#mind you i was not behind socially and had a very close knit group of friends she just thinks i'm weird

[thefabelmans2022]

.

[silverefflux]

Like Flowers

Chapter 2 of my König x Fem!OC fic, Rush

See Chapter List

Photo by Mike B

Summary: König visits someone very, very special.

Warning: BRING ON THE ANGST then smol floof, mentions of physical and verbal abuse, bullying, mental illness

A/N: Using my fanon name, Dominik, for König here. Also using Horangi's real name, Hong-jin. Idk I feel like I only want to use their call signs if they have their masks on and are in battle mode. And sorry for the Google translated German.

. . .

Quand vous souriez // Libor Kolman

Dominik pulls his car to a stop in front of a humble brick home. It was filled with brightly colored flowers that gave the place a very cozy look—like a poster example of what a home would look like. Part of him wanted to stay in his car, or maybe just drive off and call it a day, but he collected himself with one deep breath.

And another.

And another.

Once he’s pushed most of the nerves aside, he nods to himself and steps out of the vehicle at a careful pace.

Softly, he knocked on the light wood door decorated with stained glass panels. A lady of short stature answers the door with a gentle smile.

“Hallo Dominik, early as always,” she whispers. The wrinkles beside her eyes bore the quiet joy of welcoming back someone familial. While she kept the door open only enough for her face to peek out, Dominik could hear the sound of people singing to a guitar from inside.

He responded with a timid smile. “Always.”

The woman, Frau Schmidt, opened the door further to allow Dominik into the home. After closing the door as silently as she could, she gestured at him to follow her into the short hallway, into the common room where the singing came from. It was filled with contrasting purples, greens, and reds that somehow harmonized with the wood on some of the furniture and fixtures. On the sides there were small ornaments and paintings.

Frau Schmidt and Dominik stayed behind the corner separating the hallway and the common room. There he watched a group of elderly people sitting in chairs arranged in a circle. They were singing along to a mellow hymn led by a man who sat among them, playing a guitar and wearing the same uniform as Frau Schmidt.

“She’s still very active with our Sunday service. Sie kennt immer noch alle Texte. And every time family is brought up, she still thinks she’s on holiday and ‘her husband and kids will pick her up’,” she whispers to Dominik, who only let out a short breath and a smile as his mind was occupied watching one of the elderly women in the circle. She wore a delicate blue sweater and brown knitted trousers, with her hair in a gray curly bob.

Dominik slightly leaned his head down and looked at Frau Schmidt. “Darf ich Mama zum Mittagessen ausführen?” he asked, then returned his gaze back to the lady in the circle.

“Natürlich,” she responded fondly, her heart warm over the idea of someone’s son being so thoughtful despite a hectic work schedule.

“You may wait in the garden until service is finished. After that, we’ll call you into her room to say hello, ja?” she detailed.

“I hope she doesn’t panic like last time,” he sighed.

The head nurse looked at him with her lips forming a line, concealing a sorry expression. “She’ll do well when she sees you now, that I’m sure.”

He then discreetly but hastily made his way out through a sliding door with a signage that read “Garten”. There, he sat on one of the benches amidst a pool of flower beds and raised seedling boxes, and recounted his turbulent home life.

A father who frequently hurt her mother until he eventually left for Germany. A mother who coped with the loss by despising her only son for “looking like his dad”. The social anxiety diagnosis did not help winning his mother’s affection back at all.

Since then, he spent much of his hours outdoors to keep from the noise, though it wasn’t helpful that everyone in town knew about his family life. He supposed he would've had an older sister to protect her from the other kids who would tease him, but she was always away. He learned to stand up for himself, and in the rough fights on the village streets, he found an unintended talent.

Eventually, his sister ran off, so it was only him and his mother until he had to go through military service, but he continued to pursue it as a career anyway, intending to do extremely well so he would never have to come back to their house again.

But when he got a call at work about his mother wandering around the market with no memory of her name, her address, and no other next-of-kin bothering to respond, he reluctantly stepped back into her life.

“Herr Brunner? Sie können nach oben kommen.” a different staff member called his attention from the garden entrance, breaking his train of thought.

Upon getting the go-signal to see his mother, he stood up and followed the staff up towards the row of rooms until they reached one of the units. He felt his heart beating a little more rapidly, but he did his best to stay calm and push the worries over his mother’s response aside. They knock, and Frau Schmidt answers the door, welcoming them in.

“Frau Brunner, Sie haben Besuch,” she calls out. Dominik’s mother looked over at them and sighs in relief, then walked over to Dominik.

"Oh gut, bist du die neue Wache?” she excitedly asked Dominik.

He kept his hands clasped below him, casting short glances at the other staff members just to make sure everyone is on the same page, then replied with a nod, “Ja, guten Tag.”

She was glad to hear of this, much to everyone’s relief. She then proceeds to tell Dominik about an intruder she saw climbing up her window the night before. He feigns shock and concern over this, then opens the window to check out what his mother pointed to.

She goes over to check it too, almost leaning over the sill, but Dominik placed his arm in front of her to make sure she doesn’t fall. He gazed left and right, then raised his brows and reassured his mother that the place is safe now.

Frau Brunner was glad to hear this, and in gratitude, she offered to take Dominik to lunch. They then take a walk on the street towards a nearby flower shop. The mix of sweet and dewy fragrances of the flowers brought a calm smile to his mother’s face as she browsed them. 

“Look, Nelken!” he pointed out to his mother.

Upon seeing what he called her attention for, her face lit up at the sight of her favorite flowers. She laughed heartily as she ran her fingers through the pink petals and picked one out for herself. Before she could walk far, Dominik discreetly paid the shopkeeper for the flower and followed after his mom.

“Mein Favorit,” she showed Dominik the flower with a giggle.

“I know,” he spoke to himself.

“Was ist dein Name nochmal?” she asks him as she keeps walking.

“It’s ‘Lukas’,” he answered.

“Ah,” she pondered as she looked at the red flower, “I have a son called ‘Lukas’.”

“Ja,” he paused, then asked calmly, “What if I told you I’m your son ‘Lukas’?”

She stands still, furrowing her brows and tilting her head. “But Lukas is small. Chubby but small,” she says, waving her hand below her hip.

Dominik held back a lump in his throat. This was as far as he could get the last time he visited. “I grew up now, Mama,” he reminded her.

“Grew up?”

“Ja.”

“You’re my son?”

“Ja.”

She places her hand on his arm and studies his face as they continue walking. Then she laughed out again.

“What’s funny?” he asked her, puzzled.

“Ach das ist lustig, my son’s name is Lukas, and your name is Lukas.”

“Ja, because I’m your son Lukas,” he urges her on, a sliver of light growing in his eyes.

She laughs again, but this time she leans into his arm and clings onto it. “Oh, you’re my son! I haven’t seen you in a long time, Lukas. Du bist jetzt groß, wie dein Vater!” she exclaims.

As much as he tried his best to stay on the scene, Dominik was holding back tears as he tried to laugh along. Never mind that she compared his height to his father’s—her sense of time was winded back 60 or so years after all, before his father became cruel and absent. What mattered is she recognized him, remembered him as her son. For him, it was enough to redeem his mother in his eyes. Any pain from their past was set aside for a more complicated feeling: the satisfaction of hearing her again, at least one more time before she passed, proudly calling him her child.

He had to look elsewhere, only being able to spare short glances at his mom, his eyes watering even more. At least he could hear her singing loudly as they walked down arm in arm to the cafe where he intended to take her. It was a small cafe near the care home, one that wouldn’t be too crowded for the both of them, and bright enough to not agitate his mother.

He opened the door for her, into a light and airy cafe filled with flowers, and led her into a table in the middle. On their way to the table for two, she stopped and greeted a random group of customers sitting around another table. He raises his guard up, ready to interfere in case the situation went awry.

“Das ist mein Sohn. He’s all grown up and handsome now,” she said to the table with a keen smile.

The guests smiled and nodded politely, fortunately taking a hint as to what was going on. In turn, Dominik led his mother’s attention back to their table and nodded to the guests in a subtle apology.

He helped her into her seat and composed himself for a second, before calling a server to order for both of them. Sometime after some catching-up talk, they were served cakes and warm tea. Suddenly, his mother asked him.

“Wo ist Jasmin?”

He stopped eating and grit his teeth. “She doesn’t care, just like Papa, despite the fact that you treated them both better than me,” he wanted to say, but instead he chose a different reply, “Papa took her to the piano competition. They’ll be back in a few days.” She acknowledges his answer and praises her daughter for her looks and her talents. He only looked down at his platter, pushing down the resentment that was bubbling up from his core. “It’s the dementia talking,” he told himself.

After he was able to tune out enough of the conversation to not dig up too many hurtful memories, but remain present enough to hear when his mother was done elaborating, he shifted the topic.

“I met a girl a few days ago, Mama. She’s pretty nice.”

His mother’s face glistened. “Really? Where did you meet her?” she asked.

“Ich war wandern. She likes motorbikes and flies planes. Wie cool ist das?” he said, taking another sip of his tea.

It was only during the previous Wednesday morning when he and Horangi met Kate. That day Horangi pestered him to make a move on a stranger, but now that he thinks about it, he should probably thank his buddy for the slight push, else he wouldn’t find an unexpected new friend. Otherwise he would only believe that she wouldn’t want to talk to someone like him at all.

“Ja, that’s very nice. Maybe she can come visit me too sometime?”

“Maybe, yeah.”

“Yes…” she trailed off, taking a bite from her cake, “I’m sorry, was ist dein Name nochmal?”

And just like that, the clock struck midnight for him. “It’s…Dominik,” he said, not wanting to redo the whole explanation of ‘Lukas’ being her son.

She hummed in response. “I have a son named ‘Lukas Dominik’.”

“Ah, I see,” he replied dryly, keeping his eyes down at the teaspoon he began fidgeting.

“He’s a small chubby boy, but he’s really sweet,” she continued, which brought back Dominik’s gaze towards her, “He likes to help me around the farm. He’s smart and pretty strong for his age too.”

Dominik only smiled in return. “So she does think of me,” he thought. If he was still in his teens or twenties, he would still harbor so much anger, but by now, this is why he can’t entirely blame her for all the mistreatment he went through. She would’ve been kinder had things not taken a left turn for them. While he felt guilty leaving her, it took those years of being able to think for himself for him to realize how much he still cared.

After their little cafe trip, he walked her back to her room in the care home and said goodbye, but not before the mom noticed the scar on his face and was alarmed.

“Hat jemand einen first aid kit?” she fretted, calling for the staff. They brought a small kit for her and she told Dominik to sit down so she can ‘tend’ on the old scar, which she believes is a huge and fresh gash on his face.

Yet again, everyone rolls with the scene as they have to. Deep down, Dominik savors the small final moment his mother shows affection before he goes back home. She shakily swipes wound solution on his cheek, and in a haphazard yet gentle manner, tapes a small folded gauze over the scar.

“Is that better?” she asked him.

“Ja, danke,” he smiled back then bid her goodbye. Walking out, not wanting to take off the gauze on his face anyway, he thanked the staff and made his way back to his car where he sat a couple more minutes after starting it.

He thought back to the kind things his mother said about him. The way she cared for the scar in a way that he hasn’t gotten from her in decades. The way she remembered that he is her son, and how she proudly told those other customers about him. It all stung in his chest as he looked at the bandage from his rearview mirror. It was as short as a flower’s bloom, how quick it was for her to see him as a son, then suddenly become a stranger again. For her to show all the care and gratitude one moment, then come back to distant niceties next.

As the last of the staff turned around and closed the main door of the home, when he was certain he was alone, he allowed a couple tears to fall. As he sniffled and wiped them away, the thought of someone seeing him in his current state irked him, so he took off the bandage, held it in his hand for a few more moments, before keeping it in his pocket. He wiped his face again and took deep breaths.

Just as he was about to drive away, his phone chimed. He picked it up and looked at the message that popped up: “Hi! Sorry for the late reply. I’m flying to frankfurt on tuesday. Do you live around there? -Kate”

Oh scheiße.

He does.

But just as he was about to respond, another message arrived.

“Btw is it Nick or Nik? ^_^ ”

He smiled at that. But part of him is too drained and anxious to see her. At least that’s what he thinks of at the moment. Even if Tuesday is three days away. He thought to himself, “what would Hong-jin tell him to do?”

“He would tell me to not reply immediately because ‘he shouldn’t look too desperate’. Great, time to do the opposite,” he thought, because almost 90% of his advice either got him into more social trouble or ended up feeling disingenuous.

He typed into his phone, “Yeah i live there. And it’s Nik :) ”. He sent it, fingers internally crossed for a reply, and drove off.

. . .

Translations:

Sie kennt immer noch alle Texte - She still knows all the lyrics Darf ich Mama zum Mittagessen ausführen? - Can I take Mom to lunch? natürlich - of course Herr Brunner? Sie können nach oben kommen. - Mr. Brunner? You can come upstairs. Frau Brunner, Sie haben Besuch - Mrs. Brunner, you have a visitor Oh gut, bist du die neue Wache? - Oh good, are you the new guard? Ja, guten Tag. - Yes, good day. Nelken - carnations mein Favorit - my favorite Was ist dein Name nochmal? - What's your name again? Ach das ist lustig - Oh that's funny Du bist jetzt groß, wie dein Vater! - You're big now, like your father! Das ist mein Sohn. - This is my son. Wo ist Jasmin? - Where is Jasmin? Wie cool ist das? - How cool is that? Hat jemand einen first aid kit? - Does anyone have a first aid kit? Ja, danke - Yes, thank you

Credits to @callofdudes for the König childhood headcanons you posted before. I used a lot of it here. <3

[kasarian]

HAIII this is for the oc ask game !!! Hmmm how bout Akku and Hiraya with Know, Self Care, Social circle, Fate and Meet strange ? :3 you can do any of these ! No pressure <3

HEWWOO!! Thank u for giving an excuse for me to ramble ~w~

[ Ask Game here! ]

Answers for Know:

Akku just goes with the flow of most things, but is rather assertive of his boundaries. If he is uncomfortable, he will say so immediately; Similarly, if he is enjoying his time, he'll make that just as clear. So, I'd like to think, yes, in a way that he goes with his gut rather than not! But y'know, nuance! He does try to sneak away at times he's uncomfortable, when he knows that he won't like the idea of doing a certain thing. Definitely had a lot of time to think about things he did not like. This isn't to say that he isn't willing to try new things though!

Hiraya definitely is an introspective fella, he's huge, towering most people in the village bar his fellow dragonics (...with the exception of Akku, but that's because he likes being small); and rather quiet. He's the type to keep to himself most of the time, but can be ever so emotive around those he's close with... That being said! Hiraya knows himself, but has trouble with getting a read on others, so he doesn't bother and does what he wants. He knows what he wants, but isn't vocal about it all the time. One really can't say what's on his mind. But observe him and his boyfriend a little closer, maybe you'll be able to!

Answers for Self Care:

Akku likes to indulge in a lot of rest and downtime if he does a lot of physical activity, or magical-power related training. If the thing is draining despite it being fun? You can find him the next day snoozing away, should he have not much responsibilities to do. If it's something of a social battery running out, you can also find him really glued to Hira's side, in his usual humanoid, fox-featured form, or a form that resembles a fluffy noodle curled along the man's broad shoulders.

Hira, however, is one that needs to be physically dragged (by Mela), sweetly convinced (by Akku), or have a plate of food visibly put in front of him (usually by Orbit, or even Alon) in order to take a break. See, he often takes up the heavy physical jobs in the village, and other than this, he also goes along with Akku and Mela with combat training. And then, he often forgets to take care of himself by the end of the day! Akku and Mela are ones who drag him along back to rest and recharge. (Orbit used to do this, but his peers have long since caught on.) So, it's not that he doesn't want to, he just,,, needs a reminder to!

Answers for Social Circle:

The Starkeep Sanctum is a small, mostly 'unknown' village, and the residents do not usually have children running about; But the times they do, the whole village helps raise them, like a community should! There have been children in the Sanctum, but the ones that don't live here permanently, so it's always been Akku, Hira, and Mela. But they eventually meet people along the way, of the story. Akku and Hiraya remain boyfriends all-throughout, Mela is aroace, they eventually have some weird but nice friend groups of their own. Can't elaborate on that now, but yeah!

Answer for Meet Strange: (I am going to try and not make this any longer) (lying)

This goes for Hira and Mela, in a way; I think that the most memorable way the two met Akku... it was when Mela (around age 12 at the time) was called to the riverbank by the outskirts of the Sanctum, and instructed to assist Orbit by bringing needed items to tend to an injured boy. He was humanoid, but with visible draconic details, such as nubs on his head (presumably horns), fluffy, canine-like ears, as well as scales on his skin and a thick(relatively) scaly tail with tufts of fur lining it until the very fluffy tip. Hiraya, 9 at the time, didn't come along, but when he saw a swaddled figure being rushed into the house, along with Mela trailing behind, her brows knit and was frowning, it made him worried, too. He peeked in one of the spare bedrooms to find Orbit neatly tucking in the now-visible kid on the bed. The two children are asked to stay by the injured boy's side as Orbit goes to prepare more supplies and they tend to the boy the whole afternoon. The next day, the boy quickly recovers, and Hira is the one to witness it. Hira reading a book out loud, on the topic of magic relating to the sea, and the boy wakes and listen silently until he mischievously decides to conjure a tiny shark, slowly making its way until it gently chomps on Hira's cheek. Hira startles and it alerts both Orbit and Mela, who were coming in with breakfast. The boy is giggling while Hira stares in fascination as the tiny shark zips around his head. Mela blinks owlishly as her dad has his brows raised. Eventually, everyone gets over the initial shock, and the boy introduces himself as Akku once Orbit asks. Akku very simply explains that he woke up to familiar terms being spoken aloud and decided to let the other person know that he knows that information too!

(After that, they do get into the deeper stuff, with Akku realizing that he's far, far from home, and that he misses his parents, and then a lot of emotions come flowing out and the kids and Orbit try their best to comfort the poor boy.)

[worldly-diversity]

@delusionaid ○ 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕒 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 ○

          ⤷  『  ❛ we won’t forget each other, right? ❜  』

Aether smiled softly at the other's gentle and heartfelt question. Thoma had been a very kind and welcoming person right from the very first time Aether had set foot in Inazuma and met him. They had ended up going through quite a bit together, and Aether had even ended up staging a bit of a revolution against the Shogun on his path to an audience with her.

Answers had not been forthcoming in the end, but he'd made great friends along the way that he knew he could rely on if he truly needed them. He generally endeavoured not to require said help, but he knew he could ask for it without consequence and that was what mattered in the end.

Once he was finally ready to depart for his next destination, the rainforest of Sumeru, he found himself eager to leave the cluster of islands behind, but still a little reluctant to part with the friends he'd made. It was always like this, but nevertheless the experience was a struggle. In some places more than other, even.

Mondstadt felt like the home he could return to when he grew weary of the journey and where close-knit friends were eagerly awaiting his return.

Liyue was more calm in that regard, a place he truly enjoyed visiting for its soothing atmosphere and solid environment. It was the place to go when everything got just a little too much, to get lost up high in the mountains with the fresh air and scent of xinqing to meet him, and the whispers of old friends on the wind. Should he feel more social, he could descend into the streets and be met with a flurry of activity that proposed a thorough but enjoyable contrast.

Inazuma in turn was a place that had not brought him much joy. His initial prohibition of moving on to the mainland, the thunderous climate both literal and political, the way the environment itself had seemed pitted against him and the majority of the people not being very welcoming…

That had changed over time after he had successfully changed the Shogun's mind together with Yae Miko and everyone's hopes and dreams for a brighter tomorrow. Nevertheless, there was a much smaller group of people there that he felt comfortable with. It was more intimate in a way, and also precious in a different sense as well, as though the few friendships he had amassed here shone that much brighter in the face of the overall lack of engagement from the populace as a whole.

Who knew what kind of encounters Sumeru would have in store for him, and whether or not he would finally gain at least some hint that could carry his journey onwards for once. With rejection after rejection from the Archons who could or would not provide him with the information he so desperately needed, he was beginning to almost feel aimless. It wasn't that his goals were any less tangible, but that the lack of progress was making it so much harder to believe that the answers truly would come eventually…

Still, there was no use in worrying over it all so soon before his departure, and certainly not when his friends had decided to throw him something of a farewell celebration. To brood when they had all put in such efforts for him wouldn't be very grateful of him.

So finally he set his darker thoughts aside to offer Thoma a smile over his glass, touched by the other's words and attachment to him when they'd truly not spent all that much time together in the end. Nevertheless, Thoma truly was extremely likeable and Aether was pleased to have met him. Indeed, the other truly does have quite a Mondstadter's personality when you think about it.

"Of course not. No matter where I go or how long I'll be gone, I won't forget you." If anything, Thoma made it sound like he'd be going away for good, the thought eliciting a small chuckle. "I promise I'll come visit when I get the chance, okay?"

[bludhavents]

things that each greaser struggles with:

these are mostly headcanons i came up with. also, this gets pretty angsty.

content warning: alcoholism, addiction, anxiety.

darry:

- maturity. he thinks everybody looks at him like the “dad” of the group instead of just another friend, and he loathes it. he misses whenever he was able to skip work to catch a movie at the drive-in or take ponyboy and sodapop up to the dingo for lunch.

- accidental intimidation. his build is very large and strong, which is good for his job and for when he’s actually trying to, well, intimidate people, but other than that it just makes him feel guilty for being so unapproachable.

- relationships. specifically, darry is very insecure in his relationship with pony. he especially hates it whenever pony dogs on him for forgetting things or accusing him of not caring.

- emotional intelligence. he knows he comes across as cold. and he hates it. he has lots of emotions and he doesn’t air them out in a healthy way, so he tries his best to cut all the emotions off altogether in hopes that the negativity will stop, but it just makes him feel even more insecure.

- social skills. in high school, it was all much easier for him, but now that he’s working full-time and running the household, he’s fallen majorly behind in the social scene. he never goes out to the drive-in or to the dingo, and at first it was because he was too busy, but now, even if he doesn’t have a shift, he’ll make up some excuse because he’s too nervous to go and have to talk to people again since he feels like he’s gonna mess up.

- identity. darry was just starting to feel comfortable in himself and in his role in the world right before his parents died, and when they did, he stopped trying to figure out what made him happy. it has made him insecure of the emotional stint that is centered around his ego and sense of self.

sodapop:

- smarts. it’s canon that he’s insecure about this.

- growing up. while everybody else moves on to new things and grows up, he feels like he’s stuck in the same place watching everybody else progress while he stays behind. this was especially true after sandy left, because marrying her was going to be this huge exciting step in his life and when she left, he didn’t have that fulfillment anymore.

- reassurance. he feels a constant need for approval, and he will take it wherever he can get it. there’s a sort of pride he gets whenever he sees a girl checking him out, but there’s a deeper feeling telling him that she’s gonna run away once she finds out about how ‘stupid’ he is.

- authority. soda has a really hard time talking to people who are in a position of power. he gets all nervous and his hands get sweaty and his face goes sheet white in panic. his charm and social skill is enough to satisfy a conversation with a person his age, but he feels silly trying to be confident in front of an adult. he feels like they look down on him and will laugh.

- fatherhood. he’s very insecure about having a family in the future. he feels like he never appreciated his dad’s skilled parenting while he could, and since then darry has been a sort of fatherly figure in the house, but it’s hard for soda to see it that way. he grew up for 16 years with darry as a big brother and for him to suddenly be forced into a father role is troubling for soda. because of this complicated dynamic between soda and fatherhood, he feels like he won’t be able to be the best father possible for his children.

- legs. he hates his legs. you will never see soda in a pair of shorts, not even when he’s swimming. he doesn’t like the way they’re shaped and thinks that they make the rest of his body look odd, so he wears loose jeans to hide them. he’s also embarrassed of being embarrassed about them, so nobody knows, not even steve.

dallas:

- emotional intelligence. his lack of emotional intelligence is something he battles with a lot. he understands what people are feeling, but he has a hard time understanding why they feel that way. he says it’s because he’s too tuff to deal with emotions, but deep down he knows it’s because he was thrust into a traumatic childhood so early on that he never had time to build emotional bonds with people that would strengthen his empathy and understanding.

- his past, another canon take. he hates talking about it, even the good stuff, because when he thinks about new york all he can picture is 10 year old dallas watching a man being covered in a white sheet by the paramedics on the side of the road. he thinks about his friends from there and knows they’re all either locked up or dead, and it ruins any enjoyment he gets from reminiscing on the good times.

- health. he definitely has crohn’s or IBS or something else that makes his stomach hurt whenever he eats, and it embarrasses him to no end. he’s always anxious that his stomach is going to start hurting when he’s with the gang and is going to have to find some excuse to leave. he smokes so much while he’s out with them to keep from getting hungry until he gets back to buck’s place.

- his friendships. the shepherd gang is close-knit. then, the curtis’ are brothers, steve has known them forever, and two-bit is outgoing enough to make himself fit in to the group. johnny is the closest person dallas relates to, and it’s the friendship hes the most secure in.

- his smile. he knows smoking ruins his teeth, and he knows they’re crooked all over, and he knows that when he smiles his lips crack and stretch out.

johnny:

- his appearance, canon insecurity. he looks young for his age, and when the gang found him in the lot after he was beaten by Socs, they all started treating him like he was young too. he didn’t think the scar on his face was tuff, it just reminded him of being attacked.

- his voice. this is less about how it sounds and more about him not being able to speak over the shouting at home. he hates yelling, and he won’t stand in to speak up for him cause he’s too afraid of being told to “stop yelling”.

- being average. johnny feels painfully average in everything he does. he’s tried to find a skill that he truly loves and wants to take time to be good at, but he always gets frustrated and quits before he can improve.

- romance. almost every aspect of it terrifies johnny. he doesn’t know what a healthy marriage looks like, what he does know was from Mr and Mrs Curtis, but seeing them die together warped his sense of love. he doesn’t understand why you would want to love somebody so much if you didn’t have to. he doesn’t like the “til death do us part” aspect of marriage, because it makes him feel trapped. he’s not afraid of commitment, he’s afraid that he will end up in a marriage like his parents’ and not be able to leave.

two-bit:

- alcoholism. he’s an alcoholic and he knows it, but he’s been stuck in the vicious cycle of addiction for such a long time that the only way he knows how to cope with the emotional baggage of addiction is to drink more.

- social awareness. as of now, he’s very self-aware and extremely skilled in reading a room, but he didn’t used to be. he used to crack jokes at the wrong time and get scolded for it, and it made him feel horrible. like he wasn’t able to experience all the same sad feelings as everybody else because they reacted differently to the sadness than he did. they wanted to process the sadness while he wanted to ignore it.

- being absent at home. he knows he spends the majority of time at the curtis house, and he also knows that his mother spends the majority of her time at work, which leaves his little sister at home alone. he has a good relationship with her, but he doesn’t like for her to see him drunk, and as his alcoholism progresses, that gets to be more and more often. he knows this, and it’s one of the main reasons he’s so insecure about his addiction, because she’s the one who let him know that it wasn’t a one-way street. his problem affected him and her.

- commitment. two-bit is young, but he feels old enough to know how relationships work. he saw his dad walk out on them, and he was never able to process how you could go from marrying someone to leaving and never looking back. at first, he thought that his dad was just a selfish jerk, but when he met johnny and saw that his parents were also married and simultaneously abusive, he convinced himself that all marriages were bound to end up that way. he believes that if the curtis’ lived longer, they would have eventually gotten bitter and tired of each other, because in his mind, that’s just what couples do.

ponyboy:

- confidence. he has a lot of insecurities, and they’re shared pretty evenly between physical and non physical. he doesn’t like his body or his eyes. he doesn’t like how impulsive and dramatic he is.

- security. not in himself, but in life. he’s permanently on edge, feeling anxious about who’s going to be around the corner and what would happen if he got jumped and how many Socs he’d be able to fight off in case anything happened. his parents’ sudden deaths did not help this. he feels like life is constantly tossing him around, and he never feels completely safe.

- emotional outbursts. this isn’t exclusive to ponyboy, but he struggles with it the most. he hates getting upset with people, and he hates hurting other people’s feelings. when he’s feeling too many things, he starts to speak without a filter and gets mad at the littlest things, and he knows that it makes everybody around him feel bad.

- fitting in. in contrast to johnny’s insecurity, ponyboy wants nothing more than to fit in. he’s tired of being the only greaser in his classes, he’s tired of his isolated taste in movies and theatre, he’s tired of being a track star, and he’s tired of all the pressure put on him since he isn’t average.

steve

- masculinity. his dad always enforces an unrealistic standard of being strong, independent, and logical. steve is inherently all of these things, but the pressure he feels to keep it up weighs him down.

- comparing himself to others. it started in middle school when he noticed all of the people liked sodapop more. from then on he couldn’t help but feel like soda was more attractive and charming, darry was stronger and smarter, two-bit was funnier and cooler, dallas was tougher and unbothered, johnny was more likeable and down-to-earth, and ponyboy was more creative and well spoken.

- addiction. there was a time in steve’s life where he was getting high every day. at first it was fun, but then he had to quit track because he wasn’t as athletic as he used to be. it ruined his health and motivation. he started working on cars more to keep himself busy, and it helped a lot, even got him a job.

- hyperindependence. steve’s biggest character flaw is that he can’t ask for help. whether it’s asking for help in school or asking for soda to hand him a tool in the garage, steve can’t bring himself to do ask. it makes him feel like he’s not good enough to do it on his own.

[needleandhammer]

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

[flourgirl]

Even If It’s a Lie

Part I to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter drags you to one of his frat parties, and you realize something you should have a long time ago.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: SO much angst, and lots of pining from Y/N. A couple swear words here and there.

A/N: I liked writing the first one so much that I couldn’t stop when it came to this one! Enjoy :-)

“This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye” -The Last Time, Taylor Swift

“Pete, I don’t know about this…” you said, looking yourself up and down in the mirror. You looked like a completely different person in the short burgundy dress that MJ had picked for you. The shiny satin contrasted with your dirty, white sneakers that hadn’t seen the light of day since you played tennis in the 9th grade.

“Trust me,” MJ had said when she was choosing your outfit earlier that day, “You don’t wanna wear any shoes that you actually like to a frat.”

“Why can’t you go with him again?” you whined, wishing Peter had somebody, anybody else, to accompany him to his “induction ceremony” into Sig Ep. 

“I don’t think I’m what any of those frat guys meant when they said ‘Bring a hot girl’. Plus, you were Peter’s first choice,” MJ replied, nonchalantly biting her nails as you held the dress up to yourself. “That’s the one.”

“I’m not hot,” you sighed as you started to hang the many rejected dresses spread across your floor back onto the rack. “I wore a sweater with a cat on it yesterday. That I hand-knitted.”

“Well... you’re cute. And that’s good enough. Plus, you can keep Parker from getting plastered. You know he’s a lightweight,” MJ laughed, reminding you of the many times Peter had called you to pick him up from a late night of partying.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, still worried about the fact that you did not like parties. Or strangers, or crowds, or really anything that involved socializing with more than four people at a time. Peter had been the same way all throughout high school. That’s what made you guys so close, but... things hadn’t been the same since you started college.

Peter ran from the other room, smoothing the wrinkles out of the gray t-shirt that fit him just right. You saw him grin from behind you in the mirror’s reflection, and he placed his hands on his shoulders, jostling you lightly.

“Y/N! Are you excited! It’s your first college party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around to look him in the eyes. You stared down at your feet, self conscious over how short you felt in your sneakers next to him.

“That’s not true. I’ve been to parties before! Ned’s birthday was just last month,” you reminded him. “Don’t you remember how you watched me bake a cake from scratch and your only ‘contribution’ was eating the buttercream?”

Peter laughed, ruffling your hair like you were his little brother. “No, Y/N, I meant a real party. With booze and music that’s so loud that you can’t hear what someone is saying. That kind of party.” 

Your brows furrowed as you began to fully accept that Peter had changed. So, so much. He wasn’t the dorky kid from Queens that carried your books and watched your favorite animated movies with you just because anymore. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

It didn’t take his spidey-senses for Peter to realize how upset he had made you. “Y/N, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just want you to experience everything college has to offer.”

“I think you do that enough for both of us,” you muttered, plopping dramatically onto the couch. Peter followed you, running his fingers gently across your arm as you pouted into a throw pillow. “Couldn’t you have asked any other girl to participate in your frat’s misogynistic tradition?”

“I didn’t want to ask anybody else,” Peter replied. You sat up to look at him, fixing your hair and smoothing out your dress. “I promise, Y/N. I miss you. We never hang out like we used to.”

You rolled your eyes. “And whose fault is that? You’re always—”

“—it’s mine. I know that. So, just come with me tonight and let me make it up to you,” he pleaded, pulling out his signature puppy dog eyes that you could never say no to. “Come on. All you have to do is say the word and we can leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

----------------

Your nerves worsened the closer you got to the frat houses, not mentally prepared for how loud the music would be or all of the sweaty bodies that would inevitably be pressed against you on the dance floor.

As you approached Sig Ep, Peter gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. He looked deep into your eyes, “Y/N. I meant what I said. All you have to do is tell me that you’re ready to go and we’ll leave.”

“You promise?” you asked, chewing on your lip.

“Promise,” Peter smiled, holding out his pinky to intertwine with yours.

Some tall, buff guy was standing at the doorway and greeted Peter with a fist bump. “Hey, Parker! Good work with the dime! She got a boyfriend?” You recoiled at his attitude towards you. It was as if you weren’t even there.

“Nah, Ryan. She’s off limits.” Peter replied coolly, pulling you inside.

You heard Ryan wolf-whistle from his post, causing you to roll your eyes. “Hell yeah! Didn’t know little Petey had it in him!”

Peter wrapped his arm around you, partly to make you feel better, but also because there wasn’t much space for you two to squeeze your way into the kitchen. “Just ignore him,” he said, handing you a red plastic cup, a bottle of Sprite, and a shot glass of vodka. 

You peered up at him, unsure. You weren’t much of a drinker, but maybe, just maybe, it would help you ease up on your nerves. Swirling the liquids together into the cup, you downed it before recoiling from the burn. Cheap vodka sucked, you remembered.

“That’s my girl!” you barely heard Peter say from right next to you, feeling him patting your back before he did two shots himself, swallowing them as if they were water. “Come on, I have some people who’ve been dying to meet you.”

The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy. He had called you his girl. You gripped his hand tightly as he led you down the hallway and onto the back patio, where a group of people sat crowded around a bonfire. 

A girl with bleach blonde hair and a dark green dress that hugged her figure came running up to the two of you, practically jumping into Peter’s arms as she greeted him. “Peter! I’ve been waiting for you. Come on, you can sit next to me.” 

She pulled Peter towards the bonfire, patting the empty spot on one of the benches next to her. Peter turned to nod at you, gesturing for you to follow them. Once again, it felt like you were invisible to almost everybody at this party.

The blonde girl leaned close to Peter’s face, giggling with an obvious drunkenness. “So, who’s your little friend?” she asked, waving her fingers towards you like you were some kind of pet.

“This is Y/N, my best friend.” Friend. That’s all you’d ever be to him, especially when there were girls like her around.

“Hi, Y/N! I’m Gwen. Gwen Stacy. Peter and I met in our thermodynamics class last semester,” she smiled, showing off her perfectly white teeth. “You should’ve seen him! He made everything look so easy.” You already knew that. Peter could do anything he set his mind to.

“Yeah...” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with her bright, gray eyes, which matched Peter’s shirt. “So, uh, who are you here with?”

“Oh, duh!,” she said before tapping the guy on her left’s shoulder, pulling him out of the conversation he was having with the people next to him. “This is Harry Osborn. We go way back. Harry, this is, uh…”

“Y/N,” you reminded her.

“Right! Y/N. She’s Peter’s friend,” Gwen told him. He nodded his head and offered a small wave before returning to his conversation. Of course, you thought to yourself. Peter had only asked you to come with him tonight because she was unavailable.

You stared back down at your stupid shoes as Peter and Gwen talked about titrations and bond solutions. Things that you knew nothing about. Was this why Peter was always out at parties? To see her? 

You thought about Peter’s promise. Just tell him, you thought. Tell him you want to leave. But you knew that you wouldn’t. You knew that you couldn’t ruin Peter’s fun just because you decided to be a baby and get scared after just thirty minutes into your very first frat party.

Looking back up at Peter and Gwen, who now had her arms draped around his neck, you excused yourself to the restroom, wherever that was. You just needed a break. Peter nodded towards you before turning back to smile at Gwen.

----------------

A banging on the bathroom door startled you. “Hey, uh, could you, like, HURRY UP? I have to take a piss,” a boy yelled from the other side. You got up from the edge of the bathtub that you had been sulking on for the past five minutes to open the door.

“Oh. Sorry, Y/N. Didn’t know it was you.” It was Flash Thompson. Flash, the guy who had made Peter’s life a living hell in high school. “God, you look good. Hey, how’s about you waiting out here for me and we could, you know, catch up?” He winked at you and you wanted to throw up.

Your first instinct was to say no. How could you give Peter’s bully the time of day? But you thought about Peter and Gwen. Gwen. Gorgeous and smart and better than you in every possible way, who was probably sitting in Peter’s lap by now and running her fingers through his hair. Your heartbeat quickened as rage rushed through your body. You wanted to hurt Peter, like he had hurt you. “Yes,” you replied, before he slammed the bathroom door in your face.

One minute later, you were pulling Flash down the stairs and towards the backyard. “You washed your hands, right?” you asked, desperately hoping that the answer would be yes.

“Don’t worry, babe. I just peed. Everyone knows that as long as you don’t get it on your hands you’re all good,” he mused. “You use less water that way, too. Save the planet, am I right?”

You dropped his hand, mentally rolling your eyes, and continued trudging towards the bonfire. You watched as Peter turned to smile at your reappearance, which swiftly dropped once he saw who you were with. It seemed like Gwen had backed off when you were gone too. Was this some kind of weird, territorial act that she was putting on to prove that Peter liked her and not you?

Maybe you were overthinking, but it was too late to backtrack. You sat back down on your place next to Peter, the awkwardness thick in the air. Flash had decided to squeeze himself between the two of you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

Peter leaned forward and shot you a dirty look, which you immediately recognized as his “What the fuck, Y/N?” face. 

A familiar voice boomed from behind, and you turned around to find Ryan had finally tapped out of bouncer duty to join the festivities. “Who’s ready for Truth or Dare!”

Shit. You hated truth or dare. Peter knew that. Ever since you had been dared to kiss Tyler Rosado in the 7th grade and he laughed right in your face before flat out rejecting you, the game had become a sore spot.

But you looked at Peter, who was cheering alongside the rest of the group, excited as ever to participate in the game that you swore you’d never play again. He doesn’t care, you thought to yourself, not like he used to.

You felt a vibration from your pocket and scrambled to pull your phone out of your jacket. Well, Peter’s jacket. The one he had let you wear on the way here because you were cold. It was a text from MJ. 

“How’s everything going?”

“Not good”, you replied, adding multiple sad face emojis at the end of your message.

“What did that idiot do this time?,” she asked. It was like you could hear her “I’m so going to beat Peter up for this” voice through the screen.

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” you sent, before locking your phone and sliding it back into the jacket pocket.

“Alright, alright, alright. So, who’s up first?” You heard Ryan ask, remembering the terrible event that was taking place right before you. “Hey! Gwen, how about you do us the honors?”

“Of course!” she chirped back. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“I know you are,” Ryan laughed, causing the crowd of people to whoop and holler around you. “So, truth or dare.”

“Definitely dare,” she slurred, taking another sip from her beer.

“Who’s got a dare for pretty, little Gwen here? Anybody?” Ryan asked, looking around the backyard.

Flash raised his hand. Fuck. Why did you think that it would be a good decision in any way, shape, or form to bring him with you? 

“Gwen, I dare you to make out with the hottest guy here!” he giggled, obviously thinking that she’d pick him. What a dumbass.

She smirked, before turning to Peter. “Gladly,” she said as she moved to press her lips against his. You struggled to watch as they made out right next to you, much to both you and Flash’s dismay. It felt like it had been going on for forever when they finally stopped sucking each other’s faces and the crowd’s cheers died down.

That was it. That was the last straw. You got up from where you were sitting and headed back towards the front door, having had enough of frat parties for the rest of your miserable life. Peter probably wouldn’t even notice that you were gone.

You felt hot tears fall down your cheeks as you stumbled out onto the sidewalk, calling MJ as fast as you could. “Could you come get me,” you managed to choke out. “This—this was a mistake. Please, just come get me.”

MJ asked for your address and let you know that she’d be by in a couple of minutes. You plopped onto the front steps, emotionally and physically exhausted from all that Peter had put you through tonight. 

A few minutes later, MJ’s car pulled up in front of Sig Ep, and she ran out to hug you, gently rubbing your back to get you to stop crying. “Where is he?,” she asked angrily, glaring towards the frat house. 

You pulled her back, sniffling at her, “Don’t. I just want to go home.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with him later,” MJ said, before the two of you got into her car and drove back to the apartment that you shared. Upbeat pop music played on the stereo, which you promptly shut off, preferring to mope with your head on the windowsill, staring out at the cloudy night sky.

MJ unlocked the front door, and you were greeted by Ned and Betty sitting on the living room floor around a Monopoly board. Betty was obviously winning, and Ned was almost bankrupt. 

“Y/N!” Betty squealed, getting up off the rug to hug you. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“It was Peter,” MJ muttered, shooting daggers at Ned.

“What!? I can’t control him,” Ned tried to reason. “Y/N, on behalf of my idiot roommate, I’m sorry for whatever he did this time.”

“It’s okay, guys. I just really want to go to bed, okay?” you told them, heading towards your bedroom.

You kicked off your sneakers and threw Peter’s stupid jacket, which smelled just like him, onto the chair in the corner, plunking yourself face first into the mattress. Ned, Betty, and MJ stood in your doorway, watching the entire thing.

“Yeah… I don’t think she’s okay,” Ned whispered, loud enough for you to hear.

Betty hit him on the head. “Ow!,” Ned replied, rubbing his temple from where she had flicked him.

“Will you all just shut up and leave me alone!?,” you screamed, startling your friends.

“Yeah, of course. Just tell us if you need anything, Y/N. We’ll be right outside,” MJ reassured you, before shutting your door behind her.

----------------

You woke up the next morning to the smell of blueberry pancakes and maple syrup wafting throughout the apartment. Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you wiped away the leftover makeup from last night and brushed your teeth, ready to forget about everything that had gone wrong yesterday.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Betty sang from the stove, placing yet another pancake onto the already towering pile before sliding the plate in front of you. “They’re for you. Blueberry, with a little bit of cinnamon, just like how you like ‘em!”

You managed to give her a weak smile, before digging into the breakfast she had so lovingly prepared for you. “Where’s MJ,” you asked, knowing that she would never still be asleep past 7 a.m.

“I’m not supposed to tell you…” Betty answered, obviously trying to deflect from wherever their roommate was. “Apple or orange juice?”

“Apple,” you replied. “No, seriously, Betty. Where is she?”

Betty placed the glass next to your plate of pancakes. A heavy silence hung all throughout the kitchen as you realized the only place that MJ could be right now. She was going to kill Peter.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, scrambling to pull your shoes on and running out the door. Betty mentally cursed herself out for not being able to keep a secret, chasing after you down the stairwell.

“Y/N! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop! Please, MJ is just looking out for you!,” she panted from several stories ahead. Betty had no idea when you had gotten so fast.

“Don’t care! He’s my best friend!” you yelled back, before rushing out onto the sidewalk and running across campus towards Peter and Ned’s dorm room. You hated how much you still cared about Peter after all this time. You hated how much you loved him.

As soon as you reached their door, you frantically knocked on it until Ned opened up. “Oh, Y/N, you’re not supposed to be here. Hey, wait—”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence, squeezing your way past him and into their common room. There, MJ and Peter sat playing a game of chess. Until MJ transferred to your school, nobody had ever been able to beat Peter in chess. You scanned the board as they became aware of your presence, and felt a sense of pride seeing that MJ had his pieces tied up to ensure that she’d have a checkmate in five. He’d either have to resign or let her pick off his queen, two knights, and rook one by one.

“Oh,” you sighed with relief, seeing that Peter was still alive. Everyone in the room was staring at you, waiting to see what you had to say. 

“Well. I’m going to head home. See you later, MJ. Bye!” You turned on your heels and headed towards the door, where Ned was standing with his jaw on the floor.

Peter scrambled to his feet as he caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around just as he had done yesterday. “Y/N. Let me explain,” he whispered softly, like there was nobody else in the room. Curse those damn puppy dog eyes. You were better than this. You needed to stick up for yourself.

“Goodbye, Peter,” you said, before breaking free of his grasp and walking out the door, doing your best not to cry in front of everybody.

He started to follow you before MJ pulled him back, uttering a simple “Don’t.”

Walking back to your apartment, you realized that you had been right all along. Peter had changed, and nothing was ever going to be the same between the two of you.

[king-maven-calore]

prompt #25 “your hair is really soft” for marecal please 😙

I did this and "10 cal and mare please. idc who says it lol"👀 in a single drabble, I hope you guys don't mind. It's a modern AU I guess

Cal had been volunteering at the Scarlet Guard summer camp for two seasons now, this would be his third. The first time he’d been here as moral support for Ptolemus, who’d been sent here for his community service sentence. Ptolemus had signed up again for the following summers for Wren, a med student in charge of the infirmary, and Cal kept signing up because he found out he loved working with children.

He always had a great time helping the kids, training them in archery and other sports, patting their backs when they got homesick, leading them on walks through the woods belting out marching songs, sitting with them at lunch, and making good use of his excellent puns arsenal. The kids had a blast, and he did too.

In this part of the Greatwoods Region, he found paradise. His dad disapproved and Maven did not understand but was he too happy to mind.

It would have been a shame if he’d proven them right on his third year here when he almost died out of sheer stupidity. But could he be blamed? Could he be blamed when the five new counselors got down from one of the early buses and one of them looked like that?

Among the newbies, there was a petite girl with golden skin that seemed to sparkle under the early morning sun. She jumped down from the bus and a cloud of dirt exploded around her already dirty Vans, her toned legs were generously exposed under her jean shorts, and the lines of her abdomen peeking out from under the camp’s counselor reglementary red polo shirt as she stretched and arched her back to tie her dyed brown and purple hair in a bun, scowling at her surroundings with something akin to distrust. She was the loveliest girl he’d ever seen in such a violent way... was it really his fault he didn’t pay attention to the lightbulbs he’d been changing at the side of the dining hall, perched atop a rickety ladder 10 feet above the ground? It wasn’t. Electricity didn’t give a shit about whose fault was it though when he blindly stuck his hand in the exposed wires next to the light socket.

A white explosion, sparkles, and a sensation of being pulled away at 1000 miles per hour.

Next thing he knew, he was on his back and there was a warm mouth against his. Warm, soft, insistent— on breathing air into him. And good god, this person smelled like heaven; jasmine and rain. Much to his dismay, the scent and the mouth left him and his chest started getting crushed in rhythmic, urgent motions.

Cal gulped air and shot upright. He was surrounded by 20 consternated young faces and one barely inches away from his face. Beautiful, wide brown eyes, thick long eyelashes that brushed against high cheekbones when the girl who’d just saved his life blinked twice.

“Dude.” Kneeling next to him, the girl with the purple hair knitted her brow. “What the fuck?”

And Cal couldn’t help but smile at her. A reflex. She was even prettier up close.

“I think we should check for brain damage,” a blond with bottle green eyes muttered.

Oh, but his brain was fine. It was his heart he should get checked, for he’d just been struck by Cupid’s arrow.

And electricity, of course. The smell of burnt hair, clothes, and flesh reminded him.

The result of that encounter turned out to be quite positive. Yes, he got a second-degree burn on his right hand and a dislocated shoulder from the fall but he refused to be sent home, it had been worth it to get to meet Mare Barrow.

She was 18, from Albanus, only here for the money, best friends with the blondie jokester and— as he learned after a dubiously moral social media stalking session —single and interested in men.

The only thing he regretted from that “meet cute” was that he’d been mostly unconscious (technically dead) for 99% of the time her lips were on his.

He lived for the moments they crossed paths during their daily activities around the camp. His heart grew in size about five times when she teased him and lightly punched his stomach or ruffled his hair.

Ptolemus cocked a brow but kept his mouth thankfully shut when Cal decided to start sitting on the counselor’s table during dinner instead of with the kids, as he had grown accustomed to.

It was miserable and extraordinary how he even found the way she ate her food endearing. More often than not, miserable because he couldn’t A: get her to like him, for she was too laser-focused on doing her job efficiently and getting the hell out of the camp; B: touch her as casually as she did with him because his hand was bandaged, and C: relationships between counselors were strictly forbidden.

By the time his hand was healthy enough to be of any use, three weeks had passed and he was head over heels, neck-deep (to not use other body parts for reference), stupidly in love with the sarcastic girl who had put her own breath into his lungs, challenged him every time they got the chance and looked at him like she wanted to sink her hand into his ribcage to take a bite out of his heart. Needless to say, he wanted to touch her. Badly. Ok, maybe do a bit more than 'touch', but you get the idea.

His excuse was handed on a silver platter by one of his favorite campers, Luther Carver. The kid who was usually off-standish and grim— just misunderstood, in Cal’s opinion – had signed up for the braiding lessons that Mare was unhappily in charge of.

On his way back from the lake, his crew of kids trailing behind him, he passed along the group of girls and Luther taking their lesson, sitting in a circle on the grass between the pine trees. An idyllic image of children focused on their task, and Mare’s poorly concealed discomfort as she sat on a log bench and supervised the activities, biting the inside of her cheek, elbows on her knees. It should be illegal to be that beautiful without meaning to.

“Hi, Cal!” Luther chirped as a girl behind him stared with furious determination at her handiwork. “How does my hair look?”

Cal signaled for his group to keep walking back to the camp and approached the small clearing.

“It looks amazing, buddy!” Cal gave him a thumb up. To be honest, his braid of long black hair was slightly (very) crooked to the left, and Mare noticed. She hid her laugh behind cough and a fist. “It is very original.”

Luther beamed and turned slightly to wink in his fellow camper’s direction. The girl blushed and giggled and Cal wanted nothing more than to give them a bear hug and tell them how smart and kind they were. Kids were the best thing in this world. Especially when they said things like...

“Mare’s hair is still the same,” Luther sighed wearily. “Someone should do something about it.”

All the girls hummed and nodded in agreement and Mare closed her eyes and Cal could read her thoughts as she counted to ten.

“Fine, you guys win.” Ah, so her untouched hair had been a recurring topic. “Cal can braid my hair!” she said with fake excitement that went over the kids’ heads, thankfully. “If he knows how to, that is.” Her brown eyes locked with his in camaraderie, fully expecting him to turn down the task with some excuse to appease their audience.

“Ok,” he shrugged happily as he walked over to her and her smug face dissolved into a confused frown and the kids cheered.

He made a shooing motion with his hand and she moved to sit on the grass awkwardly while he took her place on the log bench, sitting with his feet placed on either side of her body.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered through gritted teeth so only he could hear her, craning her neck up to glare at him, when he started cracking his knuckles for dramatic effect.

Were this any other context, he would savor the warmth her body radiated to the inside of his legs. Not this context. Absolutely not.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he smirked down at her. “Now stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

With one last suspicious look, she heaved a breath and stared ahead as he tugged the scrunchie off her hair and let the brown and purple waves spill down her back.

Cal had no fucking clue how to do braid but how hard could it be? It was like a knot with hair. Right? He looked at what the girls sitting on the grass were doing. Ok, that seemed doable. He combed his long fingers through Mare’s hair to loosen any knots and... Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He successfully hid a shudder while Mare uninterestedly hugged her knees to her chest.

He was choking on his own breath. Her hair was so soft and the scent of it was so amazing it pierced his fingertips, reached his bloodstream, and shot to his head. Jasmine and rain like that first day. Cal stilled for a moment and blinked forcefully to regain some semblance of rational thought.

“What is it?” Mare muttered curtly. Was it his imagination or did it sound more like a gasp than scolding?

“Nothing,” he said and started imitating the nearest girl’s technique. No point in lying, he bent down to whisper in her ear. “Your hair is really soft.” It wasn’t meant to come out so raspy and needy, and still...

Mare turned to the side and they were face to face. She seemed offended, but not really, with a confused glare darkening her burning gaze, a lovely red tint spreading all over her cheeks and neck, slightly parted plush lips.

She looked on the verge of kissing him or punching him. Cal prayed and ached it was the former because she licked her lips, leaving a glossy sheen and he wanted nothing more than to...

“OHHH Mare and Cal sitting in a tree!” A girl squealed, pointing at them from across the clearing and suddenly 10 pairs of devilish eyes were on them and chanting. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

They jumped away from each other so fast one might think they had been electrocuted again as they rushed to explain that “No, they were NOT doing anything of the sort!”

[mauvecherie-writes]

Dirty Thirty [Florian Munteanu]

Summary: For Florian’s birthday, you fly out to Sydney to be with him for the celebration of a lifetime.

Warning: NSFW*** BDSM themes. Sex Toys, Anal Play (Fingering and Pegging).

Word count: 3+K

Note: Things are about to get heavy with this one so please if you’re uncomfortable with what will be depicted, NO NOT READ! FIRST AND ONLY WARNING. Uploaded on mobile. Will edit later

A small chuckle left her lips as she thought back to the faces of the security at the border control when she arrived in Australia. Having a suitcase full of adult contraptions would bring a blush to anyone’s face. They looked back at her and silently closed the case and allowed her to eventually leave.

The first stop from the airport was the rented apartment Florian was staying at. She was very thankful to have been friends with the production assistant Sammy, who had the pleasure of driving her around and keeping her company until the cast were able to take a break from filming in about an hour.

“Are you sure that you’re not needed back on set? I can honestly just order an Uber.” YN said as she continued to do her hair. After they had arrived at the apartment, YN took a shower and then changed from her tracksuit into a colourful printed strapless corset top and black high waisted pants that had slits at the bottom by her ankles. YN tied the straps of her heels around the bottom of her trousers.

“Oh it’s fine girl. There’s like five other production assistants and I had let them know that I wouldn’t be there for a couple of hours.” Sammy replied as she surfed through her phone as she waited for YN to finish getting ready. Her hair that was usually in an afro had been silk pressed and then an installation of a long braided ponytail that she could interchange with other hair pieces that were neatly packed in her suitcase.

“So how has shooting been with all the restrictions in place?” YN asked as she packed her small purse and then grabbed a black surgical mask as she stood up, indicating that she was done.

“Honestly, I prefer it this way. The number of unnecessary people around the set has been cut down tremendously. My job is still pretty hectic but now I don’t have entitled set workers demanding me around when I’m specifically for the cast, director and the link to the production company.”

“That’s good. Are people allowed visitors because I feel like I’m breaking rules here.” YN said as they settled back into the car.

“If you had come around May, June time then it would have been a problem but as cases have dropped, a lot of the restrictions have been lifted so it’s not a problem.”

“Oh that’s good then.” The two women continued to engage in conversation as they drove to the location of the set. It was mostly about Sammy sharing the stories of the crazy and bizarre demands of the cast. In particular, Florian had an affinity for the weirdest american chocolate and sweets which Sammy most of the time had to order from online as most australian stores do not sell what he likes.

“And the man can eat! I was so shocked when I had to deliver his lunch for the first time.” Sammy exclaimed.

“Oh yeah! Dude can eat for a whole football team.” YN replied.

“I don’t know how you deal with that everyday.”

“Most of the time, I cook a feast because I know he’ll eventually get hungry and because of my work, I’m not at home most of the time that he’s there and I’d rather he eat what I’ve cooked and not order a takeaway.”

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t think he’s had a home meal since we got here.”

YN laughed in response. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”

Their conversation continued to flow as they continued their journey to the area that they were filming. YN was a little skeptical about her presence on set but Sammy let her know that she had been put down on the authorised visitors list, they just didn’t tell Florian.

YN was there as a surprise visit for Florian’s birthday. With his core friendship group all busy, trying to get their business back up and his parents still being at high risk, she did not want him spending his birthday alone. YN began making the arrangements for a birthday trip to him. As her own boss, she made sure to delegate power and responsibilities to her employees so that they knew what to do for the two weeks that she will be gone.

She had a plan and Sammy helped her execute some of it and she was grateful for that. Right now, she was only going to the set location because there wasn’t any

way she was going to wait until he was finished working to see him when they were in the same place. YN had not seen Florian for over three months, she desperately missed him.

As the car pulled into the parking lot, she could feel her eagerness take over but she was going to be patient and wait until she saw him.

As the day drew to a close, the cast and crew had finished with most of the shooting and they were now sitting outside the director’s trailer having a conversation about their days which dove into the crazy stunts the actors have done in the past. Simu was deep into explaining a stunt move that dislocated his shoulder when he stopped talking when he saw Sammy approaching with a beautiful woman behind him.

“Who is that?” When he asked the question, everyone around him turned to face the direction in which he was looking. Florian instantly smiled and pushed his large body up from his chair.

“Baby!” he exclaimed as he walked towards her which left everyone behind him questioning what he said. YN moved past Sammy and ran as fast as her heels could carry her into his arms. She moved her mask and immediately captured his lips and moaned into his mouth when their lips finally met. YN could feel her heart swell tremendously in her chest as their lips moved against each other. His arms tightened around her as he swayed their bodies.

“I missed you so fucking much.” he mumbled against her lips as he placed her back down onto her feet steadily. YN placed her hands onto his cheeks and caressed his beard underneath her fingers.

“I missed you too baby.”

“I can’t believe that you’re here. Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming.”

“Surprise!”

“Ugh.” He engulfed her back into his arms and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. “You don’t understand how happy I am to see you.”

“I wasn’t going to let you enter the next decade by yourself.” She whispered into his ear. When they pulled apart, he took her hand into his and ushered her towards the group of people.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend YN. Babe, this is the crew that had been keeping me company for the past couple of months.” They all eagerly stumbled over their feet to greet her as they were bewildered by her beauty and the fact that Florian had a girlfriend. He kept his personal life very private and never shared anything more than just he was extremely close with his family and had a close knit circle of friends, he always kept contact with. Not once did he mention that he had a girlfriend and seeing her in the flesh, they understood why.

.

They hung around the set for a little longer before they made it back to his trailer and YN lounged on his couch, scrolling through social media as she waited for Florian to finish getting ready for dinner. She caught the scent of his cologne and she sat up straight and took in his appearance. He was dressed in a bright red t-shirt, black ripped fitted jeans with black and white Jordan’s with red laces. Around his neck was his single gold Cuban link chain. Such a simple look that had YN’s thighs clenching.

She got up from her seat and approached him. Her fingers played with his chain as he looked down at her.

“You’re going to make me forget about the plans I had in mind for us tonight.” She whispered as her hands moved his groomed beard and played with it.

“Hmm.” Florian hummed as he bit into his bottom lip. “What did you have in mind?”

“Don’t worry about that baby boy. Mama’s got everything covered.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

YN kept the smirk on her face as they finally left the set and travelled to the restaurant that Sammy had picked out for them to have dinner. As they sat for dinner, YN kept close to him. She sat beside him, instead of opposite him. One hand was on his lap as they ate their food and she did not go long without kissing his lips. YN was being needy and she did not care how it looked to the outside world and Florian himself did not seem to mind it either. He was being showered by her attention and he greatly welcomed it.

By the time, they got to dessert, YN was ready to go. When the waitress came back to the table to clear their main entree plates, YN turned to her.

“Can we get the chocolate cake in a to go box please?” She asked.

“Sure. Should I bring the bill?”

“Yes please.” When the waitress left, Florian turned to face her.

“I can see the gears in your head turning. What do you have planned?” He asked which caused YN to smile.

“Don't worry about it.”

.

.

And he tried not to and that was until they got back to his apartment. She blindfolded him and took the time to strip him out of his clothes. She got onto her knees in front of him and slowly pulled the fabric down his legs and let him step out of them. Her teeth grazed the flesh of his thighs as she got back to her feet. She placed a soft kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you for trusting to take control tonight.” She mumbled softly as she led him to the bed and laid him down.

“Of course.” Florian mumbled his response as he softly gulped as YN took each of his limbs and tied him to the bed. Once he was secure, she tugged on them to make sure that he won’t be able to escape so easily.

“Can you move around?” She asked him.

He tried to sit up but was restricted securely to the mattress.

“No.”

“Hmm.” YN smirked as she moved away from the bed and left Florian alone in silence with only his loud thoughts to keep him company. Anticipation prickled at his skin as he thought about what YN was going to do to him. He was the more dominating figure in the relationship but there were times where Florian relinquished that control to YN and she would take the bull by the horns.

Whenever they explored the trading of places in the bedroom, YN was wild and it exhilarated him. He never needed to say it but whenever she took control, he always came the hardest. She catered to his needs in the best possible way and pushed his boundaries.

He felt her presence back inside of the room by the floral scent of her perfume. The bed dipped as she got onto the bed and straddled his lap to take off the blindfold. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lights of the room, YN stood up straight to let him take in the outfit that she wore for him.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned as he felt his hardness press into the fabric of his boxers. The leather caged the most intimate parts of her along with the sleeve covering her arms. Leather belts with metal rings wrapped around her thighs and torso like a garter belt and then came up her chest into a choker.

YN smiled as she bit onto her bottom lip as she bent her knees and brought her body down until she was hovering above his cock. She could feel just how hard he was and it made her moan softly.

“Do you like it?” She asked and he nodded his head, unable to speak. His mouth salivated at the sight of her just rendering him speechless. YN pressed her hand into his neck and pushed his head backwards as she dragged her nails down his chest. He hissed as he jerked softly underneath her. She repeated the action again and then pinched his nipples.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned as the acute pain of the pinching of his sensitive nipples sent small jolts of electricity straight to his cock. YN giggled at his reaction and moved her hands away.

“I’m going to have fun playing with you tonight.” YN got off him again and moved to one of her suitcases and opened it. Florian could not see exactly what she was grabbing but he could make out that they were toys. She came back to the bed and dropped everything that she needed. She grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his boxers from her body and another giggle left her lips as Florian reacted to the way she roughly pulled the tarted garments away from his body.

She hungrily licked her lips as she watched his thickness bounce back and hit his abdomen. His tip was weeping with pre-cum and it was a shade of angry red. YN bent forward and held onto his base and brought his tip to her mouth. Her tongue darted out and licked the pre-cum that had seeped out. His hips jerked upwards in response and let out a breathy moan.

“Is this for me baby.”

“Yes.” His voice was strained and it was pleasing to hear. With her other hand, she grabbed a cock ring and attached it to his base before she sat on her hind legs and grabbed the bottle of lube. She popped open the cap and squeezed the contents onto the palm of her hand and wrapped it around his girth. Florian gasped and pulled on the bondage as he failed to stay still.

“Be a good boy for me and stay still. Let me make you feel good but I need you to be still.” YN’s voice was like sweet honey to his ears. He loved it when she used this voice on him. The innocent tone of her voice was a sharp contrast to the explicit words that left her mouth and it was addictive. So he tried to stay still. The muscles of his stomach clenched as he tried not to thrust into her hand to follow her rhythm and chase her pace.

YN could tell that his orgasm was quickly rising from the way his length was throbbing in her hand. As his head fell backwards and his deep moans continued to escape from his chest, YN reached for the small vibrator, quickly turning it on and pressing it onto his tip. Florian choked on his moans as his legs began to thrash about and could not still any longer.

“Mmm. I can feel you about to cum.”

“Please.” Florian managed to say as his orgasm bubbled within the pit of his stomach. He did not think that he could hold himself back any longer and just as he was about to erupt, YN pulled the vibrator and her hand away. Florian growled in displeasure and looked at her with dark eyes of raging frustration. The smirk on her face could not be stopped as her eyes fell onto his face. As menace swirled in the brown of her eyes, Florian knew that she was going to ruin him.

YN continued to edge and ruin his orgasm until his entire body was trembling the strong need to release the tension that was locked into his muscles. With lubed fingers, she pushed two digits into his forbidden hole causing him to let out a pathetic whimper. The couple both explored anal play once in a while, YN more than Florian but in the rare moments that he did, he enjoyed it more and more. The first days, he was uncomfortable and weary about it but YN helped him get comfortable with the idea. His first orgasm triggered by the stimulation of his prostate opened his eyes.

She stretched him open and attached her lips to his tip and sucked on it, bringing him to the edge yet again. Florian’s moans were as loud as ever as he softly thrusted into her mouth. He was continuing to break her rules but he did not care. The desperation of his cries made YN weep. It was so seducing and she wanted to hear all the sounds that he made but she stopped once again.

“YN, please.” Florian pleaded weakly. His voice was weak and worn out but she knew that he wanted more. YN put him out of his misery and took off the cock ring which gave him some relief. He let out a sigh as he relaxed into the bed as she got up and walked to her suitcase again. She made sure that the strap was properly secured before she got back onto the bed and positioned herself in between his parted thighs.

To any man not content with who he is, this would have been incredibly emasculating but not to Florian. He was so aroused, his pre-cum was leaking so much, that he drenched his cock in it.

YN rubbed his thighs up and down with one hand as she coated the dildo with lube. With the tip teasing his puckered hole, she hovered above him and pecked his lips and looked into his dazed hazel eyes.

“Happy Birthday.” She whispered before slowly beginning to push into him, breaking through his tight barrier. Her pussy clenched as she watched Florian’s eyes roll to the back of his head and a long drawn out groan.

When she saw that she had filled him to the brim, she thrusted softly, making sure that he was well adjusted and comfortable. YN loved hearing his cries as he withered beneath her.

“Talk to me baby.” She spoke as she increased the pace. Watching him struggle to speak and against the restraints gave her the greatest pleasure. No one but her would see Florian this vulnerable.

“It feels so good.” He choked out.

“Yeah? You love me stretching you out like this?”

“Yes.” He gasped as she nudged his spot. She wrapped her hand around his length and began stroking him as he throbbed in her palm. “FUCK!” He exclaimed as he began to tremble and his chest heave heavier as he tried to catch his breath. Instinctively his body began to move in accordance with hers as he chased for his orgasm.

“I know what you’re doing. You want to cum don’t you my sweet boy?”

“YN.” Her name left his lips like a prayer as his fingers pulled on the ropes.

“It’s okay. I got you. Cum for for me.” She kept stroking and caressing until Florian let out the loudest groan and erupted all over her hand and onto his stomach. YN sighed with content as she slowly pulled out of him and watched as the orgasm continued to riddle his body.

His eyes were closed as she cleaned him up and untied him. The bondage left his skin slightly irritated from the tugging but he would be okay. YN took off the strap and her ruined underwear before kneeling beside him and trailing kisses up his chest to his lips.

As their lips passionately moved against each other, her skilful fingers were once again wrapped around his semi-hard cock. He groaned into her mouth and jerked in response.

“You okay?” She sweetly asked.

“Mhm.” Was his response as she straddled and her wet core hovered above his hardened girth. YN slowly sank down onto his length and moaned as he filled her up inch by inch.

Florian was overly sensitive and he had to hold onto her hips to stop himself from coming quick. A giggle left YN’s mouth as she sat up and raised herself up and sank back down clenching tightly around him in a calculated pattern.

“Fuck, you’re tryna kill me.” Florian hissed as he moved his hips in tune with her.

YN smiled as she bit into her bottom lip and swirled her hips. “It wouldn’t be a bad way to go.” Her comment caused him to laugh. He raised up from the bed and grabbed her ass into his large hands and began bringing her down onto him at a pace he desired.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips as she moaned into his mouth. Her orgasm was quickly rising as she moved faster and faster.

“Baby.” She whispered as she scrunched her eyes shut and her mouth fell open.

“I’m here. I got you.” Florian cradled her body into his chest as their moans got louder and bounced off the walls.

“I’m gonna come.” She breathlessly whispered as she pressed forehead against his.

“Me too.” Florian groaned as he swelled inside of her. The sound of their love making serenaded them to the finish line as they climaxed together.

Boneless, they collapsed back onto the bed. They did not move an inch as they tried collect their breath and tiredness slowly creeped in.

“You really went all out tonight.” Florian mumbled as he traced patterns onto her back.

“Only for you.” YN replied as she placed a kiss onto the side of his neck.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Florian Taglist:

@emjaywrites @cali-strong @minton131 @amirra88 @bernie-k @xxkissatmidnightxx

Permanent Taglist:

@my-rosegold-soul @gwenspacy @beautifullmelodyxx @royallyprincesslilly @queenshikongo3 @blackmissfrizzle @writerbee-ffs @fumbling-fanfics @lotusss-flowerbomb @blowmymbackout @savvy-ivvory @write-fromthe-start @melinda-january @brownsugarcoffy @amelatonin @smuttywriter @iwrite4poc @nina-skyee @toni9 @19jammmy @chaneajoyyy @bluestarego​ @groovyevrywhr @themyscxiras @michael-is-bae @damnitaa @daddys-baby-girl-t @abcdestinyyyy @anonymouslust @midnvght-lies @zejess93 @may114 @brwnsugababe @youlovetkay @complacentviawattpad @melinaasap1 @superestrella9 @this-glitter-pussay @tgigoldie @queenoftheworldisdead @bigsisbria @ladya4444 @bvssmob @vozit

[arcane-apathy]

Part 1 

Next

AN: Part 1 of 3 for this Male Naga X Female Reader. I’m hoping to get better at writing short stories, but it’ll take some practice. I hope y’all enjoy! 

Warning(s): N/A

 You didn’t know why you decided to leave home but your mind was already made up and the U-Haul was already packed. There was no going back now. You didn’t want to be a big city nurse anymore, and you also didn’t want to move back to your hometown. So, this year you decided to move to New Mexico, specifically Peralta. A town of a little over three thousand people. The eastern half of town right on the border of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation, and the Rio Grande River to the west. You could even see the Manzano Mountain Range in the distance. 

  The drive to Peralta was taxing, but unbelievably beautiful. No wonder why New Mexico is called The Land of Enchantment. You made it to your new home in the middle of the day, and the sun was high above you. Of course you decided to move in the middle of summer, the dry heat smacking you in the face as you got out of the rental truck. You shielded your eyes from the sun as you stared at your new home. 

  The property was near the end of a dirt road, about a city block away from the local cemetery. But you didn’t mind, in fact it made the house even cheaper.  You’d just have to remember to cleanse the house whenever you got a chance. The house was a simple one-story pueblo style house, the faux-adobe outside was an ivory color, and the windows were painted pear green. It lacked the wooden vigas, making it obvious that it wasn’t an actual pueblo home. The house was small, the yard was huge, it had a detached stainless-steel garage, and a dirt driveway. All surrounded by a chain link fence with a gate. 

  It didn’t take you long to unload the U-Haul, considering you sold most of your things before you moved. You lay your mattress on the bedroom floor and the majority of boxes stay in your living room. You look at the time on your phone, there was still two hours until the U-Haul’s scheduled return time. Un-packing wasn’t the first item on the agenda, some serious cleaning needed to be done before you thought about anything else. 

  Granted the house wasn’t in horrible shape, but it was obvious that it’s been a few months since anyone has lived in it. The air was stuffy, there was dust on everything, and there was dirt all over the floors. You search for your bag of cleaning supplies that you bought at a Wal-Mart in Albuquerque, well prepared to clean. With the house being so small, it didn’t take you long to clean, so you took your time admiring your new home. The house was made in the seventies, the Spanish-style linoleum tiles in the kitchen being the proof. Yet it didn’t look like it came out of a home magazine that your grandmother would've read. There were some obvious updates throughout the years. Thankfully central air was one of them. 

  You returned the U-Haul and the towing dolly on time, driving your car back home. You stopped at a Domino’s on the way home, not yet ready to try the local food. Unpacking was the only thing on your mind. And no surprise to you, it took all night. Packing wasn’t easy, because you had to take things from their place and sort them into boxes. Unpacking was another challenge, the amount of times you switched which cabinet your plates went in was frustrating. By two in the morning you had everything put away, there were sheets on your bed, and your eyelids were heavy.

                                                      ~~***~~

  It’s been a month since you’ve moved, and you’ve loved it more that you’d ever thought. Living in your one bedroom house was a dream compared to any other apartment you’ve had before. You’ve gotten over the linoleum in the kitchen, and you couldn’t even imagine the house without it. The yard was easy to maintain, considering it was primarily dirt. You didn’t see much of your neighbors but they were nice from what you could tell. And the quiet was refreshing. 

  You spent most of your days at work, a health center in the middle of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation. The work was tough, and didn’t pay much, but it was obvious that they needed you there. According to your co-workers everyone wanted to work in the big cities and that smaller health centers, especially ones for the native populations, were constantly understaffed. You became a licensed practical nurse because you wanted to help people, and working in an at risk community fulfilled that goal. 

  To say you were surprised when your co-worker invited you to her birthday party in Albuquerque was an understatement. Although you didn’t know her that well, you still went. You needed socialization outside of the workplace and the occasional video calls with your family back home. So, you put on your best outfit and did your best to look presentable. The night started off at a restaurant, the food was amazing, and the company was actually enjoyable. After dinner you all went to a bar, so far it was a typical birthday party for a bunch of girls in their twenties. 

  You stood against the wall, nursing a drink as everyone else in your group dance. Normally you weren’t such a party pooper, but these girls weren’t much of your crown. It was too early in the night to go home, and they all knew that you didn’t work tomorrow so you couldn’t use that excuse. Hence why you resorted to people watching. The bar was packed with humans and non-humans alike, all dancing with each other. There were already a few couples sharing face in the darker corners. 

  “You look bored,” a blunt voice shook you from your daze. You look to the side, noticing as a tall man slithered up to you. Not metaphorically. Your eyes instantly gravitated to his tail, the bulk of muscle trailing closely behind him as he moved. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the pattern of his scales. The base was beige and was decorated in an assortment of splotches all in varying shades of brown, and at the very end of it all was a black rattle. He laughs at your reaction, “have you never seen a Naga before?” 

  “Not up close, there weren’t that many back home,” you flush a little as you are caught staring. Which wasn’t a lie, you didn’t see many growing up, nor did you encounter a lot at work either. A surprising statistic you’ve learned since you moved is that New Mexico has the highest population of Naga in the United States, with Texas as a close second. You have seen a few as you wandered around Peralta and the neighboring towns, but you have yet to talk to them. 

  “Oh, you’re from out of town. How exciting,” he smiles and extends a hand, “Santiago Rosales.” You shake his hand and introduce yourself. His smile grows and the rainbow lights from the dance floor reflect off his fangs. You couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man, tan skin, curly raven hair, a triangular face with a strong jawline, and golden serpentine eyes. You look back at the dance floor and notice one of your co-workers giving you a thumbs up. “So, not to sound cheesy… But why is a pretty chica like you, not out there?” 

  You flush a little at his definitely cheesy comment, “I’ve already done my socializing for the evening, but if I leave now I’ll never hear the end of it at work. What about you, why aren’t you out there?”

  He motions to his tail, “I’m in no mood to get stomped on.” 

  “Oh… I didn’t even think of that. Does it happen often?” 

  “It happened a lot when I was a kid, but I was kinda a wimpy kid too,”

  You raise a brow as you look at how snugly his button up fits to his arms and chest, “wimpy?” 

  “Hey I wasn’t always like this, I was a string bean growing up. It took years for this to happen,” he motions to himself proudly. You laugh and finish your drink, Santiago looks at the empty glass, “may I offer to buy you another drink?” 

  You contemplate it for a second then shake your head, “no thank you, I have to drive home tonight. And I don’t live in Albuquerque.” 

  “Is it too weird to ask where you live then?” 

  “Peralta,” you shrug.

  “Really? My mom lives in Peralta… Maybe I’ll see you around?” 

                                                       ~~***~~ 

  And you did, the first time you saw Santiago was at the grocery store. You were trying to figure out what brand of refried beans to buy when he came down the aisle, slithering alongside an older Naga woman. He didn’t acknowledge you, which made you question whether he recognized you at all. The second time you saw him was at the post office, and he immediately smiled when he saw you. Your heart couldn’t help to flutter at the sight of him. The third time was at the bank, both of you waiting in line at the tellers. 

  The fourth time was when everything changed. You were standing in the bathroom aisle at Target in Albuquerque, looking through the wide array of shower curtain options. You heard your name being called and you looked up, expecting to see someone from work, possibly even a regular patient. But, instead your eyes were graced with the sight of a familiar Naga in a taut shirt and a leather jacket, “oh, hi Santiago.” 

  “Hola, looking for a shower curtain I see,” he smiles as he sidles up beside you.  

  You fluster a little, realizing you were still wearing your baggy maroon scrubs. “Indeed I am, it’s been two months and my house still looks like no one lives in there.” 

  He looks you up and down, his eyes stopping at the embroidered patch above your breast, “you work at Isleta Health Center?” 

  Your brows knit in confusion and you look down at the patch, resisting the urge to face palm, “yes, yes I do. Sorry, I just got off my shift and I kinda forgot I was still wearing this monstrosity.” 

  “You don’t look bad at all if I’m being honest…” 

  Damn he was slick, “it’s not the worst, but I hate how plain it is. I sold all my fun scrubs when I moved, so I’m stuck with the standard issues until I buy more.” He nods and looks at the shower curtains in your hands curiously. “So, what are you here for?” 

  "Uhh… Honestly I don't even know anymore. They didn't have what I needed, so I just started to aimlessly slither around the store. And then I found you." 

  "Aimlessly wandering around Target can be dangerous," you chuckle. 

  "I haven't learned my lesson apparently," he gives you a lopsided smile, "last time it happened I came home with a pillow that had some motivational quote.” 

  “Yikes,” you laugh and put one of the curtains back onto it’s metal hook.  

  “Yikes indeed,” he crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at the options before him. “So, do you have any style in mind.” 

  “Santiago, you don’t need to help me.” 

  “I fear if I don’t help you, you’ll be stuck in the store until it closes,” he teases with a wink. 

  You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “alright fine. My house is pueblo style, built in the seventies. The bathroom was recently remodeled before they sold it, so the walls are plain, it has normal wood, and laminate tiles that look like travertine. It’s very boring.” 

  “So you need something to spice it up?”

  “Exactly,” you pick up a geometric patterned one, looking at the picture on the cardboard. 

  Santiago shakes his head, "nope", he takes it out of your hand and puts it back. You look at him dumbfounded by how brash he was. He puts another one in your hands, “this one looks like you.” 

  You look down at the curtains, it was a simple floral. But with the way the bright flowers were stylized like they were from an Alfredo Ramos Martinez painting. “This is cute.” 

  “You look like a floral person.” 

  “How does one look like a floral person, without being an actual nymph?” He shrugs and you simply roll your eyes, “you’re lucky I tolerate you.” 

  He winces, “just tolerate?” 

  “Well, I don’t know you that well…” 

  “Then let's get to know each other,” his posture straightens. “Why don’t we go out for a coffee someday, as a date?” You must’ve stared at him like he grew another head because he immediately fell back on his statement, “or not a date?” 

  “No… A date is fine.” 

  “Is it?” 

  “Definitely.” 

  “Then why are you still looking at me like that?” 

  Your face instantly turns a scarlet color, “I… It's been awhile since I’ve been on a date. So, the fact that you are asking me on a date, in a Target, is mind boggling.” 

  “Do you want me to ask you outside the Target?” 

  “That’s not the point,” you sigh, trying to steady your breathing. “So, a date?” 

  Santiago smirks, “give me your phone.” You scowl and he shrinks at your stern gaze, “por favor?” Reluctantly you unlock and hand him your phone, watching as he makes himself a contact. “Text me when you get home, I should have a fantastic plan by then.” 

  “No coffee?” 

  “Nope, you deserve more than a coffee.” You flush again as he smiles victoriously, “I’ll let you get back to shopping so you can get home at a decent hour. Talk to you soon, cariño.” You watch as he slithers out of the aisle with a wave over his shoulder. You can’t help but stare, looking at the end of the aisle then back at the curtains in your hand. For some reason, the bright flowers just felt right. So, you put the package into your basket and head off to find the next item on your list. And you couldn’t wait until you got home. 

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter one

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca sees her again in the most unexpected place.

rating: M (drug abuse, mention of sexual abuse in later chapters) word count: 2,100

ao3 link

*

“Any messages, Gina?”

Beca Mitchell strode out of the elevator, high heels clicking on marble flooring on her way to her office.

Her assistant rushed to walk alongside her, notebook opened as she handed Beca her second coffee of the day, which Beca took with an appreciative smile.

“Mr. Mendes needs to push back his meeting to Thursday, and Mr. Hozier-Byrne is waiting for a call back, preferably before 2 as he’s five hours ahead.”

Beca rounded the corner to her office and dragged her leather desk chair back, shrugging off her woolen trench coat and draping it over the back. “Got it, remind me what I have planned today?”

“You’re having lunch with Mr. Zimmer at the Plaza to discuss Jesse’s project, and apart from the weekly team meeting at five, you’re expected at Edgy Reggie’s party from 10 pm at the Sapphire.”

A groan surfaced from Beca’s throat and her eyes slammed shut as she plopped down on her chair. “I forgot about that. Luke can’t go?”

Gina winced and shook her head. “Family dinner.”

“Family dinner, my ass. His whole family lives back in fucking England,” Beca muttered before she could help it, throwing her assistant an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Thanks, Gina. Hold my calls until ten, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Mitchell.”

As she did every morning while sipping her coffee, Beca listened to demos over the next hour, forwarding them to Luke if any of those yet-unknown artists spiked her interest enough to sign them into their label.

The rest of the day consisted of two meetings, a dozen calls, countless email exchanges, and not enough studio time. A thick blanket of darkness had veiled the city by the time she closed her laptop and called it a day. She stretched her neck and took a moment to gaze at the lit skyscrapers through her floor to ceiling windows, sighing softly.

It was sometimes weird to think about how this was her life. How the asocial, grumpy freshman from thirteen years ago had made it to the top of the music business and now co-owned one of the biggest labels throughout the country.

Scratch that, throughout the  world.  

Snapping out of her daze, Beca stood and slipped on her coat, plucking her phone off the desk to call herself a Lyft home. She had just about time to take a shower and eat dinner before heading to that stupid party.

*

Beca could think of a million things she’d rather be doing right now as she strode down the wet sidewalk towards the lit  GIRLS  red neon sign in the distance a couple of hours later.

She told herself one drink, an hour tops, then she could head home, put on her pajamas, and finish that true-crime TV show she started yesterday.

“Name?” A dude bulkier than the freaking Rock asked her as she made it to the club door.

“Um, Beca Mitchell. I’m Edgy Reggie’s producer.”

Her artist had privatized a strip-club for his celebration party over his album hitting Platinum, and Beca couldn’t  not  show up, as... well, he was an important client and brought her label the big bucks.

The guy checked his clipboard and nodded, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. “You’re good to go.”

Casting the bouncer a nod, Beca ducked inside the dimmed, crowded club, wincing at the crappy music heavily pumping through the speakers. Three girls in bikinis and heels stood on platforms, twisting their bodies around dancing poles as dozens of dudes reclined back in leather sofas, shamelessly ogling their forms.

Beca’s nose crinkled as she scanned the room for her artist.

“Yo, Beca!”

Her gaze snapped to the left corner, catching sight of Edgy Reggie (he didn’t want to change his stage name, no matter how much Beca insisted) waving her over.

“Hey,” she cast him a tight-lipped smile, tucking her straight hair behind her ears. She nodded at the other dudes sitting around the low table. “What’s up.”

“Guys, this is the girl behind the magic of my album,” Edgy Reggie explained, throwing an arm over her shoulders before Beca could squirm away. “She is  fire. ”

Beca chuckled awkwardly, then pointed over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go get myself a drink.”

Maybe two come to think of it, so she could get herself through this.

She headed to the bar and ordered an old-fashioned, fishing in the inside of her coat pocket for her credit card.

“Thanks,” she muttered when the barmaid (also clad in a bikini that left very little to the imagination) came back with her drink, handing her her card just as the club’s speaker made an announcement.

“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome to the stage…  Ariel! ”

The crowd cheered and hooted, Beca glancing over her shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.

There was no amount of alcohol that could have prepared her for the scene unfolding before her.

There, on the main stage, strutted in a redhead, only wearing a silver g-string and high heels. Beca would have recognized that shade of hair anywhere, and while the lighting in the club was low, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that this girl -- Ariel -- was her former best friend.

Her former best friend who had dropped from the face of the Earth almost five years ago, without so much as an explanation. She hadn’t just stopped talking to Beca, but to all of them, even Aubrey. She was nowhere to be found on social media and when Beca had tried calling her after six months without news, she found out Chloe’s phone number had been disconnected. It wasn’t like they talked on a daily basis before that. After three years spent living on opposite sides of the country, the texts started coming further in between, their communication coming down to a few check-ins a year and on birthdays, until they eventually stopped.

Fearing the worst, Aubrey had called Chloe’s parents, who assured her she was fine, working as a vet in NYC and in a committed relationship. While relieved, the news stung Beca, as it was clear Chloe had deliberately ceased contact.

It took some time, but Beca eventually stopped thinking about her so much, especially when she started getting successful as a music producer and pouring her time and energy into her projects. She soon won her first Grammys, Gold, and Platinum records featured in notorious magazines and talk shows. She could stop working tomorrow and money wouldn’t become an issue, but Beca didn’t like to boast about her fortune, or fame, for that matter.

Despite being insanely busy, she still kept in touch with the other Bellas in their group chat, but she hadn’t seen any of them in a couple of years, missing the last reunion because of her job.

Beca’s mind steered back to the present, where the once most important person in her life was currently dancing for money. Men were staring hungrily at her as she sensually moved around the pole or bent over with her ass in the air to collect dollar bills from the floor, and Beca suddenly felt sick.

This couldn’t be her dream job, right? Something  had  to have happened for her to settle for this.

Beca grabbed her drink and knocked it back, flagging the barmaid down for another as her mind reeled as to what to do.

She needed to talk to Chloe. In private. Tonight, as soon as she finished… parading in front of these disgusting fuckboys. Only… she wasn’t sure Chloe wanted to talk to her.

“Hey,” she said when the barmaid came back as an idea struck. “How do I get a private lap dance with one of the girls?”

The girl raised a surprised eyebrow. “Backroom, hun. Who do you want?”

“Ariel.”

The platinum blonde let out a curt laugh. “Ariel doesn’t do lap dances, babe.”

Beca’s eyebrows knitted together in a heavy frown. “Why not?”

“Because she’s the boss’ favorite.”

Beca didn’t know what that meant exactly, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out as another wave of nausea swept over her insides. “Is your boss here tonight?”

The barmaid scanned the room quickly, nodding. “He’s the guy over there in the suit.”

“Thanks.” She took her drink and headed over to where the fifty-something dude was talking to another guy. Stepping up to them, she ignored their glares over her interrupting their conversation. “Hey. Are you the manager?”

The dude who looked like he ran a mafia mob turned a bit more towards her. “What’s this about?”

“How much for a private dance with Ariel?”

His gaze flickered over Beca’s shoulder towards the stage, then sized Beca up, unimpressed. “She’s not available, kid.”

Beca gritted her teeth at the condescending tone of his voice. “Not even for ten grand for twenty minutes?”

He slow-blinked, then burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m being serious. Ten grand, twenty minutes. Alone in a room, just the two of us.”

The man’s expression hardened. “And I said she’s not  available .”

“Twenty grand.” Hell, she’d throw half a million on the table if that’s what was needed to talk to Chloe. After a beat, she added, “And no touching. That’s not what I’m here for.”

The manager seemed to consider her offer for a handful of seconds. “You got the money?”

Dammit.  She couldn’t withdraw that much right now, she needed to call her bank. “Tomorrow night.”

He smirked, snickering. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He turned back to his buddy, leaving Beca grumbling under her breath as she turned around and stalked out of the club. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t stand the sight of Chloe objectifying her body for money.

As soon as she got home, Beca fired up her computer and typed in Chloe’s name in her browser. Apart from old stuff on the Bellas, she found nothing relevant. Chloe appeared to still be MIA from any social media.

Beca grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, bringing the device to her ear.

“What’s wrong?”  

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

“We call each other twice a year on our respective birthdays and stick to the Bellas chat for the rest.”  

Beca nibbled on her bottom lip. “I found Chloe.”

A long stretch of silence on the other end of the line followed.  “What?”  

“I saw her tonight, Aubrey.”

“Where??”

“At a strip club. She’s… a stripper.”

“What? Did you talk to her?”  

“No. She was performing on stage. But I will. I’m… buying a lap dance from her tomorrow. I figured… she’ll have to listen to me since she’s being paid for it.” Her eyes slammed shut, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t know. It might be a bad idea, but-- I just wanna make sure she’s okay, you know?”

“Yes, of course. Keep me posted?”  

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

Beca shuffled to bed after that, but sleep never came. Her mind kept reeling about Chloe, about what she might say to her once they were face to face, and the possibility that Chloe might shoot her down and refuse to talk to her.

She spent her Saturday trying and failing to make some progress on an ongoing project, willing time to tick faster so she could head back to the club. Mid-afternoon, she headed to the bank to withdraw twenty grand, tucking the envelope in her purse.

“Why does it feel like you’re doing something illegal, Beca?” She muttered to herself on her way out of the bank, slightly paranoid about carrying so much cash on her.

The club was just as crowded when she got there around 10 pm. A different girl danced on the main stage and the manager was nowhere in sight, so Beca perched herself on a stool at the bar, ordering herself another old-fashioned.

“Is your boss around?” She asked the barmaid, a different girl from last night.

“Who’s asking?”

“Tell him the person who wants Ariel is here.”

The girl’s eyebrows shot up at that but she didn’t say anything, nodding before strutting away. Beca sipped at her drink for the next twenty minutes, keeping her back to the stage.

The manager eventually appeared in her peripheral, and he leaned an elbow over the counter, lacing his fingers. “So what’s so special about Ariel?”

Beca slowly set her drink down and fished for the envelope, pushing it towards him while keeping her gaze straight ahead. “I like redheads.”

He plucked the envelope off the counter and peered inside. Twenty stacks of ten hundred dollar bills in exchange for twenty minutes with Chloe.

He nodded. “Follow me.”

Beca finished the rest of her drink, the alcohol managing to muffle her nerves some as she followed the manager towards the back of the club, and down a set of stairs. Her heart pumped hard in her ears and her palms started to sweat as she was led inside a dimly lit room with a handful of sofa chairs and a small stage with a dancing pole, some kind of music that seemed straight out of a porno carrying through the speakers. A spiral staircase was tucked in the right corner, and she guessed that is where the strippers made their entrance from.

Beca wondered how far things usually went in these kinds of private rooms.

She wondered how far  Chloe  went.

She cast the guy a tight-lipped smile and a nod before he closed the door, and paced the room for a little while, eventually lowering herself on one of the leather chairs and wiping her palms on her designer slacks.

The clicking of heels over metal made Beca’s spine snap straighter. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as the steps grew nearer, digging her nails into her thighs as a new round of nerves gripped her insides.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” the huskiness of Chloe’s voice made Beca swallow, and she felt a hand run over her shoulders as Chloe approached from behind.

Glancing up, Beca met familiar, ocean blues.

[wylanvnneck]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write the angst prompt number 1 with jurdan??🥰

Angst Prompt #1: “The worst part is you didn’t even notice.”

Fandom: TFOTA

Ship: Jurdan

Masterlist | Prompt List

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High pitched giggles peal through the air and the noise makes the 21 year old Cardan Greenbriar wince. He’d been away from his hometown of Elfhame for 2 years now, having happily left it and his controlling family behind after graduation to go live in his dorm room back at Insmire University with his crazy roommates. Yet here he was, back again for a week-long visit in honour of his old friend Locke’s engagement.

He and Locke had never been all that close to begin with, but he had been his oldest friend, and it did seem like a good idea to come back for a bit and see how much things had changed in the years since he’d be gone, which didn’t seem to be all that much. 

Locke was still the same fox-faced wastrel that he had been, except that he was now engaged and the other member of their old gang, Valerian was still as snarky as usual, a perpetual sneer on his face whenever someone attempted to speak to him. Seated at a round outdoors table surrounded by his High School acquaintances, Cardan feels nothing but boredom.

He grips the neck of his wine glass even tighter when he sees the source of the giggling emerge from Locke’s house where his engagement party was being hosted. Taryn Duarte the Bride to Be and her posse of friends strut out into the garden from the inside of the house where they’d been gathered together doing goodness knows what for the past half hour. A glimpse of blue hair catches his eye and he recognises it as belonging to a girl named Nicasia that he used to be friends with back in High School, a million years ago.

Taryn’s six inch heels click against the asphalt of the garden path and the sight of her familiar icy brown eyes and dark hair brings up a volley of almost forgotten feelings within him. Not feelings for the rather cold female before him, but for who she reminded him of. Her twin.

Involuntarily he finds himself scanning the group of women for any sign of Taryn’s sister before coming up short and then chastising himself for looking in the first place. Jude belonged in the past where he had buried her. He takes another sip of the red wine in his hand before shifting his attention back to the conversations happening at his table, a politely unimpressed looking Garrett talked in low tones with his friend Van, both of them engrossed in whatever they were discussing, and a slightly inebriated Valerian was attempting to flirt with the disgusted woman seated next to him. 

Resisting the urge to let out a growl he downs the contents of his glass in one go before standing up to re-enter the house and get a refill, needing some kind of distraction.

He’s just finished pouring some more Merlot into his glass from the otherwise empty bar table when a rustling sound travels from somewhere nearby. He glances up at the staircase by the other end of the room, catching sight of a silky white fabric and dark brown hair before whoever it was disappears from view. Stange, he’d thought all of the other guests were outside. Setting his glass down on the table he climbs up the stairs, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Having reached the landing he searches for any sign of where the person might have gone, walking a little further down the hallway on the left before seeing the big French windows leading out to the balcony flung open, the cool night air drifting in.

Cautiously, he approaches, his body going on high alert when he notices who it is that’s standing out on the balcony, hands loosely clutching the metal rails and face turned up towards the starlit sky. Her chestnut hair is tied in an intricate braid hanging down her back and she’s wearing a slim fitting black top and flowy white pants which sway gently around her legs and she looks even more gorgeous than she had in their High School days. He takes a moment to catch his breath before slowly trudging forwards to join her.

She turns when she hears footsteps approaching, a slight frown marring her expression before she recognises him and it clears. Her gaze is as disarming as it used to be.

"Shit, man, don't just sneak up on people like that," a corner of her lip quirks.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, "Oops, sorry."

“I didn’t know you were coming.” He catches the questioning lilt in her statement.

“It was a last minute kind of thing, I wasn’t sure if I’d be coming either, until yesterday.”

She nods and he positions himself next to her but at a safe distance, one hand coming to rest carelessly on the balcony rail next to hers.

He watches her let out a soft whoosh of breath, looking down at the garden where people were now dancing to the music that had started playing on the expensive speaker set under the bright fairy lights. There’s laughter and cigarette smoke wafting upwards, but from their little spot up above, everything seemed to be much farther away than it really was. 

Eventually, he breaks the silence. “So, Taryn and Locke, huh?”

“Yep.” She replies. The look on her face is one he can’t quite decipher.

He clears his throat and speaks in a tight voice. “Are you...upset by that? I know you and Locke used to be close.” 

He recalls the rumour that used to fly around during their senior year, people whispering about Jude and Locke having a thing. He also remembers the sharp pain that he’d felt when he’d heard that Locke had asked Jude to be his date to their Senior prom and that she’d accepted. Cardan vaguely remembers asking Nicasia to be his date to that very same prom, but the only thing that comes to mind when he thinks about that night is the haze of jealousy that had clouded his mind when he’d seen Locke twirling a grinning Jude around the dance floor.

“Me and Locke? God no. He was just a friend. Although, I think even that was only because he kept showing up and trying to talk to me in Senior Year for no apparent reason.” 

Cardan feels a surprisingly strong sense of relief wash over him at the fact that Jude was never interested in Locke that way, before his eyebrows knit together a moment later. He’d drunkenly confessed his ginormous crush on Jude to Locke at the start of their senior year, and immediately regretted it the next day. It wouldn’t surprise him if Locke had been cozying up to Jude simply to get on his nerves. It definitely seemed like something the manipulative scoundrel would do.

Not that it mattered anymore. Years had passed and he’d probably lost his chance. If he’d ever had the chance in the first place.

“I heard you’ve been off at uni all this time. Insmire, huh?” Her words are light but he’s slightly astonished that she’d been keeping track of where he’d been for the past few years. 

“Yeah, it was the break I needed.”

“What are you studying?”

“My dad wanted me to do Business for when I inherit his company, but I’m also doing a course on Classical and Ancient Languages, purely because I wanted to.”

“That’s great, Cardan.” Her sincerity is clear. “I remember how controlling your dad was. It’s great that you’re finally getting to be your own person.”

He’s sure that his astonishment at her words is blatantly obvious because a barely detectable flush travels up her neck and she averts her gaze. Not only had Jude Duarte been keeping track of where he’d been, she’d also noticed his strained relationship with his father all those years ago. A thrill rises up inside of him.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “So what have you been up to these days?” he asks, like he hasn’t been checking her social media pages at least once every few months, unwittingly grinning whenever he came across one of her rare posts with her and her few friends hanging out together outside of her own University in Nightfell. 

“Oh, same as you actually, getting a taste of independence at Uni. Doing a course on Criminal Justice.”

“That sounds amazing. Tell me all about it.”

And she does, her eyes lighting up as she talks about a subject that she enjoys studying and half of his attention is taken up by what she’s saying and the other half is just focused on her, on the way the moon illuminates one half of her and how the breeze is playing with a few loose strands of her hair and the way her mouth is moving whilst she speaks. They chat for what feels like ages before the conversation eventually flows to a comfortable halt and they hear the clanging of plates and glasses below as the other guests start on dinner, and he knows they’ll have to leave this place of idyll at some point.

He hates that. That they’re on borrowed time and that they were separated by too many years and very separate lives for their situation to be anything different now. And yet, he needs to tell her, to let her know, even if it can’t change anything.

“You know, back in High School I used to daydream about this. You and I, just talking.” He knows that the tips of his ears are probably flaming red, just like the rest of his head, but he forces himself not to look down and to keep meeting her stare. Her eyes widen when she registers what he’d said.

“I-What?” Her shock is apparent.

He breaks eye contact with her, withdrawing his hand from the spot next to hers on the rail, the disappointment coursing through him undeniable. He’d known that she’d never noticed him, but it still hurt to see the bafflement in her reaction.  

“I had a crush on you for ages, pathetic pining and all, and the worst part is you didn’t even notice.”

She flounders, mouth slightly agape, for once not having a response and the smile that curls his lips is one without mirth.

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you Jude,” he grits out, swiftly turning in an attempt to flee with what was left of his dignity.

He’d made it to the top of the staircase before hearing her voice calling after him. 

“Cardan! Cardan wait, goddammit.”

Reluctantly, he stops, bracing himself for the awkwardness of the next few minutes. She’d look at him with pity, explain to him that she wasn’t interested, or maybe that she had someone else. That last thought lances through him like a punch to the gut. During his self-indulgent social media searches he had never seen any posts that indicated that there was someone special in her life, but that didn’t necessarily mean that there wasn’t anyone. After all, Jude Duarte was a special type of woman, the type of woman that you fought for.

Too bad that he’d figured that out too late.

The sound of her boots clacking on the floor gets closer and closer and he turns around just in time for her to throw her arms around his neck and drag his head down to connect their lips, their noses bumping together in the process. Time stops, and his every High School fantasy comes true when he feels her tangle her tongue with his and it’s a little sloppy at first, especially since she had caught him off guard, but they find their rhythm and flames lick through his entire being. Frantically, he grabs a hold of her waist and pushes her until she’s against the wall, her fingers coming up to tangle in his locks as he strokes her sides.

She pulls away to breathe and they’re both panting harshly as if they had run a marathon. 

“I had a crush on you too. I hated it and I tried to fight it because you used to pick on me in middle school.” 

Had he? It was so long ago that he really couldn’t remember, but he also knew that he was precisely the type of person who’d want to hurt the girl that got under his skin.

“Really?” He grins ruefully.

“Yes, really.” She reaches up and playfully smacks the back of his head before carding her fingers through his hair in the same spot to soothe it.

‘Well, my middle school self humbly begs for your forgiveness.” He leans forward and presses their foreheads together, locking his gaze with hers.

“Apology accepted.”

And then they’re kissing once more. He may not have been prepared for a moment like this, but he was sure as hell going to hold on to it and never let go.

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Some soft boi Cardan for you lovely peeps. I hope you see this and that you enjoy, Anon. Thanks for the ask!

Tagging: @cupcakesandkittens , @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln, @thewickedkings , @kittkatandbooboo , @min-unicorn, @fangirlprincess09, @thefolkofthefic

Let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of the tag list🌻

[nightswithkookmin]

hi goldy!! ❤️❤️ do you think during some break up periods jikook tried to be with other people?

This question...

Lol. I mean... if you count Jimin's Paris girls and JK's tattoo girl as other people lol. I don't.

Unless you mean other people within BTS? In which case, don't mind if I silently judge you. Lol.

I don't like speculating on persons outside of BTS because it's their private life and they didn't sign up for this. Plus it can be very invasive and my conscience just won't let me...

But I don't think Jimin moves on that easily or quickly from a breakup to be honest. He values human relationships and connections with other people and has a very high emotional intelligence quotient to resort to 'using' others to fix his emotional problems.

He cares about others' feelings and how his actions impact them emotionally- I mean did you see him turn to Kook to ask if Kook was ok with him saying he liked him on camera during one of their logs in the early days?

He is awfully self aware in the way that he conducts himself around people. It's why I smirk when people say he 'harasses' JK often and that JK doesn't like him being all over him. Believe me, Jimin doesn't do anything JK whipped ass don't enjoy. And when he seem like he is pushing JK's boundaries a tad bit much or smothering JK, it's usually him teasing JK and JK knows it. They both have a way of using things that make eachother uncomfortable to tease eachother and I don't think they both mind- I think people need to stop acting like Jikook abuse eachother when they tease eachother.

They abuse eachother alright- in bedroom huh! Lol. Sorry. Couldn't help it. Lmho.

The best example I can give you of this is these two recent Run episodes. If you pay attention to the sequence of events and the progression of Jikook's interactions, you would notice how JM was trying a little bit harder to interact with JK in the beginning of the episode and JK kept pulling away to enforce his boundaries?

But when JM noticed JK wasn't open to recieve and reciprocate those advances he was making he sort of backed away immediately. As such, towards the end of episode 116 and throughout 117 you could see JM respecting those boundaries JK was putting up with him. As such, he would reserve himself and would move past JK and offer his hug to the other members instead- out of respect for Kook, not spite. Mind you.

I think he is more likely to try and fix his relationship with Kook than to rebound with other people or try to be with other people knowing full well he still has feelings for Kook. Listen, Jimin is not letting go of his feelings for Kook anytime soon. He is too deep in it. I mean this is the person who's said when he falls in love he wants it to be forever. He is not letting JK go anytime soon.

This is the person who keeps reiterating how he wants to be with BTS as a group forever. He values connections and is sentimental about them. He is sentimental about JK and he values his connection with JK.

Besides, JM has friends and emotionally fulfilling relationships outside of his relationship with Kook that he consciously waters and nurtures. So often when he goes through a Kook withdrawal there are people there to offer him that emotional support. In my opinion. Lol.

I can't say same for Kook. He is naturally emotionally closed off and it takes time for him to let people in but once he does he tends to keep those connections forever too. I think. I mean, he is an introvert and people like that prefer keeping a close knit circle of friends made of one or two people they are intimately or closely attached to rather than maintaining a wider circle of friends.

You don't need me to tell you that Jimin is his circle within the circle. Lol.

It seems also that he doesn't consciously go out of his way to nurture connections with people outside of his close circles the way JM does. Especially if you hear the members talk about how he takes an entire year to return text messages, how he doesn't even see the importance of going out of his way to wish his bandmates a happy birthday on social when everyone else is doing it, how he doesn't bother to gift others presents on their birthday except for the one person within the group he is emotionally attached to.

How he's had a falling out with Tae over the years but didn't even bother to make a conscious effort to fix things with him leaving Tae with no choice but to passive aggressively shade him for it throughout the years- complaining about getting used to JK ignoring him behind cameras and what not.

Jk is very selective about who and which relationship he goes out of his way to nurture and give his energy to unlike JM. I think it's partly due to the differences in their personality as an introvert and extrovert but also due to the differences in their upbringing and the environment they each grew up in but let's not get into that today. Lol.

Very often when JK is going through a JM withdrawal it hits him the hardest I think. Unlike JM, I don't think he has other emotional support systems in place to fall on? 2018 was it? Remember when he was going through a hard time in that period and he shut out the members but would jump on Social to interact with Army? Why do that if there were people in his life to offer that level of emotional support and fulfillment for him?

Tae is like that too. Remember how he said to JK during their Soop conversation that he was posting much more frequently on Weverse because he wasn't feeling loved and wanted reassurance? Why do that if he had that level of emotional support in his life?

He brought that up because on some level he knew JK could relate among other things. In my opinion.

I mean did you hear Blue and Grey? Yet people swear up and down he is in a relationship with a boy in BTS- must be a very emotionally unfulfilling relationship that doesn't meet his need for reassurance and validation in a romantic relationship. Smirk.

I think JK starts seeking out other connections and tries to nurture them so they provide the emotional connection he needs in periods when he is going through a such hard times without Jimin-but the moment he gets good with JM he's gonna forget those connections ever existed lol.

I think that's what had happened with Tae in On era and the tattoo girl as well... Were they dating? I know they weren't. I know JK wasn't having sex with her simply because she would have screwed him over far worse than she did in the aftermath of the scandal. Lmho.

I mean home girl tried on the whole gender ambiguity look for a hot minute there when she was hanging out with JK but ditched that look real fast the moment she realized JK was never gonna pick her- these pick me gals I swear!

She went from expressing herself as overtly tomboyish to a much rather toned down stereotypically feminine gal in a flash in the aftermath of the scandal? Chileee I'm gonna get in trouble. Lol.

The hair cut, the baggy clothes, the boyish appearance- probably knew JK was attracted to genderly ambiguous people. Cough, cough Jimin and so tried to appear more genderly ambiguous within that period to fit in as a one of the guys? Know what I mean? It's just my opinion and I feel bad for voicing it out loud this way.

She could have been experimenting with her looks and identity and all that jazz- she has every right to present herself whatever way she wants honestly and gender is not defined by the clothes you wear and frankly it's none of my business. Chilee.

It's just crazy to me how she kept saying she didn't want to cause trouble with Army blah blah blah which is why she had chosen to stay quiet about the scandal when it first started but then later she changed her tone and started liking posts and comments that said she and JK were a thing. Smirk.

I mean for someone who had said she didn't want to harm the reputation of JK in the beginning of the scandal and didn't want trouble with Army and so had chosen to stay out of the issue, she sure suddenly had started fanning the flames of the scandal later on and her shop would eventually post a statement about the scandal- on JM's birthday. Coincidence? I think the fuck not.

If you ask me, I think her and the shop knew exactly what they were doing with that one. They both wanted to hurt JK if you ask me. They are Koreans and they know just how much scandals hurt the business and reputations of idols. So for them to keep at it even when that scandal had died down...

And I know some people believe someone from her shop had leaked the photos etc- this is where I insert my BigHit conspiracy theory- BigHit don dunnit! Lol. That scandal came at a time too convenient for a company scared people were going to find out two of its talents were dating. Y'all know my theory on that so I'll just rest it.

This is the same campany that calls paparazzi on its talents and arranges for tabliods to meet and take photos of the boys and write articles about them as and when it so pleases them. I'm not just talking about Dispatch- if you know you know.

I think they have their own people following these boys around just to keep an eye on them to avoid heavy scandals. They definitely knew what JK and JM were up to during their vacation and when they realised there was a much bigger scandal on the way they conducted this tattoo girl and Paris girls scandal to mitigate that.

Listen, BigHit has been through a much severe scandal with their earlier band before BTS. That scandal literally crippled the company- allegedly, had it not been for BTS and so when I tell you they do not joke with scandals involving their artists. You bet your ass they have their eyes on the boys. All the time. They ain't about to let another major scandal cripple their empire.

I mean, even in the recent BE conference they held, they had to film the Q&A session offline- probably didn't want a repeat of the media embarrassing BTS like they did with the plagiarism scandal. Jk's cheeky smirk. Lmho.

Would explain why both the shop and the girl in question also felt used by the company and JK later on. The shop was expecting compensation from BigHit for using them in that way it seemed- read their statement you'll understand what I mean. And the girl perhaps also thought she was gonna get to be with JK as consolation price- yea, no. Sorry dear. JK don'troll like that.

It is why later they tried taking vengeance on both JK and the company with those moves they made. In my opinion. Lol.

From a legal perspective, BigHit had every right to sue the shop for breach of privacy on behalf of JK because the shop owed that duty to JK being their client. They had a duty to protect the privacy of their clients and so it's funny how the shop turned around claiming BigHit was the one that owed them compensation or whatever. Chileee. Messy, messy, messy.

I really don't want to get deep into that whole conversation and so kindly read between the lines... got it? Good. Lol.

Anywho, JK has a tendency to latch on to people when he is in an emotionally vulnerable state. In the group it is often Tae or Jin, Suga or Hobi in my opinion.

Honestly I prefer he does that than shut everyone out.

This tendencies of his is why I keep saying he has the most boundaries in BTS- emotional boundaries I mean. Jimin is a nurturer and to nurture people you have to be willing to be emotionally open, attached and vulnerable with others. Whereas JK is not a nurturer like that so naturally he is much emotionally closed off.

He simply latches on to people when he is going through a tough time or shuts himself up completely for self preservation. In my opinion.

What I am trying to say is, i don't think either of them have both been with other people during times they weren't together because usually they don't stay broken up for that long- long enough for either one of them to form any meaningful attachments outside of eachother.

I can't say same for sex though- shit only takes a few minutes. But judging from the way they behave when either one of them does skinship with even members they consider family, I don't think either one of them have had sex outside of eachother. That would devastate them and lead to much dire repercussions such as each of them developing trust issues and severe insecurities- they are insecure about eachother as it is and they haven't been seeing other people. Chilee.

If JK as much as have sex with another person even if they are broken up Jimin would literally die. I'd laugh but I don't think it's funny.

As for JK... sigh. Let's just say he is going to raise hell on us all if Jimin should do that. Forget the Corona Virus, forget the apocalypse- JK would bring the world to an untimely end. Deadass.

I hope this helps?

Keep supporting Jikook. Jikook is real.

Signed,

GOLDY.

[criminally--reid]

breath play

the spencer fic I've been talking about for weeks lmao

Warnings: dom!spencer, breath play, degredation, being tied up, praise, dirty talk, (this ended up being a lot less intense than I anticipated lmao my b I guess :/ )

Pairing: spencer x fem! reader

Word count: 3.2k (3,203)

○•○•○•○

A sexualsadist serial killer in Wisconsin fulfilling his ‘bdsm’ fantasies by foreplaying with his victims and unfortunately asphyxiating and stabbing them. How fun. 

Reid had been suspiciously uninvolved in this case. Well.. as uninvolved as the most intelligent member of the team could be without ruining the operation. Quick blurbs of information only adding general details to the case; nothing to narrow anything down. No constantly working on the case. When Reid wasn’t needed it’s almost like he wasn’t even there. Oddly distant; his mind was always somewhere else. Something about this case in particular bothered him. It was so unlike the doctor to be so uninterested in a case. Normally, he let the case swallow him whole; engulfing him in his entirety. Mind, body, and soul set on finding the missing pieces and solving the puzzle… but not this one. 

“Something on your mind, Spence?” I ask, sitting down opposite him on the jet; finally able to relax after a long day in the field. 

“Did you know the average person only has sex about two times a week. Things like culture, health, and social status all effect how as well as how often people have sex. But still, just about twice a week on average.” 

“There’s a lot to unpack there, so I’m just gonna say ‘no.’” Spencer chuckles, and I join in. 

“Seriously though. You’ve been so distant lately. Like something about this one in particular has been bothering you.” 

“I mean.. Murder cases aren’t something I often enjoy, so yeah, this whole ordeal has been kind of bothersome.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant, Spence.” 

“It’s just that-” he contemplates for a moment before patting the seat beside him for you to accompany him. You do so, and he leans toward you, so he can whisper. “I really, really hated this case… as you could tell- obviously. I- I’ve been thinking about how the unsub used aspects of foreplay before killing his victims - you know, the tying-up and the asphyxiation stuff - and about the stuff I’ve been kinda interested in.” 

You mull over everything Reid’s just said. It’s not such a longshot surprise to you. I mean with the degradation on the first encounter and the handcuffs the second, you weren’t really taken aback with what he was hinting at. “I’m gonna ask again. What exactly is bothering you, pretty boy?” 

He sighs and closes his eyes; brown knitted together tightly. Whatever he’s about to say is going to come out really fast, and you prepare yourself to catch and process it all. “I’ve been thinking about how I fantasize about choking and degrading and tying up my partner and all that stuff, but with this case - this- this monster using that to inturn kill people - what if that’s me? What if I take things too far? You know my mother’s schizophrenic; what if I’m dangerous?-” 

“Woah, Spence, calm down. There’s nothing wrong with being a li’l’ freaky. Just because someone used things like that to fulfill their murderous fantasies doesn’t make you a bad person. And just because there’s a possibility that you’re carrying schizophrenia, doesn’t automatically make you dangerous; you know that. There's nothing to worry about, Spence. I promise.” You put your hand on his thigh for reassurance. He places his hand a top yours, lightly tapping his fingertips on the back of your hand. 

“Can we try something?” he asks quickly, making and holding eye contact with you for the first time since this conversation started. 

“Doctor Spencer Reid, are you asking to choke me?” I ask fake flabbergasted. “Are you really asking to-” 

“You know what, nevermind. At this point, I’d rather choke myself.” 

“That was a joke, Spencer,” you say rolling your eyes. “But when? Now?” 

“Wow, eager are we?... I was thinking more like when we land and head home for the night. We wouldn’t want to risk the rest of the team waking up to sounds of you being a pathetic mess for me, now would we?” 

“N-No, sir. Of-of course not,” you gulp, taking notice of how his dominant personality is already taking shape before you. 

“Perfect. We land in thirty.” He pats your thigh and turns away from you, returning to the book he was reading prior to. He motions for you to return to your seat across from him, and as you do so, he looks up at you sending a wink your way before he returns to his book indefinitely; allowing the anticipation and excitement to course through your veins for the next thirty minutes. 

The landing comes soon, and the team moves to grab their stuff; eager to get home and relax for the night. You grab your bag and hurry off the plane, dragging along behind emily. 

“What were you and Reid talking about?” Prentiss turns around suddenly, taking you by surprise. 

“I, un, I thought you all were asleep..” 

“Eh, I was in limbo I guess; you know. I just heard him rambling and hoped he was okay.” 

“Oh yeah. He’s fine. Just uh- just something in the book he’s reading.” 

“That’s good,” she smiles and continues off the plane. 

You turn around when you feel a hand drag down the curve of your ass. You glare at Reid and mouth ‘you fucker’ to which he chuckles and holds up his hands in surrender. 

“Hey, y/n/,” Derek says walking over to your desk as you put your files away and zip up your go-bag. “Garcia, Emily, and I are goin’ out tonight. You wanna come?”

“I’d love to.. But I’m exhausted. Maybe next time?” 

“Yeah forsure,” morgan replies before looking at Spencer, silently asking if he’d like to join them. 

“Yeah I’m gonna have to pass, too. I think I’m gonna memorize a book instead.”  

“Whatever, boy genius,” Morgan replies with a laugh. “We’ll be missing you guys.” He fake frowns before heading out with Emily and Garcia. 

“Wait for me!” JJ calls in a sing-song voice as she rushes to catch up with the rest of the group, slinging her arm around Garcia’s shoulders. “To the bar!” she exclaims and they all laugh before finally leaving the office.  

The clicking of a pen catches your attention and becomes even more prominent in your senses the closer it gets to your desk. You look up from your desk to see said pen held in none other than Spencer’s very attractive, fidgety hands. 

“So,” he drags out, tossing the pen onto your desk with a light clank. 

“Is there something you need, Doctor Reid?” you pry, looking at him innocently through your lashes from your seat at your desk. 

“You.” 

“Well,” you begin, standing up out of your chair to stretch. “Lucky for you I just declined the amazing offer to go out, all so I could spend tonight with you.” 

“Mhmm.. Lucky me,” Spencer replies lowly and looks you up and down, drinking you in. Absorbing your beauty. Somehow after two long days of working in the field, you managed to be drop dead gorgeous. Absolute perfection in his eyes. 

“Your place or my place?” you ask, maneuvering from behind your desk to in front of it. 

Spencer looks at his watch. “It’s only.. Ten thirty. I’d say we have time for both.” 

“My house it is,” you chuckle and turn around, earning a firm slap on the ass from Spencer. A shockwave of pleasure runs straight to your center, and you gasp. Closing up your currently case file, you turn back around and your eyes lock with Spencer, who’s smiling back at you innocently. 

You throw on your jacket and toss your go-bag over your shoulder. Spencer laces his fingers with yours as you walk out of the building and to your cars. You feel the excitement swell inside your belly. Racing back to your house to let none other than your colleague ravage you like a wild animal. Desire and lust driven, taking your clothes off followed by his; hands grazing up and down your sides, raising chill bumps in their wake. You can feel it now. His touch. The wetness pooling beneath you, soaking your underwear through. The arousal bumps already beginning to slowly creep down your arms and up over your chest. There was no way in hell you could get home fast enough. 

You finally arrive at the parking garage that accompanies your apartment building; Reid quick in tow, parking right beside you. He clambers out of his car before you get the chance, and he comes to meet you at your car door. The two of you race up tp your apartment, eager to rip each other’s clothes off. 

The door shuts, and it's game over. Spencer's hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, peeling it up over your head and tossing it on the floor. Your back meets the cool surface of the door, goosebumps rippling down your back. Reid's lips attach to yours as his fingertips dance around the bumpy terrain of your back. Your hands travel up and into his hair, tugging ever so slightly making him groan. He fights for dominance over the kiss and you allow him in. As his tongue dances with yours, savoring your taste, his hands soon find solace at the waistband of your pants as he unbuttons them and drops them to the floor with a light thud; exposing your already-soaked panties. 

Spencer's lips roam from their start of your lips to your jaw and down your neck. You catch your breath as he unbuttons your blouse and pushes it off your shoulders and down your arms; dipping his supple lips further into the valley of your breasts. 

A shaky breath escapes your plump lips as he draws your lips nipple into his mouth; excitement flowing to the now erect bud as he switches to the other one, doing the same. He releases your right nipple and comes back up to meet your eyes. His lust and hunger filled expression softens to one of passion. You move your trembling fingers to the too button on his lavender button-up as his lips meet yours once again. 

Soon, all his clothes accompany yours in disarray over the floor, and the two of you are waltzing over to the bed; you landing on it softly with a light thud. 

"Look at you," he says slowly from his position at the foot of the bed; standing, glistening in his pre-sex glory before you. "All laid out on display for me." You subconsciously pull your thighs closer together, trying to conceal your wetness. Slowly, he begins his crawl onto the bed, hovering over you and lowering his lips to your ear. "Don't hide from me." 

Retracting his face, your reach up and gently trail your fingertips over his cheek, drinking all his features of perfection."Spencer." The delicate sound passed through your soft lips as Spencer swiftly moves to encompass them with his. Gnawing on your bottom lip gently with his skillful teeth before pulling away and whispering, "It's Dr. Reid." 

He begins his travels back down to your area, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. He looks up at you through his eyelashes as he pushes your thighs apart; a string of your arousal stretching between the two. Collecting it his forefinger, then lifting it to his mouth, he wraps his lips around the digit relishing in the taste of you before delving into your core. 

You buck your hips, aching for more contact; more friction. Spencer's hands wrap up and around your thighs, holding you to the point where you can't move. 

"Doctor Reid.. please." The sound tumbles quickly from your mouth before you even know what you're asking for. Your head falls to the pillow and your mouth gaped in ecstasy. Your hands fly from their positions at their sides and tangle in Reid's hair, desperately trying to pull him just a little closer to your center. 

Reid groans as you pull at his roots, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to the depths of you. So close to the edge already, just from Spencer using his tongue. Almost falling over the edge… 

But then he pulls away. 

"Mnnguh, Spencer," you draw out, the pout apparent in your voice. 

"No touching, princess." His face glistens with your slick, and you quiver at the sight momentarily before he collects all your juices onto the back of his hand, making eye contact the entire time.he licks it off; savoring every last drop of your sweetness. 

He clambers out of the bed leaving you frustrated and aching for that release that you so close to seconds ago. You watch as he stands facing away from you - his delicious back on display - as he scans the room. After a moment of deep contemplation, he goes over to your bottom dresser drawer and pulled out a long piece of rope. 

You didn't appreciate how he knew where your stuff was. However, you couldn't blame him. You were profilers after all, and he probably knew more things about you than you knew yourself. 

Spencer smirks at you on his way back over to the bed. You follow him with your eyes as he takes each of your wrists and ties them together and to the headboard. "What's your word?" 

"M-my word?" you stumble over the question as your met face to face with Dr. Reid once again. 

"Your uh safeword. Whenever anything's too much, just say it, and I'll stop." 

Knowing what Spencer was capable of, you weren't sure you'd ever want him to stop. Nonetheless, you pick a word. "Purple." More specifically, the lavender purple button up that Spencer wears. The color that - no matter where you see it - you associate with him. 

"Purple it is," reid replies cheekily, once more descending to your dripping core. 

You writhe beneath him in pleasure and his skillful tongue and fingers bring you to your second orgasm. "D-doctor Reid, ple-please." 

"Please what? Use your words, y/n." 

"God- fuck! Reid, fuck me please. I n-need you-" 

"Look at you," he says as his eyes drink in the sight before him: his co-worker, needy and begging beneath him. "Such a pretty slut. Begging to be fucked by her co-worker. Do you really want me to fuck you y/n? You want my cock deep inside your pretty pussy?" 

You feverishly nod your head, but the answer isn't enough for Spencer. "Say it," he seethes by your ear through gritted teeth with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat, slowing your breath intake. 

"I.. want your cock.. insi..de me, D-doctor R-reid," you struggle to form the plea. 

His hand still around your neck; fingers lightly pressing onto your airways, but now at arms length as he uses his other to trace your folds with the tip of his member.  He slips into you easily, and you involuntarily close your eyes; the pleasure consuming you from the inside out. His thrusts agonizingly slow as he relishes in the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him. 

"Spencer-" 

"What's my name?" 

"Dr. Reid, please go.. faster. God please- fuck!" 

"Gah, such a needy whore, hm. Taking my cock so well. I bet this is what you were thinking about all day. Isn't it?" He speeds up his pace tenfold, rendering you speechless; reaching the deepest parts of you, almost tossing you over the edge once more. "Mmh, gonna cum for me? Don't hold back, baby. Let go for me." 

And on cue, you release around him, your juices seeping down your thighs and dampening the bedsheets beneath the two of you. 

His pace never slowing down, and his grip on your throat doesn't ease up any either. Your air supply is running low, but you don't care. The sight before you is enough to send you barreling into the abyss of euphoric pleasure. Spencer above you, his sweat-coated torso as arms length and his features contorted in pleasure as he relentlessly pounds into you. 

You admire the god holding himself armslength away from you. The sweat glazing over his torso and dripping fro his forehead. His eyes squinted and mouth agape in pleasure. You clench around him once.more as your fourth orgasm threatens to erupt.

"God fuck." His disgruntled voice coming in as music to your ears. "So fucking tight. You- you gonna cum again, huh? Dirty slut. Cum for me, baby." 

Your forth orgasm rushes over you like a tsunami. Strangled obscenities, moans and groans escape your mouth. You can't take any more. His grip on your throat has barely let up any since he started. And your orgasm count was insane. No one had ever gotten you over four times. The pleasure was more than intense, and you weren't sure how much longer you could last. 

"...purple…" you whisper as your vision goes spotty. 

A look of worry replaces Spencer's previous pleasure-apparent expression. He quickly removes his hand from your throat and pulls out of you. 

"Shit.. shit. Shitshitshit! A-are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck. I'm so sorry. Really, I never meant to-" Spencer nervously rambles on as you take a much needed deep, refreshing breath. 

"I know. Spencer, shut up. It's okay. Just please keep going." 

"Y-you sure?" 

You nod feverishly urging him to continue. He re-enters you slowly, filling you all the way up. You arch into him, meeting his agonizingly slow thrusts. "Mmh.. faster, Doctor Reid, please!" 

His pace returns to as it was before. The squelching sound and skin slapping against skin echos through the room once more. One hand white-knuckles the sheets while the other one reaches for Spencer's hand at your side. Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand back up to your throat, wanting so desperately for him to choke you again. He makes eye contact with you - as if asking permission - as you place his lanky fingers around your neck. Swallowing hard, he applies pressure and your mouth falls open in a lazy smile. 

Your fifth orgasm creeps up on you quickly, but so is Spencer's. "I'm.. so fu- so fucking close," you let out raspily. 

"Me too," he replies, dropping his head. His free hand maneuvers down to run quick circles on your clit, throwing you into convulsions as your fifth orgasm hits you like a truck. 

A few more pumps, and Spencer pulls out of you, cumming on your stomach, moaning your name and mixed profanities. He finally brings his head back up to look at you and undoes your restraints, freeing your wrists. A weary smile accompanies his fucked-out expression. He searches around in the floor, finding something to clean you off with before climbing back into the bed and pulling you up snug with him. 

"That's what I was afraid of you know," he says barely above a whisper. "Hurting you." 

"You didn't hurt me, Spence. I just needed to breathe," you reply with a slight laugh, then placing a kiss to his hand that's draped over.you. 

"You staying?" You ask after a bit of silence. 

"You're a fool if you think I'm going anywhere." He pulls the blankets up over the two of you and pulls you in even tighter; drifting to sleep in no time. 

[bnha-free-writing]

Uncertain

Hi guys! I hope you enjoy this fluff piece! Special thanks to @shoutodoki​ and @burnedbyshoto​ for allowing me to tag them in this piece! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoy your works!

Pairing: Shoto x Reader

Warnings: Fluff ahead! (Some angst too...)

Word Count:  5.3k

Rated: E for Everyone (Like Shouto's hands)

-----------------

Key:

(Y/N) - Reader’s name

(L/N) - Reader’s last name

(s/t) - Skin tone

(h/l) - Hair length

(h/t) - Hair texture/type

(h/c) - Hair color

(e/c) - Eye color

(Y/H/N) - Reader’s Hero Name

-----------------

When Shoto Todoroki first began his education at U.A., he never thought that he would make any friends. His goal had been simply to become the best hero. There was absolutely no plan of making friends. And he definitely wasn’t looking to find love.

But apparently, fate had other things in mind. In his three years at U.A., he met so many people, made some close friends, but none closer than (Y/N) (L/N). The girl that kept him anchored to the ground when things got rough. When his father was involved in a tough battle on TV, (Y/N) had held him in a reassuring hug until the fight ended. When training led to injury, she was the first to help him to Recovery Girl. 

It hadn’t been an immediate friendship. She had started out their first year by making friends with Ochako Uraraka and Tsuyu Asui. He was so wrapped up in his goals that it took over a week before he finally noticed her. But then, one day in class, he got a paper cut. He had winced and out of the corner of his hetero-chromatic eyes, he watched as a bandage was slid onto the edge of his desk. He looked over at the (h/c) girl in confusion. She had been sitting right beside him and all she did was offer a soft smile before returning to taking notes.

After that, she would occasionally sit across from him at lunch. He was sitting alone at the time, curious as to why she would abandon her friends twice a week to start up small talk with him. But she was persistent and eventually, he had gotten used to her presence. 

“Why are you here,” he had finally asked aloud. 

“I want to be a hero, silly,” she had replied, confusion clear on her features.

“No, I mean why are you sitting here with me.”

“You looked lonely and I think you need a friend. It’s that simple,” she beamed.

After that, their lunch for that day fell into silence. He didn’t understand. 

At the Sports Festival, she put up a hell of a fight. Her quirk might not have been the strongest, but she fought hard to earn her place. With that, she had earned his respect.

After that, their conversations became more frequent. Then, it was him joining her at Uraraka and Midoriya’s table. No longer was she abandoning her friend group, because slowly but surely he became a part of it.

By second year, there were frequent movie nights, the girl showing him her favorite movies, a kind of enjoyment his father never would have allowed. They would sit on the edge of her bed sharing laughter and (though he would never admit it) occasional tears. She introduced him to kinds of joy that he never thought possible. 

Some days, it was enough to just sit on opposite sides of the room in comfortable silence. She would be curled up on her bean bag chair, sketching, while he would sit on her bed, working his way through her personal library. Other days it was laughter and talking as she taught him how to cook. She would joke that it was ironic because, despite having a fire quirk, he was a bit clueless in the kitchen. 

She was a relaxing figure in his life, one of the kindest people he had ever met. Despite the fact that he could be rather cold and socially oblivious, she understood him. She was his best friend. But about halfway through their third year at U.A., something changed. It was a slow change, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad one. 

It started with a moment, just a moment, where he saw her sitting at the foot of the stairs outside of Heights Alliance, waiting for him to come back from shopping for the supplies for the dorm. She was reading a book, the sun shining on her (s/t) skin, the wind blowing through her (h/l), (h/t) (h/c) locks, her soft, (e/c) orbs focused on the page in front of her. He found himself stopping, admiring the way she bit her bottom lip and her eyebrows knitted together as she focused. For that one moment, he found his mind going blank. 

The only thought his mind could process was, ‘She’s beautiful.’

And as suddenly as it started, it drifted away the second she noticed his arrival and called his name.

After that, it was downhill from there. When she would grab his wrist to drag him to lunch like she did every day, his heart would race and his cheeks would warm. She was suddenly in his dreams, her radiant smile filling his thoughts. He found himself getting lost in thought every time their eyes would meet.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wrap his head around why he felt this way. They had been friends long enough that he couldn’t think of why he was feeling this way. He tried to Google these feelings, but heart racing and sweaty palms only brought up the results of ‘cancer.’

He was pretty sure that he was not dying, yet he was still unsure of what was wrong. For weeks, these feelings had been taunting him, her smile invading his thoughts, his dreams, everything. At one point, he had a dream about her that made his quirk activate in his sleep. He wound up waking up in the middle of the night to the sprinklers going off, aggravating his classmates. While the rest were angry, she had been hell-bent on ensuring that he was okay. 

 It wasn’t until they were watching a movie with the rest of the class (even Bakugo) in the common area that he finally got a clue. She was squished between himself and Bakugo, when about halfway through the movie he felt a sudden weight on his left shoulder. He looked down to see her head resting on his shoulder, her breathing even as she slept peacefully. He smiled softly, resting his own head against hers.

“Awww,” he heard the soft coo of Uraraka, followed by soft whispers.

He attempted to drown out their voices when he heard Ashido whisper, “They’re so cute together. When are Todoroki and (L/N) gonna finally admit that they’re in loooove?”

His hetero-chromatic eyes shot open as Ashido’s words processed in his brain. The pinkette had never been very good at being quiet, but for once he was grateful. 

He thought, ‘Is that what this is?’ as his heart beat became nearly deafening in his ears. 

Shortly after the movie finished, Todoroki lifted (Y/N) into his arms, taking her to her dorm room. Her eyes fluttered as she slept peacefully in his arms. Once he got her to her dorm, he laid her on the bed, carefully covering her with a blanket. It took all of his self control to leave, rather than holding her in his arms through the night.

The next day was no better. Now that he knew what this feeling was, her very existence made him flustered, though he hid it quite well. He was constantly fighting to keep his eyes off of her. 

The more time that went by, the more Todoroki was terrified that it would get to the point that he would miss out on any chance he had with her. As a third year student, she had plenty of exposure as a hero in training. She already had several fan sites, seeing as she worked under the Pro Hero, Edgeshot. He wasn’t oblivious to her popularity and unlike himself, she was very good with her fans.

-----------------

It was a rare event to have Endeavor and Edgeshot’s agencies team up, yet Todoroki found himself fighting back to back with (Y/N) against a large group of thugs. Their mentors had delegated the two of them to the low level goons while the two of them raced ahead to take on the main boss, Terminator. While their opponents’ fighting was erratic, the two of them fought nearly completely synchronized. Within minutes, they were down to a few opponents. 

Once they were done with the low level thugs, the two of them were quick to join their mentors against the big boss. The man had a powerful quirk, and had four higher ranking members of his crew to play guard. It wasn’t an easy fight, but the second (Y/N) had taken down two of the higher ranking members, the boss had slightly nodded his head in her direction.

Nobody saw it coming, as a fifth underling had been hiding in the rafters, awaiting for when she was signaled for. As (Y/N) turned to help Todoroki, the fifth underling dropped down behind her, undetected until she slammed (Y/N) into a wall, knocking her unconscious as her head smacked against the scarlet brick wall. 

The vibrations of the impact drew the attention of Todoroki and the two Pro Heroes. Todoroki’s hetero-chromatic orbs widened, and before either of his opponents could register what was going on, he had them frozen solid from the neck down. 

He immediately turned his focus solely upon the woman that had caused (Y/N)’s injury. The woman had a quirk that allowed her to be as strong as five men, and she was fast on her own. The woman charged at Todoroki, but he was quick to use his ice to slip away, simultaneously knocking the woman off balance. As she slipped around on the ice, struggling to regain her footing, he used this time to his advantage, freezing her much like he had done with her cohorts. 

As soon as he was done with her, he turned his attention to Endeavor and Edgeshot, who were restraining the boss. 

“Shoto! Go check on (Y/H/N),” Edgeshot shouted.

Todoroki quickly moved to (Y/N)’s side, her body still as he checked her pulse. It was faint and he knew he couldn’t move her without the possibility of causing more damage. Blood was dripping from the back of her head, her body looked paler, and all he could do was stare in shock.

He could barely process a thing as the paramedics arrived, moving her onto a gurney. Edgeshot rode along in the ambulance while Todoroki and Endeavor stayed behind and answered questions for the police. 

Once they were cleared, Todoroki made his way to the hospital, immediately finding himself in the waiting room. 

“She’s in surgery. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything,” Edgeshot promised. 

“Thank you, sir.”

The two of them sat for hours, their eyes completely trained on the operating room door. There were no words between them. Simply (Y/N)’s mentor and best friend, each sitting with a heavy feeling in the air between them.

With each passing hour without word on her condition, Todoroki steadily grew more anxious. Eventually, he even found himself pacing and that’s when Edgeshot stepped in, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Shoto, she is going to be alright. She’s a tough kid. I know she’s your friend. You’re all she talks about when we get the chance to talk. You guys are close. You of all people should know that she’s tougher than this. She’ll get through it, kid.”

“I know. I just… I don’t know what I can do.”

“You can’t change it. All you can do is be there for her.”

It was then that the doctor walked up to them, pulling Edgeshot aside. Once he returned to Todoroki’s side, he was quick to fill Todoroki in.

“So, there was mild head injury, which is what knocked her unconscious. They put her in surgery because one of her ribs broke and they needed to set it properly before they could call in Recovery Girl to speed up the healing process. However she wasn’t able to heal her completely. She’s going to stay here under observation for the rest of the week.”

“When can we see her,” Todoroki asked.

“She’s still asleep. Between the surgery and Recovery Girl’s treatment, she’s exhausted. They said one of us could sit with her, so long as we don’t disturb her rest. I’ll let you sit with her first.”

Todoroki simply nodded before heading over to the nurse so he could be escorted to her room. Once he arrived at her room, he quietly pulled up a chair to her bedside.

Her eyelids fluttered as she slept and he found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He laid his head on the edge of her bed, allowing himself to truly relax for the first time in hours. His eyelids grew heavy as he drifted off to sleep, having found solace by her side. 

Todoroki woke to the morning sunlight peeking through the window. His eyes opened and he found himself looking up at (Y/N)’s resting face. Her eyelids fluttered as she slept, still in the same state she had been when he had drifted off. 

Why the doctors hadn’t woken him was beyond him, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. It almost felt wrong to be sitting there, watching her sleep. Yet that was the least of his concerns. He wondered if she had woken yet at any point.

“You’re awake,” he heard from a voice behind him. He turned to see Edgeshot leaning against the door frame. “She hasn’t woken up yet. But I told them to let you stay.” 

“Have the doctors said anything?”

“Apparently her heart monitor has been steady, no complications.”

“That’s good,” Todoroki replied, letting out a sigh of relief.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments before a light groan broke through the air.

“(Y/N),” Todoroki called softly, hoping to hear her sweet voice reply.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus,” (Y/N)’s voice croaks out.

The second he heard her voice, Todoroki whipped around, his hetero-chromatic orbs meeting her (e/c) ones. 

He had never thought he would be that happy to hear someone’s voice, yet there he was. To his ears, her voice was that of an angel calling him to heaven. There was nothing short of amazement in his eyes as he looked at her as though her body was made of gold and her (e/c) orbs were made of the rarest gems. This woman was his everything. 

His thoughts were broken as her scratchy voice pierced the air once more. “Sh-Shoto… Is there any way I could get a glass of water?”

“Of course, give me just a moment,” he replied before turning to the sink in her room and quickly pouring her a glass, his hands shaking. 

“Good to see you’re awake, kid. I’ll let Todoroki here talk you through what happened. I’ll call your parents to let them know you’re awake,” Edgeshot replied before leaving the room. 

Todoroki watched as (Y/N) carefully drank her water and he waited for her to finish drinking before he began to speak. “So what’s the last thing you remember?”

Her voice was soft as she replied, “I remember we were going into the main compound building and we got caught up fighting some higher level goons. I beat the two I was dealing with and then… I turned to help you. But I don’t remember anything after that.”

“Well, that’s good. You aren’t missing much time. Basically, there was another high level goon up in the rafters. She'd been hiding there, waiting for a signal. Detectives figured out that she was Terminator’s right hand. He must have given her a signal because she jumped down and tossed you into a wall… Apparently you were knocked unconscious on impact.”

“Your injuries weren’t too bad. Recovery Girl came in and healed you after they did surgery to set your broken rib. They just want to keep you under observation until Friday night to make sure that you are okay.”

(Y/N) simply nodded before she spoke, “Are you okay, Shoto?”

“You’re the one in a hospital bed and you’re asking me if I’m okay,” Todoroki replied, confusion clear on his features. 

“Todoroki… You look like you haven’t slept.”

He sat down in the chair beside her bed, looking down at his hands as a blush grew on his cheeks. “I… I actually slept right here. I never left here last night.”

Todoroki glanced up as he felt a light pressure applied to his head. (Y/N) had softly placed her hand on his head, lightly ruffling his hair. Their eyes met for only a second before she pulled her hand away and they both darted their eyes to their laps. 

“Hey guys, I figured you’d be hungry, so I brought some breakfast… And… Why do you two look like tomatoes,” Edgeshot spoke as he entered the room once more. 

Neither of the teens dared to speak a word as the Pro Hero rolled his eyes. 

Todoroki thought that spending the week without (Y/N) being in class would be difficult. But if anything, her absence made concentrating easier. He was writing down notes non-stop, making sure to cover every lesson in as much detail as possible, even comparing notes with Midoriya and Yaoyorozu during lunch to ensure that he hadn’t missed anything. 

“Why do you need to take such detailed notes all of a sudden,” Midoriya asked that Monday after school. 

His friends all looked at him expectantly as he admitted, “I don’t want (Y/N) to fall behind. So I’m going back to the hospital after school to help her with what she’s missing during class.”

“Awwww, that’s really sweet,” Uraraka cooed. “Can I ask you something, Todoroki?”

“Sure.”

“Todoroki, do you… Do you like (Y/N)? Whatever your answer, it’ll stay between the three of us. I just had to ask seeing as this is the only time I can really ask you without risking her popping up.”

Todoroki looked at Midoriya and Uraraka for a single moment, taking a deep breath before shakily replying, “I… I guess.”

“Todoroki, it’s nothing to be ashamed of! She makes you happy!”

“You should tell her, Todoroki,” Midoriya advises.

“Yes,” Uraraka cheers. 

“Well, right now, I have to leave to get these notes to her,” he spoke as he looked at his watch. “I don’t want to miss the train.”

“Bye Todoroki,” Uraraka and Midoriya chorus.

He found himself practically racing to the hospital. When he finally got there, he was surprised to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. 

“Hey, (Y/N),” Todoroki spoke slowly, hoping to not startle her.

She turned around slowly, a grin on her face as she spoke, “Shoto! You came! I’m glad. I was worried you wouldn’t have time.”

Though he wouldn’t say it aloud, he knew if it meant seeing her, he would have blown off any assignment. “I told you I’d be here,” he retorted, as he sat down beside her.

“I know,” she replied as she wrapped her arms around him.

As soon as she pulled away from the hug, he pulled out the notes he had worked so hard on all day.

-----------------

After a particularly long training session on Friday afternoon, the only thing Todoroki wanted was a shower. He wasn’t to go visit (Y/N) that day because she was to be released and picked up by Edgeshot that evening. So he had spent his few free hours after school training hard with Midoriya, Bakugo, and Iida. 

But when the doors to Heights Alliance opened up, his eyes immediately fell on a figure with (h/c) locks surrounded by her friends. She was dressed in her favorite sweatpants and an All Might T-shirt, looking as stunning as ever. Her (e/c) eyes shined with joy as Uraraka filled her in on what she’s missed throughout the week.

“I missed being here so much,” (Y/N confessed, a pout on her lips. 

“Ribbit. We missed you too,” Asui croaked. “Hey, it’s Todoroki.”

(Y/N) looked up from her group of friends and gave him a beaming grin before greeting, “Hey Shoto! Surprise! I got out a couple of hours early! I told Edgeshot if I didn’t get out soon, I’d lose it! So he talked it over with the doctor and they let me out like an hour before classes let out!”

Todoroki couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at her antics. 

“Hey, I got tickets for a movie and I got permission for eight of us to go,” Yaoyorozu offered as she approached, a skip in her step.

“That’s great,” Todoroki commented. 

“So, I was thinking Todoroki, (Y/N), Uraraka, Midoriya, Tsu, Iida, Kyoka, and myself. We can go tomorrow night, assuming you’re all willing to go! Iida, Midoriya, and Kyoka have already agreed, so...”

“I’ll definitely go,” Uraraka chimed.

“I’d love to! Thanks, Momo,” (Y/N) added, nodding exuberantly.

“Sounds like fun,” Tsu croaks, a smile on her features.

Todoroki found the rest of them looking at him expectantly, waiting for his response. He finally nodded, a small smile on his features. 

The next night came quickly and he found himself in awe as Uraraka practically pushed a nearly shy (Y/N) out of the elevator. Her soft, (h/c) locks were pinned back out of her face, her big (e/c) eyes were framed with light makeup and her lips lightly glossed. Her frame was covered by a plain, light blue sundress, a pair of simple flats on her feet. 

Uraraka led (Y/N) to his side, practically skipping as she cheered out, “Todoroki! (Y/N) looks super cute, right?”

Todoroki’s eyes widened, not expecting the sudden question. He had literally just been stuck on thinking about how beautiful she looked, yet when it comes down to vocalizing, he finds himself at a loss.

“Ochako, leave him alone,” (Y/N) whispers, her eyes glued to her shoes.

Todoroki felt his heart drop at the sight of the crestfallen expression on her face. He felt as though he was choking on his words, despite a part of him wanting to scream from the rooftops, announcing her beauty to the world. Yet there he stood, his mouth opening and closing in a fish-like fashion, feeling like a fool.

Finally after what felt like hours, he managed to mutter out, “You… You look cute, (Y/N).”

Her head shot up, her (e/c) orbs wide with surprise, a flush on her cheeks, and a small smile on her face. 

Finally, Iida comes speeding in, “The movie starts in twenty-five minutes! We should leave immediately to ensure that we are not tardy! It would be unbecoming of esteemed U.A. students to be late!”

Soon enough, the group arrived at the theater, each of them having time to grab their drinks and popcorn. Yaoyorozu was the first to be seated, followed by Jiro, Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, Tsu, (Y/N), and finally Todoroki at the end. 

The title screen seemed innocent enough until the blood started dripping from the words on the screen. It was a horror movie and with every jump-scare, Todoroki watched as (Y/N) jumped and shook more and more. Her hands were tightly clutching the sides of the seat, the white of her knuckles showing through. 

Finally, as tears started to prick at her eyes, Todoroki couldn’t watch her like that anymore. He carefully placed one of his hands on her own, immediately gaining her attention as she jerked her head to face him. In that moment, her eyes widened and she threw herself into his arms, crying. At first he was surprised, but as soon as she clutched his shirt, he pulled her into his lap, lightly stroking her (h/c) locks as she shook in his arms. He rested his head atop her own and the hand that wasn’t stroking her hair began to rub slow, calming circles on her back until she fell asleep in his arms.

Once the movie was over, he found himself stirring (Y/N) from her sleep. As he led her sleepy form out of the theater, his arm sling around her protectively, she stayed groggily clung to his shirt. Even on the loud, crowded subway, she didn’t move out from under his arm. 

Once the group made their way to the dorms, they were met by the few members of their class that were still awake. Shoto looked down at her, to see her eyes still half open. 

Mina was the first to address the pair, “Awww she looks so tired!”

“I forgot to tell everyone that it was a horror movie. (Y/N) didn’t take it well,” Yaoyorozu admitted, nervously twiddling her thumbs. Turning to (Y/N) she pleads, “I really hope you’re not upset with me.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep,” (Y/N) sleepily mumbles, before attempting to take a step on her own. When the girl practically fell over, Todoroki was quick to catch her and resume their previous stance. 

“I’m going to take her up,” he muttered, carefully leading her towards the elevator. 

The rest of their class bode them good night as the two disappeared into the elevator, the (h/c) girl still nuzzled into Todoroki’s side. 

“Sh-Shoto,” her voice stuttered out, so faintly that he almost missed it. 

Luckily he hadn’t, because the second he looked down at her, his heart skipped a beat. She had the cutest expression on her face, her lips slightly parted, her tired eyes looking up at him through her lashes, and a faint pink to her cheeks.

He didn’t know what to expect as she hesitantly raised her hand to cup his face. He was too shocked to move, allowing her to lightly run her thumb over his cheek, just below his scar. Her other hand was still clutched to the back of his shirt, her cheeks darkening as their eyes refused to break contact. 

She was too close. He could smell her skin, he could see flecks in her (e/c) orbs, he could practically count her eyelashes. His heart was pounding in his ears, his body unable to move in fear of losing control of himself.

She was exhausted. He shouldn’t be letting this happen, he thought. But a small, selfish part of him wanted to stay like this forever. Her body pressed against him, their eyes locked on one another, and the soft touch of her hand on his face.

She was the first to break eye contact, a sad smile taking its place on her features as the elevator opened.

His eyes widened as she removed her hand from his face and they walked to her room in silence, as though nothing had happened. She unlocked the door and he walked her to her bed.

It was then that he got a good look at her face. The moonlight shone through her window, highlighting the silent tears that were streaming down her cheeks. 

“Why are you crying,” he whispered.

“I shouldn’t have done that… In the elevator… I’m sorry, Shoto,” she spoke softly, her sentence broken up by soft sobs. “I don’t want you to hate me… I… I just…”

Her voice broke into nothing but soft sobs. 

He took a seat on the edge of her bed, sitting beside her as he pulled her into his arms. 

“I… I could never hate you,” he whispered.

For the second time that night, he held her as she cried herself to sleep in his arms. 

He didn’t know what to do. He had never been good at expressing his emotions, but, damn, this was a new low for him. He didn’t know why she was sorry for what was just about the best moment of his life. He was just glad that it was a Saturday night, because at this rate he wasn’t sleeping. 

He wasn’t sure of anything. 

Was she sorry because he froze and she thought he didn’t like it?

Or was she sorry because she knew how he felt and she used that moment to decide that she didn’t feel the same?

But for right now, he was holding her in his arms and, even if this would be the last time it happened, it was enough for him. With his arms still wrapped tightly around her, he laid back, resting his head on the pillow behind them.

When Todoroki woke in the morning, he found himself looking down at (Y/N)’s sleeping form once more. Her eyes were red and puffy from her tears she had shed the night before but what surprised him most was that it appeared that at some point, she had gotten up and changed into pajamas, yet climbed back into bed beside him. 

As she laid there, snuggled into his chest, he brushed a lock of hair from her face. It was another one of those moments where all he desired was to freeze time. 

But as the light filtered through the window, her eyes scrunched together and she began to stir. 

Her eyes fluttered open, looking up at him almost immediately. She smiled softly for a moment, before her eyes widened.

“Shoto, what are you doing here,” she asked slowly, as though she wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer.

“You had a rough night last night. I got you safely to your room and you started crying. So I guess I fell asleep comforting you.”

“I was really hoping that the part that made me cry was a bad dream,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay, Shoto.”

“Why are you sorry,” he inquired, not moving from his spot.

“I… I tried to make a move on you? You didn’t like it,” she admitted, looking down at her hands.

“(Y/N), look at me please,” he requested.

When she peeked up at him through her eyelashes, he took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger bringing her up to face him properly. His other hand gently brushed over her cheek, much like she had done to him the night before. 

“I tried to tell you last night. I could never hate you. I liked it... I was surprised. And you weren’t in the right condition for me to give in, even if I was sure that you’d meant it,” he admitted softly.

There was a moment of silence between them before she let out a giggle.

“I was so scared. I was terrified that you didn’t like me back,” she confessed. “I’m an idiot!”

“We were both scared,” he corrected, feeling his cheeks grow warmer. “I thought that when you got injured… I’d never get the chance to tell you.”

“Shoto,” she whispered as she placed her hand over the one that was still absentmindedly stroking the side of her face. “Please, just kiss me.”

His heart jumped into his throat as he carefully moved closer, half expecting to wake up, finding this to be yet another dream. Yet, she closed the small space between them for a soft, hesitant kiss. 

His heart was pounding, every cell of his body felt like it was on fire, yet his mind had never been so at ease. When they finally pulled apart, their faces were flushed, a small, dopey grin on each of their faces.

He leaned down to give her a chaste kiss before pulling her into his chest, muttering, “I’m not ready to get out of bed yet.”

With a small yawn, she nuzzled into his chest, pulling a blanket over the two of them as she replied with a light giggle, “You read my mind.”

[wherevermyway]

like covalence // binchan // oneshot // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin | past lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: friends-to-lovers, past character death, angst, hurt/comfort, insomnia, explicit sexual content. also, this fic is soft as hell and i love it, okay? word count: 9,746 also on AO3

originally posted: 09 december 2020

Waking up in the middle of the night to surprise phone calls always caused a panic to arise in Chan. The last time he received a call so early in the morning, it was his best friend, Changbin. He was panicking because his boyfriend was admitted to hospital and was dying.

This phone call, however, isn't nearly as horrifying. Changbin is having a bad bout of insomnia, nightmares preventing him from sleeping, and he needs a little help. So, Chan offers to talk him through it. Neither of them, however, expect for their conversation to take such a dramatic turn.

Sometimes, two people are meant to be together, their attraction pulling them into each other to make something greater, like covalent bonds.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

Phone calls at two in the morning were never good. When Chan’s phone trilled, ripping him from his dream, he bolted upright, eyes still glued shut from sleep. He reached over to the nightstand, miscalculating the distance and mistaking it for his nightstand back home. A sleepy grumble rumbled in his throat as he pushed himself further and managed to half-open one of his eyes. The bright screen caused him to squint his half-open eyelid further closed in discomfort.

Changbin. Shit, why was Changbin calling him at two in the morning? The last time Changbin called him in the middle of the night… No, it was probably something minor. It had to have been minor.

Chan fumbled his thumb a bit, swiping his finger against the bottom of his phone to accept the call. “Bin? What happened?”

“Shit, I knew this was stupid,” a low voice echoed in Chan’s ear canal. “You…” the voice trailed off. The younger man cleared his throat on the other end of the line and sighed. “You said I could call you if I ever needed anything, right?”

“Did you get thrown in prison or something?”

“What? No, dude.” Changbin squeaked, then cleared his throat again, lowering his voice. “Why would you think that?”

Chan groaned, turning to the desk lamp on the nightstand, fumbling with the drawstring to turn it on. “It’s two in the morning. You don’t sound panicky, so I figured nobody died or some—” Oh. Chan’s eyes go wide, and he slaps his forehead as he realizes the gravity of what he just said. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Changbin decidedly ignores Chan’s statement, and is quiet for an extended pause. “I can’t sleep, Chan.”

“Again?”

There’s a whimper on the other line. “It’s getting out of hand, dude. I’m starting to see shit, hear things that aren’t there. I try so hard to fucking sleep, but whenever I close my eyes, I just feel so tense. I can’t stop thinking. He’s there, he’s everywhere. The dripping of his IV, the beeping of the machines, the alarms, how fucking pale he looked. God dammit.”

Chan settles up against the flat pillow of his hotel bed, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead as he stares up to the ceiling. “You’re having nightmares about Minho again, aren’t you?”

There’s a bit of a sniffle that comes from Changbin. “Yeah. I know it’s only been ten months, and I can’t imagine what I’m gonna be like when the anniversary comes around. All I know is that I miss him and it fucking hurts.”

“You’ll get through it, Binnie. I’ll be there with you once I’m back from this business trip in a couple of days.”

“That’s not gonna help me sleep right now, though.”

“I’d get on a flight back to Seoul right now if I could, just to smack you upside the head really good and knock you out that way.”

Both of them laugh. “That might be the nicest act of violence someone’s ever threatened me with,” Changbin quips.

“I do what I can.” A soft laugh comes from Chan. “I mean it, though. I’m here for you, Binnie. Let it all out. Maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

“Can I,” Changbin pauses, and there’s some shuffling on the other line. “It’s gonna sound kinda stupid, but I wanna see your face. Are you decent enough for video?”

Chan’s face flushes, and he runs his lips in between his teeth for a moment, releasing them with a pop. “Yeah. Hair might be a mess, though.”

“Your hair’s always a mess.”

“Man, fuck you.” They laugh again, and Chan pulls his phone away from his face, tapping a couple of buttons on screen. “Gimme a sec and… okay, there.” There’s nothing but black on Chan’s phone for a bit. Shortly after that, there’s some shuffling and choice words coming from Changbin’s line as he turns a light on.

Chan sees what he assumes to be Changbin’s ceiling, until the younger man comes back into view, grabbing his phone, running fingers through his black hair. “I wasn’t expecting that without notice. You could’ve warned me,” he whines. There’s a bit of a glare reflecting on his glasses for a moment as he flops down onto his pillow. “Man, you look pretty out of it.”

“You woke me up at two in the morning, dude, what were you expecting?” Chan rolls his eyes, feigning irritation, but the way a smile creeps up on his face, showing off the dimple in his cheek, throws any sense of seriousness out of the window. “Those bags under your eyes aren’t helping you, either.”

Changbin frowns and flips off the camera. “You’re an asshole.”

“I could hang up the phone right now,” Chan shrugs.

“Please,” Changbin’s face twisted into a pout, “don’t hang up on me.” There was a sadness reflected in his eyes, something that looked like it had been building up for a while. The younger man turned onto his side, towards the light on his desk, and a tear fell down the side of his face. “Sorry, I know you were joking, it’s just… I’m tired of being alone, Chan.”

The older man pursed his lips, knitting his brows together as he shifted into a more comfortable position. “You’re never totally alone, Bin, you know? I’m here for you. I might not be able to be there right now with you, but I—”

“Can I move in with you?”

The question caught them both off guard.

“Wait, shit,” Changbin shook his head and groaned, burying his face into his pillow. “That was horrible timing. Fuck.”

Chan scoffed. “Of course you can move in with me. That sounds kinda nice, actually,” he smiled, showing off a bit of his teeth. “My apartment’s been quiet lately, anyways. Should probably try and settle down at some point, but I can’t seem to find the right person. While Jisung sure wasn’t good for me, I have to admit that it’s been so quiet since he’s been gone.”

“Oh, god,” Changbin awkwardly laughs, pulling his sweatshirt up over his chin and nibbles on the inner seam of the tip of the fabric. “You and Jisung,” his voice is slightly muffled through the sweatshirt, “you two were a clusterfuck of bad ideas. He was definitely not the right person for you.”

The older man scowls, staring directly at the tiny camera on his phone. “Come on, we weren’t that bad.”

“Chan,” Changbin stresses, rolling his eyes. “I really don’t need to remind you of the time you showed up at my apartment — unannounced, mind you — shortly after midnight, because you found out he was cheating on you the first time.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll give you that.” Chan shrugs. “That was over a year ago, though.”

“He cheated on you three times and you went back twice, dude. Twice!” They look at each other over the phone, and Changbin tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “I’m glad you didn’t go back the last time.”

“Me too,” the older man huffs, then rolls on to his stomach. “He’s dating a new guy now. Some bakery owner. Think his name was Felix?”

Changbin drops the sweatshirt from his mouth and rolls onto his back. “At least he’s out of your hair now. You should seriously stop stalking him on social media.”

“I’m not stalking him!” Chan pleads, “Seungmin’s the one that told me when me met up a couple weeks ago. He thinks he’s doing me a favour by keeping tabs on my ex so that I don’t have to, or some shit.”

“You’ve got some weird friends.”

“You’re easily the weirdest of the group.” Chan smiles. “Kinda why I like you, though.”

Changbin’s eyes go wide for a very brief moment, easy to miss with how quickly it happened. He nervously laughs and looks away from his phone. “Yeah,” he says without confidence, rubbing his hand against his forehead.

“What?” Chan cocks his head to the side. “Should I not’ve called you weird?”

“Nah,” Changbin shakes his head and smirks, bringing his free hand down his face, covering his cheek and part of his mouth with his sleeve. “It’s fine, I am weird, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Why are you acting like it bothered you, then?”

Changbin waves his hand in front of his phone. “It’s nothing, dude. You’re reading too much into it. Anyway, don’t you have to work early tomorrow? I really shouldn’t be keeping you up so late.”

“Stop it,” Chan firmly presses and frowns. His tone causes Changbin to recoil and turn into himself a bit. “Don’t ever apologize for needing me. We’re best friends, this is what we do. So what if I’m a little tired for work tomorrow? I’ll get coffee and deal with it. You’re my best fucking friend and I’ll do anything for you. I can’t take away your pain, so this is the next best thing I can try to offer.”

“Chan,” Changbin starts, his eyes starting to turn glossy again. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead shakes his head, rolling onto his side and buries his face into his pillow. He drops his phone and Chan assumes that he’s about to start crying.

The older man stifles a sigh. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Changbin.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Changbin chokes a bit and muffles something incoherent into his pillow. Chan lets him unravel a bit, knowing that his friend clearly needs it.

The younger man never really showed his emotions to most people; Chan and Minho were likely the only two people that had seen Changbin cry so openly. He put on a tough exterior, only letting it fall just enough around their friend group. Until recently, Chan had only seen him cry a couple of times: once, when he got mad at Chan for going back to Jisung after being cheated on the first time; the second time was when Minho had died. Changbin had collapsed at his hospital bed and completely broke down.

Losing Minho really damaged Changbin. He had steeled himself further in never being outwardly emotionally vulnerable, but in response to suppressing his emotions so dramatically, he broke down like this more often than he would admit. There had been numerous times where Chan had called or stopped by, and it was obvious Changbin had been crying. His voice would be raspy, his eyes bloodshot, face flushed, and he was unusually withdrawn and reserved.

After a bit, Changbin cleared his throat. He didn’t pick up his phone, but continued the conversation as if nothing happened. “Sorry,” he chokes out, then clears his throat. “I don’t know what I did to get lucky enough to have a friend like you. I just,” the younger man sighs and his lips vibrate against each other with a hum, “you and Minho are the world to me, and now Minho is gone. I’ve only got you. I love you, man.”

“I love you too, Changbin.” There was a burning building up in Chan’s chest, almost like he wanted to cry because he knew that his friend was so miserable; it felt like he was going through the emotional turmoil himself. “If I could take away the pain of your loss, I would.”

“I couldn’t put you through that, dude.” Changbin picks up his phone, pointing it back down to his reddened face. “You know, I watched a movie once. Don’t remember what it was called, but there was a quote that stuck with me for a while.” He looks far past the camera, up towards the ceiling. “I didn’t really get it until after Minho died. The quote was something like, ‘there’s a poem at the temple called loss. It has only three words that the poet has scratched out, since you cannot read loss, only feel it.’ It hurts, but it’s true.”

“We watched that movie together, you dumbass,” Chan scoffed, then laughed. “Memoirs of a Geisha or something.”

“Oh,” Changbin laughs softly, biting his lip. “That was our in-house double date, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chan smiles, fondly looking back on the memory, and how Changbin seemed so happy with Minho. His smile was so bright, so carefree, so full of light and love, so much softer than it was now. “Minho picked the movie at random and none of us were really paying attention to it because we got kinda drunk. It was fun, though.”

A smile spreads across Changbin’s face. “That was a good time. Jisung was kind of annoying that night, but you looked really happy with him.”

“He was just awkward. Barely knew you two, so I can’t really blame him.”

A tsk. “Dude, you gotta stop defending him,” Changbin cocks his eyebrows and shakes his head. “Look, I should’ve told you sooner, but you always deserved better than him. I always thought he was so shallow and one-sided. Like, he never looked at you like you were his first priority in life.”

Chan tries to think of something to say in response, but simply shrugs his shoulders. “I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right, dude. You need someone that loves you like—” Again, Changbin’s eyes go wide, as if he catches himself about to say something stupid, then he shakes his head. “Someone that loves you like you truly deserve. Like you’re their reason for waking up in the morning, someone that’s always happy to see you and will accept you for who you are, no matter what. Chronically messy hair included.”

A gnawing feeling envelopes Chan’s abdomen, causing him to feel a bit uneasy. “Someone like a best friend,” he mutters, then quickly realizes how that comes off and corrects himself, “someone like Minho was to you, yeah?”

Changbin nods, but there’s a strange tension between them now. They stare at each other with slight nervousness behind their eyes. “Like Minho, yeah, or,” Changbin says each word as clearly as possible, looking like he was carefully thinking over what he was saying, “someone like a best friend.” The words came out slowly, with calculus. He knew what he had said, and exactly how it was going to be interpreted.

The feeling in Chan’s stomach had ballooned across his entire torso as he realized what was really happening between the two of them. “Changbin,” he manages to squeak out, nearly dropping his phone on his face from how badly his palms had started to sweat. “There’s something I’ve gotta ask.” Chan sits upright, too enveloped in the moment to pay attention to how he looks on camera.

Changbin sits up, too. He brings the hem of his sleeve up to his mouth and anxiously chews at it as he nods. “What is it, Channie?”

The older man tenses at the nickname rolling off his friend’s tongue. Changbin very rarely ever called him Channie, and that somehow made him all the more nervous. “I,” he stutters out, “maybe I’m just reading into this too much, but there’s something happening here, isn’t there?”

“Something…” Changbin shrinks into himself a bit, looking down at his sleeve.

They sit in awkward silence for several moments too long. The discomfort was overtaking Chan, and he felt like he was about to explode, until he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He let all of his pent up thoughts spill from the bottom of his heart. “It started before Minho. Years before Minho, I know it. Back at the end of high school.”

The younger man peers over the frames of his glasses, but doesn’t move, nor does he say anything.

“I think we were too stupid to realize it when we were younger. Probably too afraid to act on it and fuck up our friendship. God,” Chan wipes his face, not realizing that the nervousness of pouring out all of his feelings had caused a couple of tears to spill from his eyes. “You started dating Minho after we started our senior year of university. I remember you being really scared about it, saying you were worried you weren’t the right person for him, but now I think you were worried he wasn’t the right person for you.”

Changbin buries his face into his elbow, saying nothing.

The burning in Chan’s abdomen starts to alleviate a bit, like a knot is unravelling, but the nervousness still courses through his veins. He was in too deep to stop now. “You got lucky with him, and I know you loved him as much as he loved you. You deserved someone like him, Binnie, you really did. It was unfair that Minho was taken from you so early.”

A choked noise comes up from Changbin as he drops his phone, the camera angled in such a way that Chan can see him pull his knees into his chest as he tries to avoid crying again.

“I know you miss him, and you should. But you’ve been running to me a lot ever since you lost him. I don’t believe it’s because you have no one else to turn to, nor do I think it’s an unhealthy thing. Clearly, we trust each other a lot.” Chan took in a long, deep shaky breath. There was no turning back, so he was going to pull out all of the stops. “You’re my best friend, Changbin. I love you and that’s never gonna change. But, it’s only fair that you know that I love you as more than just a friend, and I’m gonna guess that you love me like that, too, even if you don’t admit it.”

“Channie,” the younger man whines, still curled up in himself.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Bin. I’ve always said that, and I’m always going to mean it. I’m gonna say it again, and I want you to hear it clearly: I love you, Changbin.”

There are tears rolling down Chan’s face, now. Not tears of sadness, but tears of relief. The knot that had been coiled up inside of him for years had finally unravelled, causing all of the tension built up inside of him to finally release.

“I,” Changbin lifts his head from his elbow, then shakily reaches for his phone, bringing it up to his face. “I love you, too. I have for so long, but I didn’t realize that’s what it was until after Minho died. I just thought I was being an idiot about my feelings, and..” His voice trails off, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I didn’t wanna lose you, Channie.”

“You idiot,” Chan scoffs, wiping his face. “It’d take a lot more than that to scare me away. We know too many dark secrets about each other to have something threaten our friendship like that.”

“You mean too much to me,” the younger man whines, tucking his chin into his chest. “It sounds nice, though.”

“What does?”

“You telling me that you love me. It feels different now, but I love hearing it.” Changbin flops backwards onto his pillow, turning his head to the side so he can rest his phone against the pillow as he closes his eyes. “It’s like the way a satisfying chord hits in a song and you just feel warm in your entire body.”

Chan hums, gently rolling onto his back, imitating Changbin’s positioning. “That’s oddly specific.”

A grin spreads on the younger man’s face. “I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, dude. Let me be weirdly specific.”

“Changbin,” Chan whispers with a smile.

“Hmm?” Changbin cocks his head upward.

“Look at me.”

The younger man whines as he opens his eyes. “What?”

“I wanted you to see my face when I tell you that I love you.”

There’s a soft shade of scarlet that tints Changbin’s face as he parts his lips, mentally replaying the words over in his head. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Changbin.”

“Yeah,” the younger man closes his eyes again, smiling widely. “I love you too, Chan.”

“I suppose that does sound good, doesn’t it?”

Changbin softly nods his head and hums.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Chan’s eyes grow heavy as he watches Changbin slowly melt into his pillow.

“No,” the younger man whines, pulling his brows together, as if he were going to protest. “Insomniacs don’t sleep, stupid.”

Chan smiles a bit and nuzzles his cheek against his pillow. “Yeah, yeah,” he closes his eyes and listens to Changbin’s breathing on the other line. “Insomniacs…” his voice trails off as he drifts into sleep.

“Fuck!” Chan bolts upright in a cold sweat as the soft rays of dawn start to pour into his hotel room. He looks over his shoulder at the digital clock, reading 05:47. Once he realizes he hasn’t slept through his alarm, like he did in his dream, a sigh of relief escapes his lips. He unceremoniously flops back down onto his pillow, grabbing his phone to watch Changbin.

The younger man is still asleep, covering his face with his elbow. Some soft snoring can be heard if Chan really focuses on it, and taking in the moment warms his heart. There’s a moment where Chan realizes something, and he gets a look of determination on his face as he taps around on his phone.

“Oh, that’s perfect timing.” He mutters some other words incoherently to himself as he continues tapping away until he sends off something and relaxes. “Well, that’ll take care of that.”

Changbin didn’t mean to pass out on the line, but it was inevitable. For the first time in months, he actually felt relaxed enough to sleep for longer than a couple of hours at a time. His eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sunlight from his window. It felt later than Changbin expected as he stared out at the Seoul skyline. He sleepily reached for his phone, not surprised that the call had been terminated.

It was 09:13. He had a mass of texts from Chan, which he immediately opened after he unlocked his phone.

06:57 | chan: ok so i’ll admit i’ve been up for a while just staring at you, watching you sleep and it’s just 06:58 | chan: holy shit that sounds really creepy without context… whatever 06:59 | chan: i don’t know what to say 07:00 | chan: i love you binnie 07:01 | chan: sorry i have to cut our video call short before you wake up but i’m glad you finally slept for once 07:02 | chan: i’ve got a busy day ahead of me but we should chat later, yeah? 07:02 | chan: gonna say it again just because i can, you can’t stop me 07:03 | chan: no, literally, you can’t because you’re asleep lol 07:04 | chan: wow that was a stupid joke. anyway! 07:04 | chan: i love you, text me when you wake up

“Oh,” Changbin whispers to himself. Memories of the night prior had started to flood back up, causing him to flush in slight embarrassment. He really admitted that he was in love with his best friend, and he hadn’t just dreamt of it. It was completely unexpected, but he welcomed it with open arms.

He shot off a quick “morning, love you too, weirdo” text to Chan, still nervous over what exactly to say. Honestly, the encounter last night felt a bit like a fever dream, caused by his insomnia. He figured that he had exaggerated a bit of it, but these texts confirmed how real it all was.

Changbin stared at the ceiling for longer than he’d like to admit, eventually shifting his way to his feet, shuffling away to his washroom to shower. As he stripped his clothes off, nearly ready to step into the warm shower, his phone vibrated against the porcelain of the sink. Normally, he would have ignored it, but on the off chance it was Chan, he didn’t want to risk missing it.

09:40 | chan: “insomniacs don’t sleep” huh? 09:40 | chan: are you working today?

A bit of a grin curls up on Changbin’s face as he reads Chan’s messages. He shoots off a “nope, stuck at home so you should call me when you’re free” text, then sets his phone down on the sink before retreating off into the shower.

His shower is brief, just enough to quickly wash off. It couldn’t have been more than maybe eight minutes before Changbin was back out on the cool linoleum floor, rubbing a towel around his head, then wrapping it around his waist. As soon as the towel is securely tucked around him, he grabs his phone to see he’s missed two calls from Chan. He wastes no time returning the call, surprised when Chan picks up on the second ring.

“Changbin!” The excitement in Chan’s voice startles Changbin a bit. “I thought you said you didn’t have to work today?”

“I don’t,” the younger man grumbles, “I just wanted to take a quick shower. Didn’t think you were gonna be so quick to call me.”

“You said you’re staying home today, right?”

Changbin squints as he looks at himself in the mirror, parting his hair with a comb. “Yeah, I mean, I usually do on Sundays. Why?”

“What are you doing right now?” Chan sounds a bit too excited over the phone, causing Changbin to feel a bit suspicious.

“I just told you, dude,” he sighed, setting the comb down on the countertop. “I was showering, saw I missed a couple calls from you, so I’m standing in the washroom, freezing myself half to death because I didn’t grab any clothes to put on right after.”

There’s a deep breath on the other line. “Changbin,” Chan starts, his voice a bit nervous.

“What?”

“You should go to your front door.”

Changbin furrows his brows in confusion, shaking his head a couple of times. “Why?”

“Would you just trust me? Go on, just go.”

The younger man opens his mouth to protest, but the line goes dead. Changbin pulls his phone away from his ear, staring at the “call terminated” message on his screen before it disappears. “What a fucking weirdo,” he grumbles to himself, but makes his way out of the washroom and towards the front door anyways. “This is dumb,” but yet, he still unlocks his front door and opens it. He looks down at the ground, seeing nothing, then pulls the door back, looking at the front of it and, again, sees nothing.

“The fuck? Goddammit, Chan.” Admittedly, Changbin had gotten his hopes up that something or someone would be there because, honestly, why else would Chan have called him to tell him that, then hang up on him? As he slipped back behind the door, moving to close it, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You know,” the voice chirps up from around the corner, and Changbin’s eyes go wide, “I did say I’d come by and smack you upside the head to knock you out, but you already slept. Guess I’ve gotta come up with something new, huh?” Chan came around the corner, wearing a cocky grin as he made eye contact with a very surprised Changbin.

“I thought,” the younger man shakes his head in shock, “you weren’t supposed to be back for… how are you even?”

Chan shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand in the air. “I may or may not have fabricated a bit of a lie, saying that someone I knew was sick and I needed to come back to Seoul to take care of them. They didn’t need me there to begin with, anyways.”

The air between them is tense, but not with a nervous tension. There’s a pining energy between both of them, causing Changbin to take an inviting step back as Chan steps forward into his apartment. He swallows hard, letting go of the door as he backs up into the wall. “So, this person that’s sick, I assume you mean that’s me?”

The older man closes the distance between them, and the front door slams shut. “Yeah,” Chan lowers his voice. “Guess you’ve come down with something.”

“That’s a drag,” Changbin’s voice quivers a bit with nervousness, yet he confidently looks up at Chan. “Suppose I need someone to help take care of me with whatever I’m sick with, huh?”

Chan takes his hands, placing one on Changbin’s hip, and places the other one on the side of his neck. The touch causes the younger man to shiver and melt into his hand, softly exhaling. “Lovesickness,” Chan whispers with a coy smirk on his face, craning his head down next to Changbin’s ear. “There’s only one thing that cures that.”

Changbin wants to laugh at the stupidity of how cheesy that sounded, but instead, he found himself bringing his hands up to Chan’s back, digging his fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt. He gently rubs his cheek against the older man’s, whispering into his ear. “How are you going to cure me?”

“With this kind of sickness,” a quiet tsk comes from Chan, and it causes the hairs on the back of Changbin’s neck to rise, “the only thing I can do is give aggressive treatment.”

Before Changbin can make a proper comeback, Chan takes the hand around the younger man’s neck, sliding his thumb around his jawline to get a steady grip. The older man pulls back, making brief eye contact with Changbin before he hastily brings their faces together, crashing their lips against each other.

There’s soft electricity that bounces between the two of them, like this moment was meant to happen for so long, and there was finally a delicious payoff. Changbin expected more awkwardness between them for their first kiss, but everything just blended together. He drags a hand up to Chan’s neck, pulling him in closer.

Chan chuckles against Changbin’s lips, opening his mouth a bit as an invitation. The younger man wastes no time pressing his tongue forward, rolling it around cautiously against the older man’s tongue. He accidentally lets out a bit of a whine, which causes Chan to pull the two of them together, subconsciously grinding up against one another.

Changbin pushes up against Chan, bringing his hands down the older man’s body, down to his hands. He pulls away from the kiss, tugging at Chan’s hands. “Come on,” he whispers, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Impatient, are we?” Chan grins, not budging as Changbin tries to pull him along.

“It just feels,” there’s a pause as Changbin sheepishly looks down at his feet. “Feels like it should happen, you know?”

Chan shakes his head and scoffs. He pulls back, then ducks down and scoops Changbin up under his knees and pulls him off the floor and into his chest.

“The fuck are you doing?” Changbin practically shouts, eyes wide with panic as he’s hoisted up into the air.

“Working on giving you what you want, duh.”

Changbin huffs in embarrassment, but still wraps his arms around Chan’s neck. “Awfully brash of you, don’t you think? We’re not even dating, dude.”

“Oh, come on. You were thinking about this, too. You literally just said it feels like it should happen,” Chan scoffs as he maneuvers them both through the bedroom door. “Like not dating someone ever stopped either of us from sleeping with people in university. If you’re worried I’m gonna see you naked and be upset,” he pauses, gently placing Changbin onto his bed before crawling over him. “Well, I mean, really, every time we’ve gone to the gym together? Really?”

“Your arrogance truly knows no bounds,” Changbin frowns as he quips.

“Admit it,” Chan smirks, “it’s a big reason you love me, isn’t it?”

The words cause Changbin’s brain to short circuit for a minute before he rapidly blinks himself back to reality. “Yeah,” he sputters out, “yeah, I love you. All of you. Your stupid arrogance and all.”

It’s apparent that Chan wasn’t expecting such a serious response, but he smiles genuinely down to Changbin. “I love you too, Binnie.” He presses a quick peck to Changbin’s forehead, then pulls back and grins. “It’s way better saying that in person.”

“It’s better hearing it in person, too,” Changbin reaches his hands up to Chan’s face, pulling him back down for a proper kiss. “It’s not fair, though,” he whines in between kisses, “you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion.”

“That so, eh?” Chan pulls back, sitting on his heels. “Guess we’re gonna have to do something about that.”

Changbin sits up and cocks an eyebrow and smirks with arrogance. “Way ahead of you.” He reaches down to the bottom of Chan’s shirt and pulls it up, the older man easily complying with his nonverbal demand. Changbin haphazardly tosses the shirt to the floor, then catches himself staring a bit too long at Chan’s torso. “Oh,” he manages to breathe out. “I must not have looked at you close enough the last time we worked out, because this definitely would have gotten stored in my head for later.”

“For later?” Chan smirks.

“Wait,” Changbin vigorously shakes his head and his face reddens. “No, no, no, not like that. I mean, yeah, I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about it, but I wouldn’t just…” He stops speaking, and sighs heavily, burying his head in his hands with embarrassment. “Fuck.”

“You think about me, hmm? You only think about me, or is there something more to that blush you're trying to cover up?”

There’s an awkward pause between them, and Changbin grumbles something to himself before speaking coherently. “Goddammit. Fine, yeah. But only, like, a couple of times.”

Chan reaches forward, gently pulling Changbin’s wrists away from his face, forcing them to make eye contact. “Guess it’s only fair to tell you that the feeling’s mutual,” he whispers.

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah, but that’s not important right now, not when I’ve got the real thing in front of me.” Chan shrugs and presses a quick peck to Changbin’s lips, then continues offering small kisses down his jawline to his ear. He takes the lobe between his teeth and softly nibbles on it. “Tell me about what you think about when you think of me. Maybe I’ll make it happen.”

Changbin squirms, gasping softly as a jolt runs through him when Chan rolls the sensitive flesh between his teeth. “All I can think about is the fact that you’re still overdressed,” he manages to speak, his voice airy and distracted. Changbin’s clammy fingers tremble as they dance down Chan’s shoulders, down his torso. “You wouldn’t be this dressed if I were to think something distasteful about you. Hypothetically, of course.”

“Hmm,” Chan steadies himself on his knees, reaching down to grab Changbin’s wrists. He pulls them up and brings the younger man’s arms above his head, looking down with confidence. “Have a little patience.”

“I don’t wanna be patient.” Changbin pauses, darting his eyes down, pursing his lips together. “I’ve been waiting for what feels like years, Chan.” His words come out at a low voice as he nervously mutters down into his chest.

Chan must have picked up on the nervousness the man beneath him was feeling. He takes one of his hands and gently lifts Changbin’s chin up. “Look at me,” he whispers as they make eye contact. “Trust me, I’ve been waiting for this for a while, too. I don’t wanna fuck it up,” he sighs and his confident aura drops a bit, “and I guess I’m a little nervous, too.”

Changbin frowns slightly. “Are you hesitating?”

“A little bit, I guess?” Chan shakes his head and shrugs. He scans Changbin’s eyes over a few times, then starts to pull back.

“No,” Changbin interrupts, taking his free hand and quickly pulling Chan in closer to him by the back of his head. They crash their lips together in an awkward, rough kiss. Chan lets go of Changbin’s wrist, softly caressing the younger man’s face as he pushes deeper into the kiss. “You wanna know what I think about?”

“What?” Chan’s response comes out muffled against Changbin’s lips.

Changbin takes Chan’s wrist, guiding his hand down to his neck. “I think about how your hands would feel here,” then he drags the hand down to his sternum, “how your fingernails would scratch against me here.”

Almost as if on reflex, Chan digs his fingers into Changbin’s skin, grazing them down ever so softly. “Like that?”

A soft gasp comes between Chan and Changbin in response. “Yeah,” the younger man breathes, letting go of Chan’s wrist. “I think about how your nails would feel as they dragged down my stomach, all the way down…”

Chan continues trailing his fingers down, as if Changbin’s words were a set of instructions. “Then what?” His fingers stop at the younger man’s hip bones, and he dips his thumb into the corner of the bone, causing Changbin to arch his back and break away from the kiss with a strangled cry.

“Fuck,” he whines, “I wasn’t expecting that.” He dips his head back down, looking up to the older man with nervousness and excitement.

“Well, what’s next?” Chan cocks his head to the side, brushing his thumb against the skin above Changbin’s hip bone. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Changbin whines, rolling his hips up into Chan’s touch. “I want you, Chan.”

For a fleeting moment, a soft smile appears on Chan’s face, before he takes his hand and slides it down, hooking into the towel around Changbin’s waist. This causes the younger man’s eyes to go wide. He licks his lower lip, then nibbles on it as he anxiously nods. “Please,” he whines.

Chan tugs at the taut towel, eventually causing it to unravel. Changbin sighs in approval, letting his eyes flutter shut. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels the bed shift and sees Chan rifling through his nightstand. “What are you doing?” He grumbles, frowning at the distraction. “Why are you going through my shit? Are you looking for something?”

“Yeah,” Chan bites his tongue as he sifts through various papers and paraphernalia in the drawer. “Where the fuck is your lube?”

“Have you ever thought about asking, dude?” Changbin rolls his eyes and moves to the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. “You really think I’m dumb enough to keep it in the nightstand that’s close to my bedroom door?”

“Come on,” Chan pulls back a bit, desperately trying not to let his eyes wander down. He watches Changbin rifle through his belongings, as he brings his fingers to the waistband of his jeans. The button pops out of the hole effortlessly, and he can’t help but feel relieved as he tugs the zipper down, giving his erection a little bit of relief as it presses up against his boxer briefs.

“Here,” Changbin says, tossing the bottle of lube over towards Chan, not realizing that he wasn’t prepared to catch it. The bottle smacks Chan in the chest and falls just to the side of Changbin’s legs, somehow, thankfully missing any tender areas.

“Ow,” Chan rubs his chest and glares at the younger man. “Why the fuck did you throw it at me?”

Changbin, however, doesn’t respond. He finds himself too distracted by the way the colour of Chan’s navy briefs complements his skin. His head slowly tilts to the side and he stares at the outline of Chan’s cock against his underwear and he blinks a couple of times.

“Why are you staring?” Chan tuts, resting his hand on his hip. “You’ve seen it before.”

“Context,” Changbin shakes his head and stares up at Chan in disbelief before he sits upright, getting into the older man’s face. “Yeah, I’ve seen it, but like, I’ve never seen it like this. Not hard, and definitely not hard for me.”

A bit of a smile creeps up Chan’s lips. “You don’t know that. Maybe you didn’t pay enough attention before.” He winks as he hooks his thumbs into his jeans and underwear, making deliberate eye contact as he slowly pulls the clothes down.

It’s obvious that Changbin is desperately trying not to watch Chan’s clothes sink to the bed, pooling down at his knees. “I’m paying attention now, though.”

“I can tell. Now,” Chan grabs the lube next to Changbin’s leg and takes a finger, pushing it against the younger man’s chest, “lie down, so I can give you what you want.”

Changbin rests back on his elbows, still trying to maintain eye contact with Chan. “What makes you think I belong down here? Maybe I’d rather ride you?”

“Oh, please,” Chan rolls his eyes as he squeezes some lube onto his fingers, then haphazardly discards the bottle to the side of the bed. “I know you too well. You’re an observer, not a performer. You’d rather be down there watching me put in all the effort.” The older man winks and slides his fingers between Changbin’s legs.

A frustrated huff comes from Changbin as he lies fully on his back. “Yeah, yeah,” he frowns. “I guess you have a point. I’m not always like that, though. Besides, this lack of sleep has me exhausted, so I really don’t wanna put in too much energy.”

Chan raises one of his eyebrows as he teasingly rubs a finger around Changbin’s entrance, eliciting a soft gasp from the younger man. “You know,” he whispers as his index finger slowly glides inside, “I did just get on an hour-long flight on very little sleep to come and see you. I even lied to my boss, saying you were sick. Maybe I don’t wanna put in effort either, and maybe I do wanna watch you ride me.”

Changbin’s eyes shut tightly as he loses himself in the sensation of how Chan’s finger explores his insides. “We agreed, though,” he breathes out and grips the sheets underneath him, “lovesickness, or whatever stupid cheesy thing you came up with. You said you were going to ‘aggressively treat’ me, or something like that.” He opens one of his eyes and looks up at Chan. “So do it. Show me what you’re gonna do.”

“Oh, I’ll show you what I’m gonna do, all in good time. I do have to commend you, though,” Chan tuts as he slides his middle finger inside, causing Changbin to choke on his own saliva, “you’re a lot bolder than I expected you would be in the sheets. Always pinned you as the pillow princess type, and you’re kinda proving my point.”

“Fuck you,” Changbin shakes his head and growls at Chan. “I am not a pillow princess.”

Chan slips his middle finger completely inside and grins as Changbin’s cocky demeanour falters a bit in reaction. “You totally are. You wanna roll your head back and let go completely right now, that much is obvious. You’re just pretending to channel some arrogant energy and I see right through it.”

“I hate you,” Changbin spits through his teeth as he reaches up to Chan’s shoulders, gripping them tightly.

“No, you don’t.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and shoves Chan back a bit, then rolls him around onto his back, causing the older man’s fingers to slide out of him. “You specifically riled me up because you knew I’d do this, didn’t you?”

Chan, while still a bit shocked by Changbin suddenly reversing their roles, manages to flash a cheeky grin. “So, maybe I did? It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable, you know?” Changbin rolled his eyes, then grabbed Chan’s lubed hand as he positioned himself over Chan’s stomach. “I’m not done with you, yet, though.”

Picking up on Changbin’s intentions, Chan moved his hand closer to the inside of Changbin’s thighs. He worked his fingers back inside the younger man, causing him to stumble forward a bit and grab the headboard. “So nice of you to consider my exhaustion in all of this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the younger man sighed. “I still can’t believe you think I’d lay here and do nothing, though.”

“Come on,” Chan scoffs and slowly works his ring finger inside, making Changbin dig his nails into the headboard a bit harder. “I don’t actually think that. Honestly, I have no idea what to expect from you. All I know is that you’re easy to rile up.”

“Seriously? Fuck you,” Changbin whines with insincerity, arching his back as Chan’s fingers stretch him out.

Chan licks his bottom lip, nibbling on it a bit as he watches the arrogance dissolve from the younger man above him. He rotates his middle finger around, offering soft, circular strokes inside of him. When he pushes a bit firmer, it causes Changbin to twitch and let out a bit of a mewl. The older man arrogantly smirks, circling around the sensitive spot a bit more before he pulls each finger out slowly. As Changbin stares down at him in disbelief, Chan shrugs his shoulders. “You could do that. You seem stretched out enough to fuck me.”

For a moment, Changbin looks like he was considering saying something unsavoury, but instead bites his tongue — literally. He shifts back a bit, then grabs the bottle of lube, carelessly squeezing some of it into his hand, then works some of it on to Chan’s cock. “So much for ‘aggressive treatment’, if I’m the one doing all the labour.”

“Hey now,” Chan breathes out, clearly enjoying the way Changbin’s hand feels on him. “Sometimes, you’ve gotta put in effort to be fully healed. Besides, I did my part in stretching you out.”

Changbin shakes his head in feigned irritation. “Yeah, I guess you’re technically right. Makes you the pillow princess now, though.” He playfully winks, then rubs up against the head of Chan’s cock to prevent him from protesting. Once he’s lined up, he slowly slides down, electricity coursing through his veins as the sensation of being filled overtakes him.

“Fuck,” Chan slaps a hand down on to Changbin’s thigh, rolling his head back into the pillow. “Bin, you feel incredible.”

“You’re not even completely inside of me yet,” the younger man’s voice trembles a bit as he grits his teeth. Changbin takes his hand, placing it on top of the hand on his thigh. They both scramble around for a moment, fingers shakily interlacing into each other. “Other hand,” Changbin whines, “gimme your other hand, Channie.” The older man obliges, reaching out to Changbin. They tangle their fingers into knots, and Changbin finally takes Chan fully inside of him, tightly gripping the fingers interlaced with his.

Changbin looks down to Chan’s torso, catching his breath as he lets his body acclimate to the feeling of being connected. Chan presses his elbow down into the bed, releasing his hands from Changbin’s, as he sits upright. He takes his other hand and grips the younger man’s surprised face. “I wanted to be able to kiss you,” he whispers, then tentatively presses his lips to Changbin’s forehead.

“You could’ve just told me,” Changbin sighs, not from irritation, but from contentment.

Chan tsks, kissing a line down from the younger man’s forehead, down his nose, then softly presses his lips against Changbin’s lips. “Wanted to be closer to you,” he punctuates the space in between each word with a quick peck. “I’m not gonna fuck you like a one night stand.”

“Ah,” Changbin nods his head once, grinding his hips up, “so you’re a romantic type, huh?” His voice quivers a bit, and he presses his forehead against Chan’s. “Guess I should’ve known.”

“Doubt you’d complain,” Chan whispers, digging his fingers into Changbin’s back and gripping his neck a bit firmer. “Are you ready, Bin?”

The younger man nods rapidly, hastily pressing his lips against Chan’s. “Yeah,” he affirms, dragging his teeth against Chan’s bottom lip.

The movements are slow, calculated. Chan rolls his hips up into Changbin, letting go of the younger man’s face, placing his arm behind him to support both of them. Changbin leans forward, pressing his weight into his knees as he holds both sides of Chan’s face between his hands. He lifts himself off of his heels, slowly making his way up and down Chan’s length, both of them working in tandem with each other.

“Chan,” Changbin whines, trying to connect their lips together as he gradually increases the pace at which he moves. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Changbin,” Chan complies, bringing his hand up from the younger man’s back, digging his nails into the soft skin as his fingers glide up. “You mean everything to me.” He brings his hand to Changbin’s neck, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Chan breaks away from their sloppy kiss and presses his forehead to Changbin’s.

“I’m thankful you let me be your best friend,” Chan continues. “You’ve been there with me for over a decade now, and I know I wouldn’t have been able to get through half of the things I’ve been through without you.”

Changbin sarcastically scoffs, breathing heavily as he keeps riding Chan. “I wouldn’t be here,” he shudders as Chan rotates his hips up, changing the way he feels inside of Changbin, “fuck, I wouldn’t have made it through this last year without you.” The younger man whimpers a bit, trying to catch his breath. “I needed you, and you were there. I just, fuck— I love you, Chan. I love you, I love you so much.”

Chan pulls Changbin in closer, trying to kiss the younger man, making a pointed effort to make sure their lips connect. They awkwardly kiss a bit until Changbin moves his hands down to grab Chan’s shoulders, allowing for a bit more control. He moves faster, getting more of a verbal reaction from the older man underneath him. Changbin opens his mouth and Chan wastes no time pushing his tongue into the open space.

They let their tongues dance around each other, exploring the new unknowns, trying to memorize the warmth and dampness of the other’s mouth. Chan drops his hand from Changbin’s face, and the younger man pulls away to protest until he feels the warm hand wrap around his cock, his protest being replaced with a mewl.

“Sorry,” Chan pulls away with a gasp, looking at Changbin with a bit of embarrassment. “I’m already close and I wanted to make sure you got there, too.”

Changbin twitches and rolls his head back, letting out a desperate moan. “Chan,” he whines, “if you keep going, it’s not gonna take me long to…”

“I don’t care,” Chan interrupts, “I wanna see how cute your face looks when you come all over me.”

“Fuck you and your stupid, ah,” Changbin grits his teeth, losing his train of thought as he tries to contain his emotions and fails. “I’m gonna… Chan, I—” He involuntarily leans back on his heels, his head rolling back as his back arches. His shoulders roll up to his ears and he lets out a whine as his body convulses, cum shooting up into the air and landing on both of their stomachs.

Chan bites his lip as he watches Changbin fall apart in front of him. “Can I come inside?” His voice is breathless, words caught between pants as he continues rolling his hips, haphazardly thrusting upward as his motions become slightly jerky and more erratic.

The younger man pants as he nods and reorients himself, bringing himself to collapse into the chest in front of him. “Yeah, yeah, come inside me, Chan.” Changbin nuzzles his head up into Chan’s neck, then firmly sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh in front of him, eliciting a small gasp from the older man.

“Changbin,” Chan whines, drawing out the last syllable of the younger man’s name as he curls inward and his body trembles. He grips Changbin’s back tightly, squeezing him into a close embrace as he comes. His body quivers for a few moments, then eventually calms down. As his breathing slows to a normal pace, Chan shakily sits upright, exchanging a smile with Changbin. He kisses the younger man’s lips softly, reaching up to his shoulders and pulls them both down to the bed.

A tiny squeal comes up from Changbin as he’s rendered horizontal. “Chan,” he whines as he tries to sit upright, but Chan pulls him into a deep kiss.

“Shut up for a minute,” Chan whispers against Changbin’s lips. They exchange tender, tired kisses for several minutes, until Chan pulls back. He looks up to Changbin, smiling softly. “I love you so much. I really do mean it, Bin. Like, you mean the world to me.”

“I love you too, Chan. More than I could put into words.” Changbin smiles back, brushing some of Chan’s stray hairs out of his face. “You also look really hot right now, literally and metaphorically.” He sighs, taking in the way Chan looks, glistening in sweat and covered in his cum. “As much as I love looking at you like this, though, we’re gross and should absolutely shower.”

“Ah,” Chan shakes his head, trying to force himself to stay awake. “Yeah, good point. Sorry to make you shower again so shortly after you already cleaned yourself up once.”

“It’s fine, I’d say it was a fair trade-off.” The younger man dismissively waves his hand in the air. He shudders as he gets off of Chan, making his way to his feet and offering a hand to the man curled up on the bed beneath him. “You can throw the sheets in the wash and help me make the bed later to make up for it, yeah?”

“Deal.”

Changbin rests his damp head against Chan’s chest, listening to the way his heartbeat thrums against the walls of his ribcage. “As much as I love hearing you tell me how much you love me,” he whispers, “I think listening to your heart might be my favourite thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Means you’re alive.” Changbin lets his eyes flutter shut. “I could record you saying ‘I love you’ to me and listen to it over and over, but it would be hard to capture exactly how your heartbeat sounds over a recording.”

Chan laughs, the sound blending in nicely with his heartbeat. “As romantic as that sounds, you sound like a bit of a serial killer.”

“You never know,” Changbin tuts, tilting his head up to look at Chan. “I could be. Maybe I hide the bodies in my laundry closet.”

“Oh, please,” the older man rolls his eyes, “you don’t have it in you.”

Changbin walks his fingers over Chan’s chest, towards his nightstand, but stops halfway. “I could keep a knife in there, you know.”

Chan deadpans. “Dude, I know you have one in there.”

“What?” The colour drains from Changbin’s face.

“Yeah,” a laugh bubbles up from Chan’s stomach. “I mean, I don’t know where exactly you keep it, but you told me you had one in your bedroom somewhere. Remember that one time you told me that Minho wanted you to do some kinky shit with a knife, but you both chickened out because you were too afraid you were actually gonna hurt him?”

Changbin’s forehead collides against Chan’s sternum with a thud. “Fuck,” he groans, “I forgot I told you that.”

“You were drunk and Minho was really fucking embarrassed. ‘I can’t believe you’d tell Chan that!’, he yelled at you, and you were all like, ‘Chan knows everything about my sex life, I tell you this all the time!’ and then Minho threw the last of his rice at you and missed.”

Both of them laugh so hard, recalling the memory. “Oh my god,” Changbin doubles over as he laughs. “I totally forgot about that. Then he cried because he couldn’t believe he threw something at me, but then he was more upset that he had missed.”

Chan calmed his laughter down and sighed. “He was quirky. I liked that about him.”

“Me too.” Changbin wraps his arm around Chan’s torso and closes his eyes. “Sometimes, I can still hear his laugh when I walk through the empty apartment. It’s like I can see him on the couch, cats curled up in his lap as he had his feet up on the table, working on some management proposal.

“He’d bite his lip until it bled,” the younger man continued, “he’d get so focused on his stupid work projects. ‘I can’t let them be lost without me,’ he’d tell me after I would’ve scolded him. ‘Gotta make the transition easy, since it could be any day.’” Changbin sighed and shook his head, burying it further into Chan’s chest. “That idiot was more concerned about work than his own health.”

Chan brought up a hand to stroke Changbin’s damp hair. “Concerned over work and you. I think you forgot that he was always so worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Changbin rubbed the back of his hand against the underside of his nose as he sniffled. “He put everyone before himself, which is probably why he got so sick so fast.”

“Hey, no, stop it,” Chan whispered, rolling on to his side as he pulled Changbin into an embrace. “You sound like you’re about to start blaming yourself for something you and I both know was out of your control.”

“But—”

“Changbin,” the older man interjects, “it was terminal. Sure, Minho dying was out of the blue, but you couldn’t’ve stopped it. None of us could have.”

There’s an air of tension in the room, silence filling the void for several moments. “You’re right, I know,” the young man buries his head into Chan’s chest. “Doesn’t make it suck less.”

“It doesn’t,” Chan agrees, “but you’ve gotta live on, keep living the best life you can in his memory.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.” Changbin nuzzled his way around Chan’s chest to hear the older man’s heartbeat again. “Don’t leave me, Chan.”

“I would never dream of it.” Chan whispers as he runs his fingers through Changbin’s hair. “I’m never gonna leave you. I love you, Changbin.”

“I love you, too, Chan.” Changbin whispers back, and the two men lay there in silence, wrapped up in one another, until sleep overtakes them.

For the first time in nearly a year, Changbin finally slept through the night without a nightmare haunting him.