#we’re all adults but if you can’t say something to my face then I won’t say anything to yours ❤️❤️

[the-monkeies-girl]

Hey if you make fun of someone for the way they cope / for breaking down emotionally or assume someone is using their trauma as a “weapon” after they had been vulnerable to you then you can royally go fuck yourself and unfollow me right now, you don’t deserve my efforts or my writing. The fact I encountered this stuff in such a small fandom that I love is astonishing. I did not join this fandom to get people to hate me, I joined this fandom because I love the movies and I love the characters, I see myself in them. I see my good qualities that I love about myself, and I see the flaws I'm always willing to admit to and willing to work on to become a better person because that’s what being alive is. Being a better version of who you were before. I wanted to write and share it with people and I still will, I’m damn good at it. This is not one of them good qualities though, unfortunately. You know being Russian means you're petty?

[anthotneystark]

I wanna reach out and grab ya

(edit: now on ao3!)

In the aftermath, as the dust settles, the world shakes.

He expects it, but it still catches him off balance.

He leans against the ambulance, brushes off Nancy’s comment about him needing medical care. Jonathan gives him a look like he wants to call him out on it, but he lets it go. He’s not sure how long he’s been awake, but he knows that if either of them really pressed him, he’d fold like a paper bag.

You know, easily but with a decent amount of noise.

It’s all he can do to keep upright, using the cool metal door to help. The world doesn’t exactly feel steady, but he took a few hits to the head and he’s sure that’s not helping. There’s a ringing in his ears, his sides ache, his face burns, and he’s not altogether sure how long he’s been awake. He’s sure it’s been somewhere along the lines of too long. He’s not looking forward to going home, not when all he’s got waiting there is a cold, empty house. His parents won’t be back for a few more weeks.

Even if there’s a part of him, a big part if he can admit it, that desperately wants his mom to be there, he’s not going to call and ask for her. He’s supposed to be an adult now, he’s supposed to be growing up, he can’t call for her.

Even if it stings a little, watching other people reuniting with their families.

He loses track of time a little, and is only snapped out of it when he’s dragged into a hug. It’s tight, warm, and so gentle for how fierce it is. He reflexively hugs back before he puts it all together, before he recognizes that it’s Claudia Henderson. She’s saying something, but he can’t really hear it because he’s too busy trying to catch up on what exactly is happening. When she pulls back, she either repeats it or it’s a different question.

Robin answers before he can.

“Yeah, Steve’s gonna stay with me tonight.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, dingus, remember?”

“Right, yeah, I’m staying with her tonight.” Except. “How are we getting to your place? I lost my keys,” he adds.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’ll take you,” Claudia says. A godsend, really, always. He’s going to need to get new keys entirely given that his have probably been melted by the fire, but he can’t tell her that.

Robin sticks to his side as they go to the car, her hand slides into his and he holds on tight. He doesn’t let go until they’re in her house, after the quiet car ride where he almost dozed off a dozen times. Her parents are at work, both on the night shift at the moment, so it’s just them. Convenient, given that they’re probably going to wake up screaming at some point. She shoves him into the bathroom first and he uses her strawberry shampoo and doesn’t bother to even attempt anything resembling his usual process for cleaning up.

While she takes her turn, he pulls on the clothes she set out. A Hawkins Band tee shirt that’s a little tight and a pair of gym shorts that are probably bigger than his own. He’s almost dozing when she starts messing with his hair, helping to dry it without him even noticing she’d finished her shower. It’s more a nervous movement than anything, but it feels nice.

“We’re going to need to keep some of your clothes here, you know.”

“Why?”

“So you have something to wear, obviously.”

Obviously. Because he’s going to stay with her sometimes. He should have her clothes at his place too then, even if he’s perfectly willing to let her raid his closet. He likes the idea though, the plan to mesh themselves together already. He’s never had anyone in his life who’s made themselves at home in his heart this quickly.

He’s not sure when he drifts off, when she tugs him the rest of the way onto the bed, when she pulls the blanket up, only distantly feels the way she leans into him, the way he reflexively curls into her.

She feels like she’s always been here with him and he can’t figure out how he lived without her.

----------

Robin is perfect.

Not like, literally, and it’s not the same as when he’d say it about Nancy.

That’s the other thing that he figures out with her. He’s really not in love with Nancy. He’d said it, but it really sinks in later. It sinks in the first time they talk about romance, as he tries to give her flirting advice while she laughs at him and asks if he needs a new whiteboard.

They do mingle their closets too, as planned. She still steals his clothes, and he ends up wearing her tee shirts more than his own. She takes him thrifting and shows him all her secrets and he teaches her the art of negotiation in stores.

(She’s in awe when he talks down a sales clerk over a stain that he then magics away in the laundry room at his house.)

He shows her how he learned to cook and she helps him to get creative with new ideas. She demands the first bite every time, and he’s happy to share it.

Her parents welcome him though. Her mom teaches him more about first aid than he learned lifeguarding, and her dad teaches him more about cars in his spare time. He’d known some, but it’s nice, being taught instead of just figuring things out on his own through trial and error. It doesn’t take long for him to get fully intermingled in the Buckley family and it’s the most love he’s ever felt.

Somewhere between the whiteboard and that first night spent sharing a bed, they become SteveAndRobin. Somewhere between her mom finishing her shift and finding them curled up on the couch watching cartoons (because after being exposed to terrifying monsters and soldiers, cartoons are necessary) and her dad coming home to find all three of them wrapped up in it, he finds out he fits perfectly in this space.

Somewhere between the first family dinner and the start of the school year, he unofficially becomes a Buckley.

Sitting there in the hospital waiting room, collapsed into a chair because he’s never felt this exhausted, with Robin at one side and Dustin at the other, with Erica and Lucas whispering with Nancy, with Eddie and Max in surgery, he feels it all building up. All the feelings he’d tried to push down, the fear and panic and pain, bubbling up to the surface. He’s not really looking where his eyes are aimed, not even paying attention until Robin is forcing his heavy, aching limbs up and toward an empty room. She gives him a look as she leaves him on the bed and he’s not even confused about her leaving him there to go back to the waiting room because it’s better if she stays with Dustin anyway.

Except then the door is opening again, with a familiar and welcome sight stepping in.

And then it’s all too much.

Those emotions bubble over with a half-sobbed “Mom” and then arms are around him, holding him together as he splinters into a million pieces.

His mother smells like expensive perfume, floral and chemical and strong. But Betty Buckley smells like antiseptic and cinnamon and it’s the most comforting smell in the world right then.

She doesn’t question the grime or blood staining his clothes, doesn’t try to get him to tell her what happened, just holds him because he can’t break in front of the kids, can’t let them see how much he’s struggling right now. He needs this, is the thing. He hasn’t really broken down yet because he has to be the strong one, he has to be tough, even if it kills him, but she’s safe. She’s safe enough for him to let go.

She lets him get it all out, and still doesn’t ask anything. It doesn’t really matter, not at the moment, so she just brushes his hair off his forehead, uses a damp cloth to wipe away some of the dirt, helps him to pull on scrubs before halting that process to treat his back and arms and sides and neck. He’s gone a little numb, but she moves quick anyway. And then he’s on his back, an IV hooked into his hand, and she’s pressing a kiss to his forehead and telling him to rest.

So he does.

It’s not a conscious decision, more like he was just waiting for someone to tell him he could.

When he wakes, Robin is in the bed next to him. Dustin is on a rolling cot against the wall. He knows without knowing that Max is down the hall, Lucas and Erica are with her, and Nancy is probably bossing around everyone in that way she does that he can’t help respecting. He doesn’t stay awake long.

----------

He’s going stir crazy.

There’s a lot of mixed feelings. On one hand, he’s slept a lot. On the other, the town is a little broken. Robin and Dustin are volunteering, and he’ll join them when he can get out there, but Richard Buckley is under strict orders to keep him from making an escape. The plant has been temporarily shut down, and he’s a glass half-full kind of guy, but it’s really inconvenient for Steve’s desire to be out of the hospital.

He still loves him though, really.

He finally gets a window when Rich steps out for real food.

(It had been hilarious when he and Robin established their dads are both “Richard”, but while Steve’s dad thinks shortening it sounds ridiculous, Robin’s dad loves to give himself new short names at every opportunity. The week he wanted to go by Chard was a fun week.)

He goes for the door, playing nonchalant, and is dismayed to find someone sitting outside.

“He told me you’d try and escape,” the man says, not looking up from his newspaper.

“I’m not escaping,” he lies.

“Humor me.” The man looks over at him then and Steve has to bite back his surprise. “Huh. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your last name isn’t Buckley.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why have I been hearing for months about Ritchie’s boy?”

“Technically I am that.”

“Not the right one though.”

“No, but that’s sematics.”

“You’re missing an ‘n’ there, son.” The correction is gentle, carrying the tone of someone who’s used to reminding someone else of little details. For some reason, it doesn’t sting like it did when other people corrected him.

“Right, yeah.”

“You had a bit of blood loss, I hear. Maybe you should lay back down again.”

“I can’t. There’s…people are out there and need help. Other people got hurt worse than me. I can’t just lay here and do nothing.”

“You’re not doing nothing, you’re recovering.”

“I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like you are,” he half mumbles, and god, it’s so familiar it aches.

“I don’t know why you’re focused on keeping me in bed. You of all people should be fine with me going out there to help out.” There’s a beat of silence, where Steve thinks he maybe overstepped, getting just a sigh in return.

“Maybe. But I know damn well how important you are to a friend of mine and he asked for a favor. I’m not about to let him down.”

“Mr. Munson –”

“Wayne.”

“…Wayne. You should go back to Eddie. He needs you more.”

“He’s got a visitor already. I’m not hovering.”

“I think you’re hovering a bit here.”

“Well opinions are like assholes, son. Everyone’s got one.” It’s enough to startle a laugh out of him, as Wayne stands up and ushers him back into the room. He didn’t notice while he was standing there as the pain in his muscles, the itching of the scabs, the exhaustion in his bones, creeps back up on him. He protests, but doesn’t really fight as he’s nudged back into the too firm mattress.

“Get some more rest, kid. Long days are coming, take advantage while you can.”

----------

“I just don’t get it!”

“Is he still talking about this?”

Robin’s groan is the only answer he needs. Dustin, back on his usual arguments after saving the world again, is expanding his hobby. Now he’s not just bugging Steve and Robin about their love life (love lives?), he’s dragging others in on the argument too.

“Dusty-buns, you seem to be awful involved in this,” Eddie teases. “Maybe you have a crush on Robin.” She makes a face, throws a marshmallow at him, and Steve snorts as he cackles.

“No! I just don’t know why they won’t date! Eddie, back me up on this,” Dustin says. “They’re perfect for each other! They laugh at the same jokes, share clothes all the time, and don’t even argue, Steve, I’ve seen her wear your jeans before and you’ve worn her sweaters. They share food with each other, spend all their time together, and they share chapstick!”

“Hey, we don’t spend all our time together! Sometimes I wait for her to bike to my house.”

“Not helping, babe.”

“See!” Dustin is probably seconds from losing his marbles, and Steve really should put him out of his misery, but it’s too funny still.

“You’re missing some key information, boy-genius,” Eddie says.

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that they’re never going to date.”

“That’s what doesn’t make sense!”

“Robin, pass me our chapstick,” Steve says, just to make Dustin a little more insane.

“You had it last. Steven, did you lose our chapstick?”

“I definitely gave it back to you.”

“Here you go,” Eddie says, tossing the little tube to Steve with a grin. Dustin’s eyes dart between the three of them like he’s just gotten new information.

“Eddie. Are you…dating Robin?”

It’s Steve’s turn to groan, and he doesn’t need to look to see the face Robin is making.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson, Eddie is dating me!” Now he’s silent. And Steve is going to panic if he stays silent.

“Huh. That makes a lot of sense. You were weirdly jealous.”

“I was what? No I wasn’t!”

“You kind of were,” Robin adds.

“And it makes sense why you wouldn’t date Robin, who is literally perfect for you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you we’re just friends.”

“Yeah, and I could be literally perfect for him, pipsqueak,” Eddie says, grabbing one of Robin’s marshmallows to throw at him.

“You and Robin are still weirdly codependent, it has to be said,” Dustin insists, batting away Eddie’s attempts to ruffle his hair.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get psychically linked to each other. Get used to it, Henderson.”

“You’re what?!” Eddie and Dustin’s voices overlap, but they’re both drowned out by his and Robin’s laughter.

Their expressions alone are worth the lecture they’re going to get about keeping secrets.

[transmascissues]

it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?

first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.

one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.

this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.

oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.

basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.

but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!

at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.

just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.

[haechoxo]

[7:07 pm]

cw; suggestive lol,,

“it wasn’t supposed to be complicated,” you admit, your voice softening. “we were both stressed with school and work, and it just… happened. i thought maybe, eventually, he’d see me as more than just a friend. but now… i don’t know what to think.” you feel a lump forming in your throat, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on you as you recall the day your arrangement with haechan started.

your tiny apartment was filled with the scent of coffee and the sound of pages turning. you and haechan were huddled at the coffee table, textbooks, notes, and highlighters spread out before you. finals week was taking its toll, and the exhaustion was evident in both your expressions.

haechan stretched, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “ugh, i can’t take it anymore. my brain feels like mush!”

not glancing up from your notes, stifling a yawn of your own. “just a few more days, and we can sleep for a week.”

he smirked, leaning back on his arms where he sat on the dingy rug. “or, you know, we could find a more fun way to relieve some stress.”

you raised an eyebrow, too tired to fully engage with his antics. “like what? please don’t say more coffee, because i’m pretty sure it’s running through our veins at this point.”

he leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “nah, i was thinking something a bit more… intimate.”

your pen paused mid-sentence, finally looking at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. “intimate, huh? like what, a hug?”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “we could fuck.”

you stared at him, dumbfounded, your fatigue momentarily forgotten as your mouth felt incredibly dry, “a-are you serious?”

“dead serious,” he replied, his tone playful as he shrugs, “we’re both stressed, and we’re best friends, what better way to work it out?”

you blinked, trying to process his suggestion, not that the offer wasn’t tempting, the amount of times you pictured kissing his perfect pouty lips, but still! “donghyuck, i don’t… what if it makes things weird?”

he reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “it won’t, i promise. we’re adults, we can handle this. besides, if we can’t help each other out, who can we rely on?”

you chewed on your lower lip, his words doing little to ease the anxiety bubbling up inside you. “i don’t know, hyuck….” all you can think about is your feelings bubbling over, and he finds out in the worst way possible.

“come on, y/n,” he coaxed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hand. “trust me, it’s fine, it’ll be fun!”

you sighed, feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “okay, but if this goes badly, i’m blaming you entirely.”

he grinned, joining you on the couch, “deal. now, let’s get out of study mode for a bit. my brain needs a break from all this academic torture.”

the air between you charged with anticipation as he sat down beside you, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. you hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with what-ifs, but haechan’s gentle touch and soft smile as he leaned closer gave you the reassurance you needed.

“still okay?” he murmured, his breath warm on your skin.

“yeah,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “just... nervous.”

“don’t be shy,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face. “it’s just me, remember?”

you nodded, his lips brushing yours softly at first, testing the waters. your heart raced as you kissed him back, the familiarity of his presence merging with the freshness of the situation, it almost felt natural. he deepened the kiss, one hand finding it’s way to your waist, pulling you closer, while his other held your face, thumb caressing your cheek.

kissing him was everything you imagined it would be—gentle, yet intense, filled with unspoken emotions and years of hidden feelings. as his lips moved against yours, you felt a mixture of relief and uncertainty, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

just as the kiss began to deepen further, you pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, breathing heavily as he continued, kissing down your neck.

as if he’s done it a million times before.

“can i keep going?” he whispered against the column of your neck, his voice low.

previous - next

a/n ; erm… can u tell it was my first time writing a kiss scene🤓 im actually sooo grossed out this was an experience i never thought id breach the topic of… anyway! hope u enjoy!! advice n ur thoughts are appreciated! xoxo jelly

[hees-mine]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐥.𝐡𝐬

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Synopsis: After just spending a few days away from you, heeseung knows he can’t go much longer without needing to be with you every single waking moment of his life. He knows your relationship is considered wrong, but no one had to know, and he knew the perfect way to have you all to himself without any interferences.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, stepbrother, stepcest, cursing, dirty talk, fluff.

If you're uncomfortable with step relationships, this is not for you, so please kindly click off. Also they are both consenting adults. This is a work of fiction.

Genre: 18+, smut, taboo relationship, minors do not interact!

WC: 2,934k

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX PART SEVEN

Heeseung woke up early in the morning to leave your room, but when he saw you sleeping so peacefully, he couldn’t find it in him to leave your bed.

He smiled at you, stroking some hairs away from your face so he could see your beautiful face while you slept soundly. He traced his thumb over your cheek softly. “My princess,” he whispers and kisses your forehead lovingly.

His feelings for you were growing more and more by the day. There was only so much longer he could sneak around with you. He needed to be with you every second of the day, not just at night before bed.

He thinks of ways that he could have you all to himself, and an idea pops into his head what if you two just moved together? It’s not like you both weren’t old enough. What if he just used all his savings and got a little place for just the two of you? That way, you’d never have to sneak around ever again, and you could have playtime when and wherever.

Just the idea makes him excited, and he places little kisses all over your face to wake you up and tell you about his genius idea. “Morning bubs,” you whisper and slowly open your eyes, giggling softly when you feel him pressing soft kisses all over your neck and chest.

“Morning, sissy,” he hums against your neck and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to his naked chest. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, Bubba.” he smiles at your barely awake state and boops your precious nose.

“Princess, I was thinking of something,” he says after a minute or two. “And you can say no,” he gulps nervously before telling you about his idea.

“Hmm? What is it, big Bubba?” You stroke his chest softly and place a tiny kiss on his jawline, making him feel less nervous. His eyes flutter closed before he meets your worried gaze.

“I just…. I was thinking, what if we moved?” he pauses for a quick second before speaking again. “Like just the two of us, and that way, we can be together all the time.” he tucks your loose hair behind your ear, a feeling of anxiety bubbling in his stomach at the thought of you saying no to him.

“But Bubba, we’re together most of the time,” you say to him, completely confused about his sudden request.

He sighs and props himself up on his elbow, taking your small hand in his and holding it to his mouth to kiss it gently. “I know, but I mean all the time. If we move, we can play all the time, not just at night.” he strokes the back of your hand softly.

Your eyes gleam at the thought, and you already feel excited about spending even more time with him. “But why can’t we do it here?”

You’re so cute, he thinks to himself while he smiles softly. “Because princess, some people won’t approve of our relationship, our parents especially, so we can’t do it here 'cause it’s best if they don’t know about it,” he explains calmly.

“But Bubba, why?” He cups your cheek in his palm.

“Cause some may say we’re too close just to be siblings.” you nod your head, understanding what he’s saying sort of.

“But we’re not really siblings,” you say, slowly tilting your head to the side.

“I know,” he whispers. “But things are a little different for others, so that’s why I think it’s best for us to keep it a secret and just move on our own.”

“Okay! Bubba,” he feels his heart melt, a never-ending smile finding his lips as you engulf him in a hug like he’s your big teddy bear. “But we can still visit, right?”

“Of course!”

-

“Are you sure you’re ready for this son? You’re both so young.” you were all currently in the living room talking things over. heeseung had proposed the idea to your parents after talking things over with you.

“Hmm,” he nods. “I think it’ll be good, sissy thinks so, too” he smiles at you softly, and you nearly get lost in his dreamy eyes.

“He’s right. They aren’t exactly babies anymore, honey,” your mom says, seemingly approving of the idea. “Plus, she has her big brother. They’re like two peas in a pod. We have nothing to worry about,” she nudges her husband discreetly and whispers. “Plus, we can have more alone time.”

“Oh,” he smiles softly at her, taking her hand in his. “Dear, I suppose you’re right.” at the end of it all, you come to an agreement with the promise of that if anything happens, you’ll both move back in with your parents and of course, heeseung agrees even though he didn’t see anything wrong ever happening how could it when he finally had his princess all to himself?

-

It’s been a while since your guys talk, and today was officially moving day.

“Gonna be just you and me, princess.” heeseung lifted you up off your feet, spinning you around as you squealed in excitement. “Are you excited?” He smiles brightly at you.

“Yes, Bubba,” you say happily as you kick your feet in the air.

“Me too.” he quickly pecks your lips before setting you down so you can both finish packing.

When everything was concluded, your parents helped you both with your bags. “Call us when you arrive,” your mom says.

“I will!” You reply with a smile.

“And drive safe.” now it’s your dad's turn to chime in.

“I will, I promise.” heeseung smiles and puts a protective arm around you, making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Come over on the holidays.”

“And call us every day.”

“Be good to each other.”

You both just chuckled at your parent's endless worrying before leaving the house and driving to the new place.

Finally, heeseung thinks as he holds your hand all the way there.

Now it was gonna be just you and him all the time, no distraction, no interruption, just the two of you alone sharing your endless love for each other without having to worry about any judgment from the outside world.

When you arrive, heeseung does all the unpacking so his princess doesn’t have to do any of the work, of course.

Box after box, and hours later, he was finally done setting everything up.

When he finished, you both ordered out, too exhausted from moving to cook. As you both ate dinner, you talked and went on and on about all the things you both wanted to do together in the new apartment, and you could easily see this becoming a daily routine for you as long as Big Bubba was with you you didn’t have a worry in the world.

After dinner, you cuddled on the couch that your parents had the movers bring in, and before you knew it, it was already midnight, and heeseung thinks time really does fly when you’re having fun. “Wanna get ready for bed?” Heeseung whispers softly, stroking your shoulder while back-hugging you on the sofa.

You hum in agreement, the both of you getting up and walking to the bedroom to call it a night for the first time at the new apartment.

As heeseung was collecting yours and his clothes, you stood there playing with your fingers near the corner of your room. “Something wrong, princess,” heeseung asks you, and you just shake your head back and forth.

He looks at you worriedly, thinking maybe you were having second thoughts about moving in with him, that is, until he sees you discreetly rubbing your legs together, and then it clicked with him he knew exactly what you wanted, and he can’t say he wasn’t waiting for this moment himself.

“Wanna play with big bubs” you mutter shyly.

“Princess, now that we’re all alone, you can call me whatever you like,” he encircles your waist, hugging you close to his body. “And from now on, whenever you’re feeling like this, just tell me you wanna have sex, okay?”

“Sex?” You tilt your head slightly. He always found you adorable when you did that.

“Yep,” he nods his head, and he kinda wants to scold his parents for keeping you so sheltered. You were far too innocent for your own good. That’s the only reason he started calling you sissy and having you call him Bubba in the first place because those were the only endearing names that your parents wouldn’t find suspicious, not to mention he couldn’t tell you it was called sex cause if that ever got out he’s sure his parents would have beat him black and blue if they knew he was having sex with their daughter and his “sister.”

“Okay,” you whisper and put your hands on his chest while he smiles down at you.

“So princess, what’s it gonna be?” He touches your forehead with his eager to hear what you want his new nickname to be.

“B-baby,” you stutter shyly. You always wanted to call him that when you heard your friends call their boyfriends like that, but you were far too embarrassed to tell him.

“You’re so cute.” he nudges his nose with yours, giving you a kiss on the cheek, which makes you duck your head down in his chest and hide from him. “Lay down on our bed, princess,” he tells you softly, heart thumping in his chest as he looks at you. You’re so beautiful, and you’re all just his, no one else’s.

His stare makes you feel shy, and even though it’s embarrassing for you to make eye contact with him, you just can’t pull your eyes away from his.

He slowly lifts his shirt up, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the ground. “Baby,” you say breathlessly as you watch him getting undressed.

He tries to play it cool when he hears you call him that for the first time in bed, but he can’t help the wide smile that covers his entire face as he rids himself of his jeans. “Call me that again,” he laughs while hovering above you on the bed, smiling at your flustered face.

“Baby,” you mutter, and he feels like he’s gonna have a heart attack.

Pecking your lips, he grins and leans back to grab the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head, revealing your bra-clad chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, and you can hear the love oozing in his voice.

“Thank you,” he bites on his lip, lowering his hands to your shorts and underwear, slipping them off your delicate frame.

“Of course, my princess” his eyebrows crease slightly as he gulps from the sight of your sticky cunt loving just how wet you get for him every single time you both make love.

Kicking off your bottoms, you instinctively sit up and unclip your bra, showing him your full breasts and hardened nipples. Once you toss your bra aside, you reach for the waist of his boxers, tugging them down as many times as you’ve done playtime with him. You know what to do next.

A gasp leaves your lips when you reveal his hard leaky cock, and the sight alone makes you whimper. You needed to feel him inside of you as soon as possible.

He leans over you, lowering himself to place a few wet kisses on your chest as he takes his boxers off the rest of the way and discards them on the floor.

He captures your tender lips in a hungry kiss, moaning into your mouth as he feels your hot tongue searing against his he rolls his hips dragging his length along your pussy, whimpering when his tip comes in contact with your entrance.

“Baby,” you breathe into his mouth, utterly breathless from how his mouth feels against yours.

“Mmm, I’m right here.” he guides your legs around his waist and then cups your hands together, holding them beside your head as he continually ruts against your dripping core.

“Want your cock inside” he groans into your mouth, kissing you more feverishly from your request.

He’s hesitant cause he hasn’t even prepped you yet, and though you’re literally dripping all over his dick and the bedsheets, the last thing he wants to end up doing is hurting his princess. “Yeah?” He whispers against your lips softly as you give him the slightest nod. “Okay, princess, gonna go nice and slow.” he kissed your forehead, angling his hips back until his tip was at your hole and very slowly pushing his tip in. “Fuck” he whimpers as soon as he feels you around him.

Mewling at the intrusion, you arch your back involuntarily, which causes him to go even deeper, making you cry out in pleasure. “Mmh baby,” you squeeze his hand's chest, rising and falling with each uneven breath you take as you feel his heart pounding against yours.

“Does it feel good, princess?” He asks as he buries his face in the side of your neck, licking and sucking on every inch that he could reach.

“Yes,” you sigh in pleasure, eyes rolling back in your head. “So big, so warm.” he takes that as his cue to fully penetrate you till he’s sheathed within your heat and every stroke feels better than the last you’re just so warm and wet that it makes his head spin.

“You’re making me feel so good, princess” his words sound like one drawn-out moan, barely coherent as he picks up his pace drilling your sweet spot over and over as his abdomen rubs on your throbbing clit. “Love you so much,” he whines in your ear, panting helplessly as he pumps your pussy till you’re shaking beneath him.

“Ah,” you attempted to respond but moaned instead cause he felt so deep and full inside you. “L-love you too,” he moans at your confession. It’s not like he hasn’t heard you say it before, but right now, it feels so much more intimate and intense than all the previous times.

“Wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” The sounds he made were ones that you’d never even heard before, and it made everything feel so much better. “Fill you up so you can give us a little family.” he’s not sure why the words are coming out of his mouth so easily, but it’s true he wants nothing more than to be with you for the rest of his life. “Want that princess? Want me to cum in you?” Placing a hand between your bodies, he rubs your clit the tight clench you give him makes him choke out a moan, eyes falling shut with the pleasure you give to him and only him.

“Yes baby, cum ins-side me, please” The warm feeling you’d become accustomed to spread throughout your lower body no matter how many times you felt it. It always took your breath away every single time. You just could never get enough of feeling his cock so deep in you.

“Kiss,” he breathes out, brain fuzzy and completely drained of everything but you.

Moaning into your mouth, he matches the pace of his thrusts with the quick circles he draws on your clit, and within no time, you’re both parting from the kiss, unfiltered moans escaping as you both get lost in the pleasure of your orgasms not worrying about how loud you’re both being as your fluids mix with each other.

You squeeze around him so tight that he’s almost forced to empty his balls deep in you as you clench and unclench around his thick cock milking him for all he’s worth and then some as you feel your insides hot and sticky with his cum he whimpers and whines incoherent sentences from how tight you feel your pussy was making him go completely dumb he was drunk off your silky cunt encasing his girth perfectly.

The feeling goes on and on, seemingly never-ending, while you both exchange sloppy wet kisses and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to pass out from the pleasure. Your brows crease together at the hot tingling sensation all over your body, and he feels it too, the warmth expanding in his abdomen as wet, slippery sounds fill up your guys' shared bedroom, followed by loud moans and deep grunts as he fills you up again with his thick seed coming back to back in record time.

Your other hand grips his bicep body, violently shaking as you feel another earth-shattering wave of euphoria enrapture you. “Love you, my princess,” he pants while kissing you, saliva spilling past both your swollen lips as you confessed to each other for the uncountable time tonight.

“I love you too, baby,” you moan softly while he slowly caresses your sensitive bud. He brings you down from your high, gently rolling his hips as his second orgasm turns into faint little throbs until his body finally calms down along with yours.

Once your heartbeats regulate, he pulls away from the kiss first, resting his forehead against yours with an exhausted chuckle, eyes full of nothing but fondness for you.

He cradles your cheek in his palm, and you quickly mimic his actions as he leans into your soft, loving touch.

As you look into his eyes, you can’t help but get lost in them, and you couldn’t wait to spend every waking moment of your life with him.

This was just the beginning of your guy's love story and the end of playtime.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

I’m tearing up 🥲 y’all it’s over this is the end 😞 I’m sad.

[dira333]

It is what it is - Tendou x Reader x Ushijima (platonic)

Another one of my "this is my boyfriend and this is my boyfriend's best friend" fics. This has been going round and round in my head the whole weekend, I hope I could put all the feeling into this that I felt about it. Tell me what you think.

Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain and @satorisoup because in a way, it's Tendou

“Aren’t you worried people are going to call you out for this?” Satori asks, teasing lilt in his voice. “Flying all the way to Paris for a haircut?”

“I don’t care,” Wakatoshi exclaims, bathing in your joyful giggling and Satori’s amused snort.

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you after work, okay?” The redhead brushes a hand over his buzzcut before leaning over to kiss you - Wakatoshi averts his eyes on instinct.

“See you later. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hold Satori’s hand all the way to the door, watch him step into the elevator before you turn back.

“Alright, now that we’re on our own. What do you want me to do with your hair? Some color? A buzzcut?”

“The usual,” he asks, closing his eyes when you pat his shoulder. 

There’s so much understanding in your words, your action, the simplest touch.

Oh, how he’s missed you.

-

“Wakatoshi, stand straight,” his mother orders. His father’s hands are warm on his shoulders as he stiffens, posture perfect now.

“This is my good friend,” she explains just seconds later and Wakatoshi can see it, in the harsh lines and the absence of a smile.

“And this is her daughter. It would make us very happy if you two would marry one day.”

“Love-” His father says in that tone he uses when he asks his mother to change her mind on something. She rarely listens.

“Of course, nothing will be settled until you are older,” she speaks over him yet again. “But I am sure you two will be fast friends.”

The adults leave them alone after that, with nothing but a plate of healthy snacks and glasses of water.

You are nice to look at, he thinks. Unlike your mother, you’re curves and softness, eyes glittering as you shyly ask what he likes to do in his free time.

“My father plays Volleyball with me sometimes,” he explains, “Or I read.”

“Could you show me?” You ask, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you wait for his answer.

“The books or Volleyball?” He asks, not really understanding. He’s not good at reading between the lines, as his mother calls it. He hopes you won’t mind.

But your face lights up at his question, a sight he wants to see again.

“Both?” You ask and when he nods and turns to show you to his room first, your hand shoots out to curl into his, warm and small and soft.

He can’t remember the last time he held someone’s hand, but he squeezes yours like his father used to do with his and your smile tells him what he did was the right thing.

-

“Is this okay?” You ask, soft voice floating around him as you drag a comb through his hair.

“It always is,” he answers, stilling as you move to assess your work.

“It looks good,” you decide finally, smiling as you grab a mirror, making a show of presenting it. “You look good, Toshi.”

“You look better,” he insists, but it sounds foreign in his mouth. 

He’s not one to compliment someone’s appearance and he can see the surprise in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately, “It’s something I heard Satori say.”

“I thought it sounded familiar,” you agree easily before patting his cheek. “I sometimes lend sentences from him as well.”

“Pray tell.”

You smile, handing him the mirror again. “First you have to tell me how it looks.”

“Perfect,” he says, because it is. He looks the way he’s used to, the same haircut he’s had for years. You embrace routine as much as he does. Maybe that’s why the two of you clicked so well.

“Now,” you smile, “I’ll make us some tea. I’m sure I still have some sweets hidden where Satori won’t look if you want them.”

“I’d rather have something healthy,” he admits and your smile doesn’t flicker, it grows.

“Like the old days,” you agree easily.

It warms his heart that you remember the beginnings of your friendship as well as he does.

-

“Are you leaving?” Satori asks, looking up from his Shonen Jump.

“Yes,” Wakatoshi agrees, tying his shoelaces. “I will be back before lights out.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Satori laughs, “I’m curious. Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting with a friend.”

“Do I know him?”

“No, you don’t know her.”

The surprise is loud on his face, dark eyes widening.

“A girlfriend?” Satori gasps, hands pressed against his lips in excitement. 

“A friend that’s a girl,” Wakatoshi corrects. For a second he stills, doorknob in his hand. “Do you want to join us?”

Satori blinks. Once, twice, three times.

“Are you sure?”

“No. But I think she might like you.”

“In that case… give me five minutes.”

“I’ll inform her that we’ll come in later.”

“We won’t be late if we run,” Satori sings, diving into his closet to pull out something to wear that doesn’t wear the Shiratorizawa emblem.

.

Wakatoshi is usually blind to social cues, no matter how much he studies them. He still can’t read between the lines, but he can’t say he’s given it much thought lately.

He’s good at Volleyball and he’s excelling in his studies. What else is there in life?

You’ve never complained about him missing something either, clearly content with the state of your friendship. And if there’s someone’s opinion he cares about, it’s not his mother's, it’s yours.

But he can see it now, written in bold letters on your face, your eyes, the shiver of your hesitant smile.

You look at Satori like the girls from his class look at him before he begins to speak.

Your hand twitches as if to hold his but you hesitate.

He turns to look, surprised to see his only other friend just as changed.

Satori is supposed to be the confident one. Loud and unapologetically himself.

This Satori, however, is blushing, staring at the tips of his sneakers only for his eyes to flicker upwards and back to you for only a second before looking back down. 

Is this, Wakatoshi thinks, a little dumbfounded that it’s happening in front of him of all people, is this falling in love?

-

It’s cold, even for Spring in Europe. You curl further into the warmth of your jacket, hands stuffed into the pockets to keep warm.

The day had been bathed in a grey light that’s now dimming fast, street lamps and the warm glow of shop windows battling against the coming night.

Wakatoshi’s hand reaches out without a thought, folding around yours like he used to when you were little.

You look up with surprise and he’s not sure if he should regret this or not.

“You’re worried,” you tell him, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “I can see it now. I was wondering what was wrong, but you wouldn’t say and I didn’t want to push.”

He opens his mouth to insist that he’s fine, a lie he’s been telling himself for weeks now, almost mastering to make himself believe it.

“Don’t lie, Toshi,” you ask and it’s the nickname that unravels him, a memory from long forgotten times resurfacing.

“I love you,” he admits, words spilling out of him like Volleyballs out of an upturned cart. They’re unstoppable, now that they’ve been set free.

But your smile doesn’t fade and your hand only squeezes his.

“I know, Toshi.”

His eyes flicker to the dark asphalt and back up.

“But Satori-”

“You don’t love me like Satori loves me, do you, Toshi?”

Your voice is warm and comfortable, like a blanket he wants to curl into.

“I don’t know,” he admits, because this is you. He’s always been honest with you.

“But I do,” you tell him softly, reaching up to cup his cheek with your other hand. “You’ve never looked at me in that way. We both know it, Satori and I, we both know you. What is worrying you?”

The question hits him like one does a tuning fork, everything in him vibrating to the point he fears he’ll fall apart. 

“I miss you,” he says, his voice carrying something he cannot begin to describe.

Hurt, loneliness, despair, insecurity. Will I ever be enough?

“Oh Toshi,” you rub your thumb under his eye, catching a tear that must have slipped out. “We miss you too. But we love you, okay? And even though it feels like that sometimes, you’ll never be alone.”

He considers it, smoothes it over the open wound inside of him like one does with a balm.

Another voice pops up, cuts through the noise inside his head like a warm knife through butter.

“There you are. I was looking for you.”

They both turn and Wakatoshi isn’t sure what he anticipates to see in his best friend’s face.

Anger, maybe, or betrayal. 

Not this kind of soft worry he isn’t used to.

You say something in French he doesn’t quite catch and Satori steps closer, wraps one impossible long arm around his shoulders, and curls into him.

“Can’t fool us, big boy,” he says with a voice so warm it feels like hot chocolate tastes, “Knew something was up when you asked to travel all the way here for a haircut.”

It might look strange to someone looking in, the three of them hugging in the cold night on the middle of the sidewalk.

But it’s not strange to Wakatoshi.

He should have known. These are his friends. His family. 

His home away from home.

-

“Is this really okay?” Satori asks, kneeling on the floor next to Wakatoshi’s bed. “You’ve got to be honest with me here, okay?”

“I am.”

“I am going to marry her if you let me, you know this!”

“I’d be happy if you did,” Wakatoshi insists. “If she wants you, that is.”

Satori snorts but it sounds more like a sob. “You think she likes me?”

“She said so, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” the word is more a dreamy sigh than anything else. Satori puts his head back and stares up at the ceiling. 

“I didn’t know people like her existed,” he says, voice far away. Wakatoshi turns to look at him. 

“Girls?” He asks, a little confused.

“Kind people,” Satori explains, “with a good heart. Who don’t judge about someone’s looks.”

“Did that happen to you?” Wakatoshi asks, thinking about himself and his mother and you.

There’s something in Satori’s eyes, something vulnerable and open that he hasn’t seen before.

Wakatoshi pats the bed next to him before he can pull himself away again. Satori is nice. He wants to know him.

“Tell me about it?” He asks.

.

“You’re not good with social cues, are you?” Satori asks one day after lunch, walking back to Class.

“No.”

“The girl that was talking to you, she wanted me to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because she likes you. She wanted to be alone with you.”

Wakatoshi stops, freezing in place.

“What?” Satori asks, walking back to him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Do you want to be alone?”

Satori understands immediately. “Sometimes, yeah. But I’d tell you that, you know? Right now we barely manage to hold hands without our faces combusting. And I like having you there. She does too, I know.”

“How?”

“She said so,” Satori pulls out his phone, drags his thumb across the screen for a minute before he holds it up for Wakatoshi to see.

It’s an entire conversation he’s not been part of, your blocks of texts interspersed with the emojis Satori likes to use.

But he can read it, black letters on a white background.

“Wakatoshi is the most important person in my life.” It warms his heart like hot chocolate on a cold night.

“And since you’re my best friend too,” Satori singsongs, “You’re not getting rid of either of us.”

“Good,” Wakatoshi nods and repeats it once more for good measure. “Good.”

-

“Poland is not that far away,” you point out over morning coffee. Your hair’s a mess and you sit in Satori’s lap, leaning back into him every few minutes to remind him to feed you one more bite of the croissants Wakatoshi bought on his morning run.

“It’s not France.”

“Yeah, but the French team sucks,” Satori exclaims, “You’d lose all happiness playing for them just to be close. The Polish team sounds good if you ask me. And it’s really not that far. You could come over once or twice a month depending on your schedule.”

“I’ll think about it,” he agrees, buying himself some time with a sip from his coffee.

His wound is still open, though it has stopped bleeding.

“Do you think I’ll find someone,” he asks, yet again unable to keep the words inside before he has thought them through.

Satori and you both turn your heads to the side as you think, a habit that started with one person but he’s no longer sure with whom.

“Maybe you will,” you say, “maybe you won’t. You can be happy either way.”

“Don’t lose sight of what’s important to you,” Satori adds, “because it can be easier than you think. To give up on a boundary just because you think you have to.”

He considers that for a second.

“If I’ll never find someone-” Your hand finds his before he’s able to finish the sentence, squeezing as hard as you can.

“You’ll never be alone,” you insist. Satori’s larger hand wraps around yours until again, you are three.

- - -

The French Countryside is not a bad place to retire.

“Look what I found,” Satori raises a basket full of fruit, each looking better than the last, “everything from our own garden.”

“I thought you wanted to work less,” Wakatoshi comments, picking a plump apricot from the basket and biting into it. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Ah, this isn’t work,” Satori insists, but he puts the basket down, pressing a hand to his back for a second. “I just need to slow down a little.”

“You should,” Wakatoshi agrees, but makes no move to pick up the basket himself. His back is even worse than Satori’s.

“Boys, boys,” your voice comes from inside, “Leave the hard work to someone younger. I’ve made coffee and tea, what do you want?”

They turn and walk inside, Satori singing yet another made-up song about the market in the village.

When he reaches you, he kisses your temple first and then your lips, squeezing your hips under the apron.

Wakatoshi has gotten used to the sight after decades. He’s more interested in his coffee and maybe the morning paper.

“Has anyone seen my glasses?” He asks, squinting down at the paper. 

Satori laughs. “On your head,” he tells him, but stays where he is, glued to your side.

It’s like this everyday and if someone would dare to ask, Wakatoshi wouldn’t mind living like this for another decade or two.

After all, one hasn’t lived before turning one hundred.

My Kofi if you'd like to tip me

[13atoms]

Airplane Mode (Spencer Reid x Reader)

A quick blurb about Spencer Reid and his SO finally getting a resort vacation! (Or holiday, because I’m a Brit and saying vacation feels weird). Insp by the slightly weird holiday I’m currently on lol | 1k fluff

Holidays were a bad omen for the BAU. Like complaining a night shift in a hospital is too quiet, or that it hasn’t rained in a while. Holidays meant something was bound to go wrong. So you’d waited until the very last minute to book the flights. Packed your suitcases two hours before leaving for the airport.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to be excited to go away, or even to tell many friends you’d be on holiday.

The louder you said it, the more likely it was that Spencer would be called into work, and the whole thing would fall to the wayside in a series of frantic phone calls. Ultimately, it would only mean Spencer felt awful, and guilty, and it would have been better if you’d never planned anything in the first place. It wasn’t his fault, you couldn’t resent him for it, people’s lives were at stake.

But you were so excited for a vacation.

Even in the airport, as Spencer passed through security with the lazy, efficient movements of a weary regular flier, you’d been waiting for his phone to ring. For it to all be over. You’d held his arm in the airport lounge, waiting for the gate announcement, not daring to speak a word in case the universe heard you and Spencer had to jump on a different plane before yours had even taken off. Then there would be the arguing with the airline. The money lost, the forms for it to be refunded by the FBI, your bags missing because they were already packed deep into the hold of the plane.

You had clutched your coffee cup, already feeling dread and exhaustion overtaking you.

Then the plane had taken off. You hadn’t quite believed it. Spencer put his phone on airplane mode, and showed it to you.

“We’ve made it,” he whispered, through a smile, “it would be in violation of the Federal Aviation Administration regulations to take a call from work now.”

You shoved your face into his neck, and let yourself begin to feel excited.

The resort was one recommended by a colleague of Spencer’s, boring and relaxing, adults’ only and pleasantly quiet. There was a time and a place for exploring and excitement, but truly the thought of Spencer spending a single week away from work felt like excitement enough.

In the taxi from the airport, when Spencer had turned his phone back on and not received summons from Gideon, you finally let yourself utter the words:

“I can’t believe we’re on holiday.”

“I know!”

Spencer was giddy, you could count on one hand the number of times you’d heard him giggle, and it was so wonderful you had to pull his hand into yours and squeeze it.

“I am so excited to do nothing,” he admitted, though you knew his e-reader contained a small library’s worth of books.

“I just want to eat good food, and spend time with you.”

“I think I’m going to turn my phone off,” he said abruptly, as though he’d only just had the thought he could.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Garcia knows where I am, if there’s a real emergency. That way I won’t feel like I have to check it all the time.”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

He smiled at you, and you watched as he shot off a quick text to Penelope, before completely turning his phone off. For a moment there was silence, and you both waited, listening to the sound of rubber on tarmac and feeling the heat of the sun outside. Nothing happened. Of course it didn’t. The realisation made you burst out laughing at the same time as Spencer, and you caught a flash of the driver’s backwards glance in the rear view mirror.

“You know what, mine too!”

You turned your phone off in solidarity, and stacked it beside his on the middle seat.

“Swap?” Spencer asked, offering you his phone, but you shook your head.

“Straight into the safe, when we get to the hotel. They can stay there.”

“That’s an even better idea.”

You knew, if it came down to it, if a life was at risk, he’d get the message from the hotel reception and go back to Quantico. That was okay. It was part of who he was, he needed the BAU, as much as they needed him.

There was a chain of people between that decision being made and Spencer finding out, including Gideon and Penelope, who would do everything in that power not to ask him. And that felt good.

For the first day, you let yourselves do only what you wanted to, to explore, to lie in bed, to read. Spencer needed the reminders not to watch every little thing that happened, not to examine poolsides and restaurants like they were crime scenes, but soon that went away and the frown in his brow was smoothed.

He wore swim trunks. He tried sips of your cocktail while floating in a pool. He laughed, and cried at one of the books he read, and ate properly, and let himself spend hours lying against your body in bed.

When you left the hotel, you both forgot your phones, and had to pay the taxi driver to turn around and get them.

“We should just leave them,” you’d joked breathlessly, as the receptionist concealed exasperation and politely led you to the room you’d just checked out of.

“That would be pointless, I’d just have to buy another one –” Spencer was distracted, following the receptionist, working out whether you’d miss the plane in the worst possible scenario.

You could see the stress in him, as the taxi driver waited outside with your bags, his meter running.

“Not if we stay here forever,” you teased, and finally saw the fall of his shoulders, the smile lines appearing on his face.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

Spencer made it a whole 24 hours after landing without getting on another plane, and you considered it a small victory. When he called you on the jet you could almost see him, skin a little bit more tanned, his hair still a little curlier from the sun and the chlorine.

“You’d better bring a souvenir, jet setter,” you teased, and imagined Spencer wrinkling his nose before he replied.

“We’re going to Milwaukee.”

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia (Part Fourteen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Word Count: 5040 Notes: Voyeurism build up is here, will be dropping that next chapter. For now here's some tension/proper argument w HQ!Miguel and some fluff w Mig

‘You’re sure you wish to return today?’

You paused midway through the very unflattering motion of hoisting your suit over your hips, rolling on the bed like a flipped beach turtle, and turned to find Mig watching you from across the room.

His big red eyes already betrayed his concern as they darted from your face to your body, as did his slowly tapping paws.

You shot him a reassuring smile. ‘I’m sure, Mig! Don’t worry, I have a plan.’

Mig made that same adorable face he always did when he was disgruntled, as his nose wrinkled up and his brows folded in over his big puppy-dog eyes. Your reassurance would never be enough, sadly.

‘You could- stay, another hour’ he offered. ‘They can’t fault you for being a little late.’

You sighed through the nose and finally did up the last hidden button on your suit, snapping it into place.

It’d been a few days since Mig’s confession. You’d managed to snag the extra time away from the society by calling up Jess and going through some early talking points online, but all the time you’d gained had been devoted solely to working through Mig’s worries.

His possessive nature had certain gotten worse since he’d acknowledged his past to you. He startled at every minor noise, he rustled against you constantly to keep you saturated in his scent. He panicked when you weren’t in his line of sight, and he was patrolling his territory more and more.

The worst one though was at night, when he’d hide behind his giant legs and you had to gently coax him out.

It wasn’t easy, but you weren’t opposed to comforting your monster partner. You knew it was going to be hard on him. Today he’d made enough progress to at least let you return for a bit, and that was great, but you knew to expect relapses.

With a slight hop you stumbled to your feet and crossed the nest, carefully taking his hands into yours.

‘Uhuh, I could stay an extra hour. And then you would say, please stay another hour, then another, then another, and then I’m called in for insubordination and I get my watch taken away’ you said, firm but soft.

‘Mi arañita, it’s in my blood to keep you here’ he insisted.

‘Nope, can’t use that excuse anymore. I’m not in heat, am I?’ you said. You tried to keep it light by booping his nose with your finger, but Mig remained tense.

‘It’s in my human blood, to keep you here, is what I meant’ he said, his voice dipping. ‘I just want to know you’re safe. I can’t, know, if you’re not here with me.’

Sensing that he was spiralling you put his hand over your chest. He could sense your heart thumping beneath your ribs, small but strong. It seemed to have an instant calming effect.

‘I’m okay. See? I’m okay. And I’m gonna set something up’ you reminded him gently. ‘Right? I’m gonna go get some stuff while I’m at the HQ, like we discussed. You’ll be able to see my vitals on a screen here so you know I’m safe, and we will- test, you being able to call me, because I know if I give you unlimited reign you will call me every second of every hour. But, you know, I’m bringing stuff back to make this easier.’

Mig grumbled and rolled his tongue against his fangs at your reminder. ‘You… are you, sure, they won’t try to keep you away from me?’ he asked.

‘I’m as sure as I can be, Miggy. I mean Jess clearly got annoyed with Miguel for trying to separate us, remember? I don’t think the elite’s care, so long as we’re not endangering anyone. We’re two consenting adults after all.’

‘A monster and his pet’ Miguel grumbled. You couldn’t help but giggle at his sour tone.

‘A consenting adult monster and his consenting adult pet’ you added. Mig didn’t smile with you but you saw him tap his spider legs a few times, which you knew now meant he was happy. It was like a silent laugh for when he was too worried to laugh openly.

‘Hey. Come here’ you whispered.

You gestured for his foreleg and he stretched it out. You took it between both your hands and raised it your lips, pressing a single kiss to the fluffy little paw, showing no sign of fear or disgust. You then gestured for his human hands.

‘Here. Here, babe.’

Mig outstretched his hands, and with his fingers in your grip you kissed each of his claws one after the other. You could sense his body deflating, slowly losing all of that pent up tension as you showed his body the same love you always did.

‘Pretty spider’ you whispered after the final claw was crowned with your lips. When you looked up he was smiling at last.

‘Pretty spider’ he repeated back. You craned your neck and noticed his abdomen was rustling, the fur on his back gently bristling as his middle legs tapped at the floor. You beamed.

‘Mmm. Happy dance’ you noted.

Mig closed his eyes as he smiled, his old, chiselled face growing soft as he made the dance more overt. He tapped his feet back and forth, gently rustling his fluffy body up against your face. You nestled right back. There was nothing better than seeing that little display.

‘Okay, okay. There we go.’ You gently leaned back after giving him a quick squeeze, your hand flying to your watch. You knew you had to make the portal now or you’d never leave.

‘Guess I better get going.’

With a few clicks a portal to the HQ exploded into the centre of the nest, covering your face in that ethereal orange light. You glanced back over your shoulder and saw that Mig had stopped dancing. It hurt your heart, but it had to be done.

‘Can I have a goodbye kiss, please?’ you offered with your hand outstretched on the precipice of the portal. Mig was eager to take it.

‘Ah- yes, of course mi arañita.’

You should have been wise enough to know that this was a double play on his part. The moment your lips connected his hands were on your waist, digging in deep to the soft flesh beneath your suit.

His lips moved slowly, parting before rejoining as they smothered your own. They were so soft compared to the rest of his ruggedness, soft and full and warm. As his tongue teased your mouth they grew wet.

‘Mm—’

His low moan made your knees weak. It vibrated through your lips and into your soul. His lips parted right as you usually would have left, and soon you were entranced by his tongue.

‘Mm- mmm—’

You forgot the portal at your back as Mig gently rumbled against you, his fluffy body vibrating in a way that made your insides tingle. He dug his claws in deeper, a small dose of shock to widen your mouth, allowing his tongue to go right down your throat.

When he pulled back there was a long and heavy trail of spit between you, one that he licked into his mouth without ever breaking eye contact. You felt that pleasurable tension in your gut triple over.

‘Ah—Mig, I know what you’re doing’ you panted.

He’d held you for so long that the portal had closed behind you. You let out a mildly exasperated huff while he tilted his head, his face sickeningly innocent.

‘Doing what? I just wanted to kiss mi arañita goodbye.’

‘You told me you were incapable of lying, Mr.’

‘I am, yes. It’s not a lie’ he said. The earnest affection in his eyes broke you, and a smile crept back onto your face.

‘Mhm. It’s just- leaving out the full truth, right?’

He coyly darted his eyes to the side, forcing you to grab his thickset jaw and turn his head back. You were on your tip toes to reach him.

‘The full truth, is… I don’t want you to go, but, I know you have to. So I will do what I can to keep you here, because I am selfish. And… I will miss you, when you are gone. Because you make me happy. And, I like having you close’ Mig murmured.

‘I know’ you sighed. ‘I know. I’ll miss you too. And I will be back soon. I promise.’

You bumped foreheads once more before pulling back, and this time Mig let you go.

…

As you flew through the dizzying portal you were surprisingly optimistic.

You were going back to the society, and this time you were no longer alone. No matter what you had someone to go home to, someone to talk to, someone to hold you.

Your perspective on the society had also certainly shifted since meeting Mig, and that was something you had to contend with. Knowing that they were hiding things, these cosmic mistakes they didn’t want to deal with, it bothered you to no end. You’d previously viewed the elites as these unfathomable being, who just had to know best because of where they were, but not anymore. Especially in the case of Miguel.

You felt a little bad, but you hadn’t been fully honest with Mig about your intentions. Yes, you were going back to grab some items for him and to show you were available. Yes, you were returning to ensure your relationship was sanctioned.

But you also had something else in mind. Something a bit more personal. Something for the boss to deal with.

You skipped a few steps as your body was thrown from the depths of time and space, your shoes clacking as you hit the HQ floor. You stepped out into the lobby, into a bustling sea of spiders, and you breathed in the familiar smell of Nueva York. It smelled like spandex, like cleaning fluid and cold park air.

You felt the portal close at your back, leaving you standing alone in this great gathering of your peers.

And then you froze.

Almost half the spiders around you were still, their head craned in your direction. You felt the eyes on every inch of your body. You met their gazes through their masks, and despite you clearly looking at them they didn’t turn or look away.

You frowned. What was going on?’

A new sound filled the quiet buzz of conversation, the worst possible sound you could hear. Muffled laughter.

You spun around only for the laughter to stop, and by the time you’d turned back all the spiders were pretending not to have looked at all. They were deep in meaningless conversation, their heads down, and soon you were once again lost in the crowd.

You could feel your face burning, your cheeks hot and clammy.

Oh, fuck. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit, fuck. Did they know? How did they know? Who could have told them?

For a moment your blood ran cold. Wait. Had, Miguel, told everyone? To punish you?

In a brewing panic you started to make your way through the HQ.

All the way out of the lobby and up through the dizzying web of beams you felt eyes on you. You occasionally heard laughter but now you couldn’t tell whether it was aimed at you or not, which only spurred your paranoia, and you only continued to spiral further as you went about your objectives.

You stopped by the lab and grabbed the tech you needed for Mig: a watch for him to programme, a monitor for your vitals, and a few old or nearly scrapped holographic screens that you figured he could fix up. All eyes on you, staring at you through screens and over desks. You hurried out.

From there you made a stop at HR, a pretty run-down and disorganised area compared to the rest of the society, where you grabbed some paperwork Jess had ordered you to fill out. You felt eyes peering over piles of paperwork, soft whispers and curious mumbles hidden behind walls as you piled up the work.

By the time you made it to your last stop you could feel the sweat on your lower back from stressing so hard. Around Mig you felt safe, emboldened, but you were realizing quickly that you were still alone here.

You crept into the open research base and dropped into one of the empty desks. You were here, right back where you started, the day you first met Mig.

You thought of him, back in the nest, and your heart twisted. You missed him.

‘You’re the one, right?’

You jumped as an unfamiliar voice sounded off against your ear. Somehow you’d been snuck up on, and three spider-people you’d never met before were crowding around the back of your desk. Their faces immediately put you on edge; they looked far too familiar with you, far too excited.

‘I- the one, what?’ you stammered.

‘You’re the one who- you know—’

You felt your stomach drop as the spiders broke into playful smiles. You tried to push the chair back and run, abandoning the PC while it was still on, but to your horror the other spiders held you in place. You slumped back into the chair as they offered an overlap of fake coos and soothing words.

‘No, no, hey! Please we’re so curious.’

‘Curious about- what? Don’t- grab me!’ you said, inadvertently snapping as you pulled from their grasp. You could feel other people in the room starting to glance over at the commotion, and it was driving your anxiety way up.

‘You had sex with Miguel’s variant, right? The spider one?’ one of them whispered. The spiders holding you in place were practically giddy as they spoke over themselves.

‘We… they’re, all spiders’ you stammered.

‘No, no! You know what we mean. There’s one that’s like fully half spider, right? And you had sex with him?’

‘I—That’s, nobodies business’ you said defensively. Sadly, your tone only spurred them on harder.

'No come on please, oh my god- does he look like Miguel? Is he that big?'

'Does he have the teeth?'

'Oh god, ew, what's the spider part like? Was it like an actual spider?'

'Did you--' 

‘¡OYE!’

You went rigid in your seat, as did the spiders hounding you. Heavy footsteps filled the room as a huge, foreboding shadow slowly covered your body from behind.

‘What’s going on?’

You turned to see Miguel standing over you, his hands on his hips. The spiders almost fell over each other trying to placate him.

‘Hi! Sir, we were just—’

‘It’s fine Miguel we were—’

‘No gossiping. We’re not a rag newspaper, we’re a serious organisation, that does serious work’ Miguel said, his voice slow and cold. ‘Work that I assume you’re currently procrastinating on, since you’re here, and not somewhere else.’

The spiders quickly abandoned your desk, leaving you spinning awkwardly on the spot in your little chair. Miguel had to grab the back to make it stop.

‘Ah, hey, you—’

‘Come with me.’

Miguel didn’t wait for you to respond after cutting you off. He turned and walked in the opposite direction, his presumptuous, authoritative aura gleaming off him like musk.

You thought about saying no, just on principle, but it wouldn’t help. You’d been planning to talk to him anyway. With a slightly reluctant shrug you obeyed.

Miguel led you in silence up through the heart of the HQ building to his office. The whole way you continued to avoid the curious eyes on your back, focusing instead on what you wanted to say to him.

Up the beams, through the corridor filled with anomalies, down the messy side hall and into his office, where at last you were both alone. You shuddered in the gloom, where the only light was a thin lay of blue from above that tinted your skin. It was only here that Miguel finally addressed you directly.

‘I’m sorry they’re bothering you’ Miguel called over his shoulder.

‘Uhuh. Yeah, me too. Strange how they knew’ you said, making no effort to sugarcoat your accusatory tone. Miguel grunted a chuckle as he picked up on the implication.

‘It’s not strange. HR receives filings whenever a relationship needs to be sanctioned, such as- Peter’s and Mary’s receiving crisis training or therapy, or any spiders entering into inter-dimensional relationships. It doesn’t happen often, so when one comes up featuring a Miguel variant and a random spider, and some intern copying it notices the names, they talk. They talk to their friends at lunch, and then they talk to their friends on missions. Suddenly, everyone knows.’

You felt your face burning as he spun this elaborate story. You wanted to believe he was lying, but, it was one thing he and Mig shared in common: they didn’t lie.

‘I didn’t tell anyone’ Miguel grunted as he jumped onto his desk. ‘I understand how- frustrating hormones can be. I don’t blame you for what you had to do.’

‘Uhuh’ you said, your voice wary.

‘I just don’t understand why you’ve still choosing to remain around my counterpart now you’re free’ Miguel continued as he booted up his set, more to himself than to you.

‘Because he’s my friend’ you said sharply.

Miguel glanced over his shoulder, his one visible eye glowing brightly against the dull blue hue. He looked you up and down.

‘I don’t get it’ he repeated in a low murmur. You hated it but his presence still made you slightly weak, and that soft voice was painfully close to how Mig usually spoke.

‘If you were in pain I would have helped’ he said as he turned back around. ‘It’s not like you had no options. Was I really that cold to you?’

You balked at his unexpected confession, especially when said in such a nonchalant way. It was a pretty heavy thing to drop, surely, to admit that he’d sensed your heat and been willing to sleep with you too?

‘You- are you serious?’ you whisper shouted. Your outrage made Miguel chuckle again, something that only made your face warmer.

‘I’m serious, yes. I would have helped.’

‘Oh, oh of course you would have. Just, out of the kindness of your own heart?’

‘More or less.’

You scoffed openly. ‘My god- Do you have no shame? At all?’

Miguel turned again, craning his neck a little further this time to eye you up fully. You saw the thick curve of his back as he arched it.

‘I’d advise you not to be combative’ he murmured. ‘I’m still your superior, and I’m also well aware of what you’ve done. I don’t think you should be the one to tell me about shame.’

‘Why should I be ashamed?! Because I had sex with a nice person I was friends with, because we shared a mutual attraction? Oh my god, how could I!’

‘You let a monster mate with you and almost get you pregnant’ Miguel snapped back, his voice rising ever so slightly.

‘He’s not- a monster’ you said. ‘Not- I mean, physically he is, unusual, but he’s a good person.’

‘You have no idea who that man is’ Miguel impatiently snapped.

‘Yes, I do. Damn it-- He told me! About Dana!’ you blurted.

A brief silence fell as Miguel’s hands went still. Up until this point he’d been typing, casually micro-tasking while you argued at his back, but now he was totally focused on you.

‘He did?’ Miguel repeated back. He sounded shocked, confused, perhaps even impressed?

‘Yes. He- it sounded, horrible. That poor man.’

‘That poor man’ Miguel sneered, his shock quickly turning back to disgust. ‘You didn’t see what I saw. And that’s not your fault, but I’m telling you now, I saw it. The blood on his hands, the blood on his fur, the—face, of—’

Miguel paused and shook his head. ‘He may not have intended to hurt her, but he did. He couldn’t de-escalate, couldn’t control his own strength. He could have ripped the gun out of her hands, or pointed it upwards. His panic killed her.’

‘He was- he was scared, Miguel!’ you argued. ‘He’d just undergone a painful attempt on his life, he was turned into something new, something scary, and then his life was threatened again by someone who was meant to love him!’

‘Yeah, and you know what? I want through the same exact thing’ Miguel spat. ‘I didn’t kill anyo-- … I didn’t, kill, Dana, Did I?’

Internally you were seething. Part of you wanted to just rip into him for what he’d said, for so cruelly bullying Mig for something that wasn’t his fault while making overt passes at you in the same sentence, but you held your tongue.

At least now you didn’t feel at all bad for what you were about to do.

‘I want to- make a proposal’ you said, your voice echoing through the office.

Miguel blinked. His brows went up, slowly, as his eyes darted across your face. He looked surprised. ‘You do, do you?’

You stiffened your resolve as his shadow covered your body. Before you’d have never thought of standing up to your boss like this, and yet, here you were.

‘Yes. I want you to retract the clause that Mig remain isolated from other spiders and people. He’s not a threat and you know that. He deserves the chance to reintegrate, to see that he’s safe to be around other people and to connect with people like him who won’t be afraid. I want you to let him into the society.’

Miguel grunted, his nose wrinkling with disgust. ‘No’ he barked, and immediately he turned.

He thought that would be the end of it, the stubborn fool, but you weren’t interested in begging for permission. If he wanted to play dirty, you would too.

‘Fine’ you said sharply, ‘fine. Let me guess, his genes make him too dangerous?’

‘Wow, newbie, that’s a great point. You’re right. I’ll keep that on record next time someone brings up the idea of letting him join’ Miguel sarcastically drawled. You sneered.

‘Okay. Well, if he has to stay away because his genes make him dangerous, genes that you SHARE, may I remind you, then I suggest for the safety of the society we make it public knowledge.’

You saw Miguel freeze up. He was clearly frightened, as his back muscles popped to indicate he was tensing them tightly, and his biceps were clearly getting more prominent as he clenched his fists.  

You had to steel yourself to approach that terrifying visage.

‘What are you talking about?’ he hissed over his shoulder.

‘You know what I’m talking about’ you said, getting closer with each word. ‘You know that you go into ruts, the same as he does. You know that for all the pressure you put on him to stay away from people, you happily engage in that exact behaviour.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Miguel repeated, this time in a far gravellier voice.

‘I know, you sanctimonious asshole, that you’ve also been sleeping with people during your ruts!’ you whisper shouted, your voice slipping through gritted teeth.

Miguel immediately scoffed, trying to play it off. ‘You don’t have proof of that. I didn’t sleep with you.’

‘No, not- me, Miguel, I have proof. I have proof you’ve done this before.’

‘Oh, do you?’ he asked in that same sarcastic, defensive tone.

‘You decided to threaten me with my own medical records, so clearly that’s allowed, right? So, I can bring up that there are definitely files within the society bay detailing god knows how many other members or workers, filled with the same genetic material, covered in webbing?’

The moment you said ‘webbing’ he tensed up. You’d got him.

‘Perhaps a few, anti-venom prescriptions? Emergency birth control?’

He tensed up further, his head going forward as his shoulders rolled. You continued to push.

‘I don’t think the wider society would be too kind if they knew their boss was going into little, horny breakdowns, and then secretly taking out his frustrations on its members—’

At that Miguel spun around, his clawed hand slamming itself into the desk at your back. In barely a second you went from standing to trapped, your back bent against the desk with his enormous arms on either side of your torso.

‘Do you think you’re better than me?!’ he spat, his fangs dangerously close to your face.

‘Do you think you’re better than me, huh?’

You felt all of your previous convictions slip in his presence. God he was terrifying. He wasn’t nearly as big as Mig but he was huge compared to you, easily pinning your body to the desk. You felt the cold metal press into your spine as he bent you back, and your eyes instinctively drifted to his fangs.

You swallowed, hard, and were met with the strangest look in his eyes. He seemed ashamed, almost, as he realized you were scared of him, and yet there was something else there. Something more complicated.

You struggled to claw back a semblance of your previous anger.

‘You know what? No. Not in that sense. But that’s my point. We’re the same, you’re just a—’

‘Don’t say it’ he hissed.

‘Hypocrite’ you spat back in his face. With a frustrated grunt he pulled away.

‘I don’t put anyone at risk of spreading my genes!’ he said, his voice rising with his annoyance. ‘And I don’t touch anyone who I could hurt!’

‘How can you know that?’

‘Because they’re all men!’ Miguel blurted. He had to pause to breathe, his hands now gripped tight to his hips. ‘Or- at the very least they’ve had their reproductive organs taken care of. And they’re my friends, I never- I never approach anyone I don’t know and trust. I just… sometimes, I have to—have, something. Just one. But I’ve never- slipped and, indulged in anyone the way your sweet, innocent Mig has.’

‘You- but you JUST said you would have helped me out too’ you argued back. Miguel scoffed again.

‘I didn’t mean sex. I would have- offered something, for relief, because I know how much it hurts. I can control myself, but I’d rather not smell someone else going through the same agony, that’s all.’

‘Look, my— my point is, you do the same thing you accused Mig of doing. You don’t get to keep him out of the society if you’re allowed to be its head’ you said, trying to bring the subject back around.

‘He killed someone’ Miguel hissed.

‘And you exonerated him, because he was acting in self defence!’ you spat. This time your rage drove you forward, and you slammed your hand down on the desk beside Miguel, caging his tiny waist between your arms.

‘We are dangerous’ Miguel said, his voice even colder than usual. ‘We are not, safe. We are not supposed to be in relationships. I tried to tell you this, but if you won’t listen, I can’t help you.’

‘Oh, I’m the one who needs help?’

To your horror, Miguel suddenly let out a deeply sardonic chuckle. He bent so that his lips brushed your ear, and you froze as he spoke.

‘You fucked a spider’ he whispered slowly. ‘You found a version of your boss, who was half arachnid, and you let it fuck you. Furry legs and all. You nearly let it impregnate you. Yes, you need help.’

‘He.’

Miguel’s eyes darted, barely an inch from yours. You met them. You were shaking, yes, but you still stared him down.

‘He. Not it. I let him, fuck me’ you repeated.

You relished, secretly, in the deep resentment that crossed Miguel’s face. He looked jealous.

‘Why… Why, him?’

You blinked, taken aback by Miguel’s veiled question. You were expecting more vitriol, but instead his face sank as he pulled away from you.

‘What do you mean, why him?’ you asked.

‘You were in heat. I smelled it. You should have been drawn to my scent, but you turned and you ran. You ran back to him.’

You decided to let Miguel hang there for a moment, just to ponder how you should approach this.

‘If you ask that question honestly, I’ll answer’ you said slowly.

Miguel stiffened his jaw and stepped forward again. He was too curious to not take the bait. ‘Why? Why would you pick him over me?’

There it was. The most overt thing he’d ever admit. It wasn’t even really about you, was it? It was about his ego. It was about the fact that in that moment, when he’d grabbed you after your hospital trip, you’d been able to turn him down. You’d stayed loyal to Mig, and not just given in to your animal need so Miguel could satisfy himself with your body.

You could have given him a full lecture on why. His coldness, his mean streak, his little bursts of empathy that were never enough compared to Mig’s constant kindness. The way Mig gave you multiple chances to leave while Miguel grabbed you by the wrist, the way Mig praised you and thanked you and wished to acknowledge your relationship openly without shame while Miguel offered only a shameful coupling he would sooner forget.

You could have said so much. In the end, though, you just shrugged. ‘He’s hotter than you’ you said.

Silence filled Miguel’s office. At first his face was unreadable, but slowly, a smile crept onto his lips. It was an unnerving smile, the ghost of something cruel and cold.

‘Oh. Okay. Okay.’

You took a step back as Miguel turned back to his desk. The orange glow was eerie around the contours of his figure, highlighting his terrifying back muscles one by one as he rolled them.

‘Alright. You can have him here. And I won’t keep people off your back anymore. If you want to know, why I keep what I do quiet, why I keep my partners quiet, you can find out your way.’

You snorted. ‘Deal. Done. That’s all I needed from you.’

You left him there, alone on the desk, and you hurried back to the wider HQ, unaware of the new war you’d started for yourself. Link to next part!

[corvuscryptid]

Last Day of Summer

Word count: 1468

Ford Pines x GN! Reader (no gender specification)

Age 5 (Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey)

          Today was the last day of summer before your first day of Kindergarten. You were quite nervous to say the least. To celebrate your last day of freedom, your mom decided to drag you to the beach to look for seashells. The ride over to the beach, you ride in the backseat, the windows are rolled down and upbeat, dancey music can be heard from the radio. Once you had reached the beach, your mother parks the car and helps you grab the towels, a mat, two matching straw hats, and a bucket.

          “You think we’ll find anything cool?” You ask your mom, doubting your luck on today’s excursion.

          “I am most certain we will,” she says and looks down at you with a smile. “If you believe that we will find something cool, then you’ll find it easy to be amazed by what we find.”

          You take in her words, quietly, both of you taking off your flip flops to begin the trek to the water in the sand. The sand is powdery soft and it almost burns your feet from the sun. The sky is a gentle blue and dotted across the horizon were puffy white clouds. You hear the gentle breathing of the waves grow louder as you and your mom arrive at the shore. She lays down the mat and shifts her gaze to you.

          “Now (Y/N), I need you to stay in sight of me, okay?”

          You nod, heeding her words. “I won’t leave your sight Mama.” You say, grabbing the small metal bucket as you scamper away, in an attempt to find shells. You are walking for a while— gaze trained on the ground before you find yourself smacking into another kid your age. You are met with captivating brown eyes as you glance up gaze at the ground. You jump back and find two identical pairs eyes staring into your (E/C) eyes.

          “Hi!” You say, excitedly. “Sorry for running into you.” You say, sweetly to the pair. The one you knocked into had a bandaid on his cheek. Both boys are flush in the face, as if they weren’t used to being acknowledged in a respectful manner.

          You are met with a silence. “My name is (Y/N).”

          “I’m Stanley,” the one with the bandaid says. “This is my twin brother, Stanford.”

          You peer at Stanley, curiously, and you can see that, without a doubt, the two boys are identical in appearance. However, Stanley makes confident eye contact with you, while his brother, Stanford, sheepishly keeps his gaze on the wet sand in front of you, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

          “It’s really nice to meet you.” You say, a smile finding its way to your mouth. Friends are never a bad thing to be in excess of in Glass Shard Beach. Stanley beams proudly and offers you his hand to shake— mirroring the action you’ve seen countless adults adopt. Stanford opts to not shake your hand, although he offers you a sweet smile, the cleft in his chin adorned by the beautiful grin that finds his face.

          “We’re starting Kindergarten tomorrow in Ms. McGucket’s class.” Stanley says, with the grin still on his lips.

          “No way!” You say, excitedly. “That’s my class! I was worried I wouldn’t know anyone.”

          Now, it is Stanford’s turn to smile. “That is good,” the boy says in a quiet voice. “I was scared that I would only have my brother as a friend.”

          You can’t help but beam. “We can all hang out together and spend recess together!”

          Stanley giggles and Stanford smiles. You look at each brother, carefully. “What are you two up to anyway?”           It is Stanford’s turn to speak. “Well, actually,” he begins. “We are looking for an adventure to embark on.”

          You marvel at the boy’s words, (E/C) eyes locked onto his brown ones. “What kind of adventure?”

          Stanford doesn’t even hesitate before saying, “We’re gonna find the Jersey devil!”

          You pause, looking at both boys. Stanford is beaming, and Stanley is looking away, sheepishly, like he was embarrassed.

          You had heard of the Jersey devil, but thought it was just a rumor, you said as much to the boys. Stanley nods and Stanford is the one who pipes up, “We have heard from friends that their possessions have started going missing. We wouldn’t have started looking into it, but our parents are also missing jewels in their pawn shop.”

          You take in Stanford’s observations, inquisitively, reflecting on your own experiences. “I don’t have any interactions with the Jersey Devil, but I would love to help you both.” You say with a soft smile on your face, especially if it meant that you could keep the two boys around.

          “Technically speaking, the cryptid is supposed to live in the forests, but Stanley here wanted to go to the beach!” Stanford says, and shoves his brother, playfully, as he says his name.

          “My mom took me to the beach to celebrate the last day of summer.” You tell the boys and glance back to find your mom, who is reading a book while lounging on the beach mat. “I wanted to find something cool or pretty shells, although friends are probably better to find, anyway.”

          Both the boys smile widely at this, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Two new friends to march into the school year with was something to be proud of. “Well, if Stanford is right and the devil won’t be here, I suppose we could help look for shells.” Stanley says, with a toothy grin as he eyes your empty bucket. “Whattaya say, Fordsy?”

          Stanford becomes beet red at this, which only caused Stanley to laugh and grin harder. You marvel at Stanley. “You have the brightest smile I have ever seen.”

          Now it is Stanley’s turn to redden. “What?”

          “I just think you look nice when you smile.” You say, laughing. You turn and start looking at the ground, trying to find shells. Stanford chuckles at his brother’s speechlessness. You guess that this doesn’t happen that often. You walk a little way away from the Pines brothers, but you can hear that they both follow you. “Ooo, look at this purple one!”

          You show it to both boys. They peer at the purple lion’s paw seashell that you hold gracefully between your index and thumb. Stanley plucks it from your hands and puts it close to his face, turning it around. He does the same thing for his brother.

          Thirty minutes later, your mom glances up from her novel. There you were in your matching straw hat, eyes on the sandy ground with two young boys. She smiles, happy that you seemingly made some friends in your short time here. Her eyes flit back to her book, feeling more confident in you with your search partners.

          “I think I found a cool one!” Stanford excitedly announces, running over to you. He is holding a beautiful conch shell in near perfect condition. Your eyes catch something else, though.

          “Woah!” you shout. “How’d you get extra fingers, I want extra fingers!”

          Stanford is the color of wine at this point. He drops the conch shell which lands on the wet sand softly. He clasps his hands behind his back again, eyes trained on the ground. You sense the change in his attitude, and you know that you have done something wrong. Biting your lip you walk beside Stanford and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I should have not said anything.”

          Your eyes meet Stanley’s who is looking at his brother with pity. He offers you a smile, but you don’t return it. “Sixer here gets made fun of a lot for his hands. He is already pretty insecure about them.”

          Stanford nods, wordlessly. “I’m sorry. I saw and just was amazed. I have only seen people with five fingers, you must be rare! I just got jealous cause like, I want more fingers!” you say, moving your arm to frame the back of his neck, bringing him closer to you. “I don’t want this to hurt our friendship at all.”

          “You think my hands are cool?” Stanford says, incredulously.

          You snort. “Well, duh! You’ve got to be like real good at holding stuff. Plus like, I wish I was special like you.”

          Stanford meets your eyes, and this is when you notice how close you two are. “You think I’m special?”

          You smile softly, and say matter-of-factly “Most definitely, and mostly because you’re my friends.”

          You didn’t notice but Stanford takes his hands from behind his back. “Thank you.” He says quietly and moves away from you. “Now let’s look for some more shells!”

[babysbreath]

focus

➶ oikawa tooru x reader

➶ fluff

Oikawa loves these small parties. They feel personal, an evening to pause and relax in between busy schedules. 

A few of his friends are talking to you in front of a wall plastered with polaroids, pointing out familiar faces and funny poses in the photos. One of Oikawa’s roommates had the idea to take a polaroid of everyone who visited their shared apartment and it proved to be quite the attraction.

You laugh, shaking your head, at something one of his friends said. They turn around, eyes scanning the living room until they land on Oikawa. 

“Hey, come over for a second,” they call out. 

When he’s finally there, one of them asks, pointing at the polaroid of you. “When you took this photo of her, didn’t you already have a crush on her?” 

Tongue poking into the side of his cheek, he slowly realises that he’s walked into a challenging situation. He turns to gauge your reaction and you’ve got the biggest grin on your face. Oh, so you’re enjoying this. 

“Come on, that was what- almost two years ago?” He points at his roommate on the couch,  “She was just one of his friends at the time.” 

His response comes out calmly, like he’s unaffected by the question. Or like he’s practised it enough to sound casual.

“You didn’t say ‘no’ though.” They won’t back down easily. 

He knows they’re trying to get him to admit that he took way too long to ask you out. You take a sip of your drink, purposely peering at him over the rim of the glass. 

He straightens his shoulders, trying not to break into a grin.

 “Just 6 months ago, I started to like a certain someone-” 

Someone grumbles audibly. Probably you. Nevertheless, he continues.

“-and like any reasonable adult, I waited a few days before I asked her out.”

A friend slaps his back, cackling at his expense. “Sure, sure. You definitely liked her back then but you were too scared to make a move.” 

He sighs and he feels laughter bubbling at the back of his throat. His tongue still prods at his cheek, almost letting out a chuckle.

He can’t afford to be betrayed by his own body so he clears his throat, adopting a straight face to say, “Why does it even matter? We’re together now, aren’t we?”  

To demonstrate this, he pulls you closer by the waist, hoping the action will put all these questions to rest. The fact that you’re leaning into him is an added bonus. You rest your head on his chest, sighing contentedly before you look at his friends. 

“He’s lying,” you declare, and you can practically feel Oikawa’s face whip towards you.

The group erupts into cheers, unable to contain their excitement at the look of disbelief on Oikawa’s face. 

“How do you know?”

“He’s twisting his mouth. See?” You point at his lips and then at his cheek. “He sticks his tongue to the side of his cheek when he’s trying not to laugh. Obviously, he’s trying not to laugh because he’s lying.”

He frowns at you, pout immediately put on display since you’ve decided to reveal all his secrets. 

“That’s a damning allegation,” he groans. 

“They deserve to know the truth, babe.” You plant a kiss on his cheek, momentarily healing his wounded pride, before you walk away to mingle with others. 

He turns back to his friends, and by the looks on their faces, he’s never going to live this down. 

The conversation soon turns to the polaroid camera itself. 

One of his roommates chimes in. 

“It’s somewhere in the apartment. At least, I hope so.” 

Oikawa hadn’t even realised that the camera had been lost. He makes a mental note to look for it in his room, just in case. 

However, his mind is too preoccupied with other things at the moment, like looking around for you. He tries not to make it obvious but once the crowd dwindles down, he spots you by his bedroom door and makes a beeline for it. 

You look surprised as you enter the room with him. “Hi, again. Also, I think I left my phone on your bed.”

He moves the pillows around as you scan the room for your belongings. 

“Wait, it might have fallen through this gap,” he says, pointing at the space between his bed and the wall. After getting a good grip on the corner of the bed frame, he pulls it away from the wall, showing almost no sign of exertion. You peek at the flex of his muscles, silently thanking his volleyball career, before peeking past him at the spot where your phone should be. He hands your phone to you before reaching down again. 

“Oh look, it’s the polaroid camera.”

You scrunch up your nose, handing him a tissue to wipe the dust off. 

“Why’s it there?”

“No clue. It probably rolled under the bed.”

You hum. “Ah okay, I’m gonna leave then.” 

You lean towards him, hoping to quickly kiss him goodbye, but he firmly holds you in place.

“I just got an idea.”

He feels your body slump in his hold, in an attempt to plop down on the bed. You whine something halfheartedly about wanting to go home, an arm draped over your eyes for dramatic flair. He laughs inwardly at the mannerisms you’re clearly picking up from him.

“It’ll just take a minute. Come on.”

You peek at him from underneath your arm, only to see that he’s already got his eyes on you. He pulls you up with the utmost care and then holds the instant camera at arm’s length.

Noticing your confused expression, he shrugs. “What? We don’t have a polaroid picture together.”

Satisfied with his own explanation, he holds you by the chin and turns your face towards his. His lips part slightly and it finally hits you. Warmth blossoms in your chest as you press your lips against his, chin still resting between his fingers as the camera clicks. He lets you go, a smile lingering on both your faces. The whirring of the picture being printed snaps you out of your daze. 

“Let it develop then I’m keeping it.” Oikawa places it on his bedside table and then starts getting up when he feels his sleeve being pulled back lightly. 

“You’re keeping it? I don’t get one?”

“Do you want another picture or do you just want another kiss?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, like the mature adult he is. 

You let your gaze fall to his mouth. “Maybe both.” 

You tilt your face to meet his, as he pulls you in. Fingers wrap around your waistline, cold as they rest on your exposed midriff. 

You can barely hear his voice over the music from the living room.

 “Cute top, by the way.”

You giggle. “I knew you'd like it. So predictable.”

He huffs. You squish his cheeks between your palms before he pins your hands to the side and steals a peck. All his attention is on you and he makes sure you know that, deepening each kiss till you’re gasping for breath.

He leans back and mutters, forcing your weight to shift towards him. “I think we’ll get tired of it, if we kiss too much.”

Before he can even think about the action, his tongue subconsciously presses against the inside of his cheek. He’s having fun with this game.

You smile, the same way he does when he’s got the upperhand. The same way that tells him that he likes you a lot.

You tap the side of his cheek with your finger.

 “Liar.” 

The liar gets kissed, again and again. He never gets tired of it.

[jokingmisfit]

Their Little Girl

Hannigram x Reader

Prompt- “Let me kiss it better.”

Warnings- Drugging, Forced Regression, Implied Kidnapping, Mentions of needles, Yandere Behavior, Dumbification, Use of Daddy and Papa, Breakdowns

Hannibal sat to my side holding my arm lightly while holding a needle in the other hand. Will held me gently in his lap. His arms wrapped around my waist and his head rested on my shoulder. They both paid me little mind. Will was busy watching Hannibal fix the medicine, probably worried he’ll “hurt me”. Hannibal is busy making sure he got the right amount, and that he was doing everything perfectly.

Hannibal injected the liquid into my arm and I let out a quiet whine. After a while the area is getting sore. The tears sprung from my eyes and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It felt terrible. Everything I am is being stripped from me, all for their sick pleasure.

It wasn’t that the needle actually hurt. No, but the knowledge of what they were doing was enough. They already gave me several doses. They just want me to stay like this. Stay their “little girl”. I don’t even know what’s in those syringes. All I know is that it takes any will to fight and all my defenses from me. Sometimes they give me something that makes me feel weird. Will said he likes that one the most because I actually am like the little girl that they know I am inside.

Will held me tighter and cooed in my ear. “Poor thing. I know it hurts. You know Papa and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I hate both of you assholes.” It came out as a shaky whisper, but the only thing that I found really pisses them off is me acting like an adult and ignoring their rules. The only way I can really stick it to them is when I talk in all the ways they don’t want me to.

Hannibal pauses his movements.Though he looks calm his eyes are angry.  “Perhaps it would be better to give her the other dose now rather than to wait.” He says looking at Will.

I didn’t mean to do this. I didn’t think he would suggest that. I was just trying to gain some control back. This is so unfair. I can’t do this.

I started to thrash in Will's arm. I tried to plead with the men. “Please! I’m sorry I won’t do it again! Please don’t! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I screamed as I cried.

WIll is overtly stronger than I am, and he flips me around, pinning my arms behind my back and keeping me trapped in his lap. The drugs had already started working so my movements weren’t that sporadic anyways. I know it must look pathetic, but I’m just so scared.

I didn’t hear them agree on the drugging, but I found often they can share their thoughts with only a look. That’s how I knew that when Will kept me straddling his lap that it meant that he was keeping me from seeing the new needle Hannibal had gotten out. I knew even as he whispered to me and rubbed circles on my skin that Hannibal was about to give me a new dosage of that horrible drug.

As I continued to wither and writhe, Will whispers to me. “Shhh you’ll be okay.” He kisses my face and tears as I try pulling away. “You have to relax baby, you’re only going to make it feel worse.” He frowns as I whimper out a plea for them to stop. “I know, you can’t wrap your little head around what’s going on, but we’re helping you.”

Hannibal chimed in. “If you can remember, you never were good at caring for yourself, little one. Even now, when you think you know what is right you’re wrong.”

I can feel Hannibal run a hand through my hair brushing it off my shoulder. I can feel the prick in my arm. I can feel the slight pull Will gives me towards his chest. I can feel my breath hitching and my eyes blurring with more tears.

Will pulls me into his chest completely, hiding my face and keeping me there. Hannibal and Will exchange a few words I can’t quite hear because of the way Will held my head. 

It didn’t take long. Whatever drug was in that syringe it kicked in faster than the other “medicine”. My eyes felt funny and my brain turned mushy.

Hannibal was the one who pulled me from Will's arms. He sat me on his lap. He looked stern and caring. Of course he was upset, but that doesn’t mean he loves me any less. 

I keep my eyes down. I stare doe eyed at the floor. I couldn’t meet his gaze. I truly felt like a child. I moved my hand to rest on the area he kept giving the shots to. I couldn’t see either of the men’s faces, but I know they hate when I seem hurt. If only they understood that it was mental not physical. Maybe they do, but don’t want their fun to end. I really don’t know

Hannibal moves my hand and looks at the area, gently massaging it in an attempt to make the not so existent pain go away. Will moved closer. Now sitting closer he rubbed my legs with a frown.

Will seemed genuinely upset at my reaction. Even still, in his mind it was just another reason he needed to step into that role to care for me.

Leaning in and taking the arm gently from Hannibal he whispered. “Let me kiss it better.”

His lips were soft and my skin seemed to tingle. A light giggle from the ticklish feeling.

Both Hannibal and Will perked up at this reaction.

“See this is much better, yes, Mažasis?”

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt3}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of sexism/double standards Word count: 978 Taglist: @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life  @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @vellicora 

Part 3 of the Mamma Mia series

The one thing none of you had considered was how to explain all of this to your bosses. You were fairly sure Lewis would make sure you couldn’t lose your job over this, but somehow the idea of losing Toto’s respect felt worse than that. So as soon as you entered the paddock, you went to find Toto to ask him to call a meeting with the Haas team principal. Looking at your watch, you see that you have another fifteen minutes to go before Steiner gets here. Resting a hand on your stomach, you breathe through another wave of nausea. 

“Here,” someone to your left says as they hand you your favourite mug with ginger tea. 

“Thanks Mick,” you offer weakly, taking a careful sip. Mick smiles and sits down next to you. 

“So, George wasn’t lying,” he says, looking over to where Lewis, Kevin and Mark are standing, deep in conversation. 

“No, he wasn’t,” you admit. Both of you are quiet for a while. 

“I do wanna say thank you. For making life more stressful for Steiner. Just wish it didn’t have to include me knowing you slept with two men I look up to,” Mick breaks the silence. You can tell from the twinkle in his eyes that he is mostly joking. You nudge him with your shoulder.

“Gotta look out for my Micky, don’t I? Even if it leads to feeling like a lamb being led to slaughter..”

“Toto won’t think any differently of you. You’ve been here for all of Lewis’ scandals with women. He’d be a hypocrite.” 

“He would be, however, the standard for women is different. Especially in this sport. I have worked with Toto for 10 years now so logically I know he won’t hold it against me. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared of what will happen next,” you say while looking at the ginger floating in your mug. Sighing you get up, signalling to Lewis that it’s time. Despite knowing Mick is right, you can’t help the feeling of absolute dread at needing to come clean about your predicament.

“Now that that’s over and done with,” Mark starts as the four of you make your way back outside of the motor home after promising both team principles to handle this like adults and stay out of trouble, “Lewis, Kevin and I were figuring out logistics for our plans of wooing you.” 

“Oh great..” you mutter, “So what, you’re gonna rock, paper, scissors this?” 

“Something like that,” Lewis chuckles, “Can I take you out to dinner after the race on Sunday?” 

“After the race debrief you mean? I-.. Yeah, okay.” 

“Great,” Lewis says, a fondness to his eyes that catches you off guard, “Just wear something comfortable, we’re not going to a fancy restaurant.” He gives your arm a squeeze before getting whisked away by one of the Mercedes press officers. Mark and Kevin also say goodbye, and you can tell both of them would love nothing more than to show more affection towards you than you’re ready for right now. In the end both of them settle for a hug before leaving you alone with your thoughts. You quickly make your way into your office to gather the data you need for the meeting with the engineers ahead of qualifying.

The rest of the weekend passes in a blur. Making sense of the cars’ performances during the three qualifying sessions keeps you busy enough to refrain you from even thinking about Sunday evening. It’s not until you’re back in your hotel after the race debrief that you remember you need to get ready for dinner –for a date. 

“I don’t even know where we’re going,” you mutter as you dig through your suitcase for something that isn’t Mercedes branded. Thankfully you find a patterned skirt you had thrown in to travel home in, the bloating you are beginning to experience making trousers uncomfortable sometimes. You get out the ironing board and let the iron heat up while you freshen up, getting ready in record time. You hear a knock on the door as you finish tying your laces.

“Coming!” you call out, getting up from the chair. You quickly let Lewis in while you gather your phone and wallet.

“This is the best I could do with the clothes I brought, hope it’s okay?” you say, as you put your belongings in a tote bag, not having brought a purse this weekend.

“You look beautiful,” Lewis says, taking in your outfit. You decided to pair the skirt with a plain cropped t-shirt and your trainers. “You always look beautiful,” he adds. You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze and awkwardly clear your throat.

“Thanks. You look good, too,” you reply, trying not to stare at the way his white t-shirt clings to his muscles. He gives you a wink that only makes you more flustered. Get it together, you scold yourself, he’s a friend. You follow Lewis out of your hotel room and let him lead you down to the garage where he opens the car door for you of the Mercedes he was driving all weekend. You murmur a thanks and let him help you in, the warmth of his hand comfortable as it holds onto yours. For a moment you feel 16 all over again, getting swept off your feet when your crush would hold the door for you. Lewis gives you a smile and closes the door before rounding the car, giving you a second to take a deep breath. The two of you are silent as he pulls out of the garage and onto the streets of Monza. 

“Where are we going?” you ask as Lewis merges onto the motorway.

“You’ll see,” he replies with a smile. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his secrecy and settle in for the drive.

A shorter chapter this time, but the next one will make up for it! Gearing up to the dates now 🙊

Feel free to let me know your thoughts! Your comments, tags, and love for the previous chapters meant the absolute world to me 💜

[newtonsheffield]

Absolutely loving the bodyguard au snippet we are getting. If you do spicy Sunday I would love to see them for it. possibly the first time after Anthony gets shot, I feel like it would be interesting to see how Anthony deals with wanting to be with Kate but also having to deal with his arm not back to 100% (if that makes sense 😂)

Oh boy, I think his arm is probably something Anthony feels super self conscious about. He’s now in a very public relationship with the country’s most eligible woman. Anyone would love to be in his position. Not just because one day Kate’s going to be the queen but because he literally can’t imagine a better person than her. She’s so beautiful he catches himself staring slack-jawed at her as she does the most mundane things like drink her smoothie in the morning. She’s also smart, and kind, and compassionate and she has a pretty wicked sense of humour and even at Anthony’s best it would have been a huge swing to introduce them publicly as a couple, Anthony thinks. Now that one of his arms hangs by his side unmoving, and will for the rest of his life it seems even more ridiculous.

(This isn’t going to be too sad or that spicy honestly)

Some days Anthony wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to come here. Well. That wasn’t true entirely. Kate had strong armed him into it. He’d sighed, his left arm in its sling as he ruffled his hair with his right.

“Babe, I can’t do that.”

Kate blinked at him, “Why not? Everyone knows about us, I don’t think it’s going to scandalise anyone to imagine we’re sleeping in the same room.”

“Ben can stop by and look after me.”

Kate had looked disappointed, and Anthony hated to see that. “I want to look after you, that’s what partners do.”

“I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

It was guilt that was driving Kate he was sure. The bullets that had been meant for her and burned through him instead after he’d pushed her back into the arms of the other protection officers and he knew she felt guilty. She felt as though it should be her, how could she not?

Kate rolled her eyes, “I love you, you aren’t a burden. We can do this one of two ways: you move in to the small palace with me-”

“I think Edwina would have something to say about it.” He clutched at that as his lifeline.

“Edwina understands that I want to look after my boyfriend who nearly died.” Kate tutted, “If you won’t go there: I’m coming to yours.”

Anthony’s heart stuttered, “You can’t! You don’t have enough security there!”

Kate clicked her tongue, “Then I guess we’re back to my original plan.”

“Ben would actually prefer you to be where Edwina’s beautiful secretary is.” Ben said from the sofa giving Kate a furtive High Five.

“Settled then.”

Anthony deflated, “Am I ever going to win another argument?”

Kate kissed his forehead, “No, but you’re very handsome.”

So he’d come to stay with Kate, he’d let her fuss over him, let her take him to his follow up appointments even though he hated how useless he felt. It was the first time in his adult life that he’d been idle, Anthony had realised. He’d graduated school and gone into officer training, then he’d been in the army and when he’d left the army he’d become Kate’s head of security. He’d never been without a job since he was 16 working in a Newsagent’s and now all he had were long days sat on the sofa with an arm that would never move again.

It wasn’t the most romantic start to their life together, it wasn’t the way Anthony had imagined when he’d let himself get carried away and imagined a life where he and Kate could actually spend their lives together. He hadn’t imagined Ben having to put his arm in a plastic bag to prevent the surgical wounds from getting wet and more importantly, preventing Kate from seeing them. He hadn’t imagined her faced with a life of having to cut his food for him and part of him hated being stuck in this weak body. He hated sitting with Kate’s fingers intertwined with his, their hands resting on her lap as a doctor looked over the results of the tests he’d done.

“Well, everything looks great, Anthony.”

Kate kissed his temple, “I told you.”

Anthony tried to smile at her, “So… my sling?”

The doctor smiled, “You can wear the sling if you like, and I’d like you to attend so more rehabilitation but I don’t think it will make much of a difference now. You’re cleared for physical activity now.”

“Ooo exciting.” Kate chuckled, “Looking forward to it.”

Anthony squeezed her hand, nodding at the doctor, “Great. That’s… that’s great.”

He was still staying at the palace, settled into the routine of showering early, while Kate was out for a jog so she wouldn’t see the puckered pink lines of the scars that marred his shoulder ad the upper part of his chest now. When she came home with her cheeks flushed and her skin smelling like sweat and kissed the top of his head he tried not to notice how disappointed she seemed.

“You showered already?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Anthony cleared his throat. “I felt a bit gross.”

“Wanna shower with me again?”

“No I’m um… I thought I’d call my Mum.”

She kissed the top of his head again, “Okay. Love you.”

“Yeah I… love you too.”

He wasn’t giving her what she wanted. Likely what she needed either. Kate was so affectionate, her fingers were always in his hair or intertwined with his and he loved that about her. He loved how physically affectionate she was especially given how touch starved he’d felt when they’d first fallen into bed together. And now he was terrified that if he let himself be close to her she wouldn’t like who he was now, because he barely recognised himself. But Kate never pushed it and somehow that made him feel worse.

They sat together, just like they did every night, Kate tucked under his arm on the sofa as they watched something on the TV, Her thighs were bare against his legs in his pyjama shorts and she sat in one of his shirts. Anthony swallowed the heat that rose in his chest at the feel of her skin against his the way it always did. Kate’s breath was warm against his neck and her arms were tight around his waist, her legs slung over his and his chest ached to reach out and kiss her. He wanted nothing more than to slide her onto his lap and let their hips rock together but he didn’t want to have to see the look in her eyes if he did.

“You okay?”

Anthony cleared his throat, trying to adjust his hips, “Ah, yeah. I’m fine.”

Kate chuckled, her eyes dancing in that way he loved, “Yeah I can feel how fine you are.”

She reached up, her fingernails scratching his chin as she tilted it down until their lips met.

Anthony moaned at the feel of her lips on his. They’d kissed since he’d been injured, of course they had, even if they hadn’t been having sex, they’d kissed but it felt so long since it had been something that felt as though it would build to something more. Kate’s tongue swept over his and when she drew him closer his arm slipped to around her waist, holding her tighter. Kate shifted against him, her legs widening until she straddled his hips. Anthony could feel heat creeping through his body, his heart pounding in his chest. And then her fingers caught the edge if his Tshirt.

Anthony pulled back shaking his head, “Sorry, Um. I don’t want to. I… I need to go to bed.”

Kate’s face fell, “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

anthony couldn’t even look her in the eyes, “No I just… I can’t.”

Kate swallowed and her arms were wrapped around her chest now but she didn’t move away from him. “Do you not want to do this anymore?”

Anthony froze, his eyes shooting to hers. “What?”

“Do you not want to be together anymore? I… don’t care if you need more time, or you’re tired. I don’t care, I don’t need to have sex as long as you’re here but if you don’t want to be together anymore then I just want you to be honest with me.”

That was what broke him.

“I don’t want you to see my arm.”

She blinked at him, looking down at his left arm in surprise. “Your arm?”

“Not my arm.” He let out a frustrated groan, “My shoulder. The scars, they’re ugly and I don’t want you to see them. I just feel fucking useless, Kate. I used to protect you, and now I sit on your sofa, and you have to cut my chicken for me.”

Her fingers twisted in the front of his shirt, “I’m happy to do it. I love getting to be there for you.”

“I don’t feel good about myself and I hate that and I hate that I’m disappointing you.”

She shook her head, “You’re not disappointing me. And I get that this is… probably really scary for you right now but I promise: there’s nothing that could happen that would make me fall out of love with you.”

Anthony nodded, staring down at her hands in his shirt, “It’s ugly.”

She smiled at him, “You could never be that.”

There was a question in her eyes and Anthony nodded slowly, apprehension curling in the pit of his stomach. Kate moved slowly, giving him plenty of time to stop her as she pulled his shirt over his head.

He couldn’t look at her, as she guided his paralyzed arm from the arm of his Tshirt but he felt her eyes burning into his skin. Her fingers ghosted over the puckered lines, following them across his skin and her lips curved in a smile as she leaned forward and kissed them gently.

“I was right. Still beautiful.”

His breath shuddered from his chest as he leaned down and captured her lips with his. It was still a gentle kiss, really, even with the heat simmering between them but Anthony could already feel his heart pounding in his chest. Kate gasped against his lips and her hand tugged his left arm to wrap around her waist as well, holding them together.

Her hips started to rock slowly against his and heat roared to life in his stomach at the slip of her skin against his, even through the thin cotton of his shorts. Kate swallowed his gasps and moans with a smile on her lips and her forehead pressed against his.

“Yeah?”

Anthony nodded as her fingers curled in the waistband of his shorts, “Yeah, yes. Fuck, yes, Kate.”

She smiled against his lips as she kissed him again and the clothing between them seemed to melt away. Anthony could barely breathe at the feel of her soft skin and her arm wrapped around his neck, her bare chest pressed against his.

“Oh god.”

Everything fell away but Kate. There was nothing but the feel of her hips moving over his and the beat of her heart against his. He couldn’t feel Anthony but her lips pressed against the skin of his shoulder and her fingernails cutting into his skin. Anthony’s forehead fell against her shoulder, desperate to be as close to her as he could after weeks of denying them both this intimacy. Kate’s breathing was ragged and every move she made left him feeling closer and closer to her, closer to the end he wanted them to find together.

Heat curled in the pit of his stomach and he could feel Kate’s thighs starting to shake as they climbed higher and higher, their eyes locked together. Anthony could feel his skin burning and his chest heaved as his jaw clenched.

“I love you.”

Anthony fell apart at the same time Kate did with her words whispered in his ear and his arm crushed her against his chest as their movements slowed to nothing.

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. Not now.

Kate hummed against his skin, “When I said I loved you I meant it. Forever.”

Anthony felt his eyes fluttered closed, “I love you too.”

Kate sighed, her fingers twining in his hair, “Does this mean we can actually shower together again? Because I miss getting to wash your hair for you.”

anthony chuckled, “My hair?”

“Yeah it’s cute. And the rest of the view’s nice too.”

Anthony groaned, standing and crushing Kate awkwardly against his chest with one arm, for the first time unbothered that the other hung at his side. “Come on then. My cute hair needs a wash.”

[worldofheroes]

Playing Games

bbc!sherlock x fem!reader summary: you and sherlock are stuck in the flat, bored out of your minds. what comes next is surprising to both of you (mostly you). warnings: 18+, smut, p in v sex, language wc: 1.2k a/n: based on a request by @fierytteokbokki! I took a creative liberty or two - not necessarily angry sex, but I hope you still like it :)

It’s been a long four hours.

You’re sitting on the couch of 221B Baker Street, trying to get some work done, but Sherlock is in front of you, pacing and muttering to himself.

“Can you stop that?” you ask him, getting slightly irritated. “I’m trying to work here.”

“I don’t know why John insists you stay here, to watch me like I’m some sort of child!” Sherlock exclaims, turning around to face you.

He’s not wrong. Your cousin, John, took you under his wing until you settled back in after living away, but now he uses you to leave Sherlock and get some alone time. You don’t blame him.

“I don’t know either, but to make this more tolerable for both of us, please, sit down or just do anything else but pace like a wild animal.”

“I just need a case! Something, anything will do!"

“I can’t control that, so don’t take it out on me. I don’t want to be here either.”

“No?”

“You really think a 30-something wants to stay in on a Friday night?”

“I don’t know!”

“Just… quit pacing, and maybe John will be back home so we both can do what we want.”

You focus your eyes back on your screen, but you sense Sherlock is staring at you.

“What do you want?” you slam your laptop closed.

“What?”

“You’re staring?”

“No, I’m not."

“Sherlock, please stop acting like a child! What do you want with me?”

“I am not acting like a child!”

You roll your eyes and sigh, going back to your work, hoping you can ignore Sherlock that way, hoping John comes back soon.

Sherlock pushes your laptop closed.

“Dammit Sherlock!” You look up at him, and he seems pleased with himself. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I’m not being that annoying, am I?”

“Oh god,” you say, rubbing your face. “I am not in the mood to do this, Sherlock. Just, leave me alone, okay?”

“Leave you alone? You’re free to leave at any time, y/n.”

“I’m pretty sure John would kill me. He says you need to be supervised, especially when you don’t have a case.”

Sherlock frowns.

“Seriously, what do you want?”

“Bored.”

“Not my problem, Sherlock.”

“You’re the only one here, won’t you please entertain me?”

“You’re an adult, entertain yourself.” You set your laptop aside, standing up in front of Sherlock.

“What do you do all day on your laptop? I’ve never seen you without it.”

“I work remotely.”

“That’s all?”

“You don’t need to know."

“Hmm,” he hums, stepping closer to you.

“I really don’t like you,” you say, moving to walk past Sherlock. As you do, Sherlock grabs your arm. “What?”

“I’m sick of this too.”

“Great, now let me go,” you say, trying to wiggle out of Sherlock’s grip.

“This is fascinating,” Sherlock whispers.

“What now?”

“You’re trying to hide your true feelings.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sherlock smirks, which makes you roll your eyes.

“Admit it.”

“I’ve had enough of you, Sherlock,” you tell him, staring him down.

“We don’t have to play games, y/n. We’re adults.”

“Seriously, just let me go and I’ll leave. I know that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I want,” Sherlock mutters.

Sherlock is inches from your face, eyes locked with each other. He leans in and kisses you.

You’re taken aback, but the hesitation goes away as he places a hand on either side of your face. You've pushed down these feelings for Sherlock, as he works with your cousin - it didn't seem right.

Sherlock’s kisses get messier, hungrier, and you find yourself touching him in any way you can.

You eventually find the buttons on his shirt, and start to fiddle with them.

“Tell me what you want,” Sherlock mutters into your ear.

“I just want you,” you tell him, colliding your lips with his again.

He pushes his body against yours, and you can feel his hardness under his clothes.

You undo his buttoned up shirt and slide it off. Your hands move up and down his chest, learning his body.

He tugs at your shirt, and you happily comply. It gets tossed somewhere on the floor, but you’re not paying attention.

Sherlock’s hands move down your sides and to your jeans. “May I?” he whispers, his hands on the zipper.

You nod, unable to speak.

Once your jeans and panties are off, he gently pushes you onto the couch, stradling you. He again presses his crotch against you, making both of you moan.

“Just fuck me already, Sherlock,” you whisper, running your hands through his dark curls.

“With pleasure,” he growls, taking his own pants off, tossing them aside. When he removes his boxers, you’re surprised by the size of his cock.

“Sherlock,” you squeak.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says as his tip comes into contact with your center.

You buck at the sensation.

“Good,” he whispers, gathering spit on his hand to lube the both of you up.

His tip gently enters you, and you can’t help the moan that escapes from your lips.

“Oh, I’m not even in yet,” Sherlock says, leaning down to kiss your neck and pushing deeper into you.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” you moan, unable to say anything else.

Sherlock gently rocks his hips, helping open you up.

“You feel so good,” he growls.

You moan in reply, your brain short-circuiting.

His pace quickens, and soon the flat is filled with moans and the ungodly noise of bodies coming into contact repeatedly.

Neither one of you hears the door open.

“Jesus Christ!” you hear John shout.

“John!” you exclaim, trying to cover up but there’s nothing in your reach to help you. In your startle, Sherlock’s dick pulls out from you.

“With Sherlock?” John shouts, covering his face.

“John, I can explain,” you say.

“No, you don’t need to explain,” John says, turning around and walking towards the door. “I will never be able to get this out of my head,” he exclaims as he exits the flat, closing the door behind him.

Sherlock grins at you.

“What?” you ask him, slightly annoyed by his grin.

“I love how we were caught by your cousin,” he tells you as he leans in for a kiss.

You turn your face away from him. “Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood any more.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Sherlock cocks an eyebrow.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m going to finish fucking you, and that’s not a request,” Sherlock says, pushing back into you.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“That’s what I thought,” Sherlock sends you a sly smile.

“Do your worst,” you say with a mischievous smile.

“With pleasure,” he retorts, starting up his thrusting again.

Only moans come out of you as you have some of the best sex you’ve ever had, and soon you feel your orgasm coming.

“Sherlock,” you mumble between breaths. “I’m close.”

“Keep it in for me, baby,” he tells you.

“I don’t know if I can,” you gasp.

“One more second.”

“Sherlock, I can’t!”

“Go ahead, baby girl,” he mutters against your neck.

You release and almost scream at how good it feels. A few more thrusts more and Sherlock comes in you, gasping.

He collapses on top of you.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” you say, running your hands through his hair.

“You seemed to enjoy that,” he smiles against your chest.

“Fuck,” you say again.

“Do you want to admit those feelings now?” Sherlock teases.

“I’ll think about it,” you smile.

Sherlock smiles and kisses you as you wrap your arms around him and hold him close.

[countrymusiclover]

16 - The Day My Life Changed

Part 17

It's About Time

Tags just ask - @lover-of-books-and-tea @bvbwestfall @bubble-bluee @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley @skeletonontheroad @ashsallyblue2 @kmc1989

3 years ago

The football came flying at me where I caught it in my hands seeing Georgie grinning back at me. It was Saturday so we could just chill out with each other with no real worries. “Dang, you might be better at this than I am.” He nervously chuckled.

“Oh I doubt that, Cooper.” I raised my hand back and launched the football in his direction and he managed to catch it against his chest.

Georgie tossed it from one hand to the other. “I may be smaller than some of the other players. But my dad thinks I’ll still be good at it in high school.”

“Hey uh - have you ever thought about having kids when you grow up?” I asked him where he sent me a raised brow where I thought he wouldn’t reply but he did.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Why do ya ask?”

I paused looking at my white sneakers and the pavement. “I was just curious. I mean I think I might want’em when I’m older. I didn’t have siblings but I treat your brother and sister like they are.”

“If I have kids I’d want them to do sports and hopefully be good salesmen.” He threw the football back at me and I nearly dropped it on the ground.

I snorted back a remark. “And they definitely should love Connie’s brisket and tater tots.”

“See that right there is why we’re best friends.” Georgie chuckles pointing at me and I smiled back at him. All the while neither of us knew this conversation might be more serious in the future.

A few months later

I groaned rolling over under the blankets of my bed just not well with bad cramps just shooting through my body. I needed to go to school today for a math test but I couldn’t manage so my mom called the school saying I had really bad period cramps so I wouldn’t be there. Someone knocked on my bedroom door calling out my name. “Y/n, you’re friends are here. Do you care if they come in?”

“Uh yeah, mom. They can come in!” I called out lifting my head up from the bed laying my head back down when the door opened.

Hannah and Ashley entered the room and one of them shut the door so we could talk, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “How are you doing? You’ve been missing school lately.”

“I’ve just been feeling dizzy and sick in the mornings. I’m not sure why - it might be related to my period being late.” I explained trying to rack my brain around why I was still feeling so bad. I had never had a cold as bad as this one.

Hannah reached inside her backpack drawing out something. “How many times have you and Georgie slept together?” She holds up a pregnancy test stick in her left hand.

“Are you kidding me? It only happened one time. We aren’t like you and Ryker.” Covering my face with my hands I fell back on the pillows not really wanting to announce everything about our relationship even if I loved having such curious friends.

Ashley sent her a raised brow. “How did you even get your hands on that?”

“My mom thought she was pregnant after she had my little brother a few months ago. So hopefully it still works.”

Uncovering my eyes I glared at her. “I’m not taking a pregnancy test, Hannah.”

“Then what do you think is making you so sick? Cause you know you can’t go get a test at the hospital without an adult’s consent.” She pointed it out to me.

Signing heavily I sat up thinking for a second. “I know someone who could help and won’t ask questions. His Memaw Connie. She can drive us there.” I did the best to get out of the bed by throwing on some different clothes and my sneakers. Hannah, Ashley and I didn’t get any questions from my parents since they had both finally gone to work for the day.

Ashley knocked on the women’s front door after she drove us to her house. “Hey girls, what’s going on?” Connie opened the front door seeing the three of us standing on her front porch.

“Connie, please don’t ask questions but can you help me get a test done at the hospital?” I asked with pleading puppy dog eyes.

She paused for a minute before grabbing her keys. “Uh - of course. What kind of test?”

“The pregnancy kind.”

She nodded beginning the drive to the hospital without another word. The four of us entered the hospital and thankfully got a room without any questions. The nurse came into the room helping me into the bathroom leaving me to do the test. By the time the nurse came back in with the results I didn’t know what to think as she shut the door behind her sitting on the chair while I sat on the exam table. “Ms. L/n, I need to fill in some information before I give you the results.”

“Okay.” I nodded nervously wanting to know the answer already.

The nurse drew out a pen. “How old are you?”

“17.”

She eyed Connie. “And who is she to you?”

“A family friend. My parents are both at work so she said she’d take me here today.”

The nurse nodded and scribbled some more notes down on the paper, looking back down at the pregnancy test results avoiding my gaze. “The results of your test are this Ms. L/n. You’re three months pregnant with a baby.”

“Oh my god.” I covered my mouth feeling my chest tightening at the thought, not expecting to hear her say those words to me.

Connie touched my arm, signaling the nurse to leave. “Honey, listen to me. I’m gonna be here if you need anything. I have done this the wrong way with my daughter so if you keep it I’ll help you do it right.”

“Y/n, are you going to tell Georgie?” Ashley asked me.

Hannah stands by her side seeing that I was shaking with nervousness. “We won’t tell the guys or Georgie since it’s your kid with him.”

“I’ll tell him at some point.” I muttered under my breath, threading my fingers through my loose hair. My friends had dropped me off back home giving me time to think everything out yet unknown to me Connie was getting into a heated conversation with Georgie about me.

Georgie was working at Dale’s store stocking inventory until the store door was opened and slammed shut. He glanced over his shoulder seeing it was his Memaw who had entered. “We need to talk now!”

“O-okay.” He nervously responded, sitting the stuff down and following her into Dale’s empty office since he was off helping a customer so she locked the door behind them. “What is it we need to talk about?”

She dropped her arms down at her sides knowing she couldn’t tell him the thing that was super important. It was his girlfriend’s decision. “I can’t tell you exactly what it’s about cause it’s about your girlfriend.”

“What about her?” He asked her.

She shakes her head no. “It ain’t mine to tell. But you need to go talk to her. I’ll drive you to her house and you better not wait much longer.”

“Okay - uh let’s go then.” Georgie nodded slowly and the pair made their way out to her car making the trip back to the L/n house. He climbed out of her car rushing up the stairs knocking on the front door. “Y/n, Y/n, you home!”

Connie peaked her over the car standing outside of it seeing something her grandson hadn’t. “Is her bedroom window always open like that?”

“I know where she’s gone.” Georgie whipped his head around noticing what she had seen running back to the car and they drove off with him giving her directions to go find his girlfriend.

[smileyerim]

where we end is somewhere far, something hard to understand

part 1: i don't care what we are it just has to work

You’re his. All encompassingly his. Even if he doesn’t know it, or worse, doesn’t want it, you’re his. All you can do is just hope he’s yours too.

title: Understand by Hippo Campus

pairing: idol!chan x hannah’s roommate!reader

genre: smut MDNI, angst, fluff (in that order)

length: 6k

warnings: sex between adults, oc has low self esteem, unresolved ending

net tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The exciting nerves are bubbling in your belly as you stare at the empty duffel bag lying limp on your bed.

Tonight is the night you’re going to see Chris again. He and the rest of his team arrived last night and although it’s silly, it feels as if you could sense his presence from the moment his plane touched down in LAX. He’s been texting you between schedules about how excited he is to see you and how embarrassed he is going to be when you see the crop tops he’s been given to wear on stage.

Plopping down on your bed, Hannah stares at the duffel bag.

“What’s that for?” You blush in response, head hanging low as you roll a pair of gray sweatshorts.

“I’m spending the night with Chris.” You say and Hannah bellows out a loud disgusted noise and you roll your eyes.

“It’s not like that.” She rolls her eyes at you this time.

“Of course it’s like that.” She says, giving you a look of disbelief.

“No, we’re just friends! He got 2 beds!”

She hums and gives you a knowing side eye, “That means nothing if you don’t use them.”

You squeal and move to push her off your bed and out of your room, the blush taking over your cheeks getting to be too much for your liking.

“Okay, okay!” She exclaims as she stands, hands up in defense.

“Fine I won’t tease you over the fact that you’re,” she pauses to give you a fake gag, “sleeping with my,” another fake gag, “brother-”

You cut her off with a yell of her name and she bursts out in laughter “stop it, seriously.” You whine and she lets up, her arms coming around your shoulders to hold you in an unexpected hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She sways you side to side as you exhale your anger and let your arms around her waist to hug her back.

“I just,” she says into your hair and your heartbeat quickens.

“I love you both. A lot. So please be careful.” You lean back and laugh before attempting to shut her down again.

“Hannah, it’s not-” she cuts you off.

“No, Y/N, seriously listen to me.” Her arms tighten around your neck as she intertwines her fingers together. “He’s my big brother and I know him better than anyone. He likes you, he likes you a lot.”

You blush at that, staring down at the toes of your shoes touching and she continues.

“I don’t want to see either of you getting your hearts broken so, please, for me, just be careful.”

You nod, the blush on your face still just as hot as before as you look up and meet her eyes again.

There’s a lot that you were hoping you’d never know, and Chris’ feelings for you was one of them. Your ignorance can’t keep you hiding forever behind your insecurity. You need to learn to accept that maybe, just maybe, Hannah’s right.

“We’ll be careful.” You whisper while holding eye contact with her. The corners of her eyes turn up as she smiles and pulls you into another squeeze and you laugh the tears that threaten to fall away.

After a beat of laughing and holding each other, Hannah can’t help herself but to quip, “use a condom, don’t get pregnant.”

“Hey!”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

You’re standing in front of the mirror with sweaty palms observing your final outfit when Hannah calls you from the hallway to inform you that the Uber is here.

One shaky sigh and a final once over of your outfit consisting of simple green cargo pants and a black bra top with chunky silver chains around your neck. It’s a bold outfit, not something you usually find yourself donning but today is a special occasion and you want to impress.

A blush trails up your neck and settles on your cheek at the idea of seeing Chris later after the show and watching his reaction to you. If he thinks you’re beautiful in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, he’s definitely going to find you stunning now.

“Y/N! Come on!” You let out a sigh and one more once over before you grab your purse and walk out the door.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

The venue is packed out wall to wall with fans from your perspective from the second floor VIP box Chris set up for this show. There’s a faint scent of stale fog machine in the air and as each moment draws by you feel the urge get stronger and stronger to drink.

So you do, and are about to down your third free shot from the all inclusive bar before another one of your roommates comes up to interrupt you.

“Easy tiger, what’s got you so worked up?” She says, gently prying the plastic shot cup out from between your pinched fingers.

The truth is you don’t know exactly why you’ve grown a sudden affinity for alcohol. You would be lying to yourself if you tried to claim it had nothing to do with Chris, but you can’t quite pin what is making you so nervous.

You shrug at her, avoiding her eyes as you take a smug sip out of the beer bottle you were hiding behind your arm from her.

“Look, don’t be nervous tonight. Just try and have fun!” She says, placing a cautious hand on your shoulder. You don’t remember ever telling this roommate about your situation with Chris, so you aren’t sure how she knows about your need for nerves. Out of the 4 girls total in your apartment, you only really had bonded with Hannah.

“Can’t you see? I’m drinking to not be nervous and to have fun.”  You quip and she rolls her eyes at you.

“At least let me catch up.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Your heart drops the moment he steps onto the stage, the roaring screams of the crowd plugging your ears at the same time that all of the breath is stolen from your lungs. Your vision zeroes in on him and a rush of adrenaline flows through your veins.

“Woah, he’s hot” one of your roommates from beside you giggles and you can’t help but agree.

“That’s my brother! Shut the fuck up.” Hannah exclaims from the other side of you and you laugh at the exchange.

“She’s right.” You tease, knocking shoulders with Hannah when she makes a shocked face in response.

You try your best to keep distracted through the show, drinking beer after beer until your limbs feel a little floaty and the smile on your lips is permanent. Chris is putting on an amazing performance, his natural and trained talent shining through with every song that goes by. You can’t help but move along to the deep bass in the dance songs and sway with the rhythm to the slower ones.

Once the show is over, your heart drops at the prospect of leaving the comfort of your viewing box and venturing out and meeting him. Hannah grabs you by your wrist, whispering a quiet “come on” in your ear before leading you down the hallway to a winding set of stairs going down into what you presume is the basement of the arena. You didn’t realize how drunk you were until this moment, the chains around your neck feeling too heavy and too foreign to be yours.

All of your plans and all of your suspected self control go out of the window the moment you spot him, it’s like all of the air has been sucked out of the atmosphere. He’s taken his makeup off, he’s changed into a much more casual outfit of jeans and an oversized white tee-shirt. He's wearing a baseball cap backwards, too. He’s no longer Bang Chan, the star on stage, but Chris. The same guy you’ve been pining after for months. The same guy you’re pining after even now.

He laughs at something the man beside him says when he spots Hannah as she runs through the crowd of bodies to him. He wraps her up in a hug quickly, an emotional look taking over his face as he holds her tight. He’s whispering something in her ear that you can’t seem to make out. An overwhelming feeling of fondness comes over you as you watch them together, it almost makes you feel like crying.

That is, until you actually start crying when his eyes meet yours over her shoulder. A smile larger than you’ve ever seen on him spreads over his face as he lets Hannah go and makes a straight bee-line over to you.

The tears in your eyes fall the moment he makes it over to you, picking you up by the waist to spin you around in a twirling hug. You grab the back of his neck and squeal in his ear, finally feeling at home for the first time in months.

He lets you down, but he doesn’t let you go when you finally lock eyes, “Hi, beautiful.” He breathes out dreamily, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

“Hi.” You whisper back to him, another tear slipping down your cheek.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

You can’t help but bask in the new feeling of shit just getting real when Hannah landed a kiss on your cheek before you stepped out of the passenger side of her car in front of the swanky hotel you will be calling home for the evening.

Your hands won’t stop shaking around the duffel bag you brought, stepping into the lobby and taking a seat. Chris had texted you earlier that his manager would come find you and let you into the room.

The silence in the empty hotel room engulfs you whole. It feels suffocating being left here alone with your thoughts, only the sound of the air conditioner humming in the background to distract you.

You’ve never liked the quiet all that much, always preferring to have at least one stimuli to distract you from your constantly whizzing thoughts. You always feared that you would wear yourself out by obsessing over them, so constant distraction became your best friend.

Now, however, you don’t have a choice but to sit with your thoughts. Immediately your mind is filled with him. His laugh, his smile, the way he performed on stage tonight, the way he looked at you when he noticed you backstage. Your heart flutters at the last thought and you allow your reverie to be filled with daydreams of you two together. Your first kiss, holding hands, telling him just how much you love him.

That last one hurt, even if it was just your own imagination, a tear pricking your waterline. You’ve spent hours upon hours imagining him with you and feeling the pain of being without him, but he’s never been closer than now and the idea of still not having him while he’s here is heartbreaking. So heartbreaking you aren’t sure what you would do if it came true.

Your tears aren’t left to fall for long as you’re shocked out of your daydream when you hear the telltale sound of a keycard being slid into the lock and the hotel door unlocking. Standing quickly you sniffle your runny nose away and blot under your eyes to clear up any runny mascara and wait.

Your eyes meet as he moves through the doorway and the same smile from before returns to his face. He ditches his suitcase in the entryway and hustles over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his nose into your neck. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold the back of his head, eyes closing in bliss. Chris heaves out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and melts into your embrace, holding you tighter and tighter as if you might fly away.

You can feel his heartbeat and you’re sure he can feel yours, a smile lifting up the corners of your lips at the feeling of finally having arrived; the feeling of him being here and holding you. Your hand moves instinctively to scratch at the hair on his head and he responds with giggles and a slight squirm in your arms.

“That tickles.” He says into your neck and you respond in your own laugh.

“Sorry.” You whisper back, stopping your movements and dropping your hand to cup the back of his warm neck.

“No, don’t stop.” He says and the smile on your lips grows wider before you hum contentedly and resume your scratch.

He sighs out another big breath, slumping his shoulders to rest slightly against the top of yours, “I didn’t know how much I needed this until now.”

The tears threaten to fall again at that sentence, a pang of hurt strikes your heart behind your sternum as you process his words, choosing just to nod against him.

After what feels like hours he finally pulls back, pausing for a moment to make eye contact with you with a look in his eye you don’t know how to read. He steps back once more, hands still on your waist and skims his eyes up and down your body,

“Wow, look at you.” He says in disbelief and a blush creeps up on your cheek, feeling a bit too exposed by the potentially excessive exposed midriff provided by your mid rise bottoms and bra top.

“What?” You laugh out, trying to read him. Luckily he doesn’t make you read his mind, giving you a look of disbelief before looking back over your outfit and letting out a wolf whistle.

You laugh before his hand moves from your waist to grab the tips of your fingers, gently lifting your arm above your head to signal you to twirl for him. You smile, blush on your cheeks reddening as you do so, feeling his eyes examine you.

When you’re back facing forward he grabs both your hands with his and finally resumes your eye contact with a dreamy look in his eyes.

“You look amazing.” He says with a lilt in his voice that communicates to you he meant every word.

You look down in an attempt to calm your nerves down before responding, “thank you.”

“Did you do it for me?” He says and you let out a nervous chuckle before meeting his eyes that are staring at you with an intensity you weren’t expecting.

Slowly, you nod your head up and down, fluttering butterflies escaping their cage in your belly at the prideful smile he gains after your response.

“Lucky me.” He says pulling you into a hug once more.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Unfortunately, your time with Chris gets cut short by the time 1AM rolls around. He has early morning schedules and then is off to the next country on their tour list later tomorrow night. So you decide to turn in a bit earlier than you had wanted for his sake.

An issue came to rise when you unzipped your duffle bag to grab your change of clothes for the evening, eventually coming to the unfortunate circumstance that through Hannah’s interruption when you were packing earlier you had forgotten a sleep shirt.

You squeeze your eyes shut, sweatshorts in hand as you contemplate your options. You could go without a shirt and just wear your casual crop top intended for tomorrow's outfit, but you don’t want to be an outfit repeater. You could just go without it, but that idea gets shot down the moment you remember your current relationship status with Chris.

The last, and frankly only option, is to ask Chris to borrow a shirt himself.

It shouldn’t be so hard, right?

You stand awkwardly in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning a shoulder against the doorway as Chris brushes his teeth. It’s insane to you how he manages to still be so attractive when spitting.

“Hey, princess.” He says after finally getting rid of the toothpaste suds in his mouth. You feel the need to take a step back at his pet name, so you do.

Looking down at your socked feet in embarrassment you say your next words.

“We- I-” you take a deep breath, “there’s a problem.”

His face drops and he steps into your space, grabbing you by both biceps, “what’s wrong?”

An embarrassing blush creeps up high on your cheekbones and you nibble on the inside of your cheek, “I don’t have a sleep shirt.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and an exasperated laugh, “That’s it? Man, you scared me.” He says with a squeeze on your arms before dropping his hands.

You giggle along, accepting that your flair for drama may have influenced his fear.

“Sorry.” You whisper, looking down at the floor again in even deeper embarrassment.

“I have a ton, hold on.” He says and you step aside to allow him to enter the main room.

“On second thought actually,” he looks at you with a flirty twinkle in his eye as he’s unzipping his suitcase.

“You could just go without one.” The butterflies in your belly burn to a crisp at the fire that just lit up inside of you, more embarrassed than ever.

“Oh, God, look at you!” He’s clearly amused at your growing humiliation, bellowing out a loud laugh and grabbing his stomach.

Oh, you think to yourself, he was joking.

You begin to laugh along with him accepting finally the ridiculousness of the scenario, nearly missing when he throws a shirt at you.

Keeping your head low as you giggle quietly to yourself, you make your way to the bathroom to get ready for the evening.

Once you emerge from the bathroom ready for bed dressed in Chris’ shirt, you find him sitting on the edge of his bed, back facing you.

He’s quiet, shoulders slumped in his muscle tee and staring at the wall. He seems peaceful but also pensive. It’s at this moment that it hits you how deeply you care for him. It’s not like you weren’t aware before, but seeing him so vulnerable and private is bringing up feelings you didn’t know you had. The man sitting with his back facing you is not Bang Chan, star and leader of Stray Kids, he’s not even Chris, the man you have a hopeless crush on.

He’s human, entirely human. He’s vulnerable, weak, and alone as all humans are. You’ve played up this image of him in your head for so long that you forgot who he was at his core. He has seemed so big to you, so unattainable and perfect that you forgot who he truly was. Just like you, a person at his core. 

You step towards him and sit down beside him on the bed, the warmth of his thigh invading yours. The moment your skin makes contact with his he slumps over to the side, lying a heavy head on your shoulder. Although no words are spoken, you know exactly what he’s communicating. You lift your hand closest to him and rest it on the back of his head, petting his hair down in response. He sinks deeper into you, his shoulders relaxing at the comforting contact. Your heart leaps out of your chest painfully and you bite your lower lip and squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the telltale warm sting in the corner of your eyes that you’re about to cry. Chris’ hand finds your thigh and his thumb moves back and forth slowly over your skin only expanding the emotions you’re feeling. 

You aren’t sure how long you sit there with him in meditative silence, but it’s not before long that you notice his frequent yawning. With a chuckle, you move your shoulder a bit to urge him to sit up. He whines as you stand to face him.

“Let’s get you to bed.” You say and he pouts a childish frown and shakes his head no which makes you laugh. 

“I haven’t gotten to tell you how good you look in my shirt yet!” He says, eyes widening while giving you a once over.

“Oh, well, you just did.” You quip, nudging him with your hip as you move to pull back the covers on his bed. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

You’ve been lying in bed for what feels like hours awake by the constant flittering thoughts of the man resting in bed 10 feet away from you. He’s here, he’s actually here and yet you’ve never felt further from him than now. The intimacy of the moment you two shared before bed has not left your mind since your head hit the stiff pillow below you. 

Fuck it, you decide as you slip out of bed and make the 2 step journey over to his. Chris feels the bed dip beside him and the chilly night air kisses his skin when you lift the covers. Slowly, you move to lie your head down on his chest, a palm on his bare peck and an ear to his collarbone.

“Y/N?” His arm out of instinct wraps around your middle and pulls you flush to his side.

You hush him before replying with a muffled, “Just let me be close to you.” 

He has no response, lying stiff while your hair tickles his nose.

Feeling his stiffness, you grow embarrassed. Maybe you read the goodnight hug the wrong way, maybe you’ve been reading the entire night the wrong way. So you cower, lifting your head off his chest to look up at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

He doesn’t respond right away, still in shock that you’re here, surprised by how much holding you in his arms feels right. You feel a bit silly now that you’ve actually followed your desires, but there’s something about being so close to him that feels so right you don’t have the bandwidth to be embarrassed. 

“I-” he says, his hands traveling up your back, palms flat against your skin pulling you closer. His eyes dart between your two, reading the desperation and love swirling around in your eyes. 

Before you know it, he’s kissing you. Rules and fears be damned, he needs you. He can’t go home with the regret of not doing something to show you how he feels for you.  

You respond as quickly as your brain will allow you to, immediate alarms going off that you may be dreaming setting your reaction time back a millisecond or two only to be awoken by the force of his lips against yours grows stronger in him kissing you harder, begging for you to reciprocate. Your eyes flutter shut as you move your lips against his, a move greatly appreciated by him as he responds to pull you in closer, kiss you harder than you thought possible. A groan slips out of his throat when your tongue penetrates his lips, swirling  delicately with his. Your kiss is exactly what Chris had always imagined it to be: gentle and passionate, a desperate oasis in a desert. 

His hands light fire as they trail down your body to find their home at your hips, squeezing and rocking you onto him in a straddle. Your ass makes its home on his thighs, saving the main course for later. For now all you want to do is taste his lips and revel in the feeling of finally arriving at the destination you’ve been dreaming of for months. You feel on top of the world with how he’s kissing you with so much yearning like he’s been waiting his whole life to be here under you. 

His mouth trails down your neck and your hand flies up to rake in his hair to encourage him to continue. He leaves multiple sloppy wet kisses in his wake and a couple love bites too. He spends an extra long time marking near your carotid artery, growing obsessed with the feeling of your wildly beating heartbeat against his lips. 

Once he reaches near the bottom of your throat, he chuckles before saying, “It’s so weird, you smell like me.” He says into the neckline of his shirt between kisses.

“I don’t smell like you, your shirt smells like you.” You quip back at him, scratching his scalp and lightly tugging when he finds your sweet spot.

He leans back, a disbelieving look on his face, “Duh.” he laughs.

You shrug, hands leaving his shoulders to find the bottom of your shirt to take it off swiftly and throw across the room.

If his eyes were wide before, they’re as big as saucers now as he stares in shock at your exposed chest.

“Better?” You flirt, hands moving back up to intertwine behind his head.

He leans in at that moment to press a tentative gentle kiss to your chest, “Much better.”

He re-embarks on his journey of kisses down your body as one hand flirts its way up your stomach to grab your breast whole, your nipple immediately hardening at the contact from his icy hands. You flinch back and Chris smirks into the top of your right breast,

“Sorry, cold hands.” He says with a squeeze to your left breast.

“You’ll just have to do something else to warm them up then, huh.” You say between loud pants, anticipating Chris’ arrival at your nipple with too much excitement.

Chris’ mouth moves down quickly to your nipple to leave an open mouthed wet kiss before sucking your nipple into his mouth to flick the hardened tip with his tongue. Your jaw falls slack and a moan erupts from your throat. Chris uses the opportunity of your distraction to snake a free hand down to your ass, giving a tight squeeze. 

“Something like that?” He flirts, smirk on his lips as he moves his mouth's attention over to your other breast, leaving his hand on your ass, roaming back and forth in a pet, squeezing often to ground himself. He grows tired of playing it safe quickly, the arm that was on your ass moving to grip around your waist to hold you as he flips you over onto your back. He thinks you look the most beautiful like this, hair splayed all over his pillowcase, topless and with eyes filled with a ferocity he’s never seen from you before but is eager to investigate.

Your hands quickly find the bottom of his muscle tee, pulling the item off of his shoulders and over his head in record speed. He kisses you again as your hands explore the rigid expanse of his torso, trailing the tip of your fingers between the valleys of his abdominal muscles. His own hands have a mission of their own complete as the arm he’s not using to hold himself up tickles  down between the valley of your breasts, over your navel and finally to land on your inner right thigh, teasing the side of his pinky finger over your already aroused center. You moan his name when his pinky finger swipes up over the valley of your labia. 

“Pl-please.” you moan, pushing your chest up into his, teeth gnawing on your lower lip, hips rolling up in the process in an attempt to get friction from his hand. He just stares in awe at your beauty, unbelievably excited that he’s here experiencing this with you. He sits up on his heels now to slowly draw your shorts off your hips and down your legs. He moves torturously slow, wanting to savor as much of this moment as possible. Once your shorts are long gone and you are fully exposed to him lying on the bed, he loses all sense of self control, one hand flying up to stroke your thigh while the other moves directly to your center, using his 2 first fingers to spread your lips apart. With your lower lip between your teeth you watch him take care of you, admiring you for all that you are in front of him. 

In a move you weren’t expecting, his hands chase over to your calf, lifting your leg to be at eye level for him, placing a delicate kiss to the spot just above your inner knee. You can practically feel your heartbeat at your core by how desperate you are for him to just do something. His kisses are slow and delicate as he moves up your leg getting closer and closer to the ultimate prize. Each time he stops to lick and suck you whine, urging him on forward.

He finally places a delicate kiss to your cloaked clitoris, earning a loud moan of his name out of you. He sticks his tongue out to lick a wide strip up over your clitoris, pushing back the hood in the process to give the direct stimulation you need to make your mouth water. One of your hands is grounded in his hair, the other on your breast tweaking with your own nipple as he does his work.

“F-fuck.” you exclaim, hand on his hair tightening their grip as your legs tighten around Chris’ shoulders when he delivers a powerful suck to your clit, tongue moving forward in the act to flick at your exposed nub. 

“Again?” He teases, the vibration of his words against your center feeling deliciously satisfying.

He doesn’t wait for your answer, sucking your nub into his mouth one more time and pressing the tip of his pointed tongue into the nub in a nearly orgasm-causing explosion of ecstasy. 

When his tongue trails down to your leaking entrance, you pull on his hair to bring him back up to face level with you for a heated kiss.  His free hand is busy underneath your kiss as he slips a hand into his shorts and boxers to pump himself a few times to ensure he’s ready. He breaks the kiss only to sit up on his knees between yours and wiggle the basketball shorts down his hips. He stops for a moment right before his dick springs out to admire your expression, totally zeroed in on his crotch with wanting eyes.

When his shorts are finally down his legs you reach out to wrap a hand around the base of his cock, earning you your first moan of his for the evening and his head flying back to stare at the ceiling, your hands tightening in an experimental squeeze before pumping him up and down a couple strokes, thumb pressing harder into the sensitive spot right below the head each time you come up. Soon enough his hand is swatting you away and he’s leaning over you again, cock lightly touching your clit as he kisses you.

“I don’t have a condom,” he says into your lips, rocking his hips slightly forward to offer you stimulation on your clit from his hard head.

“I don’t care, I just want you.” You say against his mouth and he groans, quickly lining up the head of his cock to your entrance and pushing in slowly. You both disconnect your kiss to throw your heads back in earth shattering moans. His shoulders move in a shiver at the sudden stimulation, moving out to rock back into you gently again. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as you moan into his mouth as he fucks you deep and slow, fully inside of you at each stroke. His cock hits a new angle when your walls tighten around him and you let out a loud yelp, eyes squeezing shut. He smirks at your reaction, shifting his knee to redirect his cock to hit that spot again, again, and again.

“Holy fuck, Chris.” you say into his neck, pulling him down to rest his upper body weight on his forearm near the side of your head. 

He responds with a sharp breath in your ear before picking up his pace to fuck you faster into the mattress. His free hand comes up between your bodies and grabs one of your breasts, squeezing the nipple between his first 2 fingers, drawing another moan out of you. 

“Fuck,” he says, digging his knees deepeer into the mattress for more leverage to fuck into your harder and faster. 

“That’s it Chris, holy shit.” you moan, hand flying up to his hair to grip at his short locks. 

He lets out a loud moan at your tug on his hair, hips stuttering for a moment at the new wave of pressure that came over him. That urges you to grip tighter and tug again, his hand tightening around your breast in response.

“I-Chris,” You moan after a particularly satisfying stroke  and he nods in understanding, picking up his stroke pace once more.

“Me too.” He says and you use your hand in his hair to pull him down to kiss you as you both reach your highs with spotty vision and unbelievably sincere moans. He continues to rock into you until his cock is too soft to continue to help you both ride out your highs to the full finale. 

Once he pulls out he falls on top of you, head on your chest with an oof. You two remain there for a moment catching your breaths slowing down your heavily beating hearts. Your hand that was previously pulling on Chris’s hair loosens its grip, stroking the back of his head with gentleness as you bask in the afterglow realization of what had just happened. 

He’s the first to open a conversation with a simple, “Wow.” followed by laughter on both ends.

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, “Wow.” you mimic him, beginning another fit of laughter to break out between you. 

“Were you- uh- were you planning for that to happen?” He says after resting his chin on your shoulder to look into your eyes.

With a soft smile on your face you answer honestly, “Nope.” you giggle and he matches your smile back to you. 

“Me neither,” he says, draping an arm across your exposed waist. 

“But,” he says as he turns his head to look once more at your naked body, “I’m not mad about it.” he says in a high pitched tone and you laugh again at his antics, truly feeling on cloud nine. He could say anything to you and you’d probably find it endearing enough to giggle at. That’s how happy you are right now.

His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing a couple times and splitting your legs apart, causing the uncomfortable leak of semen to trickle out of you. 

Noticing the change in your facial expression, he moves his hand back up to your waist to move your face towards him to place a barely-there chaste kiss on your lips. It’s so gentle and sweet that you can’t help the smile on your face growing against his lips. He joins you soon after until you’re both just smiling against each other's lips. He leans back only to nuzzle his nose against yours, causing your nose to crinkle and a giggle to escape from you. He then places a final true kiss to your lips with a contended hum. 

“Why don’t you go wash up, yeah? Then we can talk about what that just meant.” Your eyes widen and you nod, slowly getting up out of bed and padding towards the bathroom with a permanent smile on your face.

Neither of you know much but what you do know is that you two are far from the finish line on your relationship. In fact you’re at the start of the race towards a goal that is very far away and neither of you understand quite yet, but you’re okay with it.

Where you two end is somewhere far away from where you are now, and you couldn’t be happier.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

a/n: the relationship in my life i wrote part 1 based off of has ended up causing me a lot of pain in the time between posting part 1 and 2 so writing this was very difficult. Due to that, I spent much less energy attempting to write something good, more just desiring to write something. I'm sorry it's not the same quality as part 1, I was half desiring to write my own imaginary happy ending, other half just wanting to abandon it and no longer be reminded it ever happened. Thank you for loving part 1 so much, I've never had a taglist this long. It means the world to me

taglist: @elizabeth11moreno @goldieharry @want2besomeoneelse @ynieeeeeee @dreamyenskz @nattisbored @hyunjinsbbokari @skzlzks @lin0ot @iamkuhreesbang @chrisbang-addict @icyllic @a-aaaaaaaaaaaa @idunnomanmynamewastaken @b4ngch4nsimp @hakunaamaatittiessss @writeingdocs @starch1ve @sherryblossom @moonmooncr