#i saw this ask literally first thing in the morning but had to go give an exam so sorry im late lmao

[avelera]

Analysis: Why Jayce broke up with Mel in Arcane 2.08

Since the finale episodes of Arcane dropped this morning, I've been going back and re-watching some of my favorite scenes, and I was struck by Jayce breaking up with Mel.

First of all, yeah, he clearly does break up with her, though I missed how formally he does so on my first watch-through. He does it in the Council chamber, just before Viktor attacks. But since they get interrupted, he finishes breaking up with her (after checking in with her) on the balcony later.

But what really struck me about the breakup wasn't in those scenes, but actually back in 2.07, when Jayce is alone in cavern in the darkest timeline. I definitely didn't catch on the first viewing that this is where he chose to break up with her.

In the background, you can hear Jayce in the depths of his despair and solitude starts going over in his mind all the steps that led him to where he is.

Here are some of the quotes he hears:

"I never asked for this!" - Himself to Viktor, trying to justify his actions up to that point just before Viktor leaves him.

"This research is everything, my whole life," a quote from one of his first conversations with Viktor but, more importantly, it establishes Jayce's entire raison d'etre up to that point. Hextech research was his life.

"He was my mentor, Mel, and I betrayed him," obviously is Jayce discussing the coup d'etat against Heimerdinger he orchestrated to save Viktor, but it was with Mel's assistance and urging.

"You must destroy it. It corrupts. Consumes." A quote from Heimerdinger, warning against Hextech. Which must feel especially prescient now that Jayce is stuff in the evil bombed-out future where Hextech destroyed the world.

"I was trying to create magic." Jayce to the Council to defend his Hextech research and save himself from banishment, but, he only mentioned magic at Mel's goading, which I would guess he's beginning to recognize now for what it was in retrospect.

"It's your time now, Jayce." Mel, part of her goading of Jayce into advancing Hextech research and his political career.

"Perhaps it's time for the era of magic." Mel's words on the night she saw Hextech for the first time, after helping Jayce and Viktor break into Heimerdinger's lab.

"You must destroy it." Heimerdinger about the Hexcore, again, probably feeling pretty prescient right now with Jayce literally in the pit of despair in a the evil Hextech future.

Finally, while looking out over the fire while clearly going nearly insane from the isolation, Jayce begins to hallucinate seeing Mel. But then, her image in the fire gives way to Viktor's.

The decision has been made there. It's not just Jayce reflecting on his two closest loved ones (as I thought the first time), rather, it is the moment Jayce makes his decision: he is picking Viktor over Mel. He has decided that the reason he is here in this terrible place is because of Mel, not Viktor. He is choosing his partner, going back to what they had before she became involved in their life. His new course is set.

Now, I want to preface the next part by saying I love Mel, she's a fascinating character, and though I ship Jayvik I also ship/shipped MelJayVik, so this isn't coming from a place of bias. I'm just analyzing the material when I say these flashbacks were Jayce rearranging the narrative in his head and realizing Mel's been manipulating and goading him in his pursuit of Hextech.

Given where he is when this is happening: starving, freezing, in pain, alone for weeks if not months in a stone box, slowly going insane, surrounded by the burnt corpses of people destroyed by Hextech, I'd say... yeah. His need for someone to blame is pretty understandable. He even starts whispering, "No!" in a panic at the memories in response to what she says in his mind.

So when we get to the Council chamber in the main timeline in 2.08, I'd argue that Jayce is spoiling for a fight. He's had months of agony to decide things are over with Mel and that he's angry at her. He wants to blame her for what happened to Viktor, for what happened to him, and he's in pain and he wants to lash out. The relationship is definitely over.

But then Mel is in pain too. And Viktor shows up, with his own autonomy, showing that they all had their shitty parts to play in this drama.

The attack by Viktor adds another element, Jayce was probably also mourning that he had to shoot Viktor at that point, another thing that was painful and made him want to lash out and blame others for this horrible place he's in emotionally and the horrific place he's been in physically until recently.

It's only after Viktor's attack though that Jayce realizes that this situation is complex, it's not all Mel's fault. It would be easier to just pin all the blame on Mel and make Jayce and Viktor her victims, but Viktor shows to him that he has his own agency and Jayce needs to be clear-eyed going forward about who he is saving, because it's not "Mel's victim". Viktor is his own person.

Jayce also remembers some of the care he once had for Mel when he catches her before she falls (in a tender moment I mistook for a full reconciliation between them the first time but no, it's just him remembering he cares for her wellbeing). Jayce can't trust her anymore, after realizing just how adept she was at manipulating him without his realizing, but he does still care for her as a person. And he's cooled off enough to address the pain she is clearly carrying.

(I admit, I do love this moment of him calling himself an ass, because I adore Jayce but it's a lovely beat of self awareness and really shows his growth as a person that he can say this to someone that just hours before he was squaring up to fight against and blame for all his misfortunes.)

But anyway, the moments you really see that it's over between Mel and Jayce:

When he doesn't explain to her what happened to him. That's not for her to know anymore. He's decided that they're not together or intimate anymore. And he's probably still hurting from realizing how she's used what he told her in the past to encourage/manipulate him to her own ends and therefore wary of sharing. This is also a reason for the breakup: he can't share the immense pain he's been in because he can't trust her anymore, and he knows it. It's over.

In the scene on the balcony when he turns away from her instead of towards her before offering his advice. Jayce is very touchy-feely, he always offers physical comfort to his loved ones. But there, he deliberately turns away instead of taking her in his arms and comforting her. Again: it's over between them. But he still respects her. So he reminds her of how indomitable she is, along with offering the slight backhanded compliment born of his distrust for her: she's never the passenger, she is always the one in control. He knows, because he's realized she used to control him.

I've mentioned in other meta that this season deals in a lot of comeuppance for events in S1, and this is arguably Mel's. She'll be ok, she's got magical sun powers and she's the head of a powerful house now. But she doesn't get to keep Jayce in her life as her lover anymore after what she did, because she did manipulate him, even if she had good intentions mixed with the self-interested ones.

The trust is simply gone now. But he cares for her and wishes her well, so, I'd argue they parted on as good of terms as could be done.

[rhiannonsknife]

you are quite literally an angel sent down from heaven. i think i died and ascended all the way up to the pearly gates after reading your response

i know you mentioned this a little bit in your coworker!rhiannon drabble and i don't mean to be beating a dead horse but theres just something about teasing rhiannon while she's at work, especially if you're working with her, only a few feet away but impossibly out of reach

you keep sending her explicit messages, detailing every dirty thought that passes through your mind, and you relish in the way that her cheeks heat up the second she reads them. you also send her countless photos every time you go to the bathroom (or even sending a photo at your desk with your skirt lifted just enough for her to see your absolutely soaked panties) and you know from the way her eyes widen and her finger presses down on the image that she's saving every single one of them

coming over to her desk because she wants you to "help her with an email" after toying with her all day and she's whispering in your ear, telling (begging) you to stop being such a tease. of course, you "accidentally" brush a hand against her clothed cunt in response, enjoying the way she whines under her breath and glares at you with her bottom lip between her teeth

it eventually gets to be too much and she's beckoning you to come with her to the bathroom for a "feminine emergency", but in reality, you're getting down on your knees and pressing kisses to her dripping pussy

she's so close to cumming all over your face when you hear someone knock on the bathroom door and ask if you're alright in there. rhiannon looks down at you, wondering if you're going to stop, but you just give her a look and keep lapping at her cunt. she's desperately trying to croak out an answer in a way that doesn't give away that your tongue is inside of her, and all she manages is an "i'm fine!" before she's cumming all over your face, almost drawing blood with how hard she bites on her lip to stay quiet

and oh, she's not letting you off scott-free for all your teasing. she will be pulling out the strap the second she gets home and bringing you to more orgasms than you can keep count

-🪐

🪐 anon please don’t ever stop spoiling us with your genius thoughts. nsfw content. mdni.

i feel like office sex with rhiannon in general would be…something. in the beginning (before becoming a serial killer) she would not be as down to try, too worried about getting caught. but once she gains enough confidence?? suddenly, rhiannon is the one who regularly shoves you into the bathroom stall or starts feeling you up from behind when it’s just the two of you in the staff room…

but, anyway, once said confidence is established you make it your mission to tease her as much as anyhow possible!! you know you are rhiannon’s number one soft spot and you know exactly how to make good use of it…

right now, you’re on your knees before her, her skirt pushed up her thighs, her panties already stuffed in the pocket of your jeans (which is where you’ll be keeping them for the rest of the day).

it had started harmlessly enough. after waking up with her earlier this morning and making a point of entering the office separately to avoid any unnecessary and annoying commentary from one of your colleagues, you haven’t stopped thinking about her once. how could you when, the night prior, you’d spent hours in bed together? when you can still taste rhiannon on your tongue from how she’d been riding your face shamelessly?

so, obviously, you had to make your horniness her problem.

if you could, you’d literally send every single one of your useless coworkers out and ask rhiannon to eat you out right then and there, on top of your desk. but, since that was not an option, you had settled for the next best thing: texting her. every other minute, rhiannon’s phone went off. at first, she expected something work-related and her eyes went wide when she saw your message, telling her about how you couldn’t stop thinking about her in explicit detail.

and you didn’t leave it at that: you kept sending her messages, even used your bathroom breaks to send her pictures, too, pulling up your shirt or shoving your hand down your pants. you can see from your spot that rhiannon, despite her warning glares, looks at every single one of them and even saves them to her camera roll. once, you even called her desk phone from the bathroom, only to moan into the received or hold it to your own pussy, letting her hear how wet you are for her.

when she finally got up from her desk to beg tell you to stop torturing her already, you pushed it too far. or, at least, you’d pushed rhiannon over an edge that she must’ve been toying for a while at that point: as she pretended to point out errors in an email you’d written, she leaned over your shoulder from behind.

“i swear to god, baby, you need to-“ your hand pressing against her crotch shut her up. “quit” she gasped, her hips immediately rolling against the press of your fingers. rhiannon’s lashes fluttered and she sighed softly.

“bathroom” she had instructed once she finally gathered herself. “now”

and, who are you to deny her that?

and that’s, precisely, how you’d gotten yourself into your current position: kneeling before her, panties taken off and out of your way, mouth where it’s supposed to be: on rhiannon’s cunt. she’s dripping down your chin, at this point. your teasing must’ve really done it for her.

rhiannon is leaning back against the sink to balance her weight, one leg thrown over your shoulder, a hand buried in your hair. her head is tilted back a bit and she’s panting already, even though you haven’t done much yet. only mouthed at her pussy, licked broad strokes through her wetness, and pressed the tip of your tongue against her clit in a way that had her knees buckling. it’s been your teasing that got rhiannon to this point: wet and wanting. that’s all it takes for your girlfriend to be dripping down your chin.

you watch her when you start eating her out more purposefully; pushing your tongue deeper, applying more pressure in all the right places, watching the way rhiannon falls apart above you. she has to rest more of her weight back to avoid her knees giving out beneath herself right then and there and her breath comes in short pants.

“shit” she hisses, one hand running through her disheveled hair as the other pulls you closer. rhiannon shouldn’t want this. it shouldn’t turn her on to be eaten out in a place where all of your coworkers could hear if she’s not careful. you’ve locked the door, obviously, but that doesn’t mean the people outside wouldn’t be able to overhear her moans through the thin walls.

it’s a risk. a risk worth taking, because rhiannon tastes heavenly and looks her most beautiful as she’s shaking and visibly struggling with trying to be quiet. she’s rocking her hips, too, for an extra feel of your tongue lapping up her arousal. at home, in your bed, this would probably be a point where she’d be too frustrated with you. where she would toss you around and ride your face in order to get off. but that’s not happening here. (she will make up by laying you down, later, and fuck you with her strap until you’re a babbling mess, apologizing for teasing her like this in the first place…)

all rhiannon can do is lean back and take what you’re giving her as she tries to be quiet. her hand slams over her mouth once you bring your fingers up as well and push two of them into her while sucking on her clit harshly. she barely contains the whine, only trying to poorly cover it with an exaggerated clear of her throat just in case anyone is near the door.

you hope that there’s not: even as rhiannon tries to be quiet, her pussy certainly isn’t: you can hear how wet she is, as you pump your fingers in and out of her while your tongue flicks against her clit.

like this, it doesn’t take long until she’s close to cumming. you don’t have a lot of time so fortunately you know what it takes and what you have to do to make rhiannon cum quickly: you know where to put your mouth, where to bend your fingers, where to apply just the right amount of pressure. it’s not long until she starts getting tense and tighter around your fingers, walls fluttering.

it’s perfect, the way her body goes rigid in the pre-orgasmic bliss. you’re ready for her to stumble over the edge, already watching her eagerly. and then someone’s knocking on the door. you both flinch, instantly glaring at the other.

“rhiannon?” someone’s voice echoes. “are you alright in there sweet pea?”

rhiannon is still staring at you, panting: eyes wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. and then, she nods and you put your mouth back where you both want it. her eyes press shut tightly and she bites her palm as she musters up enough strength to speak without sounding like she’s currently getting fucked.

“uh-“ she rasps, eyes rolling back. “yeah, i’m alright. i’m alright. don’t worry lana!”

that’s all it takes. that, and another harsh suck on her clit. lana is still in front of the door; you can still hear her muffled voice, offering her help. but it’s white noise to the way rhiannon looks as she cums. her back arches and she puts her hand back over her mouth as she rides out the waves of her orgasm on your tongue. you’re lucky; she somehow manages to cum in silence. otherwise, you’re both sure, lana would’ve definitely heard…

you know by the way she later grabs you by the arm and guides you back to her car that you’re in for something when you get back home.

[alexgalaxyboo]

So… we gotta talk about the campfire scene…

Campfire scene? What could possibly be there to talk about with the campfire scene?

Do you wanna talk about Soap, worriedly noticing the wound in Ghost's hand and insisting to help him out, no matter how much Ghost insists it's nothing? Or perhaps about how they find an excuse in needing each other for warmth to stay huddled together near the fire, even long after they should've probably moved away?

But neither of them takes the initiative to pull away first and so they sit there- albeit kind of awkwardly- next to each other. When Soap breaks the silence, he takes Ghost's hand back in his to inspect it, "So how'd you end up doing this.. whatever you do."

Perhaps Ghost cracks a smile, which you wouldn't be able to tell normally, with the mask and all but Soap is absolutely certain he's smiling from the way his eyes wrinkle at the corners and light up with fondness as he talks about how he'd always actually wanted to be a storyteller and he often gathered around the kids back home and told them his awful jokes as well. He insists they liked them, Soap pretends not to believe it.

this may or may not be what I'm writing actually atm

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Spencer Reid

genre: fluff, light angst

word count: 6339

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: Dr. Spencer Reid is simply adorable. And you actually think he might be perfect. Until, that is, he isn't.

a muted shade of green masterlist // next chapter

His apartment is a muted shade of green and you always wonder why is it that he painted it so dark. The book covered walls never fail to impress you, making you smile into the ether that was this place with its shelves and shelves of worldly stories. His taste, you think, is more towards the classics and refined tales that carry significance and importance in the world of literature. Dostoyevski, Austen, Orwell, Doyle. Though here and there, in some corners of the living room or thrown haphazardly in the kitchen counter, you see peeks of contemporary names, the ones you’re sure you sold him a long, long time ago. Murakami, Zadie Smith, George. 

You met Spencer when you first moved into D.C., about a year or so ago, and sometimes, you really think that it was just yesterday when you first saw him with his purple scarf walking inside your store.

“Excuse me.” 

You have too many books in your arms to even see who is talking to you, but you apologise nonetheless; it’s the least you can do for your first customer. “I’ll be with you in a moment, apologies for the mess, we literally just opened.” In your defence, you had been so busy unpacking all the new orders and organising things into shelves that you absolutely forgot to put the plaque with your opening hours by the door. You can hear his shoes clicking and clacking around the place, and a wave of anxiety washes through you. If he leaves with a book– luckily two– you will have made your first sell and that just might remind you that of the reason why you decided to do this in the first place.

Carefully putting the pile of Maggie Nelson’s on the counter, you finally turn to face him, tired smile from ear to ear when you see him holding two books already. “You found something you like?” You gently ask, voice calm and fingers fidgeting while you wait for an answer. “Many things, actually. I’m quite glad to see a wide variety of books here, it’s been hard finding something new to read lately.” 

His voice is pointed and it echoes in the empty store. The clock on the walls says it’s 7:58AM and you suck in a breath; it’s definitely too early for someone to be looking for books, but maybe he wants entertainment for his commute, maybe he needs a distraction for the way, or maybe he is odd like that. 

It must be cold outside. The man is wearing a purple scarf  inside what looks like a wool coat, and somehow, he fits in there, in your store. He looks like the kind of person who would be buying books as early as 8 in the morning and you’re not sure if that is adorable or unhinged. 

“Just these, thank you,” The loud thump of the pile of books he deposits by the cashier makes you gasp. “You have a great selection here, I was lucky you open early!” The twinkle in his eyes is what keeps you from telling him that that, in fact, was a big mistake. In the middle of rushing to get the keys from the landlord in time, get the deliveries, get everything sorted and organised, you had completely forgotten to put out the hours for the shop. 

“I am glad you found us here! Do you live nearby?” At this point, you’re just trying to make conversation as you bagged his items, smiling at the titles and happy to see your favourite book in the midst. “I live just across the street, actually,” He said, giving you his card. “You’ll see me a lot, I’m afraid.”

“And what should I call my most loyal customer, then?” One look down at his card and you would know, but you wanted him to tell you himself. 

“Spencer Reid.”

There is not really a sound reason as to why you walk so freely into his apartment. The first time he asked you to do this, he was going on a case and needed someone to water his plants. As it turn out, your store is quite literally across the street from his building and you don’t really mind the mindless task, so you tell him to not worry, you’ll take care of it. It had been a few months since you two met, five or so, and despite taking you some time to truly understand, you got used to the fact that Spencer created a routine for both of you, knocking on your shop’s door every Monday at precisely 8 in the morning. With time, you stopped questioning him even when you had many, many questions– was he even reading all these books? If yes, how?! Every visit, he left with three books or more, and unless he pulled all nighters every night, those were simply sitting on his desk. 

Instead, you start putting a few titles aside whenever you spot them. You start it with ‘A Gentleman From Peru’ by André Aciman, short and sweet. Next week it was ‘A Little Paris Bookshop’ by Nina George. Then ‘Cultish’ by Amanda Montell. And just like this, you two form your own little book club, his visits extending beyond their usual thirty minutes into the better part of the hour to talk about the plot, the characters, the arcs. You know there is quite a lot you don’t know about Spencer, of course there is, but you learn more and more with every little debate you two have. You learn about his morals through the character he likes, and his dreams through the plots he enjoy. You learn about his photographic memory that allows him to quote his favourite sections to you, and you learn that he is a very logical man through his hatred for the inaccuracy of investigative books. You learn and you learn and you learn and you find out that you like learning about Spencer. More than you like learning about anyone else, that is, and now, every time he walks in, you can’t help but get excited, smiling as you only imagine what you would learn that day. 

Sometimes, you did notice the absence of your favourite customer. He would disappear for weeks on end and then act like nothing happened, and you get it; he doesn’t owe you anything, you’re just the lady that sells him books, but you feel like there is something that is starting to bloom when, every time he comes back, he brings you a book. “I thought you’d like it,” Is all he says before leaving with his bag of new reads. For a moment, it’s like an exchange, but Spencer never demands anything of you; never asks for anything more than new books and recommendations. 

It’s quite rewarding finding the books you sold him scattered through the apartment. There are a couple in the kitchen, open split on the counter and you smile fondly at the clumsy way he marks his books. There is no folded page, no book marker, no random picture; just his book, cover facing up, open and splitting the spine in half enough to crease. You shake your head, smiling like he’s done this just to rile you up.

“Oh my god, don’t!”

You don’t mean to shout but it’s too late. His eyes widen in shock and he immediately freezes, mouth stuck in a little ‘o’ shape that makes you blush. “What did I do?” 

The wince in your expression is as visible as the light of day when you speak. Your hands hover in the air, unsure of what to do now, but still trying to do something. “The book, Spencer,” The words come out like a whine, and if you start stomping your feet you might as well look like a child. “The spine. The book. The– oh my god, the noise!”

The way he laughs at you is contagious, and you start laughing with him, face hidden behind your hands in embarrassment. Owning a bookshop doesn’t come for free. Your particularities when it comes to your literary treasures are enough to scare any sane person away. “You know, there are worse sounds than a book’s spine breaking,” He mused, closing the book before walking to your counter. His nimble fingers drum a soft rhythm as he waits for you to go around and charge him for the book. It’s a symphony, almost; so loud in your quiet store that, for a second, your heart is tuning in, thumping as his fingers do, beating to the song he creates. 

“You don’t have to buy it,” It’s a little ridiculous how airy your voice sounds then. Aren’t you a little too old to have a crush? “It’s okay if–“ But he doesn’t even let you finish, rattling off some facts about the writer. Most of the time, actually, he is rattling off some fact about something, and some you know, some you don’t, but you never interrupt him. You like hearing him talk. 

You miss hearing him talk. Whenever Spencer leaves, you miss him. You miss the knock on your shop’s door at 8AM. You miss the shy little chuckles. You miss the purple– the constant, always there purple. A wave of sadness hits you then, looking around the apartment with a longing expression. 

The first time he calls you over, it’s not really an invitation. A week before it happens, he doesn’t show up for your Tuesday unboxing and you have to carry all the new orders inside by yourself. It takes double the time and despite the effort it takes you, it’s the absence of his coy chuckles and snarky commentary that leaves you breathless. When you open the boxes, checking inventory to make sure there had been no issues with your order, you find the book Spencer asked you to get him. It’s one of those special books, so old and unique that you could only get your hands on it because you had contacts in the space. “Huh,” You frown at that– it isn’t like Spencer to forget something. Hell, it isn’t like Spencer to forget anything. Before you can cower away from doing it, you send him a text. You have his number saved in the system, and this feels wrong, it really does. Using his personal information that he gave to you as a client felt wrong. But for a second, it makes you stop biting your nails in anxiety. 

Your book is here. 

It’s Y/N, by the way. 

He doesn’t answer right away and you wallow in your regret for as long as you can. Your shoulders hunch forward as you line up the new arrivals in the shelves. Your frown sits on your forehead all day while you help other passing customers. Your hands brush against the book, all ready and wrapped up and sitting on top of the counter. You hate waiting; you hate waiting for someone or for something to happen as if you’re praying for a miracle. Literature has taught you many lessons in life. It has shown you countless of love stories that could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation. It has told you about people that waited and waited and waited until time passed them away. It has taught you that waiting is simply delaying the inevitable. 

But what literature has not taught you is that, sometimes, waiting truly is all you can do. 

That day, you don’t get a message back. 

You get a call instead. 

“Y/N?” The familiar voice on the other side speaks before you can and your shoulders tense up. Something is wrong. He sounds hoarser than usual, airier, too. 

“Spencer,” You say back, clearing your throat of any remnants or indicators of how nervous you are. “Spencer, are you okay? You sound rough.”

Even his laugh sounds weak and a zap of worry rushes through you. “I’m fine,” He mumbles, and you know he’s saying it out of politeness. “I just got sick. I think I have a cold, it’s nothing much, really.”

The relief that washed over you in crashing waves is almost embarrassing. Even though he is not there to witness it, your face still flushes in a dramatic red. “Oh. I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you–“

“It’s not a bother,” The way his voice interrupts you, so strong and concise, makes you chuckle. “You’re not a bother. I uh, I’m glad to hear my book arrived.”

For a moment, you both stay quiet. You, on your end of the line, are nodding like he can see you. Except he can’t. Except he is waiting, probably, for you to say something. Do something. “I can bring it to you. If you want.”

This time, there is no pause. “Yes. I mean, yes, please. I– I don’t have anything new to read and–” Spencer pauses to cough and you start moving immediately. There is no one in the store and you quickly change the sign to ‘closed’, grabbing his book and your bag before locking the door behind you. There is a pharmacy at the end of the block and you keep your cellphone balanced between your shoulder and ear while your hands make sure you have your wallet with you. “Sorry.”

“No problem at all,” You cross the street in such a hurry that you don’t notice the traffic, getting a symphony of horns calling you out as you run to the other side of the street. “Shit…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You tease, laughing a little and entering the pharmacy with purpose. “So just a cold, right?”

“Y/N, where are you?”

“Out,” There is no need to be vague, but you don’t want to give him a chance to protest. “I should be at yours in fifteen minutes with the book.”

“Just the book?” He asks in such a suspicious tone that you can’t hold back a laugher. 

“What else?” Thank god for automatic cashiers speeding up this entire process. You are in an out in less than five minutes and before he can even answer, you are almost at his door. Admittedly, you are speed walking, almost running, in a futile attempt to get there sooner. “Which apartment do I buzz?”

“Apartment 23.” And that is the end of the call. 

By the time you make it to his floor, panting just as you hike the last step upwards, he is already waiting for you, and you can’t say you’re terribly bothered to have a man like Spencer Reid waiting for you by the door. “Spencer,” You still admonish, a small smile playing on your lips. “You shouldn’t be out and about like this.” 

“Then who would let you in?” The mischief in his expression, much like that of a child making an innocent joke, makes you giggle, nodding in agreement. “Do you want to come inside? I promise everything is clean, I’m not a slob or anything.”

“Yeah, let me come in so I can give you your stuff.” 

“I knew it wasn’t just the book,” The coughing fit that followed has you rushing your hands, pulling things out of your bag in a desperate attempt to get him the medicine you bought. This had always been your curse, the flustering anxiety of wanting to help but being unable to take your time. Shaky hands push the book towards him, with the medication and some old receipts stuck to it. 

“Oh shit, sorry!” You squeak, grabbing the receipts and shoving it back in your bag. One of these days, you’d have to close the store early to clean this thing. “But uh, yeah, I got you some cold medicine and your book. I’m sure you know this with your big brain and all, but you need to take this before bed, cause it makes you drowsy, and this other one in the morning since it has caffeine! And you should be good in no time… hopefully!”

In life, a pause is not always a bad thing. It’s a time to think. A time to appreciate, to enjoy. It’s a time to be. A pause, however, from the man whose brain worked a thousand miles an hour, doesn’t feel like something to be thankful for. “Is… Do you not like that brand? I didn’t want to get the generic thing, I don’t know why, I–“

“Thank you.”

At first, you barely hear it. For someone whose voice is so rough and hoarse, you’re surprised he can still sound so smooth and airy. Your reaction is obvious; he can see the blush in your cheeks and the way you bite back a smile. “Y/N, thank you, I really appreciate it,” He says it again and now you think he just wants to get a rise of you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” You shrug, faking humbleness while you keen at his praise. “I wanted to.”

“I know.” 

There is a dance that happens after that, one that you find yourself enjoying quite a bit. Spencer is more present than ever, and you’re getting used to having him around. It’s like you two broke the glass wall the kept you at a safe distance, and now is when you two discover each other a bit better. Like how you find out that, when Spencer’s hand lays on the cashier counter, just an inch or less away from yours, you feel the heath that it emanates. Like how your fingers curl and your palms itch at the sight of his shaggy curls falling on top of his beautiful eyes. Like how his laughter is deep when it’s true and dry when it’s forced. Like how he can read 20,000 words per minute, but he chooses to read 183 instead just so he can read you passages out loud.

You are not sure what he has learned about you, or if he even cares to learn something about you, but the thought still makes you smile. “What’s gotten you so smiley so early in the morning?” 

Ah, yes; another thing you’ve learned about Spencer Reid– he is as quiet as mouse when he wants, and as loud as an elephant when he doesn’t. “My god!” You jump, hand immediately going to your heart to try and keep it from beating our of your chest from the shock. “Spence! You scared me!”

“I’m so sorry,” He laughs, raising his hands in the air, shaking the two cups of coffee he is holding. “I come in peace.”

“And with bribery, I like your style.” 

His style doesn’t change, still haven’t. For ages, you think he buys you coffee at the nearby cafe. You don’t really know the name of the place, some cliche Cafe something something, but the one time you’ve been in there the coffee was terrible and the music too loud. It’s hard picturing your shy, smiley book-lover in there, trying to order something without raising his voice. It’s only when you see the go-to paper cups on his counter, on the fourth or fifth time you come around, that you realise Spencer has never gone to that cafe to begin with. 

The cups are still there. You make a point in spotting them every time you come over– next to the microwave, close to the paper towels. The reminder that this man has, in fact, been making you coffee most mornings validates the fluttery feeling you have whenever you think of it. It makes it somewhat logical. “I must be spending too much time with him,” You mumble to yourself, pushing your sleeves up and getting to work. You are there for a reason, and if those wilting plants die on you, you fear that you might just never be invited back. “Why does he even have plants?” 

You don’t know much about Spencer’s job. He hasn’t told you anything about it except that he travels a lot for it, but you can imagine it is something of importance– a man like Spencer was someone of importance, after all. In your mind, you can imagine him walking into an office down by the Financial District, working with big corporations as an advisor. Yes, you can absolutely see him as some sort of advisor or consultant, but something about him working in finances doesn’t sit right with you– he is yet to talk to you about crypto investments and how to better implement a payment system into the store. Shaking your head, you switch it up. Financial services, aren’t quite right, but maybe an editor, working in a publishing house. With the way he devours books and how well-rounded his personal library was, you could see him as a Publishing Director instead, reading manuscript after manuscript. 

The thought of him reading brings a smile to your face. In his living room, there is an armchair that sits next to the large window on the west wall of his apartment– he says he likes how the sunset hits and makes the pages look warm and golden, turning words into a burning fire of knowledge– and you can practically see him there, blanket over his legs, books and books pilled next to it. It’s your own little secret, how every time you come over, you grab a book, any book, and you sit there for thirty minutes, forty, fifty, an hour; until the sun has completely set and you have to get up to turn the lights on. 

Today, when you sit down, when you bring your knees up, when you drape the blanket over you, something feels incredibly right and incredibly wrong. On the pile of books next to you, right at the top, lays a copy of Gulliver’s Travels. If you remember correctly, which you usually do, last time you sat down at that spot you managed to read up to chapter five before the sun was gone. When you grab the book and you see the bookmark you gave Spencer the second time he visited the store, and you frown– usually, he’d pick up from where you left off. “How long has it been since you last came home, Spencer?” You muttered out loud, grabbing the book regardless. Because even when it breaks your heart to know something has been keeping him away from his precious nook, it fuels your heart to know he leaves your book where you can easily pick it up. To know he doesn’t mind you sitting on his armchair, to know he doesn’t mind you reading his books, to know he doesn’t mind you settling, somehow, in his house. 

A knock on his door, however, breaks you away from your precious moment of rest and relaxation. For a moment, you can’t move, frozen in place light a kid that has been caught doing something wrong. It’s only when they knock again that you move, shuffling to the door to look through the peephole. “Who is it?” You ask, voice weak and shaky. 

“I have a delivery for Spencer Reid.”

How silly you feel in that moment, hand over your heart as you take a deep breath in relief. Unlocking the door, you smile to the USPS guy. “Sorry, he isn’t home right now. I can take it for him.” All you have to do is sign it and close the door, but once you put the package on the counter and your eyes catch sight of a note scribbled on top of the box, all those butterflies inside of you slow down. And find perch. And for a second, make you miss them just like you miss him. 

The first time you think Spencer might have a girlfriend is when he comes into the store with a certain look in his face. He is practically glowing and his eyes don’t leave his phone for a second. “What has you smiling like that?” You two are close enough to ask these kind of things now, making jokes about each other as if you have been friends for ages. “Or uh, who?” Even though you started the conversation, you want to end it now. There is a sour aftertaste in your mouth when you suggest another person to be cause of his happiness, and you know, right there and then, that that is just your jealousy speaking. At this point, you’ve been harbouring a crush on Spencer for the almost two months and there’s only so much a girl can take before exploding. 

“Oh, it’s just a friend.” Somehow, this answer doesn’t settle you as much as you hoped it would. 

The second time is when he brings a woman around. She is blonde, and loud, and colourful, and you eye her carefully. They are matching costumes, and for a second, without even saying, you already feel left out. It’s stupid, being this green over someone so pink. If Spencer was purple, and if you are green, than that woman was pink– she is happy and light and exciting. Next to her, you… well, you are as muted as his green walls. “Y/N!” He calls for you with such a big smile and you just don’t have it in you to pretend to be busy anymore. 

“Hey Spencer,” It comes out quiet and a bit distant, but he doesn’t seem to notice, not with the way he is going back and forth on the ball of his heels. “And hello, ma’am. Welcome, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the owner. Please let me know if you need any help.”

That day, you two barely talk, but that’s okay, because Penelope, as she introduced herself to you after you help her find a specific book on coding, speaks for both of you. She says that it’s lovely to finally meet you, and mentions how much she has heard about you, and you think this is a very cruel thing to do to your poor, squeezing heart. But you push through. You pretend you’re tired, you apologise for the distance, and you lie about a cough. It’s better if they stay away, you say, but Spencer doesn’t buy it. Instead, he buys Penelope her book and leaves with promises of coming back the next day with your usual coffee. 

After that, you don’t see Spencer for two weeks.

It’s a bittersweet feeling when you get the text that he is back. After almost a week and a half without seeing him, you miss Spencer. He created a space for himself in your life and in your store, and when he is gone, it’s just not the same. But just like how he did, you created a space for yourself in his apartment. Suddenly, the muted green walls aren’t claustrophobic or smothering, but comforting. They are safe. Familiar. They are Spencer. And just like you said, you miss Spencer.

“Y/N!” 

You should be happier to hear his voice, but it’s not the same. The fluttering in your stomach is still there, like a slow buzz trying to come alive, but it’s not the same. Not when the note on the box, flashing like neon signs behind your close lids, has been tormenting you and your poor heart ever since you made the mistake of opening the door. “Y/N? Are you here? The door says open…” At one point or another, you have to come out of hiding and face him. Delaying the moment, though, is the best defence plan you’re able to come up with– if you look into Spencer’s eyes, if you see that pretty smile he has every time he comes back from a work trip… you’re fucked. 

“Y/N, I need you to tell me if you’re here!” It’s not the same. 

His voice. It’s not the same.

Usually mellow and undulating, Spencer sounds stiff, like he’s holding something back. Something new. Something… heavy. There is an edge to him right now, so sharp and cutting that it has you stepping out from behind the Science shelf in pure curiosity. And just like people say, curiosity killed the cat. In this case, however, it almost kills you. 

When you turn the corner to find him by the door, the first thing you see is a man. He is tall and handsome and oddly serious. The way his brows are pulled together make you falter, steps slowing down and mouth opening to ask if he needs help.

That’s when you see it. 

More like you catch a quick glimpse of it, the shinning spark of metal to your side, and you do a double take. You have to do a double take. It’s like your brain doesn’t believe what you’re seeing, and you move your head so fast you feel your neck tensing up in that way that makes your eyes water. “WHAT THE FU– OH MY GOD!” There is no way to throw yourself against a wall graciously, arms over your head and fear written all over face. You land in an awkward angle and your shoulder takes the brunt of the shock, making you gasp in pain while your legs give our under you. 

Of all the ways you’ve imagined Spencer, him holding a gun up to your head was never one of them. “Y/N!”

“Oh my god!” You think you might pass out– you’re breathing too fast and your chest is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing to the point of physical pain. There is a ringing in your ears, muffling the entire conversation between Spencer and the other man and even though you try, you can’t look up; you’re frozen in a state of distress. For the first time since you met him, you’re scared of Spencer Reid. “I– I– Oh my god, I c-can’t– I can’t b-breathe, I can’t–“

“Y/N, look at me! Look at me, you’re okay, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” The moment his hand touches your shoulder, you’re shrinking away. 

“Who are you?!” You manage to gasp enough air into your lungs to scream at him. One shake hand moves to the back of your neck, pressing down on the sore nape as you finally move to look at him, crying and all. “Spencer, who are you? Who is he? What is happening? Why do you have a gun in my bookshop, why–“

“Ma’am, I need you to take deep breaths,” The other man quickly holsters his gun and you actually think you might be going insane when flashes you a badge. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, I work with Spencer. We are with the FBI.”

Federal Bureau of Investigation. Spencer is a fed. And he never told you. 

“The FBI…?” You whisper, eyes going wide and breath hiccuped in your throat. “S-Spencer, you work for the FBI?” Nothing about this makes sense to you. The gun, forgotten in his left hand and now pointing down and away from you, is all you can look at. The gun that looked heavy and cold. The gun that those hands hold– the same hands you’ve wished and, admittedly, dreamed of holding yours instead. The gun, the gun, the gun.

The gun. You’ve never seen a gun before, not this close. In museums, of course, and in movies and shows, but never in real life. You don’t have interest in it either, having voted, without fail, for anti-gun laws and representatives. Anything and everything about this, about seeing him with that deadly weapon, feels wrong, and you really think you might be sick soon.

“Kid, put it away, you’re freaking her out.” 

Then is when you catch sight of the Spencer you know. It’s the clumsy actions, looking almost freaked out himself– his hands fumble with the holster and it takes him a couple of tries to fit the gun properly. That’s when you know for sure– you are going to be sick. “Trash,” You mumble, trying to get up but falling again and again. “Trash, pass me the–“ But there is no time and you throw up right there and then, between the cashier and the nonfiction section. 

“What just happened?” 

“Morgan, get her some water– there, over the counter,” The rapid successions of words make you feel a bit better, a cadence of tone and rhythm that has your hands finally stabilising. “Y/N, you’re in shock. Adrenaline kicked in and left, and you pressured crashed, which is what made you nauseous. You need water, and to come sit by the counter.”

It’s funny, how in any other circumstance, you’d be ashamed and embarrassed to have gotten ill in front of him. As far as you know, Spencer is a germaphobe and this surely counts as germs. But as he grabs your hands, gentler than you’ve ever seen him grab any book in your store, and brings you to your chair behind the counter, you wonder if he forgot or simply doesn’t care. Both options don’t make sense. “Spence, what is going on?” Your voice comes out winey and rough, and there is no way to hold back the pained wince when you feel the sting spreading through your throat. Sip by sip, you try your best to drink the water and soothe yourself, but nothing seems to help. 

Nothing until you hear him next to you, small and quiet and, dare you say, meek. “I’m sorry.”

As much as you’d like to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, he does. “I see…”

“It was just… it was new, having someone not know I’m FBI,” His thumbs play with each other and you’ve known him long enough to recognise that Spencer is nervous. “And we started getting closer and I just didn’t find an opportunity to tell you.”

“There were plenty,” You clarify, feeling a bit of a bitch for the bite in your voice making him gulp. “But it’s okay. I’m not… I’m not anything of yours, I guess, so it’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t say that. You’re my friend.” That hurt.

“Do you point a gun at all your friends or am I just special, Spence?” It is supposed to be a joke, but the memory makes your bottom lip start wobbling again and you feel stupid. You feel so, so incredibly stupid right now that you can’t even begin to explain why. “Sorry, I’m just– I’m not okay.”

“I know, and we’re sorry,” There is such raw honesty in his words and he manages to make you smile a little. Your hand is still shaking, but you stretch it out towards him regardless. It’s a conscious decision to hold onto his wrist, covered by his jacket, than to reach out for his palm, and from the way he looks at you, you know he recognises the effort. “But you need to come with us.”

“Why?” You cry out, a single tear coming out of the corner of your eye. At this point, the shock is going away and you’re more overwhelmed than anything else. You’re scared and confused and overwhelmed and it’s his pulse, beating again and again, that brings you back to Earth. “Why do I need to go with you? What is going on?”

“Y/N, when you were housesitting for me, you received a package, right?”

In the midst of everything, the memory of that day, that box, that note, all fade. Frowning, you shrugged. “The delivery man knocked and said he had a package for you… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I–“

“No, no, no, you didn’t, you didn’t. Please.”

“Ma’am, when you signed for the package, did you use your name?” The man, Morgan, ask, and all you do is nod. Of course you signed with your name. “Kid, we need to take her to the office now.”

“I am not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on!”

Finally, some energy in you. Some strength. Your voice echoes in the empty shop, and the chair tips back when you stand up on stiff legs. Looking at Spencer is hard, when you feel the burning of your rage inside, but you still do; you still meet those pretty brown eyes, you still stare him down until you practically force the answers off of him. “The package… did you see who it was from?” 

“Spencer, are you insinuating you’ve pointed a gun at me because I read a message your girlfriend wrote on the package she sent you?! Because I didn’t mean to– I didn’t! It just… It was there, right at the top and I–“

“She is not my girlfriend,” He immediately cut you off, hands waving in front of him in a visual demonstration of desperate denial. “Not at all! I don’t have a girlfriend! I was–“

“We can deal with this later,” Morgan is quick to interrupt, sighing as he looked at you. “Y/N, we re really sorry to disrupt you like this, but this is for your own protection. Please lock the store and let’s go.”

It takes time for you to gather everything you need. You are not a disorganised person by any means, but suddenly, you can’t remember where you put what. Your bag is thrown under the cashier, and your keys are, for some reason, in the Fiction shelf. Your glasses are in your head the entire time, and Morgan has to point that out to you. The more you look, the more flustered you get, yet somehow, you make it to the car. Morgan is driving and Spencer is on the passenger seat, and the way they keep talking to each other using words that make no sense to you make you want to scream. “Spencer.”

The heaviness of his name, said with such emotion,, lingered in the air. His eyes meet yours through the rearview mirror, and he nods. “Yeah?"

“Spencer,” You whisper again, eyes wide in shock as reality starts to dawn. “Spencer, if she’s not your girlfriend, then who the fuck is Cat Adams?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AAAAAhhhhh I'm trying something new >.< I've been a massive criminal minds fan for a long, long time and Dr. Spencer Reid has my heart <3

Please let me know what you think, this is my first Spencer fic and I'd love if it got to turn into a series!

[logansdoll]

jim beam

navigating life in a new universe was already a bit of a struggle for Logan... and Wade just had to make it worse (or far, far, far better) by giving him a "house-warming gift".

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place after the events of Deadpool 3, Wade is actually really hard to write for, Logan deserves the world, comfort, angst if you squint, etc.

"Honey, I'm home!" Wade loudly sang, kicking open the door to Logan's apartment with a dramatic flourish.

"Fuck me," Logan groaned from his spot on the couch, closing his eyes and allowing his head to lull back with annoyance.

This defeated the entire purpose of why he got his own apartment in the first place.

To avoid these types of interactions with the most persistently, consistently annoying asshole in the entire multiverse.

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to the friend who's about to bring your long lost lover back from the dead?" Wade tutted, skipping into the living room, taking notice of the bottle of liquor resting in Logan's hand.

'So it's that kinda morning...'

"Jim Beam at 10 am on a Tuesday?" he noted, "Well, I guess it's five o'clock nowhere... so have at it."

"What did you just say?" Logan sat up straight, brows furrowed as he focused on Wade's previous statement.

"Alcoholics everywhere salute you for taking your liver where no organ has gone before."

"Wade."

"I'm honestly starting to believe you do it for the love of the game rather than the expositional, look how sad he is plot device the author is currently using... I mean, seriously? Can we skip past all this bullshit and get to the—"

Quickly, Logan grabbed him by the front of his suit, yanking him closer with an angrily confused expression.

"If anything besides a goddamn answer comes out of your mouth... I will stab you in the face," he growled, spelling out each syllable to further his point. "What the hell do you mean bring her back from the dead?"

To Logan, you were everything

The sun. The moon. The air. The clouds.

Despite seeing all the horrible thing he'd done, and knowing firsthand just how much of an asshole he could be, you still smiled at him.

No matter how many times he pushed you away, you were relentless.

Keeping his room together while he was away finding himself.

Making him meals when you noticed he he'd gone without eating.

Forcing him to take breathers after intense sessions in the Danger Room.

For the longest, he couldn't wrap his head around someone like you caring about a jackass like him.

Until he got fed up and just outright asked.

But, as if nothing, you answered:

"Your past makes think you don't deserve love, Logan," you started, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned up against the counter. "You storm around here with a rude ass attitude and a smart mouth hoping to convince me of that... but if anything, you're only making it worse for yourself."

You smiled, looking up at him with a glint in your eye that sent shocks running down his spine.

"Because in my heart of hearts I know you're a man who wants care and attention, just like everybody else."

With a chuckle, you rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"And I'll keep shovin' dinners down your throat until you realize that."

Despite having everyone else fooled, you saw right through him, and true to your word, you didn't give up.

With every made bed, every meal, every conversation, Logan felt himself falling deeper into your charm, and over a glass of Jim Beam did he finally realize that he was in love with you.

But, like everything else he cared about in this world, you were taken away from him.

Unable to find your body in the rubble of the mansion, he looked high and low, quite literally going to the ends of the Earth to find you.

But after years of searching with nothing to show for it, he returned to the bottle, drowning himself in sorrow and regret.

Or, at least... until now.

"Well, according to the manual, she's not exactly dead, but she is unconscious," Wade answered, matter-of-factly.

"Unconscious?" Logan's brows furrowed, still quite confused.

Freeing himself from the man's grip, Wade stood up, going back around the couch and pulling out a small tablet from his pocket.

"See, I've noticed your humble abode could use a little sprucing, so I went back to our buddies at the TVA and kindly reminded them that you saved the multiverse and, godammnit, you deserve a reward."

"Get to the fuckin' point, jackass," Logan spat, turning to face him.

"So they sent some men back to your universe and found your girl!" Wade cheered, opening up a portal and reaching his hand in, pulling out a cryo-chamber with you inside.

The moment Logan's eyes met your sleeping face, all color and vibrancy seemed to return to the world.

He was at a loss for words.

You were here... not some dream or hallucination of guilt... but actually, truly, physically here.

"Apparently, some science fuckers were keeping her in a black site and testing to see how long she could go without aging. I won't bore you with the details," Wade explained, pulling out a small knife from his boot. "Now, let's break this bad boy open and meet the future Mrs. Wolverine!"

Before Logan could stop him, Wade stabbed the keypad at the side of the chamber, opening the door and sending you falling forward.

In an instant, Logan dropped his bottle and leaped over the couch, catching you just before you could face-plant on the hardwood floor.

"Watch it!" Logan roared, less than happy that you'd only been there for about three minutes and Wade had already almost broken your nose.

"I am so sorry!" Wade gasped, his hands slapping his cheeks in shock. "I didn't think she'd actually fall out the chamber when they told me she'd fall out the chamber... Nice save, though, Romeo."

Turning you over, Logan cupped your cheek, the chill of your skin already beginning to warm.

But you were still out cold, limp in his grasp as he held you close to his chest.

"She's not waking up..." Logan noticed, brows furrowed. "Why the hell isn't she waking up?"

"Easy there, tiger. They told me how long it takes varies from person to person," Wade assured, shutting the portal. "Some take minutes, others hours. It could be a couple of days before she even opens her eyes."

An expression of solemnity slid over Logan's face as he gazed over yours, your skin still so flesh colored, it looked as if you were sleeping.

Just as soft and tender as he remembered.

And he had full intentions on keeping it that way.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he ghosted his hand over your cheek.

In that moment, he swore to himself that he'd never leave you again.

He'd be a friend, a bodyguard, a lover, whatever you wanted, but no matter his title, anything that wanted to harm you would have to do so over his dead body.

And even then he'd force himself to get back up and fight.

This world was giving him a second chance at life, a second chance at a life with you, and he'd be damned if he let anything ruin it.

Suddenly, you took in an aggressive gasp, scaring the shit out of Wade as your eyes snapped open.

"Holy fucking shit nuggets!" he jolted, jumping from his spot across he room as Logan allowed his shoulders to sink, mumbling a quiet thanks to whatever god or deity brought you back to him.

Feeling a strong set of arms cradling you, you looked up, solace setting into your bones at the sight of the familiar man before you, who was unable to stop the few joyful tears escaping his eyes.

"Logan—"

Without a moment's hesitation, his lips were on yours, making up for what felt like a lifetime of loss by dumping all of his passion, all of his love, all of his devotion into one Earth shattering kiss.

You melted into it seamlessly, your hand finding home in his scruffy hair as he pulled you flush against him, clutching you with a death grip.

Donning a cheeky smile under his mask, Wade turned away to give you both a moment, thought not without making a crude sex gesture behind his back.

'I don't think Miss (Y/N)/Girl Sitting At Home Reading This is gonna be able to walk tomorrow...'

With a gasp, the two of you separated, Logan's hand raising to cup your cheek, relishing how easily you leaned into him.

"(y/n)... I thought I lost you," he panted, his eyes scouring over your face, committing every detail to memory.

"For a while, you did," you sighed with a grin, carding a hand through the few gray strands in his hair, before comparing them to your own. "Time looks good on you."

He chuckled, quietly relieved you still found him attractive after all these years.

Sitting up, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled the man into a bone crushing hug, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not really sure what happened... or how I'm alive..." you weakly laughed, starting to get choked up. "But I know that if you go out drinking without me ever again, I'm putting your head on a spike."

Instantly, Logan's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you reverently as if he let go for one moment, the powers that be would part him from you.

"I swear on my life... I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi! i saw you were taking requests for post prison spencer, so hey

i was thinking about spencer meeting a kinda sunshine reader, and it’s like…love at first sight. she’s literally the one to make him smile for good

feel free to add your magic to it, and to ignore it, don’t feel pressure at all!

have a good day/night <3

babe you guys are saving my life with these requests right now! I'm feeling so good about everything I write again <3 enjoy sunshine!reader x post prison!spencer who looks less tense and serious around you

You’re at his desk, sitting there all perfect in your orange button up and flared pants, Mary Janes clicking on the linoleum tile as you tap your pen against your lips. Your hair is scraped back into a ponytail, the plait brushing the spot between your shoulder blades. 

Spencer had asked about you to Penelope, asked about your personality, about how you work- all the important things. What he didn’t ask was if you were gorgeous and Penelope, who loves to divulge, had never said a thing about your looks. 

“Hi, you’re Y/n right?” Spencer’s standing before you, not realising how intimidating he must look till you jolt in your chair. 

You’d been trying to get your morning crossword and read in before the day had officially begun, a habit you’d been trying to keep up with since you started the job. So far it’s been going- the crosswords are boring so you have to pretend to be distracted by it to let it last a bit more than four minutes.

“Oh sorry, I am. You’re Doctor Spencer Reid,” you lean back in your chair, not bothering to hold out a hand to you. Penelope had grilled you on his aversion to germs and touching people more than needed. “I’m sorry about taking over your desk, but they didn’t have any free ones.” 

Spencer shakes his head, you take a moment to look him over. His hair is a bit looser than you’d imagined, Penelope said curly hair and you’d thought tight spirals- he has pretty loose ringlets, dark and mocha-like.

He smells like leather and something else, maybe plum and black currant- it’s a bit of an all encompassing smell that you like already. He’s much prettier too, he looks tired, but still pretty. His stubble presents a problem, you know it’s going to be your downfall. 

“It’s alright, we keep a tight ship. Have they been treating you well?” 

You tilt your head, “The team or the unsubs? Because it’s been too many cases to have real team building.” You grin when Spencer huffs, making his lips twitch. “But I think getting concussed while saving Newbie’s ass counts for something.” 

Luke grumbles as he walks by with his coffee, “You were hired after I was,” patting Spencer on the back when the taller, lithe, man rolls a chair to sit opposite you. 

“Do you still experience headaches or migraines?” Spencer kicks himself when he sees your tongue poke into your cheek- you’re trying hard not to smile at his question. He also thinks he’s doing a shoddy job of flirting but that can be fixed- he’s been in prison for the last three months, he just needs to get back in the swing of things. 

“I’m pretty sure your first official day back starts with you in Emily’s office and not giving me an impromptu physical, Dr. Reid.” His lips twitch again, cheeks jumping as he shakes his head. 

“It’s just a check-up, no physical yet.” he stands, not really giving himself time to overthink what he’s just said. It’s more than a little presumptuous on his part but you don’t call him an asshole or swear at him, so he thinks he’s okay with it. 

“Do you want your desk back, Spencer?” you’re earnest in asking, not wanting to fuck up his routines and his norm. You can tell you like him already and it’s hardly been a fifteen minute conversation. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take the one right there.” Spencer points a finger to the desk right in behind yours with a little less severity to his lips, his stubble looking even more attractive as he does so. 

You watch him walk away, willing yourself to be professional about all this, he may be hot but he’s your coworker and you know all about close proximity relationships possibly being shams. You’re not here for that, so Spencer will be a good friend. 

You make your way into the kitchen, steps light as you reach for your mug- a cute blue mug with an orca as the handle. 

“So you come in and the kid’s already obsessed with you?” Rossi’s right beside you, making you jump as you put more than the recommended amount of tablespoons of coffee into your mug. 

“It’s not like that, you all made him out to be this awkward shy mess and he isn’t.” You try to sound as casual as you can, but you profile your own voice and know how it sounds to everyone- wistful. 

“Maybe he’s seen a pretty girl and the ‘awkward shy mess’ melted away,” Rossi places his hands on your shoulders. “He’s a good kid. You can trust in that.” 

You roll your eyes, stirring your coffee. “I’m pretty sure he’s in his thirties, Rossi.” You take the milk from him, pouring it in till your coffee is just at the lip of your mug and smile. “Definitely too old.” 

Rossi waves his hand, “I’ve been married four times, old isn’t a marker for romance anymore. Not when you’re only twenty four.” He leaves you be for a moment, and on your walk back to your desk to fill out the remaining crosswords you mull over his words. 

As you sit, you look down and find it all filled out in black ink, opposed to your blue and you know who did it, if the messy scrawled message is anything to go by- ‘You should get The Washington Post puzzles, much more stimulating.’

[theemporium]

[4.1k] as it would turn out, you were serious about your offer. and luke was serious about accepting. it was just going to take a while for his body to remember that this was a glorified business deal between friends and nothing more. and he was definitely okay with that. (smut)

series masterlist

.

Stupidly, Luke didn’t think you were actually serious. 

In his head, the whole thing felt like a fever dream, starting from the moment he spilled his drink all over you leading to the moment you blatantly asked him if he wanted you to take his virginity. It felt like one of those weird dreams that made you wake up confused and bleary and unsure what year it even was, one of those dreams that linger in the back of your head for a few days before you eventually forgot about it.

Luke would have bet money on the whole thing being a weird dream that was haunting him if it weren’t for the fact he woke up one morning, a few days  after the party, with a message from you on his screen. 

cherry🍒: on a scale from one to ten, how likely are you to spill your drink on me again?

cherry🍒: also my place or yours? 

He stared at the messages for an embarrassingly long time, like he was staring at the proof the whole thing wasn’t some messed up dream in his head. Luke had spent the better part of the summer wondering what would have happened if he had asked for your number that night like Jack always teased him about, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself with it being a reality. 

hockey boy: i cannot promise anything 

hockey boy: you are welcome to come to my place but jack will probably be here so…

hockey boy: he’s nosy 

hockey boy: and annoying 

Luke frowned at himself, finger hovering over the messages like he would have a chance to delete them before you saw them, all one after the other like he was twelve and didn’t care about double texting. Or quadruple texting. But before he could even try to hide his own embarrassment, you were typing again.

cherry🍒: my place it is then

cherry🍒: see you at seven ;)

He also didn’t care to admit how long he stared at that message before he dragged himself out of bed, trying to ignore the odd buzz itching under his skin. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and his head was already spinning.

Luke was thankful enough that it was still preseason, that there wasn’t a game he had to prepare for because he wasn’t even sure he could concentrate on anything but your messages. He had noted Jack giving him odd looks whilst they both got ready for training, giving him more space than usual as they moved around the flat (which was odd considering Jack was usually glued to his side and pissing him off whenever he got the chance). 

However, the overbearing older brother role didn’t completely disappear. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes, Jack.”

“You’re not sick or anything?”

“I’m literally fine.” 

“Because we can tell the trainers—”

“Oh my god, dude,” Luke groaned, sinking further into the passenger seat as he shot his brother a look. “I’m fine. Calm down. You sound like Quinn.” 

“Sorry for caring,” Jack retorted, his fingers tightening on the wheel before his shoulders sagged. “I’m your older brother and it’s your first year in the NHL. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright, okay? The last thing I want is you having a shit rookie year.”

But the rest went unsaid. I don’t want you having a shit rookie year like I did.

Luke softened a little. “M’fine, promise. I’ll let you know when I need my big brother, okay?” 

Jack sighed, a small smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please shut up so I can sleep until we reach the rink?” 

Jack snorted in response. 

Though the conversation seemed to settle the worries his older brother had, Luke knew the other boys on the team were giving him the same looks of concern. It wasn’t as though he was playing badly, it was just very clear to everyone on the team—players, coaches and trainers alike—that Luke was distracted. 

He had half the decency to be a little embarrassed when he overheard Jack reassure a few trainers that it was just rookie nerves. 

But he felt restless, like he couldn’t quite keep still or focus on one thing. He felt like there was a buzz resonating through his bones, making him painfully aware of his plans later tonight. It was like an anxiety settled at the pit of his stomach, constant and foreboding and eating away at him as the minutes slowly dragged on through the day. 

It was horrible and exhilirating in the weirdest possible way.

Luke had managed to make it through the rest of training, managed to avoid any stern talkings from the coach but unable to avoid the one from Nico in the locker room. It was sweet and awkward all at once, especially when the rest of the team were clearly listening in to make sure one of the new rookies were doing fine. The Devils were like a family and usually he would appreciate it. 

However, he wasn’t exactly going to dive into the fact he was unfocused because a pretty girl offered to take his virginity to his captain or the rest of the team. He didn’t even want to imagine how that would have played out. 

But it was sweet to know the team had his back, that they saw him as his own person rather than just Jack’s little brother who was tagging along.

…

Luke was relieved when you had mentioned him coming over to your place for your meeting later that day. Yet, what he failed to take into consideration was the fact his brother would still be a nosy shit on his whereabouts. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” 

Luke froze, keys gripped in his one hand and his phone in the other with your address already typed into Google Maps. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to Jack with a (hopefully) nonchalant look on his face.

“Just going to hang out with some friends,” he replied vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jack paused, the spoonful of rice hovering just above his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Is Nico hosting some rookie thing or something?”

“Uh no,” Luke cleared his throat.

Jack frowned. “Is there a team thing happening tonight that I forgot?” 

“No, uh,” Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like an interrogation spotlight was shining on him. “It’s nothing with the team.”

Jack raised his brows. “But you don’t have other friends outside the team.” 

Luke frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack retorted. “Unless you’re a part of a book club or something.” 

He shot his brother a confused look. “Why would that be the only reason I have friends outside of the team?”

“I don’t know, college and shit,” Jack answered like that explained something.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Luke grumbled before he turned on his heel, making his way towards the door again. 

“Are you at least gonna tell me when you’ll be back?” Jack called out to him, a hint of older brother overbearingness in his voice. 

“Not sure.” 

“I—” He heard Jack shuffle to stand up, his dinner now abandoned on the coffee table as he made his way over to Luke. The look of concern from earlier that morning was back on his face. “What dodgy shit are you up to that you can’t just tell me?” 

“Jack,” Luke groaned, his voice tilting towards whiny as he let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m just going out to see a friend. Nothing dodgy, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, just letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He frowned. “What?” 

“Friend, singular,” Jack pointed out before he let out a bark of laughter, playfully punching his little brother’s arm. “Aw, little Lukey is sneaking out to hook up with a girl!”

His cheeks burned. “Shut up.”

“Fucking finally, I thought you were going celibate for your rookie year or something!” Jack continued to tease him. “Who is it? Do I know her? Oh my god, is it the girl from the party? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“I am leaving now!” Luke shoved him away, making a beeline for the door as Jack continued to cackle behind him. 

“Do I need to give you a curfew?” 

“Fuck off!” 

He could still hear Jack laughing when he slammed the door shut behind him.

His body felt like it was on autopilot once he got behind the wheel. He followed the instructions spoken through his GPS, kept his concentration on the road—on the journey—rather than the destination. He tried to pretend like he was just going to hang out at a friend’s, that he was back in Michigan going to one of his teammate’s houses he didn’t live with. 

It was fine. 

Everything was fine.

Except for the fact that once he reached your door, closed fist hovering over the wood, he felt like his body was buzzing too fast to keep up with and all the pent up anxiety over the day was about to make him explode. 

He didn’t even realise he had knocked until the door swung open and you stood on the other side, grinning at him like it was a normal Sunday evening. You were dressed cosy, casual even. Just a pair of leggings, a baggy shirt and some fluffy socks that had—ironically enough—cherries printed on them.

“You’re early,” you noted. 

Luke’s stomach dropped a little. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“I like my men eager, you’re fine,” you said as you waved him off, unaware of the fact your words just made his body feel like it was on fire for a whole other reason as you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. 

His eyes wandered over your apartment, taking in the small knick knacks that decorated the place. It was smaller than his and Jack’s apartment, but it felt more homely. His place had a habit of looking a little clinical, like a showroom they had moved into rather than an actual home. But between training and travelling and not really caring, neither he nor Jack had bothered to change it. 

But, looking around at the small details of your apartment as you led him towards your living room couch, Luke found it endearing that he could see small insights into your personality.

“You still like Coke, right?” 

His eyes snapped back to you, a light blush on his cheeks when he found you staring at him with intent. “Uh yeah, Coke is good.” 

He settled down on the seat, awkwardly perched on the edge whilst you curled up in the sport next to him with your feet tucked underneath him. He tried to swallow the ball in the back of his throat, eyes wandering over the room once again before they landed back on you. 

“Your place is really nice—”

“Tell me about hockey.” 

Luke blinked. And then blinked one more time before he remembered to speak.

“What?”

“Tell me about hockey,” you repeated. 

“You want to know about hockey?” He questioned, his brows furrowed together and suddenly the panic he felt moments ago was overwhelmed by his confusion. 

“Well, no, I don’t really know anything about it,” you admitted with a shrug. “But you’re so tense over there like you’re about to enter the Hunger Games or something, I thought talking about something you enjoy would help you relax.” 

Something in his chest stirred at your confession. “Oh.” 

“Just relax,” you said as you lightly pushed him back until he was no longer sat on the edge of the couch. However, Luke’s body didn’t seem to catch the hint, something that was very clear with how tense he still looked sitting next to you. “We aren’t going to do anything tonight,” you assured him, your hand dropping to his forearm to give it a small squeeze. 

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “We aren’t?”

You shook your head, a soft but cheeky smile on your lips. “You need to build up your confidence a little, to really feel comfortable with everything. There’s more to sex than just sleeping with someone.”

He blinked. “There is?”

“Yes,” you laughed, but it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t feel dumb for asking you questions. “So just take a breath and relax. Now, hockey—what’s the big deal?” 

Luke couldn’t help but snort. “The big deal?”

“Yeah, why do you like it?” You asked. “I mean, you love it enough to make it your job.” 

Luke smiled and there was something less heavy in his laugh—but hockey always tended to have that power over him. He knew hockey. He lived for hockey. It was as calming as it was exhilarating. It was what his whole world revolved around since the day he was born. 

“I come from a big hockey family,” Luke told you. “I could skate before I could properly walk, to be honest. It’s just something that’s always…been there. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.” 

“Do you enjoy it?” 

Luke raised his brows in surprise. “No, I just do it to torture myself.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, and he tried not to think about how endearing the action was. “I mean, you said it’s been in your life forever. Do you enjoy it or is it just familiar?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“I love it,” he replied honestly, sinking a little further into the couch as he turned his head to look at you. “It was always there but I also always sought it out, you know? I wanted hockey as much as hockey wanted me.” 

“Lucky thing you were good enough to go pro, huh?” You remarked, a teasing glint in your words. 

Luke’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“So, do you, like, fight people and shit?” 

He snorted, the noise a little surprising but welcomed nonetheless. “Yeah, sometimes.” 

“Damn, the two hockey videos I watched before you came weren’t lying then,” you mused. 

And, fuck, his chest was doing that funny-tightening thing again. 

“You watched some videos before I came?”

“Colour me curious,” you answered with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

He swallowed. “Did you like what you saw?” 

Your lips pulled upwards into a smirk. “Flirting with me now, Hughes?” 

In an instant, Luke’s cheeks instantly burned a red shade with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness washing over him. “I’m sorry about that—”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” you interrupted, watching as his eyes widened a little in surprise. But the colour remained on his cheeks. It was cute, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a shy guy, Luke, I’ve seen the way you are on the ice. You just need to bring that confidence off the ice too,” you told him, shuffling a little closer to him until your knee was almost brushing his thigh. “Think of this…what we are doing…as your training.” 

“My training?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded as your palm landed on his thigh, right above his knee. He was so painfully aware of your hand, of the way your touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of his sweatpants to touch his skin. “Gonna help you go pro.” 

His eyes darted down to your hand before it snapped back to your face. “Cherry—” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He blinked. “You’re asking me?” 

“It’s sexy to ask,” you told him, your thumb lightly rubbing a small line just above his knee. You shifted a bit closer, watching the way his eyelids fluttered slightly. “Consent is really, really sexy.” 

“Really sexy,” he repeated, eyes locked in on your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, squeezing his leg a little to emphasise your need for him to verbally answer. 

“Yeah,” he managed to mutter out, a slight crack in his voice but you didn’t seem to care as you closed the distance between you.

Your palm was soft and warm against his cheek, guiding his head until you pressed your lips against his. It was a soft kiss, almost sweet in a way. And maybe something about the tenderness of it all washed away the unease in his chest, that lingering anxiety that he had been smothered in since he woke up. It was like the kiss washed away the lingering concerns in his head, the ones that told him this was some twisted dream or malicious ploy.

You just wanted to help, you wanted him relaxed when he was with you. 

And Luke had half the mind to trust you would do just that after the initial kiss. 

Your thumb slightly swept along the high of his cheekbone, soft and reassuring as he sunk further into the kiss. He seemed happy to let you take control, to let you decide how fast or passionate it was. He seemed happy to just follow. 

“Better than hockey training?” You murmured against his lips between kisses, the light smacking noises a vague echo in his ear but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he ducked his head back down, eager to press his lips against yours again. 

“Impatient,” you teased but didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. “Feeling confident already, Hughes?” 

Luke could feel your smile against his lips. “Maybe.” 

“Good,” you stated simply and before he got the chance to realise what you were doing, before his brain had even fully processed you had asked him a question, your leg was thrown over his body and you were straddling his lap.

Luke pulled back a little, looking up at you with his cheeks flushed. “Oh.” 

“Remember, this is just your training,” you reassured the boy, though it was hard for him to focus on the words coming out of your mouth when your lips were red and kiss-swollen and probably a mirror image of his own. “Just practise, yeah?”

“Just practise,” he confirmed with a nod. 

“So practise,” you told him as you reached for his hands where they awkwardly hung at his side. You gripped his wrists, giving them a small squeeze before you rested them on your waist.

He swallowed. “Oh.” 

You raised your brows. “This good?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Luke,” you prompted until his glossy eyes found yours. “We can stop any time you want. Just say the word, okay?” 

“I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you, his hands giving a testing squeeze on your waist. “Not right now, at least. Promise.” 

And when you smiled at him, he could have sworn his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. 

His chest was thudding with each racing beat, blood roaring in his ears and butterflies exploding in his fucking chest when you leaned down to kiss him again. It’s like his brain was locked in on you at this very moment, not a care or concept for the world beyond this apartment. It was just about you, you, you.

And then your hands were pushing through his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged his head back until the column of his neck was exposed to you. 

Luke was almost embarrassed of the whimpering noise that left his lips when you tugged on his curls, a dull but desirable pain coursing through his whole body before your lips explored his neck. His breathing was heavy, borderline panting as your teeth scraped along the sensitive spot just below his ear. And, fuck, he felt like his whole body was on fire. 

“Hmmm, pretty noises,” you murmured against his neck, wet and sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against his skin as his body squirmed beneath you. “You gonna keep making them for me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Yeah?” You nipped his skin lightly, almost teasingly, as his hips bucked up on instinct. “Keep moaning f’me, baby, let’s see what you like.”

His grip on your waist only tightened as you continued to explore his body, as you tried to find the spots that had him whining and panting beneath you. And just when Luke thought he had a hold on himself, when he could handle the way your hands felt in his hair and your lips on his neck, your hips slowly rolled down against his and he could feel a rush of pleasure race down his spine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out between broken moans, head thrown back against the back of the couch and eyes clenched shut. “Please. More.”

“You want more?” Your warm breath fanned against his cheek as you lifted your head, hooded eyes watching the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to rock against him. “Keep making those pretty noises, baby.” 

The whimper he let out made his cheeks and neck burn bright red. 

“Look at you,” you mused, the bulge in his sweatpants pressed against you as you continued to grind down on his lap. “Doing so well for me, telling me what you want.”

And it was too much. 

The constant stream of praise leaving your lips, the way your face was inches away from him—even if his eyes were shut—with your breath hot against his cheek. The way your hips rocked against his hard cock, the way it was straining beneath the boxers he was wearing. The way your fingers gave another experimental tug on his curls and he saw white. 

His grip on your waist was almost bruising with how tight it was, the way he held onto you as his hips bucked to meet your thrusts, the way your name left his lips on a loop as a hot flush of pleasure washed over his body, as you guided him through it. 

And once his brain had caught up—once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest—he was painfully aware of the sticky mess in his sweatpants. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his whole body burning with embarrassment as he looked up at you. “I am so sorry—” 

“For what?” 

“I—” His eyes fell shut, his body wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.” 

You frowned. “What was? The fact you came?” 

His stomach twisted a little.

“Luke,” you murmured, and he could feel your hands cupping his warm cheeks but he didn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have been grinding on your dick like that.” 

He finally looked at you, but the hot shame remained. “You didn’t even…” 

“Get off?” You supplied and he looked sheepish as he nodded. “I can still enjoy something and find it hot without getting off, Hughes.”

His brows furrowed together. “I thought the whole point was that you were teaching me how to make you feel good. For womankind.” 

You snorted, grinning down at the boy. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get off too.”

Luke’s lips parted with a silent ‘oh’.

“I’ll grab you some sweatpants to change into,” you told him as you shifted off his lap, looking down at his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “You’re a good student, Hughes.”

He raised his brows. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you grinned back at him, and his chest did that funny thing again. “And I wasn’t lying. You make pretty noises. I like my boys vocal.” 

And Luke was thankful you disappeared down the corridor after that, saving him from even attempting to come up with a response. 

And he was shocked that once he cleaned up as best he could in your bathroom, you patted the spot next to you on the couch and told him to choose a movie whilst you ordered in some food. 

It was almost laughable to think about how anxious he had been all day, only to lead up to him sharing a pizza with you with some old Jim Carey comedy playing in the background like you two really were just friends. Like you were just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Like you hadn’t just made him come in his pants like he was some wound up teenage boy. 

It made his head spin, in a good way. 

And when he was dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment a little after midnight, there was a voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was risky, that he shouldn’t have felt so giddy or jovial after he had seen you. 

You were just training him, helping him. You were just his friend. 

But, for right now, Luke was happy to ignore the logical voice in the back of his head and instead focus on the fact that maybe—just fucking maybe—you were right and this whole virginity thing was far more bigged up in his head than he realised. 

You were his friend. And he knew you were just his friend. 

Who cares if his body took a little longer to remember than his brain did?

.

[themultifanshipper]

Oscar had blabbed. That’s the only explanation you could come up with at the moment, given the position you found yourself in, kneeling at your friends’ feet.

It’s 4am, leave me alone. Inspired by these pics

Warnings: blowjobs, sex, threesome, one mention of yolo, and if you don’t like cum, probably don’t read this, it’s filthy (literally), PinV sex at the end

Alex and Logan had been eyeing you up all week. At first, they seemed to be glancing in your direction constantly, head movements catching your attention, but as soon as you’d look back at them they would avert their eyes. Then you noticed that they were staring at you for longer periods of time from across the room, seemingly unaware of what they were doing until they’d snap out of it on their own. But yesterday, that was when you saw their gazes shift into something else. Before they ranged from blank to vaguely curious, but yesterday, they looked hungry. It sent a shiver down your spine the first time. Now you just found it downright confusing, wondering what could have possessed them to start looking at you that way.

That night you were at your best pal Oscar’s place in Monaco, having just given him a congratulatory blowjob for his performance in the race (Oscar always said you were the best he’d ever known at giving head), and you decided to tell him.

“You know, Alex and Logan have been acting real weird lately” you called from the bathroom.

“Yeah? In what way?” he replied, in bed scrolling on his phone.

“Well… at first they just started staring at me, I think unconsciously, but now they’ve started looking at me like they want to eat me or something. ”

‘Shit!’ he thought. You couldn’t see him, but his eyes widened and he immediately started typing out a message to the boys: "what the fuck guys? Stop staring at her it’s weirding her out!"

“What do you mean?” he asked you, managing to keep his voice level.

“I don’t know… like- I’ve only ever seen that look when someone wants to rail me, you know? But it can’t be that, right?” You came out of the bathroom and Oscar turned his phone off a little too quickly, which confused you, but you were too tired to question it at that moment as you crawled into bed and snuggled up to him.

“Nah probably not, maybe you’re imagining things?” he tried, you didn’t bite.

“Absolutely not. We’re flying with them tomorrow, then you can see for yourself.”

The next morning when you woke up, you saw that you’d been added to a three way group chat with the two Williams drivers. You had two messages:

Alex: ‘We need to talk to you, privately”

Logan: ‘It’s nothing too serious tho dw <3’

‘Thank god for Logan’ you thought. Unbeknownst to you, they had been bickering all morning about how to broach the subject.

You would all be meeting at Nice airport to get a jet together so you didn’t have to wait too long for answers.

The four of you were alone on the jet, and when Logan got up to go to the bathroom, you glanced at him and he motioned for you to follow him.

'Okay, here we go' you thought nervously.

He closed the door behind you and you stared at him waiting for him to speak first, but he just stood there fidgeting nervously so you broke the silence.

"So what did you need to talk to me about?"

The room was relatively cramped so you were rather close, closer than you were used to, and you were able to count the freckles that dusted his face as you waited for an answer.

Instead of doing so however, he surged forward and kissed you. Which was confusing, but to be fair you weren’t going to start asking questions, as his lips were softly trailing over your jaw, making you let out a shaky breath.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week” he mumbled into your neck.

Before you even had time to form a response, the door slid open and there stood Alex, with a massive smirk on his face at the sight of you two.

“Started without me Logan? Bastard.”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, as you stood there, half pressed against the sink by Logan’s hips, and very confused at was on earth was going on.

Alex came and pressed a light kiss to your temple before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Are you okay with this?”

You nodded, not even sure what ‘this’ was but, yolo, as the kids say.

So he plastered his body to your side and turned your head to kiss you, as Logan started trailing downwards, taking the waistband of your joggers with him. He gasped loudly as he very quickly realized you hadn’t put any underwear on underneath. You glanced down and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What? I travel comfy!”

Logan didn’t even hear you as he was already trailing kisses all over your thighs, lifting one of them and hooking it over his shoulder. His fingers spread you as he licked a broad stripe from your perineum to your clit, making you shudder in anticipation.

Alex’s hand on your jaw brought your mouth back to his, and his other hand snuck under your top to play with your breasts, making you keen under his touch.

One of your hands was in Logan’s hair as he lapped up your juices, getting his face soaked in the process, the other was making its way into Alex’s pants to grab hold of his cock, which had been hard ever since he saw you get up to follow Logan to the bathroom.

Your movements were uncoordinated as you were getting closer to orgasm on Logan’s tongue (and fingers that had since joined the party), and when you came, Alex had to put his hand over your mouth to muffle the loud moans that threatened to spill from you.

Logan stood up, a fucked out expression on his face, and licked his lips before grabbing Alex by the hair and crashing their lips together, Alex groaning into his mouth at the taste of you on his tongue.

You took their distraction as an opportunity to get down on your knees and unbuckle Logan’s pants, immediately getting his cock out and licking a long stripe form base to tip.

That made him shudder and he moaned into Alex’s mouth, the two of them still going at it, so you took him deeper and deeper, alternating expertly between breathing through your nose and swallowing, and you took Alex out of his pants to start stroking him at the same pace.

It eventually got too intense for poor Logan as he grabbed your hair and pulled you off him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too fast if you keep going like that.”

Alex grinned at him, then down at you. “You really are the best then, yeah?”

Your brain didn’t even register the implications behind that statement as you took Alex into your mouth, down to the base in one go, as if to say ‘see for yourself’.

You alternated between the two of them, getting them to the edge before pulling off to breath properly before switching. At some point they had started kissing again, groaning into each other’s mouths and running their hands through each other’s hair.

Then, without warning, the door opened and there stood Oscar, smug as anything.

“Well well well, what’s all this then?”

The image of George briefly flashed in your collective minds.

You pulled off with an obscene pop and looked up at the other two boys.

What sight the three of you made, you on the floor with tears running down your cheeks, Alex and Logan flushed and messy, hair sticking up and looking fucked out, with their cocks out.

That’s when it all clicked. The looks, Oscar’s avoidance, this whole mess in the bathroom.

Oscar must have blabbed about your activities to them.

You turned to the man in question.

“Did you plan this?!”

He laughed. “No one could have planned this. But I did mention to them how good you are for me, and I’m certainly enjoying the show. Do carry on, that looks painful.” he said, gesturing to where Alex and Logan were still hard, and leaking all over themselves. You looked at them in disbelief.

“Are you enjoying this? Being watched by your best friend while you’re getting sucked off?”

They had the audacity to look bashful, and it also kind of did it for you. So you slowly took Logan back into your mouth and Alex in your hand and they groaned in unison. You savoured every second of it, even the sound of Oscar’s breath hitching as he inevitably started touching himself in time with your pace, made you wet.

As the three men got closer, their noises got louder and Alex asked “Where?”

Oscar answered for you. “If you ask nicely she’ll let you come anywhere you want”

The two others groaned and quickly rushed out “Can I come on your tits?” and “On your face, please?”

You nodded at them, and they started jerked off hard and fast, aiming at your face and breasts as you closed your eyes and stuck your tongue out. Alex came a couple of seconds before Logan, painting your face in streaks of white, most of it landing on your tongue, then you felt another load land on your chest as Logan whined out his orgasm.

As Logan caught his breath, Alex pulled you to your feet and kissed you sweetly as a thank you, before he leaned down and started working his tongue over where Logan’s cum streaked your skin, making you gasp. Then Logan came closer and started licking Alex’s cum off your face. It was hands down the weirdest situation you’d ever been in, but it was hot as fuck. That was made obvious by how Oscar groaned behind you, still working over his cock at a leisurely pace.

“What a sight you three make. If Lando were here he would cream his pants…”

You huffed “I’m sure he would, but you’re certainly not going to tell him about this, right?”

His eyes twinkled “We’re meeting him for lunch tomorrow in Montreal.”

The other two finished cleaning you up and got you (and themselves) dressed again, kissed you one last time, Logan giving you a quick tap on the ass, before leaving you and Oscar alone.

“You mind getting on your knees one last time for me, baby?”

“Anything for you, Osc” You smiled, but before you could move, he grabbed your arm.

“Actually… I want to make you feel good too.” He glanced at the mirror. “Stand in front of the sink, hands on the mirror.”

You obliged, planting yourself firmly before he pulled down your pants, already having noticed your lack of underwear earlier, and pushed a couple of fingers into you.

“God, baby, you’re dripping.”

“I know that, just get your dick in me!”

He chuckled and lined himself up, bottoming out in one go.

“Fuck- so warm and tight, just for me” he groaned and kissed your neck before grabbing your hips tight, and pounding into you.

The angle made it so that he hit your g spot on every thrust, getting you close to the edge in record time, your loud moans spurring him on to go harder.

You came together, panting and coming down from your highs with him wrapped around you, breathing into your neck.

Logan and Alex were in the cabin, listening to yours and Oscar’s needy moans as they squirmed in their seats. They were wondering if maybe next time, Oscar would let them fuck you.

[wannabeschyulersister]

you keep his shirt, he keeps his word

The strong aroma of coffee woke you up that morning. It confused you because you were absolutely sure that your coffee maker was still in a box somewhere. Opening your eyes, it only took you a matter of five seconds to realize that you weren’t in your new apartment.

You were in Carmen Berzatto’s bed.

What started off as a night where you were meeting your best friend’s work friends ended up with you in the bed of one of them.

You never did this kind of thing. You never met a guy at a bar and went back to his place.

There was just something about Carmen.

When Sydney first introduced you to him in that small bar near The Bear, you literally fell in love with his eyes. They were this beautiful shade of blue. You instantly got jealous of him because of them. How ordinary your eyes were compared to his.

You wanted to stay far away from him, scared that you’d do or say something stupid. He eventually made his way back towards you and the rest was history.

Sydney gave you a rundown before you met everyone. She informed you that Carmen was shy as hell and often kept to himself. She also said to not be offended if he did so.

It surprised you when he made his way towards you and struck a conversation. It started off a little slow but there was this unspoken connection that blossomed.

He was shy in a totally adorable way and super charming. Sydney and everyone else that worked with him on a near daily basis was shocked at how he was acting. They didn’t dare think that he’d be the guy to approach a woman and have an actual conversation.

You sat with him in the little corner of the bar and talked about everything. He wanted to know what made you move to Chicago. How you knew Sydney. What your favorite food was.

His last question surprised you, “Would you like to go back to my place?”

Your response surprised you the most, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Fast forward to eight hours later and you were still tangled up in his sheets. You sat up and looked around for your belongings. You quickly found your phone, purse, jeans and undergarments. The shirt you wore last night was nowhere to be found.

You grabbed the first white shirt that you saw and slipped your clothes back on.

This was all new territory to you. You had no idea what you should do. Thank him for a great evening? Give him a high five? Run out without saying anything?

The door to his bedroom was cracked open. You heard the soft sounds of the radio playing.

As quietly as you could, you walked down the hallway and made your way to the main living area. You spotted Carmen in his kitchen. Shirtless.

He was at the stove. The sizzling of the pan and the smell made your stomach growl. Carmen turned to grab a plate when he saw you standing in the doorway.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” He asked you.

You nodded, “Uh, yeah I did surprisingly.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m one of those people that has a hard time falling asleep if it isn’t in my own bed.”

“I’m glad that you were comfortable enough here to where that wasn’t a problem.” He made his way towards you and tugged on your- his shirt, “Looks good on you.”

You looked down and he still had a grip on you, “I normally don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Have one night stands. Going back to a guy’s apartment after barely meeting him isn’t really my thing.” You confessed. Part of you hoped he believed you. The other part didn’t want to be ashamed if it was something that you normally did.

One night stands weren’t something to be embarrassed about. You were a single woman who could date/hook up with anyone she wanted.

“Was this just a one night kinda thing to you?” Carmen asked.

You shrugged your shoulders, “What do you think?”

You wanted him to answer before you could. It was killing you inside to figure out what he was thinking.

“I think that last night, I met a woman that I would really like to get to know better.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “Really?”

He nodded and grinned, “Yes, really. Plus, you look great in my clothes and out of them.”

“Well that was a smooth line if I ever heard one.”

“There’s plenty more of that if you stick around with me,” Carmen leaned closer and placed a sweet kiss on your lips, “I made you breakfast.”

“You’re going to spoil me, Berzatto.” You set your purse down before taking a seat at his counter. He served you a delicious looking omelette with a cup of coffee.

“I plan to do so as long as you’ll let me. I’m a man of my word.”

[goldenstring6123]

This happen to my bestie last week ajsjsjsjsns

She came to school all moody instead of cheery and vibrant and it's not normal to see her like that– I asked what happened, at first she doesn't speaks and just shook her head. Like, 20 minutes later, she suddenly cried. I was there next to her and comfort her, (I literally get all concerned and panicked)

During break, I asked again why she is like that and she told me that her mom told her to die out of frustration (Like– girl, wth) it is all because her little sister overslept and make her late for school. And her mother also late for works.

So, can I ask how LaDS men comfort their partner when they're feeling down? 🥺🥺

Thanks ♡⁠(⁠Ӧ⁠ｖ⁠Ӧ⁠｡⁠)

Lnds: Comfort for a crying heart

Warning: Comfort. GN!Reader

Author's note: I'm sorry to hear that about your bestie, no person should ever be told that especially by their mother. I'm sending my hugs to you, your bestie and everyone who's having a hard time! You have my full love and support!

Zayne: The Patient Comforter

Zayne never sensed the shift in your personality that day. He knew there was something different with you, but he didn't think much of it, considering it was morning time. When he got home after work, he found it odd that his house was very silent. It was as if it had gone back to the days when you hadn't moved in yet. He entered your shared bedroom and found you sleeping, but it was odd, too, because the room was too dark and the air was too dry.

He changed his clothes and tucked himself into bed, but unlike his usual routine, he wrapped his hand around your waist and buried his nose in your hair. You were running hot, and simply by that alone, he knew you had been crying. He hugged you while you sobbed quietly and tried to catch your breath.

"It will be alright, honey," he would whisper to you and rub your arms. When you rolled over to him, you immediately buried your face in his chest. There was nothing to say to him at all; it was just one of those bad days when all the bad things chose to be at the forefront of your mind. Zayne stroked your hair and pulled you in closer to his chest, not minding the snot and tear marks you were making on his gray shirt.

When you let go of him and scooted back a little, he went to the kitchen and brewed you tea. He came back and handed it to you while waiting to see if you wanted to tell him how you felt. You looked so tired in his eyes, so he was very, very patient with you. You both talked to each other for a good hour or two, and Zayne listened intently, asking you how you felt.

He wiped your tears for you and lent you his shoulder when you spoke. His hand held onto yours, and his thumb brushed the back of your palm while you cried again.

Rafayel: The Comforting Joker

Rafayel is more perceptive than you thought. The moment you stepped into his house, he could see that you were in a bad mood. He stared at you, and the first thing he asked was, "Why the long face?" which was pretty odd considering that you were smiling.

You thought you were holding it in so well, but when he asked that question, everything seemed to slowly topple down in an instant. You found a way to distract yourself in his home, but Rafayel was having none of it. He looked so serious about it, and not a single hint of teasing escaped his mouth.

His frown made you frown as well. You decided to give in and tell him what was wrong, how you felt heavy when you woke up in the morning, and how things seemed to go wrong the moment you got out of bed. The moment a single tear fell down your cheek, Rafayel pulled you into a tight, long hug. He said a lot of stuff to try and cheer you up, and he did his best to make you laugh even if it made him look stupid; he didn't mind doing it for you.

Along the way, he talked about how he'd rate bomb that rude store and punch that post you walked into, and as stupid as that sounded, you managed to let out a stupid laugh. When Rafayel saw that, he was more than glad to see you slowly getting back on your feet.

Throughout the whole day, he gave in to your whims, doing things that you liked and eating the food you wanted to eat at that moment. He acted all cutesy for you because he knew you liked that about him the most, but he didn't joke with you in return. Instead, he acted all romantic and such.

Xavier: The Silent Comforter

Xavier could sense that something was off. Everything was in its place, and you were acting practically the same as every day, but he couldn't help but be instinctively close to you as if the energy he was sensing was oozing out of your body. He was quiet beside you, tending to his own entertainment, but the moment he heard a sniff, all his suspicions were confirmed.

Xavier kept his lips shut and reached an arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He didn't say a word to you. You continued to sniffle and hiccup while watching the movie, but both of you knew you weren't actually paying attention to the show.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Xavier would pat your arm or your thigh to comfort you, placing a kiss every now and then. He listened intently to your rants and your concerns, nodding and asking the right questions. It was his strategy to get you to relax and let it all out naturally. Albeit he'd have a hard time trying to understand you through your sobbing, all he knew was that you needed him at that moment.

It didn't take long for you to calm down and doze off to sleep, feeling the emotional exhaustion weigh you down more than you'd like to admit. You always fell asleep on his lap because he would always comb through your hair while you spoke.

A few hours later, you would wake up next to Xavier on the bed, and on the night table was some convenience store food that he bought.

Sylus: The Kissing Comforter

Sylus didn't know you were having a bad day, even if you were going on and on about that small little thing that made you feel so infuriated. Although he was listening very, very intently, offering you some practical advice and partially suggesting that he could deal with it for you, it wasn't until you headed to the restroom that Luke and Kieran sneaked into his office after hearing the entire thing.

Sylus was confused when the twins told him that you were crying on the way to the bathroom. At that moment, Luke and Kieran thought that their boss was too…insensitive. Sylus knew the look on their faces.

When you headed back to his office after half an hour, Sylus was waiting for you by the door. He pulled you into his grasp and brushed his thumb under your puffy eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, and you burst out crying ugly like you did in the bathroom. He frowned when you told him that you were just having a bad day, but Sylus could see right through you.

Your efforts in brushing your own misery aside were futile at best.

He picked you up and carried you to the couch, and he patted your back like a baby. You went on and on again about how you felt so bad and why everything was going in the wrong direction, and this time, Sylus was quiet, shushing you and telling you, "Don't cry; everything will be better tomorrow." When you had nothing left to say, Sylus slowly began to distract you by giving you kisses in between cries, touching you, and petting you until you couldn't think of anything else for a few minutes. He nibbled on your ear and whispered sweet nothings alongside comforting words.

Author footnotes: I'm more than sure that their way of comforting the reader/you would vary depending on how you particularly act when you're having a bad day so I decided to go generic and not specify anything... Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

[chukys-mouthguard]

What if?

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3,229 words

Featuring: matt rempe x female reader

Warnings: drunk guy being an asshole at the bar, aggressive/protective Matt

Note: okay, this is the first thing I’ve written in years, please be kind 😅 I just got a thing for this man now idk…feel free to send in some requests or let me know if you want more to this story? Not sure if it will be a one off or a little series

“Okay, how do I look?” You walk down the hall of your apartment, stopping to pose for Matt so he can give you his stamp of approval. He eyes you up and down, as if he is going to deliver some harsh critique. Your outfit is nothing crazy; jeans, a gray long sleeved bodysuit, black heeled boots, and a small cross body bag. With the New York City weather still chilly out, you figured it would keep you warm along with the alcohol you’d be consuming.

“Beautiful as always. But let’s try and keep the collecting of guys' phone numbers to a minimum tonight huh?” You laughed as you playfully smacked Matt’s arm. Making your way to the fridge to grab your High Noon you’d started sipping on before getting dressed. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous Matthew Rempe.” He shot you a cocky smirk as he leaned on the kitchen island next to you. “Me? Jealous? Never. Because I’m the one in your apartment and not them.” You rolled your eyes as you swallowed down the last bit of seltzer before unplugging your phone from the charger nearby. “Okay Mr. Chauffeur, let’s hit the road.”

You loved having Matt in NYC playing with the Rangers. The two of you had been best friends since you were teenagers, though you’d lost touch a bit once you moved to New York. Matt’s stint in Hartford allowed the chance to slowly reconnect, but having him now with the Rangers was even better. The two of you often spent nights at each other's apartments, going out to dinner, and of course you attended every home game you could to see Matt play.

You’d always had a soft spot for Matt. Sure he was a bit intimidating being practically 7 feet tall, his knuckles cut up or bruised half the time, and a black eye never seeming to catch you off guard anymore. But you’d gotten close enough to see the side of him most people don’t experience. Though you never imagined your relationship being anything more than what it was. Friends, and nothing more than that. But you couldn’t deny the way you had paid attention to how he’d grown into a man. He had outgrown his awkward phase, and you now looked at him and saw him as handsome, not cute or adorable like he was when you were growing up.

You constantly find yourself thinking, what if you weren’t just imagining things? When he spends the night and walks into your room wearing just a towel after a shower. The way he hugs you and lingers longer than just a friend would. The way he takes care of you when you’re drunk. Or nights like tonight, where he’s willing to stay up late to be your designated driver when he’s got an early morning skate and a big game tomorrow night.

Just one day, one day you’d love to kiss him and see what happens. Or flirt a little extra and see if he takes the bait. But you also don’t want to lose your best friend in the process, or be turned down and embarrassed for thinking he’d ever feel that way about you.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Matt asks as he puts a hand on the back of your seat as he looks over his shoulder, backing out of his parking space. It’s such a cliche action, but boy does he look good doing it, and your heart certainly skipped a beat.

“The typical routine. Start at Tucker’s. Then move on to 1989. Then finish-“ “At Coop’s?” Matt smirked as he looked out at the road. One hand on the wheel with the other resting on his thigh. He was literally in jeans and a hoodie yet somehow he looked just as good as he does in a suit on game day. “Either that means I go out too much, or you’re finally starting to pay attention when I tell you things.” “Definitely not paying attention, it’s you going out too much.” He laughed as you playfully punched his arm, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you were a few minutes away.

“So Cooper’s closes at 2:30, but I honestly don’t think I’ll last that long. Especially because someone has a big game tomorrow! And I wanna be well rested. So let’s plan for like 12:30/1? Is that okay?” You looked at Matt a bit apologetic, knowing he’d have to be up early for morning skate. But he was always adamant about driving you, no matter what time it was.

“Of course, you know I’ll be here no matter the time. I’ll plan to be at Coop’s around 12:45. I’ll come in to get you too, it’s gonna be cold and dark out. I don’t want you walking to find me.” You put a hand to his cheek as you make a joking pouty expression. “Aww, such a gentleman Matty.” He smiled at your touch, almost leaning into your hand as he looked back at you, “Anything for you. Now go on, I know the girls are waiting. Text me if you need anything, and I mean anything y/n. I’m not that far of a drive.” You let out a sigh as you undid your seatbelt, “Honestly Matt, nothing to worry about, I’ll be fine.” You blew him an air kiss as you exited the car, heading into the first bar of the night. Matt sat and watched you show your ID to the man at the door, waiting until he saw you get inside safely to drive away.

As promised, Matt arrived at Cooper's around 12:45. He was thankful that you and your friends chose to end your nights at a bar that wasn’t too crazy, but also not too crowded that he might be recognized. Just to be safe he threw on a hat to shield his face as much as he could, though the bar was so dark he doubted anyone would be able to make out his face in the crowd.

He handed his ID to the bouncer before making his way inside. He texted you a simple “I’m here”, you would know his typical meeting place and where to go. You were in the restroom when Matt texted, quickly replying “bathroom, be right out” before you sighed as you stared blankly at the wall. The line in the girls restroom always 100 times longer than it was for the guys.

Matt didn’t mind waiting, he checked some scores on his phone. Assuming that the line was long since girls love to use the buddy system when going to the bathroom. He scanned the crowd and enjoyed people watching, nodding his head and smiling softly as your friends gave him a wave from across the bar. He checked the time again, before glancing over towards the hallway to find you pushing past a crowd of girls to exit the restrooms. He chuckled to himself as he saw the frustration on your face, knowing you probably waited 20 minutes just to pee. He started to walk towards you but fell back as he noticed a guy stop you in your tracks.

“Can I help you?” You looked at the man a bit confused, you’d recognized him from the crowd of people, but hadn’t interacted with him much. He was out with a group of guys for someone’s birthday. You only knew that because they mentioned it to you and your friends at least 30 times. Definitely trying to help the birthday boy get laid. “I noticed you’d left your friends, I thought maybe my shot at getting to buy you a drink was gone.” You chuckled to yourself, why does this have to happen in front of Matthew?

“Oh, yeah, I’m actually on my way out. So, maybe another time. Sorry.” You try to excuse yourself but he moves with you, cutting you off. “Oh come on, one more drink isn’t gonna hurt anyone. Or if you want we could go somewhere else, just the two of us and get a drink.” He had a cocky grin on his face as you looked at him in disgust. He was clearly drunk, and wasn’t keen on taking no for an answer. You looked at Matt standing just a few feet away, a concerned look on his face as he wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Look, I’m not interested, okay?” He scoffed as he seemed to be a bit insulted by your comment. “Not interested, you and your friends were dancing right up against our group all night. I saw the way you were eyeing all of us guys, I’d say you were interested sweet heart.” You gagged at the smell of alcohol on his breath as he got closer to you. “Yeah news flash buddy, it’s a small fucking bar. My option was dancing right next to people or on the bar.”

As you tried walking past him to get to Matt, you felt a tight grip on your wrist pull you back, “That sounds hot, can you put on a show just for me?” His hands attempted to grab more than just your wrists but before you could react Matt was already stepping in, pulling the guy away from you and pinning him to the wall by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her like that.”

You were a bit taken aback at the way Matt stepped in. Sure he’d protected you from dumb drunk guys before, but never like this. His jaw clenched as his grip tightened on the collar of the man’s shirt. “And what the fuck are you gonna do about it huh? What are you her little brother or something? Ain’t no way you’re banging a bitch like that.” Matt’s grip tightened on his collar as he pushed him harder into the wall, “what did you just call her?!” His voice louder, drawing a bit of attention, thankfully none yet from the bouncer.

“A bitch, and what are you gonna do about it?” The drunk dumbass laughed in Matt’s face and you knew this wouldn’t end well.

Before you could step in, Matt’s fist connected with the guy's jaw, causing him to stumble to the floor. Before pulling himself together and running off to the restroom.

“Fuck!”

Matt shook his hand as he winced, immediately realizing he fucked up but his anger got the best of him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. Thank god no one seemed to really notice the altercation that just took place.

The walk to the car was quiet as Matt was still fuming, you simply climbed into the passenger in silence. He gripped the steering wheel tight with his good hand as he peeled out of the parking lot. You sat next to him, studying his face to see when it might be a good time to say something. Blue and purple started to appear across the knuckles on the hand that threw the punch as he let out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

You let out a soft laugh as you rested a hand on his thigh, softly holding his bruised hand, careful not to hurt him. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything wrong? You stepped in as I would’ve hoped you would the second that guy put his hands on me. Don’t be sorry for that!” He seemed to relax at your touch, so you kept your hand on his, slowly brushing your thumb over his skin to attempt to calm him down.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, the two of you heading back to Matt’s apartment since he had to be up early for practice. You kept your eyes on him, studying the look on his face, wishing you were in his head to know what the heck he was thinking. He took your hand in his as you two walked through the quiet parking garage, then headed up the elevator.

You knew your way around his place, first going to his room to grab an oversized t-shirt to throw on before heading to the bathroom to take off your makeup. Matt was sweet enough to go out and buy you your own toiletries to keep at his place. Including your makeup remover and even your 4 step skincare routine.

Matt came to join you in the bathroom as you brushed your teeth. He smiled at the sight of you as he leaned against the wall: your hair in a messy bun, his oversized Seattle Thunderbirds t shirt covering you up enough while still giving him a good view of your legs. “What?” You chuckled as you tried not to choke on the tooth paste threatening to fall from your lips. He just shook his head, “Just glad nothing bad happened to you tonight. I’m glad I was there.” He took your hand, his fingers fiddling with yours, “I just kept thinking what if i wasn’t there, I couldn’t handle it if anything would’ve happened.”

You looked at him in the mirror, relief and exhaustion covered his face. “I’m really glad you were there too, but I really hope we don’t end up with a possible scandal on our hands.” You started laughing as you exited the bathroom, Matthew following suit. “New York Rangers rookie Matthew Rempe gets in a bar fight over a girl.” You spoke in a sarcastic newscaster voice as you made your way to the freezer, grabbing a bag of frozen peas to tend to Matt’s fist bearing the proof of his heroic actions at the bar.

Matt chuckled along with you before wincing at the feeling of the cold bag on his hand, “If it happens, so be it, I was ready to knock that son of a bitch out after what he said to you.” You shot him a glare, “Matthew Rempe. Absolutely not, I am not worth you getting in trouble with the team because of a dumb bar fight.” He walked over to you, now the one shooting you a glare. His arms rested on either side of your waist as he gripped the edge of the counter. “Y/n, yes you fucking are.” You shot him a look as he swiftly picked you up and sat you on the island in front of him. A cocky grin coming across his face at how caught off guard you were, gripping his biceps tight as his hands now moved to rest on your thighs. “I’d fight 20 guys at the bar if they put their hands on you and said shit like that guy tonight.” His tone now more serious, his smirk fading as you two stared at one another for what seemed like an hour. The voice in your head screaming at you, this is your what if moment. Take it or leave it, but it may never come again. What if he’s trying to confess his feelings, what if he’s trying to make a move but he’s too scared. What if you just beat him to the punch. What if-

Before your brain could even rationalize a thought or an action, you felt Matt’s lips crash into yours. His hands cupping your face as yours snaked up his neck to grab a handful of his hair. The kiss like fireworks and a weight being lifted off your shoulders all at once. He began to smile into the kiss, before pulling away with a slight laugh.

“Oh yeah, that’s exactly what every girl wants. The guys she’s been dreaming of kissing to pull away laughing!” You rolled your eyes and frowned at him as a look of shock washed over his face. “Been dreaming of kissing huh??? I knew it!” You immediately turned red, covering your face with your hands, though Matt found it extremely cute.

His hands gripping your thighs before lifting you off the counter, “It’s okay, i get it. I’m sure there’s lots of girls out there who dream of kissing me.” “Matt! Shut up!” You laughed as he carried you down the hall into his room, tossing you on the bed while he finally changed out of his jeans and sweatshirt. “Hey, listen…if you’re interested, maybe we could work something out so that you can be the only girl who gets to kiss me from now on. How does that sound?”

You barely heard him, too busy staring as he stood in just his underwear in front of you. Your eyes tracing every detail of him before his laugh interrupted your thoughts. “Damn, one kiss and all of sudden you’re just head over heels huh?” You pull a pillow over your face out of embarrassment as you feel the bed sink beneath his weight. Matthew now hovering above you as he pulls the pillow away from your face.

He brushed some hair from your face as your fingers play with his chain hanging from his neck, “you really want to kiss me and only me from now on?” You blushed as he shook his head laughing at you, “of course you goof! That’s all I’ve wanted for like the last 5 years, probably even longer!” You felt yourself trying to fight a smile, though you were sure your cheeks were bright red, letting Matt know you liked his response.

He laid next to you as you continued to play with his chain, now resting on his chest. His thumb tracing circles on your thigh as you smiled like a dork to yourself, your heart bursting with excitement that all your what ifs had come true.

“So if I agree to this-“ you say up, trying to pull a serious face as you looked down at him. His hands still glued to your thighs, as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you now. “Do I get a cute custom Rempe jean jacket or something to wear to your games? Like I wanna be decked out and I want people to know that I'm the only girl you’re kissing from now on.” Matt rolled his eyes and laughed at your change of tone, as you babbled on and on about your ‘conditions’ should you agree to this. But he loved the thought of you in a Rempe jacket at his games, getting to see afterwards and kiss you like crazy after a big win, to have you be his biggest fan cheering him on every night. Even though you already were, now it would be more special.

“Listen.”

Matt cut you off as he pulled you into his lap, his hand pulling your face to his as he kissed you. This time the kiss was soft, as he took his time to really take in the feeling of finally getting to kiss you and be this close to you. “If you be my girlfriend, I’ll get you whatever jacket you want, I’ll get you the best seats at the Garden for my games, you name it. Just make me the happiest guy ever and be my girlfriend!” You laughed at how he begged like a little kid who couldn’t contain their excitement.

“Yes-“ you peppered his face with a hundred kisses, “Matthew Rempe, I would absolutely love to be your girlfriend.”

[redsaurrce]

EYE FOR AN EYE

SUMMARY : He loves you to the point he is willing to give up his most precious thing- himself.. and an eye.

PAIRING : Student Jungkook x Fem!Teacher reader

WORD COUNT : 1,814

WARNINGS : YANDERE THEMES, OBSESSION, Gore, mentions of blood, mental illnesses, drugs, kidnapping, manipulation, words of profanity, suggestive, he is down BAD, don't fall for his tricks (you won't right?)

-

"Perfect As!"

"Model student"

"Topper of the school"

"Captain of the soccer team"

"Student council member"

And so on...

Jungkook was it all- for you. Everywhere your eyes laid, he was the perfect student anyone would dream to have in their class.

He was known for being the best and but not for being the bully because he wouldn't let them expose him, not when he almost has fooled you into believing that he was the best boy.. for you.

Well there's no fooling to it perhaps, he indeed is the best boy to ever exist in your life. Any man who'd dare to touch you is dead by the break of dawn, isn't he such a gentleman for protecting you?

Or told his parents (the owners of the school) about you so that you get extra benefits from the school? Isn't that so cool? Who would it do for you? It's none other than him.

Then why did you reject him?

"I am the best in everything, the girls are willing to sell themselves just to have a private talk with me, the teachers try their best to make a good impression on me to gain something, literally everyone wants to be friends with me or wants me and if you're worried of me being younger than you by 5 years ... That's no big deal at all-"

"Stop it Jungkook!" You were angry, "None of this justifies why you've kidnapped me!??And first and foremost, you're such a narcissist - so what if the girls want you? I'm not interested in you the slightest bit, I only ever saw you as a student, nothing more than that. Make a good impression? Why should I?"

"Oh so you're not worried about getting kicked out of school?" He raised his eyebrows.

You scoffed, "I've got more important things to worry about, I don't care about getting kicked out, I already have a list of schools who have offered me better salary than here."

"Then why didn't you leave yet??" He asked you, he was puzzled.

"Why should I tell you? Oh and- what's the meaning of this? First you drug me and bring me to a place I don't know where- how dare you lay a finger on me??!" You clenched your jaw.

"Oh dear oh dear, I care about every single thing related to you, morning, night, anytime of the day I think about you. When I see you- i- I feel so happy. My parents are happy about us Y/N! You are the perfect daughter in law for them, you are smart, brave, kind and bold- i love that personality of yours- i- I love you." He was not joking, you saw him physically shaking from expressing how much he loved you.

He was going insane.

You chuckled, "But I don't like you. You call yourself perfect but in my eyes I've never seen someone as flawed as you."

He started striding towards you and grabbed your chin roughly, "Yeah? I guess I couldn't really hide myself from you then. Then fix me, fix me the way you want me to." His grip on your chin loosens and he leans down, his face coming in the level of yours, "Shape me into the man you want me to be Y/N. I'll do everything you say-"

"Then leave me alone-"

"Shushh!" He placed his index finger on your lips, "Everything except anything that requires you to leave me."

Your eyes were filled with rage, "I will kill you."

"Now, now calm down, you will have plenty of ways to kill me Y/N, afterall getting your hands on my neck is a dream for me." He smirks and leans down to kiss you.

How dare he??!

Just when his lips were about to touch yours, you bumped into him with full power. Little did you know that you had accidentally targeted his left eye.

"BLOOD???" Your eyes went wide.

"AHHH!! YOU- I- I JUST- AAAHHHH" jungkook started screaming in pain.

Did you just make him blind??

"I-- I'm sorry." Tears started to well up in your eyes when you got a flashback of you accidentally throwing a sharp object in your brother's eye making his eye lose eyesight.

It was the left eye.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to do that- if- if you didn't come close to me this wouldn't have happened." You started crying.

"Ambulance - we need to call for an ambulance." You quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed the emergency number.

-

"Are you miss Choi Y/N?" You looked up at the source of the voice.

"We are from the police and we have received a police report against you." You looked at the pair and stood up from the chair you were sitting on outside the operation theatre.

"What kind of report?" You frowned.

One of them sighed and said, "For attacking one your students - Jeon Jungkook."

"What??"

"Did you attack him or not?" He asked firmly.

You shook your head, "It was self defence."

"Self defence you say?" He raised his right eyebrow, "I don't see any signs of violence on you?"

Your eyelids flickered, "I- I was drugged and taken to his place then he threatened to get intimate with me so I bumped my head in his face in self defence!"

"You were drugged?" He clicked his tongue and continued, "How about we run a drug test to confirm your statement?"

You nodded, "yes please."

...

After half a day of spending in anxiousness the police came back. "Miss Choi... rather than your blood, we found a drug in the victim's blood. How would you explain that?"

You were confused beyond anything, "H-how is that possible??"

"And we found those drugs in your possession."

"Bullshit!" You protested, unable to decipher wtf was going on.

Just when the police were about to take you away, someone screamed.

"Halt! I am Jungkook's mother and Y/N's mother-in-law. How dare you take her away? They only had a quarrel normal couples would have, my son got hurt in the process by mistake. About the drug, my son has some psychic problems and the doctor has recommended it. If my daughter-in-law wouldn't carry it for her husband then who will?? Do you want me to show you the prescriptions or what?"

What in the world was going on?? What is that lady saying? Mother-in-law? What? All of this was too much for you to take in so you fainted out of sheer stress.

---

You slowly open your eyes and let the light wake you up. You whimpered as you tried to get up only to find Jungkook sitting beside your bed on a tool with his head rested on the bed. He was sleeping peacefully with bandages on his left eye- suddenly everything that happened that day started to hit you.

"oh you're awake- thank god!" He woke up at the creaking sound with his eyes going wide.

You looked at him, "what- what about your eye?"

"oh right, I've already consulted with a doctor in the States, he said that my eyes will get better with an operation that'll cost millions of dollars but.... I'll be fine. " he smiled.

Did he just say millions of dollars???

"Ah and don't worry about my mother's gibberish, she did so to protect you. Right! Talking about my mother- your mother and brother came to see you yesterday.. you were out for three days you know?" He said with a worried face.

"They came?" You asked with wide eyes. You thought they'd hate you for what you did to your brother but it seems like you can still redeem yourself.. right? But how?

"I also noticed your brother had a left eye injury?"

"Oh uhm yeah he has." You gulped feeling extremely ashamed and guilty of yourself.

You felt like a curse to anyone who came close to you. You felt awful.

"You see, the offer is still there.. I can help you with your brother's eye operation too." He said with doe eye.

Your eyes sparkled up, "You will?? Then- then I promise I'll repay you with my hardwork-"

He laughed, "Y/N we're talking about millions of dollars here, even if you work your ass off for seven more lives, you cannot pay me back.. especially with a job like that.

You hated how he was right but even if there was slightest bit of a way-

"Marry me. And as a husband it'll be my duty to pay for my wife's brother." He placed forth his end of negotiation.

You gulped, "Why do you even like me? Why did your mother go to such lengths to save me? What have I even done for you to forgive me for hurting you like this but still want to marry me?"

"You see right through me Y/N. Remember how you were the only teacher who stood up for the corruption going inside the school, my father liked you since then.

Then when i was falling behind in academics- you gave me your attention when no other teacher did because they enjoyed seeing me crumble, they think I have a superiority complex so they wanted to see me go down."

"i did that as a teacher." You spoke.

"I dont care. I love you, Y/N. I like your boldness, your kindness, your smartness, everything of yours- I love it." I'm obsessed with it.

You sighed, is this how your life was going to be? You let out a deep breath, "Fine. Let's get married. You said you'll help with my brother's operation right?"

He instantly smiled so wide he hugged you at once, "Thankyou, thankyou so much Y/N, thankyou so much." He spoke through your hair and was shaking through the hug, you held him back to calm him down and he held on to you tighter.

You were kind, smart and bold but sometimes you can be dumb too.

Jungkook smirked.

He staged all of this to get you, how naïve were you. You couldn't tell how it was suspicious for your head to hit his eye to create that extreme damage.

He had injured his eye himself while moving forward with force when he saw your head was about to collide.

He predicted your every next move, as much as you could see through him, he wanted to see through you.

He used your trauma with your brother to get you, you can be dumb sometimes too.. right?

And he was ready to sacrifice everything for you, starting with his eye.

--

Ahhh welcome back after a long time babies 😩💗💗

[farmerstarter]

Hi!! Could you do Sam HCs? It can be literally anything. I just love him so much :)

ʚ🛹ɞ ˚ · . Random Sam Headcanons

Tags: Sam from SDV x gn! reader

Hi! I'm so sorry for the super super super late response. Life has been pretty busy for the past few months and I haven't had the time to get on Tumblr. But, I'm slowly coming back to it! Anyway, likes and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy, loves! 🌷🫶

🎸 He was absolutely thrilled when you asked him to teach you how to skateboard. He immediately came knocking on your door the first thing in the morning the day after you brought it up, carrying his skateboard and some gear. You two spent the whole day going over the basics, with Sam holding your hands and trying not to laugh when you would scream over the tiniest things (“I’m going to die, Sam!” “It’s just a pebble!”). A cute add-on: Vincent and your pet would tag along sometimes, and they took it upon themselves to be your personal cheerleaders. After some time and a few bumps and bruises, you and Sam would often skateboard all around the town, trying to impress each other with tricks. Sam has your name etched on his skateboard, and you have his name on yours.

🎸 Personal HC where Sam and Vincent stumbled inside the fruit bat cave while they were visiting. Sam got bit by a bat, nothing too serious. Vincent is horrified, and Sam decided to mess with him by pretending to be a vampire. Suspiciously, you find yourself missing a jar of your homemade jam. Turns out, Sam “borrowed” it (And by that, I mean he scribbled a little note on the place where your jam used to be), and covered it all over his face pretending it’s blood. He got a big scolding from Jodi right after though.

🎸 Sam and Krobus friendship, Sam and Krobus friendship, Sam and Krobus friendship! It all started when Sam looked into the sewer to show Vincent that no, there is no monster in the sewage canal. He was soon face to face with a shadow man and it was over. Krobus has a knack for beating the hard levels on Sam's video game and their friendship budded from there. Sometimes, Sam would disguise Krobus with his clothes so they can watch movies in the cinema together. You found out about them when you walked in on Sam trying to teach Krobus how to play the drums in the greenhouse.

🎸 Sam asked Jodi to teach him how to bake after he had the bright idea to ask you out on a picnic when you two started dating. It all started when Penny showed him those fancy little cakes that she ordered from Zuzu City as a treat for Vincent after the kid passed his math exam. Penny mentioned how you saw those cakes when she bumped into you by the bus stop and thought they were cute. Cue a light bulb in Sam’s head. Sam’s not the best cook, but he’s got the enthusiasm. He ended up with a lopsided two-tier cake with a little blob of fondant on top of it (Vincent’s lips pursed, “What’s with the brown rock?” Sam sputtered while Jodi’s laughter chittered in the air close by. “It’s a chicken!”). Sam would make up for it years later when he would remake the same cake for your wedding anniversary.

🎸 Sam would randomly call you in the middle of a rainy day and just play guitar riffs. No words exchanged. When he’s done, he will just hang up.

🎸 Sam gives you pretty seashells that he and Vincent dig up on the beach (sometimes with a little help from Elliott and Willy) instead of flower bouquets. He doesn’t want to risk sneezing all over you when the pollen would inevitably make his nose red.

🎸 Sam had a whole phase of wearing a cowboy hat when he’s working on the farm for the first few months.

[elsecrytt]

Your Heart is Spilling out, Babe

Pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader

Summary: You and Satoru are friends with benefits. No feelings, that was the agreement from the start. Neither of you want anything more. Even if you did, it wouldn’t work out, anyways. Not that you care if it would.

Tags: fwb, smut, angst, YEARNING, requited unrequited feelings (or ARE they) but jk it’s totally no feelings, commitment/abandonment issues, not that it matters because you totally don’t have feelings anyways

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” He asks, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

A hum. “Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

“What a coincidence,” he lays down next to you, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

You don’t say anything more, eyes already closed.

Satoru’s arm presses your form against his, just barely.

When he wakes up, you’re still laying there beside him, unmoving.

He leaves.

At first, Satoru tries to tell himself it’s a happy coincidence.

After all, isn’t it? His problem has always been the women (and men) who give him a certain kind of look before he gets up to leave.

The ones who text him back first, who read everything instantly, who always want to meet up again. The ones who always, inevitably, start to want something more.

Like him giving them the fuck of a lifetime with someone who could be a real-life supermodel and happens to be the greatest sorcerer on earth wasn’t enough. Granted, they don’t know about the sorcerer thing, but still!

It always turns out like this:

Things are good for a while. Sex is good, he gets attention when he texts them, they both understand this is totally casual, no commitment.

Sometimes he even brings up another hookup he’s going to, just to drive the point home, and he cheers them on when they’re getting some somewhere else, too.

(He’s got no reason to be insecure, after all. He would be anyone’s first choice.)

From there, he can admit some of it is his fault. It’s hard, being as irresistible as he is. Being so devastatingly good-looking and even better in bed.

Having so much humor and personality in his amazing texts (never mind that most of them just react with an emoji or a short haha or an unrelated compliment – he drinks it all up just the same).

They start to text him first, which is impressive, considering what a spammer he is. He likes to text them to fill his time, to talk to someone, have his notifications filled with messages of people who want him.

So what if it’s an ego boost? Isn’t that what they’re using him for, too?

But when they start texting him themselves, when they return his style of badgering, it’s not random and rambling. It’s affectionate, personal. They’ve gotten attached, and they want him to be, too.

It’s all nonsense like Saw this and thought of you, and You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and I want to meet up again soon.

He has to stop spamming with memes or selfies or random observations throughout his day, stop talking about shops or cafes he’d like to visit. Sometimes he has to mute their notifications, because when he spams other people, they feel comfortable spamming him.

And then it’s just a matter of how long he spends lying to himself. Because as much of an ass as he is, it’s cruel to let them get attached to him when he can’t really open up entirely. When he doesn’t want anything serious.

In fairness, he had told them from the start. He usually breaks it off only after a few days. He always sends them a message and just blocks them – it’s cleaner that way.

Answering any desperate Please, we can still be friends or No, let’s just hook up again, would give them hope for things he can’t give them.

But you?

You text him You’re the most annoying man I’ve ever met, and leave him on read for two days.

Satoru thinks he’s in love.

Not literally, of course, but in love with the relationship he has with you, which is perfect.

Everything about it is perfect, except for that it’s not going on all the time.

You respond to his memes with your own. Chat with him about cafes and desserts and even keep a handful at your home to treat him with. You text him cat pictures, sometimes return selfies if he’s lucky.

Usually he gets those when he sends the thirst pics, sitting there with a grin that scares Ichiji, absolutely giddy as he watches you type, stop typing – he knows you’re looking for something special to send him back.

It’s surprising, how well he just knows things about you. Maybe that was to be expected, though, with your chemistry.

Sex with you is like nothing he’s ever felt before.

You have this way of tensing up, expression shifting as you’re right about to cum – he thinks by now he’s conditioned by it, that just seeing you make that face could get him over the edge.

He’s fucked hot people before but no one like you. Seeing the same clothes from your cute little selfies slip off, it’s like unwrapping a present he can’t wait to eat up. Makes him salivate like a box of chocolates, like the one truffle package you got one time and made him eat on his knees with his head in your lap, out of your hands.

Fucking you is one of his favorite things ever, right up there with kikufuku and making fun of his coworkers (and students!). You’re a beautiful bend of reactive and pliant, so fun to tease and edge and so rewarding to please.

God, fuck, he wants you. He wants you all the time. All his other hookups are silenced in favor of you, boring conversations abandoned in favor of debating tiramisu and tres leches, and all other sorts of inane things.

What your favorite school subjects are, oddly enough (he supposes he was asking for it, telling you he taught high schoolers).

You like literature, he likes math, and when he hears you talk about it, he almost wants to read some of those novels you like so much. Non-sorcerer politics has never meant anything to him but it matters when he hears you talk about it.

It’s like hearing about a whole separate world with its own struggles. Your opinions are so well-thought out, he can tell just how much you care, and something hums along aside him as he asks questions, nods his head, really listens to what you have to say. It feels so surreal to hear someone whose goals are not so unlike his, when he thinks about it.

Maybe that’s where some of this fondness comes from. Maybe it’s humbling, thinking you want to change your world just as much as he wants to change his, and the only difference is how much people listen.

He can’t imagine not wanting to listen to you. People should listen more. You should run everything, he jokes.

(He’s joking. He’s joking. You don’t know enough to get why he says that twice.)

And then it’s not serious again – when was it ever, really? You talk about your favorite manga and anime and tease each other for your tastes. Maybe talk about episodes or movies you’ve seen together.

He’s admittedly a bit of a movie buff – it’s a real victory when he convinces you to watch one of his old favorites. When he finds out you watched it, he’s excited the whole day to hear what you thought.

You debate what animals you would be; you are definitely a cat – aloof and independent – and you’re quite insistent that he’d be a husky, energetic and annoying and – probably other words you say before he sends you a picture of his dick and you facetime him with some more interesting conversation.

Your days – weeks, months, really – they go on like that, they’re great. Everything is perfect, really.

So when he hears you casually mention you’ve got other dinner plans – when his mind instantly supplies we’re just casual, tease her and hope she gets lucky – the wretched, dark twist in his gut is wholly unexpected.

And he knows instantly. Immediately, really, because he’s just too smart not to.

He knows he doesn’t want you going out with other people. Touching them. Showing them the same faces you show him.

But if he wants you to be his, then he has to ask. And you – you make him wait to hear back.

You never reach out to him first. You open the door with a cool expression, like your heart doesn’t race at the sight of him like his does (he can see it is, he can see it, but his soul is withering at your look like you couldn’t care less).

Satoru doesn’t usually have to ask, not for anything.

People beg to be able to fuck him. They spam when he ghosts them, begging for scraps. He doesn’t have to ask for attention, people shower him in it.

Everyone wants him. They love him. They don’t abandon him along with all their morals and tell him to kill them if he doesn’t like it.

They beg him to stay, and he is the one who leaves.

He’s too much for them. Too much for anyone. You wouldn’t be able to hand him, anyways.

And he can leave any time he wants, he just… doesn’t want to.

(He never wants to leave. He wants it to stay like this, forever. But when does it ever turn out like that?)

Besides, you’re – you also want it to stay casual. Like he told you from the beginning. Probably trying to save your feelings from getting hurt – and can he blame you? Really, with his looks, anyone would be scared to lose him.

So this was just… a happy coincidence. You didn’t want it serious, he didn’t want it, either.

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

Satoru’s lip twitches, but it doesn’t manage a smile. It almost feels like you’re kicking him out.

But he knows you’re not, because even if you were the one person on earth who could resist his irresistible charm, he just gave you some absolutely mind-blowing sex.

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” Satoru teases, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

He says it playfully, casually, because it is casual. It wouldn’t bother him if you told him to fuck off right then and there. It wouldn’t.

You hum noncommittally. “Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

If he’s relieved that he can stay, it’s because he’s as exhausted as you are. Because you make him feel good, so fucking good, like he’s on top of the world. Having to leave would just be a mood killer.

“What a coincidence,” He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

He is not and never has been. He sleeps three hours a night wakes up by 5am.

It’s never bothered him before. His dreams are not a place he wants to be. But they’ve never hurt him when you were there.

He wraps an arm around you, holding you against him, just barely. Not too tight.

You don’t say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.

When he wakes, you’re still laying there beside him, unmoving.

The thing is, you’re awake. He knows that. You’re a light sleeper. Always have been.

He knows you hate morning showers yourself, and always do it at night. Knows what you like for breakfast, how to make it. That you like to sleep in because you have trouble sleeping.

He knows what you think about late at night because you text him about it, because he’s always there texting you, because neither of you can sleep and someone ends up calling and whispering secret scattered thoughts in hushed tones and –

And he honestly doesn’t know, if it’s you or him that slips in the I want to touch you right now, or Want me to kiss it better. Who turns it into sex so things can’t get to be too much.

Satoru would really, really like to think that it’s him, but the truth is that he’s reaching the limit of how believable his lies are, even to himself.

He knows, he knows he knows he knows that if he stayed, you would let him –

(If he repeats it enough it will surely become true.)

– but you both agreed no feelings.

Besides, it’s not like he wants to stay, anyways.

(Why won’t you ask him to come back?)

You know what Satoru is the moment you meet him. It’s not like he’s made any secret of it, either.

A whore. A man-whore, if you will. A player. Whatever it is. He slept with people, drank in all the sex and attention and then went on his merry way.

You get it. This wasn’t the first time you’d met a pretty boy who fucked around, not by a long shot.

He says all casual, no feelings, you smile and nod, and you go back to his place fully expecting to be disappointed because pretty boys usually suck in bed.

And then he fucks you within an inch of your life.

He eats you like a man staved. Hands roving over your skin, groping and squeezing in a way that would be violating, if his beautiful eyes weren’t wild and desperate.

His body is toned and smooth and perfect, unmarred skin that he presses to yours like he’s trying to staunch the bleeding of some invisible wound.

You’ve never felt like this before. Sex has never been this amazing. He props his stupid pretty face up on his elbow and he gives you that stupid charming boyish smirk and asks you if you want to go another round, red-faced and eager. It’s overwhelming and exciting and amazing –

And it’s terrifying, because it’s always like this for him, isn’t it? He just came in and gave you the fuck of a lifetime, but this is just another lay for him.

(But he’s having fun. It’s good for him, too. So why don’t you take what you can get?)

So when he saves his number in your phone, That was awesome, babe, we should do this again sometime, you don’t put a lot of weight into his words. You roll his eyes when he blows you a kiss goodbye, but you don’t delete his number.

Even when he wakes you up with some silly cat meme (god, you hate morning people), somehow you find yourself smiling. You let him know he can get his dick sucked any time if he meows cute enough and woah, maybe you’re coming on too strong –

He sends you an attachment of himself wearing cat ears, striking an obnoxious pose, with a fake tail that he holds by the end in his mouth.

Satoru Gojo, that’s the name. And you do suck his dick, like you promised, but he comes to you determined to get in character, meowing at you, pressing his face into your hands, rubbing into your side, nuzzling your panties while he looks up into your face with a smirk.

It’s a fight to get him on his back and his legs open wide enough for you to settle in. He meows again like a kitty, and purrs like one too when you take his cock into your mouth, hands threading through your hair. Giggling at his own antics.

Your eyes water when you take him, deep, moaning and feeling him shudder at the feeling, long legs squirming on either side of you. He pulls away suddenly, with a pop, laughing when his dick hits the side of your face and you glare at him. Sticking out his tongue.

He looks so young. So heartbreakingly sweet and charming. He pulls you in to settle you on his cock, face-to-face this time, his smile melting into something soft and tacky, sticking to your lips as he kisses his precum away. Infectious delight.

Satoru holds your hands in his, palm to palm, as you ride him in his lap. Face tilted up to look at you with a blush on his cheeks. Blue eyes wide like they have to be, to take you in, as if they aren’t themselves oceans you have to stop yourself from falling into.

You can’t look into his eyes when you cum, when he cums. You’re not sure if he’s looking either.

But you feel him, oh, do you feel him – hands squeezing yours as if in warning, face buried into your neck, a moan that vibrates throughout the both of you.

When you wake up, the next morning, you don’t even mind the fact that he’s still next to you, cuddled up, right beside you. You don’t mind, until you feel him stiffen suddenly, like he’s realized you’re awake, immediately pulling away.

That’s… you’re not sure what it is, since cuddling was obviously okay, so why does he not want to do it while you’re awake? It is too close? Too intimate?

He’d held your hands while he stared deep into your eyes and rocked gently into you last night, but cuddling would be too intimate?

But he smiles that smile before he leaves, stumbling a little bit while he gets dressed, in that goofy way that lanky tall men sometimes do. You even overlook the fact that he’s renamed himself in your contacts. ~ Satoru ~ My Kitten.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid (you’re smiling already), unbearable man. You want to hit him in the face, with your face. Very hard.

Casually, of course. It’s casual between you. No feelings at all.

But then he starts texting you all the time. He double, triple, quadruple texts, with the infuriating shamelessness of someone who’s never been ignored in his life.

Like he’s never worried that the other person is losing interest. He carries himself like it, too, like he knows everyone wants him, and unfortunately, he’s right.

So you tell him he’s annoying and you don’t look at your phone again. Not until he shows up on your doorstep with that pout on his impossibly pretty face.

And you don’t turn him away. Why would you? If he’s going to offer himself on a platter, why not eat up?

You’re just being realistic here. If you fucked him once and never heard from it again, it would still hurt almost as much as it will now. You’ll just be a little lonelier without your texting partner, but you’ll get over it.

There’s other fish in the sea. Even if none of them are as pretty as him, none of them make them laugh like you do. You’re not exclusive. He can see other people, so can you. You’ve made it a point not to ask.

You don’t like what he’s doing now. How he pauses long, makes you wait before telling you to have fun on your date.

How the next time you see him there’s something strange in his eyes, something that leaves him with clawing hands, hungry mouth, eager to leave his marks all over you.

Satoru doesn’t stop texting you, doesn’t stop selfies, thirst traps, prodding little questions and jokes, doesn’t stop obnoxiously demanding (begging?) for your attention.

At first it was an ego boost. Now, it’s terrifying.

Because now he likes you, doesn’t he? He’s interested now. Having fun. Making you feel like he’s jealous, acting like he’s on withdrawal if he goes too long without you, making you feel like someone as beautiful and rich and funny as him could possibly be in love with you.

But he told you in the beginning. Something casual.

Maybe these feelings are real in the moment. But one day they’ll fade, and everything will be yanked right out from under you.

You’ll wonder why he’s getting distant these days. You’ll remember that you never made it official, and sweat over the possibility that he’s seeing someone else. At the end of the day that’s all you’ll be able to do; worry and worry while you’re too afraid to ask.

You’ll wonder what you did wrong. What you did to lose him. How you could go from someone so fascinating, someone he so thoroughly adored and fucked like he was making love, to an afterthought and a stranger, unless you did something wrong? Unless you made a mistake, somewhere along the line?

The mistake of getting attached to him in the first place.

Fuck that. Satoru can develop feelings on his own fucking time. He’ll lose them just as quickly, you can tell.

This isn’t anything more than a hookup to him. He’s an attention whore who likes to hear himself talk, and you’re dumb enough to entertain him because you’re lonely and easily amused, at least when it comes to him.

There’s nothing real here.

You still don’t know where he actually works, outside of some nebulous high school teaching situation. Where he lives. What he does most of the day, what his parents are like. Where he’s from, even. You don’t know if he’s seeing anyone else. He could be married with kids, for all you know.

Not – not that you care. Not that you give a fuck what he’s doing, who he’s fucking, where he is when he’s not with you. You don’t care about him past his dick and what it does to you.

If you did care, you’d only suffer for it. So you draw the line.

You don’t need him, and you want to keep it that way. You don’t want to get attached, and neither does he. So you try to keep him at arm’s length.

Close enough to touch but not so close that your foolish, eager heart can leap out of your chest and into his hands.

Would he still give you that boyish grin when he rejected you? Laugh and let you down gently? Would he say yes and hold your hand while you walked together to the guillotine, the painful end to a relationship that wasn’t supposed to happen anyways? Would he skip away while your heart seized and trembled on the executioner’s block?

He’d look pretty even with blood on his face, you’re sure. But you wouldn’t come out so nicely.

So you don’t ask him to stay. You don’t ask him for anything. You take what you’re given and you savor it, but you try – oh, god, do you fucking try – to find someone else, something else to occupy your time.

But he’s just too good. You want him. And you don’t get to have him if you ignore his texts and don’t answer when he’s at the door. You don’t get to fuck him if you won’t even let him see you.

So even if you look away, even if your answers are short, even if you don’t let him stay (not that he even wants to) – you have to let him in.

And unlike you, he’s got self-respect. He’s got other options. If he can’t have you, he’ll just fuck other people, so you can’t push him away too much. You have to make him want to come back. You have to make him want to give you more.

But you can’t control what Satoru wants, and that is the problem.

It’s out of your hands, locked securely in his ribcage where you can never get to it.

He doesn’t talk about his life, his history, doesn’t even complain about work during off hours.

Really, it’s already over, isn’t it? Has been, ever since the beginning. You’re just waiting for the inevitable end.

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight.” You say, tired. So tired, and warm. Satoru always leaves you like this; loose-limbed and floaty, high enough to feel the drop. “You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” Satoru asks, teasing, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

You close your eyes, trying not to think of what his face must look like.

“Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

“What a coincidence,” He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

Satoru’s arm around your form presses you against him, just barely. Not too close. Never too close.

You don’t say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.

You can feel it when he wakes up. How his breathing changes, how he stiffens and tenses against you, you tumble out of sleep instantly, lashes fluttering.

You shut them closed again. Relax yourself. You don’t have to get up. You don’t want to get up.

Why isn’t he leaving yet? What’s taking him so long?

There’s this tension that creeps into your chest. Like you can feel each individual breath he takes. Waiting for him to say something, shake you awake – but why would he? And why would you want him to?

You know what this is. You’ve always known.

So you lay there, still, breathing calm and even, until he leaves.

(…Come back. Please come back.)

[mixtape-racha]

like a virgin | choi soobin

you'd been together for so long, so why did soobin feel like an overwhelmed virgin every time he fucked you? // 18+, minors dni

words: 1.20k // warnings: dom!soobin, size difference, reader is described as short and petite, reader gets called "bunny", oral (m. receiving), horse cock soobin agenda

a/n: based on this request by 🎡 anon!! i hope you enjoy! ♡

choi soobin was many things, but inexperienced was not one of them. it seemed everyone and their mother - sometimes quite literally - wanted nothing more than to cum on the cock of the nerd of a man down the street, and it truly did wonders for his confidence and abilities in bed.

so by the time he met you, juniors in college, both ancient greek history majors, he was well aware that he could ravish anyone who wanted it in bed. he just wasn’t expecting that anyone to be you. you, with your pretty face, and charming disposition. you, who - despite your protests and detest for the word - was “popular” on campus; friends with almost all cliques, never sticking to one social class or friendship group. you, y/n l/n.

when you approached him at a party, slightly buzzed, face flushed and a beer in hand, he was surprised to say the least. but that was nothing compared to how he felt when you told him you wanted him, wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anything. and not just in bed - oh no - you wanted all of him. the lazy mornings after a party, the impromptu dates because your class got canceled, the late-night coffee runs when you were studying for finals. it took all the alcohol in your system to gain the courage to come up to him and ask him on a date, but he was so, so thankful you did.

soon after, you started officially dating. soobin was over the moon to have bagged someone as perfect as you, and you were just thrilled that he actually liked you back, too. it was just a bonus that the sex was amazing, too. the first time you saw soobin’s cock, you eyes nearly bulged out of your head in shock. he was huge, and you were in absolute disbelief. you even had to take a moment to express your concerns to him that he would fit inside of you, which he just chuckled at - and soon proved you wrong. he had you creaming on his cock, drooling and eyes rolling back within minutes.

it was pretty much from that moment that an innate feeling woke deep within soobin. seeing your struggle to take him had him throbbing, and it even developed to the point that he’d get hard whenever someone mentioned your height difference. being a foot taller than you, and just so much bigger in every way, send him on a complete power trip. 

most of all, you loved watching how he fell apart when you sucked him off. something about him towering over you while you were on your knees had you dripping, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt.

he was sitting on the couch watching a shitty tv show that you didn’t understand how he found funny when you got bored, moving from your spot curled under his arms. he was confused, reaching out for you when you got up, his perfect lips forming a pout that almost had you going straight back to him. but instead you grabbed a cushion, placing it on the floor before nestling yourself between his legs. soobin had a habit of manspreading, so that gave you ample opportunity to seat yourself and rest your head on his plush thigh.

he honestly didn’t even question it, just resting a hand on your head and fussing with your hair occasionally. he was used to you putting yourself in odd positions for comfort, and just assumed the couch was hurting your back or something. of course, that soon changed when you swiveled around, facing him and looking up at him with those big doe eyes he loved.

“you okay down there, pretty?” he asked softly, eyes flitting between you and the tv screen which caused you to whine softly. “oh, you need attention, yeah? got yourself all comfy down there hoping i’d give you what you want?”

you nodded, the fabric of his jeans providing a strange comfort on your skin, and he grinned, eyes crinkling slightly. he thought you were so adorable, his perfect little bunny. and how could he deny you what you so desperately wanted? with a slight nod of his head and a tap of his thigh, you almost became rabid with the way you began clawing at his jeans, desperate to pull them down.

he was already half hard in his boxers just at your enthusiasm, hissing with his lip tucked between his lips as you pulled him out of his confines, too overwhelmed to even pull his jeans or boxers off properly.

you were always surprised by how big soobin really was, even half-hard. maybe caught off guard was better, but nonetheless it always made you wonder if you could fit him in any of your holes - although, clearly you could. you couldn’t help the way you licked your lips, wanting nothing more than for him to stuff himself in your throat, but you knew he’d make you work for that. so you settled for kitten licking the tip while looking up at him to watch his reaction.

he hissed at the contact, hips itching to buck up at the way you looked so at home between his legs. as much as he wanted to tell you to stop, to give you a night purely filled with your pleasure in mind only, he knew that you enjoyed giving head almost as much as - if not more - he enjoyed getting it.

you were quick to take as much of him as you could into your mouth, stretching your jaw as much as you could to fit around his impressive girth. he let out a low groan, head lolling back on the couch as you swallowed around him, wrapping your hands around the second half of his length that you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

you looked so small and delicate below him that soobin couldn’t help but wrap his fingers through your hair, guiding your head up and down his length. it took everything in him to not buck up into your mouth, not wanting to make you choke - even though it would be so fucking hot.

“fuck angel, feel like i’m gonna hit your lungs if im not careful.” he moaned, the idea making your eyes roll to the back of your head as you began grinding on the pillow below you, needing any form of release you could get. it felt like you had no more room in your throat, soobin’s cock taking up any space available. you hummed softly, the vibrations making his hips buck involuntarily, which in turn made you gag around him. he was quick to pull his length from your mouth, looking down at you in concern even when you whimpered and tried to go back.

“oh, come here, pretty,” he cooed, lifting you onto his lap, which you happily accepted. you straddled yourself on his thick thigh, instantly rocking your hips just like how you were on the pillow. he was so enamored with you, and he knew if he didn’t have you creaming on his cock in the next 5 minutes he might go insane.

“let me fuck you dumb, yeah?”

taglist: join taglist here @pretty-racha @demetrisscarf @bangtancultsposts @watariisbestboy

[muniimyg]

7: the yes or no // series m.list

note: most patient reader award goes to u !!! 🥹 literally from my car accident to my month long trip to these past adjustments weeks ,, it’s been an absolute pleasure for me to write and conclude this couple (they have 1 drabble left before full completion) otherwise thank u all for ur love n support w this fic ,, mwah 🤍

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

"J-Jungkook? Wha—”

“Sorry,” Hobi rushes from his car to Jungkook’s side, steadying his poor balance and looking at you with pleading eyes. “I texted and called you, but you didn’t answer—I had no choice.”

“It’s 2AM,” you point out, opening your arms for Jungkook, who crashes into you quickly. You wrap your arms around him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His cheeks are warm against your skin. He breathes you in, completely immersed in your scent. He murmurs your name, and you hush him, “I’m here. You okay, Jungkook?”

Jungkook hums in response.

In disbelief, you feel a bit stressed with this whole situation. Here you are: standing outside your apartment in pajamas and bunny slippers, holding a very drunk Jungkook. It’s a starless night, with only the lamp posts and your bedroom window light on. Despite the dim light, you see Jungkook as if he were daylight.

Before you can get more context, Jungkook suddenly coughs. You pat his back to ease it. When his coughing fit settles, you turn to Hobi. “What happened?”

Hobi gives you an ‘are-you-kidding-me’ look. Hurriedly, he takes out his keys and locks his car, turning back to you with a rather pissed-off expression. “Hmmm… I’m not too sure… Let’s ask your boyfriend-not-boyfriend, shall we?”

“Hobi…”

“He was trying to leave,” Hobi sighs, running a hand through his hair. He recalls what happened perfectly, having sobered up a while ago. “I told him to stay, but he wanted to go home and sleep so he could come over first thing in the morning. He said you two were going to work things out and end the yes-or-no bullshit. So, we celebrated, and… he was really happy, ___. I didn’t want to ruin that for him. I mean, how could I?”

“Yeah, okay... But Hobi, he can barely stand up—”

“What was I supposed to do?” Hobi cries, frustrated. “He refused to go home unless we came to you first. Trust me, I drove him home and did three rounds around your neighbourhood to get him to fall asleep or throw up—he didn’t care. The minute he saw your apartment, he got out of the car. He wants you, and he’s so stubborn—seriously, ___… What was I supposed to do?”

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry,” you apologize gently. Hobi takes it as a sign to take a breath. He does so, and you watch his expression relax. “It’s been a long night for you. You did everything just fine; this wasn’t in your control. I’m sorry you got roped into this.”

Hobi shakes his head. “N-no, sorry about that. I just… God, he’s so in love with you it pisses me off. He’s already just as annoying as they come, but now it’s like triple when he’s lovesick like this… And you… You’re one of my favourites in this life. I wasn’t stuck in the middle or anything, but I also hate watching things fall apart between you two—”

“Nothing is falling apart,” you console him. “Only felt like it ‘cause he’s dramatic.”

For the first time throughout this stressful night, Hobi cracks a smile and lets out a tired laugh.

“You two are gonna end up together, right?”

His question catches you off guard.

As you hold Jungkook, you search for words but are at a loss. There aren’t enough words to make an excuse. There aren’t enough words to confess either. So, you stand there and hold Jungkook tighter. Hobi notices and smiles softly.

“Good.” … Is all he says.

It’s all he has to say.

This time, a light laugh escapes your lips as you realize how ridiculous all of this is at 2AM. Hobi doesn’t know why, but he joins your laughter.

With that, a moment passes, and it feels light between you two. Not that it was ever heavy or tense, but it finally felt okay. Over the past few days of you avoiding Jungkook, Hobi tried to understand you and Jungkook’s lifeless mannerisms. It confused Hobi. You’re a great person—one of the best—but he had never seen love captivate Jungkook like this. Ultimately, Hobi was torn… But he did his best and supported you both.

At the end of the day, he wasn’t responsible for your relationship with Jungkook. He wanted you two to be together (which is why he brought up the fact that he had a crush on you in the first place), but he wanted it to happen naturally. He roots for you two, and despite all the shenanigans, he was glad to be here.

“You okay with that parking spot?"

Hobi nods, snapping out of his thoughts. “Yeah. I mean, maybe we should get going… It’s late, and he got what he wanted. We’ll head home—”

“Sleep here,” you command. There’s no way you’re letting Hobi drive tipsy and emotionally exhausted. He genuinely looks like he’s been through it, and Jungkook is in no state to walk more than the last three steps he took towards you. “I’ll set up a bed for you and Jungkook in the living room.”

Hobi accepts, surrendering to his exhaustion.

“Can you—”

“Yeah, I got it,” Hobi reaches out as you pull away from Jungkook. Thankfully, Jungkook doesn’t stumble or put up a fight. As you part from his body, you take a good look at him. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes flutter closed. They’re a little puffy, making you wonder if he cried along the way. You hate that he probably did. Then, you notice his slumpy posture. He can’t even stand up straight, and something about him practically collapsing into your arms tugs at your heartstrings more than you could have ever imagined.

Hobi remembers he has extra clothes in his car. He usually keeps them there for party nights when he doesn’t make it home. Quickly excusing himself, he leaves Jungkook to fall asleep on your couch. When he comes back up, he asks if he can use your shower and changes.

As Hobi does that, you rush to set up his bed on the floor. When you finish, you lift Jungkook’s head to place a pillow underneath. As he stirs in his sleep, you adjust his body so he lies on his side in case he throws up. His body follows but feels a little too warm for your liking.

“Jungkook?” you attempt to wake him up. “Can you lift your arms? You’re sweating too much.”

“Hmmm?” he coos. “___?”

You push his hair back and watch as his eyes flicker open. “Y-yeah. It’s me. Come on, bebu. Let’s take your shirt off—”

Jungkook giggles.

“Ohh,” he smirks sleepily, “you want me so bad, huh?”

You gulp. “Mhmm.. Come on, bebu. Lift your arms for me—”

“Say it first.”

You freeze.

Jungkook groans, hating the pause. “I t-thought we were done fighting? Come on, bebu. Say it. Say it, please. Say—”

“Want you so bad, Jungkook,” you interrupt him. “I want you.”

Jungkook chuckles, unable to hide how his heart skips a beat.

“So bad?”

“So bad.”

With that, he happily obliges. He lifts his arms (lazily) and you take off his shirt. His chest is exposed, and his skin glows. For some reason, your throat goes dry and—what the fuck.

Your eyes trail to his bare arm. Written and smudged, it reads; if piss drunk please return to ___ (my girlfriend) <3

You stare in disbelief. Your head feels light and for some odd reason, you’re embarrassed. He walked around the party like this? He’s literally such a weirdo.

“Disgusting,” Hobi whines, standing with wet hair and a towel around his neck. You turn to him, gulping at the state he caught you and Jungkook in. “Do I have to stay with him? Like what if you two have morning sex? Aren’t you a virgin? Pretty sure he has condoms in his wallet like a pathetic high schooler—”

“Oh my god!” you throw a pillow at him. He dodges it and laughs at you. Completely ignoring his claims, he rolls his eyes at you.

“Can’t I just sleep in your room—”

You huff, “Fine. Go! You did your part anyway.”

Hobi waves his hand, mumbling goodnight to you two. He mutters some other things you can’t make out but it doesn’t matter.

Turning back to Jungkook, you realize he’s asleep again. You pick up from where you left off. Reaching for the blanket, you tuck him in and set his shirt aside. Then, you get up, lock your door, and turn off the lights. As you make your way back to the floor, you take a deep breath and try to process everything.

It’s been a hectic hour or so… You fear the morning might be worse.

How is everything going to unfold? Should you talk things over breakfast? Do you pretend like nothing happened and see what he initiates? You have no idea.

Truth be told, the ‘break’ was unintentional. The avoiding wasn’t meant to be this big of a deal… It’s only been a few days too! But then again… Maybe you simply underestimated Jungkook’s feelings for you. He’s always been confident and sly, so you never thought he’d be this sensitive and clingy over you. It’s surprising in a nice way… It feels like you know him better.

That’s what you’ve been wanting from him anyway… Honesty. Yet, with this state… Exactly how much more of it could you bear? Him as this mess is the reality of how much you impact his life. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Like, wasn’t this… Just a crush? Wasn’t this just a simple nonchalant confession? How did we get here? How did love bloom amid something so childlike and lighthearted?

Is that what it is?

The feeling of your stomach turning and twisting at the sight of him? The feeling of frustration and embarrassment when it feels like you want more of him and you’re too shy to ask for it? And it’s stupid, isn’t it? Because if we’re being honest; he would give you anything.

As you make yourself comfortable, you’re taken by surprise as Jungkook shuffles and gets off the couch. He joins you on the floor, wrapping his arms and legs around your body. Just like earlier, he buries himself in the crook of your neck. Although you’re taken aback, you don’t hesitate to hold him.

Your fingers find their way to his hair while your other hand rubs circles on his bare back. Jungkook can’t help but feel electricity run throughout his body with every touch.

“Sorry I drank so much,” he croaks, trying his best to get his words out. “Sorry I smell like shit.”

“It’s okay,” you comfort him. “Do you want me to get you some water—”

“Don’t move,” he cries. “Please...”

“Okay,” You relax your body. He does the same. “I’m here.”

A moment passes.

“I’m sorry I kept bothering you. Texting and calling… Coming over like this…”

“Jungkook—”

Sniffing, he mumbles, “and sorry I took your spot and kissed you.”

“Seriously, don’t—”

Yet, ever so clearly he apologizes: “Sorry almond pocky is better than strawberry.”

His apology earns a soft laugh from you. It escapes your lips and Jungkook swears he hears angels singing.

“The only time strawberry was better than almond was when I kissed you. You tasted like strawberries. I liked it. Best kiss of my fucking—”

“Oh my god!” You pull away and cover his mouth with your hand. “I know. You told Mingyu the same thing, right?”

He stays still, boba eyes focused on you.

When you take your hand off his mouth, he blinks at you. “Fuck Mingyu.”

“Shhh,” you hush him.

Then, he continues. “Sorry for lying and tricking you before.”

You shrug. “Hey, it worked. I caught feelings for you.”

“Real ones?”

“Real ones.”

“... Like you want me so bad?”

“Mhmm,” you play along. “Like super real bad.”

Then, Jungkook’s goofy grin twitches.

“Sorry I’m so stupid about all of this.”

“Me too,” you hurry to say. “I’ve been stupid about it too. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook mumbles, acting like it’s no big deal. “Hot chicks are never wrong.”

“Jungkook!” you laugh, hitting his chest. He catches your hand and holds it still. Then, he intertwines your fingers together.

“I’m so drunk,” he confesses with a tired tone. “… ___? Are you gonna break up with me in the morning?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Should I? Did you flirt with a pretty girl at the party?”

“Fuck no.”

You giggle at his harshness. Poking his cheek, you prop up on your elbows. “That’s a relief… But did you really have to make things so hard for Hobi?”

Jungkook huffs.

“I’m not stubborn,” he claims. “I j-just… I miss y-you, ___.”

Your heart sinks.

“I miss you too.”

“Good.”

“Good…” you yawn, “... Night. Go to sleep, bebu. We can talk more in the morning—”

Jungkook cups your jaw and kisses you. It’s not needy, but it’s gentle and deep. He means it. He kisses you and you kiss him back. How could you not? Being so close to him again makes your heart flutter. Just as he’s about to get carried away, he pulls away.

“Sorry for kissing you.”

You touch your lips. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t break up with me tomorrow, o-okay?”

You snicker at him as he wraps himself around you again.

“Okay,” you fold. “I won’t.”

When you wake up, Hobi is cooking pancakes. 

“Good morning,” he yawns, dancing a little as he flips the pancakes.

Half awake, you ask, “Where’s Jungkook?”

You can only assume he left to get ready and be more presentable before your talk. That or he’s running away from you… But you doubt that. 

Hobi glares at you, frying pan in hand and all. 

“I’m literally cooking you breakfast and you’re asking where your boyfriend-not-boyfriend is?”

You stretch and get up. Folding and tidying the makeshift bed up, you casually ask if Jungkook ate before he left.

Hobi sighs, flipping pancakes. “You’re literally obsessed with him…”

Sneaking up behind him, you poke his sides. He flinches and scolds you not to do that while he’s cooking. You laugh and steal a pancake from the pile. 

“He’s said you’d know where he is. Meet him there at 12PM.” Hobi then passes you a plate with another pancake but this time there’s cut up fruit and syrup on top. Happily, you grab the plate and take a sit at your table to eat. Hobi turns the stove off and joins you. 

Hobi takes a bite and lets his curiosity get the best of him. “Any idea of what he’s talking about?”

“I can only really think of one place.”

Jungkook struggled immensely during those few days when you two weren’t talking. Every text he sent you was met with a cold seenzone, and every call went unanswered. If he was lucky, they were declined. He made intentional visits to the library and your spot under that stupid tree daily, hoping to see you. Yet, the only time he did, you avoided him, and his heart sank lower than any ship.

If he were crazier, he would’ve confronted you and closed the space between you two as early as possible. But he wasn’t here to play; he was here to win. He was in it for the long run and thought to himself that if there was ever a time to prove he could wait and respect your boundaries—it would be now. However, it proved difficult, and although Jungkook is a strong man, his knees always go weak at the mention of your name.

He was done for.

In the waiting, he repeatedly convinced himself to love fully and pour every ounce of faith into dreams of a life with you. He couldn’t deny this felt strange. Of course, it was difficult! Being out of sync with you felt absolutely painful. All he did was toss and turn at night. When he ate, he wondered if you were eating too and who you were eating with. He hoped you were eating well.

God, he was dramatic.

He felt like he was falling apart. Why couldn’t he just figure this out? Was he supposed to apologize? For what? What happened between you two was a mere conversation. Suddenly, after you got your little confession off your chest, you hurried Jungkook out of your place and turned off your phone. He stood outside, confused and completely smitten.

You truly were the most surprising thing to have ever happened to him.

On the other hand, you couldn’t believe how much of your heart you had laid out to him. You’d never admitted any of those things out loud, and to do so for the first time—in front of him—oh my god. You had lost your mind.

You were done for.

Yet, maybe that’s what it takes to find love. To get so lost in it and then to suddenly find it in his presence—it’s indescribable.

When the clock struck 12, the library doors opened, and Jungkook held his breath.

He heard your footsteps getting closer and closer, and his heart raced faster and faster. He had showered for 30 minutes to make sure he was the exact opposite of last night… Yet at this rate, his sweaty palms made him think he needed another 30 minutes… But this couldn’t wait. This was happening now.

Finally.

When you walk in, Jungkook’s gaze softens.

His heart lightens and feels so much relief. You look like an absolute angel walking towards him. He’s in heaven, isn’t he?

Or maybe you are.

The table is covered in sunset colour schemed flowers, each in different vases and spread out. There are twinkling fairy lights in between the spaces. It’s beautiful and romantic—you might cry. Not to mention, he’s also holding a bouquet for you.

It’s perfect.

He’s perfect.

Your hair is perfectly curled, and you’re wearing a white corset dress that made him feel things he shouldn’t focus on. Truth be told, he looks just as good. He’s wearing a linen white button-up short sleeve and slacks that looked so good on him. His hair was even freshly cut (God bless)! Maybe it was your delusion, but you swear you see butterflies flying around him.

“W-wow,” he stutters, taking a step towards you. He looks at you in awe. Your lips curve into a smile, and Jungkook put his hand on top of his heart. “__, I have no words. You’re divine.”

“You got a haircut?” you tease him, extending your hand to ruffle his hair. “Handsome as always.”

He smiles shyly, putting the bouquet down. “Had to. Gotta look irresistible so you don’t dump me.”

You laugh, suddenly feeling nervous about everything. This was all so real… What were you even supposed to do? You couldn’t even differentiate if it felt awkward or if this was just new.

“H-hey,” you clear your throat. “Why is the library empty?”

He gulps. “I kinda… Told everyone at the party I was gonna make this grand gesture here… Pulled some strings with some people and was able to reserve the library privately for us. I mean, at least for an hour—”

“Y-you did what?”

“It’s not that big of a deal—d-don’t think about it too much. Here,” Jungkook offers you his hand. “Come here. I wanna show you something.”

You take his hand and follow him. He walks you two to the corner of the table and kneels. You did the same. He smiles and pats the edge of the table.

“What is this?” you ask.

Jungkook sighs, pretending to be disappointed in you. “You don’t remember?”

You shake your head. “Am I supposed to?”

Jungkook holds your hands and squeezes them. “This was our first moment.”

Your eyebrows furrow together, not knowing what he meant by that. Then, he smiles and explains it to you.

“You dropped your phone because you were surprised at how close I was to you. You bumped your head first, and it was the first time I looked at you the way I do now. I know it because it was the first time I felt what I feel for you now. Then, I bumped my head, and you rubbed my head, leaned in towards me, and that was it.”

“Oh,” you say softly, trying to recall that day. Your eyes lit up when you did. “Oh yeah! Wow, that was ages ago.”

“It was…”

A silence falls upon you two. It wasn’t heavy or awkward. It set the tone. It was perfect.

“Have you liked me for that long?” You ask him rather shy.

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers confidently. “___?”

“Yes?”

He then leans forward and tilts his head. “I’ve been ruining myself… Thinking of ways to give you the grand gesture you deserve. Something good enough to sum up how life-changing and utterly perfect you are to me… How to make you feel like you’re my whole world and for you to—I d-don’t know… I can’t—I can’t think straight. I’ve written drafts for this and I’ve rehearsed every possible line. I couldn’t get anything right, and it took me so long to realize something… To give you what you deserve is to give you my heart. To let you have it and be the man that’s good enough for you to want it… I think I did it, right? I’ve given it to you. Over and over again, and I’d do it over and over again because I can’t fathom that you’ve accepted it. Like you’ve fallen for me like I wished for you to… All you wanted was honesty, and so I need you to know that beneath all the deceit and this confidence is my heart, waiting and loving you this entire time. It’s been honest even when I’m not… And I… I’m changing. I’m an honest man, ___… And as an honest man, I need to confess one thing…”

“Jungkook—”

A beat.

“I am honestly so in love with you.”

You hold your breath.

“So, please don’t dump me,” he chuckles. “Can I please be your boyfriend? I want more time with you. I want you to love me too—”

“I already do,” you can’t help but to interrupt him. “I know I haven’t done everything perfectly either and as much as I appreciate you wanting to do better—I also need to do better. So count me in, bebu. Let’s get it right… Let’s fall in love so deeply I have no choice but to fight for it, to be brave for it, and to accept it… For you, I will.”

Jungkook leans in and cups your cheeks. He kisses you for the first time as your boyfriend. You kiss him just as sweet and deep—nothing is better than this.

epilogue

Though there were still things you two continue to work on and discuss over time, that moment was perfect. It aches, really. To remember how young and confusing love is… But to also laugh with the love of your life and feel butterflies for the first time is something you wish for everyone.

Now these 7 moments are mere fleeting memories. Yet, they still feel so warm and familiar to you. They bring you so much joy and nostalgia. They remind you of the goodness of each other’s company and hearts are (which was important and useful for every couch-sleeping fight that came your way).

It’s so special to see how it all unfolded… How oblivious love can be sometimes. How it gets cold and caught in lies just to please.. How truth reveals itself and has layers of jealousy and forgiveness that await to be embraced. How beautiful love blooms in the midst of friendship, how being with the right person changes you, and lastly; how much more life there is to live when you love all at once.