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fxstpace · 3 days ago

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the subtle art of swinging.

summary. park sunghoon is the spider-man. he's also your best friend. he's also hopelessly in love with you. between fighting crime and intercepting alien invasions, park sunghoon barely has the time to confess his feelings to you. lucky for him, you've got him covered.

or, five times park sunghoon tries to ask you out, and one time you ask him out instead.

pairing. spider-man!park sunghoon x fem!reader genres. fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers!au, spider-man!au, college!au, attempts at comedy, idiots to idiots in love, 5 + 1 things word count. 5.0k

↳ warnings. profanity, mentions of violence but absolutely nothing graphic ↳ a/n. reposted from my old blog.

ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF SWINGING INTO A WALL

Park Sunghoon swears he isn’t trying to be stupid.

It’s just that when he sees you, his mouth dries up, the words he want to say get stuck on the tip of his tongue and he can’t force them out no matter what, he feels his brain turn to mush and his legs turn to jelly, and—

You’re laughing. At him.

All because he swung face-first into a goddamn brick wall.

You don’t even know it’s him—he has a mask made out of spandex covering his face, thankfully—but he saw you on the street, talking to the old lady who sells churros next to the sandwich place both of you love. He may have lost all directional sense after that, because one minute he’s watching you gesture animatedly while you converse with the shopkeeper, and the next he slams solidly into the brick-red compound of the building he was supposed to swing over.

At least his webbing is still intact.

Sunghoon’s pride, on the other hand? Completely, utterly shattered.

For a minute, there’s silence—a sort of muffled, hazy silence that blankets everyone, the kind that’s impossibly rare to come by in a city which never sleeps—and then every single person whips out their phones and takes pictures, giggling to themselves throughout. It’s not every day Spider-Man accidentally swings into a wall, after all.

Sunghoon can already picture the headlines: City’s Masked Superhero Can Fight Aliens But Is Apparently Blind When Confronted By A Gigantic Barricade. Or worse. He can hear J. Jonah Jameson’s voice in his head, bellowing into the cameras, “Breaking news everyone, this just in: Spidey has been caught lackin’! Is he truly good at his job or is he just a farce? We may never know.”

He peels his head off hard brick, contorting his neck to relieve all the cricks, and that’s when he makes direct eye contact with you.

He swears his heart stops beating—but it starts again in less than a second, starts rabbiting around like it always does when he sees you, before settling back down into its regular rhythm. It’s only then that he remembers his feet and fingers are still glued to the wall.

He pries them off, wincing at the hoots and hollers from the crowd, and glances at you again.

You have a few churros in your hand, wrapped neatly in butter paper—no doubt a gift from the old lady—and you have your phone in your hand. He watches your fingers fly rapidly over the screen, notices the slight tilt to your head, the way your tongue pokes out of your lips slightly, the amusement at his mishap still running through your veins.

He hears the ping of the notification through his mask before you even put your phone down.

The letters swim in front of his eyes, on the screen in front of him.

(11:36) Y/N: HOONIE!!!! u wont BELIEVE what i just saw!!!! I SAW SPIDERMAN CRASH INTO A WALL LMFAOOOO

Sunghoon winces. He should probably tell you that there’s a hyphen separating the words ‘spider’ and ‘man’, but he doesn’t want to burst your obvious elation at the city’s most prominent superhero’s accident. (Despite the fact that you’re the cause for him losing all

common sense, in the first place.)

He doesn’t get the chance to form another coherent thought before a yell from below gets his attention. Specifically because it’s your voice.

“Hey!” You have your hands placed on your waist, your bundle of churros tucked into the corner of your arm as you squint up at him. “Need some help getting down?”

Unlike the jeers of the onlookers with their phones still out, you don’t sound malicious at all. You sound genuinely concerned, as though he isn’t Spider-Man, who’s fought off a hundred different villains and rescued the earth from alien infestations. You talk to him like he’s just a regular guy who accidentally swung onto a building and now finds himself in this precarious position.

His chest warms at the thought. “No thanks!” he hollers back. “I’m good.”

He lets his feet loosen up, feels his muscles relax and then he pushes himself off the wall, letting the momentum pull him through a graceful somersault before he lands softly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” You ignore the passersby.

“I’m fine,” Sunghoon replies. “Are you okay?”

You look at him strangely, and Sunghoon can feel his cheeks heat up. “I’m not the one who almost broke my nose because I wasn’t looking at where I was going.”

Sunghoon shifts from one foot to the other, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You have a point, he supposes. He clears his throat. “Right, um. Thanks for offering to help me out.”

“No problem,” you reply easily, the corners of your lips rising upwards. “I’m glad you’re okay. Can’t have our city’s best line of defence get obliterated because of a wall.”

Sunghoon’s not sure whether he’s supposed to feel happy about the fact that you’re worried about him despite not knowing who he is or if he’s supposed to be embarrassed at you pointing out his lapse of attention.

“Listen,” he begins, feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through his veins, run its course throughout his body, and settle at his heart, “do you… maybe want to get some coffee with me? As a thank you. For offering to help.”

You raise an eyebrow sceptically. “I’m not sure that warrants a coffee date.”

“It’s not,” Sunghoon hurriedly says, heart thumping erratically, “I swear. I just want to thank you.”

You purse your lips, drawing out a sigh that’s in between contemplation and refusal. Sunghoon’s heart sinks—he knows that expression of yours all too well. “I’m sorry, Spider-Man. You’re a great superhero and I’m sure you’re a really nice person behind the mask, but… I’m actually running late for a meet-up with my best friend. I’m sorry.” You shrug apologetically. “Maybe next time.”

“Okay, uh—” Sunghoon licks his lips— “n-no worries. I’ll see you around.”

“Break a leg, Spider-Man.” You salute him with two fingers. “Not literally, but you know what I mean.”

He manages a smile, then realises you can’t see it through his mask—and then realises that the friend who’s meet-up you’re running late to is with him, so he’s going to see you again, anyway. The thought makes him smile again, this time wider, and he can feel his cheeks crinkle at the corners.

He stretches an arm out, presses his web shooter and swings onto the top of the building. Maybe he’ll have to deal with you retelling the story of how he crashed into a wall with extreme detail and lots of exaggeration, and Sunghoon should probably feel extremely embarrassed about it. Instead, he finds himself looking forward to it.

Maybe he should crash into walls more often.

TWO — THE SUBTLE ART OF ACCIDENTALLY ASKING YOUR PROFESSOR OUT

Park Sunghoon is decidedly fucked.

He’s late—unbearably so—but what else is he supposed to do if a platoon of aliens show up in the middle of his Introduction to Organic Chemistry class and he has to stop them from blowing up the president’s summer retreat? Once the situation is wrapped up and the foreign visitors agree to sign a peace treaty with earth, he’s effectively missed three classes, skipped lunch, and is currently running late to a study session you planned out after classes.

He supposes he can make up for it—he’s not sure how, but… something is better than nothing, right? He swings down in front of a flower shop, hurriedly asks for a bouquet and a box of chocolates, places a wad of money bills on the counter and swings away. The whole interaction takes place in less than fifteen minutes, but Sunghoon is in a hurry. He has a slew of texts from you, all detailing the same thing: That if he doesn’t magically appear in the next ten minutes, you’re leaving, and you better make it up to him somehow.

Sunghoon touches down on the rooftop of your university’s library and quickly removes his Spider-Man suit, stuffing it into his backpack and shouldering it. He heads down the fire escape, taking two steps at a time, and comes to a standstill in front of the Biology section of the library. It’s the least crowded part of the library, which is why you and Sunghoon have chosen it as your designated spot.

He sees you immediately and braces himself for the telltale quickening of his heart. You smile at him as soon as you spot him, raising a hand in greeting. Books and sheets of paper are scattered around the table in front of you, and your hair is messy, swept up hastily. You’re wearing your favourite sweater with the coffee stain down the front, because even though it’s not something you would wear in public, it’s still the most comfortable piece of clothing you own.

Sunghoon’s lips curl upwards on their own accord. The words form on the tip of his tongue, as they always do. He wants to tell you—he’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you—and it would be so easy to confess right then and there. He walks towards you.

Fate is never kind to him, it seems.

Sunghoon keeps his eyes fixed on you, which is why he doesn’t notice his Organic Chemistry professor walk right across him.

In his defence, Professor Kwon is short, with a head full of bountiful grey curls and a pink flower-patterned umbrella always tucked underneath her arm. She barely comes up to Sunghoon’s shoulders, so she’s never in Sunghoon’s line of vision unless he’s sitting down.

It’s no wonder he collides into her.

Professor Kwon lets out a startled “Ooh!”, the stack of papers in her hand flying out of grip and falling around him and his teacher like snowflakes on a winter morning. She twists her lips at him, mouth downturned like she just sucked a lemon raw, and tuts disapprovingly at him.

Sunghoon feels his cheeks blaze as he bends down and gathers all the loose sheets of paper and stacks them. He doesn’t need to look at you to know you’re gleefully watching the whole encounter. He tucks the bouquet and chocolates into the crook of his arm and hands the stack of papers to Professor Kwon, mumbling an apology.

“Well, you better be sorry,” she says, looking up and down at him—except she has to crane her neck at him to meet his eyes, and the sight is so hilarious, Sunghoon needs to stifle his laughter. Then her eyes narrow in recognition, and Sunghoon stiffens, dread pooling in his stomach.

She pauses for a minute. “Aren’t you the young man who ran out halfway through my class? Is your stomach feeling better now?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you snort and then cover it up as a cough.

Sunghoon wants to melt into the floor, pretend like he’s one of the tiles on the ground. “Yes ma’am,” he answers politely instead, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him.

“Hmm.” She scrutinises him carefully, reaching out with her free hand and pinching his stomach. “Indigestion is a serious issue, young man. Make sure you have enough ginger in your diet—it helps with your toilet problems.”

“I will, ma’am.”

“Now, how do you plan to make up for your lost lesson?”

Sunghoon licks his lips. “I’m… not sure, ma’am. I could come over for a remedial class—”

“Oh, please. You insult me.” Professor Kwon lets out a giggle. “Remedial classes are such mediaeval methods. These days teachers will let anything go for a small price. Young, handsome men like you especially…”

Sunghoon nearly chokes on his own spit. “I—”

“Just some flowers and chocolates will be fine,” his teacher waves him off good-naturedly, as though this is a conversation she has all the time. Her eyes land pointedly on the flowers and the chocolate box still tucked safely in his arms.

“Oh. Um.” Sunghoon curses his luck. He’s Spider-Man, after all—shouldn’t he get some slack? All he wants is to ask you out, and if not that, at least spend some time with you without getting caught up in outworldly situations all the time.

Professor Kwon’s expression turns serious upon noticing his hesitation. “Of course, not every teacher is as lenient as I’m being. Some would—and I’m really just throwing it out here—assign compensatory essays, or—”

He hurriedly shoves the bouquet and the chocolates into Professor Kwon’s waiting arms.

“No, ma’am. Thank you very much for being so kind to me.”

“Not a bother, not a bother,” she waves him off again, smiling thinly at him. “Anything for my students.”

Sunghoon bows and waits patiently for her to skitter away from him, finally letting out a loose breath that has his shoulders slumping forward and his head hanging dejectedly. He drags himself to your table, places his bag on the desk, and buries his head into his arms in such a way that half his upper body is spread-eagled across the wooden desk. A tired, muffled groan escapes his lips.

“Rough day?” Your voice is soft, and you tentatively reach out and gently run a hand through his hair.

Sunghoon lets out another groan in response, closing his eyes when he feels your touch. He lifts up his head and props his chin on the desk, glancing at you. You have a soft smile playing on your lips, eyes twinkling.

“You recorded all of that, didn’t you?” It’s more a statement than a question; Sunghoon has all your tendencies mapped out in his head, and you would never pass up on an opportunity to record his humiliation.

“Yup.” You grin at him, patting your pocket where your phone is stowed away. “I won’t show it to anyone, don’t worry.”

It’s a small consolation. He decides to let it slide. “By the way, the flowers and the chocolates were for you. To apologise for being late.”

“Oh.” To Sunghoon’s surprise, you sound… bashful, almost. His heart skitters at the revelation. “That’s alright. I’m not a big fan of flowers anyway. Are you hungry? You skipped lunch, too, didn’t you? We could go get some ramen.”

“That sounds good.” Sunghoon smiles wearily at you. He just hopes there isn’t another national emergency to divert his attention from you and the time he gets to spend with you.

THREE — THE SUBTLE ART OF ALMOST DATING YOUR HOMIE

Sunghoon’s not sure his roommate, Lee Heeseung, is completely normal.

He’s the only one who knows about Sunghoon’s secret identity, and Sunghoon relies on him to make up some believable reason for his often and sudden disappearances. The last time, when he had to escape in the middle of his Organic Chemistry class and that whole debacle with Professor Kwon took place, Heeseung had said Sunghoon had indigestion. He assumes his roommate has fun coming up with excuses. As long as his secret remains safe, Sunghoon’s not too concerned.

Despite all the help Heeseung has provided him with, he wants nothing more than to toss him over their shared apartment’s balcony.

For the past half an hour, he’s been consistently badgering him. Specifically about you.

“Have you told her you like her yet?”

The question drags a tired sigh out of Sunghoon’s lips. He’s hunched over his Physics textbook, scribbling down notes, and he could really appreciate some peace—but that’s not something he should expect when he lives with the human equivalent of a hamster on a wheel.

“No, Heeseung,” he reiterates, “I haven’t had the time.”

Heeseung flops dramatically across the couch. “Dude. You need serious help.”

“Do I?” Sunghoon murmurs absent-mindedly, wondering how to calculate the coefficient of friction with the variables he’s been given.

“Yes.” When he notices his roommate not paying attention to him, Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Stop doing homework, you have more important matters to attend to.”

Sunghoon finally tears his tired gaze away from the numericals printed out on the page. He locks eyes with Heeseung, barely aware of the tic in his left eye. “Like what?”

His roommate throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Like Y/N! And the fact that you’re in love with her!”

“Okay.”

“This isn’t going to work. C’mere.” He gestures to Sunghoon to come sit next to him on the couch. Once he makes his way to the couch and sits next to him, Heeseung takes both his hands in his. “Consider this an intervention.”

Sunghoon leans back and lets his head fall against the couch cushions. This is going to be good.

“Okay, so,” Heeseung begins, “she doesn’t know you’re Spider-Man—no one knows that except me—but you love her, don’t you? Just walk up to her, tell her you can show her something she’s never seen before, swing her up to a rooftop somewhere, and watch the sunset with her. Tell her you love her and that you can’t live without her, and your heart beats only for her—trust me, girls love romantic stuff like that—and then tell her you’re also Spider-Man. Easy.”

All Sunghoon can do is laugh. There’s no way Heeseung is serious about this.

“I’m being serious,” Heeseung says. “How long are you going to keep hiding this from her? Y/N’s your best friend, don’t you think you should tell her that you’re basically in mortal peril every other day?”

“That’s exactly why I’m not telling her,” Sunghoon says. “What if some villain finds out she’s special to me and does something to her to get back at me?”

His friend looks dubious. “You really think that could happen?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon turns his head to look at Heeseung. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you either.”

Heeseung chews his lip thoughtfully. “I kind of see what you mean. But…” He squeezes Sunghoon’s hand once, gently. “It’s Y/N. I think she would want to know.”

Sunghoon considers it—for a brief half-minute, he actually thinks about it—and then shakes his head. “It’s better to keep her safe.”

You have the worst possible timing. (Perhaps it’s Sunghoon’s fault for having given you a spare key to his apartment.)

The door swings open and you walk into the living room, two bags of takeaway in your hand. “Guess who’s got food!”

Then you pause, survey the situation in front of you, and your jaw drops.

Sunghoon and Heeseung, both on the couch, sitting so close to each other, their knees are brushing. Sunghoon’s hands are still being held by Heeseung, the latter rubbing circles on his palm. Belatedly, Sunghoon realises what this must look like to you.

He shoots up to his feet. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“Oh my God.” You raise your arms. “Am I interrupting something? I’m so sorry, I had no idea! I’ll just—”

“No, wait! Heeseung and I, we’re not—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Your repeated reassurances don’t do anything to assure him. “You guys look good together! Congratulations on graduating from cherry boy university, Hoon!”

Sunghoon lowers his head, crimson creeping up his cheeks. He turns around and faces Heeseung, who’s busy snickering on the couch. “This is all your fault.”

You look between them curiously. “Are you both dating?”

“No,” Sunghoon says at the same time Heeseung says, “Possibly.”

He glares at his friend. “No, Y/N, we are not together. Heeseung knows I like someone else.”

“You like someone else?”

There’s the barest hint of hurt in your tone, a slight hitch in your voice that Sunghoon picks up on easily. “I—yes.”

“You never told me.”

Your voice is carefully calm and you fiddle with the handle of the takeaway bags. Sunghoon winces; he takes a step forward and grabs your elbow, gently forcing you to look up at him. “I was going to tell you. I just… forgot.”

It's the worst possible excuse he could come up with. Your eyes harden. Thankfully, Heeseung swoops in. “He’ll tell you soon, Y/N. He just never has good timing.”

You poke your tongue in the inside of your cheek. “It… doesn’t matter. I brought Chinese,” you say, lips pursed into a threadbare smile, “so all that’s left is to pick the movie.”

You move into the living room and playfully poke Heeseung’s legs to make space. Sunghoon closes the door behind you, a heavy feeling in his gut.

He’s fucked up. Big time. No matter what, he can’t get the look of dejectedness on your face out of his mind.

Sunghoon decides he’s going to tell you. Somehow. Even if you don’t return his feelings, at least he’ll be free of the burden of keeping them hidden.

With new conviction in his head, he strides over to where you are.

FOUR — THE SUBTLE ART OF GETTING HIT ON

Sunghoon loves you—he really does—but despite his obvious affection towards you, he still thinks you’re acting slightly (read: extremely) delusional.

“A… Spider-Man love blog?” he asks weakly, sitting opposite you.

“Yeah!” You nod your head vigorously, obviously excited. “J. Jonah Jameson started a Spider-Man conspiracy theory blog, so I figured I need to start a blog to support Spider-Man and all his endeavours. Too much hate is a bad thing, and… well, he is kind of hot. Objectively speaking.”

Sunghoon doesn’t know whether to grimace at the fact that J. Jonah Jameson started a page on conspiracy theories about him, laugh at the fact that you want to start a blog to support him, or melt like an ice cream on a hot summer afternoon at the fact that you just called him objectively hot.

He tries to do a mixture of all three. You glance at him, concerned. “Did you just have a stroke or something?”

Sunghoon purses his lips together, going back to his usual deadpan expression. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” you say dismissively. “Well, what do you think of the blog idea?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Sunghoon agrees. “It’s like a little Spider-Man support group. Except you aren’t suffering from addiction.”

“Exactly!” you agree, perking up even more. “That’s actually a really cool slogan, thanks Hoon.”

“No problem.” Sunghoon feels his mouth dry, but before he can second guess himself, he says, “Hey, you said Spider-Man is hot?”

“Hm? Yeah, what about it?”

“You know who else is hot?”

“Tom Holland?” Your eyes widen excitedly. “Oh, I know! Andrew Garfield!”

“No—I mean, yes but—” Sunghoon heaves out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t talking about them.”

You cock your head to the side. “Who do you mean, then?”

He takes in a deep breath, forcing his heart to calm down. “I was talking about—”

He’s about to say you when the fire alarm rings. You stand up, eyes widening—not with excitement, but with panic flaring up inside you. Sunghoon stands up too; how did he not notice something was off? The hair at the back of his neck tingles. He needs to get you out of here—now.

“Y/N,” he says hurriedly, “you need to leave. Go out the fire escape.” He shoves you none too gently towards the fire escape, but you stumble forward and then stop.

“Hoon,” you say, and he can hear the mounting fear in your voice, “what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he assures. A series of bangs follows his statement, and he narrows his eyes at the direction of the sound. “But you need to leave. Now.”

You open your mouth to say something, but when you hear a loud clang echo down the stairwell, you close your mouth and run towards the staircase. Sunghoon waits for you to disappear from his sight, before turning on his heel and grabbing his suit from his bag.

God, supervillains really have the worst timing. All Sunghoon wanted to do was tell you he thought you were hot, too, but that he found you more beautiful than anything else.

FIVE — THE SUBTLE ART OF EXPOSING YOUR CRUSH

Sunghoon is so, so tired.

He lands in front of a small, quiet lake in a park you used to come to with him. The ambience is perfect for when you want to spend time alone, in solitude. A family of ducks paddles gently over the water; it’s peaceful and serene—completely unlike the destruction he just had to deal with, and the turbulence currently running through his mind.

He pulls his mask off his head and runs a tired hand through his hair. Wearily, he sinks down onto the grass, feeling the cool breeze caress his skin and the rustle of the leaves of the giant tree under whose shade he’s sitting.

He blinks once, slowly, and then again, and when a duck lets out a quack, he opens his mouth and lets everything spill out, like sand pouring through an overturned hourglass.

(He’s aware he’s talking to ducks. He doesn’t care.)

“Screw this shit. I never wanted to be a hero, you hear me? I never wanted to be bitten by a stupid spider, I didn’t ask for all this—I didn’t ask for all this! God, what does a guy need to do to have some time to tell his best friend he’s in love with her?!”

His rant falls on silent ears—but then, he hears the crunch of dried leaves, and he whips around.

Your head pokes out from behind the tree trunk. “Hoon?”

“Y/N,” he breathes out, scrambling to his feet. “What are you—”

“You said you’d be right behind me!” Despite the false bravado in your voice, he can hear how wobbly you actually sound.

“I-I was. Technically.” He takes a tentative step towards you, one arm stretched out placatingly.

“You never told me you were Spider-Man!” Your voice increases in pitch steadily with each word.

“I didn’t tell you to protect you—”

“Oh my God, you were in mortal peril every day and I didn’t even know!”

“Heeseung said the same thing, but—”

“Heeseung knew all along, of course he did!”

“I only told him because—”

“And—and now you’re telling me you’re in love with me!”

“Okay, I wasn’t telling you, I was telling the ducks, but—”

“Sunghoon!” You throw your hands up in the air wildly, gaze roaming rapidly across his face. “You’re in love with me!”

He sucks in a breath sharply. “I feel like that’s not the most important thing here.”

Of all the ways he thought he would confess to you, this is decidedly not something that crossed his mind even once. He’d always pictured flowers, holding your hand, maybe even a romantic stroll down this very park. He’d certainly never imagined you’d find out about both his secrets on the same day—all while he was busy ranting about his hero complex to a bunch of birds who didn’t pay him any attention.

“Y/N,” he tries again, “please let me explain.”

You shake your head. “No. There’s nothing there to explain.”

With that, you turn away and walk past him. Sunghoon’s heart sinks. He crumples the material of the mask in his hand, feeling the cloth twist underneath his fingertips just like his heart twists into knots with every step you take away from him.

PLUS ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF KISSING YOUR BEST FRIEND

You have Sunghoon cornered, your arms crossed across your chest and your expression stern. “You need to listen to me.”

Sunghoon gulps. It’s been a week since he accidentally let both his secrets slip, and this is the first time he’s talking to you in person since then. You’d sent him a text with a simple message. Library, first thing after lunch. Sunghoon had complied, and here he is now.

“So. Heeseung explained everything to me,” you say.

“He—he did?”

You glance at him shortly. “Yeah, he did. I… I understand why you didn’t tell me about—about your condition, Hoon. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself.”

“It’s okay,” he replies immediately. “If I found out my best friend was a secret vigilante risking his life every day, I think I’d react the same way.”

You smile at him then, and his heart jumps inside his chest. He smiles back. “But that’s not the main reason I called you here,” you continue. “What I really called you here for was…”

You trail off, looking down, and Sunghoon is hit with a sudden sense of nostalgia. Why are you being so bashful around him all of a sudden? “Was…” he gently prompts.

You swallow, lifting up your chin and looking him in the eye. “I wanted to tell you that I’m in love with you too.”

Park Sunghoon swears time stops, and the whole world comes to a standstill. The words ring in his ears, echoing inside his head. His lips part, and he stares at you, flabbergasted.

“I—Say that again.” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

He sees the flicker in your eyes, notices how you’re ready to compete with him for this. “I love you, Park Sunghoon. I don’t care about the fact that you’re Spider-Man.”

Sunghoon takes a step towards you, holding your shoulders gently, like you’re made of glass. “I love you too.”

You grin at him, your own arms encircling his waist and coming to rest on his back. “I know that.”

And then you tip your head forward and capture his lips with your own. He gasps at first, before kissing you back with equal force, one hand tugging you closer to him and the other curving around your torso.

You giggle into the kiss, and Sunghoon’s lips twitch upwards. He’s giddy, weightless, floating through the air like a feather being carried by the wind. The feeling he gets when he’s swooping through the rooftops of the city is nothing compared to the feeling of your lips slotted against his and his arms wrapped around you.

Park Sunghoon swears he doesn’t try to act stupid normally. But if it makes you smile, he’s willing to do anything.

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ooc-themis-cattails · 1 day ago

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The first thing I do when I wake up is grab my phone and do puzzles on it. The last thing I do before going to sleep is grab my phone and read books on it. Most of what I do on the computer is read and write, which I'd get much less done of (writing especially) if I didn't have an electronic device for it. I spend all day in front of a screen but I haven't watched TV in so long, I'm not actually even sure how to get a broadcast signal on my TV, and the only thing I subscribe to is Scribd/Everand, an ebook reading service.

The problem is not the phone or screen time, it's the choices we make about what we're using it for. If we didn't have screens and phones and computers, I wouldn't have access to all the reading and information I do.

It's so easy to blame technology but the problem is not that "technology sucks us in," it's that we're getting on a device that can do anything, and not being conscious about using it for healthy things instead of unhealthy ones. And then blaming the device. There are so many amazing, free, healthy, educational, mentally stimulating things to do on your computer that if your brain is rotting and you can't think critically, it's because you're doing the wrong things on it.

Doing healthy things does not necessarily mean getting away from screens because a lot of healthy things are best done on the screen. Your Aunt Marge may cross stitch but have no ability to participate in complex discourse, because the only part of her brain she's exercising is her cross stitching motor control. That's not necessarily healthier or better.

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athenamikaelson · 2 days ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 22

Word Count- 12.8k

Warnings-swearing, violence, mentions of bad parents, alcoholism, Mikeal and his abuse, self-loathing

Soulmates. What the hell are soulmates? Well, obviously I know what the definition of a soulmate is but what the hell does it mean in the supernatural world? Neither of the two Salvatores that drove me home last night were very chatty about it.

“Fables is what it is, Y/n.”

That is all Demon told me last night when he walked me to my front door. After I watched the two brothers drive off I stayed up for hours, actual hours, 5 to be exact, pacing my room waiting for Elijah to keep good to his word and come see me to explain what the hell happened tonight. But with the morning light streaming in my bedroom window, I realize that once again holding a man to his promise is never something I should do.

—

I stare blankly at the multiple unread text messages and missed calls from Elena. All morning she’s been trying to call me but right now I don’t have the energy to handle whatever she wants to talk about, especially since it’s probably something that everyone else knows and I’m the last one to find out, per usual.

When I haven’t been staring at my phone, I’ve been staring up at my white ceiling, replaying the events of last night in my head over and over again. Last night when I was up waiting for Elijah I researched everything I could possibly find on soulmates. But the more I read the more I started to freak the fuck out so I had to stop that for my own sanity. Which is ironic because I honestly don’t think I have any sanity left in me to spare.

“Damn, you look like shit,” Theo’s obnoxious voice comes from an open doorway.

“Leave, Gremlin,” I groan as I grab a pillow and hold it over my face.

“Nope, sorry,” I hear his voice and then the pillow is ripped away from me, “Your depression is stinking up the house and I don’t need it affecting me. So get your ass up. We’re going clubbing.”

I move nothing but my eyes as I look at my brother.

“We live in Mystic Falls. Where the hell would we go clubbing?”

Theo thinks to himself for a moment before tapping his chin, “Alright. Good point. See this is why we work, you're the brains,” He points to me, “And I’m the beauty.”

“Leave me to rot,” I groan and try to reach for the pillow and he swats my hand.

“Back, demon! Listen, get your ass up I’m hungry and I’m going to give you the honor of buying me lunch,” Theo declares like this is some great prize I’ve won.

“No thanks,” I grab my blanket and cover my face with it.

A moment later my blanket it being ripped off of me, “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, I swear to the heavens above I will grab the garden hose and drench this entire room and yourself with it if you’re not in the car in 5 minutes,” Theo glares at me and then leans down and picks at a piece of my hair with disgust clear on his face, “Actually make that 10 minutes, you need to kick whatever family of rats is living in that mess you call hair.”

I go to complain but Theo shushes me, “I mean it! I’ll get the goddamn hose!”

I watch Theo dramatically stomp out of my room and I let out a sigh.

—

“I hate you,” I say to my brother as he holds open the door to The Grill for me.

Theo sends me a sweet smile, “No one could hate this face.”

I roll my eyes and begin to walk to an empty table when I notice Caroline and Elena sitting together at a table in front of us.

Shit.

I try to blend into the crowd but my obnoxious brother ruins that.

“Elena! Hey, Elena,” Theo’s voice booms throughout the restaurant and I instantly try to make myself as small as possible when I notice people turning to look at us.

“Theo, stop,” I hit my brother in the stomach but he just grabs my hand and pulls me along.

We get to the girl's table in no time, thanks to Theo’s sprinting, and Elena instantly sits up in her seat when she sees me.

“Hey, Y/n,” Elena smiles softly at me and I nod my head at her and then send a smile to Caroline.

“I’m sorry about your Dad, Caroline. Damon told me this morning,” I say softly to her and she nods.

“Thanks, Y/n. And I was going to tell you myself but I just forgot,” Caroline reasons, and Stefan’s words from last night come barreling through my head.

“Y/n?”

I shake my head clear and then try to pull a smile on my face, “Ya, totally. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ve tried to call you,” Elena tries to get my attention and I don’t meet her eyes.

“Ya, I forgot to charge my phone last night,” I lie and she looks at me as if she’s not sure she believes me.

“Oh, okay. Um,” She goes silent for a moment before gesturing to the table, “Would you guys like to join us? We’re talking about the Mikaelson’s throwing their weird ball. Their mother invited me personally because she wants to speak to me about something.”

At Elena’s words, I frown in confusion, “Who are you talking about? Who are the Mikaelsons?”

“Wait! A party?! There’s going to be a party,” Theo’s practically jumping in place as he looks wide-eyed at the two girls.

Elena looks at me confused for a second before lowering her head, “The Originals. They’re the Mikaelsons. We got invites this morning to attend their ball tonight,” Elena frowns sadly, “Did you not get one?”

A tightness in my chest builds at her pitiful look and I am sent back to my childhood when I would be the only kid in class who never got an invite to any of the other kid’s birthday parties.

“Naw, we haven’t got anything,” Theo chimes in for me and I feel and lower his hand to wrap his pinky around mine, “Yet. But like honestly even if we do get invites, which we will because anyone who doesn’t invite the Y/L/N siblings are losers, we probably won’t go,” Theo says and looks at his nails as if the conversation is now boring him.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, “Why not?’

I can see Theo look over to me and then back to Caroline, “We’re going clubbing.”

I release a deep sigh at my brother’s words.

“You guys are going clubbing?”

Caroline and Elena share a look and then I can see Elena look up to me, “And you agreed to this?”

I look down at Elena and an annoying wave of embarrassment washes through me. Even though I know they’re not judging me right now there’s that back part in my brain telling me they know someone like me isn’t cool enough to do anything like that, which is why I agree.

“Yup. It’s how we bond,” I say, nodding and glancing at my nails. Mimicking my brother who I can see from the corner of my eye, has a huge grin on his face.

“So, are you two going to this dance?” I try to act nonchalantly.

Caroline shakes her head, “Hell no! It’s some twisted Cinderella fetish is what it is. And Klaus only invited me to piss off Tyler.”

Klaus. Invited her.

“Klaus?”

My voice comes out pathetic, weak, and strangled and I feel Theo squeeze his pinky against mine.

“Ya, he sent me a dress and everything,” Caroline says dramatically as if she doesn’t notice my change in demeanor, “It’s totally weird. Also,” Caroline looks at Elena, “Why does the evil witch want an audience with you?”

“Evil witch?”

Theo and I say in union and Elena looks up at us, “That was who was in the last coffin. The mother that Klaus killed…actually not so dead.”

I blink at what she says and feel my breathing speed up.

Elena looks back at Caroline, “I have no idea. There’s only one way to find out.”

Caroline sighs, “I thought you told Damon and Stefan that you weren’t going.”

Great so it seems everyone knows about this dance.

Elena nods, “I did, which is all the more reason why I need a drama-free bodyguard.”

“Well, I think a Salvaotre would look a lot better in a tux, and by that, I mean Stefan.”

“Fuck that asshole,” Theo snarls catching Caroline and Elena off guard.

“Theo, language,” I warn lightly but honestly don’t care enough to chastise him much.

Theo shakes his head defiantly, “Hell no. Elena, you can’t be seriously thinking about getting back together with the man who threatened to kill you and your best friend?!”

Theo’s uncharacteristic outburst seems to startle both of the girls and Elena shakes her head, “No, of course not. I can’t deal with any of the Salvatores right now. Whatever Stefan’s feeling, he’s channeling it all against Klaus and Damon… it’s not a good idea.”

Theo nods his head seemingly accepting her answer but as I stare at him something in his eyes tells me he’s not 100% convinced.

Caroline and Elena converse for another moment about Elena kissing Damon and I can’t help but feel like nothing more than a fly on the wall again, just like I did last year and every year before.

“Hey,” Theo leans down to whisper in my ear, “You good?”

I don’t meet my brother’s eyes because if there’s anyone in this world who could point out my lies it’s him so all I do is nod.

“Careful Y/n, Caroline, and Theo. It’s all well and good until she stabs you in the back,” A feminine British accent has me lifting my head and the sight of Rebekah surprises me.

“What are you doing here? I know your mom’s rules. No hurting the locals,” Elena accuses.

Rebekah glares down at Elena, “Get over yourself, Elena. It’s not all about you,” Rebekah tells her and begins to walk away but stops when she gets to me.

“Meet me outside in 5 minutes would you, luv? I want us to have a little chat,” Rebekah smiles at me and I for some reason find myself nodding.

All four of us watch Rebekah walk off over to Matt. Rebekah pulls out an envelope from her purse and hands it to the blonde boy.

“Even the busboy got an invite,” I can hear Theo practically snarl under his breath.

“Oh my God,” Caroline gasped, “She’s inviting him to the ball. Why is she inviting him?”

“Probably to get this reaction from us,” Elena says and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“Or maybe she just wants a date,” I say under my breath and I hear Theo chuckle from beside me.

Caroline huffs in sits back in her chair, “What time is this stupid dance?”

At Carolie’s words my heart plummets. I’m not entirely sure why. I mean who cares that she was invited by Klaus? Was gifted a dress by Klaus. Is going to dance with Klaus. I mean who cares right?!? Not me!

“We’re leaving,” I mutter to Theo grab his hand and begin pulling him.

“Wait,” I hear Elena call to me and I sigh, “You’re not actually going to talk with Rebekah, right?” I shrug my shoulders and stare at her annoyed, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Elena looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, “She’s evil, Y/n! You can’t trust her,” Elena tries to reason and I raise my eyebrows in disbelief.

“Coming from the girl that quite literally stabbed her in the back.”

Elena blinks, shocked at my words.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything, Elena. I’m just relaying the information that has been told to me. Just like everything else that happens in this town,” I smile at her sarcastically and then turn around grabbing Theo’s hand.

“We’re leaving.”

—-

“Damn, woman,” Theo says as I pull him out the door into the parking lot, “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”

I shake my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I deny and Theo comes to stand in front of me with his arms crossed.

“You can pull that denial shit with anyone else in this town, except me bitch. You and me, came from the same womb so that technically means we can read each other’s minds. So whatever you’re doing,” He raises his eyebrow, “This self-sabotaging thing or whatever it is, you need to let me in.”

I stare at my younger brother and feel tears rush to my eyes. Theo must see them because the stern look on his face quickly turns to fear.

“Oh shit, tears,” He quickly shakes his hands, “Please don’t cry! I don’t know how to handle tears,” He shakes his head, “Other than my own!”

“Is there something wrong with me?”

My question seems to catch my brother off guard as he frowns, “What? Like your fashion taste? Sister we’ve already established this.”

I shake my head and push away from him, “Never mind, God, just forget it.”

“Hey,” Theo pulls me back by my shoulders so I’m facing him, “I’m sorry, okay? You know I can’t do emotion without humor and sarcasm. But, why the hell would you ask me that? Did someone say something,” Theo’s concerned eyes turn to ones filled with anger, “Because if someone did I’m going to kill them.”

I just shrug my shoulders, “It doesn’t matter. I already know the answer.”

I begin to walk over to the car but Theo once again stops me, “Hold on for a second and talk to me! Why the hell would you ever think something is wrong with you?”

I look at my brother and clench my nails into my palm, “Because there has to be,” I almost cry out. Feeling the tsunami of emotions I’ve been holding in for the past few weeks rush forward, “There has to be a reason why people don’t choose me. Why my whole life I’ve always been on the outside looking in. Watching everyone live their lives happy and free while all I do is watch and hope that one day someone will notice me watching and ask me to join. I need there to be a reason because if there’s not then…”

Theo watches me with a heartbroken expression, “Then what, Y/n?”

I wipe a stray tear off my face, “Then there’s nothing I can change. And it means that it’s just me,” I point to myself defeated, “That I was just born this way. Born to watch everyone else be the main characters in my own life.”

I stare with blurred vision up at my brother who looks defeated as he shakes his head.

“Y/n, no one thinks that about you. And I promise everyone feels that way every once and a while it’s normal,” My brother’s soothing voice only frustrates me more.

I shake my hands, “You don’t get it, Theodore! Other people may feel this way every once and a while, but,” I shove my finger into my chest harshly, “I feel this way all of the time!”

“Y/n?”

I turn to see Rebekah staring at me confused, and I quickly wipe the tears off my face. Rebekah’s face drops as she watches me and she instantly rushes towards me.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt,” She asks me look a mother coddling her child.

I shrug her away and nod my head feeling numb again, “Fine. Don’t worry about it,” I look at Theo grab the keys out of my pocket, and throw them to him, “Drive yourself home. I’m going for a walk.”

I turn around and can hear them calling after me but I don’t turn around.

—

Why the fuck did I walk?

Why the fuck did I throw a goddamn temper tantrum.

God, can I be normal for five fucking seconds!??

These thoughts run through my head over and over again until I realize I’ve made it to the Salvatore house. Which is still about a 15-minute drive, or a one-hundred-hour walk to my house. Fuck me.

I’m about to continue walking when a flash of red catches my eye.

I eye the car that Stefan tried to kill me in for a moment and then shake my head, “No, I couldn’t.”

I take another few steps and then feel a cramp in my thigh.

“Fuck it.”

—

I speed into my driveway and a laugh escapes my mouth.

I just stole a car. I JUST STOLE A FUCKING CAR.

I laugh to myself like a crazy person as I shift it into park and get out of it. I stand there admiring the stolen vehicle until I hear footsteps behind me.

“I see you’ve acquired a new vehicle,” Elijah smiles at me kindly and I fight the urge to punch him.

“I stole it,” I bite and walk past the Original and up my porch.

“Stole it?”

“Yup, stealing is when you take something that isn’t yours. Pick up a dictionary,” I snarl as I try to put my key into the lock but with my shaking hands I just keep missing.

Elijah is quiet for a moment before I feel him next to me, “Here,” He extends his hand, “Let me.”

I shake my head and keep trying, “Screw off.”

“Excuse me,” Elijah’s tone comes off as somewhat surprised and a little irritated.

“Telling someone to screw off means they don’t want you around,” I mimic my tone from before and I hear Elijah sigh.

“You’re upset with me because of last night,” He says out loud as if it’s some fucking revelation.

I finally get the key into the lock, unlock the door, and then open it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I step inside and try to slam the door in his perfect face but it gets stopped by his perfectly polished designer shoe.

“Elskan,” Elijah nudges the door open against my weight and I glare daggers at him.

“Stop calling me that,” I bite and he furrows his eyebrows.

“Please, let me explain,” He tries to reason with me and I shake my head.

“There’s nothing to explain. If you think last night is the first time I’ve ever been let down by a man, you are horribly mistaken. Now leave me alone.”

Elijah's free hand doesn’t move from the door and I realize he’s holding a big white box with his other hand.

“I understand you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I hate breaking my word, most importantly when it comes to you. I just hope you’ll listen to me now when I tell you how sorry I am,” He says earnestly and I glare at him.

“You’re sorry?”

Elijah nods, “I never intended to stand you up last night but there were…complications.”

I blink at him unimpressed, “Ya, you’re dead mother isn’t dead. Whoopty fucking doo.”

Elijah’s posture stiffens for a moment, “You know?”

“I’m the last one to find out it seems, but ya I do. So I’m sure mommy dearest wants you home for your little ball or whatever so why don’t you get off my porch and go home, Elijah Mikaelson,” I snarl his last name at him and he frowns.

“I understand you need some time to think,” Elijah nods his head and brings the white box up, and gestures for me to take it, “I’ll be at my family's ball tonight. I would be incredibly grateful if you would join me?”

I blink at his question and try to fight back any emotions other than anger. Elijah nods when he realizes he’s not going to get an answer right now and then places the box on the porch swing next to us.

“I hope to see you tonight,” Elijah gives me one last look before walking off the porch.

You won’t.

—

He will.

FUCKING THEODORE.

“I fucking hate you,” I glare at my little brother as I put on the stupid diamond necklace Elijah gifted me.

Theo, who stands next to me in front of my mirror smirks, “You’ll thank me later.”

I shake my head as I struggle to latch the necklace, “Hell to the no.”

Theo tightens his tie and then rolls his eyes, “Whatever,” He shoots me a look and then laughs, “Here let me help you.”

I glare at him but still let him take the necklace and latch it behind my neck.

After he latches it Theo’s eyes stay on the huge diamond necklace that adorns my neck.

“How much do you think that cost?”

I look at the huge statement diamond that hangs in the center of a dozen tinier diamonds holding the necklace together. I feel the weight of the diamonds, against my chest and cringe.

“Too much,” I look at the huge off-white gown that is encrusted with lace and crystals that I’m wearing and pinch the bridge of my nose, “This is all too much.”

Theo smirks and straightens out his black suit jacket, “Elijah may be a scary old vampire, but you got to give him some props,” He gestures to my dress, “The guys got great taste. And expensive too,” He points to the matching diamond bracelet on my left wrist, “After today you can pawn the necklace and bracelet, make bank, and then you and I hit Vegas.”

I turn and glare at my brother who smirks at me, “Not happening. We’re going to this stupid dance and then tomorrow morning I’m returning all of this crap and never talking to any of the Mikaelsons again.”

I watch Theo nod slowly and raise an eyebrow, “Rrrrrighttttt. Sure, okay. Um, how exactly do you plan on doing that? Also, I thought you and Rebekah were friends?”

I sit down on my bed and strap on the nude heels that were also in the huge white box that carried everything Elijah gave me.

“I’ll,” I stop and blow out a breath, “I’m going to….”

Theo snorts and nods, “Ya, you do that, nerd.”

With a huff, I stand up and take a step to grab my shawl but I let out a squeal when I trip over myself and bump into Theo.

Theo grabs my shoulders and pushes me upright and then dusts off his jacket, “Dude, walk much?”

I roll my eyes and throw my shawl over my shoulders, “I don’t wear heels!”

Theo purses his lips, “Cleary, hoe.”

I shoot him a glare, “Tell me why I’m letting you drag me to this again?”

Theo instantly smiles brightly at me and throws his arms over my shoulder pushing me down the hall, “Because you got personally invited by one of the hosts, and it would be rude to not go.”

I turn my head and shoot him a look and he smirks.

“Ok, maybe I don’t really care about him. But, come on! It’s a party and if we don’t go people will talk about how we were the only ones in town not invited!”

I shake my head as Theo opens the front door, “But we were invited?”

“Technically, you were invited. My invite must’ve gotten lost in transit,” He says confidently to himself, “And also people won’t know we were invited unless we go. And we need a night out. Too much shit has happened and we need fun.”

I go to argue but Theo shushes me.

“Nope. No complaining,” Theo then looks down at Stefan’s red car that is still sitting in our driveway, “Also, where the fuck did that come from?”

I cringe and close my eyes, “I kind of…stole it away from Stefan.”

I open my eyes and cringe as I look at my brother’s mad face.

“Are you serious?!”

I cringe at his yelling, “I’m sorry, okay? I was worked up and mad at the dick so I-”

“Bitch! I’m not mad at you for stealing the damn thing,” He gestures wildly at the car, “I’m mad that you stole a fucking car without ME!”

I blink and then shake my head, “I’m sorry. Next time I steal a motor vehicle, I’ll alert you first. Alright?”

Theo wipes a non-existent tear off his cheek and then nods, “Fine. But I get to drive there.”

I shake my head, “Hell to the no.”

“Oh, so you’re going to drive in those,” Theo asks and points to the heels I’m wearing and I frown.

“Fine. But, if you hit anything it’s on you.”

—

Theo hit 3 mailboxes. Ran a red light. The car no longer has a front fender.

“Well,” Theo opens my car door for me and I step out shaking, “That was…fun.”

My eye twitches as I look at my brother furiously and outstretch my shaking hand. Theo doesn’t say anything but nods his head in defeat, placing the car keys in my palm.

“Never again,” I growl.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad,” I whip around to the car that now has no fender, a broken headlight, multiple dents, and an uncountable amount of scrapes, “Okay, ya. Never mind that one is on me.”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath in and out, and feel Theo grab my arm.

“But at least we look good as fuck. Our parent’s gene pools do it again,” Theo says happily and then stops and cringes, “Sorry.”

I shake my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know… the fact that we don’t have the same father so your gene pool isn’t his gene pool,” Theo explains and I have to take another deep breath.

“Sarcasm, Theodore. I was being sarcastic.”

“Ohhhhh,” Theo nods and guides me up a huge staircase to the massive mansion that is covered in lights and beautiful decorations.

We stop as we wait behind three rows of couples and I feel my hand start to shake.

“Hey, it’s all cool,” Theo smiles down at me and I wish for even a second I could believe him.

“Next!”

Theo and I walk up to the security guard and he holds out his hand, “Invite?”

I look over to Theo expectantly and he does the same to me, “Please don’t tell me you left it at home?”

Theo shakes his head, “Bitch, it was your invite?!”

“But you’re the one that wanted to come!”

“Listen,” The guard catches our attention, “If neither of you have an invite I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” He says and points to the parking lot.

“Sir, my sister was personally invited by the Elijah Mikaelson,” Theo states and the guard rolls his eyes.

“Ya, I’m sure she was,” He says sarcastically, “Now leave or I’ll have you escorted off the property.”

“That won’t be necessary,” A British voice says and I look up to see the light-brown-haired younger brother of Klaus and Elijah. Kol.

Theo shoots me a look, “Please tell me you didn’t bag, another one!”

I glare back at him, “Shut up!”

“They’re with me,” Kol tells the guard and reaches out an arm for me to take.

I stare at him cautiously for a moment before I hear people behind me start to express their annoyance.

With my free hand, I grab Kol’s right arm, while still holding on to Theo with my right arm.

Kol smirks down at me as he leads Theo and me into a huge ballroom, brightly lit with candles and twinkling lights, “My family can be quite dramatic with these things,” I look up at him and try to not notice how attractive yet another Mikaelson sibling is, “But, with our whole family back together again, our mother thinks it calls for a celebration.”

“How rich are you guys,” Theo asks bluntly and I jab my elbow into his stomach.

Kol smirks at him, “Very rich.”

I hear Theo mutter something about rich bitches under his breath and I try to not laugh.

“Thank you for helping us get in,” I say quietly to Kol and he shrugs.

“No worries. I thought I’d get to you first before the wolves descend,” He says nonchalantly but I can feel myself shake again at his words.

Kol must notice this because his eyebrows furrow, “Why are you doing that?”

I shake my head, “Doing what?”

Kol raises an eyebrow, “You’re shaking and your heartbeat is incredibly loud,” He says as if the noise annoys him.

“She has anxiety dickhead,” Theo bites at the vampire and I thrash my head over to my brother.

“Theo! Don’t be a dick!”

Theo shrugs and eyes Kol, “He’s the one making you feel bad for something you can’t control. How are you a thousand years old and not know what anxiety looks like?”

I cringe in pain when I feel Kol’s grip tighten on my arm.

“Theo,” I pinch my brother’s arm, “Please go get us some drinks, non-alcoholic.”

Theo glares back at me like I’m crazy and quickly shakes his head, “No, I’m not leaving you alone. Definitely not with him,” He points at Kol and I inhale a quick breath.

I turn to look at Kol, who is looking at Theo as if he wants to rip him in two.

“Theo,” I bite harshly, “Go. Now.”

Theo’s expression drops as he turns his attention back towards me. He must noticed the nervous look on my face because he lets out a sigh and nods his head.

“Ok,” He looks at Kol once more, “I’ll be right back.”

I watch with bated breath as Theo walks away and disappears into the crowd.

“Friend of yours?”

Kol’s tense voice makes me tense.

I turn and look at him and see the dark gleam in his eyes.

“My little brother,” I say equally as tense, “Try anything and I’ll steal one of those fancy daggers from your asshole brother and stab you myself.’’

Kol and I watch each other for a moment before he slits his eyes and hums, “If you were anyone else I’d rip your ribs out and stab you with them…but since I don’t want Nik or Elijah daggering me again and locking me away for another one hundred years,” He looks down at me and smirks, “You don’t have to worry about you coming to any harm from me.”

I stare at Kol with wide eyes and rip my arm out of his hold and he raises an eyebrow and smirks at my movement.

“I notice you didn’t mention my brother in that,” I turn to stand and glare at him, “I may not be able to stab you myself but trust me when I say this, for some reason, Klaus and Elijah don’t like it when I’m upset and people who make me upset,” I pause and think back to Klaus threatening Stefan, “and someone harming my brother would really make me upset.”

Kol stares back at me and after a moment he nods, “If you keep this attitude up, you’ll fit in just fine with my family.”

I furrow my eyebrows, “I want nothing to do with your family.”

Kol smirks as if what I just said was the funniest thing he just heard, “Oh Darling, you don’t have any choice in the matter anymore. Fate’s already picked you.”

I shake my head confused, “What the hell is everyone talking about?! What the hell does fate have to do with anything and what the hell is a fucking soulmate?”

Kol’s eyes widen slightly, “Women never swore as much as you do before I was daggered.”

I glare at him and he laughs, “My brothers say I’m not allowed to tell you anything,” He pauses and shrugs, “Actually they said I’m not allowed to even approach you.”

I look at him and groan in frustration.

“But when have I ever listened to what my brothers say,” I look up and find Kol smirking devilishly at me, “What do you want to know, Darling.”

I feel a weight lift off my shoulders at the idea of finally getting answers.

“What is a soulmate?”

Kol nods to a waiter passing by and grabs two glasses of champagne, he gestures for me to take one but I shake my head and he shrugs. Then he downs both of them.

“Let me give you the shortened version because I’m sure my brothers have already smelt you when you entered the house, so I’m sure they’ll be finding you soon,” Kol makes a show of looking around the room and then back to me, “Soulmates mean different things in different cultures…but, in your case soulmates mean someone who is bound to you forever. Someone who is a part of you, someone who is you.”

I shake my head not understanding what the hell he’s talking about.

“There’s not much understanding behind what this means in the supernatural world. There’s been much speculation, but what I do know is that when we were turned, our souls were ripped out. That human part of us was taken away…but it had to go somewhere.”

I shake my head and laugh in denial, “So what, you’re saying that I have Klaus’ and Elijah’s souls in me?”

Kol sighs and taps his chin in thought, “Ya. Pretty much.”

I let out a laugh at his joke.

“That’s really funny. It's good to know you didn’t lose your humor while in your coffin,” I smirk.

My smirk starts to slowly fall though as Kol doesn’t laugh with me.

No fucking way.

“You’re not joking are you?”

Kol’s smirk drops, “I honestly wish I was, Darling. I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy.”

“Elskan?”

Of course.

At the sound of Elijah’s voice, I let out a sigh and turned to see Elijah pushing through a few guests to walk over to Kol and me.

“Oh, fuck me,” I say under my breath and I hear Kol giggle.

“Don’t say that too loud, or my brother will take that as a request,” Kol gests and I stare wide-eyed at him which makes him laugh again.

“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” Elijah says as he comes to stand in front of Kol and me.

“I didn’t want to,” I say.

Kol laughs again and I see Elijah turn his attention to his younger brother, “Brother, it appears you’ve met the lovely Y/n Y/l/N.”

Kol throws a hand over my shoulder making me jump and cringe at the feeling of a stranger's touch, “Yes, we’re practically thick as thieves already.”

Elijah’s eyes darken and narrow as he looks at Kol’s hand that rests on my shoulder, “So it appears.”

I bite my lip as I wait for Elijah and Kol to be done with their glaring at one another. Or more like, Elijah glaring at Kol and the latter smirking.

“Well,” I say interrupting them, “You two have fun…I’m going to go…anywhere else,” I turn to Kol who turns to me, “I would say it was nice to meet you Kol, but you are kind of weird.”

“Right back at you, Darling,” Kol says and smirks at me.

I don’t spare either man another glance as I try to push through the crowd away from them.

“Y/n,” Elijah’s voice calls from behind me and I roll my eyes, “Please wait a moment.”

With a sigh, I stop and wait a moment for Elijah. It doesn’t take him but a moment to stand in front of me.

“What?”

Elijah’s dark look is long gone and replaced with a smile, “You look positively breathtaking.”

I look away from him and nod, “Thanks. I mean you’re the one who picked out the dress so.”

“The dress, although beautiful, has nothing to do with the radiance that is you,” Elijah says as his eyes scour my face.

I look at him and finally get to focus on just how attractive he looks right now. Y/n he always looks good. Shut up. He’s switched out his usual suit for a black tux that hugs his chest perfectly. His dark hair is styled expertly letting his beautiful face to be put on display.

“You don’t look horrible,” I shrug, “I guess.”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches and he nods, “Thank you, I think.”

Elijah and I stand staring at each other for a moment before he clears his throat.

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation to be my date,” Elijah smiles and uck in a breath.

“Sadly for you, my man,” I hear Theo’s voice come up from behind me, “She’s actually my date.”

I let out a sigh as I feel Theo wrap his arm around my arm and tug me towards him.

I watch Elijah’s eyes narrow for a moment before he gives Theo a strained smile, “And you are?”

Theo smirks and puffs out his chest, “Theo Y/L/N. Pleasure,” He eyes Elijah, “I’m sure.”

I see the wheels turning in Elijah’s head and his shoulders seem to untense.

“You’re Y/n’s younger brother. Am I correct?”

At Elijah’s question, Theo nods his head, “The one and only. And let me guess,” He puts his free hand on his hip, “You’re the man who showed up on my doorstep this morning begging my sister to not kick him to the curb. Am I correct?”

I stare wide-eyed at Theo in disbelief, and then back to Elijah.

The Original stares at my brother for a moment and I wait for the backlash.

“That would be me, Theodore,” Elijah smiles, and I raise an eyebrow, “But, I‘m not so sure what your sister has decided to do with me. At least not yet.”

Theo whips around to me, “Well? What are you going to do with him?”

My eyes widen and I switch my attention from Theo to Elijah, who also looks expectant on an answer.

“Um,” I look between the two men and freeze.

Thankfully, someone entering through the door pulls our attention.

Not someone. Caroline.

Caroline is wearing a light blue gown that makes her look just like Cinderella and beautiful as always.

“Um, I’m going to go see Caroline,” I turn away from the two men and quickly begin to walk towards my blonde friend. For a moment I think she sees me as her eyes focus on something, but when I follow her gaze behind me I see her staring at…Klaus.

Oh.

Klaus, who looks absolutely earth-shattering, turns his attention from Caroline towards me and I feel my heart drop. The enlightened look on his face, the look he had when looking at Caroline, drops when he sees me. The blank look on his face makes a burning start in the back of my eyes and I quickly divert them from him.

With Elijah behind me and Klaus to my right, I quickly book it to my left, through a doorway, and run down a hall.

I run until I meet a dark brown door and I throw it open and go inside. As soon as I close the door I lean my head against it, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” A British voice says.

“Fucking Brits,” I groan out and turn around.

The other Mikaelson sibling, Finn I believe, stands before me. His once long hair is cut shorter and he’s wearing a suit that matches his brothers.

“You’re Finn,” I say and he narrows his eyes at me.

“Yes and you’re the soulmate,” He says annoyed.

I eye him and he eyes me.

What the hell is up with the Mikaelson siblings and glaring?

“Is this your room?”

Finn eyes me for another moment before nodding, “Yes.”

I nod and then wring my shaking hands together, “I’m sorry for barging in. I just… I couldn’t be out there. Around so many people.”

He doesn’t say anything and I nod, “I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”

I turn around and grab the handle.

“Wait,” Finn’s voice calls to me and I turn around, “You can stay. Just don’t touch anything.”

I look at Finn and then nod, “I won’t. Thank you.”

I slowly walk towards a couch and sit down careful not to rip my dress. I look up to Finn, who is standing in the corner of the room looking more awkward than I feel.

“Do you want to sit with me,” I ask gesturing to the other couch across from me.

Finn looks up at me suspiciously and then shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. Mother wants me out with the others,” Finn says and then walks towards the door.

“I’m sorry,” I say to him before he can open it.

I see him stop, “You already apologized.”

I shake my head, “Not about barging in…About what your siblings did to you.”

I see Finn’s shoulders instantly tense up and he turns around with a glare on his face, “You have no idea what my siblings did to me.”

I reposition uncomfortably and then shrug, “I know that they left you in a coffin for almost your entire life or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never been daggered by one of my family members but…I recently was betrayed by some of my family,” I open and then close my mouth thinking of what to say, “So I just…I guess I know what it’s like to feel betrayed.”

Finn’s eyes drop and he looks away from me. I take a deep breath and then turn back to look at my hands. I wait for Finn to either leave or kill me for speaking out of turn. What I didn’t expect though was for him to walk over to the other couch and place himself on it with a sigh.

We sit in silence for a moment before he sighs again, “I don’t blame you for not wanting to be out there,” He looks behind me towards the door, “It’s too loud.”

I nod and then realize just how much worse it probably is for him than me.

“This must be a lot for you,” I say and play with the diamond bracelet I’m wearing,

“Being away from civilization for so long, and now you have to get used to everything. I wouldn’t want to attend a party either.��’

Finn looks up at me and his face contorts into one of confusion, “You’re peculiar.”

I let out a low laugh, “Trust me, I know. Pretty much everyone does,” I say and take a sigh.

Finn eyes me oddly for a moment, “What do you mean?”

I shrug, “I’m not a very popular person. At all. For some reason, people don’t like to be around me much. Not even my family it seems.”

I feel my face warm up at the embarrassment I feel for spilling all that to a stranger.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way,” Finn says breaking me out of my embarrassment.

I look up to Finn and for a moment it’s like looking in a mirror. The sad look in his eyes is one I’ve seen one too many times when looking in my own mirror.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” Finn says as he leans back onto the couch.

I frown, “What do you mean?”

Finn eyes me, “You’re my brother’s soulmate. They’re both cruel and monstrous…yet you’re, peculiar.”

I shake my head, “What does that have to do with Elijah or Klaus?” Finn nods his head, “They said you don’t know anything about your soul bond,” He says to himself, “With souls being connected, the soulmates usually share personality qualities…yet you don’t seem monstrous like either one of my brothers.”

At his continuing insult to Klaus and Elijah, tension builds in my shoulders, “Then you haven’t seen me in the morning,” I joke but Finn doesn’t seem to get it. Or doesn’t find it funny, “Klaus and Elijah don’t seem that horrible. I mean ya they do bad things but, if anyone were alive for one thousand years then I’m sure they would also pile up their own bad deeds.”

Finn seems to be annoyed by my answer as he huffs and goes to stand up.

“Do you have a soulmate?”

Finn stops moving in his tracks and instantly looks at me, “Why are you asking?”

I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know…Just wondering.”

Finn seems like he’s not going to say anything, but at least he sits back down.

“I think once I did,” Finn’s voice comes out so quietly I have to lean forward to hear him.

“Before you were daggered?” Finn doesn’t meet my eyes but he nods, “Sage. Her name was Sage.”

I frown at his saddened voice, “You loved her?”

I sad smile forms on Finn’s face, “I did,” He pauses, “I do.”

I feel my heart breaking for the man before me.

“Was she human?”

Finn frowns, “She was. Until she had me turn her so we could be together,” He pauses and takes a shaky breath, “I was daggered shortly after.”

“And what happened to her?”

Finn’s jaw tightens, “Well, it was over 900 years ago…I’m sure she’s…”

I nod, sadly, “Right.”

We sit in solemn silence for a moment before an idea comes to me, “How are you so sure,” Finn looks up at me confused, “That she’s dead.”

Finn shakes his head, “She has to be.”

I shake my head as well, “Finn, it was 900 years ago. She would be incredibly strong, one of the strongest vampires to date. I would be surprised if she wasn’t alive and if she truly loved you, I think she would’ve waited for you.”

Finn looks at me and I can see the wheels turning in his head but he still shakes his head, “It’s not possible.”

I laugh, “Dude, werewolves, vampires, and witches exist. Nothing is short of impossible here.”

Finn stops shaking his head, “Even if she was…there’s no way I could find her.”

I stay quiet for a moment until an idea comes to my mind, “I have a friend. She’s a witch, a really good witch. Maybe…I could ask her and we could find her. All three of us.”

Finn stares at me for a long moment.

“Why would you do that? Why would you do that, for me?”

I give Finn a soft smile, “I’m kind of peculiar.”

Finn’s solemn face changes for the first time since I’ve seen him. His sorrowful eyes look almost…hopeful now.

“I’d appreciate that. Greatly.”

Finn and I smile at one another until the door opening makes me jump.

“Finn,” A feminine voice says and I turn and see a blond older woman.

“Mother,” Finn instantly jumps up.

“Mother?!”

I jump up shocked and stare at the older woman who eyes me, kind of nastily.

“What is going on here,” She asks Finn suspiciously and he pauses.

“Um, Mrs. Mikaelson,” I say and she goes back to eyeing me, “Hey, Y/n,” I point to myself, “Finn and I were just discussing new-age technology. I heard he’s new to this era so I thought me and I could chat about it.”

I turn to Finn, “This was a good chat. Let’s meet…tomorrow. We can discuss how to send text messages.”

Finn eyes me oddly like he doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but he still nods.

“Great! Well,” I turn back to his mother, “Pleasure to meet you…I guess. I’ll be leaving now. Bye, Finn!”

I quickly speed-walk past both of them and exit the room. I close the door and take a deep breath.

“Y/n?”

“Oh come on!”

I turn around to see Rebekah walking towards me. Just like all other Mikeaslons, she looks absolutely gorgeous. The green dress she’s wearing matches perfectly with her blonde long hair.

“Are you alright?”

I nod and start to walk by her back to the party, “Peachy. Just happened to run into your mother. Tense lady.”

Rebekah walks up next to me and smiles, “Yes, my mother is an acquired taste. Don’t let her get to you though, you’re a part of this family.”

I shake my head viscously, “No I am not.”

“Yes you are,” She says as we enter the ballroom. An incredibly crowded ballroom.

“Literally, am not.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Rebekah laughs.

We both watch the crowd of people dance, laugh, and talk.

“My brother has been looking for you,” She says and I groan.

“Ya? Which one?”

Rebekah smirks, “Elijah, and Nik.”

“Well, I don’t want to see either one.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Rebekah smirk, “Unluckily for you, I don’t think you have a choice,” At her tone, I look over to her and she nods her head to her left.

I follow her eyeline and let out another groan at the sight of Elijah making his way over to us.

“God it’s like he has a tracker on me,” I say sarcastically.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past either of them,” Rebekah replies.

We both watch as Elijah approaches us with a content smile, “Good evening, ladies,” Elijah says with his perfect accent, “Rebekah, mother wants us on the staircase,” Elijah turns his attention towards his younger sister and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine,” Rebekah says sarcastically then turns to me, “It was lovely to talk to you, Y/n. We’ll chat soon.”

I nod silently and watch as she walks towards the staircase.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Elijah’s voice makes me close my eyes.

“Doesn’t mommy want you on that staircase?”

Elijah’s jaw tenses and he rolls his shoulders, “Behave, Elskan.”

I purse my lips, “Don’t tell me what to do, Suit and Tie.”

Elijah’s tense expression lightens, “Suit and Tie?”

I shrug, “You have a nickname for me. I think it’s only fair I have one for you, as well.”

“Suit and tie,” Elijah says to himself as if he’s seeing how it sounds, “Hmm. It’ll need work, but it’s fine for now.”

I fight back a smirk at his words, “Fine. I’ll workshop it.”

Elijah and I stand there for a moment and I feel his gaze on me the entire time.

“What did you and my younger brother talk about,” Elijah asks with a hint of skepticism in his voice.

“Oh, nothing,” I look at my nails as if I’m bored, “Just the fact that I supposedly have your and Klaus’ human souls in me.”

I smirk as I watch Elijah instantly tense up, “My brother was told not to talk to you about that.”

“Well, no one else wanted to keep their word and talk with me about it. So, I’m glad he did,” I cringe, “Actually…I’m not sure. I still have no idea what the hell is going on.”

Elijah nods, “Once again…I apologize that I was unable to make it last night. You should’ve heard that from me and not from…Kol,” He says the name and I can clearly tell how pissed off he is at his younger brother right now.

“But I did,” I harshly say, “And I still don’t have any clue what to make of it. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Elijah sighs, “I know, Y/n. And I promise you, that I will tell you everything you want to know,” His eyes travel behind me and he sighs, “Right after I deal with my family.”

I nod, “Elijah, your promises don’t mean anything until you start living up to them.”

Elijah sends me a saddened smile and nods, “And I look forward to doing that.”

I nod and with a final smile, Elijah walks up a grand staircase to meet his siblings.

“Uh, if everyone could gather, please,” Elijah addresses the crowd of people standing below him and his family.

As I gaze at each Mikaelson sibling I can’t help but hate them all for how hot they all are. Like seriously, the most supernatural thing in this town is this family's good looks.

Elijah stands before his family, confident and strong; Below him, walking up the stairs, Finn stands with a scowl on his face. Even with the scowl, no one could deny how attractive the eldest brother is; Rebekah who stands behind Finn is a bright light compared to her brother’s darker exteriors; Kol who stands at the top step chugging his bottle of champagne looks so boyishly handsome it could make even the most confident girl blush; and last Klaus. The bitch-ass hybrid stands in the middle of all his siblings as if nonverbally telling all of us looking up at them that he’s the one that deserves their utmost attention and respect.

As if he could read my thoughts, the bastard’s eyes trail to me. The calculative look on his face doesn’t change as he stares down at me and I don’t care enough to hide the glare I know I have on my face.

“Welcome,” Elijah’s voice calls my attention once again and I trail my eyes away from Klaus to his older brother, “Thank you for joining us. You know, whenever my mother,” Elijah gestures to the older blonde woman making her way down the steps and I hate to say it but she’s also pretty hot. A shitty fucking person, but pretty hot, “brings our family together like this, it’s a tradition for us to commence the evening with a dance. Tonight’s pick is a centuries-old waltz so if all of you could please find yourselves a partner,” Elijah’s eyes land right on me as he talks, “Please join us in the ballroom.”

I debate on running away before anyone can ask me to dance but as I watch Elijah practically hop down the steps, dodge women trying to ask for his hand, all while having his eyes stuck on me I can’t help but only try to fight back the grin on my face.

“Elskan,” Elijah gives me a smile that makes me want to curl up into a ball and scream, “I would be ever so delighted if you would join me for this dance.”

I look at Elijah’s outstretched hand and cringe, “I can’t dance. Let alone, Waltz.”

Elijah smiles blissfully, “Then let me show you.”

I bite my lip thoughtfully as I stare at him for a moment before relenting, “Fine,” I point at him, “But if I step on your fancy designer shoes I don’t want any complaining.”

Elijah’s smile doesn’t change as he chuckles, “I’d happily have all of my shoes ruined by you if it meant I’d never have to have a different dance partner again.”

I roll my eyes, trying to hide the fact that his words are making me lowkey freak the fuck out. So all I do is place my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor where other couples are lined up.

“I’m going to fall and make a fool out of myself” I whisper to myself as “Give Me Love” By Ed Sheeran starts playing.

“I’d never let you fall,” Elijah leans down and whispers in my ear and I gaze up to him.

“You’re pretty slick with your words. Y’know that right,” I joke and he shrugs.

“I’ve been told this once or twice,” He squeezes my hand and I’m glad the music is so loud because if it wasn’t I’d be sure every vampire in this room could hear how loud my heart was pounding.

Elijah guides me forward as the music starts and I try to copy the woman in front of me as she glides forwards. We turn forward, directly in front of Theo who is dancing with Mayor Lockwood and I let out a small snort. The glare on my little brother’s face shows that he doesn’t seem to find it as funny as me.

“Wait,” I look over to Elijah only to find it already looking at me, “You said whenever your mother brings your family together you have a dance… that crazy lady has been dead for 1,000 years.”

Elijah smirks at my observation, “A little white lie never hurt anyone.”

I roll my eyes, “Says the man who can’t die.”

Elijah squeezes my hand and without warning he twirls me. Being caught off guard I trip forward but thankfully Elijah pulls me back into him and I grab onto his chest.

“See, I told you I wouldn’t let you fall,” Elijah, who stands a breath away from me, smiles.

“I hate dancing,” I say exhausted.

Elijah looks over to the other couples for a moment and I do the same.

Elena and Damon are three couples away, engaged in whatever drama is paining them today. Rebekah and Matt are next to them, and I can’t help but admit how pretty they would be as a couple. My eyes continued trailing over other couples randomly; I stop when my eyes catch the light blue of Caroline’s dress.

Caroline stands holding onto Klaus as they twirl around. They appear to be in the middle of a conversation and for some reason, all I want right now is to know what the hell they could possibly be talking about. I’d also like to know why the hell he invited her. I didn’t understand him. The man who one day grips my thigh like it’s his life source and the next won’t even spare me a glance.

I feel Elijah squeeze my hand and I instantly feel horrible for thinking about another man while in his arms.

“What’s plaguing your thoughts, my love?”

The nickname has me choking on my saliva, only making Elijah smirk.

“You’ve really got to pick one nickname and keep with it,” I say trying to act more annoyed than flustered.

“I’ve waited for you for too long to have my feelings confined to just one word.”

All reservations I had are now off the table as I stare wide-eyed at the man in front of me.

“Elijah…I,” I start but then a tightness in his lower jaw stops me.

“I’m sorry, Elskan. We have to change partners now. But, I promise we will continue this discussion,” Elijah says and with a pained look, he twirls me.

I’m twirling until a strong hand on my lower back stops me, “Hello again, Darling.”

I raise an eyebrow at the youngest Mikaelson brother, “Hello, Kol.”

Kol seems to be delighted with my lack of enthusiasm as he swings me in his arms. Where Elijah kept a tight hold on me, Kol seems to have more enjoyment in flinging me around the dance floor.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Kol says thoughtfully and I roll my eyes.

“Here we go.”

Kol rolls his own eyes at my comment but still continues, “So you need protecting, and I don’t want to end up with another dagger in my chest. So…we should team up.”

I frown at his words, “Who do I need protecting from? And why do you think I could stop you from getting daggered?”

Kol looks at me like I’m stupid, “Darling, please tell me you’re smarter than this.”

At my silence, Kol closes his eyes and sighs, “Bloody hell.”

Kol shakes his head, “Alright, you’re important to my brothers. This means their enemies are going to be coming after you; hence why you need protection. And to answer your other question…I’m willing to bet another one hundred years of my life daggered that if you were to bat those pretty y/e/c eyes at either one of my brothers they would move mountains to make you happy. So…”

At Kol’s expectant look, I nod in understanding, “If I tell them I don’t want you daggered…”

Kol nods happily, “Then I’ll stay handsome and perfectly unharmed.”

I consider about Kol’s words.

“You may have Elijah and Klaus’ protection,” Kol’s eyes go behind me to where Theo is dancing with Rebekah, “But your little brother doesn’t.”

I look at Theo who is currently talking a mile a minute with a smiling Rebekah.

“Fine. You have a deal. You protect me, and more importantly, Theo, and I’ll back up. I don’t think Elijah or especially Klaus care enough to listen to me but I’ll try.”

Kol smirks devilishly but then frowns, “You’re joking right,” He must notice my confusion because he continues, “Bloody hell, you really don’t see how they look at you?”

I shake my head and Kol nudges his head to his left and I catch Elijah watching us with an intense look. I quickly look back to Kol and he raises an eyebrow.

“See?”

I shake my head, “Okay…maybe Elijah and I are friends…but Klaus doesn’t give a damn about me.”

Kol’s mouth drops open and I loud laugh escapes his throat, “Bloody hell, luv. You really are oblivious,” Kol shakes his head, “Let me just say this…I’ve never seen my bastard of a brother look at anyone the way he looks at you. It may not register in that thick skull of yours but it’s true. This whole world could be burning down and my brother would not let a single flame come near you,” Kol shrugs, “He probably was the one who started the fire but what I say still stands.”

I stare at the youngest brother with my mouth hung open and he laughs, “I’ve enjoyed trying to knock some sense into, Little Doll. We shall talk more about our deal later on… Good luck,” He smirks evilly, and without a moment for me to say anything back he thrusts me into another pair of strong arms.

A strong masculine smell of something woodsy enters my nose and I breathe it in with a sigh.

“I didn’t know if you were going to show,” That British voice that I know so well enters my ears and I let out a growl.

“Of course, it’s you,” I open my eyes to find myself in Klaus’ arms.

Klaus gazes down at me and I shoot a glare at Kol who isn’t looking at me but has a smirk on his face, “That fucker.”

“Many people have the same reaction when it comes to my little brother,” Klaus says with a smirk and I just glare at him.

I turn away from him, look to my side, and watch the other couples dance around us.

“Don’t ignore me,” Klaus’ rough voice calls to me and I turn to glare at him.

“I don’t care enough about you to even care about ignoring you. Let’s just get this stupid dance over with,” I bite and he glares back at me.

“Fine with me,” He growls back.

“Good.”

We both huff and continue glaring at each other until his eyes fall down to my chest.

“Where is it?”

I glance down at my chest and shake my head at him annoyed, “Where the hell is what?”

“Your necklace,” He insists, “Where is it?”

I look down at my diamond necklace and then back up to him, “Are you blind? I’m wearing it.”

Klaus growls under his breath, “Not that one. The wolf one.”

I lean back in surprise momentarily, “Why do you care?”

“Because I want you to wear it,” He says as if it was obvious.

“Why the fuck would you want me to…” I stop talking when the answer hits me like a truck.

“It was…” I release my hands from his quickly and grasp my neck, “It was from you wasn’t it?”

Klaus tries taking a step towards me but with every step he takes I take one back.

“Don’t come near me,” I shake my head and feel my breathing picking up.

I quickly run through the couples dancing, not caring about messing up this stupid dance as I run through the doors and out into a low-lit garden.

I run a hand through my hair taking out the little pins I had holding my hairstyles together and let my hair flow freely. I kick off my stupid heels and throw myself onto the grass, the cold ground calming my hot skin.

I close my eyes letting out a deep breath and lay down, resting my head on the ground. I look above me to the bright moon overhead and the stairs that surround it. A wave of sadness washes through me as I look at it. I’d always related to the moon. Always felt like she and I were the same. Alone, even though they were surrounded by so many others. The brightly lit stars had each other, thousands of them to hold on to one another, but there was only one moon. Where the stars had their own light and color, the moon only shone because it had the sun shining on it.

I close my eyes and let a small tear fall down my face. As I’m laying there I feel a warmth come next to me and place itself on the ground beside me. I don’t have to open my eyes to recognize who the owner of the woodsy scent is.

“When I was a boy,” Klaus’ low voice fills my ears, “My father would beat me for never being the way he wanted. I could never hold a sword the right way, couldn’t hunt enough animals, I wasn’t man enough in his eyes. Even though I was surrounded by siblings, I never truly felt like one of them,” Klaus stops for a moment and I open my eyes to look at him. To my slight surprise, he was lying right beside me on the grass, his left arm lifted under his head and his eyes staring straight up at the sky, “The only time I felt like I belonged was when it was just myself and the moon. I’d spent most of my boyhood cowering, but…whenever I gazed up at the moon, I felt as though I was something greater. Better. It’s been over a thousand years and I still gaze up at her, remembering how that scared little boy held onto it like a lifeline.”

Klaus stops talking and we lay there together, staring up at the moon.

“I’ve been alone a long time,” I say softly and I can see him turn his head out of the corner of my eye, “When I was little, maybe 8 or 9 I’d cry to my mother asking her why none of the other kids wanted to be around me. She’d just tell me it was because I was too mature for them. I never really believed her though. When I was 10, my father started drinking,” I let out a sigh as the words came out of my mouth, “He’d get angry when he drank. He’d swear at me and my mother and do other stuff. He’d tell me that I deserved to be alone. That people like me…there’s something wrong with people like me. That went on for a few years before my father finally decided that starting a whole new family sounded like a better idea than being with his first one. He may have left but his words didn’t. My mother at first told me that what he was saying wasn’t true. That “hurt people, hurt people.” But as I got older and saw that everyone around me seemed to find their places with each other, and I couldn’t ever seem to fit in, I started to realize that maybe my…father… was right. It wasn’t up until about a year or so ago that I began to be one with the loneliness. Or at least I like to tell myself that. When Elena came around I saw it almost as a threat to myself. To what I was used to. Why, after 17 years did someone finally decide to see me? Having friends now makes me feel like a hungry dog. I got a taste of what it felt like to be fed, but it doesn’t seem to be good enough for me. That’s why it’s better for me to ruin anything that can have a hold on me…Even if it can take away that hunger.”

Klaus is silent for a moment and so am I.

“After I turned…the moon wasn’t the only thing that kept away the loneliness,” Klaus says and I turn my head to gaze at him and he turns him to gaze at me, “You were.”

I furrow my eyebrows, “What are you talking about?”

Klaus reaches a hand up and runs a finger along my face as if he’s memorizing every aspect of it.

“At first it was just glimpses. Colors. Almost like a memory that didn’t belong to me. But every night as I’d dream the images would get clearer. Until one night I was staring into the most exquisite y/e/c I’d ever seen. I didn’t know who they belonged to yet. But for the first time in my life, I felt seen. I’m a monster who has done monstrous things, but yet these eyes looked at me like none of that mattered. Like I had finally been accepted, monstrous bits and all. So every morning when I awoke I’d draw them. And every night I’d dream of them. It wasn’t for another 300 years that I would learn that the eyes belonged to the human part of my soul. And when I found that out, I was angry. Furious even. I hated the thought that the only way someone would ever look at me like I was deserving of being understood was if they were a direct result of me.”

Klaus stops and I can practically hear my heartbeat thumping.

“So I burnt the pictures. Hid anything that reminded me of those eyes and hoped to never come across them for the rest of my eternity. And for 1,108 years I had accomplished that…until one Friday afternoon, in a tiny high school where I locked eyes with that y/e/c. And everything I’d work for became nothing. It was like I was seeing everything for the first time. I was once again that little boy running from himself begging for someone to save him. Because I knew the longer I looked into those y/e/c eyes, the sooner I was doomed.”

Klaus grabs my chin and makes me look into his eyes, “You, Y/n Y/l/n have doomed for me for an eternity,” His eyes search mine, “And no matter how much I try to fight it, fight you, I can’t help but spend every waking moment hoping for you. Hoping for my promised destruction.”

I stare wordlessly at the man in front of me. I keep opening my mouth and closing it but I can’t seem to find the right words.

“I think I’m going to have a panic attack,” I sit upright quickly and clench my chest. I hear Klaus sit up next to me and clutch my shoulders.

“Y/n, just breathe,” He soothes and I think I am having a stroke because what the actual fuck is happening right now.

“I’m so confused.”

Klaus brushes my hair away from my face, “I know this must be hard for you. I didn’t plan on telling you like this…I actually didn’t plan on telling you at all. But when I saw that anger on your face,” he pauses, “Anger that was directed at me, for the first time in my life I felt sick. So I needed to tell you, that even if you may hate me…I could never hate you. And for as long as I live, you will never be alone again.”

I feel tears brim my eyes as I look over and up to him and shake my head, “If you feel this way then why did you invite Caroline? Clearly, you don’t feel the way you say,” I try to deny.

Klaus’s expression darkens, and he once again grabs my chin. “Do not for a moment try to tell me how I feel about you. The only reason I invited your blonde friend was because Elijah had already claimed you as his date. You can also ask your blonde friend, but the entire night all I did was ask her questions about you. I heard she can’t keep a secret for her life and so I picked her brain about you. If my older brother hadn’t gotten to you first…you would’ve been with me tonight.”

I try to process what he just said and I feel a panic attack come on, “I…I…but…I,” I continue shaking my head as I stand up and Klaus follows, “You and Elijah are just playing some sick joke on me right? As a way to get back at Elena? Mess with the mentally ill non-verbal best friend. Get her to hate herself for getting all flustered over two brothers! Fucking brothers!”

“I can assure you, Elskan. That is not the case,” I whip around to see Elijah walking down the steps into the garden.

I rub a hand over my face and start walking around in a circle as the two brothers stand next to one another, watching.

“I mean, come on! You guys have to see how crazy this is right? I mean what kind of whore gets feelings for brothers!”

Klaus and Elijah’s faces darkened and I hear Klaus release a low growl.

“Dont. Ever. Call yourself a whore,” Elijah takes a step forward and continues speaking with a deadly tone, “My brother has said his peace to you, and in due time I will as well. But don’t for a moment think that you should hate yourself for something that fate has put in front of you.”

I continue to stand there like a fish out of water, not knowing what the hell to say next. Thankfully, my saving grace comes in the form of a loud crashing sound coming from upstairs, capturing our attention.

“Shouldn’t we go check that out,” I point up with a shaking hand.

“Don’t for a second think that we won’t be discussing this further,” Elijah informs me and I have to fight back the weird feeling in my chest at his commanding tone.

I nod and Elijah comes towards me and reaches out a hand for me to take. Klaus steps forward and does the same. I stare at both of their hands and swallow my doubts as I place a hand in each and let them guide me upstairs towards the front door where my friends and their siblings are standing.

I quickly drop my hands from theirs as Elena turns towards me. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem she saw anything as she sends me a small smile.

Damon stands above Kol’s dead body with an enraged look.

“Fucking idiot,” I mutter.

“You’ve got that right,” My little brother says as he comes to stand next to me.

Damon looks over all of us before landing his eyes on me, “Pukey, we’re leaving,” Damon’s tone is harsh but something in his eyes makes my heart tug.

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Elijah says with a dark voice that has everyone looking at him.

I shake my head, “It’s ok,” I turn to Theo and hand him my *Stefan’s* car keys, “I’ll see you at home, okay?”

Theo looks at me like I’ve got two heads but still nods.

I look over to where Klaus and Elijah are practically seething and sigh.

“Let’s go, Freak,” I run over to Damon and grab his arm leading him away from everyone and out into the parking lot.

As soon as we’re out of sight from everyone I see Damon’s shoulders instantly drop and I turn to glare at him.

“You’ve seriously got the worst survival instinct, of anyone I’ve ever met,” I say with a hand on his hip.

“I’m never going to be the one,” Damon lets out with a shaky sigh and I instantly drop my disappointed mother act.

“What happened?”

I take a step closer to him and he shakes his head.

“Elena.”

I take a deep sigh and nod, “Of course.”

Damon lifts his head to look at me, “You look like how I feel,” He says trying to be sarcastic but I can hear the pain in his voice.

“I’ve had a rough night too, my friend. Movie night at yours,” I question as I wrap my arm around his, and his upper lip twitches.

“You called me your friend.”

I roll my eyes and let him lead me to his car, “Shut up.”

332 notes · View notes

vatelixx · 11 hours ago

Text

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid smut #sub spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #giving him the happiness he deserved #he is my roman empire #his excess trauma is also #my #roman empire #thank u and good night america #i’m not even american

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hotvintagepoll · 1 day ago

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Trying to get more into old movies because of this blog (I only know about half of these people and feel like a poser) do you have good recommendations on where to start or is it just a situation where you watch stuff and find what you like as you go?

you are not a poser <3 i myself am just here for the hotties.

here is my quick and dirty list of fun films to start with if you're new to old movies. and of course if you like one of these, do try to find more stuff as you go! there's no bad way to try out old movies.

(this list is not official and is SUPER quick. i'm tagging for content warnings where I can, but if I forgot something let me know.)

"I want to watch something SILLY!"

The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Angela Lansbury, Glynis Johns, Basil Rathbone)—everyone in this movie is hot. everyone is in fancy medieval dress, which makes them hotter. everyone here is very silly. You can stream this on Hoopla, last time i checked, so you might be able to stream it through your library!

Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang (Dick Van Dyke, Sally Ann Howes, Lionel Jeffries, Gert Frobe)—some people hate this movie and to them I say What Is Wrong With You. dick van dyke is a hot absent minded inventor who lives in a windmill with his two adorable children, his gorgeous sheepdog, and a grandfather who is categorically useless. it feels like the two films mary poppins (1964) and willy wonka (1971) had a baby and that baby was born on roller skates singing an old broadway showtune. this one has been showing up in some odd places lately—I think you can catch it on Tubi or Hoopla? It's definitely around.

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (Jane Powell, Julie Newmar, Howard Keel, Russ Tamblyn)—my problematic fave. everytime i watch this i change my mind whether it's a sexist pile of garbage or a feminist paean, and fellas, today we're on the feminist paean bandwagon!! jane powell's millie is truly the star of the movie, she is the hero she drives the plot the narrative is on her side, and besides all that there are seven very hot men dancing next to her and six beautiful ladies making me bisexual. (on Tubi last I checked.)

The Duke Is Tops (Lena Horne, Laurence Criner)—I get a huge kick out of watching Laurence Criner and Ralph Cooper swindle everybody while also trying to put on a show; there's just something silly and sincere here, plus you get a ~musical extravaganza~ at the end when all is right as rain again. Free on YouTube I think?

"I want to watch something DRAMATIC that may make me FEEL SOMETHING."

Witness for the Prosecution (Marlene Dietrich, Tyrone Power, Elsa Lanchester)—I love a campy twisty turny mystery, don't you? :) I'm not going to talk about this one much because it's better to go in blind, but if you like Agatha Christie stories you'll probably like this.

To Be Or Not To Be (Carole Lombard, Jack Benny)—always relevant, always makes me laugh, also makes me cry. this takes place in poland during wwii so big tw for nazi imagery and mentions. (don't worry. this movie fucking hates nazis.)

Seven Samurai (Toshiro Mifune)—this one is Great Cinema™™™™™™™™™™™ for a goddamned reason

"I want to watch some stuff with the scrungles in it!"

Mr. Washington Goes to Town (Mantan Moreland)—I've been checking out more of Mantan Moreland's stuff because every time I see him in something I think he's delightful, and I really enjoyed this silly-spooky comedy. Does this story have a brain cell? No. Are the special effects and goofy slapstick fun? Yes. This is a fun example of an all-Black cast in a film that was made for Black audiences, and is a striking counterpoint to the stereotypical representation Black actors were given in white-targeted films, showing the enormous amount of talent and artistry the racist studios missed out on by excluding these actors. This is not A Great Film™ but it's still A Fun Time,™ with a goofy Laurel and Hardy type vibe. (It's free on Youtube.)

The Red Shoes (Robert Helpmann, Leonide Massine, Marius Goring)—hey kid, you wanna watch something fucked up? This movie is so fucked up. It's about ballet, it's about art, it's about technicolor, it's about dance and toxic relationships and making theatre and nightmares and ambition and death. A lot of these recs tend on the silly side (because I tend on the silly side) but this one is actually Serious Film and will definitely help you chat up Martin Scorsese should you ever meet him. Big content warning if you can't handle dark themes right now—this movie's pretty dark, not in the gore way but in the Haunting Creepy Image way. (it's also free on Tubi and Kanopy most of the time.)

The Invisible Man (Claude Rains)—my favorite of the vintage horror flicks and a great introduction to Most Dunked On Hot Vintage Man of All Time, Claude Rains. (it helps that you barely ever see him!) Very very silly but the special effects are just plain fun. (I think this is on Internet Archive in full?)

"Can I just get more hot people please?"

Flower Drum Song (James Shigeta, Nancy Kwan, Miyoshi Umeki, Jack Soo)—there are so many unbelievably hot people in this movie which is somehow very good (thanks to its cast) and also incredibly, horrifically bad (thanks to its white team of writers, directors, and producers). on the one hand, it's a mostly Asian cast in a big budget, beautifully designed MGM style musical! there's dream sequences, lots of fun dancing, crooning Rogers & Hammerstein cabaret moments, and just charm galore. it is also freighted with so. many orientalist assumptions and stereotypes, absolutely ridiculous shit that the writers ABSOLUTELY should have known better about in the 60s and nonetheless carried into this. this is a hard one to recommend because I loved this cast, and I loved seeing them in a context beyond the usual stereotypical bit parts so many of them frequently were limited to—yet the movie itself perpetuates so many stereotypes on its own it can be a hard one to watch, and I totally understand if it does not work for most people. tl;dr watch for Shigeta, Kwan, Umeki, and the others, but content warnings galore for one (really bad) case of yellowface casting, orientalist tropes, extremely stereotypical character types, etc. (On Tubi/Kanopy last I checked.)

Charade (Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, James Coburn)—this movie feels like a Hitchcock movie except I had a ton of fun watching it, which I can't always say for a Hitch film. (I told you my taste was bad.) This one is free on YouTube and thank god because Audrey wears a lot of Givenchy, Cary Grant wears spectacles and keeps almost dying, it's very exciting and thrilling and funny and sexy. I don't think there are any content warnings but it's been a minute since I watched it. (I should go watch it right now.)

The Big Sleep (Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall)—they're so hot askjdljhjghladkghjksahkhgslkahgshskjhgsalhgsahgjh. i like this one a lot :)

[this is NOT A FULL LIST of all the hot vintage movies to start with but it might give you some starting places! i banged this out as quick as I could at 2 am, so apologies that it's sloppy and not perfect.]

#recs #asks #coffee night #me 10 seconds after posting: oh fuck wings why didn't i mention wings. oh fuck sherlock jr. ohhh little women. oh CASABLANCA oh NO

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frou-frou-deserved-better · 2 days ago

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[Image: screenshot of a Reddit post from r/parenting reads "6:30 AM conversions with an ADHD kid (before meds kick in)

Her: mom, do you think there are sniffing cats? Me, who hasn't had the fucking chance to pour a cup of coffee yet: uh? Her: yeah, like you know how there are sniffing dogs at the airports, do they have sniffing cats? Me: I have no clue but i don't think so. Her: ok.

20 secs later Her: mom, do adults loose their teeth? Me (screaming in my head and glancing at the bottle of vodka "it's always 5 o'clock somewhere"): no, Sof, only children loose their baby teeth. Her: why? Me: cause they are temporary. Her: why? Me: i dunno, cause that's what happens Her: ok.

Another 20 secs later Her: mom? Me (" omfg, kill me now!): we have to go NOW, or we are gonna miss the bus!

Is it 5 o'clock yet (here in Michigan)?" /End ID]

I have watched my late diagnosed ADHDer partner dissociate for days on end because he forgot to fold a towel the way I like. When we first started dating, he thought I would break up with him because he spilled something on the floor.

He is one of the kindest, smartest, coolest people I know and I love seeing when his brain sparks. He has supported me through recovery from being hit by a car, a toxic workplace taking away all my joy, and the symptoms of multiple severe disabilities, but I know he still worries deep down that I'll stop loving him if he leaves a cup out one too many times.

Reading these posts makes me disgusted and devastated. Every one of those kids deserves better, and the way those parents speak is not blowing off steam. Talking shit about our disabilities is a love language in many of my friendships, but I couldn't imagine thinking the way those parents do about my loved ones even on my worst days.

Also, this kind of trauma is insidious. You are communicating to your child how much you hate them, but they don't have the social of emotional maturity to recognize it. There's no need to weigh and compare childhood trauma, but this self loathing is a belief that will be reinforced silently for the rest of their lives. Every breakup, every friend that stops texting, every job they don't get will be framed through this.

To parents like this: please get help. You are quite literally traumatizing your children in a way they will struggle to even explain.

To the kids: you deserve so much love. You are valuable to the world (there's literally research backing up how ND people make groups better). There are people who will absolutely adore you. It can be so much better, and no one should treat you this way.

I ended up on r/ADHDparenting (a subreddit about parenting kids with ADHD, not about being a parent with ADHD) and Jesus fuck.

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frenchkisstheabyss · 2 days ago

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♡ 𝕒 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕖 ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jeongin x girlfriend!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/comfort

♡ Summary: Jeongin's the type of boyfriend who never makes you question how much he cares for you. Still, there's one nagging insecurity you haven't been able to move past: Letting him see you naked. Sick of letting your fear get the best of you, you decide that tonight's the night to finally open up to him and it turns out you might've been afraid of nothing all along.

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: body insecurities, nudity, a lil making out, mentions of sex, jeongin loves to touch your body, praise, and just all around fluffiness otherwise

♡ A/N: This started out as an anon request but I lost the post for that request (brb crying) so now we have a lil I.N comfort fic that will hopefully make my chubby Jeongin biased babes feel good in their skin cause you totally deserve to.

Moments like these Jeongin wishes could last forever. Between touring, appearances, and studio sessions his schedule’s been brutal lately, leaving him with little to no time to spend with the one girl he treasures most in the world—you. But tonight none of that matters. The world beyond the walls of his apartment doesn’t exist. There’s only him cozied up under a blanket on the couch with you cuddled against his body, your head resting on his chest as you lazily play with the strings of his hoodie.

The room’s dark except for the glow of the television. A movie’s playing but neither of you are truly watching it. His eyes are glued to you, committing to memory how beautiful you are from this angle. You seem so comfortable in his arms, so at peace, and the feeling’s infinitely mutual.

Your own gaze is fixed on the screen but every image and sound you take in is passive. What you’re truly focused on is a thought that’s been cycling through your brain all night. Before you left to head over here you told your roommate not to wait up, you’d be spending the night at Jeongin’s place. Never one to pass up the opportunity to tease you, she asked if you needed to borrow a sweater or something to sleep in. You instantly regretted admitting to her over drinks that Jeongin has yet to see you naked, even after months of being together.

Whenever you have sex you keep the lights off and throw your clothes back on immediately after. If you shower and he’s around you always make sure to bring your clothes with you into the bathroom. Even Jeongin, who never wears anything to bed, always has something on when you sleep over to make you more comfortable.

It’s nothing he’s ever complained about or tried to make you feel guilty for. More than anything he just seems happy to be with you, accepting your boundaries without hesitation. It’s one of a million reasons you’ve come to love him as much as you do. Still, you know that hiding from him isn’t something you can do forever. It isn’t something that you want to do forever.

“Baby” he says sweetly, petting your cheek, “You ready for bed?”

You take a deep breath, making up your mind that tonight’s the night. Your stomach sinks at the thought of how he might feel when he sees your body but at least you’ll know now before you fall for him any harder.

“Mmhmm” you nod, nuzzling your cheek against his chest one last time before sitting up.

Jeongin hops up and gets to work clearing the snacks from the coffee table. With full hands, he leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. “You can go ahead. I’ll meet you in there in a second, okay?”

You agree and gather the blanket in your arms, trembling as you shuffle down the hall towards the bedroom. It’s a short walk but it feels eternal. You’ve stepped through this threshold a dozen times by now but somehow this feels like your first. Suddenly the oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants that once shielded your insecurities have you sweating like a sinner in church. It’s suffocating.

Tossing the blanket onto the bed, you tug your hoodie off to feel the fresh air kiss your skin. The coolness eases the tension in your body, leaving your hands a bit less shaky as you slip your sweatpants down and kick them aside. You stare down at your body, taking in the sight of your bare legs and your fluffy thighs that are just barely visible in the long t-shirt you’re wearing.

Your chest tightens as you pinch the bottom of your shirt, lifting the fabric little by little. It slides above your thighs, around the contours of your hips, revealing the panties you chose specifically for tonight. They’re silk, rose pink, with a lace trim and a delicate bow in the back and they’re the prettiest panties Jeongin’s ever seen simply because you’re wearing them.

“Did I, uh, miss something?” Jeongin asks, frozen in the doorway.

Usually when he walks into the room you’re already under the covers waiting for cuddles he’s beyond eager to give you. Being met with this is something new entirely and he can’t help the way his heart races at the sight of it. You turn to find him staring at you wide eyed, shock painting his face.

“Well, uh, I…” you stutter, fidgeting with the trim of your shirt, “I know you don’t really like sleeping with your clothes on and the weather’s really nice tonight so I thought, maybe, it’d be nice if we did that.”

Jeongin closes the distance between you, his shock melting into concern. He brings an arm around your waist, stroking your side as he studies your expression.

“Baby, I already told you I’m cool with our clothes being on. I never want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You rest your hand on his, soaking in the warmth of his touch. “It’s okay” you insist, immediately picking up on his skepticism. He doesn’t believe you for a second. You stare into his eyes, finding comfort in them even as they narrow in your direction. “I want you to see me, all of me, I don’t wanna be afraid anymore.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what? Did I…”

You cut him off before he can finish, refusing to let him believe for a second that there’s anything he did wrong. “No, Innie, you’re so good to me. It's just…I’m not the smallest girl. Feeling me is one thing but seeing me it’s…it’s…”

Your breath hitches at the sensation of Jeongin’s hands massaging your body. He smooths the plushness of your figure beneath his palms, stopping to squeeze your love handles, your belly, your thighs.

“Seeing you would be a gift” he whispers, his lips hovering near yours. “I’ve felt your body in the dark and I’m already addicted to how beautiful it is. If you take your clothes off or not, nothing will change. I promise.”

There’s no denying the rush that you get from being touched by him. You feel it every time, the impulse to let him tear your clothes off. The longing to feel his gaze dance over your naked body the way his hands do. Typically you fight it, your fears dulling your urges, but tonight you don’t. Instead you sweep him into a kiss laced with passion, guiding his hands to grip the fabric of your shirt.

“Help me take it off, please” you beg, too cute to deny.

Jeongin nibbles at your bottom lip, “Only if you help me too.”

“Deal” you giggle as he steals your breath away, hungrily pulling you back into the kiss.

Your clothes are shed gently and slowly like the petals of a flower. One after the other, his and then yours. All the while Jeongin’s lips are drawn to yours like magnets. Every break he has to take is a small form of torture. You could kiss him every second of every day and it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to drown in it.

He can only bring himself to stop when he feels skin to skin contact. Your naked body’s pressed to his in the bright lighting of his room. He could see you if he wanted to, glance down and delight in the pleasure of something he’s only experienced in his imagination, but instead he focuses on your gorgeous face, his heart set on making sure this is what you really want.

“Can I look?” he asks, fingertips lightly trailing up and down your spine.

You pause, pacing yourself for a decision you know you can’t turn back from, “It’s okay. You can look.”

Time seems to stand still as Jeongin takes a step back and his gaze falls below your shoulders where your naked body awaits in all its vulnerability. His is the smooth, toned body that you already know it to be. You’ve caught glimpses of it here and there when he’s changed in front of you. And yours is beyond what he’d imagined during those long nights spent blindly exploring your form beneath the sheets.

At first he says nothing, does nothing. He only stares straight ahead, scanning you from head to toe. But just as the nervousness threatens to return he cracks a smile, his face lighting up, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” He exhales the words as naturally as he breathes.

You blush, a giggle escaping your lips, “Oh my gosh, stop it.”

“Stop it? How can I? Look at you.”

Your self doubt wants to tell you that he’s lying—that these words you never imagined you’d hear couldn’t possibly be true—but you can’t deny the way Jeongin’s looking at you or the butterflies swarming your stomach. You try to bring your arms around yourself, a thoughtless attempt at hiding away again, but he grabs your hands, lacing his fingers between yours.

“I mean it” he whispers, thumbs lightly grazing your skin, “Your body’s gorgeous and I feel lucky that you let me lay eyes on it. Thank you.”

Your cheeks heat up and you dip your head down, too flustered by his words to maintain eye contact. Jeongin cups your cheek, tilting your head back up. He’s stubborn as always, refusing to let you escape his affection.

“You think so too, don't you?” he asks, his lips floating back to yours. He almost kisses you, just almost, but lets his lips dance there, teasing you with their warmth.

“Think what? I don’t…” you begin to speak but the feeling of his hands making contact with your belly steals away what was coming next. You let out the softest breath, bordering on a hushed moan. His touch always sets your soul on fire but this time there’s something different about it. Some new aspect of it that has your head all fuzzy and your knees going weak.

“Think that I should feel lucky that I get to see you” he says, massaging the plush of your belly, “And grateful that I get to touch you.”

He glides his palms down to your hips, taking indulgent handfuls of your curves as your body gives into his touch. Your fingertips run up his arm, feeling the ridges of his muscles as they flex with every breath. His body shivers, your quiet praise doing to him exactly what his does to you.

“You can’t say things like that, Innie.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because I might start believing it.”

Jeongin flashes you that dimpled smile, “Good. I want you to.”

His lips collide with yours again and it feels like the whole room’s spinning because it is. He closes his arms around your waist, kissing you lovingly as he twirls you towards the bed. Before you know it your head’s resting on a pillow as your body sinks into the softness of the mattress. You can’t tell if it’s the mattress or the euphoria of Jeongin’s tongue tangled with yours but it’s like you’re floating on a cloud.

Jeongin kisses you like it’s the last time your lips will ever meet. His hands explore your body like they’re terrified to forget even the tiniest detail of what you feel like. The affection he pours into you is overwhelming yet you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop.

He saw you, everything about you, and the only place he ran to was your arms. You feel special, cherished in every way for exactly who you are. All your worries seem like nothing more than silly little things in the presence of his adoration.

Finally breaking from the kiss, the necessity for air forcing your lips apart, Jeongin curls up beside you, keeping you in his arms as he slips a blanket over your naked bodies. You rest your head on his chest the same way you did on the couch, only now your mind isn’t wandering off somewhere far away. It’s right here with him, basking in the moment.

“Promise not to hide from me anymore” he sighs, planting the sweetest kiss on your forehead.

You relax into his arms, smiling as your heavy lids fall shut, “I promise.”

You thought you’d feel more vulnerable lying beside him with your clothes in a pile on the floor but being like this with him is the safest you’ve ever felt, the most comfortable you’ve ever felt, in your own skin. Hide from him? And miss out on a feeling like this? Never again.

#stray kids x female reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x you #jeongin fluff #jeongin x you #jeongin x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

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panic-at-the-fiction · 2 days ago

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A problem to work with

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a problem to work with. He’s annoying, snarky, hot headed and you don’t get along. And this has absolutely nothing to do with your thoughts about how big his arms are, or how hot he is when he’s mad. No this is only about how difficultly annoying he is.

Warning: Tension, banter, eventual smut.

A/N: don’t we all still enjoy pretending it’s 2012 and all the avengers are happily alive and working and living together in the tower. Like I miss that! Let’s put Clint back in the vent and go back to the good old days.

There was a lot of things you loved about your job, ok well maybe there was a few things, but certainly, Bucky Barnes was not one of them.

“Wow, that’s a good look on your doll.” He smiled as you walked down the stairs of the hotel into the Lobby where he stood waiting for you.

“Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.”

Now one might assume with banter so playful the two of you might have something going on, but you don’t. This was just a mission, you were just playing the part, not to be mistaken for anything real between the two of you.

In fact, just a week ago the two of you couldn’t stand each other, it was Tony’s idea to set you two up in such a long close quarters mission.

“You have to be kidding me Tony, you know how annoying Barnes is. We’ll tear each other's heads off before we even make it to the gala.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah even I have to protest this Tony, I mean (y/n) and Buck in the field, no backup? Couldn’t we partner them with someone else?”

“We can’t rearrange all of our mission plans so that these two don’t have to interact with each other. You both are grown ass adults, suck it up and play nice.” He said with finality before leaving the room. Steve sighed and joined him out in the hallway.

You crossed your arms and looked over at Bucky as he reclined in his seat. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Thought I was annoying.”

“You are that's why I thought you would have something to say on the subject.”

He shook his head and clenched his jaw, and you felt your heart drop, damn him. “Tony’s right, we’re adults. You just gotta stop acting like a brat so we can work together.”

“Oh please, if this is anyone's problem to solve it’s yours. You’re the one who’s going to actually have to trust me on this mission if we’re to get anything done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah, I’ll trust you, you play nice, I'll do the same. One week, let’s play professionals.”

“Fine.”

And you both had played nice ever since. He greeted you with a smile when he picked you up the next morning, carried your bag into the hotel, he even started the mission by letting you run point. Of course, it felt like a trick at first but once you realized he was being serious you returned the favor, bought coffee for the two of you as you staked out the location of the gala, let him do all the talking with the host you gathered information from, and made the two of your dinner the night before the big event. That night felt the most real, things shifted.

You set down a plate of food and a cheap bear in front of Bucky as he poured over the blueprints on the table in your shared hotel room. “So the two guards will be posted by each door in uniform, but two guards in disguise as waiters will be standing by these two entrances.”

“Barnes, I know, we’ve gone over the plan three times tonight, we know the layout backwards and forwards. You can take a break.”

He sighed heavily as he rubbed at the tightness in his shoulders. You stared, watching his arms flex with the movement, the expression on his face altering the chemicals of your brain.

“Thanks (y/n),” he said, taking the plate you had set in front of him.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, reminding yourself what was important here. “Anytime Barnes.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me Barnes, what are you, my sergeant?” He laughed playfully. You hadn’t ever heard him laugh like that, his usual attitude toward you didn’t allow for that type of light heartiness.

“Oh, because you just love when I bark orders at you.” You laughed while taking a sip of your drink.

“Who says I don't?” He gave you that 1940s smile you just know won so many girls over back in the day.

You tried not to choke as you looked away from him, hiding the heat that crawled up your neck. “Well, I guess I just figured Bucky was reserved for your friends, like Steve and Sam.”

“Are we not friends?”

You studied him, you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Are we?”

He leaned back in his chair, “do you want to be?”

“Do you?”

The room filled with silence as you both settled without an answer. Neither of you had an answer.

No, you would rather not be his friend, you didn’t think you could handle any more nice things coming from him. His smile made your stomach flip, and his proximity made your hair stand up, it was killing you the amount of alone time you were getting with him. But even worse the idea of it all being gone in 24 hrs and things going back to how they were made your chest hurt.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now, big day tomorrow.” You said excusing yourself from the table.

“Yeah” He sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

You paused at the door to your room before turning back for just a second. “Goodnight Bucky, get some sleep.” You smiled softly as you left him.

You didn’t run into Bucky much the next morning. He left a note saying he needed to double-check some things before getting ready for the gala tonight, but he promised to meet you in the lobby on time.

That leads you to now, standing in front of the mirror looking at the damn dress. Your heart pounded in your chest, you had forgotten about the dress. Originally intended for one of Tony’s galas that was canceled, you had never had a chance to wear this one. You had been excited to bring it along for the gala, but now it taunted you. It taunted you with its silkiness, its low cut, its backlessness.

All you could think was, would Bucky like it? It made you sick with nerves. This was not relevant. There was a high-profile target at tonight's gala, there were a weeks worth of snooping, and stake outs, and gathering information, months of research and tracking at stake here, but you were thinking of his hands on your back in that stupid dress if you were lucky enough to find an excuse to dance tonight.

You shut the thoughts out of your head and did your best to cool yourself down with some water to get your mind out of the gutter. This was just the two of you playing nice, being professional, this man despised you outside the walls of this hotel, outside of this mission.

You mentally slapped yourself as you got in the elevator heading down to the lobby, preparing yourself as you walked down the hotel's grand staircase.

You met Bucky's gaze from where he stood waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase. Damn he looked good. You could feel his eyes on you, every warning thought about the consequences of getting carried away leaving your brain. Was it getting hotter in here?

“Wow, that’s a good look on you doll.” He smiled playfully.

DAMN.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He offered you his arm as he walked you out to the car. “And besides what did I say about calling me Barnes. We’re not here for you to bark orders at me anymore, we’re here to play civil.”

You smirked as he opened your door for you. “Is that what you said? All I heard was that you like it when I boss you around.” You could hear him choke a little bit as he shut the passenger door before getting in on the drivers side.

“Now remember, we’re Mr. & Mrs. Laker, the rich real estate investors who just moved here from LA. We’ve been married 8 years now.” He said switching focus on getting to the gala.

“Kids?” You asked teasingly.

He smiled, “No, we're just waiting until things settle down with our work.”

“Aw I was hoping for a James jr.” He just shook his head. Your gaze shifted to his grip on the steering wheel where you almost lost yourself in THE thoughts again.

Damn get it together.

“Now you remember the layouts right.”

“Yes, I reviewed them this morning.”

“Good.”

He stopped as he pulled up in front of the venue you had scoped out just a few days prior. He put the car in park before walking around to your side opening the door for you and extending his hand for you to take. “Mrs. Laker.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laker.” You instinctively played your part and locked your arm in his.

“Here,” He tossed the car keys to the valley. “Not a scratch on it.” He added before leading you inside

As you entered the gorgeous high-class event waiters swarmed around you offering different champagnes, wines and finger foods, the room alive with rich people's conversations and music.

You smiled with your best rich lady smile as you let Bucky lead you around the party, choosing a table where you had a clear view of the event you set down grabbing a drink as you did so. You could feel your death grip on the glass as you forced yourself to keep your eyes on the dance floor where a few couples swayed and not on the very handsome man beside you.

Bucky placed his hand gently on your thigh as he took the glass out of your hand. He leaned in his face close to your ear in a way that made your brain short circuit. “We’ll have a better chance of bumping into Lestrade if we don’t stay in one place.”

You swallowed hard, “What do you suggest?”

He pulled away so he could look in your eyes, and you have to stop yourself from staring at his lips. “How about a dance,” He paused, offering you his hand and making sure the surrounding others could hear him. “Sweetheart.”

“Of course dear.” You smiled, kicking yourself for forgetting it all for the image of playing a married couple.

As you reached the dance floor his arm slipped around your waist, his hand on the small of your back causing you to stiffen. His metal hand gently held your right hand while your left hand rested on his bicep.

His steps were smooth with years of practice, his subtle pushes and pressure on your back letting you know where to step next.

“Now where did the soldier learn to dance?” You smiled as he shook his head.

“Like I said doll.” He licked his lips looking down at you with an ease in his eyes, you hadn’t seen before. “It's called class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He leaned in, pulling you to his chest so that he could whisper in your ear. “Trust me you won’t find anyone else who can do it like I do.” You could feel his smirk, “dancing that is.”

“Yeah, is that so Barnes? Show me your moves then.”

He didn't hesitate to spin you out and turn you around so that you swayed with your back to his chest. The heat pulling in your stomach where he now rests his metal hand over top of yours. You felt his lips on your ear. “Oh I’ve got plenty of moves.” You held in a sigh as you let yourself get swept up in the closeness.

“Lestrade, 10 o'clock, mingling at the drink table.” Your brain turned back on as your focused turned back to the mission, the song you had been dancing to fading out as it ended.

You pulled away from him, trailing off the dance floor. “You know sweetie, I think that dancing made me fairly thirsty. I need another drink.”

“Anything you want sweetheart.” He called as he followed suit.

It was going to be a long evening.

Part 2

Coming soon

#biceps #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #winter solider x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter solider x y/n

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randomsuggesteduseername · 2 days ago

Text

—RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

❝ MASTERLIST ❞

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

wc: 4.7k

best friends to lovers, making out, slight smut,

prompts: “Kiss me to prove we’re not in love”

Your mouth might’ve ran faster than your brain could process it. At least that’s how it feels when you watch the blush spread over Steve’s cheeks, paired with a frown meant to help keep his composure. “You want me to kiss you?” His voice wavers slightly, checking in to see that his own brain didn’t produce that thought out of thin air. It’s been long since Steve’s felt this nervous and unsure of himself around you, usually he’s all flirty smiles and cheeky words, yet now he’s been reduced to a deafening silence.

“Yes, kiss me so we can prove once and for all that nothing is going on between us.” Arms crossed over your chest after placing the bowl of caramel popcorn down. The most indignant look on your face as you stare at him expectantly from your side of the couch. The blue-ish hue the tv casts onto Steve’s side profile highlights the way his eyes stay wide when the words slip out of your mouth. “We are not Harry and Sally.” You argue with a crooked brow which seems to earn an amused huff from him.

This all started when he brought a new tape home, the hottest release of the year ‘When Harry met Sally…’ At first glance, nothing but a simple rom-com, little did you know it would put you and your best friend in a position you’ve never thought you’d ever end up.

Steve’s been adamant about the movie the whole night, calling it a heartwarming love story, while you, thinking clearly, stood your ground and told him that it ruined the vision of friendship between men and women. Of course he didn’t get it, his love-deprived brain worked in ways you’ll never understand.

“Admit it…” His eyes swiped over your face quickly as his head leaned back against the couch and to the side to face you. That grin of his couldn’t be more cocky. “You’ve thought about me like that at least once.” Almost stating it rather than asking, you shove a foot into his hip, thanks to your laying down position along the length of the couch which kept him in your reach as he occupied the place left on the couch next to your feet. The ‘humf’ sound he makes instinctively at your shove has you rolling your eyes and looking back at the TV screen.

“Kill me if I ever do.” You deadpan, the look on your face is nothing less than serious. His accusation is absurd, how can he think that you’ve ever viewed him as anything other than your best friend? His hands raise in faux defeat with a slightly amused look on his face, his gaze pulling away from you, at least momentarily until you open your mouth to speak again. “You don’t believe me, do you? Oh my god, Harrington, you’re so arrogant!” Huffing, you get up from the couch, padding over the soft, fluffy carpet the Harringtons recently bought for their living room.

Despite the coffee table topped to the brim with snacks and drinks you feel the need for a glass of water instead of a sugary and fizzy beverage. “It’s not a good look on you at all.” You let him know as you tuck some hair behind your ear, pouring yourself a glass of water, hearing his voice ring out from the living room. “So you think I have good looks, huh?”

You’d roll your eyes again at him if you could, but something tells you you’ll end up with a headache if you keep doing that. Taking the glass back with you, you claim your spot onto the couch, this time your legs curling up next to you. The movie long forgotten as it keeps playing on the TV, now only serving illumination purposes, you’re stuck on the disagreement tonight’s movie started.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You huff. He thinks it’s cute, he loves riling you up from time to time. “You’re crazy if you think I could ever be with you…” The words come out slightly harsher than intended, but he doesn’t seem to take it personal, only faking a gasp, his hand pressing over his heart to try to trick you into feeling guilty. You don’t, not even a little. “Oh honey, how can you be so mean to me?” He almost whines, pouty lips on display, his eyes almost glazing over with the puppy look he’s mastered at this point.

You know this is just ordinary messing around, he’s always poking and prodding you with his words, but something about his suggestion has shifted something inside you. Maybe it’s the thought that he thinks you’re in love with him which…quite frankly, is insane…right? Maybe it’s the way his rhetorics make you want to slap that grin off his face…or maybe, just maybe, instead of slapping you’d like to try a kiss first.

Instead of staring at his stupid brown eyes, you decide to busy yourself with the bowl of caramel popcorn, picking a handful. The taste melts on your tongue which brings you some sort of serenity for a few moments.

The idea which sparks into your head is not appropriate, far from it. What has got you thinking about kissing him again you think you’ll never know, but maybe that’s just the answer. A simple kiss to prove that whatever assumptions he has about your feelings are completely and utterly absurd.

So, you can blame him for pushing it, or you can blame yourself for being so stubborn about proving him wrong. Either way, it brings you back to his shocked face, the words already uttered and too late to be taken back without implying some sort of fear that his suggestion might be true after all. The long and awkward silence almost makes you jab him with a few teasing words, but the way he seems to be a bit shellshocked for the better part of a minute has you keeping it to yourself.

“Kiss you? As in, for real?” You smile, amused by his tone as you nod, the thought brings some butterflies into your stomach but you just assume it’s nerves from having to kiss your best friend. “I’m serious— right here, right now. To get that stupid idea out of your head.” You explain as if it’s the sanest and most logical explanation for this. “It’ll prove we’re not capable of being attracted to one another and that nothing will ever happen between us.”

Steve, after seemingly coming out of his momentarily catatonic state, has already masked his shocked expression and covered it up with that smile you know so well. Shifting to face you on the couch, one leg underneath himself, he seems to be contemplating this before he runs a hand through his hair. “Makes sense.” That’s the conclusion he seems to arrive at as he scoots closer to you on the couch.

The room is still mostly covered by darkness, which makes it harder to see his facial expressions and how his eyes dip to your lips briefly, as if already setting his target on them. His arm is laid over the back of the couch, coming to a stop in front of you once his knee bumps your ankles, making you change your position as you cross your legs and face him too. It doesn’t feel as intimate as the moments before a first kiss should feel, but once again, he’s your best friend…nothing more.

“Wait…” His voice comes out laced with concern, brows pulling together slightly. “Are you sure you won’t fall in love?” Steve asks and you can’t help but let out the breath you’ve been holding up until now, your hand smacking his bicep still settled on the back of the couch. “Oh I'll be fine, not so sure about you though.” Now it’s his time to roll his eyes though you notice the way his lips curl up and his bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a brief moment.

“Alright, Casanova, could you just get to it?” He nods and adjusts his position, not really sure how he needs to approach this. The hand settled in his lap skirts up over your arm, ultimately finding its place on your chin. The way he holds it so gingerly between his thumb and index makes you feel that there’s this sort of nervousness in him just the way it’s in you too. But this is just a kiss to prove him wrong, nothing else.

His eyes find yours and then he’s leaning in, waiting for your reaction, waiting to be shoved away or chided for actually trying to kiss you, but the closer he gets it dawns on him that you want— no, need this to prove him wrong. It bothers him slightly to know you’ll go as far as kissing him to prove that you’re not in love with him and never will be, but he can’t help the sudden thought which pops into his mind, uninvited.

Pulling back slightly to put some distance between your faces again, your eyes narrow curiously, a tinge of annoyance on your features too. “This won’t make it awkward between us, right?” His question makes you sigh, wondering if this whole thing is really a good idea or if it’s just going to make things worse. The last thing you need is to lose your best friend over some stupid rom-com.

“No, Steve, it won’t change anything between us because it doesn’t mean anything.” You assure him, finding it in you to be understanding of his worries. He nods, accepting that it’ll be done and you’ll never speak of it again.

He’s getting into position again, more shuffling and scruffing over the couch as you find a way to rest your legs against one another comfortably. Steve’s hand lifts to your chin again, keeping hold of it softly as he takes one last look at you, starting his approach again. You don’t feel the nerves anymore, truthfully you don’t feel anything, further proving your point that you don’t have any feelings towards him.

You let your eyes fall shut, expecting his kiss as you breach your hand on his knee, not feeling his breath hitch the slightest bit at your touch. It’s so brief that you almost miss it. A chaste peck which only meets your lips for a second. Your eyes open once his hand pulls away and clears his throat, not saying anything.

You should be happy that you felt absolutely nothing during the kiss, yet it still leaves you with a sort of empty, unsatisfied feeling in your chest. You dare to look at him again, a few beats passing before you notice the soft blush dusting his cheeks, though it might as well be the light from the TV.

“See? Nothing.” You press your hands to your thighs, subtly drying them against the material of your sweats as he seemingly agrees with you. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you gaze forwards before your mouth opens again. “You know, that wasn’t really a kiss. Like, a proper kiss.” You twitch your nose as you don’t dare look at him.

“Mhm, yeah…” His bottom lip is stuck between his teeth, the plush flesh catching your interest as it falls freely back into its place. “You’re totally right, we should probably try again.” The thinking process seems to be logical, as if the possibility of looking for another excuse to kiss each other is not even on the table right now. Just two friends making sure they’re not in love, right?

“Okay then, kiss me like you’d kiss Becky, Tina or Amy. Just pretend I’m one of them.” The words make him dizzy. How can he pretend to kiss you like you’re just some girl he wants to spend his night with? You’re so much more than that, though at the same time less. Your connection is too strong to one another, and as if reading his mind, you speak again. “Maybe not like that. But just kiss me like a girl you’re in love with.” His huff comes out with just the right amount of humour.

“I can do that…I think.” His tongue comes out to wet his lips, the way he’s looking at you feels a bit more intimate now. “Get to it then.” You try to joke as you take a deeper breath, his body already close to yours, making it easier for him to reach out.

The way his skin feels on yours when he cups the side of your face should be the first indicator that this kiss is going to be much different from the first. As if reading your thoughts, his thumb swipes over your cheekbone almost tenderly, eyes falling shut in time with one another, you’re left with the darkness of your eyelids, focusing solely on your other senses.

The musky smell of Steve’s slept in clothes and lingering wafts of toothpaste on his breath, the warm encompassing feeling of his palm on your cheek and the low hum of unintelligible voices since the movie is still playing. The tip of his sharp nose is now tracing over the contour of yours, whereas the first time it was merely just a clumsy bump. You refrain a shudder successfully and you let him go on, carrying a sort of curiosity about what King Steve does to these girls to have them in a chokehold.

And then it happens again, that chaste press of lips on lips, though you keep still and lightly press yourself closer. Just as fast as it comes it goes again, making you furrow your brows. “I th—“ The words get swallowed by him as Steve leans in again, more purposeful, carrying more intent.

Something trashes wildly in your stomach, dare you say butterflies as he parts his lips slightly, coaxing you into a slower open mouthed kiss. You don’t mind, letting him take the lead, following his pace, you’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue tries to enter the mix. You welcome it with your own, brushing wetly over one another while his lips seal over yours.

Without realising, you let your hands come up, one hooking against the back of his neck while the other pushes greedily into his hair. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, though you surely get lost in the way he’s treating you like you mean something more to him. The way his hands touch you, stroking your cheek and holding your hip, the position is still somewhat awkward and stiff, having to meet in the middle, but you don’t mind it that much.

Clearly he does, having to pull you closer, making you slip into his lap to get more comfortable. Settling on his thighs, your knees dig into the leather of his couch while his head tilts back to reach you better. You’re sure your lips will soon turn numb from his ministrations in which you both seem to get lost, clearly forgetting the whole reason you got into the argument in the first place.

Feeling him up, your hands drift over his shoulders and down to his chest, giving the briefest squeeze on it which has him taking a deeper breath in, making you smile against his lips. You’ve fallen into a rhythm, getting accustomed to one another, but everything freezes in place when you hear him.

Confusion etched into your features, your brows twitch together momentarily. “Did you…moan?” The question seems absurd since you’ve heard it clear as day, you couldn’t have missed the way it made your insides clench, your eyes searching his face as you watch the tips of his ears and his cheeks flush a deep red. “Well we’ve been shoving our tongues down each other’s throats, sorry for getting distracted.” He defends, trying to sound as if it’s your fault, looking away to hide the embarrassed look on his face.

Gazing down at him, you take a breath and shift, unintentionally brushing over his lap, his hands tighten on your hips if it’s any indicator to the torment he’s going through. Your lips out of reach, unsure if you’ll even kiss him again after his slip up, your body nothing but a teasing, heating pressure which would be embarrassing to let affect him. But oh how can he keep it together when you’re set on ruining him?

He thinks you know what you’re doing, not when you stare down at him for a brief moment, giving him the idea that you do want him, not when you shift over his lap, and not even when you breach your hands on his shoulders and push him to lay back again, but when your lips press against his for a third time which has his mind rebooting, trying to keep up with the pace you’re setting.

The idea that this was supposed to be just a kiss is now forgotten, the only thing that seems to matter now is kissing his best friend like she’s a girl he’s in love with. Surprisingly, he doesn’t even find it that hard to do, though he doesn’t have the faintest idea as to why.

You can’t help but grab hold of his locks again, so silky and soft through your fingers, giving them the slightest tug experimentally. This time when Steve feels it, he doesn’t moan, not even grunt, what he does though is shamelessly grind up against you. You’d stop the kiss to ask him if he’s hard, but it all feels so good, the way he’s encompassing you in his arms, how he shifts the slightest bit down towards your jaw, in search of sensitive skin. Nails digging lightly into the back of his neck, you gasp when his mouth leaves yours properly and latches onto your neck, lost in the bliss of it all, you grind down again which is enough to make Steve lose his mind.

“Fuck, don’t do that,” His breath sounds strained. “can’t take it—“ His murmur is a rumble against your skin, your whole body warming up at the idea that your best friend can’t contain himself after a simple kiss. Your thighs try to squeeze together at the sound of his voice, instead, squeezing his hips.

Heart drumming, you feel his lips finish up the work on your skin and it doesn’t hit you that it’ll leave a mark, you’re too preoccupied with the way his hands help you grind over his lap to notice. There’s a fire growing between both of you, low and slow, simmering dangerously close.

There’s sudden silence, the tape has no doubt ended, leaving you in a way too intimate silence, only filled by the grunts and gasps shared between you. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be letting a simple kiss get the better of you but Steve doesn’t seem to be bothered at all, letting his needs guide him into stealing another greedy kiss.

Getting light headed, unsure if from his passionate kiss or the lack of oxygen, you’re forced to part, a thin string of spit splitting between the two of you as you look at one another, realising just how wrecked and ravished you both look.

His strands are sticking up at odd angles, his lips flushed a deeper red from all the kissing, just enough to match his cheeks. The collar of his shirt is stretched out a bit, showing a part of his collarbone from where you’d fisted his shirt. The way he’s looking up at you makes it seem like he’s begging for more, his body certainly is with the way he’s still pressing between your thighs, feeling that he’s fighting to contain himself for the sake of the dignity he has left.

Forcing down the lump in your throat with a harsh swallow, you force yourself to move off of him, sliding next to him onto the couch. Settling your hands in your lap, you toy with your fingers, gazing up at the ceiling as he does the same, waiting in silence until your breathing slows down and your mind is a bit more clear.

“You’re a nice kisser,” You mumble the compliment. Calling it nice would be a gross understatement but that’s all you can manage at the moment. Two, Three beats pass before he conjures up a response. “Thanks, you too…nice,”

“Great, um…I guess we proved my point.” Only now remembering what got you in this mess in the first place, you blink and look for your glass of water before you take a sip, the room temperature liquid feeling cold as you drink.

Stubborn.

That’s exactly what you are. It’s been three days since you and Steve broke the dam and started a metaphorical flood of thoughts and feelings. You haven’t seen him since, not that you’re looking forward to the awkward silence and new weird dynamic. Some part of you wishes you’d just accepted the defeat without having to prove anything, while the other can’t help but think back to that kiss, maybe the best one of your life.

It’s on Saturday night that Robin calls and invites you over for a movie night. Just the mere thought of it has your blood warming up, but you can’t let him keep you away from your shared friend group. You’ll just have to…ignore him.

Easier said than done.

You rode with Eddie, he never has a problem with picking you up, but he does give you a strange look when you hop in his van as if to say ‘Where’s Harrington?’ Since the two of you always come together, wherever you go, he’s there and vice versa.

With a hammering heart, you let yourself in as you always do and greet Robin with a smile, subtly looking over her shoulder as she speaks, trying to see if he’s already here. Snapping back to the conversation, you follow her to the couch as she rambles off about whatever tape she ‘borrowed’ from Family Video, though it always ends up thrown somewhere in her room, gathering dust.

Settling in the middle of the couch, You watch as Robin takes a seat next to you, telling Eddie to prepare the tape and bring the bowls of snacks over. Finally settling into the familiar energy, you laugh, entertaining Robin’s absurd thoughts and jokes, but soon enough it’s interrupted as the door opens and closes again, Eddie’s still occupying his usual armchair so it can’t by anyone else than him…

Clammy hands drying on your thighs, you look back as his voice comes out, greeting the three of you as he apologises for being late. You know him, and you’d be inclined to say that you do it best, but looking at him right now, you can’t seem to be able to read him anymore. All you can see is those big hands that grabbed and squeezed at you, those walnut strands which you tugged at, pulling the prettiest of sounds from him, and those eyes…oh how you’re lost in them until Robin boops the tip of your nose, flushing in embarrassment as you pretend they didn’t catch you staring with heart eyes at your best friend.

“Okay, come on, let's watch this already.” You huff, as if you’re impatient to see the movie, but in reality, you’re only thinking about the lights being dimmed so the blush on your cheeks won’t be on full display anymore. You’re cursed with having to squeeze into Robin’s two person couch with her and Steve, each of them pressing closely into your sides, Steve’s arm laying over the back of the couch.

The movie isn’t great, not even close to what Robin’s promised it to be. Proof of that is Eddie drooling on himself as he sleeps peacefully in the armchair, and Robin’s head pressing against your shoulder as she rests with soft snores coming out of her. You wonder how you’re still awake yourself, but the heat radiating off Steve’s body is enough to keep you alert for almost an hour.

“Should we turn this off?” He asks as he gazes at the screen with a sort of bored confusion on his face. You nod and watch him as he gets up, using the opportunity to let Robin lay comfortably on the couch as you slip away from the living room and find yourself walking away, moving towards the bathroom but before you can lock yourself there, you hear his voice.

“Can we talk?” His question seems to slip out like he doesn’t want to go through the conversation either, but it’s eating him up, having to keep his distance from you. Telling yourself it’ll be okay, you turn on your heel and nod, heading to Robin’s room as he follows closely.

Once the door is closed, leaving the two of you alone, you dare to lift your gaze, swallowing thickly while he seems to be looking for the right words. “Did I make things awkward between us? You know, like after we uh— made out?”

“No…no, it’s just, It’s fine…really.” You rush to assure him, he doesn’t believe it one bit, your voice wavers as he steps closer and tilts his head with a concerned furrow in his brows. “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like that, you can barely look at me and you haven’t called to spend the night in like………forever.” He argues, knowing you always have sleepovers, especially now in the summer.

“Steve, it’s been four days…” You smile lightly as you correct him, seemingly overestimating for how long you’ve been apart, though for him it surely feels like a drawn out eternity meant to make him suffer in your absence. “Exactly!” He huffs as if you can’t seem to understand just how much he’s missed you.

He’s got you, it’s a curse that he knows you this well. Maybe you can’t lie your way out of this, not when he’s watching you like a hawk, trying to find the source of the problem as always. He hates to see you upset, even more so when he knows it might be his fault.

“C’mon, when did you stop telling me what’s bothering you?” The way his tone seems to be a bit hurt makes you look at him, now he’s much closer, his hand reaching for yours as he tugs you gently towards him. You’re not sure you can say anything that will justify your actions, so you don’t. Gazing down at the way his hand swallows yours up completely, your chest swarms with butterflies as he toys with your fingers gently. Want takes over your mind, clouding your judgement as you gaze up at him, opening your mouth to speak.

Knowing no words will ever compare to what you want to do, you push yourself up on your tiptoes and grab hold of his shoulder, leaning in to connect your lips again just like you did three nights ago. Despite the sudden movement, he doesn’t seem to be too shocked, quick with returning the kiss as his hands settle instinctively on your waist to make sure you stay close.

Giving his shoulder a squeeze, you cup the side of his face with your free hand and lean more into him. Letting him walk you back until you bump into the wall, you sigh into the kiss and pull his head down to reach him better. A fuzzy feeling takes over your brain as you let yourself enjoy the moment, feeling Steve’s wandering hands advance, you cling to him for support and arch, saying his name in a soft whisper.

Letting your hands slide up under his shirt, fingers tracing soft skin, gripping at his strong back as Steve occupies himself with pawing at your thighs and waist.

Your bodies pressing and tangling warmly, finally feeling the freedom to touch him like you’ve always known you wanted deep in your heart, humming softly as he lets a relaxed sigh slip from his lips. Minutes pass before a sudden thump, followed by a grumpy Robin cursing, travels through her small apartment.

You break apart with a groan and bite your lip, gazing at him as he seems to resent the interruption too. “We should get back out there before they realise we’re missing.” He knows you’re right, but the way you look like you hate the idea, carrying that soft pout on your lips which has his heart melting makes him dip his head to catch your lips in another kiss, this time softer. “Mhm, in a minute.”

And how can you turn him down when he’s so adamant about kissing you?

#steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #fem reader #steve x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things season four #stranger things fic

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scotchfairy · 3 days ago

Text

Dialogue check. Go listen to "Valley Girl" by Moon Unit Zappa. Or watch "Fast Times at Ridgemont High." That's the airhead voice we used.

What you think of as "proshipper" starts in fan fiction in the 1960s. Where it *started* in writing is a question, as cultures shift. What Purity Culture finds abhorrent, classical Rome found normal. And the Greeks were even more scandalous.

Even before you get to the penny dreadfuls, 19th century writing is full of murders, rape, incest, child marriages, adultery and more.

And there were those 1980s paperbacks. [cue ValGirl Voice] O mi GOD! You would not BELIEVE what we considered normal back then! Like, it's a STORY, not REAL. Gag me with a spoon, when did the Holy Rollers steal your brain and leave that lump of moldy cheese? [ValVoice off]

Fanfic is a lot older than the 1980s, weird and squirmy writing subjects are almost as old as language (and I only say "almost" because we lack documentation).

Added for my husband's sake: "Duuuuuuuude. No, seriously. Dude?" [transl: What you said/wrote is totally Fucked Up. Seriously. What is WRONG with you?"]

Sigh.

#weird purity culture #the world existed before the 1980s #great now I'm earwormed by Valley Girl

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chocolilies · 2 days ago

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─── SWEAT. ꒱

( ୨ৎ. fushiguro toji x fem!teacher!reader. . .ᐟ

toji comes to pick megumi up from his training, expecting to be met with his white-haired asshole of a teacher, only to meet gojo's newer, cuter replacement.

◟ꪆ୧ slight nsfw (toji stares at reader's tits, reader imagines getting groped by him), au where toji is alive + takes care of megumi, bold yet sneaky flirting, megumi's in middle school. wrote this on a whim bc i need toji BAD.

w.c: 1.6k

also on ao3 + jjk masterlist !

“that’s your dad?”

you’d heard mention of fushiguro toji before, whether it be from his son or from gojo as he had explained how he’d let the “sorcerer killer” live under the promise of taking care of the boy that was now standing at your side.

“don’t you dare.”

megumi gritted his teeth as he watched you goggle at the man you were approaching, hand wrapped around your wrist as if he was pulling back a dog on a leash, and by the way you were staring at toji, he might as well have been.

“what!?” you let out an offended gasp, turning to look at your glaring student, tiny face scrunched up in disgust at the mere thought of what was going through your brain.

“i know what you're like.”

you froze in your place, horrified expression framing your sweaty face as the cicadas roared around you, framing the silence after that comment in an almost comedic manner.

you watched as megumi continued to walk ahead, a bored look on his face once he turned around to wait for you to catch up at the edge of the tiny wasteland you’d both been training in, letting you wonder as you caught up to him just what gojo had told him before he’d first introduced the both of you.

you started spluttering out a mix of words in disbelief once you reached his side, but whatever you’d tried to say immediately got stuck in your throat as soon as you finally caught a better look at the man that had sparked the short lived argument.

oh, fuck.

“who’s this?” you watched attentively as the muscles in toji’s arms bulged beneath his tight shirt at the tiniest movement, feeling your mouth water at the mere sight of them.

god, you felt dirty just staring at him.

“my teacher.” megumi grunted, shoving his backpack off and flinging it into his dad’s chest, walking towards the bus stop further ahead without bothering to say goodbye, knowing he’d see you around sooner or later.

“I thought that white-haired brat was his teacher,” toji grunted out, flinging the backpack over his shoulder as he turned to look down at you, quirking up a brow as he immediately noticed your nervous demeanour, a drop of sweat dripping down your temple before rolling down your neck and towards your exposed cleavage, green eyes following it’s whole journey and lingering on the spot where it disappeared.

it’d been a while since toji had stared at someone this way. he hadn't looked twice at anyone, regardless of their attractiveness or willingness, ever since his wife died and tsumiki’s mom left.

but that amount of time without anyone to touch or kiss or feel would have its toll on anyone, and toji was no exception.

which is why he initially blamed it on that.

neediness.

he doesn't feel anything for megumi’s teacher, you’re just too pretty and exposed and worked up to ignore, right? it’s not like he’d actually think of pursuing something with you.

he snapped out of it once you spoke, expecting to meet an angered expression and an insult about his perversion once he raised his gaze, only to find you straight up ogling his arms and chest.

the way he stares at your pretty, scrunched up face when you aren't looking, proves him wrong.

initially, you might've been able to attribute your clammy palms and sweaty skin to the blasting summer heat, or to the fact you’d just finished a four hour training session with the tiny grade two sorcerer who gojo had been training for the past few years.

“I'm his co-worker,” you stuttered out, forcing yourself to look away from the veins that swelled in his arms and up to his green eyes, not wanting the man to see just how much he was affecting you. “satoru’s on a mission, so I'll be taking care of ‘gumi ‘till then.”

toji hummed, taking your gawking as an invitation to do his own, allowing his eyes to trail over your flustered expression and sweaty skin, lingering on the more exposed parts of your outfit, thanking whatever god was up there for the stupid heatwave that had hit their country as of late.

“mission, huh?” toji snickered, turning his head to look at the boy who was sitting at the bus stop with one of the divine dogs at his side, resting his tired body against its black fur. “how long will y’be around?”

“well, until ‘toru comes back, I guess…” you trailed off, mouth going dry as you watched the man take a tiny step towards you, raising one of those big hands you’d been ogling before to brush against your cheek, a shiver wracking through your whole body at the light contact, his skin burning against yours, making you just how a man that ran as hot as that was able to survive in this weather, especially when he dressed like it was winter.

“y’had some dirt on y’cheek,” toji almost purred out, flicking his fingers to get rid of the grime that had probably stuck to you during the many times megumi’s divine dogs had flung you around.

“oh, I'm probably covered in dirt,” you laughed out nervously, taking a step back to put the same distance as before between you two, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand while trying to ignore how electrifying his touch had felt. “I always seem to find myself taking an everything-shower after training with ‘gumi, he’s ruthless.”

toji fell silent, watching you as you shook your arms and head, probably trying to get rid of whatever debri that was still stuck to your body, grin pulling at the scar in the corner of his lips. “need me t’clean you up, that what you're saying?”

huh?

you blinked stupidly as your mind attempted to process what he had just said. were you misunderstanding his words or his tone? or was he really suggesting what your mind had immediately jumped to?

that was not what you were saying, but you certainly would not be complaining if he did.

you felt your cheeks warm as you imagined what that might look like: big, warm, calloused hands on your skin as you stood under the steady stream of the shower, hot water pouring over the both of you as he dragged a sponge over your skin, free hand resting on your tummy right above where you needed him most, groping and caressing the plus skin, body pressed tightly against his in such a way that you could just feel his growing cock pressing against your ba-

oh, what the fuck.

you imagined punching yourself in the face, snapping you out of the downright filth you were acting out in your mind with a man you had just met, not to mention, the father of your student.

“jeez, pick your jaw up, ‘m messing with ya.” you grunted as two of his fingers landed under your chin, shoving your mouth shut with a shit-eating grin, clearly enjoying the fact that he had gotten such a reaction out of you with a mere joke. “‘s not appropriate f’me to flirt with ‘gumi’s teacher.”

“s-sorry.” you struggled to even push out that simple word, trying to figure out just what the hell had gotten into you to make you act like this, not even processing the fact that he had just admitted to flirting with you.

were you ovulating? was it that time of the month already? or was toji’s overwhelming presence truly just enough to get you acting like a bitch in heat?

“old man,” you snapped out of it as you heard megumi shout out for his father from behind you both, “bus is coming.”

toji chuckled, raising a thumbs up to the boy in response before turning back to look at you, taking in your shaky figure with a smirk.

“which means I'll just hafta wait ‘till that blue-eyed brat comes back and you're not his teacher anymore.”

you blinked owlishly up at him, and toji could just see the cogs whirring and moving around in your mind, trying to make sense of what he'd just said.

“give me y’number once he does. hope that offer to clean you up will still be available by then.”

god, he was a big fat liar. if he had been telling the truth before, he would not be asking that, he would not be (for once) looking forward to seeing that white haired bastard, as it would mean he would be free to pursue you.

toji walked away after dropping that bombshell, not having to turn to look at you to know that you were staring at him walk away, ignoring the way his son was glaring at him while he held a hand out to stop the bus.

“what?” he grinned, pulling their transport passes out as the bus opened its doors, megumi’s divine dog curling around the boy protectively like it usually did. “your teacher's hot,”

“you disgust me,” megumi deadpanned, snatching the pass out of his father’s hand before boarding the bus, dog quickly following up the step with a wag of its tail, phone already out and ready to message tsumiki to complain about their father, leaving toji to do the same. well, not before he turned to sneak a final look at you.

you had walked away from the field, heading towards a black car nearby he assumed had been sent by the school, phone in hand as you talked into the speakerphone, shaky voice ringing out in such a way even he could hear it.

“ieiri, how wrong would it be for me to hook up with a future student’s father?”

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allpiesforourown · 14 hours ago

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Okay here's my Lan Qiren apologist masterpost

"He had Lan Wangji whipped! He's an abuser!"

That was Lan Wangji's punishment for injuring 33 Lan elders while defending a demonic cultivator who caused innumerable deaths in the cultivation community. You need to remember the setting of this story: Madame Yu whipped Wei Ying half to death just because she went "you didn't do anything wrong, your general existence is just mildly annoying to me." Lan Qiren deciding Lan Wangji get one lash for every person he hurt is NOTHING in comparison to the punishment he would have gotten if anyone else was in charge and it was the only way to clear his name.

2. "The Lan sect rules he enforces are too strict."

First of all, Lan Qiren is an old Asian person. I feel like that would be enough to make my point, but I will continue regardless.

The Lans have so many rules because they have extreme self-regulation issues when it comes to their emotions. We've seen Lan Wangji's dad ruin his life by trying to atticwife his lover, but Lan Wangji wasn't any better. If you've read the incense burner extra you know he got his first crush at 15 and his brain immediately went to fantasizing about violently assaulting Wei Ying in the library. Their hundreds of rules are stifling because they're supposed to be. If the Lans don't try to contain themselves they will ruin their lives and the lives of people they care about.

Is "don't talk while you're eating" even that extreme of a household rule? Like every family has some variation of "don't do ____ at the dinner table" and the Lans having their own version is not that insane.

3. "He was against Lan Wangji loving Wei Wuxian."

I need you to spend like. 2 minutes putting yourself in Lan Qiren's shoes.

Imagine you are Lan Qiren. Imagine you find out your brother broke his family apart by forcing his wife to stay with him. Lan Qiren was just a man who was thrust into not only taking care of the Lan clan, one of the biggest cultivation sects you can think of, but also his two traumatized nephews. Imagine cleaning up the mess your brother left you while having to raise two children that aren't yours.

Then you see your nephew, who you have raised like your own son, helplessly pining after the infamous demonic cultivator who has rejected him and teased him. You watch him turn against and injure his own family members to protect a literal criminal.

Then he comes home holding the child of the man he loves and you let him keep that baby and raise him. Because you see yourself in him. You see someone who just lost a loved one who was not a good person but someone you loved regardless. How many times do you think he saw Lan Wangji raising Lan Yuan and remembered himself raising someone else's children because their father was no longer there?

And then after all that Lan Qiren had been through, he didn't even try to keep Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian apart once he found out the truth. When Wei Ying explained how he'd been set up, he was one of the first elders in the cultivation community to give him a chance to explain himself. And after that even if he was cold to Wei Ying, he didn't say shit about the two of them having nasty loud gay sex in gusu every night.

I don't care. Lan Qiren hate will always be forced to me, he did literally nothing wrong and if I was in his shoes I would not have been able to handle it

#mdzs #lan qiren #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #long post

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imtherain · 2 days ago

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He Brings Me Flowers: (Sex Pollen/Logan) Part Two

Guess who finished this finally??? IT TWAS ME

Included is a lot of smut, some angst because of who I am as a person, after care, and snacks. Mostly it's smut though.

Lowkey could be in honor Deadpool and Wolverine being out on Disney+ today, but that's a coincidence I swear.

Hope you enjoy!

Part One

[Logan List]

[Masterlist]

Tagging all these lovely people who lowkey helped make this happen simply by telling me they wanted more

@katsukis1wife

@gothamnighthawk

@emotrash1

@squishyfruitloop

@angeiulst

@unitedbyfreak

@chubbyhedgehog

@jessie-baby-96

Anywho, at 9433 words (I am not sorry)

My body was on fire.

I tried to breathe through it, to keep whatever madness that wanted to consume me away. I couldn’t let it consume me. I shuffled in my seat, trying to put out the flames but it mostly just shifted them around.

I had to get us home.

By the time I landed the jet at the mansion, I figured I must have lost two to three years off my life from exertion alone. Holding even one person for so long took a toll on me, and since I refused to practice the skill, holding all five of them was basically me deciding to run a marathon when I hadn’t run so much as a mile in years.

Not to mention the angry gnawing that had picked up in my center that demanded I let Logan do what he had been aiming to do to me. At some point during the flight, he had shifted in my hold, trying to break free again. But all he managed to do was flop over and land with his face on my boot.

Luckily, he stopped fighting once he was using my foot as a pillow, perhaps the contact contented him for now. Unluckily, I could feel the warmth of him against me, even through leather, and the gnawing just grew sharper and sharper until I was softly moaning to myself, pretending that rubbing myself on the seat did anything to ease the fire.

But I was in no state to care by the time the supplemental staff came to get everyone. I watched them from my seat as three people in full hazmat came onto the jet to assess the situation.

“You good, Miss Y/N?” This was Hank’s voice but I couldn’t tell where it came from.

“Golden,” I managed, my eyes squeezed shut. “Just please, get these fruitcakes unloaded so I can unfreeze them,” I sounded a little drunk and I heard Hank’s chuckle.

“You did good getting everyone home,” I could hear the smile in his voice and had it been any other situation I would have preened at the proudness he was showing. But I was trying really hard not to shove my hand down my pants and all I really wanted was to get to my room and sort myself out. After all… surely, being away from the others, away from Logan, would be enough.

“Keep everyone separated for now,” Someone commanded. Logan groaned from at my feet and I knew it was only a matter of time before he broke free of my grasp. I wasn’t sure what he’d do, but I was pretty sure no one would want to witness all that… and knew I wouldn’t be able to fight him off for long in my current state.

I almost wondered why I’d even want to.

“We’ve got Scott and Jean secured,” I heard someone shout loud enough for me to hear. I let those two slip from my hold. It felt like pulling splinters out, a moment more of discomfort, and then a relief.

“Storm and Rouge are good,” A different voice called next. I let them go and I heard Rouge shout something profane which made me smile absently. She was apparently extra feisty when she was feeling some type of way.

Two hazmat suits came and pulled Logan away from me and I choked myself on the whine that tried to escape me at the loss. A third hazmat suit sat in the copilot's chair and I was dully aware that it was Hank.

“I did some research on Malachi Mitchelle.” His voice was soothing, in a way, to my foggy brain as his voice did not stoke the fire. I nodded. “I think I know what happened to all of you to make you so… affectionate.”

Somewhere outside the jet a roar sounded as Logan finally got free of my powers. There was a scuffle and his voice quieted down. Even the sound of him made my thighs tense.

“Not me, I’m just sleepy,” I lied. I just needed to get away, as far away from Logan, as I could. Because I was weak and getting weaker by the second, if he came asking, I’d likely give in this time.

And then I’d never be able to face him again.

“Good, that’s good.” Hank said. “But the others then, based on the readings we downloaded from the jet and what I was able to find on Malachi…” He coughed once, uncomfortable. “Well, let's just say, Malachi was known for making people feel good and he ended up making something that went a little too far. I’m sure that’s what they got into,”

“How do they fix it?” I asked. My eyes were blurry and I felt kinda like my uterus was going to melt down my legs at any second. I just wanted to crawl into bed and wait it out.

“The only way out is through I’m afraid,” Hank laughed nervously.

“Oh,” I managed. Maybe I’d have to be more active in my ‘waiting it out’ plan, but whatever. As long as I got away from Logan. As long as I didn’t make him hate me.

“Are you sure you’re ok, though? You weren’t exposed?” Hank asked again. I waved him off.

“I just beat my record time for freezing someone by a couple of minutes,” I managed a smirk as pain shot up my spine. “And I did it times five. I just need a really, really, really long nap.” Hank chuckled at my tone but nodded his head.

“Alright, you still need to be decontaminated.” He stood. “And I’ll have someone come check on you, just in case,”

“Ok,” I mumbled. But I was not going to stick around to find out what they wanted to check. I could already feel myself straining to hear Logan’s voice, but so far all I could hear was machinery and the hazmat shower.

Someone came to get me, but it took all of my brainpower to focus on being normal. I grumbled through the decontamination spray, which was dry and unpleasant like getting sand blasted.

“Wait here,” The hazmat suit that had decontaminated me said. I didn’t recognize this voice, not that I tried hard to while I was sitting on the edge of a chair, trying really hard to not call out for Logan. I knew he was in the medbay somewhere, we all were. I also knew that if I called his name he would come running and he’d be able to ease the burning ache in my core.

But I didn’t want that.

I didn’t want him to want me just because of some stupid sex pollen. I knew Hank said the only way out was through, and from the bits I’d understood from the conversation around me, that meant you had to bang whomever it was that your body craved. Which was why I hadn’t felt the urge to jump any of the staff that were helping.

And also why I could hear Jean and Scott going at it from across the medbay, which was as awkward as it was unhelpful to the heat in my blood.

Before the hazmat suit that had helped me returned, I decided it would be best for me to just leave. Go somewhere where I couldn’t hear the sounds of Rouge and Ororo getting off too. The whole medbay sounded like a porn set and I needed to get out of it before I made a move I couldn’t take back.

I figured if I could get to my room, I could get my own rocks off enough times to get rid of this feeling. I had toys, I had batteries, I had my hands. It’d be fine. And then Logan and I could still be friends when this was all finally over.

Walking turned out to be a specific kind of torture.

Everything hurt. While it had kind of felt like period cramps at first, the pain had shifted and spread out. It was like my skin was trying to eat itself, like my bones were made out of razor blades. I stumbled along the hall and into the elevator to go up to where the adult dorms were.

I didn’t recall the dorms being so far away.

I leaned on the wall, thankful that the metal elevator wall was at least cool against my burning skin. Maybe I’d need to take a cold shower too. But the thought of even that made me whimper in displeasure. I knew what my body wanted, what I probably needed, and yet I so desperately denied it.

I just needed to get to my room. To cool off. To calm down. To hold on just a little bit tighter.

My suit was uncomfortable on my skin, I could feel the seams as though they were also razors like my bones. I was beginning to wonder if I’d made the right decision. It wouldn’t be the first time my pride or whatever, got in the way of feeling better.

The hallway seemed longer than normal as I shuffled my way to my room. It wasn’t very late in the day, and most people that lived in this wing were elsewhere and preoccupied, so I wasn’t worried about anyone hearing my moaning as I made my way past each door.

Only three more doors until mine, but that felt like so far to go. Too far maybe. Maybe I could curl up out here in the hall and let the pain take me.

Every step shot lightning through my limbs that ricocheted around in my rib cage. My core felt like it had been filled with angry bees. I paused long enough to try to squeeze my legs together, to get some friction, hoping it would help somehow. But it did nothing. I tried to use my hand over my suit but the only thing that did was make my knees wobble and the bees inside me sting me harder. It wasn’t the correct hand, nor nearly enough touch.

I tried to gather my strength by leaning against the wall, but it didn’t seem to help me other than to keep me from falling on the floor.

“Y/N!” Logan’s voice was like fresh rain on a forest fire.

I didn’t have the energy to look behind me to see him coming. I did, however, feel those frustrated and angry tears that had plagued me since being on the jet finally break free. I knew I wouldn’t be able to push him away anymore and I hated that I was so weak.

“God, baby, look at me,” He sounded so worried for me. I wished it could mean something.

“Hurts,” Was all I was able to mumble at him. I felt his hands on my arms, turning me so my back was against the wall. So that he could look at my face. My blood seemed to hum at his nearness. Like a magnet reaching for metal.

“Hank said you didn’t get hit with the pollen,” Logan’s eyes were still hazy, but he was at least restraining himself now. “Seems you lied to him sweetheart,” His fingers brushed my cheeks and I whined as if his touch hurt.

“You…?” I tried to ask why he was handling this better than before but got cut off by a wave of pain that threatened to knock me to the floor.

“Come on,” Logan said instead. I shook my head at him and tried to pull myself off the wall, to walk away from him. But I couldn’t. I had always prided myself on being strong, a sick sort of triumph at my ability to deny myself anything I wanted and didn’t think I deserved. But with this?

I hated how all I wanted to do was bury my face in his chest or maybe just swallow him whole.

Logan got an arm around my waist to help me stand and I felt like I was drowning in his nearness.

I wanted to get away from him.

I wanted to pull him closer.

When I stumbled along with him, he cursed at my slowness. He paused long enough to make a decision. His hand on my chin made me look at him, but I struggled to focus on his face when I saw him lick his dry lips. I wanted him to lick me like that. Gently, softly, thoroughly.

“Stay with me a little longer, sweetheart, just gotta get to your room or I’ll have to fuck you out here in the hall,” Logan’s voice tried to remain light, as if it were a joke of some kind. But we both knew he would do exactly that if we didn’t get behind a door.

I could only whine, low in my throat, because the pain was blooming behind my eyes like solar flares. I wondered if it would kill me if left unchecked. I wondered if that would be better than giving in.

But when Logan’s lips pressed against my sweaty forehead, I leaned into him. Another kiss on my temple drew my focus away from the burning hum in my blood. The third one landed on my jaw and I turned, trying to catch his mouth without thinking.

I knew if he touched me just a little more, the pain would ebb. I knew it. I didn’t want to give in, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I got to taste him… just once. Maybe he’d be able to forgive me for just one kiss.

I heard him chuckle as I chased more contact. He was breathing hard, wanting more too.

He swung me up into his strong arms, bridal style, and I pressed my face into his neck while he carried me the last several feet to my room. If my brain hadn’t been so hazy, I would have marveled at how easily he’d lifted me, how easily he could carry me.

As soon as my door closed behind us, Logan set me back on the ground and buried his face in my neck, my back pressed against the wood. I had my arms around his shoulders still, fingers buried in his hair while he mouthed his way up to my ear.

“Say you want this, sweetheart,” Logan purred. I had one leg up around his hip, giving him room to press himself into me between open mouth kisses on my skin. My hips rolled into him of their own accord.

I felt like I couldn’t bring enough air into my lungs, but somehow, I managed to speak.

“No,” My voice was torn, and my face wet. It felt like someone else had pulled the word from my chest, someone so far away from the heat of my room.

I didn’t register the way his face contorted in confusion.

“Sweetheart,” It was his turn to whine. Annoyed at the thought I’d deny him. I knew the pollen was surely in his system still, making him want me as badly as I wanted him.

Which was the only reason I still tried to resist.

“Didn’t want…” I panted, too many sensations running through me. “Not like this,” My arms made no move to push him away from me but my body betrayed my lungs as my leg shifted, trying to pull him closer. With him close like this, at least the ache wasn’t getting any worse.

“Like how then?” Logan asked. His hips bucked up into me and I felt the ache in waves as his body teased mine with the promise of release.

Oh god, release.

I could only shake my head as I cried because I wanted things to be different. I wanted this to matter, wanted it to mean he liked me. But it was nothing other than a need we hadn’t asked for because of a mission that went weird, and that broke my heart.

Logan cursed to himself, kissing at the tears on my cheek.

“It’s ok pretty girl, it doesn’t have to mean anything, just… just let me help you, alright?” His voice betrayed an ache I didn’t expect in him. The kind of ache you couldn’t mask and you couldn’t fabricate.

“No, no… I want it to mean something… I don’t want - ahh - a pity fuck,” I said into his shoulder as my body tried to get more from him. I gasped each time his body bumped into mine while he held me against the door. Just being near him like this seemed to clear my head some though and I knew I should let my pride go.

That we both needed this.

That the only way out was through.

“It’s not pity,” Logan growled against my throat, something angry, something hurting.

I couldn’t respond as I felt a new wave of pain and wanting crash through me, pulling a low whimper from my chest. What we were doing simply wasn’t enough. We were knocking at the door maybe, but we needed to step into the home beyond the threshold.

We couldn’t get out if we didn’t go through.

“I need you to tell me you want this,” Logan groaned, his mouth against my jaw. Begging, hardly restrained. A gentleman even when dosed with sex pollen.

My chest ached for him.

“Won’t you hate me tomorrow?” I squeezed my eyes shut as he adjusted his grip on me, his hand was so warm on my thigh as he helped balance me.

“I could never hate you, sweet girl,” He said against my cheek, kissing a few more tears from my fevered skin.

I nodded finally.

I felt him grin against my cheek before he added, “I need to hear you say it, baby,” I could hear the same smile in his voice.

“I want… Want you,” It somehow still felt like a betrayal to admit it and as the moment drew on for a heartbeat too long, I thought for sure that he had realized he didn’t want me. That this had all been some elaborate ruse. My eyes were squeezed so tightly shut that I missed the way his face broke open into a pure joy smile.

I felt more tears in my eyes at what I thought was rejection.

“I need you,” I pressed again, sure that if he didn’t speak, didn’t keep touching me, didn’t fuck me, I was going to die. I opened my eyes and saw his smile and my chest thawed at the happiness he showed me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him smile like that before.

Logan’s hands squeezed my hips, pulling me tight against him again so that I could feel how hard his cock was straining in his suit.

“I need you too, sweetheart,” I felt his smile against my neck before he finally, finally, covered my mouth with his.

It was like wind after rain.

Something soft that whispers about tomorrows that are brighter and hurt less.

His mouth did not cool my blood completely, but suddenly, the pain was receding. I twisted my hands in his hair, holding him to me, daring him to try to pull away. But Logan’s hands were making their way into my suit, pulling zippers and searching for skin.

He had no plans to leave me. Thank god.

“You taste so good,” He purred, pulling away to look at my face. I was sure I looked a mess, but I had no willpower left to be embarrassed about it. His eyes were glittering with mirth and heat and something my brain wanted to believe in.

“You do too,” I panted. I didn’t remember him getting the top half of my suit off, but he was tugging the rest down my hips. When did my feet end up back on the floor?

I was wearing an undershirt and a pair of close fitting shorts under the leather suit and Logan growled at the next set of barriers.

“Too many layers,” He grumbled. I pulled him back to where I could kiss him and he seemed happy enough to lick his way into my mouth while his hand stumbled blindly along my stomach in search of the waistband of my shorts.

I mewled when his fingers brushed the skin of my hip, having found their way inside. Logan chuckled against my mouth as he glanced down to make sure he was where he thought he was.

“Bed,” I commanded, brain short circuiting at the mere thought of what was to come. His hands, one still in my shorts, moved to scoop me off my feet. Both of those wide, warm palms of his squeezing at my ass as he pulled my legs around his hips. I moaned again, surprised at the heat of him pressed into my ache, and also turned on by the very fact he could lift me so effortlessly.

“Wanted to do this for so long,” Logan murmured into my throat.

“Yeah?” Curiosity more than disbelief for once.

“Yeah, pretty girl,” He was all but purring, kissing any skin close enough to reach as he moved us deeper into my room, aiming for the bed, but not really looking.

“How long?” I wondered out loud. Surely it couldn’t be that long, but my brain was running at about 1% cognition so I didn’t bother thinking too hard about what I was asking.

“Since that time you subbed for my class,” He said without missing a single beat. He groaned at the memory. “You were wearing a dress with little flowers on it. It stopped right at your knees and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to get under that skirt,” He pulled me tighter against him, cursing at the sensation while I gasped against his shoulder.

I felt blood rush to my ears at his confession, as I hadn’t subbed for him in months, but I didn’t get to revel in it long because we’d finally made it to my bed. Logan and I toppled over onto the unmade mess I’d left my bed in that morning.

“Fuck, I need you in my mouth,” Logan moved off of me so that he could kneel on the floor between my legs. “You going to let me taste you?” I nodded happily and he gave me a sharp-toothed grin that made me shiver.

He easily pulled off my shorts and underwear and as soon as I was exposed to him I felt the ache rear its head again. Like hot coals dropped into my pelvis, everything was concentrated and too hot.

“Logan, please,” I whimpered. “Hurts again,” He wasted no more time and lunged headfirst into my open legs. I almost screamed at the sensation of his tongue moving up to my clit. It was too good, pure honey, and yet, entirely not enough. I reached down and got both of my hands into his hair, tugging him closer, unable to stop myself from chasing the high that was nowhere near close enough yet, by rubbing myself against his face.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind.

Logan moaned against me as he hoisted one of my legs over his shoulder. His free hand moved up my stomach, pushing its way under my shirt until he met with one final barrier, my sports bra. He grumbled vaguely, doubling down on his efforts with his mouth on my core. The lewd noise of him devouring me filled the room. If the pollen wasn’t clouding my head, I knew I’d be embarrassed, but he sounded like he was eating his favorite meal, slurping and sucking and making me see stars in a way I could only have dreamed about.

I felt his callouses slide under my bra, up through the valley between my breasts. He pulled the fabric up away from me and with a turn of his wrist, his claws sprang free just long enough to slice through the fabric that had dared hide my chest from him.

I gasped, startled, but also my core clenched at the show of force. Logan chuckled at my sharp intake of breath.

Logan made a noise low in his throat that was somewhere between a growl and whimper before he moved to explore this newly exposed skin. My fingers flexed against his scalp as his tongue brought first one, then the other, nipple to a hard peak.

My hands were beginning to shake as I clenched them tighter, pulling at his scalp. My body couldn’t focus on anything for very long, instead it simply demanded more, more, more.

“Fuck baby, you trying to pull my head off?” He teased, mindful not to leave me wanting while he spoke. He pressed his thumb against my clit and it shot electricity up my spine. I tried to shove his face back where I needed him, but he resisted me easily. I whined unhappily.

He pulled my hands from his hair so he could sit back on his heels. Logan seemed distracted as he ran his fingers through my sopping core again and I jumped and whined at each pass. He just continued to toy with me and I mewled.

“Need you,” I got out. I was breathing like I was worried I’d be pulled underwater at any second, trying to get as much air into my lungs as I could before the air got taken away.

“I know, baby, need you too,” He began to work his way out of his suit, but he kept getting distracted by my leg over his shoulder, my hands reaching for him, and his incessant urge to lean back in and run his tongue through my folds again and again and again.

As if just a single taste could sustain him.

The way we were sitting prevented me from seeing more than a flash of nudity before he settled again with his knees on the floor. Logan went back to his assault on my clit, but now he was teasing me with one of his thick fingers too. I groaned loudly when I saw his hips buck into the edge of my mattress. Simply knowing he was getting off with his tongue in me made the coil in my pelvis wind tight.

“More,” I demanded, feeling my orgasm finally building as he focused his tongue on my clit. “Logan, ‘m getting close,”

“Good,” Logan responded with his mouth still against me. “Cum for me, wanna taste you, dreamed about what you taste like,” I felt his finger press slowly into me, his tongue still working my clit, and I bucked my hips up as he stopped to look at what he was doing.

“Logan,” I complained. I felt his finger slide in farther and we both cursed at the feeling of my walls gripping him. I had never been so desperate for friction in my entire life.

“So tight, so perfect for me,” Logan murmured. I just nodded as he worked another finger in with the first and I arched off the bed, chasing my high. I felt his free hand press on my hip to keep me here on earth with him as he pumped those two wicked fingers in and out, licking at my clit all the while, as though it were his favorite brand of lollipop.

I couldn’t warn him before I actually came.

My ears were ringing as my body burst into a million pinpricks of light. Nothing else mattered as the waves came up and broke over me, Logan pushing me far past where I would have stopped had I been alone. When my pieces resettled into a sentient being I got only a few moments of clarity before the pollen pulled me back under.

But in those few moments, I saw how much love and affection Logan had in his eyes as he looked up at me from between my legs. He looked like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

“How was that?” Logan asked with the sort of grin that told me he knew exactly how that was.

“How are you not as horny as I am?” I complained. With a chuckle he kissed the inside of my thigh and then kissed his way up to my throat. My legs instinctively circled his hips, ready for more of him. I felt the heat of his length slide along my ass as I held him to me.

“Hank gave me something to take the edge off, some sedative,” Logan admitted dismissively. “Said he didn’t want me hurting anyone before we got ourselves sorted out,”

“Oh,” I felt his teeth teasing the soft skin below my ear and I wiggled a bit because it tickled.

“But it’s wearing off fast,” he added cheerfully. “So I hope you’re ready for another,”

“God yes. Please,” I whined at the thought of another orgasm. The first one had done wonders for the fire in my blood, but it wasn’t gone by any means. My bones were still feeling too sharp any time he stopped touching me.

Logan chuckled at my eagerness, but kissed me anyway. I happily parted my lips for him as he deepened the kiss. I felt his hand, warm on my hip, as he adjusted me so he could slot himself better between my thighs as our tongues took turns tasting each other.

We both groaned when his dick slid past my clit the first time. Another pass and we became creatures of feeling and nothing more.

Funny how you could dream of something and once you face the reality of it, it is so different. No matter what you think you know of the matter, you're so deliciously wrong.

When Logan finally pressed his tip into me, I swear the world ended. Inch by inch he filled that emptiness inside of me, pushing out any lingering thoughts of him not wanting me.

My fingers dug into his skin and he groaned lowly into my neck.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Relax for me, baby,”

“Can’t,” I forced the word out as my whole body tensed up. It felt amazing to be filled, but the intrusion was also new to me. My muscles didn’t know what to do with him, but they loved the feel of him simply being there, a pleasant burn, a wondrous sort of ache.

“Breathe,” he panted. “I can't move with you squeezing me so tight,”

“Sorry,” I had my eyes squeezed shut, trying to focus on letting my body adjust to him. He was bigger than anything I'd even used myself and I had no idea how he'd managed to fit.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I felt Logan's hand rubbing circles on my hip. “Just take a deep breath for me, sweetheart,” the pet name made me whimper as the pollen demanded friction I wasn't getting.

A shaky breath escaped me. Then another.

“That's it, keep breathing for me, just like that,” Logan praised me and I felt my face flame in pleasure. I could feel my muscles finally loosen as he pressed gentle kisses along my throat. “I'm gonna move now,” he warned. I nodded quickly, eyes still shut.

He pulled his hips back slowly, then pressed himself back in, this time somehow farther into me than he was before. My head felt hazy as he did it again. And again. And again. I could only let out little groans of pleasure as he split me apart.

“Look at me, baby,” Logan had a hand on my face again, holding me so he could look into my eyes when I finally opened them. “Doing ok?”

I nodded almost sleepily, feeling like every brain cell I'd ever grown was knocked out of my skull.

“I need you to say it, pretty girl,” he whispered, a gentle kiss to the side of my mouth. The pet name made me clench around him and he cursed to himself at the feeling.

“I'm good,” I managed, wondering if I should pick a pet name for him too. But he seemed to be hogging them all.

“That's my girl,” Logan kissed my mouth again and I could taste his grin.

Pretty quickly it became clear his sedative had worn off completely.

The wild look from the jet came back to his eyes as he hoisted my legs up higher in his waist, drilling down into me as I continued to whimper. It felt like he was trying to mold me to the shape of him, so that no other dick would ever fit me quite right.

I wouldn't mind if that were true.

When his thumb pressed on my clit again I bucked up into him, arching off the bed. Logan chuckled and rubbed tight circles on the nub until I was crying from the stimulation.

“Need you to come for me again, sweetheart,”

“Trying to,” I huffed out, blinded by how easy it seemed for him to lift my hips and reposition me. I knew I weighed more than he did, it came up as a joke once and never left me alone. But he didn't seem to notice or care.

“Come on, baby, give it to me,” he begged, his other hand, the one not preoccupied with my clit, moved to tug at one of my nipples. My fingers dug into his biceps as the orgasm wound itself tight around my pelvis. I swear I could feel my nails digging in, past his skin, into the meat of him. “Fuck - give it to me,”

If he noticed how far my nails dug into him, he didn’t care, redoubling his efforts with the movement of his hips against mine.

“Almost, almost,” I chanted. “Almost,” it was just babbling now but he understood.

It felt like heaven having something so large to clench around as the orgasm snapped through me. Doubly so when Logan's hips jerked a moment after my tremors ended and he filled me in a new way.

For a brilliant moment, the pain was entirely gone.

We lay panting, trying to catch the breath we’d stolen from each other. Logan chuckled, but it turned into a growl as he pulled himself out of me. I couldn’t help but gasp at the loss of him.

“You got another one for me?” Logan asked, pressing open mouth kisses along my neck and chest. I closed my eyes, trying to sear this memory into my brain so I could look back at the feeling of it, not just the knowledge that it had happened.

“Yeah,” I finally sighed, a contented noise, as the warmth that lingered in me spread out again and began to smolder. The pollen really must take a while to get out of one’s system… but I found that I didn’t really mind. “Just tired is all,”

“Poor baby,” Logan teased. “Come ‘ere,” He pulled me around so that he was behind me.

“Logan?” I questioned.

“Just let me take care of you,” He purred, nibbling his way across my shoulder to my ear. “Or don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you,” I said, confused as to what trust had to do with it. I trusted him with most things, if not everything outside of this room. So why not with this thing, inside the room?

“Good, now just relax and let me take care of my pretty girl,” he nipped at my earlobe as my face grew warm at his affections. This pollen was cruel if it made him so sweet only to take it away. But I didn’t find myself wanting to do anything I wouldn’t normally want to do, so maybe…just maybe…

“Ok,” I moved my head to catch his lips, and for a moment that distracted him from whatever it was he was originally planning when he got us situated on our sides, spooning, his front warm against my back.

When his calloused fingers bit into the meat of my thigh and lifted my leg up and and back to rest it over his, it quickly became clear what his plan was.

Logan shifted a bit so he could actually line himself up with me, but sank into me, deeper somehow, than ever before. I let out a pathetic noise at the sensation of being filled from this new angle.

“Shh, shh,” Logan hushed me, placing softer kisses on my exposed and sweaty skin. “Just like before, sweetheart, breathe,” It took less attempts to fill my lungs this time, my muscles relaxing enough to let him push and pull himself through me with practiced ease.

“Feels good,” I told him, wanting him to know I was still enjoying this.

“Good, baby,” I felt him smile against my neck. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” When he rocked his hips forward, I couldn’t help but moan instead of respond.

Logan slid his other arm beneath me, the muscles fitting perfectly into the curve of my natural waist. I’d have thought my stomach would be off putting to him, but here he was fondling it, fondling me, while also sliding so deep inside of me that I was surprised I was still breathing.

Somehow, the next orgasm felt deeper, stronger, and snuck up on me too.

I came with a cry, the sound a mix of surprise and overwhelming pleasure.

“Gonna cum again,” Logan warned me. “With you milking me like that, can’t…can’t help myself,” he clarified as though I’d asked or he was embarrassed.

“Please,” I begged, eyes wet. When I moaned, the drag of his cock through my folds beginning to overstimulate me, Logan bucked his hips harder once.

“Make that noise again,” he begged in return. I was happy enough to oblige. The next moan fed into his low roar as he spilled himself for the second time into my waiting heat.

When he made to pull himself out again, I whined and scooted back against him.

“Don’t leave me yet,” I mumbled, half asleep suddenly.

“I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl,” His arms wrapped around me then and he held me close to his chest, still buried to the hilt inside me. I sighed happily.

“When you pulled out last time, the pain came back right away,” I told him.

“Oh, is that why?” He asked skeptically.

“And it feels good,” I mumbled, my eyes closing. “Like you inside me,” But right as I was about to fall asleep, a shot went through me. Like static pains as your limbs wake up, having been asleep too long.

I felt my heart rate pick back up and my breathing came out harder.

“Back already?” Logan mused.

“I guess so,” I mourned the loss of rest, but was not opposed to more shenanigans with the man in my bed. I’d thought if he stayed inside me the pollen would wait.

“Lucky for you, I can go all night, pollen or not.” Logan bragged. I didn’t need to have my eyes open to know exactly how pleased with himself his smirk would be.

“Even with that sedative?” I smirked, but I whined as Logan pulled himself out of me. He just readjusted us so that I was flat on my back and he was looking down at me. He looked like heaven resting his weight on his elbows next to my head. He was so close, he smelled so good, and for at least this one moment, he was entirely mine.

“Sweetheart, that’s been out of my system for ages,” He leaned down to cover my mouth with his and I couldn’t help but reach up and tangle my fists in his hair. He chuckled against my tongue when I pulled to keep him close to me.

“Oh,” I said, rather shyly.

“Why? Have I not been giving it to you hard enough?” Logan’s voice was mostly teasing, but he moved to take my bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged enough that it pulled a gasp from my chest, before he let go.

“You saying you can’t go harder?” I wasn’t sure why I pushed him, and I could blame the pollen… or I could blame all the romance novels I’d read where every sex scene was dotted with harder, harder, harder!

“Oh honey, be careful,” Logan warned, mirth and something fiery in his eyes…animalistic joy at the thought of harder.

“Oh honey,” I mocked him. “I dare you,” I used the same mocking tone and was not surprised when he growled and descended on me like a lion on a baby gazelle.

All teeth and tongue and primal heat.

I lost count of the orgasms he pulled from me. All I knew was that I would never be able to face him if he decided that this meant nothing after all because I would never stop craving him. Having had a taste of Logan, even if it had been coerced by a silly plant, I knew I’d never crave anything else.

“You still with me, pretty?” Logan’s voice made me open my eyes again.

“Mhmm,” I murmured, reaching out to get my arms around his neck. I pulled him into me, just hugging him to me like he was the teddy bear I needed to fall asleep. He pressed his forehead into mine. I hummed, happy to have him in my arms. He pressed a few chaste kisses to my lips, gentle and sweet.

“Do you need another?” Logan’s voice was slightly worried but I just shook my head. The feeling of the pollen clouding my head, clogging my veins… that feeling that my bones were too sharp… was entirely gone now. I was left to bask in the afterglow and tiredness of what we’d done.

“Do you, handsome?” The pet name tasted funny but I figured I could go one more round if he needed to. After all, it would only be fair.

“I was good two orgasms ago,” Logan admitted. I clicked my tongue, giving him a scandalized look.

“What?” I asked, sounding a bit like I thought he was lying.

“Yeah, the pollen was out of my head probably two ago,” He kissed the tip of my nose as I wrinkled it at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t want to cut the fun short,” Logan smirked. “Plus, you still smelled wrong,”

“Oh thanks,” I rolled my eyes, feeling more like myself than I had in what feels like weeks.

“You smell much better without that sickly sweet pollen on you,” Logan assured me. He kissed the edge of my mouth, asking permission to kiss me properly. I moved to catch his lips and he purred against me. “You taste better without it too,”

“Mmm,” I made a noise of agreement because the tiredness was back.

“I’m going to go get cleaned up, then I’ll be back to clean you up, ok sweetheart?” Logan asked, his knuckles running along my side. I nodded, feeling sleep coming for me. The last thing I heard was Logan chuckle as he moved across the room to my ensuite.

I was face down, when Logan returned. Most of my bedding had been tossed aside at one point or another, the pillows were gone and all that remained were the sheets. The fitted sheet had popped off one corner and the other sheet was only enough to cover my nudity, but it was cold and damp in far too many spots to be any sort of comfortable.

“How ya feeling, love?” Logan asked, crouching down next to where my head was. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but it was clear he’d showered since I’d seen him last. I was the wrong way round on my bed, arms curled into my naked chest because I was cold.

“Sticky… sore… cold,” I mumbled. “And tired, but I really want a shower,”

“Come on,” He moved to help me up and I grumbled the entire time. Logan just chuckled as he helped me into the bathroom. “Want help showering?”

“No, I’m ok,” I told him. Something about how gently he was speaking kept me from making any snide comments that may have normally slipped free. I wondered if he was being nice because he was a gentleman, or if it was because he genuinely cared. I wondered if it could maybe be a bit of both.

He reached to start the shower anyway.

“Do you want me to be here when you get out?” Logan’s voice almost hid his fear of rejection.

“Do you want to be?” I countered him, unsure if he should want to remain in my space after… all that.

“Of course,” He turned to place a gentle kiss on my forehead and I leaned into him.

“Please be here when I get out,” I said, catching his eye. He nodded as I got into the waiting warm water.

As I stood in the shower, my brain finally clear, I couldn’t help but wonder what came next.

Would Logan want to date me after all this? Would he want to just fuck? Would he want anything to do with me at all?

Would he remember saying he wanted me?

Instead of spiraling, I forced myself to focus on washing the sweat off my skin. I found several spots marked with Logan’s teeth, all of which were bruised or bruising. I felt my face get the sort of warm that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water running down my back.

I washed my hair, I washed my skin. I washed the evidence of fucking from between my legs. Something in me mourned the loss, if only because with the mess gone, there was less evidence that, even for a moment, he’d wanted me like that.

Eventually, I turned the shower off and wrapped myself in my towel, which was damp since someone had already used it.

“Logan!” I grumbled loudly. “You got my towel all wet!” It didn’t really matter but I was hoping he’d still be there for me to be grumpy with and it was easier than asking if he was there.

Logan appeared in the bathroom doorway, shirtless still, and wearing a pair of my sweatpants that were comically loose around his hips, even though he had the strings pulled tight.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He moved away for a moment and came back with my spare towel. “I found this one while I looked for sheets,”

“Sheets?” I took the towel from him and turned around as though there was any need for modesty. I put the new towel around my shoulders before letting the damp one fall, then readjusted so the fresh towel was around me properly.

“I figured while you got cleaned up, I’d work on the mess we made of your bed,” Logan’s smirk was cheeky and proud. It made my skin flame.

“Oh, well thank you for that,” I said. I went through the motions of my normal after shower routine. Brushing my hair, lotioning my face, putting product in my hair… distinctly aware that Logan was watching me from his spot leaning against the doorframe.

I was brushing my teeth when Logan spoke again.

“I think we should talk about it,” He said with that tone he used on students when they were clearly lying to him. I wondered why he used that tone now, as I wasn’t saying anything. How could I be lying?

“What about it?” I asked, finishing up. I just needed to dry the rest of me and put some pjs on. I paused when I turned and Logan was still blocking the doorway with his shirtless chest.

“Are you good? I didn’t hurt you… did I?” Something vulnerable made its way into his eyes before he could stop it.

“I mean, you bit me in the ass, that stings a little bit,” I tried to joke. When he didn’t laugh, I shrugged. “You didn’t hurt me, but… It was a lot, I won’t lie.”

“It was a lot for me too.” He agreed. “I’d been hoping to ask you out before sleeping with you, but it seems we didn’t get much of a choice,” I choked on my own throat at his confession.

“You wanted to ask me out?” I fumbled with that idea, even after everything. No one asked me out, especially not when they meant to actually follow through. Logan nodded.

“I’d love to take you out sometimes, if you want,” He watched me with those hazel eyes and I felt a strange mix of fear and warmth at the way his face softened. “But we can talk about that later too,”

“I’d never had sex before,” I blurted out suddenly. Logan froze. “It’s fine, and I didn’t really think it mattered to me, but… but it feels like I should say something,”

“Well fuck,” He cursed. “That’s not how I would have envisioned it,”

“Can’t say I ever really envisioned it at all,” I told him, trying to make it sound like a joke.

His brow furrowed.

“Why not?”

“People never exactly lined up to take me out or sleep with me, and I made my peace with that,” I stepped closer to him and he watched until I shooed him from the door. “Let me get some undies on,”

“I wouldn’t mind if you left them off,” Logan smirked, enjoying the way my skin darkened with a blush.

“Oh shush,” I shot over my shoulder at him while I dug out some underwear and my pjs. I picked the prettiest underwear I had, which honestly were still pretty much granny panties, but they were a cute color and design at least. And for pjs, I picked something simple, a tank and shorts.

“Are you avoiding looking at me, pretty girl?” Logan hummed from close behind me. I shivered at his sordid tone.

“It’s not my fault you’ve decided to stay half naked and gorgeous,” I grumbled, pulling on my clothes. I felt somewhat better with clothes on, but also, it felt weird after being naked for so long.

“Can’t promise to change either of those things anytime soon,” When he pressed a small kiss to my shoulder, I jumped. “Sorry,” he purred, no longer advancing.

“I can’t believe you still want to touch me after all that,” I said softly. There was no anger in it. No malice. Just surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’d fuck you again right now if you asked me to,” The heat of his words tore through me like a stray bullet.

“I don’t think I could handle that just now,” I forced a smile thinking about how raw I felt inside and out. “Thanks though,”

“This ok?” Logan asked, taking my hand and turning me around. He set my palm against his sternum and his hands found new purchase, one on my hip, the other on my cheek. I nodded against his palm. “I want to make sure you’re really ok,”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” I felt my throat closing on unexpected tears. I frowned at myself. “Why do I want to cry?”

“Go ahead and cry, baby,” Logan said softly in return. “If that’s what you need,”

“But I’m not sad,” I mumbled as tears, hot and fat, rolled down my cheeks. “What the heck,” This was more to myself and the tears streaming down my face. I tried to wipe them with my bare hand and it really only smeared them along my cheeks. Logan kissed my forehead and led me to my bed.

“It’s a lot, and new, and not exactly normal.” Logan assured me.

“What, your first time wasn’t with your crush dosed up on sex pollen?” I joked through the tears. I pulled a handful of tissues from the box that miraculously had remained unscathed on my nightstand and wiped my face with a pair of them. My lamp was in an entirely different spot. I guessed we’d knocked it over and Logan had righted it when he remade the bed.

“The first time with my crush might have been like that,” He teased back and I blushed.

“You saying you have a crush on me?”

“Maybe,” His smirk was boyish and if I didn’t know any better, I thought maybe his cheeks were a little bit pinker than they were before.

I crawled into the bed and watched Logan stand there in my sweatpants.

“Will you join me?” I asked carefully. I wiped at my face again and was happy to find that the tears were leaving as fast as they had come.

“Was just thinking about sneaking down to the kitchen,” Logan gave me a smile. “Unless you’ve got something else tasty hiding in here somewhere,” A sudden grumble came from my stomach as I realized I was starving.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘something else’ tasty, but I’ve got a stash of snacks,” I stood again and went to my closet, kneeling down to pull out one of those sort of flimsy storage ottomans you get at big box stores. Logan followed me and chuckled.

“I mean other than you, sweetheart,” He shook his head when I scoffed. “You know, you are terribly hard to flirt with,”

“Do you want my snacks or to tease me?” I complained, leaning back so he could see my stash. I had a little bit of a lot of things in the ottoman. Everything from beef jerky and granola bars, to poptarts, to candy of all kinds.

Logan let out a low whistle.

“I wondered how you always seemed to have the good snacks,”

“Well Scott steals anything in the kitchen. That man is a menace to poptarts. Plus Rouge specifically takes any candy I’ve ever left in there, and I have no proof, but I’m pretty sure Ororo steals all the salty snacks, so I had to improvise if I wanted anything to be where I left it.” I sat crossed legged and pulled out a granola bar, opening it right there and taking a bite. “God, I don’t think I’ve been this hungry in my life.”

“It’s probably a side effect of the pollen… takes a lot out of you,” Logan joined me on the floor, our legs touching while we faced the ottoman and the bottom half of my clothes over it. Logan grabbed a pack of beef jerky and I nodded when he held it up to ask if he could eat it.

I opened a pack of pop tarts next while Logan watched me break it into pieces and pop them into my mouth one by one.

“What?” I chuckled as he absently chewed on his snack while staring at me with such adoration in his eyes it made my stomach flip. Which was surprisingly easy to handle on my current diet of poptarts and sugar.

“You’re pretty,” He told me and looked away only long enough to fish another chunk of jerky out of his bag. The bit he pulled out was one of the bigger ones and he held it out to me. “Pretty girls need protein too,”

“You’re pretty,” I snorted, pretending it was an insult. But I took the jerky from him anyway and tore it in half with my teeth. I caught Logan swallow hard at the sight and my cheeks grew warm yet again.

“I mean it, you know,” He added. “I’ve been around for a long time and you’re my favorite thing to look at,” I smiled at that. It was so much better feeling than the normal things he said that I didn’t believe.

“You’re my favorite thing to look at too,” I told him, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. He moved to press his mouth into mine, a chaste kiss around sugared and salted lips. I chuckled, giddy, when he pulled away. Maybe I could believe him.

In the quiet darkness of my closet, watching him sift through my snack ottoman, it felt like it would be so easy to believe him. To believe that he might love me.

“I love you,” I told him suddenly. He paused with his own pack of pop tarts in his hand.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Logan’s grin was soft and so full of love. For once I didn’t look away because I figured if I witnessed it enough I would believe it. I smiled as I watched him tear into his next snack. Maybe I should stop fighting my feelings and just believe him.

It felt so easy to just give into it.

So, I think I will.

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

Part One

[Logan List]

[Masterlist]

164 notes · View notes

alchemistc · 3 days ago

Text

@liminalmemories21 - this isn't exactly what you asked for but:

Abby C. 8:51 PM: So how'd it go? With the talking?

Buck stares at the message. Stares at the milk frother sitting in his counter, and the candlesticks he'd really considered dropping off the side of his upper balcony, ten minutes ago. (He's a firefighter, he knows how that ends. But, like. Still)

Bad, he texts back. So bad. But he also won't give me my sweatshirt back and I know he has it. Any sage advice?

It's a little weird to be texting her. She'd been one of the first people he'd ever talked to consistently on the phone, and he'd grown to enjoy it, grown to appreciate that voice in his ear.

Abby texts back immediately: I'm not entirely sure I know what that means. He actually LIKED you.

Buck can feel the buzzing under his skin, the rush of adrenaline at remembering Tommy not only not denying he'd loved Buck, but admitting off-hand that he still did.

It means I'm getting my man back, Buck sends, and then stares at the slippers he can see poking out from the right side of the bed.

His phone rings.

"You know," Abby starts, before Buck can so much as greet her. "I spent a long time beating myself up for not seeing this as a sign, but that's not the point."

"What... is the point?"

Abby chuckles. She sounds good. Happy. Buck is far enough removed from it to feel glad for her, and jealous of her, and then he's rolling right back around to being fucking livid that Abby and Tommy had both run. Different reasons, same result. A first of Buck's that'd just walked away.

"He used to watch movies with my mom constantly. All the terrible schlock that I couldn't stand - Hallmark movies, and D-Lister rom coms, all those trite based on true events Lifetime shows."

Buck nods. Waits for her to continue.

She doesn't.

"I'm not picking up what you're dropping down."

"He and my mom would just critique them all the way through. Just tear them to shreds. What was unrealistic, what was just plain stupid. She - mom was never more lucid than when she and Tommy were bemoaning the lack of reality in those movies."

"Listen, I already know asking him to move in with me was a dumb idea. I'm the himbo, remember?"

Abby pauses. "...that's what he called you?"

"Apparently all your mutual friends did."

Abby sighs. "The point is, Buck. They liked watching them because they liked talking about what real relationships were actually like. What happened after a curtain close kiss, how much a couple was gonna fight over the financial sustainability of a Christmas themed donut shop, what the fiance that got left behind in the big city was gonna do now that they were finally free of the person who'd spent the holiday season losing their entire brains. Tommy's a realist. He wants to be stopped before he gets on the plane, but he wants to be stopped because you already have a ten step plan to make things work. And he's terrified of giving too much of himself away to someone who thinks he shits rainbows and puppies and hasn't reckoned with the fact that he's just as screwed up as the rest of us."

"You swear more than I remember."

Abby laughs. " But you see my point?"

Buck doesn't want to. But he does. "Well, I definitely don't think he's perfect anymore."

"And you still love him." She says it like she knows. She says it like she'd once expected to spend a life with Tommy Kinard.

"And I still love him," Buck acknowledges, and they both drift into silence. It's comfortable. Easy. He sort of misses being able to talk to her about shit like this.

"Call me if you need anything, Buck."

Buck hangs up the phone with a million new, vaguely more hopeful thoughts swirling around in his brain.

Twenty minutes later he texts her one more time: This is the only sex thing you're getting from me - that thing he does with your nipples? What the fuck?

Abby C. 9:22 PM: I taught him that. You're welcome.

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

#bucktommy fic #abby&buck

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