#in years i finally get to analyze FOR GOOD

[mapoeggplant]

skip to loafer chapter 68 + shima analysis // spoilers

acceptance of the monster: how facing the past is necessary when the goal is a brighter future

i think that those who have been following me for a while have seen all my analyses and random insights about shima. i have immense affection for him and he will always be one of my favorite characters ever. and chapters like this remind me of how important he is in my life. 

chapter 68 is very straight to the point, but it also hides some small and big changes that started to bubble up from previous chapters. for the first time, we no longer have small, not very explicit scenes from shima's memories or him being so afraid of finally facing the past: now we have the naked truth, laid out in front of us, so that we can understand a little more about how the childhood that shaped shima's entire life until now was.

unlike what i imagined, i didn't get angry with taiga now that he was introduced. of course, i don't think his actions were right or that he didn't influence shima in a negative way, but his appearance at that moment served as both a salvation and a tragedy for shima's life.

there are many layers to be analyzed. we know very, very little about taiga, but we can understand that he didn't have a very good relationship with his family either — the moment he talks about his parents' disappointment in him for giving up acting shows us that he was probably also forced to do something he didn't want to do. he is also the result of a desire imposed on him, causing him to rebel as the years went by.

in a way, meeting shima is like meeting your past self. i don't see much evil in his actions or see it as something malicious. i think he recognized in shima's face the same nervousness that he himself felt every time before his rehearsal, thus proposing that he also have an act of rebellion to feel a little freer.

however, the evil of all this is that taiga, without knowing anything, ends up entering shima's life at a time when he is most fragile and hurt by everything he has been facing (whether it be his abusive relationship with his mother or his growing fear of acting). shima sees taiga as an equal, someone who understands all the pain he has faced but managed to escape from it, while he’s still a prisoner. he sees the older boy as an inspiration, as a friend he longed for, who would show him what a life away from cameras and rehearsals would be like.

shima is still too young to understand everything that is happening around him, and too young to see any kind of problem in following his new friend. having a destructive act at a time of such fragility gives him a certain strength, because he understands this as the only way he has to face his mother and go against everything that is imposed on him. going out with taiga, even if secretly, is a message to his mother: you no longer have control over me.

unfortunately, we have known the result of these escapades for a long time. ririka, also worried about shima, decides to follow him and ends up being targeted by several online attacks. even though shima was the one who “took” her there, ririka, a beautiful and successful girl, is the perfect target.she is the one who suffers the direct consequences, and of course this is closely linked to the sexism that is rooted in society and how much people wait for a girl to make a small mistake so that they can destroy her in some way (i talk more about this in my exclusive ririka analysis).

now shima no longer has to face just two monsters: they have now multiplied into a thousand, becoming even stronger. the consequences of his rebellion come in an aggressive form, with his mother’s abuse and the new tarnished image he obtained in his artistic circle. his mother’s anxiety comes from the fact that shima would no longer get big roles, either because of this transgression or because he missed so many rehearsals, which did not lead to any improvement in terms of acting. blinded by all the anger she feels inside, shima's mother's direct response is no other than to attack her son.

child abuse is extremely common in the arts, whether by parents, the press, the public or co-workers. shima is just one of many young actors who have had to suffer the wrath of a parent who is disappointed by a dream that they themselves forced their children to have. and of course, this would result in years of being afraid to be who they are, to speak out and to live a normal life without carrying immense guilt. the prison that he has placed himself in for all these years is the evolution of the bonds imposed by his mother.

the turning point does not happen in this chapter itself, but in a sequence of long events that led him to where he is. it is impossible for shima to change overnight: it takes a lot of work and a lot, but a lot of analysis (even if it is self-analysis) to finally understand and be able to heal all this pain that he has been held hostage by for so many years. and the second part of the chapter shows exactly that.

shima is no longer afraid to face the monster of the past because he is no longer alone. he finally understands that there are people around him who care about him and fight to stay by his side. having people's support and love gives him the strength to move forward and continue this arduous battle of growing up. shima now understands what it is to be loved to the point of being happy about a past fight, as it resulted in an even closer relationship with mitsumi. he understands that being loved is being able to look back on the past and no longer feel pain or guilt, but to recognize the one who suffered so much, with no one by his side.

he now takes on the role of the monster, but no longer to affirm his guilt, but to be able to show his past self and all the other monsters around him how it is possible for him to be happy. how it is possible to decide things for yourself and follow your heart. how it is possible to love so many people and be loved in return. how it is possible to look at a person and feel an immense warmth, an inexplicable desire to keep fighting, all so that he can be by their side. 

shima is finally reaching out to his past self, so that they can form a new future together.

before i finish, i would also like to touch on an important point that i see the possibility of being discussed in the future: shima's current relationship with his mother. chapter 67 brought something very important, which was shima's recognition when he admitted that he felt a certain pity for his mother, due to all the comments he heard about her. deep down, he feels a certain empathy for his mother and no longer sees her as an unbeatable villain. he has been slowly trying to change his relationship with her, and the first step is to invite her to watch the play he chose to be in. this in my opinion shows shima's desire to forgive his mother in order to move on, but also seek some kind of forgiveness from her (which can be a result of many years of manipulation, since he still thinks he is guilty for a lot of his mother’s pain). i feel that we will still see a type of closeness between them and a deeper conversation, so that shima can finally feel like he belongs to a family again. this can be a triggering moment to a lot of readers, so if it does happen, please be mindful of it. 

the layers that not only this chapter but this whole new arc has are much deeper than we imagine. building a character requires love, patience and conversation. you need to listen and understand what your character wants. respect is needed so that the story can grow. takamatsu misaki has a huge affection for her characters, for her story and for everything she has been building since 2018.

we're so lucky to be able to follow such amazingly beautiful story.

thank you so much for reading 💛💛!! don't forget to support sensei if you can! always here to discuss more about the chapter!

[darlingdaisyfarm]

takin’ what’s not yours (ford x reader x stan)

chapter 2 | chapter 1

someone please whack me with a rolled-up newspaper like a misbehaving dog so i actually finish my fics on time. also i think this chapter is mega boring but i have no more brain cells to fix it because im very tired

tags for this chapter: death mention (i mean a dog’s death, and this is a little self-indulgent, but i just wanted to write it exactly like that), gore (not so much), panic attacks, child abuse, alcohol, flashbacks, unreliable narrator

Stanley, who has never met a terrible situation he couldn’t defuse with a joke, lets out a breath. “hey, bro, you planning on hunting something tonight or just ready to, i dunno, take out some deer in the backyard ”

Ford blinks once, but doesn’t lower the crossbow. “Already did,” he answers calm as you please. “for an experiment.”

You and Stanley go silent at the same time. The crackling of the old lightbulb above you fills the space where words should be. Somewhere outside, a tree branch scrapes against the roof, snapping you out of trance.

“. . . What,” you say finally, because someone has to.

“I needed to analyze the cellular structure post-mortem, it’s relevant to my research.”

Stan lets out a laugh, which sounds a little too loud in that awkward silence. “Oh, sure. Yeah. Right. Because that makes total sense, totally normal thing to do. Real brother-of-the-year shit.”

“Science isn’t about sentimentality, Stanley. Besides, it was already injured when i found it. I only expedited the process.”

Expedited the process. Jesus Christ.

You glance at Stanley, who is staring at Ford with such confused face, seeing something he doesn’t recognize , doesn’t have name for, which is funny, because you’re pretty sure he’s seen a lot of versions of Ford by now. Except this this one, who’s holding conversations with himself in his own head, this one with the dark circles and the too-quick explanations.

However, you were Ford’s assistant, his best friend too, so you know how his brain works, although even right now you can’t find explanation for. . . whatever this is.

You take a careful step forward. “Ford, why do you need dead animals for your research?”

“That’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

He exhales through his nose, apparently annoyed. “ Certain anomalies leave biological imprints even after death and I hypothesise that these imprints could be harnessed. Imagine, for example, an organism imbued with interdimensional properties—“

“Okay, okay, no. Stop.” Stan holds up both hands. “literally no idea what you just said, but it sounded fucked up. Also, you're still pointing that thing at us, genius, mind putting it down before i start thinking you’re planning on adding people to your little science fair project?”

Ford blinks again, then looks at his own hands as if he just now realized what he was holding. Carefully, he sets the crossbow aside.

“It’s not like that,” he mutters, pushing his glasses up, looking away.

“Great,” his twin says. “good talk. Totally reassuring.”

There’s another silence, because Ford doesn't answer that. You dont know what to say too. And the shack gets colder with every minute. Ford’s back is turned now, and you don’t know if he’s done talking or if he just doesn’t care if you’re still standing here.

You glance at Stanley again, silently telling him to say something, to do something, that's his own brother after all, damn it! But he ignores your request and folds his arms over his chest. What a moron. . . And because you hate this kind of silence, you try again. “Ford,” but much softer this time. “seriously, are you okay?”

Ford doesn't answer right away and that's the part that worries you the most. “It’s not as morbid as you’re making it sound. I needed to study the decomposition process in controlled conditions. It’s for science.”

Which is possibly the worst possible answer he could have given.

Stan scoffs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, nervous, but trying to hide it. “Yeah, that clears it right up. Real normal hobby you got there, Poindexter.”

Stanford just ignores that.

Then, out of nowhere, as if to shake the whole tension, Stan shivers, “Oh man. Do we have any tea or something? I’m freezing.” he says it offhand obviously, but it’s the perfect excuse for you.

So you seize it immediately. “Yeah , i’ll— i’ll go make some,” you say, already turning toward the kitchen.

Ford barely acknowledges you leaving, but Stan does. You notice the way his brown eyes flick toward you, the silent thanks he tells you. You both need a second to breathe.

The kitchen is cold when you light the stove, set the kettle on, press your hands to the counter and think. Ford is weird, you knew that, but this is different. The last time you saw him, he wasn’t like this, his skin wasn’t so pale, his eyes weren’t so dark.

He was paranoid. . . Maybe, okay, he sure was, but there used to be some kind of. . . purpose, excitement behind that paranoia. Now, it just looks like wild fear.

A deep, sinking feeling twists in your gut.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Stan’s stomach growls and the sound is too loud, making Ford glance at him. “You should eat something.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “thanks for the life advice, doctor sixer.”

“It’s just an observation.”

“Yeah? Well, what are you, taking a role of an older brother now?” Stan mutters, leaning back in his chair.

Ford doesn't answer, just stares, not knowing what to say to that. In the kitchen, the kettle starts to whistle as you shake yourself out of your thoughts. Pulling out some old mugs andgrabbing the first container of tea you can find, you turn your head to the cookies are on the counter and without even thinking about it, just grab a handful and pile them onto a plate.

When you walk back in, Stan’s sitting stiffly, arms crossed, visibly uncomfortable, while Ford is in exactly the same position as before, hasn’t moved an inch.

You set the tray down with a little too much force. “Ford, i hope you don’t mind i stole your cookies to feed your brother.”

But he barely reacts. Stan, though, eyes the plate, two seconds away from breaking down in gratitude.

“You are actually a lifesaver,” he says, grabbing one immediately.

You pass Ford his tea, but he doesn’t drink right away. Stan, on the other hand, takes a sip, exhales long and slow. “ God , finally, something warm.”

The moment almost feels normal until Ford lifts his mug, opens his mouth and spills the entire thing down his front . You freeze , feeling the cookie stuck in your throat . Just. All of it. No attempt to sip or at least to adjust , looks like a full-body failure of basic motor skills.

The room goes dead silent as Stanley and you stare again.

Ford doesn’t react, just sits there, drenched in tea, holding the empty mug like nothing happened.

“. . . Bro,” Stan says finally. “what the fuck was that.”

You’re gripping your own mug tightly, nervous. “Ford?”

Ford blinks, looking down at his soaked clothes, he slowly touches the fabric, not understanding what went wrong. “I guess I miscalculated.”

Stan throws his hands in the air. “Miscalculated? Miscalculated what, basic human function?”

Ignoring his twin again, Stanford doesn’t answer, still staring at the tea, clenching his fingers. You bite your lip. yeah. Something is wrong. Something’s really, really wrong.

Stan makes a strangled, baffled noise, shoving a hand through his hair, trying to process what he just saw. “Sweet Moses, Sixer, you just malfunctioned. You just— what the hell was that? You need a reboot? A software update?”

Ford, to his credit, keeps his fa c e expression calm as possible. Only brushes a hand over his soaked clothes with a blank face. “It’s nothing, Stanley, a minor lapse in coordination.”

“A minor lapse?” Stan repeats, looking to you for backup. “ Are you one year old?”

You want to laugh, because this is fucking ridiculous because Stan is damn right, but the feeling that’s been pooling in your stomach since you stepped foot back in the shack only deepens.

Ford isn’t acting normal. Not weird normal. Not his usual ‘I’m smarter than everyone and i know it’ normal.

“Ford,” you say quietly. “are you sure you’re okay? This is getting weird.”

Stanford turns to you like he just now remembered you were here and the second your eyes meet, you immediately want to look away as if your body is trying to tell you something your brain hasn’t caught up with yet. Get out.

“Of course i am, why wouldn’t i be?” you're not sure if you imagined it, but the intonation sounds rather sarcastic.

You don’t get to answer as you hear something crashing outside. Stan nearly chokes on his tea while you jolt so hard your own mug sloshes in your hands.

Ford is the only one who doesn’t react.

“Shit,” Stan hisses, immediately craning his head toward the window. “what the fuck was that?”

Your heart beats faster. You don’t know why, but suddenly the only thought in your head is—

“What if it’s a yeti,” you whisper, deadly serious.

Stan whips his head toward you. “Why the hell would it be a yeti?”

You glare at him. “Ford literally just admitted to performing illegal backwoods taxidermy. Why wouldn’t it be a yeti?”

Stan thinks about your words and his expression changes. “ Yeah , okay, fair point.”

Suddenly you hear another noise, but this time it’s a sharp rattle against the window.

Stan nearly jumps out of his skin. “oh fuck, it’s the cops.”

Ford finally sighs, tilting his head to glance toward the front door. “It’s not the police, it’s the wind.”

You and Stan exchange a look. Ford is right, the storm outside has picked up hard as the wind is howling through the trees, snow slamming against the shack in heavy sheets.

Stan exhales, realizing that he probably doesn't have a chance to get out of here in his car, the roads are so damn clogged. He runs a hand over his tired face. “Great, just fucking great.”

You glance toward the door, slumping your shoulders. “Yeah. Looks like i’m staying the night.”

Ford doesn’t even hesitate, happy with your words. “You can take the spare room.”

Stan raises an eyebrow, surprised at how fast his brother offered. You are too, honestly. Does that mean . . . you don’t get to finish your thought when Ford turns to Stan. “You can stay too, Stanley.”

At first, Stan doesn't react at all, thinking that he misheard, but then his brother's words gradually sink in. He's wary when he clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his neckawkwardly, obviously not used to that. “Uh. Yeah. Okay, thanks.”

Ford steps past him, when he passes his twin, though, he stops and leans in. “don’t worry , im not dad, i won’t throw you out.” just like that, he keeps walking, leaving Stan standing here wide eyed and frozen.

You stare after Ford, then back at Stan .

“Oh, um,” you say. “what the hell.”

Stan looks down. “yeah, no shit.”

***

The shack at night is a different thing, you knew this already, but knowing it and feeling it are two different things. You’ve stayed the night here before, back when things were normal, back when Ford was normal and the silence always calmed you, unlike right now. When you hear your own heart beating and the whole house is listening.

Stanley is asleep, dead asleep. Sprawled across the couch in a tangle of limbs and blankets, snoring faintly through the storm’s howl. Good for him, it's the first time in years he hasn’t had to sleep in the backseat of a car, curled up around himself like a stray dog in a storm drain. It doesn’t matter that the couch is stiff, that the room is freezing, this is the best sleep he’s had in years.

***

Summer, 1960-something. Kids. Kids with scabby-kneed, sunburned noses and wild hair.

The harbour always smelled like salt and fish.

Ford’s hands shake when he sees the bruise. So deep, ugly, purpling against Stan’s cheekbone, swelling beneath his eye.

“What happened?”

His brother was sitting on the curb, resting his arms over his knees, staring at a crack in the pavement.

“Dunno, pa just gets mad.”

The words felt like someone had dropped a rock right into Ford's chest, as it just sank to the bottom of his stomach, too heavy to breathe around.

Stan must’ve noticed, because he grinned. He actually hated that look, hated seeing his own twin with that kind of expression, because that made Stan know exactly how he looked when their old man had really lost it.

“But hey, hey, least now i look tough, huh? Bet all those bullies are gonna be real scared now,” he grinned, nudging Ford with his elbow.

Ford’s hands curled into fists. “thats not,” he cut himself off, shaking his head. “that's not gonna help, Stanley!”

“Eh, maybe,” he shrugged. “but it sure looks cool, huh?”

It didn’t. It looked awful.

Ford's chest was too tight. He looked at his brothers bruised eye, at the careless shrug in his posture, and suddenly the words burst out before he can stop them.

“We should run away.”

Stan opened his mouth, surprised, Ford, sixer, being this bold? And a second, he almost looked serious, considering it.

Then he laughed loudly. “and go where, genius?”

“Anywhere! Somewhere better. We could, we go up north, where it’s colder, where nobody knows us.”

Stan squinted at him. “but what about ma?” Ford hesitated, looking down. Stanley's smile faded as he rubbed his bruise. “look, Sixer, i appreciate the whole dramatic rescue thing, but we’re kids. Where’re we even gonna sleep? In a box?”

“We’d figure it out, you'll never be homeless, we'll never he homeless,” Ford insisted. “we’re smart—“

“You’re smart,” Stan corrected, no bitterness, just a fact. “im just a guy who can throw a good punch.”

Ford hated that he said that, so he didn’t give up.

“We could take a boat,” he tried again. “work at a dock, make some money—“

“You’d get seasick in five minutes.”

Ford scowled. “i would not.”

“Yeah, you would,” Stan teased, nudging him again.

Ford didn’t answer, because he hated the way Stanley took it all as some kind of joke. He was serious. He meant it.

But Stan just sighed again, stretching his arms over his head. “nah. don’t worry about it, Poindexter. Ain’t no big deal.”

It was a big deal. But Ford didn’t say anything else. Just sat down next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees, staring at the same crack in the pavement.

They were kids, they thought like kids. Ford just wished they’d stayed kids. Stanley wished the same.

***

Ford is in his bed, but he's not sleeping. Or maybe he does, technically.

He shifts, twists, rolls to his side, then to his back, then to his stomach, then repeats the cycle, stuck in a loop. His body doesn’t want to be still, doesn’t know how to be still.

He can't really control it, can’t open his eyes no matter how much he wants to.

It’s the same dream every time. Ford and him, sitting across from each other, playing chess, if Ford could call it that because every move Ford makes is a lie, and every move Bill makes is a trap.

Ford can’t win no matter what he does, no matter how many times he tries. Bill moves a piece. Ford counters. Bill moves another. Ford moves in response.

And when Stanford blinks, they’re already back at the start, the pieces damn reset and the game begins again.

“What do you say, Sixer? another round?”

Ford clenches his jaw, it’s not like he has any other choice. He just moves the first piece.

Every time their game ends with same, when Ford sees the door to his childhood home. It's already happening, every night.

He sees his brother standing there, staring in at their father with hope in his eyes, waiting for him to change his mind.

Ford sees his father’s mouth moving and even though can't clearly hear the words, he doesn't even need to hear them. He knows what happens next.

It’s already happened.

It’s always happening.

You aren’t asleep, either. Your head is too full, your body is too restless . Your thoughts won’t quiet. Ford, you cant get him out of your head. What you saw hours ago is sitting heavy on your chest, making it hard to breathe properly. Something is wrong with him and the whole shack, it doesn’t feel like it should.

You don’t know why it bothers you so much, but it does. Ford has always been intense, sure, his brain works faster than everyone else's, you've always known that.

You shake your head, taking a deep breath. No use going in circles. You have to talk to him tomorrow, ask him. And let him deny your questions as much as he likes and look at you like you're crazy, you'll get your way.

As soon as you close your eyes, finally sinking into sleep, the lights go out, and the whole room plunges into an all-consuming darkness. Fuck.

You immediately sit up, gripping the blanket. It can't be that bad.

It's fine, this is fine. You know where you are, you're in the shack, the storm outside is brutal, but that's normal. The generator will probably kick in any second now.

. . . Any second now.

. . . Any damn second.

The darkness does not change. You swallow. No use waiting, there should be candles somewhere in here, just to keep you sane and. . . would word safe fit here? Honestly, you just want to make this place feel like somewhere, instead of nothing at all.

Pushing the blanket off, you slip out of bed, feeling the cold floor beneath your feet.

Ford keeps candles somewhere, you know he does because it was a Christmas gift from you, years ago. So it should be easy to find them.

You put your hands out to feel for the walls as you move slow, trying not to bang your shin into anything, listening to the creaks of the house around you and footsteps. Wait.

Footsteps, exactly. Your whole body goes rigid.

Someone else is awake. Your heart pounds as you pause, listening hard.

Okay, they're not rushed, you take a note of that. Not stumbling or uncertain. Not. . . What was his name? Stanley? Yeah, probably not Stanley's, he would be louder, sloppier.

Meanwhile these sounds too slow, intentional.

Your fingers shake as you reach out, feeling along the shelves. Goddamn, you need a candle. Just one. Just enough light to fucking see.

Seems like luck is not on your side because just when you take another step, you damn trip, your hands shoot out, grabbing wildly for balance, but before you can fall and hit the ground hands catch you.

And they're not yours. Your breath stops. Someone else’s. You barely have time to react before you feel them close around your waist, digging into your stomach, your hips, moving fast, searching, checking. So strong. Coming from behind.

They trace higher, gripping as they move up to your chest. The air rushing from your lungs, your body tenses as a jolt of shock slams through you. The hands don't let go, not letting you pull away as they hold you in place. You try to yell, but before you can, you hear someone's voice right in your ear.

“Shouldn't you be asleep?”

Your blood runs ice fucking cold, but hands don’t let go.

If anything, they tighten. Painfully gripping you, grasping keeping you there, locked in place. A rush of panic clouding your senses before you even have time to think.

And it doesn't help th at the darkness is so thick, so you can't see who's behind you, can't even get a glimpse

Long fingers trailing slow over the curve of your sides, the dip of your waist, the softness of you beneath them. They follow the shape of your hips, press into the plush of your thighs.

You gasp when you feel your back pressing against someone’s broad chest. But your thoughts don’t fully settle on who or what it can be because your body is screaming louder than your mind. Sharp panic coils in your gut.

Your mind is too scattered, clouded with adrenaline. You thrash. Or at least you try to. Your muscles tense to push, to shove, but the hands don’t budge.

Panic overrides everything, making it impossible to think and breathe. Your body tells you one thing: get away .

But the fear floods your veins like ice, so much so that you can’t even count the fingers on the hands holding you.

Five. Six. Which is it? You should know. But sadly, your mind is too frantic, your skin burning too hot where those fingers press, where they curl. You don’t even realize you’re shaking.

And when they let go, all at once, the air rushes back into your lungs as your body stumbles forward, and you don’t wait or look back, letting your feet carry you .

You don’t remember running back to bed.

You don’t remember pulling the blankets over yourself, heart hammering, breath coming too fast, too shallow.

All you remember is pressing yourself into the mattress, squeezing your eyes shut and whispering the first prayer you've ever said in years. Not that it helps

So instead, you think. You force yourself to think.

Because fear is useless to a scientist, it is irrational, fear clouds judgment, fear lies.

And if you let it win, it will consume you.

You feel. . . violated. That’s the word, isn’t it? Or was it something that could be explained away as a trick of the mind?

Was it someone? Yes. Someone grabbed you. Someone touched you.

Your stomach lurches and you swallow it down, gripping at the blankets while your brain tries to work through it. To think. To rationalize.

This can’t be. Logic has to win, but the feeling is still there.

The ghost of hands on your body.

And you don’t sleep.

***

There's dirt under your fingernails, packed tight in the creases, clinging to the skin of your palms. Your hands hurt a little. Dug too deep. Pressed too hard. The grave was small, no headstone, although you wish you could, just a little wooden marker Ford helped you to carve.

Somewhere in the trees, hidden in the thick summer-green leaves, cicadas chirped. It was so warm, the grass beneath you was soft, a little overgrown, tickling against your arms.

Your throat still felt tight, and your hands, fisted in your lap, felt hollow.

Your voice came out rough. “it’s stupid to cry over a dog, right?”

Ford turned his head toward you, furrowing his brows, not sure if you were joking.

“What?”

“I mean,“ sniff. “its just a dog.” you rubbed at your face, pressing your palms into your eyes until all you saw was red behind your lids.

He stared at you, and you could feel it. His gaze rested on you, assessing, he was trying to figure out if you meant it or if you were just saying it to make yourself stop feeling.

Ford was not good with emotions too. You knew this. Logic, facts and equations neatly filed thoughts.

“You loved him, why wouldn’t you cry?”

You let out something between a laugh and a breath. It shook a little. “yeah,” you wrapped your arms around your knees. “yeah, i did.”

A scientist, you were a scientist, scientists weren't supposed to get that emotional over things that had clear, defined ends. Things that had lifespans. It was biology. Living things died. It was just how it worked.

But god, he was your dog. He'd slept at your feet when you stayed up too late, followed you through the woods, knew exactly when to curl up against you when you were sad.

“He was a really good dog.” Ford said eventually.

“He was so stupid,” you stared at the dirt. “always running into things. Remember that time he stole your sandwich?”

“He didn’t steal it,” Ford corrected. “you gave it to him.”

“After he tried to rip it out of my hands.”

“He was very persistent,” he admitted.

“You were so mad, i think that’s the first time i ever heard you swear.”

“I did not swear,” Ford said, scandalized.

“You did. I remember. And remember that time when he came back covered in mud?”

Ford smiled. “mud and skunk pray. You had to him, what, three baths?”

“Four,” you smiled back. “and he still smelled. I had to sleep with all the windows open.”

“You let him on your bed anyway,” Ford pointed out.

You huffed. “of course i did.”

Silence again. You leaned to the side, lettingyour head rest against his shoulder.

He didn't pull away. Only stiffened for half a second, like he always did, because he still wasn't sure what to do with touch. And then his hand came up and rested lightly against the back of your head.

The sun dipped lower, turning the sky honey-thick, melting into the trees.

“I’m gonna miss him,” you whispered.

Ford’s fingers curled slightly against your hair. “i know. Me too.”

You let out a breath and closed your eyes, feeling the tears again.

Ford's hand stayed in your hair.

***

Morning comes slow, at least the storm has settled. The sky outside the window is still covered with a gray haze, the snow is still falling, but the howling of the wind has subsided.

You don’t feel rested, but you’re awake and you need answers. You hate to admit it, but you're scared. And your thoughts don't paint the best picture for you.

You move careful, quiet, slipping out of the spare room into the main part of the shack.

And the first thing you hear is loud, unrestrained ridiculous snoring, coming right from the couch.

You blink, glancing towards it.

Stanley. Sprawled across it in the most undignified position possible. On his side, curled slightly inward, arms tucked close against his chest. Just a little, but poor guy is shivering. Like some pathetic, scrappy little street dog curled up against the cold. The blanket barely stays wrapped around him, but he clutches at it, seeking warmth in a place where he’s used to none.

For a brief moment, he looks. . . well, he looks cute. But you shake the thought away. You have bigger things to deal with. You need to find Ford.

The lab is quiet, but inside his head, it isn’t.

Ford is slumped in the corner, collapsed into himself with his knees drawn up, his hands tangled deep in his own hair, like he's trying to keep something from leaking out, all six fingers curled so tight against his scalp that his knuckles are bloodless. Moving his heavy head in small, restless jerks, shaking side to side, wanting to shake it out, but it’s not working, it never works, IQ, you fucking idiot.

Sixer's body tense with horrible, restless energy as if he’s still trying to wake up even though he never truly slept.

Dark, bruising exhaustion hollows out his eyes, pulling his features tight with sleepless strain. His glasses have slipped low on his nose, the bridge smeared with fingerprints, hes been pushing at them, rubbing at his own skin, trying to wake himself up.

Bill was always there.

The same dream. The same game. The same endless, maddening chess match. And the same loss.

Over. And over. And over.

No matter what move Ford made. no matter how many times he tried to outthink the demon, Bill always won.

And at the end it was always the same. Stanley, who's looking at his brother standing in the window, framed by the curtains

Stanley's eyes

Ford never forgot his eyes. The way they looked at him.

The way his brother had searched his face for some answer, at least some kind of explanation, begging. Stan's eyes so big, so damn wide, the pupils blown dark with confusion, desperation, with a hurt that had no words.

And his voice so small, so weak.

“Sixer?”

Ford shudders. Vomit rises in his throat. His hands tighten in his hair.

Gosh, he feels sick.

His stomach twists, coils, knots so tight it feels like it might rupture.

The sticky notes around him are everywhere, scattered across the floor, plastered against the walls, some even stuck to the sleeves of his shirt.

MISS ME, NERD? 
FEELIN’ RESTED? 
DOESN’T MATTER! I’LL SEE YA TONIGHT ;)

DON’T WORRY, POINDEXTER!

I’LL ALWAYS BE HERE FOR YOU! HAHAHA!

HOW’S STAN, BY THE WAY?

HE’S STILL MAD ABOUT, Y’KNOW. THE WHOLE… THING

REMEMBER WHAT HE LOOKED LIKE? YIKES.

He wants to rip them down, burn them, but they've dug their way into his skin.

But his body won’t move because his mind is somewhere else now.

Ford remembers the deer. Or what was left of it.

Half dead in the snow. Legs moving, jerking in agony. The crack of stiff joints.

Something that shouldn’t be alive rose from the ground, black tar pooling from its mouth. The ground beneath Ford's boots was damp, the scent of rot curling sharp in his nostrils.

Patches of fur are missing, peeled away, exposing the raw, rotting flesh beneath. Its ribs jut out in jagged angles, parts of it look eaten.

But the worst part is the eyes. Empty sockets, gaping holes where its eyes should be.

Ford ran, but forest was too big. Too many trees, too many shadows and sounds.

His feet slipped on something wet and Ford knew he shouldn't have looked down

Bones scattered across the ground, half-buried in the damp earth. And awfully glistening organs strewn across the ground. Dark red. Raw. Rotting.

A smell so thick, so rancid it shoves itself down his throat, makes him gag. His shaking hands flew to his mouth to stop the ill-fated piece of vomit that threatened to burst out.

You did this.

You did this.

You did this.

Ford screamed, falling to his knees, dirt and blood staining his clothes.

The sound that ripped from his throat didn’t sound human.

His throat closed, air wouldn’t go in, wouldn’t stay.

Ford opens his eyes. His body jerks , thrashing against the floor, his hands shaking, fingers clawing at his own skin, trying to tear something out of himself.

He can’t breathe. His throat is tight, closing, closing, his lungs burning, his vision swimming.

His stomach twists, nausea rising fast, his head spinning so violently he doesn’t know which way is up.

He can't breathe. He can't breathe. Ford is dying

His hands claw at his own chest, digging his fingers into fabric, into skin.

He barely registers the sound of someone entering the room, running to him, moving, hands grabbing his arms, gripping, holding.

“Ford, Ford. Hey—”

The deer.

The deer, the deer, the deer—

“ Ford!”

A voice he barely hears, hands on his shoulders, hands on his face, hands gripping him.

Not his.

Not Bill’s.

Yours

But Ford can't move, his body feels tight, contorted as if something is twisting him from the inside out. The color of his face is wrong. He’s so pale, every shadow and hollow stark under the overhead lab lights. His lips are parted, his mouth trembling, and his eyes, so wide, bulging, glassy with tears, but not focused.

Not seeing you.

He makes a noise between a choke and a gasp, his fingers digging harder into his own arms, his whole body starting to shudder .

You're on your knees in front of him.

“Ford,” you grab at his arms. “it’s okay, you’re okay, it’s me, i’m right here—”

Ford jerks, his hands flying out, shoving at you with a sudden burst of fear and he screams. “Go away!”

You stumble back, watching him wrapping his arms around himself, his whole body curling inward

“Go away,” he gasps again , “go away, you— you monster —”

“Ford, it’s me, i swear it’s me, look at me.”

But he won’t. His lips are moving, forming broken, faltering words, but nothing comes out.

He’s not here.

His mind is somewhere deep, somewhere dark, somewhere you can’t reach him.

“Ford,” you say again, softer this time, but firmer, shifting closer on your knees, “you’re having a panic attack, okay? you need to breathe, you’re safe.”

His scared eyes snap up to you, still wide and glassy and it doesn't take long for him to cry. Ford gasps so hard he thinks his lungs might collapse.

Your arms are around him, pulling him against you, pressing his face into your chest, holding him, feeling the way he trembles while he clutches at your arms in return, his hands fisting in your shirt, clinging to you.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, “I promise, i’ve got you.”

“thirty-two point eight megahertz— quadrants , electron spin—”

What?

At first, it’s so soft you can barely hear it.

Your brow furrows . “Ford?”

“Event horizon c-collapse, field equations— metric tensor—”

You tilt your head to see him, but he just hunches further into you

“Warp theory— symmetry breakdown — proton decay—“

You squeeze him. “Ford, hey—“

He shudders and his muttering falters. Closing his puffy eyes, he buries his face deeper into your chest.

His mind registered it last, but his body recognized you first.

And you hold him, stroking slow, careful circles between his shoulder blades, your fingers weaving up into his hair, carding through the brown strands.

You try to breathe together with him. Slowly, letting him hear it. Letting him match it.

“I’m here, Ford, im right here, i swear you are okay.” you feel how his hands clench, then loosen, then tighten again.

His body still shakes, but the sharp edges of it start to dull, the tremors turning softer, his breathing slowing.

But his face stays hidden.

“Ford , i—” you swallow. “i’m worried about you.”

His shoulders stiffen. You keep going.

“This isn’ t. . . isn’t normal. You’re not okay, Ford. I think maybe,” your fingers twitch in his hair. “i think maybe you should talk to someone, to professional?”

The moment Stanley bursts through the door, his eyes widen at the scene before him. His brother, still trembling, lost in the fog of his panic attack, and you, crouched on the floor with your arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him close

Stan’s face immediately changes into that familiar, protective mask, although it's even more concerned now

“What the hell is goin’ on here?”

You turn your head to meet his worried gaze, your own heart still racing in the aftermath of what you just witnessed. “He just had a panic attack, Stan.”

“A panic attack?” Stan repeats, raising an eyebrow, clearly not sure how to process it, “jesus christ.”

You don’t say anything.

Your hand is still on Ford’s arm as you still feel the tremors running through him.

Stan huffs a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face, clearly unsure of how to proceed. Then, with a deep breath, he squats down next to his twin, trying to make himself appear less intimidating. “Hey, sixer,” he says, making his voice a little gentler, “what’s goin’ on? you . . . you talkin’ to anyone about this? is there somethin’ you ain’t tellin’ me? why the panic attack?”

Ford is still silent, his breath still ragged, as if he can’t find a way back to normalcy. He lifts his head, peering up at his brother, but it’s clear that whatever’s plaguing his mind, he’s not ready to share it.

“C’mon, Sixer, you can tell me. what’s really goin’ on, huh?”

Ford doesn’t answer. Stan looks at you, his gaze is questioning, but you don’t know what to say either. How do you explain something you don’t even understand?

Ford is not going to talk too, whatever it is that has him this scared, he wont say it aloud. He better keep it to himself, this deep-rooted and unspoken truth has to stay buried, even if it tears him apart to keep it locked in.

“Ford, it’s okay,” you murmur, squeezing your fingers lightly at his sleeve, “you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

Stan lets out a long, deep sigh, rubbing at his jaw, his eyes still on Ford. And, of course, because he can’t help himself, because he’s Stanley, because it’s how he deals with things, he tries to joke. Tries to break the tension the only way he knows how

“Shit, you look like you just saw a ghost.”

Ford stiffens.

Stan notices. And he . . . does that thing he always does, when things get too serious, when he doesn’t know what to say

He deflects.

Leans back, shakes his head, lets out a short chuckle.

“Or damn, maybe even worse. Like. . . i dunno. Like you just realized the government’s been spying on you through your radio or somethin’.”

Ford’s whole face twitches.

“Stanley,” you glare, warning him, and he immediately holds up his hands in mock surrender.

“What? What’d i say?” but his face betrays him. He knows what he said. He knows it was a bad joke. But he also doesn’t take it back, because that’s how he deals with things, isn’t it? Laughing when he’s scared. Pretending he isn’t worried when it’s clear as day that he is. And you don’t have time to unpack that, not when Ford is still sitting there, unresponsive.

“Just not now, okay?”

Stan grumbles, but doesn’t argue.

Ford hasn’t moved, at least his breathing sounds a little better, less sharp, a little more even, but he still looks. . . tired, so damn tired.

You soften your voice again.

“Ford, hey. . . i know you’re exhausted. I know you’re not feeling good, but maybe a shower would help? Get you cleaned up, get some of that tension out of your muscles.”

His eyes blink at you slowly, dazed you'd day, trying to process the words, but he just doesn’t have the energy.

“C’mon,” you coax, “you’ve got those bags under your eyes. You need some rest.”

There’s a long pause before Ford gives the faintest nod. And so you help him up, carefully, and he lets you, barely meeting your eyes, ashamed that you saw him like that but following your lead, disappearing down the hall toward the bathroom.

You exhale when you hear the water running.

Your body slumps just slightly, hands still tingling fro m holding onto him for so long. But you push through it, stretching out your stiff legs, then step toward the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder as you go, noticing Stan following you. Not that you're not used to it, after all, back home, you've got a little shadow on your own.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching as you open the fridge, moving through the motions of finding something quick to make that Ford will actually eat without you having to argue with him over it.

Stan watches you like a cat staring at a fish tank. Or maybe more like a dog staring at a steak.

“I can hear you drooling,” you say without looking.

“I am not drooling.” you turn and yeah, no, he’s definitely eyeing the food with his whole damn soul.

“Uh-huh.”

He shrugs. “What can I say? I see food, I want food. You gotta get used to it if you’re cookin’ around me, sweetheart.”

“Noted.”

You keep working, stirring something in a pan, and Stan shifts against the counter, watching you for a second before glancing toward the hallway.

“Well, i gotta say,” he grumbles, back at eyeing the kitchen counter like a starving animal, “you really know how to make a guy’s day.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, rolling your eyes as you pull out the ingredients for a quick meal. “yeah, yeah, i don’t cook much, but i figured he needs something. Gotta take care of him.”

Actually you’re not much of a cook, but right now, it feels like the only thing you can do. You’re not a doctor. You’re not a therapist. You can’t fix Ford. But you can make him something to eat.

“So, what’s the deal with you two, huh?”

You pause mid-stir, glancing at Stan. “what?”

“You and Sixer. What are you? Couple? Friends? Lab partners? Secret government spies?”

You clear your throat. “we studied together.”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “just studied, huh?”

“Yes, Stanley,” you say, exasperated, turning back to the pan. “just studied.”

He watches you for a beat longer before humming, noncommittal. “Huh. That’s funny.”

You glance at him again. “what is?”

“That Sixer never mentioned me. I mean, you two were clearly close. Close enough that you’re still here, takin’ care of him. So why the hell didn’t he ever tell you about his own damn brother?”

You shake your head. “he doesn’t talk much about his past or his family. Especially after one situation where i saw a photo of his dad and said he looked just like him. Ford didn’t take it well.”

Stan chuckles. “Yeah, that’d do it, he doesn’t like the family thing much. None of us do.”

You glance up at him, raising your eyebrow, but before you can ask, Stan shrugs, not going to explain any further. “Sixer’s got his own baggage. We all do. Just gotta leave it at that.”

“He really doesn’t like talking about it. About his family or his past, i mean, i get it, but—“

“Hell yeah, sweetheart, family’s a hell of a thing.”

At end, Ford did eat what you cooked. Barely spoke, though. Sat at the table, moving food around with his fork, his own goddamn thoughts were so heavy he couldn't lift his hand right. You weren’t sure how much he actually tasted of what he was eating, but at least he got it down. You had to remind him to drink some water, push the glass a little closer when he forgot it was there.

Stan, on the other hand, jesus, the way he looked at the food, you almost felt guilty. Like some starving dog watching through a window. And yeah, he made a joke about it, about you running a charity kitchen or something, but you told him to just eat already. No need to act like a starving orphan from a dickens novel. He didn’t argue, eating fast, as if he might lose it if he didn’t.

It was easy to forget about what happened this night, the power cutting out and that moment of frozen, breathless fear in the dark. All of that got buried under your worry for Ford, who looked like he was about to pass out.

Ford was still pale, what made you want to press a hand to his forehead, check if he had a fever. You tried to ask, tried to get him to talk about it, but. . .

“You sure you’re alright?”

And of course, he just waved you off, mumbled something vague.

“It’s nothing.“

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I’m fine.”

Stan chuckled, muttered something under his breath what made you shoot him a look before he could say something worse.

Ford didn’t want to talk, that was obvious. But that was the thing about him, right? Always acting like he was fine, even when he was so clearly not.

Stan had been quiet, chewing and incredulously looking around the house like it might spit him back out. He didn’t belong here, wasn’t supposed to be here, and was just waiting for the moment Ford would make it clear.

So, he cracked a joke instead. About how he should probably leave before Sixer turned into an even bigger grump, about how he “wouldn’t wanna overstay his welcome.”

“Soo yeah, guess I better be hittin’ the road.”

You frowned at him. “why?”

Stan gestured loosely. “i dunno, i just figure, y’know. Not exactly mr. Welcome here. ‘sides, your guy here looks like he needs his beauty sleep.”

“He’s not my guy.” you answered, but that didn’t stop the way your stomach twisted. Damn, you didn’t wanna leave Ford alone. Not after everything you’d seen. But . . . your dog. You had to get back. Had to feed her, take her out, make sure she wasn’t tearing up your furniture.

Ford didn’t respond. Just kept looking at his plate, barely eating anymore.

You hesitated. The thing was, you didn’t wanna leave. Not when Ford still looked like this and you knew something was wrong, but he wasn’t saying.

But you had a dog waiting for you.

Ford told you it was fine. That you could go. That he “preferred being alone right now. ”

And you hated that. Hated the way he always did this, how he always thought he had to go through everything alone, even when it was clear he needed help.

You promised him you’d be back tomorrow.

“I'll come back tomorrow. i’ll come back, and we’ll talk, okay?”

Ford didn’t answer right away, j ust stared at his plate. “okay.”

You didn’t like how he said it, like it was better if he was alone. Like he wanted to be alone even when he clearly shouldn’t be. And it made you sick, the way you left. Like abandoning a ship you knew was sinking, stepping away from a person you knew needed help. You hated it. Hated the way Ford always pushed everyone away, even when he was fucking drowning.

You and Stan stepped out into the cold, your breath coming out in little clouds into the biting winter air. It was getting dark already, sky looked gray and heavy, as always. Stan stuffed his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold. You pulled your jacket tighter as you shivered, rubbing your arms.

“Cold?” he glanced over at you.

“Genius observation.”

The streets of Gravity Falls were quiet. Before long, you were near your place, the porch light shone warmly in the early twilight. You turned to Stan, about to say goodbye, but then you got a good look at him.

The dirt on his jacket, he probably hadn’t had a chance to properly wash it. The exhaustion on his face. And you remembered th e way he’d been staring at food all day, watching Ford eat, practically salivating.

“So uh, you have a place to stay?”

Stan blinked at you. Then scoffed. “‘Course i do.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I do!”

“ Oh, okay. Where ?”

“Uh, y ’know. The— uh. The, uh . . . ‘lakeview inn.’”

You stared at him. “Well. . . okay.” and Stan seemed relieved that you weren’t pushing.

He coughed into his fist. “yep, great place, real fancy.”

You sighed. You didn’t have it in you to argue. Not right now. You just exhaled, gave him one last look as you told him to take care and stepped inside.

Your dog was waiting for you, so excited, wagging her tail. You knelt down, ran your fingers through her fur, whispered, “missed you too, girl.” Fed her, sat with her on the floor, talked to her, absentmindedly, about Ford. About his brother. About the way Stan was kinda . . . cute.

Meanwhile, across town, Stan climbed into the front seat of his car. He was cold. He curled his jacket around himself, stuffed his hands under his arms, tried not to think about how long it had been since he’d last had a real bed.

Or a real meal.

He should’ve expected this. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this before. Sleeping in cars, parking lots, the occasional cheap motel when he could swing it. But somehow, after that meal, after you, this felt worse.

He stared up at the ceiling.

He thought about Ford. About how he looked tonight, half a breath away from collapsing. What kind of shit his brother had gotten himself into?

And then Stanley thought about you. You, who offered him food, just like that, like it wasn't some big deal. You, who told him to eat and watched him at the dinner table.

He exhaled, breath fogging up the air.

Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

***

The dorm is a disaster zone, but it always is when the three of you get together for all-nighters. Coffee cups, half-empty energy drinks, a plate of toast that no one’s touched in hours, and papers. . . so many fucking papers covered in chicken scratch equations and half-finished blueprints.

It was past three a.m. now. The window was cracked open a little, letting in the fresh night air, but none of you noticed the cold, too deep into the work.

“I’m tellin’ ya,” Fiddleford said, running a hand through his hair, “if we don’t take quantum decoherence into account, this whole thing’s gonna be about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.”

“Decoherence isn’t the issue,” Ford shot back sharply and impatiently . “if anything, it’s the entanglement equation that needs work. if we—“

“Oh my god, would you two shut up and let me think?” you groaned, gripping your hair. “you're both wrong. so wrong. like. fundamentally flawed.”

“Oh, is that so?” Ford pushed up his glasses, squinting at you. “care to elaborate?”

“Not really,” you muttered, blinking slow, yawning.

Fiddleford chuckled. “looks like we’re losin’ you.”

“Honestly, i think i’m about to collapse on myself. I need something stronger than coffee. Anyone got any adderall?”

“University rules strictly forbid unauthorized stimulants—“

“Fidds has moonshine in his bag,” you cut Ford off, grinning. “saw it an hour ago. Was wondering when he was gonna crack it open.”

Fiddleford looked deeply offended for all of two seconds before sighing. “Knew i shouldn’t have let you rifle through my things. . .”

You flashed him a grin before reaching for your tea, now stone cold and bitter as hell.

Fiddleford nudged his glasses up his nose and look ed over at Ford’s notebook, squinting at the formula again. “Alright , maybe you got a point there, buddy.”

Ford let out a smug little noise, proud of himself, but before he could open his mouth and gloat, you yawned again, barely muffling the sound with your sleeve. “Shit, i’m crashing.”

You tried to keep up, you really did, but god, your eyes were so heavy. That's why you took the right decision, somewhere between staring at Ford’s notes and trying to comprehend whatever the hell he was writing, you leaned, without even thinking.

Your head found his warm shoulder and that made him stiffen as if he’d been electrocuted.

Fiddleford went completely silent, stopping drumming his fingers against the table.

It was funny, really. You’d spent the whole night laughing with him, throwing paper balls, joking and teasing Stanford. Now, the moment your breathing evened out, everything got real quiet.

Ford. . . didn't move. Didn’t push you away, even though his shoulders were tense, his pencil hesitated, but then he just kept writing, like nothing happened. Just let you stay there, pressed against him, breathing softly in sleep.

Fiddleford didn’t stop staring, observing Ford's reaction, not in the way he expected.

He looked at you first, your face half-buried in Ford’s sweater as you sighed in your sleep, how easy it was for you to just fall into him like that.

And then he looked at Stanford. At his handsome face, which somehow seemed even better in the lamplight. The furrow in his brow, the six fingers wrapped around his pencil, so concentrated.

Fiddleford looked at all of it. Ford was a genius. A goddamn once-a-generation mind, sharper than a blade, but completely fucking useless at anything to do with feelings. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t see things the way other people do, the way Fiddleford does.

Ford must’ve felt the stare, because after a while, he sighed and glanced up. “what?”

Fiddleford shook his head, smiling slightly. “nothin’, just thinkin’.”

“About?”

Fiddle ford took a sip from his flask and it definitely wasnt coffee. Something stronger. He swirled it, watching the liquid catch the light. “love, i guess.”

Ford scoffed, going back to his notes.“love? shouldn’t you be thinking about our project?”

“Oh, c’mon, ain’t you ever thought about it? bein’ in love? how it feels? ”

Ford didn’t answer at first, just kept writing. “love is. . .” he started, trying to find the right words. “it’s complicated. Distracting, even.”

Fidds hummed. “but good, no?” he grinned, taking another sip. “s’pose you think it’s all just chemical reactions, huh?”

“Well, technically, it is.”

“Yeah, yeah, dopamine, oxytocin, blah blah blah,” Fiddleford waved a hand. ”but it’s more than that.”

They were talking quietly so as not to wake you up. Ford didn’t answer as he shook his head, returning to his work.

So Fiddleford kept going. “i guess it feels nice, y’know? havin’ someone who understands ya, c ares ‘bout ya. Even when you’re difficult.”

Ford stopped writing again, listening intently to his friend's words.

“It’s when you’d do anythin’ for someone, even if it doesn’t make sense. When seein’ ‘em happy makes you happy. When you’d give up everythin’ just to keep ‘em safe. ”

Ford gave him a tiny smile. “you’re being sentimental,”

“Eh, maybe. Or maybe i just get it.”

Stanford finally turned to him, frowning. “get what? ”

“Doesn’t matter.” Fiddleford leaned back, stretching. “s’pose it don’t make much sense for a guy like me to be talkin’ ‘bout love anyway.”

Ford frowned deeper. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Fiddleford shrugged, suddenly looking a little too interested in his flask.

“Are you saying you don’t think anyone will love you?”

“Oh, i know i ain't exactly a prize catch, Stanford.”

Ford settled his pen down. “that’s not true.”

and that made Fiddleford's eyes fill with hope “yeah?” he quirked a brow.

Ford hesitated, surprised at his own words and initiative, but then, because he was a good friend, because he meant it, he nodded, “You’re smart. Funny. Resourceful. You’re one of the most brilliant people i know and you're—“

“Handsome?”

That made Ford smile. “sure, yes! handsome, even.” Fidds thought he had imagined it. Did Ford really find him so? “so, im sure you'llfind someone. You’ll probably settle down, have a family. A kid, even.”

Oh. . . oh, okay.

And that’s when Fiddleford knew .

His smile did not drop, but he took another s ip of alcohol, letting the warmth burn his throat .

Ford kept writing, pleased he managed to lift his friend's spirit, while you doze quietly against his shoulder. He doesn't even notice Fiddleford getting up, leaning in close enough that Ford finally glances up from his notes.

“Yer my best friend, Ford, guess i’ll just love ya forever.”

Ford stopped writing. The pencil slipped from his fingers

But before he could ask, Fiddleford pushed himself up from the chair, stretched and yawned deeply.

He patted Ford on the shoulder, then grabbed his jacket.

“Whew! man, i need a walk. i’ll be back.” and just like that, he was gone, leaving Ford alone with the papers, the cold coffee and with the equations that suddenly didn’t make sense anymore.

Alone with you, asleep on his shoulder.

Ford didn’t move for a long time.

***

The morning air was cold enough to wake you up, even though you were still in the fog of sleep. Gravity Falls wasn’t exactly bustling this early, just a few cars passing, an old man walking his dog, the slow shuffle of someone dragging a garbage bin to the curb.

You pulled your coat tighter, holding your grocery bag. You'd only meant to grab something quick for yourself, but somehow, without even thinking, you'd ended up picking up something for Ford, too. Something that wasn’t just instant noodles and coffee.

He wouldn’t eat properly if left alone. You knew that, you knew him too well. You sighed, adjusting your grip on the bag.

Stanley Pines woke up in hell. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

His entire body ached, joints were too stiff from sleeping in one uncomfortable pose whole night, cold burrowed so deep in his bones that even curling tighter into his jacket wasn’t helping anymore.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, just a few more minutes, ma, please, but the cold gnawed at him, dug under his skin, made every breath feel like ice in his lungs.

He was so fucking tired.

But sleep wouldn’t come back so he lazily cracked one eye open. Fucking hell.

Still the car. Still parked in the same damn spot he’d been in since last night. The windshield was fogged up from his own breath, the windows covered in a thin layer of frost.

“Mmmgh,” he groaned, trying to stretch, but back screamed in protest. God, sleeping in the driver’s seat was not good for his spine.

Cold. Everything was so fucking cold. His toes were numb in his boots, fingers barely flexible enough to work as he rubbed warmth into them.

“Good morning, Stanley,” he muttered to himself. ”what wonderful luxury awaits you today?”

He yawned, running a hand through his brown hair. His mullet was a mess, so tangle d, flattened weird on one side.

First things first, he fumbled for the glove compartment, rummaging through loose receipts and absolute trash until he found the old bottle of cologne. He sniffed it once, it was not fresh. But hey, better than nothing. He rolled it over his wrists, rubbed it against his neck.

Second, he grabbed an old comb, barely dragging it through his tangled mullet before giving up and stuffing it back into the glovebox.

Third, he adjusted the rearview mirror, squinting at his reflection, and groaned again.

“Oof.“

Looked like absolute shit. Dark circles, unshaven, face puffy from sleep. But whatever. Not like he had anyone to impress.

He reached down, adjusting his coat, when—

THUMP.

A hand. A fucking hand slapping against the driver’s side window.

“GAH!” Stan jolted so hard he smacked his knee on the dashboard. He panicked instantly, his hands flew to the wheel. “no, no, no, por el amor de dios, madre santa, no me lleves!” he spat out in rapid-fire spanish, already prepared to beg for his miserable life. “lo juro, no tengo nada, no me arresten, por favor, dios, maria, nadie, por favor!” his mind was a blur of oh shit oh shit oh shit, picturing cops and maybesome pissed-off local ready to drag him out, picturing—

Someone was writing on the window, through the fogged-up glass, a finger traced out two slow words:

It’s me.

That made him froze as he squinted suspiciously, still gripping the wheel tight. Hesitated. then, slowly, he rolled the window down.

You stared at him.

“So,” you said flatly, flicking your gaze between him and the car. “this is the lakeview inn?”

Stanley looked around, hoping a better answer would suddenly appear.

You crossed your arms.

“Technically,” he started, “i do live here. You ever heard of a little thing called, uh, mobile homes? Very trendy and, um, modern.”

”Uh-huh.” your eyes narrowed.

“Alright, alright, fine, ya caught me. I’m actually a millionaire, this is just my vacation home. My actual mansion’s up in the hills, but y’know, i like to stay humble”

“Stan.”

“Yeah?”

“You lied to me.”

“No, listen,” he started, already preparing some dumbass joke to get him out of this.

“You fucking lied to me.”

Stan threw up his hands. “hey, now, let’s not throw around ugly words like—”

“You told me you had a place , Stan.”

He stopped talking, and there was silence between you.

Finally, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “jesus, you look horrible.”

Stan bristled. “hey!”

“And you smell horrible.” not like you were lying though.

“Hey now, hold on!”

“Do you wanna take a shower at my place?”

Stan’s brain short-circuited. “what?”

“Then we’ll get you something to eat,” you continued, ignoring his slack-jawed expression.

He stared at you like you’d just spoken an entirely different language.

You. . . you were offering? Just like that?

“What?”

“You heard me.”

His brows drawing together, mouth pulling into a frown, jaw working as he was trying to find the right words. But it it didn't take long as he smoothed it all over in a blink, replacing it with serious face. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“What, you pity me now?”

“No,” you said simply.

“Pfft, i dont need you takin care of me, alright? Go waste your charity on someone else.”

“Yeah?” you tilted your head. “so if Stanford was sitting in this car right now looking like this, you'd just walk away?”

Stan stared at you, surprised. You restrained yourself from laughing at how fast the smug confidence drained from his face.

“Thats different.” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh wait, wait, wait, i see how it is,” he grumbled. “you got tired of dealin’ with sixer, huh? figured you’d switch to fixin’ me instead?”

“What does this have to do here? Take the offer, dumbass.”

“Nah, i the natural scent.”

“You literally smell like a dumpster.”

“Okay, rude.” Stan putted a hand to his chest, feigning resentment.

But you only waited, waited and waited and that silence made him clench his teeth, grumbling under his breath. So when he finally let out a sharp sigh, dragging a hand down his face, you knew he’d given in. “you got hot water?”

That made you raise an eyebrow and smile. “Of course i have hot water.”

“Fine,” he muttered. “but only ‘cause i got nothin’ better to do and you begged.”

“Right,” you said, unimpressed. He shot you a glare, but you were already walking away, expecting him to follow. And, grumbling all the way, he did.

***

Early autumn. The bus stop bench is cold beneath you and you wish you’d worn something thicker. Clouds rolling lazily in the bright sky, October sun spilling through trees, gold colour caught in Ford's brown hair. He sits beside you, one knee bouncing, a habit of his, nervous tick, always. His hands are shoved deep in his coat pockets, and his breath fogs in the air when he exhales.

You bring the cigarette to your lips and inhale, one leg over the other, foot bouncing absently, meanwhile the tip glows warm for a moment, ember-orange in the afternoon light.

“It’s just a cigarette,” you say, watching the smoke curling from your mouth, but Ford, who's stiff like he's resisting the urge to snatch the cigarette out of your fingers, doesn't seem satisfied with that.

“Yeah and it hurts your pretty lungs.”

Oh. That tone. That damn tone, which means he’s about to start. Again.

He pulls his coat tighter. “Do you know how many carcinogens are in that? the tar alone is—“

You groan, tipping your head back. “oh my god Ford.”

“No, i’m serious. You don’t even understand what that’s doing to your body.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, cutting him off, waving him away. “you’re acting like i’m chugging cyanide.”

“You might as well be,” his glasses slip down his nose, and he shoves them back up in agitation.

You've heard it all before, the lecturers, the statistics so you roll your eyes, amused, flicking the ash into the pavement. “When i wanna stop, i can.”

Ford scoffs. “that’s what they all say. . . I don't know if you know this, but cigarettes contain over seven thousand chemicals, many of which are—“

You blow smoke into his worried, but serious face and he immediately recoils coughing, waving his hand to dispel the haze. You laugh, reaching over to run a hand through his beautiful golden colored hair to smooth away his frustration.

“Honey,” you barely get time to say before Ford scoffs of. Oh here we go, petnames are back in circulation. You're using the secret weapon, you know exactly what they do to him. “Cant you trust me? when i want to stop, i can.”

Suddenly Ford is twelve years old again and Stanley smells like smoke.

He swears he can hear their dad in the other room, muttering at the evening news.

His brother leans against the windowsill, awkwardly rolling a cigarette between his fingers which he bummed off the older kids at school. There’s a hole in his sleeve. A bruise on his jaw.

“You know dad will smell it! He's gonna know. He's gonna—“

“Yeah, yeah, he'll tan my hide, blah blah.” Stan rolls his eyes, sliding the cigarette between his lips , lighting it with exaggerated flick of the lighter. The first puff is taken in a deep, inexperienced breath before he exhales through his nose. “seriously, Poindexter , would you stop being paranoid? when i wanna stop, i can.”

But he doesn’t, he lies, because Ford hears him cough at night sometimes. Watches him light another in the schoolyard.

He knows it’s bad. But Stan doesn’t listen.

Why does his brother do these things? Why does he always push the limits, cross the lines? Why does he always seem so desperate to do the things he knows he shouldn't?

That day, when they returned from school with large backpacks at the ready, Stanford glanced towards their house. “seriously, Stan, put it out. If da smells it—“

“What, you're scared he'll ground me?” Stanley smirked. “big whoop.”

“Stanley!”

Stan rolled his eyes at his twin's dramatic behavior, but stubbed it out on the pavement, flicking the butt into the bushes what made Ford exhale, relieved.

But the relief didnt last long.

Because week later, their dad does find out.

And Ford watches as his own twin, for all his bravado, gets actually scared. Ford hates that look. He hates it almost as much as he hates the sharp crack that follows.

Ford doesn’t like thinking about what happened next, doesn't like remembering the way Stan screamed. Doesn't like remembering how loud their father’s voice got, making the walls sh ake, how the belt cracked sharp as thunder, how Stan tried to act like it didnt carve its place into his skin.

But Ford remembers. He remembers the way Stan didn’t fight back, how he flinched at sudden movements for weeks. How he hissed through his teeth when he sat down too fast, and how he lit another cigarette anyway.

Ford opens his eyes. He's back in present now, back at the bus stop with you watching him with frustration in your eyes.

“Ford?”

He swallows, shakes his head, forces his thoughts back into place. He doesn't tell you any of that. “just. . . promise me you'll think about it.”

You groan again. “jesus, you sound like my dad.”

Ford flinches and wonders, distantly, if you notice. If you know what that comparison does to him.

“I told you, darling, when i want to stop i can,” you add, caressing his cheek.

He doesn't argue anymore, because he already knows that line. Heard it before. Millions of times. And he knows it's a lie.

***

Stanley Pines doesn't know what to do with kindness. Not the real kind, anyway, where someone takes him out, sits him down and actually pays for his meal as if some random knucklehead like him is worth the damn trouble.

He can't help it; he feels awkward because he is not used to people being nice to him. He's not used to much of anything, except scraping by, finding the next scam and eating cheap food out of plastic wrappers. So when you dragged him to the Gravity Falls diner, promising him a real warm meal, he was suspicious.

The waitress barely had time to finish setting down the menus before Stan barked out an order. “Burger, double. Extra fries. Chocolate milkshake. And gimme some bacon on the side.”

You're an idiot, he thought, the hell are you getting the money for all this?

Your brows shot up, but you didn’t say anything, just smiled and told the waitress to put it on one tab. That’s when Stan’s gaze snap s to you. “One tab? wait, you’re payin’?”

“Yeah, why not?” you answer casually, because it's not a big deal for you, but Stanley frowns.

“You sure about that? ‘cause, uh, i don’t exactly have, you know. . .” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s fine. Just eat, Stan.” and that’s what fucks him up. Because nobody’s ever wanted to spend their money on him before, not unless they were expecting something in return. But you just look at him with those soft, genuine eyes and tell him to shut up when he starts talking about returning money.

When the food arrives, Stanley attacks it like a man starved, which, honestly, he definitely is. The burger disappears in minutes, followed by the fries, then the bacon. Grease smears his chin and he doesn't even bother wiping it off, too busy slurping down his milkshake like his life depends on it. Not a single goddamn cru mb left. You swear he licked it. “Well, shit, if i knew you were gonna feed me like this, id have showed up beggin' at your door ages ago.”

You watch in both amusement and horror at the starved man in front of you, who barely stops to chew, talking with his mouth full .

“Yeah, yeah. You eat like a starving stray dog.”

That makes him choke on his milkshake, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at you while you laugh. “jesus, toots, the hell's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” you wave a vague hand, smirking. “you're scruffy, hungry all the time, you look at people like they might kick you if you get too close.”

“Hey, don't insult dogs like that.” He cuts in, effectively ending the conversation as he goes back to his food, shoveling another bite into his mouth.

“Damn, Stan, you wanna slow down before you choke?” you tease, propping your chin on your hand, watching him shoveling food into his mouth with the single-minded desperation of a man just let out if a cage.

Stan grunts, barely acknowledging you. “’s good.” you notice the ketchup on his cheek and chuckle.

“Yeah, i can tell.”

After couple of minutes, he finally pauses, chewing slower, he swallows hard and taps his finger on the table, avoiding eye contact with you. Leaning back with a groan and patting his stomach with one hand, Stan smears a little grease with other. He exhales, heavy. Then, as if realising how fucking feral he just looked, tries to play it off.

“Whew. Almost forgot what real food tastes like. Jail slop, y'know? Not that I've been to jail. Ha, kiddin.” he pauses and grins. “unless?”

Silence.

You stare at him, blinking. He watches your face, waiting for laugh or well, some kind of reaction that doesn't make him feel like a goddamn idiot , but you just look at him like. What. The fuck.

Stanley throws his hands up. “Okay, tough crowd. Coño. . .” he mutters the last word under his breath, shaking his head

“Was it Spanish?” your eyes perk. Stanley tenses , but you squint at him. “how do you know Spanish?”

“Uh, picked it up.”

“Picked it up where?”

“Places.”

“ Uh-huh, ” you lean forward. “cmon, teach me some.”

“Nah, i aint exactly fluent, sweetheart.” Stan laughs forced.

“But you sounded pretty fluent just now.”

“Yeah, well,” he rubs his neck. “i picked up the good words.”

You let it go, for now, because you notice the way his eyes dart and how how tries to make himself look just casual, enough for it to be convincing.

***

The dorm hallway was too bright and loud, full of students shuffling papers, setting up models and diagrams, nervously practicing their presentations to each other.

Ford stood off to the side, as always stiff and uneasy, shifting his weight from foot to foot, shoulders tight. His fingers fidgeted uselessly, six of them curling and uncurling.

The project was ready. The calculations were perfect. He should’ve felt confident.

Then why did he feel so out of place?

He scanned the room, seeing students, professors, familiar classmates. Goddamn. Ford hated how nervous he was, hated that his mind was half on the project, half on—

“G'mornin’” your lazy voice broke through the noise. “or, well, g’afternoon? god, what time is it?”

Ford turned. Oh, you were a mess with your hair wild, clothes rumpled, eyes heavy with sleep. A coffee cup dangled from your fingers, mostly empty. You yawned, covering your mouth halfheartedly.

Ford gave you a quick once-over, barely holding back a sigh. “you look— “

“Beautiful?” you grinned.

“like you rolled out of bed five minutes ago.”

“Aww, you noticed,” you laughed , stretching. Then, with absolutely no preamble, “so i fell down the stairs today.”

“What?” Ford raised his eyebrows.

“Yup, just,” you made a vague flailing motion with your hands. “ Wham, right down ‘em. It was very tragic. A true fall from grace. ”

You expected him to at least huff a laugh, maybe shake his head or give you that exasperated, fond sigh. But Ford didn’t. Instead, his brows drew together, and his eyes quickly swept over you, scanning for damage.

“Are you alright? do you need to see the nurse? You should’ve told me earlier.”

“ . . . you’re not laughing, ” you pointed out. “normally you at least try to pretend i’m funny.”

“You fell down the stairs, and you expect me to laugh?”

“Well, when you say it like that—“

“Are you hurt?”

That care, honestly, took you by surprise. “uh,” you looked down at yourself, then shrugged. “probably? i dunno, i was too tired to check. ”

Ford exhaled slowly, clearly trying not to engage, but you just kept going.

“Man, i am not ready for this presentation,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. “seriously, i have no idea what i’m gonna say. But hey, i’d do anything for my two lovely nerds. even stand in front of a bunch of judgmental geniuses and pretend i know what i’m talking about. Right, Ford?”

Nothing.

“ . . . Ford?” you waved a hand in front of his blank face. Obviously, he wasn't listening, judging by how distant his gaze was, he was somewhere else entirely.

“Hellooo? Earth to Sixer?”

Ford blinked, snapping back. “What? Oh, sorry.”

You gave him a look. “man, you’re the one who’s supposed to be all focused and sharp. i m the one running on three hours of sleep and caffeine fumes.”

He barely heard you. “have you seen Fiddleford today?” Ford asked abruptly.

“What?” you paused.

“Fiddleford. Have you seen him?”

You frowned, thinking. “um. no? now that you mention it, i don’t think i have. But i just woke up like an hour ago, so last time i saw him was when we were working on the project. Why?”

Ford looked away and pursed his lips guiltily. “he said he was going for a walk. I remember he had a drink, said he’d be back. But he never—“

“You don’t think . . .?”

Ford shook his head quickly, Interrupting your thought. “ No. No, he’s fine. He’s probably just, well, late.”

But you both knew that wasn’t like him. Fiddleford was always there on time, cracking jokes and filling the space with his presence.

And now he wasn’t.

The noise of the hall seemed to fade. Ford exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He said your name, nervously slipping a textbook into your hands. “We should focus, he’ll show up.”

***

The ride to the shack is cool, winter sun setting earlier than youd like, same as always. Your dog is curled at your feet, eyes flicking back to Stan at the wheel. He grumbled about the fur at first but you can see it, he likes your dog, likes her a lot. He's just being difficult, pretending, putting up a front.

Stanley drives slowly, you don’t know if he always does, but right now, you wish he’d go faster. You want to see Ford as soon as possible.

But Stan doesn’t seem nearly as excited as you. There’s a knot of unease sitting somewhere inside him, but mostly, he just isn’t sure what to say when he finally sees his brother again.

“Hey, I’m bothering you again because I’ve got nowhere else to go?”

After a beat of silence, you glance at him. “you ever think about calling Ford before he called you?”

Stan's eyes are fixed on the road as he speaks, “thought about it. But i figured he’d just tell me to drop dead.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Yeah?” he glances at you now , twisting his mouth. “pretty sure he told me worse when i got here.”

When you reach the shack, you knock. Wait.

No answer.

You knock again. Still nothing

Stan squints. “maybe he’s sleepin’.”

You huff, shifting your grip on the grocery bags. “actually, i lived here sometimes, so i’ll count it as my home too. And if Ford doesn’t wanna open the door for me, i’ll open it myself.”

Stan smirks. “yeah, that tracks.” but then his smirk fades as he narrows his eyes slightly. Lived here before.

You unlock the door, steeping inside and the first thing you notice is quiet the shack is

“Ford?” you call, but you don't get an answer.You exchange a worried glance with Stan. Ford seems nowhere to be seen.

“Should we be worried?”

“Nah,” Stan says, but he doesn’t sound convincing. “he's probably just. . .”

You step into his room and you see Ford sprawled out, dead asleep, hair a mess, glasses off. He's curled slightly inward, breathing deep and even, absolutely gone to the world.

Stan smiles. “Told ya he’s fine. Nerd just passed out.”

“I'm still worried, should we wake him? ”

Stan eyes his brother. “Nah, let him sleep. Dude probably hasn't in days.” he tells you, already leaving the room.

You nod slowly, still focused, studying Stanford's face. Okay, yeah, Stanley is right. You should let your poor n erd sleep. You turn, stepping back into the hall.

“You shouldn't have come back.”

And that makes you freeze as you quickly turn your head to the sound to see Ford sitting up. Staring at you, his eyes are open now, fixed on you.

You blink, thrown off, eyes flicking to the person sitting in front of you. Then, before you can think about it, you step forward, reach for his hand and—

Picture passes. Ford is still in bed, asleep.

You swallow. A slow, creeping dread curls in your chest. Who or what did you just see?

….

“Nerd looked bad. Needed sleep.”

That was the verdict. So you let Ford be.

“He always was a bad sleeper,” Stan grumbled, stepping past you, glancing around the shack, still having hard time getting used to it. “musta gotten worse over the years.”

Just let the man sleep. He'd wake up eventually.

You had to do something to keep yourself busy. Giving your dog a quick scratch behind the ears as you walked past, you figured she deserved a proper meal after all the traveling.

Stan, though, stayed behind and damn, it wasn't like he was snooping. Not really.

It was just this place felt weird.

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing around, taking in the clutter, the books, the walls covered in notes and sketches, and hell, even that weird curtain draped over the entire back wall like Ford is hiding some secret government operation. It's just. . . odd.

“Guess some things never change, huh, Sixer?” Stanley sighs. And that’s when his eyes accidentally land on the lighter what makes him tilt his head.

Since when did his goody-two-shoes, anti-smoking,'your-lungs-are-a-delicate-system-Stanford' brother have a lighter?

Stan picks it up, turning the little thing over in his hand. Metal. Decent weight.

Not some cheap thing, either.

He wants to call out to you, “hey, did you know Ford's got a lighter in here?” but he remembers, at the last second, that Ford is still dead asleep in the other room and screaming that loud would disturb him.

So instead, he just holds it, closing his fingers around it, turning it in his palm, flipping the lid open with a soft metallic click.

Weird.

Stanley's curiosity itches. So he looks around again, just in glance, just to make sure you aren't watching.

Then, his gaze drifts lower to the small pile of books near the armrest.

He chuckles. “Nerd books,” he tells himself, but his hand reaches down anyway.

One of them catches his eye. Heavy thing with a lot of pages.

Gravity's rainbow.

Oh yeah. He’d heard of that one.

Didn't seem like the kinda book Ford would normally read, though.

Stanley carelessly flips it open, barely glancing at the pages. Blah, blah, blah. Too many damn words for someone as impatient as him.

Suddenly, something slips out of page 69.

A bookmark?

Stan makes sure to catch it before it can land, brushing his fingers over the glossy surface before he turns it over.

Huh.

A photo.

It was you and his brother. From college, clearly, you both looked so much younger, holding some kinda trophy.

Some nerd award, Stan assumes.

Ford had that same awkward, stiff stance he always had in photos, but you looked too happy, excited, eyes shining. Laughing, hair a little windblown, standing too close to Ford, who had lipstick mark on his cheek.

What?

Stanley squints, fuck. . . he really needs to buy glasses.

You never really expect to see your nerdy brother like that. Looking. . . well, normal. Young. Happy.

Stan continues to stare. At Ford’s unsure smile. At your beaming one.

He turns the photo in his fingers again and glances toward the hallway where Ford is sleeping.

And then, a hand lands on his shoulder.

“Mierda!” Stanley jumps, nearly throwing the book across the room. He barely had time to shove the polaroid away before he turns, swearing under his breath, “por el amor de dios, you tryna give me a heart attack?”

You, startled, take a step back and raise your hands. “shit, sorry!” then your head tilts, “wait. Was that, was that Spanish again?”

Stan is still catching his breath, clutching at his chest like he just lost ten years off his life. “Si. Yeah.”

“What were you looking at?”

“Nothing.” Smooth, effortless. Completely unconvincing, but before you could say anything, his face twitches as he makes a sharp inhale through his teeth. “fucking hell.”

Your gaze drops to his shoulder, where your hand had landed.

A burn.

“Stan.” he swears he hears the shift in your tone before he even sees your expression. You reach forward, touching his arm again, but softer this time, brushing your fingers against the fabric of his jacket, near the burn. “You never treated it.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “it’s fine.”

“Bullshit. ”

“ It’s. . . oh, damn, it ain't like it's infected. ”

“That's not the point.” you pull, planting your hands on your hips. “you let it heal like that? No treatment at all?”

“Ain’t like I had a whole damn first-aid kit on me, sweetheart.”

You frown. “you could’ve at least—“

“It’s fine.”

And so it goes, the familiar dance of grumbling and resistance, before he finally gives in with a gruff and let you do your thing.

“Okay, fine. Fine. Do whatever.” he sighs, groaning, rubbing his face.

You mutter something about stupid stubborn men under your breath before reaching for the first aid kit on the nearby shelf.

But before you could even open it you hear your dog growling low what made your head snap toward her. She’s staring at the hallway that leads toward the front of the shack.

“Aww, shit.” you hear Stan say.

“What?”

He gestures toward the hallway. “you got ghosts in here, too?”

You give him a look, but your dog won't stop growling and that's when your eyes widen because you just hear the front door creaking slowly. Next thing you feel is a gust of cold air sweeping through the room.

Stan turns, the door is open what made fresh snow carry inside, dusting the floor in uneven patches.

You and him stare at it, realising that neither of you had opened that door.

After a long pause, Stan walks over and slams it shut, clicking the lock in place.

Then turning back to you with annoyed face, “so, anyway, how the hell is everyone in this town so damn weird?”

“What?” Stan plops back down next to you.

“i mean, you know,” he gestures, winces a little when the motion tugs his injured shoulder. “this place. Gravity falls. It’s weird. Fuckin’ weird. Like,” he tilts his head, looking at you, squinting. “theres so much paranormal weird shit here, and i aint even talking about my brother.”

“Now you sound paranoid.”

“See? That’s what i mean!” he points at you, triumphant. “exactly what i’m talking about! Everyone’s just, like, casually fine with all the weird shit, but if you point it out, suddenly you’re the crazy one. ”

As you work, carefully dabbing at the burn, he hisses through his teeth, every touch of yours is met with some kind of protest or mumbled curse or half-hearted complaint.

“You’re a goddamn baby.”

“And you’re a goddamn sadi—“ he doesn't have time to finish as he gasps dramatically again, throwing his head back like you just putted him through the worst pain imaginable.

“Oh, quit it.”

“Quit what?”

“Acting like you’re getting tortured.”

“Hey, you don’t know, you could be really bad at this.”

You press the gauze down harder, and Stanley hisses, jerking away.

“Fuck, watch it, would ya?”

“Oh, sorry, am i hurting you?” you deadpan. “maybe if you’d taken care of this in the first place, it wouldn’t be such a problem.”

“It ain’t a problem—“

“Oh, no, of course not,” you cut in, rolling your eyes. “burns are fine. Totally normal to just leave them alone and hope they magically heal on their own.”

“I was busy.”

“Busy being dumb?”

“Oh, fuck that, really,” he says flatly before he looks away.

You sigh through your nose, gentler this time as you go back to work, cleaning his burn around the edges. Stan's eyes flick to the coffee table and he remembers the lighter he’d found earlier.

“So, since when does Sixer smoke?”

You stop, freezing.

Stanley raises an eyebrow, watching the way your whole body goes rigid. “what?” he drawls. “hit a nerve?”

“Ford doesn’t smoke.”

“Yeah? that his lighter, then?” he gives you a look, nodding toward the thing. Wait. . . The realization hitting you. Fuck. You’d left it here? At Ford’s? “found that lying around. And i know that stick-in-the-mud was always on my ass about it, so unless he suddenly decided to turn into the marlboro man—“

You swallow. “no.”

“Huh.” his smirk widens. “so you’re tellin’ me— “

You scowl. “it’s mine, okay? I used to, but i’m trying to quit.”

After a beat of silence Stanley bursts into shameless laughter.

You glare at him. “what the fuck is so funny?”

“Oh my god,” he wheezes, slapping his knee. “holy shit, lemme guess, did Poindexter give you the whole ‘your lungs will rot’ speech? Went full psa mode?”

Your scowl deepens. “so what if he did?”

“No , no—” he’s still laughing, wiping at his eyes. “it’s just, you sound exactly like me when i was like twelve. Swear to god. He gave me the same fuckin’ speech. Like, word for word. Bet he even did the disappointed sigh.”

“He just cared,” you admit, looking away. “cared about my well-being. I used to think the same as yo u, that he was just being a nerd. But, y’know. Some things never change.”

That shuts Stanley up. So you use that moment when he seems to think or remember something, and clear your throat. “anyway, since you’re his brother, i wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Was he always like this?”

“Like what?”

“You know. Paranoid. Weird. Off.”

He gives you a look. “uh, i met the guy for the first time in ten years, like, yesterday.”

“Oh. Right.”

Stanley scratches his chin. “but, i mean, i dunno. When we were kids, he was always kinda anxious. Worried about grades, the future, that kinda shit.”

“Yeah. He was the same in college.” you nod, something clicking into place.

You fall silent, rubbing your chin, thinking. If even Stanley, his own twin brother, has no idea what’s going on with Ford, then who does? Who the hell would know what happened to make him like this?

There had to be someone. Someone who saw him a lot during those years, who knew what changed, who was here when that happened. Who knew what had made him—

Your eyes widen.

“Fiddleford.”

“Who?”

“Fiddleford. Fiddleford McGucket. Our good friend and Ford’s old lab assistant, he quit before everything went to hell, but if anyone knows what’s up with him now, it’s him.”

Stan stares at you. Then his entire body shook with laughter.

Ignoring that, you snap your fingers as smile appears on your face. “right! he should know!” you look at Stan, pausing. “what?”

“Fiddleford,” he repeats, grinning widely. “holy shit, that’s his real name?”

You cross your arms. “Yeah?”

“That’s fucking hilarious.” he shakes his head. “Ford and fiddle. Jesus.”

You shoot him a glare. “are you done?”

“Nah, nah, i need a second,” he chuckles, wiping his eyes. “Fiddleford. God.”

You ignore that dumbass, grabbing the phone, its rotary dial familiar under your fingers. You dial the number, tapping your fingers against the table, pressing it to your ear as the static hum of the line comes to life.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end is unmistakable and it makes you smile, hearing your friend again.

“Fidds , it’s me,” you name yourself.

There’s a pause. Then, carefully, he repeats your name.

“Yeah! listen, i know you said you wanted to forget whatever happened when you were working with Ford, but—”

You don’t get to finish, because across from you, Stanley starts laughing again, shaking his head like he just can’t believe what he’s hearing.

You glare at him.

“Fiddleford,” he says under his breath, wheezing. “holy shit!”

You roll your eyes, bringing the phone back to your ear. “so, anyway— “

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Fiddleford cuts in, confused. “who’s that?”

Stanley, still grinning, leans in toward the receiver and says, loud as hell: “your parents named you what?!”

“Who in the sam hill is laughin’ at my name?!”

You turn away from Stan, pushing him. “ignore him.”

“Who’s laughin’?”

“Nobody.”

“I'm gonna die. Man, your name is awesome. And here i thought my parents had zero imagination.”

“Uh,” Fiddleford sounds even more confused.

“Don’t listen to him.”

But Stan just keeps laughing. “Nah, seriously, what kinda— “

You hear Fiddleford's voice going defensive. “now listen here, i’ll have you know Fiddleford’s a perfectly respectable name—”

You sigh, rubbing at your temple. Jesus christ. This was gonna be a long conversation.

Ford sleeps like the dead, the weight of exhaustion so complete that he might as well be a corpse until his chest lurches followed by painful gasp, his whole body jerking upright, pulling him back into the waking world.

His breath is coming too fast and shallow and Ford can't quite catch it. His heart is beating as if it wants to burst out, no longer belonging in his body. Cold sweat clings to his skin, dampening the sheets beneath him.

Another fucking nightmare.

Ford drags a hand down his face, through his hair. Inhales slow, exhales slower and forces himself to move.

The floor is cold when his bare feet touch it, but even that doesn't ground him, reminding him that he’s here, in the Shack, with him watching his every move.

He needs water, so he stumbles towards the door until he steps on something that makes too loud a sound.

Squeak.

Ford looks down.

A dog toy, a bright, rubbery, ridiculous thing, right there beneath his heel.

Oh he knows what it means. Happened quite a lot. You're here. And you brought your dog.

Ford sighs. Deeply. He sets the toy down on his desk and finally steps out into the hallway.

He hears your voice, unmistakable, and Stanley’s.

And then he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in a long, long time.

[slime-sandwhich-nom]

I ACTUALLY HAVE SOME OPINIONS

Ok so, I haven't finished it, since it's late, but so far:

Love how the dwellers can talk! But I guess they got replaced by the minions, still awesome though, since most warn you about things.

the dwellers without a mask! They are described as desperate of a host, or a mask, so they possess whatever object you put in front of them. Cool version of the bomb cherries!

The plants! Annoying, but they are so cool. I wished there weren't so many though.

snatcher! He's basically the same, except he's a minor character and a literally shadow, but in personality looks the same!

He basically does nothing but annoy you for no reason other than his own entertainment, which is very in canon. And his reasons to get the time pieces is because they are shiny and he steals things, so he isn't giving it back to you, fits a lot too.

If they mixed it with the final product snatcher, I would love him even more. Plus, we would have gotten more of screentime for him! instead of doing his bidding. I would have liked if they mixed him messing around with you WHILE doing his bidding and everything (since he wants us so dead, he could have cheated and tried to mess things up to make it harder for us.) , especially with the third floor.

the third floor Is already cool, I've played a different mod that let me play it, rather than the one letting me play the whole beta subcon, but it was really cool! It was like a break from vanny and a fun puzzle game.

moonjumper, saw a few of him for the moment, but he sounds very cool and twisted in his own way! He is very friendly to us, letting us know what he can see and welcomes us! But the way he uses the strings are suspicious.

The only example I have at the moment is him using the strings to force a dweller to say that subcon is the best place ever and hat kid should stay,

The reason he did was because the dweller was telling hat kid to LEAVE while she can and they will soon too. But moonjumper blocked them and then greeted the kid like nothing (cool twist.)

the concept of subcon. I like how everywhere you go, is a BIG sign of "THIS AIN'T A FRIENDLY PLACE". Not because of the atmosphere, but because of the things in it. Almost everything comes and hurts you, and while yes it's annoying, it's very fitting for subcon.

the only people who haven't hurt you from what I have seen at the moment are moonjumper (probably will want you to stay forever and will become the big boss instead of snatcher), snatcher (rather annoys you and steals your shit, but he says it when we first meet him, that he is the snatcher, and he steals things you forget about, so I'm not mad.) And the dwellers, who simply talk to you.

I haven't met Vanessa yet, but I think she's the same.

the outhouse! Cool concept. instead of being possessed, it's just a random outhouse the creatures who can in subcon use, and to unlock the fight, you gotta wake it up (with a sacrifice. It was like..a mafia goon, a plant and another creature in subcon.)

The Bush cats! Very cool, but also aggressive, they simply chase you down, you can kill them easily with your potion hat.

It looks very cool, honestly, might add some of these cool unused things as my headcanons!

once I get a good show of how moonjumper is, I might as well determine how the prince is! Or was.

Depending on what I think fits. Might twist up the prince a little to make it more,,, understandable of why he gets so sadistic and evil when he becomes the snatcher.

8/10!! Please why are there so many fucking plants. they are hard to kill too.

Playing the beta subcon and it's so cool dude

[reidrum]

close to home | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a/n: this has been rotting in my brain for days now i hope you enjoy the angsty comfort this brought me <3 my requests are open (guidelines in pinned!) or if you wanna just chat hop in my ask box :) gonna hopefully work on a smut fic in the next week so keep an eye out hehe

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, protective!spencer, afab!reader who uses she/her pronouns, non bau!reader, cm type violence, reader sustains injuries from unsub, vague description of injuries, maeve mentions, derek being a good friend, spencer being so in love with reader, this takes place probably a year after maeve, inconsistencies with tls and characters but who cares

wc: 2.4k

summary: the bau is working a local case when their unsub strikes again mid investigation, hotch tells reid and morgan to go check it out but spencer finds the address of the crime to be a little too familar

_______________________________________________

Whenever the BAU has a case based in the D.C. area, it’s always a little easier on the team. Familiar stomping grounds, ease of resources, no major time difference, and everyone can sleep in their own beds. The hard part about home cases is knowing there’s a serial killer in the place they know deeply, with people they cared about deeply.

Spencer and Callahan are in the middle of the bullpen staring at the giant white board with all the evidence they have so far. The unsub has been killing women in their mid 20s in the local dc area, with the mo currently unknown. there had already been two victims, both killed in their homes. Spencer was currently trying to analyze all the information the case had alongside with what Garcia was able to provide, and he was still hitting a dead end. Morgan had joined them at some point too, trying to offer what he could remember from the crime scenes but to no avail. He felt his eyes straining and dropping so he decided to get more coffee, but was stopped by Hotch and Garcia entering the bullpen.

“Police just got a 911 call about a break in, but there’s a witness this time. She was home when it happened and it looks like he didn’t expect that and tried to knock her out before escaping. I think it sounds like our unsub. Morgan and Reid, I need you to go check out the scene and interview the witness, see what she remembers.” Hotch explained.

Morgan and Reid nodded as Garcia spoke up, “I just sent the address to your phones, it’s a house on Hillcrest so it's not that far from here.”

Spencer froze. he had to have heard wrong, she did not say Hillcrest, “Did you say Hillcrest?”

“Yeah, Hillcrest Drive. It’s like, a 15 minute drive, not that far.”

He felt his heart drop to his feet, a sinking feeling building in his gut. That was the street you lived on. He tried to ground himself with logic, the probability of it being your house is only 10%, but he was dreading asking the fated question.

“Garcia, what’s the house number?”

“Reid, I already sent it to your pho-“

“Garcia, what is the house number,” he spoke again. 

Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say-

“1159.”

Fuck. The color drained from his face, and the nausea was building to a head quickly. Spencer hurriedly tried to think through the last time he spoke to you. Last night? This morning? He doesn’t check on you as much as he does when he’s not on a case, but oh my god why can’t he remember the last time he saw you.

“Reid,” Hotch bellows, finally breaking spencer out of his trance, “What is it? What do you know?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. Morgan, let’s go.” he grabbed his jacket and booked it out the door.

Morgan, Garcia, and Hotch all looked at each other in concern, before Morgan spoke up, “I’ll see what’s up.” The latter two nodded softly, though the worry didn’t let up in their eyes.

Morgan walked up to the car to find Spencer repeatedly trying to call someone on the phone, clearly unable to get through and getting really frustrated.

Spencer was alerted by Morgan’s presence hearing the car unlock but he didn’t even look at him, just immediately got in the car and strapped his seat belt. Morgan joined him in the drivers seat giving him a wary look before turning the car on and pulling out of the bureau.

“Okay Reid, spill it. It’s obvious you know who lives here.” Morgan speaks up.

“Just drive, please.”

“Because if you know something, something that could help the case, it would be helpful if we knew.”

“Morgan, just drive.” he borderline yells.

He raises his eyebrows at his raised voice, “Listen kid, i’m just trying to help you. I can see you’re upset but we’re on the same side, you know that.”

Spencer takes a shaky breath, feeling another shade of guilt at yelling at one of his friends, for something he didn’t even know about. He’d kept you a secret for many reasons— your relationship with him was still new, and he just wanted to keep you to himself for a bit. After what happened with Maeve, he felt especially more responsible at keeping you safe and making sure you didn’t get tangled up in his line of work.

Some job he did of that.

The one thing he regrets about how he handled the Maeve situation, was not asking for help until it was almost too late. For not doing anything about her stalker when he was part of one of the most famous fbi teams built to find people like that. He’d always live with that guilt, but he vowed not to do that with you.

He loved you so much. You were so kind, and smart, and beautiful. A breath of fresh air after feeling lost in a dark tunnel for so long. You were so understanding when he explained what he did for a living, and what had happened to him and people he cared about as a result. He still remembers what you said to him when he told you that you could have an out, if you wanted.

“Any risk is worth taking if getting to be with you is the consolation prize.”

Tears welled up in eyes thinking about the memory. If you were willing to take any risk, then he should be able to as well.

He cleared his throat, and Morgan’s ears perked up, “My uh, my girlfriend lives there. Where the unsub, at- attacked.” he voiced softly.

Morgan looked at him for a beat while driving, Spencer missing the way his face dropped. He tightened his hands on the wheels, and without hesitation he turned the lights and siren on and shifted gears to speed up.

__

The car pulled onto your street and the first thing Spencer sees is the flashing light of the ambulances. Morgan doesn’t even put the car in park before Spencer’s bolting out hoping he can find you quickly.

He’s asking all the paramedics he’s passing if they’ve seen you or know if you’re being treated, were you transferred to a hospital and he didn’t know. The tunnel vision slowly overtaking him until he hears a voice breaking through like sunlight call out his name.

He whips his head in the direction he heard it come from, and he’s never been more grateful to be met with the beautiful sight of you. You watch his eyes widen and let out a sigh before running over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance. He’s definitely not thinking when he goes in to hug you, not even knowing the extent of your injuries. He’s overtaken by the desperate need to hold you in his arms so he knows you’re safe and okay.

“Hi,” you choke out muffled, “Funny seeing you here.”

He pulls back to inspect your face, taking note of a small cut above your left eyebrow and the beginning splotches of a bruise forming on your lower jaw. His heart aches so much looking at you, knowing what happened to you and who did this to you.

“Hi, honey,” he lets out tearfully, “Are you okay? I mean, of course you’re not. But what did the paramedics say? Did they give you anything? Are you sure they checked all your injuries? You know what, let me go call the guy over. I’ll be two seconds.” his panicked ramble fading off as he rounds the truck you’re sat in to find the emt.

Upon his extensive questioning of the man who treated you, he found out that you had sustained a minor concussion from when the unsub swung at you with an umbrella, superficial cuts caused by a broken vase you threw to defend yourself, and a dislocated shoulder from getting shoved into the wall.

You were okay, but at what cost.

The EMT leaves you two and Spencer sits himself next to you on the rig. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you as tight as he can and the other hand cradles your head into the crook of his neck, holding you so tight he’s hoping he can squeeze the bad memories out of you. It’s at this moment of feeling safe and sound in his arms when the adrenaline of your attack wears off.

Spencer hears a small whimper and feels a few hot tears trickle down his neck, your breathing gets faster as you’re attempting to beat your body’s fear response. The slow build up of sobs starting to rack your chest, and he immediately holds you tighter.

“It’s over, baby, they won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

You sniffle, “I know, I just can’t believe this happened. To me. To us. It’s not fair to you.” trailing off the last two words.

“To me? Wh- what do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, “I don’t mean to bring it up again, I just know how eerily similar this is to a past experience you’ve had. and I hoped that I wouldn’t be in a position to make you feel that way again. I don’t know why this happened, I'm sorry.”

He looked down at you incredulously, genuinely unable to believe that you were sitting next to him on an ambulance, beaten up with bruises and scars after a home invasion attack, worried about how he would feel when he got to you. It was enough to finally let the swell of tears saved up in his eyes fall.

“Oh sweetheart,” he chokes out, realizing you’ve been trying to be brave for him this whole time, “What happened is not your fault, do you understand me? My job is to always worry about you and your safety. When Garcia said the address I…I couldn’t even process it, I don’t even know how I got to the car,” he shook his head, “But I am the last person you need to push your emotions down for. I will always take them in stride and love you even more for that, okay?”

“Okay,” you take a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“I love you.” he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

Both of your heads look up at an approaching figure, who you quickly recognize to be SSA Derek Morgan. You knew Spencer hadn’t told the team about you yet, so you tried to sit up independently as fast as you could before he came over and suspected something.

Spencer’s grip didn’t let up when he bent down and whispered, “It’s okay, he knows.” You look up at him with wide eyes when derek finally reaches you.

“Reid, I already talked to the detectives and we’re good to go when you’re ready,” he turns his body to you and gives you a comforting smile, “Hi sweetheart, I’m Derek Morgan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at the nickname while you giggle softly, “Hi Derek, I’ve heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you too.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” he sighs, “Listen, I know it’s all still really fresh for you, but it might help the case if you’re able to come in for a cognitive interview, or even talk to a sketch artist.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat before protesting, “Absolutely not. We can do it later, it’s fine.”

“Reid-“

You look up at him placing your hand on his chest, “Spence, It’s okay. I want to help, please.”

He rests his hand on top yours and gives it a light squeeze, “Okay, but i’m not leaving you alone for a second.”

“I didn’t think you would.” you smile.

“Alright lovebirds, you can have your private time later, we should go now.” Derek teases.

Spencer groans, “See, this is why i didn’t say anything.”

“You think I’m bad? Wait till Penelope meets her.”

__

The three of you pile into the car before starting the drive to Spencer’s apartment so he could get you a change of clothes and other things you might need. You end up falling asleep in the back seat, the final stage of your shock sinking in like a rock. Spencer checks on you from the rear view mirror and sees you passed out, and smiles.

“She’s cute,” Derek starts, “Can I ask how long?”

“Nine months.” he replies, fishing for something out of his pocket.

“Pretty boy hid a girl from all of us for nine months? Maybe we’re not as good profilers as we thought.”

“Imagine that,” he laughs, and gestures to the item in his hand, “Look.”

Spencer’s holding out a well loved photo booth strip with three pictures, of you and Spencer from the time you went to a local county fair. You’re sitting in his lap, mostly due to the cramped space and the expansive limbs. The first picture is the two of you holding up finger guns attempting to be as back to back as you can. The second picture, you intended it to be a normal one where you both smile at the camera, but spencer couldn’t take his eyes off you and the picture captured the love struck gaze he had on you. The last one you were about to tell him the idea for it, when he grabbed your face and pulled you closer to kiss you, neither of you knowing when the final picture snapped.

The edges were worn out and frayed, clearly broken down by the oils on his fingers from pulling it out frequently. It was his most treasured item, a constant reminder of what was always waiting for him when he got back from grueling cases, and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

“You look really happy, kid.” Derek says, thinking about the many times he’s seen his friend at rock bottom, the things that have been so brutally taken from him, and the suffering he’s had at the hands of his job. His heart warms for his friend, who seemed to finally catch a break.

“I am.”

[luckyladylily]

So like, transandrophobia.

To start this out, I am a trans woman, been around in the queer community for a while. I'm also bisexuality, polyamorous, disabled, and aromantic, and I think these other parts of my identity and the crap I've caught over the years for them heavily informs how I analyze something like transandrophobia. My wife is also asexual, so that plays a part in it too.

So every group of marginalized people has their own unique experiences and problems. It's more of a rule than something we've mathematically demonstrated, but as far as these things go it's ridiculously well established, and personally every time I've done even a basic dive into the issues faced by a marginalized group it's been self evident. I could easily list a dozen groups ranging from racial minorities to different kinds of disabled people to different queer identities and analyze their social issues but let's be real, this is pretty well established theory, anyone who needs me to do that is not really interacting with good faith. This is one of the big reasons we talk to people about their own experiences and groups, we cannot reasonably extrapolate the experiences of others from our own.

So like trans men and trans mascs and anyone else that falls under that umbrella has their unique experiences. The idea that we would even question this is weird to me? Like I can't even imagine the kind of evidence someone would need to present to me to change my mind, and given the pattern of the queer community to be shitty in exactly this way to people in our community, yeah that is not happening.

Therefore, we are taking it for granted that the trans men/masc/related umbrella has their own things going on like everyone else ever, and I don't understand how someone acting in good faith can try to claim otherwise unless they are young or otherwise very inexperienced with such things.

The next point of contention seems to be the name, and I gotta be real I don't care and I don't understand why other people do. I've read all sorts of arguments against the word transandrophobia and the majority of them seem to be rooted in a misunderstanding of intersectionality, and even then it's like there is such a thing where people get so mired in theory that they miss the forest for the trees.

Perhaps more important to me, getting overly worked up about something as unimportant as the precise term is... weird. Like exclusionists hating on bi and ace people weird. I remember what it was like a decade ago when exclusionists were trying to police the words of bi women, and five years ago when ace and aro people were under constant attack under the pretense that our language was harmful for some reason or other. You are going to have to work very, very, very hard to convince me that any bickering over language as it relates to transandrophobia is not just more of the same.

Next, "transandrobros hate trans femmes" and similar stuff. I've seen the callout posts and found them completely unconvincing. Again, they read a lot like the old "ace people hate lesbians!" posts I used to see. I'm not convinced that the individuals involved were a problem, I am certainly not able to extrapolate a problem to the rest of the group.

Finally, there is this idea that "maleness is not a vector for oppression" and this invalidates something about the whole transandrophobia thing, ranging from the entire concept of trans men experiencing prejudice to something about language being imprecise all the way to "This is fascist shit, omg these people are basically nazis" depending on who says it. I'm not going to touch any of that and just look at the underlying logic.

This is based off a misunderstanding of intersectionality theory. Many people think of intersectionality as defining intersecting prejudice, like a ven diagram, such that transmisogyny is the intersection of transphobia and misogyny. This is incorrect. Intersectionality defines unique prejudice experienced by people with intersecting identities. Instead of a transmisogyny as the overlap of transphobia and misogyny, imagine adding a third circle that overlaps both but also has its own areas covered by neither.

Applied to transandrophobia, even if we assume maleness is not a vector for oppression, there is no reason to assume that the intersection of maleness with a marginalized identity doesn't result in new issues. Imagine that 3 circle venn diagram that represents misogyny, transphobia, and transmisogyny. Even if you remove the misogyny circle there is still plenty of ground covered by the transmisogyny circle.

This just isn't a valid criticism. It is a pure theory approach based on a flawed reading of theory.

So in summary:

Everyone has their unique shit going on and I've seen no convincing evidence that trans men, mascs, etc. Are the exception.

I not seen any convincing argument that the word itself is bad.

I've not seen any convincing evidence that there is some epidemic of transandrophobia truthers hating and harassing trans femmes on scales higher than normal background queer infighting.

The most coherent objection to transandrophobia I've seen is categorically incorrect and based on a fundamental misunderstanding of intersectionality theory.

I would like to remind everyone at this point I am a trans woman, part of the group that is supposedly a problem for and I've just not see it at all, to the point where it is kind of weird how intensely some people are pushing this.

I'm not trying to be mean or whatever, I'm sure the distress on display here comes from a real place and real trauma, but I've yet to see anything that makes me think there is substance to the objections to transandrophobia as a concept. It feels and reads like the latest round of queer intracommunity exclusionism, and the fact that this time around I'm not one of the target identities doesn't change that for me.

[smileysuh]

deal maker

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, pussy eating, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, dry humping, foreplay, slight corruption kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) sweetheart. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 8.7k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, Halloween, supernatural/demon au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  Happy Halloween!

One: her

If it weren’t for the fact that you’re in the middle of a library, you might just scream. You know your workload increases with each year you’re in university, but there’s something sinister about the amount of book-related essays you have right before Halloween.

You’re doing your best to focus, and you’ve read the entirety of the ‘Frankenstein’ book that you’re supposed to be analyzing, but you just can’t find words.

A massive sigh escapes you, and your best friend, Hwasa, casts you a sideways glance. “You good, babes?” she asks.

“I just- I can’t do this,” you groan. “It’s a completely open ended prompt- I could write about anything I want to, and all things considered, five thousand words isn’t the longest essay ever- but, damn, I seriously can’t think right now.”

She nods sympathetically. “Do you really think you’re at rock bottom on this?”

“I don’t see how I could go any lower.”

“Okay, well,” she scoots her chair closer to you, her voice lowering, “i wouldn’t suggest this otherwise, but uh- have you ever thought about contacting the Sigma Veta Tau demon?”

“The what?” you stare at her blankly.

“Of course you wouldn’t know about him, you’re a goody goody,” Hwasa sighs. “Basically, there’s this guy in the SVT frat who makes deals and does your work for you.”

“What’s this have to do with being a demon?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a weird myth- basically, this guy helped me with an essay last year worth thirty percent of my grade. All he asked for was a family heirloom, and I think it’s his weird choice of price for favours that get him the whole ‘demon’ thing cuz he doesn’t usually ask for money like other dudes who write your papers would.”

“How did you do? On the essay?” you ask.

“Got an A. He doesn’t overdo it, he does enough to get you a good grade but not so good it’s obvious you didn’t do the work.”

“So… is he an actual demon, or?” You cock your head to the side, trying to understand the whole demon relevance.

“Nah, like I said, he’s just some hot nerd who wrote my essay. It wasn’t sketchy at all.”

“And he does this for a lot of people?”

“I’ve heard about a few. I know his friend Dokyeom was close to failing his Kinesiology course and somehow Wonwoo did his final exam for him and helped him pass.”

You let out a small laugh. You’re familiar with the Sigma Veta Tau frat, and DK is a well known figure there- getting someone to help him pass Kinesiology is very characteristic to the loud gym bro. “Wait, but, how did Wonwoo pull it off? They ID you at the final exams, don’t they?”

Hwasa shrugs. “I guess the dude pulls off miracles every once in a blue moon, maybe that’s part of his ‘demonic’ reputation.”

“Are we sure this a good idea?” you ask.

“Making a deal with the Devil?” Hwasa clarifies. “Of course, what could go wrong?”

You laugh at her choice of words. 

This Wonwoo guy definitely isn’t the Devil… and even if he was, what would making a deal with him even really include? 

You’re skeptical to say the least, but looking back at your worn out book, and your laptop document open with zero words- you begin to wonder if maybe this Wonwoo guy is a good way to solve your current predicament. 

Two:

Wonwoo quite enjoys living on campus. He loves the onslaught to his senses every time he’s out and about, mingling with university kids who have way too much on their plate. No one ever notices him, no one ever notices the things that are slightly… off about him, they’re much too busy focusing on this week’s term paper, or this week’s quiz.

No, Wonwoo’s extremely happy being exactly where he is. He’s lounging in a coffee shop that connects to the book store, his eyes darting from person to person, assessing-

That’s when his gaze locks with someone familiar.

Hwasa had come to him last year, needing an essay completed. It had been one of Wonwoo’s easier tasks, as he’s read the source material upwards of twenty times in his long life. He’s seen her around campus a few times since then, but she’s never approached him, not the way she is now.

“Hi, Wonwoo!” Hwasa grins, demenour as bubbly as ever. 

The frat boy simply nods, his gaze turning to assess you as you stand next to your friend.

“This is y/n,” Hwasa introduces you. “She’s actually struggling with an essay right now-”

“Hate to hear about an academic struggle,” Wonwoo interrupts, “especially while enjoying my coffee.” His eyes return to you again. “If you ever need a tutor, you should swing by the frat.”

“I would appreciate that,” you nod, a little breathless.

It’s clear there’s something off about you too- your heard rate is going faster than the average rate, and you’re finding it difficult to meet his gaze. 

Ah, things click in Wonwoo’s head, this particular set of responses isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with. Many girls react this way to him, getting ‘flustered,’ as humans would say.

However, what is unfamiliar, is the way Wonwoo himself is reacting to it. He finds it cute, endearing in a way- as opposed to the annoyed feeling he usually gets when women are easily infatuated with him.

“Here,” Wonwoo breathes smoothly, picking up a pen from his notepad. “Give me your hand.”

Your gaze flickers to Hwasa for a moment, and then you’re reaching forward. Wonwoo grasps your wrist, enjoying the warmth of your skin and the way you jolt from his touch. He quickly writes his phone number down on your inner palm. “Give me a call about tutoring you sometime, we can discuss details then.”

“O-okay,” you nod, immediately taking your hand back when he’s finished, cradling it close to your chest.

“If that’s all you two have to say to me,” Wonwoo breathes, looking between you and Hwasa, “I’d love to get back to my coffee.”

Three:

“Hey, I’m at the frat, where are you?” you ask as you answer your best friend’s call. You feel so awkward just standing here, trying to look like you belong even though you’re sure you stand out in the all boys frat village.

“Babes, I’m so sorry- I’m at this study group and it’s going mega late, I didn’t even realize the time and I’m across campus-”

You let out a sigh. “Are you seriously going to make me do this alone?”

“You’ll be fine!” Hwasa assures you. “Wonwoo won’t bite, it’s the daylight after all.”

She giggles, and you roll your eyes. You’re still not sure how you feel about this whole ‘demon’ thing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little afraid to enter a fratboy den of wolves alone.

“You’ve got this,” Hwasa says again. “If you need anything, just text me, and remember, I stalk your snapchat location so if anything happens-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh. “Okay, I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit!” 

You hang up on Hwasa, taking a deep breath and turning to the front door. You approach cautiously, raising your hand and knocking three times.

It takes a couple of moments, but eventually, a man opens the door. You recougnize Jeonghan, he’s the frat president’s right hand man, a business major with a reputation for hitting on every girl he meets.

“Well, look who it is,” Jeonghan grins, leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder while he shovels some cereal into his mouth from the bowl in his hand.

He’s in an oversized white shirt and sweatpants, you’d bet he hasn’t been to classes today- and fuck it, he looks handsome, all the SVT men do.

“Sorry, hi, I’m here for Wonwoo, but I don’t think we’ve actually met,” you say awkwardly, holding out a hand.

Jeonghan’s gaze falls to your extended palm, and he chuckles. “Wonwoo gets all the cute girls,” he says, moving away from the door frame to let you inside, “but none of them ever stick around.”

“I’m here to study,” you try to explain.

“Sure you are,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. You follow him through the entryway living space, pausing as he heads back into the connected kitchen. “Wonwoo’s room is the third floor, first door on the left.” You stand there for a few moments, and Jeonghan cocks his head to the side. “You have no clue where the stairs are, do you?” 

“Nope.”

“That door,” he points with his spoon. “Don’t get lost.”

He’s a bit of an odd one, and with a final thank you, you scurry away, following his directions past a door and up three flights of stairs. You pause outside the first room on the left, swallowing thickly before you knock.

“Come in!” Wonwoo’s voice calls out. 

Before you can push the door open, it opens by itself, and you half expect Wonwoo to be standing there- only to find him seated on his bed with a book in his hands.

He’s in a black hoodie and matching sweatpants. His hood is up, but his dark curls are poking out, toying with the rims of glasses that set of the sharp angles of his face. 

“What was your name again?” he asks.

“Uh-” you cough. “Y/N.” The door opening by itself had freaked you out, and you wonder how true the whole demon thing is- God, that’s been on your mind a lot.

“Come in, relax, and tell me what I can do for you,” he instructs, using his foot to push out a chair near his bed. 

You swallow thickly again, closing the door behind you and approaching. You take a seat, letting out a breath. “So basically I have an essay on Frankenstein- have you read it?”

“Of course. Have you?” he counters.

“Yeah, I’ve read it, but uh… anyways, it’s due on Halloween, which is two weeks away, and I have so many other essays to write-”

“What’s the topic?”

“Open ended.”

“How many words?”

“Five thousand.”

“That doesn’t seem very hard,” he muses with a grin, slotting a marker between his pages so he can rest his book on his chest, getting a better look at you.

“Usually it wouldn’t be, but I’m just blanking- I don’t even know where to start.” You release a stressed breath. “So I brought a family heirloom.”

Wonwoo just looks at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“Hwasa said she paid you last time with her grandmothe’rs broach?” you try to explain.

“My price is different for everyone,” Wonwoo tells you, holding out a hand. “Let’s see what you brought.”

“It’s my aunt’s.” You give the necklace to him. “She got it to me to celebrate graduating highschool and getting into university.”

Wonwoo inspects the delicate silver chain, looking at the crescent moon charm with an opal in the middle. “It’s obviously valuable,” he says, handing it back to you, “but I can tell it’s not very sentimental.”

“So…” you fidget with the necklace in your palm, “what do you want?”

Wonwoo’s eyes begin to scan your form, and suddenly you feel very uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s undressing you in his mind, and it makes you fidget in your seat. His gaze lands on your chest, and you fight the urge to cover your tits-

He sits up, reaching forward- You hold your breath as his fingers brush by your collar bones, too close to the swell of your breasts for your liking- and then he’s lifting your necklace, leaning even closer to inspect it.

You can feel his breath on your skin, and he’s so close- God, why is something as simple as this so erotic? You’ve dealt with pretty boys before, but there’s something about a pretty, nerdy, dangerous boy- 

“Where did you get this?” he asks, thumb smoothing across the golden heart attached to the chain on your neck.

It’s hard to find your voice, but after a moment, you’re able to respond. “It was uh- it was from my last boyfriend.”

“An ex?” His gaze lifts to you.

“Yeah.” You can feel your skin heating.

“And you didn’t get rid of it?”

“I figure I bought him a bunch of stuff while we were dating, pretty sure this was only fifty bucks or something, so I guess I thought I deserved to keep it.”

Wonwoo nods. You watch his gaze dip to your lips, just for a moment, and then he’s releasing your necklace and leaning back into his bed again. “That will work.”

“It will?” you ask in shock.

“Uh huh. There’s a certain sort of sentimentality to it. Also… even though you say you kept it because you deserved it, buying him so many things or whatever, I think it’s a shame that a pretty girl like you is still holding onto something from the past, instead of looking at your future. I’ll take it off your hands, and you can progress now, with more than just your essay.”

You wonder what sort of motive Wonwoo has, what significance a necklace from your ex actually has on a man who’s practically a stranger.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching behind your throat to undo the clasp. “So… how does this work now?”

“A five thousand word open ended essay on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein…” Wonwoo takes his glasses off, wiping them with his hoodie. “I guess, you give me some time to think it through, I text you, and you come see me again.”

You watch the way he puts his spectacles back onto his face- it’s shocking how small, simple, mundane motions can be so beautiful when completed by a man like him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I guess… I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“You will,” he agrees. “Bye for now.”

He relaxes against his pillows, lifting his book and immediately turning his attention to it.

You stand up and leave without another word, your heart racing in your chest.

Once you’re outside the frat house, you call Hwasa. 

“So how did it go?” she asks. “He didn’t kill you, so that’s good news!”

“He also didn’t want the family heirloom,” you sigh.

“So what did he want?”

“My necklace, you know, the one from my ex.”

“That’s weird, why would he want that?”

“Hell if I know,” you groan. “Hwasa… he’s not an actual demon, right?”

“Of course not!” she laughs.

You wish you were as certain as she is. There’s definitely something otherworldly about Jeon Wonwoo, and one of these days, you’re going to put your finger on exactly what is different about him from any other man you’ve ever met. 

Four:

Wonwoo is standing by his window, examining the necklace in his hand. It’s such a simple little thing, but there’s so much energy tied to it. Wonwoo can see the dark aura- a tie to a past that it’s clear you’d rather forget.

Usually, Wonwoo collects items with soul ties. Family heirlooms are the easiest, as they’re connected to multiple people in different generations. When one of those people with a soul connection to the item dies, Wonwoo deams if they’re a worthy enough spirit to take as payment for his favours.

In Hwasa’s case, both of her grandparents had died recently. The grandmother had gone first, followed quickly by the grandfather, and it was the older male that Wonwoo had chosen to take for himself. His soul had been dark, a signifier of the evil in his heart when he’d been on earth.

For a demon, Wonwoo actually likes humans. He only accepts contracts that allow him to collect on bad souls, souls that he deems worthy of eternal damnation. 

Many of his kind have asked him why he’d chosen a university to call home, and in simple terms, it’s because at heart, Wonwoo has an erudite flecked soul. He loves learning, more than he’s ever loved being a demon.

He got to a point in his life where he figured, if he was going to be around forever, he might as well learn everything.

Besides all that, university is easy, students come to him, he hardly had to do any work. Students are always anxious, always busy and in need of support to get work done. They hardly think of the heirloom they pawned off to a frat boy in return for an essay or a test- and since Wonwoo waits for natural deaths to collect the souls tied to the items, there’s no harm no fowl.

With all of this being said, Wonwoo’s not used to taking an item like yours. There are only two souls tied to it, your own, and your ex boyfriend’s… Wonwoo knows which one he’ll collect.

He’s not sure why he feels protective of you… there’s just something in your aura that calls to him, something he can’t explain. 

He knows that this job will be different, in more ways than one, but something inside of Wonwoo is ready for the change, after all,  it’s been a very long time coming.

Five:

“You’re back,” Jeonghan muses when he opens the door to the frat for you. “That’s a first.”

“Hi,” you say meekly, forcing a smile. You’re still not sure how you feel about any of this, and knowing that what Wonwoo’s doing with you is unusual doesn’t help ease your anxieties.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Jeonghan sighs, opening the door wider so you can pass. As you move by him, a hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “He’s never cooked for anyone, so, just keep that in mind.”

God, these men are so odd-

You find Wonwoo in the kitchen, his back to you. He’s in a black t-shirt and it stretches tight across his broad shoulders. His curls are a little messy, as if he’s been sleeping, and when he turns to you, you find he’s not wearing his glasses.

Why is he just as pretty without glasses as he is with glasses?

This feels unfair. This feels like- well, it shouldn’t be legal, for starters.

“Hey.” Wonwoo flashes you a smile and you just about melt. You can feel your skin heating, and you hate how your body betrays you, betrays the inner lustings that take over every time you look at this nerdy hot frat boy.

“Hi,” you respond, feeling like a complete idiot as you approach Wonwoo.

“You hungry?” He looks down at the pan in front of him. “I’ve been making steak and eggs.”

“Actually, I’m really just here about the essay,” you try to explain.

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo focuses on the sunny side up egg he’s making, “Give me one sec.”

You watch him finish up his meal. You’re not used to watching a man cook, and you're surprised at how skilled he is. There’s something very attractive about the way he shovels the egg out of the pan, adding it to his plate with the finished steak. 

“Okay, let’s go.” Wonwoo leads you back up to his room. He takes a seat at his work table. “You can go on the bed,” he suggests, cutting open an egg. You watch the orange yolk drip, the way he scoops some up with steak.

He’s way too attractive. 

“You sure you don’t want any?” he asks. “It’s perfectly medium rare.”

“A little too rare for me,” you admit, immediately realizing your mistake. “It looks amazing, sorry, I’m just not hungry.” 

“Sounds good. So let's talk your essay.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve decided I’m not going to write it for you.”

“What?” It feels like the air is knocked out of your chest, and you stare at Wonwoo in confusion. “But uh… you took my necklace, and you wrote Hwasa’s essay-”

“It’s busy season.” Wonwoo waves his fork around absentmindedly. “The deal is, you come here, we work together, and when you need help, I’ll help. When you need a final edit, I’ll final edit.”

“Uh…” Your mind is spinning. “If you’re not going to help, I can really just do it myself.”

“I think we both know my help will be important,” Wonwoo points out. “Look, you’re a good girl. Don’t you want to feel like you did it yourself? When you came here the first time, I noticed you were hesitant, I don’t think this is something you’re used to doing.”

“I’m not,” you admit, shocked at his ability to read you. 

“With a five thousand word count, this will only take two or three hard study sessions top, in fact, since I have my steak and eggs, we can start now.”

“I didn’t even bring my book-”

“I’ve got a copy right here.” Wonwoo spins his chair, reaching for his bookshelf. He pulls out a worn version of Frankenstein, handing it to you. “I’ve got notes in here, if you want to flip through it, I’m sure you’ll find something to inspire your essay.”

You take a deep breath.

Should you do this? Should you sit here and study with him? What was the point of giving him your necklace if he’s not going to write it for you?

“You’ll keep me on track?” you ask.

Wonwoo offers you a lopsided grin. “Uh huh.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Six:

It’s your second session with Wonwoo. You’ve been carrying his version of Frankenstein around like a bible- the notes, carefully hand written into the margins, are so insightful and inspiring. At this point, you’ve reread the whole book just to get a chance to understand Wonwoo’s musings on every page.

You feel alight with determination, and your thoughts feel focused- you’re as focused with Wonwoo as you’ve ever been, which feels odd given how distracting he is.

It’s intimate in a way, to be so close to him, doing your own work while sharing a space-

Your phone buzzes, breaking your concentration.

Wonwoo looks up at you, pausing his reading. “Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

You let out a small laugh. “Just Hwasa checking in on me to make sure I’m okay with our tutoring session, you’ve got a reputation you know.”

“Do I?” Wonwoo grins, resting his book on his abdomen. 

“Uh huh, people say you’re a demon or something. Apparently coming here for help with school is a deal with the devil.” 

Wonwoo laughs. “That’s definitely a theory. What do you think?”

“At the moment, I’m not quite sure,” you admit. “All I know is, you’re helping me with this essay, and that’s what matters.”

“You know how you can check if I’m a demon?” Wonwoo asks.

“How?”

“Come touch my head, see if there are any horns.” 

Wonwoo is giving you a challenging look, and for some reason, you can’t resist.

You put your laptop to the side, sitting up. “Really?”

“Like I said, only one way to find out if I’m a demon.”

You move toward him, standing off the bed to approach where he’s seated at his desk. “Honestly… maybe this isn’t the best idea. I trust you, I don’t have to feel your head for horns.”

“I really wish you would though,” Wonwoo counters, and there’s a serious edge to his tone. His eyes are bright, looking up at you. It’s like you’re suspended in time and space, staring at each other, holding your breaths.

You reach toward his head, in the back of your mind, you’re worried he might bite you- but Wonwoo stays perfectly still. He watches your every movement, and soon, your fingers are smoothing through his curls.

Wonwoo holds back a groan at the feeling of your touch. He wants to lean in toward you, but doesn’t want to scare you off. It’s clear to him from your body language that you’re as hesitant about this as you had been when you’d first come to him for help with your essay.

You’re so soft, so pure, and he loves it.

He can hear your heart beginning to thunder in your chest as you smooth around his head, searching for horns.

God, humans are so gullible, but it’s adorable when it’s you being this way.

“Okay, no horns,” you confirm, tearing your hand back like you’ve just been burned.

You turn away, returning to his bed, and Wonwoo can practically feel the heat coming off of you. 

“Get back to work,” he says softly, loving the way he gets to sneak looks at you while you’re deep in thought. 

This arrangement is too perfect- Wonwoo hates that it will soon be coming to an end. You’ve been very productive, and as much as he’d like to take credit for it, it’s your own doing.

In some odd way, he’s proud of you, and it’s a feeling he’s never quite experienced before. 

Seven:

You can’t believe it’s your final session with your ‘tutor’. The amount you’ve gotten done in two separate days with Wonwoo is ridiculous- 

He’s your lucky charm, and it’s odd how much someone can come to mean to you in such a short time.

“Okay,” you sigh, finishing your last line of work. “I’m done.”

“Time for edits then,” Wonwoo responds, slotting a bookmark into what he’s reading before descarding the novel on his sidetable. He approaches you, sitting onto the bed. He’s so close that you can feel his shoulder against yours. He’s so warm, in the best of ways.

He’s reading over your shoulder, and you can feel his breath on your skin. God, this closeness is doing something to you- your pussy is actually beginning to throb, and it’s becoming uncomfortable. 

“Here.” You hand your laptop over to him, watching anxiously as he begins to read your essay from the top.

You’re so focused on him- each second feels like an eternity as he makes his way through your writing, discussing small edits with you as he goes through it. 

“This is good,” Wonwoo muses, making it all the way to the end. “You did really well, and with two days to spare. I’m proud of you.”

“Guess I don’t have to be stressed for Halloween,” you grin, releasing a deep breath.

“Speaking of, do you have any plans?”

“I haven’t even thought that far ahead,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, if nothing else, we throw a great frat party, you’re more than welcome to come.”

“You know what?” You stretch your arms above your head, releasing a deep breath. “I might just stop by.” 

Eight:

Wonwoo’s walking through campus when he senses something- and that something can only ever be you. He’s become accustomed to your aura, and his gaze immediately finds you, heading across the green with a friend by your side.

Your eyes meet, and Wonwoo flashes you a smile, not expecting anything to come of it.

He’s surprised when you approach, calling his name. “Wonwoo! Oh my gosh, hi!”

“Hey,” he grins, stopping in his tracks to give you a once over. He wishes he could be more subtle about his attraction to you, but by the way you take him in, it’s clear that it’s not something that’s one sided. 

“Yeji, this is the tutor I was telling you about! He helped me finish my essay in three sessions.”

“It was really more like two,” Wonwoo corrects you, then his eyes find your friend. “She did all the work, believe me.”

“Yeah, after I read your notes on the book,” you grin. “He’s not even an English major, but he picks up more details in novels than I ever could.”

Wonwoo’s not used to compliments like this, especially not from pretty girls. Most just accept his work and figure their payment was a job well done enough. He doesn’t even know how to respond, and for a demon of his age, this sort of thing never happens.

You’re so pure and sweet- God, he likes you so much. But there’s something beneath the attraction, there’s a want- a want to corrupt you, a want to see how far you’ll go for him, how dirty you’ll be just for him. 

“Are you two coming to the party tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks, finding a way to divert the attention away from himself.

You and Yeji exchange a look, and it’s your friend who nods. “We’ll be there.” 

Nine:

You don’t go to frats often, but your attraction to Wonwoo drives you through the front doors of the packed house. Everyone is dressed accordingly, and you take a moment just to appreciate the ambiance. Sure, it’s sweaty, and overwhelming, and the flashing lights are a bit much, but it feels like a community, in some sort of odd way.

You’re heading through the crowd of bodies with Hwasa when someone grabs your arm, and you’re shocked to find Jeonghan standing there. He’s dressed as a zombie of some sort, and despite the fake grime on his face, he’s still very handsome.

“Hey, repeat offender,” he grins, leaning close so you can hear him over the loud music.

“Repeat offender?” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re Wonwoo’s chick now, our little repeat offender.” He’s charming, in an interesting sort of way. “Bet you’re looking for him.”

“Is he around?”

“He’s the dickhead in the oni mask, making a drink in the kitchen.”

“Thank you.” 

You follow Jeonghan’s directions, approaching the kitchen. It’s as full of bodies as you’ve ever seen it, but despite that, finding Wonwoo is easy.

He’s tall, and even with his back to you, you’d recougnize his shoulders anywhere.

“So how are you doing this?” Hwasa asks.

“I’m just going to go talk to him.”

“Do you need backup?”

Your eyes shift to Wonwoo again, and you find a smile appearing on your face. “Honestly, I think I’ll be alright.”

“If you need anything, just scream ‘hamburger’.”

“Why?”

“It’s my safe word,” Hwasa teases, flashing you a wink before she disappears into the crowd of people dancing.

You take a deep breath, mustering your courage to approach the hot nerd. 

You move toward him slowly, coming to a stop at his side. You don’t even have to say anything, he notices you immediately, turning to assess you.

His handsome face is covered with an oni mask, and it’s a little more frightening than you’d been anticipating, especially with his wild dark curls. Oni are Japanese demons, it has horns and fangs-

“Hi,” he says, and you can hardly hear him from under the mask.

“You’re really leaning into the whole demon thing, aren’t you?” you force a laugh. 

You hear Wonwoo chuckle, and then he’s pulling the oni mask off. “Are you more comfortable now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Actually, I think I’d also be more comfortable with a drink.”

“How much have you had already?”

“Just had a bit of a pre with Hwasa, why?”

“I guess…” he faces you, crossing his large arms over his broad chest, “when I make a move on you tonight, since our arrangement is done, I want to make sure you reciprocate, sound of mind.”

You look up at him in shock, unable to find any words with which to respond.

Wonwoo grins when you remain dumbfounded for a few seconds. “You’re cute.”

“I am?”

“More than you realize.”

“And you’re… you’re going to make a move on me?” 

“Was thinking about it.”

“What would the move look like?”

“Should I tell you? Or would you rather I show you?” 

God, why is he so hot? Why does he always know what to say? And why does his smirk look extra sexy with his slightly pointed canines? Why haven’t you realized his teeth were pointy before? You suppose he doesn’t smile enough for you to have picked up on details, but now, you’re looking at him, unhindered by shyness and limits of a tutor/semi-student relationship.

Wonwoo pulls you closer by your hips, staring down at you. “I’m going to need a verbal answer, Sweetheart.”

“Show me,” you tell him.

Wonwoo’s grin widens, and one of his hands moves from your hip to your cheek, cupping your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone, and it’s such a loving motion- it’s as if the entire frat party disappears around you. You’re so focused on him that you can hardly breathe.

Wonwoo moves closer, and you an feel his breath on your face. His lips are incredibly close, so close you could kiss him yourself- but you stay frozen, waiting on him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Wonwoo asks teasingly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

He chuckles, and then, he presses his lips to your own, cradling you even closer with the hand on your cheek. His other palm finds the small of your back, tugging you to his chest. You find your grip going to his shoulders, exploring the muscles you’ve been thirsting over.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you open wider to accept him in, a small groan slipping out of you.

God, he’s such a good kisser- you’re completely lost in him.

In the periphery, music is thrumming through you, but it’s muffled, disappearing as you fall deeper under the spell of Wonwoo’s kiss.

Things are getting hot and heavy fast, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be embarrassed that you’re making out with Wonwoo while surrounded by people, besides, something tells you they won’t care.

You can feel something on your lower abdomen, a pressure- and you realize that just kissing you has made Wonwoo hard in his jeans.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on that you can hardly breathe. You break the kiss, gasping. “Your room?”

“Not right now,” comes his immediate response.

“What?” You can’t help the way you feel crushed at the rejection-

“Not with the party,” Wonwoo clarifies. “I want to take my time with you, want you to be comfortable- having people fucking around outside my room while I’m exploring you isn’t my idea of a great first time.”

“That actually makes sense,” you concede.

“But… I’m okay to keep doing this,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then his mouth begins to move down to your throat, his tongue tasting your sweet spot. 

You release a moan, wrapping your arms around the tall nerd. “Yeah, we can keep doing this.”

Ten:

Wonwoo carefully walks to the kitchen, avoiding spilled liquor on the floor from the party the night before. He’s so focused on his footsteps that he almost doesn’t notice Jeonghan’s aura until he’s right next to him.

The frat boy is sitting on the kitchen counter, eating his cereal. “So…” Jeonghan muses with a grin, “that girl, huh?”

“What girl?” Wonwoo sighs.

Jeonghan scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes. “The one you were making out with at the party for hours. You know, the one that keeps coming here for ‘tutoring.’”

“I helped her with an essay.”

“Sure you did.” Jeonghan pushes off the kitchen counter. “It’s cute, our resident demon has a heart.”

Wonwoo freezes, realizing that Jeonghan might be onto something, but he’ll never admit it out loud. “No, I don’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

Eleven:

“Well look who it is,” Jeonghan grins as he opens the door to the frat. You wonder why it’s always him, why no one else is ever hanging around the living room, but you decide it’s best not to dwell on it.

“Hi,” you smile softly.

“Guessing you know where to go,” Jeonghan muses, opening the door wider so you can enter.

With one more nod to the frat boy, you make your way to Wonwoo’s room.

You knock on the door, and like the very first time you’d been here, it swings open with ease. Wonwoo’s sitting on his bed, a book in his hands. He’s wearing his glasses, and he looks so sexy like this, so domestic-

“Happy November,” Wonwoo says. 

You laugh. “Happy November.” You close the door behind yourself, standing there awkwardly. You know what you’re here for, know what you want from him now that your essay is complete- “You’re not practicing, you know, No Nut November, or anything, are you?”

Wonwoo laughs, setting his book down on his bedside table along with his glasses. “No, I’m not practicing No Nut November.”

“Good.”

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Get over here.”

You make your way to the bed, sitting carefully next to him. “What were you reading?”

“Dante’s Inferno,” he responds casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be reading poetry from the thirteen hundreds. 

“Wow,” you laugh, “that definitely pushes the whole demon angle.”

“I’m a deal maker, Sweetheart, the whole demon thing is overdone.” He wraps his arm around you, prompting you to cuddle up to his chest.

“And yet, your door opens on its own,” you point out. 

“And?”

“As crazy as this sounds…” you take a deep breath, “I guess I’m wondering if there’s any… legitimacy to the whole demon thing.”

“How would you feel if there was?” he counters.

“I suppose I wouldn’t believe it, not really.”

“Then what’s the point in asking?”

“Maybe there’s no point.” You look up at him, marveling at his handsome features.

“So kiss me and forget about it,” he prompts, his fingers finding the bottom of your chin and making you look up at him. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you smile, closing the gap between your lips. 

He holds you tighter as your lips mesh, half pulling you onto his chest as his tongue explores your own. God, he still feels so good- part of you had wondered if you’d been a little tipsy the last time you kissed him, and that’s why it had felt so good- but no, this is just Wonwoo, this is just the power he has over you.

You adjust so you’re straddling him, his hands finding your hips to encourage you while you cup his face, enjoying the feeling.

You begin to wiggle, grinding down softly onto him. His cock is already hardening in his sweatpants- you love how easy it is to turn him on. It does wonders for your ego as you dry hump him, beginning to moan at the sensation on your clit.

You’re not usually this type of person, not the mega-sexual, but something about Wonwoo is making you feral. It helps that you both know why you’re here- helps that he’d rescheduled this fuck session so you wouldn’t be having your first time with a wild Halloween rager just outside his door.

Things are just comfortable with him, it’s clear you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and that turns you on even more.

One of his hands begins to glide up from your waist, skimming the underwire of your bra. You move his palm even further up, so he’s grasping your breast, and he squeezes deliciously, earning a soft moan from your lips.

Wonwoo grins into your kiss, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, forcing you even closer as he massages your chest.

You grind harder onto his cock, loving the feeling-

One flip has Wonwoo on top of you, and you whimper at the change in power dynamics. He moves his hips fluidly, applying more pressure to your already throbbing clit-

Wonwoo pulls away from your throat, looking down at you with dark eyes. “So do I need to grab a condom, Sweetheart?” 

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him. “Are you clean?”

“I’m clean, are you?”

“Yeah.” You lean closer, eagerly pressing your lips to his again. You’re so lost in him, nothing else matters.

Wonwoo’s hands begin to explore you again, and then he pulls away to tug on your shirt. “Off.”

You sit up, removing the fabric, exposing your bra to him.

Wonwoo looks down at you with lust filled eyes. “You’re so pretty, Sweetheart.” His fingers tease the strap of your bra. “How’d a pretty little thing like you ever find your way to me?”

“The essay-”

“You’re so innocent though, I could tell from the moment I met you. You wouldn’t have come to me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“No, I don’t cheat.”

“And you still don’t, you did the whole essay yourself.”

“With help from you,” you blush. 

“No, Sweetheart, it was all you.” Wonwoo kisses you again, shutting up any argument you have about using his notes. 

He makes you feel so good- it’s such a safe space, and it’s the type of situation you’re not used to. The lack of judgement, the complete support- it helps you relax, helps you get even further lost in his kiss as you make out, the both of you wriggling and grinding against each other. You love the feeling of his body, the feeling of being here with him, completely enraptured mind and soul.

Wonwoo’s lips trail down to your throat, and he begins to descend. He reaches your chest, and you breathe heavily, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his lips.

His fingers hook in the cup of your bra, and he pauses to look up at you, as if he’s asking for your permission. “Do it,” you tell him, trying to catch your breath.

Wonwoo grins, pulling your bra down so he can access your tits fully. His tongue flicks at your sensitive nipple, and you groan at the sensation, arching your back to push your chest closer to his face.

Wonwoo’s lips suction around the sensitive bud next, and God, it feels amazing. 

Your pussy is practically throbbing- can women cum from breast stimulus alone? You might find out if he keeps this up.

His hands cup your tits, pushing them together, and then he begins to lick at both of your nipples, switching from one to the other in a pace that has you grabbing his hair, whimpering in desperation.

You feel like you’re on fire- you feel alive, writhing on this hot nerd’s bed. It feels dirty, but it feels so right too.

He continues on your breasts for a short while, until you’re good and needy, then he makes his way to your jeans. 

“I want you naked,” he tells you.

“Then get me naked,” you counter, still breathless.

With a wink, Wonwoo pulls your jeans down, and you work on your bra. Soon, you’re completely naked from him, and unlike other times you’ve gotten with men, you don’t feel an ounce of shame. 

This feels so right, and as Wonwoo begins kissing up your thighs, prompting your legs open, you just know that sex is never going to be the same. 

Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours as he takes a lick of your pussy, and you both groan. His lips suction around your clit and your muscles spasm. He pulls away with a grin, breath hot on your aching core. “So wet already,” he muses.

“I need you,” you whimper.

“You have me,” he promises, diving back into your heat.

He doesn’t hold anything back. He eats you like you’re the most delicious fruit in the world, like your pussy juices are a nectar he needs for life itself.

You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you’re a little shocked at the speed of all of this, however, you suppose the foreplay had done a number on you as well.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, abdomen tensing.

“Cum for me,” he breathes heavily against your clit. “Want you to cum on my tongue.” 

His lips wrap around your clit again, and two more harsh sucks are all it takes to send you over the edge. You gasp desperately, entire body tensing before the moment of your release.

Hot waves of pleasure erupt over your form, all consuming. You can hardly breathe, can only gasp in ecstasy as he works you through your high.

You’re not sure how long your orgasm lasts, only that you’re out of breath and brain dead by the time Wonwoo pulls away.

You can hardly open your eyes to look up at him as he stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are so full of lust- and for the first time, he looks truly demonic. But you’re not scared, you’re intrigued, in the best possible way.

“Fuck me,” you tell him quietly.

Wonwoo grins, and his canines flash in the light. “You got it, Sweetheart.”

He grabs the back of his shirt, tearing it off his head to reveal chiseled chest muscles. He’s got more of a sleeper build- the kind of guy you wouldn’t expect to be muscled, except that under layers of fabric, he’s actually sculpted by the Gods.

You can hardly breathe as he pulls his sweatpants down, and you’re practically drooling by the time he gets back on top of you, his lips hot against your own.

You cup the back of his neck, kissing him desperately, wiggling your hips, eager for stimulation.

Wonwoo concedes, rutting so his cock drags through your drenched pussy lips.

Neither of you say anything, you keep lip locked as he finally pushes into you. You both release gasps of pleasure, breathing the kiss to press your foreheads together as he sheaths further inside of you.

You open your eyes, looking up at Wonwoo, who meets your gaze with a fierceness that sets your insides on fire. 

He’s so beautiful- you’d checked his head for horns, but you can almost see an outline of demonic features- you must be dreaming, must be so lost in him that you’re seeing things. You close your eyes, drawing your lips to his again as he begins to fuck you.

Each thrust his hard, the tip of his long cock kissing your cervix. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but the feeling becomes pleasurable much too quickly. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, clawing at his broad shoulders.

“You feel so good,” he tells you.

“No, your cock feels good,” you correct him.

“Agree,” he presses a kiss to your lips, “to disagree.”

You laugh, and Wonwoo groans at the way your giggle makes your muscles clench even tighter around his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking a deep breath. 

He pulls away suddenly, and he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips to lift you into the air. He positions your knees together, so you’re in doggy, and then he pushes himself back into your aching hole.

Shit- things feel even tighter in this positon, and you claw at his bed, burying your face in his duvet as he plows into you. His grip is rough on your hips, but you don’t even care- if Wonwoo continues to give you cock like this, he could do anything he wanted to you, any position, and you wouldn’t mind.

Each snap of his hips sends the sound of skin on skin through his room, but that’s the least of your worries. You’re more concerned about the fact that you can feel another orgasm bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, and your pussy is clenching even tighter around him now.

“You’re close again, aren’t you, Sweetheart?” Wonwoo asks.

“Uh huh, so deep-” you whimper.

“Rub your clit for me,”  he instructs. “Wanna feel it.”

You adjust, bringing your fingers to your sensitive bud. You begin to stoke yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you crying out as he rails into you.

Wonwoo shifts, bringing one knee up so his foot is flat on the bed, giving himself better manueverabilty to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“That’s it,” he groans, squeezing your hips. “Make me cum.”

The knowledge that your high will set off his own makes you even more eager to please him, and you rub your clit even harder, whimpering desperately. 

Wonwoo lets out a grunt, and the sound is music to your ears. How is he so sexy? When did a man grunting become sexy? 

Fuck, you work yourself even harder, and Wonwoo matches your enthusiasm with his thrusts, his hands pulling your hips back to meet him with each motion.

“I’m close-” you tell him, your pussy gripping him so hard-

“Let go for me,” he responds. “Need to feel it.”

A few more circular motions on your clit has you exploding, a loud whimper escaping your lips as your pussy clamps down hard on his cock. Your entire body is alight, muscles working overtime as you contract around him.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo growls, his pace faltering as he cums inside you, filling you with a warmth that makes you spasm beneath him. 

You continue to moan as he fucks you through your highs until you’re both breathless. You can feel him breathing on your back, can feel each puff-

Your own chest is heaving with effort, your eyes closed as the last inklings of euphoria sparkle through you.

Wonwoo’s hands smooth along your hips gently, and neither of you have anything to say as you recuperate.

Finally, Wonwoo gently traces your spine with a finger. “I’m going to pull out,” he tells you. “Grab you a tissue.”

“Okay.” You nod against his bed, still too blurry from your orgasm to think too hard about anything.

The loss of his cock from your aching hole is one you feel everywhere, and you whimper, cupping your pussy to stop any cum from dripping onto his bed.

Wonwoo returns quickly, moving your hand so he can press tissue to your core. “Give it a sec, and when you’re ready we can put on some clothes and head to the bathroom.”

You stay on your knees for a few more seconds before mustering your energy. When you’re finally able to stand, Wonwoo helps you up. He pulls sweatpants up your legs, followed by a hoodie to cover your bare chest.

Then, he takes your hand, guiding you to the bathroom where you both clean up.

Everything is a blur until you get back to his bedroom, where you collapse onto the mattress against his chest, eyes closed.

Wonwoo’s hand smooths up and down your arm. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” you respond.

“I’ve gotta tell you something.”

You can hear the seriousness in his tone, and you force your eyes open, looking up at him questioningly.

“I was going to wait-” Wonwoo admits, “it’s something I’ve never told anyone, not in so many words at least.” You wait for him to continue. “The whole demon thing… there’s some truth to it.”

“But… I checked for horns?” you say, confused.

“We don’t have horns, Sweetheart. We’re deal makers. You gave me your necklace, it has a soultie to your ex, one day, I’m going to drag that asshole to hell.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. “Sure you are, Wonwoo.”

“You don’t believe me,” he muses, lifting your hand so he can kiss your knuckles gently.

“I told you I wouldn’t, so what does it even matter?”

“I just wanted to start things right,” he confesses. “Wanted to do this right.” 

“This?” you counter, grinning up at him.

“Us. I want to give it a shot, if you’re interested.”

“I’m more than interested,” you admit. “But… I think, right now, I just need a little sleep.”

“Then sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and with a smile and a deep breath, you finding yourself drifting into the most blissful sleep of your life. Demon or not, Wonwoo makes you feel protected, and that’s not something you’ll ever take lightly.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love Wonwoo!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “You look so good like this, Sweetheart,” he whispers. “Being so good for me, so corruptible-” He has a bit of a corruption kink, but he’s never forced it on you. No, he’d shown you his toys, and allowed you to choose the pace on everything. You feel so comfortable with him, and it allows you to fully connect with yourself and your pleasure.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of sex toys, flogger, vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, breast worship, nipple clamps, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praise, soft dom Wonwoo, fingering, slight pain kink, etc…   I petnames. (hers) Sweetheart. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been a few months of dating Wonwoo, and you’ve realized the whole demon thing is completely real. It was an adjustment at first, but he’d explained everything about it. There are certain demons who do the darker stuff, but Wonwoo truly considers himself a deal maker above all else. He doesn’t kill, even though, with his power, he could.

No, he’s a mellow demon, if there is such a thing. 

It’s an opposites attract type of situation, and Wonwoo’s spent countless nights admiring your aura, discussing what it is exactly that makes you the light Yin to his dark Yang. He loves you for all of your differences, and you’ve never felt more comfortable with a person- or, should you say, demon.

He’s an ageless man with a thirst for knowledge, and you’re so attracted to his deep understanding of all things literate or scientific. You find yourself constantly learning new knowledge from him, and every day you spend together is a dream you never could have even wished for.

Aside from all the educational learning experiences you have with Wonwoo, you’ve also begun to explore his sexual knowledge, and it’s a journey you never thought you’d find yourself on.

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@generalkpopwhore -

[togament]

suo. sakura. umemiya. togame. pt. 1

"...and the biggest fattest one too. How'd it take him so long to figure it out? What did it take for him to finally realize?"

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, general cute stuff really. There isn't much to warn about :o!!! gn!reader, Togame is tall and awkward and cute and and--, Ume's precious as always!

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

✦ when he’s doting on you way more, putting your wants over everything else.

He's attending to your every need even before you realize you even need it in the first place. Need tissues? He's already pulling them out of his bag. Got a migraine? He's already handing you a water bottle and an ibuprofen. He does it so naturally too like it's second nature to him.

✦ when he uncharacteristically gets heated when someone tries to harm you.

Listen. He's usually so, SO calm even in the most intense situations, always ready to analyze before acting--a real brain over heart typa guy. But when he finds you being cornered at an alleyway? He's sprinting towards you to beat whoever's planning on hurting you without even thinking twice. Someone's bothering you in town? He's shadowing you, protecting and keeping watch.

✦ he catches himself being flustered, blushing and folding at the sight of you.

Suo rarely shows any intense emotions. If anything, it's always just a slight smile and a little teasing remark here and there. But around you though? He's smiling widely, cheeks blushing. It's hard to hide sometimes. Goodness. He needs to keep himself in check, he often thinks. He doesn't want you to find out yet. Not yet.

────────────────────────────────────────────

𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀.

✦ when he looks for you FIRST whenever he achieves something, whenever he's having a bad day--for literally EVERYTHING.

his immediate thought is you. Every time. When he sees the hybrid tomato plant you both grew from seed blooming, he's immediately sending you photos. When he's having one of those nights, tossing and turning in his sleep, thoughts keeping him awake, the only thing that's tethering him down to earth is you.

✦ when he sees you get along with the family that he built for himself.

Ume is never subtle when it comes to this. My god. He's blushing, tripping over his words, movements ever so stiff--it's very unusual to see Ume in this state. He's just so happy to see you interacting with everybody, loving each member as much as he does. He can't just swoop you off your feet and kiss you right? Not right now. Not when he's been silently pining for you for years.

✦ when he realizes his thoughts about his future always has you in it.

He often talks about his future with others, what his plans are after he graduates, where he wants to go, what restaurants to go to. Everyone notices how his thoughts always seem to gravitate towards you, always easing you into his plans with a pensive little, "Hm. Y'think they'd like to go here too? I heard them talking about the spot a couple times!", "Maaaan I wanna go here with them soon. Should I just book the tickets? Surprise them? Yeah I think I should!" Everyone's just waiting for a confession at this point, really.

────────────────────────────────────────────

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

✦ when random things remind him of you.

he could be on their daily patrols, passing by some shops and his mind would drift off to you and how you would look in the shirt he passed by, how your face would probably light up at the taste of the anpan they're selling down the street. Goodness you never leave his mind. Day dreams about it sometimes. Suo and Nirei has caught him multiple times doing so. Always ends with an extremely flustered Sakura.

✦ when he thinks he hears your laughter or your voice, his head snaps towards the direction of the sound.

just like the above! But it's your voice. Nirei thinks Sakura's just on guard by how often he looks around quickly but Suo points out Sakura's reddening cheeks and they immediately know he's thinking about you again. Wants to fish his phone out of his pocket with trembling (and blushing) fingers to ask you where you are. Y'know... Just in case you run into trouble.

✦ when he gave you the other half of his food (he hasn't taken a single bite yet)

Sakura sometimes eats for at least 5 people so to have him offer half of his food to you when you're out eating is saying something. His hands are blushing and trembling as he's trying his best to steady them, slicing a portion of his food to place it on your plate. Of course, you give him the other half of your food too. Of course he's a blushing mess.

────────────────────────────────────────────

𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

✦ finds every excuse possible to be close to you. (Subtly.)

Ever noticed how Togame always seems to bump into you at spots you and your friends frequent? How he so happened to pass by the Furin school after your classes are dismissed? Gosh you're his first real crush so he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings. He wants to see you and see you often. He awkwardly and adorably tries his damndest not to seem too obvious when he's trying to see you more to strike up a conversation but his blushing (and tall frame) doesn't help his case.

✦ when he always talks about you to the old men at the public baths he frequents.

Togame's a quiet guy. He rarely ever yaps, always getting cut off mid-sentence since he talks so.. SO slow. But when it's about you, his normal 0.75x speaking speed goes up to a full 1.0x or even, dare I say, 1.25x. He's smiling ear to ear, voice with an uncharacteristic shine to it while he's playing shogi with one of the old men. They already adore you before they even meet you. They often give Togame advice too--bring you your favorite flowers, they suggest. Take you out for a festival date, they suggest. "Soon," Togame responds, scratching the back of his neck, "M'nervous though. I can pull it off ri--" "Of course you can, kame-kun." he looks at the old men with the softest, most lovestruck eyes they've ever seen. Soon. He'll make his very first move.

✦ has caught himself staring at you from afar, smiling to himself like a damn lovesick puppy.

...on multiple ocassions, might I add. You could be yapping away with the Bofurin members, talking animatedly about the most mundane things, arms flinging to and fro to get your point across, snort laughing and head thrown back. Togame's just sat just outside the group, ever the introvert. Face propped on his hand, heart practically melting. He doesn't realize he's doing this before Choji points it out. Loudly. He's immediately looking in the other direction, blush creeping up his neck as he struggles to keep the smaller Shishitoren member in check. While he's preoccupied, it's your turn to stare back at him, hiding a blush behind your hand. Suo notices this and points it out. Now the both of you are flustered messes.

a/n: tried my hand at a new layout!! eeeee inspired by my favorite perfume house but we're not opening that can of worms right now, lest I yap. ANYWHOSIES thank you, dear reader, for getting this far. I am smooching your forehead tenderly with consent.

[togrowoldinv]

The Retreat

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

When you go on a church retreat, you have a very interesting conversation with Wanda

Note: I have missed writing for this Wanda! Can’t get her out of my head lately. Y’all enjoy this one!

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, sad Wanda, oral and fingering (W receiving), age gap

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

When you were asked to go on a women’s retreat, you immediately wanted to say no. The only reason you even go to church is to appease your parents. But it’s the final retreat of the year and you are expected to attend at least one.  

So, you find yourself now waiting by the church bus to load up. You watch as mothers say goodbye to their children and wives kiss their husbands. One family in particular catches your eye.  

The Maximoffs. Wanda, the matriarch, is a good friend of your mothers. They just moved to town a few years ago, but have made quite an impression in the town. Her husband travels for work, so Wanda is often found alone at the church service while her twin boys are in class for the children.  

You wonder how a man could ever leave a woman like that alone. She is definitely the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Some part of you has been attracted to her since you first laid eyes on her.  

Wanda gets on the bus and sits a few seats from you. She gives you a small wave. You put in your headphones to try and drown out the world. The drive only lasts a few hours and soon you’re at the retreat.  

You check in and get your room key. It doesn’t take long to figure out that you will have a roommate when you open the door and see there are two beds. You're praying it’s not one of the older ladies or someone in your peer group who you can’t stand.  

The prayer is answered when the door latch opens and none other than the one and only Wanda Maximoff walks in.  

“Well, hi y/n!” She says. “I didn’t know we were roommates.”  

“Hey Mrs. Maximoff. I didn’t either.”  

“Oh please call me Wanda. This weekend we are peers, sweetheart,” she says.  

She puts her bags on the bed next to the window. Sitting on the bed, she looks around the room. Wanda spots an itinerary on the bedside table.  

“Looks like a busy weekend,” she analyzes. “We should get going to the first session.”  

“Oh, I was thinking I would just rest tonight,” you reply.  

“Nonsense, y/n,” Wanda says. “You came all this way. You might as well try and enjoy it. I know you aren’t feeling the spirit these days, but let me try and do something about that, okay?”  

Your pulse quickens. How can she see right through you? Maybe she’s just being nice. Or maybe it’s worse and your mother asked her to look out for you this weekend.  

She stands and waits for you to join her. You sigh and follow Wanda out the door.  

The first session goes better than you thought it would. At least the food was good and the middling company was made a little better by Wanda’s presence.  

When you get back to the room, it is freezing cold in there. You notice Wanda shivering even in her sweatshirt and sweatpants she has on for bed. Still, you both try to go to sleep for the night.  

At some point though, you get a feeling someone is watching you while you sleep. Or more accurately, as you try to sleep in the arctic environment. Your eyes flutter open to see Wanda sitting up in her bed.  

“What time is it?” You ask her.  

“Early,” Wanda replies. Her voice is gravely, and if you think about it too much you might even be turned on by it.  

“Are you cold?”  

She nods. “The heat isn’t working. I tried, but can’t fix it.”  

You roll out of bed and walk to the thermostat on the wall. Wanda follows you and stands close behind you. You can hear her breathing as you investigate the issue.  

“Can you fix it?” She asks.  

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” you reply. Wanda sighs.  

You turn around and Wanda is still very close to you.  

“We have one option here,” she begins. “To sleep together.”  

“Oh,” you mumble. “We- um-”  

“We could snuggle and then our body heat will keep us warmer,” Wanda further explains. “What do you say?”  

“Okay.”  

“Okay,” Wanda says.  

She leads the way to your bed hoping since it’s the one away from the window it’ll be a little bit warmer. Wanda crawls into the bed and pulls the covers down. She waits for you to join her. You get into the bed cautiously, keeping a little distance between you two.  

“Come on closer, baby. I don’t bite,” Wanda says. She grins at herself.  

You get closer to her and she wraps an arm around your waist. You drape one of your arms across the pillow and she positions herself with her head between your neck and shoulder. Admittedly, it is warmer with the two of you snuggling together.  

Eventually, you both fall into a deep sleep and the snuggling becomes more relaxed. It feels natural when the two of you wake up in the morning still intertwined.  

“Good morning,” you say softly, trying not to get lost in her green eyes.  

“Good morning,” Wanda says. Her face is close to yours. You can practically see every detail of her perfect face. “We should get ready for the day.”  

“Right,” you say, breaking out of your trance. “Of course.”  

You two break apart and you miss her warmth already. When you two show up at breakfast, several people are already in the room.  

“Wanda! Y/n! Join our table!” The leader of the women’s group calls you both over. “How did you two sleep?”  

“Quite well,” Wanda replies. “It was cold, but we made do.”  

“Oh, we can have someone look at your heat,” the leader replies.  

“Thanks that would be-” you start, but are interrupted.  

“That’s alright,” Wanda says, placing a hand on your forearm. “We are okay.”  

It's a strange response, but you try not to read into it. She probably just doesn’t want to cause any trouble. The breakfast lecturer starts soon and your attention shifts.  

At the end of the day, you and Wanda find yourselves sitting in your room once again. Dinner isn’t for another hour, so you are just waiting around.  

“Should we work on our exercises?” Wanda asks, breaking the silence.  

“What?”  

“The vulnerability exercises we talked about today in the final session,” Wanda explains.  

“Oh, sure.”  

Wanda smiles. She sits on the edge of her bed and pats the spot next to her.  

“I’ll go first,” she says. 

“Remind me of the rules,” you ask.  

“We reveal something to each other that no one else knows. So that we can release it and let the weight go.”  

You nod. You have no idea what Wanda might say. Her life seems perfect.  

“Vision left me,” Wanda blurts out quickly.  

“What?” You ask in shock. “Wanda, I- what happened?”  

You hadn’t seen them interact much, but you never assumed that he wasn’t still in the picture. Just that he had been traveling.  

Wanda looks down, playing with the ring on her finger. You can tell she’s holding back tears.  

“Wanda, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I'm really sorry.”  

“No, it might help if I do,” Wanda says. “Things just got bad. They went from okay, to maybe not so good, to fuck we’re over.”  

Your eyes go wide. Never have you ever heard Wanda curse like that.  

“How long ago was it over?”  

“A few months,” Wanda says.  

“And you haven’t told anyone?”  

She shakes her head. “I just keep saying he’s away on business. The truth is he hasn’t touched me in almost a year.”  

“So, that snuggling we did last night was?” 

“The first time I’ve remotely been that close to someone in a year.”  

“Jesus,” you mumble. She doesn’t even scold you for using the Lord’s name in vain. “Can I hug you?”  

You figure she needs human connection now more than ever. She nods and you take Wanda in your arms. She melts against you. Tears fall down her face and soak into your shirt.  

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly to her. “You’re okay, Wanda.”  

“I’m not,” she says through sobs.  

“You will be,” you reply. “I’m here for you. My parents are here for you. All of these stupid, annoying women here are on your side too, okay? We won’t let you fall.”  

Wanda pulls away some and looks at you. You run your hand through her hair and brush your thumb against her cheek gently. She leans in just enough for you to know what’s about to happen.  

“Wanda,” you say. She keeps moving forward. “Mrs. Maximoff.”  

That makes her stop. She looks at you with confusion in her eyes.  

“I just want you. Do you not want me, baby?” Wanda asks.  

“Oh, of course I want you. I just haven’t done the exercise yet.”  

“Oh?”  

You take your other hand and pull her closer by her hip. Your lips are almost touching.  

“My secret is that I really, really want to kiss you right now and fuck you until you forget about your loser ex-husband who never deserved you in the first place,” you say.  

Wanda closes the gap between the two of you. Her lips move fervently against yours. You can tell she’s desperate.  

“When’s the last time he kissed you like this?” You ask between kisses.  

“Never,” she replies.  

You smile into her mouth and move to push her back onto the bed. Her legs wrap around your waist as you pin her arms above her head.  

“Fuck, Wanda, you are the most beautiful woman alive,” you tell her.  

“We shouldn’t do this,” she says. It's her final effort at not letting herself feel as good as he deserves to feel. You move your hands off of her just briefly.  

“We should do this, but I'll stop if you really don’t want this,” you tell her.  

“No, I- we just can’t tell anyone, okay?”  

“Yes ma’am.”  

You put your hands back on her. This time, you go straight for the buttons of her jeans. You kiss down her chest and around her belly. Deftly, you pull down her pants and panties in one fell swoop.  

Wanda shivers beneath the feeling of your wet lips against her hips and as you brush your nose lightly against her core.  

“Oh, god, y/n,” she whimpers.  

“So wet for me, Wanda,” you say. You dive into her core with your tongue. Her folds are intoxicating as you bring her more pleasure than she’s ever felt in her life.  

“I need you,” Wanda says. “Please, baby. Please!”  

You take Wanda’s clit in your mouth and move your fingers into her in tandem. She is writhing beneath your touch.  

“Come for me, Mrs. Maximoff,” you say as you feel her reaching her climax.  

“Fuck!” Wanda comes hard against you.  

You lick her as she comes down and move up her body slowly. You lie next to her and kiss her cheek softly. The juxtaposition of that soft kiss and what you were just doing between her legs makes her heart flutter.  

“Are you okay?” You ask her. She is staring at the ceiling.  

“Yes,” she replies. “Thank you for everything.”  

“Anytime Wanda,” you say. You ignore the ache between your legs, knowing Wanda needs time to process this. “Should we go to dinner?”  

“Oh, I guess so,” she says.  

You sit up, but Wanda grabs your arm before you can stand.  

“I want to fuck you later, okay?” Wanda says. “I just-”  

“Need a minute,” you finish for her.  

“Yeah. Thanks for understanding, sweetheart. It’ll be worth the wait I promise.”  

Wanda kisses you deeply before she gets off the bed to get cleaned up. You watch as she walks with a new bounce in her step that she didn’t have before.  

Maybe this retreat will be interesting after all.  

[icequeenbae]

Initiation (m) | HHJ, YJI

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader x Jeongin

Werewolf AU, mates, PWP, fluff, smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, threesome (duh), oral, mating, knotting, marking, some possessiveness if you squint (softdom!Hyunjin?)

Word Count: ~5k

Summary: You joined Chan’s pack a few months ago and it’s been great so far. But there’s been some frustration accumulating in you for a while that you couldn’t battle on your own. Thankfully, there are young wolves around ready to help you. And they might be even more willing to take care of you than you realize.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Author’s note: Okay, I’m finally back with a new story!! I know I’ve been a bit absent lately, but that’s cz I’m writing a whole HHJ novel lmao Not even kidding, that one is gonna be sooo looonggg… But in the meantime, I decided yesterday that I needed to write something short and fun that I can share with you asap, and this happened! I was up till 7 or 8AM writing this, so huge thanks to @tusswrites for helping me edit this so quickly!! Anyways, this is my first Stray Kids story, so I really hope you enjoy it and give me some feedback~ Thank you, sweethearts <3

Network Tags: @kvanity-main  @ksmutsociety

You’d been feeling weird lately.

It was a feeling that washed over you from time to time, causing you discomfort, yet you still couldn’t place it. You tried to analyze the situation you were in when it appeared and figure out where it was coming from or what it was in general, but all your efforts were in vain. Something made you feel strange, and you didn’t know what or why.

It was definitely not the life with your new pack. You joined it 6 months ago after Chan’s vehement coaxing. You’d known him even before he became the alpha of his own pack, but after wandering around the world for several years and coming back to settle down, you found the citylife to be quite dangerous for a lone she-wolf. You didn’t want to admit that you needed protection as you were more than capable of fighting your own fights, but after being constantly harassed on the daily by cocky members of various local packs, you didn’t take much convincing. Chan was a good guy and a great laid-back leader, so you knew he didn’t offer this with any ulterior motive in mind. You’d have probably joined his pack even faster if not for one thing – it was full of men. And although you had no issues with young wolves with manners, being the only female wolf in the pack sounded questionable.

This made your mind blow up with questions and assumptions. What if they start harassing you as well? Chan would probably not allow that. What if they get overly possessive over you? You would probably not allow that either. What if you cannot handle living in the same space as them without any privacy? Well, you could always move back out… With the alpha’s permission.

Regardless of your reservations, Chan seemed relentless in his attempts to lure you in. You weren’t too surprised by that. There was a bond that alphas shared with their pack members. Whenever you meet your alpha, you feel like you are on the same wavelength. Some alphas are so in-tune with their current or potential packmates that they can even sense it when they meet their future mate. They do not know whose mate it is necessarily, but they can sense that it might be one. Not every alpha is capable of that though, although most of them can at least tell whether you are a good fit for their pack or not. Chan was quick to pass his judgement and inform you with all sincerity that you definitely belonged with his pack and had to trust his gut on this.

So, you did.

And you were completely stunned with the way it had turned out. You were guarded and cautious when you first joined. But the guys were actually so friendly and so welcoming that you felt at home mere days later. It was like they were your little brothers, whom you’d been living with your entire life. Sure, they were a bit awkward with you at first, but after the adaptation period was over, you were all set with your new family.

They took care of you, and you cared for them as well. You helped Minho and Yongbok cook dinner, bought art supplies for Hyunjin, scolded Changbin whenever he was too harsh on Han and helped them make up, looked after the maknaes and made sure they were not getting into trouble. You were also giving Chan a piece of your mind whenever he pulled all-nighters, too busy with his work, and then snapped at his poor pack members for interacting with him at the wrong time. At some point you managed to have him come back to his senses and remember to get at least 5 hours of sleep every night to prevent himself from turning into a wild beast.

Everything was going great until last week, when you finally noticed that the mood swings that bothered you for a few months now, were actually getting worse. You blamed it on the insomnia that you’d been suffering from lately. After all, you’d seen Chan becoming overly sensitive to everything after being sleep-deprived, but you had no idea what was making you so stressed. You had no issues within the pack, and your life outside was also pretty solid too. Now that you had your brothers around, no one was brave enough to walk up to you and challenge your bodily integrity unless they wanted to compromise their own. Despite you being older, your brothers took your protection seriously. When you joining the pack was not that widely known, there had been a few incidents that lead to physical altercations. And despite thinking that being told to sit down and let the boys handle this shit would make you angry, you actually felt giddy instead. They didn’t belittle your abilities in any way, but each and every one of them was the first in line to protect your honor. You appreciated their brotherly love towards you more than you’d care to admit. So much so, that you didn’t say anything to them, when their extensive protection made most wolves steer clear of you whenever they met you out and about.

And even as your behavior started to shift lately, they quickly picked up on that too. Yongbok and Changbin kept asking you if anything had happened. Minho made your favorite spicy pasta, which almost no one could handle apart from you two, and maybe Jeongin as well. Seungmin and Han tried to make you laugh with their silly antics. And yet, your bad mood did not lift for long.

Today you stayed home with Hyunjin, and he asked if you wanted to get some fresh air and join him on his way to a new art exhibition at the gallery downtown. You latched onto this opportunity to shake the dust off of yourself and maybe alter your mood with the help of this public outing, hoping that it might bring you some welcomed attention. With that in mind, you’d put a little too much effort into dressing up, which you realized only when your companion gave you a puzzled onceover. But when you asked if you looked inappropriate, he shook his head. Hyunjin wasn’t a man of many words most of the time, he only became talkative whenever he was drunk or simply in the mood for long chats. After a short ‘you look beautiful’ that made you feel a ping of this confusing emotional response inside you, he motioned for you to follow him outside.

However, after a few hours strutting from one installation to another in your incredibly unreasonable high heels, you became tired and capricious. To the point when you almost cried when Hyunjin sat you down on the bench outside one of the exhibition halls and disappeared for a few minutes, only to return with a pair of flat slippers. You whined that there was no way you would be seen next to him looking this ugly, and he hummed, crouching down in front of you and removing your shoes at once. He rummaged through his Versace bag and got a band-aid out, plastering it over an aching spot on your foot. While you were watching him, barely containing a shiver from the tickle of his breathing over your knee, he carefully inserted your feet into the slippers and grabbed your shoes in one hand, offering you to hold onto his arm. When you stood up, he couldn’t help but crack a dimpled smile, patting your head affectionately. After walking around in your insane high heels for hours, you now acutely felt how small you were next to him. It was a thought that made you flustered for no reason, so you frowned and made your way to the elevator, trying to seem like you were in a hurry to get back home.

A car ride home was unbearable. Your feelings were all over the place again. One moment you were grateful to Hyunjin for his attentiveness, the other you were mad at him for acting like your partner when he clearly wasn’t, and a second later you would be on the verge of crying for having no prospects of finding one either. Having no mate at your age was bothering you so much more than it should’ve, and at some point you managed to convince yourself that you didn’t care if you missed him earlier in life. Shit happens, you thought. Not everyone spent their lives with their mates, and even if you didn’t want to settle for less, at some point you might have to. And while considering this dreadful future, you had even decided that you would start going out with humans later. Dating a wolf who could very well meet their mate months or years down the line and becoming tossed to the side would be a traumatizing experience, so you vowed to avoid it at all costs. Even if your love life would be frowned upon by most other wolves, who did not consider humans to be valid partners.

These thoughts did not add positivity to your attitude, and by the time you came home, your mood was so sour that you barely acknowledged Jeongin in the living room, heading straight to the bathroom on your floor. You threw your clothes around as you got them off and removed your jewelry. Even wiping your makeup off was a chore that made you angry, so you stepped into the water almost boiling with frustration.

Taking an entire hour to finish your routine, you relocated to your room, throwing your pajamas on before crawling under the blanket. It was way too early to go to bed, but you hated the idea of being outside of your room when you had no grip on your emotions whatsoever. Snapping at your brothers, who were innocent in the matter, was not an option you were willing to explore. And it was not their fault that these thoughts and feelings suddenly came over you at random. So you stayed in, huffing and puffing for at least another half an hour, until you were interrupted by a knock on your door.

‘Can I come in?’ You heard Hyunjin ask from the other side of the door.

You didn’t want him to, but you also didn’t want to turn him away.

‘Come in.’

He slowly opened it, peeking inside before seeping fully into your room. His head cocked to the side as he took in your state.

‘Are you feeling well?’ He asked, approaching you carefully.

You shrugged, mumbling that you were fine. His nose twitched as he clearly checked if anything would be given away by your scent.

‘Are you sure?’ He asked, taking a seat on your bed.

It wasn’t unusual, the closeness he allowed himself, yet it made you even more unstable than you were before.

‘I don’t know, Jinnie.’ You whined, kicking the blanket up with one foot. ‘I’m a mess.’

He furrowed his thick dark eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’

You pouted, feeling the frustration rise again.

‘I don’t know…’ You repeated, sounding like you were about to cry now.

On a whim, you scooted closer to him and threw yourself forward to hug him. Overcoming the initial shock, Hyunjin reciprocated with a tight embrace. His hands were gently patting your back, and it seemed like he had nothing against the physical contact.

‘I’m sorry,’ you muttered into his collarbone and tried to pry yourself away from him. ‘I know you don’t like skinship that much-’

‘Don’t worry about that, noona.’ He cut you off, dragging you back into himself.

You sat like that for a few minutes, and you calmed down a little, too focused on his heartbeat under your ear. There was also something else that you’d noticed.

‘Jinnie,’ you inhaled deeply. ‘You smell… nice.’

He froze, still holding you in his arms, and his Adam’s apple bobbing indicated that he was in a state of utter disarray.

‘What do you-’

The door into your room flew open, and Jeongin invited himself in.

‘Why are you making a cuddle nest without me? You know I am the best candidate to make you feel better, noona!’

He jumped on the bed, making you huff in amusement.

‘See? You’re already smiling.’ He wrapped his arms around your bicep and continued. ‘Let go of this hyung, I am all you need.’

Hyunjin raised his eyebrow, likely feeling competitive after this comment.

And for the next ten minutes, they were busy fighting for your attention.

‘It must’ve been you,’ Jeongin nagged at the older wolf. ‘She spent the whole day with you and came back angry. I am pretty sure…’

‘It’s not. I’ve been in a weird mood lately, that’s all.’

‘Oh?’ He perked up from your thigh, where he’d been resting his head. ‘Weird how? Don’t tell me-’

‘What?’ You and Hyunjin asked in unison.

‘Are you like… frustrated?’

‘I am,’ you nodded, misunderstanding his question.

‘You know what I mean? Like… sexually?’

At this, you opened your mouth, completely offended by the suggestion.

‘What the hell?’ You shoved him in the shoulder, trying to get him off of your thigh.

‘No, but that would be so great,’ he told you despite the commotion. ‘Because it’s not that hard to solve.’

‘Yeah right.’ You grumbled, making both wolves look at you. ‘What? I am not admitting to anything!’

‘You don’t have to, my face is inches away from the only thing about you that is truthful right now,’ the youngest noted without a care.

Hissing, you shoved him off, pulling the blanket over your knees again.

‘What? It’s only the truth.’ He rolled his eyes at your reaction. ‘Just get someone to fuck you and you’ll be alright.’

You sighed.

‘Yeah, ‘cause that’s so easy.’

Jeongin sat up.

‘What do you mean? If it’s not easy for you, who’s it easy for?’

‘Someone who doesn’t have a few wolf brothers to rip into anyone looking their way?’

‘We only rip into assholes who bother you,’ Hyunjin interjected.

‘Right. And the non-assholes watch that and think, ‘oh great, I’d love to hit that after they’re done with the other guy’. Sure.’

‘If they think like that they don’t need to be hitting that anyway.’ He replied curtly, and you pouted again.

‘Remind me again why you were surprised I cannot get laid?’

‘You shouldn’t give yourself over to guys like that, noona.’ Hyunjin pressed.

‘Agreed. You could always ask someone else for help. Like, I’d definitely help the hell out of you right now,’ Jeongin said, reaching your thigh with his hand and squeezing it.

‘Then you better do that, because I am already planning to get a tinder account and grab me some human!’ You suddenly confessed, startling both of the wolves.

‘You’re- what??’ Hyunjin gasped in your ear.

‘I didn’t think you were actually that desperate, noona…’ Jeongin muttered, licking his lips. ‘But I can deliver on my offer, if you really mean it.’

You swallowed under the scrutiny of the two pairs of eyes, and leaned back into Hyunjin, suddenly feeling weak from the stress of it. In any other state you might’ve been able to think it through and decline. But right now you suddenly had no care for the consequences of your actions.

‘Do it.’ You exhaled, watching the youngest wolf purse his lips to contain his excitement.

Before you allowed yourself to think about the current chain of events, you grabbed Hyunjin’s arms and wrapped them tighter around your frame. For some reason, you didn’t want him to go either.

‘Are you sure about this?’ He asked in your ear, and you shivered from his hot breath.

You turned to give him a reassuring nod.

‘It’s easy to give into temptation when you’re vulnerable. We can’t take advantage of that,’ he continued, brushing a strand of your hair to the side.

You felt overwhelmed by his comment, but then the youngest inserted himself into this exchange.

‘Are you that scared of Chan?’ He chuckled.

‘Chan? What does he have to do with anything?’ You asked in confusion, while they were throwing daggers at each other with their eyes.

‘Because hyung told us in graphic terms that he’d rip our faces off if we tried to coerce you into something like that.’

‘What the hell??’

‘My thoughts exactly. I think you’re the one coercing me into getting down for you, noona,’ he smiled, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts.

‘Why would he say that though?’ You asked Hyunjin this time.

‘I don’t know. I guess he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable around us?’

That made sense, sort of. But you weren’t sure if that was simply due to your reluctance about joining an all-male pack, or if there was something else going on. Jeongin’s hand dipping between your thighs disrupted your already flailing thought process.

Hyunjin growled lowly, warning him, and he looked at you for approval.

‘Take them off,’ you told him, and he smiled, tugging your shorts off immediately.

‘Noona…’ Hyunjin protested hoarsely, but you squeezed his forearm.

‘I am the one initiating this. Forget whatever Chan told you.’

‘It’s not about what-’

‘I want you here. Do you want to stay?’ You asked him, and his grip on you tightened, as if you could kick him out for real.

‘Yes.’

‘Then stop nagging. And kiss me.’

He looked down at your mouth and swallowed, leaning in.

‘Shit noona, you are soaked…’ The youngest distracted both of you with his eagerness. ‘Do you always wear such skimpy underwear at home? I could fuck you without taking it off.’

Before you answered, he pulled the item of clothing to the side and ran two fingers between your wet folds. Without wasting anymore time for chitchat, he leaned in, attaching his lips to your pussy.

‘Ah fuck!’ You jolted, steadied by the arms around you.

In fact, Hyunjin’s iron hold made it even more egregious.

Jeongin made it known that he was enjoying himself, humming into you as he licked and sucked your sensitive flesh. You could feel his spit drip down to your hole, and clenched around nothing, clawing at Hyunjin’s forearm.

‘Innie, shit…’ You cursed, looking down at his fluffy head between your legs.

He seemed pleased by the feedback he was receiving, so he started alternating between various techniques. When he switched to quick sharp licks up your slit, you started shaking.

You threw your head back, bumping into Hyunjin’s shoulder. He was still tense, and you turned your head to inhale his familiar scent that calmed you down before.

‘Jinnie, please touch me,’ you begged, trying to move one of his hands onto your breast.

His nose brushed against yours, and you felt his plush lips connect with the corner of your mouth. Grabbing him by the hair on the back of his head, you pushed him closer. He growled, mouth crashing on yours, and slipped his tongue inside it aggressively. When you felt his hand sneak under your pajama top to grab your boob, you whimpered loudly. His other hand pressed down on your belly, and Jeongin suddenly flicked your clit with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth harshly.

You cried out, trembling in Hyunjin’s grasp. You were too sensitive to withstand such an attack.

‘Innie, don’t stop- I’m-’ You sobbed, grabbing onto Hyunjin’s hand over your breast. ‘I’m cumming-’

The older one bit onto your ear gently before giving it a short lick, and your eyes rolled back into your head. Jeongin was still assaulting your nub, and your long animalistic wail was probably heard outside.

You were still breathless when you felt someone lift your hips, removing your underwear.

‘Give her a break,’ you heard Hyunjin say sternly.

You squeezed his bicep, causing him to divert his attention.

‘Don’t,’ you shook your head weakly. ‘I want to.’

Just a moment later, you felt Jeongin prod at your entrance. You whined as he inserted himself into you, barely having enough time to adjust before he began rutting into you.

‘Fuck, noona… You have a- a perfect pussy,’ he noted, sounding strained. ‘Ah shit-’

Despite being just a year apart with Hyunjin, Innie was still quite young and impressionable. You could tell how overly excited and aroused he got from going down on you, and you felt it in his abrupt thrusts that he was not going to last at all. But you didn’t mind.

You panted, the aftershocks of your previous release rekindling by the continuous slapping of skin against your pussy, and Jeongin began fucking you even harder.

But at this point you got too distracted by the heavy breathing in your ear. Hyunjin wasn’t even the one inside you, and yet, he was still the one making you go insane. You wanted to cry from his proximity, because he was close but still not close enough.

You squeezed his thigh and moved your palm to the side, finding his long, hard cock.

‘Jinnie…’ You mumbled, frantically shoving your hand down his pants.

His hips jerked forward as you grabbed his thick flesh.

You desperately, desperately wanted him inside. And he knew.

‘Don’t cum inside her,’ he told the younger one, who was definitely close to his orgasm, and shoved him with his foot.

You felt him slip out, cursing his hyung, who quickly flipped you around. Jeongin tugged your hips up to put you on all fours, and shoved himself inside you again. Your face was pressed to Hyunjin’s flexing abs while he fucked you from behind feverishly. With all the thoughts vanishing from your dazed brain, you resorted to kissing and licking the skin over his taut stomach and using your nails to leave shallow marks as he stroked your head slowly. The maknae’s fingers dug deeper into the supple flesh of your thighs as he came to the verge of his release.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Hyunjin suddenly growled, loud and clear this time. ‘Get your ass over there and watch.’

Your skin was all covered in goosebumps from the commanding tone of his voice. You wanted him to use it on you as well, just so that you could defy him. Fuck around and find out.

But Jeongin was a good boy, so he did as he was told. As soon as he slipped out, you got pulled up the bed again. Hyunjin put almost his entire weight onto your back, making your elbows and knees give out. That seemed to be exactly what he wanted, and his dick slipped into your tight hole easily while you were lying flat on the bed. You moaned as his body moved in a wave-like motion, merging with yours completely. It wasn’t clear whether Hyunjin was that much bigger than Jeongin, or it was the position adding to it, but you felt so full that it made your pussy quiver helplessly.

‘Please, Jinnie…’ You whined, as his hips continued to snap forward. ‘Make me cum…’

He quickly pulled out, rolling you over like a ragdoll, and folded you in half, continuing to pound you into the mattress. You heard Jeongin moan from his spot on the chair, where he was watching you from. But you were too engaged to even try and pay attention to him, although you were sure that he was jerking himself off right now.

Hyunjin was destroying your pussy with methodical slaps, and you felt your big orgasm build again. You were going to cum so hard, you just knew it.

‘Mhm, deeper…’ You pleaded, your vision blurring as he hit so deep that your pleasure was beginning to hurt.

‘Do you want- want me to- want my cum?’ He asked, not slowing down at all.

‘Fuck, Jinnie…’

You thrashed underneath him, causing him to let go of your legs, unfolding you, and lie on top of you. His pelvis snapped back-and-forth fluidly, and you made eye contact, catching his feral gaze that likely mirrored your own.

‘Fill me…’ You choked on your words. ‘Fuck, I want it- inside me-’

As your orgasm washed over your body, you completely lost it. All control over your actions slipped away from you, and you bit into his flesh that was closest to you, piercing his bicep with your teeth. You pulled back almost immediately, but before you could say anything, Hyunjin reciprocated, grabbing your arm and sinking his own teeth into your wrist.

With the added tinge of pain, you were still shaking violently when his cum flooded your insides. You wailed and screamed every time he thrusted, with his skin slapping against yours, until his cum started gushing out of you. When he stilled, you were on the verge of losing consciousness. The tightness in your hole kept you there, and you swallowed the salty taste of his blood, slowly realizing what just happened.

‘Dammit, hyung! You knotted her?’ You heard Jeongin come to his senses before you two.

‘Fuck off.’

Hyunjin didn’t sound like he’d let anyone mess with him right now, and it sent a tight pulse through your core. He watched Jeongin flee the room as he ran his tongue over his teeth, obviously aware of your body’s reactions to him. Licking his bloody red lips, he sobered himself up.

‘You fucking marked me,’ he told you, as if you didn’t already know.

‘I didn’t- didn’t mean to-’ You tried to justify breathlessly, fidgeting slightly. ‘It just felt so good that I…’

‘Stop talking. I can’t move, and you make me want to rip into you all over again.’

You pursed your lips as your pussy quivered around his rock hard knot once more, making your eyes tear up. Everything about him was sending you into overdrive, and you had no idea what to do with yourself. It suddenly dawned on you that this was exactly what you wanted this entire time, and you had no idea that it was making you frustrated. Not even realizing that your mate was right next door, quite literally. You could’ve had him months ago, but you were too preoccupied by other things in life like trying to build a family bond with your new pack to see what fell right into your lap, quite literally. The only wolf you needed.

‘J-Jinnie…’

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he held his hips steady.

‘Baby. If you move even an inch-’ He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. ‘If you cum again, it will only prolong this…’

‘But I- I want to!’ You whined, wiggling your hips. ‘Please, it’s so big…’

‘No.’

‘Hyunjin!’

‘I said no.’

The authority in his voice made your toes curl.

‘Fuck,’ he growled, jerking forward involuntarily as he felt you fall apart again. ‘You’re not gonna stop until you get yourself pregnant, are you?’

You sobbed, unable to snatch yourself out of the excruciatingly long orgasm.

Hyunjin pressed as deep into you as he could, trying to hold you completely still, and the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix. At this point you simply blacked out from the intensity of the pleasure, regaining your perception of reality only when your partner’s girth finally began deflating in your overstimulated pussy.

‘Are you back?’ He asked, voice a bit gruff but not low and menacing anymore.

It made warmth spread out in your chest as you nodded.

‘Does anything hurt?’

You shook your head first, and then nodded after noticing his expression.

‘It must hurt. I told you not to move, baby.’ Although he was admonishing you, it didn’t stop him from pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. ‘Give me a couple more minutes and it’ll be done.’

‘Okay,’ you mumbled, not that eager to let him go – he was your newly found mate, after all.

But your fragile intimacy was crushed by the loud voices in the hallway.

‘What the fuck did I tell you all about doing shit like that to her? I don’t care who-’

Chan burst through the door, stopping in his tracks.

‘Are you still going at it?!’ He asked, not fazed by the fact that Hyunjin was naked and on top of you.

After he tugged the blanket up to cover your bodies fully and turned to face his alpha, Chan gasped.

‘Don’t tell me- it’s you, isn’t it?? She’s your mate, right?’ He sounded more excited than angry now. ‘I knew it! I told you that you absolutely had to join-’

‘Hyung,’ Hyunjin cleared his throat, not even trying to sound apologetic. ‘We’re otherwise preoccupied, as you might see.’

Thankfully, he couldn’t see under the covers, and your mate’s body also shielded yours from the other wolf’s eyes, but you were still dying of embarrassment.

‘Oh- right. Wait, are you locked- You know what, nevermind. Keep going. I mean, finish up. I mean-’

‘Oh gosh, Chanie hyung!’ Yongbok groaned, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him into the hallway before shutting the door. ‘Let them be.’

As their voices became less and less distinguishable, Hyunjin looked into your eyes, seemingly reading your thoughts.

‘No, he’s never going to shut up about it,’ he replied before you asked. ‘But I’m still grateful that he convinced you to join the pack. Thank you for taking him up on his offer.’

His last words made him tense, thinking back to someone else you took up on his offer.

‘You’re going to snap Innie’s neck, aren’t you?’

‘You’re fucking right.’

‘Jinnie…’

Masterlist

A/N: Ahhh, this hot mess of a trio... I hope you enjoyed this little fun ride! Please comment and reblog, I really appreciate your feedback💜 And as usual, my asks are open~

[rcmclachlan]

Reading the comments on this post and you know what? Tommy does have a podcast!

It's called Getting Rom-Commy with Tommy and he breaks down the history, plots, tropes, and cliches made famous by romantic comedies. He recorded the first episode—Tillie's Punctured Romance, the first feature film in the genre—in 2020 during the early days of the pandemic, and has since gained a small but loyal following who love his deep dives, quirky sense of humor, and the random breadcrumbs about his own life that he drops occasionally.

For three and a half years, he's posted an episode every other Thursday without fail, so it's the talk of r/romcommytommy when the promised episode about A New Leaf doesn't materialize. They worry about Tommy being sick or dead—or worse: growing bored with the subject matter—and flood his podcast inbox with well wishes and pleas to continue the series.

Finally, the episode goes up the following Thursday, and he prefaces it by apologizing for the delay. He had gotten tangled up in a work thing and had spent the previous week dealing with the fallout (i.e.: paperwork), but he's in high spirits because he isn't in federal prison and has reconnected with old friends. And made some new ones! Which has nothing to do with Walter Matthau's performance, which in Tommy's opinion is one of his best, and he jumps right into the movie and says no more about what kept him away.

After that, for months, the series takes on a different tone—more buoyant, almost bewilderingly cheerful—and it elevates what was already a great program to something that truly has a happy ending every time. More people start listening. The subreddit hits 10k members, and speculation about what's causing Tommy's audible joy runs rampant, with most agreeing it's because he has someone special in his life.

Then, the 103rd episode goes live. It's an unflinching look at the movie Blue Valentine, which is very much not a romantic comedy, and for the entire episode Tommy vacillates between sounding dead inside and on the verge of tears. "It's just another example of how even the most passionate relationship will erode over time," he murmurs. The episode ends without its usual jaunty outro.

It becomes clear over the next several weeks that something devastating has happened, because Tommy has ditched his beloved rom-coms for the most depressing movies ever made. The subject of the top trending post on the subreddit for a month is 'If I ever listen to the Closer episode again I will need the following: a gun.'

His listeners debate whether or not to jump ship, but the film analyses are still really good. Plus, it feels like abandoning a friend in their time of need.

I don't know if you will ever see this, Tommy, but I think I speak for everyone when I say: we love you, we're here for you, we're not going anywhere, but for the love of GOD please go to therapy, u/marshedmellowout comments on the post for the In The Mood For Love episode.

No one's quite sure if u/marshedmellowout got through to him, but it feels like a turning point when the subject of the next episode is Desert Hearts. Tommy spends almost half the episode runtime analyzing the film's hopeful ending, and even cracks a couple of jokes. While his voice doesn't have that incandescent happiness from before, it's much lighter.

The next few episodes continue that slow, upward trend, and the movies Tommy deconstructs go from having hopeful endings to happy ones. He's back to making terrible puns and laughing at his own jokes, and everyone on the subreddit breathes a collective sigh of relief. He's going to be okay.

None of his listeners are prepared for how he starts the 118th episode.

"You're all in for a treat today, because I'm joined by a very special guest. He's not a big fan of movies, usually, but he's got a mind made for analysis, so making him watch Groundhog Day was kind of a no-brainer. I've been dying to hear him pick this one apart. Evan, say hi."

The joy from all those months ago is clear and present in Tommy's voice, but it's tempered with something new: certainty.

"H-Hi, everyone," Evan says, bashful and a little giggly. "Sorry, I've never done something like this before."

"You literally had a walk-on role in the country's most watched TV show. 22 million people tuned in that night, and that's not including the streaming numbers."

"That was different! I had one line. Plus, I didn't care about making Brad look dumb."

"Brad didn't need your help with that," Tommy says, audibly besotted. "Evan, you can't possibly make me look dumb. They can't see me."

Groaning through laughter, Evan gasps, "Oh my god, I said you get five stupid jokes and you just wasted one. Better make the next four count."

"I'll do my best," Tommy says. "So, overall, what did you think of the movie?"

It's the most listened to episode of the entire podcast, and u/cadburybunnyeggs's post 'Evan needs to be a permanent host and here's why' makes the front page of Reddit.

(A year later, the Four Weddings and a Funeral episode, which goes live two days before Tommy and Evan get married, is nominated for a Webby Award. What happens afterwards in the subreddit breaks containment and winds up in the New York Times.)

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

[balteringanatidae]

Just Like a Woman

pairing: professor!spencer reid x fem!student!reader word count: 1k (short n sweet blurb) contents: title taken from jeff buckley/bob dylan, immensely suggestive, age gap!! corruptive!spencer if you squint while reading upside down, reader is absolutely of age of course, sensitive!reader, reader is in love with spencer’s glasses because i’m projecting, not a power dynamic(?), i swear!!!

You hung around after Professor Reid’s classes for various reasons. You were always interested in why he made such a change in his career—from FBI agent to a college professor. In your first years, you’d been interested in all of his degrees, and you constantly wondered if you could ever become like him—talented at such a young age. He said you were the perfect age for it, young with several years in college already. You could do it, he always told you. Just stay curious.

Sometimes if you were lucky, he’d play a chess game with you, where he would prattle on about his late mentor, Jason Gideon, who you had evolved fond of over the few times you heard about him, while simultaneously checkmating you. This caused you to form the theory that he took advantage of your problem with multitasking.

If the whole class was lucky, he’d tell stories of interesting cases over the years. A favorite of students was Ferell’s (also known as Lucky) case. Your favorite was Jackson’s case, maybe because Professor Reid described the case to you intimately; he explained how he empathized with Adam (and Amanda) due to his experience with DID patients.

If he weren’t your professor, you’d call him your everything. He’d been a major part of your life for the years you've been in college, and you can’t help but feel for him as more than his student.

“Professor Reid.” You beamed at him, strolling over to his desk. His files in hand, analyzing the text. His glasses congregated at the tip of his nose; it made you swoon. “Are you busy?”

“Yes,” he replied bluntly without looking at you. Other students were collecting their things to depart for the day. Meanwhile, others had to rush to get to their subsequent courses. You’d assumed he responded in such a manner because other people were around.

“Can you make some time for me?” you murmured as the final student walked out, closing the door behind them as if they knew. You pressed your palms against the table as you leaned forward, stealing a peek at the papers in his hand. They appeared substantial, classified perhaps, so you looked away. “Chess game, maybe?”

“I can make time for you. We need to have a chat.” His voice was firm, which sent shivers down your spine. You felt as if you were in trouble, but you hadn’t done anything. “Unclench your jaw,” he requested, for your own good, but it felt like a brutal demand.

You simply nodded, attempting to relax your whole body. You waited for him to speak up again. The silence was lethal, and the tension in the space was dense. You involuntarily bit your lip in anticipation as he positioned his papers to the side.

“There has been a rumor circulating.”

“Okay?”

“You’re sleeping with me.”

“Oh.” Your lips parted in surprise, your eyes widening too.

But you couldn't deny that the thought was intriguing. Professor Reid could mislay his career over this, so you wouldn't indulge in it. You could only gape at him in confusion; you hadn't initiated the rumor, of course.

“Professor Reid, I didn't—”

“I know. Trust me, I know you didn't.” He sighed as he removed his glasses.

“You don't want me staying around anymore, do you?” You sighed, your eyes meeting his. He had an empathetic glow in his eyes, which caused a moue to monopolize your lips—pouting childishly, breaking like a little girl.

“C’mere, sweet,” he whispered, his eyes following you as you stepped behind the desk with him. He patted the desk, allowing you to sit atop his workspace.

Sweet. That was one among the numerous nicknames he gave you. Angel, when you gifted him anything, or you offered that bright smile of yours. Amata, he began to call you after you wore a shirt with a Latin proverb on it.

Sweet was how you felt when he looked at you as if you were the only woman ever. Or when he handled you as if you would shatter, his hand sliding up your leg unhurriedly.

“I don't ever want you to stay away, okay? I value you as a student and a special person in my life.” He positioned his hand on your thigh, gently squeezing it. “Just until these allegations are resolved.”

You nodded in understanding, his touch familiar. It nearly made you understand why these allegations had come along. Though it was often friendly, you knew it was controversial. “How long until then?” you all but whined.

He stood up, in between your legs, as close as possible. This wasn't friendly anymore. His hands traveled to your waist. “A few weeks to a month, maybe?”

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

You hummed as you caught onto his intent. You were truly a giddy schoolgirl at that moment. Your fingers traveled through his curly locks, a smile gracing your lips. “We are no better than the allegations, are we?”

“Not at all,” he said quietly as his head dipped down to kiss your neck. Your skin was so smooth and bare. His urge to mark your pristine skin was palpable; instead, he settled on mere pecks and kitten licks, hardly tasting your skin.

You tugged on his hair gently, pulling his face close to yours once more. Your lips coalesced desperately; it didn't feel like the first. It felt so natural, other than the fact that you had better oral agilities than him.

He tried to pull away, and you chased his lips. “Hey,” he muttered as he finally pulled away from your lips, your ears captured his dulcet voice. You hummed in acknowledgment and allowed him to proceed with speaking, “I can make it up to you now.”

To which you eagerly consented.

“Glasses on?” You nearly begged as you snatched his tie off in one pull. You dropped from the desk as Spencer seated himself in his chair, lap vacant, for you.

“Anything for you.” He stretched out for his glasses, swiftly positioning them on his nose, so his belt could be off sooner.

You couldn't help but feel as if you proved you weren't just like a woman. You were a woman.

[barkbre]

The Connor hyper fixation is SO real

Imagine giving him his first bj. He’s got a million questions and concerns about damaging your throat, but the second tongue hits tip he shuts up. Overwhelmed by the pleasure like he’s never felt before, he can’t form words anymore just noises

UGH I NEED HIM RN

Foaming at the mouth oh god... 💭

warnings: overstim(?) bj, Connor being unintentionally rough- lol, probably forgetting something!

Giving Connor his first blowie was definitely... ahem.. oh boy.

- First off the questions are so much and so overwhelming so when you simply sit between his thighs while he's rambling on these stupid useless questions about if its safe or not and when you start trailing your hands up his work slacks he stutters- genuinely stutters as he speaks, quickly shutting his mouth as he realizes he's learning and adapting to human flaw as a deviant should be.

- feeling your nose brush into his clothed crotch sends him reeling as his hands grip the couch cushions underneath him, his legs spreading further apart with ease as you bite his soft, faux skin at his hips, Connor's eyes roll back slightly as he basks in the sensation. Connor's hands traveling to ghost over your shoulder and head as you sit there- kissing and biting his torso down to his thighs

- Connor makes a sound of surpise as your fingers hook into his boxers, (which Hank advised he wore for.. well.. instances like this one) slowly slipping them off as his surprisingly sizeable length practically smacks you in the face- you stare at it, analyzing how it looks, the intrest in his attachable 'accessorie' growing on you for god knows how long

- Connor's LED going a heated purple tone as his expression is a mix between worried and excited, worried you'll be turned off or something but excited because of your hot touch and the fact he's got a pretty thing between his legs which he never in a million years would've thought were to happen to him

- When he closes his eyes for a momment to help himself regulate his core systems and not freak out he gasps as his eyes fly open to see your mouth now swallowing about 60% of his 7.5 inches of length, his hands gripping your head and shoulder roughly- making you wince just slightly at the uncontrolled strength he used.

- Connor loosening his grip as he realizes and as he tries to apologize you sink further down, causing Connor to watch in awe and have his 'breath' caught in his artificial throat. Moaning around his length out of satisfaction it makes him jolt and spread this thighs further apart for you as his systems go through a series of resets and shutdown momments

- Once you start actually moving your hand and head against his length he's letting out groans and sounds you never wouldve expexted him.. let alone an android- to make at all. His reactions almost completely mimic a true human's reactions as his body grows shakey- whatever upgrades and changes cyberlife made to make them function exactly like humans to all degrees was definitely getting put to... good use.

- Connor's voice modulator goes into overtime as his voice grows almost a little staticy when he grows closer to what you think is him cumming you assume?...

- Connor quickly tries to pry you off but when you resist and it feels more and more intense he gives up and allows you to continue- uncontrollable breathing and soft moans slip from his mouth as grips the edge of the bed so tight you fear he might rip the sheets apart.

- When he finally gets to that point his eyes roll back and his frame twitches roughly as he hunches over you, his hands gripping you so violently that you think he's trying to purposely rip your hair out as he gasps and tenses up. You swallow the... sweet?... substance?...

- You move back, out of breath and definitely confused from the sweetness of whatever you swallowed as Connor tries to catch his breath to explain what the substance was until you blurt out

" ... blue.. raspberry... flavored.. semen?"

- You start laughing as you rest your head against his thigh as he explains poorly that the substance is a faux semen replicate but with a sweet blueraz aftertaste so that when people want to get.. well.. frisky with an android they arent completely grossed out afterwards

EJSJS this is kinda bad my apologies :(.

[coco-loco-nut]

Revelations

pairing: Daniel x reader

summary: Daniel casually mentions his wife after 11 YEARS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. Danny Ric comeback. 2025 season, he is back on rbr

request are open pookie masterlist part 2

—————————

Being an engineer for Red Bull was something else. You have been with them since you graduated college, and truthfully you never want to leave, the team is your family, having been with them for 11 years.

You met your husband through your job, both starting at the ripe old age of 23, and despite the potential HR violations, Christian Horner practically set the two of you up on a date after being oblivious about each other’s crushes. Thus began Red Bull’s best kept secret.

“Happy 10 years, Danny,” you kiss your husband, him watching you analyze data. Christian made him promise to never use you as a mole, and the two of you very quickly agreed. Even when he was on Renault and McLaren, work talk was kept quiet. Daniel had a great season last year and was brought back to Red Bull Racing, Christian promoted you to be his race engineer, knowing Daniel would listen to you.

“Happy 10 years, my love,” he hugs you tight. Your children are home in Australia with their grandparents for the weekend.

“Good morning, Ricciardos. Happy wedding anniversary,” Christian greets you, sitting for the pre-race meeting. Christian celebrates your wedding anniversary almost as much as you do, but he is a part of the family. He officiated your wedding at this track 10 years ago today, and he is the godfather of your eldest.

“Good morning, I printed out some data sheets so we can determine strategy. I noticed some unusual tyre degradation, while it could be from the unusually high track temperatures yesterday, it is something we should plan for today,” you start, passing out the papers. Daniel will never not be able to admire you. Sometimes he misses what people say because he stares at you, the exact reason Christian helped get you two together.

“Let’s grab some coffee then go on a track walk,” Daniel holds his hand out to you after the strategy meeting, you happily take it. After your lap around the track, you meet with the other engineers while Daniel warms up and does media. As you are watching the F2 race for valuable data, someone from PR comes over to you.

“Watch this clip,” she says and you oblige.

Daniel, you seem in better spirits than usual, care to share?

I don’t know mate, I am usually a pretty happy person.

Here I was thinking that maybe you finally had a girlfriend

Nah, I don’t think my wife would be happy about that… I wasn’t really supposed to say that. If you are watching, sorry! I’ll make it up to you, love.

Well, I hope there isn’t a couch in your future. Good luck today.

Thanks, but she’s put up with me for 11 years, I doubt there will be a couch in the future.

“Oh, he might have the couch tonight,” you laugh a little, honestly surprised it took 11 years for him to accidentally say something.

“Looking back at all the photos, he is wearing a wedding ring, how did we not see that?” You hear one of the Mercedes drivers say outside the garage.

“You saw the video?” Daniel asks as you playfully glare at him.

“I did. I have a winning strategy for you, so maybe you can move off the couch tonight. Lose and you stay there longer,” you tease. Being his race engineer helps so much because you can subtly say things and no one picks it up, and any interactions between you seem normal.

“Yes, Mrs. Ricciardo,” he smiles and goes to get changed for the race.

Last car in, good luck Daniel

I don’t need luck, I have you guiding my race

Ok, Daniel, whatever you say

The strategy works out well, and planning for the hotter heat was a smart move. Christian hasn’t told you not to race with Max, so you push Daniel for the overtake.

“Come on, honey badger,” you whisper. Daniel has had the better strategy and better pacing, all day so he easily overtakes and keeps the lead through the final five laps.

Okay Daniel, last lap, Verstappen behind, keep the pace.

Does this mean I’m off the couch?

Focus.

Sorry.

And that’s P1, P1 very good, Daniel. Red Bull 1-2. You are officially off of the couch.

LET’S GO! Thank you team! I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thanks for the brilliant strategy, and for letting me off the couch. Best wife ever.

Mhmm. Happy 10 years. Parc Ferme is clear for you, pull in so the team can celebrate.

Let’s just say that F1 TV streaming your radio broke the internet, and the drivers when they all got out of their cars and into the garages. You followed the team to wear Daniel was parking and the team pushed you to the front. Daniel celebrated there with the team, taking his helmet off and kissing you. The team wolf whistles around you.

“Go to the podium, we will celebrate with you there,” you push him in the direction of where he needs to go. Unknowingly to Daniel, Red Bull chooses you to represent them for the Constructors Trophy.

“Mate, how did you keep that a secret?” Oscar asks Daniel in the debrief room.

“It wasn’t much of a secret. Everyone in Red Bull knows most of the relationship,” Max says and Daniel nods along.

“Honestly, I don’t know how people didn’t know,” Daniel laughs. The FIA tells them to start heading out to the Podium and Daniel searches the crowd for you when he steps out, but can’t find you. He’s shocked but extremely delighted when you step out and stand beside Oscar for the Constructors trophy. The mischievous glint in his eye is a loud warning that you will be sprayed with champagne. You happily stand through the national anthems, clap when Daniel is handed the trophy, and beam with joy as you are handed the second trophy. Soon enough you are presented with champagne and the go ahead to spray it is given.

“Max!” you squeal and hide behind him as you both spray Daniel.

“Quit hiding my wife!” Daniel laughs and in a split second, your cover is gone as Max moves to spray Oscar. You and Daniel both pour the champagne in each other’s mouth.

“Ew, that’s almost as bad as if you guys were to kiss,” Max laughs. Daniel gives you a devilish smile, pulling you close to him and capturing you lips with his.

“The kids are going to be so grossed out,” you laugh and Oscar looks almost horrified.

“THE KIDS?!”

[yourfavoritehouseplant]

I watched James Somerton's final video, and all I got was this 6 page document

As soon as I learned his final unreleased video was on Revolutionary Girl Utena, I knew I had to hate watch it. I didn't know that I'd spend the following 4 hours making a comprehensive doc on everything I hated about it. But here we are.

The TLDR (is this too long to be a TLDR?)

The intro section, as well as Part 2, are directly plagiarized from wikipedia. The rest is unclear.

He makes a “haha this show is so weird right guys” joke 10 different times

He reads Anthy as so emotionally stunted she literally has to be taught how to think for herself, and believes that being the rose bride makes her feel good

He says that his reading is ‘vastly different” from the rest of the community, before boldly stating that this is because he sees it as a “deeply allegorical and symbolic story”

He sees the sexual abuse as “not to be taken literally”

Insists that the show be separated into parts that are strictly literal and strictly allegorical for the entirety of parts 3 and 4, before making the contradictory move of analyzing characters as allegories during part 5

The only characters that get dedicated sections are Akio and Dios, who he doesn’t believe are the same person. 

He says Dios gets his powers by “deflowering women”

He calls Akio, known child predator, a chaotic bisexual

Uses 14 year old SA survivor Anthy’s passive personality to make a joke about her being a bottom

His final point is that Utena was the real prince all along

There are no citations

Anyway, full version for people who hate themselves under the cut. With time codes, because I cite my sources.

Part 1: Intro

This entire section is almost exclusively quoted from the Wikipedia article for Revolutionary Girl Utena. Words have been changed, but the order at which certain topics come up is not. Highlights include:

0:56 In his introduction of Be-Papas, lists the founding members in literally the exact same order as Wikipedia.

1:40-2:00 His list of Be-Papas previous works is lifted entirely from wikipedia, only with the words changed. This leads to a strange moment at 1:52 where he claims Be-papas ‘lent their talents to’ Neon Genesis Evangelion, a show which started production at least a year before Be-papas was founded. On the wikipedia article for Utena, this is instead referring to the previous work of Shinya Hasegawa and Yōji Enokido

4:23 he uses a quote by Yūichirō Oguro describing the production as a “tug of war”. He seems to have lifted this in its entirety from Wikipedia, as he does not cite the actual source it is from (the box set companion book, btw)

As for James Somerton originals, at 0:44 he claims that out of all magical girl series,”none to my knowledge have been more discussed and dissected than the 1997 series Revolutionary Girl Utena” He will go back on this at 5:05, where he states that “Sailor Moon takes the lion’s share of discussion” in regard to influential magical girl anime

Part 2: Part 1

(At least I know I’m not funny, unlike James Somerton)

Speaking of which. Here is every single time he makes a “wow this show is sooooo weird you guys” joke: 6:00, 8:50, 10:40, 10:58, 13:46, 17:07, 24:16, 30:34, 41:19, 48:01

Here’s every time the punchline to the joke is the existence of Nanami, a character who he otherwise completely disregards: 10:56, 12:05, 16:22, 42:40

6:16 Claims that the “Apocalypse saga” and “Akio Ohtori saga’ are two names for the same several episodes, depending on the release. This is untrue. Instead, different releases either only have the Apocalypse saga, or split the episodes into an Akio Ohtori saga and then the Apocalypse saga. 

7:58 Claims Utena intervening on Anthy’s behalf begins the first duel. While this happens in the movie, Touga intervenes in the scene he uses clips from (like literally right after the shot he uses in the video). Utena only gets drawn into the duels when Wakaba’s love note to Saionji is posted. Youtuber Noralities’ Utena video also gets this wrong, which makes me wonder if this was copied.

9:09 Claims Akio’s “End of the World” moniker is actually more closely translated to “Apocalypse”. In reality, the translation moves away from a more apocalyptic reading, with 世界の果て (Sekai no hate) apparently translating closer to “the furthest reach of a known world” or “edge of the world”. (Love the implications of this translation, but I digress)

9:10 As can be assumed from the previous point, this means I can’t find any sources that point to them not using the title “apocalypse” for religious reasons

10:10 Uses Anthy’s extreme passivity under her Rose bride persona to make a top/bottom joke. I’m gonna repeat this in case you’re just skimming. He uses a trait that likely stems from years of abuse, (possibly exaggerated by the persona Anthy uses to manipulate people), and uses it to call her a bottom. 

He also just doesn’t seem to understand how the whole point of Utena constantly telling Anthy that she's just a normal girl who should make more friends is framed as Utena imposing her will on Anthy, just as much as the previous Engaged have done. 

11:54 Apologies in advance for my most “um, actually!” point yet, but technically his statement that Anthy stops being host to the Sword of Dios is wrong. Akio literally pulls a sword out of her chest in the final duel. It's a more evil-looking sword of Dios, granted.

13:02 !!! CANTARELLA SCENE ALERT !!! He interprets it as them fighting over Akio?? Which like. I will allow people to have their own interpretations of vague and symbolic scenes. I will. I swear. This is not technically incorrect. It just makes me want to eat my own intestines.

14:44 Bad Anthy take #1: He states Anthy “is emotionally stunted to the point where she needs people to make decisions for her because she does not know how to think for herself” This ignores several moments of Anthy clearly making her own choices throughout the show, including the suicide attempt Somerton mentions about a minute prior. This also strips Anthy of what little agency she has throughout the story, usually exerted through messing with Utena or Nanami. (The fact that she repeatedly makes choices that contribute to her own abuse is, in my opinion, one of the most interesting parts of her character, and it's a shame that Summerton’s ‘reading’ of the story completely disregards that)

Additionally, he once again reads Utena ‘urging Anthy to think for herself” in the first arc as an unambiguously good move, and not as something critiqued in the show.

14:52 Summerton reads the Swords of hatred as symbolizing men’s hatred specifically. Again, I’m trying not to completely disregard differing interpretations to a show like Utena, but this feels very simplistic, especially considering the harm we see aimed towards Anthy by other women

16:42 Here he claims that his reading of the story seems to be “vastly different” from the bulk of Utena discourse. What is this reading? That the show shouldn’t be read literally. Or, in his words, “[we can interpret] Revolutionary Girl Utena as a deeply allegorical and symbolic story about the struggles of coming of age amidst widespread institutional corruption in a high school and which describes a passive culture of inaction in regard to brazen instances of domestic exploitation in which there is not only a question about the caporeality of the events transpiring but also which events can be taken for granted and which events are meant to signify abstract sociological institutions.” The idea that he believes this is in any way a new reading of the material honestly baffles me.

Part 3: Part 2

17:48 through 18:50 differently quotes the Wikipedia article for postmodernism. He even makes a joke at 17:55 about Wikipedia. Please kill me. 

The first three themes he lists at 19:11 are just the three main themes listed on the Revolutionary Girl Utena Wikipedia page. What was that about a “vastly different” reading, James?

You’re gonna have to take my word for it, but this section is so short because it's just him talking about the various ways the story can’t be taken literally. He does, ironically, call this a hot take.

Part 4: Part 3

Here’s where the reading falls apart folks

At 23:15, he states that some things in Utena are allegorically coded, while others are to be taken literally. This is true. However, he seems to take this to mean that some parts of the show are Strictly Literal, while others are Strictly Allegorical for things going on in the Literal World. 

This is apparently why he prefers the Anime to the Movie, where there basically is no separation between the Literal and Allegorical

This take is bizarre to me for several reasons, but here is my favorite. At several points, he mentions how Revolutionary Girl Utena is a work of Magical Realism. Magical Realism is literally defined by its blending of the “literal” and “allegorical”, the mix of fantastical elements in a mundane, realistic setting. This idea of the impossibility of a blurred line, that Utena must either have lore where the magic is all real and means nothing, or dedicated allegory segments quarantined from the rest of the story, is contrary to the very idea of Magical Realism.

I can’t help but wonder if Somerton took his mentions of Magical realism from a previous work, due to how little it is consistent with his final argument. Either way, this section suggests a great lack of creativity in his analysis, a shame for such a creative work.

24:36: Shiori slander, for those who care

After this he gets really worked up about people assuming symbolism in everything, even when the author ‘doesn’t make it clear something is symbolic’. He shuts down a reading of a shot in the Lord of the Rings. Miley Cyrus is there? Very The Curtains Were Blue of him. 

28:22 Claims that Wakaba is the key to telling where the Strictly Literal segments end and the Strictly Allegorical segments begin. He states that, under this lens, deeply personal moments of character suffering such as all of the sexual abuse and Anthy’s suicide attempt (which he literally cites) should be read as symbolic and be “approached with uncertainty rather than confusion”. (28:24-29:13)

This also somewhat falls apart when you consider Wakaba is the jeep in the movie's car chase

And then he rants about people not liking his Attack on Titan video for a bit. Since its potential symbolism also doesn't follow hard enough rules to be symbolism. Once again, the separation of “fact vs allegory” I haven’t watched AOT, so that's all I’ll say.

Part 5: Part 4

Thank god this part is short. Much like Dios’ on-screen presence.

32:55 Makes the extremely bold claim that Dios is not Akio. As in, never even became Akio. because Dios is Strictly Allegorical.

Just to be a pedant, this is pretty explicitly disproven in the show

Confusingly, both earlier and later he will address these two as the same character. 

33:04 he also explains the root of Akio’s name in a tone that suggests this is supplemental information and not like. Literally something he explains out loud in the show?

Part 6: Part 5

This section is nearly entirely about Akio Ohtori. I would like to note that him and Dios are the only characters with dedicated segments.

38:30 The part where he states that Dios gets his powers from deflowering women.

38:46 Claims, once again, that Akio’s abuse of Anthy “may not be literal”. 

38:59 “the instance of exploitation here is used because assault has deep roots as indicating that akio's gender is the source of his imbalance”  THE ASSAULT IS ABOUT AKIO NOW???

39:45 Bad Anthy take #2: “Anthy’s conformity to the Rose bride is based around the fact that she feels good being subservient because this is the only thing in her life that has ever brought her any kind of positive reward”. This is a direct quote. Anyway, I can’t think of any instances in the show where Anthy’s subservience gives her a positive reward, except maybe when she’s intentionally using it to manipulate others. As for her feeling good being the rose bride. She tries to commit suicide. Dude.

Side tangent, but isn’t this exactly what Akio says during the final 2 episodes? That Anthy enjoys being a witch? Is the main villain, who consistently says things during that very episode that are blatantly false, our source of information for this take? I guess so, since this is the dedicated Akio section.

At 40:20 he decides to introduce the concept of Anthy, Akio, and Utena as stand-ins for wider concepts, which is antithetical to his approach in analysis beforehand

Part 7: Part 6

42:40 he finally acknowledges that he’s been spending too much time talking about Akio, and literally no time on characters like Nanami

46:10 states that Utena’s exclusive motivation “is to protect Anthy from the predatorial intentions of the other dualists”, which disregards the fact, which she states herself, that she was largely participating in the duels and protecting Anthy to feel like a prince

48:04 The part where he says that Akio has ‘chaotic Bi vibes’ in regards to him sleeping with Touga, who is 17 and implied to be a long-term victim

Part 8: Part 7

54:01: His concluding point is that Utena was the real prince all along. 

In true Somerton fashion, the video then ends over a scrolling wall of patrons, with not a single citation in sight.

[sorrowsofsilence]

the bet • bad omens

pairing: all bad omens members x fem!reader

words: 8.4K • masterlist

warnings: 18+, fwb and lust, smut with each member (you are the bet lol)(penetration pls wrap it b4 u tap it, male!receiving, photos taken, fem!receiving, swearing, nicknames: pretty girl, princess, good girl, baby girl), jealousy, mentions of alcohol/smoking/edibles)

summary: each of them want you- so they decide to make a bet.

note: this is purely self indulgent and filthy lmao, i hope you enjoy.

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

Folio finished licking the wrapper, rolling the buds to form a joint and twisting the end, smiling down at his handy work. Noah sat across from him on the couch, while Jolly opened a beer on the left, placing it on the coffee table.

Ruffilo sat next to Noah, the two sharing a bag of chips and rambling about their prior super smash bros session.

“I always win on little Mac,” Noah mumbled, still salty that Nicholas kicked his ass as Ganondorf.

“Do you?” Ruffilo laughed, shovelling a few chips in his mouth, “I think it’s time to leave little Mac behind.”

Noah sent him a glare in response, before eyeing Folio.

Nick lit the joint, taking a slow drag before blowing the smoke out his nose and leaning across the table to hand it to Noah.

It’s been a while since they got to enjoy each other’s company like this. With five consecutive days off until their next show, and only one day of travel between- this was the longest time to relax that they’ve had this whole tour.

Noah sucked the smoke into his lungs, before passing it to Nicholas, “Man, I’m so glad we finally have some time to catch up on sleep.”

All of them nodded their heads in agreement, sinking into their seats.

Jolly now held the joint between his fingers, rolling it between them, “I don’t think I’ve caught up… ever.”

Nick agreed, scrolling on his phone and hooking up to the room’s speaker, “I’d like to get out and enjoy the scenery too. Go for a walk like a normal human or some shit.”

Noah hummed in agreement, sitting up to take a sip of his water. The room became hazy in no time, the smell of weed pungent and stagnant within the small room; and the conversation jumped from topic to topic.

Eventually, each of them became quiet, only the music ringing between the walls anticipating Nicholas’ question.

“Where’s Y/N? Did she go to bed?”

Noah’s eyes flicked over to Folio, analyzing his expression before darting to Jolly, who stared at the can on the table.

Ruffilo’s gaze danced between the boys as they sat quietly until Jolly spoke.

“Nah. She goes to bed late. Probably busy doing something with Matt.”

His name echoed between each of the members, ringing in their ears with resentment. They loved Matt, but the amount of time he got to spend with the one girl that drove them all mad, made them question his motives.

Folio took a quick puff, passing it over the table to Nicholas, “You think they’ve hooked up?”

Jolly took a long sip of his beer, face scrunching subtly.

Noah shrugged, eyes rolling in annoyance at the thought.

“What,” Nick laughed, gaze narrowing in hinted understanding with his friend, “jealous?”

Noah coughed from the weed, and accusation, waving his hand in front of his face to help dissipate the everbuilding smoke; but the word hung heavy in the enclosed space.

Noah, Folio, and Ruffilo all tried to hide their envious glances towards the eldest member, who chugged the remainder of his drink before twisting the empty can in his fingers.

Anything to distract himself from the tension.

To say you affected the boys was an understatement. They were completely enamoured by you, obsessed with every smile, every laugh, every lingering touch.

You had joined their crew a year ago, partnering with Matt on sound mixing during their live sets. You were a phenomenal addition to their ever-growing team and a much-needed asset. However, your work ethic and talent weren’t the only things that had them engrossed.

Every time you sat next to one of them, or even looked in their direction- each was ready to fold, not afraid to fall onto their knees and succumb to your every desire. If only you asked them to.

And the one lucky bastard who got a sweet taste of your alluring, lascivious touch one night three months ago? The one who remained silent at Folio’s burdensome allegation?

Jolly kept his eyes on the can, playing with the metal tab as he fought the smile that twitched on his lips.

“Fucking lucky asshole,” Folio whined, throwing a pillow in annoyance at the Swede.

Jolly snickered, throwing it back at the drummer who barely dodged it with brows furrowed bitterly.

“It was one time,” Jolly rolled his head back, “and it’s not like we had sex.”

Noah grabbed the joint from Ruffilo, closing his eyes as he inhaled, “Yeah,” he exhaled, “but you got, and I quote, ‘the best fucking head I’ve ever had, hands down,’ end quote.”

Jolly didn’t even hide the wide smile that grew on his lips, earning another pillow being thrown at him, this time from Noah.

God, what the singer would give to have your lips wrapped around him. What the Nicks would do to have a peek at the secrets beneath your hoodie.

“I’d kill to have just one more night with her,” Jolly said.

“At least you had one,” Noah glared. He was jealous. They all were.

It was silent momentarily, before Folio sighed, speaking for the room, “Fuck, what I’d do to get a piece of that ass.”

Noah and Jolly nodded along.

“Same,” Noah ran a hand along his face, “That pretty little mouth of hers? Shit.”

Although Ruffilo agreed with everything they said, he needed to bud in, “Don’t like, objectify her.”

Noah immediately scoffed, turning his head to face his best friend, “Don’t act like you don’t think about what it would feel like getting your dick sucked by her.”

Nicholas shrugged, reaching into the chip bag, “I mean yeah, Y/N’s hot-” He wanted to continue to discuss her wonderful personality- but Noah interjected.

“See? Point proved,” He said, passing the blunt to Jolly.

“She’s got all of us dick whipped bro,” Nick shook his head, taking a swig of his beer, “and she’s simply just existing.”

Jolly laughed, sitting up in his chair, “I bet she’d suck my dick again. At least once more.”

Nicholas raised a brow, hiding his jealousy with a handful of chips.

“Yea?” Noah leaned onto his knees, elbows perched on either one, “I bet she’d let me rail her.”

The slanted smile that grew upon Jolly’s face said it all as Nick took the last puff of the blunt, before tossing it into the ashtray, “Hey- I bet I could do both.”

The three of them shared a glance, then turned to Ruffilo.

“I bet all that and more,” He said, head resting on his palm.

“How does one win then?” Noah began, raising a brow.

Jolly crossed his arms over his chest in contemplation, “first to do anything sexual wins.”

Noah shook his head, “No because you automatically have a one-up. First to get two consecutive nights with her wins.”

“Winner gets what exactly?” Folio asked, staring between the boys.

Nicholas sat back on the couch, shrugging his shoulders at his suggestion, “Dibs?”

A stare-down commenced before Jolly leaned forward to place his hand above the coffee table. Nick joined, his hand on Jolly’s before Noah and Nicholas followed, stacking their hands and signing away their pride.

“Ok, Bet.” Folio’s smirk lit up his face.

“Bet.”

=

You were completely oblivious to the deal behind the door as you knocked on the wood with your foot, arms full of various snacks. Matt stood next to you, carrying boxes of drinks as you waited for the door to open. Their talking quieted as the knob turned, the drummer nervously coughing. The smell of weed slapped you in the face as the dank haze that flowed out filled your lungs.

Folio’s eyes remained fixated as he held the door, a faint blush tinting his cheeks as you nodded gratefully at him, walking past and into the room. The immediate silence from the members as you headed to the counter made your chest tighten, nerves running to the ends of your fingertips.

You weren’t oblivious to the stares as each of the boys watched you place the items on the faux marble, their gazes lingering longer than usual. There was an odd energy in the room you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but when you turned back around each of them quickly distracted themselves with their drinks or snacks.

Flashing them a small smile you hid your overthinking thoughts. Maybe they didn’t want you here.

With a nervous breath, you swallowed that thought, reaching for the can Matt held out to you.

“Sorry that we took so long. We did a quick rehearsal for Friday, then ran to the store.”

Noah glanced at you quickly before averting his eyes, Nicholas doing the same. Folio sat back down on the couch, Matt plopping next to him with a grunt.

The room felt heavy as they continued to bounce silent words between each other, the challenge of the bet, unknown to you, sinking in their minds.

Matt took a sip of his drink, scanning each of his friends and their demeanour, “The fuck is wrong with y’all?” he said, scoffing with a raised brow, “Why are you acting like a bunch of fucking weirdos.”

Nicholas coughed, taking a swig of his drink before handing the bag of chips to Noah, who immediately shovelled a handful into his mouth as if avoiding the question.

“We were just having a deep conversation before, is all,” Jolly clicked his tongue, staring at you longingly before turning his attention to Matt, “How did the rehearsal go?”

Standing there awkwardly for a moment you swung your legs, a way to distract yourself, before looking at the taken seats. Tuning out Matt’s rambling you didn’t know where to sit, until you noticed the arm of the chair Jolly sat on.

You were decently close to Jolly- considering his cock was shoved down your throat during that one drunk escapade- but all things considered, you knew he wouldn’t mind if you sat next to him there.

As soon as you walked across the room you felt each of their gazes burning into you, watching every move you made. Jolly's brows raised in surprise as you approached him, and you hummed nervously before taking a seat on the hard arm of the chair.

Giving them all a curt smile you took another sip, staring at the carpeted ground.

“Surely that can’t be comfortable love.”

Jolly’s accent was thick, snapping you away from your thoughts.

“Here,” he tugged your wrist, motioning for you to sit on his lap, “Trust me I don’t mind.”

“Oh-” was all you could say, before allowing his hands to grab your hips, pulling you down onto him.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying not to wiggle too much above the guitarist, but needing to get comfortable. His fingers still gripped your hips, moving with your shifting.

Nick’s eye-roll and Noah’s snarl went unnoticed, but you caught a glimpse of Nicholas’ clenched fist, his knuckles tightening momentarily.

“Are you sure?” You mumbled, shaking your head, “I’m okay on the arm, or even the floor-”

Jolly laughed, the melodic sound leaving the hairs on your arm to stand. His enigmatic personality always left you nervous, “I am more than sure.”

Matt picked up the conversation again, the boys finally joining at a more normal pace; but your mind felt foggy as one of Jolly’s hands crept from your waist, down to the top of your thigh.

He stilled his movements for a few minutes, your chest tightening.

“Maybe we can go to an aquarium, or-” The thought was cut short, breath caught in your throat once you felt Jolly’s inked fingers rubbing up and down your skin, slowly reaching to squeeze the inside of your thigh.

With your gaze kept forward you took another sip, “-a movie?”

Matt’s eyes wandered to Jolly’s hand, squinting in confusion momentarily before standing up to grab one of the snacks you picked from the counter.

“I’m down for whatever,” the blonde said, tossing you a bag of candy.

Smiling at him gratefully, you opened the bag and took a piece, using it to distract you.

“I like the sound of a movie,” Noah said, staring at Folio as he spoke. He tried to hide the ever-growing jealousy in his chest, “Haven’t been to one with people in forever.”

“Why is it you like going alone again?” Folio asked, eyes locked on Noah, shielding his vision from Jolly.

Noah laughed, “No handjobs, just me and my vitamin water.”

You tried listening to their conversations but felt the swede shift beneath you, slowly guiding your hips in a circular motion.

Jolly’s growing arousal pushed against you from beneath, leaving your stomach swirling at his advancement. You crossed your legs in an attempt to squeeze your desire, but he knew. He knew the effect he had.

The way his fingers kept kneading at your thighs left your heart pounding.

As the boys began dragging on about Elden ring, Jolly adjusted to whisper in your ear, “You forgot something in your room, right?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, goosebumps adorning your skin at your growing lust. All you could do was nod before standing up, taking another quick sip and tossing the can into the bin.

The conversation stopped as you walked toward the door, Jolly standing up from the chair.

“Where are you going?” Nicholas asked you, biting his lip to distract himself from the envy that grew in his chest. They all knew.

“I just- forgot something in my room.”

Once you left all eyes turned to Jolly, the smug smile on his face radiant in satisfaction.

Folio stood up, pointing an accusative finger, “You just- I- that’s cheating.”

Jolly grabbed the hair tie off his wrist, pulling his dark strands into a quick bun as he walked toward the door.

Turning to face his competitors, his best friends, he smiled, “Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.”

=

Jolly’s mouth moved with yours as he held you on top of the desk in your room. You didn’t think you’d be in this position with him again, but you didn’t mind.

“Do you think about that night often?” He asked, hands holding your hips in place.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about your previous night with him, but you always tried to push the thoughts away. You didn’t think anything would happen again, and you knew deep down you couldn’t continue anything with him.

You liked him, sure, but weren’t committed to the idea of a relationship.

One more night wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Sometimes,” You whispered, hands clasped around the back of his neck, “do you?”

Pulling you off the desk he held you close to him, lips devouring yours for a second longer, “More than I probably should.”

His admission made your knees weak. You didn’t care if they were only words of infatuation, you loved the effect you had on him.

Taking your hand you tugged on his belt, letting your hand rub along his covered erection. Jolly’s immediate whimper made you smile against his lips.

Allowing yourself to kneel before him you pulled the leather apart, undoing the zipper.

He was sensitive to every touch, eyes never leaving you, absorbing every movement you made. Knowing this you couldn’t help but tease him, leaning in to graze your teeth over himself in his underwear.

Looking up at the swede through your lashes he watched, lips parted in need as you pressed your tongue against the tip, still using the cotton as a barrier.

Jolly’s fingers ran through the side of your hair, tangling in the strands as you took a finger, gliding it between the hem of his boxers. He shook his head, giving you an exasperated smile. Finally tugging down the fabric you ran your tongue along the length, swiping along the head before trailing back down.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” He breathed, the teasing smile causing him to lick his lips. You were titillating to him.

“Why not give you something more to think about?” You shrugged, taking your hand to hold him, before wrapping your mouth around him. The immediate relief on Jolly’s face made you chuckle along his cock, the taste of his pre-cum salty against your tongue.

Swirling around the tip you swallowed him, taking everything he offered as best you could before pulling away, allowing the string of saliva to follow.

You twisted your hand around, using your saliva to assist your movements before taking him into your mouth again, sucking and pressing your tongue along the base.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his other hand replacing yours on his cock, holding it up to your mouth.

You clasped your hands behind your back, only using your mouth as you bobbed along, being sure to keep your eyes on him.

He watched you with furrowed brows, the crease in his forehead evidence of his growing orgasm. His hips slowly rutted into your mouth, matching your movements in a synchronized wave.

“Shit princess, you’re so fucking hot.”

His encouraging words made your face warm, cock buried in your throat as you gagged along him.

“let me take a picture of you. A memoir if I may?”

You pulled off of him, using your hand momentarily as you thought, “Only if you keep it to yourself.”

Jolly smiled, reaching for his phone on the desk, holding it above you, “Of course.”

Using your hand you stroked him as you sucked, until Jolly spoke.

“Just your mouth,” He whispered, “That’s it.”

You held your hands behind your back once again, being sure to look up into the camera.

Jolly continued with praises until you felt him stiffen, eyes fighting for closure.

A deep groan crawled from him as he held you along his cock, release hitting the back of your throat. Closing your eyes you swallowed all of him, sticking out your tongue

“That’s a good girl,” He ran his fingers along your scalp.

Standing up you helped him with his pants, pulling them back over his waist and putting his belt back together. Jolly leaned into your body, holding your jaw as he kissed you once again.

“Let me take care of you,” He said between kisses, and you pulled away smiling.

Looking at the clock on the nightstand it was well past 2 am, and you needed some sleep before travelling tomorrow.

“I love sucking you off, so don’t worry about it,” You said slowly, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, “but I need sleep. Rain check?”

Jolly’s eyes flashed with something you missed, fighting back a cocky grin, “of course. you know where to find me.”

Once the guitarist made it back to his hotel room, the boys were still sitting in their spots, glaring daggers towards him.

“One down. One more to go,” Jolly said, licking his bottom lip in accomplishment as he thrust into the air, showing off.

“Dick,” Noah mumbled, to which Matt stared at his friends, confused once again.

“I’m missing something,” The blonde shook his head.

=

After hours of travelling, you were exhausted, the crew pulling up to the next hotel. Things were going smoothly until checking in at reception.

“What do you mean we’re short a room?” Matt said to the lady, clearly confused, “We’ve had this booked for weeks.”

“I’m sorry but you only had three rooms in the original booking.” The woman was sympathetic, hands folded in front of her, “There aren’t any more available but we can put a cot in one of the rooms.”

The one thing you respected about the boys was how they always gave you a room to yourself; but it would be ok to share for a night, wouldn’t it?

The boys looked at each other, before shrugging.

“I guess that’s fine,” Matt said.

Looking at them you scratched your arm nervously, “I can share my room, I don’t mind.”

“With who?” Folio asked quickly, each of them turning to watch you intensely.

You almost laughed at how weird they were being, before shaking your head, “Uh I don’t care.”

Quickly glancing at Jolly, you knew it would be a bad idea if you two were together.

So you looked at the brunette next to him, his thick brows raising in surprise once he met your eyes.

Nicholas stared at you, blinking rapidly before calming his composure. He wanted to share a room with you so bad. But he knew the others would too. Would you pick him?

When his name fell off your lips he almost yelled, ready to pump a fist into his chest then and there.

“Uh, Ruffilo? Care to share?”

The sweet boy was always one of your favourites, even if you tried to avoid bias between them. He’d be a harmless partner, right?

The way his face flushed a deep maroon made you smile nervously, afraid you put him on the spot.

“Y-yeah, that’s fine with me.” He peered at Noah, who stared at the ground, “That ok with you Noah?”

“Sure man,” Noah’s curt grin made your stomach swirl as his gaze flicked at you, unspoken words lingering in his gaze.

Grabbing a keycard you nodded at Nicholas, who trailed behind you.

You didn’t see how he glanced back at his friends, holding his fingers up in an ‘L’ on his forehead.

Heading various scoffs behind you, you turned to raise a brow, “What is with you guys lately?”

They all shook their heads as everyone entered the elevator, leaving you to eye Matt who just shrugged, looking as confused as you.

“Tired,” Noah said, his eyes lingering on your figure for a moment too long.

“Hungry,” Folio said, licking his lips as he peeled his eyes away.

Jolly didn’t even glance at you, his face neutral- an attempt to hide his disappointment you chose Ruffilo over him.

He was this close to winning the bet.

Once you got to the room you held the card against the sensor, waiting for the door to click. Opening it, you and Nicholas stood in the doorway, your chest tightening as you entered.

“I don’t mind joining them on a cot-” Ruffilo began, but you gave him a shrug.

There was only one bed, meaning the two of you would be sharing.

“It’s alright with me if it’s alright with you.”

Nicholas only smiled, his nervous wading back as he placed his suitcase into the room.

“I guess we should get ready to go to dinner?”

=

Getting back to the room was a blessing and a curse. You were tired, but also nervous as Nicholas trailed behind you.

As you two got ready for bed you tried to avert your eyes while Ruffilo unbuttoned his shirt in the corner, the brunette glancing at you every so often.

Coughing shyly, you averted your eyes as you grabbed your change of clothes, sliding into the washroom to change.

It felt almost scandalous to be wearing such small shorts and a thin tank top, but you pushed that away and reminded yourself that it was just one night. It would be fine.

Ruffilo sucked in a breath when you walked out, and you tried to hide your staring as he stood there shirtless and in his shorts. Your eyes darted back to his chest, following the lines of his tattoos.

“I hope it’s ok I don’t wear a shirt, I run warm,” He said restlessly as he sat on the edge of the bed. His leg bounced up and down and you suddenly felt bad you asked him to stay here. Maybe he was more uncomfortable with this than you had thought.

“Nicky you don’t have to share with me-”

“No!” He stood up, hands out in reassurance. His reaction made you chuckle as his face warmed again, shaking his head, “I mean, no it’s okay. I- I want to stay here with you.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” You said, arms folded across your chest.

“You don’t- I-” He stood there, tucking his hair behind his ear, “I just- You make me nervous, but that’s not a you problem.”

You chuckled again, turning off the main room light, and clicking on the nightstand lamp, “I make you nervous?”

Crawling into your side of the bed, Nicholas followed, tucking himself beneath the covers on the edge of his side, afraid to be any closer to you.

“Why do I make you nervous?” You asked, pulling down the hotel room pillows, and lying on your side to face him.

The bass player followed your movements, facing you as he got comfortable. He closed his eyes, contemplating his words before speaking his confession.

“You’re mesmerizing, Y/N. Everything about you makes my heart pound.” He said softly, his words sinking deep within your skin.

All you could do was stare at him, his grey eyes flickering between your own, waiting for any response.

“Really?” Was all you could say, your stomach swirling with butterflies as you bit back a smile.

Nicholas nodded, hands beneath his head as he watched you with a shy grin.

Your heart began to race as you hid your face in the pillow.

The evening was spent sharing random stories and laughing at each other’s jokes. You couldn’t stop smiling as you and Nicholas turned off your lamps, rolling to face away from each other and letting sleep take over.

However, your mind raced with a chest warm with admiration, before finally falling into a deep slumber.

Waking up you felt a set of strong arms wrapped around your waist, body pressed against your back.

Your limbs were entangled with Nicholas’ body fitting against yours; however, something else caught your attention.

Nicholas’ body was stiff as you accidentally moved your hips into him, trying to pull away slowly- but his grip on your torso tightened, holding you against him.

His cock pressed into you, causing your heart to pound.

God, this would be so wrong, wouldn’t it?

Ruffilo’s hands gripped your hips as he rolled into you slowly, breath brushing across your neck.

Closing your eyes you smiled, contemplating whether to do this or not; but what’s the harm in a quick morning fuck?

You pushed back against him, rutting back and forth along him teasingly. The groan that left Nicholas’ chest caused your body to warm, tingling from the excitement as he squeezed the skin beneath your tank top.

“I want you so bad Y/N,” He whispered against your ear, lips grazing down the lobe, toward your neck.

“Then take me,” you breathed, taking your hand and holding his thigh, pulling him closer toward you.

Ruffilo’s lips attached to your neck, teeth biting along the delicate skin. You allowed him to suck, marking you.

Nicholas hooked a finger in your shorts, pulling them down your legs swiftly as he still spooned you. Taking his inked fingers he dipped them between your thighs from behind, running them thoroughly along your folds.

His touch made you squirm, buzzing from the thrill of him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he said quietly, a mix of awe and lust as he used your arousal to lubricate his erection.

“I woke up with your cock pressed against me, what do you expect?” You laughed as he lined up to your entrance, pushing just the tip inside.

You cursed as the brunette held your hips once again, nails digging into the skin as he sunk further into you, right to the hilt.

Allowing your body to adjust you moaned at the feeling of Nicholas taking over your body. His thrusts were quick as he held your hips, fucking you from behind as you two lay on the bed.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, his infatuation with your pussy leaving you a smiling mess as he continuously pounded into you, hands worshiping your skin, “you feel so fucking good.”

The lewd sounds that left the both of you filled the room, and once Nicholas reached between your thighs, fingers pressing into your core with a circular motion, you almost screamed at his touch.

You sighed, fingers gripping the white sheets in desire as he thrust deeper.

“I’m not going to last long,” He breathed, leaning in to bite your shoulder as he held you close. His admission pushed you over the edge, his fingers pressing into you, cock buried deep.

With the scream of his name, you clenched around his body. Nicholas pulled out, stoking himself quickly as his release coated your ass, the warmth making you jolt.

The two of you lay there, chests heaving. Nicholas watched you in awe as you turned, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, and heading into the bathroom to shower.

Your mind spun as your body came down from the orgasm, as Nicholas sat up in bed, high-fiving himself.

One he was just happy to even get a taste of your body, but two, he was officially on par with Jolly.

=

“Point for this guy.” As he approached the boys at breakfast, Ruffilo pointed his thumbs toward himself proudly.

You were busy in the hotel room packing a backpack for the aquarium, and Nicholas knew he had to gloat before you overhead.

“No fucking way,” Folio groaned, while Noah ran a hand down his face.

Nick and Noah felt defeated, both still needing at least one encounter to be even close to winning this bet.

Jolly folded his arms over his chest, sinking into the wooden chair at the breakfast table, “You’re just lucky she picked you to share the room. I would’ve already been calling dibs by now if it wasn’t for that.”

“Sure,” Ruffilo rolled his eyes, “but she picked me!” With a radiant smile, he dug into his breakfast, the eggs tasting even better than normal.

You and Matt walked into the room, stopping at the table. Nicholas met your eyes momentarily, both of you flushing as you recalled this morning’s events.

“To the aquarium?” Matt asked, snapping you out of the trance, and Ruffilo shovelled down the rest of his food.

Folio ran a hand through his hair. It was now or never, and he didn’t want to lose.

Standing up he adjusted his shirt before approaching you, wrapping a hand around your wrist and leading the two of you out of the restaurant.

“Where are we-” you began as the drummer tugged you behind him, pressing a finger up to his lips to shush you.

His hand was warm as it held you taught against his side, pulling you out one of the back doors.

“Nick, where are we going?” You asked but moulded into his touch, allowing him to pull you freely.

He didn’t say anything as you two made it outside before pulling out a small bag. Two square gummies sat inside the plastic as Folio tauntingly held it up.

“Let’s get high,” He said, letting go of your arm and opening the bag, holding the gummy out to you.

“What?” You laughed, raising a brow.

“Trust me. It’s so fucking fun at aquariums.”

Chewing on your cheek you smiled, “Alright Folio. Bet.”

His eyes clung to yours for a second too long at the word that left your lips.

The two of you took the edibles and you savoured the taste of the berry flavour.

“And now what?” You asked.

Folio shoved the bag back into his pocket, the devilish smirk on his lips eating you alive, “Now we wait.”

=

The two of you were non-stop giggling in the car towards the end of the drive, as Nick reached for your hand, pulling you out of the vehicle.

It felt like a little secret between the two of you, yet everyone in the car glared towards the youngest member.

It wasn't very busy at the aquarium, with only a few people strolling around the different enclosures. You and Folio were glued to each other’s sides, laughing at every single thing until it started driving the rest of the boys crazy.

“What is wrong with you?” Matt asked, pulling you aside. His annoyance mixed with concern made you smile, admiring his care for you.

You laughed, unable to take him seriously as you placed a hand on his shoulder, “Me and Folio took an edible,” the snort that came from your lips made you giggle even harder, Nick covering his mouth in the background, “Sorry Matty, I can’t stop laughing.”

“Jesus,” Matt laughed, shaking his head in amusement, “Why am I not surprised?”

The blonde just smiled down at you warmly, and you pulled away from his interrogation as Folio dragged you toward a tank of angel fish.

“Oh my god, look,” you said excitedly, holding Nick against you as you pressed your face against the tank.

“It’s more fun watching them swim around this way, isn’t it?” Folio chuckled, and you nodded in agreement.

The two of you were attached at the hip, running ahead of everybody and taking in everything you could see.

You were too absorbed with Nick and the Fish to notice the annoyed grumbling that came from Nicholas, Noah, and Jolly

Once you got to the otters, there was a chance to walk outside.

You and Nick followed the wooden pathway to the outside enclosure, taking a seat on a bench.

The peak of the high felt like it was wearing off, and you felt yourself getting a little sleepy.

Resting your head on Folio’s shoulder you closed your eyes, still smiling as the sun beamed against your skin.

“This has been so fun, Nick,” you whispered.

Folio reached for your hand, holding it between his as he placed his head on top of yours, “it really has been.”

Pulling away you sat up, staring at the otters jumping and swimming in the water, until you felt a set of fingers gently reach under your chin.

Following Nick’s direction, he turned you to face him, leaning in slowly.

His heart was pounding so fast that he almost felt scared. What if he didn’t want this to be part of some bet? What if he wanted this to be real?

The closer he got to your lips, the more nervous he felt. This was real for him.

You didn't pull away from him, allowing the drummer to press his mouth against yours. The kiss was delicate and soft, leaving your limbs tingling- a mixture of your inebriation and excitement.

It felt wrong to be kissing him- especially after everything that happened with Jolly and Nicholas- but you couldn’t stop.

His lips were so soft, his kiss growing hungrier as he became filled with need. He reached his hand up to cup your cheek, and you pulled away from him, face warm as your fingers touched your lips.

“Not in public,” you said, giggling as he almost pouted.

“There’s no one out here at least,” Folio whispered, leaning in teasingly, nose touching yours.

Biting your bottom lip you laughed, pressing your forehead against his as you closed your eyes, inhaling the fresh air.

“Ok, then where?” you met his ochre eyes, the deep brown almost enchanting as he watched you longingly.

Folio immediately stood up, eagerly holding onto your hand.

Walking together he pulled you inside, only for you to be stopped by Noah and Matt.

“Whatcha doing?” Noah asked, eyes darting between the two of you. You stared at him, swallowing nervously. You knew that he knew, and it made your ears turn hot.

“Snack,” Folio said, giving them a thumbs up.

“Oh, can we join?” Matt asked, and Noah nodded quickly.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” Noah said, watching you now.

“Uh,” you began, but Nick tugged on your wrist, pulling you away from them.

“Nope! Bye!” Folio said, sticking out his tongue at Noah, dragging you with him.

You began giggling once again, the high coming in waves. Nick looked around the place until he saw a single bathroom.

Dragging you inside he locked the door behind the two of you, turning to pin you against the frame.

Your laughter stopped as he loomed over you, your heart matching his pace as he kissed you again, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

With a hand on your chin and a hand on your hip, he held you there, his hips holding you to the door.

You moaned into his mouth, allowing your fingers to trail up into his hair, running them through the gelled strands.

“You have no idea what you to do me, do you?” Nick breathed between kisses, the hand on your hip reaching further down to grip your ass, “To all of us?”

Swallowing his words as he spoke, your chest tightened. Three boys in the last two days? Where was all this coming from?

You weren’t oblivious to their stares or their advances- but it was odd that all of a sudden it felt like a challenge for them to take you on.

And really? You didn’t mind at all.

Folio’s fingers gripped your chin harder, holding you to his mouth as his tongue pressed against yours, before pulling back.

“I won’t let you forget me.” He said, a suggesting smile radiating above you as you looked up at him.

Your body almost vibrated at his words, anticipation ringing in your ears as he led you to the counter, lifting you to sit on the edge.

All you could do was watch as your limbs tingled, and Nick pulled your jeans down your thighs, leaving you exposed in your underwear.

Folio kissed you briefly again before trailing kisses down your neck, tugging your t-shirt down to kiss your shoulder. You lifted the shirt for him, allowing his tongue to dip between the valley in your chest and down your stomach until he was kneeling before you.

Your breathing already felt erratic as you watched him smile up at you, his eyes lidded in lust as his fingers tugged your panties to the side, sinking between your folds.

Nick ran his fingers along your arousal for a moment, before sticking them into his mouth, tasting you.

“Fuck baby girl,” he moaned, positioning his hand at your entrance, “you taste so good.”

He pushed into you, curling and twisting until he found the spot that made your mouth open from pleasure. Bet and all, he wanted to make you feel good- to remember this moment despite who wins.

His attentiveness made your stomach swirl as he kissed the inside of your thigh, trailing towards your desire. Nick pressed his tongue against your clit, flicking momentarily to match the pace of his fingers, before latching his mouth around you.

You covered your mouth with your hand, afraid of the ungodly sounds that fought from your chest.

As your head fell back into the mirror you couldn’t help but rut your hips into his mouth, seconds away from an orgasm as the tension in your abdomen built.

“Ohmygodnick,” you mumbled behind your hand, brows furrowed as your eyes squeezed shut and he ate you out feverishly.

You hadn’t noticed how Nick’s other hand held his erection free from his pants, jerking himself as he devoured your body, hungry for your release and his.

You cried his name as his tongue pressed against you firmly, body shaking against his mouth as you reached your orgasm, your hand pulling his hair.

Nick was seconds behind, the sound of your muffled moans pushing him to his climax as he came all over the floor and his hand.

Pulling his mouth from your body he smiled up at you, lips wet from your arousal. He stood up, and you noticed his mess, smiling shyly at him.

“That’s so hot,” you whispered, causing him to laugh, the two of you now in a fit of giggles.

Folio helped clean you up, then himself, before holding you in a hug.

Melting into his chest you wrapped your arms around him.

“Whatever happens, just know how much I care about you alright?” He said, his words lingering.

=

Two days later the boys were sitting on the bus, almost bored. As much as they loved the days off, the anticipation of the next show always ate away at their nerves.

Jolly and Nicholas were watching YouTube videos, as Folio sat upside down, chucking a rubber ball at the wall.

Noah’s ears rang with each throw, the thunk on the wall driving him crazy.

“Can you cut it out?” Noah mumbled, glaring at Folio.

Nick stopped, raising an accusative brow, “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Folio knew, but didn’t want to say anything- but Jolly spoke for him.

“He’s just pissed he hasn’t gotten a chance with Y/N yet. Admit it, Noah, you’re gonna lose.”

Noah held up his middle finger, causing Jolly to chuckle.

“Better make a move sooner than later. Even I think Folio’s got a better chance at winning, as annoying as it is.”

Those words made Noah’s skin crawl as Folio beamed beside him, throwing the ball against the wall once again.

Noah had noticed how you’ve been staring at Folio ever since the aquarium, and shit, everyone but him.

The singer stood up, frustration evident on his face and as the ball bounced back toward Nick’s hand, Noah reached over, pushing it across the bus.

“Hey!” Nick snapped, but no one else said anything as Noah left, slamming the bus door.

You sat with Matt outside, sharing memes as you heard the door, an angry Noah storming out.

Sharing a look with Matt you stood up, watching as the Brunette folded his arms in frustration as he paced.

“Noah?” You approached him warily, worry evident in your tone.

His eyes softened when they met yours, but he still held his own body.

He was frustrated, and for what? They all bet on this, and all agreed.

However, the jealousy was starting to get to him, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

Standing in front of him you felt sad, he looked conflicted, and you didn’t know how to help.

“I’m fine,” Noah said sharply, inhaling quickly.

“You’re clearly not fine,” you said, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm. He melted into your touch, face flushing at your care.

“I just need a distraction,” he said, mostly to himself. It was true.

He wanted a distraction from you, but deep down he also wanted you to be the distraction.

You looked at the time on your phone as it was still early in the afternoon, “Want to go see a movie?”

=

There wasn’t much to offer in the theatre, considering it was a random weekday. You decided to let Noah choose the movie, considering you were here for him.

The brunette purposefully picked some bullshit boring movie that nobody would book a ticket to since it was one of the last days it would be showing.

Walking into the theatre Noah pushed you up the stairs by the small of your back, the feeling of his hand lingering even as you sat down at the back of the theatre.

Nobody else was in there, and you suddenly felt jittery that it was just the two of you.

You and Noah sat in silence as the movie began, almost afraid to speak to each other.

The movie was immediately boring, and you kept watching the way Noah nervously rubbed the tips of his thighs, his inked fingers rubbing along his sweatpants.

Eventually, the singer grew the courage to place that hand on your thigh, making you jump slightly from the contact.

Slowly his hands crept up and down your thigh, warmth radiating off of his skin- but you froze as the words came from his mouth.

“I know you fucked all my friends.”

Something about the way he said it made the hairs on your neck stand up, and he turned to look at you, the movie illuminating his features.

His eyes were dark, as they bore into you, “You saving the best for last?”

Your mouth ran dry, unable to respond as he patted his lap, holding your hand to tug you along.

Unsure why you followed, you did, and facing him you placed a leg on either side of his hips, sitting in his lap.

Noah let his hands squeeze your hips before roaming up your body, kneading against your clothes before reaching your Neck.

He lightly pulled you down to his face, mouth inches from yours. His breath was warm as he spoke.

“I bet I can make you cum three times in this theatre.”

Shivering at his words you let him take control. His behaviour and promise alone almost pushed you to the edge, and you didn’t doubt his promise for one second.

His lips brushed yours, but he didn't dare give you a taste as he dipped his fingers into your waistband, sliding them past your underwear and right along your arousal.

He only chuckled at the feeling of your soaked core, knowing that you’d fold the second he put two fingers inside of you.

Noah did just that, pressing his thumb against your clit as his inked fingers sunk into your body.

As he pushed his fingers deeper, thumb rutting in rhythmic circles, he held you up by your neck.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Noah praised, your mouth agape from the pleasure.

Your body clenched around his fingers and in no time, you cried as he pushed you to your first orgasm.

“Fuck, maybe I can get four in if it's that easy,” he grinned, pulling his fingers away from your core and toward your mouth.

He only nodded toward you, prompting you to take his fingers into your mouth, licking your mess and gagging on them as you did so.

The brunette’s smile was radiant as he watched proudly, before pushing you onto your knees, between his legs.

You knew what he wanted, and Noah had to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you between his thighs, the place he’s dreamed of many nights.

Pulling down his sweats eagerly, you gripped his cock, leaning in to lick up from the base. You wasted no time in sucking along him, swirling your tongue and bobbing down his body.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pushing you down, thrusting his hips into your throat.

You coughed, pulling back up before sliding down again, using your hand to assist with what you couldn’t take.

“Touch yourself,” he said, sharing a slutty smile as he fucked your mouth, “use your fingers to cum while you suck my cock.”

Obeying him, you took your fingers and found the familiar spots along your desire, pleasing yourself how you knew best to Noah’s words.

It was almost embarrassing how much saliva emanated from your mouth and onto his arousal as you devoured him.

“You’re such a good girl. Jolly was right, you do give the best fucking head.”

Moaning at his words you closed your eyes, gagging on him once again as you worked yourself to another orgasm. Knowing that the boys talked about you made your ears warm, and you were sure Noah would then be talking to them about this.

With one final thrust, you pulled your mouth away from Noah, breath catching in your throat as you came again.

Noah smiled down at you with pride.

Standing up he spread his thighs, stoking himself as he made you turn around with a finger.

“I want to watch your ass bounce on my cock. So turn.”

His hands guided your hips down onto his arousal, relishing in the feeling of how hard he was.

Noah’s groans were erotic as he pushed you up in down, letting you ride him.

He then held you up, using his hips to thrust from underneath momentarily.

Your third orgasm was approaching, the sound of Noah’s whimpers and curses causing you to clench around him in need.

“Fuck don’t do that, I’ll cum,” he hissed, pulling out and pushing you to rest over the railing in front of you. Noah stood behind you now, holding your hips as he thrust into you mercilessly.

He leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back “Let me take you on a proper date tomorrow night, make you mine, yeah?”

Moaning his name you clenched around him and let your body convulse along his cock, letting your third orgasm wash down each of your limbs.

Noah’s breathing was erratic as he pushed you to your knees, holding your chin to his arousal as he stoked himself to his climax.

You took the tip in your mouth, swallowing his release with need, sucking until the brunette pushed you away from the sensitivity.

The two of you stood in front of each other, breathing heavily as your eyes were fixated on each other.

There was no going back now, each of the boys had confessed their need, leaving you a withering mess.

Noah held the back of your head, pulling you in for one more needy kiss, before grabbing your bag for you and pulling you down the stairs.

He was silent on the walk back to the bus, both of you hand in hand.

Your mind raced with what-ifs, memories of each boy taking over the next.

When you two finally made it back, you heard Matt yelling from inside.

“Ya’ll have a bet for her and didn’t even fill me in? Fucking pricks, I woulda had the best shot outta all of yall.”

Looking over at Noah, he ran his fingers through the onyx strands with a nervous smile.

“A bet Noah? Really?”

He nodded, and then the bus door opened, revealing the other boys.

They cursed under their breath as you folded your arms, shaking your head in amusement.

“So who won?” You pried, eyes lingering on each of them for a moment.

“Definitely not fucking me,” Matt mumbled, annoyed.

“I don’t think any of us did,” Ruffilo spoke slowly, looking at each of his friends.

Rocking on your toes you chewed back a smile, “Then I bet I can make you do it all over again.”

Part two

tags:

(i tagged everyone since this has all the boys in it :) if you want on or off the taglist, please let me know!

@thefallennightmare @xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical

@sitkowski @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @reyadawn @xserenax-13 @foliosgirl

@philomenie @illmakeyousaywow @nyxisnotok @wh0th3h3llisbucky @into-the-grey