#idk trying to get over feeling so completely uncomfortable in my own skin and embarrassed about my very existence

[gregmarriage]

truly feel like i only post random bullshit and then leave for six months imaoooo

[frostedfaves]

Naive (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You pick up on the lies in Wanda’s life and she decides to show you the truth.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, more hints at dom/sub because I’m a whore for demon!Wanda

A/N: I can’t believe that it’s been a month since I posted the last one 😭 I have some things planned for the next part and so on but I also kinda wanna take requests again??? idk we all know how I get overwhelmed easily with that so we’ll see what happens there. anyway tell me your thoughts on this please!

Previous part

Waking up feels like gasping for air after being trapped underwater. You aren’t sure how long you were asleep, but the mid afternoon traffic quickly alerts you of how much of the day has passed. 

Despite your head feeling like it’s made of cement, you manage to stand up, slipping off thin pajamas as you walk into the bathroom and stop at the mirror. Your skin seems tender in places and you’re a little bit startled when there isn’t a single indication of the bite marks and scratches you feel, even after rubbing your eyes a few times and turning in every direction possible. Deciding to let it go for now, you reach for the shower stall to turn on the water, detouring to the bedroom instead when you hear your phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t save my number, did you?”

“Wanda?” You pull the phone away long enough to quickly clear your throat. “I mean hey, Wanda! What makes you think I didn’t save your number?”

“You answered like you didn’t know who was going to be on the other end.”

“Okay, you caught me,” you admit after a moment of silence. “I promise I’ll save it as soon as we hang up. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Remember that pet adoption center you pointed out to me?” You acknowledge her with a hum. “I was thinking about getting a cat…Wanna tag along?”

“Absolutely! I was just about to shower though so I can be ready in an hour or so.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and you keep your promise of saving her number, typing in her name and hesitating on the emoji keyboard. Realizing you’d spent far too much time contemplating this, you simply save what you have and hurry back to the bathroom, something in your brain urging you to not keep her waiting.

-

Within an hour, she sends you a text in all caps and a smiley face that tells you she’s arrived, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re surprised when you come outside and she’s waiting on the passenger side of the car.

“Hey! How are you?” she greets cheerily as she approaches you with a hug, and you shiver when her hand touches your lower back. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m okay.” You smile and thank her when she opens the door for you, attempting to collect yourself as she crosses to the driver’s side again. “I’m really happy to see you again.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly as she pulls away from the curb. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, I just didn’t want to assume you were enjoying our time together as much as I was.”

She places her hand over yours while she glances at you, smiling as she squeezes your fingers and thigh lightly. You feel a rush of something traveling from the places she touched to your brain, only slightly aware of the fog settling in your mind.

“Well I didn’t want to be too enthusiastic about it and scare you away if all you wanted was friendship,” you clarify, meeting her eyes when she reaches a red light.

“I suppose you’re looking for more too, then.”

“I am now.”

The light turns green and she breaks eye contact, but the little smirk that follows tells you everything you need to know. At least, you hope it does.

-

“I think he’s the cutest one we’ve seen yet,” you comment about the kitten that hasn’t looked away from Wanda since you approached his area. “He seems really drawn to you, too.”

“How did he get the name ‘Baby Satan’?” Wanda inquires with an employee, who approaches you with a chuckle.

“It’s actually Baby Stan, because we used to have an adult cat named Stan as well and needed to tell the two apart. We were going to give him a new name but decided to leave that up to his new family.”

“It says ‘Baby Satan’ though,” you cosign with Wanda, gesturing to the extra A mixed in with the magnetic letters that spell the kitten’s name.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that got there,” the employee apologizes as she reaches over to fix the sign, and you watch her freeze as Wanda touches her arm.

“Don’t be sorry. Keep it; I want to adopt him.”

“Okay, right this way,” the employee mumbles as she turns awkwardly and stumbles over to a desk, and as the two of you follow her, you look back to see Baby Satan still staring at the woman beside you.

“What was that about?” you speak up finally once you’re in the car with her new furry friend, and Wanda frowns at you while fastening her seatbelt.

“What?”

“Why did that employee react to you like that? You touched her and she started acting really weird after.”

“Oh, Kim’s fine!” she assures you as she fixes her mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. “I actually asked her about that while you were looking at scratching posts and she said I’d overstepped her boundaries and made her uncomfortable. Don’t worry, I apologized and everything’s good again.”

“She told you her name?”

“She was wearing a name tag, babe.”

Babe...that’s new. Still, the sudden nickname doesn’t completely distract you from the fact that you’re certain there was no name tag on Kim’s uniform. You’re debating with yourself about bringing this up when you notice her heading toward Lane County.

“Are you taking me to your house?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” She glances at you and over her shoulder toward Baby Satan before turning back to the road. “I figured I could introduce both of my kittens to the place they’ll be spending a lot of time in.”

Her fingers brush over your knee as “my kittens” leaves her lips, and you’re almost embarrassed when your hips involuntarily buck slightly. Noticing the small change in your behavior, she takes advantage of your head turned toward your own window and allows her instincts to continue driving while she stares at you, placing her palm on your thigh and rubbing circles on the fabric covering it that brings her closer and closer to your core.

“Home, sweet home,” Wanda announces as she pulls her wandering hand away to park the car, jumping out a second later and grabbing her furry son from the backseat. “Hey there, Baby S.”

You step out of the car in a similar fashion of pulling yourself out of a swimming pool, taking in the fresh air and trying to relax yourself as you follow her into the apartment building. The hallways reflect the quiet and clean neighborhood as you make your way into the elevator and up to the 6th floor, suddenly entering the most empty apartment you’ve ever seen.

Of course there’s furniture: a couch with a TV mounted on the nearest wall, a dining table with a set of matching chairs, a few stools placed at the island and kitchen appliances that are shiny and new. But there isn’t any personal artwork, posters, books or even just a lamp that you could tell Wanda purchased herself with one glance.

“Are you staying in an AirBNB or something?” you ask as she carefully places Baby Satan’s carrier next to the couch, and she chuckles.

“I guess technically it was one before I moved in, but I’ve been here for two years.”

“Okay...so where are your pictures?”

“What?”

“Where are your pictures?” you repeat, maintaining a steady voice despite the expression she gives you as she faces you again. “Pictures of your family, friends, you as a child?”

“If you knew my family, you’d understand why you don’t see them here.” She startles you by practically growling her words but you press further.

“Okay but you also said you love plants and we’re the only living things in here.” You step back to put more space between you while quiet shuffling noises are heard inside the carrier. “What’s really going on here?”

You can easily spot the shift in Wanda’s emotions: going from defensive, arms crossed and eyes glaring to resigned with slightly sagging shoulders and a defeated sigh.

“Fine, you got me.” She bends over to pick up the carrier again and passes you on her way to the door, stopping a few feet away. “If you’re serious about pursuing a relationship with me, then I should probably show you my real home.”

“I don’t know...”

“Come on, love.” She comes just close enough to bring your hand into hers and a tingle spreads through your body, causing you to pull away but her grip only tightens. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, and this is the only time I’ve lied.”

You find yourself being drawn closer to her, and an almost familiar feeling washes over you when her thumb begins rubbing gentle circles into your jaw. The metal on her ring is so cold it almost burns upon contact, yet you nuzzle into her more with each pass along your skin.

“Don’t you want to be good for me without being forced to your knees first?”

If the fog surrounding your consciousness wasn’t so thick, you might’ve been shocked by this side of her, so calm yet demanding you serve her. But the hand on your jaw seemed to cover every inch of your body and sink into your nervous system, forcing you to fall into her and let her lead you back to the car with a simple arm around your waist. You’re buckled into the passenger seat again and a slightly blurry grin greets you from behind the wheel seconds later.

“I can’t wait to make you mine.”

Your head falls against the car window as she drives to the edge of Lane County, and your altered vision picks up on businesses turning into isolated suburbs into grassy fields into forests. You travel along narrow, winding roads past the tallest of trees with very few spaces in between, and your hazy state of mind prevents you from panicking when Wanda turns onto a dirt path that doesn’t even seem to be safe for bicycles. The wheels bump along the forest floor until she comes to a stop just outside of a two foot dwelling, similar to a cave.

Once the two of you are out of the car again, she holds your hand with her free one until you reach the cave, instructing you to sit in front of it while she does the same. She places her palm on the door, and her rings seem to come alive as they interact with it for a few moments before it swings open and the three of you are sent flying through a tunnel. You land with a groan on the hard floor and dust yourself off as you carefully stand, any questions dying in your throat as you face Wanda again, now standing before you in her true form.

“Welcome home.”

[reidsnose]

Black Eye

overview: reader and spencer go to reader's highschool reunion as a fake couple

genre: fluff i think

warnings: mild violence and swearing, a guy being kind of a total creep, and mentions of bullying

a/n: idk if its any good again just love the idea but it was inspired by a dream i had last night (thank you temporal lobe) so yeah let me know what yall think !! :) also im posting this at like ass oclock in the morning so whoops

masterlist

-

-

you and spencer had gotten yourselves in quite the situation.

your dreaded highschool reunion was just around the corner and you made the mistake of complaining about it to penelope. she was always trying to make everyones life easier (and more interesting) so when she heard you had no date she took it upon herself to find you one.

it didn't take a lot of looking, none at all actually; because Penelope had already been trying to figure out ways to get you and Reid together.

you two were undeniably perfect for each other. you were an amazing team at work, you hung out alone all the time (though both of you denied these hang out as being dates, Garcia had her own ideas on this), and you were both very obliviously head over heels for each other.

and somehow, through the magical ways of Penelope Garcia, you and Spencer were now sitting in the parking lot, fake married for your high school reunion.

"do we need to go over our back story again?" you worried, looking up at him.

"our backstory is basically all true anyway we just fall in love after a little bit. and i have an eidetic memory so i remember; you're my wife you should know this!" he joked, trying to relax you. "we got this! we're gonna be so married!"

Spencer had actually never been this nervous in his life but he was trying to be brave for you. it would be more embarrassing for you both to show up like nervous wrecks than if you had just come alone. he was just happy to get to be fake married to you.

"the marriedest!" smiled, fist bumping him.

"now lets go make some people jealous!" he chuckled getting out of the car and jogging over to your side, opening your door before you got the chance to; like a true gentleman.

you stuck out your hand which he happily took into his, neither of you commenting on the redness you both had sprinkled across your cheeks. as you walked in, you saw all the people you dreaded seeing.

the boys who tormented you were balding and the girls who made sure you felt awful everyday had wrinkles riddling there skin. you were surrounded by botched botox and bleached blonde to cover graying hair. you felt terrible to admit it, but you were a little happy to see that their beauty had faded like this; they made their looks their whole personality in high school, you couldn't help but wonder what was left for them to be. not that it mattered, but you and Spencer were undeniably the most attractive couple there.

you actually had an ok time, you had spotted a few of your friends that you hadn't seen in quite a few years and it was nice to catch up.

Spencer had wondered a bit, but not too far, he was talking to some guys who used to be in science club when you were younger. you smiled at the thought of what they might be talking about.

"y/n! hey youve really filled out!" you heard a gruff voice from behind you.

you turned around and were met with the very unappealing face of the ex quarterback. Spencers attention had been caught at the sound of your name.

"um..hello," you muttered, trying to covertly back away from him.

"i see youve got a ring, interesting i dont remember us getting married!" he said in an incredibly creepy tone.

"do you know im a federal agent now?" you said through a gritted smile.

spencer had already begun walking towards you, he could tell something was off.

"ill tell you what sweetheart," he put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer to him, "you can put me in handcuffs any day."

you threw his hand off of you and drew back your fist, but were cut off before you could deliver the punch but his hand engulfing your own, and squeezing.

"THATS MY WIFE!" spencer yelled in a voice you had never heard from him before.in the blink of an eye he was standing between in front of him. "do not ever talk to her like that, let alone lay a finger on her or so help me God i will-"

"what beanpole? what are you gonna do? what if i did this?" the man asked.

and then he sent a swift punch to Spencer's face.

thats gonna leave a mark.

in a matter of seconds, Spencer had him overpowered, laying face first on the floor with his hands uncomfortably angled behind him, completely helpless.

"now i'm going to let you go and you're going to walk out of here unharmed. if you try anything like that again, ill let my wife handle you. and i promise if she gets a hold of you, you'll be a dead son of a bitch." Spencer muttered in the mans ear, gruffly pulling him up by his collar and shoving him towards the door.

"were leaving." you said, grabbing Spencer's hand, trying to ignore how incredibly attractive he looked right now.

"babe if you want to stay we can stay," he offered as if he didn't just have his shit kicked in by a coward with misogynistic tendencies.

"honey, i want to take you home," you smiled, liking the way it felt to call him a pet name. you walked into the parking lot, "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking this guy is trying to hurt you and i was not going to ever let that happen." he answered confidently as you two reached the car. "plus this totally made the marriage thing more believable. i wouldn't get a black eye for just anyone."

"thank you. i'm sorry you got punched trying to protect me." you sighed, feeling incredibly awful about the whole thing.

he chuckled, "id do it again."

you fought hard against the blush creeping up your face.

"i gotta say, the black eye really suits you. you look pretty badass." you chuckled, trying to change the subject before it got too sappy and you said something you shouldn't.

"maybe it should just be my new look," he joked, looking down at a ping from his phone. "uh oh."

"we have a case?" you asked.

"yep. and hotch wants us in the office asap which means we cont stop by either of our houses." he sighed before starting the car.

the drive was mostly silent. but a comfortable silence. Spencer thought about how in the moment, he didn't care how many punches the guy threw at him, as long as it meant you were ok, he was willing to take it. he knew he loved you far before that moment but that truly solidified it.

at the same time you were thinking of how quickly your time as a 'married couple' was over. it felt so right to call Spencer yours. so unexplainably perfect for the two of you to be together. if only your time wasn't cut short by a sucker punch.

you neared the building's parking lot. you looked over at Spencer who you could very easily tell was lost in his own world.

"whats going on in that beautiful head of yours?" you asked, causing him to stifle a smile.

"just thinking." he answered.

"what about?"

"us." he stated, pulling into his parking spot.

oh. oh.

"do tell."

he hesitated, "if i tell you, and you disagree, do you promise it wont change anything about us?"

"i promise."

"did it feel right to you? us being together?" he asked, his eyes innocent and filled to the brim with a mixture of anxiety and adoration as he looked at you.

"yes. it absolutely did. and i was so mad at the assclown for cutting our time short," you admitted, "and punching you in the eye, obviously."

"i- i'm not sure how to ask this but- do you...would you..sorry i-" he stammered.

"yes."

you cut him off, pressing your lips to his. his hand gently cupped your face, deepening the kiss and you both felt like you were on cloud nine.

"thats exactly what i was trying to say," he cracked a dopey smile, causing you to chuckle.

"i've been trying to say it for so long." you confessed, causing him to smile impossibly wider, "we gotta go hotch is waiting."

"just one more kiss?" he asked, which you gave in to, obviously. and then another. and another.

maybe it was good thing that he got a black eye that day, because when you got to the office the whole team was so focused on it they didn't even notice the hint of your lipstick left on spencers lips.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos

[skullstarz]

their love is...

-> bakusquad + jiro x gn!reader (separately).

this either gon flop or its gonna pop off as a sexy hot post would..... idk mane.

warnings: mild language, brief mention of a blunt in sero's, very vague brief mention of throwing up bcos of a stomach virus in kiri's.

word count: 207 (mina), 204 (denki), 208 (kirishima), 209 (sero), 206 (bakugo), 205 (jiro).

alternative title: im falling in luv <//3

check out my masterlist for more of my works !!

mina’s love is… joyful. hyper bunches of pecks all over your face, late night nail painting and face masks. watching terrible rom coms and laughing together, the night ending with a light hearted make out session, only pausing to giggle and look at each other fondly. shopping sprees where you two spend hours trying out clothing, even sporting the ugliest shirts you could find for each other as you two held a fashion show.

helping her find better products and better routines for wash day, going on full on spa days and chatting all day long as you get your mani pedis by actual professionals, relaxing together. online window shopping together, your feet up, kicking the air, bumping against and tangling with hers as you two added shirt after shirt into your cart. secretly adding gifts into the cart while she’s in the bathroom as a surprise for her when the package comes.

buying her skin care and spa day supplies because you know how much she loves taking care of her physical appearance, because it gives her confidence. seeing the way she both literally and figuratively glows after a self care day with you, your arms never failing to find their way around each other again.

denki’s love is… chaotic. sneaking out late at night to skateboard in a dark, unkempt park. scurrying off and finding cover when a random drunk starts incoherently babbling at you two. desperately holding in fits of laughter in the middle of the night, him accidentally farting from straining too hard. playing video games together when you should be studying, taste testing every flavor that monster energy drinks come in and deliberating where it should rank between other flavors, from best to worst.

placing bets and waxing him when he loses, slapping a hand over his mouth nervously whenever he lets out a blood curdling scream at the pain of the waxing process. tip toeing into the kitchen when everyone else is asleep and stealing snacks like the kitchen gremlins you are, before him slipping and falling over. getting zapped lightly whenever you creep up behind him, making him electrocute a chair whenever mineta says something outta pocket, so you can go “electric chair” and point to it.

holding burping contests, being tired of each others’ bs whenever one of you starts acting hyper. saying “that’s kinda gay” every time one of you says something overly cheesy, yet loving whenever you’re sappy with each other.

kirishima’s love is… strong. unwavering and loyal no matter what. being by your side during playful tickle fights, painful situations, and everything in between. piggy back rides and ice cream clinging to the tip of his nose after he steals a lick of your ice cream cone. holding every door open for you, pulling out every chair, and never failing to support you even during the most off putting scenarios.

holding back your hair as you suffer from a stomach virus, rubbing your back after a night terror. being an indestructible pillar of support to you when everything comes rushing back to you, a sturdy net to catch you when you find yourself falling. being there for him when he becomes overwhelmed, reminding him he is forever the strongest, best hero in your eyes. unspoken words reaching each other through muffled sniffles and tight grasps. dyeing each others’ roots and confiding in each other when it comes to secrets no one else knows.

being confident in your love for each other and vice versa, not hesitating to open up and be vulnerable about past pains. reassuring each other of how important you two are to one another, mumbling reminders of your love to each other throughout the day.

sero’s love is… calm. dancing slowly to kali uchis, doing everything together as if you’re attached by the hip. him introducing you to indie latinx music as you sit back and unwind from a long, long day. him giving you massages as you fall asleep because of the ministrations of his hands against your tired back. respecting boundaries and never pressuring you into things you’re uncomfortable with, not taking advantage of you or turning a helpful act like undoing your buttons or pulling down your zipper into something sexual unless you give clear consent.

understanding each other with the subtlest looks, getting each other just by seeing body language. mutually coming to each others’ aid in uncomfortable situations, a relationship built on complete trust and love- being able to stand on your own but preferring to lean on each other. not two halves of one whole, but two wholes coming together as one.

sharing his blunts and feather light pecks turning into hungry kisses. eating half of your meal at a restaurant and then switching plates and finishing each others’ food. light hearted banter, hardly ever fighting because of his relaxed nature, soothing your irritation. late night romantic speeches, professing your undying love to one another before falling asleep.

bakugo’s love is… surprising. it starts off as nothing special, the same relationship with a different label. aggressively negating that he enjoys the way your hands linger on his, hidden blushes followed by soft pops coming from his palms in embarrassment. over time, his reaction to your hand lingering on his becomes him softly grabbing your hand, squeezing it tenderly.

his hidden blushes becoming yours, and what once were stiff hugs becomes warm cuddles, his hand drifting slowly on your lower back, and you can swear his index finger is dragging against your skin more than the others, lightly etching a pattern that feels like a lopsided heart on your skin. cooking your favorite foods for you, getting special treatment from him even when you join in with the others’ antics.

soft expressions just for you, the way his brows unfurrow at the sight of your smile, the way his shoulders become less tense when he wraps his arms around your body, feeling every curve and point there is to feel. sweet kisses never to be expected from such a hot headed boy. a new side, all to you. a whole new world, all for you to enjoy, and love, just as you are all his.

jiro’s love is… musical. mixtapes filled with songs to make you smile and to make you cry. songs to fill your heart with sheer happiness to have met someone like her. joyfully playing the guitar and singing together, and going to music stores to look through all the cds and vinyls.

love songs filling the air and finding songs to softly kiss her to, holding her face in your hands as you tearfully sing a heartwarming love song. “the only exception” being your song, a song that always reminds you of one another. finding new songs together as you lay on the bed, hand in hand as you listen intently to every word. tons of joint playlists filled with your favorite songs for every different occasion, from things as common as naps together, to things you’ll probably never do, like road trips across the country.

secretly thinking up a list of songs you’d want to have at your wedding- not realizing the other has done so as well, and you both have the same songs filling them up. dancing cheerfully together at the end of a day together, your bodies’ last hurrah before you give out in each others’ arms, content, and full of love.

[detectivehannibal]

Desk Dreams

__

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut...lol have fun.

A/N: Testing my smut writing skills I see...I tried to weasel Will into this, but I’d hardly consider this a Will oneshot. I struggled so hard with this smh.

Requested by: @no-homo-hank

Prompt: also.. if i may request something sm*tty. personally i think your writing is so good. soo maybe something in his office yk yk like if the reader has a *sexy* dream about him,, and she has to tell him,, idk idk and only if you’re comfortable with it ofc! thanks :)

Word Count: 1,697

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?”

__

You couldn’t get it out of your head. The images, the sounds, the touches, the smells. You had tried to shake it off all morning. You had brewed an extra strong cup of coffee hoping to rid your conscious of the less than appropriate dream from the night before, but to no avail. You never really had dreams, and you especially didn’t have such scandalous ones. On top of that, you definitely never had sex dreams about your therapist. 

Sure, you found him attractive in more ways than just his striking intelligence. However, the thought of anything that wasn’t purely professional had never crossed your mind. You knew what Hannibal thought about dreams. He had mentioned to you before that they are often a crucial tell-tale of a person’s mental state most of the time. That was the part you couldn’t figure out.

What did having such a racy dream mean for you?

You pondered the thought on your way to your session. You desperately wished that you didn’t have to go today, but you knew you’d be questioned about it next session if you canceled. You entered his office’s waiting room, there were no other patients at that time. You weren’t surprised, considering most people tried to push for the afternoon appointments. You took your normal seat, knowing that Dr. Lecter and Will Graham would be finished shortly. Will Graham’s appointments were always before yours, and you always noted how Will always looked as if his brain had been completely picked apart when he exited.

You often wondered what sort of things they talked about.

Sure enough, the door opened a few minutes later, Hannibal seeing Will out of his office. 

“I will see you soon, Will.” Hannibal said to Will, who had pretty much already ended the conversation. 

Will spotted you waiting and actually offered a smile. He didn’t know you outside of the waiting room, but well enough to know your name and speak to you.

“Hello, [Y/N],” He greeted, leaning in slightly; “He’s acting strangely today.” He whispered.

You gave him a confused look, but returned the greeting before he dashed off and out of the building. What did he mean by “acting strangely”? There was only one way to find out. 

“[Y/N], are you ready?” Hannibal asked, inviting you into his office.

You nodded, entering swiftly. When you passed by him, a familiar scent enriched your nose. The smell of his cologne was exquisite and suddenly sparked your memory of the dream from the night before. So that was what you smelled in the dream. You had never paid attention to it before. 

Speaking of the dream, it was suddenly all you could think about. You sat in one of his chairs, immediately striking Hannibal as out of character. He decided to hold off on mentioning it yet. 

“Good morning. How are you?” He asked, sitting in the chair in front of you.

Your leg bounced anxiously as you found yourself in a trance, raking over his features. Had his hair always been so nice? Were his eyes always so enticing? You caught his gaze, waiting for you to give an answer.

“Huh? Oh! I’m doing well.” You said, beginning to feel a heat creep over your cheeks.

His hand briefly went up to his collar to readjust his tie. You basically stopped yourself from salivating. His hands were...so perfect. 

“You’re nervous.” He announced.

You denied. You denied hard. You would not let him through to you today. You’d die of embarrassment.

“Nope. Not nervous,” You said, visibly nervous; “What makes you say that?”

His expression was calculating. He was soaking you up like a sponge to sink water, taking everything in to be squeezed out again.

“For starters, you’re sitting. You usually walk around during our sessions,” He noted; “Secondly, your entire demeanor is tense.” 

Your leg stopped bouncing and you slowly stood from your chair, you began to try and walk as you normally did, but it ended up being more of a pace. 

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?” You asked as casually as possible.

He looked so good in that light blue shirt. 

“No, but there’s always a reason for such change.” He bantered.

You shot him a look. It was hard to get anything past him. 

“I just...” You tried to come up with an excuse, but turned up short. 

He waited patiently, his gaze never leaving yours. You sighed in defeat. 

“Dreams are normal, right?” You asked, preparing to bite the bullet.

He nodded simply.

“Certainly.” 

You chewed your lip in thought, careful with how you approached this. You fiddled with the hem of your sweater.

“I had a rather interesting dream last night,” You confessed; “It wasn’t anything I had ever experienced.”

He was listening intently, not quite following what you were getting at.

“What did you dream about?” He prompted.

You felt a sudden rise in your throat. This was painful to admit.

“Well, you were in me- uh, I mean...in it.” You said, mentally cursing at yourself for your embarrassing slip up.

A wave of realization was clear on his face as he connected the dots. You wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die.

“[Y/N], I can assure you that sexual fantasy dreams are quite normal.” He said in an attempt to comfort you.

You groaned miserably, burying your face in your hands. You were humiliated. You’d have to request a different therapist. Maybe even seek out a totally different counseling practice.

“Dreams often must be explored to be understood. Tell me more about the content of this dream.” He requested calmly.

Your blood went hot. What? Why did he want to know that? You looked to him, surprised to see that he was completely serious. You rubbed your palms together nervously.

“I came in for my usual session. The energy was different. You were looking at me in a way you don’t usually,” You explained; “The conversation took a turn and...we had sex.”

His expression remained unchanged, but you weren’t close enough yet to see the fire in his eyes. He stood from his seat and took slow strides over towards you. You were sure he could hear your thumping heart.

“How was I looking at you?” He questioned, his voice thick and smooth.

That’s when you saw the riled up glaze in his eyes. A sudden wave of emotion and arousal crashed over you. This was really going to happen.

“Just like you are now.” You breathed out.

Instantly, his lips were on yours. Passionate and needy, but steady and calculated too. His hands gripped your waist, pushing you towards his desk. He shimmied you onto the cool, dark wood and allowed you to remove his suit blazer. 

Your mind was racing, but your movements were faster. You untucked his dress shirt from his pants while his fingertips worked on unbuttoning your jeans. It was a hot, heavy silence as the two of you stripped down enough to get the job done. His mouth was hot on your neck once your pants were casted aside, sucking a hickey on your most sensitive spot. 

“Dr. Lecter, I...” You trailed off, your mind too clouded with pleasure to offer any kind of sentence.

This felt so wrong, but so right at the same time. You were thankful for patient-doctor confidentiality. 

“Hannibal.” He corrected, unbuckling his belt and getting his pants down to his ankles.

Woah. First name basis. That was new. Hannibal really seemed to know his way around a woman. You found that rather shocking.

“Is this your means of dream exploration?” You joked, giving a breathy laugh.

“Something like that.” He replied.

He pulled himself from his boxers, stroking a few times before gingerly pushing himself inside of you. A synchronized moan drew from the both of you as he pushed through your walls, traveling as deep as he could go. He pushed your back down onto the desk, watching you sprawl out desperately for him.

He began with slow thrusts to allow you to adjust to his length, but hit the sweetest of spots each time he went back in. He grasped one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist so he could get a better angle. He had one hand on your throat, wrapped firmly but not uncomfortably. 

“Hannibal, please. Faster.” You begged, your tone coming out as a whine.

He hummed in response, his pace beginning to pick up. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as the sounds of skin and rattling desk objects echoed in your ears. He admired the way your eyes glassed over in pleasure, his own forehead beginning to break out into a sweat. 

“Was this how your dream played out?” He asked, the slightest bit of strain in his voice; “On my desk...in the middle of a session.”

You nodded in response, but that wasn’t enough.

“Use your words.” He ordered, slamming back into you again.

“Yes.” You groaned out.

“Good girl.” He praised, moving his pace even faster.

This wasn’t how he’d usually pleasure a woman. He preferred something a little more timed out and slow, but you needed something spontaneous and fast. He could feel it radiating off of you. Your mind bounced back and forth from the dream to this present moment. This was too good to be true.

Your legs tightened around his waist, signaling to him that you were awfully close. He himself felt a twitch, looks like you were going to both finish on time. He continued to pound into you, your moans relentlessly sounding out into the air. Your high-pitched, surprised gasp alerted your release, his own spilling out just a few moments later. 

Your moans and sounds dwindled into heavy breathing, your chests heaving to catch up. He collapsed onto your shaky frame, your hand resting in his hair. You could barely comprehend what had just happened. You suddenly had a whole new reason to come to therapy. Hannibal lifted his head, pride written all over his face.

“I think...we’ll pick this back up next week.”

[bunnykawa]

don’t ignore me (kageyama x f. reader)

summary: Kageyama and you were together for a long time, but he became too much for you. You thought breaking up with him was enough to get away. Turns out you were wrong.

A/N: hi. idk what this is i got bored and wanted to try writing something. anyway this is my first time posting so sorry if it’s shit ahaha. i’m illiterate oops

warnings: 18+, yandere-ish vibes, abuse, noncon/dubcon/rape, choking, brief mentions of stalking, restraints, slight manipulation, kageyama is just mean and abusive sorry

You really missed the comfort of the bed sheets in your new home.

Kageyama paced silently across the floor of your formerly shared bedroom. It was late at night. He was getting restless as he constantly glanced at you sitting in silence on the bed. Your eyes were visibly zoned out, your gaze fixed on an empty corner in the room.

The desire to knock his teeth out and run back home was growing stronger, but you knew your strength was nothing compared to his and it was basically impossible with your situation right now.

"(Y/N)," he finally spoke. His voice strained itself trying to catch your attention. You stayed still, stuck in the same position you've been in for the past few hours with your legs hanging off the bed. You remembered when you used to love the way he said your name, but that was before he changed. You felt him approach you, causing you to flinch so terribly. He's always been bigger and stronger than you. It was a constant reminder back then, and it's a painful reminder by the zip tie cutting into your wrists that were forcibly restraining your arms behind your back, courtesy of Kageyama.

"(Y/N), please talk to me," he begged.

You don't bother to respond. 

When you had first met Kageyama, he was completely different. Although a little awkward and somewhat antisocial when it came to you, you found it quite endearing. Most days were spent spectating his volleyball practices and matches after school and arguing on what drink is the best to buy from the vending machine.He would even walk you home. Although you never ever told him your address, he somehow led the way to your house the first time he walked you home. 

You found yourself being more and more attracted to the dark-haired volleyball boy as time went on. All throughout high school, you would have said you were in love with him.

Then you two started officially dating.

You thought he was a little overprotective. He seemed to have a terrible temper. He just seemed...entirely different. The once aloof boy suddenly became super clingy. You were together everyday and when you weren't, he was constantly texting you or calling you. When he was angry, it felt like the whole world would end because somehow it was never his fault. Sometimes he became violent with you just to hold you when you cried. Your friends stopped talking to you all of a sudden. You lost contact with your family because Kageyama believed that they would take you away from him. He would get jealous of anyone and everyone that tried to get close to you. You only needed him.

"Look at me."

So, you broke up with him. You finally felt free after his presence overwhelmed your senses for years. You could finally breathe. Kageyama would no longer be there to pester you or scare you. You could finally make friends and go out as you pleased!

Except he kept pestering you. The calls and texts never stopped. The new friends you would make would suddenly start avoiding you, too. Sometimes you would even dream about his hands around your neck. You weren't sure if you were becoming paranoid or not, but you always felt like he was watching you from afar. One thing about Kageyama that really stuck out to you was that he absolutely hated being ignored.

"I brought you here so you would stop fucking ignoring me!"

You yelped in fear as he forced your body down on the bed with his clammy hands wrapped around your neck. You were forced to stare into his dark blue eyes that sent a chill down your spine, knocking you out of your thoughts. You shift uncomfortably because now you were squishing your hands behind your back. He was holding in his anger for too long. The frustration of not knowing what you were doing at all times of the day hurt him in a way he never thought was possible.

Your legs were spread open with his torso between them. If your hands were free, you know for sure you'd be grabbing at his iron grip for release.

"Don't ignore me! I just want you to speak to me again, (Y/N)," he hissed, "I want to hear you say you love me again."

But you don't love him. The words flashed in your mind over and over again. I don't love you anymore. You pressed your quivering lips together to silence yourself, staring up at him with wide and tearful eyes only to avert your gaze to somewhere else. The longer you drew out the silence, the more he felt his blood boiling. You need to love me, he screamed on the inside. We were meant to be together!

"Fucking pay attention to me, dammit!" he yelled, squeezing your throat a little tighter. You begin to panic. You try to kick him but your legs are restrained by his stronger ones. You just wanted to be somewhere far away. You left him for a reason, but he just dragged you back to your old apartment against your will.

And Kageyama couldn't help the fact that his dick hardened against your luscious thighs at the sight of your struggle.

Then he kisses you. Hard and heavy. The grip on your throat was weakened enough to let you gasp silently for air. Both of your lips forcefully molded together because of how he held onto you. No matter how much you don't want to kiss him, you have no choice. He finally lets go of your throat, only to grip harshly onto your thighs. You pull away from the kiss to inhale a deep breath that you desperately needed. You sniffled away your snot as you began to cry.

"Why the hell did you even bring me here?" you blubbered through your tears.

“Because we’re not finished! You weren’t supposed to fucking leave me,” he growled through clenched teeth. Kageyama looked down at your crying face in disdain, but also with a new fire igniting behind his eyes as well as in his groin. He hated seeing you cry, but he also loved seeing you like this. The battle in his head of whether or not he should comfort you is fully overtaken by the fact that he was so upset because of you leaving him.

He ignores your cries as he lifts up the ends of the oversized shirt you wore with one of his hands. He smiled a little at your usual pajamas; a big shirt and cotton panties. Just like how you used to sleep with him.

You shift uncomfortably at the small smile on his face. “There’s nothing to finish. We’re over with. You need to understand that!”

"You've been ignoring me," he mutters, “How can I understand if you won’t even reply to any of my messages or calls?” You felt so exposed and vulnerable. Whatever he wanted to do, he could do it to you.

“You already know why I left." Your voice was so hoarse. "I have a reason for everything." He grabbed onto your throat again with one hand while the other hand sneaked below your vision to remove your panties, exposing your cunt to the cold air of the room. The shiver that moves throughout you makes your face hot with embarrassment.

"Don't you know how much I love you?" His question almost distracts you from the way his two fingers suddenly started dancing on your clit dangerously.

"Do you even care at all? I haven't stopped thinking about you ever since you left me here alone," he says with a quiver in his tone. It hurt entering the apartment to find your things missing and having to sleep alone that first night.

He rubbed over your slit, hoping to elicit a physical reaction out of you. He missed how soft your skin felt beneath him. Especially how you shook beneath him just from his small touches. He dips his fingers into your entrance. Although you weren't as wet as he wanted, he didn't hesitate to push them further into you.

"Kageyama," you gasped in horror. You cringed when he started to move his fingers in and out of you. You were angry, scared, upset, and unbelievably uncomfortable, but you didn't have the strength to stop him from assaulting your insides when your hands were stuck behind your back. You cried again, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He kisses you again. "It's okay, baby," he whispers against your lips, "It'll feel good. I promise."

"I don't want to."

"You don't know that." His fingers move in a way that makes your whole body crumble beneath him. He always knew how to please you. Your hips begin to wiggle and you hate how much it starts to feel good. You let out a moan that makes him smile. It makes you feel guilty for even seeming like you enjoy his palm crashing down on your clit carelessly and his fingers filling you up roughly when he's just forcing your body to react. "You don't know what you want. If you're not with me, then who will take care of you like I do?"

"I-I..." you stutter. Was he right? Who was going to take care of you? It has even been a struggle since you left him, but no. It was always suffocating being with him. Even feeling his long fingers inside you wasn't enough to distract you.

He removes his hand from your throat just to pull his own pants down. His hard length springs out and hits your thigh. "You're so wet already, too," he hums in satisfaction, "I'm here, baby. It's okay. Me and you are forever." You writhe from beneath him, feeling as if you were about to explode. You desperately try to escape his fingers by jerking away, but he catches you every single time.

As if to piss you off even further, he says, "I'm not mad at you. It's okay now." As if you were the problem in the first place.

"No," you spit at him, "You're being fucking crazy. It's not my fault." It was impossible to see him clearly through your tears. He positions his cock behind his fingers that were inside you. His gaze was so sharp as he stared down at you. He loves you yet you couldn't understand how he only expressed his love this way. 

He removes his fingers and places himself at your entrance. The view of your tear-stained cheeks and trembling thighs were so beautiful to him. He moves your legs up against your chest so he can see more of you.

"Let me go!" you scream. Something connects with your cheek. Then your head whips to the side and your head starts pounding. One side of your face swiftly becomes hot with pain. The sharp smacking noise echoes around the room from how hard Kageyama slapped you.

"Shhh, if you struggle then it'll hurt more. I'm trying to show you how much I love you."

And before you know it, he's filling up your cunt with his thick cock in one swift thrust. Another scream erupts from your bruised throat as he begins to thrust into you harshly. He grabs the sides of your face so you're forced to lock eyes with him. You feel him slide in and out of you, leaving a burning feeling in your walls. Gasps are forced out of your mouth from the force of his thrusts.

You wish you were somewhere else. Or someone else. Just not in this situation where Kageyama would be in full control of what could happen to you.

But you were so warm and your insides were so pink that he couldn't stop himself anymore. So pretty, he thought. How could he allow anyone else to handle you like this? Of course, you looked the best when you were only underneath him.

Kageyama's face is contorted in absolute pleasure. He's always wanted full control of you ever since he first met you. Seeing you with your pussy unwillingly spread open from his hard cock and your legs pressed against your chest so deliciously makes him feel so powerful. This is how it should always be. There's no way you'll leave him now. Not when he's splitting you open raw.

"Baby, you're okay," he cooed in a gentle voice, although it's useless to even attempt to comfort you. "You like it, don't you?"

Nothing left your lips except for gasps and throaty moans. The way he spoke to you made your chest hurt, but it was also leaving a burning feeling in your lower abdomen that messed with your head. You couldn't believe yourself. Why does it feel so good? Why is the one man that you hate the most fucking you in the most appetizing way? He lets go of your face to hold onto the bottoms of your thighs.

"Answer me," he demands. You began to cry out from the pain and pleasure of his forceful fucking. He's doing this because he loves you? Because he's the only one you'll ever need? He presses his forehead against yours.

"You love it when I fuck you like this, right?" he whispers gently against your lips. For a second, your focus entirely shifts to the feeling of him filling you up so roughly.

You were confused, but you couldn't stop your hips from trying so desperately to meet his with every thrust he made into your wet core.

"Kageyama," you tried to plead. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning out his name in bliss as he continued to move against you. It was impossible to stop the pleasure from building up inside of your core. You weren't even sure if you wanted him to stop anymore. That's what hurt you even more. Do you even know yourself?

"Tell me." He begins to rub your clit in desperate circles, making you arch your back in response. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as the pleasure engulfs you. In the back of your mind, you're screaming no. The man you were trying to escape is making you feel good. He was making you feel dirty. So fucking dirty. 

But you didn't even realize that you weren't crying from the pain anymore. You even ignored the soreness in your wrists from the zip ties. You were a moaning mess beneath Kageyama's athletic build. He grinned as your body responded wildly to him. It felt like he was claiming you as his again.

It was rewarding seeing you beneath him again.

"Mine," he hissed in pleasure, "You're all mine." He was in a euphoric state from the thought of you even being in the same room as him and responding to him. But the fact that he was actually forcing his hard length into your aching wetness right now was the best feeling in the fucking world.

"I missed you so much, (Y/N)." The tightening of your slick cunt around him made him groan.

You were disgusted with yourself. "Please don't stop," you gasp. Kageyama continued to drill into you in happiness. He knows you love how he's abusing your cunt and disrespecting you, but he was also thinking about how he could love you so much more after he made you his again. It makes him even more excited.

He suddenly started thrusting into you harder, the impact of his hips jerking you away from him briefly only to bring you back to him just as quick. A scream erupted from your throat as you went cross-eyed from how Kageyama was beating your pussy raw. He leans down towards you once more.

"Don’t ignore me ever again. Tell me you'll stay with me. Tell me you still love me," he whispers with an evil smile.

I don't love you anymore is what you wish you could say, but with your head clouded with guilty pleasure and your legs shaking from how good it feels when he's tearing you apart from your cunt, the only words you could manage to breathe from between swollen lips were "I still love you."

Kageyama couldn't have been happier.

[lazywonderlvnd]

*hesitantly steps in the box* Umm.. soo.. I was listening to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift again and that song (is awesome btw if you haven't listened to it already) just gives me such MAJOR drarry vibes .. like -

" And I screamed, 'for whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?' He looks up grinning like a devil. "

Like if that's not drarry I'd chomp my pillows. So .. *twiddling thumbs* could you pls write something with that line as a prompt?? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ maybe use the song as inspiration.. idk? Whatever you like. ALSO, don't forget I STILL LOVE YOU that ain't changing yet and you haven't seen the last of me! Imma tail after you for eternity and you better take that as the threat it is! *throws love at you* BYE!! ❤️❤️ *vaults outside the box*

my sweetest most loved angel!! thank u so much for this prompt based on a BOP i was obsessed w when the album first came out. it got sm longer than it was meant to be, so it can be found on ao3 as well!! i hope u like it ilysm ❤️❤️❤️❤️

warnings for minor drug use (weed) and implied suicide of a minor character (lucius, extremely vague reference but pls be aware!)

rating: e word count: ~5k

When Pansy asked him how it started, Draco discovered that he didn’t know what to tell her.

Technically, though, it had started at Ernie Macmillan’s party in the beginning of summer, with the cloying scent of Freesias and Freedom Roses (“Imported from the States,” Ernie told Draco pompously, when he asked) and all those string-lights dangling from the cedar pergola, perennial balls of fire inside their clear bubbles like tiny trapped suns. Cheap beer in plastic cups, Marlboro cigarettes, and some stupid Muggle game ... darts.

Technically.  

* * * 

“Get off me, Potter,” Draco says in a failed whisper. He’s laughing and drunk and fuzzy warm under a sprawling summer’s night sky that looks like black paint. Potter tastes like Guinness every time he kisses him, and his hands are surprisingly soft. In direct opposition to his own command he pulls Potter in by the face and glues their mouths back together ravenously. The alcohol makes him sloppy (he likes it, though — the sloppiness of it) and Potter’s skin is warm where Draco slides his hand under an ugly Muggle band T-shirt to touch. 

Around the corner, he can hear music coming from the patio where nearly every single one of their former classmates are gathered, drinking and laughing and getting along famously with a much-needed buffer of five years between them and their Hogwarts days.

Much-needed for himself and Potter as well. Apparently.

He sees him sometimes, at get-togethers like this or around the Ministry, once or twice at a dinner party thrown by a mutual friend. They’re always cordial. He hasn’t insulted Potter to his face in five years.

Except for tonight, when he couldn’t help himself loudly drawing attention to the similarities between Potter’s hair and one of the shrubs in the garden. But they’re kissing now round the side of the house and because of that he’s quite glad for his slip. And it’s their five-year reunion, so. What would it be without some bickering between the two of them?

Potter presses him into the bricks and snogs him breathless, only he keeps grinning and laughing and ruining everything just when Draco starts losing himself in it.

“Quit laughing,” he scolds him. “You’re the worst, Potter. No etiquette at all.”

“That’s rude,” Potter says. His breath wafts across Draco’s mouth. His eyes are excessively green behind their round frames, which have not changed since their school days. The scar is mostly hidden beneath his wild fringe, save for the very bottom where it slashes neatly through a dark eyebrow and touches his eyelid. “I can’t help it, I’m pissed good and proper.”

His hand moves to Draco’s hip and even through the thickness of the alcohol coating his brain like a muffler he feels that touch clear and ripe as daybreak.

“So  that’s  why you’ve decided to snog me rather than …” He waves a hand vaguely, in lieu of the proper witticism with which he might normally have trounced Potter. “You know. Beat me to a pulp.”

“I only did that one time,” Potter says, grinning. Grinning and moving his thumb in circles on Draco’s hip. “And it was because you were being a twat. And I didn’t beat you to a pulp. You’re so dramatic.”

“Semantics,” Draco says. “I had a bloody nose.”

“And you deserved it.”

“Now who’s being rude?”

Potter kisses him again.

Guinness and Freesias.

* * * 

“Macmillan’s party,” he told Pansy. “He kissed me.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to.” She looked smug. Her inch-long nails were sharpened to a point and painted a glossy black, and she drummed them against her cheek, the way a cat flicks its tail. “I’m surprised you kept it from me this whole time.”

“Well,” said Draco, lowering his gaze to his glass of wine and watching it flirt dangerously with the lip as he swirled it. His cheeks felt warm, but he wasn’t embarrassed. “We snuck around.”

Right, maybe a little embarrassed. Mostly conflicted.

“Oh?” For a single syllable the laughter underneath was remarkably transparent.

He looked up, eyebrows lifted. “Yes,” he said a little defensively. “For obvious reasons. At first it was just sex. A lot of it, so he usually came here. Apparently Granger and the Weasel are notorious for popping round his place unexpectedly.”

* * *

He feels opened up all over again every time Potter fucks into him, unhurried and so careful. His hand is hot on Draco’s thigh, both of them sticky with sweat and come. This has to be their third round at least, and Draco’s sluggish brain insists it might actually be four.

An open window lets in the late afternoon air, humid and drowsy and perfumed heavily with flowers (a la Macmillan, Draco planted Freesias and Freedom Roses outside his bedroom window and helped them along to full bloom with some careful magic). Potter’s hair is damp with sweat — from exertion and the relentless heat of July — and Draco slides his fingers into it, tangles them and pulls the way he’s learned Potter likes. If he’s honest, he’s harboured a very secret and  very  desperate yearning to touch Potter’s hair since he was quite young. He doesn’t know why.

Well, maybe he knows why.

Potter makes a quiet, whimpered noise that curls Draco’s toes. He speeds up his hips, closing in on his orgasm and putting his face in Draco’s neck even though it’s too fucking hot for it.

“Fuck,” Draco whines. He tries to lift his leg higher, wrap it around Potter’s waist to get that perfect angle, but they’re too slick with sweat and he lets out a frustrated noise when it falls back to the bed. “Potter,” he says helplessly, arching into each thrust and shaking with the effort. This third (fourth?) orgasm is building too slowly, sitting there hard and stubborn and heavy in his gut and refusing to be coaxed to completion. He’s dripping with the effort, muscles quivering. “Please — I need —”

But he seems to have figured it out for himself. He scoots forward, lifting Draco’s arse higher off the bed and bending him nearly in half. The angle helps him go deeper and he’s suddenly nudging Draco’s oversensitive prostate every time he fucks back in.

“Right there,” Draco gasps, tensing as this new angle lights a fire under his elusive orgasm. His cock is leaking but he doesn’t have the strength or energy to get a hand around it. Potter’s grunting with the effort of fucking him, sweat dripping down his temples and making his neck and torso gleam. “Right there, god, right there, please, I’m so close —”

Potter braces himself and redoubles his efforts, and it’s like he’s reached inside Draco and sunk his claws into that building storm in his belly because suddenly it’s ripped right out of him in a colossal wave of euphoria that approaches too much, cock spurting untouched between them  .  Potter keeps moving inside him while he rides it out, and at some point he feels the warm, wet explosion of Potter emptying in him, mumbling incoherent things that include Draco’s name.

They come down together too. Draco is clutching Potter’s arms and trying to catch his breath and Potter is trembling and clutching him back like an anchor in a veritable ocean of sensation. 

It’s like this every time. 

When Potter drops down onto the bed beside him Draco rolls over and kisses him, long and deep and satisfying, and Potter reciprocates with the kind of intensity that is completely unique to him as a person.

“That one was particularly good,” says Potter, and Draco laughs.

When he feels like moving, he knows that Potter will get up and go to Draco’s kitchen and make tea for both of them, and he won’t need to ask what Draco likes, because he remembered after the first time. They’ll drink it naked in bed as the sun sets on another endless summer day and transforms before their eyes into a humid and pungent summer night, in the midst of which they will fuck at least three more times, and Potter will keep smelling like sweat and bergamot and boy, and Draco will keep feeling starved for him.

And they won’t talk about it.

* * *

“And?” Pansy said.

“And what?”

“You said ‘at first,’” she pointed out, and arched a groomed eyebrow. “When did it turn into more than just sex?”

Draco tamped down on a smile, because that would have been more emotion than he cared to show at the moment. To Pansy or to himself.

He swirled his wine again and took a long sip, stalling. He wanted — needed, really — to talk this out with her, but he was becoming aware of an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest which was suggesting to him that he didn’t want to share everything. Not because he was embarrassed, but, well … it was private. It was between him and Harry.

“There was this one night he came over later than he was supposed to because of work,” Draco said. The memory stirred some emotion. He hadn’t thought of it in a while. “He had this bloody huge takeout bag of Thai food.”

 * * *

He sets it down on Draco’s desk, takes out a container, and after toeing off his shoes drops sideways onto Draco’s bed with it and uses chopsticks to shovel in a mouthful of noodles. Draco watches this in awe.

“Want some?” Harry asks once he’s swallowed (small blessings). There’s grease around his mouth. “There’s a million other things in the bag but you have to get it yourself. I’m dead tired.”

Draco thinks of asking what the hell is going on, because they’re supposed to be fucking by now, but something stops him. Harry really does look exhausted but quite content eating his Thai food on Draco’s bed, and he doesn’t have the heart to berate him for it or remind him that they’re fuck buddies, not friends, and that if he’d wanted to eat and lounge about perhaps he should’ve stayed at home.

And the food really does smell good.

He gets up and fishes another container out of the bag that turns out to be some sort of heavenly-smelling marinated beef, which he brings back to the bed. Harry’s rolled onto his back and has the container of noodles balanced on his stomach.

“They thought they found a Horcrux on a raid,” he says. His voice is perfectly casual, but Draco thinks he can see something troubled in his eyes. He has one foot crossed over the other and  it’s bouncing anxiously; he doesn’t think Harry’s aware of doing it. “Wasn’t. Obviously.” 

“But they needed your expert advice to be sure.”

“Yeah.” Harry looks at him, then his food. “Is that the beef?”

“Yes it is.”

“Good?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.”

He opens the container and chooses a piece, but instead of lifting it to his mouth he follows some crazy impulse and hovers it over Harry’s instead.

“Open, Scarhead,” he says. Harry blinks but does it, and Draco drops it in. He smiles, then chews.

“Brilliant.”

* * *

“We ate it instead of fucking. It was the first time I realised something had shifted.”

“And you let it shift?”

The question gave him pause. He didn’t answer right away, mulling it over. It made it sound as if he’d had a choice, and that wasn’t quite right.

“It already had,” he said finally. “It wasn’t a matter of letting it; by the time I noticed, it had already happened. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come over with the food.”

“But you did let it continue,” said Pansy. She wasn’t antagonising him, nor accusing him of anything. She looked amused, but not in a way that was at his expense. Pansy was both a twat and a fiercely good friend, the combination of which meant she would do nothing more or less than hold up a mirror and force you to look at yourself, gruesome as the experience inevitably wound up being. “Even after you realised he had feelings for you.”

Draco swallowed. He’d not heard it said aloud before now.

“Yes,” he said. “It felt good. Knowing he fancied me.”

* * *

Harry’s shameless in his staring.

He stands in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom and watches Draco like he’s been invited to do so. Draco pretends not to notice, stretched out in a tub full of bubbles facing the opposite way. There’s incense burning, and candles. Harry is completely silent, but Draco could feel those eyes on him from across a crowded hall.

They fucked a few hours ago and fell asleep afterwards. Draco pretended not to think about it, but had actually made the conscious decision to let Harry continue sleeping when he woke up and decided he wanted a bath.

When he can’t take it anymore he opens his eyes and tilts his head back and a little to the side, just enough that he gets Potter in his peripherals.

“Well?” he says. 

“Well what?”

“Join me, won’t you?”

Harry snorts. Then there’s a quiver of magic in the air, and a small, utilitarian chair appears out of thin air beside the tub. Harry sits down in it. He’s holding the joint they’d only gotten halfway through earlier. 

He’s in his jeans and nothing else, all limbs and sparse chest hair, and when he crosses a leg over the other one, elbow resting on his knee as he hits the joint, Draco feels a bone-deep attraction to him that’s beyond physical.

“May I?” Draco asks. Harry hands it over and Draco inhales deeply before returning it. The humidity of the room mixes with the smoke and the smell of marijuana, pungent and cloying like the flowers. 

After a length of silence, Draco says, “Will you read me something?”

“Will I what?”

He takes his wand from the floor and Summons a book from the shelf in his room — one of his poetry collections comes sweeping in through the cracked door and into Harry’s lap. Harry sticks the joint between his lips and starts rifling through it with his glasses all fogged up. 

When he starts reading Byron (“I had a dream, which was not all a dream”) Draco smiles and sinks deeper into the hot water and bubbles, letting Harry’s voice lull him into a pleasant stupor. 

 * * *

“So you led him on,” said Pansy. “Because you liked his attention.”

He stared at her, then let his gaze drop to his wine again. Had he?

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Well,” she said, smiling wryly, “I’m only saying it as you’ve told it to me. Maybe if it sounds bad, it is bad. Some things are that simple, darling. Unless there’s more to it.”

“Like what?” he said, not looking at her. There was a touch of pouty defiance in his voice he knew Pansy would detect instantly. He heard her sigh.

“What exactly happened yesterday, Draco? You didn’t give me any context.”

“What context do you need?” he muttered. “He told me he loved me.”

* * *

They’ve finished an entire bottle of wine between them. He’s not drunk, but he’s pleasantly buzzed. Harry’s sprawled on his back, T-shirt rucked up just below his navel so Draco can see the dark trail of hair leading below his jeans. There’s something implicitly erotic about the movement of his chest when he breathes, his hands folded behind his head, one leg stretched the length of the bed and the other bent at the knee.

He opens his eyes suddenly and grins when he sees Draco looking at him. 

“That wine just made me tired,” he says.

“So go to sleep,” says Draco. He takes a last swig, emptying it, and sets the bottle aside on his night table. He stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, yawning widely, thinking perhaps he’ll give into the tempting allure of sleep as well when Harry says, “I told Hermione about us.”

So he’s not sleeping, then. His stomach clenches hard and a completely irrational sense of panic rises in his throat.

“Us?” he says slowly, sitting up straighter. “What ‘us’?”

Harry looks at him upside-down, then rolls over and rises to his knees. He stares at Draco blankly.

“‘What us?’” he repeats.

“Yes,” says Draco. “What ‘us’?”

“Us,” Harry says. His voice is lower than usual. The word is starting to sound weird and lose meaning. “You and me, Draco.”

“‘You and me?’ Harry, there’s no you and me. We’re just fucking. What do you … what do you mean, you told Granger? Told her what?”

Harry looks … well, he looks fucking crushed. And angry. Draco forces himself not to look away.

“I told her I’d been seeing you,” he says quietly. There’s something … not threatening, but close to it, in his voice.

“Sure,” says Draco. “I see you three times a week, sometimes four. I s’pose if you feel the need to fill Granger in on everything you do with every second of your day —”

“Shut up, Draco,” Harry says. “You know what I meant.”

Draco glares at him. He gets off the bed, slightly lightheaded from the wine, horrified by the emotions welling up inside him right behind the panic, and he points at his bedroom door.

“Get out,” he says. 

“Are you serious?”

“Go!” he says loudly, voice rising. “If you’re gonna start turning this into something it definitely is not then get out of my flat, Potter.” As usual the window is open, but it’s the third of September and getting chilly finally and Draco’s Freesias and Freedom Roses started wilting last week. There’s a chilly breeze coming into that room that is utterly barren of the sweet smells of summer he associates with Harry these days. “It’s time we ended this anyway,” he says. “Summer’s over.”

“So?” From his position kneeling on Draco’s bed Harry shouldn’t feel imposing at all, but he does. There’s no sparkle of humour in his eyes, none of the softness Draco’s gotten used to seeing there. He looks like someone who’s realised they’ve been betrayed.

Worse than that. Someone who’s been betrayed and realises they should have seen it coming.

“What the fuck does summer have to do with anything?”

“Ever heard of a summer fling, Potter? We’re not ‘seeing each other’.”

Harry finally gets off the bed. Draco’s stomach clenches again, more painfully this time. He doesn’t feel bad, he tells himself — this is Harry’s fault. His fault for making a big deal out of something easy and fun and, most of all, temporary. For ruining this with feelings. 

 “That’s not what this was,” Harry says. It’s not an argumentative tone; rather, he sounds disappointed. Devastated, and disappointed. And that look of betrayal, like he’s surprised but not …  that  surprised.

That hurts. 

“This was as real as it gets, Draco,” he says matter-of-factly. “You and I don’t have the capability of doing anything as shallow as a fling.”

“Well, Potter,” says Draco, straining to maintain his level voice, “congratulations, because that is the most disgusting, romanticised, Gryffindorian piece of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah?” He grabs up his wand from the bedside table and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. “Well here’s another: I love you. You complete fucking prick.”

Draco stares after him as he leaves the room, cowed for the moment. He hears Harry take the Floo powder off his mantle, hears the fire start, and then the sound of Potter disappearing. 

And he feels hollow suddenly.

* * *

“And he said it completely out of the blue?” 

Draco set his wine aside. He was suddenly feeling too sick to put anything else in his body.

“Sort of,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “He was trying to make something out of nothing. He was just making a point, trying to guilt me, I don’t even think he meant it.”

Pansy said nothing for so long that Draco finally looked up. She had an eyebrow raised.

“Do you really believe that?” she said.

Draco didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the bottle of wine on the table and thought about the way it always tasted a little sweeter on Harry’s lips.

“I don’t know,” he said. “No. But it doesn’t change anything. It was a summer thing, not a … a relationship, for crying out loud. Like I’d date Potter.”

“Why not?”

Draco scoffed. “Why not? Pansy, please. He’s a …”

“A …?”

“He’s an idiot! He’s Potter!  He’s …” He couldn’t think of the right word, something bad enough to express the audacity, the gall , for Potter to think even for a second  that they could …

“Draco Malfoy,” said Pansy. She was smirking. “You love him too.”

Had he felt sick before?  Now he was going to be sick.

“I never would’ve imagined it,” she went on, seeming to take pleasure from his outrage and humiliation. The bint. “Look at you, you’re blushing! Oh my god,” she laughed. And then she stopped laughing, and instead the weight of her own words appeared to descend on her. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? You are arse over tits for Harry Potter —”

He was up and out of his chair before she’d finished the last word, absurdly,  embarrassingly on the verge of tears all of a sudden. 

“Draco —”

“I’m glad this can serve as your entertainment for the week, Pansy,” he said. A tear rolled down his cheek — could he be any more histrionic? — and he brushed it away furiously. 

“Draco, no —”

“Call Blaise, tell him!” he shouted. “You two can have a good laugh over it —”

“Draco  —”

“Poor Draco’s  fucked himself over again, what a stupid wanker!” 

Pansy got up. He slapped her hand away when she reached for him, but she only came at him again and grabbed it this time when he swatted at her, enfolding it in both of hers. He closed his eyes and hiccoughed and two more tears came.

“Darling, will you please listen to me?” she said softly. It sounded eerily like his mother, which only made him feel young and childish. He tugged his arm away and she let him go, but he didn’t move any farther away. “I am  not  laughing at you,” she told him. “Blaise might, but that’s because Blaise has a black hole for a heart, Draco, the only emotion he’s ever felt is disdain.” Against his will, Draco chuckled wetly. Pansy smiled and took his hand again, tentatively. He allowed it. “ I think it’s lovely that you have feelings for him. I don’t understand what’s got you so upset, I mean … I know it’s Potter, but we’re not teenagers anymore, right? Who cares?”

Draco exhaled a long sigh.

“He let my father go to Azkaban,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. He saw comprehension dawning. “How can I be with someone who could’ve saved my father’s life and chose not to, Pansy?”

“No one could have saved your father, Draco,” said Pansy gravely. His throat was tight, swollen. He hated that he was hanging on her words, looking for truth in them,  wanting to hear something that would make this okay. “He would have done the same thing if they’d let him go back to the manor. It’s not your fault or your mum’s or Potter’s.”

“But —”

“But what?” she cut him off sharply. “Draco, please don’t let your father keep controlling your life from the grave! My god, you deserve happiness, don’t you see that? Even if it’s Potter! In fact, I … I think that could be really good.”

“What, being with Potter?”

“Yes, being with Potter,” she said. “Darling, I say this because I love you: you need to grow a pair of bollocks and start taking control of your own life. I’m not finished!” she added when he opened his mouth to retort. “I understand that it feels like a betrayal of your father, I do, and I’m not saying you can’t have your cherished memories of him, but Draco … you cannot live your life in his shadow, doing things because it’s what he’d want or wouldn’t want. I think that choosing to explore these feelings you have for Potter is the bravest and healthiest thing you could possibly do for yourself.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes wet though the tears had stopped falling. 

“What if it doesn’t last?” he said finally. “What if next week he realises it was a huge mistake?”

“First of all, I doubt that,” said Pansy with a roll of her eyes that was clearly meant to be teasing. “You said you’ve been seeing him all summer, that’s plenty of time to have gotten sick of you. And, even if that did happen, I still think it would be entirely worth that week of being disgustingly in love.”

“Do you?” he drawled.

“Yes! I do!” She picked up his discarded wine glass from before and held it up. “Does the effect of alcohol last forever?”

“No …”

“Of course not! And we don’t expect it to. We expect to have fun while we’re drunk and it’ll last as long as it lasts.”

“Dating someone isn’t like being drunk, Pansy,” Draco said sourly.

“Oh, that’s not the point ,” she huffed. “We don’t do things because we know they’ll last forever, we do them because we want to. In the moment.”

“Sounds irresponsible.”

“Well, of course it is,” she scoffed. “Love is completely irresponsible, that’s the fun of it, Draco. Now take this,” she shoved the glass of wine into his hand, almost spilling it. “Drink up, and then get your arse over to his flat and fix this.”

* * *

Granger opened the door. Draco sighed.

“Hello, Granger,” he said lamely. Her raised eyebrows said she was surprised and thoroughly unimpressed by his appearance.

“Malfoy,” she said.

“Is Potter in?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On?”

She looked at him, dark brown eyes impenetrable. Then she closed the front door behind her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To talk to him,” he said tightly. As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough, now he had to pass a test to get past Granger the bridge troll. “I thought he told you —”

“He did,” she said flatly. “And about yesterday.”

“Well I’m here to apologise,” said Draco. Granger’s eyebrows lifted again. Still unimpressed. “And to tell him …” He sighed again and broke eye contact, willing himself not to give up, not to take this as a sign he should just go home and ream into Pansy for giving him such bad advice.

“Malfoy.” He looked up. Her voice was softer now, and her eyes seemed a little less hard. “What are you doing? You really hurt him, you know.”

“I know,” he said stiffly. “I said I’m here to apologise.”

“Well he doesn’t need an apology,” she said. “If you’re only going to let him down again —”

“I’m not.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at her again, exasperated, defeated. “I’ve … had some sense talked into me.”

She looked like it was the last thing she’d been expecting. 

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he said. “So would you please get him for me before I lose my nerve?”

It was the right thing to say. Her expression melted into something much softer and he fancied he even saw the beginnings of a smile.

“Can I ask who affected this change of heart?”

“Pansy,” he said. And, when Granger seemed taken aback, “She’s very wise when she feels like it.”

“I see. Well …” She still looked a bit conflicted, eyeing him and then putting her hand on the doorknob. “All right. I’ll tell him you’re here, anyway, but he was really hurt, Malfoy. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said.

Granger eyed him another moment and then went back inside, shutting the door behind her. Draco only had to wait a minute before it was opening again, and this time Harry came out. The sight of him made Draco’s heart feel tender and sore.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Potter.”

He waited to see if Harry would say anything else but he didn’t. He only stared at Draco expectantly, arms folded, in all ways closed off.

“I came to apologise,” said Draco.

“Well you can keep it,” said Harry. “I don’t need an apology because you told me the truth.”

“It wasn’t the truth, Potter,” Draco said quietly. “Opposite, really.”

Harry was silent. Then, “You made me feel like shit, Draco.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You freaked me out, springing it on me like that.”

A beat, then two, and then suddenly Harry was dropping his arms and sighing and he looked at Draco with so much vulnerability he nearly had to turn away from it.

“I didn’t mean to tell you …” He licked his lips, scratched his arm. It reminded Draco that beneath everything, Harry was still the same awkward dorky leader-of-the-losers he’d always been, just with a bit more confidence now and the title of Official Saviour of the Wizarding World. “I wouldn’t have said that if … I was just angry.”

He didn’t need to ask what Harry was referring to.

“I know.”

“Not that I didn’t … I mean, I … I do —”

“Please don’t say it again,” Draco said. Harry laughed.

“Right. I just meant … I really do have feelings for you, Draco. Like … mad, crazy feelings, y’know? I don’t want it to be a fling.”

“It wasn’t a fling,” he said. He moved a little closer and Harry watched him carefully, eyes flickering once down to Draco’s mouth. “I didn’t even sleep with anyone else the whole time.”

“Well that’s good to know,” said Harry sardonically. But he was smiling, so Draco found himself smiling tentatively as well.

“I wanna be with you, Potter. Properly. I thought …” But he shakes his head, deciding that now isn’t the time to explain about his father. “I thought it was a stupid idea. Now I realise that it probably is, but that I don’t really care much. I’ve decided to ignore my better judgment this one time.”

“That’s quite Gryffindor of you,” Harry commented drily.

“Yes, well.”

“So I go against your better judgment, then?”

“Potter,” Draco sighed. “Please, I don’t mean it like —”

“I’m taking the piss, Draco,” Harry cut him off. He reached for Draco’s waist and pulled him close, and before Draco could get his breath back from a short, surprised intake of breath Harry’s mouth was on his, warm and familiar and soothing. He brought his hands to Harry’s face and kissed back without bothering to hide his overwhelming relief.

Harry chased his mouth when he pulled away and Draco breathed out a laugh, holding him at bay with a hand on his chest. 

“We have plenty of time,” he said. “D’you wanna come over later tonight, after your friends leave?”

“What? No, come in.” He took Draco’s hand and gestured with his head towards the door. “Please. It’s just Ron and Hermione. They know everything.”

“Really?” Draco drawled. “And you think Weasley won’t try to kill me?”

“I promise not to let him,” Harry grinned. “Please, Draco. You said you wanted to do this properly, right?”

He thought of what Pansy said about being irresponsible, and decided it was worth a try at least.

“Okay,” he said. Harry beamed and tugged him inside.

Towards his ultimate downfall or towards the beginning of the rest of his life, he didn’t know. That, as Pansy would have said, was the fun of it.

[neokollection]

Their S/O Has Small Breasts & Is Insecure (M)

WayV

A/N: Ten’s was in the original NCT 127 post, here! I changed his a bit! ALSO WinWin’s is still there, if you want to read a diff one for him lol Situation is basically you’re dating them. ‘Semi-Mature’ situations because... B O O B S

ㅡ

Kun:

He loved listening to your heartbeat, the steady rhythm enrapturing his attention. He found himself subconsciously grinning as he shifted closer, his soft cheek pressing further against your blouse.

“Kun,” you whined slightly, wanting to shift away in the sheets, but also enjoying the sensation of the closeness.

If your ears could tinge pink, they’d be glowing. You felt quite embarrassed about your chest, having a small size you worried he would also take more notice to it being so close. 

“What are you thinking?” 

Your heartrate had increased, pounding against your chest, intriguing Kun.

“Nothing-” you replied, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Kun pulled away, his face nuzzling against your own, his hand sneaking under the hem of your blouse. The cold sensation caused you to shudder, his palm cupping your breast as he felt your heartrate.

“Your heart is racing,” he informed, his eyes sparkling.

“What’re you doing?!” you whined, shifting under his hold, his bare skin upon your own making your escape attempt weak.

Knowing your insecurities, he knew exactly why you became anguished each time he came into contact with your chest.

“You’re so cute,” he whispered, trailing gentle kisses to your ear as he switched his attention from your heart to your chest, giving a gentle grope, the soft surface of his palm rubbing your perked nipple causing you to let out a breathy sigh.

Ten:

“Let me see!”

“No!”

“What’re you being shy for now?!” Ten bickered, fighting to pull your fists from your chest, your bikini top accentuating your rather small assets.

With a sigh, he sat back, straddling your hips with a challenging gaze. With sudden vigor he leant forward, face falling to the crook of your neck as his hands tickled your sides, the pool chair scraping upon the concrete momentarily. Giggling, you tried to swat him away, but he caught your hands, pinning them aside your head in triumph.

“Wait!”

His head snapped from the crook of your neck to your pleading gaze.

“Don’t look...”

“Why?” baffled, by how flirtatious you were being before, your teasing winks and playful smiles in the pool now traded for reddening cheeks and shy glances. His brows knit together in confusion as to why you were now shy, his lips pulling into a smile of amusement.

“Just don’t-” you whined... “They’re small and...”

“Mine are too,” Ten jested, trying to make you giggle again.

However, seeing as you didn’t giggle as he expected, he let his fingers intertwine with your own romantically to give a reassuring squeeze.

“If you don’t want me to I won’t,” he promised before releasing your hands.

WinWin:

(WW has another scenario under my 127 reaction, it’s more of being in a new relationship type situation, this one is more of a you’ve been dating for a while)

“They’re quite small aren’t they-” you were talking to yourself rather than your preoccupied cutie, Sicheng.

His gaze flickered up from his phone, to your mirror image, lips pursing as you turned side to side to inspect the new top you’d gotten earlier that day.

“Maybe I should get a boob-job...”

You heard a disgruntled sound from the man in the corner, giving a shake of his head with his thick brows knit together.

“I didn’t think you were actually listening,” you teased slightly, giving yourself a once over in the mirror.

He stretched a long leg, the toe of his sock wiggling against your ankle, bidding your attention. He wore a pout, something he often did when he wanted something. He placed his phone to the side as he shifted against the wall he was leaning on.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable on the floor?” you asked with a small smile as you stepped closer.

He made ‘grabby’ hands as you, reaching up to open and close his fists several times.

“What?” you cooed at his cute antics.

Once you were within reach, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you down to him. You bent at the waist, face level with his own. Unsatisfied, he pulled you in further until with an ‘oof’ you were collapsing into his lap, though he seemed unfazed by the small tumble. He wrapped himself around you, caging you in with his long legs and arms, peppering pecks wherever he could reach between your giggles.

Lucas:

You were hardly paying attention to the movie playing on your laptop, snuggled with Lucas in bed, your cheek pressing against his strong shoulder as you occasionally snuck glances at his profile.

“Oh-” Lucas made a sound, smiling at the screen for a moment as the female lead came out of the shower in just a towel, her breasts quite impressive to your own.

Immediately, he looked at you, his smile fading. It was as though he’d purposely done something to get himself in trouble, looking to you immediately for a response or reaction like a disobedient puppy, expecting you to cover his eyes or scold him. You opened, but shut your mouth, not having the energy to shame nor scold him. Worried he’d made you upset, his long fingers tapped the space bar, pausing the movie, shifting your laptop from his lap to the side of the large bed. You’d gotten comfortable in your spot, emitting a small groan. He rolled over, wrapping himself around you, smothering your face with his massive chest, his scent overwhelming.

“Loo- cus...” you mumbled, muffled by him as your hands fisted his shirt.

He hummed in response, the deep sound reverberating through your whole being.

“What’re you doing?” you drawled out, although not expecting an actual answer.

“I don’t want to watch the movie anymore,” he informed, followed by a deep inhale of your scent. 

idk how to explain this, I think he’d either be super direct like ‘yours are great too!!’ or super indirect about it and just showing his love-

XiaoJun:

XiaoJun had his own insecurities, especially about his size- Compared to giants like Lucas he felt thin and skinny, determined to stick to his workout regimen- That being said, he was also aware of your insecurities, but this was the first time the two of you were being so open to each other about them. The clock beside the couch reach 3:04 AM, the gummy worm dangling from your fingers making him chuckle as you threw it at him.

“I don’t know,” you began, your pout deepening, “I just feel insecure about it- I know you shouldn’t compare yourself to others and all, but I can’t help it-”

“I understand,” he spoke up, toying with the bottle cap at his cross-legged feet.

“Sometimes I,” you paused, “I feel like a child rather than a woman...”

“No-” he retorted, his brows scrunching together with a face of sadness.

He didn’t want you to feel any less than you were. He thought for a moment, if you would let him he’d like to make you feel like a woman.

“I’ve never thought that way about you,” he replied, scooting closer, “You’re so beautiful- Seriously!”

Hendery:

“You think they’re small?”

“I mean,,,” you quirked a brow, “They are-”

Hendery made a disgruntled face, any other time you would have giggled, his wide eyes boring into your own-

“They’re perfect,” he retorted.

His sudden compliment made you break away from his gaze, attempting to hide your grin as he reached for the lingerie on the hanger, ignoring the stares of those passing.

“Try it on,” he urged, his expression serious.

“It won’t look good,” you argued in a hushed tone, taking the hanger from him in attempt to hang the item back on the rack.

He pulled the hanger out of reach, his frown deepening.

“I’ll be the judge of that-”

“Hendy-” you sighed (srry that’s the nickname I call him, I think it’s cute, okay-)

“Please,” he pouted, switching tactics, his bottom lip puffed out.

Giving in, you took the item from him.

“You’re gonna look so hot,” he exclaimed with a loud giggle, beaming.

YangYang:

“No-” you whined, wallowing in your bed, phone to your ear.

“But I’m outside your apartment...”

“But I’m comfy in bed,” you drawled.

“But I miss you,” he retorted.

“It’s too much work,” you lied, scrambling out of bed, “I’m my pajamas-”

“So?”

“I don’t have a bra on or-”

“Well, you don’t need one anyway, right?”

Ouch. Sometimes he said things that he really shouldn’t- Even more painfully so, although it was a joke, he’d remain quite oblivious to how it hurt others until someone was giving him the silent treatment or crying.

You’d been in the process of pulling on a pair of socks- Even though he’d showed up unannounced, it wasn’t completely abnormal for him to do so- And although you teased him, claiming you were already comfy in bed, in a minute you would race down to him. The line was quite for a few moments.

“Shit- I’m sorry,” he began, his tone lowering, “I was just kidding, but I shouldn’t-”

“It’s fine,” you assured, you knew how he was, and technically he wasn’t wrong.

“No,” he fought back, “It’s not fine... I don’t know why I said that-”

The line was silent again for a few moments, neither of you knowing what to say next.

“Are you at the front? I’m um, coming down now-”

He’d give you so much love and would not even hold your chest size against you This is just a fake scenario so like don’t think badly of him!

[yeojaa]

“i love you.”  read:  6:45 pm.

drabble inspired by this post that @hobi-gif​​ tagged me in.  i'm a sucker for misunderstandings, y'know?  also, this is unedited and not proofread.  xoxo

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  a bit of dumb angst due to misunderstandings, some fluff to make up for it, mentions of drinking/alcohol, idiots in love. idk.  wc.  1.9k.

“So, you’re shooting bourbon at 7:30 on a Wednesday why, exactly?”

How Yoongi manages to keep the judgment out of his voice, you’ll never know.  Maybe it’s a bartender thing - some skill you acquire over time, like an achievement in a video game. 

Charisma:  +30 Listening:  +20 Interest:  0

“Because he replied ‘hella’ when I told him I was in love with him.”  You think if it weren’t so funny (and embarrassing and bruising to your ego), you’d have a hard time repeating it.  Instead, it cuts off the edge of your teeth in a melodramatic wail and you knock back your fourth shot in not very long at all. It burns on the way down, igniting your insides in a very different way than you’d like. 

Luckily, the bar is packed - it’s freshman night! - and your cry is lost in the crowd, eaten up by the awful din that seems to only exist in college bars.  It’s only you and your favourite bartender that hear it and for that you’re grateful. 

“You’re not serious.”  From the look on his face, you know he believes you.  Has to, because he knows the culprit behind your heartache. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?”  You deadpan before waving your liquor-laden wrist in a lazy circle.  “Another, bar wench!” 

It’s not that funny but between the alcohol that’s buzzing in your veins and lighting you up like a goddamn Christmas log to the humiliation that’s burning its way through all your sensibilities— well, you can’t help it.  

You’ve always resorted to humour when you were hurting. 

“I think you should slow down.”  He means well - you can see it in the narrowing of his eyes, the way his mouth tilts just enough to make you feel like a kid in front of the principal - but you don’t want well.  You want more.  Need it.

For a split second, you feel a wave of emotion.  It crests and threatens to swallow you whole, dragging you seven thousand miles beneath your own misery.

You swallow it down as best you can, tasting salt water and the sea when you tug a rough hand through your hair.  It aches a little where your rings catch, threading silver through silk.  “Yoongi, c’mon.”  You ignore the way his name slurs out of your mouth, trapped between wet lips that don’t quite move like they should.  “I’m fine.  Please.”  The desperate edge to your plea tells him enough - that you’re well on your way to having too good of a night, inebriation playing at the sidelines of your vision.  You play it off and shift in your seat, sneakered feet kicking this way and that to right yourself.

To his trained eye, you’re about two minutes from slipping backwards off the worn leather stool.

“Can I call someone at least?”  He’s meeting you halfway, begrudging and a little worried. 

“I’m fine!”  It shoots off your tongue, a rocket to the moon.  You don’t want to come down.

He sighs once, a sharp inhale of breath through his nose.  He’s got that look on his face - the one that tells you you’re going to owe him one.  You think that might be better than returning to your dorm, empty-handed and heavy hearted.  

“Please?”  

Amber liquid finds itself in your shot glass again and you’re quick to snatch it up, worried that Yoongi might dump it the moment he has a chance to consider how he’s indulging you.  You swallow it greedily, as if it isn’t pooling uncomfortable heat everywhere it hits - down your throat and around the sides of your mouth.

“Take it easy,”  comes a voice - an achingly, devastatingly familiar voice - to your left.  It steals your breath - tugs it out of your lungs in the same instant your heart heaves out of your chest.

Jeon Jungkook’s grinning that megawatt smile at you, dimples on full display.  His hair’s a little damp and more than a little messed up, sweeping across his forehead in that way that makes you want to run your fingers through it.  Shoulders are swathed in soft cotton and plaid, the navy blue and grey pattern a stark contrast to the blinding white of his tee shirt.  

He looks so good you want to eat him up.

Instead, you jolt like you’re about to lose the contents of your stomach.

Hands - both his and yours - dart out.  Yours grip the sticky booze-stained bartop;  his seize your elbows, steadying you easily.  You try to ignore the way his palms burn heat across your skin. 

“You okay?”  He says it so sweetly, as if he hadn’t just shattered your hopes and dreams into a million little pieces less than an hour ago.  He says it like he always does, with affection painting his words and stars in his eyes.  Even in the dim light, they’re mesmerizing, constellations swirling in his irises.

You have to make a conscious effort to tear your gaze away, redirecting your - admittedly fuzzy - stare to the speck of lint on his collar.  It honestly doesn’t help much, because like this, you can see the trail of ink that drifts past his neckline.  Swirls of black work that make up the roses that span his shoulders, capping each segment of bone prettily.  

He repeats himself when your silence stretches too long for his liking, a tattooed finger rising to tap gently along the ridge of your jaw, thumb sweeping just so across your chin.  “Hey, baby.  You good?”

A part of you wants to live in the way that sounds.  You’re a sucker for pet names and while you’ve heard this one once or twice (or a hundred times), it coils itself like a cobra around the organ in your chest, poised to ruin you.  One wrong move and you’d be paralyzed on the ground.

“What’re you doing here?”  You finally manage, tearing your roving eyes from the patterns you know lie beneath cloth.  

It’s not the smartest move - because you’re distracted by his stupid handsome face again.

“Well, you didn’t answer my text so I got worried.  Checked your Snapchat and saw you were here.”  It comes so nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just discovered you drowning your sorrows in cheap whiskey.  

“I didn’t answer your text?” 

You can see Yoongi lingering at the edge of your periphery, hand paused around a glass that he’s in the middle of passing off.  You wonder how crazy you must sound, or if you do at all.  Maybe just pathetic?  You don’t want to think about it too hard.  

“You said ‘hella’ to my confession!  What am I supposed to say back to that?”

“What’re you talking about?”  It’s Jungkook’s turn to take the title of village idiot, big doe eyes widening to the size of saucers.  You want to smack the expression off his face - would, too, if your heart didn’t also clench pitifully at the thought of hurting him.  

You think he might be backtracking when he retreats a hairsbreadth, releasing you in the same moment his other hand dives into the front of his too-tight black jeans.  The denim strains against his thighs, muscle and sinew flexing when he transfers his weight enough to allow him to yank his phone out of his pocket.  Said device is in your face in the next instant, glaringly bright screen making you shy away.  

Who the hell kept their brightness at 100%?

“Hey - look at this.”  He sounds stern as he continues to wave the sleek black iPhone before your eyes, seemingly unaware of the fact that you can’t damn well see a thing with him constantly moving it.

“Stop!”  You snap, finally, drink-addled hands snatching it out of his hands when he’s still twirling it like the most annoying wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man in existence. 

With the phone in your own two hands, you peer down at the screen, trying to make sense of what you’re looking at.  There’s definitely your last two texts - you cringe at the sight of them, blue bubbles bursting your own - but there’s a slew of others beneath it and they’re all delivered, the read receipt mocking you. 

You nearly yeet the phone across the room when, after two or three read-throughs, you grasp what he’s said.  “You want to date me?”  The words fumble on their way out, knocking into each other in a way that’s equal parts drunk-girl and stupefied-crush. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”  He’s got that shit-eating grin of his lighting up his face, sweeping sunshine and daisies into every corner of his expression.  It’s at complete odds with the way his mouth twists and turns, flat of his cheek rounded by the tongue he presses into it.  You’re both awestruck and turned on all at once.  You feel like you might short circuit or maybe that you already have.

It’s the only explanation for the way you’re surging forward - because you’d never do it otherwise, unless you weren’t in control of your own stupid body - and all but throwing yourself against him.

As if he anticipates it, he receives you like a bed you’ve been away from for too long, broad palms sweeping across the backs of your thighs as you cling to him like a koala.  Your cheeks burn white hot and steeped in something - love, lust, a mixture of both - and you hum comfortably against the column of his throat.  The sound is returned tenfold, echoing from his cavernous chest like the happiest cat in the world.  It shakes your entire body, so closely pressed to him that you can feel every vibration that runs through all five feet, ten inches of him. 

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?”  His words lose themselves in your hair, breath warm against the shell of your ear as he squeezes you tight.

You give him his answer in the press of your mouth, parted and a little sloppy, more tongue and teeth than technique.  You swallow the laugh that builds, devouring it like a kid in a candy store with the intensity of your adoration.  “Hell-a yes.”

The way he grips you in response, laughter rolling off him in intoxicating waves - because you’d happily get drunk off the sound - fizzes excitement through your limbs. 

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”  Both of you know the answer to that question, the knowledge passing silently between you.  

You smirk;  Jungkook mirrors it.  He surges forward for another kiss and you’re meeting him halfway, slanting your mouth greedily across his.  He relents for the briefest moment - lets you savour the gentle brush of his lips, the soft pass of his tongue - before he’s taking all he can get.  He’s licking over your teeth, laving hotly across every inch in a way that makes your head spin.  

“Get a room!”  It comes from your right, somewhere just behind you. 

“We should take their advice, baby.”  He coos, breaking away just enough for you to gulp in lungfuls of air.  His lips are the prettiest shade of red, kiss swollen and slicked with spit.  

At any other time, you might be ashamed - you can only imagine how you look - but here and now, fueled by the knowledge of reciprocated love and the pleasant warmth of liquor, you couldn’t care less.  So you kiss the boy you love, eager and with hands trailing the expanse of his back.

“Let’s go.”

[shadowhunterspolycule]

the first major snowfall in ages finally hit nyc recently and all im imaging is the Polycule attaching snowboards and the such to the back of simons van and them just being happy with snow day activities

oof, this ask is from so many months ago, i'm so sorry. i was very busy. i'm also not sure how great my answer will be because i'm a whole ass brazilian so i have no idea what snow day activies are, but i will try anyway

so, major advantages: meliorn has magic and maia is a werewolf and if i'm not mistaken it's said or implied that werewolves have a higher core body temperature than humans. or maybe i made that up, but it's canon for me

major disadvantages: raphael and simon are vampires, which means that technically they are kind of "cold-blooded" creatures? i mean they would still have other important temperature regulating mechanisms such as mitochrondrial heat production and muscle contraction, but they basically don't have a heartbeat/blood flow/arguably blood at all, which is a major way of regulating core temperature, and canonically their skin feels pretty cold, so like. they probably are more suscetible to temperature changes is what i'm saying (i'm mostly going off this source [link] for this. i'm already overthinking this answer good job me)

plus i am once again saying that raphael is from guadalajara which means that like me he is used to Worm Temperchoores, like, WAY warmer than NYC's, and he grew up without pretty much any kind of snow at all. and sure he's lived in NYC for years so he's SOMEWHAT used to the cold but he still spent his formative years in guadalajara, so like. he fucking hates the cold, is my point

but back to major advantages: meliorn and magic! which means they can do something about it. don't ask me what, but i'm sure they can do Something. i mean i'm sure to some extent the downworld has already figured out a solution to this problem cuz while it might not kill them (since they're immortal) it is very uncomfortable and probably makes them slower, which is a disadvantage to say the least. plus raphael has magnus who knows that raphael is a grumpy ass in the cold. also i think java is similarly hot so magnus Gets It, but idk what the temperatures usually are in jakarta

anyway my point is that magnus probably got some coats/vests/blankets spelled for his boy so they can keep him toasty (since they are otherwise kinda useless for vampires since they rely on trapping body heat and vampires don't have any) and vampires in general probably have access to that kinda stuff, but still, rapha gets grumpy and his face is still cold and everything is just awful and he doesn't understand how gringos do it. his complaints fly for about 2 days before the New Yorker Squad™ (particularly simon and maia, who drag clary and inevitably everyone else is there) decides that they've had enough of this and that raphael will learn how to enjoy the snow

he is like "i am not willingly going into the snow! you don't understand, i'm a vampire, i won't get back my body heat the way you do". simon: "i literally am also a vampire". raphael: "you're just a fledgeling, you wouldn't understand" "i've been a vampire for like, ten years!" "seven" "same thing" "it's so not the-" "i have gone through enough winters to be able to understand, and you, sir, are going to learn to enjoy the snow. have you EVER even made a snow angel?" "no" "well this changes today"

he literally has no excuse because meliorn has this super sweet spell that keeps him from losing heat so like. he doesn't even need a coat (he's still wearing it and preferably also a scarf and gloves because he is, first and foremost, dramatic) so he is forced to have a day off and go play in the snow, woe is him

(he tells the clan that should they need anything they should ring him, but they're like "nah simon has promised us pictures of you in the snow, we can handle ourselves" and it's not like raphael is too busy these days, really)

anyway! they have fun. simon strikes me as the winter lover kind of person altho really i think he enjoys all seasons in their own way, but like... hot chocolate and scarves and snow fights, yes? and while i think maia might prefer warmer temperatures she can double enjoy herself in the snow now that she's a werewolf because she gets less cold and like, damn, tell me that being a wolf and jumping headfirst into a pile of snow wouldn't be fun. you can't, unless you're a bad taste bitch

i also think maia is the building snow forts kind of gal because, idk, she just looks that way. and sure she's excited about kicking everyone's asses during snowball fight but FIRST she needs to have a full fort complete with towers and windows for her to throw snowballs from and shit

rapha is the one that helps her build it the most cuz he likes the motions and besides it is a little less energetic than whatever it is that the rest of these wackos are doing. again izzy didn't get any chances to play in the snow either so naturally clary is dragging her around from snow activity to snow activity and running around everywhere and holy shit they have so much energy. simon is there as well naturally and eventually they make it their goal in life to ruin maia's and rapha's fort, which ends up kickstarting the mandatory snowball fight. even tho maia only has a half complete fort

(eventually when everyone has left maia and rapha will come back and finish the fort. it's the principle of the thing. raphael also wants to build an igloo or some shit and maia rolls her eyes but actually i can see him being into building snow things? it's just soothing and nice and quiet and he can pretend there's Elegance and Finesse to it)

and meliorn is just watching them curiously the whole time because of course they know snow but they dont really know about Snow Activities these funky little non-seelies dedicate themselves too. i feel like the seelies have their own snow activities, maybe like, festivals? dances with the snowfall and games to welcome the change in the environment, that sort of thing. but they are nothing like snow angels ("it doesn't look like an angel in the slightest, just like you kept moving your legs and arms in the snow" "thats what it is" "right, so...?") or snowmen ("also doesn't look like a man" "meliorn we aren't exactly artists") or snow fights (altho that one they can appreciate) and they're really interested in like participating even though they dont understand and everyone has to keep telling them that it's Not That Deep and izzy is so amused she just kisses them one billion times

eventually they start doing it just to get more of those laugh-filled kisses of hers

also at least one of them, probably izzy of rapha or meliorn since they are the snow ignorant ones of the group, is absolutely horrible at making snowmen. probably izzy tbh because shadowhunters dont exactly have a knack for these things. like clary's snowman is all artistic and simon's is fun and creative, maia's is pretty, raphael's and meliorn's look like the Platonic Ideal Of A Snowman, and izzy's looks like A Pile Of Dirt. clary giggles at it for an embarrassing amount of time, which inevitably leads to izzy taking the snow from her snowman to throw snowballs at clary and triggering a new snowfight

and then they have some soup inside and cuddle under a blanket as they fight over what they should watch and all is well with the world

[idnek83]

Hey it’s angst o’clock: before Kaz and Gundham get together, when they still kinda hate each other, 2 of the Devas have babies and everyone takes turns babysitting the litter while Gundham works. Kaz’s turn comes and he finds one of the babies has died and fREAKS THE FUCK OUT. Like sobbing cuz he’s never had a pet before let alone seen one die and so he takes the baby and flees and everyone thinks he just straight up stole a baby but really he’s fucking horrified and terrified to tell Gundham cuz he fucked it up and the baby is dead cuz of him somehow. And someone, maybe Sonia, finds him and talks him down and they go to Gundham who is more upset that Kaz “stole” a baby but once he realizes what happens he understands. Being a Breeder he probably sees animal death a lot unfortunately. But he helps comfort Kaz and forgives him and lets him help with the living babies and maybe that’s how they start becoming actual friends and sometime down the line they realize oh fuck I’m actually in love with this dude when did that happen IDK SHOWER THOUGHTS WOULDNT LEAVE ME ALONE I HAD TO TELL SOMEONE SORRY

You think you can come onto my blog and just rip my fucking heart out, huh? Right in front of my mutuals? You think you can just rip my heart out and force me to write something sad so everyone else has to feel sad too?

Good. Cus you 100% can lol.

TW: animal death - It’s mentioned repeatedly and is the central theme of this, so please just skip this one if you think you might be uncomfortable reading it. 

Gundham comes into the class one day and he’s super proud and showing off the baby hamsters to everyone. He’s a little embarrassed to ask for help, but he’s working on a very important conservation project or something, so he asks if anyone would be willing to keep an eye on them for an hour or two at a time over the next few days, insisting that it wouldn’t be hard, all they really had to do was make sure they didn’t escape and call Gundham if something went wrong. At least like half the class offers cus the babies are just so damn cute, Soda only offers cus Sonia did and he’s trying to impress her.

Gundham sets up an enclosure for the hamsters in the classroom, and everyone picks a time to come by to watch them.

When Soda’s turn rolls around a few days later, he’s secretly a little excited. He’s been complaining about it the past few days to keep up appearances, can’t have anyone suspecting that even tough he can’t stand Gundham, he also kind of has a soft spot for him (What? Dudes handsome), but he’s actually pretty psyched to get to spend some time just chilling with the baby hamsters. He’s never had his own pet, but he’s always wanted one.

Anyways, when he gets to the class he checks on all the babies and as far as he can tell they’re all good. He gives pets them for a bit, but then they seem like they’re trying to go to sleep so he leaves them and sits at a desk to play around on his phone for a while. Like 40 minutes later he gets up to check on them again.

They’re pretty much all huddled up, and Soda thinks it’s super cute, but he notices one lying down a bit away from the rest. He assumes it must have rolled away in it’s sleep, or that it got kicked out since its the smallest one, so he goes to move it back over to the hamster pile.

It’s cold when he touches it.

He knows pretty much right away what that means, but he doesn’t want to believe it. He pokes it a bit and tries to scratch it’s whiskers to get it to react, but it doesn’t move. He’s already crying, but then he starts thinkin about how it was probably something on his hands that killed it. He didn’t was his hands after finishing up in his garage, and he must have had oil or something on his hand when he was petting the hamster and now it was dead.

He’s hyperventilating.

He’s worried he killed them all, but looking at the hamster pile, the rest of them all appear to be breathing still. He’s too scared to touch them to make sure.

He’s sure its his fault. His fault for touching the hamster with dirty hands and his fault for not paying more attention. The hamster was probably acting weird before it died, if he had just been paying attention he could have called Gundham and it would still be alive.

He’s a murderer.

Sonia was supposed to be the next person watching the hamsters. He couldn’t let her see the dead baby hamster, couldn’t let her know he killed it. He looks around the room and finds a little box to put it in. He’s chocking on his sobs as he picks up the hamster, and he nearly drops it because his hands are shaking so bad. Once it’s in the box he has to take a moment cus he thinks he might vomit from how guilty he feels. 

There’s like 10 minutes before Sonia is supposed to get there, so he takes one last look at the other hamsters, picks up the little box that has no right feeling as heavy as it does, and leaves.

He doesn’t really know where to go so he just heads up to the roof to get some fresh air and think, sobbing the whole way. He’s pretty sure he saw Sonia down one of the hells on his way up, but he just prays she didn’t see him and that she doesn’t remember how many hamsters there were.

He sits with the box in his lap, shaking. 

He thinks he feels it shift.

His chest seizes up. Was it alive? Had he really not killed it? He can feel the hope swelling up inside him as he slowly opens the box-

It’s dead.

It’s definitely dead and now its lying on its side and its little eyes are staring right at Soda and it takes him a minute to realize his sobs have turned into screams of agony. The hope made it so much worse.

He closes the box again and sets it down so gently beside him, before curling in on himself and just sobbing and screaming into his hands so hard his whole body is shaking from it.

He’s a murderer. He killed a defenseless animal. A baby. It was only a few days old and he killed it.

Suddenly there’s a warm hand on his back, rubbing just a little and bringing him back down to earth. His sobs slowly get weaker and he manages to look up, though his vision is still blurred with tears. He can make out dark clothes, pale skin, and a bright purple scarf. He assumes Gundham is there to punish him.

Gundham just asks him what’s going on, says Sonia called him because one of the hamsters was missing and she thought she had seen Soda running away from the classroom earlier. They assumed he had taken one of the hamsters for himself, but that didn’t explain why he was crying on the roof.

Soda realizes that the only reason Gundham isn’t beating him senseless is because he doesn’t know the hamster is dead.

“I killed it.” He starts sobbing harder the second the word leave his mouth. He feels Gundham’s hand tense on his back

“What.” Gundham definitely sounds pissed now. He’s not yelling, but his voice sounds deadly. Soda accepts that he’s about to get the shit kicked out of him, accepts it even. He deserves it.

“I-it must have been the oil on my h-hands or something, I don’t know. I s-should have been paying more attention, but when I looked at them gain it was-” his voice is cut off by another sob, and he’s just waiting for Gundham to hit him. To his surprise, some of the tension in Gundham’s body dissipates.  

“Where is the poor creature?” Gundham doesn’t sound angry anymore and Soda doesn’t understand. He just gestures towards the box, he’s too much of a coward to even look at it again.

Gundham gets up and opens the box. Soda hear him exhale sadly after a moment, before returning to Soda.

“It would seem we have both been mislead.” Gundham sits beside Soda and starts rubbing his back again. He explains that Soda did not kill the hamster, it seemed like something must not have developed right internally, and it simply died of natural causes. There was nothing either of them could have done to save it. Soda is just amazed how calm Gundham is being.

He asks him why he isn’t more upset, and Gundham sighs and tells him that it’s unfortunately something he sees a lot, so over time he’s just gotten used to it.

Soda’s just like “That fucking sucks.” and Gundham kind of laughs sadly and say “It fucking sucks indeed.” Soda’s kind of startled by Gundham swearing and it forces an awkward little laugh out of him. 

They’re both quite for a while, then Gundham tells him he’s touched by how upset Soda was over the hamsters death, and that he’s sure the hamsters soul appreciated him mourning it, but it is simply part of the circle of life and death, so he shouldn’t get too fixated on it. Soda’s still crying a little but he nods and says he’ll try, Gundham keeps rubbing his back.

They stay up on the roof for a while longer. Soda has mostly stopped crying, but Gundham’s hand is still on his back and he tries not to think too much about it. When they stand, Gundham picks up the box before Soda can even think about it and motions for him to follow him.

They bury it in some nearby woods, Soda insists on leaving some flowers. He asks Gundham not to tell their classmate about how much he cried. Gundham just says ‘of course’, as if they didn’t spend most their free time looking for new ways to get under each other’s skin.

Later, Gundham insists that Soda comes to see the healthy babies, telling him it will help him feel better. Soda is scared to be left alone with them, so Gundham just stays by his side the whole time. Even after Gundham finishes his project and brings them back to his place, he invites Soda over to see them. He starts teaching Soda about proper hamster care and they slowly grow closer and closer.

Sometimes Soda gets a little teary eyed while looking at the other hamsters, and he’s worried Gundham will make fun of him. He never does, he always just silently rubs Soda’s back, until one day he pulls him into a hug as well.

Months later, their relationship has completely turned around. They’re both constantly talking to each other and hanging out, they even occasionally refer to the hamster babies as their children haha. The rest of the class starts making bets on when they’ll realize they’re into each other, but for the time being they’re both happy they were able to finally become friends.

[bts-bay-bee]

bad day

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: established relationship, anal fingering, gagging (with panties), oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal fingering, butt plug, tied-up (by a belt), vibrators, unprotected sex (use a condom irl), some light dirty talk and offensive names (cock-slut), spanking, squirting, multiple orgasms, cream pie, soft dom!Namjoon, cum eating, fingering after sex, it somehow turned soft idk how, unedited work

Summary: you had a bad day at work, and Namjoon tries to make it better

***

 Talk about a day from hell. It all started when you woke up, an hour late, your phone ringing incessantly next to your ear. According to your phone it was 8am – the time that you usually started work – while the caller ID flashed your friend’s name from work. She had phoned to tell you that there was a meeting with everyone in the company, and it started in half an hour.

 Pushing your long-term boyfriend, Namjoon (who was still peacefully sleeping), off of you, you ran into your bathroom and took the shortest, most chaotic shower in history. Five minutes later, you were rushing to get clothes on. Your boyfriend, who had woken up when he realised that he was alone in bed, peered up at you, still snuggled close against the blanket. You wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with him the entire day, but you couldn’t.

 Once you had gotten your white blouse and black skirt on, you slipped your black heels, then leaned down to kiss Namjoon, with a hurried “goodbye, love you”.

Somehow, thankfully, you were only five minutes late for the company meeting. Yet you were late, nonetheless. Your boss, who was usually an impatient twit by nature, was even more so today, and took twenty minutes of the meeting to berate you about your tardiness.

 Fine, you thought, I probably deserved that for being late. But it was almost as if the universe had decided that today was the day that everything was going to go wrong.

 After the meeting, you walked into your office and found it flooded. Your usually neat office was somehow the only room that had suffered any damage in the entire building. Lovely, you sourly thought as you plucked a piece of paper that had your newest business proposal printed on it from the water.

 By midday, you found yourself sharing an office with the same friend who had called you that morning. Sadly, she was your boss’s PA, and her office was right next to his. Only separated by a half-frosted glass partition. You also found yourself starving, having not eaten anything the entire day; and you made peace with the fact that you also wouldn’t be eating anything until you went home – your boss had clearly said that because you were late, you had to work the extra time in, essentially taking away your lunch break. In between everything that had already happened, someone bumped into you earlier, spilling coffee all over your white blouse. Not that it was a big deal, but it simply added to your list of annoying things that had happened today.

 At around 3pm, you received a call from Namjoon – the one good thing about your day. Quickly answering the call, you ducked down so that your boss couldn’t see. “Hi, babe.”

 “Hey, baby girl.” His deep voice cooed, making you melt. It had only been a few hours, but you missed him. “Is everything okay? I haven’t heard from you the entire day.”

 You know it was stupid, but the way he said it, like he cared so deeply, made you tear up. “Joonie…” You sighed, closing your eyes. “This is the worst day I’ve ever had.”

 You began listing everything that had transpired, Namjoon listening quietly. As the conversation neared its end, you saw your boss’s door open, making you quickly end the call, and continued with your boring spreadsheet of figures.

 At 5pm, you basically ran out the office, desperate to get through the traffic as soon as you could. As you pulled into your driveway, it was long after sunset, and you were exhausted; wanting nothing more than to eat while watching TV with Namjoon, cuddled on the couch.

 You walked into the living room, dropping your car keys onto the coffee table, immediately being met with Namjoon’s embrace. You buried your head in his chest as he kissed the top of your head, rubbing your back gently.

 “Missed you.” Namjoon hummed, before you broke your hug. You just flashed him a small smile, before pecking him, happy to finally be home. “I set out some clothes for you on the bed.”

 As you walked into the room, you smiled gratefully as you found one of his shirts – your favourite one – on the bed. Quickly peeling off your work clothes, you pulled the shirt over you, now wearing nothing but your panties and his shirt, that fell to your mid-thigh.

 As you quickly shuffled to the living room, you found Namjoon accepting something at the door. He turned around with a packet from your favourite fast food place, and he grinned at your brightly.

 Half an hour later, you found yourself stuffed with food, happily cuddling into Namjoon, with your back against his chest.

 “I’m sorry I made you late for work.” He said, kissing your collarbone. You sighed and leaned your head against him, subconsciously giving him more exposed skin to devour.

 “It’s not your fault.”

 “I’m the one who kept you up.” He frowned.

 You found yourself smirking, unknowingly, your mind flashing back to last night. Namjoon had suggested something new in the bedroom, which was anal play; it was nothing crazy, as it was your first time doing anything like it, but it felt amazing. Your orgasms had been mind-blowing. They had left you shaking, a light gleam of sweat coating your body; you were sure that you’d passed out somewhere in-between the heavenly pleasure.

 “What are you suddenly smirking about?” Namjoon asked, his eyebrow raised as you realized you had crossed your legs, an attempt to stop yourself from getting aroused.

 “Um…” You said, embarrassed. “Last night…”

 Now Namjoon was the one smirking. “You enjoyed it, sweetheart?” Nodding shyly, you turned to face him, straddling him to be more comfortable. He ran his large hands over your exposed thighs, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Would you want to try it again?” As you nodded again, Namjoon chuckled. “Can I try something new today?”

 “You already know my answer.” You replied, breathlessly, your arousal beginning to drip out of you, as your mind flashed back to last night and the premise of something new tonight. You subconsciously began to grind on Namjoon, making him groan.

 “Play nice, Y/N.” He warned, making you cease your actions as he grabbed your hips. “Go to the room.”

 Getting up and almost running to your shared bedroom, Namjoon couldn’t help but chuckle at your eagerness. Getting up from the couch himself, he opened a package that had arrived that morning after you hastily left for work. Grabbing what he was searching for, he slipped it into his pocket before following your footsteps.

 You had already stripped of Namjoon’s shirt, leaving you in your tiny black thong. When Namjoon entered the room, you knew his eyes were trained on your clothed pussy, eyes only leaving it to get something from your shared walk-in closet. Heart beating profusely, you knew you were in for a long night; Namjoon only took your toys from the closet when he wanted to make you cry with pleasure. You had quite fond memories of the toys in the closet.

 Namjoon walked back to you, his belt in his hand, before leaning down to kiss you roughly. His soft, plump lips pressed against yours before shoving his tongue into your mouth, making you whimper at the roughness, as your arousal continued to drip out of you, soaking the tiny piece of fabric covering your core.

 His tongue massaged your own, swallowing your moans as his hands roamed all over your body, eventually one hand settling on your ass, kneading it, while the other dipped into your soaked panties, allowing Namjoon to feel your arousal.

 “All for me?” He teased quietly, gathering your slickness on his fingers before pushing them into your mouth, making you taste yourself. “How sweet do you taste, baby girl?” You just whined in response, causing him to tut at you. “Guess I’ll just have to find out myself then, hmm?”

 He moved you to the bed, dropping his belt next to you, then shedding his shirt, leaving him only in sweatpants. Sliding down your sodden panties, he immediately deposited them into your mouth, causing you to essentially be gagged. Your sweet juices coated your tongue, making Namjoon hum happily.

 Kissing down the length of your neck, he stopped at the base of your neck, biting down harshly at your collarbone, then sucking on it, leaving dark red marks that will surely turn into deep purple bruises soon. He continued to assault your neck, only stopping to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, his fingers tweaking at the other. He sucked your sensitive bud, before switching his position, so that he could take the other one in his warm mouth.

 As his tongue skimmed over your nipple, he was bucking into your core, not giving you enough friction to get any relief. His sweatpants acted as a barrier between his throbbing cock and your dripping folds. As your hands tried to pull his pants off, he harshly bit your breast, making you cry out.

 “Behave, Y/N.” He snapped, then went back to leaving marks on your chest. Once he was satisfied at the angry, red spots left on your skin, he kissed down your stomach, finally getting to your core, which was pulsing uncomfortably from the lack of attention.

 “Hmm, always dripping for me, huh?” He murmured, spreading your folds so that you were completely exposed to him. The panties that were still in your mouth prevented you from replying, until he looked up at you, chuckled, then reached up and removed them from your mouth. “You’re allowed to make as much noise as you want today, sweetheart.”

 Not even a second later, he attached his mouth onto your swollen clit, making you cry out, as his soft, warm mouth encased it. Flicking his tongue over your clit, he began to slowly finger your core, causing you to moan and tangle your fingers in his lush hair. He entered you with two fingers, almost immediately curling them against your tight, sodden walls, while he continued to alternate between licking stripes across your clit, and suckling on it, harshly.

 “Nam…joon.” You sighed, feeling euphoria encase your entire being. He abruptly stopped his actions, making you cry out in protest. He just chuckled, before pressed his forefinger into your asshole, causing you to squeak at the sudden intrusion. His finger slid in easily, still slick from your wet pussy.

 He went back to licking stripes across your clit, before quickly sticking his stiffened tongue into your pussy, tongue-fucking you mercilessly. As his tongue shot in and out of you, he began to rub tight circles onto your clit with his freehand, releasing an endless supply of whines and cries from your throat.

 His single finger curling around your tight asshole, his tongue fucking your pussy without pausing and the incessant rubbing of your clit made the coil in your stomach snap, causing you to cum hard on Namjoon’s tongue. His actions didn’t cease, even with your thighs shaking on either side of his head. You fingers knotting in his hair, whimpering, and moaning as your pleasure linked with the dullest pain, as your pussy quivered from sensitivity.

 “J-Joon…” You whispered, trying to pull him off of you. When he didn’t stop, you whimpered out, “Please… H-hurts…”

 “You taste so good.” He replied, finally giving into your pleading as he allowed you to pull him up to your mouth. “Your pussy tastes so sweet. It’s intoxicating.”

 He came up, laying down on the bed next to you, his mouth pressed against yours in an open-mouthed kiss. He nibbled on your lip, before massaging his tongue with yours. A moan involuntarily left your mouth when you tasted your cum on his tongue, which had seemingly soaked into every crevice of the magical appendage.

 You pulled away, with the intentions of taking Namjoon’s cock into your mouth. As you began to pull his sweatpants down, you felt something oddly shaped in his pocket. He smirked up at you, as he palmed himself through his boxers.

 “Take it out my pocket, baby. It’s for you.” He instructed, sliding his boxers down with his sweatpants, leaving him in all his gorgeous glory. Curiosity nibbling at your very being, you pulled out a small, bright pink… Something. You didn’t really know what it was, so you stared up at Namjoon, questioningly. He groaned, “Fuck, you look so innocent right now, sweetheart. Do you know what that is?” Shaking your head, no; he smirked. “It’s a butt plug. I got a small one, for now, baby girl. I don’t want to overwhelm you, yet.”

 “How am I supposed to use it?” You asked, completely confused, as your hand encased the small silicone toy. Namjoon sat up, taking it from you. This action drew your eyes to his cock, which rested against his tummy. The angry red tip gleamed with pre-cum, making your mouth water, craving the salty, delicious taste of him in your mouth.

 Your tongue ran over your bottom lip, something that Namjoon caught you doing, before smirking. Only when he stopped talking, did you realise that he was talking. You looked up at him, innocently, before pouting, making him chuckle.

 “I was explaining how we were going to use it, but it seems like your attention is elsewhere, sweetheart.” He murmured, running his thumb over your bottom lip to make you release it from your teeth, you didn’t even realise you were biting it.

 “Please…” You whispered, leaning into his touch, wanting nothing more than to take his cock into your mouth. He nodded, giving you the go ahead, before leaning back and allowing you to do whatever you wanted.

 Your velvety soft mouth encased the head of his dick, lightly suckling on it, swiping your tongue over the slit so you could taste the pre-cum. As you did this, Namjoon sucked in a deep breathe, his hands weaving into your long hair. Moaning at his delicious taste, you took more of him into your mouth, softly massaging his balls.

 “Hmm… Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned, “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby.”

 You continued to suck on his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. After a few moments of doing this, you decided to take him even deeper into your throat, sinking your head down until your nose was nestled against his pubic bone. He let out a string of curses, bucking into your mouth.

 Gagging around his girthy, long length, your throat muscles massaged his cock, enveloping Namjoon in its warmth. You moaned as he leaked more pre-cum into your throat, your saliva leaking out the corners of your mouth. Namjoon bucked into you again, releasing a whimper out of you, before he pulled out of your mouth.

 You whined at the loss of his exquisite taste, but he just took a deep breath, not acknowledging your neediness to have him bucking into your mouth. “But, baby...” You whined, your desire for his cock making him chuckle. “Want you to cum in my mouth.”

 “Let me cum in your pussy, sweetheart.” He said, still chuckling at how needy you were. It was endearing as much as it was enticing. He moved off the bed, now standing on the floor behind you. He grabbed his belt, positioning your arms so that it was behind you, and proceeded to loop the belt around a single arm, then both, making sure that you were bound tightly.

 “Is that too tight, sweetheart?” He asked, sweetly, kissing up your spine. You shivered, relishing the way he ghosted his plump lips over your skin. After shaking your head at his question, he positioned you the way he wanted. The front of your body was pressed flush against the bed with your arms tied behind you. Seeing you splayed out for him, Namjoon groaned.

 Grabbing the lube from the nightstand, which was left there from last night’s activities, he squirted some into his hand, then slowly lubricated the pink silicone toy. After getting the butt plug sufficiently coated, he deposited the excess lube onto your asshole, making you gasp. Spreading the slippery substance all over your anus, he leaned forward kissing your neck, before nibbling on the shell of your ear.

 “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay, baby?” He murmured into your ear. You nodded, your pussy clenching around nothing as he continued to work lube into your asshole. After he deemed it enough, you felt Namjoon press the blunt head of the butt plug against your puckered hole, making you release some of your juices onto the sheets.

 He slowly eased the toy in, allowing the sounds coming from your mouth to guide how fast or slow he should be going. Once he had fit the whole thing in you, he turned your head and kissed you chastely.

 “You look so fucking sexy with it in you, baby girl.” He groaned. You couldn’t form words – the plug filled you so well, you almost couldn’t have coherent thoughts. Namjoon got off the bed, making you whine, wanting nothing more than him; just him. Due to your position, you couldn’t turn back and see where he had gone, instead, you were forced to simply wait for him.

 A few moments later, you felt the bed between your legs dip, signalling his return.

 “Where did you go?” You whimpered, your neediness evident. Namjoon ignored you, lifting up your hips to place something directly onto your clit. You moaned when you felt it was your ribbed vibrator, which was still turned off. He really wanted to pleasure you today.

 “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” He murmured into your ear. “This is a vibrating butt plug.”

 Pressing the button on both the butt plug and the vibrator, Namjoon sat back for a few seconds, watching you moan, the heavenly sounds pumping more blood to his dick, making it impossibly hard. The ribbed vibrator curled around your clit, making the whole piece of flesh sensitive, while the butt plug pulsed rhythmically in your asshole, just edging you closer and closer to the edge.

 “Joonie!” You cried, feeling like you were close, so close, but it didn’t feel like you could reach an orgasm without Namjoon’s touch. You felt his gaze on you, the mattress still dipped between your legs. “P-Please… I n-need you in me-e!”

 He ran the head of his cock across your folds, before slowly pushing himself in you, stretching your walls to their breaking point around his girthy length. You let out a loud moan, your hands straining to be let out of their confinements.

 “Fuck! I can feel the toys too.” He said, panting as he dragged his cock of you, before slamming back in. “You feel so tight, sweetheart. Your pussy is clenching around me so tight. Gonna fuck you until you’re crying.”

 With that promise, Namjoon began to fuck you into the mattress, mercilessly. He entered you repeatedly, his hips snapping against your plump ass, making the obscene sound of skin-on-skin. His balls slapped your pussy lips incessantly, making the tiniest contact with your vibrator, only adding to Namjoon’s pleasure.

 “Ah – Namjoon!” You cried, feeling him press against the small of your back, making you push onto the vibrator even harder. The butt plug was still sending shocks of pleasure right down to your core, making you release more and more arousal. Slapping your ass, making it redden under his palms, Namjoon started to fuck you so hard that you moved slightly up the bed with each thrust.

 “Baby, I’m gonna cum!” You whimpered, feeling your throat raw from all the moans and whimpers you’ve been letting out. “F-Fuck, you’re so-o big…”

 Your pussy clenched around Namjoon’s cock, making him moan into your ear. “You’re gonna cum on my dick, baby? While your ass is stuffed and your clit is swollen, huh? You’re gonna cream on my cock while I spank the fuck out of you? You’re such a cock-slut, Y/N. Always so needy for my dick, huh?”

 To emphasize his point, he began to slap your ass cheeks, making your entire ass turn red; all while snapping his hips into yours. Paired with Namjoon’s filthy words and the fact that your pussy was being destroyed by his cock, your asshole filled with the pulsating butt plug, as well as the vibrator against your clit, you cried out his name, before cumming all over the sheets and Namjoon’s cock.

 You felt a rush of wetness slip out of you; your cries caught in your throat at the sheer power of your orgasm. You vaguely heard Namjoon groan, not faltering in his thrusts, before he continued his assault on your poor pussy.

 “You just squirted all over me, baby girl. You like this that much? Being tied up and forced to take everything that I give you? You dirty, little cock-slut.”

 Your intense orgasm rendered you speechless, unable to form words or thoughts – but you knew one thing: Namjoon completely owned you. He made you feel things no one else could, and that no one else ever can. Once you came back around, head fully functional, you found Namjoon still fucking you.

 “Yes, yes, yes, you take my cock so well, sweetheart.” He groaned, roughly pulling your hair so that your neck snapped against his shoulder. You whimpered, the position making his tip nudge against your cervix. The squelching of your pussy around his cock made him groan, the dirty sound bringing him closer and closer to his own release. “I’m so fucking close, Y/N!”

 “You gonna cum in my pussy, baby?” You panted, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening again. “Make a mess in between my thighs? You’re fucking me so good, baby, shit! Come in me, please, please, please! Love your cock so much. Fuck, I’m gonna cum again, baby.”

 Namjoon moaned, feeling you tighten around him, as you released for the third time tonight.

 “Namjoon!” You whined, your orgasm not as powerful as the previous, but enough to have you clenching tightly around his cock to make him cum right after you. He pushed himself deep into your pussy, before you felt his hips stutter against your ass.

 “Oh, fuck, yes! Y/N! I’m coming, baby girl.” He moaned, releasing string after string of hot, thick sperm, painting your pussy white.

 Undoing the belt around your arms, he flung it to one side, before collapsing next to you, his cock still deep within you. With your new freedom, you pulled the vibrator out from underneath you, the pulsing now hurting your red, swollen clit. The butt plug was still turned on, making you twitch; the overstimulation being too much. Namjoon, still panting, reached over, and pulled it out of you, allowing your body to relax, finally not being assaulted with copious amounts of pleasure.

 “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asked, pushing your sweaty hair out of your face. You nodded, laying your head against his rapidly rising and falling chest. “You did so well, baby.”

 You basked in the light that was his compliments, feeling your cheeks heat up at his words. You leaned up, kissing him softly, while he pulled his limp dick out of you. Wincing at the loss of him, he chuckled, before caressing your still reddened ass. He watched as his cum began to leak out of your entrance, the site almost enough to make him hard again. Without realising it, he ran two fingers around your messy entrance, making you twitch.

 He gathered his cum from around your entrance before pushing it back into you, making you whine; the overstimulation being too much. Namjoon brought his fingers to your mouth, making you suck off his cum that coated his digits. His salty sperm coated your tongue, making you moan and swirl your tongue over his long fingers.

 Seeing how much you enjoyed it, Namjoon chuckled. Pulling his fingers away from your lips, he replaced them with his own, kissing you gently. He pulled you into his chest, allowing you to cuddle after your intense fucking-session.

 Massaging your ass, now feeling guilty for spanking you so hard, he kissed your forehead, seeing you already half asleep. “Did that take care of your bad day?”

 You lifted your head off of his chest, confused. “What bad day?”

 ***

 A/N: hey guys! I hope you enjoyed that :) Please let me know what you think <3

[soulwillower]

if you’re too shy • richie tozier

(richie tozier x cam girl!reader smut)

[based off the song if you’re too shy (let me know) by the 1975.]

requested: i can't find it lol BUT 🤍anon (i think) requested a fic based off of the 1975′s new song, if you’re too shy let me know !!

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, switch!richie kinda, smut, unprotected sex, a tiny bit of cumplay i guess, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, a bit of dirty talking, UNEDITED as always

also i wrote this in a different style than usual and idk if i like it much but u can let me know what u guys think,, if its weird i can go in and change the povs since its 3rd person richie

[losers + reader are 21+ in this.]

7.4k words lol

♡

i see her online all the time i'm trying not to stare down there while she talks about her tough time

"h-hey, man, who's that?" the voice from right next to richie makes him damn near leap out of his seat. it makes beverly chuckle a bit as she takes a bite of her apple, shaking her head. "it’s nobody." richie says quickly as he tilts his phone towards his chest and shoots a toothy grin to bill. his friend raises his full eyebrows, "wh-what, so n-nobody was sending you n-nudes?"

"something like that." richie mutters, stomach fluttering as the image flashes in his mind’s eye - the curves, the dark red lace, the plush skin painting a perfect scene in richie’s vivid imagination.

richie looks back down at the photo. his his thumbs hover over the profile picture; he'd found her originally on his instagram explore page, the photos teasing and immediately he had to know more. y/n.

and then a few days later, he'd subscribed to her only fans, which he never quite thought he'd do with anyone, but he couldn't help it. she was so enticing, so perfect and so alluring. it was the playfulness that pulled him in; and he swears he's never lusted after somebody like he has with her. it was kind of starting to freak him out.

"is that o-onlyfans?" bill says and richie shoves bill's nosy face off his shoulder with a panicked grunt. "fuck off, mushmouth."

bill laughs and stan and bev perk up from across the table, staring at the two, interests suddenly piqued. "did you subscribe to a girl's onlyfans, rich?" stan says with a grin, setting his pen down on his notebook. 

richie just smirks and wiggles his brows a bit, enough to confirm his question. bill chuckles from next to richie.

"let me see." bev says, wiggling her manicured nails in a "gimme" motion. richie hands his phone over with red cheeks. normally he wouldn't care about his friends discovering he's paid money just to see a hot chick's bod, but this was different. for some reason, he felt connected to her. god, that thought made him want to slam his head against a brick wall. she doesn't even know him,  for all he knows she could live in the middle of.... montana, or like, ohio.

bev whistles and stan nods, "if i looked like that," bev mumbles as she tosses richie's phone back towards him, "i'd do that too. mad props."

noises of agreement fill the table but richie's just looking at the small smirk that peeks from the corner of one of the photos and he can't help but wonder what her eyes are like in real life. he wishes he could meet her.

girl of your dreams, you know what i mean there's something 'bout her stare that makes you nervous and you say things that you don't mean

it's a cold day when bill and richie find themselves stumbling in to the coffee shop for a drink. bill's muttering about some girl in his creative writing class that gave him head when richie's eyes catch a figure so familiar yet foreign that he stops dead in his tracks. bill turns to him, face confused. "r-richie, what's wrong w-with you?"

richie shakes his head, stammering in disbelief, "that-that's her, bill. the girl, from onlyfans. y/n." he whispers, gesturing with his eyes towards the girl working the register.

bill’s jaw goes slack, green eyes raking over her form and igniting richie’s stomach with boiling rage. as if bill’s doing something that only richie is allowed to do – as if they're not both being total creeps.

“h-holy sh-shit. she’s b-beautiful.” bill mumbles. richie elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare that prompts an eye-roll from his auburn haired friend.

richie swallows and watches, his throat feeling like sandpaper as she laughs at something the customer in front of them said. bill nudges richie, "i-i'm gonna get a s-seat. t-talk to her."

he winks and grins as he walks away, leaving richie with his reckless self. he thinks he's sweating through his sweater as he walks up, finding himself face-to-face with her. "hi, how can i help you?" she asks, giving him a smile

holyshitholyshitholyshit.

he might've just came right then and there. okay, he's gotta say something cool, something smooth. don't be a dumbass, tozier. 

"howdy, sugar. i'll have my coffee like i like my women." his mouth blurts as his brain sirens go off, PUT ON THE BRAKES, RICH – "a hot shock to the lap.”

she glares at him, cheeks light pink and eyebrows pulled together in annoyance and yep, richie's probably going to get hard because of that look but he's also probably going to toss his body off a bridge because what the fuck, tozier?

he can hear bill laughing quietly from a ways away and he quickly shakes his head, muttering quietly, "jail. jail, richard."

"funny." she deadpans, clearly not amused. because of course she isn't.

"sorry, i'll have a black coffee, y/n." he mutters, eyes widening to himself when he realizes she was not wearing a goddamn name tag and he just said her name.

this is a disaster. she gives him a bewildered, slightly creeped out look and if richie wasn't panicking, he'd gape at how she still managed to be effortlessly gorgeous even now.

he sighs, shaking his head, the door of the cafe opening and blowing a gust of frigid air through the warm room. fitting - douche chill. 

"look, toots, i don't want this to be weird. i- um, i recognize you." he says, cheeks aflame. she raises a brow, face straight for a few moments, unsure what he means.

it's not long after when recognition flashes over her own face - must have ruled out coffee shop, university and her local gym - and she nods with a tight, almost uncomfortable smile. 

he tries not to think of the livestream he watched last night where she showed all her new gifts and modeled lingerie, and how he’d spent his time to himself with his left hand immediately after watching. his cheeks are red with shame. 

"okay." is all she says, writing down a scribbled order on the coffee cup. her eyes shoot back up and give richie a once-over that really makes his fingers itch - god, why did he have to be this way? 

he almost runs his fingers through his curls but decides against it, eyes opting to focus on her own gorgeous eyes as they meet him. "i'm impressed i have a fan who looks like you, i must say. even if you are a complete jack ass." she purrs and his jaw nearly smacks the floor at its velocity as it flies open.

"what's that supposed to mean?" he asks then with a small grin, flattered at the tiniest of compliments that just barely, in his mind, eclipsed the insult that he so very much deserved.

"i'm saying you're kind of a dick. it's too bad, because you're real cute." she says casually, handing him his change. his stomach flips and butterflies release in his chest, a feeling that he's not felt in almost five years.

but damn, of course he messed up - he got the chance to talk to the hottest girl on earth and he started it by saying an awful joke that wasn't funny at all. of course she though he was a dick, he is one.

he's shocked, though, as he waits for his coffee with bill, who is still snickering into his hand every few moments, to find his coffee cup with extra sharpie scribbled on the white paper. a name.

y/n. and below it is a phone number with a small heart scribbled, and richie can't tell if it's a seven or a one but he figures he'd try every phone number in the damn state if it meant he could fucking text her. holy fuck.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking if you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

he didn't text her for two days and three hours. yes, he counted it. no, he won't think about why he was obsessing over the numbers - but since the time he'd finally had found the courage to text her today, things have escalated proficiently. 

she'd just mentioned how hot it was in her apartment since her heater had gone haywire - even though the winter winds were cold, she'd claimed she was burning up in what she was wearing.

and the mere mention of her clothing had sent richie into somewhat of a spiral, spending at least seven minutes glued to his phone and scrolling through the saved album he had of those photos of her that she'd posted; his sweatpants getting increasingly tight and his palm suddenly aching to slip through the fabric and find some release.

but, in true trashmouth fashion, he apparently needed that sweet, sweet rejection from a hot cam girl he'd somehow weaseled into getting the number of in order to wank off properly, so he types out a text and hits send immediately.

what are you wearing?

and then he almost vomits in embarrassment – what was she going to think? did he just royally fuck up? oh god, he’s going to have to shave his head and move to canada.

his phone buzzes and he nearly passes out when he lays his eyes upon the image attached – there her body is again, curvy and full and beautiful, her skin glowing in the fading light of what he assumes is her bedroom. and with it:

this. what are you wearing, rich?

and then he pulls his gaze from his phone and stands, breathing heavily because holy shit.

he's gotten nudes before, but.... none from someone like her. holy shit.

he walks to his bathroom, splashing water on his beet-red cheeks. he swallows, staring at himself in the mirror. fuck.

he slaps his cheek once, then winking at himself in attempt to muster any sliver of confidence. and then he snaps a picture, only in his boxers.

and then he has to physically refrain from making a joke about wearing the same lingerie set as her, instead sending a flirty text that he knows any other woman would blush at. he just doesn’t know with y/n, and maybe that’s why he loves it so much. she's keeping him on his toes.

you like what you see?

he sends that one afterwards, shaking his head because oh my god, she's going to respond with "no" and then bill him $40 for the nude she sent him. not that he wouldn't pay, but...

his phone dings and he nearly breaks an ankle running to his desk. 

yeah, i do. but maybe i'd like you better without any clothes on.

he almost yells out loud at this, but he has a feeling that waking up stan in the middle of the night would not be optimal after their 'roommate agreement' they'd made that explicitly states richie cannot scream between 1am - 9am. so instead he smirks to himself, face turning red.

he's getting harder by the moment, and as he stares at that picture she'd sent earlier, he lets out a breathy groan. the lace....

we could face time yk

or we don't have to.

he reads her words in live time, watching the thought bubble appear again and watching it like a hawk. he can just imagine her sitting there with a small smirk as another text comes in and he almost groans as his dick twitches.

like, if you're too shy or something ;)

he stares at the screen for two seconds at that sinful photo she'd sent just before those texts and then sighs, shaking his head and pressing the green face-time call button.

i've been wearing nothing every time i call you and i'm starting to feel weird about it sometimes it's better if you think about it this time, i think i'm gonna drink through it

three days later, richie was undeniably and unequivocally drunk. but, as he's just explained about three times to mike, he knows that it is just easier to not think right, especially about her, right now - and the best way to do that is by getting so piss drunk that even if he tried to "hit her line," as he so eloquently put it, his dick would be too whiskey'd out to make a full appearance.

it's for the best. mike had fake gagged at richie’s cadence with a laugh, but richie was dead serious because he was starting to think he had a real issue.

it was obviously just a fun thing to do between two near-strangers, but he'd found that he was starting to almost pavlov-style condition himself into getting turned on every time the name y/n came across his recent texts or face times, and it was getting to be too much.

especially when her post notification popped up and he cracked a fatty in the middle of his econ lecture. christ, the point of elasticity of markers in the u.s. was not something he pictured when he usually had to quell a pitch in his tent. so yeah, it's too much.

because yes, he loves her fucking body and wants nothing more than her, but in truth he longs for the feeling of her skin against his; to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his. all the time.

but yet, it was just a good way to get off without all the strings and ribbons and yarn and whatever the fuck her soft-looking knit bra is made from attached.

so much for not thinking about her.

but i see her online (and don't think that i should be calling) all the time (i just wanted a happy ending) and i'm pretending i don't care about her stare while she's giving me a tough time

it’s noon the next day and he's laying in (for some reason) stan's bed instead of his own with a blinding, mind-splitting headache and an insatiable craving for a cheeseburger, eyes squinting in lust and something akin to shame as he watches the livestream y/n had just started. she’s in a slip – a very thin, silk and see through slip and it makes him more frustrated than he’s willing to admit.

as he stares at her smooth skin and wonders how it'd be to touch it all, her eyes catch something in the chat and she smiles coyly. "hi, rich." she purrs and richie almost chokes - holy shit, she saw him join.

"do you like my gift i just got?" she asks coyly, snapping the straps of her bra with a small smile and he stiffens almost instantly, thinking of how many times he'd seen her skin in videos and photos that were just for him.

how she'd moaned his name two nights ago on face time, her fingers buried inside herself slightly off-camera. and oh, how he wishes he could see all of her, but they'd not crossed that line yet - anything they'd done hadn't been yet proven visually, only from facial expressions, noises, and the brutal honestly of being together through face time.

he wants her so fucking bad, he needs her like he needs water to drink and air to breathe and it's murdering him as he watches her react to the chat of her livestream, playing with the hem of her black lace panties.

god, he needs a cold shower or something if he's going to get anything done today.

and then he's calling her an a few hours after her stream ends because he just can't wait - he feels his stomach twist with shame as he realizes he should not be doing such a certainly a terrible idea. but she answers after three rings. "richie." her siren voice purrs and he literally feels himself fall deeper into the pit.

"hi there, toots. got any coffee in the pot for me?" he asks, sounding surprisingly eloquent compared to how she normally makes him feel. 

she hums in fake thought, and it makes richie grin. she's fucking adorable. "come to the shop, i have my break in ten." and then she hangs up. he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand as he shakes his head. he's utterly fucked.

he's there in record time, a smirk plastered on his face as he walks in and sees her sitting at a table, lookin' all pretty. just for him.

"what made you think of calling?" she says in loo of a greeting. he sits across from her and wills his eyes to meet hers. "nothin' toots." he says with a half shrug, taking a sip of the coffee placed in front of him that has the the name 'dick' written on it in her handwriting. he rolls his eyes affectionately.

"oh, so it wasn't anything to do with my livestream this morning?" she asks with a look, eyeing him. her eyes are swimmable, they hold so many stories and secrets and maybe richie's just hungover, but he's feeling very flustered.

"we-w, uh, no. what... what are you talking about?" he rolls his eyes at himself inwardly, cursing stuttering bill and his contagious speech patterns. "-i don't know what you're talking about, sugar." he recovers fairly smoothly, if he may toot his own horn. and honestly, he can pretend not to care as long as he doesn't look into that goddamn stare of hers.

he chuckles awkwardly, cheeks aflame as she stares at him with a bored look and a small hum. she still looks perfect and he's even more nervous now, because oh god, oh fuck, he's gonna get slapped in the face by y/n.

it was pretty unspoken since they'd started doing... stuff... that richie probably still watched her content online, but she'd never fully addressed it until today during the livestream in front of a thousand others. 

he's choking on his spit in shame but then a smile splits her face and richie's sure he's suffocated on his own saliva and gone to a sinner's heaven. or maybe hell.

"oh, richie, i'm just teasing you. look at your face!" she says with an airy laugh, pinching his cheeks and making him want to shrivel up as he turns even redder. what the fuck? "-so cute. alright, i've got to get back to work. i'll see you around, rich." she says with a wink, taking her coffee and tossing it into the trash bin as she stalks towards the employee back room.

he gapes as he watches her leave and then gets up and makes his way to the exit, clutching the coffee like it was trying to jump out of his grasp and make a run for it. god, she's too much.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking If you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

"-babe, you'll have to try harder than that." richie says with a chuckle, watching his phone screen as the beautiful girl on face time gives him a sly, challenging look. she's in a green lace bra, one richie's not seen yet and he can feel himself stiffen as she absently trails her fingers over her chest.

they'd been much closer over the last week since he last saw her in person, enough so that in the three-is weeks of knowing her, he's positive he's head over ass for her in a way that he shouldn't be. and yet, she still comes back every time, still texts him and answers those face time calls. he's baffled, honestly.

"i know you hate me because i'm right." he adds, not even totally remembering what point he's trying to prove as y/n shifts back a bit and more of her body is revealed, her hair glowing dimly in the soft lighting of her room. his eyes run over her curves, her full thighs and stomach and hips that fill over her panties and he almost groans.

"whatever, maybe i'd like you better if you took off your clothes." she says coyly. and richie's half flattered, as usual, but the more he thinks of it the more deflated he feels. he kind of thought they were growing something more than just getting each other off over face time like horny fifteen year olds. he grins nonetheless.

"you say that a lot, you know." richie says breathlessly as he stares at her. she tilts her head ever so slightly and grins, biting her lip as her eyes move around her screen with a conflicted look. "-why?" he adds.

she hums again.

"well. okay, so there's the visual world - like, the internet, onlyfans, instagram- it tells us that everything is amazing. and we should want everything. and it makes us yearn for everything that we don’t have and everything that’s unobtainable. you know, love, a relationship beyond physical. and even physical, it's different when it's online."

her words confuse him much more than they aid him. "you think... that because of the internet, love is unattainable?" he asks with furrowed brows, unsure how somebody so perfect and, quite frankly, lovable, would think that.

"it is for me." she says it with a small sense of forlorning but mostly it's whispered. enough that richie's heart skips a beat and he's, for the first time, not having a hard time keeping his eyes on her face instead of her body.

"what?" he asks dumbly. she just laughs, shaking her head and he stares at her on his tiny phone screen in the dark.

"that’s something that, you know. in real life, person to person, it has a lot of connotations of... trust and vulnerability and connection. doing what i do- and what we're doing… on the internet - it has the opposite of those connotations. like, before you, i didn't- i didn't really do this, i just was selling stuff. because guys don't want to fuck the girl who sells her body online. and you know now, i want to..." she trails off and richie doesn't dare interrupt her because he thinks she's about to say something he's wanted to tell her for a while now.

"i don't know, i guess. exploring someone's body in physical presence isn't seen at all as voyeuristic, or anything apart from...like, an intimate exchange." she says it casually, brushing hair from her face and shit, richie's swooning. he's in fucking love, he knows it, because y/n is so smart and intelligent and he's so fucking trashed for her. as she speaks, her hands move and distract him slightly from her body, doused in blue light from the screen and splayed out for him and only him on her phone camera.

the soft lace on her hips and chest make his body stiffen and it causes him to suppress a groan as she sighs, but richie knows he can’t screenshot this heavenly sight because she’ll definitely notice and she can probably already tell he’s having a hard time not staring at her alluring figure as she talks.

"-whereas, you know. as soon as it happens on the internet, it becomes kinky and cam-girly. and, you know, that's fine. i love doing it. it's just, i'm not sure where the authentic communication even is now. or if i get to have a happy ending." she says and he finally sees her blush for the first time.

he wishes he was there with her, he wishes that he could touch the redness on her cheeks and caress her curvy body and taste her skin on his tongue. he wants to feel himself inside her, he wants to be with her and kiss her lips and yet he can't, so he sighs and shifts in his position, moving to turn up the brightness of his phone so he can see better.

"shouldn't you get to be the one to decide that, doll?" is all he adds. because he feels kind of lost and just as confused as y/n is with this.

he's starting to feel weird about it, because... is this authentic? what makes things like hookups or whatever the hell they've been doing authentic? shouldn't this be easy? it's just phone sex, phone sex with a really hot girl.

a girl who is complex and alive and full of sincerity and richie is definitely falling harder than he should.

she just sighs but makes no other comment. and then they just stare at each other, richie's face illuminated in his dark room by the phone's reflection.

well, i found a motel it looked like the bins i think there'd been a murder so we couldn't get in i need to get back i've gotta see the girl on the screen

"come over and watch a movie with me." he says into the phone, biting his lip. the silence from the other end of the line is deafening as she makes her decision, because they both know she's not about to come over just to watch the shining or psycho. 

they've never done that before, and richie knows if she does come over, then whatever they have will crash down in a fiery mess. and he hates how excited that makes him as he waits in silence for her to drop the ball. so to speak.

"okay." she says, sounding shocked herself, and richie can't contain the excited grin from eclipsing his face. "yeah?" he asks breathlessly, and she's quiet for a little longer. "yeah. text me your address." 

she hangs up after that, and richie's thumbs shake as he types his address and sprints out to where stan, mike, ben, and bill are playing video games in he and stan's living room, wheezing at all of them to get out because someone fucking unbelievable is about to walk through that door.

she's there about an hour later, cheeks flushed when richie opens his door, looking just as nervous and flustered. "hi, chee." she says breathlessly, staring up at him with those goddamn eyes, the eyes that pulled him in the first time. his stomach flips in affection at her nickname and he offers her a drink as she takes in his shitty apartment. he wonders briefly if stan ended up buying that rosé that he'd given him shit for considering, and then prays that stan will stay the night elsewhere.

she's already pouring out glasses of wine when he snaps back to reality, and he grins at her, mumbling in thanks as she passes him a glass that's certainly poured almost to the brim.

"what are we watching, then?" she asks coyly, lifting a brow at him. his cheeks are red, but he tugs her arm down the hall towards his room with a grin, their wine sloshing from their glasses as they move erratically.

"we're watching psycho, y/n/n." he says as he pulls her into his room, glancing back to see she's already swallowed down almost half her glass, a lipstick stain on the side of it. faintly he knows stan will be frustrated if richie doesn't clean that off, but he's more distracted by her lips.

"i like psycho." she says with a nod and a cheeky grin, "the whole 'voyeuristic gaze' thing with hitchcock." she mumbles, and richie recalls faintly learning about that in one of his film classes freshman year and he grins as he takes a hefty gulp of his rosé, figuring he's already given himself away and if she's going to do that, he can too.

he hums, setting down his glass and grabbing hers to set it besides his on the bedside table. he turns around, intending on grabbing his laptop so they could watch the film, but she's so much closer that he'd expected and her hands fall onto his shoulders and he almost shits himself.

unpleasant, but honest. just richie's style.

"can i try something?" she asks with a grin, and richie nods, knowing that she could do anything to him and he'd gladly let it happen and most likely pay out of pocket for the damages afterwards.

and then she's pulling him from her grip on his shoulders, her lips sliding against his and making him grip her hips. his mind almost explodes at with y/n-sensory-overload because he feels her everywhere - on his lips, against his hands, on his shoulders, and pressing against his front.

her lips taste like chamomile and rosé.

she thinks his lips taste like vanilla and cigarette smoke, just as she'd always imagined. he feels so real, pressed against her lips and his body against hers, and she sighs as her tongue slips into his mouth because god, she's needed him for so long. and now she has him.

his hands move, touching every inch of her as their tongues fight for dominance. she pulls back, smirking as she gently pushes him onto his mattress, sliding onto his lap smoothly afterwards, grinding her hips against his slowly.

the moan he emits is heavenly and she could cry because she finally gets to hear it in person and not through the crackling static frequency of the phone.

so she grinds down on him again, eager to feel all of him. he's hardening against her core and she whimpers into his mouth in need as his fingers slip under her top, rubbing circles on her bare skin and making her shiver. she's noticed to this gentleness; it was rare when she did get to enjoy the comfort of another body with her own, and when she did they were hardly half as loving or caring as him.

she's desperate now, she needs to feel him inside her after all these weeks of teasing and waiting, so her hand snakes down to palm him through his sweats. he lets out a small groan into her mouth, biting her lip as he pulls back slightly. their eyes meet and his are hooded with lust, lips parted as she pumps him slowly from outside his sweats. his hips buck up lightly into her palm and she smiles gently, kissing him slowly.

"let me make you feel good, y/n." he mutters, eyes pleading as he stares up at her. her stomach flutters with butterflies and she nods, shocked that he wants to pleasure her.

he gently pulls her off his lap until she's laying on his mattress and he stares down at her, biting his lip as he takes her in. he can't fucking believe she's really here. she slowly pulls off her top, leaving her in her bra and jeans as she stares up at him with a wry, seductive smile. then she unzips her jeans and slides them off, leaving her in his favorite set of hers - black, lacy, and revealing. she looks utterly stunning and he groans, his hands falling to run over the skin, tracing the lace on her breasts. her cheeks are red as she gazes up at him.

"touch me, richie." she orders and he almost groans as he drags his lips over the valley of her breasts, sucking on the soft flesh and admiring the splashes of budding purple and pink that he's created. her heartbeat is quick under his fingertips and he moves to unclip her bra, kissing her skin as the fabric falls away.

she's slightly cold in his room, and goosebumps appear over her flesh as richie leans to catch a nipple in her mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. she lets out a quiet whine that has richie rutting into the mattress next to her, his fingers trailing down to dance at the waistline of her underwear.

and then he's pulling aside her panties, his fingers running up and down her slick folds and making her jump in lust. he can't wait, just like her, and he's rubbing her clit teasingly as she pleads, "chee, please."  her eyes are eyes closed in bliss as his finger slips inside her, crooking slightly as he moves it. he presses his lips to the skin of her breast, pumping his finger and then soon adding another, crooking them both in a way that makes her let out guttural moans of pleasure. he marks her breasts with littered pink and red marks, smiling to himself at her figure.

she can't help but swoon as she watches him, his hair in his face slightly until she brushes it back, his fingers curling inside her and making her gasp, pleasure coursing through her body. his thumb softly comes up to rub her neglected clit and she grabs his shoulders to steady herself, the pleasure almost too much.

she's honestly slightly shocked - knowing richie as little as she really does outside of the literal booty calls at two in the morning and the accumulative forty five minutes they'd spent in person, she'd expected him to be... well, good. just good. because there's no way someone so funny, caring, and smart could also be that good in the sheets.

but right now, he's making her see goddamn stars.

"i've been wanting to touch you for so long, sugar." he mutters, eyes raking over her figure as her breath comes in stuttering gasps. she watches him with blown-wide eyes as his demeanor changes right before her, making her fall apart at his fingertips.

"that feel good, honey?" he asks, smirking as she whimpers, clenching around his fingers. "yes, god you feel so good." she utters, making him groan in approval from where he's sat back, watching her face contort in pleasure. she lets out another moan and richie stares at her body, watching his fingers as they fuck into her. he can't take it, then.

"will you sit on my face, doll?" he blurts, and she nearly yelps out as his fingers leave her. it's abrupt, but she's started to notice that this is how he operates - impulsivity is his second nature. and she loves it.

her face burns as she nods, the thought of richie under her making her whimper with anticipation. "yes, richie, please." she moans out again and he's grinning, laying back on the mattress with a wink. "c'mere, need to taste that pretty little pussy." he mutters and she feels herself clench around nothing, desperate for him as she swings a leg around to straddle his head.

immediately, his hands wrap around her thighs, thumbs smoothing over her stretch marks as he stares up at her, eyes glinting with desire. slowly, his finger pulls the seat of her lace panties to the side and his breath hits her bare, throbbing pussy, making her breath hitch. she cards her fingers through his hair and lowers herself slightly, gasping in shock as his tongue darts out to lick a bold stripe up from her entrance to her clit.

"chee," she moans out, tightening her grip in his hair and sending a groan through his body that reverberates and makes her shiver. his lips attach to her clit and fiery pleasure snakes through her body making her legs shake, a moan escaping her lips immediately. he sucks lightly before releasing to swirl his tongue, her moans making richie impossibly harder through his sweats.

"so good, rich." she mutters and he groans, tongue spreading her wet folds and slowly prodding at her entrance, dipping in slowly before pulling out, teasing her.

she can't help but grind down slightly, making richie grip her tightly, tongue sliding into her again and making her yelp. "you taste so good, baby." he mutters lowly before slowly reattaching himself to her heat, her eyes rolling slightly at the sensation as he fucks his tongue into her. one of his hands snakes up to her ass, gripping it tightly and then slapping it, the stinging pleasure making her buck her hips against him, emitting a hiss from her.

"rich, i-" she cuts herself off with a sharp gasp, the pleasure from richie's mouth making it increasingly harder to speak. her toes curl and her head tilts back as his tongue flicks over her clit, teeth grazing it slightly and making her buck.

she's embarrassingly close already, and judging by the way richie's smirking under her, he can tell. "please, please." she mutters, hips rocking on him as his tongue swirls, nipping softly at her clit and making her cry out. "please, make me cum, 'chee." she mutters and his tongue moves quicker, hand slapping her ass again.

and then she's clenching her thighs on either side of him and grinding down as she hits her peak, moaning quietly as she shakes in pleasure on top of him. he rides through her high, lapping at her and pulling away with a grin as she moans his name dejectedly. she's worn out from the best orgasm she's ever had and he gently nudges her so he slides in between her thighs, her back now on the mattress. he kisses her cheek and she keens quietly.

"fuck me, richie." she mutters, eyes still closed. his eyes snap to hers, surprised at the dominance in her voice after how she was two seconds ago.

he moans quietly, kissing her deeply as he ruts against her and relishes in the feeling. he's pulling off his sweats and boxers in record time and then he's pumping himself as he grips her hips, turning her so she's on her stomach, ass propped up slightly. his hand runs over the smooth skin of her ass, snapping the elastic of her panties and making her moan quietly.

then he's lining up her hips with his, pulling aside the lacy seat of her underwear to press against her entrance. he waits a moment as he leans to press a soft kiss to her spine, slowly easing into her. she moans loudly as he eases in, her face pressing against the pillows. she smiles as she smells the scent she'd just recently come to know as his, his cock stretching her and filling her up fully as he buries himself to the hilt inside her.

"so tight, sugar." he mutters and she whimpers, getting antsy as she adjusts to his size. "richie, please, need it so bad." she mutters, bucking her hips back against him in need.

"say that again." he mutters, sounding strangled, and she grins into the sheets. "please fuck me, richie. need it so bad, need to feel you ruin me." she whimpers, chest fluttering in anticipation. his hands grip her hips as he pulls out of her slowly, almost as slowly as he entered, before stopping almost all the way out. she moans loudly in pleasure as he pushes back in, snapping his hips against hers and filling her completely.

she briefly thanks god that his roommate seemed to be out for the night as she moans his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

he sets a brutal pace, his cock thick as it fills her up and makes her toes curl. he pushes her hair away from her neck and presses kisses to it as he hits a spot inside her that makes her scream his name. his fingers move to pinch her nipples, rolling them as he fucks into her.

she's completely blissed out at the feeling of him inside her, so glad that he invited her over and that they finally get to touch each other. "rich, oh my god." she emits, eyes squinted shut in complete pleasure.

"fuck, toots, takin' me so well, aren't you?" he asks, hands kneading her ass before slapping her right ass cheek harshly, making her arch her back. at the new angle they both let out a groan and richie knows he'll fucking cum too soon if they stay like this, so without warning he pulls out completely.

y/n whines, breathing heavily as his hands come to flip her around. now on her back, they make eye contact and she bites her lip, pulling him in for a searing kiss that knocks the wind out of both of them. images of richie in his room alone, snaps and late-night face times play through her mind as he grips her and slides her hips down towards him on the mattress and lines himself to her again, pulling her legs up so they're against his chest before pushing in.

he gives no time to adjust to this angle and it makes her moan loudly as he hits a spot deep inside her that pulls her closer and closer to her second orgasm.

his name leaves her cherry lips like a mantra and he can't stop staring at her as he fucks her into the mattress - the way her tits bounce with his brutal pace, the way her face is twisted in pleasure, the way she clenches and spasms around his cock.

one hand grips her breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb and forefinger as he kisses her again, addicted to her taste as he feels himself coming closer and closer to the edge.

"chee, fuck, right there." she moans out and he groans in pleasure, the feeling of her walls clenching around him making his hips stutter. he keeps his thrusts up, though, as her fingernails rake down his back leaving small trails of burning pleasure in their wake.

her skin is covered with a sheen line of sweat as she looks up at him, hair wild and lips kiss-bruised. "god, don't stop, 'm gonna cum." she mutters and he snaps his hips harder, eager to make her cum so hard all she can think of is his name.

he moves a hand down to rub at her clit and he moans into her neck as she clenches hard around him, her hips bucking spastically. he can tell she's about to cum, and after a hard thrust, she does for the second time, spasming around him and sending waves of pleasure up his body. she's moaning his name, pulling him closer in bliss as she becomes sensitive and god damn it, she's so fucking beautiful.

"please cum, richie." she whispers against his lips, "please."  and then at her will, he's spilling into her, hips stuttering as he pushes as deep into her as he can, loving how she clenches in sensitivity around him. he stays inside her for a moment as they breathe, coming down from their highs and eyes closed as they take in what just happened.

"holy shit." he says because yeah, that's like all he can say right now because he just got to fuck y/n and she's kissing his fucking collarbones right now and its making him blush and his heart flutter.

"that was...incredible." she whispers against his skin and he can feel her smile against his skin. it makes him feel all soft inside as he pulls out of her and flops next to her, kissing her forehead.

his fingers flutter over her sensitive core, smiling as he sees how wrecked she is, some cum dripping down her leg. he then soothes over the lace panties, patting her lightly and kissing her red cheek.

"rich?" she asks, making him look up at her. he hums in question, pushing some of her hair back. "can we still watch the movie?"

his heart swells and he grins, kissing her softly. "of course, doll. you're too cute." he says with a wink, making her roll her eyes. he hands her his shirt and then pulls sweats on himself, mumbling "stay here" and padding out to the kitchen to get her water and snacks,  then returning minutes later to see her holding his phone in her clutch with a smirk.

"what're you doing?" he asks with a smile, but she shakes her head, making grabby hands for him and the snacks. so he laughs, cuddling up with the girl of his dreams and watching a flick, falling sleep with tangled limbs and a lipstick-stained neck.

and after she leaves the next morning with a kiss and a wink, he checks his phone and smirks to himself as he notices the lock screen she'd apparently made last night while he was making snacks.

a photo of her in his bed, wearing his shirt, a soft smirk on her face, neck littered in budding hickeys and a hand between her thighs next to her black lace panties.

god, she's going to be the absolute death of him.

//tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @emnotm @moon-shine-baby @toziershmozier @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @beauregard-s@finnskindofwoman  @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss \\

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Snowed In p6

This gave me such a hard time but I needed this conversation to happen for like 50% of the plot shit down the road, plz forgive me. 

Pairing: Geralt x fem!reader

Warnings: hella awkward convos, pining, self depreciating undertones?, talking about sex? idk yall im tryinna tag these with everything i can think of but if i miss something plz let me know!

Summary: (Last part was pure smut, but for those who skipped, it was basically them justifying a good roll in the hay bc it would help them sleep) The day after some completely pragmatic and not at all monumental sex they’re figuring out where to go from there. Boundaries and such?

__________

part 5 here!

You woke slowly, uncomfortably warm and… sticky? 

As reality came into focus you realized the stickiness was sweat from being plastered to Geralt's bare chest as you slept. You wriggled a little, loosening his hold on your hips so you could scoot back and see his face. He was still fast asleep, hair sticking to his stubble and mouth slightly open. He looked so much more innocent, almost juvenile when he slept. It made you want to protect him, as ridiculous as it sounded. 

Your hand reached up on its own to brush the strands of hair away from his face. When he didn't stir you trailed your first two fingers down his jawline, gently dragging the backs of your knuckles up over his cheekbones. You knew he could wake up at any moment, and it would be uncomfortable to explain why you were staring at him like he alone breathed life into you every day, but you continued tracing the peaks and contours of his face. 

If you let yourself think about it, he technically did. He got you up every morning, did anything you asked to help you, and everything you didn't have the stones to ask. This man made space for you like no one ever had and accepted the mess you brought with you, going so far as to help you sweep it into a manageable pile. 

You swallowed back the lump forming in your throat as you realized just how much of a mess you'd made for yourself this time. You'd fallen in love and set yourself up for nothing but pain.

The snow would melt, you two would join Jaskier on the other side of the pass, things would go back as they were, and you would fall asleep alone. 

You took a slow deep breath in and savored the peace for the last couple of moments you could before your heart would burst. Gently lifting Geralt's arm, you rolled up to sitting as slowly as possible, watching him the whole time. When he still didn't wake, you snatched up your clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom. 

He was still asleep after a towel bath and meticulously braiding your hair, softly snoring now. You couldn't help but feel a little proud of yourself for tiring him out so thoroughly.

Sitting down next to him you squeezed his shoulder, "Geralt. Hey, wake up." 

He grumbled something about it being early and patted the bed where he thought you were supposed to be before his eyes snapped open.

"There he is." You cooed, reluctantly pulling your hand away.

He squinted and furrowed his brow against the morning sun, pushing himself up on one elbow, "You're up. And dressed." 

Now, you knew you were manufacturing the disappointment in his words, but it still hit you just as hard. You sprang to your feet, kicking the contents of your bag back toward the corner with a little more vigor than necessary, "Woke up hungry. C'mon, get up." 

"Alright, alright." He grumbled, rolling over and reaching for his neatly packed bag.

Breakfast was uncomfortable, to say the least. 

Geralt didn't lean his knee against yours and you weren't sure if you missed it or were relieved he spared you the adrenaline rush. Though when he brushed against your arm reaching for the salt and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The neighbors sat across the table from you and one of them winked at you, almost making you choke on your oats. As soon as Geralt was done with breakfast you cleared both your plates and made a beeline for the door. 

You lead the way out to the barn, excited to see the caverns in the snow your fight had left the week before were still uncovered by fresh snow. You fumbled with the latch, not entirely paying attention, so Geralt reached over your shoulder and flicked it open himself. He was so close you felt his breath on your neck and the heat coming off of his chest. Everything in you wanted to lean back into him, but that might be breaking a rule and these rules were becoming ever more nuanced. 

You went about your usual business feeding and examining the horses and were about to leave, but Beau looked so sad and bored. Poor guy hadn't gotten more than a walk up and down the breezeway in a month and you could see the pent up energy in his eyes. You sighed and grabbed hold of his mane, swinging up onto his back and laying back over his haunches while he ate. This felt like a good place to slow down and examine your options with this whole "friends" business. 

"Y/N?" 

Or it would have been. 

"Stall." You answered, not sitting up even when you heard him slide the door open. 

"What're you doing up there?" Geralt's voice had that same confusing, unidentifiable tone he'd used when he'd left you in the bath. 

"He looked so lonely. You don't just spend time with Roach?" You spared him a glance, noting how casually he leaned against the door, arms crossed so that his collar slipped down to show the marks from your nails digging into his skin.

He shrugged, "She gets tired of me." 

Beau walked across the stall to sniff Geralt’s pockets and nudge his hand when he smelled what he was after. You shifted to stay balanced on his back, absolutely no intention of coming down any time soon.

The silence between you that crept on and on was in no way comfortable. You fidgeted while Geralt pet Beau, giving him a treat here and there when he smiled for him. Normally you’d be amused, now you were just angry at yourself.

You swung a leg over Beau’s withers, spinning to sit sideways facing Geralt, “You’re rather quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

You shook your head, frantically searching for the words you needed, testing the waters,“I ah… I had a good time last night.”

He quickly glanced at you before focusing back on Beau trying to eat his gloves, “Mhmm... Haven’t slept that well in months.”

There was a beat where you debated leaving it there, but you were never one to quit while you were ahead, “This doesn’t have to be weird, does it? I don’t want things getting tense.”

Geralt finally locked eyes with you, searching your face for something, “No… if you’re uncomfortable-”

“Which I’m not.” You interrupted.

He tilted his head, a softness taking over his face that you rarely saw, “You’re my best friend. As long as you’re okay with it, I am too. It’s just sex, after all.”

You nodded, “Just sex. Yeah. We- heh, we didn't even kiss...”

“Exactly. What are friends for?” Geralt playfully swatted at your boot, giving you a grin. 

What are friends for…

You plastered a smile on your face, changing the subject before the emotions bubbling in your chest boiled over, “Jaskier is gonna kill you when I tell him you said I’m your best friend.”

He moved to stand in front of you, crossing his forearms and resting them on your knees. His touch was calming, grounding you back into reality as he usually did.

He squinted up at you, “That’s if you tell him.”

You patted his hand, “Oh, I’m definitely telling him.” you teased. 

He gripped your wrist and quickly spun to face away from you, pulling you forward and off Beau's back. You squeaked and gripped onto his shoulders when you landed on him. He laughed, giving a little jump to get you higher on his hips and get a hold of your knees. A giggle slipped from your lips, partly due to surprise, but partly because his grip on your knees tickled.

"I'll tell him it was you who dropped the sword on his lute strings." Geralt made his threat halfheartedly, carrying you out of the barn only to have you steer him back to grab your gloves that you'd left on the hay. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, taking your opportunity to hold him close to you as possible, resting your chin on his shoulder. His warmth and his scent lulled you into a state of content as he took his time meandering back to the inn. Just before he reached the door you noticed a fresh snowflake on your elbow. 

"Motherfucker." You shouted, "It's snowing again." 

"Shit! Y/N, you're right in my ear." He tried to turn to look at you but you tucked your head against his neck, hiding almost like a child. 

"Sorry. I forgot…" you whispered, more out of embarrassment than anything.

He hummed, the vibrations permeating your whole body from where you were perched as he yanked the door open and stomped inside. You wiggled, communicating you could once again walk just like a toddler, but he just hoisted you up higher and trudged up the stairs. You bit your lip, hiding a smile on the basic principle of not wanting to feel it, not necessarily because anyone important could see you. 

When you reached your room Geralt rather unceremoniously collapsed onto the bed, sending the two of you bouncing for a bit before he came to rest with his shoulders on your hips. 

"Tired?" You asked, fighting the urge to rake your fingers through his hair.

"Exhausted." He made no effort to get up but rested his hands underneath the outsides of your knees. 

You sighed in agreement and rested your hands on his shoulders, "Post breakfast nap sounds nice."

I can handle this. I know the boundaries. Just don't kiss him. That should be easy enough ...

__________

part 7 here!

gotta edit bc im a scatterbrain and forgot to tag! If you want to be tagged plz let me know! 

@ab-haya @fire-in-her-veinz @cavillhavoc

[putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty]

The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 5

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate. A/N: Helu! So, this is super late butttttt I’ve been soooo busy with my classes and the translation I’m working on :) This is a filler part, but I find it extremely cute, plus Finan and Aoife are getting closer, my children :’) Have fun reading this. byeeee Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior. General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence Chapter’s warning: Fluff fluff fluff, probably bad English? idk Words: 3410 Chapter Four.

Chapter Five: Stories and Returns 

At some point she had passed out; it must have been just minutes because, when she woke up, her face was still wet of tears, and her hair too. She stood up and just yet noticed that she was starving. In the hall, the warriors and the Lady were already eating, and she slid next to Osferth, who shot her a smile and pushed a plate full of bread and cheese in her direction. “How are you feeling?” she asked, and he playfully rolled his eyes. “I’m doing well mum, stop worrying!” He was healing just fine, he could already walk on himself and laugh without pain, but he still had to be careful, wound like his took some time to heal. “Are you all right, Aoife?” Aethelflaed, who had followed their playful banter, asked cautiously. The Lady was sitting right in front of her and she could see how swollen and red Aoife’s eyes were. Anyone could, especially Finan, who was sitting next to Aethelflaed and in front of Osferth. “I’m fine, thank you my Lady. I’m just tired” No one seemed to believe her. Finan leant forward and filled her cup with ale. “Eat and drink. Then we go for a walk.” And so she ate abundantly and slowly, careful not to let anyone see how nervous and trepidant she was to spend some time alone with Finan. What did he want? Had she done something? Had he done something? He stared at her the entire supper with a questioning look, and it did not help the uncomfortable feeling of excitement and fear that was stirring her soul. When she chewed down the last bite, he stood up and, with a little bow to the Lady, left the hall. Aoife shot a questioning look to her friends, who just shrugged with an amazed smile on their faces; Aethelflaed gestured her to follow the warrior and she obeyed swiftly, her heart beating violently against her ribcage. Finan was waiting for her just outside the wooden door and, when the girl reached him, smiled sweetly. For a while, they walked down the streets of Saltwic in silence. It was a nice winter night without wind nor cloud and Aoife enjoyed the cold air on her cheeks and how bright the stars looked. The town was still alive, the torches still burning in the alehouse and the voices loud. People would pass them and bow respectfully, and Aoife would smile to each of them and greet them with a soft “G’night.”; it warmed Finan’s heart. They stopped right next to the town well, facing each other. The stars were reflected in her eyes, the blackest eyes Finan had ever seen. He was used to the clear eyes of Uthred and Sithric and Osferth, that painfully reminded him of his mother’s eyes, but he had never seen such dark eyes, so deep and welcoming. He had to restrain himself from running his thumb over her lashes, which looked as soft as they were long and thick. Aoife was looking back at him, bolder that she would have days before. He hadn’t even noticed that he was chewing on the cross hanging around his neck, something that Aoife had seen him doing before, when he was lost in his thoughts. She found it precious, somehow vulnerable, a very childlike action, so at odds with his mature stance. And he had pretty hands too, with long thin fingers, different from the stubby hands of the Mercians. She was curious to learn where he came from, where his family lived. Had he always been a swordsman? He had the delicate hands of a musician, corrupted by the scars and dirty of his warrior life. There was a specific reason to why he had asked her to walk with him, but now that she was watching him in such a direct, open way, like no one else had ever done before, he could not find the right words to address it. “I never thanked you” he finally croaked, his voice just above a whisper. And she smiled , calmly yet questioning, still watching him boldly. “What for?” “For saving my life” “You don’t have to.” She assured him “It was the right thing to do.” He took her hand in his, succumbing to his own desires. Her skin was not as soft as he remembered, chapped and irritated by the wind and callous were the hilt of the sword would press during her training; on the opposite, her touch was delicate and prudent. He grazed his thumb on her knuckles and smiled, looking at her through his lashes. “Still, you acted like a true warrior and if I’m here today is just because of you. I shall never forget it, Aoife.” Under the dim light of the torches, she blushed and her bottom lip drop slightly, but she didn’t reply. “Also…” he kept going “I apologise if I’ve been too hard on you today.” “What made you think that?” He shrugged “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but you look…” he looked her head to toe “distressed.” She averted her gaze, eyes filling with tears. He was pitying her, then. She was too embarrassed to watch him, now, she didn’t have problems with being emotional, but she did not like compassion. “It’s not you, Finan.” She mumbled, her voice shaking “It’s just…” she couldn’t find the words to explain how she was feeling, torn between excitement and guilty, happiness and grieving. She gasped for air and tried to wipe the tears from her face, trying to push herself away from the warrior. But he did not let her step back, fearing that if she left, she would never be so confidently herself with him. He reached her and embraced her without hesitation and, despite her surprise, her body reacted naturally and she hid her face in the crook of his neck. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she noticed that he smelled of leather and metal, the scent she expected from a warrior, and just behind it she could detect the natural fragrance of his skin, and she loved how intimate that new experience was. The warmth of his body was comforting and welcoming and she couldn’t understand if it was her heart of his beating fast against her skin. He held her tightly, her fingers dipping in his back, and he was not sure where to put his hands, afraid to cross any line, but she smelled so good and her body was so warm that he could not help but melt against her and run his fingers through her hair until her tears stopped. They were ready to let go. The night had fallen long before Osferth decided to retire to his room in the alehouse. He walked slowly, in the cold air of winter. He was enjoying every second of his stay in Saltwic, knowing well how rare moments of peace were for a warrior. His wound was itching, and he picked up his pace, dreaming of his warm bed and the ointment Aoife had prepare precisely for when the healing wound would become too uncomfortable. She was an amazing healer, and he had wondered many times if he would be alive without her help. The well was fairly close, which meant that in less than a minute he would be at the alehouse. And right in front of the well, he witnessed the blossom of a love. Aoife and Finan embraced in the dark. Since that night, Finan had spent most of his time with Aoife. Honestly, he hadn’t had much to do, while she seemed to be always busy; so, he had followed her around for days, helping and amusing her. He had noticed that she was growing bolder every day, quick to answer his remarks. She still blushed, though, and he was proud of how much his words and actions could affect her. He had found himself spending with her every day and thinking about her every night; he knew he was slowly falling in love with the woman and he was trying to fight it. She was young, innocent and inexpert of everything that the world had to offer; she deserved someone just as fresh as her. Even with this knowledge, he could not stop himself from spending all his spare time with her, from thinking about her constantly, from looking for her in every room. Besides, when he tried to stay away from her, she would find him everywhere, with a little pout on her full red lips. “Were you hiding from me, Finan?” she would ask, mocking pain with a hand on her chest and he would smile and bow dramatically in her direction “I was not, milady. I was looking for you.” To assay her, Finan started telling her the most vile stories of his past; he talked about blood and swindles and heartbreaks; and one day, while he was sitting on the fence of the stable and telling her one of his cruellest stories, she ceased grooming her horse and, with a sharp smile, commented “I know what you’re doing, Finan.” “What am I doing, then?” “You’re trying to scare me away. But you’re actually doing the opposite.” she run her hand up and down her mount’s face “Because I know you now, and I know you’re not the man you’re telling me about. Not anymore, at least. I think every one of those stories made you the man you are today, a much better person than you think. I’m no fool, and surely, I’m not as innocent as you think I am. If I’d had the faintest impression that you were not a good person, I would not be here now.” “Are you making a pass at me, dear?” She looked back at him with a gaze so deep he felt naked and, unexpectedly, something that hadn’t done since he was a child happened: he blushed. It infuriated him how much power she had on him, how his body melted right against hers when she snuck between his knees and pressed her hands against his tights. He lowered his face to meet her eyes and she stood on her tiptoes. Was she about to kiss him? Did he want her to? Of course he wanted to kiss her, but was he ready for the consequences? He was aware of how his heart worked, how hardly and quickly he fell in and out of love with a woman; he did not want to hurt her in that way. Yet again, his worrying alone was an indicator of how different what he felt for her was from his previous women; he had never worried for the consequences of his actions before, but here he was now hesitating to kiss the prettiest woman watching him from under her black eyelashes. And he hesitated a moment too long, because when he finally leant towards her, she shot him a feral smile and pushed him down the fence. The last thing Finan heard, before the splashing of his body on horse shit, was Aoife’s crystal laugh. And he was happy. Winter was giving the way to spring slowly but relentlessly, the sun now a little warmer and the days a little longer. That afternoon Finan had joined Aoife at the stream and little white flowers were already sprouting from the snow along the banks, where the temperature was higher, and the first birds were chirping on the branches moved by a delicate wind. All day long, Aoife had been busy with Aethelflaed, Finan had seen them walked down the streets of Saltwic, arm in arm. Now, finally, they were together and he was watching her washing clothes. He didn’t understand how she could dip her hands in the cold water without freezing, but she had assured him that the shock was only temporary and after that, it was almost as if the water was warm. “Tell me something, Finan.” She then requested, while he was adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear. With time they had become physically very closed, always touching each other in some way. “About what?” She stopped to look him in the eyes “I don’t know, something… how did you and Uthred met?” That was a story that many knew, but he still did not feel comfortable in telling it. Yet, Aoife was the one person who made him feel safe, calm, unjudged. If there was someone that could cast away the ghosts of his past, that would be her. He dipped the tip of his finger in the cold water, rippling the surface. “I have done things I am not proud of, Aoife. And some of them had led me to slavery. I have spent winters and summers at the bottom of a ship, rowing and rowing, with the sun and the wind and the snow. I reached a point where I could barely remember who I was, where I came from, why I was there. Then one day Uthred came. He was dressed as a slave, and was rowing as a slave, but there was something behind his eyes that told a whole other story. And somehow, in that hell, we bounded. And when his brother came to the rescue, he did not abandon me, he gave me a reason to live. He still do every day, and I owe him my life. He not only saved me from that ship, but he also brought me back to the man I was, and he gave me a chance to be someone better than that man. And we are bound in ways that no one could ever understand; we have suffered and seen things that no one else could ever understand. That’s why my sword is his, until the day I die. I would give my life for him, my soul for him. He is my brother. My family.” Aoife was holding his hands, he hadn’t even noticed, up until that moment, that she had stopped washing and had knelt in front of him. She caressed his face gently, brushing her cold fingertips against his scars. She had many questions, about his past, his regrets, his fears. She felt as if she knew nothing of him while knowing him deeper than many could say. He was a mystery, with a very dark past, yet he was the person she trusted the most. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Finan” she whispered softly, and he smiled, leaning in her cold palm and kissing it softly “Thank you for listening, Aoife.” She smiled, returning at her duties. “Your name is Irish too, did you know that?” Finan watched her stiffen, suddenly uncomfortable “I do know that , yes.” Here it was, the thing he couldn’t bear about her: it was easy for him to open with her, he had trusted her entirely in a short period of time, while her, as much as she seemed to enjoy his company, had yet to trust him with her past; and perhaps it was wrong, but he wanted answers to his curiosity, about her family, and the mysterious man who had gifted her with weapons and a horse, and her past; so he kept pushing her. “Was your mother Irish?” She paused “No, Finan.” He was walking down a dangerous path “What’s with that name then?” She looked up at him, with a pained and somehow angry face “You won’t rest until I’ll give you answers, right?” “Indeed, lady.” She sat down with a huff “My mom was in love with an Irish man and wanted to honour him with my name.” “Was he your father?” “Not quite.” Here she was again, reticent woman. Finan had even talked about it with Osferth, with whom Aoife seemed to have bounded and she felt freer talking – Finan at times could not stand how close they were – but the monk too had admitted that he had tried but failed in that same situation. Even Aethelflaed knew nothing, and where a Lady can’t succeed, what are the chances for a warrior to? Therefore, he took what she had offered him, which was a lot considering the previous attempts, and held her hand to his lips, kissing her cold knuckles. “Let’s go back, you’re freezing.” They had walked back in silence, hand in hand. The sun was setting one they entered the hall, where the warriors were enjoying some spare time playing dice and drinking ale. Finan left Aoife with one of his sweetest smiles and joined his companions, while she sat down next to Osferth, who was warming up in front of the fire. “You’re getting closer by the day, aren’t you? By Sunday you’ll be married.” The monk joked, gaining a light kick on the shin; the training had helped her quite a lot with her fighting skills, but, as a result, she had become more violent.“Hey, you should not hit your patients!”“I brought you back to life, I can end it just as easily.” Osferth laughed, wrapping her shoulder with his long, thin arm. He had found himself growing less shy every day and he had now reached a point of ease with Aoife that he had become physical affectionate, a part of him he had hidden successfully during his monk life. Growing up in a monastery, he hadn’t spent much time with people his age, and even now, travelling with Uthred’s warrior, he felt that there was a certain aspect of him that they could not understand. Aoife, on the other hand, had experienced a similar youth and with her he could be himself. By the day, she was becoming more and more a warrior, as was he, but they would always remain children of the church and the type of education they had been raised through was different – if not opposite – to those of the others and for that reason they were bounded as siblings. Finan watched them for long, curious – and somehow jealous – of why they were laughing. He had noticed that everyone adored Aoife, she had the singular power of making people at ease. As far as he knew her, and it wasn’t much, she seemed without flaws. However, based on his experience, he knew it could not be possible and he feared the day he would discover her darkest side. For now, though, he decided to join them and hope that their contagious laughs would heal his restless soul. Enjoying some peace after years of battles and death was a gift, he was aware of it, but he would never stop being a warrior and he missed the clanking of swords and the stench of blood, sweat and fear. He missed the shivers of excitement running down his spine on the battlefield, and the surreal, still silence that followed a bloodshed. Yet, he was torn between the past he knew, living day by day without the certainty of a tomorrow, and this new routine of enjoy sweet talks and long walks with Aoife. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that he did not care for the fresh air, nor for the starry night, he just cared for the lady standing next to him under that dark sky. For now, however, he did not have to choose, and he grabbed three cups and joined his friends. “Why are we laughing?” he asked, dropping heavily next to Aoife, who shot him a bright smile. “Just threating Osferth, here.” she answered cheerfully, accepting the ale he was offering. “Oh, I do like this game.” “No you do not!” Osferth huffed, sipping his ale “Just let me be, I’m still recovering.” Finan had a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue but he was interrupted by hooves drumming outside; with the heart beating in his throat he jumped up, running to the window. “What is it?” Osferth asked. “You mean, who is it” Finan smiled, looking outside “Osferth.” He then called urgently, in his tone a happiness and thrill Aoife had never heard. He was not quick enough to reach the door and it opened from the outside, bringing in the room cold wind and smell of horses. And then here he was, wrapped in furs and covered in snow, his sword standing proudly against his back, the widest, proudest smile on his gorgeous face. Uthred of Bebbanburg was back. Chapter Six.

[rvmmm21]

. you know who i am? .

k, so i didn’t mean for this to get so out of hand. also, my first time writing in present tense? idk how to feel about it, but i guess it’s different. it felt so different writing for like actual humans lol. my first ‘normal’ fic, this is!

please for the sake of this making sense can we all pretend jennie, joy and irene are around the same age? also look who had fun with brand names. moi.

anyways this is [badgirl/bully!joohyun ‘persuading’ clumsy freshman!seungwan to be her assignment buddy] 

...

University culture is grating.

It’s overwhelming and it suffocates her. She has no time to prepare herself for the apparent runway the halls have become, what with the stupid-rich kids treating every day like it’s a fashion show; Seungwan can barely blink from one person to the next without being smacked across the face with fur coats from Chanel, Louis Vuitton sunglasses hidden under Prada nylon bucket hats and Off-White tracksuits tucked into Balenciaga socks. She hadn’t considered a future in law enforcement, but had she done so, anyone who tucked their trousers into their socks mid-calf would find themselves behind bars with the rest of the criminal scum. End of.

Just as she dusts her hands of that smug little sentiment, Seungwan finds herself with a face full of hair, and an even bigger nose full of what smells like laundry detergent. She lets out an embarrassing squeal, and the girl turns round to face her. A ghost of a scowl brushes across her face before she fixes her with an indiscernible gaze.

That scowl is an awful colour on a face as pretty as yours, she impulsively thinks.

Seungwan knows no more about the history of art and the intricacies of sculpture than the average Joe, but she’s sure Michelangelo missed the mark with David. She inwardly laughs at the thought of the man dedicating his entire being to crafting his flimsy idea of ‘perfection’ when she’d just bumped into it; the real thing. Of course, if that was defined by forming new constellations from faded freckles on flawless skin, or vantablack tresses framing sharp features like a painting, then yes; she was, by very definition, ‘the perfect (wo)man’. Easily outdoing anyone within a 50-metre radius.

Heck, make that 500.

The girl glares intimidation and Seungwan manages to save herself the humiliation of drooling in front of the white-hot beauty and her friends with a quick gulp, already feeling crimson seeping into her cheeks.

Perfect; now that she’s watched whatever new potential friendship this was blow up in her face, all she has to do is avoid her at all costs from here on out.

She mouths a haphazard apology and zooms past before anything can come of it, keeping her head down even after she’s well out of sight. Seulgi, Seulgi, Seulgi, save me, she brisk walks and begs all the way to class.

~~~~~~~~~~

A small commotion rings through the lecture hall of keyboard clicks and lethargic shuffles, calling to attention the girl who’s just spilt her drink down her front, now frantically digging around in her backpack for anything she can use to soak it up. A few jeering giggles are stifled, meanwhile students close by donate tissues and sympathetic looks. They are gratefully accepted with rapid-fire bows and machine-gun stuttered apologies.

“That freshman’s just ruined her rep, huh?” Jennie chuckles, “blindly walking into people… can’t even keep liquid in the cup. Give her a dog collar and a sign and she’s good to go.”

“Eh, I thought it was cute.”

Jennie’s retort comes quick.

“Sooyoung, you think anything in a skirt is cute.”

“What,” the girl says, ignoring the implication, “Haetnimie doesn’t wear skirts. And she’s not even wearing one right now. Plus, I didn’t say ‘she’s cute’, I said ‘it’s cute’. Learn the difference, idiot… it’s not like I wanna have at her or anything…”

Jennie shoots her an incredulous look and Sooyoung relents the banter. They both turn their attention to the girl sitting next to them, completely un-present in the moment. Sooyoung notices who she’s looking at and leans in to nudge her.

“Joohyun,” she whispers, poking her in the ribs when it’s obvious their friend is well on her way to signing a contract with NASA with how apparently well accustomed to space she is, “what do you think of her? Or are you still mad she walked into you?”

“Nah, forget it,” Jennie waves her off before she’s even had a chance to respond, “she’s not interested. I had to literally pay her money to go on a stupid double date with me in high school. I washed five cars for her to not even hold his hand once during the movie.”

Instead of participating, Joohyun sighs, casting the girl in question a seemingly uninterested stare. Unbothered eyes take in the sight she’s presented with: frustrated brows knitted together under a wispy caramel fringe and a blot of taro milk tea the size of Canada staining her baby blue jumper.

“I want her.”

The words are so simple her friends almost miss them entirely.

Sooyoung and Jennie battle for first place in an impromptu competition of ‘who’s-the-most-shocked’.

“You’re joking! Yah, you’re so annoying seriously, now?! You couldn’t have ‘wanted’ Min-seok in year nine?! I paid good, hard cash for that stupid boy!”

Joohyun looks at her, smug as a cat.

“I did it for you, Jennie. I didn’t even remember his name was Min-ho.”

“Min-seok.”

“Yeah, right.”

Sooyoung, wide-eyed and on the verge of passing out, grabs Joohyun by the shoulders, ignoring the glare she receives for it. “Joohyun, seriously? You’re serious. You want her like want her? Or want her like you wanted that cookbook after that trial week of Food Tech during summer break?”

Joohyun regards her, absolutely blasé. “I don’t follow recipes.”

“Exactly. Are you play-”

Sooyoung’s statement dies down with the rest of the class as the lecturer walks in. Furious clicking, hurricane scribbles and flipping pages are all that remain as the lesson kicks off, Jennie and Sooyoung casually scrolling through Instagram while the professor speaks. Joohyun leans forward, elbows on desk and chin resting on interlocked fingers. Her full attention is on the poor girl on the other side of the hall, intermittently peeling the cold, damp fabric away from her body, face flushed and avoiding all eye contact. Joohyun snickers at how uncomfortable it must be to have to sit through class in a wet jumper, how awkward and squeamish she looks.

Strawberry-tinted lips curl into the faintest smirk.

Hello cutie.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Yah! Kang Seul-Gi!” Seungwan calls out to chocolate-swirly space buns and baggy gym clothes hurtling towards her from across campus grounds, “where the heck were you?!”

“Sorry sorry! Overslept!”

“What!? Your class starts at noon! … and this is like… day 1!”

The girl looks like she’s barely had the chance to screw her head on the right way as she joins Seungwan on the steps of the university entrance.

Seungwan’s sweating buckets; physically and metaphorically, both from the waves of humidity and her all-exclusive one-idiot circus show this morning in class. That little muck up makes it to the tippy top of the endless list of embarrassing things Seungwan has stored in her long-term memory.

“You okay?”

Seungwan palms rosy cheeks as she takes another mouthful of her rainbow sherbet cone.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened to me.”

Seulgi chortles as her best friend recounts her ordeal, trying to subdue the sea of smart alec remarks bubbling under her skin.

“So that was great, too. And now I’m a laughing stock. A meme. They’re probably editing my stupid face as I speak…”

Seulgi reverts back to the first incident. Of course she would.

“Sooo… not like in the dramas then?”

Seungwan hangs her head, “not at all… she looked like she wanted to kill me.”

Seulgi lets out a snort before prodding her with more curious questions. The cogs in Seungwan’s brain churn and stutter as she tries to filter as many redundant adjectives as possible, only using ones she deems absolutely necessary to describe the most beautifully terrifying girl she’s ever seen.

Just then, as if Seungwan had meant to conjure hell itself, the three girls make an appearance from round the corner, chatting amongst themselves and taking Seungwan and Seulgi by surprise. The latter glances down where steely fingers are squeezing her wrist, as if that’d activate some magical cloak of invisibility. Seungwan’s as good as swallowed her tongue, shakily motioning to the girl in the middle of the black velvet storm with her eyes and a few nose twitches.

“H-her…” she stutters, finally getting her brain into gear after they leave, “… her.”

Innocent eyes double in size at the realisation.

“Wha-wait no, her?! You bumped into… her?! Her, Bae Joohyun leader of killer senior pack Bae Joohyun?”

Seungwan’s heart only thumps faster at the panic in Seulgi’s voice, but her words still mean nothing. The other girl swipes the dangling question marks off the top of her friend’s clueless head.

“Yo Wan-ah, you have to lay low. I mean why would you even – oh geez wow you really messed up. Can’t you look where you’re – I can’t even begin to – why would you – oh my gosh!”

Seulgi’s disjointed sentences allow enlightenment to trickle in and Seungwan slaps a hand over her forehead, mortified.

Oh god no. That’s the Bae Joohyun?

She’d heard the rumours. Many, rumours. Bae Joohyun who makes her juniors cry. Bae Joohyun; precious daughter of the most elusive mafia gang leader in all of Korea. Bae Joohyun; ice queen senior, sole roost-ruler of Hanyang University and the biggest bully you’ll ever meet.

Positively preposterous, empty claims with no evidence whatsoever to back them up… she hopes.

“Pft yeah okay she’s… mean, but she’s not like… jesus or anything she can’t… like… part the Red Sea or, turn water into vodka I don’t know,” Seungwan tries and fails at consoling herself, receiving nothing but an apologetic pat on the back from the girl beside her.

“Yeah well… she’s not the messiah but everyone treats her like it. And for the sake of your own neck, you’d better start too. Watch out, Wan-ah.”

Seungwan hadn’t paid any mind to those wet-eared freshmen whom she’d overheard during orientation gossiping about Joohyun and her charming little posse; but perhaps she should have.

She gulps, too afraid to think of anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seungwan often fantasizes at work. There has to be some way to pass the time, after all.

Deep down she’s a sucker for romance, she knows it far too well; she envisions herself ten years down the line, letting whoever she has on the other end of the phone know that she’ll be home soon, that work has just been extra grueling today, and that she cannot wait to give them a cuddle. She’ll stir the dinner pot while she tells them stories, pausing in between to remind her lover how beautiful they are. Perhaps one day, the honour will be hers, to see her soulmate walking down the aisle.

But as the tinkling of the doorbell rings through her café, Seungwan files those cloudy fantasies for later and greets her first customers with a smile.

She hasn’t been sleeping very well, worrying her mind with ridiculous thoughts and impossible scenarios. All involving Joohyun as a tick-tocky alligator and herself as none other than Captain ‘I’m-actually-innocent-why-are-you-still-trying-to-eat-me’ Hook.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s five minutes to closing time. Seungwan suppresses the yawn in her chest and blinks away the moisture in her eyes. Just zero to sixty, five times in your head. You got this, Seungwan. Gosh, there’s no one in the café and hardly anyone outside. She briefly contemplates closing early.

“Small iced Americano.”

“Coming r – aii!! Ai…!”

Seungwan’s adrenaline spikes so high she could serve it ice cold in a coffee cup right now. Caught completely off guard, she begins stammering nonsense behind the till, crinkling the leather of her dark brown work apron and then using the hem of her polo shirt to wring clammy palms none the drier. All the while her customer stands there, brow quirked and card held out between slender fingers. Her expression, although slightly amused, threatens her to take her money, or else.

Before she can open her mouth, a buttery voice snaps her out of her trance.

“Hello, Seung – wan… hey, don’t we have Korean Literature together?”

Seungwan tries not to spontaneously combust on the job as she instinctively slaps a hand over her name tag. It’s useless though, it is now known. Known to her, of all people. The notorious Bae Joohyun; dressed in Acne jeans and an over-sized midnight Balenciaga cardigan, she looks like any other young, caffeine-dependent university student. But Seungwan knows a lot better.

Oh god save me… what the hell is she doing here!? This has to be a set up. She’s here for me. I’m going to die tonight. Mummy, daddy I love you.

“J-J-Juh…”

She can’t say it. All the years of schooling; learning the alphabet and how to enunciate your words drain out through the holes in her ears. She gawks dumbly, moving her head in what could be considered to be a nod.

“Ah, I thought I recognised you,” she doesn’t even bother trying to sound surprised, “I’m Joohyun.”

Don’t I know.

All Seungwan can do is nod again, hating herself for even breathing right now.

Joohyun clicks her tongue and fiddles with the card in her hand, impatient, “soooo… is this Americano free, or…?”

Yes, yes it’s free, please just take it and go! I’ll upgrade it to an extra-large if you want, on me! If it means I’m spared for the rest of my student life, take it all! Jesus, how did you even find me?!

“Ah, yes. Sorry! Uh, yes that’ll be um two fif – two… two thirty.”

There’s a shaky exchange of a debit card and a forgotten peace treaty iced Americano before Seungwan takes an unconscious shuffle back from the register, eyes glued to the smudge on the toe of her right sneaker, unable to meet Joohyun’s piercing gaze for too long.

“Thank you, Seungwan.”

The way she lingers on the ‘S’ whispers shivers down the girl’s spine. She glances up at the worst possible time, too, nearly jumping out of her mismatched Muji socks when she sees Joohyun’s hibiscus-tinted lips bloom into a coy smirk.

“I’ll see you around.”

And with what a shivering Seungwan could’ve sworn was a terrible attempt at a wink, Joohyun is gone. Clutching at her chest, she tries to slow her accelerated heartrate, praying she doesn’t need heart surgery after what she’s just been through.

Seulgi’s so hearing about this.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Daebak,” Sooyoung scoffs, side-eyeing Joohyun as she twiddles her pen.

“What else did you say?” Jennie presses, taking a sip of her chai latte.

Joohyun merely hums, disclosing no further details of her little cafe incident. She misses Jennie’s disbelieving grin when the walking, talking definition of awkward bumbles into the lecture hall, just on time, armful of texts and messy cinnamon locks matted to her face.

Sooyoung can’t resist a jest. “Joohyun, look. It’s idiocy on legs.”

Joohyun bites back a snort as her eyes follow the girl stumbling and murmuring apologies all the way to her seat. She slumps into the chair with burning cheeks, brushing her hair back with her fingers and fiddling with her gingerbread fringe. Too cute, Joohyun thinks, gritting her teeth.

It happens about mid-way in the class. The mention of pair work triggers the uniform eye-roll, groan and grumble combo, more so from the seniors, who sure as hell don’t want to be paired with icky, snot-nosed first-years who can barely lift their spoons to their mouths. The grumbling evaporates when it is stated that, although compulsory, it is not a fixed-paired assignment.

Seungwan breathes a sigh of relief along with a few others, content to set up camp in the aisles of the library, perfectly undisturbed. But she suddenly feels paler than chalk; flashbacks of heeled boots, midnight cardigans and heart surgery flooding into her veins once more when she catches a pair of stealthy pupils regarding her from across the room. A deceptively sweet smile sparkling on those dreaded lips, breath-taking and utterly petrifying all at once. Even from the other side of a bloody lecture theatre, Bae Joohyun has Seungwan sweating bullets and unconsciously fidgeting at her collar to release steam no one else can see.

About a minute away from hurling herself out the nearest window, Seungwan diverts her attention to her notebook at the last second. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Seungwan stabs her chopstick into the egg yolk, watching it dribble all over her rice. She’s jealous of her own best friend who doesn’t have to live every waking hour with a red sniper laser dot on her back.

Should’ve majored in art too, goddamnit, she curses, poking her lunch in a dazed stupor.

“Wan-ah!”

She scoffs at the familiarity, but Seulgi’s crescent moon grin makes Seungwan momentarily forget.

~~~~~~~~~~

The black cursive of Han Kang’s literature stares up at her as she tries to digest what she’s reading, but she swears her brain allocates the worst times for that sneaky Bae Joohyun to pop up like an unwanted advertisement. Seems like now, she’s going to have to sit through an entire trilogy.

Despite the crippling dread, Seungwan can’t help but wonder. They’re so silly, but she wonders them anyway. She feels free to let her mind wander in the safety of the university library.

Bae Joohyun; Seungwan’s mind is unchanged; she’s the most beautiful girl she’s laid eyes on. It’s a unique kind of beauty; mysteriously edgy, knife-like and femme fatale. The grin Joohyun gave her in class this morning, she knows she should be running from it, but it doesn’t stop the fact that it’s been playing in her head on repeat ever since.

Seungwan unintentionally imagines what it would be like to kiss that sunset-infused smirk right off her face.

Too bad she’s a mean one, she sighs.

She doesn’t get much further with the actual task at hand when her blood-pressure plummets; she watches leader of the killer senior pack, Bae Joohyun, artlessly sit down in the chair next to her. It’s like the world stops spinning for the second it takes their eyes to meet, and Seungwan quivers in her seat, thoughts of literature fleeing out the back of her brain.

Trying to be polite, she gives her a courteous nod and returns to her reading. But Joohyun just sits there, staring, peppering her body with smoking bullet holes – it frightens her in the weirdest way. She can’t help the tiny bubble of… excitement? At the fact that Hanyang’s notorious Bae Joohyun is sitting next to her. Probably to get close enough to kill her, of course, but she’d count her blessings, no matter how terrifying. The thread finally snaps, and Seungwan is able to channel her inner stone statue no more, wordlessly excusing herself and stumbling to the bathroom.

It’s empty and silent; exactly what she needs. She flicks some cool water over the burning in her cheeks and dabs at the heat welled in the corners of her eyes.

But just as she’s about to leave, Joohyun’s standing in the doorway; cloaked in all her intimidating aura and eclipsing her only exit.

“Bathroom break so soon?” Joohyun’s voice drips into her ears like melted honey as she observes a wry smile crawl onto her face, “we’ve barely gotten started. Let’s get back to work… partner.”

It’s kicking in only now what Joohyun is saying. And it takes everything Seungwan has to formulate a pathetic response.

“Oh right, a-about that,” she nervously chuckles, averting her gaze and scratching the back of her neck, “uh, I-I was just um… I don’t wanna drag anyone down with – you know because you’re a senior and all – was m-maybe thinking –”

She doesn’t get very far when Joohyun begins advancing, walking towards her with such sure, dominating strides Seungwan has no choice but to back away, the piercing squeaks of Adidas sneakers easily drowning out the clicking of Louboutin heeled boots. Joohyun sports that coy smirk the whole time she’s cornering poor Seungwan, further and further back, until…

A tiny yelp is torn from her as her back hits the wall. Seungwan strains up to meet her eyes, 5 inch boots are a very useful intimidation tool. Her heart feels about as fragile as sugar glass, and she thinks it would do her good to invest in those styrofoam packing peanuts and a roll of caution tape.  

Joohyun observes the little caramel-haired mouse girl she’s caught; pressed against the cool, beige tile, both hands out in front of her, quivering like a jello pile. She quickly notes the way the top of Seungwan’s head just about grazes the bottom of the wall-mounted paper towel dispenser, and it stretches her grin even further. She looks irresistible, those doe eyes the colour of warm cocoa. Who knew she had a thing for sweet faces, well-intentions and weak-hearts?

Realising her hands aren’t doing anything to keep the other girl at bay, Seungwan drops them like a tonne of bricks - she’s never felt so small and helpless in her life. The rich scent of vanilla and mint tickles her nose; Joohyun’s too close, and she really needs those fragile stickers to go over the thumping in her chest. But she also wants to nuzzle in closer to that intoxicating shampoo smell.

“P-please… I-I didn’t mean to…”

Her voice sounds so tiny and fragile, it tugs on Joohyun’s heartstrings.

“You know who I am?” she demands in somewhat of a growl, caging the smaller girl in with both arms pressed on either side of her head, causing her to gasp out, “you’ve heard?”

Seungwan shrinks a little more, petunias searing onto her milky cheeks at the proximity, but terror-stricken nonetheless. It’s burning, and it’s too much.

A small ‘mm’ and a teary nod is all she can offer.

Joohyun shoots her a challenging smirk, a kaleidoscope of obsidian pebbles flicker in her darkened eyes as she brings a single finger under the girl’s chin, tilting her so she’s forced to look up.

“And you still think you have a choice?”

Seungwan wishes she could rear up at the challenge, hammer some humility into that smug attitude in front of her; put Bae Joohyun in her place. But who is she to change the way the world works? Girls like Joohyun toy with what they want, and get what they toy with; the natural order of things Seungwan has no hope of re-routing. Her resolve, her dignity and everything she’s built up in her 20 years on earth crumbles at her feet; she doesn’t bother picking up the pieces.

With that, she looks up at the girl who still has her locked in with her eyes alone, and meekly shakes her head.

Seungwan can finally breathe when Joohyun detaches herself from the wall and runs both hands down the front of her blouse. She hears a chuckle and before she knows it, there’s an arm around her waist, moving them in tandem.

She doesn’t see the triumphant smile etched into Joohyun’s rosebud lips, like she’s swallowed a coat hanger. All she knows is that they’re now bound by this assignment, and that Joohyun is leaving with exactly what she came for.

Seungwan hides a shy grin of her own.