#i’m so fucking angry at the university for letting this happen to me for letting him get away with it for so long and for betraying me when

[fieldsofbone]

🌫️

[jocelynships]

I’m trying not to let my bad feelings take over rn but hoo boy I am. Really angry/upset/sad/whatever at everything right now

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve grows up playing piano, absolutely hates it, but is so good at it. His parents aren’t around enough by the time he’s a teen to force him to his practices, so he slowly stops going.

His music teacher happens to be Robin’s mom, who studied at Juilliard, and traveled for nearly a decade with various orchestras and bands before settling down with her husband in Hawkins.

She can see what’s going on with Steve from day one, but knows better than to interfere.

Until he quits.

She can’t stand by and let someone so musically gifted give it up.

She shows up at his house with a violin, her own violin that she hadn’t used in years.

He’s hesitant at first, but decides to give it a try as long as she doesn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wants is for them to find out he picked up a new instrument.

She can’t give him official lessons, so she shows up to his house twice a week and hopes that he practices in his own time.

He’s a natural.

He takes to it like a duck to water.

She encourages him to perform in a local talent show, all kids under 18, most of them not half as talented as he is.

He only agrees when she says she’ll be front row.

And sure enough, for once in his life, someone shows up when they say they will. She’s sitting front row with her husband on one side and her daughter on the other. She smiles as he takes the stage, nervous about people who know him seeing him and reporting back to his parents.

He performs with heart, something he lacked with the piano. He performs with talent, something he may have with any instrument he picks up.

But most importantly, he plays with a smile. He’s having fun.

He sticks around to watch some of the other people performing: Tammy Thompson singing a very out of tune rendition of America The Beautiful, some kid from one of his classes playing piano miserably, and some band performing very loud, very angry music.

Steve wins, and for once, it feels better than when he wins at a swim meet or basketball game.

He spends the next three years secretly practicing, only performing in shows out of town, never saying anything to his parents.

He doesn’t want them to ruin this for him.

He applies to Juilliard, not thinking he has a chance in hell, not with his academic grades.

Luckily, they see that he’s “exceptional with the strings” and “plays with emotion that can’t be trained.”

He gets in.

He goes.

He thinks he may actually be able to do this, use a gift he has to make his life better.

His parents even find it acceptable, mostly because he got into the best school he could have. They still don’t bother showing up for his shows, but Mrs. Buckley always finds a way.

In his sophomore year, Robin gets in, and they both move into a small apartment off campus together. He promised to look out for her.

She tells him that music wasn’t really her passion, she was just good with a trumpet. She really wanted to be an engineer.

In his junior year, Robin transfers to Columbia, starts doing what she really wanted to do from the start. He’s proud of her, but misses having someone on campus during the day to have lunch with.

Until he stumbles, literally, into someone vaguely familiar.

“Sorry, man. Running late.”

Steve pats the man on the shoulder and turns to get to his class when the man stops him.

“Harrington? You’re a student here?”

He turns back and finally recognizes the man in front of him.

“Munson? When did you get here?”

“I got in this year. Kinda fucked up my first audition last year and they were kind enough to give me another shot.” Eddie smiled. “What on earth are you here for?”

“Violin. You?”

“Guitar and songwriting.”

“That’s great, man. I’m just really running late. Catch up soon?”

Soon was two weeks later, when Steve ran into Eddie again while leaving class.

“We should probably stop running into each other like this,” Eddie smirked. “The universe is trying to tell us something.”

“What’s it trying to tell us?”

“Not sure. Maybe we should go grab dinner and find out.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Got better plans?”

Steve thought about how Robin was barely at the apartment due to studying for midterms. He thought about how his only other friend from here was busy rehearsing for their senior showcase.

“Nah. Let me bring this home first,” he held up his violin case. “Actually.”

Steve was on a budget. His parents gave him money, sure, but they thought he was living on campus so the money they sent covered rent and groceries and nothing else.

“I could make dinner. If you want?”

“Steve Harrington cooks? And plays violin?” Eddie fake swooned. “Be still my beating heart. How will I not be seduced?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He remembered Eddie’s dramatics from school and knew better than to feed into them.

“I can make some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”

“Spaghetti sounds great,” Eddie’s fake swoon turned to a soft smile. “You want some help?”

Steve didn’t need help, usually didn’t even want any.

But something about the way his stomach dipped when Eddie stepped closer, and the way he thought about having Eddie in his apartment, made him agree.

“Sure.”

They walked to Steve’s apartment in a comfortable silence, though Eddie kept tapping the back of his fingers against Steve’s hand.

Eddie fit next to Steve. They cooked together, they ate together, they even managed to clean up together. It was easy to find something to talk about. He’d never clicked with anyone like this, not even Robin.

By the time Robin came home, Steve and Eddie were both passed out on the couch, fingers laced together as if they hadn’t been brave enough to do anything more before they fell asleep.

By morning, Steve’s head was on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm wrapped around him loosely.

Waking up to a soft kiss on his lips was something Steve couldn’t have imagined when he first ran into Eddie, but he was pretty glad it was how he started his day.

And almost every day after that, whether he woke up to a kiss, or met up with Eddie on campus for a kiss, he started his day with love on his lips.

[traveler-at-heart]

Across the Natashaverse

Summary: Through a small accident, you end up in another universe. What happens when you find out that your relationship with Natasha is very different here?

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Life is good.

No missions for the week, done with training and fresh off the shower, you walk down the halls of the Compound.

“Someone’s in a good mood” Wanda comments when you join her at the kitchen. “Did Natasha change her mind about the date?”

Your smile falls immediately and her eyes widen.

“Shoot, I’m sorry”

“Nah, it’s fine” you steal a cookie from her plate and shrug your shoulders. “It was two weeks ago. She doesn’t see me that way, I get it”

“I don’t think it’s that” Wanda insists and you smile.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Maximoff” you lean forward and place a kiss on the top of her head. The brunette chuckles, going back to the book she was reading.

As you walk to your room, you try not to think of Natasha. But it’s a small world, and she’s on her way to the gym, America Chavez right behind her.

“I’m on training duty” the redhead explains. “Wanna join us?”

“I have so much paperwork” you lie, because you’re very tired and have been looking forward to a nap. “Kick some butt, America”

“I’ll try” she doesn’t sound convinced at all.

Natasha smiles at you, waiting for your signature wink that always gets her heart racing.

But there’s not even a look back as you go to your room.

She really screwed up this time.

—

You weren’t exactly lying about the paperwork, and you work on it for half an hour to feel like you’re doing something productive with your day.

With a yawn, you stand up from the desk in your room and walk towards the bed. As you’re about to plop down, there’s a shift in the room and you land on your ass, the bed on the other side of the wall.

“What the fuck?” you say, looking around.

The room looks different. It’s the same size, but none of your stuff is there. Same thing with the hallways. It’s the Compound, but at the same time… it’s not. You walk out of the room, this time on spy mode, ready to take down the imminent threat.

“Y/N?” Natasha calls behind you and you rush to her side.

“Nat, hey. There’s something wrong. Stay close” you take her hand, and she stops you with a pull.

“I’ll say”

“Huh?” you turn, only to find her face inches away from yours.

“Where’s your wedding ring?”

“My… what?” you look down at your hands, confused. Natasha moves her face closer and you can’t focus on anything else.

“Oh, I see. Are you still angry about the other day? Because I can totally make it up to you, detka” Natasha whispers seductively against your lips, leaving a trail of kisses all the way to the shell of your ear.

“Nat.. uh… I think…”

“Use your words, pretty girl” she smiles, her hand going up your shirt to caress the skin.

And suddenly, she looks down, frowning.

“Where’s your scar?”

“I don’t have a…”

Natasha turns into a whole different person, placing you in a chokehold and holding both your arms down.

“Who are you? Are you a skrull?”

“I don’t know what that is” you say, gasping for air. “Wait, are they the ones Carol works with?”

“Who is Carol?”

“Captain Marvel”

“You mean Maria Rambeau”

“Maria is Captain Marvel?” you say, finally piecing together what’s happening. When your eyes lock with Natasha’s, you speak at the same time.

“You’re from another world”

“I’m from another world”

Even if she doesn’t let go, her grip on you losens enough for you to breathe. She’s about to ask something else when a little girl walks up and pulls your hand, getting your attention.

“Mama, what are you and Mommy doing?”

—

“Walk me through what happened”

“Nothing happened! I was doing paperwork in my room and then I was here” you say for the tenth time.

“How about before?” Natasha asks, turning right. Her idea was to drive you straight to Wong, as a multiverse travel is more of his specialty.

“I ran into you. I mean, not you. My Natasha. Wait, not my. She’s not mine” you mumble, massaging your temples. “Please tell me there’s ibuprofen in this world”

“Relax” she reaches forward, placing a hand on your thigh and you swear you’ll combust. “I get the idea. Now tell me what happened”

“We just ran into the hallway. Made some small talk. And then I went to my room”

“Just small talk?” Natasha smirks. “Not some kisses? A quickie against the wall? An earth shattering, universe transcending orgasm?”

You try to open the door and jump out of the moving car but it’s locked.

“It’s not… we’re not a thing. Just friends” you say, flustered.

“Really?” Natasha finally turns to you, as she parks outside of the not so secret lair at Bleecker street.

“Wait. It was America Chavez” you remember, facepalming. Of course. “Natasha was training her. Maybe she created a portal by accident”

“And now my wife is in another universe where you’re too chicken to ask me out. Can’t imagine that will go well for her”

“Hey, it’s not like that” you snap, embarrassed. Natasha turns to you, ready to speak back, as usual. Because she’s so smart and she thinks she knows everything. “Whatever. Let’s just get this shit fixed, I don’t wanna be here”

Walking past her, you stand before the big doors, that open up without knocking

“Welcome” the man says. “I take it you’re the little glitch in our universe”

“Yes, I am. Can you fix it?”

“No. But America can. She has been at Kamar-Taj for a year now. Her powers are more developed. It should be an interesting test for her”

“Ok, so what are we waiting for?”

“There have been some security concerns lately” Natasha explains, coming closer. “Wong has to notify their council to follow protocol”

“I’ll come find you tomorrow. Remember, the longer you stay here, the bigger the threat for both worlds”

“Yes, fine. See you tomorrow” you say, looking at your feet as you leave the building. Going down the steps, you can hear Natasha calling after you. “I’m walking back to the Compound. It’s the same route. I can wait for Wong there”

“We don’t live in the Compound” Natasha explains, her voice gentle. She waits until you turn back and searches your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said before. Come with me. I’ll feel better if I know you’re safe with us”

There’s a pause, and she waits patiently while you look around. But Natasha’s presence is like a magnet, and inevitably, your eyes come back to her beautiful features.

“What’s so funny?” she says when you chuckle.

“You do the same thing. Tilt your head to the side, purse your lips… it’s cute. In every universe”

“Sweet talker. Come on. Let’s go” she offers her hand and you accept it.

It takes an enormous amount of effort to remind yourself this isn’t the Natasha you know. And that you’re not the one she loves.

You’re so caught up in these thoughts you don’t notice when she pulls over.

“Ice cream always cheers you up” she explains, getting out of the car.

“Yeah, I guess we’re not that different”

She smiles, holding the door open for you. Well, at least the flavors are the same in this universe.

“I’ll have the peanut butter with chocolate chips”

“You’re allergic” Natasha says.

“I’m not”

“You’re not?” she repeats, while the man behind the counter looks at both of you, confused.

“Nope”

Once that’s settled, you get your ice cream cones and leave the store.

“Why are you staring?” you say, mouth full of ice cream.

“I’m just waiting for the hives and the runny nose”

“I’m not allergic” you insist, showing your arms, skin completely normal.

“Fine” she concedes, shrugging her shoulders. You keep eating in silence, until she turns back. “Wanna tell me why you got so upset?”

“Because. I did ask you… her out. She said no. I wasn’t a chicken; I gave her flowers and put myself out there. But I’m obviously the problem, because in this universe, everything works out to the point of you two getting married and having a daughter”

You take a seat in a nearby bench, feeling defeated. What a cruel thing, to see the life you could have had.

“Maybe she’s not ready. I was terrified when we started dating. Thought I’d screw it up because I knew nothing of love”

That’s what Wanda probably meant earlier. It’s a possibility that crossed your mind as well, but whatever the reason, Natasha had declined the date (looking very apologetic, you might add) and you were going to respect that choice.

“Or maybe she just doesn’t want me. And that’s ok. Because no matter what happens, I love my Natasha. And I’ll always want her to be happy”

Silence settles after you say that, but Natasha looks back at you, smiling.

“You’re very noble. It’s nice to see some things are the same across worlds”

“It’s nice to know there’s a version of me that makes a version of her happy”

Natasha smiles and nods.

“Let’s get home. Anya is waiting for us”

—

“Home sweet home” Natasha says, opening the door for you. It’s a beautiful townhouse, with lots of space in the backyard. All the walls are covered in pictures, and you can’t help but stare at all the memories that belong to a different version of you.

They seem like a happy family.

“Mommy” Anya says, and it takes a second to remember that she’s talking to you.

“Hey, sweetheart” you don’t hesitate to carry her as she comes running towards you. Natasha is keeping a watchful eye on you. “What is that?”

“That’s my Miffy, silly” she says and you bounce her in your arms, while she shows you her plushie.

Yelena joins you and you can’t help but stare. Her hair is black, short and she has bangs. There are also a couple of piercings in her nose and eyebrows.

“Did you cut your hair? Looks nice” she comments, picking up her stuff and getting ready to go. You simply nod and smile. “Gotta go, see you tomorrow for dinner with Kate, ok?”

Natasha’s sisters kisses everyone goodbye, including you and then bolts out the door.

“Baby, did you bath yet?” Natasha says, approaching Anya. The girl hides her face in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t wanna”

“You’re stinky” Natasha accuses, tickling the girl; Anya gives up and goes from your arms to the redhead’s. “Come on, and then I’ll start dinner”

“I can take care of that” you offer and Natasha’s eyes widen. Anya uses Natasha’s hair as a curtain, and thinks you can’t hear what she says.

“I don’t want Mommy to cook”

“What? Why?”

“You can’t cook” Natasha says. Well, that’s just bullshit. In your world, Natasha’s always the first in line to get a good serving of whatever it is you do.

“Go, I got this” you insist when Natasha puts Anya down. The redhead looks back several times, unsure. My God, how bad could the other you be in this world to get this reaction?

Luckily, once they are done with the bath, Anya comes back, pulling her mother and commenting that the smell is incredible.

“Mommy didn’t burn the kitchen!”

“Has that actually happened?” you mumble to Natasha and she nods. “Yikes”

The redhead laughs, and nudges your shoulder with hers.

“This is really good” she admits after trying your chicken pasta bake.

“Thinking about keeping me?”

“Maybe” she jokes. “Or bring you over when I don’t feel like cooking”

Of course, Anya doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. She tells you about her day with aunt Yelena and all you have to do is listen and nod.

“I’ll do the dishes” you offer after you finish.

“Come say goodnight to her”

“Will do”

While you clean, you try not to think about what life will be like tomorrow, when you go back to a world where things are different.

“She fell asleep in the middle of a Clifford story” Natasha comes back after a few minutes. “It’s probably because she ate so much”

“I’ll leave the recipe for you” you promise. “Mind if I crash in the couch?”

“Right” the redhead smiles, and you can tell she’s nervous by the way she fidgets with her hands. You reach forward, taking them in yours.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t really sleep without… her”

“I can stay on the bedroom floor”

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering” you assure her.

By the time you’re done with cleaning the kitchen, there’s an inflatable mattress, pillows and a blanket.

“Let me know if you’re comfortable” Natasha asks, turning off the bedroom lights.

“Or what? You’ll let me sleep cuddled up? It wouldn’t be good for the space and time continuum that I kick my own butt”

“I actually think she’d find it funny” Natasha says, and you let her voice lull you in the dark. “She’s probably teasing your Natasha endlessly, trying to get her to admit some sort of feelings for you”

“She has a death wish” you groan, admittedly forgetting that the Natasha you know is having a less than pleasant time right now.

“What is she like?” Natasha says after a few moments of silence.

“She’s the smartest person in any room. Hates cooking and doing dishes. Always looking out for others, always taking on the most missions. She’s really funny too. Sometimes, Bucky will ask anyone for movie recs and Natasha will give a completely made up title. So, Barnes will go crazy looking around for it”

“Oh, I’m so doing that next time” you both laugh.

“Great ass too” you say after a beat and a pillow is thrown across the room and falls right in your face. “Hey!”

“Go to sleep”

—

Next morning, you figure it’s only fair to cook some breakfast before Wong calls you over.

Which, he does, sooner than expected.

Anya is barely finished with breakfast, when Natasha comes down the stairs and looks at you.

“It’s time”

Feeling nervous, and a bit sad, you nod. Wanda shows up a few minutes later. To your shock, in this world, she’s pregnant.

“Thank you for taking care of her, it really won’t take long” Natasha says as soon as she steps inside.

The brunette eyes you curiously, and you can tell by her magic that she knows this isn’t your world.

“You know I’m always happy to”

At the door, Natasha picks up Anya and kisses her everywhere she can. The girl giggles once her mother places her down.

“Hey, bug” you kneel on the floor. “Be good. Your moms will be back soon, ok?”

“Ok, mommy. See you soon”

“Bye, Anya” you say, letting her hug you. Once you’re out the door, Natasha reaches for your hand, and squeezes lightly.

The ride to Bleeker street is silent. Wong seems pleased when he sees you.

“Follow me, ladies” he asks, opening up a portal to Kamar Taj. You’d only been there once; the size of the place always makes you feel like you’re in another planet.

A much older version of America greets you -she’s probably in her twenties- and takes your hand for a second, closing her eyes.

“Ready to go home?” she asks.

“Wait!” Natasha calls behind you and you turn, eyes wide. To your surprise, the woman hugs you, and you wrap her in your arms as well. When she pulls away, she places a small kiss on your cheek. “Anyone would be lucky to have you. She’s an idiot if she can’t see that”

“Thanks, Nat. Not about the idiot part. Be kind to every version of yourself, yes?”

“Fine” she rolls her eyes, squeezing your hand one last time.

You’re about to step into the portal when you turn to America.

“This won’t send me into the middle of a busy road or like, free falling to my death, right?”

“Most likely not” she promises.

You don’t like the sound of that.

“Ok, but on a scale of one to ten…”

“For Agamoto’s sake” Wong sighs behind you, pushing you without warning.

The room is completely upside down and then you land in the middle of the meeting table, the Avengers around you screaming.

“Son of a bitch” Steve says as you roll to the floor, out of air.

“Language” you manage to say. Everyone’s rushing to you. Sam is the first one and he helps you up. They are all talking at the same time, Wanda inspecting the cut on your forehead from falling on the table.

Suddenly, Natasha nudges them aside, wrapping you in her arms.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s me” you say against her temple.

“We’ll leave you alone. Go to the medbay, though”

“Yes, Cap”

You’re in no hurry, Natasha safely in your arms.

—

“So, what happened while I was gone?” you casually ask as Natasha cleans the cut.

“I almost killed you… her. Twice”

“Sounds like you had fun”

“Not really. She’s a smartass. Can’t cook a damn thing, so I made her a pb&j sandwich”

“Oh, yeah. She’s allergic” you grimace. “Wait, you said you almost killed her twice. If one was with peanut butter…”

“The first thing she did when she came to this world was slap my ass”

“She does have a death wish” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t answer, turning around to put the first aid kit away.

“Is it true?” Natasha asks. You look at her, confused. “Are we married? With a daughter?”

“Oh. Yes, it’s true. They seem to be happy. It was nice”

“Was she better than me?”

“Natasha” you say, forcing her to face you. “I have no doubt in my mind that you’re awesome in every universe. But this version of you is the one I know and love. With your love of spy films, the scar in your belly, and your half smirk when you beat everyone at Uno”

“I am really good at Uno” she agrees and you both laugh.

“Damn right you are”

“I missed you. Too much, to the point where I realise I can’t keep pretending I don’t want this. I’m just scared” she says, holding on to your hands. “Will you help me? Be brave for us”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, love” you promise, kissing her hand softly. “In this, or any other universe”

[adrienneleclerc]

Wrong Name

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles pranks Y/N by calling her the wrong name to see how she would react, it did not go well

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: inspired by @23victoria post “what did you call me” also I figured Y/N put Charles through two TikTok pranks, it’s only fair Charles pulls a prank on her. Same universe as “say it back” and “can you get out?” Also, super sorry if your name is Romina.

Charles was on TikTok because he couldn’t sleep and saw a video where a girl called her boyfriend by the wrong name. He decided to take it upon himself to pull this prank on his girlfriend. He just hopes she doesn’t get angry.

“Muñeco, im getting groceries for dinner, I’ll be back soon!” Y/N calls out.

“Okay, Mon ange.” Charles said, getting off the couch to say goodbye to his girlfriend properly. “I love you.” Charles kissed Y/N.

“I love you too.” Y/N said before leaving. Charles decided to play video games and when he heard the door open 30 minutes later, that’s when he decided to put his plan into action. Y/N was putting the groceries away in the fridge when…

“Hey Romina, what did you buy?” Charles said and Y/N closed the fridge and the bags that were on the counter were long forgotten because she was now in front of the TV.

“What did you say?” Y/N asked.

“I said ‘hey Y/N, what did you buy?’ Are you feeling alright?” Charles asked, pausing his game. He felt so guilty for the gaslighting.

“The hell you did, you just called me Romina. Who the fuck is Romina?” Y/N asked in a louder tone.

“Romina, calm down.” Charles said and that’s when he knew he fucked up.

“First of all, you never tell a woman to calm down, have you learned NOTHING from watching TV or having other girlfriends? Second, you just called me Romina AGAIN! So please, calmly tell me…” Y/N said as she went to their bedroom to get one of her chanclas 🩴 “who the hell is Romina before I become like my mother and beat your ass with this chancla.”

“There’s no need to get violent, Y/N.” Charles said.

“Really? Then tell me why did you call me Romina.” Y/N said.

“It was a prank.” Charles said. “I saw a TikTok of girls calling their boyfriends by the wrong name and I wanted to see how you would react.” Charles confessed shyly.

“You chose THAT prank, specifically THAT one, to pull on me, a girl who has been cheated on before?” Y/N asked rhetorically.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it through actually.” Charles admitted.

“Menso, i was actually gonna hit you.” Y/N said.

“You love me too much to hit me.” Charles said.

“That’s true. Anyway, I have to finish putting the groceries away because someone decided to be a pendejo and prank me. Like why would you prank me? I’m a freaking delight.” Y/N said, walking save to the kitchen

“You pranked me twice, ma Belle!” Charles exclaimed, following her.

“Okay but those were cute pranks, that prank would have ended up with me in jail.” Y/N said, putting the groceries away on the fridge, freezer, and pantry.

“I would never let you go to jail.” Charles said,

“Hey, so while I’m cooking dinner, I’m gonna put on some music, okay.” Y/N said.

“Yeah that’s fine.” Charles said and they kissed. Y/N out her phone on full volume to CUIDADITO by Becky G and Chiquis, singing out loud and specific part.

“Yo no soy celosa pero si eso pasa me transformo en otra. Te poncho las llantas dormirás afuera y esa misma noche le marco a mi suegra para que recoja a la cochinada que un día parió. Te rayo el carro te quiebro los vidrios y voy a llamar a todos mis amigos para que me ayuden que en un pisteada lo arregló yo. Nomas cuidadito con ponerme el cuerno que todo eso lo hago y hasta más me atrevo y no mas te advierto que cuidadito con ponerme el cuerno de la que te salvaste da gracias a dios que nomas fue una broma.” Y/N sung, changing the last two words (which are originally ‘un sueño ’ which means ‘a dream’). I’m not a jealous woman but if that were to happen, I become a different person. I’ll slash your tires, you’ll be sleeping outside, and I’ll call my mother in law that same night to pick up the piece of shit she gave birth to. I’ll key your car, break your windows, and I’ll call my friends so they’ll help me, I’ll handle it in one good beating. If you cheat on me, just be careful because I would do all of that and even more, I’m just warning you to be careful if you cheat on me. You got lucky, thank god it was only just a prank

“Mon ange, what’s that song about?” Charles asked curiously.

“The song is about a women who dreamt that her husband cheated on her. She would have done some crazy shit if he actually cheated her so he’s fucking lucky it was only a dream.” Y/N said with a smile.

“But you sang ‘broma’ and that’s means ‘joke’…” charles said,

“Or prank.” Y/N said,

“You sang that for me?!?” Charles yelled.

“Yes I did so you know, cuidadito.” Y/N warned.

“I Don’t know whether to be scared of you or attracted to you.” Charles confessed and Y/N laughed.

“Both work, mi Amor. You want lomo saltado or tallarines saltado?” Y/N asked.

“Whats the difference?” Charles asked.

“Lomo has French fries and is served with rice, tallarines is pasta.” Y/N said,

“Pasta please.” Charles said,

“Of course, muñeco.” Y/N said, chopping the steak into little strips while humming the music to CUIDADITO and Charles stared at her because he found himself humming too.

“You know I would never cheat on you, right Y/N?” Charles asked just to make sure.

“Of course I know you’d never cheat on me. But the song is so catchy.” Y/N commented and that made Charles feel so much better. He walked up to Y/N and hugged her from behind as she continued to chop the steak, he kissed her shoulder.

“I love you,” Charles said,

“I love you too.” Y/N said,

The End

Hope y’all liked it! A silly little one shot for giggles 🤭

[alsofoundinpeas]

I Don't Need To Know

Summary: Spencer Reid has no choice but to watch the love of his life fall in love with another man. 

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Major character death. HEAVY angst. Bittersweet ending? Graphic depictions of violence (for maybe two lines). Fingering (f receiving). P in v sex/unprotected sex (in terms of a condom, birth control is mentioned). Loss of virginity (both m and f). Creampie (god I hate that word ugh!!). Slight age gap (roughly five years). Argument scene that may be triggering for readers that have experienced SA or manipulation from a partner (nothing of that nature actually happens, but just in case).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

A/N: This is inspired by Will He by Joji, so I highly recommend listening to it while reading. I cried several times while writing this, but I felt it needed to be done so here it is. :’) Please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :)

I got knots all up in my chest… Just know, I’m trying my best…

Spencer had always found the saying “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” absurd. He couldn’t fathom willingly letting go of something he loved on the off chance that it would come back to him. Not after having everything he’d ever loved ripped from his clutches throughout his lifetime. To him, love wasn’t about releasing someone to see if they’d return. It was about holding on as though his very survival depended on it—like a feral cat finally finding food after days of hunger, sinking its teeth in and never letting go, no matter the cost. 

It wasn’t until today that Spencer finally understood the meaning of that stupid phrase. And he wished with every intricate thread of his being that he didn’t. 

Five years. Five long, agonizing years had passed. So why was he here now? Why, after what felt like an eternity of pleading for just one more moment with her, did the universe decide now was the time to give him what he wanted? 

Ironically, the timing only drove home another phrase he’d always hated: “Be careful what you wish for.” 

There she was, as beautiful as the day he’d met her, sitting in the corner of what had once been their favorite café. The sunlight streaming through the windows catches on her ring, the enticing glinting of the jewelry drawing his eyes away from her face momentarily. His heart is in his throat. She’s still wearing the wedding ring he’d given her, twisting it in the same nervous fashion she always used to. 

And there across from her is a man that isn’t him making her smile. 

‘Cause when you look… When you laugh… When you smile… I’ll bring you back…

Spencer Reid had never been a particularly angry man. He had his moments—who didn’t?—but he usually considered himself level-headed, patient. But now, watching Y/N hide a bashful smile behind the rim of her mug as she gazed at the man across from her, all Spencer could feel was rage. Raw, unbridled rage. It flared up inside him as her head tipped back, the sound of her laughter crashing over him like a tidal wave, stirring his veins with a violent rush. The same sound he’d yearned to hear again for five fucking years. And it was all because of him—Ben. 

That was his girl. His perfect, beautiful girl. The love of his life. His angel. 

All Spencer could do was stand there, feeling every broken shard of his non-existent heart pierce his chest. 

And now I’m sad… And I’m a mess… And now we high… That’s why I left… That’s why I left…

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Spencer had never wanted to leave her. But that choice wasn’t his to make. 

That cold, cruel September night six years ago had robbed Spencer of his very existence. 

Everything that could have gone wrong during that case did. The bullet wasn’t meant for him, but he took it anyway. He had traded his life in exchange for JJ’s. It wasn’t even meant to be heroic. It wasn’t done out of love. It was just instinct. It’s who he was as a person. 

Was. 

The word leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Because that’s his reality now. He was a person; an agent, a professor, a son, a husband…

Now he’s… well, that he didn’t quite understand. As a man of science, Spencer was stumped by what he could even call his existence now. Calling himself a ghost felt silly—he felt as alive as the day he’d died. And yet, that was essentially what he was. A whisper of the person he’d once been. A soul caught between worlds. 

Spencer could still feel the exact moment his soul wrenched free from its physical tether to the world. Even recalling it sent a shiver down his spine. It hadn’t been peaceful, as so many people claimed in interviews. No… it had been agony in its purest form; white hot and searing as his very essence clawed its way out from his ribs. There was no light waiting for him to step into it and find peace.

Instead, he had watched helplessly as the team he called his family swarmed his dead body, uselessly screaming for a medic as the crimson puddle underneath him grew and smeared beneath their hands as they knelt beside him. He had watched Y/N swing open their door that fateful night, the excited grin on her face vanishing as she came face to face with a tearful Emily instead of the husband she’d been eagerly waiting for. And he had watched the guilt eat away at JJ as their eyes met at his funeral, the hatred on Y/N’s face so raw it made Spencer’s own stomach twist. 

Despite the Bureau's insistence, she took charge of every detail���planning his funeral in a way that honored everything Spencer would have wanted. Y/N held Diana as she wept over her baby boy's body. She delivered a eulogy that left even Spencer in shambles. She was the first person to arrive and the last to leave, waiting until everyone had left to sink to her knees beside his casket and howl her grievances. 

For that first year, Y/N was as strong as she could be during the day. She handled everything that needed to be done, as long as the sun was still up. But when night fell, and the suffocating silence of their empty home settled in… that’s when she’d finally let herself break. 

Spencer had never been a religious man, but the year after his death felt like an endless descent into his own personal hell. He would never escape the sound of those gut-wrenching screams. He cursed whatever force had condemned him to an eternity where he could do nothing but watch, powerless as Y/N crumpled to the floor night after night, her wails so desperate it seemed as though she thought breaking the sound barrier might somehow bring him back to life. 

All he could do was stay beside her, silently pleading for his touch to somehow reach her, his hands brushing over her again and again, unnoticed and unfelt. 

Time was no longer a concept to Spencer. 

The limits of his existence perplexed him. He couldn’t roam freely, couldn’t go where he pleased—he could only follow where Y/N went. It was as if his very soul was bound to hers, linked by some invisible string that kept him tied to her even in death. It brought him both joy and sorrow: joy in the fact that he could still watch her, still admire the way she carried on, and sorrow because she would never know he was there, silently urging her forward, so incredibly proud of her strength. 

The longer he lingered, the more control he gained over his abilities. It started with the smallest things—a strand of hair lifting with the brush of his fingers, a faint chill against her skin as he cradled her face while she slept. But soon, it became more. Doors creaked open as he stepped into rooms behind her, and objects shifted ever so slightly from their places when he pushed with just enough force. 

There were times when she seemed to sense him—moments Spencer cherished more than anything. In those fleeting instances, it felt as though she could see him, even though he knew she couldn’t. Every day, rain or shine, she visited his grave, and when she spoke to him, her gaze would drift forward, as if she were looking into the honey-colored eyes she once loved. Her hands would rest open in her lap, as though she knew he was holding them. When she was home, she’d speak aloud every thought that came to mind, as though she knew he could hear every word that fell from her perfect lips. And he always responded as if she could hear him in return. That was their new life for the first year after his death. 

After a year and one day, he was gone. 

That’s where his understanding of the phrase “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” came from. It was because she had set him free. 

One whole year had passed. The hardest year of Y/N’s life. She had knelt by his grave, laying fresh flowers with trembling hands, her tears falling freely for hours. When she finally stood to leave, her legs unsteady beneath her, she pressed a soft kiss to his headstone. Through her tears, she whispered how much she missed him, how he never left her thoughts, and how she’d never stop loving him—but above all, she wished he could be at peace. And on the night following the anniversary of his passing, her wish was granted. He had faded into nothingness, existing only in her dreams and memories for five long years. 

But now, he was back. Because he had always been hers. 

Will your tongue still remember the taste of my lips? Will your shadow remember the swing of my hips? 

Spencer remembered their first time like it was yesterday, though he wasn’t sure if he could thank his eidetic memory or the fact that it was because of how remarkable it had been for the memory lingering so vividly...

“You’re lying! You’ve really never had sex before?” 

Y/N squawked the words incredulously as she sat atop Spencer’s lap, grinning down at the stammering mess of a man beneath her. Spencer’s hands flexed against her hips, unintentionally squeezing as he took a deep breath to calm himself. 

They were inside Spencer’s apartment, having enjoyed the museum and dinner but still craving each other’s company too badly to end the night there. What started as sweet, innocent pecks pressed up against the kitchen counter had quickly devolved into ravenous, passionate kisses that had them stumbling towards the couch. It was going so well… until Spencer panicked after Y/N had whispered into his ear asking how far he wanted things to go. 

That resulted in him spewing out the fact that he, at twenty-six years old, was a virgin.

“No, I haven’t! Why is that so hard to believe?” Spencer huffs, his small smile belying his annoyed tone. 

It was their sixth date total in a span of four months, but it was their first date as an actual couple. Spencer had reluctantly agreed to let Penelope set him up on a blind date after his failed attempt at taking JJ out had shattered any of the confidence he’d built up, leaving the man petrified of taking his chances romantically again. He suspected Penelope’s pity for him was why she was setting up said date to begin with, but he quickly found himself grateful that he went. 

Y/N had been friends with Penelope for years, having bonded online over some indie punk rock band that was no longer around and developing a close friendship from there despite their age difference. When Penelope found out Y/N had moved to Virginia and was single, she couldn’t resist setting the two up. 

It’s Y/N’s turn to stammer as she quickly thinks of a response. “I, uh… you’re just so handsome that I naturally assumed you’d had sex before.” 

Spencer blinks up at her skeptically, trying to detect even the faintest clue that the otherworldly woman in his lap was lying to him. All he found was nervous adoration as she stared back down at him, her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink. It suited her. He wanted to cause it more often. 

“I had, um… I graduated super early from both high school and college, so I didn’t do much dating.” 

Instead of the judgment Spencer expected to see spread across her face, Y/N simply just hummed in understanding, her eyes curious as they watched him. He’d elaborate more on his unfortunate (for lack of a better term) adolescence later. For now, he just wanted to keep from scaring the poor girl off of his lap so he could taste her sweet chapstick again. 

“I see…” Y/N murmurs before continuing, shifting forward slightly with a smirk. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m also a virgin.” 

Spencer’s eyes widened almost comically as he gawked up at her. His heart stutters in his chest, his mouth going dry. His tongue pokes out in a meek attempt at wetting his lips, his voice cracking as he responds. 

“Et tu, Y/N?” 

Oh fuck. Spencer hadn’t meant to let the lame reference slip from his mouth. She just made him so nervous that he couldn’t think straight, and Rome had been heavily on his mind since she had perched herself in his lap. Specifically Roman goddesses, because she looked like she should be amongst them on their thrones. Surely she was going to leave now—-

Loud, genuine laughter bubbles from Y/N’s lips, the noise startling Spencer as she tips her head back and her hands grip his shoulders to stabilize herself. She thought it was funny. She thought he was funny. 

“That’s, like, the last thing I expected you to say,” Y/N managed once her laughter had simmered down into giggles. “But, to answer your question… I too have really never had sex before.” 

Spencer knew that it wasn’t due to a lack of suitors. The woman was sex personified; the archetype of beauty and seduction wrapped into one perfect being. The twitching in his pants brought his attention back to the situation at hand. He could ask her later why that was. For now, he brought his focus back to her. 

In an uncharacteristically bold move, Spencer tilted his head up to brush their noses together. “Would you… would you want to?” 

It didn’t take a profiler to notice the hitch in her breath or the almost imperceptible squeezing of her thighs around his hips. Her pupils were already blown, her lower lip trembling from what Spencer prayed was anticipation and not regret as his question settled over her. The silence stretched between them, the seconds feeling like hours in Spencer’s overly anxious mind. 

He’d done it now. He’d gone off and opened his stupid mouth and frightened the one woman he could actually see himself having a future with because the head straining against his zipper overruled the head housing his supposed genius level IQ. The apologies were already forming in the back of his throat, but they weren’t needed because she— she was kissing him? 

“God, yes. Please,” Y/N murmured eagerly against his lips, effectively clearing every cohesive thought from his brain. 

If Spencer thought her words were enough to bring upon his undoing, he was sorely mistaken. The grinding of her hips against his erection ignited something inside of him that he had no idea existed. It was feral, drowning out all of his other emotions and replacing them with one thing: primal, unfiltered desire. 

Spencer understood now why men used to start wars over women. 

With each gasp that fell upon his ears, Spencer pledged his allegiance to her. Every stuttered moan that came into existence from his hips rutting up into her clothed core fueled his devotion to her. It was animalistic, the way his hands gripped her ass and pulled her tighter against his body as his mouth devoured her now, every cell swimming through his veins screaming for more. More of her touch, more of her taste, more of her sounds... God, those heavenly sounds that had Spencer finally believing in salvation, if only in the form of her skin against his.  

Tongues danced together as layers were hastily stripped away. Layers of insecurity. Layers of self-doubt. Layers of uncertainty. Their clothes fell to the ground as though the fabric burned them, clumsy hands fidgeting with buttons and tugging at zippers with a vendetta. 

Those layers that had crumbled so easily were replaced instead with the firm knowledge that this was exactly where they were meant to be: in each other’s arms, trembling and panting as their world’s trajectory tilted so violently it uprooted them from their upright position, knocking them down against the leather cushions as their bodies attempted to mend their separated souls back into one. 

Spencer choked on the words he wanted to worship her with, so instead he used the most primitive sense he could to get his message across: touch. His lips sucked purpling reminders into the crook of her neck of what they both knew to be true now: He is hers just as much as she is his. Lithe fingers tugged the soaked fabric of her lace panties down until they landed in a heap with their other clothes. Those same fingers pause at the crest of her most intimate spot, his eyes meeting hers with a silent plea. 

Y/N found herself in the same position, her words failing her as they were strangled in her throat by the overwhelming adoration she felt for the man hovering above her. Instead of chanting her desire for Spencer to please touch her, she canted her hips up in approval. 

Her moans were swallowed by swollen lips that claimed the sound straight from her body as nimble fingers dug themselves into the deepest parts of her. Their rhythm was clumsy but steadfast, her hips bucking against his hand in jerky movements as the palm of his hand pressed against her clit. Spencer’s own hips ground against the bare skin of her thigh, shielded only by the immature fabric of his equation-covered boxers. 

Spencer hadn’t for a second thought the night was going to go like this. If he had known he’d have the definition of art itself clawing at his shoulders and panting into his mouth while he made her legs tremble beneath him, he wouldn’t have worn what he deemed his lucky boxers. At least they had done their job, he supposed. 

Their lips separated completely as a guttural moan wrenched its way from Y/N’s throat, her body beginning to thrash wildly underneath him as the tension in her lower belly coiled tighter. Spencer wouldn’t allow her first time to happen on his couch. She was much too precious for that. But he’d already made the decision to unravel her at least once while they were there, to bring her over the edge before taking her into his bedroom so that he could experience the glorious sight of her falling apart more than once tonight. 

Spencer was a virgin, not a prude. He’d seen porn before. He’d read erotic novels. Anything he could use to try to prepare himself for the real experience, he did. But nothing could have prepared him for the downright visceral reaction Y/N had as his fingers curled and brushed against the rough patch of skin inside of her that caused the tension building in her body to snap. Her cries of pleasure tore through him as her pussy clenched around his fingers, his free hand leaving its place beside her head to keep her thighs pried open. He quickly shifted up onto his knees to watch her taking his fingers as she came, taking the pleasure he inflicted upon her. 

He sang her praises while slowing his pace, cooing softly at her as he stroked her hair and worked her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. Only when she was squirming and whining beneath him did he finally remove his fingers, sucking them into his mouth greedily. Y/N’s mouth gaped open as her chest heaved, her eyes locked on Spencer as his tongue lapped over his fingers, enjoying her essence with a groan. Her body sagged into the couch, a delighted laugh spilling from her exhausted frame as she smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling in the dim light of his living room. 

“Do you still want to keep going?” Spencer breathed as he gazed down at her, his cheeks flushed and eyes full of something that made Y/N's heart flutter. “B-because we can stop there if you want. I just… I want to do what makes you happy.” 

Above her was the man she’d recognized, soft and timid, but now with a newfound air of confidence in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Above her was the man that she wanted more than anything. Above her was the man that she knew, without a shadow of doubt, would be her husband. 

“Spencer… if you don’t fuck me right now, then I’ll die a virgin, right here on your couch... and it will be all your fault.” 

Spencer’s hearty chuckles filled the room, his nose twitching as he grinned down at the dramatic woman. He simply couldn’t let that be her fate, could he? 

Shaking his head, he stooped down to press a gentle kiss to her nose before standing from the couch, offering her his (clean) hand. Y/N’s face twisted in confusion as she stared up at him, still reeling from the earth-shattering orgasm surprisingly given to her by the same man who’d eagerly rambled about the lore behind Doctor Who on their first date when she’d mentioned she hadn’t seen it. 

“Not here, silly girl. The bedroom,” He whispered. 

He guided her down the dark hallway as though he were escorting the most priceless treasure known to man to his bed, and in his eyes, he was. His hand stayed steady on her hip as she swayed lightly, her body pressed into his side as he opened the door with shaky hands. Any confidence Spencer had managed to muster throughout the night vanished as they crossed the threshold into his bedroom, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip gently as his courage began to crack. 

In an almost startling display of being seen, something Spencer had never experienced before, Y/N looped her arms around his neck and tugged him into a kiss that simultaneously stole the breath from his lungs and filled him with the air he needed to breathe again, effectively calming his nerves.

“It’s okay,” She reassured him against his lips. “It’s just me.” 

She walked them backward until the backs of her knees pressed into his cool comforter, taking over where Spencer so willingly handed her the reigns while he regained his momentum. She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands pressed into his hips to keep him from following after her. Her eyes met his, the moonlight streaming through his bedroom window illuminating her as though she were a vision, a figment of his imagination that he’d conjured up in the dead of night, ready to haunt his every waking moment once he inevitably woke up to an empty bed. She was too good to be true. 

Spencer’s hands fell to rest on her shoulders, just to give himself proof that Y/N was real and that he hadn’t dreamed her up or somehow followed in his mother’s footsteps and succumbed to early onset schizophrenia. 

She was real and she was here, eye level with the tent in his boxers and naked as the day she was born, her warm breath fanning across the smattering of hair trailing down from his belly button to below his underwear. His muscles tensed and twitched as she smirked up at him, pressing a tender kiss to the head of his cock through the thin fabric. His entire body flinched from that one touch, his brows furrowing together as he hissed quietly. 

“N-not that I wouldn’t love to feel your mouth on me—“ Spencer’s pitch raised as her hands found the elastic of his waistband, pulling his boxers down his legs. “But I… I won’t last if you do.” 

The fondness in her eyes quelled any humiliation he felt from having uttered those words. 

Placing a kiss to his hip, she nodded in understanding before shuffling backwards to lay in the middle of his bed, with him kneeling onto the mattress after her. The sight of her— stretched out and languid and looking at him as if she wanted to ravage him— had him sending up a silent ‘thank you’ to whatever in the universe had deemed him worthy enough of having this divine of a woman in his life. 

As Spencer reaches for his nightstand to grab a condom, Y/N stammers, grabbing his attention. He watches for a moment as she flounders over her words, his brow furrowing in concern at her sudden diffidence. 

“Are you sure you still want to do this?”

“I’m on birth control if you want to skip the condom!” 

Spencer inhales sharply at the same time she smiles sheepishly up at him, her blurted words almost making him finish before they’d even started. He holds her gaze, tracing her irises for any hint of hesitancy. When he finds none, he nods once, swallowing hard. 

“I— uh. Um...” 

It was rare that Spencer Reid was rendered speechless, but Y/N had managed to do it with just eleven words. He clears his throat, trying again. 

“Yes. Yes, I would like to skip the condom. Only if you’re absolutely sure that’s what you want.” 

“Yes. It is. I pinky promise.” 

Y/N holds up her pinky for him, the sight so endearing he can practically feel his heart melt away, dripping in a sticky mess inside him. He just grins, linking his pinky with hers before he moves to settle over her once more. 

Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair as his elbows dig into the mattress beside her ribs. The flushed head of his cock bumps against her clit as he reaches down to line himself up at her entrance, a small whine leaving her lips at the sensation. He repeats the action, dizzy from the sound of her soft noises. She was still soaked from their time on the couch, a small feeling of pride welling in Spencer’s chest at the knowledge that not only did he make her cum, but he’d kept her wet while they made it here. 

His lips meet hers in a searing kiss, the both of them quivering with anticipation at giving themselves so intimately to someone for the first time. He was happy it was her. And she was happy it was him. 

Spencer couldn’t remember a time where his mind had ever been quiet. All he knew was incessant thoughts and worries, unable to put a halt to the chaos jumbling around his brain. But as he pressed forward and sunk into Y/N for the first time, his entire mind went blank. White static crowded the spaces where various facts and tidbits of information had been stored, the only thing he was able to focus on now being the sheer ecstasy coursing through his body from being inside of her. 

His mouth hung open as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips stilling as they pressed flush against hers. She mirrored his response, squeaking out an “oh!” as her walls fluttered around the intrusion instinctively. He throbbed in response, his head dropping to rest in the crook of her neck, unable to stop the pitiful whimper that escaped from behind clenched teeth. 

She was so tight. So wet. So warm. 

Sparks of pleasure zinged up and down his spine as he remained still, waiting patiently for Y/N to adjust to both his size and to the feeling of being filled for the first time in general. He’d wait as long as she needed him to. All he wanted was for her to feel good. To enjoy this as much as he was. 

He was a humble man, truly. But even he wasn’t too shy to admit he’d been gifted with a size that was bigger than average. Not necessarily just in length, falling just shy of seven inches, but in girth as well.  

Spencer peppered soft kisses up and down her flushed skin, feeling her rapid pulse beneath his lips. He was sure she could feel his own heartbeat pounding against his ribs from where their bare chests were pressed together. Her nipples were taut, pressing into his skin enticingly. He wanted to touch them. Taste them. But he’d wait until she was ready. He didn’t want to overwhelm her. 

At her gentle nod, Spencer lifted his head to press his forehead against hers, their lips brushing together as he pulls his hips back. The sensation of her grip tightening in his hair as he pushed forward does more to him than he’d care to admit, but he still lets her hear just how affected he is by her. With a shaky moan, Spencer repeats the motion, easing out of her before gently rocking back into her. He keeps this up for a few minutes, her sharp breaths dissolving into muted moans of her own. 

“You can— you can move faster if y-you want.” 

Spencer’s eyes flutter shut at her words, and he’s pressing a fervent kiss to her lips before he begins to really move. The sound of skin smacking together begins to fill the air as he ruts his hips into hers, his walls bearing witness to every pleasured noise that spills between them. His pace is frenzied, his rhythm stuttered, but it feels so good that neither of them really care. 

Y/N’s nails roamed his body now, alternating between dragging harsh lines into the planes of his back and burying into his shoulders to leave little tender half moons in their wake. Spencer yearned to pull every single noise that he could from her throat, planting his hands beside her head and hefting himself up for better leverage before his lips wrapped around her right nipple. He sucks harshly at the pert bud, reveling in the desperate whimper it causes. 

Spencer grunts when she clenches around him, letting his mouth glide over to her neglected breast, his hips hammering into hers now as she cries out his name over and over. He was close… so, so close. But he needed to make her cum one more time before he’d allow himself to. He needed to know what it felt like for her to fall apart around his cock. With every ounce of willpower he had, Spencer slows his hips to a stop inside of her. 

Y/N whined her discontent at his sudden pause, her eyes opening to blink hazily up at him. “Why’d you… why’d you stop?” She panted, her fingers finding and twisting her own nipples as if she couldn’t help but to touch herself. 

Spencer muffled a curse at the sight, sitting back on his haunches as he stared down at the woman beneath him with reverence. 

“Flip onto your stomach for me, angel.”

She does as instructed, wiggling her hips coyly as Spencer grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and stuffs it underneath her hips to prop her up better, ensuring she’d be comfortable. Once she’s settled on her front, Spencer wasted no time in pressing himself back into her, both of them releasing a moan so loud he’s surprised the walls don’t shake. Thank God he didn’t have neighbors right now. 

He eased himself down so his chest is pressed to her back, lavishing her neck and shoulder in open mouthed kisses while his hips drilled into her. This angle was deeper, allowing him to plow directly into her g-spot as she writhed and begged incoherently beneath him. He laced his left hand with hers, shoving them into his mattress. His other hand stuffed itself between the pillow and her wriggling body until the pads of his fingers found her clit, his breath coming out in sharp pants into her ear. 

Y/N felt delirious with pleasure, bucking her hips back in a feeble attempt to meet his. He began whispering into her ear about how good she felt around him, thanking her for allowing him to fuck her, praising her for taking him so well… 

His words paired with his fingers circling her clit have her second orgasm ripping through her body with so much ferocity that tears begin to fall down her cheeks, her eyes squeezing shut and her hand clutching his so tightly her knuckles whitened as she wailed into a pillow, gushing around him. 

Spencer let out his own guttural moan at the feeling, spilling into her with a shout as he planted his head between her shoulder blades, his hips weakly thrusting into her as they rode out their climaxes. 

He held her until her tremors stopped. He kissed her forehead before he darted off to the bathroom to get a warm rag to clean her with. He thanked her in soft whispers as her eyes began to drift shut before he’d even finished cleaning his mess between her thighs. 

And he knew, watching the gorgeous woman before him sleep so soundly in his bed after they’d just defiled each other’s innocence, that he was looking at his future wife. 

Will your lover caress you the way that I did? Will you notice my charm if he slips up one bit? 

The air was thick with tension as Y/N stared at Ben, her chest heaving and eyes watering at the hurt look on his face. Spencer watched from the corner, his concern for his wife outweighing the jealousy he had previously felt when he watched the couple slip into her— though he still selfishly thought of it as their— bed. Y/N had been dating Ben for three months now. That made for three months that Spencer ached so heavily he’d sometimes wish he could fade back into nothingness if it meant he didn’t have to watch the love of his life with another man. 

The furthest Ben and Y/N had gone physically was a few pecks here and there, with Y/N always being the one to draw away and cut the kisses short. Ben had played the nice guy act, reassuring her that he understood her hesitance and that he’d be okay doing whatever she was comfortable with. Spencer despised him. He could see right through Ben’s facade, and if he could do more than nudge a door open, he’d make that hatred known. But he couldn’t. 

Spencer watched on with furrowed brows as Y/N reached a shaky hand over and turned the lamp on her nightstand on, illuminating the dark room in a soft glow that contrasted with the dark energy that began to cloud the small space. Spencer could see it all on Ben’s face: hurt, betrayal, anger. He could see the fear, guilt, and shame on Y/N’s. 

This was the first night Y/N had tried to push past her discomfort so that she could offer Ben more than just false promises of physical intimacy. It started slow, with soft kisses that dissolved into hungrier ones as they laid together in the dark. But the second Ben went to roll on top of her, sliding a hand down her body to pull her hips against his, she panicked. Her body jolted, and her hands had shot out instinctively to shove him off of her, leaving them where they were now in some sort of silent standoff. 

Spencer knew as soon as it had happened just why it did. She had thought of him. His guilt overruled the smug pleasure he’d felt as he watched it unfold. As painful as it had been watching Y/N move on with her life, all he ultimately wanted was for her to be happy. Spencer had been barely thirty-five when he passed, and she had only been thirty. That left almost an entire lifetime ahead for her, and even though he so desperately wanted to have lived that lifetime with her, he had to accept that that wasn’t what fate had in store for them. 

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Spencer’s jaw tightened at the same time Y/N’s dropped. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N leveled Ben with a narrowed glare, rage flashing in her eyes in place of the shame that had just been there. 

“I get that you have a dead husband. I’ve tried to be patient with you. But fuck! It's been six years, Y/N. It’s time for you to move on,” Ben seethes, his face reddening with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “I can’t even touch you without you flinging me off of you!” 

It’s as though Y/N is the exact physical embodiment of Spencer’s own emotions, physically reacting in the way that he can’t. She was out of the bed before Spencer could even blink, marching over to the bedroom door and yanking it open. Ben watches in bewilderment, his mind clearly not catching up with what was happening. 

“Get out of my fucking house.” 

Y/N’s voice is cold as she stares menacingly at Ben. When he doesn’t move, she speaks again, her voice louder. “Get out of my fucking house, Ben!” 

Ben stammers, standing from the bed and attempting to plead his case. “Babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just-”

“I don’t care. Get out of my house,” Y/N repeats herself, cutting off his pathetic excuses. 

Spencer smirks proudly from beside her.

 That’s his girl. 

Ben sighs, hanging his head and scrubbing his hands frustratedly across his face. 

“If you kick me out over some guy that’s been dead for six years, then we’re over. For good.” 

Spencer cackles at Ben’s proposition, though it can’t be heard by either party in the room. That was his attempt at fixing things? Seriously? Good riddance. He’d drag the guy out of there himself if he could. 

“If I haven’t made myself clear, we’re already over. No one talks about my husband like that. Now get out before I call the police and have you escorted off of my property.” 

It doesn’t take long after that for Ben to tuck his tail and leave, slamming the front door on his way out. Y/N’s steam runs out the second his car pulls out of her driveway, tears streaming down her face as she curls up on her couch. 

Spencer’s own chest twinges uncomfortably as he sits beside her, stroking her hair despite her inability to actually receive the comfort. He didn’t know what hurt more; watching his beautiful, broken girl sob and not being able to stop her tears, or being the cause of the tears himself. He had to do something, anything to let her know he was still there and that he still loved her beyond death. 

The same time Spencer stands is the same time Y/N’s tears pause, a hiccup rocking her frame before she glances up. 

“Spence?” Y/N calls softly. Spencer’s heart would have stopped right there had he not already been dead.

Spencer turns slowly from his place at the end of the couch, his eyes wide and hopeful as he responds. “Yes, angel?” 

His hope fades as he realizes she isn’t looking at him, rather her eyes are just darting around the room. 

“Spencer I… I know it’s been awhile since I’ve talked to you. And for that, I’m so sorry,” Y/N starts, her voice cracking. “I don’t know if you can even hear me. Or if you ever could. But I miss you. I miss you in my bones. I just… you were— are my everything.” 

The lump in her throat grows as the tears begin to stream down her face again. Spencer’s own eyes sting with tears that she’ll never see drip down his face. He swallows hard, making his way over to their— yes, their— bookshelf. 

“I’d give anything to have you back in my arms… I should have begged you to leave the BAU and just teach full-time if it meant I could still have you here, safe and at home. It’s not even a home without you.” 

Y/N sobs freely now, tucking her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them before she buries her head into them. 

Every ounce of grief, guilt, sadness, and anger from what his death has done to his precious girl fuels Spencer to do something he deemed impossible: he yanks the leatherbound notebook holding their vows inside of it off of the bookshelf, sending it tumbling to the ground in a desperate attempt to show her that he’s still there and that he still loves her. 

The noise causes a yelp to slip from Y/N’s lips, her head jerking up as the book hits the hardwood floor with a loud thump. It had fallen open exactly to where Spencer wanted it to: the page starting his vows to her. 

Y/N crawled from the couch to the book, her trembling hands lifting the journal so that she can read the words her husband wrote to her ten years ago. With a deep exhale, she sits cross-legged on the hardwood floor, reading Spencer’s chicken scratch he called handwriting with a heavy heart. And for the first time since his casket closed, she feels a sense of peace wash over her. She was going to be okay, despite it all, because he was hers just as much as she was his.

Continued A/N: Ahh!! Ghost!Spencer my beloved. :') JUST TO CLARIFY: I am not a JJ hater!! It just fit better for the story to have her be the one this all happened for. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this fic just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I look forward to sharing more in the future with you as my blog grows <3

K <3

[atimesfeeler]

A lot of people, I think, were surprised at how angry and mean Logan was in Deadpool and Wolverine. I think we see him being like this in Logan 2017 but in the rest of his movies he’s much more tame.

Of course. He’s finding family, he’s finding love, a place that accepts him for who he is. He has a purpose, a people. Of course he’s rough around the edges, but he’s softening and learning to open up and let himself care for other people. He still has his rage, his stubbornness, his don’t care attitude, but the force of the X-Men and Charles wearing down his defenses sorta mellows him out. And then when he leaves the X-Men Mariko and Yukio bring out his heroism and loyalty again.

In Logan, he’s the angriest and meanest because his lost literally everyone. (I’m not 100% sure but I think it was set after DOFP so it was right after he got everyone back that he lost them again. He’s lived through losing them all TWICE, once to the apocalypse and then second to one of his best friends because of a seizure) and in the brief time that Laura interacts with him, she is able to bring out some of his better qualities, but… like she says, Logan is dying and he wants to die. He’s mean and he’s trying his best, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t have to try anymore.

In the Deadpool and Wolverine, Worst Wolverine is most like Logan 2017, not the past version people got used to. And he doesn’t have Charles or Laura. He’s all alone for so long. This Wolverine lost everyone and he blames himself. He doesn’t know Wade and he doesn’t give a fuck about him. He lost his humanity back at the mansion when everyone he let himself care about was slaughtered. Not only does he not care, he’s probably so guarded that he won’t let himself care about anyone after what happened to the x-men. Not to mention that everyone hates him, no one gives him a chance, he’s hated by both his own kind and humans. He wouldn’t be able to find work completely vilified. He wouldn’t be able to stay sober and he probably spent what money he did have on drinking because the weight of everything was too much. He probably has to move constantly to find bars that will serve him or to avoid people trying to capture him.

So he’s kidnapped, told he’s the worst version of himself in the entire multiverse, and he’s sober for the first time in a decade. Withdraw and Wade Wilson does actually sound like a nightmare, and in the void of all places.

At first I was surprised at the amount of aggression and violence he displayed, but then I got it at this scene:

And then I was surprised at how mellowed out Logan was at the end of it

But then it made sense. Wade and his little adventure basically fast tracked rehab, therapy, and recovery and then gave him a new chance, a home, and a friend who is so loyal that he’d tear apart the universes for his people.

This is why Logan being less angry and violent after the void is so important to me. Like, he’s still grumpy and mean and traumatized, and obviously Wade didn’t fix everything, but he helped so much. Logan definitely cares about Wade and wouldn’t just see him as the most annoying person he’s ever met anymore. Not after what he did for him.

It’s a delicate balance between not erasing Logan’s inherent and learned rage and anger, but also not whittling him down to only angry violent and mean around Wade.

[virgoilluminati]

can u please write a jude fic where your in a talking stage and he comes over and you both make out for the first time 🤭

It's been a long time coming...

A/N: this is my first request in absolutely ages so tysm you have made my day ✨❣️ As I am now unemployed (😜✌️) i have a lot of free time before i head back to university. So please if anyone has any ideas lmk 🥹

Inspo: Jude and You have been close friends since high school, but after one very drunken night, you admit your feelings for him, right before he leaves for the euro's. When Jude arrives home, he has only one goal, to give you that kiss that you've been waiting for.

Oh, you had royally fucked up.

So royally fucked up that you probably shouldn’t leave the house for at least the next two days, perhaps a week, even a month.

You’d told your best friend that you liked him, in a sweaty club, the night before he was going to the Euros. With the drink loosening your tongue, you blurted it out without thinking. The look on his face said it all; he was stunned into silence.

You and Jude had known each other since high school. He was in the year above you, but you both shared a huge interest in football. While he played for the boys’ squad, you played for the girls’. You got really close in the last year of high school as he began prepping for the under-21s football team while you were preparing for university. You became each other’s anchor, someone you both could rely on, no matter how tough it got. You told each other absolutely everything. So when you blurted out that you liked him, it was as if you had shattered an unspoken rule.

You had been drunk. That was the justification you were giving. You didn’t know what you were thinking; you couldn’t control what was going through your head. You couldn’t face him, not now. The memory of his expression replayed in your mind, a painful reminder.

You had sent him one text message, mentioning nothing about the incident, just wishing him luck in the Euros. Maybe he’d just forget it even happened. After all, he was pretty drunk too.

You had spent all morning preoccupying yourself with your uni work, taking the dog out for a walk, cleaning your room… basically anything to distract from the impending apocalypse. But it was pointless; every other second, you would check the blue tick on the message, with a simple “read” underneath it.

Hey, I hope the head isn’t too sore from last night ahaha. Best of luck in the Euros, I’ll be screaming your name at the local, love ya. (Read)

His response came about three hours later. In that time, you had gone through all five stages of grief. First, Denial: you denied that you even told him, that it was a huge mistake. Anger: you were angry that no one stopped you, as it was an open secret between all of your friends but him, but they had let you blurt it out. Bargaining: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you know. You could just say it was a mistake or you didn’t remember. Depression: this would be the end of your friendship—that he’d no longer look at you the same way ever again. Acceptance: your life was doomed, and that was the end of it. However, when his response came, you hadn’t actually prepared yourself.

Yeah, my head’s fine ahaha, though I think you drank more than me in the end. Currently on the way to the airport, Trent says hi. Pretty nervous about the Euros, I can’t lie.

You sat there staring at the three dots, wondering what else he was thinking. You cringed at him mentioning your drunkenness. He not only knew but he must’ve remembered. Oh god, this was going to be awkward.

You didn’t respond, noticing the frequent three dots on his screen going rapidly on and off. Sighing, you attempted to make a joke, quickly sending back a response.

I’m sure Trent is feeling it right now ahaha, how many shots did he have last night again? Don’t be nervous, you’ll be ace!

His reply came almost instantly.

Enough to need a new liver, I’m sure. Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’re about to board, talk later?

You couldn’t help but feel relieved. He wasn’t addressing your confession at all. Maybe he really had chosen to forget about it. Or perhaps he was giving you a way out, a chance to pretend it never happened. Either way, you seized the opportunity.

Sure, have a safe flight! Catch you later.

With that, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t ruin everything after all. For now, you’d focus on the positives: Jude was still talking to you, and you still had your friendship, even if it was a little shaken.

The next couple of days were a whirlwind of activity. Jude was swamped with training and media commitments, so your interactions were mostly confined to texts. Despite the busyness, he made sure to check in frequently, sending you updates and little messages that kept the connection alive.

After the Slovakia game, which they won in a nail-biting finish, you received a call from Jude. You could hear the adrenaline in his voice, the excitement of the victory still fresh.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course I did! You were amazing! That last-minute goal!" you replied, unable to hide the pride in your voice.

“Thanks. It felt good out there tonight. The fans were crazy. Nearly thought we were goners—"

"Nah, I knew you'd pull through."

"Really?" His voice sounded hopeful, as if he had more to say, but instead, he coughed and continued talking. "Uh, listen, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Okay, what’s up?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said."

"What I said? When?" you responded, your heart beating faster by the minute.

"The night before I went, about you liking me. I thought I could just put it aside and focus on the tournament, but… I can’t.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jude…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel. And the truth is, I like you too."

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I told Dec and Trent, and after they completely humbled me, they made me realize—I think I've always had a bit of a thing for you. It’s just… I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You won’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jude let out a breath. “Okay. One step at a time. I like the sound of that.”

For the rest of the night, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow naturally. The tension from the confession began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and excitement.

The next game was against Switzerland, and you decided to go out to the pub to watch it with a couple of your pals. The place was buzzing with excitement, filled with fans donning jerseys and scarves, and the energy was infectious. As the match began, you found yourself nervously scanning the screen for Jude, your eyes automatically seeking him out every few seconds.

Your friends, of course, noticed.

“Honestly, if you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through the screen,” teased Sarah, nudging you playfully.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “I’m just… making sure he’s doing okay.”

“Sure, just making sure,” Mark chimed in with a grin. “We all know you’re head over heels.”

“Guys, can we please just focus on the game?” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile.

As the match progressed, every time Jude touched the ball, your heart seemed to leap into your throat. You could hear your friends’ comments in the background, teasing you about how intently you were watching him.

“There he is again, Y/N! Are you taking notes on his every move?” Sarah laughed.

“Come on, give her a break. She’s just a supportive friend,” Mark added, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

You tried to ignore them, but the truth was, they weren’t entirely wrong. You were more invested in Jude’s performance than anything else. When he made a particularly brilliant pass, you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Sarah remarked, shaking her head in amusement.

The game was intense, with both teams playing aggressively. Jude was in top form, making crucial plays and demonstrating why he was such an asset to the team. As the game neared its end, with the score tied, the tension in the pub was palpable.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude.

Jude: Gaffer gave us 5 minutes, couldn't wait any longer to not text you.

You: What are you doing?! You're supposed to be on the pitch.

Jude: I think this is going to penalties, I feel it.

You quickly typed back, trying to infuse your message with as much confidence as you could muster.

You: Don’t worry, you’ve got this. I believe in you.

There was a brief pause before his next message came through.

Jude: Listen, how about this: if we win, I’ll take you out on a date.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at the screen, rereading his words. A date. With Jude. Your heart was racing now for an entirely different reason.

You: Deal.

The penalties were agonizing to watch. Each kick, each save, each miss, had the entire pub reacting in unison—groans of despair, cheers of relief, gasps of anticipation. You were barely breathing, your eyes fixed on the screen as if willing the ball into the net with sheer force of will.

Jude stepped up to take his shot. The pub fell silent. You could almost hear your own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, ran up, and kicked. The ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net. The pub erupted in cheers, and you jumped up, your shout of triumph mingling with everyone else’s.

The penalties continued, and finally, it came down to Trent. The pressure was immense. If he scored, England would win.

The pub fell silent again as Trent prepared for his shot. You could feel the tension in the air, your heart pounding louder than ever. He took his position, focused, ran up, and kicked. The ball flew towards the goal, past the goalkeeper, and hit the back of the net.

The pub exploded in cheers. People were hugging, high-fiving, and celebrating. You couldn’t believe it. They had done it.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jude: We did it! Can’t believe it. Guess I owe you that date ;)

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart soaring with pride and excitement.

You: You were amazing! We're so proud!! I can't wait x

Jude: Trust me, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N.

You spent the rest of the night celebrating with your friends, the victory and Jude’s promise keeping your spirits high. Amidst all the revelry, one thing was clear: your relationship with Jude was about to take a new and thrilling turn.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions and excitement. Jude’s team had just secured a 2-1 victory against the Netherlands. The pub you were in was filled with joyous celebration and raucous cheers. You knew Jude would be over the moon, and you couldn’t wait to hear from him.

Soon enough, your phone rang with an incoming call from Jude. You stepped outside, away from the pub’s noise, to answer.

“Hey, Jude!” you answered, your voice bright with excitement. “Congrats on the win!”

“Y/N!” Jude’s voice was noticeably slurred, and you could hear the background noise of a lively celebration. “I can’t believe we did it! We actually won!”

“I know, it was amazing!” you said, smiling. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thanks!” Jude’s words were slightly jumbled. “I’m just so… so buzzed right now! Remember when we were kids and we’d dream about moments like this? It’s really happening!”

“I know, it’s like a dream come true,” you said warmly.

“And you were always… so pretty, you know? I never really understood why you’d hang out with me,” he continued, his voice full of affection. “Everyone loved you, and I was just this goofy football guy.”

You felt a blush rising. “Jude, it didn’t matter. We had so much fun together.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I always thought… thought you were too good for me. I was just this guy with a big dream, and you were this amazing person who could have been anywhere.”

“Well, I was where I wanted to be,” you said softly. “With you.”

Jude’s voice grew more tender. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N. Even back then, I was captivated by you. The way you carried yourself, the way you looked—it was like you had this light that drew me in. I was always amazed by how stunning you were, both inside and out.”

You could hear Bukayo’s voice faintly in the background. “Jude, mate, turn the phone off. You're pissed-"

Jude chuckled, though his tone remained affectionate. “I can’t help it, Bukayo! Y/N, you have no idea how incredible you are. I mean, just thinking about you—how beautiful you looked back then and how stunning you still are—drives me crazy.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Jude, you’re making me blush.”

“I’m just speaking the truth,” he said earnestly. “You’ve always been this amazing person, and I’ve been lucky to have you as a friend and now… maybe something more.”

You felt a warm flutter in your chest. “I’m really glad we’re sharing these moments together. It means a lot to me.”

Jude’s voice grew more serious, though still a bit tipsy. “If we keep winning, I want to make sure we celebrate together. I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling. “For now, enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it.”

Jude’s laughter was warm and content. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But I’ll call you again soon, okay?”

“Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jude,” you said.

As you ended the call, you couldn’t help but smile. Jude’s heartfelt, tipsy confessions and the sound of his celebration had deepened your connection, making you realize just how much you both meant to each other. The future felt full of promise, and you were excited to see where this new chapter would lead.

When England lost 2-1 to Spain, the crushing disappointment was felt by everyone, especially Jude. As he and the team made their way back, he couldn't shake the feeling of defeat.

You, back home, had been anxiously awaiting any word from him. After a few hours, you decided to check in, hoping he was doing okay.

You: Hey Jude, are you alright? Just wanted to check in.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude. The text was brief, but the words were heavy with the weight of the loss.

Jude: Not great, honestly. It's been a rough night.

You felt a pang of sadness reading his message.

You could picture him, lost in thought, longing for comfort.

You: I'm so sorry, Jude. I wish I could be there with you too. You wanna hang out tomorrow? Watch a crappy horror movie and crash on my sofa?

The reply came back quickly.

Jude: Sure. I could use a little cheer up. I'd better go, journalists want a chat before we board.

You stared at the phone, hoping your words brought him some measure of comfort. You knew how much this loss meant to him, and how hard he had worked for this moment. The idea of him being alone in his thoughts broke your heart a little more.

You wanted to do something special for him, something that would show him just how much you cared. An idea started to form in your mind, and you sprang into action.

First, you pulled out his favorite hoodie from the closet. It was slightly oversized on you, but it felt like a warm hug. You wore it while you tidied up the apartment, making sure everything was perfect for when he got home.

Then, you went into the kitchen to start cooking his favorite meal. The process was therapeutic, each stir of the pot a way to channel your nervous energy. As the aromas filled the room, you felt a little more at peace, knowing that you were doing something to help him, even from afar.

As the hours ticked by, you kept checking your phone, hoping for any update on his flight. Finally, a message popped up.

Jude: Just landed. See you soon

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly finished setting the table, dimming the lights to create a cozy atmosphere. You lit a few candles, their soft glow adding a touch of warmth to the room.

When you heard the key in the lock, you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with anticipation. As the door opened, there he was, looking exhausted but so incredibly relieved to see you.

Without a word, he dropped his bags and pulled you into a tight embrace. You held him close, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he buried his face in your neck.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I missed you too, Jude," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I'm so glad you're home."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. "Come on, I made your favorite dinner. Let's sit down and talk about everything."

Later on, after you had let him get everything off his chest, you decided to watch a movie, something that would probably become background noise. As the movie played, you and Jude sat side by side on the couch, the tension between you that seemed to dance in time with the flickering images. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your arms or legs brushed, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

He was staring at the screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. The furrow in his brow, the way his jaw tightened, the constant fidgeting-he was still wrestling with the aftermath of the game.

You wished there was something you could do to ease his mind.

As if sensing your thoughts, he turned to you, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry I've been a grumpy sod."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "No, don't be. I'm your friend!" You smirk a little as you made eye contact with him for the first time that night. "I'm just glad you're here."

The movie continued, but the air between you grew thicker with unspoken words and emotions.

"Listen. About what I said-"

"We don't have too-"

"No we should! Because, i know I've been swept up with all of the euro's but- I meant what i said. I like you."

"I like you too."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you more frequently, and each time you met his eyes, it was like a silent conversation passed between you.

"Do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, you fell asleep halfway through."

He grinned, the first genuine smile you'd seen from him all night. "I was exhausted. You have a way of making me feel very relaxed. Always have done."

"It's a very good thing," he replied, his voice low.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his eyes. The movie, now a distant background noise, was all but forgotten. The distance between you seemed to shrink with each passing second.

"Jude..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. "I-." His eyes looked up and down at your lips as you settled into his embrace. He looks for any uncertainty before he continues.

"You make me feel seen. Like I can't hide anything from you. It's scary really-"

"Is that so-" you smile, your eyes casting over his lips.

"Mhmm. You make me such a good person-"

"Jude, just kiss me already." You laugh. He smiles instinctively,

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Can I...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to hold its breath as your lips finally met in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was like a spark igniting a fire, the kiss quickly deepening with a hunger that had been building all night. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more intense.

You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed against him, the kiss growing more intense. His lips were insistent, exploring yours with a desperate need. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own racing pulse.

Jude's hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back, sending shivers down your spine. Your skin felt electrified wherever he touched, each caress igniting a new wave of desire. You gasped as his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently at the sensitive skin.

"Jude," you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he continued his exploration, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

Your breath hitched when his lips found the hollow of your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you looked into his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Do you know how long l've wanted to do that?" you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of relief and desire.

Jude chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

"Probably as long as I have," he replied, his breath warm against your lips.

You both knew this was just the beginning, but for now, the world outside could wait. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled in each other's arms, finally giving in to the desire that had been simmering between you for so long.

[neo-nomatrix]

Belong

Yandere!Miguel O’hara x reader

synopsis: Miguel saved you from a collapsing universe, and he will do anything to make sure you stay.

word count: 664

warnings: DARK CONTENT!!! Miguel is extremely obsessive and a yandere. he gaslights and manipulates reader.

a/n: first time writing content like this, i hope it’s good

The space, or home as Miguel likes to call it, he keeps you in is nicer than you want. It’s too nice, so nice that if you told anyone you were unhappy they would probably laugh in your face. You have a beautiful “home” , a handsome husband, and a wonderful life with no worries. You’re living the dream. Yet, your life is anything but a dream. If you had realized what you were getting yourself into you would’ve stopped a long time ago.

Miguel was perfect when you first started dating. A gorgeous, kind, caring man with aspirations for greatness. He promised you a life of no worry and loved you unconditionally. You didn’t know that he was hiding something so terrible it could hurt your world as you knew it.

You try your best to forget what happened, Miguel does his best to force you to forget. As much as you try you can’t forget the image of your daughter and your home collapsing in front of you. On bad days, days were Miguel gets too angry you stay in bed thinking about your life before everything happened. You pretend like you still have your daughter, like you still have the old Miguel. Of course, he hates those days. He despises when you stay in bed, eyes staring at nothing. He hates it when your voice gets hoarse and your temper gets short with him. This is one of the days he hates.

“I’m trying to talk to you nicely. I want to talk things out and discuss this like civilized adults, mi vida. But you just don’t get it do you?”

“Don’t get it?! What is there to get?! You keep me trapped up here and i fucking hate it!” You scream at him.

“I’m doing this to protect you. The world is so dangerous and this is the only way to keep you safe. I do this because i love y-” he tries to say before you cut him off.

“Love me? You love me? This isn’t love, it’s an obsession! Don’t you get it?” You snap at him.

You’re breathing heavily as his eyes turn bloodshot red. His hands clench beside him as he turns around. You know that if he looked at you he would hurt you.

“Don’t say that. I do love you. More than you can understand. Don’t you see everything I do for you?” He slowly gets closer to you, backing you into a wall and you slide to the ground trying to hide yourself.

“I have only ever loved and cherished you. And yet, you treat me like this? I’ve made mistakes, we all have! Don't make me into the bad guy because I care about you,” he says. His voice is so calm yet so venomous.

“I just-” You try to say before his fist strikes against the wall behind you. You let out a shriek as you quickly cover your mouth with your hand.

“you just what? You just thought you could treat me like shit and get away with it?!” His voice becomes louder.

“I’m sorry, Miguel. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it,” you try to say, your voice shaking out of fear.

He kneels down next to you, hand reaching for your face before you flinch away. In the next second he grabs at your jaw with a strong hand, pulling you closer to him like a doll.

“You’re sorry?” He raises a brow. You nod as a response.

“Tell me then,” he says calmly, you already know what he’s talking about.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say, eyes peering up to his.

“I love you most, mi vida,” he says, giving you a soft kiss to the lips.

Maybe he does love you, in his own sick and twisted way. You can only hope his love for you can protect you from him.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 30 - Apology Sex]

Pairing: service switch!Yoongi x switch f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Vampires!AU, Magic!AU

Kinks: he kneels for her & crawls to her, foot & leg worship, cunnilingus, hair pulling (m.receiving), strength kink, sex on a piano, vaginal fingering, he wants to kiss her but gets denied so harddd, Kook makes a non-sexual appearance bahahah, healthy communication, loving aftercare

Wordcount: 3.9k

a/n: you really said "what if OC gets jealous because of Fringella?" and to that i say"what then?" 🤪

You don’t know why exactly you are at his wing after what he did, but here you are. The chandelier illuminates the music room while the rest of his wing is dark. The curtains behind you are pulled closed, deforming the melodies you are playing. 

They come easy to you tonight, leaving your fingers angrily because this is exactly how you were feeling. 

Angry.

Angry at the music, angry at this room and angry at Yoongi. You and he were supposed to go out tonight, but he cancelled last minute to meet Fringella instead. Bear in mind, the meeting is strictly business according to him, but it still pisses you off. Out of all the people on this earth, he stands you up for Fringella, the biggest Bitch in the universe. And that says a lot because you normally refrain from calling other women this word. It fits her however. If you could, you would change the word “bitch” to her name and it would practically be the same thing. Not only is she heartless, mean and rude, she is also one of his old lovers. Granted, it was a long time ago and he was a different person back then, but Fringella still likes to rub it in whenever she sees you that Yoongi was able to be entirely himself with her, vampire gluttony and all. And that he will always have to hold back with you.

Oh lord, how you hate this bitch. 

Your fingers slam down on the keys, the candles on the piano flicker angrily as you let the emotion flow through you. 

The longer you think about it, the angrier you get, forcing the music to cut the air in fury. 

You like to consider yourself not a jealous lover. Of course you have your moments, like any person has, but generally you aren’t a jealous lover. When it comes to Yoongi and Fringella, however, you are the most jealous person to ever exist. In your imagination, they are currently having the most intense vampire sex ever. In your imagination, he tells her how she “really gets him”. In your imagination, he kisses her afterwards and calls her beautiful. 

“Urgh, this is stupid”, you growl, hitting the keys with your hand. 

The piano complains in shrill, loud sounds. 

“What did the poor piano do to you?”

You lift your eyes to the person standing in the doorway. 

Yoongi, still dressed in his leather jacket and jeans, is leaning against it with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You changed out of your dress.”

“Don’t talk to me”, you hiss, looking away. You begin playing again, doing so loudly and with anger. 

Yoongi lifts his hands in defeat.

“Geez, sorry. I didn’t know that I was on the naughty list too.”

“Oh, piss off.”

“You’re the one in my wing. You can always leave.” 

His pissy tone hurts. Granted, you were the one who started it but he was supposed to be asking questions not throw the anger back at you. The jealousy and insecurity you were feeling all night is suddenly unbearable. 

You end the song abruptly, meeting his eyes. He furrows his brows at the sight of your tears. You stand up and stomp to him, only to swerve right past him.

“Hey”, he says, voice soft and worried. He grabs your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m sorry. I had a bad day and I let it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apologies”, you spit and slip out of his hold to leave his wing. 

Yoongi flinches as you slam the door closed, listening to your angry stomps become quieter and quieter. Another door slams closed and then he decides not to listen in any longer. 

“What the fuck just happened?” he murmurs to himself, feeling completely and utterly lost. 

Yoongi spends the next hour coming up with what could have pissed you off to such levels. Once he thinks that he figured it out, he instantly runs to where he can hear you. 

The piano in the main sitting room. The one where you and he had this very intense moment years ago before he told you his life story and realised that he was in love with you. 

Jungkook is in the room with you when Yoongi enters. He is drawing, lifting his head at the smell of him. He gives him a sweet eye smile.

“Hey, hyungie.” 

You mess up for a second but catch yourself quickly. You aren’t looking at Yoongi, which he knows that you are doing on purpose.

“Bub, can you leave the room for a second?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. 

“Uh…”

“No. He stays”, you grumble.

Jungkook blinks in confusion, looking between you and Yoongi. He can smell the anger and tension between you and him, wondering what the hell is happening.

“Leave, please bub.”

“No. Stay.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he is a cheater.”

Yoongi furrows his brows. You frown.

“You know what? I think I just heard, uhm, Tae call for me. Uh. I’m coming, mon cher!” Jungkook says and flees the scene quickly. 

The door closes. It is just you and Yoongi. 

“So I’m a cheater now?”

“How else would you call someone who stands up his girlfriend to meet with his psycho ex instead?” 

“Let me think about it for a second. Oh yeah, innocent. I had no choice.”

“Yeah sure. You just wanted to see her. Be honest.”

“I would take an hour of someone repeatedly scooping out my eyeballs over willingly seeing Fringella. Trust me, ___.”

“It still hurts me, Yoongi.” 

“I can see that.”

“Good. You’re supposed to see it.”

Yoongi tongues his cheek.

“Where did you leave her, mhm?” You challenged him. “After you fu-”

“Don’t finish this sentence.” He interrupts you, darkening his eyes.

You scowl at him. Yoongi frowns at you. 

In the end, you are the one to break eye contact. You lower them to the piano, beginning to play again. Yoongi takes a deep breath and sighs.

“Look. I’m sorry that I had to cancel tonight. I really wanted to go on this date with you. I wouldn’t have cancelled it if her issue wasn’t important”, he says in a normal voice.

“Fringella’s stuff should never be important enough for you to cancel on me.”

“Agreed. Except this was vampire stuff, not Fringella stuff. Someone is illegally turning people in Geneva. Stuff like that endangers our existence and puts humans at risk. And given how I’m the only Creator alive, taking care of shit like that falls back on me.” 

You give up with a sigh. The play stops again. You meet his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I know it was important. I just hate that it had to be Fringella.”

“Guess who does too?” he says and scoffs.

You meet his eyes. He softens his gaze.

“Look, princess. I’m here now and I only want you”, he says, walking to you.

“Prove it.”

He stops and stares.

“What?” 

“Prove it. I don’t believe you.”

Yoongi sees the sparkle of excitement in your eyes. He knows what that means. He wants to make it happen for you. 

He falls to his knees right where he stands just so he could crawl to you on all fours. 

You watch it happen with an increasing pulse. Yoongi crawls under the piano to get to you, looking up at you once he does. 

“I knew I was in love with you in this room”, he whispers and lowers his head to your feet to kiss them.

“Wait. Really?” you gasp. This is news to you, making you weak both emotionally and physically. 

“Yes. I knew I loved you.” He kisses your instep. “Knew I would do anything for you.” He kisses your ankles. “Knew that I would set the whole world on fire for you.” He kisses your calves. “You made me feel again, my love.” He kisses your knees, fingers pushing up the sleeping gown you are currently wearing. “Three thousand years of not giving a shit and you made me wanna fucking feel again.” 

He kisses your inner thighs, sucking tender spots of his adoration where you are the most sensitive. You smell like home between your legs. Sitting by the piano and wearing a long dress really warmed you up tonight. Yoongi feels droop,  trapped under your dress and with your soft thighs under his lips. 

“You made me wanna be myself again, princess beloved”, he whispers and connects his mouth with your heat. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi”, you gasp, curling into yourself and grabbing his head over the dress.

He flicks his tongue. 

You tremble, resting your stomach on his head at the sudden pleasure he makes you feel. It forces your pussy to slip back on the chair and therefore make it impossible for him to taste you.

Yoongi slips his head from your dress, not daring to lick his wet lips in case it would remove your sweetness from them. Now that he got a taste of you, he can’t get enough. Having you on his lips is the only way to have heaven and Yoongi would be damned to take this away. 

“Do you not want me to serve you, my princess?” he asks and right now this nickname carries a different meaning to it. When he whispers it in such a way, it feels as if he was your humble servant and you were his royal highness. His eyes show his religious and submissive devotion as well, gazing at you. 

“I, I don’t know. I didn’t expect this”, you stutter. “You, you just told me the moment you realised you love me.”

“I should have done it sooner. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I”, you cup his face, “fuck Yoongi, now I really want you to eat me out.” 

“Me too. Please.”

You nod your head, scooting to the edge of the chair. Yoongi helps you with the last inches, pulling you against his tongue by your hips. 

He groans deliciously, pressing the flat of his hands against your lower back. 

“So good, holy fuck”, his voice tickles you, his tongue replaces it instantly. 

“This is. So nice, actually. Wow”, you get out, following it up with a moan. You put your hand on his hidden head, petting it as best as your strength allows you. 

You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. There aren’t many things which feel as good as Yoongi does. Especially right now, after he confessed such a romantic thing to you.

You think back to That night. It was storming and it was icy outside. You and he fought at first until you kissed his cheek and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He kneeled for you as well back then, eating your pussy while your back was pressed against the window. He was so gluttonous back then, deeply obsessed with your taste. Thinking that it was because he realised that he loved you, makes this memory so much sweeter. 

Yoongi isn’t as gluttonous tonight. He is more calculated, knowing which spots to pay attention to because he knows you these days. He knows how to get you to sigh, how to get you to gasp and how to get you to moan. He knows the spots which don’t really do it for you and the spots which instantly get you wetter. He knows all these things because he loves you. Only you. It will always be you. 

“It’s you, my love.” He kisses your petals and swollen clit. “There’s no one else for me.” He shows you his honesty by wiggling his tongue through your folds only to end it by sucking on your clit gently. Not for long, you should feel a quick bold of electricity, nothing more. 

When you gasp and tense, he lets go of your clit again to repeat the paths of his tongue. Down through your petals and to your entrance. He tilts your hips for it, lowering himself so he is looking up at you.

Like this, he buries his tongue inside you. He moans louder than you, drooling down his chin. Your pussy makes him salivate, it always will. He didn’t know what true pleasure tastes like until he got That first taste of you. 

You are heaven. A heaven he eagerly explores with his long tongue. You moan loudly, rolling your head back. Your toes curl on the carpet, back arching sensually. His tongue is so thick, so long and wet. Because of his nature as a Gluttonous Ripper, it can grow. You can feel him in the deepest parts of you, loving and adoring you. 

“I love this so much”, you choke out, pushing him closer. 

Yoongi lets you gladly, growling deeply when his nose brushes against your clit. He inhales like an addict, feeling his head pound. His black veins grow down his face, behind his closed lids his eyes become demonic. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry”, he breaks away. 

“No. Whyyyy?” you mewl. You roll your head to the front groggily, meeting his eyes. “Yoongi, your eyes.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m selfish, it felt like feeding and, and I didn’t I-”

You silence him by grabbing his chin, bending down so he can taste your words.

“So you’re telling me that you would rather stop this than show me that you’re mine?” 

“No. Sorry”, he whispers, gazing up at you. When he is looking at you like that, you wouldn’t even think that his eyes are currently red and black like those of a monster. He looks like a devoted little puppy so ready to obey its owner. 

“Then get back between my legs and feast on me.” 

“Can I do it better?”

“Whatever helps your case.” 

“I love you, ___. It will never change.” 

You brush your thumb over his black veins, whispering your words.

“I know, Min Yoongi. I love you too.” 

He leans in for a kiss, but you deny him. He mewls softly, gazing longingly. You, however, never grant him his wish, straightening your back. 

You part your legs.

“Go ahead.” 

Yoongi gets to his feet and picks you up. 

“Oh? What are you doing?” 

“Making it better for you”, he says and tries to kiss you again.

You however stop him with a finger against his lips. It moves them around a little, giving you glimpses of his fangs. They look so cute to you right now. 

“Fuck, this is the worst thing you can do to me”, he presses out.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it”, you tease, scrunching your nose. 

“I already said I’m sorry.”

“I believe you. But you promised me proof.” You move closer. 

Yoongi moans softly, chasing your kiss. 

“This is your proof”, you whisper, moving back before your lips can touch.

“Fuck, this is driving me mad.” 

“Good.” You snicker and ruffle his hair at the nape of his neck. “You were trying to give me an orgasm.”

“Right. Fuck, princess. I’m going insane because of you.” 

He lifts you atop the piano and lies you down carefully. Your legs naturally open for him. You pull your dress up and over your butt so you are completely exposed to him. The piano feels cold against your butt and it’s a nice feeling to experience.

“My goddess”, Yoongi whispers, caressing your inner thighs gently. Yoongi doesn’t believe in gods or higher beings, so this nickname means a lot coming from him.

“I feel so empty, Yoongi. Hurry up”, you try not to beg, but it’s difficult not to. He makes you crave his touch.

Yoongi listens well and claims the emptiness between your legs by burying two of his long fingers in your warmth. His hand is turned to the side in this position, allowing the pads of his fingers to rub against the side of your walls. With fingers like his’, the way they enter you doesn’t matter a lot. They are long and thick enough to completely fill you, no matter the angle. 

Tonight it makes you arch your back and moan his name. 

“Do you like this?” he asks, watching his fingers pump into you. You make them so wet. He drools because of it, feeling his head pound. He craves you. How he does.

“I love it. Ahmmm”, you encourage him, writhing sensually. 

Yoongi remembers when he built this piano. It was a difficult year for him, lonely and full of guilt, and building the piano was the only joy he felt. To think that one day he will have the love of his eternal life writhing on it because he pleasures her just right, feels like an acid trip to him. 

“You’re a dream. This is a dream. Holy fuck, my love”, he gets out and kisses your warmth. You might deny him the taste of your lips, but he won’t be denied this taste. He kisses you with a dizzy head, licking his fingers each time he pulls out. 

You can feel whenever he licks his fingers clean. His tongue grinds against your clit when he does and it feels so good. 

“Don’t stop.” 

“Never. I couldn’t. Mhhhm princess…”

He connects his tongue with your clit completely, grinding the flat of it against you. He purrs into you, picking up a quick and deep rhythm with his fingers. 

“Oh! Wow! Ah!” you yelp up, body trembling in blissed shock. A groan of his name and an arch of your back follows. 

Yoongi moans with you, furrowing his brows in pleasure. This is it. You are currently existing for nothing but the bliss he makes you feel. He feels high from pride. He doesn’t need his cock to drive you wild. He knows exactly what he has to do with his hands to fulfill your every need. 

“Holy moly, this feels so good. What the fuck”, you croak out, reaching down to hold whatever you can grab first. 

It is his other hand, once dug deep into your thigh possessively, you manage to pull it away from you. He intertwines his fingers with you, giving you a loving squeeze as his other hand makes passionate love to your dripping pussy. 

“Yoongi. Yoongi, oh god, Yoongi”, you moan, allowing your legs to shake against your will. It is the only right way to handle how he fingers you. 

Yoongi’s hands deserve a hymn of their own. If somebody would dare you to describe what his hands meant to you, they would regret it because you would not be able to shut up. Not only are they beautiful and sexy, they are also makers of so many of your favourite memories. Holding hands, intertwining fingers when dancing, feeling his loving touch when you’re half asleep, feeling his grip when you are lost in shared pleasure are just a few of the things they are so good at. Cooking for you, creating for you, making music, nourishing your plants and using them to fight for good are just a few of the other things. 

Yoongi’s hands deserve their own hymn, for everything they do and especially for the way they finger you.

“Feels so good. Yoongi, your fingers, ah!”

Yoongi buries them deeper, twisting his hand in circular motions to give you a taste of them. You writhe and shake on the piano, clit throbbing under his tongue. 

You like it. Yoongi growls because of it, drooling all over you which is perfect because it means that his fingers slip so much easier. 

“Yoongi, oh god.”

“I fucking love how you say my name”, he lulls, giving you electric pleasure one deep thrust at a time. “and gotta love your pussy too, princess. Such a sweet, warm pussy. Makes me drunk on you, princess love…”

Any kind of insecurity, jealousy or anxiety you felt tonight is gone from your system. As is your anger. Yoongi’s good like that, he fucks you well like that, know you best like that. The proof of his devotion is at the tip of his long fingers, the proof of his love sits on his warm tongue. And right now he is loving you mighty well, fucking wet pleasure out of you and slurping it up hungrily.

“Yoongi-i-i”, you sob, grabbing his hair to twist it, “I’m really close, o-oh god.”

“Whenever you need to, princess.” 

You grab his hair and push him closer, rolling your hips against his face. 

Yoongi lets you, moaning blissfully. There is nothing better to him than you using his face to make yourself orgasm. He might need to write a song about it, call it something nasty because it would make you wet. He loves when you’re wet, especially when you’re wet on his face. 

“Ah, Yoongi. Oh god”, you moan and pant, smothering him in your warmth. The fingers in his hair hurt. He likes it, squeezing your other hand softly. He keeps his fingers deep inside you, letting you use them as your beloved dildo. You deserve it. You’re so perfect when you ride his fingers like that.

“Shit. It’s- now!” 

You begin throbbing around him, pushing his mouth against your pulsing clit. You mewl and keen. Yoongi picks up the rhythm you lost as your body tenses up, fingering your convulsing walls quickly all while his dripping tongue flicks against your clit in a fast rhythm. 

The consequences are inescapable. You squirt on his face, wailing his name because it feels so good when he makes you squirt. Like, so good.

He makes you feel so good in fact that you need to pull him away after your orgasm. You can’t take another one. Not for a while. 

Yoongi mewls and purrs softly, stilling his hunger for more by kissing and licking your thighs. He gets you so messy, making you sigh as you recover. 

You sit up once you feel ready, denying him of your thighs. Yoongi however is delirious, stilling his gluttony by kissing and licking your neck instead. He has to get on his tiptoes for it because you are taller than him on the piano. His strong arms are around your waist as tightly as possible, his hands are holding you possessively, his chest is pressed against yours. 

“Please don’t doubt my love for you, please. I love you so much”, he chokes out the words, sniffling against your neck.

“I love you too”, you hug him against your chest. Fingers deep in his hair. “I’m not doubting your love for me. I hope you know that.”

Yoongi sinks into your chest with a deep sigh. The kind which releases him of his long day. He mewls quietly, nuzzling like a kitten needy for love.

“Are you alright, my love? Honest answer. I know the F word is kinda a lot to handle.” 

“I’m alright now. Just glad to be with you.” 

“I’m glad to be with you too, Boongie.” 

He lifts his head, resting his chin in your boobs. He flutters his lashes at you and pouts.

“Can I please have that kiss now?” he pleads, making cute puppy eyes at you.

“Do you think you deserve it?” you tease, booping his cute nose adoringly. 

“I made you squirt?” he almost asks his argument for why he deserves it, fluttering his lashes again.

You laugh, “fine. You won me over. Come and kiss me like you missed me.”

“Oh, I did. I missed you”, Yoongi says and picks you off the piano to pull you into his beloved kiss. 

[wosoamazing]

Too Late To Be Fair

Warnings: death (caused by drunk driver), mentions of emotional abuse (R as a child), mentions of drinking and drunks, implications of self doubt and associated things, wishing someone would die. Please let me know if anything else.

Note: Grace is a fake player, due to previous ideas and maybe future ideas I had to make a player up... she does some things none of the girls would ever do....

A/N: Story inspired by Pray (Jessie Murph) & Mansion (NF) - and other things but I listened to these songs and I was like ooo good story idea. There probs will be a part 2. I hope you like it - also I know I said one of the McFoord fics would be out next but um yeah...

“Y/N We’re sorry to inform you but your Dad was in a car accident he was hit by a drunk driver” you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony, you dad the drunk being hit by a drunk driver. Everyone looked at you in disbelief.

“Y/N that’s not very appropriate,” Grace said, before others death stared her, clearly not knowing your situation, of course you were going to blow, especially at her, the thing you had wished for, for so long, finally happened, yet just after you cut him off, so it didn’t matter, it didn’t mean you could have an easier childhood, it was just another way of the universe punishing you. Waiting until you had moved out, cut your ties and in the spotlight, to finally kill him. Almost exactly a year since you cut him off, won the trial, got the restraining order, the one which he protested, causing the gruelling 3 day trial, to decide whether it was needed or not.

“Oh, sorry we don’t all have perfect little lives with perfect Mummies and Daddies, some of us actually had a shit childhood, faced real world problems, no rich bitch problems, oh Mummy and Daddy told me to pick up some rubbish, oh my life is shit they abuse me” you were dragged out of the locker room and into an empty physio room by Leah, Beth, Katie, Caitlin, and Steph who all sent you a glare when the door had shut, “Oh like she didn’t deserve it,” they all couldn’t but help let out a smile. There was an awkwardness in the room, as the girls all looked between each other not knowing how to approach this.

“You guys can all go, I’ve got this, thank you though,” Leah spoke, breaking the silence, everyone left except Beth, but Leah didn’t mind. You and Beth had a very close relationship, you had been close friends since your grassroots team, Beth helped you through the year of your life you realised you were gay, and then when you crushed on your now girlfriend, your then national Captain. Beth felt bad the year you told her about your Dad, she knew something was off but you never told anyone, barely anyone stills knows the full story, but that day Beth and you promised that you would be there for each other forever, and that was true, she had been there during your trial and so much more, and you were there for her when Dan broke up with her, Beth was really your rock and you were hers. Beth moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room, giving you both space, whilst also being there in case you needed it. 

“Are you okay?” Leah couldn't find the right words, but she knew deep down the wrong words were what you needed her to say, you weren’t going to break, and release it all otherwise.

“Of course I’m not fucking okay Leah,” you looked up at her, she hadn’t even flinch at your words, instead she pulled you in for a hug. Which caused hot angry tears to fall from your eyes “Why now, why couldn’t it have been a year ago, 3 years, hell any time after I was 12. It’s unfair, its fucking unfair,” you paused, and Leah slowly slid her back down against the wall, bringing you down with her, your legs either side of hers as you sat in her lap. Your eyes connected with her soft kind caring blue eyes, and you could see how her lips formed a soft kind reassuring smile. You broke, big fat tears streamed down your face, as you sobbed, Leah gently pulled your body forward, so you were no longer sitting up, but leaning on her, she placed your head into the crock of her neck, before moving her arm to wrap around you lower body, her other hand was placed on your back, her thumb moving up and down, as she whispered reassuring words in your ear. 

“W-why now, when I’ve already lived the hard life, when I’ve been through all that shit. When I’m already screwed up, when I already have trust issues, when I already doubt myself everyday, so much so that I do it unconsciously” you sobbed into her neck.

“I know baby, it's not fair, and it's not right. But I’m here now, and I’ve got you.”

“I-I I used to wish he would die, I used to imagine cops showing up at the door when it was later than he used to come home, them telling me and me not being upset. I used to hope he just wouldn't come back from work trips. I used to imagine people asking me why I wasn’t upset when he died. I used to think of the fact that he was an alcoholic so he wouldn't get a kidney or liver transplant, unless it was a directed donation. I had to say yes, how could I say no if I was a match, but how could I say yes. You know how fucked up you feel when you think that stuff, you know how messed up I thought I was, but that was all his doing. It's just unfair.”

___

You had calmed back down and decided to go see all the girls again, the only problem was that no one had realised what song was playing in the locker room, too deep in conversation to be aware of it.

Waking up but wishing that you don’t. It’s something that I pray you’ll never know.

A song that connected with you so deeply sent you back over the edge, and you quickly spun on your feet and speed walked away, Beth followed behind you.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking McCabe” you girlfriend yelled.

“Wha?” the room had gone quiet and attention was drawn to the music, “Oh fuck, shit, sorry, we werent listening to it, its just automatically come on. I promise, I wasn't trying to be funny, I wouldn't do anything like that to Y/N”

Leah just turned around packing your bag and hers, “Tell Jonas we’re going home.”

“Sorry” Katie yelled as Leah went down the hall.

Leah found you sitting in the middle of one of the side hallways. Beth’s arms were wrapped around you and your body was shaking.

“Come on baby, let's go home.” She said as she placed a hand on your back, Beth slowly released her arms around you, which Leah quickly replaced with hers.

_____

“What’s on your mind? I know it's something more than your Dad” your girlfriend said as she sat down on the bed next to you, legs crossed and leaning back against the headboard. You had just arrived home.

“It's stupid.” you sighed, looking away from her eyes.

“I promise you, it's not stupid, it's your feelings, and your feelings are valid” she said, voice unwavering before pulling you into her lap.

“I don't know, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” “What do you mean baby?” “I don't know, I just feel like something is going to happen, like something is going to happen and you’re going to realise that this was all a mistake and leave. You’re going to get sick of constantly being second guessed for no reason just because I’m messed up, because I don’t believe someone could actually love me this much. You’re going to get sick of me, and all my insecurities, ” she pulled your body into hers, your head finding a place in the crock of her neck, tears started to fall from your eyes, causing her neck to become wet.

“Y/N, baby, I love you so much, and I promise, there is not another shoe that will drop, we have been through so much together, we got through those 9 months together, we got through the trial together, and I promise we will get through whatever life throws at us together, forever, we will go through the highs and lows together. I love you so much, and I wouldn't want to spend my life with anyone else. I will never hurt you, I promise.” 

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 11

you’ve been such a pain in my ass.

you’re the most fascinating person i’ve ever known.

can you stop needing to be the hero here?

people don’t just disappear. 

we are saying goodbye. just not to each other. we’re saying goodbye to everything else, our old lives.

everything that kept us safe is gone.

i would rather prepare for the worst before the worst happens.

i am basically 100% headache right now.

you’re the only one who ever let me feel normal.

maybe i suck too. i just don’t know how yet.

i’m not choosing anyone. i’m choosing work over play.

doesn’t it feel like everyone wants us to be someone we’re not?

a sleepover? am i invited?

it has to be you. you’re all we’ve got.

you know me. we know each other.

it’s called keeping up with the times, asshole.

but fuck all of you, and i mean that.

people don’t usually follow my lead, if you know what i mean.

there’s nothing wrong with us.

i want your point of view on things.

you’re killing me. you get that, right? that’s what you’re asking me. to die for you.

i’ll follow your rules. that’s all you get.

i’d love to trade witty one-liners with you.

you’re the worst. you know that, right?

today is the first time in my life that feels like the right time.

there is a point to everything. there are answers.

god doesn’t just play games with people for fun.

the sun just keeps coming up every day, and you can’t cry forever. 

you have to have hope, don’t you? because who knows. maybe tomorrow.

you don’t get to decide what matters.

a lot of what’s happening is us being scared, and alone, and bored. so we do scary things to each other, we hurt each other. 

it’s like she wants to turn the whole world upside down.

who’s been there for you more than me?

bullshit. we’re not the same person.

you didn’t pick me. because you didn’t think i belonged.

if i had to pick anyone in the world when things got bad, i’d pick you.

this isn’t about us. this has nothing to do with us.

there is no us. because of everything.

i love you. i know i don’t always show it, but i do. i love you.

the universe does not care about your love life.

i’m not sad. i’m pissed off.

you say too many things you don’t mean.

i’ve thought a lot about dying. i’ve gotten used to that. but i don’t like to be afraid.

sometimes when i’m angry, i want to hurt people.

i’m worried that i’m not real.

all you can do is have an advantage, and this is mine. it’s all i have.

what i did is not the worst crime in the world.

given everything, can’t i get a tiny break?

why? what’s so special about me?

are we going to fight each other over food? that’s fucking crazy.

you can live wherever you want, just not with me.

we should get some food, before it’s all gone.

what if things don’t go back to the way they were?

don’t give me a fucking speech. you have no idea.

i guess i can learn to get along with a few more people.

what’s so hard about being honest with yourself?

it’s been ten days. i’m not the same person i was.

if there are things that need to be done, i want to do them.

there are no sides anymore.

you’re the best decision i’ve ever made.

we’re the same. you have to stick with your own.

i’m scared, and i have to take care of myself.

i live in your shadow, and now you suddenly want to disappear?

you know that you’re the love of my life? and whatever comes after this.

if this is it, this is where i want to be. i mean not here, but with you. you’re where i want to be.

i was a different person before we fell in love.

thank you. for loving me. 

right now, we could use all the love we can get. 

you get scared, and you get mean.

is this how you want to spend the time you have left? always looking over your shoulder?

you’re giving me a headache instead of having my back.

it’s just, sometimes i know what i want, i just don’t know how to say it.

the only feelings that anyone cares about are yours. 

people keep dying around me.

i feel really lucky to have you. you’re my rock.

the end is none of your business.

i like you exactly the way you are.

i’m so sick of feeling different from everyone else.

after “fuck you,” i don’t have much.

i think about you too much.

i don’t think about you.

i’m not scared. i’m just realistic.

it feels like i’ve been starting forever.

no one cares about the best player on the worst team.

i’m tired of losing. i just don’t know what to do.

that’s hopelessly romantic. and this isn’t hopeless.

i haven’t been happy all year. why start now?

i’m sorry i can’t turn off my feelings whenever you want.

seems like everything i do hurts your feelings.

i care about you. i just don’t know how to prove it.

i like who i am in your eyes. i like how you see me.

i’m not sure i like myself in a relationship.

i’m way easier to replace.

when it ends, it’ll hurt.

the right thing is just to be here with you.

death is not beautiful, it’s final.

i keep failing everyone, and i don’t know what to do.

i don’t feel sad. i feel numb.

i ask people if they’re all right too much.

you never needed me. you needed someone.

i made myself sick to make you feel better.

this whole time i thought it was dying, but it’s living what scares you

you’re afraid to commit, and i need constant validation. 

you don’t belong here. not after what you did.

there is no mystery here. nothing to avenge.

i made a wish, and it came true, and i couldn’t take it back.

he was a bad person and a worse father. the world is better off without him.

you never know when to stop, do you?

you do whatever it takes to survive. or you die.

you think i didn’t try everything to get back to my family?

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

HBCU CONFESSIONS.

Erik x Valencia

Smut

Part One.

What am I going to do? I’m pregnant and it’s my freshman year. I don’t know if I should keep the baby or not. Any advice?

-Florida A&M

My stupid boyfriend cheated on me so I fucked his homeboy. Now both of them are fighting over me 🤭

-Hampton

I think my roommate has a thing for me. I’m not gay, but I’ve caught myself staring at his dick a few times. This shit is confusing me. I don’t like dick I like pussy!

-Morehouse College

My girlfriend wants me to eat her butt. She keeps begging me to do it. Who on here ever ate ass before? I need some advice because gahdamn she won’t leave a nigga alone.

-Morgan State

I already know what yall gonna say but I don’t give a fuck. My homegirl keep telling me about how her man is cheating on her. He’s cheating with me. I’m the side chick. The D is just too good. At this point I’m already too far gone. Judge me if you want I don’t care 🤷🏿‍♀️

-Clark Atlanta University

I had a train ran on me the other night. No, they didn’t fuck me. They ate me 😩 and it was a bunch of Omegas! Since they like to show their tongue so much I wanted to see which one of them could make me cum the hardest 😘

-Howard University

-I wish to remain anonymous. I’m not as experienced in the sex department and I am 21 years old. I want to hook up with someone here. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations, but I want it to be with someone I’ve been eyeing around campus. He doesn’t know I exist, but he’s so beautiful. If I could just have one chance with him…

-Texas Southern

“I did it.”

Valencia shut her MacBook Pro and fell back against her bed within her dorm room. Across from her sat her roommate, Brielle. They’d been roommates since freshman year.

“It was an anonymous submission, right? Nothing to worry about.” Brielle replied while looking over her notes for her A&P lab practical.

“I know, but what if someone figures it out?—

Her phone buzzed next to her thigh again.

“Jesus…he keeps fucking calling me.”

Brielle chuckles, “His ego is bruised. He probably wants to make sure you don’t say anything about it.”

“It’s been a week. He needs to let the shit go.”

Valencia ends the call for the eighth time that rainy evening. She’s already angry with herself for even allowing that man to have his way with her body. It was the worst experience. Worse than her first time.

“Head was trash, dick was trash…”

“So, I guess it isn’t all true that Que’s are great in bed, huh?” Brielle jokes.

“It’s definitely not true. I just wish it was with him.”

Valencia grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Brielle simply laughed at her antics.

“Isn’t he a Que too?” Brielle questions.

“He is. Maybe he’ll be the exception.”

Valencia slowly removed the pillow from her face and blinked her eyes up at the ceiling. Butterflies formed in her belly just thinking about him.

“He’s so damn fine, Brie. Like, why couldn’t it be him that had all of this instead of Isaiah?!”

“Who is this again? Girl, you know my attention span is fucked up.” Brielle replied with a laugh.

“His name is Erik. He’s getting his doctorate.”

“Hm,” Brielle highlighted a section in her textbook orange, “How old is he?”

“I don’t know, like…thirties maybe?”

“Since when do you like them older?” Brielle asked with a shocked tone of voice.

“Since now! He’s too fine, Brie. And he’s really smart. Like a genius. He has so many accomplishments. A sexy nerd.”

“He sounds like he’s out of your league—”

“He’s also a TA—”

Brielle’s eyes went wide.

“A TA? Girl…don’t do it.”

Valencia had to admit that Brielle was right.

“It’ll never happen anyway. That man walks past me everyday like he doesn’t see me. I’ll just crush from afar at this point I don’t even know why I sent that fucking message.”

Valencia pouted in bed. Silence filled the room as she laid there staring at the television. Brielle was completely absorbed into her notes to care. Valencia could be doing some schoolwork herself, but the thought of her anonymous ask kept circulating in her mind.

Valencia sat up on her elbow and reached for her laptop again. Brielle cut her brown eyes at her and smirked playfully. Valencia checked the blog and noticed one note. Clicking on it, it was just a like. Her submission is nothing compared to the other wild confessions.

“There he goes again,” Brielle motioned with her eyes at Valencia’s phone, “Do you want me to cuss his ass out? Block that nigga!”

Valencia grabbed her phone and proceeded to block him.

“You know I have Chemistry with that limp dick fucker, right?” Brielle said.

“Just ignore him, Brie. He’ll be alright.”

“He keeps harassing you!”

Valencia sat her laptop on their shared desk. She shut off her lamp light snd slipped beneath the sheets. She had an early class tomorrow and needed to ease her mind into slumber.

“Goodnight, Brie. Don’t stay up too late.” Valencia said.

“I’ll try. You know I’m a night owl.” Brielle grumbled.

The rain seemed to flow into the following afternoon. Valencia ran as fast as she could back to her dorm after the boring lecture she had to endure. A fellow student held the door for her and she made it inside although she was drenched from head to toe. She smoothed wet braids from her face and adjusted her cropped T-shirt. The brisk air of the building caused goosebumps to form along her sepia skin. She could even feel her teeth chattering.

Removing her heavy school bag from her shoulder, Valencia took long strides towards the elevators. She waited impatiently while rubbing her wet arms to try and warm up. She silently cursed herself for not bringing her umbrella. The sunny morning and clear sky deceived her. She stared down at her black and white Adidas Campus 00s for two seconds before the elevator doors opened. Valencia took a step forward and just then a deep timbre sent a shiver up her spine.

“Going up?”

Valencia was halfway into the elevator when her chocolate orbs fell upon the one person she wasn’t expecting to see in her dorm building.

Valencia may have met her match with Erik Stevens.

“Yes,” She stepped to the side so that he could enter.

“Thank you.”

Valencia scooted towards the corner of the elevator.

“Which floor?”

“Six.”

“Bet, that’s where I’m going.”

He has a dorm on the sixth floor? She thought.

She focused on him like she was studying a passage out of one of her textbooks. First, her eyes took in the style of his hair. He kept the sides and back tapered but the rest was beautifully loc’d and braided back. His eyes were shielded with gold-rimmed glasses that complimented his face and made him like artsy. She trailed her gaze down his neck to his broad shoulders. He wore a cream-colored hoodie and khaki cargo pants. On his feet were a pair of boots and in his firm grip was a dripping wet umbrella.

“After you.”

Valencia picked herself up and slipped past him since he was holding the door for her. She could smell his cologne and it was her new favorite smell.

“Thank you.” She said.

She instantly felt warm and fuzzy. He had this effect on her she hadn’t felt in a long while truly. Not even for that lackluster lay she had a week ago. Isaiah who?

Valencia walked into a crowded lounge area with a confused look on her face. She spotted Brielle near the window sitting on a lounger. She was chatting with a few of their mutual girl friends. The grey clouds outside began to allow the sun to peek through. She walked over to them and dropped her bag to the floor.

“Cindy, Skai…”

Cindy jutted out her petite hip and smiled with her braces in greeting. Skai raised her hand and fluttered her fingers covered in various gold rings. Skai was playing in Brielle’s ginger-colored coily hair as she typed away on her tablet.

“Why is everybody sitting here in the lounge?” Valencia questioned.

“Rumor has it, Rochelle isn’t our RA anymore.” Skai revealed.

Valencia furrowed her brows and squinted her eyes.

“Really?—”

“CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE!”

The chatter amongst everyone died down to a pregnant pause. Everyone looked towards Erik. Valencia caught his eye briefly and she could feel herself squirming from that small interaction alone.

“My name is Erik. I’m sure some of you have seen your emails, and for those that haven’t, I’m here to fill you in. Rochelle had a personal emergency and she will not continue as your RA for the final months of this semester. I will take over that position from here on out.”

Whispers circulated around the room. Erik stood there with his back straight, arms folded, and poker-faced.

Elusive nature.

Mellow.

“Uh-oh…”

Valencia turned her gaze towards Brielle. Her friend gave her a mischievous smirk. Valencia suppressed a laugh and threw her hands in the air dismissively.

“I will be staying on this floor for the remainder of the semester to keep an eye on things and act as a guide. I know a lot about TSU and I’m more than happy to help. Does anyone have any questions for me?”

Erik scanned the room through his glasses intently, similar to a drill sergeant. For some reason, his presence evoked a feeling of obedience.

A quiet Alpha.

“Well, that’s all I have to say for now,” Erik clapped his hands together in finality, “You can resume studying or whatever it is you were doing. Matt, right?”

Erik pointed to a freshman sitting at a desk. Matt was tall and lanky with designer braids in his hair and dressed like he was ready for a runway. A lot of designer. Definitely attention seeking.

“Yeah. How you know me?”

“I’m a Que Dog. You still interested, right?”

Something in Matt shifted. He stood taller and raised his chin with confidence.

“Absolutely.” Matt replied with excitement.

“Your probationary period starts tonight. You got a lot of work to do.”

Valencia could sense the nervousness in Matt.

“I’m ready.” Matt replied.

“We’ll see.”

Erik walked past Matt and towards the elevators. Valencia watched him leave and when he’d finally gone she let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t think I’m going to enjoy a man being our RA,” Cindy said with obvious disdain.

“Same,” Skai stood up and pulled her tight denim skirt down over her rotund backside and generous thighs.

“Valencia is going to keep me up playing DJ hero every night since her crush is our new RA.”

Valencia glared at Brielle.

“You have a crush on him?!” Cindy questioned with a surprised expression.

“What happened to Isaiah?” Skai asked.

“Isaiah was a disappointment. He talked a big game after that party and when we went back to his room he pretty much did the opposite of what he said he was gonna do.” Valencia recalled with frustration.

“I’M GoNnA MAke YoU CuM,” Brielle mocked.

“I’Mma GiVe YoU THIs DiCk AnD HaVE YOu BeGGiNG FoR MorE.” Valencia said

“oh my fucking GOD,” Cindy giggled, “It was that horrible?”

“Cindy, horrible isn’t even the word. If I could find a word to describe how awful it was I would. Can’t eat pussy for shit, constantly tried to stick it in my ass because he couldn’t find my pussy, has a big dick but can’t fuck, kept asking me if I liked it, it was terrible.”

“I’m so sorry for you, sis,” Skai shook her head, “I really thought he was going to knock the Sonic rings out that coochie.”

“Maybe he was drunk?” Cindy said

“He wasn’t. He had a little bit of weed, that’s it.”

Valencia reached for her bag and stood up to leave.

“Let me go study, I’ll catch up with ya’ll later.”

“Sure you don’t wanna come out with us for drinks tonight?” Brielle asked with a smile.

“I have to train. I have a swim meet coming up.”

“Fine! Maybe Saturday!”

Valencia put a thumb up as she walked away towards her dorm room.

Thirty notes.

Girl if you don’t approach this man!

Who is it? I wanna know 👀

If he hasn’t taken the hint by now he don’t want you.

Valencia’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Most of the replies were nothing but discouraging. She wished she could take back her anonymous submission. Sitting at their shared desk in an oversized yellow Nike hoodie and her braided hair in a messy bun, she clicked on a tab on her MacBook to continue reading about Erik’s accomplishments at TSU. He’s an alumni receiving his doctorate in Computer Hardware Engineering. Summa cum laude. Pledge President. Star Football player. Leading place in various academic clubs and competitions. Tutor in multiple complex subjects such as quantum physics, chemistry, mathematics, and philosophy. Fluent in languages such as French, Spanish, Chinese, Latin, and signing.

Overly intellectual.

Valencia could go on and on about how perfect Erik seemed to be. She was infatuated past the point of no return. Far gone. The sexist fucking nerd she’d ever known. But still, it was just a reminder that he wouldn’t be concerned with a twenty-one-year-old chick with no experience and nowhere near as much maturity as him. He probably wanted a sophisticated woman. confident, in charge, and calm. A lot of experience and knowledge about the world and about culture, art, and literature. Someone who can quote Aristotle.

Studious.

Oh? He was in the Military? That explains a lot.

Valencia clicked out of the tab and back to the HBCU Confessions blog. As she scrolled the page, she wondered to herself who could have created it? She’d heard whispers around campus about how the infamous blog became active again after some years.

As she scrolled, an instant message icon popped up. She shifted her hips in her seat and leaned in to click on the message. It was probably some old man asking if she wanted to be their sugar baby or a bot. Valencia’s dark brown eyes scanned the message.

-Hi:)

It was the blog. HBCU Confessions. The owner.

-Hello ❤️

Why would they message her?

-I read your submission. Probably the most innocent out of them all.

Valencia didn’t know how to take that. Was it an issue?

-Unfortunately for you, I don’t have THAT MUCH excitement in my life lol

-Nothing wrong with that. It prompted me to message you personally.

-It was that interesting? Lol

-I’d like to understand and see if I could give you some advice.

-Thank you! I’d actually love some advice. 🥰

-Perfect. What makes it an unrealistic expectation? Because I can tell you now, I doubt it is.

-He’s on a different level than me. He’s also older than me. Idk I just get this vibe that he wouldn’t be interested.

Valencia grabbed her hot pink Stanley cup to take a sip of water.

-How much older? I know you’re 21.

-All I know is that he’s in his 30s.

-I’m still not seeing where it’s unrealistic. Have you tried anything at all? A smile? Anything?

-No. I’ve been too shy to.

-Shy or afraid of rejection?

-BOTH.

-You gotta break out of that.

-Do you know for sure if he’s single?

-I’ve seen him around campus with this professor sometimes for lunch but that’s it. I’m not sure if they are dating or just friends lol

-What school are you attending again?

-Texas Southern

-Really? 👀

-���👀👀

Valencia made a face at her laptop screen. Did they know something she didn’t?

-Is there something I should know?

-I think I may know who you’re talking about. He’s not available from what I know…

So, this person attended TSU as well? Makes sense now why they singled out her confession.

-Who am I talking about then? 😌

-He’s 33 by the way.

Valencia’s shoulders slumped.

-This still doesn’t confirm that we’re talking about the same person.

-He’s a Nupe, right?

-No. he’s a Que. lol

-You sure? He’s about 6’0, teaches chemistry, spends time with that one English Literature professor…

Valencia considered their description of Erik but she was sure he said that he was a Que Dog earlier. And he’s a TA for quantum physics not chemistry. The only similarity is the English Lit teacher. Professor Boyd.

-I don’t think we’re talking about the same person. Send me a picture.

Valencia waited two minutes before a picture popped up in their chat.

-His name is James Parham.

-He’s cute but that’s not my crush 😂

-Well then I have no idea who you’re talking about lol.

-wait!

Valencia waited. She stood up from her seat at the desk to grab her phone from the charger. Checking her notifications, she received a text from Brielle an hour ago. Valencia opened the text thread and there was a video. She pressed play and it was a lot of motion to keep the phone steady until the video zoomed into a table far off in the corner. Valencia squinted her eyes and recognition washed over her face.

Erik.

He was sitting alone in a booth with a drink in his hand, bobbing his head to the music.

Ping.

-Is it him?

-Yes!

-😌 ohhh so Erik?

-He’s definitely single.

-Make a move before it’s too late.

-what do you suggest I do? Can you give me some advice please?

-Erik is introverted and often mistaken for being timid. He is indeed an Omega and takes pride in that. You can find him around campus reading a book or working out. He’s a homebody for sure. Sometimes you may catch him out and about. He’s a chill dude with this mysterious aura about him. That’s what I’ve gathered from just seeing him around campus.

-I would start off by playing into his interests. He likes to read so find out what books he likes. From what I know he’s big on poetry. He likes to run around campus at 6 am. Need help tutoring? See if he’s offering some study hours for that. Start there and see where it goes.

-This is really good advice! It’s very subtle and a perfect way to get his attention without being too obvious. Thank you! ❤️

-You’re welcome love 💗 I’m here if you need anything. Feel free to chat with me.

Intent listener…

“I really don’t know what to do about it, Erik…”

Andrea, Erik’s friend from college and English Literature professor at TSU walked alongside him in the early afternoon the following day.

“He’s so confusing half the damn time, I can’t even tell if he’s into me or not.”

Erik had both hands in the pockets of his slacks. Today was his day to assistant teach quantum physics. He really wasn’t up for it because he’d been up so late in the dorms trying to settle a sneaky party. Apparently, Rochelle allowed them to party and have drinks which is against the rules and grounds for expulsion. He just walked and listened. Out of his friend group, he’s the one they go to to vent because he doesn’t disrupt them, and he gives great advice.

“How long have we known James, Drea? That nigga can’t express himself for shit. Just know, he’s feelin’ you. He’s always had a thing for you.” Erik replied.

Andrea took a sip of her super green smoothie.

“Well, I’m not gonna wait around for him to speak up. What is he so afraid of?”

Erik turned his gaze onto Andrea through his gold-rimmed glasses.

“We’ve been friends for about ten years, Drea. Maybe he’s afraid that if things don’t work out with you two romantically, it’ll mess up the bond you both had as friends.”

Andrea mulled over Erik’s words. They settled in front of the school fountain and sat down on a bench facing it.

“You have a point. We’re going to a spoken word tonight. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Spoken word, huh? Wow…I haven’t done one of those in forever.” Erik replied with a smirk.

“Coming back to Texas is nostalgic, ain’t it?” Andrea said with a giggle.

“It is—”

“Oh! Guess what?”

Andrea leaned into Erik with a playful look in her eyes. Erik narrowed his eyes at her in response.

“Are you gonna guess?” Andrea pestered.

“Aight, You’re finally gonna write that book you’ve been talking about all these years.”

“No! I changed my mind about the book,” Andrea rolls her eyes, “the blog…”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yep. It’s been so long I had to see what was going on with it.”

Erik chuckled, “Nah. You’re back on there? Drea,” Erik shook his head, “You’re a professor now! What if somebody finds out?”

“Who’s gonna find out, Erik? We never revealed ourselves when we used it. Nobody knows what school we went to or who we were. Well…I think I may have slipped up last night…”

“What the hell did you do, Drea?”

Erik surveyed his surroundings to make sure they were safe to talk about this.

“I got the sweetest confession from a student here and I just had to message them.” Andrea said.

“Okay, what did they say?”

“So, they pretty much confessed to having a crush on someone here and being afraid to approach them…”

“Who?” Erik said impatiently.

“You.”

Andrea laughed at Erik’s expression. He furrowed his brows and looked at her like she was talking gibberish.

“…Did they say who they were?” Erik asked.

His interest was peeked.

“No. All I know is she’s twenty-one, very shy, feels as if she has no chance in hell with you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Erik fussed.

“Because I thought you’d want to know! You need some action in your life, Erik. When was the last time you had sex?”

“Aye, don’t worry about it, girl,” Erik playfully shoved Andrea, “I’m just saying, what am I supposed to do with this information? Like…I don’t even know how the girl looks.”

“You will eventually. I gave her some advice. She may pop up today…”

Erik couldn’t deny that he was intrigued. Could be fun to see how things play out.

“Okay, okay…the log in still the same?”

Andrea smirked, “Still the same. You remember?”

“Yeah…it was my idea, wasn’t it?” Erik smart-mouthed.

“Alright, smart ass.”

Andrea checked the time on her Apple Watch.

“Let me head back to my office. When does your class start?”

“In an hour. I’m gonna head over to the library and do a bit of grading to kill some time.”

Andrea and Erik stood up at the same time. Andrea opened her arms to accept a hug from Erik. She squeezed her old friend and then kissed his cheek.

“Aight, Daka, I’ll catch you later.”

“Have a good class, Drea.”

They parted ways and headed in opposite directions.

Valencia felt cute today.

She did her makeup for once. She dressed in a body con black dress that enhanced her curves. She wore her favorite Carolina Herrera perfume. Anything to get his attention.

On her way to the library after her philosophy class, Valencia entered the library with a grace that turned heads. She took the elevators to the third level of the library, her stomach doing flips because of how nervous she was. She exited onto the third level and walked further into the silent area until she was near the windows that overlooked the campus.

Valencia took a seat and proceeded to retrieve her MacBook, and textbook. She wanted to format her notes with bullet points and colors while the information was still fresh on her mind. It was Friday evening and she didn’t want to spend her weekend catching up on school work. Her cafe noir eyes would look up to see if her crush had shown up yet.

After some time, her attention veered back to the HBCU Confessions blog. She was excited to see that there was a new message from the blog.

-Any luck today?

Valencia typed.

-No 😪

Erik strolled over to a desk diagonal to Valencia. He quickly took his laptop and other work out of his bag. It was the last thing on his mind after what Andrea told him. He opened his laptop and found his way back to Tumblr. Being back sparked memories of mischief and lust. Erik started this blog for laughs and he honestly didn’t expect it to transform into what it is today. What started out as a blog strictly for TSU, expanded to other colleges unexpectedly. So many scandalous things go down at college and it sucked that our people didn’t really have their own way of connecting across HBCUs. So, Erik started the blog for fun, and it quickly evolved.

He’d known secrets about people across colleges. It didn’t matter if you were the dean, a professor, a student, or a coach, your deepest darkest thoughts and feelings were exposed for everyone to see with the option of remaining anonymous. Erik witnessed breakups and hookups. It was a guilty pleasure of his, like watching hentai. Erik had many guilty pleasures. Who didn’t?

He successfully logged back in and found himself staring at hundreds of notifications. The only thing he was concerned with was whoever this anonymous person was that had a crush on him. It’s been a while since he’d been with a woman. Being in the military as an engineer was a busy job. He worked a lot and on top of that he moved around from state to state. Hardly any time to settle down or date. He did date a few women, but it was all a dead end.

Erik found what he was looking for.

ebonygoddess1990s_-No 😪

Erik read the entire thread and couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. He was tickled by Andrea’s advice to his secret admirer. She knew him like she knew her classic literature. He was indeed laidback, quiet, nerdy, and ambitious. The more he read the messages, the more he wanted to find out who this woman was. He decided to respond to their message. Why not? It would be fun to play along. Just like the old days.

-Where are you right now?

Meanwhile, Valencia’s head shot up at her MacBook when she heard the ping of a new message. She read the message.

-Where are you right now?

-Library ☺️

-Usually he’s there around this time.

Valencia looked up and she was staring at him sitting at a table diagonally from her table. He didn’t know that she was eyeing him down since he was focused on his laptop. He wore a pair of slim fit paisley and gray pants with a white button down shirt and brown loafers.

-He’s here now 😳

Erik sat up straighter and his eyes locked with Valencia’s. She quickly averted her gaze to her laptop, tucking her braids behind her left ear. Erik took his time admiring Valencia. His eyes started at her feet. She wore a pair of black gladiator sandals with silver spikes on them. She had red painted toes and smooth, brown legs. His onyx eyes ascended further up her body, over the curve of her hip, the hourglass shape of her waist, her toned arms, ample cleavage, neatly braided hair, and then finally her beautiful face.

He really really liked the shape of her lips. Large and wide set with a plump, pouty appearance and equally full on the top and bottom. He’d seen plenty of beautiful women every day, but whoever this girl was, she was the most beautiful. It was her rich, brown skin. Her pretty doe eyes. That body. Erik was certain that she’s his secret admirer, but he needed to be sure. Excitement brewed in him as he typed a response.

-You should say hi. Get his attention.

-I’m nervous 😭

-Don’t be. Just go for it. How else will you know if he’s interested?

-I dare you to give him a flirty wave with a seductive smile. 😏

Valencia’s eyes went round with surprise. That was bold. Bolder than she initially planned to be. She cleared her throat and turned in her seat. Crossing one leg over the other, Valencia flipped her braids so that it gave her a messy look and then she made her eyes look sleepy and hypnotic like Dorothy Dandridge. She took a deep breath in and focused her gaze on Erik steadily. After five seconds, he looked up and did a double take. Valencia raised a small hand and waved at him slowly while her lips were formed in a smile.

Erik simply smirked at her and raked his eyes up and down her frame. That’s all. He just smirked at her and then he dropped his gaze back to his laptop. Valencia gripped the back of her chair to try and calm her racing heart. That slight interaction had her bewitched. He smirked at her and he checked her out. She wanted to jump up and down.

Ping.

-How did it go?

-He smiled at me and then he looked me up and down. 😭 clearly he likes what he sees!

Erik nibbled on his bottom lip to control the urge to smile with all of his teeth. This was so much fun. The most fun he’d had an a long time. It was good to be back.

Erik packed his things so that he could be on his way to the class he needed to assist. As he was getting ready to leave, he felt his phone vibrating with an incoming call. He plucked his cell from his pocket and brought it to his ear. His eyes connected with Valencia’s briefly before turning away.

“Hello? Hey…I was headed there now—really? You sure? Okay…no, no…it’s all good. Uh…I’ll just finish grading everything and drop it off later? Perfect. Alright…see you next Friday…”

Erik ended the call. Fuck it. He didn’t want to assist that class today anyway now that something and someone had his attention more. He stole a glance at her and she was reading from a philosophy textbook. He knew philosophy well. So well that he tutored for it. Erik had an idea. He took his seat again and brought his laptop back out. He opened it to the messages and began typing away.

-That’s a good thing 😌 What’s he doing now?

-He was going to leave but changed his mind. I wonder why. Hmmm…maybe he can’t get enough of me lol

-maybe 🤔 lol. What are you doing now? Are you studying?

-I am. It’s philosophy. It’s so boring but I have to do it.

-Philosophy, huh? He actually tutors philosophy.

Valencia giggled to herself and shook her head.

-Why am I not surprised. He’s so smart 😍

Erik licked his lips. She was infatuated with his intellect. He liked that.

-You want another dare?

Valencia looked heavenward. Erik peeked over at her.

-Okay. What do you dare?

Valencia’s eyes veered from her laptop to Erik again.

Ping.

-I dare you to ask him to be your tutor.

Valencia exhaled louder than she’d expected to. She brought a hand to her belly to calm the butterflies. That actually wouldn’t be a bad idea. She just needed to calm her nerves. Valencia counted down from ten in her head and stood up from her seat. She paused with her fingertips against her philosophy textbook before lifting it from the table. She pressed it against her, beneath her cleavage, hugging it with both arms like those school girls from teen dramas.

She started making her way towards him slowly. Erik didn’t look away from his laptop until she was standing next to him. Being that close to him, his features more prominent, Valencia couldn’t find the words to speak. Erik looked up at her through his glasses and gave her a friendly smile before recognition washed over his face.

“Hi.” Erik said.

“Hi…”

Valencia shifted her focus on the empty seat at the table. She took a moment to gather herself before scooting out the chair and making herself comfortable.

“Weren’t you in the elevator the other day?” Erik said.

“Yeah…yeah that was me,” Valencia smiles.

Erik nodded his head, “You look different.”

She wasn’t as dolled up and she was soaked from head to toe.

“I didn’t look very flattering,” Valencia released a dry chuckle, growing more bashful the more his eyes were on her.

“No, what I mean is…you’re not all wet.”

Valencia blinked at Erik. Heat crept up her face. The way he said wet…

Erik’s eyes fell to the book that pushed her titties up.

“Philosophy. What’s your major?”

“Psychology.” Valencia replied.

“It doesn’t matter how slowly you go, as long as you don’t stop…”

He sounded those words out so smooth like he was serenading her. Valencia furrowed her brows at Erik’s response. Her full lips parted invitingly.

“…What?” She questions.

“Confucius. Confucianism? the importance of having a good moral character?”

“Oh—oh!”

Valencia sat her textbook down and giggled.

“Right, right…I had a brain fart.”

Erik laughed.

“Uhm…do you tutor?”

Valencia leaned in, unknowingly exposing her cleavage more. Erik fought the urge to look, focusing his penetrating gaze on her face.

He adjusted his glasses very studiously, “I do actually.”

“That’s perfect actually,” Valencia folds her arms against the table, “I could use a tutor. You seem to be well versed in the subject.”

Valencia looked at Erik expectantly with those doe eyes and honestly she could have whatever she wanted if she kept staring at him like that.

“Are you asking me?” Erik quirked a brow.

“…Please?”

Valencia folded her hands and pouted her bottom lip. It was adorable.

“Are you free after five?” Erik inquired.

“I am, actually. Tonight I have plans with friends but I can meet at five.”

“Alright,” Erik shut his laptop, “We can study in the lounge at the dorms. Wait…”

Erik touched Valencia’s arm, stopping her from standing. The hairs on her arm stood up like a jolt of electricity coursed through her.

“I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh…sorry. Valencia.”

“Nice to formally meet you, Miss Valencia. I’m Erik.”

“I remember.”

They smiled at each other. Erik stood up, placing his laptop in his bag. Valencia took her time retrieving her textbook, unsure of what else to say.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now—”

“Valencia?”

Isaiah.

The last person she’d hope to run into. He looked irritated with her as he approached them. Valencia fixed her face into a look of frustration and Erik noticed straight away. The tension between them was palpable.

“What it do, shawty? You avoiding me?”

Valencia looked between Erik and Isaiah. Isaiah loomed closer, draping his arm around her shoulder. Valencia rolled her eyes.

“What can I do for you, Isaiah?” Valencia quipped.

“Did you block me?”

“I did—”

“For what? Didn’t we have a good time?”

Valencia pursed her lips and shut her eyes.

“Isaiah, don’t make me embarrass you…”

Truthfully, she was the one embarrassed at the moment. Erik’s eyebrows ticked up and the corner of his mouth twitched. Isaiah cut his eyes at Erik, sizing him up initially before he recognized him.

“Oh, shit what’s poppin’, Poet?”

Isaiah raised his hand to dab Erik. Erik slowly brought his hand forward and their palms collided with a loud smack and a firm grip. Erik released his hand and watched as Isaiah discreetly flexed his fingers.

“Don’t mind us, just tryna see why my girl mad at me.”

Isaiah clearly couldn’t read the room.

“I’m not your girl, Isaiah.”

Valencia lifted his arm from around her and turned to leave. She threw Erik a furtive glance before retreating quickly.

“Valencia!”

Shhhhhhhhhh!

He was in a library after all.

Isaiah was ready to chase her down but Erik yoked him up by his backpack to stop him.

“Gahdamn, Bro,” Isaiah fixed his bag.

“She’s not interested, One Pump Chump.”

“Fuck you and that nickname. That was one fucking time. I was drunk.”

“Yeahhhh and I’m sure the same happened with Valencia?”

Isaiah glared dangerously at Erik.

“If it didn’t happen that way, it shouldn’t matter, right?”

Erik slapped Isaiah on the back and proceeded to walk away.

“I’ll catch you later, little bruh.”

Erik threw up a hook and twisted his tongue before descending the stairs with a laugh.

[roses-r-rosie3]

Hey soo angst right?

So Miguel x male reader where they have a fight because of miles and miguel just gets really angry and says and or does something that hurts the reader. The reader isn't a spider person but is still important to tge universe. Because of the fight the reader decides to leave because he does want to deal with miguel anymore, and he dicise to just help miles and all

You can end it with fluff or angst, whatever you want :)

Put It Straight

Miguel O’Hara x M!Reader

[Part 2]

Warnings: angst and swearing

Quote: “This is none of your business! So just go home!”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Y/n was one the few non-spider people working at the spider society. He worked as Miguel’s right hand man because Miguel couldn’t stand leaving y/n alone by himself and because they were dating.

It was a “normal” day in the beginning, but Miguel went off to a meeting, while y/n was on his break. But all of a sudden an alarm went off and everyone got an alert to go after Miles. Y/n knew about the kid, Gwen talked about him all the time. Y/n would occasionally tease her about it.

There were hundreds of different variants of Spider-Man chasing Miles, but one stood out from the rest, Miguel. Miguel seemed ruthless, like he wanted to kill the kid, and y/n was concerned. But what made y/n snap was when Miguel sent Gwen back to her universe.

When Miguel turned around, he saw a fuming y/n.

“Miguel what the fuck was that!” Yelled y/n.

Y/n was one of the only people who could yell at Miguel like that. If anyone else dared to talk to Miguel that way, they were bound to either be dead or in the Er.

“Baby, Not now” Miguel Said.

He was clearly frustrated but didn’t want to yell at y/n.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Not now? You just sent the kid home, where her own father is trying to arrest her! And you see nothing wrong with that!” Y/n yelled.

“Y/n you don’t get it” Miguel said.

“I don’t get it!? First you chased Miles throughout the whole city! And now you sent Gwen home where she could possibly be in danger!” Y/n said.

“He wasn’t supposed to even be here! Because of him, the universe could be destroyed! He found out that his dad was going to die! So he tried to prevent that! He could have destroyed the universe! And for Gwen, she is the whole reason why he is even here to begin with! There! You happy?!” Miguel snapped in anger.

“So you’re saying that he is trying to prevent his dad from dying and you’re trying to stop him?!” Y/n yelled with just as much anger.

“It has happened to all of us! And it’s the consequences of his actions! If he hadn’t followed Gwen then all of this wouldn’t have happened!” Miguel yelled.

“So you’re just going to let the kid’s dad die?! Hasn’t he been through enough, he had to watch his uncle die and now you want him to watch his dad die too?!” Y/n said.

“This is none of your business! So just go home!” Miguel said.

“Weren’t you the one begging for me to come here to work with you? And now it’s none of my business!” Y/n said.

“Y/n- watch who you’re talking to like that, don’t think for one second that I won’t-”

“You won’t what Miguel O’Hara?! I tried, I really tried to understand why you acted like this! I’m sorry, but I’m leaving to go help the kid” Y/n said as he walked away.

“And how exactly do you plan on traveling other universes? You don’t even have a watch!” Miguel said.

“With this” y/n held out a watch while still walking.

Miguel immediately looked at his wrist and noticed that his watch was gone, and started to look y/n and realized y/n took his watch as y/n opened a portal.

“Y/n don’t! You could get killed!” Miguel yelled.

Y/n turned to look back at Miguel one last time with tears in his eyes.

“I love you Miguel” y/n said as he walked inside of the portal.

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[Edit]: I'm considering making a part 2 if there is a lot of demand for it

[sophiethewitch1]

A Dramatic Irony

A/n: Trying to combat writer's block so I decided to do this little drabble. Spoilers for the WHB prologue, and also includes my theory that MC will turn out to be God in some form or capacity. Because why the hell else would the angels turn over to our side?

GAME IS 18+ THIS DRABBLE ISN'T, BUT EVEN THE PROLOGUE HAS ADULT CONTENT! MINORS PLEASE BE SENSIBLE!!!

“So, it was you? This whole time?” His lips graze against your throat. He’s warm, of course he is. All that holy light spilling out? He’s so warm it’s almost uncomfortable.

Everything about this is uncomfortable, really. But of course, like always, you’re at the centre of it. Of every situation, from the depths of hell to the cloudy tops of heaven.

“I’m not Him,” you grit out, your body shivering. You don’t dare move. Not with Gabriel, the man who had sworn to kill you, who had chased you over hell with armies of feathered fiends, with his teeth at your jugular.

It doesn’t matter the way he shakes just the same as you. It doesn’t matter that his fingers skim delicately - reverently - across your stomach. It doesn’t matter that those eyes that before looked at you with absolutely nothing inside, now seemed to overflow. With love, obsession.

You know, before all this, you’d been an atheist. Before an unholy angel had crawled out of your computer and a righteous demon had saved you and your best friend’s life, you had thought God couldn’t exist. That the world couldn’t be so cruel if someone like Him truly did exist. That your childhood wouldn’t be mired in tragedy, that you wouldn’t struggle to get out of bed every day. That you wouldn’t have to blink away flashes of the scent of copper and soap.

And of course, then you’d made a deal with the devil. You’d gone to hell. You’d broken countless contracts, and warred against heaven. You’d had to fight for every second of your life, and you’d done it bitterly, angrily.

Angry at this God that had disappeared, and angry at His stupid mistake of making every angel madly in love with him. Angry at how He never thought of the consequences of his actions, of how He never imagined a world He wouldn’t exist in. How just by your birth, you’d been destined to suffer. How your parents would have died no matter what, how you would always have had to walk this thorny path.

How He never seemed to consider what could happen when you created one of the strongest beings in the universe and forgot to give them a fucking moral compass.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, ignoring your words. His too-warm body crowding in too close to yours, as your fists curl against his chest, desperately trying to push him away. It’s no use because no matter what’s in your blood, you aren’t strong enough - what is Solomon’s, and what is His.

Because, apparently, those stupid mistakes you’d cursed God for, were yours.

“I’m not Him,” you repeat, hands moving to claw at his throat. He doesn’t react beyond a small sigh of pleasure, curling into your touch like a cat in the sun. “I’m not Him. I don’t have His memories. I’m not Him.”

“I told you, didn’t I? I didn’t have any negative feelings towards you. I’m sorry, I’ll fix it. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please, just let me stay by your side?”

It’s such a strange dichotomy. The angel who sees this as a beautiful, miraculous reunion. And you, who sees this a tragedy. One you could never escape. The angel from before, swinging his scythe at your throat, and the one who now presses plush lips against that same skin. It’s too ironic, isn’t it? It just can’t be true. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“I don’t want you by my side,” you sob, but he just shushes you, pressing kisses against your head and across your face. He licks up your tears, groaning at the taste.

It’s too cruel. You have to wonder if the old you, the one you can’t remember, ran from this.

His hands tighten around your waist. It doesn’t really matter what happened before, because you know you won’t be able to run this time.

[nadvs]

　　🐚　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 breaking point ⟢

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

summary withdrawal is worse than rafe ever could have imagined. thankfully, he has you.

content warning substance abuse

this is a blurb in the home before dark universe, inspired by this ask!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It’s been four nights without coke. Rafe keeps hoping it’ll get even just a shred easier, but it’s not.

You told him it’d be best to skip parties for the next while so he’s not tempted while he tries to quit. What he didn’t expect was that you’d be skipping them with him. He should have known, though, considering how much you care about him.

Moments like these, he’s not sure why you chose him.

He’s been curt all day, responding to you with short, sharp sentences. Still, you’ve stayed by his side, making sure he’s resting, pretending not to notice how much he’s shaking.

The moon is in the sky, signalling the end of a long day. It’s obvious your boyfriend doesn’t want to talk, so you step out onto the balcony that leads out of his bedroom as he sits in bed, scrolling on his phone.

You look out at the massive property under the night sky, hoping it’ll get easier for him soon.

According to the research you’ve done, it’s different for every addict. There’s no timeline to follow, no day you can look forward to things turning around for him. Some symptoms last months.

After a few minutes of silence, you hear sluggish footsteps padding behind you.

Rafe rubs his mouth, his ring gleaming in the moonlight, as he stands beside you at the railing.

“I’m an asshole,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

“A real asshole wouldn’t worry about being an asshole,” you reply. You look over at him, his face downturned in shame. “It’s hard. Feeling angry or irritable is expected.”

Rafe nods, gazing down.

“How do you know?” he asks.

“I read up on it,” you say. “You can’t control how your body is reacting. It’s okay.”

“It didn’t even feel good to do it anymore by the end,” he admits. “It just made me feel like… I don’t know, nervous. But I still want...”

Rafe can’t finish his sentence, disappointed in himself.

“You’re doing great,” you say, resting a hand on his trembling back. “It’s not easy.”

“I shoulda never fucking started,” he says with a scoff. You try to steer the conversation away from the past, so not to remind him why he so desperately chases an escape.

“Are you hungrier than usual?” you ask. Increased appetite was a symptom you read about.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Wanna go for a late night food run?” you ask. “Or you can stay here and I go make something or pick something up?”

Rafe stares at you through heavy lidded eyes, lips parted.

“What?” you ask.

“This might sound…” he says, unable to find the word. He takes a deep breath. “I think I’d die without you.”

Your eyes deepen with sorrow, compassion, and gratitude all at once.

“Remember everything you did for me?” you ask softly.

When Rafe’s eyes sweep over your face, he does. He wouldn’t leave your side when you were trying to escape your ex. He beat him within an inch of his life. He stared down the end of a gun, risking everything, ready to kill someone who was tormenting you.

He’d do it all again.

“You saved my life,” you say, tears pricking at your eyes. Even when it was so painful being around you, Rafe wouldn’t leave you. You still carry the trauma from what happened, but being with the man who protected you, even when he’s being abrupt, reminds you of how safe you are.

“This won’t beat you, okay?” you tell him. “I won’t let it.”

You curl into him, wrapping your arms around his torso, inhaling the smell of his cologne and his natural musk.

Rafe kisses the top of your head, hugging you tightly. You stand like this for a few minutes, and when you pull back, he kisses your lips, asking where you want to go to eat.

You gaze up at him with all the love in your heart, a hopeful smile growing on your face.

You don’t think anything you could do for him could even the score and make up for what he’s done for you.

He’s thinking the same thing about you.

After you eat together, you hold his trembling body in bed, kissing his forehead, hearing his breaths fall deeper once he falls asleep.

You tell yourself every bad night is one step closer to the first good night. You’ll weather this with him. All of it.