#remember to take regular breaks and be kind to yourself

[zhongrin]

WAIT HELP 😭

YOUR FICS GET ME WEAK IN MY FUCKING KNEES NO LIKE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND BRO. YOUR ACC IS THE ONLY REASON WHY IM NOT KILLING MYSELF DURING FINALS

i.... please don't hinge on my blog for such an important and precious existence that is your life 😭

[ edit: op has clarified it was a /j, we're all good ]

[ohbo-ohno]

3.5k of cbf-turned-bully!soap x reader, inspired by this (very old) ask to my fave ever <3 (read on ao3)

tags: dubcon, dirty talk, masturbation, references to bullying, breaking and entering, rough sex, overstimulation

You’re still nearly shaking with frustration as you settle beneath your sheets, fingers twitching against your stomach and your jaw clenched tight.

You are not going to touch yourself. You’re not. There is no way in hell that you’re coming home from seeing Johnny fucking MacTavish for the first time in years and masturbating. It’s not happening.

…Well, you are awfully keyed up.

“Fucking bastard,” you hiss to yourself, frustration only growing as you shimmy down your loose shorts. You tell yourself firmly that this has absolutely nothing to do with the reappearence of your greatest nemesis, and try not to grind your teeth. You hadn’t even spoken to the man - just a glance of him had you hissing and ducking behind a different aisle at the supermarket - and you’re already riled by him. It’d be embarrassing if you weren’t nearly too horny to think.

You take a deep breath and rest your fingers over your slit, closing your eyes and letting your mind wander. You touch yourself slowly, fingers carefully spreading your lips as you let your mind wander. With your free hand you tug open your bedside drawer, tugging out your favorite toy and dragging it down your stomach.

Your movements are measured and familiar as your usual fantasies play across the backs of your eyes. You give yourself several long moments to slicken, coaxing more and more from your body with nimble fingers and quick circles.

In your mind, there’s a large body over yours and something just thick enough to let you feel the sting of a stretch inside of you, your breasts pushing against his chest, soft grunts in your ears.

Your breathing hitches, hips working against your palm as the fantasy starts to become more clear. He’s big, both above you and inside of you - only halfway in and already tugging you near the edge. His hands are on either side of your head, caging you in so all you can see is his tan skin, his rippling muscles.

You bite your lip to hold back a moan, eyelids fluttering. His bright eyes roll back when he pulls away enough for you to see his face. You lift one hand to your breast, the other gripping his head and both of you moan when you tug. The drag of his cock inside of you is perfect, his weight over you, the heat absolutely pouring over him…

His head drops back down when you let go of his hair, and his lips curve up into a smile as he looks down at you.

You nearly screech when you recognize him, throwing both hands away from your body and your eyes flying open to stare at your dark cieling. Your cunt and nipple throb, feeling quite suddenly neglected, but your heart isracing for an entirely different reason.

No. No. It’s one thing to satisfy your own needs after seeing the man, it’s another to… God, you can hardly even think it - to fantasize about the man and fuck yourself to him. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, desire rapidly cooling. Without Johnny himself in front of you - all six feet of him, muscular and masculine as he’s grown up to be - it’s easier to remember just how terrible he was to you all those years in school. There’s no sharp jawline and cute scruff to distract you from the memory of how he’d steal your clothes before you could change in gym class, leaving you with only those embarrassingly tiny athletic shorts for the rest of the day.

You huff as you let your legs fall closed again, the mood well and truly dissipating now. All you’ve got left is regular frustration, instead of the fun kind.

A sharp tap at the window jerks you out of your pouting, and you yank your blankets up to cover what little skin is showing in a panic, the slick dildo resting on your thighs. The room is silent for a moment, absolutely still except for the fan in the corner that’s been blowing for years, until there’s another tap.

You don’t realize what it is until the tap turns into a thunk. Then, you can hardly bite back your yelp. You’re nearly paralyzed with fear as the sound turns into a sort of… jangling almost, clearly coming from the one window in your bedroom.

Back pressed against your headboard, you can do nothing but think of all the things you should be doing as the curtains start blowing more noticeably, wind pouring into the room.

You’re just sucking in a breath to scream when Johnny MacTavish pops out from behind the curtain, combat boots loud against the wood flooring.

“Same old broken lock, huh, bonnie?” He smirks, strolling into your room like he belongs, like he used to. “Be honest now, you were just waiting here for me, weren’t you?”

You’re gaping like a fish, you know it, but you can’t help but stare at him wide-eyed.

The last time John MacTavish was in your bedroom, he was at least a foot shorter and a hell of a lot more welcome. The two of you had been eleven when he’d still been willing to be near you, but as soon as you’d moved on to elementary school - as soon as boys became boys and girls became girls, and kids had crushes instead of cooties - he’d stopped coming around. It was only a few years after that, in high school, that he’d gone from a friend you used to have to the boy who made school miserable.

And there is not one single reason you can think of to justify him sneaking in, the way he used to. Not now, all these years later with so much - said and unsaid - lingering between you.

None of that seems to weigh on him, though. He’s cocky as ever, doesn’t even bother to take off his boots as he saunters towards your bed, giving you a long look that can only be described as salacious as he leans himself against the foot of your bed.

It’s pure instinct to grope blindy at your bedside table, grabbing the first thing your fingertips touch and launching it at his head.

His instincts are sharp enough the he catches the bottle of water before it can do any real damage, but the small distraction gives you enough time to stumble to your feet, blanket held protectively in front of your body - you’re not completely nude, but a tanktop and panties aren’t exactly what you want Johnny seeing you in.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You hiss, some old instinct making you want to stay quiet even though there’s no one in the house with you.

The look he gives you is almost begrudgingly scolding, his lips tilted up in the corners as he tuts like he’s just barely holding back a smile. “Now, what was that for? I know your happy to see me, no need to start throwin’ things.”

“Johnny,” you scold, heartbeat slowing as the initial fear fades. “What the hell are you doing in my room? We haven’t spoken in years, you can’t just show back up-”

“Aw, I knew you missed me,” he grins, easily interrupting you and stepping almost within arms reach, water bottle discarded on your dresser. “Figured you didnae want to hear from me, I’d have written if I knew you’d be so crabbit.”

You splutter a bit, spine straightening in offense. “You’re breaking into my house! I have more than a right to be- what’d you say? Crabbit?”

His smile only grows and he steps closer, making you instinctually take a step back. “I don’t mind, lass. ‘S always fun to coax a pretty thing out of an ugly mood.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you splutter, your heart only beating faster as Johnny prowls forward, eyes dragging down your body like he wants to eat you alive. 

“I like your PJs, bonnie,” he rumbles, reaching out a hand to drag his finger down one of the straps of your tank top. “Did you match your panties just for me?”

Yous hiss and smack his hand away, one hand crossing tight over your chest to try and regain some amount of modesty. “How could I have dressed for you when you’re breaking in? This is ridiculous, you need to go, Johnny-”

You hardly even notice as he slowly pushes you backward, his chest pressed against yours until there’s no more room to pull away from him, the wall at your back a cold shock.

“Go?” He tilts his head, eyes big and round and you know the bastard isn’t as innocent or well-meaning as he’s trying to look. “But I just got here, bonnie. We haven’t even fucked yet.”

You rear back at the crass language, face flushing with heat. “What- we’re not going to-” You stumble over your words, pressing further back against the wall when his hands - rough, calloused, so much bigger than they used to be - grab both of your elbows to keep you still. “We’re not having sex,” you finally manage to choke out.

His grin is shark-like, sharp and verging on mean as he ducks his face closer to yours, lowering his voice to match your volume. “Why not? You look hungry, lass, don’t you want a little help? My fingers are bigger than yours, bet I can reach further up in your pretty cunt than you can.”

You gape for a moment, mouth moving as you think about saying any number of things, each of them dying before they cross your lips. This Johnny is so far from the lanky teenager who shoved you as you passed him in the hallway, and even further from the little boy who refused to be your first kiss because of your cooties. You have no idea how to deal with this invasive adult Johnny.

Your hands are small against his broad chest, and you press against him with just a hint of pressure, hoping he’ll take your hint and lean away. He doesn’t, only pushes himself closer and gives you some of his weight to hold up. 

“Johnny, come on,” you try, pushing a little harder and only getting yourself more firmly pinned against the wall. “We can- let’s get lunch tomorrow, okay? We can talk then.”

Johnny doesn’t respond at first, only ducks down and presses his face into your throat. You stiffen at the feeling of his damp breath against your skin, the slight brush of his teeth chasing goosebumps down your spine. Your breath hitches when you feel a distinct shape against your stomach, his hardness pressing into you.

“I can’t leave now, bonnie,” he says against your throat, groaning and grinding himself against you just once. “Ye’ve got me all worked up, I’ll die if you make me go.”

“Johnny…” you whine, wrapping your hands around his biceps and squeezing.

“I’ll make it good for you, don’ worry,” he reassures, hands shifting from the wall to wrap around your waist. “Might be a tad selfish once we get goin’, but you’ll have your fun.”

You can’t do much but squirm as one of his hands slips down beneath your bottoms, large hand cupping you. Your squeak is entirely unintentional when his fingers begin to explore without any reservations, your face hot with embarrassment at how quickly your body reacts.

Johnny doesn’t lift his head far, only enough to mouth at your jaw and leave little sucking bites. His free hand, the one not stroking your clit and drawing out wetness from your core, drifts up enough to palm one of your breasts.

“Johnny,” you breathe, incapable of saying anything but his name.

You can feel his smile against your skin, and you arch further into him when he slides one thick finger inside of you. His fingers are bigger than yours, enough for you to worry about the size of other parts of him.

“You’re so tight for me, lovie. Gonna squeeze me just right, huh?” His fingers crooks inside of you at just the right angle, and your hips jerk forward on instinct as you cry out. “Pretty thing, can’t believe I never had this back in school.”

“What-” You start, cutting yourself off with a gasp that melts into a moan as he pushes another finger inside of you. You’re more than wet enough to take it, but everything seems to be moving at hyperspeed, and you can’t keep up. “Oh, that’s- what’re you talking about?”

He huffs against your jaw, nosing up a little further to press against your cheek as his hot breath washes over you. “You’re so pretty lass, had me hard as iron every day when we were kids. Wasn’t very nice, huh bonnie? Walkin’ around in those cute skirts and - fuck, your pretty blush… drove me fucking insane.”

You yelp at the sudden stretch of three fingers, pushing up onto your toes to try and jerk away, but Johnny just follows you, thumb stroking cruelly over your clit.

“Just wanted to bend you over,” he groans, pressing his hips into your stomach and gripping your breast tight enough that you worry you’ll bruise. “Wanted to put you on your knees, on your back, fuck, woulda done anything for just a peek at this pretty cunt.”

“Jo-hnny,” you hiccup, melting against him as the pleasure begins to overwhelm you, everything else fading as you creep closer to an orgasm you’re not even sure you want. “I don’t-”

“Hush,” he hisses, smacking your tit lightly and ignoring your cry of shock. “Lemme get you off here, then I’ll fuck you, yeah? Gonna split you open on my cock, show you what you coulda had years ago, gonna fuck you dumb.”

He finally presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans and cries as they slowly grow in volume. Your hips buck against his hands as you chase an orgasm, unable to do anything more than pant into Johnny’s mouth as he licks into yours, tongue exploring every bit he can reach.

Your orgasm absolutely melts you, leaves you weak and limp pinned between the wall and the man you’d once known so well. Johnny’s breathing almost as hard as you, every part of him pressed fully against you. He’s all heat and solid man, forcing you to ride out every euphoric wave of your orgasm.

You’re a little glassy eyed by the end of it, knees weak and mind even weaker. You’re vaguely aware of your hands lightly pushing at him as he lifts you by the thighs, dropping you carelessly onto the bed.

“Fuck,” Johnny hisses, tearing your clothes from your body like they’re nothing. You whine when he presses kisses to your stomach, those kisses quickly turning to sucking bites that have you arching and running a hand through his mohawk. 

He doesn’t bother to take off his shirt - too busy licking his way up to your tits for that - but the sound of his belt dropping to the floor and his jeans following is loud in the quiet of your bedroom.

When he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking like he’s trying to physically pull more moans from you, you arch off the bed with a near squeal. He’s hunched over you as he settles firmly above your prone form on the bed, knees between your thighs and keeping them spread.

“Slow- slow down,” you gasp, tapping at his shoulder a bit frantically as you feel the thick - so thick - length of him press against your drooling center. “Johnny-!” 

Your cry melts into a long, drawn-out moan as Johnny forces himself inside of you with one mean thrust. Three fingers somehow wasn’t enough prep for you to take him comfortably, his cock leaving you teary eyed and writhing on the bed as he bottoms out in just seconds. You feel like you’ve been impaled, the breath forced from your chest as you dig your nails into his shoulder and try despertley to breathe through the stretch.

“There,” Johnny pants above you, lips pink and swollen from his kisses. “There ye go, bonnie, good fuckin’ girl for me. Coulda - shit, shit - coulda had this years ago, huh?” His head drops low, eyes boring into yours as he pulls back and thrusts back into you sharply, forcing another cry from your lips. “See how good it feels? I can make you feel so good, pretty girl, promise.”

“Johnny, c’mon,” you gasp, scratching down his shoulder blades and pulling him close. Any reservations you had have been fucked out of you in just a few thrusts, and even despite your recent orgasm your clit throbs with need. “C’mon, you can- you can move.”

His smile is sharp above you, his own pupils blown wide and his shirt sticking to his sweat-slick skin. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you harder?”

You whine high in your throat, throwing your head back and hitching your hips higher as he finds a pace that works, his hips slamming against the backs of your thighs when you wrap them around his waist. You’re half off the bed with the position he’s got you in, his arms scooping you up around your back so he can lavish more attention across your tits.

Every breath you take leaves you in a moan or a cry, the pleasure he’s punshing into you almost overwhelming. You feel fevered, desperate in a way you never have before as you claw desperately at Johnny’s scalp, tugging his hair until he moans.

“So tight for me,” he slurs against your chest, drooling as he switches from one nipple to the other. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ mad, bonnie, could stay in this cunt forever, shit.”

“Johnny,” you gasp, eyes screwed up tight as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to a second peak. “You’re so… fuck, so big, I can’t… can’t breathe.”

“Yeah?” He asks, looking up at you and pushing himself up enough to press kisses to your lips. “‘M fuckin’ the air right out of you, huh? Fuckin’ you so good you can’t breathe?”

“Yeah,” you keen, your body beginning to tense as you begin to taste your orgasm. “Feel so good, Johnny, please, I’m so- I’m so close, c’mon…”

“Yes, yes,” he chants against you, his lips brushing over every bit of your face he can reach, tongue darting out to lick up the few stray tears slipping from your eyes. “Squeeze me tight, c’mon, come for me, lass, you can do it.”

He doesn’t give up his tight hold on you to rub your clit, but you find that you don’t need him to, the combination of his thrusts and everything about the situation bringing you to a powerful enough orgasm that your vision whites out for a moment. Your throat is sore as you shout, and the fabric of Johnny’s shirt is loose around where your fingers have dug in mercilessly.

“Fuck, tight as a vice, fuck, fuck,” Johnny moans, his own face screwed up in pleasure as he loses any rhythm he had before, fucking you like a fleshlight. He leans back and pulls you up with him, holding you chest to chest with him and burying his face into your neck as you hold onto him for dear life. 

He buries his teeth right above your pulse as he comes, working his hips in small, jerky thrusts to milk himself as you tighten up around him. Your breath is synced with his, both of you panting desperately and soaked in sweat.

You’re still reeling as he begins to recover. Before you can even muster enough strength to let your thighs fall away from his hips, he’s falling forward onto the bed and laying both of you out on your sides, his hold on you not loosening at all. He takes half a second to throw his shirt across the room, then presses you so close that your tits are all but flat against his chest.

He’s uncharacteristically silent as the two of you share breaths, each of you slowly floating back into your bodies. The only emotion you can really muster is shock - how is it that Johnny, your best friend turned biggest bully, just fucked you better than any man you’ve been with before? It feels, in some absurd way, unfair.

“We’ll have to talk about this,” you say quietly, once your heartbeat has almost evened out and your breaths are coming evenly. 

Johnny only hums, one big hand moving down to hitch your thigh back around his waist, tilting your body so somehow even more of your skin is pressed against his. “Sure, bonnie,” he murmurs, voice half muffled from where his face is pressed into your hair. “Tomorrow.”

“I’m serious, Johnny,” you try, one hand resting on his ribs. “You broke into my house.”

“Hmm,” he hums, taking a deep breath of your scent and letting it out contentedly. “I’ll say sorry in the mornin’. Sleep now, though.” His voice is almost pleading, his grip on you tightening for just a moment, one hand behind your back and the other resting on your ass. You feel like a stuffed animal, but you’re too pleasure-sated to really mind.

“Alright,” you agree, settling into his hold fully and letting your mouth rest against his collarbone as your eyes flutter shut. “Tomorrow.”

[cookiescribble]

Innocent Love

Flufftober Day 16: “Yes, No, Maybe” + bonus prompt “I’ve Got You.” (this one gets an actual title because i was planning on posting this as a regular fic)

A/N: I don’t think this is quite what the prompt meant (and the words are out of order) but I was already in the middle of writing this when we decided we were doing flufftober and had written that line so I figured I’d use it for this prompt 🫶🏻 - mod angel 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: After talking through some emotional concerns, you and Spencer finally feel comfortable getting intimate with each other. 

CW: very fluffy smut (18+), mutual loss of virginity, discussion/description of SA (based on the memories he talked about in 3x16)

~~~

You were sitting on the couch, originally watching a movie that had since been forgotten about. Your hands were tangled in Spencer’s hair, your lips against his, your kisses feeling like they were the air you need to breathe. 

You pulled away for a moment, both of you trying to catch your breath, your heart pounding as if you just ran a marathon. You looked at each other, letting out a little laugh, still holding onto each other. 

“Do you remember anything that happened in the last 20 minutes of this movie?” He asked, still laughing softly. 

You laughed harder, shaking your head. “No, I was focused on something way more important,” you murmured, grinning as you pulled him in for another kiss. 

He hummed against your lips, his hands automatically coming to hold your face, and you were back to kissing fervently. 

After a few more minutes of this, you slowly pulled him on top of you, never breaking the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. You could feel his heart beating fast against yours, as you slowly slid one hand under his shirt…

Suddenly, he pulled away, wincing, his breath shallow and shaky. You pulled your hand back, holding it out in front of you. “I’m sorry, was that too much?” You asked, worried that you were going to scare him off. You hadn’t been dating for too long, and you didn’t want to rush things, but it had just felt… right. 

He hesitated, still catching his breath. “No… Yes? Maybe? I…” He sighed, and you could feel his breath on your face since he was still so close to you. “I don’t know…”

You reached up to touch his face, consoling him and giving him a soft smile. “Let’s stop for now, okay?”

He nodded, sitting up, running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. “Sorry…” he muttered, looking at you apologetically. 

You shook your head, putting your arm around him. “Nothing to be sorry about,” you assured him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his breath finally going back to normal. “I just… I-I don’t know,” he sighed, as if he was frustrated with himself. “I haven’t… I don’t…” he kept stumbling through starts of sentences he never finished. 

You pat his shoulder in a comforting gesture, letting him know you understood. You were trying to think of words yourself; you and Spencer had gotten far enough in your relationship that it was probably time to have a “talk,” but you felt shy about it. It was a slightly uncomfortable topic, especially since you didn’t know how to bring up your total lack of experience without sounding like a complete loser. 

He took your hand off his shoulder to hold it, linking your fingers together. The sweet gesture gave you the bit of courage you needed to keep talking. 

“So…” you started hesitantly, “do you… want to do… that, someday?” You tried not to blush, it shouldn’t be this big of a deal to talk about it. “Because some people don’t, and that’s totally okay too, and I really wouldn’t mind if-“

“No, I do,” he cut off your babbling. “I… I really want to try this with you. I just…” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t… have any actual experience with… that, but I’ve had some experiences kinda… related to that, and they were… bad.”

You were kind of relieved to hear the first part of that, but hearing the last part of what he said made you furrow your brows. “I… also don’t have any experience, if that makes you feel better.” You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. “But, the other thing… Do you want to talk about it?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, just letting himself feel your calming touch. “I just… I’m worried I’ll start to freak out.” He sighed, gripping your hand a little tighter. “It’s… kind of a long story.”

“Well, I’m more than willing to listen,” you replied softly. “Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

That caused him let out a soft chuckle, making you smile. “Okay, well… it started when I was in high school.” He stared into the distance as he talked, almost as if he was somewhere else, describing the events happening. “I was… well, less than popular in school, which I guess is to be expected when you graduate at 12.”

You nodded, giving his hand a little squeeze to try to ground him. You’re sure that wherever he was right now, it wasn’t a good place. 

He closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. “And… sometimes, people would just pretend to like me, and I didn’t know any better and I just believed them.” He gave your hand another squeeze. “One day… one of the girls in my class came up to me, and she said her friend wanted to meet me, and I was excited because I thought I liked her, and the idea of someone liking me was, like, unheard of at the time…”

You frowned, starting to soothingly stroke his hand with your thumb. He’d told you about his time in school being emotionally difficult, but he never told you any specifics. 

He opened his eyes again, still not looking at you. “So I met this friend at the time she told me, and when I got there… she was there, but it wasn’t just her; the whole football team was there, and…” His eyes were starting to water now. “And they… took my clothes off and they tied me to the goal posts… and they just laughed at me when I begged them to let me go.”

“Oh, Spence,” you whispered, reaching up to wipe away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “That’s awful.”

He sniffled, looking like he was trying to hold his breath so he wouldn’t cry. He reached up to touch your hand that was on his face, closing his eyes again. 

You felt your heart breaking at his story. How could people be so mean to him? Especially when he was so young and vulnerable.

You pulled him into a tight hug, stroking his hair soothingly. “It’s okay now, honey,” you cooed in his ear. “I’ve got you. No one’s ever going to hurt you like that ever again.”

“I know…” he sighed, his voice still a little wobbly. “But I just… can’t forget it, and when you started to take my shirt off, it just brought me right back there.” He hugged you a little tighter, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil the moment…”

You shook your head. “You have nothing to apologize for, Spence,” you assured him. “I would never ask you to do something you weren’t ready for.” You pulled back slightly to look at him, pushing his hair back so you could look in his eyes. “If you want to try to go further, we can take things slow, okay? We can take our time.”

He nodded, looking up at you with those big, sad eyes of his. “Yeah, I think I like that idea.” He gave you a soft smile. 

You smiled back, kissing his forehead. “C’mon, let’s finish this movie.”

“I think we’re gonna have to rewind it,” he laughed softly, sitting up again. “I barely even remember what movie we were watching.”

…

You both kept your word about going slow. Every time you were alone together, you started to slowly get further and further. He eventually got comfortable with you taking his shirt off, and you both got a bit more comfortable letting your hands roam. 

One day, everything seemed to fall into place, and you were both finally ready. 

Spencer had come home after a rare slow day at the BAU, and he scooped you into his arms immediately when he entered your apartment. 

He was on you instantly, pulling you close and kissing you, his hands gently gripping your face as you fell back onto the couch. You let out a surprised hum against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss started to get very heated. You took his tie off, throwing it on the side of the couch. He let you unbutton a few of the top buttons on his shirt, eventually breaking the kiss to look at you with half-lidded eyes. 

“Can we… go to the bedroom?” he asked softly, panting from the intense kiss. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure?” you whispered back, reaching up to touch his face. 

He nodded, putting his hands over yours. “I’m sure. If… if you want to, that is…”

You nodded immediately, standing back up as you both walked to the bedroom, Spencer pulling you by your hand as you both giggled excitedly. 

You closed the door behind you, and Spencer slowly walked towards you, pulling you in by your waist. He kissed you, slower this time, with more intention. His hands slowly slid up your sides as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

You let out a dreamy sigh, hugging him tightly. You lifted your arms as you let him pull your shirt off, tossing it off to the side somewhere. You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, and it joined yours on the floor as you fell back on the bed, Spencer quickly moving on top of you, his touch on your body feather light. 

His hands worked achingly slow, feeling every inch of you. Starting at your neck, slowly sliding down your arms, back up your waist… his touch so gentle you might not have felt it, if you weren’t paying attention. 

But, oh, you felt it. It felt like electricity was flowing through your body with every touch of his fingertips. He looked into your eyes as his hands kept roaming your body, you never thought you could feel so loved by somebody.

Eventually, his hands came to slowly push down your bra straps, making your breath catch in your throat. “Can I take this off?” He asked, his voice soft and sweet like honey. 

You nodded, sitting up so he could reach your back to unhook it. After a few moments, it joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. 

You looked up at him, and he was looking into your eyes. His eyes were slightly widened, and he seemed as though he was keeping himself from looking at you. 

You let out a warm laugh, reaching up to touch his face. “You’re allowed to look, Spence.”

He blushed as his eyes roamed down your body, leaning you back so you were laying down again. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hands resuming their search on your body. You closed your eyes, just letting yourself feel the sensation. 

Eventually, his hands reached your chest, making you gasp lightly. Your eyes opened instinctively as you felt him hesitate. “Is… is that okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your face slightly flushed. “It’s just… new. But not bad.” You looked up at him sheepishly. “It feels… nice.”

He gave you a soft smile, his head coming down to meet yours, your foreheads and noses touching. His hands resumed the soft touch, making you let out a soft moan when he touched the sensitive part of your skin. 

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then started planting soft kisses down your neck and your shoulders until his lips finally found your breasts. You let out a gasp, your eyes closing as your hands tangled in his hair. Your heart was pounding like crazy; you wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel it from where he was. 

His kisses were achingly gentle, before his tongue started moving in circular motions. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you were letting out soft whimpers. Eventually, he made his way back up and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. 

You both looked at each other, giggling softly, feeling like two teenagers sneaking away on prom night. You felt giddy, but serious at the same time. This meant a lot to both of you. 

You bit your lip, your hand slowly sliding down his side before you started to undo his belt. He let out a shaky breath, and soon you were working on his button and zipper, pulling it down…

“Wait!” He exclaimed suddenly, making you pull your hand away, slightly startled. 

“D-do you want to stop?” You asked, worried you did something wrong. 

“No, no, I don’t want to stop,” he shook his head. “I just… can’t forget…” he trailed off as he pulled something out of his pocket, placing a condom on your bedside table. 

You blushed fiercely, that one gesture suddenly making everything feel more real. 

He settled back on top of you, reaching his hand out to gently cup your cheek. “Had to make sure that didn’t get stuck in the clothing pile,” he laughed warmly. 

You laughed back, touching your noses together again. “Well, is it okay if this goes in the clothing pile now?” You asked, tugging at the waistband of his pants. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, his face looking a little red. “All good now.”

You reached down to tug at his pants again, pulling them down as Spencer helped you slide them off. Your eyes wandered down his body, seeing something very prominently bulging in his underwear. Your eyes darted back up to his face, your cheeks turning pink. 

His hands were back on you, sliding down your sides before resting on your hips. “Your turn?” He whispered. 

“Y-yeah,” you whispered back, swallowing and nodding. You reached down to unbutton your own pants before Spencer’s hands were sliding underneath them, and soon they were discarded to the clothing pile. 

He got closer to your face again, biting his lip. “I’ve, uh, been doing some… research…” he murmured, sounding a bit flustered. 

“Research?” You repeat, laughing lightly. “What kind of research?”

“Well,” he started, his hand resting on your hip. “I just… really want to do this right. And I want you to feel good. So I, uh…” he looked a bit embarrassed. “I looked into… what women say feels good. And like, how to… get you… prepared…” he let out an awkward laugh, running his hand through his hair. 

You giggled, covering part of your face with your hand, your face feeling hot. “Yeah? And what did you discover?”

“Well, there were things they said help so it doesn’t hurt,” he explained, his hand trailing down your leg now. “So… I wanted to try it, because I don’t want you to be in pain while we do this.”

He was so sweet you could almost cry. Instead, you just nodded. “Okay… let’s try it, then.”

He nodded back, lifting your legs up and slowly pulling your underwear off. You looked up at him, a bashful look on your face as you lay bare underneath him. 

He took a moment to look over your body before clearing his throat. “Okay, so, the first thing they recommended was putting a pillow under your hips.”

You nodded, taking one of the pillows you weren’t laying on and handing it to him. 

He furrowed his brows, the way he did when he was concentrating hard on something. You picked up your hips so he could slide the pillow underneath you. 

“Comfortable?” He asked softly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, adjusting your position slightly. Your hips were angled slightly upwards now. “What’s next?” 

“Next is to… get you… ready.” He reached up to  push a strand of hair out of your face. 

“R-ready?” You asked, your face a bit flushed. “So you’re gonna… t-touch me?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Is that okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, it’s okay. I guess I’m just a bit… nervous. I’ve never had anyone touch me like that before,” you mumbled, looking away. 

“Me neither,” he replied, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “But, this is supposed to help you feel less nervous, on top of trying to get your body used to… something being… in there,” he chuckled awkwardly. 

A giggle bubbled in your throat, your face bright red now. “Right, yeah,” you took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for what was about to happen. “Okay.”

His hand trailed down your body again, watching your face for any reactions. He parted your legs, his hand resting on your lower stomach. “Ready?” He whispered. 

“Ready,” you whispered back, taking another deep breath. 

His hand trailed down until he finally reached the bundle of nerves between your legs, touching it tentatively. 

Your breath hitched, and you let out a little whimper. Just one small touch and you were already feeling your body react. Your arms reached out to wrap around his shoulders, hugging him for support. 

“Does that feel good?” Spencer whispered in your ear, his fingers pausing to make sure you were still okay. 

You nodded vigorously, threading your fingers in his hair, your faces so close that you could feel his breath. “Yeah…” you whispered back, your face flushed. “It… it feels really good.”

His other hand moved to stroke your hair soothingly as he started circling your bud, earning a soft moan from you. 

The juxtaposition between the innocent sweetness he was showing and the very not innocent thoughts you were having were starting to make your head spin. You didn’t think you could ever feel so good, but you were already getting so worked up that you couldn’t imagine yourself lasting much longer. 

After a few minutes of Spencer rubbing you achingly slowly, he whispered to you again. “I’m gonna, um…” He seemed like he almost felt too shy to say the words. “… put my finger in now, okay?” He cleared his throat, his eyes looking into yours. “It’s supposed to help stretch you out a bit, so it doesn’t hurt… l-later.” He was blushing, his awkward mumbling sounding very endearing to you.

“Y-yeah, okay,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I can handle that.”

He nodded, stroking your hair before he went any further. “Just relax,” he whispered. “It said that tensing makes it more likely to hurt.”

You took a deep breath, relaxing your body as much as you could manage. It didn’t help that he had gotten you worked up so quickly. 

He pressed your foreheads together as he slowly slid one finger in, making you hug him a little closer, letting out a quiet whine as you felt this new sensation in your body. It was almost like a slightly full feeling, except that you felt like you wanted more. 

“Is that okay?” He asked softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Doesn’t hurt?”

“N-no,” you stammered, deciding you’d answer his last question first. “It doesn’t hurt, it feels really good.”

“Do you think you can manage a little more?” He searched your face to look for any signs of discomfort. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, swallowing. “I think I can.”

He nodded at you, pressing his face to yours as he slowly slipped another finger in. 

You let out another soft whine, holding him a bit tighter. He looked at you, silently asking a question. “I’m alright,” you whisper softly. “It feels good.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he started moving his fingers, the new sensation filling you with excitement, already feeling like you were close to coming undone. 

“Spence…” you moaned softly as he suddenly kissed you hungrily, his tongue in your mouth causing you to tangle your fingers in his hair tightly. 

You didn’t think anything could feel this good, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, hitting you where it felt the best every time as if he was an expert. You felt something building in your stomach, your toes starting to curl as you let out a string of moans and whimpers. 

You pull away from the kiss, breathing shakily as you try to speak. “Spence… I-I’m…” you squeezed your eyes shut as you suddenly felt overwhelmed by how much pleasure was coursing through your body. 

Spencer ran a hand through your hair, the gesture very gentle compared to the relentless way his fingers were moving inside of you. “Just let it happen. I’ve got you,” he murmured in your ear before his lips were back on yours, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. 

The tenderness in his voice and feeling of his lips and the movement of his fingers finally sent you over the edge, moaning loudly as you felt waves and waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Your back arched off the bed as you got lost in the pleasure, almost feeling like it was never going to end. 

Finally, you felt yourself come down, panting as you tried to process what just happened. You’d never really felt that kind of sensation before.

Spencer was looking at you in awe when you finally looked back over to him, also seeming to be processing what just happened. 

You blushed, feeling a bit shy after all that. It made you feel more exposed than taking off your clothes had. 

After a few moments, he broke the silence by whispering, “You’re so beautiful.” He pushed your hair back, getting a better look at your flushed face. 

You smiled sheepishly, your heart warming at how sweet he was. He was really good at comforting you during such a vulnerable time. 

“So, uh…” you started, absentmindedly running your finger up and down his arm. “Do you think that was… sufficient?” You chuckled awkwardly, feeling like you sounded ridiculous. 

He was also blushing, his voice warm and sweet. “I hope so,” he laughed lightly back. “Do you feel… ready?”

You leaned in, looking into his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ready for anything in my life,” you murmured. 

You both smiled at each other, Spencer’s face getting more and more flushed as your hand traced down his side to his hip. 

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one not wearing any clothes right now,” you teased as your fingers stopped right under the waistband of his underwear. 

He bit down on his tongue, his hand moving to help you finally take off the rest of his clothes. 

Soon, you both lay there, completely bare. Your face was a bright red, your eyes widening automatically as you looked over his body. You moved your eyes back up to his face and he met your gaze, pressing his forehead to yours and gently cupping your cheek. 

“Are you, ah…” You felt a bit embarrassed as you spoke. “Are you sure it was enough… preparing?” As stereotypical as it sounded, you were having trouble imagining him fitting inside of you.

He smiled softly, tangling his legs together with yours, the sense of closeness feeling reassuring to you. “You can tell me if it hurts… I want you to tell me if it hurts, okay? Or if you changed your mind-“

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I didn’t change my mind. I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into another kiss, slowly moving on top of you so he was straddling your waist. You stifled a moan when you felt something hard pressing against your stomach.

After a few more moments, he pulled away slightly, his mouth still inches away from yours. “Okay, I… I’m going to…” He trailed off as he sat up a bit more, his hand right next to your face as his other reached for the condom on the table. 

You felt a bit embarrassed just staring at him, but you kind of couldn’t help it. “So, there’s like… a right and a wrong way to wear it, right? I remember being taught that in high school.”

He nodded, tearing the wrapper open and starting to slowly roll it down his length. “Yeah, I’ve been, uh… practicing,” he admitted sheepishly. 

A giggle bubbled in your throat as you thought about what that “practicing” meant. For some reason, it excited you how much he prepared for this. It meant that he really cared a lot for you. 

After it was on, he came back down to face you again. “Ready?” He asked softly, his hand finding yours and interlocking your fingers together. 

You gave his hand a little squeeze. “Ready,” you replied, nodding determinately. 

He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed himself in, both of you letting out a little gasp as you finally joined your bodies together in this intimate harmony. 

You let out a little whimper when he was all the way in, feeling perfectly full. You fit together perfectly, like you were made for each other, as cliché as that sounded. 

After a few moments of just staying like that, your foreheads pressed together as you both adjusted to this new feeling, Spencer spoke breathlessly. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels… amazing,” you admitted, whispering to him. 

He smiled softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “Can I start moving?”

You nodded quickly. “Please,” you practically begged, your body already aching for this pleasure that was only just starting. 

He wasted no time, his eyes closing as he started a steady rhythm, his movements almost achingly slow. 

He leaned his head down for another heated kiss, letting out a quiet moan against your lips. You squeezed his hand tight, matching his moan as his thrusts started getting a little faster. 

You could immediately feel the pleasure building inside of you again. He was able to hit the exact spots that made you whimper and moan, and hearing his own muffled noises of pleasure against your lips was making you feel dizzy. 

After a few minutes, he pulled away from the kiss to bury his face in your neck, his movements starting to get erratic. He sounded like he was mumbling something to himself, his voice vibrating against your neck. You think you heard him listing some of the periodic table elements, which could’ve almost made you laugh if you weren’t so lost in the feeling of him. 

“Spence…” you whimpered, trying to pull his head up to press your face against his. “It’s… I…” You tried to convey the feeling building inside you as you felt yourself getting more and more worked up with each of his thrusts, but you couldn’t even form a cohesive thought. Instead, you squeezed his hand tighter, letting out a loud moan. 

Thankfully, he understood you, and you could feel his hair tickling your forehead as he nodded. “Me too,” he breathed, his voice slightly whiny. “God, me too.”

You wrapped your arm around him, the movement of his hips getting faster and faster as the room was filled with the noises you both were letting out. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore; your back arched, pressing your body against his, your feet tangling together as you felt his tensing against yours. You felt yourself hit that high for the second time tonight, your hips moving to meet his as he moaned loudly, his hips shuddering as he came right there with you, the frenzied movements dying down until he finally stopped, collapsing on top of you. 

You were both panting, trying to catch your breath after such an intense moment. He let go of your hand to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug as he buried his face in your neck. You reached up to gently stroke his hair, your other hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on his back. 

You stayed like that for a few minutes, keeping each other close, your hearts thrumming in your chests against each other. His body was warm on top of yours; he almost felt like your personal weighted blanket. 

Eventually, Spencer lifted his head up to look at you. As you met his eyes, you both let out a little giggle, the giddiness of what you just experienced really hitting you. He moved so he was laying on his back, scooping you into his arms as you curled up into his side. 

“That was… wow,” you finally broke the silence, a big smile on your face. 

He smiled back at you. “Incredible,” he finished for you. “I… I never thought I could feel quite like that.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, your tone slightly teasing. “Your ‘research’ didn’t prepare you for that?”

He laughed warmly, pulling you closer against him. “Nothing could’ve prepared me; you’re a one-of-a-kind person, and everything with you just feels so… special,” he gleamed at you, putting his hand over yours. “I… I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you breathed, getting slightly teary-eyed. You weren’t prepared for just how emotional this would make you. “I can’t imagine myself doing that with anyone besides you.”

“Agreed,” he nodded, his tone soft as his thumb wiped away the tear that was forming. “You okay?”

You nodded, turning your head to give his hand a little kiss. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you smiled softly at the comforting touch. “Just feeling a lot of emotions, I guess.”

“That’s normal,” he replied, pushing your hair back so he could look at you better. “The hormonal release can cause a flood of emotions, sometimes causing postcoital tristesse. It’s normal to feel some anxiety or sudden sadness-“

“It’s not sadness,” you cut him off. “I’m crying because I'm so happy.” You smiled wide, nuzzling his nose with yours. 

He couldn’t help but smile back, his eyes closing as he nuzzled your nose back. “That can also happen. I’m glad that’s the one you’re feeling.”

“Me too,” you sighed contentedly, resting your head on his shoulder as you closed your eyes, exhaustion suddenly hitting you. 

He let out a warm laugh as he saw you getting comfortable, hearing the drowsiness in your voice. “How about we get dressed and go to sleep?” he whispered. “I think we’ll both sleep really well tonight.”

“Mhm…” you mumbled, trying to will yourself to sit up after your body suddenly felt really heavy. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

After a bit of effort, you both got up to change into your pajamas, stealing a few quick kisses as you did so. You settled back into bed, snuggling up under the covers, whispering “goodnight”s before you both fell asleep almost instantly. 

After that night, you were practically inseparable. This had basically become a nightly routine; you tried out a whole bunch of positions to test what felt the best for both of you. His favorites were the ones where he could hold you in his arms. 

It always ended with lots of snuggling afterwards, the intimacy making your relationship even stronger than it was before. You never thought you could feel this much love for someone, but you felt it every day with Spencer.

[matthewtkachuk]

somehow still stuck on you

navigating the realities of your post break up friendship with quinn is exacerbated by how much you’re not over him

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

warnings: a bit of exes to lovers angst

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hi @boqvistsbabe i’m your fic exchange writer, i’m sorry for the wait but i hope you enjoy!! i was feeling mad regret over not signing up for the fic exchange so when @wyattjohnston asked if i wanted to step in as a pinch hitter i said duhhhhh. this is as much a love letter to vancouver in late july as it is a quinn fic

Quinn’s back in Vancouver. 

It’s not exactly revolutionary given the millions of dollars and the capital C handed to him by the Vancouver Canucks, but it is noteworthy given the timing.  

Training camp doesn’t start for another month, which makes it highly strange for Quinn to be back in the city already. Last you heard he was having a Brat Summer in Michigan. 

Not that you were keeping tabs on your ex-boyfriend-turned-just-friend, of course. It’s not a crime to click through the first five Insta stories when you open the app, even when it showcases how much fun he’s having without you. 

Although it might have felt like it when you were dating, the sun and moon didn’t rise and fall at the behest of Quinn Hughes. It was just easier to remember that fact when you weren’t faced with him—quite literally faced with a giant banner of his likeness leaving the Stadium-Chinatown SkyTrain station. The start of the regular season would be bad enough with his name on every one of your coworkers' lips. 

All this to say you thought you had more time before he re-entered a position at the center of your universe. 

Summer had been kind to you, giving you the time and space needed to move on and heal. Even with the colder than usual June, you’d managed to sneak away to Osoyoos a couple weekends with the girls. Your skin? Glowing. Your hair? Shining. Your thoughts? Totally devoid of one Quinn Hughes. 

Until you’d been swiping through the aforementioned stories and spotted one of your favorite walking spots in his story. Very much downtown Vancouver and very much not Michigan. 

It wasn’t a terrible break up and you’d been friends long before ever getting together, so it’s not unreasonable to receive an invitation to get the gang together for drinks and dinner in Gastown to celebrate the return of Quinn and others in your friend group to your city. 

The time and place all but guarantees you have no way of getting out of it, and truly you are happy to get together with everyone, so you have no choice but to react to the “thumbs up if you’re coming” message. 

All the healing and the positive thinking in the world can’t  stop you from dressing a little better than you ordinarily would for a casual hang or spending a little more time on your hair. 

You’re glad for the extra effort when you stroll in right on time. Everyone is loitering around the entrance, clearly waiting on an open table. It kind of foils your plan to slip into an empty chair, thereby avoiding the initial how are you hug train. Before you can even think of another way out of it, you find yourself being passed along from one friend to another until you reach Quinn, fumbling into a quick and stilted hug. 

“Awkward,” Sienna hisses but all you can do is shrug pathetically. 

You’re saved from much more embarrassment by the hostess informing your group the table is ready and you’re so grateful you could almost kiss her. The long table means you’re not sat immediately beside Quinn which is a blessing because you’re not sure you could take any more close contact. Conversation flows easily around you, the usual topics of work, families, and shitty roommates. 

Everything is going well until the conversation turns to Quinn’s summer in Michigan. The distance between the two of you isn’t large enough for you to miss the way Quinn’s eyes flicker over to you when someone asks him if he’s seeing anyone. 

It’s not fair the way your vision briefly turns to black, your heart constricting in your chest. The feeling of almost betrayal that floods your veins isn’t fair either—it’s been months since you broke up and you’ve been on your own fair share of dates. Failed dates to be fair, but dates all the same. 

Sienna is your saving grace in the form of a clenched hand around your forearm, hauling you to the bathroom with some fake excuse you don’t hear. 

“Are you okay?” she asks outside of the table’s listening distance 

You can only shrug pathetically, all words failing you now. 

She waits a solid three minutes before leading you back. 

“Crisis averted!” she declares when you both return, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

The conversation has turned away from romantic endeavors, circling back to someone’s work drama. 

You get the sense that Quinn is trying to meet your eyes, but you don’t dare look in that direction until it’s time to leave. Your exit is hasty, the excuse of needing to catch the sky train in the next eight minutes excusing you from any further contact. In the sea of goodbyes, Quinn’s is the clearest. 

-

It’s not technically avoiding if your workload has you so busy you barely see your roommate, let alone your friend group, right? 

There’s a major deadline coming at work and it feels as though you’re wasting money on rent when all of your time is spent at the office. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. 

It’s easier to just mute the group chat, rather than be bothered by the buzzing of your phone. 

Easier until Sienna ends up bursting through your door after work using the key you’d given her for emergencies only. 

“This is an emergency,” she says before you can speak—caught red handed knee deep in an episode of Love Island UK and a tub of ice cream. 

Neither of you speak as she grabs a spoon from your drawer and burrows into the couch beside your pathetic cocoon. It’s born of burnout rather than heartbreak, but you’re aware of the optics of it all. 

“You’ve been avoiding us,” she says while some hot blonde cries in the confessional on TV. 

“Have not,” you rebut, unceremoniously pulling the tub of ice cream away from her so that she scoops up air instead. “I’ve just been so busy with work. I haven’t even had the time or energy to go grocery shopping, hence the ice cream for dinner.”

Her eyes flicker down to the tub in your hands but she doesn’t say what you’re both thinking. That there’s more to the unconventional supper than just laziness. 

“Come to fireworks this weekend,” she says instead, her motives for the impromptu visit finally becoming clear. “You missed last weekend and yesterday. I’m asking in person so you can’t ignore the group chat message like the last two times.”

“If I say yes will you be quiet and let me watch my show?” you ask. She nods emphatically, apparently proving that she can in fact be silent. Truthfully the festival of lights is a highlight of your summer, and watching the last two shows through other people’s stories isn’t your favorite way to view them. 

“Fine.”

She squeals and throws her arms around you. You want to ask if Quinn will be there, and the look on her face says she’s waiting for you to, but you don’t. 

At the end of the day it doesn’t matter if he’s going to be there or not. Exes or not, he was one of your best friends and will always be a major part of your friend group. There’s no separating the two and the sooner you get over it and everything returns to the way it was before you started dating the better. 

She doesn’t push any further, content to sit alongside you and soak in someone else’s love drama on screen rather than your own. 

“Remember a sweater!” are her parting words to you, notorious for always neglecting one. 

-

You forgot a sweater. 

It’s not until you’re sitting down on the 99 beside an old lady that you realize. You’re already running a little behind schedule and it would double your transit time to head back, so you settle into your seat and hope it doesn’t get too cold later. 

By the time you reach the beach the group is already together, sitting on a couple beach blankets lined up end to end. You spot Quinn’s unruly dark hair before you even realize you’re looking for him. 

“Look who finally showed!” someone says, and you roll your eyes as you drop down on the only spot available, right next to Quinn. 

“I’m at the mercy of Vancouver transit, we all know this.” You’d rather rake your naked body over hot coals and then confess your lingering feelings for the boy beside you in front of everyone you know than waste time in traffic and pay the outrageous inflated parking price on a night of fireworks. 

Quinn doesn’t tease you like the rest of your friends, and you wonder if he’s thinking about how the last time you saw fireworks together he’d driven. Or how he kissed you for the first time after driving you home from a different fireworks show. 

The late afternoon passes by with an impromptu game of frisbee that you don’t partake in—there’s way too many people at the beach for it to be enjoyable and you’re more content to people watch and gossip while picking at the charcuterie spread someone else brought. The active rest of the group seems to reach the same conclusion you had and someone breaks out Uno. 

By the time the sun sets, you’ve considered murdering both your friend to your left and your ex-boyfriend to your right. It’s bad enough you’re walking around with a still broken heart, now they’re ganging up on you with draw four cards and Uno reverses. The group is spared by the darkness making it too hard to play. 

If circumstances were different, Quinn likely would be teasing you about being a sore loser, offering to kiss it better until someone inevitably fake gagged and told you to get a room. 

Instead he’s silent as you turn your back to him in order to face the direction of the show about to start. The sea breeze hits and you can’t hold back your shudder. 

“Did you seriously forget a sweater?” Sienna asks. “I told you.” 

You spin around. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

Quinn is quick to pull off his hoodie, offering it to you with an outstretched hand. “Here.”

It feels too personal, too heavy, too full of implications and so you start to shake your head. “Oh, that’s okay.” 

“You’re literally shivering,” he says. “Take it.” 

It’s warm and soft and smells just like him. As you pull it over your head you’re taken back by just how right it feels. Like if you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend things were different. 

The train of thought is broken by the first firework, and you spin back to watch. 

The fireworks are beautiful and you sit in awe, ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing along with the crowd around you. 

Someone up ahead stands up to take a photo and Sienna has no problem heckling him. “Sit down!”

They do and you just shake your head at her antics. 

It turns out that sitting on the sand on a blanket isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. Mid way through the show, you find yourself shifting and leaning back to find a better way to situate yourself. In the process you brush your hand against Quinn’s, quickly pulling it back like you’d been burned. 

“Sorry,” you murmur over your shoulder, unsure if the blush coating his cheeks is just your imagination. 

When it’s over, you help everyone pack up and follow the group through the beach, quietly bitching about the sand getting into your sandals. 

Everyone starts splitting up when the sand gives way to pavement. Sienna lives close, within walking distance and she gives you a tight hug and heads off in the direction of her house. 

You’re turning away to start towards the bus stop when Quinn grabs your arm. 

Thinking he wants his sweater back, you begin to pull at the hem but his words have you freezing in place. 

“Do you want a ride home?”

Your place isn’t the exact opposite of his, but it’s also certainly not on his way home. Call it masochism, call it a desire to return to the way things were before you loved and lost, you agree with a quiet ‘yes.’

The walk to his car is quiet, and you resist the urge to ask him how much he paid for parking tonight, not sure you want to break the silence first. 

That silence continues in his car, at least between the two of you. Something soft and acoustic plays through the car speaker as the lights of Kits turn into downtown. 

When you get home, he offers to walk you to your door. Once, it was his way of making sure you got in safe. Then, it was his way of trying to prevent the night from ending. 

Now, you’re not sure of his reasoning. 

You get to the door, and he doesn’t say much more as you unlock it and step in. 

“Do you want to come in?” you find yourself asking despite yourself. 

He hesitates, hands in the pocket of his shorts. It kind of looks like he’s contemplating between stepping inside and running away. 

It makes you angry, that bitter edge of hurt you haven’t quite gotten over yet surfacing. 

“What do you want? You need to use your words, Quinn. Because your actions are confusing me!”

You have a very formulated argument prepared, full of evidence and conflicting actions—the result of hundreds of mini one sided arguments playing in your head since he’s been gone and since he’s been back. Arguments that don’t come to fruition because the look on his face is dangerous. 

He cups your face in his hands and presses his lips solidly to yours. You don’t even have enough time to fall into the kiss before he’s pulling apart. “How’s that for confusing?”

There’s no answer from you, not verbally at least. Just the momentum of you throwing yourself at him, crushing your lips to his. 

Words can wait. 

[charliemwrites]

Bark bark bark awoooo

No content warnings

You’re gonna fucking combust.

Somehow, someway, this is Johnny’s fault. You’re not sure how yet, so he it isn’t fair for him to be in trouble, but you know it.

“This is your fault,” you tell him, pouting in bed — bare ass naked, but that means nothing to him, he’s a dog. He cocks his head, and you wave your (broken) vibrator at him. “I don’t know how, but it is. Is this because I wanna chop your balls off?”

His mouth closes, eyes big - like he actually understands you. In your horny delirium, you almost believe he really does.

You flop onto your back with a sigh, eyes a little wet with frustration.

It’s been two months since you last successfully got off. Your vibrator (and its replacement… and its replacement’s replacement) keep breaking, or running out of battery. The plug is defective or falls out of the socket.

Once you successfully got right to the edge - just for it to die. You almost did cry that time.

Sure, there’s your hand. But every time you try ol’ reliable a certain four-legged roommate interrupts one way or another. And when you tried to kick him out of the room, and then ignored the howling, scratching, and general drama - there was loud and rapid knocking at your door.

Like fucking clockwork. If you get anywhere at all, you never get to finish.

It wouldn’t be so bad, either. Your libido isn’t anything crazy, you don’t think. At least it wasn’t before. But now there’s Soap.

Soap who you should not be so attracted to. Who has no sense of propriety or boundaries, who murmurs the dirtiest things to you in the most public and otherwise mundane places. And he just keeps. Showing. Up.

Like he’s got a tracker on you or something. (You’ve checked, he doesn’t.)

He’s like every guilty fantasy you had as a good, studious girl back in high school. The kind of guy to grab your thigh under your parents’ dinner table and take your virginity in the back of his car. Maybe corner you by the lockers between classes to kiss you silly and drive up your absence record.

You never actually went for those boys — and perhaps gratefully, they never went for you. In romance novels, it would be a quaint little coming of age story. The stuff to swoon over. But reality was a lot scarier for you, especially with your older sister always keeping an ear out to report back to your parents and… well, yeah.

You’ve always been a firm introvert, anyway. That’s why you live out in the woods with only a dog for regular company.

But Soap. Soap is some unholy amalgamation of those innocent, shy girl fantasies turned R-rated. Like the grown-up version of those cute YA novels.

And you have no defense for it — except distrust, that is.

Soft-hearted as you are, you know you don’t do casual well. And you know that guys like Soap just like to spin you up and up until you finally give in, think the dreaded words “maybe it’ll work out” despite that rational voice in your head saying, “don’t bet on it.”

Doesn’t stop you from secretly wanting him though.

Fear is the only thing keeping you in check now. Some of it for you own feelings; of getting invested in a guy that has done nothing but treat you like a prime cut of meat. The rest of it is a genuine concern that he might be a bit dangerous. He’s so much bigger than you, visibly stronger. Has gone out of his way to make you uncomfortable (doesn’t matter that a very dark and slutty part of you liked it) and ignored your attempts at brushing him off.

Fear, unfortunately, is beginning to add to the temptation.

“I’m not going to do it,” you tell yourself, or maybe Johnny. Soap’s contact is on the screen. You don’t remember putting it into your phone, but you must have at some point. “Nope. No way.”

You slide a sideways look at Johnny, tail wagging at a steady clip.

“He’s probably a former frat boy or something, right?” you muse.

Snort.

“No, you don’t think so?” you question, sitting up. He happily crawls into your lap when you pat your thighs, chin resting on your tummy. “Nah, you’re right. Could almost imagine him beating the hell out of one for pissing him off.”

A little grumbly noise. You smile and start petting absently over his head and ears, phone forgotten now.

“This is dumb anyway,” you sigh, head tilted back to the ceiling. “You don’t like men. I couldn’t bring him back here.”

Johnny’s ears flick. You giggle and start flopping them around, making airplane noises. Eventually he huffs and starts licking at your face until you stop, complaining that you’ll need to wash off now.

—

“Fuck it.”

Johnny picks his head up, staring at you as you run a hand down your face.

“Fuck it all. I’m going to a bar. I’m getting… I dunno. Laid or something.” Thank god it’s only Johnny here. You don’t think you could live with the embarrassment of someone else hearing the way you talk.

You set your hands on your hips, nod to yourself.

“And if it happens to be Soap, then… sign from the universe, right?” You grimace a bit, striding for your bedroom. “Please don’t let him be a murderer or something…”

For once, Johnny is perfectly behaved as you get ready. He doesn’t try to lick at you when you come out of shower (freshly shaved and lotioned and everything). Sits patiently on the bed as you pick through your closet, even noses at a pretty pink dress you rarely wear but were considering for this.

He doesn’t try to bump your arms or hands while you do your makeup, just watches attentively. You choose a pretty, matching bra-panty set, apply a light spritz of perfume. Hesitate over jewelry.

“Is it normal to wear jewelry when you plan on fucking?” you wander allowed.

A little “boof” from the bed. You’ll take that as a yes.

You decide on a set of faux pearls with a gold heart pendant in the center. Not quite a choker, but high enough on your throat to suggest one. A delicate bracelet, a pair of stud earrings, and you’re just about set.

“Christ, I hate doing this alone,” you mutter, fumbling with the zip on the back of the dress.

Lastly, the shoes.

“Fuck it,” you say again. Your mantra for the evening, apparently. Wobble into a pair of heels, a bow on the outside of each ankle where you buckle them.

You pause when you’re done, giving yourself a once over in the full length mirror. Pleased with what you see. Coquettish and pretty, not necessarily bombshell sexy maybe, at least not on first glance. But the necklace, the heels, the cutouts at the waist of your dress… it’s all exactly what you wanted.

“Alright,” you breathe, tummy swooping with excitement. “I can do this… right?”

Johnny’s gotten down off the bed, is keeping a respectful distance. You appreciate it, don’t want to have to lint roll hair off yourself.

“Oh, god. What if he’s bad?” You ask, giving him a horrified look. “What if he’s been, like, compensating?”

To your shock, he stomps his paw and starts damn near howling. Carrying on and on like he’s bitching you out. You blink in shock, almost laugh — then check the time.

“Oh! Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you starve!”

You toddle off to the kitchen and prep his dinner, scrunching your nose at the raw chicken and beef liver. He grumbles and fusses the whole way, making you laugh as you pretend to have a whole conversation about the economy with him.

“Okay, bonnie Johnny,” you coo, setting his bowl down. “Be good, okay? If I bring someone back here please don’t eat them, okay?”

More grumbles and whines and growls. You roll your eyes, blow him a kiss, and slip out the door.

You tell yourself you just need action with someone. Don’t admit to yourself that there’s really a specific someone you’re hoping to see.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[courtingchaos]

Crosstalk

Undesired signal leakage from one sound channel or track to another.

Playlist (if you wanna play along at home.)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Prompt: Eddie - I really like the idea of making him a naughty tape full of audio recordings of you playing with yourself for when he's out of town and you can't be together for a few days. But it's a surprise so you pass it off as a regular old mixtape and he doesn't suspect a thing until the first two songs end and then the real stuff starts.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Masturbation, reader tattoo mention

A/N: I have a list in my notes of prompts and I don’t remember what ask this one came from originally so apologies for that.

18+ NSFW No Minors

Eddie digs through the bag he hastily packed that morning while the phone sits tucked between his cheek and his shoulder. “What kind of surprise is it? When did you even get it in here? Is it dirty?” He gasps into the receiver. He can feel you swatting his arm even from four hours away.

“It’s nothing wild, it’s just-“

His fingers close around something almost buried to the bottom and he fishes it out, slick plastic cassette case gleaming in the low motel light. “Did you make me a mixtape?”

“I told you it wasn’t anything wild.”

He knows you’re twirling your finger through the phone cord, your chin probably tucked into your collar in mild embarrassment.

“I love it.”

“Don’t uh, don’t go playing it for the guys though.”

“Oh so it is dirty.”

“No, I just don’t want them making fun of me for putting Linda Ronstadt on there three times.”

“Three? What are you, breaking up with me via music?” Eddie teases you while he reads the insert you lovingly wrote on, little hearts in the corners beside the 10 track listing.

“No! She’s just got a way with the language of love!” You whine into the phone and Eddie laughs.

“Okay, okay. I’ll keep it all to myself. Gives me something to listen to while I fall asleep.” Behind him the shower cuts off and he knows Gareth will be out to finish his tangent on getting bullied out of his terrible pizza toppings. “You gonna be okay if I let you go?”

“I won’t cry myself to sleep if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh shut up, I know you walk that widows peak night and day awaiting my return from…Detroit.”

“I don’t waste my time like that. I know you’re up to your armpits in groupies.”

Eddie looks around the old motel room and scoffs. “If you think four nerds are pulling groupies in the kind of room we have, I have a river to sell you.”

After saying goodnight five times and you finally hanging up on him being sappy he flings himself into the bathroom after Gareth and before Jeff and Frank get back with food. Four straight hours in a car with three other men makes him want to crawl out of skin so he watches the steam roll out from the behind the shower curtain with anticipation. Almost scalding water leaves red marks over his shoulders and down his chest, enough to make him feel clean again while he rinses his hair. He can hear muffled voices from the other side of the thin bathroom door and knows he’s been relegated to the small couch in their room.

“You know, it’d be nice to get the bed once in a while.” He says when he exits the bathroom and snatches two slices from the open box on the single king bed.

“If you didn’t try to spoon all of us we would.”

“Oh what, you bothered by a little cuddling?”

Gareth glares at Eddie hard and Jeff cracks up at the deep breath he takes in. “If it was just cuddling I wouldn’t think anything of it, but you turn into the world’s only land octopus! I’ve never been so sweaty in my life! I don’t know how your girl puts up with it, you’re a fucking radiator!”

“This is why I always take the cot.” Frank singsongs from said cot while watching the local news.

The bickering continues as Eddie makes his temporary bed on the too hard, too small couch and finally ends when Jeff just shuts off the lights. “I need everyone to shut the fuck up for the next five hours okay?”

Eddie only hums and fishes around for his headphones, cassette player tucked up under the blanket with him. With the tv flashing across the walls Eddie starts to drift off to the slow beat of “Blue Bayou”, a soft chuckle for your choice of intro, and by the end of it he’s almost out when he hears your voice.

“Okay, so uhm, this is actually your final warning to stop playing this for everyone because you never listen to me so I’m trying to save us both some face you ratfink.”

His eyes snap open in the dark and he pulls the player out from under the covers like it’ll tell him what’s going on.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll listen to me this time though if I put a warning on your mixtape.”

He slaps around beside him on the floor for the case and squints at it in the flashing tv lights to see if you wrote something he missed.

“Anyways though, I do miss you and I hope your show goes well. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there but there’s never much room in those motels, huh?”

He can tell you moved around while recording, the bumping of the tape deck clacking in his ears. He’s glad it’s dark so none of the guys give him shit for the blush he knows is dusting his cheeks.

“Hell, one day soon you’ll get your own room and then I can come out and I don’t have to do sappy shit like this.”

The recording cuts and jumps to Carly Simon’s “You Belong to Me” and Eddie can’t help but laugh and feel hollow at the same time. As small as this couch is it would be nice to feel your weight on top of him, your head smushed in next to his sharing headphones that might snap from overextension. The song cuts off a few notes early to shuffling sounds and then your strained voice.

“This is really hard to do one handed, I won’t lie, but I wasn’t just gonna whisper sweet nothings to you.”

One handed? He can barely make out your breathing but he can hear the gasp alongside your light laughter.

“I don’t know if you know this, and if you don’t I’m sure I’m just inflating your ego but-“

The long sigh that follows finally jogs his tired brain and keys him into what’s happening. He whips his head to the side to see the sleeping forms of the other three before he sits up and pays closer attention.

“You have amazing hands Eddie, and it isn’t just-ohhh-it isn’t just the guitar playing you know? You know just where that spot is. I think your fingers are longer, I don’t know.”

Suddenly Bonnie Raitt is in his ear and he’s fumbling for the buttons on the side of the player to fast forward because while he appreciates your mixtape skills, now is not the fucking time. You would make him wait through three more songs before he accidentally runs into the middle of your recording, a thin moan of his name that makes him stand and head for the bathroom.

“-and I just miss you a lot and you’ve only been gone f-for what, a day by the time you get this?”

His lighter clicks in the dark while juggles the tape player and his pack of cigarettes.

“You actually just left my place. We had dinner and I told you I wouldn’t fuck you because it’s like good luck or some shit. I heard boxers do it like that.”

You have a remarkable way of running your mouth while otherwise occupied, thoughts that zip between moans and even he has a hard time keeping up. In the bathroom he cracks the small window so he doesn’t set the smoke detector off and then locks the door behind him before turning the shower on full blast. When he finally sits on the edge of the tub he expects a little more from you before Bill Withers starts singing about missing sunshine and he has to fast forward again.

“You’d think I’d be a little embarrassed to do this but actually it’s-fuck-it’s kind of easier to rec-“

Eddie sucks on his cigarette until the cherry burns bright red and his lungs start screaming, the cut off voice in his ears lending to quiet sounds of your hand working fast to make your breath jump in your chest. He thinks about you probably laying on the floor of your tiny studio, right at the foot of your bed with that big boombox next to your head set to record. That pillow that’s too big for your tiny couch, the one that got relegated to a ‘floor pillow’, stuffed behind your head while your toes catch on the edge of your green rug as you try to brace yourself.

Eddie sits on the edge of the tub and breathes in his own exhaled smoke and chews on his lip till it goes almost numb. Sits there and listens to your gasps and whimpers, the far off wet slick of your fingers moving faster.

“You’d think…I was making you…a tape to send you off to war.” Your laugh is light, forced air before it chokes off on his name and he slides down to the cold tile floor. Cigarette tossed into the tub behind his head, he’ll fish the butt out of the drain when he’s done listening to your voice.

“Barely a long weekend and-and-ah shit!”

You’ve tranced him, hardly notices the dig of the tile against his bare skin, doesn’t give a shit that this floor is dirtier than he can imagine probably. He lets his vision fuzz with the steam filling the small bathroom so he can focus on your voice and try to picture you laid out in front of him. It’s just another lazy afternoon, weed haze ringing your apartment while he watches you from across the room.

“I miss you when you’re gone. It’s only four days but I miss you Eddie.”

Sitting on that tiny couch and mesmerized by the dance of your fingers over your own skin. Nails press lightly into lines of ink to trail up your thigh and over your hip, to press into the softness of your belly. You’d hold his gaze the whole time like a dare while your other hand kneaded at your chest. When those adventuring fingers finally dip between your thighs and you sigh so light, Eddie follows suit.

Through the headphones he can hear you closer now like your lips were pressed to his ear. Heavy pants and no more words, just breathing that stutters and climbs in pitch. He wastes no romance on himself, not here in this cramped bathroom, not when he can almost feel your breath hot and damp against his neck. With every hitch of your voice he speeds his hand up, didn’t even bother pulling his shorts down all the way. In his imagination you give him a chastising smile for it before your reddened eyes roll back into your skull on a moan and he uses both hands now, just like you would.

The next song started and ended maybe but his hair clings to him in the steam and his sweat. There’s a chord change he thinks that proceeds his stomach clenching and his thighs aching before it all cuts off with your loud moan. You must have slapped at the player too late, not catching all of your agonies for him. Not everything, sure, but the important part is there. Your voice chanting low as your pleasure ebbs, his name over and over until you giggle and gasp.

Soft hands, phantom and damp with arousal and sweat cup his face when he cums, the heel of his palm shoved into his mouth to stifle the high noises trying to escape his throat. The track clicks again back to music and it isn’t until Eddie hears Peter Frampton that he starts to crash back into reality.

“If I know you like I think I do, I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes at me.” You giggle again at the end of the cassette, satiated and melancholy. “I just wanted you to have a little something, though I am sorry I buried it all in some of the best love songs ever written.”

You leave him with an I love you and another I miss you and a little bit of a mess to clean up. In twenty minutes though, when he’s back on the couch having evaded being caught and sucking down another smoke, he falls asleep and dreams about that hazy afternoon he intends to give you when he gets home.

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part five ]

[ part one ] & [ part two ] & [ part three ] & [ part four ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: fluff, sfw, a bit of suggestive talk

word count: 2029

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

the serene atmosphere of your sunlit bedroom was suddenly disturbed as you jolted up in bed with a gasp.

heart racing and head spinning, you sat there, stunned.

was it … just a dream?

your brow furrowed as you looked up and around the familiar space. there was your bookshelf, your desk, your chair … oh.

you rubbed your eyes to do a double take at your chair. sure enough, atop it laid the two-piece outfit you had worn out with stanley last night.

slowly, a wide grin spread across your face. as you began to get out of bed and prepare yourself for the day, memories came back to you one by one.

let’s see, then … when we got back here, we had that conversation in the car. i remember being really sleepy, and kind of stumbling into the inn.

you wandered into your bathroom, splashing your face with cold water.

then, we parted ways. he practically skipped away to his room.

the faucet ran as you laughed softly to yourself. a certain warmth filled your chest, spreading throughout your body: an uncontrollable joy.

who would’ve guessed? me, in love … i’m so happy.

suddenly, everything was peaches, unicorns, and rainbows. you felt as if the butterflies in your stomach were throwing a wild dance party, and all the world was invited. ecstatic, you danced around your room, putting on day clothes and taking extra care as you groomed yourself. yes, this called for three extra spritzes of your favorite fragrance. absolutely, it required your nicest jewelry. after all, you were on a serotonin high, and you never wanted to come down—the person that you love loves you back!

as you made your way out into the hallway, a part of you was tempted to slide down the staircase like mary poppins, but you quickly decided against it as you recalled your lack of magical gravity-altering powers. instead, you settled for a regular-paced descent, walking down both sets of stairs until you came out into the lobby.

you waved to one of your employees at the front desk. “good morning!”

“ah, good morning, boss. you sound cheery today. did something good happen?”

“wellll, yeahhh, you could say that …” you beamed, covering your mouth like a child with an innocent secret.

the worker laughed, shaking his head. “i won’t pry, although i do have a guess as to what it is. you’re all set to take your shift, by the way.” he walked out from the desk, and you took his place, watching as he disappeared to go on break.

just then, a hand touched your shoulder.

“boo.”

you jumped, whipping around to the source of the voice. a smug stanley stood beside you, laughing at the reaction he’d managed from you.

“haha! hey, don’t be scared, toots. ‘s just me.” he winked, giving you a small squeeze before letting his arm fall down to his side. “ya look cute t’day.”

“you look pretty nice yourself.” you hummed, giving him a quick once-over. that earned a small blush from stan, who stammered as he attempted to think of a comeback.

“oh—oh yeah? well you—uh … ahh, i got nothin’.” he grinned sheepishly, pleasantly surprised at the way you were matching his energy.

at that moment, the little entrance bell rung as the front door swung open. a new guest had entered the building. recognizing this, stan took his cue to back away and let you do your job.

the stranger approached the front desk, and you offered him a smile. “welcome to the inn! just a room for one today?”

the stranger, who appeared to be tall and blond, stared at you with piercing blue eyes. “yes … that was the plan. but i must say, you’re a charming little doll. you might just make it a room for two.”

you were taken aback. “sir—”

“hey, can you blame me? i’m in town for a tour, and i’m awfully bored … why don’t you humor me?”

*SLAM*

stanley’s rough hand hit the desk surface with force as he positioned himself between the stranger and yourself.

“you got a problem?”

his threatening words rumbled lowly, striking through the air like thunder.

“what’s it to you, lowlife raccoon? do you really think you’re scaring anyone with that attitude?”

the bulkier man growled, his eye twitching. “you wanna take this outside, punk?”

“yes, let’s. i’d hate for your little crush here to watch you get hurt.”

immediately, alarm bells went off in your head. “wait, what—”

stan began to walk towards the back door with the troublemaker. shooting a glance back at you, he mouthed ‘don’t worry’ before closing the door behind him. of course, that only made you worry twice as much.

a part of you longed to follow them and make sure nothing bad happened, but you knew that you couldn’t just abandon the desk during your shift. an anxious breath escaped from your lips as you craned your neck to try and see if you could catch a glance of them through the window.

mere seconds later, there was a distant crash. you startled, quickly running over to the back door and opening it to look for the two men. much to your relief, stanley came walking back over to you from around the corner, completely unscathed.

“guy ran off all scared after i knocked his tooth out. said sumthin’ about his ‘career being ruined’. tch, what a wuss.” he rolled his eyes, sliding his arm around your waist and walking you back towards the front desk. “sorry he said that stuff to ya. i took care of it, though, yeah?”

you flushed a shade of red at his arm around you and his close proximity. “y–yes. thank you, stan.”

the brunet puffed up with pride. “anytime, angel. if somebody tries anything like that again, y’ come get me. i’ll take care of you.”

looking this way and that, he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek before grabbing his car keys and walking towards the front door. “i gotta thing to do. see ya later, gator.”

you stood frozen in place, processing what had just happened. explosions were going off in your brain, and stan chuckled to himself as he left the inn.

some time passed, and it was finally your lunch break. you’d been thoroughly distracted all morning by the way stanley had been acting towards you.

he’s so … clingy. ugh, i miss him already.

his hair is so pretty … and his eyes … and that stubble …

you were slowly being pulled into daydream land—but the rumbling of your stomach snapped you out of it.

“urgh. time to eat.” you mumbled to yourself, making your way to your room. there were some leftovers in the fridge that were practically calling your name.

after retrieving the box of food and a clean fork, you turned around to return to the lobby, but stopped in your tracks upon seeing someone standing in the doorway.

“heya, toots!” stan beamed, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “yer never gonna believe what just happened.”

this was the most excited and happy you’d ever seen him. intrigued, you set down your leftovers on the table, giving him your full attention. “what is it?”

“i just landed a security guard gig for the theater down the street. they figured out i could throw a punch or two, an’ offered to pay me full-time to keep troublemakers away from their shows!”

your eyes widened as you realized what this meant. “then … that means …”

“i can stick around n’ actually have a chance at making the green i need!” grinning, he threw his arms around you. “i’ll stop takin’ up space here, n’ get a place for us—i mean, me—i mean—”

you laughed, squeezing him tightly and resting your head on his shoulder. “stan, i am so proud of you!”

hearing those words did something inside of him. his whole body tensed, then relaxed, overwhelmed with emotion. “you … you are?”

“of course! i love you too much to feel any other way, y’know.”

tears stung at his vision, and he hastily rubbed them away with his sleeve. “... heh, thank you.”

stepping back to look him in the eye, you rested both hands on top of his shoulders. “when you first got here … i could tell how unhappy you were. i hated seeing you like that.” you moved one hand to brush some hair out of his face. “and now look at you. you’ve come so far.”

stan melted into your touch, leaning his face into the palm of your hand without thinking. “yeah, i … i guess i have come a ways, huh?” he sighed, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “honestly, you were the one who caused it. ‘f it weren’t for all your help, i … i’d prob’ly be in an even darker place than i was before.” turning his head, he kissed the inside of your palm. “thank you.”

you blushed, your whole body warm with happiness, gratitude, and excitement. “well, i couldn’t just ignore you.” you pulled him into another embrace, unable to wipe the smile off your face. “stanley, you’ve captivated me, mind, heart, and soul.”

he hummed lowly, pushing your hair back to press another kiss to your forehead. “you did the same thing to me. i … just can’t stop thinkin’ about you.” he pulled his head back to gaze at you lovingly. “... ‘bout how lucky i got to find you.. my angel.”

“i love you.”

“heh– not more than i do, toots.”

“no proof.”

you were just inches away from a second-ever kiss when a knock on the door rudely interrupted, causing the two of you to jump away from each other and stare as it began to open.

“oh sh–” stan slapped his hand over his mouth, diving behind the sofa to hide. all you could do was stand there as normally as you possibly could, pretending like nothing important had been previously happening.

“uh … was there someone else in here, too?”

it was your coworker from earlier that day.

“NOPE! nobody. just me. why would you think that?”

he narrowed his eyes. “right … you know it’s your property, it’s okay if there was someone.” shaking his head, he remembered his initial purpose. “anyway, i just wanted to come find you to see if you wanted to go out to lunch with me and liz.”

“oh. well, uh …”

“... it would also be a nice opportunity to tell us about any … juicy secrets?”

you snickered, shaking your head fondly. “well, fine. i’ll tag along, then—with a plus one.”

“I KNEW IT! —i mean, uh, cool, good deal. we’re meeting in the lobby in ten.”

“i’ll be there.” you waved goodbye as he shut the door, and stan reappeared from behind the couch. the two of you simply exchanged looks, and started laughing.

so, you had a lovely lunch outing with two of your co-workers and a rather nervous stanley. he was surprisingly shy for the intimidating big-guy persona that he gave off, which was adorable. it didn’t take long for him to earn the approval of the others—they were both moved to tears after listening to his life story. jeff, the male of the two, kept complaining about how it wasn’t fair that you had such a good man just suddenly show up on your doorstep, whereas liz warned stan that if he ever hurt you he would have to deal with her. all in all, the whole group had a great time.

presently, you were sorting through a mail delivery that had come for the inn, making different piles for guests and employees who had received letters and other packages.

it was just then that something caught your eye.

it was a postcard … addressed to stan.

huh … i wonder what this could be about?

you stifled your curiosities and stopped yourself from reading his mail, and instead chose to slip it underneath his door.

oh, well. i’m sure it’s nothing important.

… right?

end

author's note:

*holds stanley so gently in the palm of my hand*

love this guy ... what a guy

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[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲-𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄

𝟭. set SMART goals ( 📒 )

make sure your goals are specific, measurable, actionable, realistic and time-bound. this will help you maintain focus and track your progress over time. how many times has it been you and your unrealistic to-do list against the world? well, it seems that a mile-long to-do list is not a good ally at all. remember that you are a person and not a machine, and that just dedicating four hours to deep work and concentration is A LOT. be kind to yourself and don't overload yourself with more work than you can humanly do.

𝟮. daily planning ( 🧸 )

mea culpa because i'm the first one who doesn't plan their day. to-do lists generally stress me out and make me feel overwhelmed as if i don't manage to complete all the tasks an asteroid will end up hitting the earth. but i recognize that it is a good starting point. sometimes i have too many things to do and i end up doing nothing in total confusion, but having at least a general list to follow gives me more motivation. moreover do we want to talk about the dopamine released when you tick an empty box? marvelous. maybe don't write down tasks that are too onerous and demanding, break them into several smaller tasks, also try to write simple activities such as "drink a glass of water" every now and then. having these low-commitment activities will help you stay motivated while completing more important tasks.

𝟯. reverse-engineering method ( 🪴 )

start with the end goal and work backwards to plan the actions needed to achieve it. this helps you maintain clarity on the steps to take and focus on the most relevant actions. the best thing to do is plan based on the time available and do your best to stick to your daily goal.

𝟰. timer roulette ( ⏳ )

choose a task from your to-do list and set a random timer between 15 and 45 minutes. work on that task with all your concentration until the timer goes off. this helps you fight procastination and keep your mind fresh.

𝟱. mind mapping time ( 📍 )

before starting a study session, take a few minutes to create a mental map of the subject you need to cover. this helps you see connections between concepts and organize information more effectively.

𝟲. task batching ( 🫒 )

group similar tasks together and tackle them in batches. for example, reply to all emails in one session rather than doing so at scattered times throughout the day. this helps you reduce transition time between tasks and maintain focus. contrary to popular belief, human beings are not truly multitasking (only a few possess this great ability) and when we do multiple things together we do nothing but shift our attention from one task to another, greatly reducing the quality of our performance. if possible, try to avoid these switches that are harmful to your focus and concentration.

𝟳. the pomodoro method ( 🍅 )

okay, y'all probably already know this one because it became so popular in the last year but if you don't, the pomodoro method is a time management technique developed by francesco cirillo in the late 80s. it is based on the idea of working for short periods of time, usually 25 minutes, followed by a short 5 minute break. after four rounds of work, a longer break is taken, usually 15-30 minutes. this technique helps improve concentration and productivity, as it breaks down work into manageable tasks and offers regular breaks to rest and regenerate energy. i personally prefer the 50/10 ratio while i'm studying but you decide which time ratio is better for you, i find it really useful and it helps me a lot while i'm studying for my exams.

[hannah-heartstrings]

I used to wreck myself every November trying to win NaNo, I'd stay up way too late, I made my caffeine addiction worse, and it'd leave me exhausted for the next few months (before that became my regular state). And none of it was even needed 'cause I write all the time anyway.

When I see people stressing over NaNo I tend to feel like they're hurting themselves and I get the impulse to be obnoxious. I don't want anyone hurting themselves but I also know that some find NaNo to be helpful and fun.

So I'll post some reminders than leave writeblr alone:

Take care of yourself through November

Maintaining your sleep schedule is important to staying healthy

Stay hydrated, highly caffeinated drinks can dehydrate you more

Make sure to rest your wrists and eyes and get up to stretch every so often

Remember that your brain needs a break sometimes too

Don't hurt yourself to make the deadlines

If you are hurting yourself, it's OK to just stop anytime, all the words you've written won't be wasted because you quit

In fact any words you write are never wasted

It's OK to not do NaNoWriMo

It's OK to do it with a smaller goal

It's OK to not win NaNoWriMo

Be kind to yourself

Whatever you decide to do, I wish you luck and love. 🍀🩷

[princessbrunette]

rafe with crybaby reader cause my heart 😍 shes real nervous to leave his room when she’s over even tho they’ve been together for ages but he’s tapping her butt and telling her to be a big girl and to do what she wants. so she goes to get water and little miss clumsy drops something and it breaks. maybe wards been having a bad week or smth so he comes out of his study and yells a little and she just cries her eyes out. rafe would loose his shit I know it ‼️

goddddd this !!!! i relate to this so hard bc i am a huge cry baby :( i don’t think ward would yell but i think he’d be an asshole in his own intimidating, highkey terrifying way.

you cringe as the glass shatters, eyes instantly welling up as you gasp — wanting to slap yourself. you’re a guest in the cameron’s home and you’re already messing things up and breaking things, how ungrateful could you be? almost instantly you hear quick and heavy footsteps, not rafes— no, he didn’t walk like that, you knew what his footsteps sounded like. this was ward.

he stands in the doorway, mouth agape a little, just staring at you like ‘seriously?’ and you wanna sink into the ground.

“i’m so sorry, mr cameron it was totally an accident. i’ll— i’ll buy a new—” you start, jumping into action by squatting and carefully trying to pick up the shards with your fingers. you knew it was dumb, but you panicked and wanted to make things right as quickly as possible.

“just— out of the way please. don’t touch it.” he holds up his hand, cutting you off making your mouth shut quickly. he used a very clipped tone with you, different from the usual welcoming and kind voice he spoke to you in. you stay quiet, stepping aside as you anxiously bite at your finger nail, watching him open a closet and pull out a broom.

you don’t know why, but even though you felt totally guilty you expected him to sweep it up— however he pins you with a stern gaze and holds the broom out. “c’mon, you’re gonna clean it up. okay?” his tone isn’t gentle, leaving no room for suggestion, more threatening if anything. you swallow, nodding frantically and take it from him, sweeping up.

he leans on the counter with his arms crossed watching you as you gather the shards. “you know, i welcomed you into my home sweetheart and this is just… you see how it might irritate me right? i’m not being unfair?” he tilts his head, gesturing that he wants you to look at him.

“no sir, i really really am sorry, i would never disrespec—” you will the tears to stay inside.

“its just… i’m having a rough day, i come home, i gotta listen to my son fucking you for what, an hour straight, with no regard for who might hear, and now i just wanna relax, and you’re smashing my good glasses in the kitchen. i don’t even really know why you were reaching for these glasses, honey, the regular glasses are right there like it’s common sense...” his voice doesn’t raise once, but your lip is wobbling, avoiding his eyes due to how stern and intimidating he was. you had no idea ward could be like this, he seemed so kind at first.

“respect is important, yeah? just try and remember.” he finishes up, running his hands under the tap before sparing you one last disapproving glance and walking to the kitchens exit. at once, rafe appears in the doorway in his sweatpants, coming to see what was taking so long. he glances at you with the broom, and then his dad, brows furrowing in confusion.

“whats going on?”

“just maybe teach your girlfriend some basic house training or respect rafe, i don’t know i’m tired…” he trails off, walking past his son back into the hallway. rafe is quick to react as usual, face screwing up in disgust and swivelling his whole body to follow his dad.

“excuse me? no, the fuck did you just say?” he asks, voice a little raised. you sigh, swiping your tears on the back of your wrists and pouring the shards into the bin before following.

“don’t make this a thing son, she broke my good glass so she’s cleaning it up, go to bed.” he waves him off but rafe storms infront of him.

“are you serious? she’s a guest in our home, what you — you’re always fuckin’ telling me to treat the guests with respect so what— the same doesn’t apply to my girl? fucking… apologise, now.” he demands, making his dad simply scoff. rafe didn’t didn’t like that. he stares him down, pushing his tongue into his cheek before flickering his eyes up at you. “go back to my room, baby i’ll be up soon. clearly i gotta have a conversation with my old man.” he drawls, eyes fixated back on his dads face, beaming with anger.

you do as he says, as always. the tears fall freely once you’re back in his room, sat on his bed, face in your hands sobbing and mewling. all you could do was curse yourself out internally. logically, you knew it was just a glass but it felt like a huge deal to you, never wanting to disrespect anyone let alone your boyfriends father. you hear the familiar footsteps of your boyfriend eventually, and you don’t even try to compose yourself— continuing to cry even when he opened the door and re entered.

he sighs, anger and sadness flooding him at the fact that his father had made his baby cry like this, so soon into knowing eachother. he watches you for a moment, trying to let the anger subside, itching his head before slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

“i’m really, really sorry about that baby.” his voice is a warm comfort, slightly soothing your hurt.

“how have i already messed up so bad? he hates me now.” you whine and he shushes you with a frown, wrapping a strong arm around you to tuck your head beneath his chin, cheek to his chest.

“hey, hey, shh. my dads just an asshole… but he doesn’t hate you. he’s just having a bad day and decided to take it out on you for whatever fuckin’ reason. you’re all good. it’s just a glass, right? means nothin’.”

“it didn’t seem like it meant nothing to him.” you pull away to look at him, eyes watery and puffy bottom lip pouted. he sighs once more, both hands rising to wipe his thumbs beneath your eyes, caressing your cheeks.

“and like i said, he’s just an asshole. don’t let him get to you baby. yeah?”

you sniffle. “yeah.”

“good, show me that smile, c’mon.” a hand drops down to your waist, digging his fingers in a little, threatening to tickle. you can’t help it, even just a threat of a smile on rafes lips makes you grin, which only mirrors in his expression. “there y’go. that’s my big girl.”

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 get temporary amnesia

~ the sequel >:3. for headcanon purposes, the scenario remains the same: your beloved slipped on a cobblestone and hit their head. they retain basic functioning but don't remember you, and need a week of healing to recover ~

Julian

Here is what he knows: he woke up with 0 recollection of what happened and how he got here, and an irresistible stranger is treating him like he's worthy of love and taking care of him

He's about to break his own record for how quickly he can fall in love. He doesn't know when last someone treated him this well

You, on the other hand, can feel your heart cracking slightly every time you interact with him

The adoration in his eyes when he looks at you is missing the settled confidence of a secure relationship. He's desperate for your affection, but beneath the neediness is a deep unease

You've become accustomed to a Julian that doesn't ask constantly for a kiss because he knows you'll always give him one. This one asks, takes, and then winces like he expects to be shut out

The afternoon three days in when he tearfully tried to pack up with nowhere to go so he couldn't burden you didn't help at all

Tripping over himself to dote on you however he can, partly out of love, but mostly to convince you he's worth keeping around

Might laugh at his own misery when his memories return

Asra

You've gotten all kinds of looks from them over the course of your relationship, but this is the first time they've ever looked ... wary

Grateful for your help, sure, appreciative for the lodging and food and care, of course, and plenty friendly

And completely, entirely distrustful

He doesn't know you. He doesn't know your motives. He doesn't know what you want. Even after observing you enough to realize that you really are acting out of love, you still terrify him

Because their own traitorous heart is rioting to let down every wall and ignore every instinctive guard to be close to you again, to be themself around you, even to give of themself to you

Faust's ongoing confusion and the effects of your bonded hearts serve to both ground and unsettle him, even after learning why

They aren't mean at all - if anything, they act like a close friend - but they sleep separately from you, avoid general touch, and get antsy after sharing a space with you for longer than a couple hours

You know his memories are back when he's suddenly pulling you into a hug, so grateful that you could love him like he's loved you

Nadia

She knows she's missing memories and she's not happy about it

Yes, you woke her up, and yes, she can tell that she can trust you, and yes, she's excited at the possibility of finally having found her person. However -

She is apparently a COUNTESS and that is not something to take lightly. Clearly, there is a lot of work to do. As eager as she is to bond with you, she expects you to prove yourself worthy of it

Fill her in on her job. Assist her with whatever proves challenging with her regular work. Tell her what she needs to know to succeed

And don't push her boundaries. She's stressed and will ice you out

Even as she's frustrated with her dependence on someone she doesn't know, she's quietly relieved for your companionship and support. She'd much rather have you than nobody

So tell her about yourself. Use your shared meal times to answer her questions, let her interview you until she does know you well enough to be at ease around you

Slightly embarrassed about her behavior when her memories return. She'll apologize for it by spoiling you nonstop

Muriel

There's no nice way to put it. He's terrified of you at first

When he first opens his eyes, he's injured enough to make fighting difficult, he's in a hut in the middle of nowhere, and his only source of information is the person who brought him here - you

For all he knows, you could have been the person who hurt him enough to trap him, you could be keeping him captive for your own entertainment, you could be lying to him about who he is

Something in his gut tells him it's been done to him before

But as another day or two passes, he quickly realizes you're an exception. He knows how to observe and read people, and you truly care about him. He still hates touch, though

He doesn't know what madness possessed you to feel that way, but he doesn't take your feelings and actions lightly either

You're about to be on the receiving end of a scary amount of unquestioning loyalty, without the stability of a trusting, secure relationship to temper it

So relieved when his memories come back. He's a whole new level of trusting with you now that he knows what you'd do for him

Portia

It's gut wrenching to watch your partner for life open her eyes and the first words out of her mouth be "hey cutie, what's your name?"

Somehow, it's even worse when her response to your crestfallen face is to pull you into a hug, warm and comforting and yet distant with the politeness of trying to help a stranger

As soon as she starts asking questions and you tell her what happened, she's determined to make things right

That's okay if she doesn't remember, you're here to tell her! Not to mention how excited she is to find out that she's already bagged the attractive stranger who's been showing her so much love

So full of wide-eyed wonder for the life you two had built together. Tell her everything, show her your daily routines, share the inside jokes, take her to your favorite date spots

Still not comfortable with physical affection beyond cheek kisses

Flirts with you nonstop anyways. You're strung between her optimism, her clear affection for you, her relational distance from you, and the knowledge that it isn't what it was. It's sweet agony

Covers you in kisses while she sobs when her memories return

Lucio

A. Pain. In. The. Ass - Neck.

The thing that makes the life he has with you so wonderful now is the fact that he shares it with you. You make him want to be a better person. You make a bedroll safer than a suite

But when he doesn't remember you? Everything about the life you've built together is distasteful to him at first

What do you mean, you don't own a house? He's this much of a grown up and still living the nomadic lifestyle of his early twenties?

Sure, you're cute, and the part of him deep down that craves and appreciates your love keeps drawing him back to you, but he'd always thought he'd end up with someone rich and powerful

You're just a journeyman. The magic is cool, but still - really?

Keeps trying to wander off and make reckless, selfish decisions and handing the responsibility to you. If you didn't want him to blow your budget on caviar, why'd you give him the coin purse?

Gets so uncomfortable with the conscience he has around you

Doesn't have many words when his memories return. He just wants to hold you tight and apologize until he can make up for it all

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT helping a partner with chronic pain/fatigue

Requested? Yes!

Genre: Comfort

A/N: I received two requests, one for chronic pain and one for chronic fatigue. I feel that these kind of go hand in hand, if only because pain can lead to fatigue or vice versa, so I’ve combined these requests to avoid too much repetition between posts. 

A/N #2: I grouped members by specific aspects for this one. That’s not to say that any of them wouldn’t do any or all of the items listed (plus more), but they’re grouped by what I think they're most suited for or would do naturally, regardless of your condition.

Helps you stay active - Seungcheol, Woozi, Seungkwan, Chan

This list kind of started as the gym rat line, but I thought better of it, so hear me out. These guys strike me as ones that really enjoy being physically active, albeit in different ways. When you tell him the doctor recommends regular exercise but you just can't bring yourself to do it, his immediate response is, “I’ll do it with you, baby.” He’ll go to the gym with you and stick with you through whatever workout you’re feeling up to today, even if it’s not quite what his workout would usually look like. He’ll ask you to go to the park to play a sport casually with lots of breaks in between, if only to reframe it as something fun rather than exercise. He might even try to teach you some choreography, not with the goal of you really learning it or being good at it, but to find some stress-free, lower-impact ways to move your body. 

Helps you find ways to get quality sleep - Hoshi, Wonwoo, Vernon

You might think one of these things doesn't belong, but I have yet another ‘hear me out’ (I’m full of them!!!). Wonwoo and Vernon both seem to value sleep and having a regular routine around it. They’ll find ways to help you relax - be it a hot shower before bed, some light reading (Wonwoo’s voice reading to you, hello??), or things like heating pads or special pillows to make sleep something that is more likely to happen for you. Now, I think Hoshi needs those things just as much as you do, if only because he needs the opportunity to recharge. Those little habits make it easier to sleep and get restorative rest. 

Helps you manage symptoms - Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao

When you tell him that your doctor recommends cutting or limiting certain things from your diet, he’s totally on board and will absolutely do it with you. The processed foods stop appearing on the grocery list. The sugary dessert after dinner is replaced by a big bowl of fresh fruit. The caffeinated drinks are replaced by non-caffeinated options or different fun substitutes entirely. He’ll never deny any of those things for you if you’re really craving them, but if eliminating and trying new things might help you then he’ll have your back. He’s also got the heating pads, massages, and pain meds on lock for when a good diet just doesn’t cut it. 

Helps you manage stress - Jeonghan, Jun, DK

He sees the cycle. You get stressed with work, school, family life, whatever. On the heels of that stress is fatigue, quickly followed by pain. He’ll do all the things mentioned above when the fatigue and pain is unavoidable, but he really likes to do things that help manage the stress to begin with. The chores are done so you don't have to dread them all day for when you get home. He’s helping you stay active, if only to work off that stress before it consumes you. He’s packing your lunch so you can get a few extra minutes of sleep or just simply take your time getting ready for the day. It’s the little things that you might not even notice he does all the time, but when you remember you needed to do something and find that it’s already been done, you get a moment to sigh in relief and just rest. 

[thir10th]

some extra help- Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

summary: this is a drabble kinda based on episode 3x02 but it's not a whole insert TW: suggestive content but no smut, dress up, fluff (very cute if you ask me), it's not smut so not much to say here, very short talk about medical stuff (head injury, concussion), i think that's all A/N: this one is quite short but very cute. It's not smut, just suggestive, i ended it right there because I wasn't really on the mood for it. As always: any feedback is appreciated. english isn't my first language. like and reblog <3

you had spent the last 2 nights in a row waking up every 3 to 4 hours, several alarms a night. After saving not only that poor little boy and woman's lives, but also saving you boss' and girlfriend's jobs, you returned home to a renewed Emily Prentiss. She was relieved that she could finally rest, not having to chose between her job and her team, which included you. You had insisted on her not resigning but she would give anything for you and the people she loved, for her team.

After the number she pulled in Milwaukee (you had also begged her to be careful, and you would've shoot that man when you saw what he had done to her hadn't JJ been there to stop you) she had a concussion. it was basically your job to make sure she was still breathing.

You secretly loved taking care of Emily, you kind of hated having to wake up every once in a while, obviously, but there was something about taking helping her with regular stuff, making sure she was taking things easy, all that intimacy.

"baby, stop it" she complains "I'm fine, I can carry my own bag" you had taken it upon yourself to carry it to her apartment "i know you can, but i don't want you to, you have to rest" you try to convince her

"I'm fine, the meds help a lot, it barely hurts now" She says trying to make you forget all that worry "since Milwaukee you've treated me like I'm so fragile, but I won't break just like that"

You drop her bag and her purse, and turn around to face her, grabbing her waist, pulling her close to you, she surrounds your neck with her hands "What's wrong with it? So, i want to take care of my girlfriend, no big deal, she can still be a badass, specially at work, as far as they're concerned, there's no worried girlfriend, just a worried friend, who drives you to work so you don't have to do it yourself" she caresses your back with her fingers, listening to every word you say.

Your relationship was still a secret for the rest of the team, you had been dating already for several months, but you were taking it slow, so no one in the team actually knew you were the one spending the nights at Emily's apartment taking care of her until she got better.

"well, i love my worried girlfriend but she should take a break and get me a nurse so she can start relaxing with me" she says, giving you a peck on your lips and separating from your embrace to go to the bathroom

little did Emily know she had just given you an idea

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

next day you enter Emily's apartment, ready for a nigh full of interruptions, but very ready to have some fun as well.

Emily had given you an idea, a very good one, the kind of idea you knew your girlfriend would love. So you move around the apartment, being as quiet as you can, Emily is resting on the couch reading a book, and you're in the room trying to get yourself ready.

"I can hear you moving, what are you up to back there?" she asks putting her book down, giving up on concentrating enough to read.

"you know, I think it's time to change that bandage on your forehead don't you think? It's been a couple of days" you say from the back of the room

"oh, yeah, i forgot, if you get me the first aid kit i can do it myself"

"no, i can do it for you, because, if i remember correctly, you said yesterday you could use a nurse, right?" with that you enter the living room, all dressed in the lamest, cheapest nurse costume you could have found, the only thing that mattered anyways was that it was short, white, and revealing.

Emily sits up, sitting upright on the couch, her mouth falls open, speechless, her eyes scanning you, running up and down your figure as if trying to memorize every bit of the image.

"So? what do you think?" you tell her, pinning around to give her a look from every angle

her lips start curving into a smile, her mouth still open, she chuckles in surprise, runs her hand through her hair looking for the words

"I can't believe this, you look awesome baby, come here" she says still in awe, opens her arms in a welcoming position. You walk to her, place your legs on her sides so you're straddling her, she caresses the skin of your legs, holding you in place, and lay down to give her a kiss, holding her head with both your hands, she dugs her fingers in the flesh of your thighs, you kiss her lips softly, giving in the contact, melting into the kiss.

"you're hottest nurse I've ever kissed in my life" you chuckle against her lips, she gives you a peck before you get away

"So, are you gonna let the nurse change that bandage of yours or what?" you ask, and she nods, still smiling, holding on to you but finally letting go to allow you to go take the kit.

You come back from the bathroom with a wet cloth in one hand and the red box in the other one, you gesture her to sit straight, and lay her head back, regaining your last position straddling her waist, and her hands fly back to hold your thighs.

You start by slowly taking the old bandage off to avoid hurting her, you take the wet cloth and start cleaning the wound with it, gently tapping around it. She looks at your focused frown, smiling over how seriously you're taking your job. She runs her fingers through the soft skin of your thighs, every time her hands move she reaches higher until she is no longer touching your legs, but your ass, squeezing it gently, making you jump

"Hey! I'm trying to work here, stop distracting me!" You scold her, but she doesn't retreat, her hands keep wondering around, you try to make it as fast as you can.

Applying the bandage on her forehead delicately, you give her a peck on the lips "you're all set" you announce

"thank you nurse, i was wondering, maybe there's something else you could help me with?" she says to your surprise "sure, what would that be?"

"well you see, my very concerned and beautiful girlfriend used to be the one to take care of me, but ever since you came, I haven't seen her around, so maybe you could take care of me tonight, maybe for a bit longer" she says with the sexiest voice, batting her eyelashes to add up to the act, you just follow her play.

"well this one girlfriend of yours sounds like a very nice lady, but i guess i could help you out" you kiss her again, lustfully, running your hands through her hair, down to her sides, until you reach the hemline of her shirt, and you tug on it "how about if we start by removing this?"

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

[thot-writes]

i just posted art of my werewolf tav & astarion so y’know what?? take this fic to go along w it. what would astarion/the gang do if u were a lil werewolf (i did not mean for it to get this long lol)

your vampire not-quite-boyfriend + the gang find out you’re a cheeky little pup (act i post-grove);

Lycanthropy wasn’t something you were born into like some. No, like most others bearing the curse you were infected with it. The transformation process was an excruciating, torturous one that is still branded into your very bones.

The bloodlust festers in you, day and night, like a splinter that’s burrowed too deep for you to dig out. It calls for you to rip, tear, dominate— kill. But you can suppress it. Mostly. You refuse to be one of the many werewolves that is controlled only by their base instincts.

But every full moon the beast blood takes you completely, and you have no choice but to transform. You never remember the night after you’ve turned back. Only brief snippets of red, pain, and fur.

Despite not tracking the stars, you can normally tell when a full moon’s coming because your body begins to ache, preparing itself to split open to birth the savage wolf that slumbers within. Usually you’d start your preparations to restrain yourself, to limit the carnage as much as possible.

But these aren’t usual times.

Three weeks ago you were captured from your home by mind flayers and infected with a tadpole, your entire world turned inside out with stranger things happening every day.

You now travel with a Sharran, a githyanki, two ticking time-bombs, a warlock, and a vampire.

One of their spawn, at least. It’s a good thing that in Faerûn, vampires and lycanthropes tend to be neutral towards each other — unlike what the romance novels would have you believe. Otherwise it’d make the regular sex you’re having with Astarion quite awkward.

You’d think that knowing all the sordid details about your travelling companions would bid you to confess your lycanthropy, but you could never find a way to bring it up.

Or, more accurately, you could bring it up you just didn’t want to. Not necessarily out of trauma, just convenience on your part. Confessing lycanthropy normally comes with questions, and the way you were turned is… kind of embarrassing, so you’re never keen to retell it.

But tonight, the moon will tell everyone for you. if you don’t get out in time.

The whole day your blood hammered in your flesh, your head splitting apart in a horrific headache and your bones feeling as if they could break and reshape at any moment. You lied to your companions, insisted you must’ve just drank too much last night at camp, and they bought it. Kind of. You hope.

You retired early for the day and whilst the others lounge about the camp you’re near biting your fingers off in uneasy anticipation of what’s to come. You need an excuse— any excuse to get the fuck out of here before the moon fully rises. You think you have an hour at most before you’re no longer you.

“My, but you’ve been looking ill all day, [Name]. I don’t recall you drinking that much last night.”

You almost jump out of your skin. Your heightened senses of smell and hearing usually help in preventing unpleasant surprises, but not today, not when you’re so on-edge. It was Astarion’s lilted voice that called from behind you. A sweet tune you’re all-too-happy to hear, in regular circumstances.

He gazes at you with that hard-to-read gleam in his eyes. The kind of gleam where you’re not sure if it’s because he knows something, is hiding something, or wants to tease you. You manage a shaky smile in response.

“You weren’t with me the whole night, Astarion. We slept separately,” you attempt.

“That night anyway,” he adds with a pretty little grin on his lips. You notice his gaze flickering over your body. “So you’re saying after I drank from you, you… what? Went back to your tent for some late-night binge drinking? Not that I’m surprised, you seem the type, but even still. Your hangover looks particularly… aggressive.”

You throw your hands up in an exaggerated shrug. “What, are you gonna throw an intervention for me? Gonna beat me up? Write me a letter about how much my drinking affects you?”

He chuckles. “Oh please, as if I care that much. I’m just saying that you seem a little sicker than alcohol would leave you.” He gasps, then presses a hand to his face. “What if you were poisoned? By someone in this very camp? How scandalous! My money’s on the gith.”

“If I was poisoned my money’s on you bitch.”

A grin. He always seems to smile so much in your presence. You wonder how much is real. You wonder if you’re overthinking it, or if you smile just as much as he does.

You’re ripped away from your thoughts as a terrible pain grips you. It takes all your strength not to double over right there— you’ve already drawn too much scrutiny, you don’t want more. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold your trembling hands still as the curse makes itself known. The pain you experience in transforming is what you’d imagine childbirth to be — if you gave birth to a baby out of every pore. You’ve only had this curse a scant few years, how have people managed to live entire lives with it?

Astarion notices your struggle. He tilts his head and looks on. “You really do seem like you’ve been poisoned. Or at least I hope that’s all it is. If you’re sick then I’m afraid you’ll be sleeping alone for a while longer yet, pup. I don’t want… whatever that is.”

You grit your teeth to prevent a cry. “I’m fi—iine!” you grunt. The pain lapses for a moment, this is your chance to leave. “I just— I have—uhh— really bad diarrhoea!”

“What?”

You make a show of holding your stomach and slouching. “Oh man it’s soooo bad right now, I’m probably gonna be shitting up a storm in the forest all night!”

“Gods above, please… spare me the details. Just go.” Astarion waves you off and grimaces at the mental image you’ve conjured for him.

“Okay, I better go have violent diarrhoea everywhere in the forest now— don’t follow me! Don’t look for me! Don’t let anyone look for me! I gotta go, goodnight! Don’t look for me!”

You give him no time to answer as you sprint into the wilderness. Your heart is hammering and your pulse quickening. You feel you only have a few more minutes until…

A scream escapes you before you can stop it, your skin is starting to bulge and split, revealing [colour] fur beneath it. No— not now, you’re still too close to camp— just hold on a little longer.

You gather all the strength you have, which is more than usual with the wolf so near, and run.

-

You’re deep in the wild now. Your screams are more frequent, your body produces sickening crunching sounds as the wolf starts its escape. You collapse to the forest floor, writhing in abject agony as your body tears itself apart. Transforming like this only ever takes a few minutes, but it always feels so infinitely long.

Soon your cries morph into a pained howl, and the birthing process is complete. Your mind has now been banished to the darkest recesses of you, and in its place is a beast.

It’s a blur each time you’re turned like this. When it’s of your own volition the process is simpler, quicker— though no less painful. You can maintain control if you focus hard enough. But the forced transformations are a different experience entirely. There is no control, only hunger. Only fangs, claws, and a deep, insatiable yearning for prey.

Astarion did as you asked. He didn’t search for you, not even when he heard that first scream. The thought of walking in on you… projectile excreting was enough of a deterrent to stay his curiosity.

But hours have passed since then. He couldn’t hear you, there was only quiet. When Gale asked where you were, he simply said you had taken ill. But now Astarion was the only one left awake, and there was still no sign of you.

You had been acting off all day. He didn’t believe it was simply a hangover, he’d seen many in his lifetime but they never caused anyone to disappear into the woods. As far as he knew.

But then… what was this odd subtle tightness settling in his chest? The thought that maybe something had happened to you, and you were no longer safe?

Could it possibly be that he was… worried about you?

He shakes his head. No, of course not. You’re nothing more than a target, a meat shield for if and when things go wrong. He didn’t have any feelings towards you, and certainly not enough to worry.

Astarion stays awake. Not for you, of course— perish the thought— he just wanted to get more reading done. Obviously.

Another hour passes.

Then one more.

Still nothing.

He’s coursing with anxious energy now and gets to his feet. What if you’d been turned into a mindflayer? What would that mean for the rest of them? Because of course it was his own well-being he was concerned for— definitely not yours!

He goes to the tent nearest to him, Lae’zel’s, and shakes her awake.

She grunts and sits up. “Chk, what is it Astarion? Why have you disturbed me?”

“[Name] still hasn’t returned, and dawn’s almost here,” he answers. His voice is a little shaky, but it’s probably because he’s a bit cold. “We should try to find them.”

Lae’zel nods curtly and begins to rise. She slings her sword over her back and says to Astarion, “Wake the others. If [Name] has become ghaik, we will need to put them down.”

A knot forms in his stomach as he turns to rouse the others. He finds himself hoping you haven’t been transformed— then quickly catches himself and buries the feeling.

He wakes them and explains the situation, and the group splits off into pairs to search for you; Wyll and Karlach, Shadowheart and Gale, Lae’zel and Astarion.

One would think someone with your supposed illness would be leaving… traces. But there’s nothing. It was almost like you’d just vanished— until Karlach had found your clothes. There was no blood on them, no damage, no filth (at least no more than usual).

The search continues.

Dawn isn’t far. Just a little longer.

As Astarion and Lae’zel scout together, he catches a whiff of blood in the distance. Animal blood, certainly. But it seems like… a lot. He notifies Lae’zel and they follow the scent, only to come across a mauled boar carcass. It’s practically been reduced to a puddle with how much carnage was heaved upon it, and what’s more…

There’s massive paw prints in the dirt. Soaked in the blood of the boar. Could this creature have hunted you? Is that why you never returned?

They alert the others and follow the tracks, along the way finding great claw marks in the trunks of the trees, various piles of viscera from unfortunate beasts, and small patches of fur. Fur the exact same colour as your hair…

The tracks lead to a small clearing in the forest, and in the middle of said clearing is… you.

Well, not you-you, but the hunkering direwolf-humanoid you turned into.

You’re crouched down, curled into a ball as your mind rends itself in twain. As dawn approaches, so too do your senses begin to return, but the wolf is not ready to relinquish control — it never is. The two of you battle for dominance in a silent struggle, ignorant to the group surrounding you from the trees.

Your werewolf self is a grotesque, fearsome thing, even as you’re lurching in pain. Your fur is an exact match of your natural hair colour, as are your eyes, even though in this form they’re clouded in rage and hunger. If you were stood upright, they’d see how you reached just over nine feet tall, how your hands and paws were lined with razor-sharp claws. Even as pathetic as you are in your current state, you’re still no creature to be trifled with.

Shadowheart steels herself as Lae’zel raises her sword high, prepared to strike you while you’re distracted.

“Abomination,” she spits, venom heavy on her tongue. “Lurk in these woods no longer, you die by my hand.”

She brings the blade down in a wide crescent motion, and you barely move out of the way in time. She’s managed to cut you, but you’re lucky to have missed the brunt of the attack.

You leap away from Lae’zel only to move into Karlach’s range of attack. She strikes you with her battleaxe and you roar as it slices into the skin of your back. Your wound quickly heals, and you spin around to swing a clawed hand in her direction. Your fist meets her side, and she’s flung feet away.

The group— your group— begins their surprisingly well-orchestrated assault, and it becomes clear that, as strong as you are, you cannot hold out for long. Not against all of them. Probably not even against half of them.

But the gods sometimes grant small mercies. The sun finally breaks, the Dawnlord’s radiance has weakened the wolf’s chokehold on you, and you stumble backwards. Your body begins to rapidly decay and break apart, and the others step back and watch the spectacle cautiously.

In less than a minute, the vicious wolf you were has become naught but gore, and underneath is your naked body, soaked in blood.

“What the fuck— [Name]?! I’m not seeing things am I? Tell me I’m not seeing things!” Karlach exclaims, suddenly overcome with guilt at having tried to kill you.

Gale watches in resignation as you limp, holding your beaten and broken body. “You’re not. That’s our [Name], alright. A lycanthrope... What a shock.” Because of course the group can’t have one normal person, can it?

Astarion is simultaneously the most and least surprised at this revelation. “So you’re telling me this entire time I’ve been sleeping with a werewolf? Ugh, there’s a joke about giving a dog a bone in there somewhere, but I’m too tired to think of it.”

You collapse, exhaustion claiming your mind after a long, blood-filled night.

-

When you awake a couple hours later, you find you’re tucked in your bedroll, wounds tended to and dressed once again. How did you get here, you wonder? You leave your tent to find your friends waiting around in a circle by the long-dead fire.

Astarion’s the first to notice you. “Ah, darling, you’re finally awake! I don’t suppose you’d be up for a little chat, would you? I believe we’re owed an explanation.”

You freeze. An explanation for what? Did they find you and take you back here? Do they know what you are?

You don’t have to wait long for an answer.

“After everything we’ve been through, travelling together these last few weeks, I’d have thought we developed enough trust between us. But apparently not.” Gale pauses, then looks you in the eyes. “Why did you hide what you are from us?”

“This fuckin’ world is so fucked up,” you say, folding your arms and scrunching your face. “We got two people with bombs in their chests and a guy who drinks blood but because I turn into a rabid dog once a month I’m the bad guy, really?”

“We’re not saying you’re a bad guy, we’re wondering why you didn’t trust us!” Karlach protests. “We’re supposed to be friends aren’t we?”

You frown a little and slump your shoulders. “We are friends. But we’re already dealing with sooo much bullshit I just thought it’d be better if I dealt with it myself, y’know. I mean it’s not like you can help me with it anyway, cures are hard to find and lycanthropy isn’t as bad as tadpoles and orbs and devils.”

“I’m fine with your condition [Name], so long as you don’t transform in front of me, that is,” Shadowheart chimes. “But aside from that… that wolf form seemed quite formidable. Perhaps we can make use of it, now that we know.”

Astarion claps his hands excitedly. “Oh yes! I’d love to see that! Werewolves can be quite vicious you know, always good fun to see the hounds on a hunt.”

Shadowheart turns to him. “You’re not mad that your lover’s a werewolf, Astarion? I’d have thought you’d be more upset, as a vampire and all.”

He rests a hand on his hip and half heartedly inspects his nails. “Oh please, werewolves and vampires are just as likely to be allies as they are to be enemies. Cazador has had so many wolf pets over the years, I suppose it was only a matter of time until I got my own.”

“You’ve got it ass-backwards Astarion, if anything you’re my pet vampire,” you tease.

“How dare you! Here I thought puppies were supposed to be cute and obedient,” he cries in mock offence.

“Says the one who gets on all fours for a dog—”

Gale clears his throat loudly and claps his hands. “Ahem! Alright, now that that’s settled, I hope there won’t be anymore surprise revelations about the members of our group. Gods know we have more than enough of them to last a lifetime. Shall we get on? We have a long day ahead.”

It’s of a great relief to you that they didn’t ask too many questions, though you somehow suspect you’ll be telling them the humiliating story of your infection someday soon. In such a short time, you’ve grown fond of your new friends, and even fonder for a certain vampire…

And you’re sure you have a long, long road ahead of you yet.

[kisses-soft-like-sunshine]

Bittersweet - Part I;

Fluff w angst, Lee Know x fem!reader, coffee shop AU, idol AU, 2k words. Content warning: knife, mid violence, mention of blood and injury. nothing graphic!

I like to take things slow, I hope you'll enjoy ♡

Coffee is your thing. It has been for what feels like ages. You remember the first time you smelled the grounded beans your grandmother cherishes, slowly boiling in her French press on a dewy morning. The aroma of your father’s embrace when he would leave early for work, a mixture of wet dirt after a storm and dark chocolate. Coffee was always there for you, even if it took you time to grow accustomed to its taste – or rather tastes.

Everything changed when you set foot in a coffee shop for the first time, though. It didn’t matter how bitter the beverage was to your inexperienced pallet, this was the place for you. This warm blend of hurried workers desperate for a comforting break and silent readers having a cozy late breakfast. Everything about coffee shops always felt right for you, the music, the people, the ambiance. The smell. It smelled like home and excitement at the same time. So naturally you became a barista. You learned everything there was to learn about coffee. You knew it was hard-work, and you loved every bit of your life that it took over.

It had been 8 months since you left the peaceful boredom of your hometown for the buzzing capital city of South Korea. You always knew in your heart that you were meant to live the city life, if only for the plethora of coffee places big cities offer. Seoul became a dream destination when you had the opportunity to exchange with a few talented Korean baristas and roasters from a well-known Gangnam company. It then became an option when you successfully graduated and managed to charm your way into said company (in Korean nonetheless). You were now working at one of their newest coffee shop in Gangdong district. 

It had been 8 months since you left the peaceful boredom of your hometown for the buzzing capital city of South Korea and you felt lonely. Your heart was heavy with the concern that your dreams required sacrifices you didn’t know you had to make. How can your days go by seeing so many faces, hearing so many names and still felt so alone. You had friends of course, among which were your three usual coworkers, and language quickly managed to not be a barrier anymore. Yet, you felt so lonely it made your favorite blend turn to bitter dirt in your mouth as you finished your last cup of the day. A clot of black liquid to turn your heart dark - you thought. The autumn air could make you so dramatic. 

“Chilly Weather” by Norwegian Wood and Kim Jin Sol was playing over the speaker. The atmosphere was calm and cushy in the café at this time of day. Only two of you were working, and barely six customers were cruising or queuing or snoring in a booth. You could make out a few regulars. There was a woman in her late 40s, who religiously ordered the same ice cold drink at 8pm everyday (your shop was open till midnight). You always assumed she must work at night given her business attire and resigned expression, but you never dared to ask. Then there was the usual highschool student who liked to roam by, musing about their future adult life. There was also a young man, about your age, who always kept his face covered and always picked a discreet seat in the back, far from any windows. He would sometimes come in with a book or a friend, but you had yet to see his face. He was polite and his voice was kind and soft. His eyes glistened the way coffee does when it’s freshly served. You liked seeing him around, as if there was in him something that mirrored your loneliness. You kept yourself from feeding into this feeling, though, his secretive appearance reading as a “do not disturb” sign. One of your coworkers had informed you the coffee shop shares its street with a famous entertainment company and you sometimes wondered if he was not just one of the many idols working there.

You decided to clean up any table that needed to be cleaned when a young man rushed into the coffee shop, nearly bumping into you as he passed by. He didn’t even bother greeting you or your coworker and had a very determined look on his face. A bad kind of determination. His steps were heated and quick. You instantly noticed he was moving towards the young man sitting alone in the back. Before you even realized, you were swiftly following his pace. Coffee shops were relatively tranquil environments but the romantic setting had been the witness of numerous break-ups and lover's quarrels. You had learned to play the diplomat as to maintain the peace many customers seek here. The young man sitting at the booth seemed to pay no mind to his furious acquaintance, that until the other man screamed his name. You could feel every head in the café rise and turn. You promptly looked back at your coworker in a desperate attempt to communicate your surprise when the young man at the booth finally got up and asked the other man who he was. The angry man seemed even more furious now, as if the question had lit a fire in him. From where you were manically swiping a table that was already clean, you heard him mumble something about his girlfriend leaving him for the other man. A lover’s quarrel again it seemed. What is it with Thursday evenings… 

The few customers that hadn’t already left after the man shouted didn’t seem to be interested in the situation one bit, which you deemed lucky if the mystery customer was indeed a celebrity. This wasn’t the kind of free advertising neither him nor the coffee shop would enjoy. The man at the booth seemed to have no idea what the angry man was talking about, and you wondered if it was a habit of his, stealing people’s girlfriends. Were you always this noisy when anything eventful happened here on a slow evening? Or was it the glistening eyes of the young man that had drawn you in? Your gazes met when the angry man started spewing insults. Something else then caught your attention, something shiny that the angry man held in his right hand. Is this a knife? You wondered. IS THIS A KNIFE? You rushed to the scene when it finally hit you. The angry man was raising his knife to the customer when you placed your hand on his shoulder, swiftly making him turn to you. He froze in surprise as you grabbed onto the knife’s blade. You kept a straight face as blood started to run from your palm and immediately used the cleaning spray still in your other hand to blind the man with its content. He whined as the spray burned his eyes and intuitively let go of the knife to cover himself. A gasp escaped from the few witnesses and you heard your coworker dial the police. The angry man must have noticed too, and decided to flee the scene. 

Your heart was pounding in your veins and you could barely make sense of your surroundings, if it wasn't for the familiarity of it. The customer you had just saved was standing in front of you now, talking. You couldn't make out the words but kept on repeating that you were okay, that everything was…okay…the man grabbed onto your sides before you could collapse. His closeness made it easier for you to hear him.

“Let me take you to the hospital,” he said.

You nodded as an answer and the both of you were quickly out of the coffee before anyone could fully digest what had happened. He pulled you in his car as the lights of the city flew around you into thousands of shooting stars. You felt warm and cold at the same time. You fold in the car seat after this stranger - what am I doing in a car with a stranger? - kindly puts your seat belt on.

“Are you okay? I'm so sorry…” he says as he starts the car.

- “I'm fine… it's been a long… day… I just… I'm just tired…” you answer. “I haven't eaten yet.”

You can feel the car going faster as the night sky and the buildings blend into brush strokes. You can faintly see the man’s reflection in your window. His eyes draw your features on the glass like a wet brush fuses with aquarelle. You don't know whether you should trust your sight or not. After all, you're still in shock from what happened. What happened? 

“We’re here,” the man says. You feel a shiver crawl down your spine. His voice is kind and soft. You let him guide you out of the car, carefully holding you by the arm as to let your injured hand rest. 

- “Lucky me being left-handed,” you say. Both of you lightly chuckle to diffuse the tension as you make your way to the hospital entrance. 

The stranger helps you fill the paperwork as you wait on one of the temporary beds in the emergency room.  You realize he now knows your name while you do not know his. A nurse comes in to check on you and the man tells you he will wait for you in the waiting room. The cut is less deep than you had expected. You were fortuitous to be holding on a dust rag when you grabbed the knife by the blade. That was a pretty dumb move… The nurse neatly stitches you up, warning you of the future scar you’ll get. She prescribes you painkillers for the few days to come and a check-up in two weeks from now. You are not to work for seven days which feels like a bigger punishment than the scar. 

You come to join the stranger in the waiting room but he is nowhere to be found. You take a seat wondering if you should call a cab or wait. You finally decipher his back at the front desk. He is lean and comfortably dressed. He turns to you and smiles as he hastily walks to join you. A plastic bag dangles from one of his hands.

“Here. You said you haven’t eaten yet. I didn’t know what you liked so I got you a bit of everything.”

- “Thank you,” you reply. You open the bag to discover a variety of convenience store snacks. You open up an onigiri and bite into it.

“What did the nurse say?” He asks politely.

- “She had to stitch me up but the cut wasn’t deep enough for any nerve to be damaged. I still have to come back in two weeks.” you answer while finishing your snack. To hell with being well-mannered. “I should go pay the bill.”

“No need,” he says, eyes locking into yours. “It’s the least I could do.” You look into each other for a moment, slowly blinking in agreement. “Should I drive you back to the coffee shop… or perhaps your home?” 

You hesitate before answering. After everything you are still two strangers. Or at least he is to you. A stranger who causes trouble in public places nonetheless…

- “Home, if you don’t mind,” you answer, inclined to trust him no matter what. You both get up and leave. He hands you the bag on your way out and gently insists you keep its content. You can tell words are clogging in his throat. You’re both seated back in the car when he finally talks again.

“I don’t know whether I should apologize or thank you.” he says, head low on the steering wheel. “Thank you.” his eyes meet yours as he says those words heavily. 

- “Ah! No worries, I’m a part-time knife catcher. Coffee doesn’t pay the bills” you answer with a grin on your face. He laughs the stress off.

“Rest if you want.” You wonder if he’s always this caring as the car drives away. You rest your head on the cold window and your eyes quickly shut. Had they been opened you would have noticed how quickly his smile left his mouth. How soft his gaze was whenever he could look at you instead of the road. How his fingers nervously played with the leather of the steering wheel.

The car smoothly makes its way in front of your apartment when you finally wake up. You look up at the driver with tired eyes. He seems as exhausted as you. 

“Thank you for driving me home,” you tell him softly.

- “It’s the least I could do.”

“I don’t even know your name”

- “It’s…” he hesitates and you wonder why. “It’s Lee Minho.” You realize it’s your first time seeing him without a hat or a face mask. When did he remove them? His face is familiar but you can’t pin it. He is strickingly handsome which leaves you silent for a few minutes.

“I don’t mean to intrude but… whoever this man was, you should probably go to the police about him.” you finally say.

- “I don’t know him. I swear. Maybe he mistook me for someone else… I mean I have a pretty common name” You nod, more as a way to show you understood than you agree. You don’t agree. Something about this whole situation seems off. But it doesn’t really have to be your problem does it?

“Alright… I believe you.” You do not understand why but you truly do. “I should go now, it’s getting late.” He stays silent when you open the door and leave. As you fetch your keys, he comes out of the car to join you and hands you a piece of paper.

- “Here. Take this. It has my number on it. If anything happens, call me. I’ll be there.” he says. His dark eyes reflect the light like the sea reflects the moon. Your hands gently brush as you take the card, leaving goosebumps all over both of your bodies.

“Goodnight, Lee Minho” you say before the entrance to your apartment closes.

- “Goodnight, Y/N.” he calls back. 

You dreamed of nothing but coffee and him that night, feverish with pain and infatuation. 

[ddarker-dreams]

Smoking Gun.

Yan Johan x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, Johan being just unpleasant to be around as always. Word count: 2.1k.

When you walk into your apartment, a premonition hangs over your head like a low storm cloud.

Nothing is amiss at first glance. Every detail is just how you left it, from the pans you used to make this morning’s breakfast soaking in the sink to the blanket you forgot to fold strewn over the couch. There are no flickering lights or low groans of a floorboard in another room meant to warn you of impending danger. You only have your raw, human instincts — unrefined as they may be — to work with. You close the door noiselessly behind you, leaving it open just a sliver in case you need to bolt.

Water droplets drip down from your closed umbrella and onto the wooden floor. For once, you’re uncaring of the mess that and the mud on your boots are undoubtedly leaving behind, your focus honing in elsewhere. You take slow, cautious steps into your living space, eyes crawling over every visible inch for signs of disruption. Finding nothing, you inspect the bathroom next. It’s in a similarly insignificant state.

That leaves your bedroom down the hall.

Your breathing is growing more labored with each bit of the gap you close between you and your final destination. Light from the setting sun streams in from the eerily silent room, causing you to wrack your brain over if you did or didn’t close the blinds this morning. You can’t remember for the life of you. One second you think you may have, the next, you’re convinced the opposite is true.

You wince when the floor creaks beneath your feet, right before the bedroom’s door frame. This panel’s belligerence had slipped your mind. Had there been anyone there, especially the person you think might be present, they would’ve heard that. Adrenaline courses through you when you decide to rush in, your makeshift weapon at the ready.

“Welcome back.”

That voice — whoever would’ve thought the devil spoke without malice?

Johan’s face is kind, his smile kinder, so soft that you have to squint to make out the upturn of his lips. You maintain the rigid position of your umbrella, uncertain if it’s meant to be a sword or a shield. The cracked door you left for a swift escape resurfaces in your mind. You could make it — should make it — but you don’t even lift your feet from the ground. How can you, when you catch what he’s holding in his hands, the revelation filling you with red-hot rage.

There are a million things you could ask him, or shout at him, but you eventually settle on:

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” he responds, deceit nonexistent, for he knows there’s nothing worse than the truth. “You’re home late today.”

You part your lips, only to close them, aghast by how your instinct was to explain yourself to him. Tell him that you got carried away watching a street performance and missed your regular bus. He carries himself in such a normal, organic fashion, that you can’t help but settle into any rhythm he establishes. You shake your head, hoping the action is the key to breaking whatever spell he has over you by simply existing in the same room.

Without trying to conceal it, you size him up. You note the lack of mud on the floor, despite the fact he’s still wearing his shoes, and deduce he really has been waiting here for hours. It started pouring around your lunch break and only let up recently. The knowledge he’s been here, invading your personal space while you were none the wiser, fills you with dread.

“... I’m really not in the mood to deal with this,” you lower your umbrella. You get the feeling he isn’t intimidated by it and cast it aside. Exhaustion weighs over you like an anchor pressed to your chest. The burning fury from before is more of a flickering ember, hot to the touch yet nowhere near as all-consuming.

“I remember you felt different when we last spoke.”

He’s still holding it. Your hands ball up into fists by your side. “Is that what this is about? You’re here to rub what I’ve said before in my face?”

“No. You don’t need me to bring up your words to be bothered by them,” Johan finally puts the item down, back onto your nightstand, where it once belonged. These days, you’re not so certain. He fixes it into place so that if you hadn’t found him, you never would’ve realized it was tampered with.

This rendition of the photograph is in color, as opposed to the black and white shown on the front pages of newspapers for months. You have seen this photo outside the confines of your apartment many times. Too often, perhaps. It haunted you more dutifully than any specter. When walking by vendors on the streets, or sitting across from a businessman on the bus reading his morning paper with a cup of coffee. Your waking nightmare had become just another thing for the general populace to consume alongside the daily crossword puzzles and advice columns.

The headlines flicker through your mind like reels of film.

College Student Missing from Munich. Search for Missing College Student Entering Second Month. Then finally, Elias Friedrich Found Dead at 23.

The mirth in Elias’ eyes when that photo was taken taunts you, wriggling beneath your skin like the maggots they found on his body. You had been happy then yourself, an emotion long forgotten. Suddenly, you wish Johan had turned it to face the wall, so you wouldn’t have to see what will never be again.

“You’ve been applying for visas in other countries,” he points out. You frown — you had been so careful — but you guess that doesn’t matter when Johan is involved. “You must intend to leave the promise you made to me unfulfilled.”

What he speaks of wasn’t so much a promise as it was a curse. Whether it be a curse on you, or him, you couldn’t say for certain.

“I’m assuming that since you know about the visas, I shouldn’t be expecting an acceptance letter anytime soon? You’ve got people at the embassy under your thrall too?”

The enigmatic smile he gives churns your stomach. He must assume there’s no point in telling you what you already know. Loathe as you are to admit it, you understand why, and that knowledge chills you to the bone. Johan is no longer a complete mystery to you. It was simpler when he was; you could paint him as this unpredictable bogeyman in your mind. You don’t want to be familiar with him, a realization that would’ve done you better earlier. By the time you learn how deep the water is by diving in, it’s too late to resurface without drowning.

You know why he’s here. It isn’t to kill or even threaten you — it’s to remind you. That you don’t get to go anywhere simply because he sees value in having you around. This seemingly minute fact is enough to thrust your life in permanent limbo.

“Whatever, I get it,” you mumble, walking over to your bed and sitting on the edge of it. “You made your point. I don’t even know why I bothered trying.”

It was nice, having those few weeks where you successfully deluded yourself. That’s all it ever was, a fleeting delusion, as tangible as a mirage in the desert. It’d been so long since you saw him last. You figured he had to have bigger ambitions that would push you from the forefront of his mind. Clinging to this notion was what kept you sane. Without it, you don’t know what you are.

Johan considers you for a long moment. “Would you like to know why I didn’t kill you that night?”

All it takes is the smooth utterance of that night for your senses to be transported back in a whirlwind. The cool, winter air biting your cheeks, the musky scent left behind by rain, the screams for help that roped you into a world you could never leave. Your body goes stiff as a corpse when he sits beside you on the bed you used to share with another. The very person Johan took from you, what marked the beginning of the end.

“I wanted you to see the same darkness I’ve been familiar with,” there’s something different about his tone, though you can’t put your finger on it. Honesty? Vulnerability? Is he even capable of either? “I always intended on it. Your being there wasn’t mere happenstance. It was deliberate.”

You can’t begin to imagine the expression etched onto your countenance.

“I told you that ultimately, whether you chose to do anything about Elias’ death or not, it wouldn’t matter. You promised to prove me wrong. I never said I’d mind if you did.”

There are inches between you and him, but it isn’t enough. It wouldn’t matter if he was halfway across the continent or the world itself — it still wouldn’t be enough space. He’d never fail to find a way to suffocate you in the way only he can.

“Do you…” you swallow thickly, finding your mouth terribly dry, “Do you want to be proven wrong?”

For the first time you can recall, it’s Johan who breaks eye contact instead of you. He leans back on his palms, his attention drifting to the ceiling before his blonde eyelashes flutter shut. The time that passes can’t be significant, no more than a few seconds, you wager; but it stretches on further than the horizon. You don’t breathe, don’t blink, don’t think. You just stare. Wholly absorbed, wholly fascinated.

“What do you think?”

You respond faster than thoughts can form in your head. “You don’t know.”

Blue eyes regard you with muted curiosity.

“That’s right. You don’t know what you want, or you would’ve gotten it by now,” you reaffirm. You’re seeing him as much as he’s always seen you. “You said you want to be the last one standing in the world, but a day will come when you’ll even lose interest in that. Then you’ll move onto the next thing… and then the next… wading endlessly in a search for something you’ll never find.”

If you had been debilitated by a fraction of the darkness he was familiar with in its entirety, then you get it.

Knowing what to do with yourself, how to begin rebuilding, whether or not it’s even worth the effort of trying; these sentiments are your acquaintances and his lifelong friends.

You didn’t realize you were smiling until you go to speak again. “I guess it doesn’t matter if the embassy never issues me a visa, if I can connect you to Elias’ death, or prove you wrong.”

“And why’s that?”

“I might never find closure, but neither will you.”

The sky weeps. Distant pitter-patters hit like drums against a storm pipe, outdone only by the cacophony of raindrops striking your window. The sun has hidden itself behind a layer of clouds. You’re staring at one another, breathing in each other’s air. You don’t know what’s going on in his mind, and for once, your intuition whispers he doesn’t know what’s happening in yours.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, handling you delicately, like you’re a flower. His touch lingers long enough that you don’t think you could forget it if you tried. The emotions dancing in his eyes are indecipherable. When he retracts his hand, his fingers brush against your jawline, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You know you should recoil from the unwanted touch, yet you’re hypnotized into staying still.

When Johan blinks, the unknown glaze over his eyes is gone.

Then he’s standing, turning his back to you, and walking toward the doorway you brazenly ran through what feels like ages ago.

“I’m glad I came to visit,” he looks at you from over his shoulder. “You always make it worth my time.”

You hug your legs to your chest. “Can’t say the feeling’s mutual.”

The insult is like water off a duck’s back, he doesn’t bother acknowledging it.

“The next time I visit, I won’t be leaving without you.”

You wish you could say you were surprised, but you felt this revelation breathing down your neck. He was your personal harbinger of misfortune. You weren’t foolish enough to think he was done with you, not after falling for that temptation once. Whatever comes next will be a secret you won’t be able to pry from his lips. It could be in an hour, perhaps tomorrow, or months down the line; you won’t know until he wants you to.

Something tells you the darkness he showed you that night will pale in comparison to what lies ahead.

“And if I don’t want to go?”

Johan stops, his shoulders shaking in what you assume to be a quiet chuckle.

“I’ll stop at nothing to encourage you, in any way I can.”