#in his defense we talked the entire afternoon and well into the night/early morning

[godhasforsnakenme]

welcoming the hell hole that is the month of July

calling it such bc it's the time of the year the temperature here gets the hottest 😭😭😭 thankfully there's still a steady pattern of rain at least once a week; but yeah no it's actually a great month filled with b-day parties & get-togethers every weekend :)

[buckleysims]

...Aaaand there goes my self respect.

I made out with him. It was the sexiest, most out of character thing I have ever done in my entire life. He lifted me onto the desk in his office and kissed me the way every woman deserves to be kissed. And I’m ashamed to admit that we probably would have done much, much more if I wasn’t such a coward.

But let me start over. I need to clarify a couple of things before I tell you guys about what a fucking disaster I am.

On Wednesday, he and I were scrolling through his phone looking at pictures of his dogs when a very beautiful, very naked woman appeared on the screen. He laughed and told me that she was just some model he likes. It didn’t bother me; I believed him, and we ended up having a really nice time together.

Later that afternoon, however, I let it get into my head. So I texted him to ask about her. Again he reassured me that he’d never met the woman, and he teased me for being intimidated by a porn star. But really, who wouldn’t be? I tried to brush off my embarrassment by saying something along the lines of, “Well, I never outright asked you if you're single, so I just wanted to be sure.”

He paused.

Then he admitted that he’d started talking to his ex again and they’re going out for lunch on Friday. He also insisted that he was going to tell me about it before anything more happened between the two of us.

I replied that I thought he should get back together with her. “There’s obviously some real history there, and you and I just met. I don’t want to get in the way.” He proceeded to make a joke about threesomes and how much this other woman would “like” me, and at that point I kind of lost my temper. I told him in no uncertain terms that he should definitely reconcile with his (ex) girlfriend as she is obviously a much more generous and giving person than I am because I would never consider sharing my boyfriend with another woman like that.

Later that night, he announced that we couldn’t talk/text anymore starting the day that his (ex) girlfriend gets back to town. I was confused and hurt and probably a bit defensive, and he reacted by boasting that he’d taken my advice and it was thanks to my encouragement that the two of them might still have a chance.

I should note, to his credit, that by this point on Wednesday he’d already offered to take me out to dinner three times, and I’d refused them all. (On Saturday, I was too nervous about us being caught by my boss (which is a whole other story). On Tuesday, he had prior obligations until late in the evening, and I couldn’t wait that long. On Wednesday, I was too upset to go out with him.) So yeah, he was more than a little frustrated with me.

Anyway, that brings me up to Thursday.

When we made out. And more.

I know it was wrong. Believe me, I do. But here’s what happened. He greeted me in the lobby that morning, and I snapped at him. I said something about how I was hoping I wouldn’t be forced to see his face today. (It was an awful thing to say. I know, I know. As irritated as I was, he was trying to be sweet by waiting to walk me to my office.) He chuckled and said something about how much he likes feisty girls early in the morning. I don’t remember his exact remark now, but that’s close enough.

Moving on. I felt guilty that I’d been so rude to him. The night before, he’d told me that we could still be acquaintance-y friends, and I’d agreed that we should try. My jab was anything but friendly.

So I went to his office late that afternoon to apologize. He was leaving for the gym and wearing one of those loose sleeveless shirts that showed off his muscular arms and sexy tattoos. I should have taken one look at him and walked the other way. But I didn’t, and one thing led to another. And within minutes I found myself sprawled beneath him on his desk with my legs wrapped around his waist.

Of course, me being me, I panicked when he tried to take it a step further. I shoved him off of me, jumped down from the table, fled out the door and ran straight back to my office. A short while later he texted me and asked me to come over to his place for dinner. (He also told me that I could pack a bag and stay the night if I wanted to. I think he was kidding, but still. *eye roll*) Once again, I refused.

I didn’t see him at all today. I spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon attempting to convince myself that I was fine with how things ended and happy that I didn’t have to interact with him anymore now that his (ex) girlfriend is back in town. I tried everything I could to stop thinking about him, and by four o’clock this afternoon my mind was finally, for the most part, elsewhere.

But then...

He came to my office. I know it was him because we were joking around earlier this week, and he created a special tapping “code” that he claimed he was going to use when he walked by my door and wanted to say hi without my boss knowing about it.

Tap. Tap. Slide. Slide. Tap.

He did it twice, a couple of minutes apart. I pretended not to hear, and by the time I left this afternoon he was already gone.

I’m a mess. :(

[calif0rnia-lovers]

#1: the proposal | plan b.

pairing: angel reyes x black!reader | chapter rating: 💙

total # of parts in series: 10

join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

I keep falling for boys and mistaking them for men

series sum: After several failed relationships, you decide that you’re over waiting for Mr. Right to come around and help start a family. In a drunken ramble, you ask your best friend if he’ll be your donor. You didn’t expect him to say yes. As you and Angel enter uncharted waters, you both realize neither of you fully thought the initial proposal through.

words: 1.8 K

What is it they say…hope breeds eternal misery.

Or, as Angel Reyes likes to say, “I don’t know why you’re wasting time on that asshole.”

Asshole is the nicest term you can dub your boyfriend--correction, your ex-boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

It’s strange how quickly two letters--a simple prefix--can change your life.

One minute, you’re joining your boyfriend and his family on a getaway to the beach. The next, you’re being kindly escorted out of a restaurant for tossing a drink in his face.

When you’d left Santo Padre Friday afternoon, you had a single thought in your mind. He’s finally going to propose. The nervous behavior, the talks about moving to a bigger apartment, him inviting you to a weekend getaway with his family.

How else would a rational person explain this behavior?

Well, according to Michael, all of those things do not add up to a proposal. They add up to “softening the blow."

As you sit on the curb waiting for your uber, with Michael's big splurge of the evening in hand--a bottle of Cabernet, you realize his explanation was complete bullshit. How is dragging you to Santa Monica for the weekend "softening the blow?" If he was going to break up with you, he could have done it in Santo Padre.

As you double-check the ETA on your uber, you remember.

Michael didn't drag you to Santa Monica to break up with you. He dragged you to Santa Monica to ask you to "take a break."

Apparently, there's a difference.

As Michael put it, with his birthday fast approaching, he'd had an epiphany. He needed time to "get out there" and "explore" his options.

"We're in our thirties," he'd explained. "We only have a few years left before we're expected to settle down, have kids. I think we should take this time to get everything out of our system, so by the time we come back together, we're ready to start that family you're always talking about."

The nervousness you'd seen the past two weeks? Had nothing to do with hiding a ring, or trying to find the perfect opportunity to pop the question. The nervousness was Michael trying to find the right time to ask you not to renew the lease of the apartment, you share, at the end of the month.

The talk about upgrading to a bigger apartment? Had nothing to do with having an extra room for the kid you've both talked about having. It was so that he could move in with his two best friends.

Michael’s epiphany left you in shock. You were caught between realizing the entire revelation wasn’t a complete joke and realizing you were expected to ride home with his family in the morning. The drink tossing didn’t come until Michael rubbed his hands together, a knowing smile sliding onto his face.

Taking your shocked silence as a lack of protest to his idea, Michael nodded over his shoulder. “You wanna head back up to the room...have some fun our last night together?”

The weight of Samantha--wait. No. Savanna...Sabrina? No, Salena.

The weight of Salena’s body presses Angel into the mattress. Her body is nearly directly on top of his, her face nuzzled into the warmth of his neck.

He’s not used to women sleeping over. Angel has one rule. He wants to sleep alone. Translation, be gone when he wakes in the morning.

That’s why, when he wakes to the sound of a slamming door, Angel is pissed.

His initial thought is that Salena let the door slam on her way out. The only problem is, Salena is still in bed with him--sleeping soundly. If she wasn’t, he would have been up able to react quicker. Because if it’s not Salena leaving, it means that someone is coming in.

“You need to go,” Angel mumbles as he manages to escape her grip.

Salena responds by rolling over and ignoring his request.

When he leaves his bedroom, Angel finds his entire house in darkness. His hand runs down his face as your voice fills the air.

"Ow--shit!" Your keys and purse fall to the floor as you bump into the coffee table.

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

“What are you doing?” You counter the slurring of your speech causing Angel’s head to shake. “...standing in the dark like a fucking creep.”

“Are you drunk?”

Your head shakes. Even if half-asleep, Angel knows you’re not drunk. You’re hammered, at least by your standards. He’s known you long enough to realize you’re a lightweight. A two and a half-hour ride with a bottle of Cabernet meant you were well past your limit.

“And why are you back early--did you drive here?”

“No,” you scoff. “I took an uber obviously--”

A second trip into the coffee table silences the rest of your response.

“Alright, come on--” Angel takes your hand in his, preventing you from falling forward.

“I don’t need your help.” Yanking your hand free of his grip--with more force than necessary--you stumble backward. Between the late hour and his body still attempting to shake off its grogginess, the action is too fast for Angel to predict. “Or any man’s help for that matter...fucking men--always thinking they need to save me--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you--and fucking...fucking Michael--that piece of shit...” Despite your previous attempt to escape him, you turn on your heels causing Angel to bump into you. Instinctively, his hands find your waist. An innocent attempt to help maintain your balance. “--I said I don’t need help walking, Angel--”

“Clearly.” The smirk on his lips narrows your eyes.

The pathetic attempt of a shove you apply to his chest is enough to tip your already unsteady balance.

In his defense, Angel isn’t used to “rescuing” you from a drunk faceplant. Usually, the roles are reversed.

It may not be the smartest move, but it’s the quickest way to prevent another one of your escape attempts. Angel tightens his grip on your waist, pulling a small yelp from your lips as he lifts you off the ground throwing you over his shoulder.

The sudden shift in your posture blurs your vision--sending the room spinning. The rush of blood to your head causes your palm to come down hard in frustration against Angel’s back.

“Put me down…” Angel’s head shakes as your slurred speech trails off for a moment. Seizing the break in your resistance, he carries you across the darkened room towards the security of the sofa. “...what the hell are you doing in my house anyway?”

“This is my house.” Angel huffs as he lowers you onto the sofa. “If you get up, I’m not stopping you. I'm serious, I'll let you bust your ass this time.”

But moving from the sofa has already left your mind. Instead, your focus has drifted. Scanning the living room as Angel disappears. Despite his words, you're still not sure why you've ended up at his house and not yours.

“Here drink this,” Angel sighs as he returns. He hopes the glass of water will miraculously sober you up. Between failing to kick Salena out, and you showing up drunk at 3 in the morning, Angel is considering giving up women. At least for a few hours.

Angel’s steps come to a slow halt as he rounds the sofa to find you gone. Somehow, in the time it took him to fill a glass with water, you have slid down to the floor. Your back against the sofa, you’ve given up the impossible task of unfastening your heels. Instead, you’re tugging at them. Groans of frustration fill the air once the heels remain in place.

The shaky breaths and trembling of your fingers widen Angel’s eyes.

“Shit--are you crying?”

“I’m not crying.” The shaking of your head only seems to push the tears out faster. The blurring of your vision makes the task at hand impossible. “I’m not crying.”

“My bad, you’re not crying,” Angel repeats, hopeful it’ll make the crying stop. Handling a crying woman is not his strongest suit. In fact, he tries to avoid crying women at all costs. He focuses on the easier task of removing your heels. He offers you an encouraging smile once he’s done. “See, you’re all good.”

“No, I’m not.” Reaching forward, you grab the nearest heel, launching it as hard as you can. “Michael got me these.”

You manage to grab the second heel before Angel can. You launch it in the same direction as the first.

“I’ve always hated those ugly fucking shoes.”

The second heel doesn’t land in the middle of the floor like its predecessor. Instead, it flies straight into Salena’s arm as she rounds the corner.

“Ow--what the fuck? Angel!”

The overhead light cuts on, temporarily blinding both you and Angel. When you open your eyes, you find a half-dressed Salena standing over you. Your discarded heel in her left hand, her narrowed eyes focused on you.

"So, this is why you wanted me to leave? Your girlfriend is home?"

"Neither of us is his girlfriend, sweetheart." you correct.

“I’m not sleeping in your bed ever again,” you clarify, your voice muffled against your palms. “Not until you wash your sheets.”

In the time it took to get Salena out of the house you’ve found that your body has begun to crash. The idea of laying down the only thought of your mind. That’s why the moment he’s settled alongside you on the floor, Angel’s shoulder becomes your pillow.

“Please don’t say I told you so.”

Passing up the opportunity to be right, is not in Angel’s nature. But one look at you, he’s biting his tongue.

“I never liked him.”

“You've never liked anyone I’ve dated,” you laugh quietly.

“That’s because you only date assholes.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Exactly.”

Angel's arm drapes around you, the gentle squeeze he gives bringing a weak smile to your lips.

“That’s it,” you sigh. “I’m done dating. Forever.”

“Dating is overrated,” Angel notes.

It’s a phrase Angel has told you nearly a million times over the years. Typically, after you’ve watched him ensnare yet another naive woman with his smile. You typically roll your eyes at Angel's mantra, but right now, you don’t even bother.

“I’m serious, if you see me even blinking at the same guy twice grab me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Angel chuckles.

He knows there's no point in taking the promise any further. If Angel is a cynic when it comes to dating, you’re the poster child for hopeless romantics.

When you fall in love, you fall hard. When you get heartbroken, the fallout hits the hardest.

“I can’t wait until my forties to have a kid.”

“What?”

“I’ll be in my sixties when they graduate high school--my sixties!”

“That’s what this is about?”

“...he doesn’t want kids...at least not right now...he wants time to explore other options before being shackled to me forever.”

“I’m going to kick his fucking ass.”

“When you do, can I watch?”

“Fuck that, you’re getting in a few hits.”

“I can’t believe I wasted three years on him, thinking he was going to help me start a family,” you groan. “When I could’ve just asked you.”

Angel laughs, his smile growing as you giggle.

“I’m serious. Definitely would’ve happened faster.”

“If you want to have sex with me, there are much easier ways--”

“Shut up, it is not about sex,” you assure him as your eyes drift shut. “I actually pride myself in being one of the few women in this town you haven’t slept with. Being immune to your charm is a superpower.”

“You still ended up here tonight,” Angel grins.

You softly smile.

“That’s because you’re my best friend, and you always give the best hugs when I feel like shit.”

series taglist: @youlovetkay @mochachocolatteyaya @chaneajoyyy @sesamepancakes

angel + all mayans tags: @turn-thy-paige @finalgirlhales @jadesid @poetically-0riginal @diaryofkali @babaohhhriley @katastrophic04 @partypoison00 @rose-bliss @mayansxlover @joannasteez @headrushxreeta @brwnlikefoxy @nemesis729 @destiny-tsukino @inyourbackpocketisbutterflies @straightestgay-voice

all stories: @rosieposie0624 @amberritonicole @agoldin @est1887@toni9 @chaneajoyyy @relaxing-najee @awkwardtayler @siempremamita @seize-the-droid @glimmerglittergirl @cutiebubbleboo @pearlkitten33 @tian-monique @megapeacelovemusic-blog @sincerelykas @brattyfics @ladyofsoa@browneyes912 @beiroviski @sadeyesgf @mrsmarvelous1995 @everyhowlmarksthedead @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @demonquartz @appropriate-writers-name @ughdontbeboring @cocotheclown @thesandbeneathmytoes @queenbeered @starrynite7114 @wiccanmetallicrose @tomhardydallasstarsgirl

[crimefighter-bae-b]

I had a very awkward situation happen yesterday and I think I'm still trying to process what happened and how I should deal with it moving forward. But, I feel maybe I could use some advice.

Two days ago I went to a hair appointment at a salon. It was my first time there and I don't go to salons very much at all so I don't know much about the culture. I don't always know what's normal and what isn't.

My hairdresser said we could start at 9am which was great for me as I work nights so I figured I could go in early, maybe be there a couple hours, possibly three at the most, and then go home and sleep.

I arrived fifteen minutes early for my appointment. The stylist wasn't in yet so I waited. He ended up being an hour and fifteen minutes late. I probably should have just left and rescheduled, but I'm a super easy going person and I prefer to be gentle and considerate of other people. He seemed to be having a rough morning, on the phone with the government, and I didn't want to be another stresser.

When I finally had his attention we started talking about what I was looking for, what he recommended, and to be honest, in retrospect, it became very unprofessional pretty quickly and the work on my hair didn't start until the afternoon.

I ended up being at the salon until 6pm.

When my hair was done I wasn't really liking it as what we had discussed wasn't what I really got. It was close, but it wasn't right. When I tried to address this the hairdresser got very defensive, so I dropped the issue and figured I would give it a couple days and see how I felt.

And I mean... I really hate it. There were tears. I've had a lot of dysphoria in my life, so even when I know it's not proportional I still get very angry and miserable about my hair when it's wrong.

I called the salon the next day and very gently explained the problem with the shampoo lady who answered the phone. I told her that I had tried to talk to the stylist at the end and express my issues with the work, but that it didn't go well so I had dropped it. She was very understanding and she said that I needed to call him and tell him I wasn't happy and that he needed to fix it.

I texted him a polite message saying I needed to do something about the highlights he had given me, but I knew he was busy today so if we could arrange a time it would be great. I wished him a nice day.

When he called me about a half hour later he sounded high, and when I explained the issue he started rambling. This rambling went on for twenty-three minutes and it mainly consisted of him telling me I was a beautiful girl and that he is an empathetic emotional man and he thinks I need to have an emotional sexual experience with a man (clealry he means him).

I told him I called about my hair. He wanted me to meet with him at his place. I refused and said I wanted to keep things professional and that I would not meet him anywhere except at the salon. He kept pushing, saying he was an emotional man and he was so open and vulnerable with me the day before. Eventually I very gently said "Richard, please call me when you will be in the salon so that we can correct my hair. I'm going to let you go now. Bye.".

Afterwards I called the salon and told them what happened and the lady I spoke to said that this wasn't the first time something lile this has occurred and that she wouldn't blame me if I wanted to go somewhere else to have my hair corrected.

The thing is, all said and done, I don't know why this person has a job there if they know he does these things. I don't know why he was allowed to keep me at the salon for an entire day. I don't know why someone isn't offering another stylist to help me with my hair.

It's such a strange situation and I don't want this to happen to someone else, but I don't know what to do.

[hockey-fics]

2 from the kissing prompt list and 5 from the smutty prompt list with Crosby or Tito please!

This is 2 from the kissing prompt list with Crosby. I’ll add 5 with Tito to my list!

Prompt: Kiss in the middle of a fight

A/N: never used someone else’s gif before but huge thank you to the person who made that one, I know how much effort goes into making gifs 

Warnings: argument (obviously), language, and an age gap. 

Four years. 

Four years since your first date. 

When he took you for dinner at a restaurant that was way out of your budget and your comfort zone. Because you were barely 20, a college student living in a rundown apartment with bars on the window and three locks on the front door. And he was almost 30, making more money than you could even wrap your head around, living in an apartment on the side of town you only fantasized about living in. 

But as soon as you were with him that night all your worries subsided. And when you saw the drink menu, hesitating at the prices, Sidney made a casual comment to order whatever you wanted. And when you excused yourself to the bathroom towards the end of the night Sidney paid for the bill while you were gone, not even giving you the chance to have to worry about splitting it. He drove you home that night and parked his car, walking you to your door and waiting till you were securely in your apartment before leaving. 

You never would have admitted it then but you fell in love with him that night. 

But it wasn’t always easy. Because he was almost a full ten years older than you. You were at different points in your life. For the most part it wasn’t an issue, you were mature for your age and he was accepting of the fact that occasionally you did just want to go out and party with your friends. But there were comments, from your family, from his family, from your friends, hell, even the media seemed to have an opinion on your relationship. You saw the tweets, the Instagram comments. You tried your best to pretend you didn’t, but even though he tried to avoid it as much as he could he was in the spotlight and it was inevitable. 

You moved in together three years after you got together, you settled in with him easily. And in the beginning you thought maybe the flood of happiness you felt waking up every morning in a bed that the two of you shared would fade, but it didn’t. You figured at some point cooking dinner together in your kitchen would become routine, but every time he wrapped his arms around your waist while you were preparing dinner or he would step between your legs while you sat on the counter placing his large hands on your thighs, you were just as overcome with joy as the very first time. 

Your whole life you never believed in soulmates. People just found someone they clicked with and made it work. But when you met Sid all those thoughts changed. Because you never met anyone who made you feel the way he did, not a single friend or ex could compete with the overwhelming happiness and comfort that Sid brought you. 

When your family was having a reunion there wasn’t any hesitation in your mind over Sidney coming. Sure, you weren’t married, he wasn’t technically a part of the family. But it really only felt like a formality at this point, that piece of paper. 

So you and Sid packed a suitcase for the three nights you were going to be away, giddy with excitement at getting to introduce Sid to your entire family. He had met your close family on so many occasions, but it was the distant relatives, cousins you yourself had only met a few times, that could get to meet him now. 

Of course Sid splurged, getting a suite in one of the nicest hotels in the area. You told him it wasn’t necessary, that the two of you would be busy, wouldn’t be there that often anyway. But he insisted. 

The second night you two got ready for an afternoon barbecue with your entire family. Your aunt and uncle had rented space at a local country club, a large outdoor gazebo, lawn space for the younger kids to play on. It was all gearing up to be a great afternoon. 

“What if I can’t remember someone’s name? Should we have a codeword or something?” Sid asks, voice hushed and panicked as you walk along beside him, hand in hand towards where your parents had told you to meet everyone. 

Coming to a stop you tug him to face you. “Stop worrying. This is supposed to be fun. Everyone is going to love you.”

And perhaps you shouldn’t have been so confident, an egregious error in assuming you knew your distant family well enough to make that statement. Because by the time dinner is over and a few drinks have been poured the conversations seemed to be taking a turn you weren’t expecting. 

“So, Sid,” your uncle Max says, drawing the attention of you and Sid along with the rest of the group that was sitting around one of the large outdoor tables. “How old are you again?”

Sid clears his throat and you reach over, grasping for his hand beneath the table. “Thirty-three,” he tells him with a nervous formality of being interrogated by the police. 

“And Y/N, darling, correct me if I’m wrong but you’re twenty-two?” You Aunt chimes in. 

“Twenty-three,” you correct, with a force smile. “Almost twenty-four,” you add quickly, immediately regretting it, cringing internally at the childish way it had come across, trying to prove yourself to be older. 

“Sid, you’ve never had any kids? No ex-wives?” Max asks, prodding questions he had no right to be asking when he had barely even asked about the mundane facts of Sid’s life. 

“No,” Sid replies, a defensive edge to his tone. 

“Hm,” Max hums, picking up his drink and taking a rather large swig. “Didn’t want any…or?”

“I…uh,” Sid stammers, rarely at a loss for words but now unable to form a simple sentence. 

“We’re thinking about it,” you suddenly chime in. You feel Sid’s eyes on you, wide and confused. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t talked about it before. In fact, you had talked about it on a number of occasions. Early on in the relationship it came up as a general question ‘do you want kids?’. As things got more serious is became more clear that when you two were picturing having kids it was together. Discussing how you wanted to raise your kids, how many you wanted. And you had been thinking about it, just hadn’t brought it up to Sid that you were starting to think maybe you were getting close to being ready. 

“Oh, hunny, you’re so young and he-,” you aunt begins, trailing off as she glances over at Sid. 

You can feel your emotions building, rage coursing through your veins. “Like I said, we’re thinking about it. I know it’s a big decision.” With that you shut down the conversation, pushing your chair back and watching Sid follow suit, walking with you away from the table. Neither of you say anything till you get back to the car you were renting for the weekend, needing to get away from it all for a few minutes. Hot, angry tears filling your eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

You stare up at Sid, blinking away your tears as you try to put together what he was talking about. “You’re sorry? Sorry for what? That’s my asshole family, I’m the one who needs to be apologizing to you.”

“But this wouldn’t be happening with another guy,” Sid says, holding both your hands in his. “You shouldn’t need to be standing up for me like that. They’re also your family and I can’t put you in the position of needing to be at odds with them for a relationship.”

“What are you saying?” You ask, shaking your head as you pull your hands back from his, using one to wipe away a few tears before crossing them over your chest. 

“I don’t know,” Sid admits, looking around as he takes a deep breath. “Maybe we…you and I-.”

“No,” you interject, shaking your head. “If you think my family’s opinions are going to change how I feel about you, about us, then you’re a fucking idiot, Sidney. I love you…so much. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you because you make me happier than anyone has ever made me, I’m the best version of myself when I’m with you and I’m never going to let that go because someone thinks you’re a few years too old for me or whatever other bullshit people will criticize us about. And I really thought you felt as sure about this as I do, so-.”

Suddenly Sid is stepping closer, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and tender and filled with a thousand words he hadn’t spoken out loud. Your arms fall from across your chest to around his shoulders, letting him pull you closer. “Marry me,” he whispers against your lips. 

You’re silent for a second, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “What?” 

“Marry me,” he repeats. “I have the ring already, I’ve been thinking about asking you for months but it never felt like the perfect moment and this sure as hell isn’t the perfect moment either but I can’t wait any longer. Because I do feel as sure about this as you do and you need to know that now.”

You have tears in your eyes again as you stare up at Sid, only able to nod in response for a minute. “Of course I want to marry you,” you finally whisper, your arms wrapped tight around him. 

[notdonesimpin]

Sorcery ~r.s.~

ceo!ryomen sukuna x gn!reader

warnings: sukuna in a suit??, fluff

synopsis: [request by @draconic-dumbass​ ] “two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery” OR the reader doesn’t take care of themselves and sukuna has to do it for them.

a/n:  For fic purposes, Sukuna has his own two armed body. I wanted a CEO!AU where curses don’t exist, okay? Sukuna’s just a man who looks great in a suit. The curse aspect isn’t really needed in the way it’s portrayed in the show so i don’t wanna think about it😣 don’t hate me.

The door opens as you peek your head in the hallway to see Sukuna roughly loosen his tie with a huff and unbutton the top of his shirt as he takes off his shoes. 

“Long day?” you ask.

“My assistant cried today if that tells you anything. They overbooked me, and didn’t realize it until this morning.”

Your eyes narrow, “What did you say to the poor thing? She didn’t cry for nothing.”

Sukuna throws his hands up defensively as he walks over to you with a teasing smile, “I didn’t say anything! Though, I wanted to say a lot. I think she got the message when I sent her home.” The last part came out in a mutter, but you heard it well.

You hit him in the chest, “This is why you can’t keep an assistant! You’re too aggressive. I liked that one, too.”

“Well, I had an amazing assistant for years, but they quit when their husband told them to focus on art. My days ran so smoothly, and I had a beautiful sight all hours of the day,” he says, wrapping his arms around you as he continues, “Was I too aggressive with you?”

“You could barely say a sentence around me when we first met, Ryo. Don’t get cocky.”

Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door and you moved to answer it.

“It’s just Nao. They’re being my other model for today! I can’t model and draw myself, so I needed an amazing stand-in. How about you rest for a bit and I’ll do Nao’s solo poses and get you when I need you?” you suggested as you opened the door.

“It’s been a while. Good to see you, Y/N. Sukuna,” Nao says, giving Sukuna a wave and you a small hug.

“Nao, don’t fuck up while I’m not there,” Sukuna jokes, turning around to walk towards the bedroom.

“I’ve been doing this longer than you. I think I got it.”

“Don’t take those clothes off! The more wrinkles, the better!” you call after him.

~

You softly shake Sukuna. “Ryo, I need you to model for me now.”

He groans, opening his eyes to see you beaming at him. “It’s not fair, your face makes it hard to say no.”

“Then get up, so I can finish for today!” you urge.

He follows you to the living area with sleepiness still extremely apparent on his face. 

“No wonder you chose him to be your muse for the King of Curses. He’s like The Walking Dead right now,” Nao laughs, earning a glare from Sukuna as you drag him to the spot you want him.

“You still haven’t told me anything about your art show,” Sukuna reminds you. 

“Hands in pockets please…” you gesture to your own pockets when you make the statement and Sukuna lazily complies as you continue talking and telling him what to do. “My theme is Sorcery. Take a step but don't step… There! I wanted to do three bigger panels for my main showcase. They have the King of Curses- AKA you- and the ruler of blessings- aka Nao but Nao is just modeling so I can shade the pose right and put myself in it. Then the middle panel will be them together. Look at the ground. Now, only bring your eyes up the look at me… Perfect! Stay still. Basically it shows two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery.”

~

You yawn, waking up the sound of Sukuna roaming around the penthouse. You check your phone to see the time. 4:36 A.M.

You suddenly find yourself wide awake and decide to get up and work on your rough sketches. 

You go out of your shared room, rubbing your eyes as you adjust to the light and walk to the kitchen.

“Where the hell is my…” Sukuna’s muttering comes to a stop when he sees you sitting at the island, drinking a glass of water as you wait for the coffee pot to get ready.

“Good morning,” you softly say with a yawn.

“Why are you up? Did I wake you?” Sukuna asks, buttoning the cuffs of the shirt and walking over to you.

“I need to work on the rough sketches anyways since my canvases come in today. I’m so behind,” you groan, “What are you looking for?”

“My passport. I swear I grabbed it from home before I came here.”

He watches you tie his tie for him as he tries to recall where it might be.

“It’s definitely at home on the kitchen counter. I saw it before I left. I meant to grab it for you. Sorry, Ryo.”

He tosses his head back in frustration, “Why is this penthouse so inconveniently located. I have to go in the opposite direction of the office and the airport to go home and get it.”

“You’re the one that said my apartment was too small to be my studio.”

“I know.”

“And that I should separate home from work.”

“I know.” He squeezes your cheeks to stop you from talking. “I don’t regret buying this penthouse for your work. You get an ocean view and you have an entire space to do your work. I’d buy you the entire building if you needed it.”

He lets go of your face and you say, “Okay, Mr. CEO. All you had to say was that you love me.”

He chuckles and pours two cups of coffee, handing you one of them. “This business trip is pretty short, so I should be back around afternoon or tomorrow night at the latest.” He checks his watch, “I should go, so I don’t be late with my detour.” 

He grabs his blazer off of the back of the chair, sliding it on as he walks towards the door with you right behind him. He slips his shoes on and turns to you, giving you a soft kiss.

“Be safe. I love you.” you say.

“I love you. Don’t overwork yourself while I’m gone.”

As soon as the door closed, you muttered: Sorry, Ryo. That’s exactly what I’m about to do.

~ 

A few hours later, you get a call from Sukuna and immediately answer.

“How’s the new assistant, Ryo?” you immediately ask.

He paused, glancing at the assistant beside him. “So this was your doing. I can’t say that I’m surprised. This one seems a lot more competent.”

“Don’t run him off. He knows how to run businesses well since he grew up with his father.”

“I got it. Mx. CEO,” he taunts, “How long have you been working?”

You glance at the time on your phone. 10:32A.M.

“Technically five hours but only been diligent for the past four hours. I finished my sketch for the King of Curses panel about an hour ago. So, I’ve just started drawing it on the canvas.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that it’s time to take a break and eat something,” He suggests, but you both know that it was a command. 

“I’m not going to pass out on you again, okay? I can take care of myself.”

“As you’ve proven on multiple occasions, you can’t. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you. Make good decisions!” You hang up and get back to work.

You didn’t know how much time had passed or how long you’d been actively moving around and working until your regular Wednesday at 11:30 alarm went off. 

Wait… Wednesday??? You’d only been up for a couple hours. How has an entire day passed without you even realizing it?

At the same time, you received a text from Sukuna: I have to stop by the office before heading to you, so I’ll take you wherever you’d like around one. 

“Shit!” you exclaim, typing back a quick response before rushing around the penthouse to clean and change your clothes.

Sukuna couldn’t know that you haven’t slept in the past 31 hours. 

By the time you cleaned up and got dressed, Sukuna was already at the penthouse, leaning against the kitchen counter and holding a glass of bourbon in his hands.

“Let me see your hands,” he requests.

You stick out your hands, trying to calm them down because both of you knew that you get really bad tremors when you haven’t slept in a while.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so early,” you softly spoke.

“Darling, I texted you. I guess it makes sense that you don’t remember since you responded with a jumble of letters,” he sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head, “What am I going to do with you?”

“I just got really focused. I’m so close to finishing the King of Curses panel. I started the Ruler of Blessings panel as well… I gotta keep the ball rolling while it’s hot,” you explained.

“That isn’t healthy. How have you been painting? With the way your hands are shaking, you shouldn’t even be able to hold a paintbrush straight.”

“I was focused! And before you say it, I’m not tired, so I’ll just get back to work.”

He looks at you in amusement as you walk away. “Still as stubborn as ever.”

“I’ll stop after I finish the curse panel, okay?”

Before you could even get out of the kitchen, Sukuna had picked you up by your waist and started walking away.

“Ryomen Sukuna! Put me down!” you exclaim, “I told you, my feet stay on the ground!”

He laughs and continues walking, “I told you that if I want to pick you up, I will. If you think you’re heavy, then you’re wrong. You’re like a feather compared to what I lift at the gym, okay?”

You fall silent, letting him carry you all the way to the bathroom. He sits you on the counter and starts running the water for a bath. As you wait for the bath to fill up, he stands in between your legs, bringing his hands up to your face and lightly grazing underneath your eyes.

“They’re puffy…” he looks at you with a hint of sadness, “I understand that the art show is very important to you, but this is the third time in the past few months that I’ve had to physically stop you from overworking yourself. If you don’t take care of yourself, your art will suffer, too.”

“I know. There’s just a lot of big names coming this time. I really want it to be good.”

“It will be because you’re an outstanding artist,” he reassures.

You give him a small thank you as he turns to stop the water and you shed your clothes, getting in and closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth.

“You see how nice hot water feels?” You could hear the teasing in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Self-care or whatever.” 

Sukuna begins to wash your body for you, humming a soft tune and lulling you to sleep.  He finishes washing you up and takes you to bed, putting one of his shirts on you and crawling in beside you, letting you wrap yourself around him to steal his warmth.

He softly smiles to himself and gives you a soft kiss on the top of your head as he whispers, “Sweet dreams.”

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Title: Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~2K

Status: Complete

A/N: That’s all folks. Chapters 59 and 60 coming out together today.

For J - For being the reason I finish this. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Aaron's been seated in his new office for the past hour, going over the new certification and training requirements for the BAU with Dave. Technically, it should've been Prentiss he was meeting with, but she'd happily passed along that piece of her new responsibilities, stating that the grouchy old men would do a much better job at it than she ever could.

From across the way, he can see through the glass walls into his old office which Prentiss now occupies. Both Garcia and JJ are sat across from her, no doubt convening there before they all fly out for your bachelorette party. It was a bit unbelievable to think he was only a week away from officially marrying you.

That is, if you survived this weekend, as you'd commented apprehensively earlier that morning. You've been terrified about what Emily had planned, especially given how his bachelor party had gone a few weeks prior. Dave had lured him away with the promise of good steaks and cigars, and then ambushed him with private dancers. He'd even gone out of his way to find one that held an uncanny resemblance to you. John had been sure to give that one a wide berth, making a beeline for the other corner of the room and staunchly avoiding any sort of eye contact with Aaron, much to his amusement. The night had culminated in a panicked text from Aaron to you, begging to be rescued. You'd arrived – his knight in shining armor – and taken him, a terrified Reid who'd been on the phone texting his girlfriend half the night, and a reluctant John who had finally relaxed enough to enjoy the company of the other dancer when you'd arrived and fixed him with an unamused regard that had the poor guy following the rest of you out with quick goodbyes to Dave and Morgan.

"You talk to Morgan recently?" Dave asks idly, sifting through the files in search of the old requirements documentation.

"Yes, he seems to be liking the transition to the academy," Aaron remarks, flipping through the file in front of him in search of the same. "We grabbed lunch last week when I did the Profiling and Prosecution seminar."

Dave smiles with a contemplative nod, and Aaron can only imagine what was going through his friend's head. Things were changing around them slowly – you'd left the team and had built your own, Prentiss was running the BAU, Morgan had retired to spend more time with his wife and soon to arrive son. Aaron himself had taken on the mantle of Section Chief, a role to which he was taking to far better than previously anticipated. Though, he supposed it helped that this time, he was only doing the Section Chief job and not also running the BAU.

It had been the right decision – for him, for you, for Jack. Both of you were home for dinner more nights than not. The three of you had settled into a routine that felt comfortable, and while he missed being directly in the field, he could see the change in him, his body. At his last doctor's visit, Dr. Robbins had commented that his stress levels appeared to be lowered and having a job that wasn't quite so hard on his body was a great help in that.

John was over every few weekends, very much a part of that routine you'd created, and the three of you had flown to New York a handful of times as well, taking Jack to a Yankees game (which he enjoyed thoroughly) and taking him on the subway (which he didn't care for). Dave had asked him half a dozen times, how he felt about John's presence in your lives. Aaron was incredibly alright with it – he hadn't been the only one who thought he'd lost you.

If he was being truly honest with himself, he was far more comfortable with John than he'd ever allowed himself to be around anyone that wasn't you or Haley. He's had time to think about it, about why that was the case. He figures it's because John is possibly the only other person in the world who understands the importance of you, the impact of you. For Aaron, in many ways, John also felt like an extension of you. The same biting humor, the forced humbleness – the way neither one of you could see anything wrong with spoiling Jack entirely.

Aaron could still easily recall the day he'd made an offhand remark about him not wanting Jack to grow up with a silver spoon in his mouth. John had grown quiet, eyes fixed towards where you were finishing making lunch. Jack was sat on the countertop, mixing together a bowl of cookie dough for you, to be baked for after lunch. Aaron had followed his gaze, his heart warming gently at the sight. It was so familiar, Jack always loved helping you in the kitchen. Aaron's mouth involuntarily turns into a smile as you laugh at something Jack had said, your head falling back easily, the musical notes of your laughter making the room feel brighter.

When John had turned back, he had a far away look in his eyes. "You're right," he'd said, clearing his throat, his voice a little heavier than before. "At the end of the day you want to be sure of only one thing – that he feels immensely loved. Because kids who aren't fed love by a silver spoon, they tend to lick it off of knives."

Aaron knew, without being told, that John was referring to Julian. He found himself incredibly grateful that his son got to be fed by you, wielding a platinum spoon. With John in your lives, that love in Jack's life only increased.

*------------*

You stood at the door of Aaron's office, having walked down from your own, on the way to Emily's so that you and the girls could fly off to a weekend of controlled (hopefully) fun. Who were you kidding? Emily Prentiss was in charge of your bachelorette party. You'd be lucky if you made it back in time to meet Aaron at the altar.

It takes a few seconds for them to notice your presence. A few seconds during which you get to admire the late afternoon sun hitting Aaron's frame just right, the golden hues turning his hair a lighter brown – it made him seem younger than his age, and the white flecks (which he blamed almost entirely on you and your disappearance) would suggest. The pronounced furrowed brow that seemed to be a permanent fixture for him while he was in the office, the warm eyes turned seriously down towards the papers in front of him, the pink lips that had spent a fair amount of time between your legs the night prior, causing you to shatter around him. That had resulted in John making a few crude remarks at breakfast that morning, which thankfully flew over Jack's head. Your son was far too excited to have an entire weekend with just his dad and favorite Uncle for a "Boys Only Weekend" to make up for you missing his soccer game on Saturday.

Aaron shifts, noticing your presence, head tilting up and eyes meeting your own. At the sight of you, they imbue warmth and familiarity, sparkling against the reflected sunlight. You're struck for a moment. Your husband-to-be was remarkably beautiful.

"Hey, how's it going?" You smile at both Aaron and Dave, entering quickly to meet Aaron on his side of the desk. Both of them turn to look at you.

"You still have no idea where Emily is taking you?" Rossi's face betrays his glee at your misfortune. He's been cross with you ever since you kidnapped Aaron from his own bachelor party. In your defense, the man had practically begged you to.

"No, she won't tell me." You sigh, your voice coming out almost in a whine.

Rossi's lip twitches, though he does a good enough job at not laughing outright.

You perched on the arm of Aaron's chair, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Harvey sent these over," you tell him, placing the envelope you had been carrying on his desk, your hand returning to play with the ring on your finger around as you were prone to do nowadays. "Would you please sign them and make sure they get to his office before Monday? He wants them finalized before the wedding."

Aaron nods, noting how your delicate fingers caress the stone of the ring that's sat on your hand and made him – quite literally – the luckiest man alive.

He's been expecting some paperwork coming his way in light of your upcoming ceremony. He'd lightly brought up the idea of a pre-nuptial agreement with you early on – for your sake – and had been laughed out of the room. You did however, feel it necessary to make him aware of exactly what assets he'd have access to, and thus your lawyer had been busy creating a summary for him to look over and acknowledge. Apparently, it had taken a full staff to do the entire work up, over the course of a month. If the thud the envelope had made when you'd set on his desk was any indication, he was in for a long night of reading.

"Alright, I should go." You heave off of his chair and the two of you look at each other and then Rossi, who takes a hint and looks away, leaving you to bend down and capture his lips against yours. You feel his arm winding around your waist and tightening into your side briefly, before you withdraw, your tongue peaking out to lick your lips. Aaron looks just barely flushed as Rossi turns back, his lips twitching in amusement as you fix yourself and take your leave.

*------------*

The door closes behind you, Aaron's eyes following your walk across the floor towards Emily's office.

"Is that what I think it is?" Dave asks, drawing his attention back to the envelope you'd dropped off for him. There's something oddly familiar about this – the two of them in his office, an envelope related to you dropped off at his desk. Though this time, under far less confusing and much happier conditions.

Aaron nods, doing his best to hide the smile threatening to break through at his friend's curiosity. Ever since New York, Dave had been very interested in learning exactly how much richer than him you were.

Reaching for the envelope, Aaron opens it up and withdraws the large stack of papers, and flips to the first page. Disclosure of Assets – the name of the document hardly did justice to the summary that followed. Properties across the U.S., Europe, South America, and the Caymans. A plethora of divided up Swiss bank accounts, each with a balance more staggering than the last. A stock portfolio rivaling Buffets. The number at the bottom of the page takes his breath away entirely.

Aaron turns once more to look towards his old office – he can see you gathered there with the rest of the girls, laughing about something. Given the piece of paper in his hand, he has to hand it to you in that moment. You lived far below your means. To think that someone your age had access to that kind of money – that kind of freedom – and still chose to do what you did. He didn't think there were many others who would.

Before Aaron can react, Dave has reached across the table and yanked the piece of paper right out of his hands.

The noise of complete shock that leaves his friend's body was not one that Aaron was likely to forget anytime soon. He watches as Dave reads the same summary he just had, his eyebrows moving further and further into his hairline as he goes down the page.

When he finally looks back at Aaron it's with a look that couldn't quite be described – surprise, awe, a hint of envy. Aaron can viscerally see the same thought he had moments ago regarding you and your work at the Bureau flit through Dave's head as he too turns to assess you across the floor.

Quietly, he hands the documents back to Aaron. Shifting in his chair, Dave clears his throat. "You do know that you're going to be picking up the tab every time now, right?"

Aaron chuckles, nodding. He'd assumed as much.

He turns back to you, only to catch you looking towards him as well through the glass walls. Your mouth turns up into a smile as your eyes meet his. Eyes like the sunrise colliding with his, causing his stomach to flip in that torturously delicious manner that only you seem to invoke. Eyes that meet his and stay. Eyes that have followed him, mirrored his, since the moment the two of you met. Eyes that betrayed you both when you looked at one another, the sheer intensity of the emotion behind them giving you away entirely. It didn't matter what distance, what time, what circumstance separated you from one another – somehow his eyes knew to always find their companion in yours.

Aaron might have fallen first, but he is forever grateful that you'd followed.

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!yeosang (part 2)

word count: 5k

fluff, smut (tw: mentions of abortion)

(part 1) (miniseries masterlist)

“did you just puke again?”

you look up at yunho from your spot on the couch, bags under your extremely unamused eyes as you nod your head lazily. 

you warned him not to come over in the first place today, that you didn’t wanna get him or mingi sick since you’ve spent the past few days still vomiting and feeling like shit.

but he insisted, not wanting you to spend the day alone and cooking for yourself when you didn’t feel your best. 

yeosang had stayed home with you for two days but had to get back to his classes, you all but forcing him out of bed in the early morning hours this week. 

“yes,” you whine, a pout on your face as he smooths down your messy hair. “which is why you shouldn’t be here!” 

he only rolls his eyes as he fixes the blanket over you, claiming he’s immune to all illness before tucking you in like a child and going off to the kitchen to check on the soup he’s making. 

you let out a sigh as you hear yunho humming softly, sprawling out on the couch and stretching your aching bones. you thought for sure you had some sort of stomach flu, a slight fever and vomiting along with just pain all over.

but it’s been almost a full week now of waking up and feeling like this, irritation starting to settle in because it feels like you’re never gonna get better.

it makes it even more frustrating that, in the mid-afternoon and nighttime, it seems as if you’re getting better, just for everything to start all over again.

“that’s odd,” yunho hums softly when you tell him that, carrying your bowl of soup and a package of crackers that makes you hold back a smile. 

he side-eyes you when he sees your lips twitching, flicking your head gently and gesturing at the food he just cooked for you. 

“have you gone to the doctor?”

“you know they freak me out,” you mutter, slurping the soup and humming when the warm broth hits your tongue; if there’s one thing you learned about yunho over these college years, it’s that he’s a great cook. 

“this is good.”

“thanks,” he smiles softly, watching closely as you slurp down the broth.

this is a meal he makes for mingi every time the boy isn’t feeling well and, while he knows his boyfriend is secretly wimpier than you, he always looks more...sickly. 

pale and sleepy and barely able to lift the spoon into his mouth; but then again, it could be his fiancé being a baby and wanting to be doted on.

“that made me feel better,” you smile happily, getting up from the couch slowly to wash your bowl and spoon before yunho can. 

the boy notices and narrows his eyes, following you into the kitchen quickly and leaning against the counter. 

“you know, it’s weird that it’s only in the morning,” yunho says inquisitively, “and that yeosang didn’t get it in that first twenty four hours.”

“i know, right, i was thinking the same thing,” you admit, dapping the sponge with dish soap as you clean out your dishes. 

“maybe it’s some kind of, like, food poisoning? me and yeosang got that sushi place a few nights before this all-”

your apartment door opening causes you to peek out into the hallway, a tall and annoyed mingi making his way to you; the boy seems even more disappointed when he smells the familiar scent of yunho’s soup.

“did you save some for me?” 

“are you sick?” yunho asks, smiling softly when mingi pokes him in the arm. “what happened? why do you look so annoyed?”

“because halloween isn’t for another week and people are already coming into the bars dressed up and shit. if i had to serve one more person covered in a poorly cut white sheet, i was gonna scream.” 

you and yunho side eye each other with a smirk, one of mingi’s many complaints about being a part-time bartender the amount of sociable people. but the job works for him despite his less than amused attitude, his withdrawn, mysterious personality and handsome face responsible for his hefty tips.

“what are you guys gonna be? pirates again?” you ask, a wide cheeky grin on your face; for the past three halloweens, they haven’t strayed from their favorite costumes. 

“pirates again,” mingi mocks immaturely, his head turning toward you before he does a double take. his hand on your face causes you to stop washing your spoon, eyebrows pulled together as you look at him in confusion. 

“what?” 

“you look weird,” mingi says bluntly, turning your face side to side. your mouth drops open as yunho smacks him in the arm, coming to your defense and saying that you’ve been sick for the past few days.

“yeah, you asshole! i’ve been puking my guts out all morning, excuse me for not looking my best.”

“even more reason for you to go to the doctor,” yunho chimes in quietly, the icy look you throw his way causing him to smile sweetly. 

“but i start to feel fine by the afternoons,” you whine, pulling your face out of mingi’s grasp belligerently. “i have a feeling they won’t even help me.”

“you still have to go, babe,” yunho says softly, running his hand through your hair gently. “that doesn’t sound normal. especially since it’s almost been an entire week.”

you let a sigh as you turn off the sink, wiping your hands on your pants before promptly (and immaturely) stomping back to the couch. it’s in your pursuit to throw yourself back down on the cushions that mingi grabs you before you can, gazing down at you with a wide-eyed expression. 

“what?” you whine again, the slightest hint of exasperation in your tone; he’s starting to freak you out.

“has yeosang gotten sick?”

you shake your head.

“and it’s only in the morning?”

a confused nod.

“and you’re just nauseous and puking?

another confused nod, about to ask him what the hell he’s on about before his next question causes your stomach to drop.

“is your period late?” 

the question makes you still and you’re faintly aware of yunho’s choked gasp in the background, thinking back to the last time you had your period. 

you wrack your brain for the answer but can’t quite remember, pushing down the panic that’s threatening to rise as you start to piece things together. 

your skin’s been clear, you haven’t had cramps, your boobs don’t hurt... but even so, that wouldn’t be possible, right? 

you’ve been on birth control since high school. there’s no way that’s why your period is late, school just started up and work is stressful.

you’ve been stressed since summer ended, not used to the new routine of life. 

there’s no way that the 99.9% effectiveness rate is gonna fail you out of everyone in the world. especially when you’re pretty good about taking it, when you take it everyday around the same-

“holy fuck. it’s late, isn’t it?” 

“mingi, shut up! she looks like she’s about to puke again.”

you don’t even realize that you’re panicking until you look up at them and see them watching you carefully, yunho soft and sympathetic while mingi is shocked and almost disturbed. 

“i-it’s because i’m stressed,” you say, voice sounding like you’re on the brink of a mental breakdown; the denial and hope is all too evident. 

“i have a lot more assignments now for school and work’s been crazy. i’m just stressed and i’m... i can’t be-”

“the pill isn’t always effective, y/n...” yunho says gently, his voice soothing and sweet but doing nothing to calm you. 

“yes it is,” you squeak, your eyes wide and hands shaking as you watch the two giant boys looking down at you. “i-it’s 99.9%...” 

“they say it’s probably only 91% effective...” mingi says, yunho letting out a scoff as he drags mingi back against his body. 

“you’re not helping at all,” he growls lowly in his fiancé’s ear, the dark-haired boy turning around and looking over his face. 

“she has morning sickness, yunho, how could this not be-”

“it’s not morning sickness! i can’t be pregnant!”

the thought didn’t even cross your mind, not in the slightest. why would it? you’ve been safe and careful and actively trying to prevent this. 

“y/n, it’s okay,” yunho says, making his way over to you slowly.

your heart starts to pound and tears are threatening to burn the back of your eyes, shaking your head frantically as you look between the two boys. 

“why is it late? i didn’t- i didn’t even notice. or think about that. oh, my god.”

you throw your head in your hands and yunho’s quick to plop down beside you, putting his arm around you gently before pulling you into him. 

he breathes quiet reassurances into your ear for a few silent moments, his scent clean and nice and you try to focus on it surrounding your nose and calming you.

but it does nothing of the sort. 

because yeosang’s scent is always the thing to calm you, sweet and familiar and reminiscent of your home that’s mixed with whatever festive candle is burning at the time.

but what would yeosang think about this current situation, knowing that you’re really entertaining the idea that you might be pregnant with his child?

“what would yeosang say?” you blurt out, your head snapping to see mingi now a few feet away from you. 

you’re suddenly consumed by how fucking eerie this all is, just a little over a month ago talking with yeosang about your future kids. but he had made it clear  it was far into the future, the same way you did. 

you never ever thought the future would be only weeks later. 

“he said he wanted kids in the future. but the future future! we even said you guys would have kids before us and would need a lot of practice! holyfuck, no. i can’t be pregnant, i can’t be-”

“y/n.”

mingi’s knelt between your legs before you can pass out from lack of air, his face relaxed and eyes looking up at you softly. you swallow the lump in your throat as he exaggerates his breathing, in and out, as he rests his hands on your knees. 

“mingi, i can’t. what if i’m actually-”

“stop.” 

his voice is deep and gruff as he shakes his head, ignoring yunho’s gaze piercing into his face. your eyes start to well up with tears the more he looks at you, the sympathy in his gaze making you even more uneasy. 

“mingi,” you whine but he only shakes his head again, squeezing your knee as he begins to talk.

“we’ll go get a test, okay? all three of us. together.”

“and what if it’s-”

“we’ll deal with whatever result when it happens. but for now, we gotta figure it out first.”

mingi can see the fear behind your eyes so he rubs his hand over your knee soothingly, eventually helping you up and out of the house with yunho. 

there’s a slightly tense silence as you guys walk down the block to the nearest pharmacy, trapped between the two boys who bump your arms and occasionally graze your hand affectionately. 

you looked over the tests in a daze, your shaky hand reaching to pick out a pack of five as you tried to brace yourself for whatever the result was gonna be. 

“i can’t do it.”

“you have to, y/n. how else are we gonna know?” mingi asks you through the door an hour later, the white stick in your hand as you try to force yourself to pee on it. 

it’s one thing to pee in a cup at the doctor to make sure all is well but doing it to find out if your life is about to change forever? that’s a lot more daunting to do, let alone on five of them. 

“just do one first, then we can go from there,” yunho says gently, his kind, soft-spoken voice not even helping you at this point.

“i can’t!” you cry out, tears pricking your eyes as the white test wobbles in your hand. 

“you gotta try, babe,” yunho says softly, mingi biting his tongue as he resists the urge to stomp in there and demand to help; his fiancé must know it too, if the chastising look he throws his way tells him anything.

“she’s scared, mingi,” yunho mumbles softly, squeezing his fiance’s arm affectionately. 

it’s one of the many, subtle ways he’s learned to calm mingi down over the years, whether it be when the boy is an anxious fit or ready to bite someone’s head off. 

“i know she is but she could not be pregnant,” the tall boy rationalizes, placing his hand atop yunho’s absentmindedly. “so she’s just freaking herself out for nothing.”

“you’d freak out too if you thought you were pregnant.”

“okay, well no shit,” mingi deadpans, a laugh bubbling from yunho that has a smile lighting up the usual grouchy boy’s face. 

“why are you guys laughing!” you yelp, whipping open the door to reveal yourself with tears brimming in your eyes. “this is no laughing matter!” 

“can you just piss already?” mingi asks snippily, yunho pinching his arm and mumbling for him to get you some water before looking at you encouragingly. 

his hands cup your face gently, eyes soft and sympathetic as he looks you over. 

“i know you’re scared, y/n, but the quicker you can go, the quicker you’ll have the results and know for sure.”

“yunho, if i’m pregnant, what am i gonna-”

“then you’re pregnant and we’ll figure out what to do next,” he says with finality, his thumbs stroking over your cheek gently. “but you could also not be pregnant and just be stressed with everything, like you said. we won’t know until you pee.”

you let out a noise between a huff and a laugh, looking at him with a frown before taking a deep breath and braving the bathroom once again. 

it takes you a few moments, getting the urge to urinate as you place the stick between your legs but eventually, you have it in the sink and you’re gripping the counter tightly. 

never ever did you think in a million years you’d be in this situation during your junior year of college, hunched over a sink in your ritzy, city apartment waiting for the results of a pregnancy test.

you have to imagine yeosang never pictured this either, the kids he planned to have in his adult years way after college coming to him nearly 10 years early. 

tears burn your eyes as you picture telling him, lucky to not have the financial burden of raising a child but instead...everything else. the way one’s life and relationships and mindsets truly change after becoming a parent.

using the word parent to describe you and yeosang doesn’t even sound right.

how are you supposed to do this? tell him and think it over and make decisions about this when most days, you two can’t even decide what you wanna eat. 

you both still have so much left to do with your young adult lives, finishing school and getting jobs and maybe traveling to the top ten countries you guys decided one night at two a.m. 

could you do all of it with a baby? could you guys survive it at all? is this something yeosang would even consider despite being-

“y/n? did you do it?” yunho’s soft voice calls, the eerie silence within the bathroom making the two giant boys panic right outside. 

they get their answer when you open the door and stare at them with a terrified expression, wide eyes and a wobbling lip that immediately causes mingi to pull you into him. 

you crumble against him as you bury your face in his broad chest, only slightly aware of yunho petting the top of your head calmingly. 

the apartment is silent despite the honks and bustle of the city outside, all three of you breathing slowly and calmly as you inhale the smell of mingi and yunho’s combined scents; you think it has something to do with them sharing clothes more often than not. 

the silence is broken when you three hear a beep from a few feet away, your head snapping up and back toward the bathroom as mingi mumbles a low “shit.” 

yunho sneers at him before walking over to you, giving you a knowing look as tears well up in your eyes.

“it’s okay,” the dark haired boy promises, firmly believing that no matter what the result is, it’ll all eventually be okay. 

“you look first,” you beg, voice barely above a whisper. 

you can’t bring yourself to look at it yet, knowing that there’s a 50% chance your life is about to drastically change. 

you need the last few moments of pure panic before you either become so relieved and overwhelmed with gratitude or start to panic 100 times more. 

“are you sure?” yunho asks apprehensively, now feeling a bit of fear pull in his own gut. 

“positive,” you say, your face falling just as mingi snorts, “it might be.”

“mingi,” yunho mumbles warningly just as you snap your head in his direction. 

the death glare you send his way nearly makes him smile, if the mood wasn’t so tense and yunho wasn’t glaring at him and you weren’t four seconds away from finding out if a fetus is about to start growing inside you.

“please look before i start to puke again.”

yunho looks over your face one more time before letting out a sigh, walking into the bathroom and looking down at the white stick in the sink. 

he feels his heart drop into his stomach immediately, tightening his hold on the marble countertop as he swallows. mingi notices the way his adams apple bobs and feels his own eyes widening, squeezing past you as you watch the scene unfold in front of you.   

mingi places his hand on yunho’s arm as he peers over the boy’s shoulder, a gasp leaving his mouth that immediately causes tears to spring to your eyes. 

and it’s when your best friend looks at you with a flood of different emotions swirling in his eyes, you already know what the result is.

the same result as the other four tests you took afterward, a total of five positive pregnancy tests right there in your bathroom sink. 

you’re not sure how long you cried into your hands as you slumped onto the couch, sobs wracking your body and shaking as you tried to come to terms with it. 

because the prospect of your life changing wasn’t the only scary thing, yeosang’s reaction and your parents wasn’t the only scary thing; the journey of the pregnancy itself was fucking terrifying. 

watching and feeling your body change and going through an ordeal every woman describes as something so incredibly painful. you’d already been puking and having body ache thus far, and you know things are only gonna get worse. 

even after your cries eventually stop, your face red and eyes sore and nose full of wet snot, the boys next to you are still silent. you almost think they expected the results to be negative, not to go back and check again and again and again for the two tiny pink lines displayed on the screen.

“i’m scared.”

it’s the first thing you say to break the silence after god knows how long, mingi looking to you just as yunho reaches out and holds your hand in his. they were lost in their own little world too, wondering how you’re gonna handle going through this and what yeosang’s response will be. 

they know he loves you and will be by your side no matter what but it’s still a hard situation to grasp. being young and scared and faced with the challenges an accidental pregnancy creates. 

“what are you gonna do?” mingi asks softly; you know the situation has gotta be bad, because you don’t know if you’ve ever heard his voice this sweet talking to anyone besides yunho. 

“i don’t know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as the last remaining tears burn the back of your eyes. “i just...i don’t know. i’m so fucking scared.”

“well do you wanna...keep it?” mingi asks, yunho’s head snapping to the side as he looks at him. “you have options, you know.”

"i know,” you tell him softly, licking over your lips nervously; you never thought in a million years this would be a predicament you were in. “i don’t know if i could do that. i’m scared... but that seems scarier to me. and i still have to tell yeosang.”

the two boys don’t comment as you sit there with your thoughts, your leg starting to bounce nervously as you think about telling yeosang this news; this kind of announcement should be happy and joyful and exciting, you feel bad by the sheer terror pulsing in your veins. 

“i have to tell yeosang,” you repeat, yunho and mingi looking you over as you start to think aloud. “what is he gonna say? what if he gets mad?” 

“he’s the one who did it, how the fuck is he gonna get mad?” mingi growls, the semi-like, hate relationship with the boy coming out; he doesn’t think yeosang will react like that but he knows if he does, he’ll for sure crack his head open the way he intended to in the library back in high school.

“he’s not gonna be mad,” yunho assures, side eyeing mingi before he places a hand on your shoulder. “he’s probably gonna be just as scared as you.”

and you think if yeosang came home later that night in a good mood, you would’ve seen that yunho was right.

but the second your boyfriend got in the door, you knew he wasn’t okay. his face was pale and sunken and he looked utterly defeated, hair messy from the downpour of rain and just an overall look of exhaustion over him. 

“work is driving me fucking insane, babe, it’s like they don’t know i’m still in school,” he tells you over dinner, his fork viciously stabbing into a piece of chicken. 

“i have a hundred different things to do and they’re being assholes because i asked for one fucking extension. i’m just about ready to tell them to go fuck themsel- are you okay?”

he looked up from his food to see you staring down at your plate of noodles, completely untouched as your eyes train blankly on the white take out bowl. 

“baby?” he hums lowly, his hand touching yours causing you to jump slightly. his eyebrows pull together slightly as he looks over your face, looking for any visible signs of stress or upset. “what’s wrong? do you not like it?”

“oh, no, no,” you laugh out humorlessly, bringing your fork down to swirl a few noddles before popping it in your mouth. “sorry, i’m just sleepy. yunho and mingi came over today.”

“ahh, tired my sick girl out, huh?” he teases, a frown on his face as he places the back of his hand on your head. “how’d you feel today? i hated leaving you.”

it takes everything in you not to burst into tears on the spot, your stomach twisting painfully as you shrug your shoulders at him. 

“fine,” you mumble, “threw up a few times, then felt better. the same thing.”

“you gotta go to the doctor, love,” yeosang says, wiping at the corner of your mouth where a small speck of sauce lay. “i know you hate them but this is weird. especially since i feel fine.”

you only smile softly at him and nod, stomach sinking again after he adds on, “well, apart from being worried about you and so fucking annoyed with work. i know hwa’s mom got me the job but, shit, i’m about ready to be a real dick.”

“don’t do that,” you chastise lightly, smacking him in the arm playfully. he only chuckles in response, the tenseness in his eyes from the moment he walked in slowly disapating. 

you can’t mention this tonight. you have to wait until his stress is minimal and news of his baby won’t be the thing that puts him over the edge. 

“congratulations, you’re almost seven weeks pregnant!”

the words didn’t surprise you when you went to the doctor three days later, mingi’s hand in yours with a horrible pit in your stomach. 

it felt wrong to be here with anyone who wasn’t yeosang but yunho and mingi had begged you to go, stressing your own personal safety as well as ensuring you didn’t somehow get five false positives. 

and over the next few days, anytime you’d try to tell yeosang, something always came up and prevented you.

work and school still stressing him out, his coworkers inviting you guys to dinner, you passing out while he was still in the shower because apparently the first trimester is doing you so dirty already. 

“you have to tell him soon, babe,” yunho said a week after that doctors appointment, holding back a laugh as he remembers the horror that crossed his fiance’s face when everyone thought he was the proud father to be.

“have you told him yet?” mingi asked two weeks later, back from a vacation with yunho where they couldn’t help but worry about you and yeosang.

his eyes widened and he covered his face with his hands when you shook your head no, his loudly spoken “what are you waiting for!” echoing through the small coffee shop.

“keep your voice down!” you snap, smacking him from across the table as you shoot him a stern look. 

“y/n, it’s almost been a month and he still doesn’t know he’s gonna be a dad,” the boy whispers now, even though yeosang’s across the city at work and there’s only a few other people in the store right now. 

“he’s been stressed about work and school and there just... hasn’t been a right time,” you reason weakly. 

because even though that is the truth, he has been stressed and news of this would surely add on to it, you also know that telling him would make this all feel too real.

put it out in the world that you’re pregnant and he’ll be a father and you’ll both have to start making decisions based around those facts; are you both ready for this discussion?

you don’t feel ready. you feel more scared about this than you’ve ever felt in your entire life 

“there might not ever be a good time, y/n,” mingi says softly, understanding why you’re scared but also knowing, despite his own feelings toward the boy, that yeosang will love you no matter what. 

“and even though he’s a fucking dick, he loves you. and he wouldn’t want you being scared and dealing with this alone.”

tears prick your eyes because you know what mingi’s saying is right. and you guess if you’re gonna be terrified and stressed out, you might as well be together. 

but your stomach nearly sinks that night, yeosang’s arm around your shoulder as you both watch tv, when he lowers the volume and begins to speak.

“baby, can i ask you something?”

you turn around and peek up at him, his eyes soft and curious and it makes your heart pull in your chest that even you can see the love reflecting in them.

“hm?” you hum as you look at him, warm and comfortable in his hold; because as far as stress and ways to relieve it go, you two usually fuck until you forget it. 

but you haven’t felt right in the mornings and get sleepy by night, something you know yeosang had to have noticed and is too sweet to call you out on. 

“are you... is everything okay?” he asks, his arm rubbing at your shoulder gently. “i feel like you’ve been out of it these past few weeks.” 

he noticed the week you were sick but chopped it up to just that, feeling gross and drained and he completely understood it.

but then it seemed as if you started to avoid him completely, pushing away when he’d try to deepen a kiss or mutter that you weren’t in the mood when he sank to his knees at your bedside. 

“and i don’t know... you seem a little distant,” he mumbled lowly, his hand slowly reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “i just wanna make sure everything’s okay.”

you think maybe it’s a little bit of everything that makes you promptly burst into tears. his sweetness and the starting of hormones and the guilt of keeping this secret from him for far too long.

“baby, what happened?” yeosang mumbles, his heart sinking the second he sees the tears well in your eyes.; he wasn’t sure what happened or what was wrong but he knew it had to be something.

you can only sniffle as you bury your face in his chest, shaking your head as you just cry and cry into him. 

you’re faintly aware of his hand running through your hair, lips against your head as he takes deep, calming breaths. 

“please tell me what’s wrong,” he says after a few moments, pulling your face out of his chest so you can meet his gaze. the look in your eye is one he’s never seen before and he doesn’t know what to make of it, wiping wetness from your cheeks as he looks at you pleadingly.

“c’mon, my love. talk to me,” his deep voice begs, a tiny sob leaving your mouth as you shake your head again.

“you’re gonna be mad,” you whimper out, knowing that you keeping this from him for this long was so fucking stupid; but you’re scared and you know he’s gonna be too, especially given his.... upbringing.

there are just so many factors that are making all of this ten times scarier.

“i won’t, baby,” he tells you gently, a pout on his lips as he looks down at you. 

he’s not used to seeing you this upset, he hates seeing you cry and in any sort of pain since, for the past few years, you’ve only ever cried because of stupid, cheesy movies.

but you can only look at him with a blank expression, both of knowing very well how short his fuse could be. 

“when do i ever get mad at you?” he corrects, a tiny smile breaking out across his face when you sniffle and your face scrunches up. 

he doesn’t know what you’re about to tell him, or what could be so scary and upsetting that you’re breaking down like this, but he knows that when it comes to you, he’s wrapped around your finger. 

and nothing you tell him could ever be that bad and panic-inducing. 

“i’m pregnant.”

part 3

tag list: @mirror-juliet​ @toffee-hwa​ @valhoez​ @miatsubaki23​ 

[hournites]

A lot of ways to love you (teach me through your eyes)

Hournite Week Day 7: Love Languages 

Summary: Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Gifts, Quality Time, Touch. Or, Rick, Beth, and their many languages of love.

Thank you for coming along on this first HN week journey with me! ❤️

~.~

Words of Affirmation

  Beth found Rick by himself at the corner of their shared history class, carving his initials into the desk. She didn’t understand why he’d put himself there. It was like a brooding corner to be miserable. 

  “Hey,” she said, taking the seat in front of his desk. “What’s wrong?” 

  Rick dug deeper to splinter the wood. “They think I cheated on my chem test.” 

  Without asking, Beth unzipped Rick’s bag to pull out the test. Rick let her. 

  She gaped at him as she scanned over the F and comments from the teacher. He always treated Beth kindly when they passed in the halls, but she never actually had Mr. Geralds. Chemistry wasn’t her strong suit like Rick, but there wasn’t a doubt that she’d given some of the same answers with a great grade from the other science teacher. “Are you serious? That’s crazy. You’re going to contest that, right?”

  “You’re not going to even ask if I did?” 

  “I know you didn’t, you’re too smart.” 

  “I used to steal shit,” he muttered under his breath and dropped his pencil. “Haven’t heard you say I’m too smart for that.” 

  Beth slipped his test into her folder to return to at a later time, right now focusing on Rick. 

  “Hey, that’s not fair.” When Rick wouldn’t meet her eyes, she leaned in closer. “Look at me.” 

  Rick did. 

  “You know you deserved a good grade. And you’ve done what you did to get by.” She glanced at the vandalism briefly. “There are people here who know you’re better than what the majority of the town thinks.” She lowered her voice to keep her next words between them. “You’re a hero. You’ve helped save everyone in this town. So show them who you really are.” 

  She smiled when he let out a small huff, she knew he was listening. “I’ll go to the principal’s office with you, and we can get Pat to vouch for us. We both know that for Chem you should be in AP.” 

  “It’s really not that big of a deal,” he lied, shifting uncomfortably from all her nice words. 

  “If it weren’t a big deal, you wouldn’t have done that.” She pointed at the roughened mess he’d made of the school desk. “I know you better than you think.” 

  Act of Service 

  “Has anyone seen Beth?” 

  Rick walked around the main area of Pat’s cabin. It was after 2 AM. Barbara and Jennie were making late-night comfort food in the kitchen. Pat was manning the first aid station, tending to Mike, Jakeem and Yolanda’s injuries from Sportsmaster. Courtney was bonding or something with the staff in some strange ritual she had after a life-threatening mission. Rick just stepped out of the shower, washing the grime from his arms and face. 

  “She’s upstairs, I think!” Yolanda called, holding her ribs from her seat on top of the table. Rick shook his head when Pat admonished her not to yell. Rick made it up the stairs two at a time, stopping when he found Beth with her packed school bag on the floor in front of the couch. She was searching through papers, openly crying. She hadn’t even taken her cape off yet. 

  Rick crouched down beside her. “Hey,” he said softly. She looked utterly exhausted. “Are you okay? You said you didn’t get hurt.” 

“I’m not hurt.” She hiccuped, flipping through more papers, a little hysterical. It looked like it was for school. “I can’t find my math assignment. It’s due tomorrow morning.”

  “Did you finish it?” he asked. 

  “I don’t remember.” She wiped at her tears as she cried harder. “I might’ve left it at home, I can’t find it. I’m too tired, I can’t think.” 

  “Yeah,” Rick agreed. His bones were weary but he had always felt the least affected after battling it out with the ISA. He suffered plenty of superficial cuts and bruises, but he hardly felt them because his hourglass really protected him. He couldn’t imagine the hit the night must’ve taken on Beth’s body. Pat was going to be driving them back to main Blue Valley at 4 or 5 o’clock in the morning to get them back to school. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a random Wednesday. It’s not like they had a choice. 

  “Did you ask Chuck?” 

  “No.” Her lip wobbled, face contorting into another sob. Rick regretted asking. It was clear she was far too drained. It would’ve been simple to have asked Chuck to scan her bag to find out, but she hadn’t thought of it. 

  “Okay, okay,” Rick said. “Go to bed. You’re not going to be able to do the homework now even if you found it.” Rick got up to get to the top of the stairs, calling down for Barbara. 

  When he returned, he helped her up and managed to get her to let go of her school bag. “We’ll look for it before we leave, okay?” Rick ran a hand through his damp hair, his own eyelids started to droop. “I promise you’ll get it done before school.” 

  Barb joined them upstairs and coaxed Beth to change out of her suit, leading her downstairs with her regular clothes and a promise of a warm bed and tea. 

  Rick followed to grab Chuck when Beth wasn’t looking, turning him on once alone to help identify if this alleged math homework was even in her bag. Together they found what she was talking about. Ten problems of pre-calc. She was right. It was rushed and not done. 

  Rick sighed, tucking it under his arm. He said goodnight to the rest and retired to his assigned room. He turned on the lamp on the desk where he first solved the code of his father’s journal, spreading out the assignment and using Chuck as a calculator. It dawned on him an hour later as he rubbed at his tired eyes how he would be staying up all night to finish homework that wasn’t even his. 

  Gifts 

  Beth was immersed in her book when two hands landed on her collarbone. She looked down, touching the skin at the opening of her shirt when she felt the weight of something new at the base of her throat.

  “What’s this?”

  Rick murmured in her ear from behind. “An early birthday present.”

  She let out a soft gasp when he finished with the clasp. A tiny brass hourglass pendant with sand just like Hourman’s trickled steadily beside her rainbow pendant. 

  “Woah.” She glanced up at him. “You got me an hourglass?” She bit down on her lip, dread creeping into her mind when she realized this had to be expensive. She struggled to voice what she was feeling out loud, but Rick must’ve caught the complicated expression on her face. He smoothed his hand along the sleeve of her cardigan and reassured her the cost didn’t push him into any kind of financial ruin. 

  “Did you not realize I’ve been working for Pat before school? I had some spare cash. Trust me, there’s nothing better I’d spend my money on.” 

  The puzzle clicked into place. Beth had been meeting Rick at the Pit Stop every morning before school for what felt like months now. It made sense he was there to work on the cars. Beth felt her face heat up at his implicit soft-spoken confession. “Thank you,” she said in a whisper, still in awe. The necklace was beautiful and she felt fuzzy ever since his hands were on her neck. “I love it.”

  His eyes, usually hardened and defensive, skilled at warding off unwanted attention, now creased at the corners. Gentle, quiet, yearning, he watched her accept his gift. “I’m glad.”

  Impulsively she asked, “Could you unclasp the rainbow one?”

  Rick did. The chain pooled in her palm. She shook her head, pushing it to his chest. “You should have it.”

  His brows furrowed in response. “You want to give me your... rainbow necklace?”

  She flushed when he said it like that. She toyed with her new one, looking at him from beneath her lashes. “Well…” she said. “I have something of you, now you can have a symbol of me.”

  Rick let out a small laugh. Beth was pretty sure if this were anyone else he’d say it was stupid, so she couldn’t help the surge of pride when he nestled her necklace around his own neck. 

  “How does it look?” 

  It was actually twisted. She flattened it so it would look the way it was supposed to over the collar of his shirt. Rick didn’t complain, but it was bright and cheery and clashed with his entire self. Beth bit her lip, withholding another laugh, and took pity on him, changing her mind to tuck the necklace underneath. “Perfect now.” 

  “Beth, I hate to interrupt this moment but you will be late for school if you don’t leave the Pit Stop in the next five minutes.”

  Chuck broke them out of their weird double transfixion. They both found themselves smiling shyly at each other, neither truly wanting to move. 

  “Come on,” he said after another few moments of them smiling at each other without moving. “Put your bike in my trunk. I’ll drive you.”

  Quality Time

  When Rick stopped by at Beth’s locker, she was talking to Charity, a new close friend she made over the summer volunteering at the Blue Valley Community Centre. 

  “Hey,” Rick greeted, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting for Beth to visit. 

  “Hey,” Charity said back. She swept her blonde bangs out of her face to continue their conversation. 

  “Charity had a great idea that we should enter for the sustainability case competition,” Beth filled in.  

  “We’re going to need at least a month to prepare. I was thinking we could meet Tuesdays and Thursdays after school?” 

  Rick stuck a hand in his pocket, sullen. Thursdays were their days, unofficially. Not that they’ve ever said so out loud, but with JSA training afternoons the rest of the week, Beth working on a case competition their days off basically meant not getting to see her. Which was fine. It happened. Rick just wishes it didn’t have to. 

  “I can’t on Thursdays,” Beth told her. She glanced up at Rick to give him a smile. He straightened up, meeting her gaze with obvious surprise. “Those are our nights.” 

  Charity paused, watching the two with curious eyes. 

  “We can cancel,” Rick found himself saying and actually meaning it. “You don’t have to stay on my account.” 

  Beth’s nose scrunched up as she shook her head, mind already made. “Nah. Sorry Charity, Thursday doesn’t work for me. Take out your schedule, maybe we have a shared free period somewhere.” 

  “Oh, yeah, sure! Okay!” 

  Rick ducked his head to hide his smile as Charity fished through her bag for her agenda.

  Touch 

  When Beth stumbled out of the cell she’d been bound in, she hadn’t realized just how long she’d been gone. She was hungry and exhausted and felt horrifically dirty in her soiled Dr. Mid-Nite suit, but then she got a glimpse of Hourman nearly pushing the others in his rush to get to her all she could feel was relief. 

  Rick cupped her face, eyes squeezed shut as he held her close, his thumbs brushed along her cheeks, under her dry eyes. She felt the buzz of adrenaline rushing through him just by being so near, but the way he touched her was gentle, so gentle.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered, a startling unfamiliar word to fall in succession like that, coming from Rick. His hands flew to the crown of her cowl, tugging it down to kiss her forehead again and again. “Thank you.” 

  I’m okay now, she tried to comfort him, though her words were choked, smothered out by the crushing weight of it all. He was crying as his lips brushed over her face. It wasn’t his stamina. The buzz, she felt. Rick was shaking. It hit her then, that maybe he wasn’t sure Beth was ever going to come back. Beth had scared him. He was scared.  

Beth vaulted with her tired, numb legs, reaching to wrap her arms around his neck. Her mind went calm for the first time since before they left home, muscles relaxing as she let Rick scoop her up. 

  She was safe. She was home.

Beth was loved. 

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine - Chapter Two

Alright people, say it with me: Trust Issues. Also Finn goes from zero to one hundred real fast.

This is definitely a filler chapter; we’ll get to more spy stuff next chapter.

@lumosinlove

Chapter One

.

Finn made sure to get to the office early enough to have time for a trip down to the Archives, his second cup of coffee in hand as he took the elevator up to the fifth floor of the building. He needed intel. Not on the Snakes – they were getting briefed on them later today. No, he was looking for files on his new partners.

Granted, he could learn a lot from observing them on his own time, but that could only give him so much. In order to get the full picture, he needed their hometowns, history, information about their families, jobs they’d done in the past, you name it. Because, for one of the only times in his life, he was stumped. His entire job was based on how well he could read people; this was frustratingly unusual.

Unusually frustrating? Finn questioned as elevator opened with a ding.

It was both frustrating and unusual. There.

Figuring Logan out was harder than he’d thought it would be. Finn was having a really hard time connecting the Logan he knew from two months ago to the one he was trying to get to know now. He was so different compared to the version of Logan he’d met at the New Year’s party… but alcohol tended to have that effect on people. The guy who cuddled with him on that ratty old couch while nursing a rum and coke now kept his distance. The easy smile and contagious laugh Finn remembered hadn’t been seen or heard since. He was so guarded. About everything, it seemed like. That made him hard to get to know, hard to predict. 

And then there was Leo. Leo made absolutely no sense, in Finn’s opinion. With constant movement but controlled, practiced actions, he was a paradoxical combination of restless and serene. His nerves pointed towards inexperience, but his eyes told a different story – one with complete confidence of his capabilities. He was an enigma. And Finn couldn’t seem to get a read on him.

That was important to Finn. He needed to be able to read and understand his partners. He needed to be able to know their thoughts, predict their every move, trust them. They wouldn’t work together otherwise.

So he woke up at a god-forsaken hour – it was still dark outside – and here he was, outside the Archives.

Staring at the back, broad shoulders, and brown hair of one of his new partners.

Fuck.

He put on a smile. “If I’d known I was meeting you here, I would’ve brought coffee for you.”

Logan didn’t tense, exactly, but his shoulders stiffened slightly. He turned and smiled back. It still wasn’t the smile Finn remembered from that night, wasn’t the one he wanted to see again so badly. “Hey. I see you had the same idea as me.”

“And what’s that?”

He shrugged, indifferent. “Getting intel on your new partners.”

“Nah,” Finn lied as they walked side-by-side to the front desk, “I’m here to brush up on the previous missions against the Snakes’ before our briefing this afternoon. But it’s nice that you want to do your research on us.” He winked. Logan’s lips twitched in an attempt to withhold a smile.

“Can I help you boys?”

Finn turned his bright smile to Lily Potter, who was manning the Archives desk. “Hello, my fellow redhead! We would like the files on past Snakes’ missions, and then the files on Knut, Tremblay, and yours truly, please.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How much time do you have on your hands?”

“Don’t have anything on my schedule until this afternoon. Why?”

“The missions will take you at least two days to get through. It’s probably eight, ten years of files.”

Finn whistled lowly. “Holy shit.”

He hadn’t really thought this through. In his defense, though, it was a spur of the moment idea.

“Well, just the other files, then. Someone over here wants to do research on his new partners.”

Lily sent Logan a curious glance, but left to grab the files. Finn turned to Logan with a flirtatious smile, resting his arm on the desk. “So, what all do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

“I seriously doubt that.”  Logan snorted, nose crinkling in the process.

Finn’s smile turned more genuine. God, he was cute. “Ok, then ask away. Here, I’ll help you out. I’m a Gemini, I graduated from Harvard, I’m a sucker for green eyes, I enjoy long, romantic walks on the beach as long as there’s no seaweed-”

“Why would you think any of that is relevant?”

“I give you all this information and that’s the first question you ask? I’m offended.” Lily chose that moment to return with three files, two significantly thicker than the other one. Finn thanked her and grabbed Logan’s file for himself before passing the other two to Logan.

“Have fun researching!” Finn said as he turned to head for the elevator again. He paused before looking back at Logan and adding with a wink, “Oh, and pass along Nut’s file to me when you’re done reading it.”

***

Remus stepped foot into the briefing room to find Sirius already there, messing with a laptop. Where he got said laptop was unknown. And a little worrying, seeing that he’d shown up in Gryffindor with a bag of clothes, some cash, and nothing else.

He glanced up at Remus and looked him over with a smile. “Good afternoon. Long time, no see.”

“What are you up to?” Remus asked as he set his bag down, clutching his cup of tea in his other hand and looking back at Sirius. There were bags under his eyes, reminding Remus of the fact that he was still sleeping on his couch. Sleeping was a loose term, though. He had also been awake when Remus had gone to bed and when he got up in the morning. Did the man ever sleep?

“Oh, nothing much.” Sirius said, hitting a few keys on the laptop in rapid succession. “Getting ready to brief the cubs.”

“The cubs?”

“Your logo is a lion. And they’re the youngest ones here, right? Hence the cubs.”

“Cute.” Remus sat down in one of the chairs with a sigh and took a sip of his tea. “So what are you briefing them on today?”

“Members of the Snakes. I have a powerpoint with pictures and everything.”

“Oh god.”

Sirius rolled his eyes at Remus. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. Better than me droning on and expecting them to stay focused.”

“They’re spies. Sometimes, that’s part of the job.”

“Sure. But it doesn’t have to be.”

Remus smiled a little at that. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I try.”

He hummed, cupping his mug with both hands. “You know, if you were really thoughtful you’d stop leaving your dishes in the sink.”

That startled a laugh out of Sirius. “Now, why would I do that when it’s so fun to get on your nerves?”

“You don’t get on my nerves.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “No?”

“No.” He took another sip of tea to hide his smile. “I’m a very patient man.”

Sirius was still laughing by the time Knut, O’Hara, and Tremblay entered the room. They all sat side by side, not really talking much and still a little unsure of each other. That needed to change soon. You couldn’t afford to be doubting your partners while on missions like the ones they’d be getting into.

“Alright, cubs! Let’s get started, shall we?” Sirius asked, connecting the laptop to the room’s projector. “Today we’re going over the members of the Snakes and what all you need to know about them.”

An animated picture of a snake in a party hat showed up on the projector. Remus sighed.

“Ok, so we’ll start at the top.” He switched to the next slide. “This is Riddle. Fuck Riddle. He’s in charge of every little detail of the Snakes, and very paranoid about handing over tasks to other members. He’s got a lot of messed up ideas about ethics and – well, pretty much everything.”

“What’s wrong with his eyes?” Logan asked, still staring uncomfortably at the yellow eyes on the screen.

Sirius shrugged. “I think it’s a genetics thing. Something about liver issues. I never really paid attention. On to the next member!”

A picture of a greasy-haired man with a sour expression on his face glared back at them.

“Snape.” Remus said with disdain. At Sirius’ look, he just shrugged. “Pots has gone up against him a few times. He hates the guy and makes sure everyone knows it. He works in the drug side of their operation.”

“Exactly.” Sirius smiled, which proved to be more distracting than Remus thought it would be. There had been teasing smiles, flirty smiles, sarcastic smiles, but this one was new. This was one of the first genuine smiles he’d seen from the ex-Snake. “I think I like Potter a little more now.”

“I think you two could actually be really good friends, and that terrifies me.”

“Ok, next is Bellatrix. Please, please avoid her as much as possible. She’s certifiably insane.”

Finn frowned. “She’s got one of the flash drives, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes. So it’s going to be up to you to distract her and Leo to grab the drive, probably.”

Both boys paled a little, then looked to each other, seeming to have a silent conversation all their own.

Sirius moved on to the next slide, where a man with cold eyes and a feral smile looked back at them. “This is Fenrir Greyback. Don’t fuck around with this one, he’s ruthless.”

Finn and Logan’s eyes snapped over to Loops, who looked pale and slightly nauseous. His hand was on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, massaging the muscle absentmindedly. Not for the first time, Finn wondered what exactly happened on that mission. All he knew was that Loops was supposed to take Greyback down and he came back with a mutilated shoulder and new cuts on his face that were sure to scar. He hadn’t been back in the field since.

Leo’s gaze moved from one person in the room to the next, slowly piecing together the story. He didn’t know all the details yet, but he knew they couldn’t be good.

Sirius, who was still talking, finally seemed to connect the dots. His eyes got wide and his sentence trailed off to remain incomplete. He stared at Loops in horror. “Fuck.”

“I think that’s enough for today.” Leo said quietly but firmly, getting out of his seat while giving Remus a meaningful look. His partners followed suit. “We can pick this up again tomorrow.”

The three of them left in a hurry, leaving Sirius and Remus alone. Remus started grabbing his meticulously organized notes and shoved them in his bag. He could feel Sirius’ gaze on him, but he refused to look up.

“Listen, Remus, I had no idea –”

“Of course you didn’t.” Remus cut in calmly. “How could you have known? Hell, you probably congratulated him after that mission –”

“That’s not true –”

“But you were there. You knew what he did to people and yet you just stood by.”

“Why do you think I left?” Sirius demanded, his voice raising. Remus finally met his gaze. “You weren’t the only one who got screwed over by the Snakes. I grew up watching that shit, just assuming it was normal because that’s the way it’s always been there. And then I realized my parents were monsters and started thinking for myself and realized how fucked up that organization is. Do you really think I’d be here if I condoned that sort of shit?”

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure you cared. The only motivation for wanting to take the Snakes down that you’ve deigned to share with us is that you want your brother safe. You’ve never said anything about how you feel about the organization itself.”

“What are you smoking?” Sirius asked with an incredulous laugh. “I want my brother safe because he’s in that hellhole. What other reason –”

“Then tell us that!” Remus shouted, finally getting Sirius to stop talking. “You keep everything so close to your chest, you don’t seem to want to interact with any of us, and you don’t tell us anything but the bare minimum. How are we supposed to get anything done if we can’t trust you?”

“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? I swear, you’re one of the most guarded people I’ve ever met!”

“Well, you don’t really need to get to know me, do you?” Remus fired back. Sirius froze. “You’re here to take the Snakes down. That’s it. When all this is done, it’s not like you’re going to stay. You don’t have to trust me as a friend, but trust me as an agent.”

“That’s it, huh?” Sirius asked, voice dangerously blank.

“That’s it.”

“Fine.” He said gruffly, slamming the laptop closed and grabbing his jacket from the back of a nearby chair. “I’m headed out. Don’t wait up.”

Remus sighed, staring down at his mug and swirling the now-cold contents. Even though they’d gotten along surprisingly well the past couple of days, they weren’t friends. And they didn’t need to be friends. This was business. They were working together to get a job done. That was all. 

Remus knew that the two of them getting along so well was like an already-lit fuse - it was bound to blow up in their faces sooner rather than later. 

***

Finn walked into the safe room, whistling lowly as he looked around. He’d never been in here before – he hadn’t had a reason to. There were safes of all different types and sizes littered around the room. On tables, on the floor, embedded in the walls. He wondered how many safes there were total, and how long it had taken to collect them all.

Leo was seated criss-cross-applesauce in front of one, pressing a stethoscope against the door of a safe and rotating the dial slowly. Finn smiled a little at the sight. This made more sense, seeing it in action. The constant fidgeting was replaced with stillness, the only movement being those of deft fingers against the dial. All that motion and pent-up energy were now focused solely on the safe. 

He walked up to Leo, completely unnoticed, and tapped on his shoulder. Leo jumped a foot into the air, yanking the stethoscope out of his ears and whirling around to look at Finn. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“Sorry, Nut.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Coming to see you, obviously.” Finn said with a wink. “Tremblay and I were wondering if you wanted to get dinner with us. You know,” Finn made a weird motion with his hand and then cringed, moving his hand behind his back and grabbing it with his other hand to keep from performing any more weird, random movements. “Get to know the team and all that.”

Leo’s smile lit up the room. “I’d love to! Y’all headed out right now?”

Y’all.

Wow, his genteel southern-boy routine could really take him places in this profession. With that combined with his looks, no one would ever think he could possibly be guilty of anything.

“Probably. It’s almost seven.”

Leo blinked, confused. “Is it?” At Finn’s nod, he uncrossed his legs and stretched, his back popping in the process. “Guess we should get going then, huh?”

“Yeah.” Finn held out a hand and helped the blond to his feet. He really was just a giant. How did he find clothes that fit him? Finn glanced down at Leo’s shirtsleeves and - sure enough - they were an inch or two above his wrists. He realized he was sort of staring at this guy’s wrists, of all things, and his eyes shot back up to meet kind, albeit confused, blue eyes. “We were thinking Sid’s for dinner? You been there before?” When Leo shook his head, he groaned. “You’re missing out, Nut. We’re fixing that right now. Come on.”

He led Leo back down the hall to the bullpen, where Logan was still pouring over files. How he ever expected to get through the huge pile of files on his desk, Finn had no idea. “Look alive, Tremblay. We’re getting pizza.”

Logan instantly looked up with a hopeful smile. “Sid’s?”

“Where else?” Finn laughed as Logan shot out of his seat and grabbed his coat. He’d never seen the other agent move so fast. “Hungry?”

Logan turned to look at him, his arm getting stuck in the sleeve of his coat. He grumbled under his breath in a language that definitely wasn’t English and shoved his arm into his sleeve. “I’m going to eat an entire pizza and you can’t stop me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They stepped out of the building together, taking a right and heading down the street. It wasn’t actually that cold outside, for a Gryffindor winter – only thirty-five degrees or so. But Nut still shoved his hands into his pockets and nuzzled his nose into his coat. Finn couldn’t hold back the smile at the sight, noticing red-tipped ears and a slight shiver.

“Cold, Nut?” Logan asked, also noticing the blond’s hunched shoulders.

He looked at his new partners, then buried his nose again. “Don’t judge me. New Orleans winters aren’t nearly this bad.”

“New Orleans, huh?” Logan questioned, although Finn knew he was already aware of Leo’s hometown. It was in his file, after all. “I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Ooh, yes!” Finn agreed, leading them around a corner. “The home of Mardis Gras.”

Leo shrugged. “If we’re being technical Mobile, Alabama had the first Mardis Gras celebration in the States. We just do it better. There’s a ton of people, though. If you really want to see the city, come at a better time in the year.” He sent the other two boys a smile. “Maybe summer, so you can experience real southern heat. And humidity.”

“No thanks.” They said in unison, making Leo laugh. The conversation trailed off as they waited for the sign at a crosswalk.

“Where are the two of you from?” Leo finally asked as the red hand morphed into a walking man and the ticking from the crosswalk speakers changed tempo. They stepped into the street with Logan staring down cars that could potentially start moving again and hit them.

Finn thought that was cute.

Maybe Finn was looking at his personality the wrong way. Guarded wasn’t the right adjective for him - protective fit much better.

“New York City.” He rushed to answer Leo’s question as they reached the other side of the street, pointing out the Sid’s sign for Leo.

“Canada.” Logan said a bit gruffly, but you could hear the fondness in his voice.

Leo arched an eyebrow. “Now I understand why you’re so accustomed to the cold.”

Finn held open the door to Sid’s, motioning for the other two to go on ahead. “You’ll get used to it, too, Nut. Logan, can you believe he’s never had Sid’s before?”

Logan went off on a tangent about the perfection that is Sid’s margherita pizza as they were led to their table by a young waiter, who eyed them curiously. They sat down and Finn noticed Logan choosing a seat facing the rest of the restaurant, back to the wall. He looked around at the others in the building, only relaxing when he deemed the coast to be clear.

They quickly looked over the menu, Finn and Logan giving recommendations about their favorite dishes (practically all of them) and began telling lighthearted stories about where they were from and how they grew up while waiting for their food. Leo’s leg was constantly bouncing under the table, but he looked happy and relaxed, which Finn took as a good sign. Finn finally, finally got one of those rare New Year’s party smiles again, as well as a new sunny, dimpled smile from Leo - both of which he really wanted to keep seeing.

He didn’t understand why he was making such a big deal of causing his partners to smile.

Ok, he might’ve had a slight idea. But he didn’t want to think about it too hard. Not yet, at least.

It was only when their pizzas arrived that Logan brought out the big guns.

“So what made you decide to do this for a living?” He asked, sticking his tongue out to catch a stray string of cheese from his pizza slice. Finn tried not to follow the motion too closely, for his own sanity. “For me, it was Dumo. He was our next-door neighbor growing up, after we moved from Canada. I remember he was always away on business trips, but he would  come back looking exhausted and a little beat up. I’d go visit Celeste while he was away – she was always so worried, so I knew something was up. I can’t remember exactly how I found out, but I think I was thirteen or so when I figured out what his job was.” Logan shrugged. “Nothing else really interested me after that.”

“You guys are close, then?” Leo asked, maintaining eye contact with Logan and grabbing the container of red pepper flakes, liberally adding it to his pizza. Finn watched on in horror. Had he previously burned all his taste buds off or something?

Logan smiled. “Yeah. He’s like a dad to me. The whole family’s great. I babysit their kids all the time.”

That was a mental image Finn would be thinking about for the foreseeable future. God, he was screwed, wasn’t he?

He hurried to talk and take his mind off of it. “I got recruited right out of college. I’ve got a good memory and a knack for predicting people and how they’ll react to things. I jumped at the opportunity.” 

He smiled fondly at the memories his mind brought up. “My brother and I grew up on James Bond movies. How cool would it be to do that for my career? So I joined. The obvious next step was becoming a conman, I guess. It’s where I fit best.”

They looked to Leo, who seemed mildly embarrassed. “My Mama caught me pickpocketing on Bourbon Street.”

Logan and Finn took a moment to process that, and then cracked up. Leo waited for them to calm back down, smiling sheepishly before he continued, “She said if I was going to do stuff like that, I should at least be doing some good in the world. So she googled and found Gryffindor and asked some recruiters to meet with me. I came home from school one day to Blizzard and Talker sitting on my couch, eating my mom’s jambalaya.” Logan and Finn laughed again while Leo dragged his crust through some marinara sauce. “Next thing I knew, I was driving a moving truck across the country.”

“Do you miss home?” Logan asked, finally shoving his plate away.

Leo shrugged, looking back and forth between the other two knowingly. “Doesn’t everyone miss home, in one way or another?”

Finn wasn’t even sure what home was to him anymore. Maybe he’d figure it out one of these days. He glanced over at his new partners. Logan also looked pensive, apparently grappling with Leo’s words as well. 

Leo seemed completely unfazed, his leg bouncing again. “Does anyone want dessert?”

[thebadgerclan]

Better Off

Pairing: Severus Snape x student reader (READER IS OF AGE!)

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: If this is how you’ll act, he’s better off without you...

A/N: I put one of the prompts in a different place that you asked, but I think it makes a little more sense. Enjoy!

Also I feel like this captures Sev’s insecurities so well: he’s so afraid that the reader will leave him, that he believes it when someone says she cheated without question.  Poor baby, I just wanna love him

Though both of you did everything you could to keep your relationship a secret, the new defense teacher, Professor Adams, knew you were together.  Professor Adams also was in love with Severus, but with you around, she knew she’d never get anywhere near him.  So she decided to do what any half decent woman would do: lie and hope Seveurs believed her.

***

At breakfast the next day, Professor Adams made sure to sit next to Severus, hiding her smirk behind her mug of coffee.  “Good morning, Severus,” she greeted, her voice dripping with adoration.  “Rebecca,” Severus replied, pouring himself some coffee.  “Listen, I saw something the other day that I think you might want to know about.”  “And that is?”  “I saw Y/N L/N snogging some 5th year Gryffindor in the corridor the other day.”

Severus froze, his mug halfway to his mouth.  “Did you?”  “Yes.  Quite shocking, considering I thought she was in a relationship with someone.”  “I see.  If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to.”  Severus stood and made his way to you, tapping you on the shoulder.  “My office, Miss L/N, immediately.”  He swept away and you followed close behind, wondering what your lover could need this early in the morning.

He slammed the door behind you and you jumped.  “We need to talk,” he said, his voice tense.  “What’s up?”  “Care to tell me why you were snogging some 5th year?”  Your jaw dropped.  “Wh-what?  Sev, what are you talking about, I-”  “Don’t bother lying to me!  I’ve given you everything I am and this is how you repay me!”  “Severus, please-”  “No!” he shouted, making you jump.  Severus never shouted at you.

“I should have known better,” he said, rubbing his forehead.  “Dating a student, what’s wrong with me?”  You walked closer, reaching for his arm.  “Severus, please, I didn’t-”  “Don’t touch me!  Go touch that Gryffindor boy if you’re so desperate for affection.  I gave you my heart, and you cheat on me.  No, if this is how you’re going to treat me, then I don’t need you!”  The dam broke, and you began to cry.  “Severus, pl-”  “Get out!”  

You fled from the room, holding it together just long enough to make it to your dorm.  Once inside, you flung yourself onto your bed, sobbing into your pillow.  Professor Adams had seen you flee, and she smiled,  Now, she was free to pursue Severus.  That afternoon, you weren’t in potions, and Severus shook his head.  If you were going to walk all over him and break his heart, he was better off without you.

The entire night, you didn’t leave your bed, and your tears didn’t stop either.  Your heart was shattered into a million pieces.  Severus hadn’t even given you a chance to tell you side of the story, which was nonexistent.  You’d never snogged, let alone looked at, a Gryffindor.  Severus was the only man you loved, and now he wanted nothing to do with you.  Well, you thought.  If he’s going to be like that, maybe I’m better off without him

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (7/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: You have a talk with some friends and get a little job offered

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (Not romantic...yet)

A/n: this took me so long to write. I hope you like it. Have a wonderful day:)

You walked through the streets on London feeling lost and uneasy. The state record of your father was there, written officially: he was declared dead. You felt like you were going crazy for not even trusting the piece of evidence. You asked the secretary about a million questions about how they even go about certifying a death. The woman looked at you as if you were crazy and you probably looked it. None of the cuts were healed, parts of your face were beginning to bruise, and the stich on your hand was horrendous. At least you didn’t reek of alcohol. It bothered you that the certificate under cause of death read “suicide”. You distinctly remember Sabini tell you that your father had got himself killed.

 ‘Why stage it like a suicide and then tell the underworld you killed him? Couldn’t you have just paid the cops to look the other way?’ A million more questions swarmed your way non of which the secretary could answer.

 And so you left the place walking slowly back home feeling odd. Dead is dead right you don’t need the details. You don’t want them. You tell yourself this as you get home, telling yourself that the uneasy feeling was from the physical night before not because someone was watching you.  

 ‘I’m not safe staying here’ You think to yourself. You start fantasizing about all the different places you could disappear to, the new life you could create for yourself. You just needed enough money to so. That wad of cash underneath your bed was good for a boat ride and hotel stay, not for entire life change. You were gonna need to start saving and earning, more fast. The air was changing and not for the better.

 Once you get home, you can see a lamp on in the window. You try to walk past the figure sitting in the living room, but their voice rings out stopping you from making another move.

 “(Y/n), we need to talk.” Ada says.

 “What about?” you ask sitting opposite of her in the living room.

 “Its about Tommy,” she pauses a minute trying to gauge your reaction, you don’t give any. She sighs, “I just want you to be careful around him.”

 You raise an eyebrow, confused from where this is coming from. “What do you mean?”

 “I mean are you gonna keep coming home looking half dead with my brother having to carry you in here with no sort of explanation?”

 “I’m sorry about that.” You apologize knowing she must have been scared out of her mind seeing you like that. You would have been too had it been her or Trinity.

 “What are you even thinking working for him? Didn’t you want out of your father business, aren’t you on some guys shit list?” Ada takes a deep breath calming herself.

 “I have it under control.” You can hear Ada groan in frustration. You understand why she was so defensive about this. Her family was dangerous and to be around them was like being around death itself. At least that’s how Ada put it.

 “No you don’t just look at yourself!” She sternly says, pointing a finger at you.

 You stifle a laugh from your throat at how motherly she looks, “Ada, please save the parenting for Karl.”

 She rolls her eyes at your jest and gets up from the couch. “Are you gonna work for him again?”

 “If I need the money...”

 “I told you don’t have to pay rent while you stay here. You can take as long as you need to find steady job.”

 You fake a smile and nod your head, “You’re right.” You didn’t want to bring up the unease you’ve been feeling. Or the need to flee the country based on a little paranoia that may just go away. It was unfair to her to place  this burden upon her when she's finally made it out of feeling that way herself. But you’ll be damned if you weren’t gonna at least prepare yourself for the uncertain future.

  *******************************************************************************************

Trinitys apartment was the same as it always has been. Neat to the point where it looked picture perfect. You always wondered when she had the time to keep tidy. You arrived early in the morning, knowing she would be up and that it would be the perfect time to cross into what you thought was still sabinis territory.

 “You know your friend took over the Eden Club. I haven’t seen any of Sabini guys in awhile” Trinity says attempting to ease you as you keep looking out the window.

 “who?”

 “The Shelby’s. I think it was his brother or whatever. I wasn’t there when it happened but I heard it was brutal.”

 “What did sabini do?” You ask.

 “no one heard from him or Alistair.” She states

 “Hmm.” You say finding it odd the gangster hadn’t retaliated yet

 “You know you can maybe work there again? If you asked nicely? The Shelby’s seem to like you.”

 “What makes you say that?”

 “Oh please I was the first person ada called to tell me about you running off with her brother. Did you know they were related?”

 “No.”

 She notices your lack of words. And though trinity wanted to be playful and tease her friend, she was worried.

 “Are you okay, (Y/n)?”

 “Im thinking of leaving, trinity.” You say

 “Why? Where are you going?”

 “Nowhere. Im just thinking.” You sip your tea lightly, feeling the soothing warmth go down your throat, “Something feels wrong.”

 “What is it?”

 “I fear that something nefarious is upon me. And that it’s a matter of time before It decides to kill me.”

 “You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

 “I need your help planning.” You say ignoring her questions. You didn’t want to subject her to your nightmares about your father which haven’t ceased at all. In face they were increasing in violence and color. Most of them drawing from memories. If it wasn’t your father that was alive coming to hunt you down, it was most likely a dedicated servant of his. You wondered who was was keeping the business going seeing as you didn’t take over and were the only child of your father. You had no other logical explanation of what the universe was trying to tell you with these dreams and gut feelings.

 You open your purse revealing the wad of money from underneath your bed and papers of different id. “Your gonna hold this for me. When I need it ill come for it, if I add to it ill come here okay? Just make sure it stays hidden and untouched.”

She nods and takes it gently from your hands, “You’re being serious.”

 “Deadly.”

 You stood for a couple more hours, talking and eating until the afternoon came. You said your goodbyes and were on your way back on the streets of London. You felt good about yourself after seeing Trinity. It felt like years since you seen her.

 You hear the honking of an annoying horn bring you out of your thoughts. You see Tommy Shelby behind the wheel, a cocky grin on his face. He parks the car and you wait for him outside not wanting to sit in close proximity of him. He comes around, outing a cigarette loosely around his pink lips. He doesn’t light it.

 “I was looking for you at Adas.” He says standing in front of you with hands in his pockets.

 “Hmm why?” You ask.

 “How are your stiches?”

 “Fine,” your face grows warm as you think about the drunken thoughts you had about him. You had them caged up this time but you were now very aware of the fact that you had them, “what is that you want?” you ask avoiding his eyes, afraid of getting lost in them. You could not afford to grow any sort of attachment to the man. The stories you’ve heard, the warning you’ve gotten from his own sister, you know that he was no good.

 “Take a ride with me.” He simply says walking away from you.

 Your legs move before you think. Following his words like a sailor would a siren. You suddenly felt very self conscious around the man as you sat near him.

 “Where is this coming from?” You think to yourself feeling stupid you begin to argue with yourself in your head trying to find the soure of this new unwanted attraction. Maybe you were still drunk. No its been days. Or maybe you were tired. Sleep has been hard to comeby these days.

 You look across at him and study his features. He was a very handsome man, no doubt about it. You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until he catches you.

 “What?” He asks

 “Have you called May?” Your not sure why your mind went to that but it was.

He chuckles, “Are you really that interested in that?”

 “No, im just making conversation.”

 “Well I did. Ill be seeing her later this week. See how shes training my horse.” He sends a smile your way before his eyes go back to the road.

 The smile sends your stomach doing flips. “You know your not as scary as people make you seem, Mr.Shelby.” Another statement slipping from your lips.

 “Trust me, I can be scary. Hand me that file”

 He parks the car in front of lovely looking house, a guard standing outside the gates of it. You hand him the file, next to you on the seats and he fiddles through it. You stare at the house with the guard in front of it through the rearview mirror.

 “Why are we parked here?” You ask you eyes trained to the rearview mirror

 “Had to make a stop.”

 You see the guard notice the car and head towards you. He walks toward your window and leans in. “Sir,” The guard says totally ignoring your presence, “You cant park here.”

 “Apologies, me and the Mrs. were just lost.”

 “Well get a move on.” Thomas starts the car and moves it one block a way before parking again. He checks his watch.

 “23 seconds,” He say to himself writing it down, “Are you gonna ask any questions?”

 “I think I would rather leave this one alone.”

 “Smart girl.”

 You end up driving 2 more hours around the city. He tells you about the Eden club takeover and how his brother Arthur is now running the game there. Sabini hasn’t been seen inawhile. Nor his most trustworthy comapnions

 “Do you know Alfie solomons?” He asks

 “I do.” Alfie Solomon’s to you was an unpredictable man, You never could predict what he was gonna say.

 “I was gonna have Arthur have dinner with him alone. But Arthur doesn’tknow Solomon’s too well.”

 “Mr. Shelby-“

 “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to.” His eyes burn into your skull. You take all the self control you have to not turn your head and stare into them.

 You think about the proposition and grow very hesitant. A part of you wants to take it and another part doesn’t. Quick money could be very useful to you but at what cost if its for situations like this. A dinner with gangsters could become deadly very quickly with one wrong move.

 “When is this dinner?”

 “Friday.”

 “Ill give you answer before than” You say seeing it was Tuesday. You open the door to the car and walk out of it. You were beginning to suffocate under his stare and you needed to breath.

 The air was crisp and refreshing to your lungs as you speedy walk down the streets making lefts and rights. The annoying horn returns to your ears as soon as you feel calm. You turn back around to scream when you realize its not the same car. It’s a black car with weird, tinted window, almost like a police car. The windows roll down, revealing a man with grey, busy eyebrows and mustache. His eyes held an evil glint in them

 (Y/fn) (y/ln)?” He asks do it looked like he already knew the answer in his head that he knew who he had.

 “Sorry wrong gal.” You lie turning around to get out for whatever situation that was.

 “Get her boys.” You hear the man sigh. You feel large hands grab around your body and large funny smelly napkin forced against your mouth.

 ‘Chloroform’ you think as you pass out into the darkness.

Read pt.8

Tags

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @evelyn-4034

[pynkhues]

C&C prompts!!!!! someone is sick?? preferably someone who is a horrific patient and it's early enough in that the whole little family unit is still trying to find their footing together and the whole thing's a mess???

Attempting this challenge has been a real reminder that I am no good at short things, haha, but look! 2k isn’t too bad for me????? 

(I hope you like it 😘)

Set in The Center & Circumference Universe.

(Early in the relationship, as requested ;-))

-

It goes like this:

Elizabeth sneezes.

She sneezes and it ain’t some cute little ladylike nothin’ sneeze neither. It’s some loud, fucked-up-sinus, mucous-mouthed thing that echoes around the warehouse and makes everyone stop working, and shit, even Demon looks taken aback. Rio bites his tongue, gaze sliding from him back to Elizabeth, who suddenly stands up taller to meet his look, squares her shoulders, and he has the sudden, vivid memory of Jane doing this at the foot of their bed last week.

“What?”

And yeah, Jane had said that too.

Elizabeth though, she’s got this indignant edge to her voice that means she’s getting defensive, like her hair ain’t frizzing at her sweaty temples, like her skin ain’t flushed, peaked, her eyes ain’t starting to water, and he’d known it this morning before she’d left ahead of him for school run, but okay - - maybe he’d let himself believe her. Maybe he’d let her bat those baby blues at him, let her distract him by leaving the top couple of buttons undone on her ugly floral blouse so he could see the flushed curve of her breast, let her tell him - -

Rio works his jaw, huffs out a breath.

“You said you were good.”

“I am good,” she says right away, voice a little too loud, like he won’t hear the hoarseness that way and when Rio squints at her, she flails out a wobbly hand. “It’s allergies.”

He pops an eyebrow at that.

“In July?”

Behind him, Demon snorts on a laugh, and he sees Elizabeth’s focus snap to him, her own jaw rock, the flush at her cheeks deepening. She shifts her weight, side-to-side, and that ain’t good either, because she looks halfway to wobbling too far and topplin’ over, but still, she blinks.

Takes too long to blink.

Like her eyes close and she doesn’t entirely wanna reopen them.

She does though, just enough to glare.

“Not all allergies are seasonal,” she says, and her voice cracks a little at the end, and he can see it – how much she needs to sit down, and he’s of half a mind to get her arm over his shoulder and drag her over to a seat, but also is she really tryna play him like this?

It’s the latter thought that wins out, because - - whatever. He’ll catch her if she passes out.  

“So it ain’t got nothin’ to do with last week?” he asks, and shit, it’s like some game of chicken, because Elizabeth firms her look, wets her lips, tilts up her chin.  

“I’d tell you if it was.”

And this has pretty clearly proven she wouldn’t, but still, Rio rolls his shoulders back, and turns on his heel, starts walking again to the meeting room in the back where they’re supposed to be hearing a pitch from some new associate, because fine, if this is what they’re doing, it ain’t no skin off his nose. And okay, maybe they set up in the meeting and he spends most of the time watching her, because her skin’s less flushed now and more paper pale, and maybe she wobbles a little in her seat as she trains glazed eyes on the kid pitchin’ them the idea for smugglin’ hormone pills to Cleveland across Lake Erie, and maybe she tries to subtly swipe at her damp forehead as she curls her hair behind her ears and maybe he can hear her swallowing coughs, and maybe he should’ve taken her home before she passed out, but, y’know, he said he’d catch her, and he did, so he can’t really be faulted for that.

 *

 Last week went something like this:

Danny sneezed.

Danny sneezed then Jane sneezed then Emma, Marcus, Kenny, and Rio was vaguely reminded of sitting in front of the TV and watching A Christmas Carol as a kid himself, seeing the ghost of Christmas past, present, future in symptoms across the five of them while he and Elizabeth both wrangled tissue boxes and kiddie aspirin, cough syrup and glassy eyed tears over Frozen, Frozen 2, Wreck It Ralph, Frozen, Moana, Frozen, Zooptopia, Moana, Frozen.

(He might have thrown the bluray of that fuckin’ movie out before Annie came over with extra supplies and cooingly installed Disney+ on their TV, and shit, he’s had a lot of reasons to kill her before, but they all pale in comparison).

And okay, maybe it was a thing, because they were still pretty new to all of this and Rio didn’t need to be as good at math as he was to know that handlin’ five sick kids was gonna be worse than one, but still. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel as close to burnin’ a house down as he did tryna handle three sobbing, snuffling kids at once, and they’d gotten well and the handover had happened and he’d maybe never been happier to give a mostly-better Marcus back to Laura and see the rest of them (also mostly-better) off to Elizabeth’s dumbass ex, and piling into bed after.

Him and Elizabeth hadn’t even fucked, they’d just collapsed back onto the mattress and looked at each other.

“If you get sick, I’m leaving you.”

He can’t remember which one of them said it.

 *

 It goes something like this:

Elizabeth sneezes.

Elizabeth sneezes and Rio throws a tissue box at her bedridden form as he works on his laptop in the reading chair in the corner, his own legs propped up on the ottoman he’s dragged up from the living room, as he works on the specs for the associate’s Cleveland pitch.

“Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, you know that?” she asks him, nose so blocked at this point her voice comes out somehow both hoarse and reedy, and Rio glances up at her over the top of his laptop, biting back a grin.

Thing is, she really does look like hell. The bags beneath her eyes are so purple they almost look like bruises, her skin so pale it’s almost translucent. He’d managed to get her into her favourite, ugliest pyjamas when he’d hauled her back into the house, and she looks comfy, between them and the approximately 800 blankets she’d demanded he pull out to cover her.

She’d sweat the fever out pretty quick, and he’d made awkward but proficient work of takin’ care of her – wiping her brow, feedin’ her flu medicine, and making thin, tasteless soup he somehow hadn’t managed to completely fuck up (then again, the only ingredients had been stock, salt and slivered vegetables) – and hours had gone by and she’d slept and glowered and offered frail excuses, and now - -

Well.

“Ain’t what you said last night,” he hums, clicking through the spreadsheet, and he feels more than sees Elizabeth’s eyeroll in reply.

“I said bedside manner, not - - in-bed manner,” she sniffs, before pulling out a tissue and blowing her nose, and Rio glances up at her red cheeks and wet eyelashes and grins.

“Figured what we did counted more as bed-side.”

And maybe it was semantics, but whatever. It was fun in the moment of it, rememberin’ both their toes curled in this carpet, her body bent like an L atop their sheets, ass up towards him, and - -

“Bed-over,” Elizabeth corrects, and it surprises him enough that Rio barks on a laugh, glancing up at her again, grinning when he spots the subdued but still-a-little-playful look in her eye.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that, huh?”

The look on her face is as close to affectionate as she ever gets, and he shifts a little in his seat, feels himself warm beneath it, as she flops back into their pillows, still snuffling. He can pretty much smell the sweat on them at this point, and he wonders vaguely if he can change the sheets before he slips in tonight, because shit, they are damp, and he’s spent enough time hovering over the kids’ feverishly moist beds over the last week to like the idea of somethin’ a little crisper, when Elizabeth suddenly says:

“You stayed though. So that’s - - you know. That’s some sort of bedside manner.”

His gaze darts up, takes in her pink, mottled cheeks, her crooked nose, her dimpled chin, and her voice was high. Light and airy in that way she ain’t, and there’s a knot between his shoulders when he shrugs.

“Well, we got a mortgage now,” he drawls, eyes skirting back down to the spreadsheet on his laptop screen but not taking any of the figures in.

“A big one,” Elizabeth agrees, like they don’t both know they’ve paid it outright, and Rio hums, willing her complicity in the moment of it, because fuck, if that ain’t just - -

Easier.

And he can’t really think about what that means, not really, but maybe he doesn’t have to, because suddenly Elizabeth says:

“I bet you’re terrible when you’re sick.”

Rio jerks his head up, eyebrows raised, and Elizabeth snuffles, closing her eyes briefly, shuffling back into their pillows. The air around her is thick, her body tired, slumped, but glowing with the sheen of her fevered sweat. He wets his lips, works his jaw, meets her eye.

“You’re probably like the - - the poster child for man flu,” she adds, which is a little rich comin’ from the woman who passed out halfway through a meeting. Rio arches an eyebrow back at her, and somewhere in the pocket of his jeans, his cell buzzes. Somewhere outside of here, he can hear afternoon traffic and a neighbour yell. He can hear a lot of things, but he can’t see anything that ain’t Elizabeth, awkward and beautiful and a straight up fuckin’ mess, sprawled out in their bed.

“You talk to every man who takes care of you that way, or just me, huh?”

And her head jerks at that, neck forcing at an odd angle, shoulder shoving up to suffocate the pillow against the bedhead.

“All of them,” she decides after a moment, and Rio snorts on a laugh, closing his laptop and putting it aside. The knot between his shoulders is settling, and he ain’t exactly taking in the specs anyway (he thinks the deal’s a no-go, but he figured lookin’ it over was the least he could do for the kid, given one of his potential bosses rolled out of her fuckin’ body halfway through his pitch), so he starts towards the bed, planning on folding in directly beside her, when Elizabeth shakes her head, pushing him gently away.

“No,” she says. “I’m not - - I - - ”

She’s fumbling for the words, and Rio looks at her, taking her in all over again, seeing the uncertainty not the set of her, and so he ignores her, returning her gentle shove with one of his own and lying down in their bed, and he can’t explain it. The feeling in his chest when she casts wide eyes at him.

“What?” he grunts, and she opens her mouth once, twice, says:

“I - - Dean - - ”

Her mouth clamps shut.

She stares at him, and Rio stares back, watching her mandible clench, her lips twitch, her bambi eyes blink. After a moment, she shakes her head, wriggles down in the bed.

“You’ll only have yourself to blame if you get sick.”

Rio snorts.

“Darlin’, we both know I probably already got it.”

She rolls her eyes then, but keeps wriggling down until they’re eye level again, and Rio leans over, just enough to hook a finger beneath her chin, flick it up over the dimple there, and he watches as her tired eyes glaze over or - - maybe not. Maybe they’re just overtaken somehow. By somethin’ that just makes her look at him in a way he still ain’t used to. Naked almost, open and tired and warm.

“Probably,” she agrees quietly, and she turns into him. Rio’s fingers lift from her chin to brush over her wet lips.

“’Sides,” he tells her. “Where else would I wanna sleep?”

Like they don’t have at least five other bedrooms in this house.

Like there ain’t the promise of something warmer, cleaner, fresher, safer somewhere in this house, but he don’t want it.

This is his bed.

She’s his - -

“Fine,” she says, pointedly closing her eyes, and Rio does the same, and maybe he pretends he doesn’t notice the way she shuffles – ever so slightly – closer before they both fall asleep.

 *

 It goes something like this:

Rio sneezes.

Rio sneezes and Elizabeth fuckin’ laughs.

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is part 2. You've graduated from flight school and eager to take your relationship with your now former instructor to the next level.

Warnings, porn with a plot, smut, light domination, graphic descriptions of female receiving oral sex, unprotected sex, not for anyone under 18 because this one is XXX steamy but still soft. Lol.

Chapter 2: The graduate

You were frustrated sexually, and a bit perplexed, at why Poe abruptly called an end to your intimate encounter.

Poe walked you home. When you arrived at your dorm you punched him lightly in the arm and told him with a slight laugh,

"You're terrible, you know that, right?"

"Technically what we did wasn't sex". Poe teased, as he slipped his arm around you. "I had to stop myself before I went further".

"You wanted to go further? Didn't you?" You pressed on, smiling a little.

"Truthfully I wanted to grab you and bend you over my desk". Poe confessed, as an irrestible, rogueish smile appeared on his gorgeous face. "But if we got caught it wouldn't be good for either one of us".

"Then why pursue me, then?" You replied back, your smile getting bigger.

"Because I'm crazy about you". He answered back quickly, his smile fading a little and the look on his face becoming softer, more sincere. "You bring out so many feelings in me, feelings I haven't felt for years".

"Oh Poe". You told him as you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. "I feel the same way too".

The two of you shared a lingering, passionate kiss amongst the dark shadows.

You didn't want to say goodbye to him. But at that moment in time you had to.

When you went upstairs you were surprised to see your roommate, Liz, home so early. Usually she was at her job at the cantina.

"Why are you home so early?" You ask with a nervous laugh.

"I got fired". Liz told you with a deep sigh. "Long story short there was an incident with a wookie, I don't want to talk about it".

"I'm sorry to hear that". You tell her as you give your friend a supportive hug.

"Nah, it's no biggie". She told you with a slight laugh. "Where have you been?"

"I had to stay after class and help Mr. Dameron with something". You told your friend as your face turned slightly pink.

"Uh-huh, I can imagine". Liz teased with a slight laugh. "So when is the wedding?"

"Our relationship isn't like that". You reply defensively, your smile fading. "He's my mentor, and teacher".

"I can see the way he looks at you, he's smitten". Your friend continued, her smile getting bolder. "Good for you, he's Poe fucking Dameron".

Her words make you burst into laughter. You've known each other since you started college and became fast friends.

She was studying X wing repair and you were going to become a pilot.

Like you, she was set to graduate next week. You were hoping that she would stay on D'Qar after graduation.

She was like a sister to you, your best friend in the entire galaxy.

Before you realized it graduation day was here. You had graduated at the top of your class and had been assigned to the black squadron.

After giving your speech you sought out your mother and with tears in her eyes she congratulated you.

Life wasn't easy growing up with a single mother. Your father had died from an illness shortly after you were born.

Your mother worked hard to support you and to make sure that you got an excellent education.

There were days when you didn't have enough food and your clothing was ill fitting and ragged.

The struggles of your childhood only fueled your ambition more.

Poe admired that ambition, and how you climbed out of poverty to the top.

You were a strong woman and he loved that. You could even say that he admired you (even though he likely wouldn't admit it, his flyboy ego wouldn't allow that).

After the ceremony Poe treated you to a special dinner at a nice restaurant.

"You didn't have to do this". You told him with a genuinely embarrassed smile.

"It was my pleasure, y/n". He told you as he gently caressed your hand. "You deserve this, and then some, I'm so proud of you".

Poe looked impossibly handsome in his general's uniform. His curly hair looked neat yet still somehow untamed at the same time. You wanted to lean over and run your fingers through it so badly, just imagining the feel of the soft ringlets made you shudder in delight.

The mere thought of what Poe was going to do to you that night was also conjuring a flurry of X rated thoughts to race through your mind.

After dinner the two of you returned to his quarters, where you would have more privacy.

"I'm no longer your student and you are no longer my teacher". You purr seductively as you unbutton the first few buttons of your shirt.

With only a wicked smile on his perfect face Poe kissed you, slipping you a little tongue to drive you crazy.

He pushed your back against the wall in a gentle yet still forceful manner (to once again remind you who was in charge).

You loved the subtle, light dominance that he asserted over you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and enjoyed a steamy makeout session. You could feel the warmth, and hardness, of his manhood against your own body.

You were craving him physically as you rubbed yourself against his body. You felt like the lower half of your body was throbbing in anticipation.

Poe could sense this too by the urgency in your movements. You weren't being subtle and it was driving him wild. Essentially you were dry humping him.

"You couldn't be more obvious, babe, your body is telling me what you want". He whispered into your ear. "But I want to eat you out again first, to get you ready for me".

"You just like the taste of my pussy". You whisper back as Poe began to kiss and nibble your neck.

"Oh gods yes". He replied quickly, with absolutely no hesitation. "You are beautiful, and delicious, I could lap you up all night".

Poe carried you into his bedroom, still wrapped around his body.

He gingerly placed you on his bed and began to undress you carefully, almost like he was unwrapping a present.

You were wet and fully aroused, your body was absolutely starving for his cock.

When he removed his own clothes you were struck by how drop dead gorgeous his smooth, tanned body was.

Poe had a fat cock too, that was in perfect proportion to the rest of his body.

Everything about him was lovely. His skin even felt smooth and soft next to yours.

You were amazed by how soft his hands felt as he lovingly explored, massaged and caressed every inch of your body.

You felt like he was worshipping your nude form, the beauty of what was before him had caused the dominant, cocky flyboy to melt away.

It was clear that Poe didn't want to fuck you hard and rough, he wanted slow, soft lovemaking instead.

He wanted to take his time to enjoy you, like a delicious meal he wanted to savor your body.

You felt like you could cum from his touch alone.

As Poe cupped your breasts with his hands he began to suck on each of your hard nipples.

The air was thick with the scent of your nude bodies and hormones. Every gentle caress and tender kiss showed you how much affection this beautiful man truly had for you.

As you reclined on your back Poe gently spread your legs open and as he carefully massaged your outer lips he began to lick your wet inner ones as the tip of his nose rubbed against the head of your engorged clit.

You couldn't control yourself anymore and the moment he penetrated your vagina with his tongue you gushed warm fluid all over him with a low, primal moan.

"I'm so sorry!" You immediately apologized, feeling embarrassed for a moment.

"No, no, don't". Poe told you with a slight laugh. "I want to see if I can make you do that again, only on my cock".

He kneeled between your spread legs and as his strong hands grasped your ankles he carefully penetrated you with his bare cock.

Your body felt filled and stretched to the max by his impressive girth. The skin on skin contact allowed you to feel every vein on his rigid cock.

You frantically rubbed your clit with one hand, causing your already tight muscles to clamp down on Poe.

"Fuck". He moaned as his eyes rolled back into his head a little. "You're strangling me".

Poe began to slowly thrust into you. Your body was tingling and he felt incredible inside of you. Like the rest of him his cock was simply perfect.

"Can I?" Poe asked with a deep groan.

You knew what he was asking. He wanted to cum inside of you.

"Of course". You replied with a moan.

His thick seed filled you to the brim. So much so when he pulled out you began to leak. Poe pulled you close to him and began to kiss and nibble on your neck.

His recovery time was quick. In a half hour he was ready for round 2.

The two of you continued this cycle, foreplay, sex, a brief break, all night long and into the next morning.

The two of you were snuggled intimately into each other's arms in a naked, sweaty heap. Poe had pumped you full of what felt like gallons of his thick cum, it was a good thing you were on reliable birth control.

Sexually you couldn't get enough of each other. Poe was extremely virile, and insatiable.

You finally fell asleep at 7 AM, with the sun shining brightly. It was almost 3 in the afternoon when Poe woke you up with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

You had fallen into a sexually induced coma and had enjoyed a deep, relaxing sleep. Your entire body felt relaxed.

"You're still terrible, Poe Dameron". You teased with a slight laugh as your eyes fluttered open.

"Why is that?" Poe asked with a slight laugh as he caressed your cheek.

"You're terrible for making me feel this good". You replied as you burst into laughter.

End of chapter 2

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the webs we weave

For @jitsukawaa as requested for a Raffle prize!

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (oral, intercourse)

This is dark! (aged up) Peter Parker x Reader and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is a journalist at The Bugle but she finds not all her co-workers are what they seem.

Note: This is a bit of a long one but I got a bit carried away. I tried to fit the request as much as I could. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy. Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

Another late night. Those were common as of late. Early mornings, too.

Given the content of your days, the stories, it was expected you’d be sleepless. A string of assaults across the city. All of them women. The perpetrator, according to the limited input of the police and the hesitant interviews of the victims; a man, masked, faceless. The descriptions varied, skewed by fear, by trauma. Neither you or the authorities had a concise picture of the suspect.

The first few incidents were reported by a senior report, Colin Rusk. But once the novelty ran dry, Editor-in-Chief Jameson, redirected Rusk to ‘more pressing’ stories and dropped the serial assaulter in your lap. 

You were new with little more under your belt than lifestyle articles and the occasional fluff piece on fleeting fads. Your inexperience made it difficult, if not impossible, to say no. And despite your resilience, your ongoing investigation, the cases would likely go cold and be shoved to the back of the paper until there was no room left for them. Your singular goal was to prevent that cynical end. Making your name as a reporter was secondary.

That morning, you raced down to the latest crime scene. A woman, blonde like most of the others, sat with her legs hanging out of a police car as she gave her statement. Visibly shaken and with bruises on her face, she was just the latest in a string. You’d not be permitted to speak with her until the police took her to the station and filed their report. For the time, you documented the scene as it was.

You were pulled back to your desk. It was almost as if you could still feel the dampness in your bones. It rained overnight and the streets had been slick and shiny in the afterglow. You pored over your notes, the little diagram you’d drawn of the alley way. The minimal details gleaned from the officers on sight. It was all so grim. And sadly familiar.

The attacker had a pattern; a demographic. Lone women, unsuspecting, vulnerable. Blonde, or light brunettes, small enough to be overpowered. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. There were thousands of women fitting that description in the city. Impossible to predict the perpetrator’s next move when it could happen anywhere.

You closed your eyes and leaned back. If the police couldn’t solve this, you surely couldn’t. But that didn’t mean you stopped. It didn’t mean you quieted the voices of the victims as so many others had. No, you kept going. Kept writing their stories down.

You were jolted as a folder slapped across your desk. Your eyes shot open and you looked up into the warm brown eyes before you. Peter mirrored your fright and gave a nervous smile. He pulled his hand away from the folder he’d just laid before you.

“Sorry, I thought you heard me,” He said. “I figured I’d give you a print of the photos I got this morning.”

“Really?” You reached for the folder and peeked inside at the glossy paper. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He preened. “Jameson won’t want them anyway. Just the ones of the fire on the next block.”

You nodded and set the folder down with your notes. You ran into Peter by chance. He was passing by on his way to his own assignment. He stopped and snapped a few shots, made his usual awkward small talk, and moved along. He’d only been full-time at the Bugle for a year; before he’d been a freelancer throughout his schooling. He was a kid, even compared to you.

“Jameson doesn’t even want this,” You scoffed at your messy desk. “I swear, he’s just trying to force me out. I mean, I guess it’s better than writing about the mayor’s new wallpaper.”

“Jameson’s an idiot but you’re a good reporter. Besides, the Bugle is just your beginning. I know it.” He smiled. He was always so optimistic. It made you feel old.

“Easy for you to say,” You shook your head. “I’m almost thirty and just starting out. You’re still a kid and...Sorry, Peter. I’m just frustrated.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I might be young, but I know how you feel.” He leaned on your desk. “You know, everyone thinks I’m a kid and they just don’t take me seriously but I’m not, you know, a kid. Age is just a number, not a deadline.”

“Peter, I didn’t--”

“I know you didn’t mean it like that. You’re not one of them.” He shrugged and pushed himself straight. “Not like Rusk.”

“Rusk?” You wondered aloud. 

The man was stern, business-minded. A tenured writer. But you’d never had much issue with him yourself. In fact, he’d been most helpful in your early days at the Bugle. You might be picking up his scraps but it was far better than writing a tenth of a page on a dog show.

“Yeah,” Peter blinked at you. His smile changed, as if he knew something you didn’t. “Oh, alright.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Peter.”

“Well, I...you’re not that naive, are you?” He asked.

“Am I? What do you mean?”

“Rusk never worked for his job, he’s the son of an old friend of Jameson’s. He came on full-time with top billing from the start.” Peter lowered his voice, cautious even though the office was empty.

“Oh, but...I mean, he’s still a good reporter.”

“Good but not entirely...professional.” Peter scoffed.

“Do I sense jealousy?” You teased.

“Me? Jealous of him? No.” Peter’s smile fell. “I’m doing just fine and the Bugle definitely isn’t it for me. I’m starting school next year and then one day, I’m out of here. I don’t wanna be a camera jockey forever.”

“I don’t know, this might be it for me.” You said. “A little late to be starting over a third time.”

“It’s never too late. Just don’t let yourself get sucked in by Rusk and his cronies.” Peter urged. “They’re no good.”

“Thanks, Peter.” You said lightly. 

“Really,” His face darkened. “I mean it. He has...a record in this office. With the women. And I’ve seen how helpful he is with you.”

“Peter, it’s not--”

“I know, I know, I’m young, clueless,” He raised his hands defensively. “I get it. Just...advice. You don’t have to take it but it’s there.”

You nodded and tapped your fingers on the folder. You thought for a moment on your work with Rusk; his insistence that you take over his story; the way he offered to proofread your back page drivel. Peter might be young, but he was smarter than his age belied. There was nothing wrong with being cautious.

“Thanks, Peter,” You flicked the corner of the folder as you looked up at him. “These will help a lot.”

“Really, it’s nothing.” His smile resumed. “Let me know if you ever need a lens. I’d be more than happy to help.”

“You’re too sweet.” You said.

“And you’re too humble.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “And it’s late so...I’ll leave ya to it and see ya tomorrow, maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe,” You chimed. “See ya, Peter.”

“See ya.” He slowly backed away. “Oh, and let me know if Rusk gives ya any trouble.” He gave a comical flex. “I got your back, newbie.”

You laughed and he did too before he turned away entirely. You turned back to your desk and sighed. How was it that he made you feel young and old all at once? You shook off the cloudlike feeling and grabbed the folder. You’d go through the photos and call it a night. Hopefully, the morning wouldn’t bring a new victim.

🕷️

Your door was open. The chain was snapped and the lock busted in. Worse, you hadn’t even heard the disturbance. Hadn’t even sensed the intruder as you slept in the next room. A rude awakening as you got up and found the door ajar but your apartment otherwise undisturbed.

You called the police and waited in the hall. When they arrived, they asked you their usual questions, the same they asked the women you’d been documenting. Then they investigated you apartment. Nothing was out of place; nothing taken or moved. It was all very peculiar. Almost, the insinuated, as if nothing happened.

When they left, your landlord arrived. You stood by as he called the maintenance man and a locksmith. By the late afternoon, your door was repaired but your wits were fractured. Weeks spent tailing a monster had you paranoid. In your overwrought mind, you wondered if perhaps their attention had turned on you. It all felt too circumstantial. Too farfetched.

You locked yourself inside and submitted your write-up from home. You spent the night on the couch, sleepless, listening for any movement from the other side of the door. Nothing. Exhausted and nervous, you fixed your coffee and dressed. You set off for the day, though the sound of your lock sliding into place gave you no reassurance.

There was another assault. You spent five minutes at the office before you were back out on the street. This one happened only a block from your building. Was that another clue? A confirmation of your outlandish suspicions. You shrugged it off as you came upon the police tape; the scene all too familiar.

You went through your usual routine. Rebuffed by the police as you examined the sight for any clue. Listening to any morsel that slipped carelessly from officers and onlookers alike. You finished your notes and tucked them in your bag. You took one last look at the dumpster, the shadowy fire escape, and the cracked pavement. The image was burned in your mind. An omen of your new fear.

When you returned to the office, you were shaking. You didn’t realize it until you were sat at your desk with your bag in your lap, staring at a dead screen. The voices and typing all around you buzzed in your ears and you shuddered as you hugged you leather bag to your chest. The bright fluorescent bulbs burned your eyes and it felt as if they were watering.

“Hey,” You snapped your head up as Peter greeted you. His face was creased with concern. “You okay?”

“Ye-yeah,” You stuttered and let your bag slip to the floor. You kicked it under the desk and hit the power button of your computer. “Just...thinking.”

He didn’t look convinced. “I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“I...had to take a personal day.” You signed in and shuffled through the papers on your desk. “I’m here now, though.”

“Are you?” He asked. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, just...it’s a heavy story, ya know? Starting to get old.” You bent down to reach into your bag blindly, awkwardly craning your head up above the desk as you fished around.

“Hey,” A voice had you sitting up quickly. Peter’s eyes narrowed as you turned to Rusk. He wore his usual striped button up and skinny tie. “You rushed out this morning. I didn’t get a chance to ask you how you were?”

“Hmm, I’m f-fine.” You stuttered. “Just fine.”

“Yeah? Heard about the break-in. Scary stuff.” He put his hands on his hips. “You need anything, to talk, an escort, let me know.”

“Really, I’m fine.” You insisted. You glanced between Rusk and Peter; the latter watched you closely. “It was nothing.”

“Well, just know, I’m here for you. Whatever you need.” Rusk winked before he turned away and you watched him stroll back to his office. 

You sighed and looked to Peter. His eyes were on Rusk’s door. You’d never seen him anything close to angry but he scowled dangerously after the writer.

“Break-in?” He said as his eyes drifted back to you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I...I don’t even know how he found out,” You sniffed. “Really, the police didn’t even take it seriously. There was nothing stolen, they didn’t touch me. I don’t --they think it was a drunk or something.”

“It doesn’t matter. You should be safe.” Peter insisted. “Look, I don’t blame you for turning away his offer, guy’s kinda a skeez, but let me walk you home.”

“I take the subway.”

“Then let me ride with you.” He said. “I know I don’t look like much but it’s better than being alone.”

“Peter, you don’t have to--”

“I want to.” He asserted. “Just humour me.”

“Why?”

“Because...we’re friends, aren’t we?” He asked. “Haven’t got many of those around here.”

You considered him and leaned on the arm of your chair. “Yeah, we are, Peter.” You grabbed your mouse and looked to your screen. “I hope you don’t mind staying late.”

“I’m a night owl,” He assured you. “Have to be in this line of work.”

🕷️

Peter was true to his word and waited for you until well after office hours. You were quiet as he walked you to the station and sat with you on the train. He didn’t hide his glances over his shoulders and his fleeting eyes, as if he expected to catch your intruder then and there. It was almost endearing.

You were tired. You needed sleep and were ready to doze on the train. Peter nudged you awake at your stop and followed you out onto the platform. He let you lead him up the steps to the street and you stopped at the corner.

“I think I can handle it from here,” You said. “Building’s just across the street.”

“No, I insist. For my peace of mind, please.”

“Peter.”

“What’s a few more steps?” He prodded.

“What if I’m worried about you getting home?” You teased. 

“I don’t live far.” 

“Still. It’s late.” You chided. “You didn’t have to come all this way.”

“I did.” He said. “I’ve been out much later than this.”

“Ah yes, I forget. Youths.”

“I’m not much younger than you.” He insisted.

“Young enough.” You remarked. 

The street light glared in his eyes. For a moment, you were taken aback. The way the shadows cast his face. The innocent boy looked almost sinister.

“I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.” He said. “So let me walk you to your door.”

“Alright,” You relented. His tone was disconcerting. So unlike the carefree upstart. “Come on.” 

He walked with you across the street and you bit your lip. You could feel the tension rising off of him. Was he mad at you?

“Peter,” You turned to him just in front of your building. “I’m sorry if I--”

“Sorry?” He looked genuinely confused. “For what?”

“Uh, nothing.” You shook your head. “I’m tired. I thought--Thank you. Really, I feel a little better.”

“Not at all,” He smiled. “You good?”

“Yeah,” You replied. “Good night, Peter.”

“Night,” He said sweetly. “Just…” He hesitated before he could step away. “...remember that you’re not alone.”

“Yeah, thanks,” You nodded and took your keys from your pocket. “See ya.”

You listened to his light footsteps recede as you unlocked the front door. Inside, the elevator bore a staunch out of order sign. You grumbled and headed for the stairs. Ten floors up and you were out of breath and even more exhausted.

Your lock was still in place. That was slightly reassuring. Inside, it was dark and you didn't bother to flip the light. Too tired despite your paranoia. You dropped your bag as you neared the bedroom. There, you flipped the light switch and felt an unusual breeze across your front.

The window was open. The curtains stirred as the air washed in and your heart clutched. You rushed over and slammed down the window with a defeaning bang. You twisted the lock into place and turned back to the room.

Your top drawer hung precariously from your dresser. Your panties were messed, as if they'd been rifled through, and you felt the bile in your throat. 

You ran back into the front room and turned on all the lights. Nothing else had been touched. It all stood as you left it and no other sign of your intruder remained. Not a speck of dust out of place.

You searched high and low; in each closet, beneath the furniture, even behind the shower curtain. Nothing. You were alone, but you didn't feel it.

Should you call the police again? Let them laugh at your paranoia? As it was, you were certain they'd tossed away their last report. 

You went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. You sat on the couch and pulled your knees to your chest. You hugged them as your eyes flitted nervously at each shadow. The knife shook against your leg as you counted the minutes until daylight.

🕷️

The morning saw you at the office, bleary-eyed and baffled. The night seemed a haze to you; dreamlike and distant. Before you was the final draft of your latest article on the city's terrorizer. The words were real, the events real, and the letters read bolder than before.

Your habit of spacing out at your desk once more had you jumping in your skin. Colin Rusk stood beside you. His grey-blue eyes peered down at you as he clicked a pen casually in his hand.

"You got a moment? Need to see you in my office." He asked but it wasn't a question.

"Sure," You stood and he reached past you. He leaned so close you could smell his cologne as he snatched the article off your desk. 

"I'll take this." He spun with the papers in hand and led you across the office. 

You glanced around as you walked between desks. Peter's brows were high on his forehead as he watched. He frowned and you turned away to follow Rusk into his office.

He closed the door after you. He waited for you to sit before he did. When he faced you, he was nonchalant. He dropped your article on his desk and smirked.

"You've done some good work." He said. "You should really be proud of yourself."

"Uh, thank you." You gripped the arms of the chair. Tired. Ready to keel over.

"Really. You're coverage is thorough and compelling. Riveting…" He huffed as he smiled piteously at you. "You're a good writer but this story isn't going anywhere."

"No…" You breathed weakly.

"Jameson wants it cut. Three months and no leads. Police are close-lipped as nuns."

You frowned. You couldn't help your disappointment.

"But I've got you a new assignment." He announced. "A grassroots movement in the ghetto. Silent protests. Real underground."

"Really?"

"As long as you don't mind sharing. It's kinda my story but I could use a hand." He offered. "That sound okay?"

"Y-yeah." You smiled. "I'd love--" 

His phone chirped and his brow arched. He grabbed it and checked the screen. He shook his head and slowly stood.

"Pardon me. Jameson." He waved his phone. "Right back."

He rounded his desk and passed you. You watched him go then sat awkwardly in his office wringing your hands. Your eyes bounced from corner to corner. Awards framed on the wall, a plaque on his desk, fancy pens and a leather folder. 

His bag sat on the table against the wall. Unzipped and on its side. Papers threatened to spill out and a shock of cornflower blue. You tilted your head at the familiar shade. 

You peeked over your shoulder. The door was open a crack but you saw no movement on the other side of the frosted glass. You stood and cautiously neared the table. You looked again. Nothing.

You lifted the bag to peer inside and ripped your hand away. It was as if you'd been bit. Those were yours, at least they looked like yours. You shook and heard footsteps near the door. You lifted your head and pretended to read the framed certificate on the wall as Rusk entered behind you.

"That was my first year here," He preened as he neared. "I'm sure you'll have one of your own soon enough."

"Uh, yeah," You stepped away from him slowly. "Um, can I... think about it?"

"Huh?" 

"Sharing the assignment."

"Sure. Only a day though. I, rather we, have a deadline," He reached out and pulled a string loose from your sweater. "That enough, sweetheart?"

You watched his hand a nodded. You bristled on the nickname and backed away. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to work." You sidled along to the door. "Thanks."

"No problem," He purred. "This could be it, you know? You're big break. Your name next to mine."

"Mhmm," You skirted out quickly and closed the door behind you.

Peter was at your desk. You didn't notice at first and stopped yourself from sitting in his lap. He watched you curiously. You held back a yawn and leaned against the desk.

"Peter." You crossed your arms.

"What was that about?" He asked.

"Just…my assignment got pulled."

"Oh?"

"But Rusk offered me a new one. Dunno if I should take it." You played with your mouse.

"Sorry, I'm in your seat." He made to stand.

"No, no, it's fine." You waved him off. "I don't really have anything pressing, do I?"

He considered you a moment as he swiveled in your chair. He stopped and sat up. "You okay?"

You blinked. After a moment, you nodded. You pushed yourself off the desk and rubbed your forehead. "I gotta use the restroom."

You walked away hurriedly and almost tripped over the loose laces of your heeled oxfords. You quickly hid yourself inside the restroom and tried to rein in your reeling nerves. You were crazy, you had to be. 

Rusk definitely hadn’t broken into your apartment. That was ludicrous. Maybe it was a pocket square or a random sock. It wasn’t your panties. That was just...creepy. You were just paranoid.

You couldn’t believe entirely in your own delusion but you had to push it aside. You had work to do, albeit not much. You breathed shakily and swallowed down your anxiety. Just be normal. Just relax. Act like it was nothing and it would be.

You pulled open the door. You almost crashed into Peter as you stepped into the small hall between the restrooms and the office. You caught yourself against the wall.

“Woah.” You squeaked.

“Sorry, I...just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m...just disappointed.”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t look so innocent anymore. He looked as if he could see right through you. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I know you think I’m blind but I can tell when you’re upset.” He prodded. “I swear, mum’s the word.”

You sighed and looked out into the office. You turned back to him and pointed down the hall. You sidled along with him and lowered your head. Your stomach flurried wildly as you mustered the words. How could you say this? You’d sound crazy.

“I think you were right about Rusk,” You kept your voice soft. “He...He offered me to share an assignment but I don’t think he really cares about the story.”

Peter blinked. An exaggerated bat of his long lashes as he huffed. “I won’t say it.”

“I know, you told me so, but Peter…” You looked over your shoulder before you continued. “Peter, weird things have been happening. Last night, after you left, I went upstairs and...my window was wide open and...I don’t know. My dresser-- someone was there. Someone broke in again.”

“Did you call the cops?” He asked.

“No, I-I was embarrassed. I thought...when I called them the first time, they were laughing at me. They thought I broke the lock myself, I know it.”

“You should’ve called them.”

“Why? So they can mock me?” You caught yourself before you could raise your voice. “Look, that doesn’t matter what matters is...I think it was Rusk. I mean, it’s stupid but, I think he has...something of mine. Something that would connect him to the break-ins.” You gulped. “The more I think of it, the more I think of how he passed this story off on me about all these attacks, I wonder…” 

“You don’t think it’s him?” Peter asked.

“Of course not. I just think, maybe, he...might have gotten an idea or two.”

Peter’s eyes were wide. He looked as frightened as you felt. “Can you confirm that what you saw, that what he has is really what you think it is?”

“I didn’t notice it missing but I didn’t really look. I was too scared.” You confessed.

Peter’s jaw set and his eyes darted down the hall. “I’ll walk you home again and we’ll see if you’re right.”

“You don’t have--”

“I do. Don’t you realize how dangerous this all is? How do you know you won’t walk in and catch him in the act? Or maybe he decides to visit while you’re home?” He gently touched your elbow. “You’re leaving on time tonight and I’m going with you.”

You scratched your head and looked away. You were embarrassed. You were being comforted, protected even, by this boy. Well, maybe you should drop the ruse. He was braver than most men you knew. And he was technically an adult and you really weren’t that much older. That became even more obvious when he was with you.

🕷️

The subway ride was long. Silent and tense. You fidgeted beside Peter, embarrassed and reassured by his presence all at once. He sent you small glances; stifled smiles meant to calm you. But they only served to remind you of why he was there.

Up the concrete steps and across the rush hour street, you had to stop at the front door of your building to catch your breath. Your chest felt as if it was being crushed.

Peter patted your shoulder and said softly, “It’s okay,” and you carried on.

Your apartment door still bore signs of the previous break in. The new lock was shiny against the flaked paint and torn wood. You slid your key in and turned. You opened it slowly as you peeked inside, certain you’d find your tormentor within. Nothing.

Peter followed you in and chained the door behind him as if to assuage you. You looked away ashamed. “I’m crazy, aren’t I?”

“No.” He said. “I don’t think so. Just scared, and why wouldn’t you be?”

You nodded and turned away from him. Warily you walked across the front room and glanced around. Nothing seemed out of place. Peter followed closely as you neared the short hall that led to your bedroom. You spun back to him. 

“I’ll go see if--if I was right.” You stopped him. “Wait here.”

“Wait here? Shouldn’t I--”

“I’ll scream if I need you.” You replied. “Okay?”

“Of course,” He relented. “I’ll be here.”

You left him there, a concerned furrow in his brow. You entered the bedroom, the dresser drawer was still open but the window was locked and in place. The sight reassured you. You slowly walked across the room and stopped before the drawer. 

You sifted through the messy contents, your hands growing frantic as the cornflower panties were nowhere to be found. Next you checked the hamper, maybe you’d worn them that week. They weren’t there.

You stumbled back out to the hall numbly. You felt hollow and worn. You caught yourself on the wall before your legs could give out.

Peter was by the coffee table. You watched as he reached for the knife you’d left there and he lifted it to the dim light peeking in through the windows. He turned to you with a question curled in his lips.

“It’s not there...he took it.” You pushed yourself straight and stepped fully into the room. “I can’t believe--It can’t be, Peter.”

“But you do believe,” He said and he turned the knife in his fingers. “You must. I mean--” He gestured to the blade. “You wouldn’t be so scared if you didn’t believe.”

“Should I call the cops now?”

“You could but...You’ve corrupted the scene, right? It’s been what? A day?” He set down the knife and sighed.

“So what do I do? I--Jesus, why am I asking you? You shouldn’t be dealing with all this.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to deal with it.” He assured you as he neared you. “There’s only one thing you can do. You have to wait for him to try again.”

“What?” You reeled. “What if--”

“With me.” He gently reached out and took your hand. He squeezed it as he spoke. “You can’t stay here. Not alone. So either you come stay with me or I’m staying here, but I can’t let you be alone.”

“Peter, you’re too nice. You shouldn’t--”

“But I am, so I’m either going to settle in or you’re going to pack a bag.” His grip tightened on your hand before he released you suddenly, as if recalling that he was touching you.

“It’s too much.” 

“Anyone would do it. Anyone who cared.” He shrugged. “So what’s it gonna be?”

“I can’t sleep here.” You said.

“Alright,” His jaw set determinedly. “So, grab a change of clothes and let’s go.”

You nodded shyly and let your leather shoulder bag fall to your elbow. Your lips parted to ask if he was sure and he tilted his head sternly.

“Come on,” He intoned. “I’m hungry. Once we’re outta here we can grab something.”

“O-okay,” You gave a weak smile and he mirrored it.

You turned away and dragged your feet back to the bedroom. Every time you entered, you were reminded of the open window, the ghastly breeze, and the stab of fear deep in your gut. You went to your dresser and blindly grabbed for a set of clothes to shove in your shoulder bag. A night away from this place would be good; safe.

🕷️

Peter’s apartment was small but cozy. Lived in but neat. It was almost endearing. The Playstation controller on the coffee table, the throw still curled in the shape of his body on the couch, posters of his favourite comics on the walls. He apologized for the mess but you assured him, you seen worse from men older than him.

He was courteous. He took your bag and led you to the bedroom. He insisted on taking the couch. He dug out his second set of sheets from his closet and placed the piled neatly atop with a promise to fix up the bed after you ate. He didn’t listen to your protests, merely brushed you back through to the living room.

You sat beside him on the couch. You felt welcome but uneasy. You always found it awkward to be in anothers space. Peter pulled out his phone and tapped the screen with his thumb.

“Sorry, I’m not much of a cook.” He chuckled. “You like pizza? Chinese?”

“I’m not picky,” You replied.

“Easy to please?” He ventured playfully.

“In certain ways,” You squinted at him. “How about Mexican?”

“Sure,” He scrolled on the screen and turned the phone to you. “Here. Pick something.”

You took his phone and browsed the menu. You realized you hadn’t eaten since the day before; nothing more than your usual morning coffee. Your stomach growled and you restrained yourself to a vegetarian dish. Overdo it and you’d wake up in agony. Thirty loomed closer every day.

You handed his phone back and he quickly picked his own dish and hit confirm. You rubbed your hands together nervously. You looked around his small apartment. It reminded you of college; of the useless degree hidden in the back of your closet.

“I’ll send you the money.” You offered.

“You won’t. My treat.” He insisted.

“But...you’ve already done so much.”

“What’s a couple bucks?” He shrugged. “So, you like video games? I got a second controller around here somewhere.”

“Does Tetris count?” You teased.

“I have Tetris,” He smirked. 

“I was kidding.” You took the controller from him as he handed it to you. “But no, I don’t play very much.”

“That’s okay.” He grabbed his own controller and switched on the t.v.  “I’ll take it easy on you.”

“Oh yeah?” You challenged. “You wouldn’t be talking shit if we were playing Tetris.”

“We’ll see who’s talking shit at the end of the night.” He jibed as he sat beside you. 

You shook your head and laughed at him. You could almost forget that he was the upstart kid with his oversized camera. Or the break-ins. Or that you were here hiding. The fear seemed to dissipate when faced with his perennial optimism.

🕷️

After you ate, you found yourself even more tired than before. You didn’t recall dozing but Peter woke you with a nudge and helped you up. He showed you to the bedroom where he’d made up the bed for you. You thanked him groggily, your fatigue catching up to you, and he left you with lingering good night.

When the door closed, you grabbed your bag and clumsily pulled out the loose tee and pair of booty shorts. You changed and draped your worn clothes over the bag and shoved it aside. You got up to turn off the light and stumbled back to the mattress, landing stomach first across it. You hugged the pillow as sleep beckoned you forth.

It hit you all once. You slept so deeply your head felt full of sand. Your body too. Your mind was murky. Shadows rose from the depths but never fully formed. You forgot your existence, the open window, the missing panties, and Rusk’s open bag. Hours passed like seconds and eternity felt possible.

You awoke to fingertips on your cheek. Gentle as they coaxed you back to the surface. As you emerged from the depths, your chest clutched. Your eyes fluttered open, your lids heavy and lashes sharp. There was a dim light in the room, soft and eerie. A shadow laid beside you, its fingers traced the line of your jaw as it watched you awake.

Your vision cleared a little at a time. You recognized Peter through the haze. His warm brown eyes were dilated and dark. You reached up and caught his hand as he pressed his body against yours.

“What are you doing?” Your tongue was thick and your words awkward.

“Shh, it’s okay,” He pulled his hand away and dragged his fingers over your lips as he leaned in to smell your hair. 

“P-Peter,” You grabbed for his wrist. “Stop.”

Your hand missed his and hit his shoulder instead. You shoved against him but he didn’t flinch. He was stronger than he looked. You tried to sit up but he caught your neck and held you to the pillow.

How long had you been asleep? How long had he been there?

“Peter, please,” You reached for his hand as it stretched across your throat. “What--”

“I won’t hurt you. I only want to keep you safe.” His breath was hot against your cheek as his lips brushed your skin. “Don’t you want to be safe?”

“Let me go, Peter,” You squeezed his wrist. “Please, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring you?” His hand didn’t move but he pulled back to look you in the eye. “I’m protecting you.”

Your hand trembled as you pleaded again. His name died in the air.

“From the city.” He breathed. “From Rusk.”

“You-you are,” You rasped. “You’ve kept me safe, but...this...don’t you want me to feel safe. This isn’t--”

“You can’t see it. You aren’t safe. This city is dangerous and you need me.”

“I do need you, okay?” You bartered. “Of course I do, Peter, but...I need sleep, too. I’m very tired.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He shifted closer and your body tensed. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Peter--”

“Let me take care of you.” He moved lithely over you as he pulled your hand from his. He framed your face with his fingers and held your head in place. “Why won’t you let me take care of you?”

“Peter,” You exclaimed as the tears threatened to rise. This felt like some horrid nightmare. “W-We’re fr-friend, aren’t we? Friends don’t do this.”

He blinked. He glared at you and his face slowly softened. “Friends...no, we’re more than that.”

“Wh-what?”

“You’re mine. We’re meant to be. Can’t you see that?” His thumbs ran along your cheeks as his breath glossed over your lips. “In a city this big, to be brought together, it’s fate.”

You stared at him. Stunned, horrified. You didn’t know what to say.

“I’m not like him.” He hissed as his eyes turned dark. He focused on your lips hungrily. “I won’t use you, like him. Manipulate you.” You gulped as his lips hovered just above yours. “Violate you. Invade your space...steal from you.” 

He pressed his mouth to yours and you squirmed beneath him. Your hands were caught under him. His torso was bare and the heat of his body shrouded you. You struggled to breathe as he kissed your forcefully, as he crushed himself against you. You felt his arousal as it poked you and your eyes rounded desperately.

He pulled away at last. His lips made a trail along your cheeks as he spoke between little pecks. “Can’t you see how much better I am than him? Than anyone?” 

You wriggled under him but it only seemed to encourage him. You slipped your arms from beneath him and pushed against his sides. He drew his hands away from your face and caught your wrists. He pulled them up beside your head and pushed himself up as he pinned them to the mattress.

“Who does that, hmm? I’m better than him. I’d never...take your panties like some pervert. I’d never--”

“Panties?” You croaked and his eyes flashed. “How do you--Peter?”

“He’s just a pervert, don’t you understand? But I love you. I love all of you. I want all of you.” 

He squeezed your wrists and you watched the muscles of his arms draw taut. His chest was broader than you imagined and his torso was finely lined. You stopped your eyes before they could venture further. He was naked.

“If you love me, Peter, you’ll wait. Wait for me, won’t you?” You cooed. 

“Wait? I’ve waited.” He sneered. “I’ve watched you fawn after Rusk and I’m done waiting.”

“Peter, I don’t care about Rusk, I swear, but I’m not ready. I’m tired. I need... sleep. Can’t you wait for me…” You stared up into his dark eyes. “I-I--” Your nerves flurried wildly. You’d never been so afraid. “I love you, too.” You lied. “So won’t you wait?”

He exhaled and his lips parted. He blinked and a smile crawled across his lips. “You--Say it again.”

“I-I love you,” You whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

He bent and kissed you again. This time harder, deeper. He didn’t stop until you were out of breath. Until your eyes were damp with tears. He sat back and straddled you between his thick thighs. You quickly looked away from his hard cock. He let go of your wrists but you didn’t move. You were too afraid.

He lifted himself slightly as he tugged the hem of your shirt free. He inched it up, his fingers feeling along your skin as he did. Your strength returned and you caught his hands before he could bare your chest. You were shaking.

“I want to wait, Peter.” You begged. “Don’t you love me?”

“I do, I do,” He rocked atop you, almost frantic. “I do but I can’t. I can’t wait. I need you. I love you so much.”

You whimpered as he twisted his hands away from you. His thighs pressed against you and reminded you of his strength. You closed your eyes as your arms fell to the mattress. You were so weak. So afraid. And you could do nothing.

He shoved your shirt over your chest and you heard the gasp fall from him. He pulled the fabric past your head and tossed it aside. He bent over you as he cupped your tits, his thumb circled your nipples. “Beautiful,” He groaned as nuzzled your skin. 

His lips tickled along your cleave and the curve of your chest. His tongue teased your bud as his fingers played with the other. He closed his mouth around your nipple and teethed it softly. He purred and you bit your lip. 

His touch stoked something within you. It wasn’t him, just the basest of your instincts. A carnal reaction long withheld. 

He kneaded your flesh with hand and mouth. He tended to you as if you were delicate and yet so firmly you could not resist. You couldn’t think to. Was it fear? Was it weakness? Was it a latent desire you refused to accept?

Then he moved lower. His lips and teeth made the treacherous crawl along your stomach. The dread built as he moved further and further, as he lifted himself from your waist and his fingers tickled you. As he slid your shorts down your thighs and legs. As you let him.

You still didn’t move. You pressed your legs together but he easily wrenched them apart. Another confirmation of your helplessness.

His nose brushed along your vee and his warm breath crested your pelvis. His hands slipped up and he pressed his thumbs to your hip bones as he settled between your legs. You closed your legs around his head in an effort to keep him away but you only welcomed him closer. You looked down at him, eyes sparkling as he gazed back. Then slowly his focus descended.

He dipped his head and you writhed. Tried to get away but it was just as futile. He rubbed the tip of his nose along your pussy and his tongue followed shyly. He dragged it slowly along your lips then back down. He pushed between them and flicked over your clit. 

You spasmed and his hands squeezed your hips. He repeated the motion and you cried out in surprise. His tongue was cool against your warm folds. It felt good even when your head told you it shouldn’t. He swirled around your bud and pressed his lips around it. He sucked and lapped then slipped his tongue down again. He drank you in and savoured your taste.

You covered your face as your other hand clawed at the blanket below. You whined, weak and wretched. You felt the rise. The ripple as it rolled along your spine. The buzzing in your thighs. The pulsing of your core. Every nerve wound together and his tongue untangled them all at once.

You rocked your pelvis into his face as you came. Wanting him to stop but not. You needed more. The release was overwhelming and left you dizzy. And he kept on. He teased your overly sensitive clit so that you squirmed. Until another climax rose and you bit into your hand to keep from screaming. And still he kept on.

You were breathless and baffled when he finally lifted his head. Your sight was blurry as you shyly looked down at him. His lips glistened as they came into focus and he crawled over you. He kissed you; wet and warm. You could taste your sweetness as he forced his tongue against yours. 

He snaked his arms up under your back and hooked his hands around your shoulders. He pushed his thighs to yours as he lifted you. He sat up with you against him. You hung from his grasp as his lips wrestled with yours. He kept you aloft with one arm as he felt around between you.

You flinched as you felt his tip against you. He grazed your clit and you twitched. He pressed along your folds and stopped at your entrance. He pulled away from your lips and looked into your eyes as he pushed his head inside of you. You grabbed his shoulders and tired to shove yourself away from him. His arm clung to you tightly.

He eased into you until he bottomed out. He sighed and his hand grasped your hip. He began to rock you against him, his own pelvis tilting with yours. He hummed and kissed your jaw, nibbled along your neck, and bit into the flesh of your throat. He sucked as he moved you against him. And you were horrified as you let him.

He felt good. He shouldn’t, but he did. You slung your arms over his shoulders without thinking and chased the peak before you. He moved you faster, harder against him. You felt your juices spreading between your bodies. His hand slid down your back and he stretched his fingers across your ass. He guided your body and you followed his lead.

You were panting, desperate for another orgasm. Your clit rubbed against him with each rock of your hips. With each thrust, you moved faster, eager to reach the pinnacle. You gasped and groaned. A voice told you it was wrong but it didn’t feel wrong. 

Peter buried his head in your chest. He hummed as he took a nipple in his mouth and bounced you against him. Your fingers dug into the muscles of his back and you threw your head back. You came with a sharp cry. Your body shook against his and the world dissembled. The worries in the back of your mind drowned beneath the waves.

He fell forward until your back was to the mattress. He thrust into you as your legs curled around him. His hand was at your chin again, cradling your face as he lifted his lips to yours. He kissed you, consumed you. 

He moaned into your mouth and his hips stammered. His motion turned erratic and he lifted his head to grit back a roar. The tension squared his jaw and drained from him all at once. He sank into you as deep as he could go, long soft strokes as he came. 

He dropped down over you, his head beside yours as he panted. He shuddered and groaned. His body went limp atop you, his fingers lazily caressed your cheek. The glow sloughed away and the room grew darker. The lines were bolder, the shadows more sinister, the colours greyed. 

You pulled your arms back and pushed on his shoulder. He didn’t move. Didn’t even react. You tried again and slowly he lifted his head. He pushed himself into you as deep as he could go and you whimpered.

“Can’t you feel how much I love you?” He didn’t relent. Didn’t pull back as your walls strained around him. “Can’t you?”

You nodded, unable to speak. He was stabbing your cervix painfully and you just wanted him away from you.

“I can feel your love.” He thrust and poked you again. You squeaked. “You love me.” He began to move steadily. “You love me.” He repeated with each tilt of his hips. “You love me.” You closed your eyes as the mantra filled the room. “You love me.”

“I love you,” You croaked through your tears. “I love you.” 

But he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t. 

You were trapped in the spider’s web. Live prey paralysed as he wrapped his legs around you. As he devoured you entirely.

🕷️ 🕷️ 🕷️

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 21 - 4 “Fine I give up”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect (Actor AU)

Summary: Yep. They fucked - so much for his self control, huh? Now Macen has to deal with the fallout, and more importantly, his feelings. Maybe it wasn’t just sex after all. Did he mention he was bad at ad-lib?

(Don’t worry folks, the confession will come another day... I’m tired, lol.)

---

…

You know that part where he said he was going to break things off? Yeah… the opposite of that had happened.

Macen was careful to sit up as he glanced across the darkened room. Next to him, fast asleep and burrowed under the covers, was his costar. Alex’s face was peaceful as he wandered through his dreams, like he hadn’t just fucked the turian within an inch of his life. Baby faces were damn deceptive that way, and he was proving to be a fine example.

His body was sore in that way he enjoyed oh so much as he slid out of bed, distributing his weight so he didn’t wake the human up. Naked as the day he was born, he padded to Alex’s shower and got in. Human showers were always too damn cold for him, but it didn’t matter as he let the water pour down his carapace as he stood there, standing at the drain.

“You said you weren’t going to do it again…”

And that promise had crumbled like a sandcastle on the beach the moment Alex had looked at him with that expression. After that, it was a blur of tossed clothing, roving hands, and tongues that were still learning how to play nicely with each other. Part of him was glad he had clipped his talons the day before… but that was like admitting defeat in itself.

Fuck… he had fucked up.

He sighed as he rested his head against the shower wall, praying for the freezing water to snap some sense into him. Macen knew he should leave the moment he was dry and had found his pants, but a large part of him just wanted to go back to bed. They had to be on set early tomorrow. He’d be wasting valuable sleep time if he went back to his place. Besides, Alex was closer…

And they’d risk showing up together.

“No, you’re going home after this. It’ll just mean more coffee tomorrow.”

Yet his voice wavered as he washed the soap disappear down the drain. Even then, he was doubting himself. Right then, it felt like he was fighting a war against an unholy combination of his sex drive and… well he didn’t want to mention the other organ. It shouldn’t have had a say in this in all. Really, if anything, his situation was his brain’s fault. Damn thing had gotten used to the human…

Yeah… he had totally meant his brain.

“Alright, get in there and say goodbye.”

The water shut off and Macen dried off in silence. Still naked, he padded back to the bed. Unsurprisingly, Alex was still fast asleep, hugging a bit of the blanket as he dreamed. He looked so peaceful, that it almost seemed cruel to wake him up.

But… he couldn’t just go without saying anything. They had moved past the fuck and leave point months ago.

“Shit…” Macen’s expletive hissed out from between his teeth as he looked around for his pants. At least those he could find – halfway across the room. What could he say, Alex was an enthusiastic partner. Add in the training, and he had reach. No wonder people kept trying to get him to sign up for friendly biotiball matches. “Just… get them and say goodbye.”

Yet when he reached down, he could see the human’s face better. Something about how soft and quiet he looked did terrible things to his stomach, and his pants dropped to the floor with a soft thump. Unfortunately for him, his belt buckle hit first – the metal clang rang out like a shotgun blast.

Shit…

“Mmm…” Alex rolled onto his stomach and burrowed under the blanket. “S’cold… come back to bed, Macen.”

Now, at the moment the turian was definitely not in a sub headspace. If he had been, that could have explained his compulsion to stay. Yet, there was nothing like that in the moment. Something else was leading him back to the bed he had been trying so hard to avoid. It was a powerful urge, and he had no ability to resist.

“I’m coming…” He slid back in, pulling the cover back over his naked body. As soon as he had settled back in, Alex’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. He could feel the human’s heart on his back, and it made his beat faster as his mouth went dry. “Alex?”

“Too cold…” Then there was a sleepy yawn as he nuzzled into his back. “Night…”

Macen’s stomach bubbled as he felt himself leaning into the touch. Logic was screaming at him to do anything, but he was ignoring it then. Instead, he felt his eyes slowly close as the warmth of Alex’s body and his off-beat heart lured him back to sleep. In the morning he would regret this, but at the moment he didn’t care. Right then, there was just the bed and the warm embrace of the man he had come to…

He could deal with that thought later. Much later.

---

“They totally came to the set together.”

“Do you think those rumors were true after all?”

Nothing like crew rumors to make Macen regret being born.

It was finally time for some food after a long morning of filming. Just like he had feared, he and Alex had wound up heading to work together. To say people were talking was putting it mildly. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had already wound up on social media, though he had no ability to check. After the last two disasters he called relationships, he had gotten rid of the entire thing.

Honestly, he didn’t miss the memes. Plus, it gave him a mysterious edge. It was good PR.

Still, his carapace itched as he shot the two humans a glare as he passed. He still had enough bad boy reputation that they scattered like ants, but it didn’t do much more than soothe his prickled ego. In that moment, he had probably confirmed everything they had been whispering about.

What… no one had ever claimed he was smart.

“Fuck…” Macen sighed as he found a quiet place to settle in and eat. Doing so with the mandible implants was a little difficult, but he had figured it out with trial and error. It was good he had too – makeup had been getting annoyed with him. Now at least he was back in their good graces, which was what anyone should want in his line of work.

“Yeah, I’d be saying that too if I was you.”

A shadow had fallen over the turian, and he didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. There were only two people on set who went around in all black armor on the regular, and one of them definitely didn’t set him in shade like that. Just the sound of her voice made his stomach drop.

Talk about going from the frying pan to the fire…

Beau took a seat nearby, her eyes laser focused on him. It made it hard for Macen to swallow his lunch, but he did his best. Honestly, it wasn’t the best idea – it felt like he was swallowing concrete. At least it didn’t actually get stuck, but maybe that death would’ve been preferable to whatever she had planned for him. He’d had a good life… mostly…

“Afternoon, Beau…” Even he knew that was a faulty opening, but Macen had committed to the bit. “Can I help you?”

Another glance as she sipped from a can of soda. “Just wondering when you’re going to ask Alex out and get it over with. You two have been dancing around this for way too long.”

Macen was glad he hadn’t been eating at that point – if he had, he would’ve sprayed levo crumbs everywhere, and as far as he knew she was allergic. Instead, he just choked on his own spit and wound up coughing. To say it wasn’t his finest moment was putting it mildly at best, but at the moment it was all he could do.

At least she had enough heart to thump him on the carapace a few times. It wasn’t going to do anything – he wasn’t human – but it was the thought that counted.

“Don’t die on me, Virius. Garrus was a nightmare to find someone for, or at least that’s what I heard.”

He coughed a few more times, eyes watering. Words were hard, but doable. “I’m not… we’re not…”

Yet there was the feelings in his stomach squirming about in the mere mention of the man he more often than not found himself in bed with. He was adult enough to admit they had moved past simple sex, but… this was something else entirely.

And it was a dark, nasty road, one he knew way too well to be comfortable with anymore.

“I see the way you look at each other. Besides, you’re over each other’s places so much you might as well just fucking move in.” When he gaped, Beau added, “We text each other. I can tell when he’s getting laid, his messages stop and then he’s all relaxed after.”

Damn Alex for being so obvious in his tells…

Macen managed to straighten up, but his heart was still pounding. “It’s… complicated, ok?”

“Because you’re making it that way. You were an ass, get over it and get with it before you regret it.” Beau took another sip from her can. “Unless you’re still thinking this is just a sex thing.”

No… even he knew that one. And even thinking of that made him sigh as he hung his head. It was impossible to ignore the feelings that had been plaguing him for quite some time. To admit it was, in a way, admitting defeat in a war against himself. It was one he had tried to win for so long, yet he was seeing the last of his defenses crumble with every touch, every smile, every time Alex so much as looked at him.

He may have been a turian… but he knew he was beaten.

“Alright, fine … I give up.” His mandibles twitched. “I like the guy, ok?”

Part of him had expected the words to taste bitter on his tongue. Defeat was supposed to be something like that, and yet it was the complete opposite. Macen was surprised to find he felt lighter with just a few words. Of course, that didn’t last long – as soon as there was room, worry filled the place denial had once been.

He never got a fucking moment’s rest.

Beau shook her head as she put her can down. “I hope your delivery’s better when you tell him, Virius. How the hell did you get an award for acting?”

“I never said I was good at ad lib.” Despite everything, he snorted. It was a little bitter and self-depreciating, but it was still a laugh. “That’s going to take more work. I have no idea what to say to him.”

Something about this made him feel like a stupid teenager again, crushing on the cute boy in his class before either of them wound up in basic. He was far too old for something like this, and yet the feelings were so familiar he couldn’t deny it. Despite how hard he had tried, he had damn well caught feelings for Alex.

Well… at least his taste had improved. The guy in his math class had turned out to be a real dickhead.

“That I can’t help you with, Virius.” Beau stood, once again enveloping him in shadow. “But, lucky for you he’s coming this way. Time to work on those ad-lib skills.”

In that moment, Macen could have sworn she smirked as she left him behind to go fuck with someone else’s day. Even worse, she was right – he could see Alex in the distance and judging by the speed he had been spotted by the human and was now being targeted.

Shit… he hadn’t been kidding. He had always been terrible at ad-lib. But… there was no way out of this except through it. All he could do was brace himself for impact and hope he didn’t get tossed like a biotiball during a champion match.

For all he knew, Alex was capable of that now. Wouldn’t that be a way to go… death by being yeet’d by his crush into a wall. Well, there were worse ways he supposed…

Fuck, he so wasn’t ready for this. Fuck…