attack the next target but Obi shot you a look, signaling you to stay put.

You stood where you were but didn't move. You watched as Obi ran up to another group of the slavers and fought them with ease. His movements looked natural. You wondered what kind of training he received to be this graceful.

As you observed the battle going on, you heard a loud scream coming from one of the captives, causing you to snap out of your observation.

You jumped forward, using your force push to jump over the bodies of the fallen slavers who tried to shoot you. Once you landed on the ground you scanned the area, desperately looking for the victim you came here for.

 When you saw her lying unconscious on the ground you instantly rushed over to her side. She was clearly injured judging by the large bleeding gash across her forehead and the dried blood caked across her face. You checked her pulse and breathing, relieved to find that they were both stable although weak. 

You crouched beside her body as you reached into your belt pocket for some bandages and disinfectant. You used the disinfectant on the wound first and then proceeded to wrap some medical tape around her arms to protect them from further damage. She should be fine for now. 

You quickly looked around to survey the area and saw that there were about five slavers left and that they were surrounding Obi-Wan.

 You gritted your teeth and pulled out your lightsaber, trying to save Obi-Wan from the remaining slavers.  You charged at one and slashed him across his abdomen, earning you a cry of pain from the man. When he fell to the ground, the rest of the men started shooting at you.

You dodged every bullet that flew by and slashed and cut at whoever was nearest to you.

That was until you felt a main in your abdomen. With a yell of pain, you fell to the ground with your saber clutched in your hand. Before anyone else got close to you, you ignited your blade and cut through the attacker. 

Obi-Wan rushed to your side and tried to support you but your feet were beginning to fail to keep you up.  You grunted loudly as you tried to stand upright once again. Your breathing was heavy, and beads of sweat began forming on your brow.

"Y/N..." Obi whispered worriedly. You smiled at your friend despite your current condition.

"Don't worry; I've fine." You reassured him. 

"Well, you don't look fine," Obi stated while examining your injury. He glanced at one of his fallen enemies and kicked him harshly in the stomach. After kicking him once again for good measure, he turned his attention back to you. "Let's get you back to the ship. Can you stay conscious for me?"

You nodded. He picked you up bridal style with little effort and carried you towards the ship. He sat down on one of the medical tables in the small medical room. You winced slightly when Obi touched the gash on your abdomen, causing you to wince even more. The laser caused the wound to cauterize but it was deep. Very deep. 

"I'm calling for the medic bot, okay?" He said while caressing your cheek gently with his thumb. Your gaze flickered over to him, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Yeah." You breathed. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

"You remember the movie Love Actually?" You asked but your voice was rough. 

He chuckled lightly as he recalled the holofilm. "Of course I do."

You grinned, your eyes crinkling at the edges, and his heart melted at that moment.

"Promise me that we will watch it. If not now, somewhere else."  You requested. He smiled softly.

"If that is your wish then I'll grant it." He hated saying stuff like that. You were going to be fine.  You couldn't die. He wouldn't let you. There was no way. Not after everything that happened.

Your eyelids began to start to feel heavy.  You leaned against him with a sigh of relief. You wanted to tell him that you loved him. That you always will love him. To tell him that you loved him. But you weren't sure if you were strong enough to make that statement yet. Right now you just wanted to sleep.

"Hey, you gotta keep those eyes open for me, Y/N,"   Obi spoke softly, a sad smile plastered onto his face. Your heart swelled at his words as he brushed his thumbs over your cheeks comfortingly.  "Please."

The last thing you remembered before you passed out was the sound of Obi's soft voice telling you to hold on.

--- 

It was definitely too bright. You groaned loudly when you awoke to the blinding light above you. Everything hurt. Your whole body ached. And even more, your abdomen hurt. The only thought that came to mind was that the last thing you remembered was getting shot and then passing out. You opened your eyes slowly and blinked a few times. The brightness of the lights made you grimace and squeeze your eyes shut again.

Suddenly you heard voices, muffled and unfamiliar. Opening your eyes again, you squinted to see if the light would help but you still could barely see anything due to how blurry it was.

"How is she?" A familiar voice asked.

"She'll be fine, Obi-Wan. She just needs some rest." 

"Fine? She's been unconscious for three days!" 

"Again, she just needs rest. I'll check on her again to see if her vitals change but she will recover completely." 

The door could be heard opening with swift footsteps slowly becoming further and further away. You thought that they had both left until some of the footsteps appeared to be coming closer to you.

"Y/N?"

A warm touch rested on top of your hand. You blinked once to try and focus on your vision.  As soon as your eyes were able to focus, you saw two blue orbs staring back at you. 

"Obi." You choked out, reaching up to cup his face. You pulled him down to lean your foreheads against each other.

You closed your eyes, taking a shuddering breath. You missed his warmth.

"Are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern and his eyes searched yours intensely.

"I'm...fine...Just..." You trailed off, clearing your throat. You opened your mouth to speak again but paused, he was very close.  You closed your eyes again, leaning your forehead against his and enjoying his presence. You inhaled his intoxicating scent deeply, trying to memorize every detail.

You slowly lifted your head and gave him a sweet smile. "Thank you. For saving my life. I...wasn't sure that I was going make it..."

His expression softened at your words. "You're safe now."

You shook your head and sighed tiredly. "Obi-Wan, I was so scared... I need to tell you something..."

His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "Y/N, Tell me what?"

You began to glance at his lips. 

"Obi..." You trailed off before placing your fingers lightly on his jawline, closing the gap between you, and pressed your lips to his softly. 

You knew exactly what your decision meant. You were hoping that he would return your feelings.

However, Obi wasn't moving at all as he continued to stare at you. He had frozen completely in place as he watched your lips on his. This didn't mean that he didn't want this, he did. It was just that he was shocked. 

"Y/N, you do know what this means. We are Jedi. If we do this..."  He trailed off as he swallowed nervously.

You nodded slowly, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

"I want to. I want to live I life that I know when I die, I can say it was worth it."  You said, gazing intently into his eyes.

Obi gazed down at you, studying your beautiful features closely. He noticed that your pupils were dilated and your skin was glowing faintly with health and strength that he was scared wouldn't come back.

"If we get found out, we'll have to leave the order."  He stated firmly.  

"For you, it is a risk I am willing to take." You replied. His face lit up at your words and he leaned down to place a small kiss on your forehead.  You felt the tingle in your chest that accompanied the feeling.

"Then I shall follow your lead, Y/N.  Together we shall bring balance to the Force."

You leaned up to capture his lips again, savoring the taste of him. He reciprocated immediately as the kiss deepened.

Eventually, you broke apart, resting your hands on his shoulders as he cupped your face with his hands.

"What now?" You questioned.

"Now...let's go home."

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Submit a request here

[ezraspiderwick]

unseen smile

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

It's your first anniversary and Din wonders if he should take his helmet off

Word count: 900

Rating: teen

Warnings: none

Also on Ao3

    It was still early when Din slipped out of bed and sat down to drive the Razor Crest. Of course, there was no real need for him to do that, you were in one of the safest parts of the galaxy and autopilot was more than enough. Still, he needed something to distract himself with. For the past few days, there had been something bothering him, and no matter what he did it would not go away.

    Today marked the anniversary of your first year together, it hadn��t been the easiest of rides, but you had made it work. Din looked at the necklace in his hand, a couple of weeks ago he thought it would be the perfect gift, but right now it didn’t look like enough. You deserved so much more.

    This past year had been the best of his life, but there was something that kept haunting him, you had never seen his smile. The one that appeared on his face every time you looked at him. You didn’t get to see how happy you made him. So, here he was, considering the one thing he had never thought about before, not when it was bothersome, not when it would have made life easier, and not even when he was in pain. He wanted to take his helmet off for you.

    It was not because you ever asked him to do it, in fact, you had made it clear that you’d never want to put him in a position where he had to choose between his beliefs or you. And he appreciated that more than words could convey. The first time he had expressed his concern about the topic to you, your response was that you loved him for the person he was, not for how he might look under the beskar. And even though your tone had been loving and cheerful he couldn’t help but think there was a sad undertone to it.

    It wasn’t fair for you to love a faceless man.

    He kept thinking about how his heart would break if he wasn’t able to see your smile or those beautiful eyes anymore. Who was he to deprive you of that experience? He wouldn’t do it, not anymore, he loved you too much.

The Mandalorians were his family, his religion.

But you.

Oh, you.

You were his entire world, his goddess.

So he made his decision.

    The moment you saw him coming down the ladder, that smile he loved so much appeared on your face. You stopped what you were doing and approached him, placing your forehead against the helmet.

“Happy anniversary my love,” you said looking up. He knew you couldn’t see his face, you were only looking at your own reflection, yet you smiled as if you were able to see him, which only reinforced his decision.

    He loved you more than anything or anyone in the galaxy. You had taught him to love and to laugh, had given him the happiness he had lost long ago. Now he wanted to give you in return the most important thing he had: himself.

    He reached for his helmet and at the sound of clicking you immediately took a step back, confusion written all over your face.

“What are you doing?” you asked, worry seeping into your voice. He stepped forward, closing the space between you while whispering your name. “Din?” you asked again, closing your eyes when he started taking off his helmet. “Din you don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to choose.”

“It has never been a choice; it’s always been you. It will always be you,” he replied.

“Why now?” he thought he knew the answer to this question, he wanted this to be a present for you, but he realized there was something else, he was also doing this for him.

“I want you to see me, to really see me,” he answered in a whisper that sounded like a plea. His breathing was fast, he wasn't sure he'd be able to take it if you said no.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he took off his helmet and put it on the floor. Din placed his hand on your cheek, making small circles with his thumb just like he knew you liked. As you leaned into the touch, a grin appeared on his face. “Open your eyes,” he said softly, but you still seemed hesitant.

“How do we know you won’t regret this?” you asked, your eyes still close.

“Because loving you could never be a mistake,” he placed his lips on your forehead and gave you a kiss before taking a step back.

The moment you opened your eyes he tensed up waiting for your reaction. What if he wasn’t what you were expecting? He couldn’t even breathe as your eyes scanned his features. But as you placed a hand over his heart and smiled at him, he knew he could relax.

“I love you,” you said staring into his eyes. You had told each other those words before but this time was different, this time there was nothing between you.

“I love you too,” he replied, his smile mirroring your own.

“You got a beautiful smile,” you chuckled which only made his smile become bigger.

    You took a step forward and kissed him, letting your hands explore his hair. Din placed his hands on your waist and brought you closer to him.

    When you split apart, each of you with a smile on your lips, your eyes still locked on each other, he knew this was all he could ever want.

[buckys-bitchhh]

Okayy Request #2 lol sorry

Can I request a TFATWS!Bucky x Reader where reader is Steve’s sister and she is Bucky’s wife (she’s also a supersoldier) and when their son Steve who is 3-5 years old wants to do something dangerous, reader says no but Bucky goes behind her back and little steve gets hurt doing it and goes to the hospital (broken bone) and when they get home reader gives Bucky silent treatment. Angst with fluffy ending💝

Prompts #59 and #67

hiii bestie thank you again for sending sooo many great requests! I feel like I say this with all of them but I really love these two prompts paired together! Once again, any feedback would be greatly appreciated (:

im sorry this took me literally 3 or 4 months to writing! But here it is now and I truly hope everyone who reads it, enjoys it!

☝🏼lastly do not repost, copy or translate my works nor post them anywhere else. minors and ageless blogs do not interact with my blog or my fics. 18+ only.

Good Cop, Bad Cop

Word count: 3.3k+

Prompt #59: stop ignoring me. Its driving me crazy."

Prompt #67: "please don't give me the silent treatment, I need to hear your voice."

Steve Rogers was never a topic to avoid or brush over in your household. You and Bucky have always made sure your son remembered his Uncle Steve, your brother. A little over 4 years ago you and Bucky had your son and named him Steven Greyson Barnes. Little Steve did get to meet his uncle and I think we can all guess who his favorite Avenger was. He loved spending time with his uncle whether it was playing Baseball in the yard or sitting down together to sketch. But after they defeated Thanos, Steve had to go into hiding which meant you and Bucky were trying to find the right time to re-introduce them. When Little Steve asks about your brother and when Uncle Steve is coming back, you both look at him and tell him that Uncle Steve is doing an important mission on the moon.

So, when Steve passed down the shield to Sam, your little boy was beyond excited his entire family was superheroes.

Sam ended up inviting all of you to come to Louisiana, so you and your little family made the road trip down there. Was the drive long? yes. But let's be honest, if you took a plane Bucky would have set off the alarms while going through TSA and you knew that would draw unwanted attention. Besides, you would get to cherish the memories of a road trip, butttt keeping a five-year old entertained was harder than you thought. Movies worked for a bit but with movies comes snacks, and with snacks comes drinks, and with drinks means more bathroom breaks. So, then you resorted to I Spy and Disney sing-a-longs, even getting Bucky to sing a few. Once that stopped working Little Steve was getting antsy.

“Mama are we there yet?” He would ask.

“Uh we have a few more hours Bub, you ok?” You ask looking back and checking on him.

“I need to go potty.” He replies as Bucky parks the car at a rest stop.

“Alright, you and Mama head to the bathrooms and I’ll grab more snacks?” Bucky asks turning to the both of you.

“M&MS PLEASE!” Little Steve all but yells out excitedly, bringing small smiles to the both of your faces.

“Can you just grab some chips, please” You ask before giving him a small kiss and then getting out of the car.

“Whatever you want Mama Bear.” He says watching you help Little Steve out of the car.

You all handle your business and meet back up at the car. Little Steve running right into his dad’s arms and Bucky scoops him right up. You looked at your son and saw he was the perfect mix of you and Bucky.

Bucky is putting Little Steve back into the car as you go into the trunk to grab a blanket for him, hoping he would fall asleep for a bit. You go to get into the driver's seat until someone stops you.

“And what do you think you’re doing Mrs. Barnes?” Bucky asks you.

“I’m driving Mr. Barnes” you say with a smirk. You love your husband and how much of a gentleman he is, but he needed rest and you knew he wasn’t going to take it.

“No, you’re not.” He replies.

“Hun, you need sleep, or at least take a nap.” You answer not moving from your spot. He goes to speak up, but you cut him off and he then narrows his eyes at you.

“Buck it’s a 20-hour drive and you barely slept last night.” You say as he gives you a questioning look. “You were tossing and turning last night.” You add as he wraps his arms around your waist. He kisses your forehead and apologizes for keeping you awake.

“Bub you know it doesn’t bother me; it lets me know my old man didn’t croak in his sleep.” You reply giggling and push him towards the passenger side of the car.

“You asshole..” He mumbles while smiling.

You get into the car and hand Little Stevie the blanket but as you’re about to put the car into reverse you hear him speak up.

“Papa can you sit back here with me?” He asks with a little yawn.

“I’d love to buddy!” Bucky says has he switches from the passenger seat to the backseat. After everyone settles in, Bucky puts on a movie for Little Stevie, and you get back on the road. They were talking for a little while but after about an hour it got really quiet. You looked in the rearview mirror and you swore your heart was going to melt. Your boys were fast asleep, Bucky leaning against the car seat while holding Little Stevie’s hand.

You made sure no one was in front of you or next to you on the road before quickly snapping a picture of the two.

***

You drove for about 5 more hours and the boys slept the entire time up until a few minutes ago. You heard whimpering from the backseat and when you checked the rearview mirror you saw Little Stevie with tears in his eyes. Bucky tried calming him down, but more tears just fell down his face. Luckily there happened to be another rest stop so you pulled in and as soon as you put the car in park, you jumped out. One of the things your boys had in common? Nightmares. Bucky got out of the car to stand near the door, and you unbuckled Little Stevie and pulled him into your lap. You rubbed his head as Bucky rubbed his back trying to calm him down.

After about 10 minutes you both finally got him to calm down, but you figured it was a bad one because as soon as you moved to get out of the car, he clung onto you tighter. With Bucky’s help you somehow managed to get out of the car with Little Stevie in your arms.

“Hey Bub, I’m going to give you to Papa ok? Mama has to go to the bathroom, but I’ll be out here as soon as you come out ok?” You say handing him over to Bucky. He whimpers but clings onto Bucky. You all go your separate ways, but you make sure to be back at the car before they are, just like you promised. You put him back in his car seat but hold his hand as you turn to Bucky, and he pulls you in for a hug.

“Are you ok to drive the rest of the way?” You ask looking up at him.

“Of course, love, it’s only a few more hours.” Bucky replies as he lets you go. You let go of Stevie’s hand to close the door and get in on the other side. Bucky follows you around the car and opens the back door for you.

***

By the time you pulled into Sam’s driveway, Little Stevie was back to his old self and swinging his legs excitedly. Bucky parked while you unbuckled and let your son out of his car seat. You both exited the car to Sam, Sarah and the boys making their way outside. Little Steve ran straight into Sam’s arms while Aj, and Cass ran straight to you. Everyone greets each other before making your way into the house. The boys went to go play in the other room, you and Sarah caught up in the kitchen, Sam helped Bucky unload the car and moved everything into the guest house. It wasn’t huge but you didn’t mind, it was actually quite cozy, it was more of a mother-in-law suite, but it was perfect for you and your little family.

The rest of the night was very chill, you helped Sarah make dinner and later on in the night you all went outside to have a small bonfire.

***

The next few days were going well, Bucky was helping Sam with something on the boat and the boys hung out on the dock with them.

The little ones were all taking turns holding the shield when you and Sara came down to bring them lunch. Little Steve was trying to hold the big shield in his tiny hands, barely being able to lift.

“Look mommy I’m like Uncle Steve!” He says with a big smile.

“Aw Bub you look so cool! But why don’t you put it down, I don’t want you to get hurt.” You reply trying not to break his little heart. Aj extends his hands and waits for Stevie to hand it to him, which he does while pouting. Cass tried to distract him with other things on the boat.

Hearing other voices, Sam and Bucky come onto the side of the boat that faces the dock.

“Of course, you two come out as soon as you smell food.” Sara says teasing.

“Excuse me, we are working real hard trying to catch tonight’s dinner.” Sam answers sassily.

“No offense Sam but I think that requires you to take the boat away from the dock and a little farther into the ocean.” You butt in and Sara is trying to hold back her laugh.

“Wow, all the hard work we are putting in and look how underappreciated we are.” Bucky replies sarcastically as you raise your eyebrow at him.

“Oh really? It seems like we brought too much food. Sara didn’t you say there was a rather good-looking man who owns a boat a little farther down?” You ask turning to Sara.

“You know what, you’re right!” Sara says going along with you and then pulls you in the other direction.

“Pump your breaks.” You hear Sam call out, stopping you and Sara stop where you are trying to not laugh.

“Alright alright! C’mon boys time for lunch!” You call out to the kids as you set out the plates for them.

Cass and Aj came over first and you noticed Little Stevie hanging back while looking at the shield.

“Stevie, c’mon bud! leave it alone and come eat.” You say as you watch him come over with a heavy sigh.

Bucky watched and looked over confused but didn’t want to question anything in front of the boys. After lunch the kids went back to playing at the front of the boat and Sam went to show Sara something down near the engine.

“What was that?” Bucky asked and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“What was what?” You also ask as you wrap your arm around his torso.

“You wouldn’t let Stevie touch the shield.” He says.

“Oh. Yea well he was playing with it earlier and he was barely lifting it, I don’t want him to get hurt.” You answer looking up at him.

“Mama that’s how he learns, even though we both want to, we can’t protect him from everything.” Bucky replies pulling you closer to him.

“I know I know it’s just.. maybe in a year or two we can show it to him again.” You answer laying your head on his shoulder. Bucky didn’t really say anything afterwards both of you enjoying the time in each other’s arms.

Until out of the corner of your eye, you see a small tug on Sam’s line and then you see it again and again before lightly tapping Bucky on the chest. Bucky then calls out to Sam to get back out here on the deck.

**

Later on, and after Sam pulled his line from the water only to find a small fish on the line, you and Sara were just chatting on the back of the boat. Little to your knowledge Bucky was talking to Little Stevie. Watching Little Stevie look at the shield with sad eyes, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He pulls Little Stevie to the side and kneels down.

“So, Bubba, why don’t you take the shield to the front of the boat! It will be our little secret.” Bucky says holding out his pinky finger. Little Stevie squeals before wrapping his little pinky finger around his dads.

Little did anyone know things were about to take a turn for the worst.

Cass and Aj were confused because they remember earlier you said no but it didn’t take long for them to go back to fishing when small tugs were felt on their fishing pole.

Little Stevie managed to keep the Shield out of your sight, but you could see him running back and forth. You could hear him making noises and would turn every few seconds to check on him.

Stevie was getting tired and with his arms in the arm holders of the shield he tried to lower it as he was walking. But he tripped over the bottom of the shield and when he fell, his arm twisted the opposite way.

You heard the thump and Sara stopped mid-sentence. You turned in his direction to not see him anywhere and you got up. Not even a second later you heard him wail and start to cry. Everyone rushing over and once you got to him, your heart shattered.

Your poor baby laid out on the ground, tears running down his face, and his arm twisted at an angle it shouldn’t be.

Sara took Cass and Aj onto the other side of the boat to give everyone space.

Fighting back your own tears you sit down near his head and start running your fingers through his hair. You turn to Sam and Bucky for them to already be bent down trying to remove his arm from the Shield with minimal amounts of pain.

“Mama!!” Little Steve yells wanting to be in your arms.

“Your okay baby, Mama is here. Papa and Uncle Sam are going to try to help you alright? Just keep looking at Mama, Bub.” You say as his eyes kept bouncing from yours to the men trying to maneuver his arm.

“Buck any way we try to move his arm it is going to hurt him. Y/n you keep him focused on you, Buck try to hold him down, and I’ll get his arm out of the Shield.” Sam says trying to get his arm out as soon as possible so you all could get to the hospital.

You look up at Bucky and he had this look in his eyes that you couldn’t understand. You were about to ask him when Sam counted down and everyone did their own jobs.

**

Finally in the car, Stevie hadn’t stopped crying and refused to leave your lap. You put the seatbelt around the both of you and tried to calm him down.

“Hey Bubba, can you tell me what happened?” You see Bucky snap his neck in the direction of the two of you.

“B-but I p-pinky promised Papa.” Little Stevie said in between tears.

“Stevie, you gotta tell Mama, Papa won’t be mad.” You answered and looked up at Bucky, but he had his head in his hands.

“A-after you s-say no, P-pa-pa say I can p-play with the shield.” Little Steve says hiccupping.

“He say it’s o-our secret” He adds on as more tears fall down his face.

“Hey it’s okay, it’s okay! Mama isn’t mad. Did you fall and twist your arm?” You ask still looking in Bucky’s direction as he wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Yea the s-shield was heavy.” He says in between sniffles.

You guys pulled into the front of the hospital and got out as Sam went to go park. Little Stevie wanted his Papa so you both switched.

“Sugar..” He looked at you like a kicked puppy.

“No” You reply as you did not want to fight in front of your son and with his arm being broken, you needed to get inside and get inside fast. You turn and walk through the entrance and straight to the front desk.

You filled out paperwork and then they took Stevie back to get X-rays as you and Bucky were waiting in the Pediatric Waiting Room.

You sat there looking straight ahead and bouncing your leg while fighting back tears. Bucky was doing the same except he was looking straight at you.

“Doll..”

“Sugar..”

“…Darling..”

“..Honey..” Bucky tries for the last time as his voice cracks.

“Please don’t give me the silent treatment, I need to hear your voice.” Bucky whispers.

You never liked to talk things out when you were anger, you did not want to say things you did not mean.

Bucky then grabs your hand within his and you let out a shaky breath. You look at him before getting up and heading to the vending machines.

You barely made it over there before you started bawling. You felt like it was your fault your son was hurt. You thought maybe if you paid more attention to him you wouldn’t be in this situation. But with Bucky going behind your back like that, it hurt.

One part of you was hurt your husband would go behind your back and undermine you, and the other part felt like you always played good cop, bad cop.

You constantly being the bad cop, and Bucky being the good cop.

You wipe your eyes as you hear someone clear their throat. You turn to see Bucky waiting down the hall waiting outside a door, as the nurse notified you that Steve was in a room and the doctor would be in there shortly.

You didn’t look at Bucky as you approached the door until you felt him grab your arm to stop you.

“Y/n, I’m sorry! I didn’t think he would get hurt; I wasn’t trying to get him to lie to you.” Bucky says looking into your eyes. You couldn’t find the words to say without tears welling up in your eyes again and quite frankly you didn’t want to argue in the middle of the hospital.

You look away from your husband before opening the door to go check on your son. Bucky wiped the tears that fell down his face and then follows you inside.

The doctor came in and showed you where Stevie’s arm was broken, and he would need a cast. Stevie sat on your lap as Bucky and Sam tried to distract him as the cast was being put on.

After it was finish, you were signing discharge paperwork as Bucky and Sam took a sleeping Stevie to the car.

**

Once you all got back to the house you said goodnight and went your separate way from Sam.

Bucky carried Stevie into where you were staying and tucked him into bed, as you watched from the door. You walked over and kissed Stevie on the forehead before the both of you made your way out of the room.

You went to get a glass of water as Bucky watched you from the opposite side of the kitchen.

After you were done you put the glass in the sink and tried to leave the kitchen.

“Stop ignoring me. Its driving me… crazy.” Bucky says as his voice cracks at the end.

“Bucky… our son got hurt and I-I couldn’t do anything to help him.” You respond with your lip quivering.

“I feel like I have to play the bad cop all the time! Why couldn’t you back me up just this one time, Buck?” You add on as Bucky makes his way over to you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Your right, I should have backed you up. It’s my fault he got hurt, alright?” He says pulling you close to him. You reach up and wipe the tear falling down his cheek.

“Buck.. you didn’t know he was going to fall, it’s not your fault.” You say leaning your head on his chest.

“You were right, we can’t protect him from everything.” You add on as it was Bucky stayed silent.

“Yes but you were right, I should have backed you. If we don't agree we need to talk it out. And I’ll make sure to play the bad cop too.” Bucky tried to attempt at a joke. You giggle and shake your head.

“C’mon lemme see that smile, pretty girl.” Bucky says looking down at you. You smile up at him as he kisses your forehead.

“I love you, Mr. Barnes.”

“I love you, Mrs. Barnes.”

[noonstate]

under a cut again because i cannot keep things short to save my life, apologies in advance.

this was super off the cuff originally just because i didn’t / don’t want to delete my previous posts on the topic but wanted to expand my current thoughts, so the original post ( and this reply ) are going to be unfortunately sloppy in some ways. i agree 100% with your main thought / first paragraph, though.

to clarify / respond to other stuff:

first / men + patriarchy ) i do agree that men can and do contribute to the patriarchy but the point i was more trying to make is that men are often given a kind of super-agency in discussions about patriarchy, as if all that needs to happen for it to fall away is for a large enough handful of men to suddenly decide not to be patriarchal.

i am rereading ‘the will to change’ for the first time since i read it in uni like three (oh god maybe more) years ago now so that’s been informing a lot of my thoughts on the matter, and she talks at length about how mothers + women are equally complicit in the messaging that is passed on to boys / male children, sometimes even moreso in the case of single mothers. there is no patriarchy cabal but its an entrenched system and i think for feminism to be effective, or even viable, we need men to join. part of that is getting men to do feminist thinking and learning about the issues, but another thing is to stop treating them as inherently the enemy.

the thing of it is, fighting the big fight is hard, and tough, and your average joe-blow on the street might not realise that he can or should. i’m not saying you said this, but i have seen some people treat every individual man as a sort of mini-patriarchy all his own making, which again i think gives men too much credit. it’s extremely easy to be blind to your own biases.

i’m white, and i have to work at being anti-racist, not because i was raised by racists (i got lucky there) but because there are some things so in-built at a social level by people for hundreds of years that until i stop and think “wait this doesn’t have to be this way” and look at my own thoughts and actions in a new light. and it's hard to do that! sometimes i feel shitty about stuff i said as a tween or whathaveyou, but that's growth. but i also think it's easier to not realise you should be trying to grow if you've been sort of insulated from having to think about it, which many men def have been insulated from.

second / privilege ) this may be strictly a “i wrote quickly and didn’t frame things will” ism because again i absolutely agree with what you’ve said here. to sort of break down what i was trying to get across, let’s imagine the subject that the capitalist white supremacist patriarchy was built for: a white, cis, het, able-bodied, successful man. this society sees this as the default kind of person. anyone who isn’t, is told to hold themselves to the standard of this default, and punished for failing. we see this with the construction of whiteness in north america, a way to legalise the default and punish those who don’t fall within it. i think it also could be a framing thing, like the taller glass looking more full than the shorter glass type deal. whether you think about a privilege as rising you up above, or as a marginalisation as pulling you down. i suppose it’s active vs passive, right. and i’m not saying there aren’t people who do actively weaponise and use their privilege but i think the more insidious thing is that it can and often is this like, passive thing, which is why it’s important to self-examine. but honestly i might have just phrased it badly (probably why i failed out of uni lol)

third / anti-trans bills ) i didn’t mention trans girls in sports which really was just an oversight, but as i’ve seen it, any bills targeting trans healthcare have been fueled by a moral panic of the irreversible damage variety. i think i’ve heard ‘castration’ as a talking point once or twice, mostly tho connected to whole ‘the puberty blocker drug is also used for chemical castration’ thing, but mostly the healthcare bills afaik have been about stopping young “girls” from cutting off their breasts, getting a hysterectomy, etc. this i’m taking mostly from the talking points used by the right-wing lawmakers and pundits in america and the kiera bell verdict in the uk, so i could be missing smth here! i’m canadian so my knowledge of both us + uk law is mostly based off of what i hear / see in the news.

but yes, the sports bills / bathroom bills / anti-drag bills fall in line with the violence used against trans women, whereas the healthcare ones fall more in line with the paternalism used against trans men, at least as i’ve seen so far. it’s a harder sell for sexists to say “oh my god they’re cutting your son’s precious balls off !!!!!” than it is for them to fear-monger about Young Girls, i guess, whereas equally young trans girls in sports are…… super dangerous to their fellow girls? and the sports genital inspection thing are their own kettle of fish, just like. extremely fucked.

again, this reply is unedited but i just wanted to give some clarity? perhaps. hoping this doesn't come off as aggro, i really do think you made good points and more or less i don't disagree with any of it.

also you're 100% more than welcome to im me if you feel i didn't get or misrepresented anything in this reply.

ive spoken about transandrophobia before on here and while i don’t disagree more or less with what ive said i think perhaps there is an issue with the word itself. transmisogyny, much like misogynoir, is less about one + one and more about a blended kind of discrimination that happens alongside others. transandrophobia isn’t exactly that, imo, and i think there’s a decent semantic problem at the heart of a lot of denial / conflict about it. i’ve constructed a kind of numbered list of thoughts:

one. “there is no systemic androphobia / misandry, so there can’t be a unique intersection of transphobia and misandry that constitutes something like a transmisogyny”.

i have mixed feelings about this. there are many ways that men are discriminated against in society. to me, understanding the white supremacist capitalist patriarchy as a pyramid scheme of sorts helps; inherently, those benefitting the most will be the smallest group, and it’s best to keep everyone one tier below you infighting to make them easier to control.

looking at the works of bell hooks and emi koyama, i think that men can act and behave in patriarchal ways, in ways that benefit systemic oppression and violence against women, but i think that thinking of them each individually as agents of the patriarchy gives them, frankly, too much power in a system. your average sexist dude catcalling you on the street is acting out a learned, shitty, behavior, but he’s not an ‘agent’ of anything; he’s another pawn in the same fucked system. think of the poor racist who decries immigrants ‘taking our jobs’; he’s likely to have more in common with the immigrants he’s mad at than the politicians who’ve told him to be mad at the immigrants.

male privilege is another thing; i don’t know that thinking of people as having or holding male privilege is helpful. i think privilege is more of a lack of a thing than a thing itself. do trans men who pass significantly well gain some status? yes. do trans women who are boymoders / not out already have some status? yes. but i don’t think that’s something they are doing so much as it is something that others are assuming about them.

and, as i said above: it’s a pyramid scheme. in a white supremacist society, men of colour are not advantaged over white men, and often not even over white women. we’ve seen this historically, with lynchings, and recently, with ‘karen’s calling the police over seeing a black man in their neighbourhood. white women can and do pose a significant threat to black men through their use of state violence, and their existence as a resource the state wants to protect (sometimes, at least).

so is it all predestined? no, obviously not. you can and should fight against the culture if it is harmful. and for men, the thing is, they are not told or easily shown that the system is harming them as much or more than it benefits them. there are less obvious threads to pull at to start the unravelling of an internalised worldview for people closer to the top of that pyramid. but it’s work many of them don’t do, to their own detriment as much as to the detriment of everyone else around them, especially women and gender minorities.

two. “what you’re experiencing is just transphobia”

i think we can acknowledge that transphobia towards (for simplification’s sake) trans men and trans women. cultural transphobia, as it exists right now, is fairly gendered. when we talk about trans women, we talk about adults, we talk about predation, we talk about perversion. when we talk about trans men, we actually talk about trans boys, we talk about girls, we talk about a ‘trans cult’ or ‘trans ideology’, we talk about hysterectomies at twelve, top surgery at six, hormone blockers at three.

the goal of current cultural transphobia is protecting trans men from trans women, essentially. in their genocide handbook of “enemy must be weak and also strong” they’ve decided trans men are weak, and trans women are strong. note that this itself falls in with the sexist tropes the transphobia crowd often say they’re against.

transphobia, historically, has been about trans women, in the same way that homophobia, historically, was about gay men. not in terms of everything, but in terms of the big cultural boogeymen. sure there were and have been scare campaigns about lesbians and trans men, but generally, the desires of “girls” (counting trans men here for now, sorry guys) were seen as frivolous, unreal. i mean as of what, 2019? we had noted freak ray blanchard theorising about if women even have a sexuality. what society saw as dangerous, though, were men and trans women (who they also saw as men, when it suited them to).

so really, trans men had some catching up to do, in terms of public fear-mongering. and we did! abigail shrier and j.k. rowling both targeted trans men far more squarely than they targeted trans women.

irreversible damage contains a few anecdotes about trans women (iirc, one about a bra store assistant being trans and how ‘dangerous’ it would have been to let her fit a bra on a child, and another about a stealth trans woman who was mad that more visibility was making people start to clock her in the street).

terf wars mentions the ‘lesbians are being called transphobic for not dating trans women with penises’ talking point, and the fear of ‘men entering women’s dressing rooms’. but the part that jk focuses on for a good chunk, the part she claims is ‘intensely personal’, is the idea that if she had come about, she might have been transed! to be fair and balanced, jk rowling also spends some time on her fears about sexual assault from trans women, though not phrased exactly like that. so perhaps she’s more broadly transphobic.

but the latest rounds of libs of tiktok / fox news / matt walsh / etc etc etc fueled transphobia have been aggressively targeting trans men, even if they won’t say that. it’s always ‘children’, or ‘girls’. at the same time that people are reacting with anger and violence towards trans women (and drag queens, though tbf cis transphobes either don’t know the difference or don’t care), people are calling in bomb threats to children’s hospitals and passing anti-trans healthcare bills with the explicit target of stopping young trans boys from accessing trans affirming healthcare. they mention castration briefly, occasionally, but the real target is stopping “girls” from mutilating their bodies.

my point in all of this is: there should be a way to talk about this, about this specific thing, without getting shouted down because of the ‘bad word’ you’re using. bills targeting drag or crossdressing in public are about trans women. bills targeting healthcare are about trans men.

the tl;dr here is that transphobia against trans men and trans women are different. they manifest differently, they are acted out differently, they exist for different reasons. they have different outcomes. but transphobia is a general term, and it would be nice, sometimes, to be able to talk about transphobia against trans men specifically. because there are things that happen or are targeted at them that don’t happen / aren’t targeted at trans women. is that word transandrophobia? idk.

three: “the guy who coined transandrophobia was A Bad One”

this i’ll cover extremely briefly. we’ve had a wave of posts recently saying ‘wow you bullied a random trans woman off the internet for having kinks you don’t like, did you do it? did you save us all?’. these are good posts. however, i think the ‘you can’t use transandrophobia because the guy who coined it has a kink i don’t like’ is uh. perhaps the worst argument among all possible arguments, for the same reason.

i’m old enough to be of the ‘don’t like don’t read’ generation, so uh. that’s what i do. if i follow someone who has a kink i don’t like, i just block those posts / tags. simple. or maybe i even unfollow. but doing a callout because ‘this person has problematic kinks’ is, i think, a bit cringe.

four: “but if we don’t call it x, what do we call it?”

i don’t know. i don’t have a good answer here. generally, i’m someone against using ‘assigned at birth’ or ‘tme’ language because typically i feel those things just serve as another way to misgender people. not that it’s always this way, but i’ve been on tumblr long enough to see people typically just use AFAB and TME to mean FEMALE, in bold bright pink sparkly font.

in some ways, maybe it’s the same issue with “women and femmes / women and nonbinary people” type language. for those things i think being able to self-select into those spaces and conversations is the best, so “people who menstruate” or “people who experience misogyny”, and you get to decide if that counts. but. idk, it’s not very snappy.

“transphobia against trans men” also doesn’t apply evenly, though maybe it never will. there are trans people who are stealth, who are out, who are closeted, girl/boymoders, and on and on. trans people who are ‘fully’ medically transitioned to a binary gender can and do have very different experiences, internally and in the world, to trans people who are nonbinary or don’t / can’t medically transition, or go stealth.

so. idk. i think we can and should have these conversations and others, under the umbrellas that transphobia and cissexism represent. but i also think that generally people talking about transandrophobia or exorsexism are doing so from a genuine place of “i have an issue and i want to talk about it”, and unfortunately i have seen far more people turn off their empathy after seeing A Word about it, in a way they maybe wouldn’t have if the conversation was phrased differently.

transphobia hurts us all. bills targeting healthcare hurt trans women and girls, just as much as they hurt trans men and boys. hell, the bathroom panic around trans women regularly targets cis women. working together is in all of our best interests, esp now.

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”