#problem is i just really really really really really despise driving

[airenyah]

i don't want new bbs special eps i just want to watch all of แค่เพื่อน​ครับ​เพื่อน​ BAD BUDDY SERIES (2021) live on a weekly basis for the very first time again

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were. 

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you. 

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive. 

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later. 

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost. 

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go. 

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question. 

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you. 

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet. 

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong. 

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours. 

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms. 

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close. 

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want. 

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel. 

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart. 

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you. 

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you. 

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure. 

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger. 

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes. 

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies. 

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch. 

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.  

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.  

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way. 

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak. 

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear. 

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you. 

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to. 

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him. 

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise. 

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important. 

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra. 

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him. 

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked. 

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands. 

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Not right now,” he agrees. 

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides. 

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown. 

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range. 

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff. 

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight. 

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles. 

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing. 

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs. 

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought. 

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you. 

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together. 

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles. 

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage. 

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair. 

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess. 

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you. 

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you. 

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this? 

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself. 

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply. 

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone. 

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck. 

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him. 

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff. 

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again. 

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod. 

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.  

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze. 

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction. 

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him. 

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions. 

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core. 

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry. 

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious. 

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. 

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him. 

Thankfully, he delivers. 

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl. 

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you. 

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds. 

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second. 

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh. 

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer. 

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit. 

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light. 

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous. 

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning. 

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan. 

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it. 

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection. 

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core. 

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first. 

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

-

part three

[leighsartworks216]

Sleepy Kitty

Sylus x gn!Reader

What if you became the cat and also got that sleepy cat feature with the service?? Think about it

Warnings: fluff, silly, cat ears and tail, cuddling, panic, some sort of a relationship going on, Xavier cameo

Word Count: 1,672

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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Your heart can’t sit still, torn between aching and frantically racing in a frenzied panic. Every time you look into the mirror, you start freaking out. You had to call in sick this morning with a poor excuse, cancel all your plans for today and tomorrow, and try to figure out a solution to your problem:

You are a cat.

Well, you have the ears and tail, at least. At first, you can’t believe it. But sure enough, they’re real. Real and not disappearing.

You tug desperately at the fluffy ears, yanking on them, praying they’ll just disappear in a poof of smoke like it never happened. Instead, all you get is pain that has you scrunching up your face as you keep pulling on them, begging for this nightmare to end.

“Oh, sweetie.”

You yelp, diving into the blankets of your bed. “Go away! Don’t look at me!” You hide in the warm darkness, keeping the blankets held down tight over your head so they can’t be pulled off.

Sylus’s sigh is muffled as he crosses from your bedroom’s doorway to your bed. The mattress sinks down with his weight. “This is why you cancelled our plans today?”

You stubbornly don’t answer.

“Sweetie, ignoring me isn’t going to make me leave faster. Talk to me.”

“I’m fine, just go away,” you insist.

“You really need to get better at lying.”

He grabs your tail as it flicks out from under the blanket. You have to release the blankets to grab it back from him, and he uses that opportunity to uncover you entirely. The jig is up, but you refuse to turn and face him. Your new cat ears lay flat on your head. Even in your hold, your tail is flicking with irritation.

He reaches out to touch the cute ears you despise so much, but you swat his hand away at the first brush. He can’t help his amusement - you really are a kitten.

“Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”

“Of course not,” he agrees, but the sincerity is obscured by his chuckle petering out. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened?”

You heave a long sigh. It hitches at the end as reality starts to crash down on you once more. “I don’t know. I mean, I just woke up this morning and,” you release your tail in favor of grabbing the fluffy tips of the cat ears, drawing them down on your head painfully, “these were here. And now they won’t go away!”

“Stop that,” he chastises you. He takes your hands, freeing the ears from your cruelty. His long fingers intertwine with yours as he wraps his arms around you, making you hug yourself at the same time, and drawing you into his lap. “We’ll figure it out.”

You give in, slowly relaxing back into his broad chest and the warmth he radiates. Your tail taps rhythmically against his leg as it swishes back and forth over your bedsheets.“What if we don’t? What if I’m stuck like this forever?”

He kisses your head. Your ears stand up and brush his cheeks. He tries not to chuckle at how plainly your emotions have been laid bare. “We can worry about that later, after we’ve exhausted all possibilities. Deal?”

“... Deal.”

-

It is now mid-day. The sun is shining bright, the rest of the day is still to come, and you are sleepy. The kind of sleepy that makes you feel heavy and sluggish; that makes a big blanket sound like utter heaven.

Sylus is tired, too. His exhaustion, however, comes from staying up far past his usual bedtime. He’s much better at hiding it. Meanwhile, you’re yawning every other minute, rubbing your eyes, leaning against him whenever you’re at a standstill. For those last several minutes, he’s been leading you back to his car. You don’t realize what’s going on until he’s already driving.

“Mm, where are we going?” You frown out of the passenger side window. It doesn’t take long before your head is resting against the glass, cushioned by the beanie from your closet meant to hide the cat ears.

“Back to your place.”

“What for?”

He shoots you an amused grin. “It’s bedtime, kitten. We both need a nap.”

“Huh? No, wait, I’m fine!” You sit up straighter, crossing your arms and staring determinedly out the windshield. “I’m up, see? We can keep going.”

“Fine. I’ll take a nap and you can watch.”

The drive is quiet. The expensive car blocks out most of the noise outside. The radio is off, but the AC hums as it blows warm air. Sylus glances over frequently, watching as you slowly, slowly sink deeper into the heated leather seat. Your head rests awkwardly on your shoulder as you blearily glare at the passing buildings. The next time he looks over, your eyes are closed.

He pulls into the parking lot with ease. You don’t show any signs of waking up as he kills the ignition. Honestly, he’s glad for it. The entire time you’ve been trying to piece together the mystery, you kept working yourself up into a panic. Any more of that, you would make yourself sick from stress.

He rounds the car and carefully opens your door. In between unbuckling you and lifting you into his arms, he can’t help admiring you. The beanie is crooked, there’s bags under your eyes, and he’s never seen anything more beautiful than you right now.

The apartment building is very nice, especially with your finances. He nudges the elevator call button with his elbow and waits for it to come down. The silver doors open to reveal a blonde man in a white hoodie. Instead of getting out, the man keeps the doors from closing, watching him with sharp blue eyes as he steps in.

“What happened to them?”

Sylus puts on an easygoing grin. “They aren’t feeling well today. Don’t worry, they’re in good hands.” He nudges the button for your floor and quirks a brow at the man. “This not your stop?”

The man lets go of the doors, standing opposite from Sylus with his arms crossed and staring him down. “I’m just making sure they get home okay.”

With the slightest of shrugs, Sylus looks straight ahead, seemingly ignoring the man as the doors close and the elevator starts to move. The tension in the small space is heavy; it extends to every corner and between the little numbered buttons. Neither of them do anything to dissipate it.

When the door opens again, it’s like the pressure it released. The air in the hall completely overwhelms the distrust in the tiny elevator. It doesn’t disappear entirely, but it’s easier to breathe out here than in there.

The blonde man follows behind as Sylus carries you to your apartment door. He thinks you’ve told him about this coworker of yours before; you go out on missions together often. Funny - of all the times you’ve mentioned him, you never said anything about him behaving like this.

Sylus slides your legs further up his arm to free his hand. The man stares at the knob as he places his thumb on the lock. When it beeps and lights up green, he seems to relax a little, so slight that it’s only due to Sylus’s lifestyle that he was able to pick it out.

He pushes open the door and turns back to the man. “Will that be all?”

Blue eyes stare down appraisingly. Sylus can’t shake the way it unsettles him deeply, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up and his body preparing to fight if the need arises. Some background checks into this guy are now a necessity with how close he works and lives to you.

But the man nods. “Tell them I hope they feel better soon.”

“Of course.”

And just like that, the man is heading back to the elevator with a lazy yawn. Sylus shuts the door. He sighs heavily, looking down at your peaceful face. “You’re lucky I had the liberty of putting my print in your system,” he says. “I don’t think he’d have reacted well if I teleported in here.”

Your apartment is exactly how you both left it this morning. He follows the familiar path to your bedroom, bedsheets rumpled and covered in clothes from when you tried finding an outfit that could hide your tail. He gestures vaguely with his hand. Red and black tendrils of energy gather the clothes and stack them elsewhere to deal with later. Another tendril pulls down the blankets for him.

Being careful not to disturb you, he lays you down on your bed. You look soft, delicate. Completely vulnerable, and yet sleeping undisturbed even as he looms over you. He pulls the blankets up over your body and slides the hat off your head. Your fluffy cat ears shift and twitch slightly from being exposed to the open air once more, before they relax.

He stands up to go to the couch, but something holds onto his arm. When he looks, your tail has slipped from under the covers and the clothing you used to hide it, just to hold onto him. It was soft. It really would only take the slightest effort to slip free from its grasp, but when he started to step away, you started to frown. With an amused chuckle, he opens the blankets again and nudges you aside, before climbing into the bed.

You reposition yourself to use his chest as your pillow, arms wrapped around him and legs tangling with his. Your tail slips from his arm to curl around his waist.

And then you start purring. He smiles. Tentatively, he pets your ear. It twitches at first, before relaxing into his touch. You nuzzle your face over his heart.

“Sleep tight, kitten,” he whispers. His hand continues to lazily pet you as he closes his eyes. Your purrs act like a soothing balm to his soul as sleep slowly takes hold.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Waiting for the Ocean

(A/N): I just needed that. Maybe you do too. Enjoy.

Summary: Something wrong is with his girlfriend. Max is fearing for their relationship.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warnings: GRIEF, angst, so so much angst, emotional pain, some swears.

Wordcount: 1.7k

🏎Masterlist🏎

______________________ Max fears for his relationship. It’s as simple as that.

Lea has been distant recently.

Not really engaging when Max talks to her, telling her things from media duties or bits and pieces from the debriefs and team meetings. Which is weird, to Max at least, because Lea is a queen for gossip. That’s their way of bonding.

But currently, Lea only nods, her eyes having a far away look in them, signaling to the dutch man that his girlfriend mentally checked out.

He also feels shut out from Lea’s thoughts. When just a couple of weeks ago she told him close to anything that went through the pretty head of hers, from unhinged ideas to deeply philosophical questions, now there is not even a single opinion voiced. They sit together in the living room like strangers in a café, merely sharing the same space, but not the same feelings anymore.

Lea started to keep more to herself, locking in her hobby room, or woman cave as she called it when they moved into the apartment. Max has to admit, while not particularly proud, that he already tried listening to what is happening on the other side of the cold door. But he never hears more than shuffling when pressing his ear on the firm wood.

As a man who for 24 out of 52 a year drives a car made of durable cardboard at a literal neck breaking speed, Max feels utterly and completely helpless. This sudden shift in his girlfriend's behavior, leaves him with a feeling of a big heavy stone in his stomach. There is no escaping this reality, no matter how much he wishes for it. Right now, his relationship with the love of his life is crashing against a wall much faster than he ever drove. And Max feels like a bystander, watching the car crash in slow motion and sped up at the same time.

This sinking feeling, when you suddenly realize that there is a fatal problem, it’s killing Max. It closes up your throat, making you afraid to eat, drink, fuck, even talk. The longer it settles into your stomach, the less anything makes sense. Reality becomes a warped precious piece, your whole world view is tilted on its axes. Is anything you ever believed in before this feeling creeped up, even true? Who is to be trusted when you can’t even trust your own feelings right now?

In the last couple of days, Max knows one thing to be definitely, unshakably, true: Lea is not cheating on him. He can’t explain how he knows it for sure. But if he starts accusing his beloved of being in an act that ultimately kills a relationship, he can break up with her right way anyway. Accusing Lea of cheating on him, turning her back on their relationship, is the equivalent of accusing her of killing his mother. Because in a way, she would kill his feelings. Towards anything.

He tries to think rationally.

If it is not cheating, what is causing this riff between them then? What else makes a person who shares one hundred percent of themselves, say next to nothing? What whimsical feeling, moment, must have happened to change a person this drastically?

Max thinks about when it all started a couple weeks ago. They haven’t been out at that time. It can’t be any outside trauma. Or can it?

Maybe it’s something on her phone? Maybe people started some online hate campaign?

Max does what he despises the most. but for the sake of his relationship, he takes this upon himself: Reading through instagram and twitter comments.

What the Dutch man sees is nothing amusing to him, but it is unfortunately only the “usual” amount of hate and insults Lea has to see herself confronted with as the girlfriend of Max Verstappen. Something you usually become desensitized to with time. Still, he sends a few of those to his team of lawyers, desperately wanting this scum of people to find themselves dealing with the consequences of her actions.

Maybe, the hate is part of the reason Lea is so distant? Is the hate and limelight finally getting to her? Max wouldn’t even be able to feel mad towards Lea if that was the case. He knows the bad feelings many humans harbor towards him for most of his life, since none of them really hold back on their opinions.

Fed up about the silence and this bad, acidic feeling in his stomach that is giving him a heart burn, bile rising up to his throat, Max knocks on the hobby room door. “Schatje? We need to talk.”

Silence.

For several minutes.

Maybe his girlfriend is listening to music and can’t hear him through her headphones? Max produces his phone from his pocket with his left hand, the right one clutching a bouquet of flowers -sunflowers- for her. Either as an apology for if he actually has done something gravely wrong, or as a little pick me up. Even though they are a bit of an odd choice, Max never questioned her preferences.

He looks at their shared spotify. Lea actually listens to music, in German he recognizes. It is called “Waiting for the Ocean”. An odd title. Max shrugs and calls her instead.

“M-max?” The woman’s voice is small. Broken.

The sinking feeling, the big stone in his stomach? Yeah, that one. It turned into a fucking mountain when he heard Lea calling for him through the phone. If he can, he would climb through it and hold her, protect her from all the evil in the world until it ends and burns to the ground. And beyond that, into eternity. If Lea lets him.

“Schatje? Can you please open the door? I think it is time to talk.”

One beat.

Two beats.

Three, four.

Shuffling.

Max feels a wave of relief, the mountain in his stomach transforming back to a big stone when he hears the lock clicking.

Lea stands there. eyes red, face hollow, shivering like a leaf in the wind. “Oh baby” Max coos, enveloping her in a hug so tight, he is afraid to break one of the young woman’s bones. The bouquet of sunflowers is thrown to the ground. There are more important matters on hand.

But it seems like that crushing hug is the twig needed to break the whole dam. The floodgates of tears open immediately, making Lea sob and cry into her boyfriend's arms. Knowing that if one person for sure catches and holds her when she is falling, it is her Maxie. The guy who once searched up every shop in Monaco that was still open in the middle of the night, only to find one specific sweet craving of hers.

The man, who keeps a little metal box with her supplements with him, because he knows she forgets them at home whenever they travel.

Her boy, the one who is shield and sword to her. He will always catch her.

“I-I miss her”, Lea hiccups between sobs. The pit in Max’s stomach is finally lifted, knowing he is not the root of this situation. But it is instantly replaced by an ache in his heart, going in so deeply, it could be a medical concern. Because the pain in her voice, it’s unlike he has ever heard from her.

It is so raw, so fresh, Max himself has to draw in a shaky breath. He gulps, drawing patterns and letters on her back with his fingers. “Who are you missing, Schatje?” The Dutch man asks the question to which answer he is afraid of hearing. The pain in her voice and tears streaming down her face in rivers are enough to deduce that the missing person in question is not easy to be reached.

It takes Lea a couple of minutes to calm down enough to even try to answer. Her sobs are just so body wracking, breathing doesn’t come easy to her. “My grandma”, Lea hiccups, clinging to Max. “It has been nine years. And it still feels like we got the message yesterday.”

The pit in Max’s stomach is back. He knows about the death of her grandma. He hasn’t been told any actual details, but just that it was tragic, untimely and right before Christmas started.

He pulls Lea closer to himself. Hoping to bring her the comfort she needs right now. The tears are back in Lea’s eyes.

“You know what hurts the most?” She sobs. “She died alone. In a hospital bed. Surrounded by loud machines, a sterile smell in a cold room. No one was there for her” Lea takes a couple deep breaths to continue talking the words off her chest, the one that feels so heavy, an elephant could sit on it and it would have been a lighter weight.

Max stays quiet, stroking her head and holding her tightly. He knows that it is not the time to say anything yet.

“She was all alone. Just one night nurse for who knows how many patients. A woman with three kids and six grandchildren. Dying alone. In the middle of the night. In pain. Max- she didn’t deserve any of this.” Lea dissolves in tears again.

Max just holds her. He can’t do anything else. No matter what he will say, the pain will stay.

Grief doesn’t work like that. There is no magical formula of words strong together that will make her feel better. Not right away. There is no good short term relief from grief. Because come to think of it, grief marks the love to one person that you just can’t give to them anymore. This is why it hurts.

And for love to end, there is no instant remedy. Just like for grief.

It comes and goes in ways. You can only stand on the shore and wait for the ocean to come, ready to swim in the waves of memories, pain, despair and a love that can’t be received anymore.

[neoameba]

Hey, how was your day/night?

i was wondering if I could request a Gyutaro x male reader, please.

Like sfw and nsfw headcanons(if your ok with nsfw), or maybe like a nsfw story about the reader wanting to go on him, and him being embarrassed about his looks and we tell him that his beautiful and all that stuff? Thanks for reading this!

Gyutaro x Male! Reader Headcanons

Warnings: sfw and nsfw content, slightly abusive behaviors, mentions of blood. There are headcanons for ftm people, nsfw is below keep reading!

☆ Your relationship would not be easy, at least in the beginning. He is a reserved guy and loves to scare people, so be prepared for subtle threats.

☆ Now if you were an oni and especially an upper moon, things would change quite a lot. He wouldn't respect you at all at first, like a spoiled brat. But after the relationship, he would be more clingy. Not on an extreme level, but he would respect you and constantly give you compliments.

☆ And speaking of compliments, Gyutaro loves them. "You're such a handsome man... So strong... I can't believe you're with a guy like me..." And if you were a human, he would still continue to give you compliments, albeit with some insults. "You are so fragile, my love... Such a pathetic human but so beautiful..."

☆ Daki doesn't really like you at first. She hates men and the only one she allows to be by her side is her older brother. Gyutaro really wanted you guys to get along, but he would never pressure his sister to accept you, so he just prefers you stay away from her. Nothing would change if you were a upper moon, the only difference is that Daki wouldn't tell you to your face that she despises you.

☆ But over time, she would learn to deal with you. And after a long time, you would have a healthy relationship as far as possible. Gyutaro loves this and doesn't want to hide it.

☆ Gyutaro doesn't know how to express his feelings. Everything he feels is too overwhelming for him. So, he wouldn't say "I love you", he would scratch your skin while enjoying the blood flowing with a smile on his face. He wouldn't do that in your face, so as not to ruin your beauty.

☆ If you were a human, he would bring you food and some bandages as an "apology", since he knows you are fragile and those cuts were deep. Now, if you were an oni, prepare to receive a million bodies of your favorite humans. Do you prefer to eat men? Here it is, the best ones for you. This isn't an apology for scratching your skin, since he knows you weren't hurt. It's another way to show affection.

☆ He would often ask Daki's opinion in dealing with you since he has never dated and has no experience with men. The problem is that Daki's experiences weren't exactly romantic, which would lead to slight embarrassment.

NSFW

☆ I don't see Gyutaro as a restricted dom/top, or restricted sub/bottom. If you were top, he wouldn't mind being the passive one. He's just very inexperienced, and would trust whatever you say is best.

☆ He loves praise and reassurance, even during sex. If he was the bottom, I'd love to hear your voice telling you how beautiful he looks writhing in pleasure beneath you, or how cute he looks while riding you. And if he was the top one, he would definitely whisper in your ear how beautiful you are, and how warm and comfortable your body is for him.

☆ His favorite positions are the ones where he can look straight into your face and the ones where he doesn't have to move as much. Although, when he is the top one, he hates anything slow.

☆ He cries with pleasure when he is the passive one. It's simply a lot to deal with. He would grab the sheets and ask you to stop (spoiler: don't stop, he wants you to be even more aggressive).

☆ Punishments? He hates it. The worst are the ones where he can't look at you. So blindfolds and positions where his face is against you drive him crazy. On the other hand, when he becomes more experienced at it, he loves to punish you. He hurts you a lot in these punishments, even too much. If you are a human, you better not make any mistakes.

☆ If you are ftm/afab, I wouldn't change anything. He would still love you and have no problem with sex. If you were the top/dom one, he probably wouldn't be able to take a bounce before asking for a break. If you were the bottom, he would make a point of going as deep into your cunt as possible, and would always tease you with it. Of course, at first he didn't even know he could go that deep without hurting you.

☆ He has no idea what "aftercare" is. Explain to him and one of two things: either he'll think it's a waste of time because he's an oni, or he'll get the best beginner aftercare of all. If you were a human, regardless of whether you are bottom or top, he would take care of you afterwards, even in his own way. If you were an oni, he would be the one who would have to do the aftercare. Not because he needs it, but maybe, and just maybe... Because he likes to be taken care of by you.

Author's note (my notes :P)!

I hope you liked it, and that it turned out the way you wanted!

I don't post nsfw here, but I decided to break the rule and make an exception for you ♪⁠┌⁠|⁠∵⁠|⁠┘⁠♪

[2kverrr]

SAM GIDDINGS - Dating Headcanons

UNTIL DAWN || Sam Giddings x Reader

sam had 0 time for drama, especially including that of her own friends'. And being one of emily davis' closest friends basically encased your life in her drama.

you didn't feel as close with sam as you were with the group. but you felt most drawn to her, her maturity, her nurture, her kindness. more or less everything your friends lacked.

she's kickass, not scared to put someone in their place, something you never quite found the confidence to do.

she hates fishing, loves gardening, tolerates publicly accessible nature reserves, enjoys outdoor activities, despises zoos and you're not so sure how you know all of this.

you doubt she knows a single thing about you. it's weird - you can be friends with the top dogs and have some sort of silly superiority over people, yet nobody really knows you.

you and sam had spoken numerous times before, each you could remember were rather enjoyable. the two of you got on really well, but it was rare either of you could get any time alone

that was until you were approximately 4 weeks away from winter break.

"for fuck's sake em, just call him." you groan, your left hand massaging the bridge of your nose, but the girl straight out refused aggressively shoving her hands onto her hips and socking her head, yelling, "how many times do i have to tell you. i? am. not. wanting. i. am. wanted. a girl like me doesn't chase after people, they cha-""emily i'm going to leave you with your problem, since it is yours, not mine. see you at lunch." and with that, you head out of the girls' bathroom and out into the busy corridor.

you catch a glimpse of sam leaning against a locker, scrolling through her phone. There’s an ease in her posture that draws you in despite the weight of your worries - well emily's. “hey, everything okay?” sam looks up, her hazel eyes sharp and assessing. it’s both intimidating and comforting at the same time. you take a breath, trying to shake off the frustration of the last few minutes. “just another day in the life of emily,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. sam arches an eyebrow, not buying the attempt at humour.

"mike? is she still hung up over him?" she asks, her voice laced with understanding. you nod, with a deep sigh and an eye roll. "well, at least you're not like that, that's what I like about you." but you're too caught up in staring at her moving mouth to actually respond, before you know it she's waving her hand in front of your face, "huh- sorry, what were you saying?" she giggles, picking up the books from her locker and beginning to make her leave, "I'll see you around."

that interaction definitely stuck with you, or maybe it didn't, but the fact that you continued to think about it for the rest of the day is a big giveaway.

you're almost certain the corner of your eye spotted a suspicious emily briefly witness the interaction and watch you stare giddings down as she walked away, but that's a conversation for later.

after that talk with the blonde, you both found yourselves in more situations on your own, bumping into each other in the hallway, finding yourselves bored at parties, fixing your makeup in the bathroom mirror and seeing a certain hazel-eyes blonde behind you.

the week of receiving the message from josh, you and sam became really close, almost replacing emily in some way. besides, emily was now happily married off to matt, a sweet boy, not the sharpest tool in the box though.

you'd manage to persuade her to let you give her a lift to josh's mountain getaway, despite her refusal she ended up in your passenger seat feeding you mints as you drive.

you get out of your car and begin to lug bags out, placing them on the floor, sam is busy checking out her surroundings quite contently. but she swiftly turns around to face you, "hey, i wanted to tell you something," you raise your head curiously along with a quirked eyebrow, "i know we've been hanging out a lot lately," she continued, her voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone. "but it feels different, doesn't it? like, we've really clicked, and I really like it - so please expect me to follow you around like a puppy dog... i still can't look at all the guys the same after last year." her eyebrows furrow. you sigh softly, the gears in your mind turning as you contemplated her words, "i get it sam, i like it too," you smirk, ", now am i taking both of our bags up or are you gonna' lend a hand?" she chuckles, her tension breaking as a playful glimmer replaces her earlier seriousness. "ugh - i really thought i'd get away with that." "i'll take them up for you. just lead the way," you nod, "this place really freaks me out."

settling in was a bit of a cofuffle, sam bagsied our rooms and had already called dibs on a bath.

you'd barely made it up the mountain with yours and her bags before she'd waltzed in, beckoning you to hurry up. don't even start on the wall you had to hop.

"guys, guys, hold your horses. we can't get comfy yet - generators, boilers and locks. i've sent mike and jess off to the generator outdoors, em and matt are... um- somewhere," josh takes a long scan for the couple that weren't present, ", right! sam's bath, boiler's downstairs, switch it on then you can have your beloved bath." she firmly places her hands on her hips and tilts her head, "you think i know how to work those kin-" you're quick to cut her off, "i'll go, can't be that hard." shrugging your shoulders. "that's the spirit, amigo!" the dark-haired boy cheers, fussing up your hair. of course sam's protests began, and again you managed to butt in. "look, i know what i'm doing, trust me.” you say, trying to keep the tension in the room from rising. “it should be pretty straightforward. i'll check for the spark plug first—if it’s clean, just give it a gentle pull. worst-case, i might have to troubleshoot a bit more," there's a bit of a silence, confusion mostly, "yeah, um- my dad's a plumber.” you didn't exactly understand half the words you'd just said but if it gave you a chance at impressing sam, it was so worth it. she slowly smiles, "impressive..." biting her lip, looking you up and down with newfound admiration. "who knew you had all these hidden talents?" she teases, eyes sparkling with mischief. "maybe you can teach me a thing or two about plumbing after this bath fiasco." the playful banter felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the clamour of everyone scurrying around and arguing, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride. “alright, let’s see if I can live up to the expectation,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you felt. josh looks between the two of you, a devious grin slowly forming on my face, "is this- oh wow. this- this is great!" he turns around, presumably going to find chris and ash, you do the same, not at all looking forward to seeing this 20 year boiler in all it's glory.

fortunately, the boiler hadn't frozen over completely.

the basement was eerie enough, never mind all of the creepy shit happening around you: screams, shouts, smashes. something wasn't right.

like any stereotypical horror movie, you walk right into the danger to find out what was going on."

and as always, you were right. josh's basement was fucked up, led to some sort of mine, where you soon found a battered and bruised mike, stumbling his way through the caved area. his ankle didn't look so good, but he didn't complain

the next half hour you were trying to navigate your way, the poor guy was traumatised, jess had disappeared, dead or alive? not a single clue.

there's apparently somebody or something out there with her and they're in the mines, you're baffled to say the least, but you stayed put.

all until a scream was heard, female, it was far yet so close.

"mike! what was that noise?" the two of you pause your movements, and prick your heads up, faint cries could be heard and the occasional, "anyone! help!" you knew that voice, almost naturally you race over the source of the noise, struggling to find a door, "where's jess? is it her? oh, please say it's her." mike whiles up against the wall while you attempt to barge your way in. "sam! i'm here, mike too. i'm coming in." “almost there!” you shout back to mike, who is still positioned by the flimsy beam of light your flashlights provide. he looks torn between helping you and staying on guard, eyes darting nervously around the oppressive shadows. the urgency in your efforts intensifies, and you feel your fingers digging into the rough surface of the door. it shifts slightly, just enough to give you hope, and with one last shove, it creaks open. you stumble inside, breathless, and immediately the air feels thicker, charged with an unsettling energy. "fuck sam! what the fuck happened?" the girl was tied up in a chair, nothing but a towel. whoever did this must've been fucked in the head, sick. you take a cautious step forward, your eyes zeroing in on the girl’s wide, terrified gaze. “you’re alright now,” you whisper reassuringly, though your own insides are knotting up at the sight. "oh my god, you're here... i- he chased me! th- then-" the blonde leans forwards into you once you complete untying her ankle bounds, sore red marks forming over her pale skin. her arms completely wrap around you, she's freezing. sliding off your hoodie and body warmer, you begin to wrap them around the girl. "-sam, it's okay. you can explain everything later. you safe now we-" but before you can finish your sentence, the girl leans in, connecting your lips in a kiss, short and sweet due to their being a third presence in the room. as your lips part, you both freeze, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden surge of intimacy in the midst of chaos. sam's eyes are wide with surprise, glistening with unshed tears, but there’s a flicker of gratitude behind her fear. you clear your throat, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, but the urgency of the situation quickly pulls you back to reality. "i thought you were dead, y/n.”

after all police interrogation had been completed, those who survived were wasting away. josh dead. matt dead. jess dead. sam and yourself isolated yourselves from the rest.

after sam almost sacrificed herself to save you, you made an oath to yourself that you're forever indebted to her.

you were in love - even amongst the sick and twisted events that you two had to go through.

you both didn't go out as much anymore, your previous party-girl lifestyle completely left behind.

instead you both settled on movie nights or cooking sessions.

you immediately expanded her music taste, she's a great girl but her music taste could definitely do with some improving.

rock climbing dates, kayaking, surfing (which you absolutely smashed - sam could barely stand up on the bored)

sam always managed to convince you to go camping with her, bribing you with all sorts, despite your hatred for bugs.

she's the most peaceful sleeper, she looks like and angel when fast asleep. you're both early birds, which meant you really enjoy spening the morning in bed just admiring one another.

every month or so you'll pay a visit to the friends you lost together, paying respects. hell even josh - sam calls him mentally ill, whereas you call him batshit crazy. but he was your friend, one of our closest, you're still unsure to this day why you were apart of his cruel game but you couldn't keep dwelling on the past so you came to forgive him.

it's even rare to see the friends that made it out alive, you knew chris and ash moved away together, forgetting all that had happened. the last you heard off of mike was "i'm igniting some old flames - definitely going for drinks soon?"

it'd been 3 months and you never went to see him.

you and sam assumed that old flame is emily, your once best friend who you hadn't spoken to since before the disaster.

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Bathroom Break

I am baaaaaaaack on the story ! For those who missed it I published everyone's backstory, all are linked in the master post !

@ancha-aus it's been a while since I tagged you here

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I feel like this chapter is way too short compared to the time it took me to write it

Here it was: the moment Dust dreaded the most... going back to work. Not that there was a problem with his job, his colleagues were fine, the customers were usually nice except for some exceptions, but it was to be expected when working in a fast food. No, the thing that worried him was leaving his roommates, because they were basically roommates, alone all day. He wasn't afraid they would fight, thought Nightmare had been quite distant these past few days, he didn't participate in conversations during meals and usually just translated for Killer and asked him a few things, but apart from that he always seemed moody, mad about something and avoiding them. It did worry Dust, maybe it was something he did, or didn't do, that caused the noble to change his behavior ? He'll need to talk about it with him. Regarding the others they all seemed to get along, he noticed Cross would sometimes lower his guard when Killer talked, or rather rambled, to him to listen to what he was saying, which was something important to note as the knight only ever left the door to eat, Dust knew it because he saw him sleeping while still standing. Horror was nice to everyone, just not paying much attention to Nightmare as he seemed to avoid him more than the others anyway, and Killer just liked to chat with everyone, not caring if they understood him or not. So no, Dust wasn't scared they would fight. He was scared they would get bored, get curious and break something or even hurt themselves, that someone would knock at the door and call the cops when seeing them, or many other things they could do that could result in troubles both for them and for Dust. He really didn't need that.

Dust sighed, preparing yet another burger and putting it in a bag for those at the drive through, he didn't need to think about it anymore, the movements were basically muscle memory at that point. Should he introduce the others to burgers ? Maybe he could order everyone a burger once he got his paycheck, and he could buy soda and potatoes to make the fries himself ? Would they even like it ? Nightmare would probably despise the grease, maybe Cross too as he seemed to be very in shape, but he had a feeling Killer and Horror would like it. Well, that could be a plan for later then.

He felt someone tap on his shoulder.

- Break time, I'm taking your place.

His colleague said. Was it already his break ? He didn't see the time pass, for once. Well, he usually didn't have much to think about, so he must admit he wasn't particularly focused on the time that day.

- Oh, okay, thanks.

He finished the burger he was making before putting down his apron and going to the changing rooms to grab his phone in his locker. He then went to the bathroom, not that he needed to go as he was a skeleton, but he liked sitting on the throne in his little cabin, that way he didn't have to sit in the staff's room and make small talk with the others, he could just scroll on his phone for fifteen minutes without being disturbed. He sometimes wished he had a digestive system so he could take a dump on company time and be paid for it, but he didn't have one, anything a skeleton consumed was either turned into magic or would get thrown up if the body couldn't "digest" it. What a shame, honestly.

He wondered for a moment if he should call home on the land-line, but he soon figured it would be useless as he didn't teach them how to pick up a phone, so he just hoped everything was fine and went on socials to see what new brainrot was available to pass the time.

His alarm went off after fifteen minutes, indicating the end of his break. He sighed.

- Alright, here we go again...

He muttered to himself, getting up without flushing, and opened the door to step out of the cabin. He tripped on a branch and fell face first on the grass.

Cross flinched, planting his sword in the ground as to maintain balance when he felt everything shift around him. The house had dissapeared, and he found himself in a field surrounded by a forest. It felt like a few days ago, when he appeared in Dust's backyard, he had felt the air sting and crackle before everything shifted, and when he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else.

Where was he now ? He pulled his sword from the ground, holding it tight in case a threat would appear, and looked around him, were the others here too ? He heard a noise behind him, and quickly turned, only to see Killer gripping on a branch, hanging from a tree. As he was about to run by his side he saw Horror coming out from behind a bush, leaves and twigs stucked in the furr of his coat. Killer saw him too.

- Horrooooooor ! Adiuvaaaaa ! He cried.

Horror jumped, not expecting to hear a voice above him, and quickly went to grab Killer and put him safely on the ground. The Roman then immediately opened his bag to make sure all of his stuffs were with him, and sighed in relief before looking up at the Viking.

- Gratis..

Horror nodded, then looked at Cross.

- Vel ?

He asked, thought Cross didn't understand, but he supposed Horror asked him if he was doing good, as he looked concerned. Cross was doing fine, he wasn't hurt and by chance landed on his feet and on a plain surface, unlike Killer who ended up in a tree.

- Eo vais ben, mercit.

He thanked him, before hearing a spine-chilling scream.

- Google noooooooo !!

All three of them turned quickly, startled, and saw Dust, a little farther, kneeling on the ground with his little magic rectangle in his hands, visibly distressed.

- Dust ? Killer called, bene facis ?

- Google's dead ! Dust cried out, holding his rectangle in the air, it's mort, morz, mortuus, liflátinn, dead !!

Cross froze, who was dead ? Who was so important that Dust had to announce their death in five languages ? Was his rectangle dead ? Wait, wasn't the rectangle what allowed them to communicate ? Oh. They might have a problem then.

They looked at each other for a minute, not knowing how to save the rectangle from death, before Killer went to the wheeping skeleton and kneeled before him, looking through his bag. Dust looked up at him when he took out the thick book Dust had been reading recently: the Old Norse dictionary. Cross remembered Killer shoving the book in his bag when Dust left without it, saying he would keep it safe until he returned. Dust looked at the dictionary in awe, taking it carefully.

- Oh my fucking god, Killer, I love you so much right now, gratis.. !

Killer smiled, happy to have been useful.

As Dust was getting up with Killer's help they heard a new noise, and as they turned, they were met with a rather unusual sight: Nightmare, the very sophisticated Nightmare, was laying face flat in a mud puddle, the only mud puddle in the whole field, and looked particularly horrified, and disgusted, when he stood on his elbows, his face covered with mud. Killer couldn't help but burst out with laughter, especially when Nightmare tried to get up only to slip and fall again. Cross heard Dust fight back his own laughter and Horror chuckled, but even if the scene was indeed funny, Nightmare trully looked distressed, and Cross couldn't leave him like that.

- Sire !

He rushed to his side, helping him up by letting him grab him for balance, not caring if he dirtied his armor as it was rather easy to clean.

- Vous trouvez cela amusant !? Nightmare yelled, angry, and shaking slightly, asking if they found it funny.

Horror raised his hands in an apalogy motion, but Killer was still pretty much dying on the ground, wheezing and holding his non-existant stomach, Dust simply avoiding his gaze. Nightmare huffed, a shameful blush on his cheeks as Cross helped him step out of the puddle and sit on a log nearby as he tried to wipe the mud from his face, taking his gloves off as they were just as muddy anyway.

- Estes-vos blecié, sire ? Cross asked, wanting to know if he was hurt.

Nightmare shook his head, he wasn't hurt, physically at least. Cross nodded, standing straight again to look at the others: Killer had stopped laughing and was now catching his breath, Dust was looking at their surroundings, and Horror was looking at Nightmare, thoughtful, but didn't come any closer.

Now that everyone was here, they needed to think of a plan. They needed to figure out where they ended up, or when, if they could seek shelter somewhere, or if they couldn't and would have to build a sort of nest at least for the night, what they could hunt or gather, take turn to stand guard, ... Horror didn't seem to have his axe with him, which was... rather inconvenient, but he was pretty sure Killer still had his knives in his bag so it meant they were at least two with weapons to defend the group. He looked down at Nightmare again. They had to find water.

He sighed and gestured to everyone to come closer. He would rather they didn't split up.

- Nos devons trover eaue, he said, glancing at Nightmare who was still staring at his hands, senz se séparer, he added, looking back at them.

- Okay wait, Dust stopped him, "eaue" means water, right ? I mean he does need to wash himself so it would make sense he needs water... wait I think I remember the translation... he thought for a while, looking throught the dictionary, okay so.. aqua for Latin ? Aaaand... vatn for Old Norse.

Killer snorted.

- Sordidus est, aqua eget.

Cross wasn't sure what that meant, but judging by Nightmare's glare it most likely was a mockery, or one of the Roman's usual tease at least. He wanted to reprimand him, now wasn't the time for teasing, but Horror was faster than him and gave Killer a gentle nudge on the shoulder, shaking his head disapprovingly, to which Killer whined but didn't push it. Horror then pointed at the woods.

- Vatn.

Before anyone could reply, he opened the way. He had fallen in a bush and heard running water in the distance when he got up, surely there was a river nearby.

- Wait wait wait ! Dust interrupted again, Horror stopping to look at him. We're just gonna accept that we apparently got tossed throught time ? I mean it ain't you guys first time but it is mine ! And I actually have to go back to work !

Cross frowned. Work ? He knew what work meant, but why was Dust talking about work ? Oh, right ! Dust was supposed to be at work ! But he couldn't get back to work now, they didn't even know in what time they were, but surely it wasn't Dust's time anymore as these strange buildings were nowhere to be seen. Cross shook his head, Dust couldn't go back to work for now.

- What do you mean no ? I need the money.

Cross thought for a while, trying to remember the translation for money, and shook his head again.

- Nos sommes denz une altre époque, pas de "work".

He tried to explain, telling him they were in a different time. Dust frowned at him, before sighing.

- Well it's gonna be one fucking long bathroom break then... He mumbled, before following Horror again.

Cross held out a hand for Nightmare but the noble got up by himself, and simply followed the others from a distance, Cross walking behind to make sure no one deviated from the line and no threat appeared.

After only a few minutes they heard running water, and at the next turn around a tree, they saw a small river. Nightmare went to kneel on the shore and put his hands in the water. Killer went next to him, crounching down, and ignoring Nightmare's glare to rummage through his bag and take out a piece of cloth that he handed him. Nightmare looked at it for a while before taking it without saying a word, still bitter that they laughed, and put it in the water to clean his face. Dust stayed near Horror, looking at the trees.

Cross stood back, watching them all, making sure everything was safe for them to stop here.

He really hoped they could find a shelter soon.

[talaok]

I NEED some protective pedro. Oh God how about them being in a relationship, had a fight and not talking to each other at that moment, attend a friend's party and pedro taking care of her and making sure she is alright while being mad at her and maybe some cute sexy ending...

Pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

Warnings: the most allusion you can allusion to smut

It wasn't one of those huge important fights that break up couples, it was just a stupid little fight.

You wanted to spend Christmas with your family, and him with his, and neither of you was gonna budge.

Silly, right?

Now the only problem was that this "little" argument, had happened right as you were getting ready to go to a party, which you were now driving to in complete silence.

Not even the radio was on, only him, you, and countless passive-aggressive comments on the tip of your tongue.

The tension in the confined space was more than palpable, and when you finally got out of the car it felt as if you'd been underwater the whole time, and for the first time in twenty minutes, you could finally get a breath of fresh air.

Which, now that you realized, it really was fresh... maybe even a little too much for the dress you chose.

"You're cold" Pedro stated, a clear tint of annoyance in his tone.

The fact that all he needed to do was look at you for a second to understand what you were thinking would have been sweet at any other moment, now it was just irritating.

"take my jacket" he urged, handing it to you without so much as a second glance.

"I don't need it, I'm not cold"

And just as you, he would have found your stubbornness cute if it had been any other time.

"The party is in the garden y/n, you're gonna freeze all night just to prove a point?"

God but did he always sound so condescending?

"fine" you grumbled, begrudgingly putting it on as he started walking to the front door, not even bothering waiting for you.

__ __ __

You spent the rest of the night purposely ignoring each other except for exactly three times (yes you had counted them), the first one was when Margareth, whom you very much despised since the only way she seemed to be able to talk to people was by judging them straight to their faces, had cornered you and forced you to listen to how much better she was then you until Pedro had appeared out of nowhere, and pretended he needed to talk to you just to get you away from her.

You didn't even have time to decide whether you wanted to thank him or not that he'd already gone his way.

The second time was when he saw you trip over a patch of grass out of the corner of his eye and as much as he wanted to ignore it, he just couldn't, so he had to excuse himself from the conversation he was having and reach you to make sure you were alright.

"I'm fine Pedro" you'd rolled your eyes

"Have you drank any water?" 

"Oh my god, I'm not drunk I just tripped" 

And that's exactly why the third time you had talked to each other he had approached with a glass of water.

"I told you I'm not drunk"

"You should still drink this"

"Who are you, my mom?" you'd exhaled dramatically "Oh no that's right, My mom is in New York and I won't get to see her this Christmas because apparently we just have to spend it with your family"

You were lucky nobody was ever around anytime you talked because... sheesh, that would have been embarrassing.

"Just drink this please" he'd insisted with a sigh, and finally, partially because you wanted him to go away and partially because you were actually kind of thirsty, you had accepted with a heavy "fine"

And now you were back at home and back at not talking... except that this damn zipper was stuck and as much as you forced it it just wouldn't go down.

"You need help with that?"

He would have been lying if he said he hadn't been enjoying the show for a while now.

"it's stuck" 

Without another word, he was up from the bed and walked behind you as you stood in front of the mirror.

He put one hand on your waist while the other undid your dress with care.

And now yes you were in the middle of an argument, but you weren't responsible for the warmth that spread inside your body at his touch.

 A soft thud reverberated through the room as your dress fell to the floor and a low "fuck" fled his mouth as he took you in from the mirror.

A long beat passed, and then, as if he'd read your mind he asked "Truce?"

And all you could do was nod

"truce"

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 42

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

TW : Violence

Masterlist

———————————————————————

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 06:00 AM -  Lucy’s Room 

I jump slightly when the alarm goes off in the room. I blink, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Once I do, I sink back into my pillow, muttering softly. It’s already morning. I have absolutely no desire to leave my bed.

“Ona, wake up,”  Lucy orders me as soon as she turns off her alarm.

I sigh, not moving an inch.  Lucy has decided to take control of my nights again. Our relationship hasn’t progressed, but now she forces me to come straight to her room after dinner, for the past week. This means I go to bed an hour earlier, without even being able to text Mapi. What  Lucy hasn’t realized yet is that this doesn’t affect my exhaustion at all. It’s still there since I still struggle to fall asleep and wake up during the night. Lucy, on the other hand, must think the problem is solved. If it wasn’t, she wouldn’t keep doing this. Knowing her, she would have found another solution. Today, though, waking up is particularly hard. On other days, I managed to get some sleep, but that wasn’t the case last night. I really don’t want to get out of bed. I have no motivation left.

“Ona,” she growls.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up,” I reply sharply. “Just give me two minutes…”

“You said that yesterday and didn’t do it. So get up, now.”

I sigh and kick the blanket off with my feet. Once I’m up, I give Lucy a mocking bow, accompanied by a fake smile before locking myself in the bathroom. I don’t miss the opportunity to slam the door loudly to show my displeasure. It’s childish of me, but I’m fed up. All my troubles have worsened in just a few days, including my relationship with  Lucy. I had forgotten how resourceful she could be. She figured out that the only way to get even a bit of my attention is to become the commander I despise. She gives me orders and threatens me at the slightest protest. The worst part is, I still can’t get her out of my head because of it. She continues to take care of me. It’s as if she’s trying to make up for her mistake. Even though I try not to show it, the fact that she’s looking after me affects me deeply because I already miss her so much. Alexia is right when she says I’m slowly destroying myself with my methods. She’s going crazy because she sees me falling apart without giving her a chance to help me get better. She’s started insulting Lucy because, in her opinion, she’s not reacting when she could. It’s funny to hear her talk like that when she’s always respected  Lucy so much. It seems that Mapi is also going crazy. Since I no longer have the chance to reply to her, she’s driving Alexia mad to get news about me. Of course, Alexia keeps her informed of every detail since she’s closely following our situation. The only thing I can still hold on to are my friends. I’m so glad I’ve opened up to them. Alessia continued with evening classes after ours. I really need them, even though I doubt they’re as effective as Lucy’s lessons, but there’s no way I’m giving her that satisfaction. Spending more time with her wouldn’t help me.

“Ona, hurry up! I need to use the bathroom too, remember?”  Lucy scolds from behind the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble.

I make sure I’ve hidden the signs of my sleepless night and fix my hair before coming out.  Lucy takes my place, and I move toward my bed. I stop when I see it’s already made, which surprises me. Since we stopped talking and I’ve been refusing to sleep with her, she hasn’t touched it once. I must have been staring at it for a while because  Lucy snaps me out of my trance.

“Let’s go.”

Without a word, I grab my bag and jacket before heading out. She closes the door behind me, and we walk down the stairs in silence. Usually, I would go straight to the cafeteria. However, since she changed my nighttime routine, she now makes me accompany her to the back of my dorm, where she waits for Ingrid every morning since I’ve been sleeping in her room. According to her, it’s to make my presence near their dorm less suspicious. I think it’s just an excuse to spend a few more minutes with me. I didn’t argue, as it would have led to another fight for sure.

“Have a good day,” she wishes me.

“Thanks, you too.”

I force myself to keep a cold, unwavering demeanor so I don’t lose my composure. I wish I could tell her that none of my days have been good since we became distant, but I don’t. I mustn’t. As I leave, I give her a final small wave, which I immediately regret, realizing how friendly it seems. Finally, I head to the entrance of our dorm where Alexia is the first to come out. She’s gotten used to hurrying so no one discovers what’s going on. We’ve been quite discreet, surprisingly. I prefer that no one knows, even though I’ve gotten closer to some people. Our friends come out one by one, barely giving us time to ask each other how we’re doing. Once everyone is there, we walk to the cafeteria. I smile when Alba walks up to me and gives me a playful shoulder nudge. She’s one of the people I’ve gotten closer to. She cares a lot about me and has become almost as protective of me as she is of her sister. I find it really sweet of her. Judging by her expression, I must look terrible or something. I mean, I’ve lost all my joy of life.

“How are you today?” she asks me.

“The same as usual.”

“You started your exams this week, right?”

“Yeah. Yesterday,” I sigh. “And I’m failing all of them. I didn’t understand any of my classes.”

“It’s because you don’t focus enough when we study,” Alessia, who was nearby, comments. “But if it helps, the exams were really tough.”

“It doesn’t help, actually. And I’ve already told you, it’s not my fault if I can’t focus on this crap.”

“Why did you choose management anyway?” Alba laughs.

“It’s better not to know,” Ale interjects.

No, indeed, it’s better not to know. I’m liking my field less and less. I get no enjoyment out of it, and I’m losing sight of my initial goals without Lucy. Even though Alessia is helping me, I’m still lost in the important subjects. The only thing I can confirm is that there’s no connection between literary letters and mathematical letters. Lucy tried to push her lessons on me again last week, but that’s the one thing I managed to refuse. Alexia encouraged me to accept, but that’s out of the question. Doing it with Alessia allowed me to spend more time with her outside of class. I definitely don’t regret apologizing to her last week. Our relationship has taken another leap forward because of it. I’ve never known a girl as open-minded and wise as her. Even after everything I’ve done to her, she continues to act like nothing happened. I also discovered her well-hidden sense of humor, which allows us to have a lot of discussions and even playful jokes from time to time. I don’t regret having her in my class. Not to mention Lotte and Leah. Although Lotte is the one I’m least close to, I’ve been able to open up to her because we rotate seats to sit with everyone. Lotte seems to be uncomfortable around me, as if she’s afraid to say something. If she’s waiting for me to break the ice, she can keep waiting. My lively conversation with Alba and Alessia made me forget to be aware of my surroundings. That’s not a luxury I can afford these days. As a result, I didn’t see the clearly intentional shoulder bump from a young student I recognize as a friend of Korbin’s. It’s the first time I’ve been attacked while surrounded by my friends. Alba doesn’t miss it and doesn’t hesitate to hit her back from behind. The girls guys glare at each other with dark looks.

“Got a problem?” the girl spits.

“What about you?”

“Let it go, it’s fine,” I murmur, holding Alba back by the arm.

If I don’t, she might do something reckless that would have repercussions later. Plus, it’s not the time to make a scene here, in front of everyone. The young woman gives me a nasty smile, as if this situation won’t end without consequences, just as I thought. I still don’t understand why Korbin and her friends are bullying me so much, but I’ll need to figure it out soon to stop them. It’s no longer just taunts in class; it’s starting to go much further. If it were up to me, I would have already dealt with her, but there’s a lot at stake, and violence certainly isn’t the best defense. I’m the best person to know that.

“Come on, let’s go,” I say, pulling Alba with me.

“They won’t get away with this, those bitches!” she swears angrily once inside.

“You really should tell someone,” Ale adds from my other side.

“You know that would only make things worse.”

“Maybe, but it won’t get better if you don’t do something!”

“Mind your own business, please.”

I love Alexia, but lately, she’s been meddling in my problems a bit too much. I hate it when people do that. I ignore her grumbling complaints and follow her sister in the line. At least she doesn’t insist when I say no. I fully intend to deal with this issue myself, even though I still don’t know how I’m going to do it. All I’ve concluded is that Korbin has noticed the coldness between Lucy and me and is taking advantage of it to make my life hell at every opportunity. Is it related? I couldn’t say.

- “They’ve been bothering you for more than a week, seriously! How do you stay so calm and not react?!” Alexia hisses harshly at me.

- “Alexia, leave her alone,” her sister reprimands her.

I’m far from calm. I just don’t show it openly to avoid making things worse. I promised myself I wouldn’t ask  Lucy for help anymore. So, it’s up to me to handle this on my own. I roll my eyes as Korbin and Emma, her little lapdog, giggle while passing by our table. I’m determined to find out what she has against me that makes her and her friends use me as a punching bag. They regularly switch between physical attacks, like earlier, and even psychological ones. I’ve lost count of the homophobic remarks they’ve thrown at me or the little shoves against the wall in the hallways. It’s as if they’re constantly trying to put me down. The worst part is when I’m alone. They take advantage of my defenselessness to attack. Because of that, I make sure to stay mostly in the company of others. Just thinking about it gives me chills. If Alexia knew about this, she’d definitely pressure me even more to speak up, but I’m stuck. There’s no way I’m going to do that. I’m already shaken enough. I don’t need  Lucy or anyone else getting involved. I eat my Nutella toast without much enthusiasm. My appetite hasn’t returned, not even for breakfast. If Mapi were here, she would’ve already made a comment. As usual, we linger in the cafeteria for a long time. It’s the only time we’re sure to all be together, so we always spend more time than planned. However, today is different for me. I decide to leave earlier than the others to use the bathroom before going to class. I’m taking a risk by being alone, but I need a moment to breathe. In my rush, I realize halfway there that I’ve forgotten my bag. This is the first time it’s happened to me, how stupid of me. My mind is definitely elsewhere today. I hope someone will think to bring it to me, otherwise, I’ll have to go back and get it. After I finish in the bathroom, I wash my hands before heading out. I sigh when I come face-to-face with my two current enemies. It’s actually surprising I haven’t run into them earlier.

- “What do you want from me, idiots?”

- “Don’t get all high and mighty, you filthy lesbian.”

I roll my eyes and make sure to bump their shoulders, just like they always do, as I pass between them. I don’t really feel like getting into their games today, but that doesn’t stop me from physically shoving back.

- “So, what? Did you screw your roommate too much last night to fight back today?”

I don’t have time to respond before I’m violently shoved against the wall. I groan as I slide down to the floor from the impact. Damn it. Haven’t they had enough of tormenting me? If their goal is to provoke me, they’re going to succeed because I won’t hold back forever.

- “Are you going to answer, you worthless piece of crap?”

- “You’re the ones who are going to answer my questions.”

I lift my head, relieved to no longer be alone. Who knows what they might have done this time. They’ve never physically hit me before, but they’re certainly capable if I were to respond to their provocations. Lucy pins my two troublemakers by placing her hands on their shoulders while keeping her eyes on me. I turn my head away to avoid her gaze. I know her well enough to know she can read me just by looking, and I don’t want that. Korbin and Emma stay silent in the face of the question hanging in the air.

- “Well? Are either of you going to explain what’s going on?! And you’re all late, too,” she retorts sharply.

Now that she mentions it, I did hear the Alba. I could have done without it. I haven’t been late in a long time.

- “I- um…” Emma stammers.

- “Ona insulted us. We just wanted to make sure she doesn’t do it again,” Korbin finally responds, leaving me completely stunned.

- “I’m sure there are worse insults than ‘idiot,’” my supervisor replies coldly. “And if she said it, there’s probably a good reason.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Maybe luck is still on my side a little bit. If she’s saying that, it means she’s been following our altercation from the start. The girls in front of me turn pale at her response.  Lucy removes her hands and offers me one. I take it hesitantly. I don’t even need to support myself against the wall; she lifts me up with ease.

- “Here, you forgot this in the cafeteria.”

I’m surprised to see her with my bag. I thought someone from my class would have taken it. I frown, realizing it’s impossible she found it herself. She left the cafeteria well before I did since she goes for a run after breakfast. She must have sensed my confusion because she explains without me asking.

- “Alexia ran into me on her way to class and asked me to bring it to you since she didn’t have enough time herself.”

- “Thanks…” I murmur, sliding the bag onto my shoulders.

- “Alright,” she says, patting the two girls on the shoulders. “You two are staying with me today.”

- “What?! Why?” Korbin exclaims.

- “Keep playing innocent, and I’ll take you straight to the principal’s office so you can explain your unjustified homophobic comments towards Ona.”

Korbin pales as she realizes the situation she’s put herself in. I can’t help but be happy that  Lucy found out this way. At least I won’t have to confess it to her.

- “What about her?” Korbin retorts, pointing at me. “She just gets off scot-free?”

- “She didn’t do anything, so we’re going to escort her to class.”

- “You just said it yourself. She’s late.”

- “And whose fault is that?! Anyway, I’m not asking for your opinion. As far as I know, I’m still the one in charge here! You don’t realize how lucky you are that it’s me you’re dealing with,” she says sarcastically.

She orders them to walk ahead so she can keep an eye on them. As for me, I quietly stay by her side with my head down. My shoes suddenly become very interesting. Did  Lucy know? It seems like it, but how? Could Alexia have dared to say something to her? Maybe I’m just overthinking, though it wouldn’t surprise me much. I have other worries for now. If the girls get punished because of me, it won’t go without retaliation. Even if  Lucy chews them out, I doubt it will change anything about their intentions towards me.

- “Come to my office after your classes tonight. We need to discuss what just happened,”  Lucy tells me. “Understood?”

Her voice softens suddenly. She seems genuinely concerned about what’s going on right now. I nervously bite my lip. This doesn’t help my plans.

- “Do I have to?”

- “Do I really need to answer that? If you don’t come, I’ll drag you there by the skin of your neck. That would be unpleasant, if you know what I mean.”

- “Fine,” I mumble. “I’ll come.”

I give in to avoid making her anger worse. I still know when to stop. Besides, I owe her one now. Without her, who knows how this would have ended. We arrive at my classroom. I hope my teacher will let me in. He’s not obligated to, even if Lucy excuses me. If not, I’ll have to stay with them. I’d rather be in class than deal with these two bimbos. My supervisor knocks on the door and opens it after getting permission. The whole class has their eyes on us. Lucy pushes me to the front.

- “Good morning. Sorry for the disruption. I’m bringing you a student who was held up,” she adds, pointing behind her.

- “No problem. Take your seat, Ona.”

Luckily, I start with my management teacher. Since he’s young, he’s more understanding and cooler than my other teachers. It’s a shame I don’t like his subject. I sit down in my seat, trying to ignore the knowing look between my supervisor and my teacher. I shouldn’t feel this damn jealousy, but I do. If only that poor guy knew he didn’t stand a chance.  Lucy has clearly told me she prefers women over hairy men. Still, I have a feeling their looks weren’t innocent. Could she have lied to me...? That would explain a lot of things.

"Don’t forget we’re meeting later," she reminds me finally. "Sorry again for the inconvenience."

"No problem, I assure you," he smiles at her. "Goodbye."

Keep that sweet voice for someone else, jerk. I sigh, cursing myself for thinking something like that. I pull out my things, ignoring the persistent gaze of Alessia on me.

"Is everything okay?" Leah murmurs as he turns around.

"Yeah, I’m fine."

"Alright, let’s get back to it," says my teacher. "We’re continuing the lesson, Ona," he tells me. "Grab a new sheet of paper. You can catch up on the rest later."

I nod, and he offers me a smile that I can’t bring myself to return. The scene between  Lucy and him has irritated me. He turns to continue his lesson, writing a few words on the board. I pick up my pen and leave half a page blank, as Alessia suggested, to get back into the lesson as best as I can.

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 4:40 PM - Restroom. 

Twenty minutes have passed since I sat on the floor of a restroom stall. I told my teacher I wasn’t feeling well. Well, it’s not entirely a lie. He let me come here, and now here I am. I wipe my face with my sleeve to remove the remaining tears. I couldn’t hold them back this time. I’ve never had good luck in my life, and I probably never will. My morale being so low is really starting to weigh on me. At this moment, I feel like I could relapse at any moment. I try to calm my trembling. It’s as if I’m going through withdrawal, even though I haven’t touched anything like that in months. I’m just at my wit’s end. I take five minutes to collect myself before standing up. I splash some water on my face to hide the damage. My teacher will probably never let me go to the restroom again after this incident. With my things still in the classroom, I have no choice but to go back. It’s my last hour anyway. What’s waiting for me afterward is even less appealing. When I return, I apologize for taking so long. Against all odds, he doesn’t seem to be mad at me. My awful appearance probably had something to do with it. I go back to my seat, and he resumes the lesson as if nothing happened. I finish the class with my head resting on my arms. I’ve missed most of my lessons anyway, so there’s no point in trying to follow along now. Besides, I don’t understand anything. I’m lucky my math teacher doesn’t reprimand me for my posture. The bell finally rings ten minutes later. I leave with my friends but abandon them on the way to head to Lucy’s office. I hope I’ve regained some color; it would save me from some comments. I wanted to stop by the restroom again, but I’m running out of time. I’m afraid  Lucy might carry out her threat if I don’t show up within ten minutes. I tap softly against the open door of the office. My facade drops when I see that only Ingrid is there. Either Lucy is already out searching the halls for me, or she’s not here yet. Either way, the answer won’t please me.

"Wow, Ona," she says, surprised. "What’s going on? You look awful."

"Nothing," I mumble. "Where’s Bronze?"

"You know you don’t have to call her that in front of me," she replies. "She told me you’d be coming. Have a seat; she shouldn’t be long."

At least she’s not looking for me everywhere. This is the first time she’s been late after giving me a time. I slump into one of the chairs in front of me and place my bag on the other.

"Can I go to the restroom?" I ask.

"No, sorry. I’m not allowed to let you leave before she sees you."

Of course. That answer doesn’t surprise me. I slump onto  Lucy’s desk while I wait. She better hurry up.

"You know, Ona, just because things are tense with  Lucy doesn’t mean you have to ignore me."

"Sorry," I mumble. "I tend to avoid anything related to Lucy, if you know what I mean."

I turn around as she sighs. She nods, giving me a sad smile.

"I understand. Just know I don’t agree with her decision, anyway. I hope she realizes it soon enough."

She falls silent as a noise at the door catches our attention. Lucy has arrived with slightly red cheeks and nose from the cold. She sighs in frustration as she takes off her jacket and scarf. At least I know neither of us seems to have had a good day. I glance over at Ingrid, who gives me a sympathetic smile before getting back to work. I didn’t expect her to be aware of what’s going on with  Lucy. Anyway, it’s nice of her to let me know. It makes me feel somewhat supported.

"Damn, it’s cold today," grumbles  Lucy. "Sorry for being late, Ona."

"Hmm."

She hangs up her things on the coat rack, then comes to sit across from me. She gives me a small smile that I don’t return. Her eyes then drift to my bag on the other chair.

"Perfect, you have your things."

"Yeah… And?"

"Take them out, please. We’re going to study together."

"What?" I frown incredulously. "I thought we were going to talk about this morning!"

"You should have guessed I already have all the answers on that. Come on, take out your things."

I sigh in frustration, running a hand through my hair. I knew it. She already knows. How did she find out? From whom? Anyway, she lured me here like a fool. This confirms that I’m far too naive under her influence.

"How do you know?" I snap.

"I never stopped keeping an eye on you," she says calmly. "Your things—I won’t repeat myself. You need to make up for your missed tests."

"Who do you think you are?" I spit. "How can you know something like that? I never asked for your help, as far as I know!"

We stare each other down, our eyes as fiery as the other’s, for a long moment before a chair scrapes the floor. It’s neither of us, so it must be Ingrid.

"Seriously, girls, this is getting ridiculous. You’re only hurting each other. I’m going to leave, so take this chance to talk and sort out your problems."

I puff out my cheeks and turn my head away, crossing my arms. There’s no way I’m talking to  Lucy when this is all her fault. We’ve said everything we needed to say to each other. Ingrid finally leaves the room, closing the door behind her. This is the first time she’s ever locked us in.  Lucy’s first reaction is to fix her hair.

"There’s no need to sulk," she scolds. "Take out your management course. You’ve got a test tomorrow."

"I had it on Monday," I reply.

"It was so disastrous that I convinced him to let you retake it tomorrow."

"Again, I didn’t ask you for anything."

"A simple ‘thanks’ would have sufficed. Now hurry up, you’re wasting my time."

"But I didn’t ask for anything, damn it!" I shout, standing up. "I might as well leave if I’m wasting your time so much!"

"That’s not what I meant," she sighs. "I’m sorry. I really want you to pass this year, so please, come sit down next to me."

I was about to turn on my heel, but her gentle eyes won me over. I hate the influence she still has over me.

"Fine," I sigh. "I agree, but this will be the last time you interfere in my life."

I openly challenge her, feeling a certain pride at having found this compromise so quickly. She tilts her head as if considering my proposal. I need compromise with her. It’s how we’ve always operated.

"Alright, I won’t intervene in your life anymore. But it will take more than just one lesson to satisfy me. We both know you’re struggling in this field."

She raises an eyebrow, challenging me in return. Always and forever with the negotiations. I suppose I can come back here, knowing she won’t interfere in my life anymore.

"Fine. Your promise not to meddle in my problems in exchange for evening study sessions."

"We’re in agreement, then."

I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m losing in this deal. She may not meddle in my life anymore, but we’ll be spending more time together. Despite this thought, I conclude our arrangement with a handshake. I then move my chair to sit next to her. I pull out some scrap paper and my notes, which look like complete gibberish to me. I had never studied management before today.

"Let’s start from the beginning. Stay focused."

I listen closely as she explains the lesson in her own way. I can already see the difference compared to Alessia. I hope this time I’ll be able to understand something; otherwise, I’m in deep trouble and should really worry about my future.

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 8:45 PM - Student Dormitory. 

I spent my evening avoiding  Lucy. After our study session, I slipped away to the cafeteria to join my friends. I felt Lucy’s eyes on me the whole time I ate. Unfortunately for me, our study session went well. I feel even more unsettled than before. Why is she doing this? She’s acting so contradictory. I mean, she pushes me away, but she continues to help me and worry about me. Someone is going to have to explain her behavior to me because I don’t understand it anymore. Maybe I should talk to Ingrid. She’ll probably explain what’s going on, why Lucy is still keeping an eye on me. Maybe she even knows what  Lucy really thinks. No one keeps an eye on someone they don’t care about, right? She’s going to drive me crazy.

"You know you need to go back, right?" Ale asks me.

"Yeah. I'll go soon...," I sighed.

Before leaving the cafeteria, I asked Lucy if I could hang out in my room for a bit, and surprisingly, she agreed. I slightly regret not asking her earlier. Maybe she would have let me do it on the other days as well.

"Hey, Ale? I had a question."

"Yes?"

"Did you tell Lucy about Korbin and her friends?"

"No," she replies, frowning. "I just asked her to find you quickly. Why?"

"You're not lying to me?"

"Why would I? I know I insist a lot, but you asked me not to do it, so I didn't."

I sigh as I get up to put my sketchbook away in my empty wardrobe. All my stuff is still in  Lucy's room since I haven't left the school since I spent the weekend at her place.

"She knows, anyway," I announce. "Unless she was bluffing, but I doubt it."

"Knows about the harassment?"

"I guess," I shrug. "I don't know exactly what she knows. Anyway, she punished Korbin and Emma today for making homophobic remarks towards me."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"We'll see when I have to face them tomorrow. Don't you think?"

I see her nervously biting her lip as if she's thinking it over. I sincerely hope she didn't say anything to  Lucy like she claims. I would be upset if she did. I decide not to push the matter and put on my jacket, then adjust my bag on my shoulders. It's time for me to return to my cursed den. I give her a quick hug and kiss her on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Ale."

"Goodnight, ex-roomie! Please come back soon, okay? I'm starting to miss you in the evenings. I feel lonely."

"Be happy I’m not hogging all the hot water anymore," I tease.

"That's true," she giggles. "You did that to me a lot! Doesn't Bronze complain about it?"

"I apologized for weeks! And no, she showers in the morning."

"Oh, you two even have your routines..." she chuckles.

I roll my eyes at her remark, though she's probably not wrong. Even though we’re not on good terms, we live together quite well. I say goodbye one last time before leaving. I walk calmly down the hallway until someone suddenly shoves me hard against the wall. I don't have time to react before the person grabs my throat to strangle me. I close my eyes, trying hard to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall. I grasp at her wrists, trying to pull them away, but the surprise of the attack makes it impossible. She’s managed to lift me onto my tiptoes. I quickly start running out of air.

"You bitch," spits my attacker, whom I recognize as Korbin. "You’ll pay for ratting us out! Don’t think you’ll get away with it so easily, and you’d better keep your mouth shut this time!" she snarls.

She suddenly lets go, making me collapse to the ground. I stifle a groan as she kicks me in the stomach. She giggles as she walks away down the hallway. I cough, gasping for air, before finally letting my tears fall. This girl is insane. She'll never stop! Why does this kind of thing always have to happen to me? I stay on the ground for a moment to recover from the attack. Then I force my trembling body to get up and quickly leave the hallway, heading to  Lucy's room. I don't hesitate to use the instructors' access route. Lucy has given me permission to use it in the evenings to be more discreet. When I reach the other side, I immediately lock myself in the bathroom after grabbing my things. Luckily,  Lucy was too absorbed in her computer to notice me. Maybe she watched me over the top of her screen, but I didn’t see it. I expected my shower to clear my head tonight, but it's no use. I can still feel those cursed fingers on me. I only return to the bedroom once I feel ready. I expected to have to face  Lucy for taking so long, but the room is plunged into darkness. I move blindly to find my bed. I find it without difficulty and sit on it. I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. In front of me is  Lucy, who has her back to me. It's the first time she’s ever ignored me, and it’s happening at the moment when I need her most. I’m almost certain she’s not sleeping. Her breathing isn’t as steady as it should be. I glance at her clock, which shows 9:45 PM. I close my eyes to chase away the moisture starting to form.

"L- Lucy?" I attempt.

I bite my lip when I get no response from her. I know she's not asleep. I lower my head, playing with my fingers. This is the first time I feel ready to set my pride aside, but this situation is too much for me.

"I-I-... Uh... C-can I sleep with you?"

I feel so desperate asking her something like that, but I know full well that I won’t have a peaceful night after what just happened. I lower my eyes at her silence. I sigh in defeat as I start to pull up my blanket when I hear her move.

"Come here," she murmurs.

I blink, not expecting a response from her. To confirm her words, she gently pats the empty spot on her bed.

"You can come," she confirms.

I quickly move around the bed before she can change her mind and lie down next to her. Now I can see her face. Our eyes meet for a moment, but I quickly turn my back to her, keeping a reasonable distance. She doesn’t seem to agree with that, though, as she wraps her arm around me, pulling me close to her. She holds me tightly, as if she’s afraid I’ll leave. This thought brings tears that start streaming down my cheeks. I had terribly missed the feeling of having her close to me. I try not to choke so she won't notice, even though I think she can feel it given our proximity. Yet, she doesn’t say anything. I intertwine my fingers with hers, which are resting against my stomach, seeking as much contact as possible. Since I’m here, I might as well fully embrace the moment. A whimper escapes me unintentionally when she kisses my head.

"Goodnight, Princess."

Not feeling capable of replying, I just tighten the embrace between us. I try to calm the anxiety gripping me, but it's difficult. Yet, in her arms, I know that everything will always be okay. I finally close my eyes, trying to enjoy the moment and relax. Tomorrow is another day, and who knows what awaits me after this night.

[deepdisireslonging]

A Good Handle on Things

The Reader turns heel, which turns on her boyfriend. Despite not having much time to explore the possibilities, the Reader makes the best of it.

Pairing: Will Ospreay x Reader

Warnings/Promises: public SMUT in a closet, subby!Will, handjob, oral (male receiving), quickie, implied further smut

Word Count: 1215

Note: Happy Easter! This Ospreay guy is starting to grow on me. I haven't thought much about writing for him. Let’s change that, shall we? Happy reading!

To the roar of the crowd, you happily left the arena. Things were going perfectly. Your new gear was a hit. And, more importantly, the crowd despised your heel turn. The cost was high, threatening your relationship with over half of the women’s division. Maybe with the heat, more people would become invested in what you ladies were up to, and Tony Khan would finally agree to more TV time.

You were as much of a success backstage as the crowd hated you out front. After receiving your congratulations for becoming AEW’s most hated woman, you practically skipped to your dressing room.

Where a tall drink of tea was leaning against your door.

“Well done, love. Couldn’t have stabbed my best friend in the back better myself.” Will wrapped your arms around his neck so he could bury his nose into your hair. “No hard feelin’s between us, right? I don’t think I’d survive being your next target.”

“Not that I can think of,” you said with a giggle. Then you leaned into his embrace. And pressed into something promising. “Will, honey. Is there something else hard between us?”

He looked up at the ceiling, innocent as a rotten rosebud. “Maybe-“ he dragged out. “And maybe… I think I like you best as a heel. It’s… it’s something, ta say the least.”

“To the least.” You bit your bottom lip, and started curling your fingers in the short hairs at the base of his neck. “I’m glad you like my new schtick. But, I hate to break it to you,” you reached past him and opened the door into your dressing room, “but we’ve got to hit the road.”

“But-“ He followed you in. Snagging your wrist, he pinned you to the inside of the door. “But I want to see this other side of you. I want to-“ he pressed his lips to your forehead, sliding your wrists over your head, “I want to explore your bad girl side.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll have to explore me later. We’ve got a bit of a drive, and then an early morning in just a few hours. Maybe tomorrow night?”

With a pout, he moved out of your space so you could change and toss the last of your things into your suitcase. On your way out, people kept stopping you to have you repeat bits of your promo. Will didn’t seem bothered by it. At least, not irked enough to tell people to buzz off. But he kept shifting his weight. Avoiding your gaze when you’d finish. His hand seemed twitchy when you took it. And he was limping.

“Are you okay?” You guided him and the luggage to one side so you could give him a once over out of the way of the pack-up crew. “Did you pull something in your match? Did the Doc look you over yet?”

He muttered short, flustered things to keep your hands off his ribs. But when he shifted his weight again, his grey sweatpants revealed the problem. “Really, it’s nothing. Nothing I can’t- can’t handle later.”

“Later? You can’t drive with… that.” You had to smile at his antics. It was sweet of him to not push his desire onto you when he was so obviously in need. You looked around. Until you spotted a doorknob. You dragged him towards it, gasping in delight when it turned under your grasp.

Will tried to resist. “But- you said- you said we have an early morning. And we- we could get locked in here.”

“Not the worst thing we’ve done. Besides, there’s always some of the guys that stay late. They’ll see our luggage and know we’re still nearby. Or they’ll call.” You held up your phone, activating the flashlight so that you had a little illumination. It was then that you could see how Will’s chest heaved. How his eyes drank you in. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it more than before. “I haven’t touched you yet, and you already look like I’ve ravaged you,” you whispered. It was supposed to come out as a laugh, but your own breath was short. And your heart pounded in your ears.

Outside, the packing-up of the show drifted away. At any moment, surely, your phone would start ringing.

“We-“ you licked your lips. “We don’t have much time.”

You tugged at Will’s sweats and brazenly pulled his length into the open. He groaned loudly, making you reach up to slap your other hand over his mouth. He laid his palm over your knuckles, reaching back with his other hand to steady himself against the wall.

The Heel rose up inside you.

“You gonna be quiet for me?” you whispered. Gently giving him a twist, you leaned in to lick at the underside of his jaw. Will’s eyes rolled back and he moaned again. “Gonna be good for me?”

He nodded frantically, thrusting into your grasp.

How many times had he taken you like this? In his dressing room or yours, or in some empty hallway. Shoving his hand down your pants to curl his fingers into your desperate slick while the other one kept you quiet. Now you know why he did it so frequently. It made your breath stutter to see him shake with need. To feel his length pulse in your hand. In the bare gleam of your phone, his eyes fluttered as your tugging and twisting quickened. You pressed your thighs together, rubbing them for a bit of friction that would never be enough. You didn’t care. Will’s grip tightened over your hand on his mouth. His nails bit into your skin.

“Getting close, pretty boy?”

A broken whimper was his reply.

You maneuvered your grip until you could press Will’s hand over his mouth. “Being so good for me. Letting me boss you around. Keep it up. Just a bit longer.” With that, you sank to your knees.

Your lips had barely wrapped around his length before he was throwing his head back. His release filled your mouth, spilling out and dripping onto your shirt. Doing his best to follow your order, he pressed his hand hard over the sounds that tried to escape as he rode out the high.

When he was spent, you tucked him back into his pants. And you tugged at the bottom of his sweatshirt till he let you steal it.

“I’ll change into another shirt when we get the bags to the car.”

His eyes were wild as he tried to catch his breath. Running your fingers over his cheeks and forehead, his flushed skin told you everything you’d ever need to know about whether to try this again or not.

“But-“ he gasped, swallowing hard, “but you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get mine later.” You let wickedness overtake the gleam in your eye. “Maybe I can put on a show for you?” He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the hall cupboard. The bags tipped over, rolling and sliding across the concrete until he had all of their straps and handles under control. “Well, come on, then. I can’t leave my bad girl waiting. And for the record,” he kissed you hard, pinning you against a trellis, “you can boss me around any time.”

***

Masterlist

Other hallway quickies:

Jealous - Smut with Elias

If We Get Caught - Smut with Jimmy Uso

Finish Me - Smut with MJF

Back Hallways - Smut with Roman Reigns

Our Princess - Bobby Fish x Reader x Kyle O’Reilly

[colourstreakgryffin]

Yandere Muichiro, Tanjiro and Giyuu forcing his beloved to eat, and she spits the food out or turns her head to the side refusing. Because she is angry after the kidnapping?

Ooooh! Okay! This can be very simple to write about! It’s been so long since I’ve done a proper request so let’s go, here it comes!

Yandere Muichiro

“Darling… I am done with this foolish game, eat now”

Muichiro’s patience is running thin very fast as his fingertips press firmer on the pair of chopsticks he is holding out, the contents inbetween the eating utensils being a fresh hot salmon dumpling. It’s been fifteen minutes straight of this going on and on…

You, his beloved little angel, just refusing to eat the lunch he had spent almost two whole hours making, all for you and you’re rejecting him? What is he doing wrong? Why aren’t you happy? You’re with him now, you’re in the safety of his home and it’s so cozy, warm and perfect in this bedroom. What is there to dislike about this situation? Muichiro doesn’t get it

To you, you couldn’t despise Muichiro anymore than you already do. He took away your freedom, disorientated your senses, dragged you to this awful mansion and has tied you up to a futon by a pair of steely Nichirin metal chains, you cannot break free and he is forcing you to stay put all so obediently until he comes back. Everytime Muichiro walks into the room, you want to throw up

Muichiro, with furious sharp mint green eyes and a open scowl at your refusal as you stay silent and tilt your head away from him, uses his free hand to roughly grip your chin and pull your face back into his forward-facing direction to pry open your mouth by your cheeks with no-longer gentle calloused fingers to shove the dumpling into your mouth, forcing you to close your mouth with his strong, stern hold as it looks like he is ready to snap your neck if you disobey him…

How could such a sweet, timid little cutie like Muichiro, the young adult you had fallen for. End up being such a sick psychopath like this? And what did you do to deserve this type of treatment? Kidnapped, socially-isolated, heartbroken and now being forced to eat food you are thousand percent certain may just be laced with some type of drug…

Yandere Tanjiro

Tanjiro sighs gently, on the verge of just losing himself but he will not give up at all, never, he cannot just risk being all flimsy whilst his beloved is incapable of caring for herself. His determination is made of titanium and his will is stronger than steel. The Kamado smiles warmly and sweetly, his pretty plum red eyes almost glowing as he, once again, picks out a chopstick-full of nice healthy seafood rice and places it in his mouth. Like with a picky stubborn child, he is demonstrating that the dinner he has brought for you on this fine cool night, is not dangerous and not laced with anything

The food, its quality and its safety is not the problem to you at all, the real problem is what Tanjiro has done to you… your ex-crush, the man you really liked. Ended up being a complete and utter dangerous monster to you, drugged you up with a simple cup of tea, dragged you back to his Estate and is now keeping your disappearance a secret, so nobody can try look for you as he has made sure everybody thinks you had passed away from a mission

Continuously spitting out the rice chopstick-fulls that Tanjiro gently but firmly shoves into your mouth, his tolerance over the ‘disrespect’ grows more and more unable to keep up. You just keep refusing him at every turn and he finds it so heartbreaking, he has done so much for you… so much. His love for you is so strong that he can’t stop thinking about you and it’s driving him mad, just as much as you refusing to eat the dinner is

Tanjiro can only hope the demonstrations he keeps doing for you will break through your stubborn barrier, he is only doing this for your health and your safety. Just eat the food already, you need some type of sustenances, you can’t starve yourself. That’ll make Tanjiro just lose his marbles to a uncontrollable state if he cannot make you digest anything beneficial and life-saving, especially when you clearly need it. Now, that you’re restrained to his futon and not going anywhere anytime soon

He is very ready to just begin begging as you close your mouth with a open hateful scowl directed at him, it makes his heart shatter further at how much you openly despise him, how angry and agitated you are. You’ve been this way for hours, for days and it’s getting tiresome. You just need to accept your new life, that’s Tanjiro’s thought process. He doesn’t like seeing you so upset and so irritate but he cannot risk you going out, where demons and men run around… it’s too dangerous

“Please, sweetheart… how about just half? Can you just have half?”

Yandere Giyuu

Giyuu is growing frustrated. So frustrated as he gazes the shattered ceramic bowl and the discarded of piping hot udon, the savoury liquid pooling over the large broken pieces of the cutlery. How disappointing and cruel… Giyuu is trying his best to make you eat, his precious sweetheart, the one woman he needs more than anything ever. He has gone far beyond any other person would to make sure you will stay with him, he can’t stand the fact you’re not cooperating him

Giyuu’s cold dark sapphire blue eyes slide from the destroyed remnants of the dinner he cooked for you to you directly, tied up with firm tight ropes up against his futon and trying to wiggle out of the grasp of the irritating binds. Giyuu won’t let you leave at all so there is truly no point for you to try, you’re never walking out of the door without him linked to your side, you’re never talking to anybody without his permission. He won’t take any chances and he cannot lose you, like he has lost everybody else in his life

“My love… was there something off about the udon?”

You didn’t even answer Giyuu, not at all giving him a single side-glance at your pure unadulterated fury bubbling over uncontrollably that you just desire to lash out at your kidnapper. The sweet, shy, small-voiced man you had enjoyed speaking to in your time of independent freedom. The one who went from gentle but interested to a full-blown threat as he took you away from humanity, he took away your ability to walk around and now suspects you to love him back?!

Giyuu, on his end, is just trying his best to prove to you how much you mean to him, that he has gone to such a extreme drastic, the most extreme drastic possible, to show you his undivided passionate love. That he is devoting so much of his time to you and taking care of you, the most perfect little housewife. You don’t need to do anything anymore. Don’t you want a man to take care of you and ensure no demons ever touch you? That sounds great to Giyuu as a whole

Maybe not today, but Giyuu will make you love him as much as he loves you, he will make you willingly accept every longtime cooking gift he presents you, he will have you all his to the point you don’t even want to go out anymore. He must, he needs you and he knows he can’t live without you nor with himself if you’re still running around the dead of night where demons prowl, you’re safe here and that’s the greatest thing a Hashira like him can do for his lover

[rinaforpages]

how (not) to survive academic invalidation

park gunwook x reader

hahahha...

using the american hs system bcs wow! im american... (i half wrote this at the end of last school yr so)

warnings: swearing, self-deprecation (obv), yn hits themself, angst with a bit of fluff at the end, reader is actually smart but surrounds themself with geniuses.

2.6k words

________________________________

# 1 dont compare yourself

"junior year kicks everyones ass." you wanted to kick whoever said that ass. not only was the school work kicking your ass, your friends and classmates seemed to be doing just fine.

they were working on ap chemistry minus laura and gunwook who were working on ap environmental science, and you, who took neither of those classes, felt extremely out of place, doing your ap us history homework.

"whats species richness again?" laura asked gunwook, who quickly answered her question. you looked up, planning to ask the soon-to-be early graduate a question, only to see him helping sarah with a chemistry problem.

you weren't like them and you despised that. your friends were top of the class, an average of a 4.4 gpa, an early graduate (and first in the 2024 class overall) and there you sat with your measly 3.75. they were in 3-4 ap classes, and you sat there, struggling through your 2. (in your defense, ap lang and apush are the two hardest aps juniors could take).

you didnt excel in any way shape or form. they had just about an a in every class (minus ryan in french, who had a b), and a b was your most common grade.

a good 10 minutes later you had finished struggling through apush, you moved on to mandarin. you were the only one who took mandarin, everyone else opting for french. the characters jumbled your brain as your friends spoke in french, seemingly coming easy to them.

you heard footsteps walk by, and ricky laid a hand on your shoulder, looking over. "thats wrong." he said simply. the french kids careened their necks to look at you. he grabbed your pencil and wrote the right character, then walked away. you hummed as you circled the characters you didnt know, opting to ask zhang hao over bothering ricky again.

"you ok over there?" gunwook asked. you scowled.

"i dont understand why there are so many idioms! im losing my goddamn mind." parker laughed, mumbling that you chose the language. you couldnt (or didnt want to) voice your doubts as you thought you could.

as they focused their attention on their homework again, you waved over zhang hao, who hanbin had asked to help cut fruits for you and your friends. he set down a plate in front of you, then sat down.

"what does 开夜车 mean zhang hao please im gonna kill myself." he laughed as hanbin looked up, extremely concerned.

"you know 熬夜, right?" you nodded "so its kind of like that but youre doing work. it literally means burn the midnight oil" you thanked him as he patted your head, pulling the plate of fruit away from your friends and toward you, gunwook making a sound of discontent.

you sighed, packing up your bag at a text from your oldest brother. he was home from his masters program in germany, apparently, and was now waiting outside the dorm. you loved your older brothers, you really did, but they were so much smarter than you ever will be. the oldest graduated magna cum laude from mit, now achieving an accelerated masters for mechanical engineering, and the younger was attending harvard for premed, both completely full ride.

your friends, finally re-noticing you, looked up. "where are you going?" gunwook asked, shushing yujin.

"brothers here," you mumbled, not wanting to wreck your self-esteem any more than you had. sarah pouted, but nodded, whipping out her phone. gunwook opened his mouth, but then quickly closed it. "bye hao, thanks for the help. bye, hanbin and jiwoong!" the three oldest members waved back, hanbin hugging you as you walked by. when you got in your fathers' car that your brother was driving, you spilled your guts.

# 2 dont fall behind

at some point, your motivation fell through. all you wanted to do was lie down and stare at the ceiling all day. sadly though, education laws (and school rules) prevailed.

as you trudged up the stairs from last lunch to pre-calculus, you cursed the architects of the three-floor building and whoever required you to go to school.

two of your friends—laura and ryan—had junior priv, which meant they left early. sarah and coral (who had missed the study session) were in ap chem, and gunwook left for a shoot. without your friends to motivate you to work harder, you felt there was nothing left for you to do.

you had fallen asleep in mandarin earlier that day, so why were you still exhausted?

quick answer: you had stayed up late finishing your apush bonus points.

actual answer: you had no motivation to do anything.

you were falling behind on homework: what used to be doing homework as soon as you got home turned into doing it right before class. a teacher had approached your freshman-year english teacher about it, the one teacher who you could talk easily to. yujin was standing right there; they mustve not have realized you two knew each other.

ricky and zhang hao had invited you over for a cdrama binge session. (ricky said "itll help you" in his texts.) but yujin quickly pulled you aside.

"youre falling behind?" he asked, pointedly. you sighed, nodded, opening your mouth to reply as gunwook walked by, asking what you were doing.

"nothin! ricky and hao invited me over." the words rushed out, and they were so not convincing, but gunwook shrugged and moved to sit down beside ricky and gyuvin. you hushed yujin and walked over and sat down beside hao. gunwook stared at you.

"come here." he motioned, shoving ricky off the couch. you hesitated as you made eye contact ricky, but eventually, there were only so many thumps against the couch you could take. "see? more comfortable over here" you hit him, and he let out a yelp.

"do you have much homework, yn?" taerae asked, setting down a bowl of popcorn.

"only a couple of classes," you replied, shoving a kernel in your mouth.

matthew laughed, "the usual suspects, im guessing?" you nodded. gunwook threw a (toned) arm around you as the two chinese members debated the drama.

"how much have you done? its sunday." gunwook asked, lightly, rubbing circles on your arm with his thumb.

"i can do it all tonight and tomorrow." you sighed, the sentence reminding you of where you are in school. gunwook hummed.

"make sure you get sleep, though. you need sleep, its not healthy if you dont." fuck. you were in deep shit in two ways. you were falling deeper into your rut, and you were falling deeper in love with your childhood best friend.

# 3 dont be too hard on yourself

...was easier said than done. your mind cursed you every time you got a bad grade. you wondered what was the point: you werent good enough to get into the likes of yale, or any of your colleges for that matter.

you had long since fallen off the ladder. it had injured you your 8th-grade year, and every attempt to climb back to where you were or any pushing from a 3rd party proved futile, as you only slipped and fell back down again.

the sat was fast approaching, and every practice test you did was never where you wanted them to be. every stupid math problem you got wrong brought a punch to your head. you had called gunwook, only realizing when he didnt pick up that he was in a shoot. panicked, you hung up before the voicemail. when he called you back (10 times with his members also calling you), you opted to ignore it. it was getting late, anyhow, and you had to go in early for apush in the morning.

apush lab made you want to kill yourself. sarah sat next to you, but everything always seemed to favor her. the quizzes, the teacher. it was unfair, really. american history was supposed to be your thing. so why were you struggling? after lab, sarah asked you what was wrong. "gunwook had called us in a panic because you didn't pick up." you shook your head, lying through your teeth.

"i had a question, but then passed the fuck out like 5 minutes later." sarah laughed and nodded, saying she was glad you got proper sleep, mumbling something about the aforementioned friend. when you asked, she waved you off, the man himself standing outside your classroom. he swung an arm around you as sarah walked in the opposite direction to her next class. he asked you the same thing. you lied to him too, but he looked less convinced. he didnt press you further, though, as you two began to walk down the stairs to your creative writing workshop—a senior elective you had begged your guidance counselor to take. gunwook took it to fill spots in his schedule.

the teacher loved him. as did everyone. you wondered if you could ever experience that. your oldest friend was everything you weren't and it was a point of contention inside your mind. you cursed yourself that you were nothing like him. gunwook nudged you in the middle of class when you were given an opportunity to work, asking what was wrong.

"i know thats not why you called me and then didn't pick up. you're also in your head right now." he pointed out, softly. you hummed, scribbling down something in your notebook.

"i just... i had a question but it was stupid. i figured it out." he looked at you pointedly, a look that told you to tell him the truth. "seriously! im ok!" he nodded, grabbing your hand for a squeeze.

# 4 do your best

you were nervous. ok nervous was an understatement. you rocked from heel to toe as you awaited the announcement that the doors were open. your friends chattered nervously around you. for them, this was the first time they were taking the sat. this was your second. you had gotten a 1340 on your first try—nowhere near where you wanted it to be. your brothers had gotten 1600 and 1590, respectively.

you were on call with all your friends the night before, gunwook coaching you guys through certain questions. he had texted you, (only you, but you didnt know that) wishing you luck. ricky and zhang hao had wished you luck as well.

everything seemed like bricks in your bag. it was only a couple of things—a computer, for the digital sat, a pencil, a calculator, a water bottle, and a banana. but it felt like you had hundreds of textbooks in your bag for no reason at all.

the doors swung open, and you rushed up to your assigned room. the setup was a blur, and the reading section seemed to be so too. during the break, your friends voiced similar opinions. then, during math, you began to struggle. somewhere along the way, though, gunwook popped into your head. you dont know if it was   because you wanted to make him proud, or you didnt want to disappoint your oldest friend and crush, but it worked. you powered through module 1 and 2, module 2 being the toughest one by far.

when the results came back two weeks later, you waited with baited breath as your friends skipped class with you to check all of your scores. gunwook held your hand as you refreshed the page.

"i dont want to look." you said, hiding your face in his chest.

"ill look for you." he mumbled into your hair, scrolling down. you felt him smile into the crown of your head, "i knew you could do it, sweetheart." you looked, and a big glaring 1590 stared back at you.

"wook!! holy shit a 1590!!" you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

# 5 talk about it

you sat with your friends and the members as you awaited gunwook's family's arrival. gunwook smiled from his seat on the gymnasium floor, holding up his phone. almost on instinct, you all checked your own.

wook🩵: this'll be you guys next year. ill be up there watching you all.

sarah burst in to tears. laura full on sobbed, and ryan and carols eyes were brimming with tears. as you read the text again and again, you got a separate text.

wook🩵: i'm proud of you y'know? i saw you struggling a bit at the end there but you made it through. i love you, yn. im glad to call you my friend.

i love you i love you i-

"hey yn sweetheart!" gunwooks mom sat next to you. his brother waved, and his father gave you a curt nod.

"hi. you guys must be excited." his mom laughed, nodding, then shoving your shoulder.

"im more excited about something else." you opened your mouth to ask her what, but the ceremony started

giving gunwook his graduation flowers made him blush. he shook his head. "do you not like them, wook? i thought theyre your favorites." he shook his head again, dropping the flowers into his mom's hands, grabbing your face.

"you are clueless, yknow that? i gave you so many hints. everyone knows." when you asked him what he meant, "yn, you didnt think id notice you putting yourself down? you know i cant fucking stand that. sorry mom. it kills me that the love if my life doesnt realize how fucking amazing they are, and it kills me that they dont realize that im in love with them." at this point, you dont know what you were doing. because gunwook was confessing to you that he both likes you and that he knows about your self-deprication. so now, surrounded by friends and seniors, gunwooks family and members, you kissed him.

it wasnt like anything you had imagined. your first kiss, you mean. peering seniors were waved off by shouts from matthew and gunwooks brother—both burly enough that even the biggest varsity football players would shrink away.

gunwook smiled on your lips as your friends cheered amongst themselves. you heard a loud "闭嘴!" from zhang hao to what you presume was ricky chatting with the senior mandarin class. when you broke off, gasping for air, gunwook tore off his graduation gown, pushing it onto his poor unsuspecting leader. he grabbed your arm, and the two of you sprinted as fast as you could.

out the gymnasium doors, out back by the cafeteria, through the back-woods path. he stopped when he was sure no one would follow him.

"so whats going on? with the whole." he gestured to your head. you knew what he meant, so you nodded. you told him everything, how you compared yourself to everyone, especially your friends and brothers, you were falling behind, your motivation was close to 0, and you never really believed that you could do it. he was quiet for a while. you knew he was trying to find the right words.

you wanted to cry, or throw up, probably both. it felt like the trees and the birds and your boyfriend? were judging you. but gunwook just apologized, for not noticing sooner, for not knowing how to help. you shook your head, tears threatening to fall, but he shook his too.

"no, no, im your best friend, yn, i need to be here for you. im serious, you have people to rely on, you dont have to shoulder this all by yourself." the tears threatening to fall were not a threat anymore, and the dam broke. gunwook grabbed the back of your head, pulling you into a hug.

—

mandarin guide:

开夜车: kai ye che, lit. burn the midnight oil

熬夜: ao ye, stay up late

闭嘴: bi zui, shut up/close your mouth

[thepatristictradition]

Suffering is not What You Think

(The Penitent Magdalene)

So often you hear, when people leave their churches, their gripes surround suffering. Why would God allow suffering? Why would God allow babies to be murdered and die of cancer? Why would He allow war and cannibalism and pedophilia? Why did God allow me to see my mother die? Why did he allow this or that?

What I cannot help but notice is that the people saying this are never talking about their own suffering.

"Why does God allow war?" said a cowardly young man who has never seen bloodshed. "Why does God allow cancer?" said a woman who is perfectly healthy. "Why does God allow abuse?" said a man who had the privilege of watching the sex abuse crisis of the RCC play out on the TV screen and not in the sacristy. "Why did God allow my mother do die?" said a daughter who is still alive.

We may mourn, and we ought to mourn, the sorrows and the fallenness of this world, but witnessing suffering is not the same as suffering.

(Just Take Them and Leave Me Alone)

This was never more clear to me than when I spent a summer arguing with my anti-natalist, atheist sister. She would spend hours berating my poor mother and father for the heinous crime of having children. During one of these spats, my sister turned to me and said, "How can you support natalism?" which she said like a slur, "your grandmother abused you from the moment you were born."

Now, this is true. Truer than she knew, or, if I have it my way, will ever know. My grandmother (who was my and my sister's primary caregiver) always despised me because I was born with a deformity. Her hatred only intensified when my sister was born. My sister was, in her eyes, perfect. As a child, my sister would ask for me to be abused in front of her, for her amusement, by my grandmother.

My sister witnessed plenty of my suffering, but she experienced not an iota of it. And yet, she used my suffering as a way to say that all of human life is suffering. She used it to discredit the worth of all human life.

(Ophelia)

I find this is always the case. When I was an atheist, I was confused by people who brought up the "problem of suffering". I never viewed my suffering as something that made my life worse. Even as an atheist and a child, I saw clearly how the suffering I experienced and was experiencing was driving me toward a larger purpose. This pattern of thought followed me into the sexual abuse I experienced in middle school and into my conversion.

My atheist associates, whose suffering I know well, likewise never cite their suffering as a reason for their disbelief. When you really get down to it, "God is a big meanie" is not a reason to reject His existence, say these associates of mine.

It is only being a witness to suffering-- usually an impotent witness-- that causes this specific kind of apostasy. Even if my sister had stopped encouraging it, I still would have been abused. Her behavior would have made little difference. It is the same for the sufferings I listed earlier. Regardless of what we tell ourselves, no boycotting, no Instagram post, and not even tax evasion or immolation will stop the Genocide Israel is purporting against the Palestinians. We, far removed, poor, and powerless foreigners, are impotent. We can do nothing to help someone with a terminal illness not die-- it's terminal. We can do nothing to help the kidnapped children we see on the news, taken from their homes halfway across the country. We cannot bilocate, live forever, or have infinite money.

When these people say, "Why does God allow suffering?" they are actually asking, "Why does God allow my impotence?" The implication is that, of course, they would solve these sufferings if only they were not impotent. Is this the case? I don't know; who am I to judge the heart of another man?

Whatever the case, it is clear to me that witnessing suffering is of some different metaphysical nature than the actual experience of suffering. I've written a little about this privately, so I will get around to expanding upon it in further posts.

[astrology-by-sita]

ON LEO RISINGS ♌️

This is a part of a series on the rising signs, not necessarily in Zodiacal order.

Leo risings are ruled by the sun. The Supreme ego, the king. The ultimate self and not just the physical self it's the spiritual Higher Self - your soul. Western astrology considers that sun represents your soul. Vedic astrology considers it as a natural "AtmaKaraka".

Sun sign astrology maybe is overly emphasized in the west cause the west is egoistic by nature. But the ego should remain within limits, and it should carry us to the higher self which is the soul, in connection with the divine. Because you really are a soul, not the mind or the body. Leos are on a spectrum between too egoistic on one side and spiritual, in connection with the true Self, on the other side. It's not just black and white, that Leo friend you have is probably in the grey area.

Leo and Libra are the only two rising sign where a malefic rules both 4h and 7h. Libras are another story I'll give them their own post. 4h and 7h both require intimacy and emotional connection as they represent family and relationships. And that's what Leos want to run away from.

Leos should not listen to what other people like friends/community/neighborhood says as their ruler - sun - debilitates in Libra 3h. If they care about people's opinions they'll never embody the personality they want to embody, they'll never "shine" the way they want to, or advance spiritually.

Sun exalts in Aries 9h - exaltation is status - so they can even become spiritual gurus if they choose to. Or excel in higher education, occult studies, divination, astrology, academia etc you name it. Valens says sun rules high priesthoods.

The moon rules the 12th house so emotional connections can be isolating or bring over hidden enemies to Leo's life. 12h is also travelling and foreign lands. Leos find their home abroad, not in their home country. Jupiter the ruler of 5h exalts there so their joy is not in their homeland.

Now let's address the elephant in the room, saturn ruling 7h (Aquarius). Leos choose unconventional partners or partners whom their family/society/culture doesn't approve of. Aquarius rules wishes also. Leos should not do arranged marriages. It doesn't work. They have to have * their * wish, not their family's wish. If they marry someone chosen by others, heavy karmic retribution happen, and saturn will separate them.

The best example is King Charles, a Leo rising. Arranged marriage with Princess Diana - we all know how it went. In the end he got his wish - Queen Camilla - whom his family didn't like.

Leos want to be liked and admired like what's a king without the subjects? But for this reason they succumb to what society wants in every single thing (except one thing : relationships/marriage, here they draw the line). They are very traditional except in relationships.

Their family is likely to be toxic and controlling (Mars rules 4h, check the condition of Mars too) and their friends can be two-faced, tricksters and liars (Gemini in 11h especially if Mercury is in poor condition). But they stay with the toxic family and fake friends because it's good for their societal positions. They hang out with people they might internally despise cause these people help them reach high positions in society.

Following rules in everything except relationships can drive a wedge between Leos and their partners. The partner is practical, ambitious, rational, with scientific outlook on life - aquarius/saturn qualities. The partner doesn't like the people Leos hang out with. Or the fact that the Leo's family keeps meddling in the Leo's life and marriage. I have seen it happen with my own eyes for Leos. So even when Leos get the partner they wish for, they still have to be careful.

Leo's problems get mostly solved when they realize they don't have to please and cater to the society, family, friends etc whom they secretly dislike, when they realize that they're the soul, not the body or mind, and they don't have to keep satisfying the ego on this material plane, cause their true self does not want false friends or fake company to ascend in society...

And also when they realize there's just one truth, which is the universal higher power, you can call it God or just higher power, which the soul is a part of. The one universal truth is in the 9th house of higher truths and spirituality, where their ruler - sun - exalts. Exaltation is status.

Then everything in their life gets better. Friendship, career, relationship...and they can become great teachers who inspire humankind.

[konigsblog]

for angst, him comforting you with mental health issues (depression, anxiety, eating, bad coping skills, maybe he notices signs of mania?) things like that could be triggering but sometimes it’s just nice to feel like theres someone there for you, even if it’s not real :(

tw; mentions of eating disorders (bulimia)

whenever he came back from your deployment, you always looked different. your weight fluctuating, you jaw swollen and your eyebags growing. some days he came back and you had red marks and scars on your knuckles, your teeth grazing against your skin causing cuts to form.

you always smiled, even if you were really struggling, and he always grew worried. he didn't want tto find you leaning over the toilet, your stomach swollen with food, ruptured and deceased. he hates the way your tears would well up with tears when you brushes through your hair - chunks of hair falling from your scalp, losing your sex drive due to insecurities and your struggles.

whenever you slept, he'd hold you hand. noticing your purple and blue nails, freezing cold palms. you were so cold that he worried if you'd died, feeling like a corpse in his arms. gazing down at the redness on your knuckles, sighing deeply before kissing your forehead, removing the body scale in the bathroom and throwing away the food scales that rested in the cupboard draws.

simon despised the way you'd play around with your food, cutting them into small pieces and attempting to distract him with questions about his day or work. how was your day? what did you do on your missions this time? how's johnny? eventually, he couldn't take the fear forming in his gut everytime he looked at you, dropping his utensils onto the table and grabbing your hand tenderly. “sweetheart, speak to me, please.”

you were hesitant, knowing how much you hated your body, you didn't want to get help. the compliments you got from your friends whenever you lost a couple kilos encouraged you further, taking sips of water and repressing your hunger. the muscle inside you wore away, nutrients lacked, standing up too fast and fainting.

he made sure not to force you into eating disorder recovery, but acknowledging your problems and working on helping your slowly. he placed more food on your plate everyday, talked your through your meals and held you for however long you needed.

you both stood naked infront of the mirror, sat on his lap as he pointed out everything he loved about you (spoiler alert, it was everything) wiping your tears away while cradling you in his arms. “my love, i love you, baby.. you're so gorgeous, i don't understand how you can't see that.”

“you'll always be my sweet girl, you're so perfect - every inch of you, regardless of body weight, measurements and height, you're stunning to me, i can't imagine you any other way apart from with me, i need you, let me help you.”

[chaifootsteps]

just me or is the whole 'saying this is like fanfic is homophobia' framing kind of frustrating? like just to list out the tropes that have come up so far in HH/HB:

female character is written as an evil shrew who gets in the way of the m/m pairing

relationship that starts with rape/dubcon rewritten into true love (this one is probably more common in bad BL manga but I'm willing to bet there's some overlap)

character is the child of a mob family

portrayals of rape/sexual assault treated as titillating / used for drama

portrayals of domestic violence/abuse used mainly to get viewers to feel sorry for a character instead of making them sympathetic on their own terms

abusers/rapists being all powerful monsters solely to torture the victim as much as possible

characters are either Good or Bad and writing is heavy handed about driving this point home

writers has one character they stan and baby above all others and not only the writing but the world bends around them as they eat up more and more screentime while the actual main characters are shoved to the side

writer has one character they hate and they hate other people liking them so they derail them in the most obvious way possible

writer has one pairing they despise and go out of their way to make them seem familial to shame the fans who ship it

writer has intended pairings in mind but they just kinda happen regardless of how much work has been put in to give them real chemistry

the plotlines jump all over the place with no consideration given to the differing stakes each create or audience fatigue when too much is introduced at once/too many hanging threads are left, similar to what happens in unplanned serialized fiction. consistency and worldbuilding errors abound. conversations/events that seem like they should change the status quo kinda don't but there's so little way to tell which one is which that audiences cannot gauge the stakes and either stop being invested or just take the show as it comes since there's no point anticipating anything being done with a lot of its characters & plot points

too many characters, often some of whom don't serve much purpose but the writer is way too attached to to ever cut out (looking at you, Andrealphus & Vassago)

characters are rewritten on the fly. due to the lack of planning their arcs start and stop or get quietly dropped when the writer tires of them

pervasive attitude of misogyny - female characters are underwritten, bitches, dumb or accessories to the men. The world revolves around the (usually white) m/m pairing/s

the main premise is dropped in favor of shipping drama or character shilling

etc.

There's probably more but those are the big ones - like s1 wasn't perfect but s2 really does feel like it became fanfic of itself. I understand Viv being frustrated if it seems like a broad dismissive brush instead of specific critiques, but there's a couple of problems here:

when people give specific critiques she either misrepresents their points to frame them as bad faith (tacitly encouraging her fans to do the same), complains people keep making the same point or writes defensive threads about how people just don't get it because, for example, the show totally demonstrates Millie has qualities other than Wife and Violent

when people say something 'feels like fanfic' as far as I've seen they aren't immediately using it as shorthand for 'it has LGBT characters'. usually when they expand on their points what they're getting at is a lack of planning and a lack of experience or competency in the writer that gives the whole thing impression of being done by an amateur who's either young or still learning their craft, or both

it's the same lack of experienced hands that resulted in the opening of Hazbin being so amateurish and lacking the sense of having actual episodes until other staff writers were brought in to clean up the mess

like yeah I don't like the implication that 'fanfic=automatically bad' since I've read some good stuff myself and maybe people could be more specific; but usually this critique is coming from people who actually like fanfic, who've read a lot of it and who recognize the tropes from the worst fanfics out there in Viv's work

Viv's little "Um, actually, fanfic is good and queer and so if you use it as an insult towards my shows, you're homophobic" snit is one of the more rancid things she's said. When you lay it all out like this, it really does go to show how her stories embody all the worst, most harmful tropes bad fanfic -- and bad writing in general -- has to offer.