#I don’t think so but I might have just for the laugh and the night of adventure

[hungharrington]

i feel it coming, babe

technically the sequel to a little less conversation this is yet another piece for girlies (gn) with bad sex experiences <3 remember sometimes it takes more than once to get it right honeys :D 12k words, fem!reader, MDNI THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS 18+

Okay so, you’ll admit, you might be beginning to get it. 

A smidge. A pinch. 

It’s just— well, how are you not supposed to understand it? How can you not get the thrill and fervour over sex when it’s with Steve and he looks like that. All golden tan skin and hazel eyes that look at you like he might eat you whole and— and he treats you like… 

Like there was never anything wrong with you.

Even after that balmy afternoon spent in his sheets, with his mouth between your thighs, pulling noises out of you that you’d never even heard before, he’s been so perfectly so. Not pushy, yet still that lingering hunger you can see simmering beneath his skin, hidden in the flex of his fingers. 

Part of you almost worries, a little niggle burrowed in the back of your mind, that it was all a fluke.

That nothing had really changed all that much between you— that the next time things start getting heated, the chemistry won’t be there. Or it’ll be weird and off, or you will be, and really, you were probably lucky to have that first time with Steve so good but you can’t expect that again. 

But then… there is one difference at least, to combat all your swarming thoughts a fluke. The kisses. 

When you think of Steve Harrington and his playboy past, you can’t say, of the words tossed around in the high school corridor, that clingy is something that comes to mind. Not that he had been described as anything other than charming… but you don’t mind pleasant surprise of coming to learn this about Steve. 

It means kisses all the time. 

On your hands, scattered across your knuckles, when he’s dropping you home from a date. Kisses pressed to your hair and forehead, when he’s scooching past you, when he’s saying hello and his hands are busy, when you sit between his legs on the sofa. 

He kisses your shoulders, up along the curve of your neck just to see if it’ll still make you laugh a bit when he finds that ticklish spot beneath your ear. Adores sweeping back your hair to plant a kiss against your skin with the sweetest little ‘mwah!’ so quiet you don’t think you’re meant to hear it. 

And your lips… you don’t think they’ve ever been so kiss-bitten in your life.

One night with Steve can leave them blooming with colour, all the blood beneath them rushing with pleasure as he kisses your mouth soft — sometimes hard, sometimes sweet, always maddeningly. 

He greets you with a kiss always, one hand curled gently around your chin to tilt it up perfectly. And always after, a grin spreads across his face, brown eyes crinkling and pink lips barely restrained his joy. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He’ll always says, or some variation.

Which, yeah, that’s new too. Sweetheart. You haven’t quite figured out how to not melt to a gloopy gooey mess when he says it just yet. It’s a damn good thing that your boyfriend is a gentleman and he politely doesn’t comment when you fluster, only gets the smallest hint of a smirk. 

For all your past worries about not kissing him for fear of leading him on, you hadn’t realise quite how much you were depriving yourself of affection. Steve’s certainly turning you greedy— and he’s all too happy to sate your appetite for it. 

Today, it’s drizzly. The colour of the sky is a bright ashen grey, enough to warrant a headache and inspire a day inside. In the distance, you can see the thunder clouds rolling in and bringing a blanket of shadow with them. 

They reach overhead much quicker than you’re expecting and you’re barely a block out from Steve's house before the rain starts coming down. 

Try as you might, raincoat tucked tight around you, you’re still a bit drenched by the time you make it to Steve’s doorstep. One freezing finger presses the door bell. A chime sounds inside. 

You rub your hands together to try warm them as you wait, cringing at the whisk of wind that twirls your hair up and about. Your hands shoot up and you nervously flatten the wild strands back down— right as Steve opens the door.

He’s got a towel around his neck, one hand scrubbing it into his wet hair. Judging from his ruffled t-shirt — put on in a rush and exposing his tummy — he’s just got out the shower. He looks surprised but happy to see you.

“Sweetheart, hi-hoooooly shit,” He sticks his head out the door, eyes wide as he takes in the weather. His hair flicks as he turns back to you. “Did you walk the whole way from your house? In the rain?” 

Your shoulders form a meek shrug. Before you can speak, his hands are on your shoulders, tugging you inside, across the doorway. He kicks it shut behind you. 

“Christ, honey, what’d you do that for?” His hands fret a little bit, rubbing at your shoulders. He gently picks a piece of hair that’s stuck to your cheek, placing it behind your ear. 

“I mean,” You start, a little confused. Your hands tighten on your overnight bag, wringing the handle tightly. He knew you were coming over, right? “I thought we— on the phone, we made a plan?” 

Steve breathes a soft laugh. “Yeah, we’ve got plans. But I would’ve come got you instead of making you walk through the rain. C’mon, what  kind of boyfriend do you think I am?” 

His use of the word boyfriend still makes you glow. You smile, nope, you grin all cheesy — and it doesn’t help at all when Steve’s hands trail down your jacket to hold your own. He wiggles the handles of your bag out from your frozen fingers and drops it behind him gently. His hands dart back to cover yours.

“Dear god, I think you’re about two minutes from losing a finger.” His eyebrows have scrunched together in worry. He brings your hands up to his face, cupped in his own, and blows hot air on them. It tickles but you can’t stop smiling. 

He pulls them back, rubbing his thumbs over your icy fingers and peers down at them. Your heart coos at his concern. 

“What’s the verdict doctor?” You jest, making your voice all breathy and dramatic. “Am I gonna make it?” 

Steve frowns harder at your hands, his face serious when he tilts it back up to face you. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to amputate.” 

You gasp dramatically. 

Steve grins. He runs over your hands once more, one of his fingers creeping up your wrist, trying to find a ticklish spot. You squeal a little, trying to pull back but he holds your hands firm in his own. He continues his serious voice. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but it’s your whole arm. We’re gonna have to chop it right off.” 

His fingers are half way up your sleeve, making it bunch up and you’re laughing so much it’s warming you up much faster than him blowing on your hands. You push his hand away playfully and Steve relents, putting his hands up in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, you got me.” He grins. “I’m not a real doctor.”

You laugh again, reaching up to tuck back your hair that’s fallen forward in your squirming. “Uh huh, a real doofus is what you are.” 

Steve rolls his eyes endearingly, his hands reaching out to snag your waist this time. He tugs you closer. Your feet stumble and when you press against his chest, you’re delighted to find he’s very, very warm. You're definitely soaking his shirt a bit with your coat but if Steve cares, he doesn't say.

“Just realised I didn’t properly say hello,” He murmurs, a little quieter than before. 

And when one of his hands moves up and curls beneath your jaw, holding your chin gently, you know what’s coming. If you weren’t already holding your breath in anticipation, he probably would’ve stolen it with his kiss.

His plush lips are soft and with a loving little hum, he kisses you.

All the lights around you look a little dewey and heart-shaped when Steve pulls back — though it may be just your own lovey-dovey eyes. You sigh without meaning to, all honeyed and sweet, and Steve softens immeasurably at the sound. 

“Okay,” He shifts his hands back down to your hands, rubbing them lightly. “I’m not kidding, even your lips feel frozen. D’ya wanna take a quick shower just to warm up?” 

Something about you flushes at his suggestion— a runaway thought about getting in his shower, it getting steamier and steamier, especially with Steve slipping in to join you halfway. You clear your throat to push away the thought and focus. 

Your hair is wetter than you’d expected, sticking to your neck in cold tendrils. A shiver zips down your spine. All your scandalous thoughts aside, it sounds like a pretty good idea. 

“Yeah,” you nod gingerly. “Yeah, okay, it wouldn’t mind the warm up.” 

Steve steps back, bending down to scoop up your bag deftly. He holds it for you as you unbutton your coat as quick as you can with your frozen fingers, shivering in relief as you shed the drenched layer. Droplets of rain spray in the rustle. Your coat finds a home on a peg beside the door.

It’s comforting how easy it is to follow Steve up the stairs, drinking in his cosy attire from behind— gone are his usual tight fitting jeans. Instead, he’s donned what you guess is his pyjamas; a plain ringer tee and red, plaid, and long flannelette pants. His feet are warmed by fluffy socks that have reindeer prancing about the fabric. A flash of his tan ankle makes you stumble for a moment.

Steve trades your overnight bag, with a smile and a promise to keep it safe, for a pillowy white towel, soft as ever. He leads you into the bathroom off his bedroom, depositing your bag on his bed along the way. 

His fingers find the switch for the heated towel rail and while you fold the towel over it neatly, heart humming in content at being taken care of, Steve starts the shower. He sticks one hand in, holding it under the spray and grimacing at the cold— until the chill slips away beneath the steamy hot water. 

“Alright,” Steve says, pulling his hand back. He gives it a little shake, droplets splattering on the tiles. “All ready for my best girl.“ 

He gives a cheesy and charismatic smile as he wipes his hand dry and if you were brave enough, you might give him a little thank you kiss for it. You aren’t just yet — but when he moves to slip by you, you halt him with a soft hand on his torso. 

“Thank you.” you say, quieter than you intend. You push on the balls of your feet and plant a quick peck onto his cheek. 

Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch. Steve looks like he melts a bit, lashes fluttering as he sucks in a sharp inhale. Turns out neither of you are getting any closer to getting used to the affection. It’s sweet to know it goes both ways. 

“I’m gonna—“ Steve breathes, his hand drifting up, his index finger pointed out to the door. “I’ll be nearby if you need anything. Or if you fall. Just like, uh, yell- or scream. Or— you know what, you’ve taken a shower before.” 

He stumbles out towards the exit, pulling two awkward thumbs-up over his shoulders. The door swings shut behind him, closing with a quiet click. 

Your clothes pool to the ground, a trail leading towards the shower as you move with haste. Though you’re sure the Harrington's won’t notice, you don’t want to waste the hot water. 

The heat soothes you— swathes of relief washing down your body, picking up every piece of ice in your skin and sending it swirling down the drain. It doesn’t take too long to get back to warm and toasty. 

Still, when your eye catches on it, you can’t resist. Steve has a body wash that smells heavenly. You pick it up, flick back the cap, and take a whiff — just to check it’s the one that’s been infiltrating your very dreams. Steve, even on a daily basis, manages to smell so good it drives you close to delirium. 

You’re more than happy to steal it for yourself today. You take another sniff of the bottle in your grasp, just to inhale it with a sigh. The sweater he let you borrow the other week has the exact same smell; a musky perfumed scent, with a hint of bergamot. 

You dollop some in your hand and lather it all over. Properly cleansed and throughly warmed up, you let the final suds whirlpool down the drain before shutting the tap off and stepping out. The fluffy porcelain coloured towel is toasty in your hands as you pluck it off the rail.  A sigh in appreciation comes out as you dry off, twisting it around yourself. 

It’s as you stand there, refreshed and smelling of Steve, in just a towel, do you realise you’ve forgotten to bring in clothes to change into. 

On his bed, Steve sits idle — because what else is Steve supposed to do when you’re in his shower? When you’re naked in his shower. Naked in his shower and probably using his soap and lathering it up down your body and on your boobs and— oh my god, soapy boobs and— 

Steve’s pulls himself from his thoughts with a rapid shake of his head, just in time for the bathroom door to rattle open and your shining face to peek through. 

You look a little flushed, maybe from the heat, or from the lack of clothing. Steve can see your bare shoulder, his eyes tracking a drop as it rolls down your collarbone. None of this helps his runaway thoughts. 

He stands up without thought. Then he realises how strange he might look, like a dog standing to attention. 

“Feeling boober?” Steve says, like an idiot. Heat floods his face as he realises his flub. “BETTER! Are you feeling better?” 

He’s thankful that you at least laugh, a pretty sound that you tuck behind your hand. You have the nerve to wiggle your eyebrows at him, a far cry from the confidence he’s come to expect from you in the past. Steve can’t deny— he adores it. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“God,” Steve groans. He shoves his face into his hands and turns around, his back to you. His words are muffled over his shoulder. “Don’t even ask me that right now.” 

Another laugh titters out of you. Steve can’t resist peering over his shoulder. The steam curls out through the gap of the door, leaving dew on your skin. You look ethereal, like a dewy angel from a dream.

“Alright,” you relent playfully. You’re fighting a smile and losing, badly. Steve yearns. “Can you please pass me my bag?” 

This next time the door opens again and you step out, there’s less tantalising skin to tease Steve and his wandering mind. There’s still a flash of wet skin, the curve between your shoulder and neck. Steve wants to lick it, kiss it, devour it til the skin beneath is riddled with the bruises of a lover. 

For a moment, you’re simply admired — Steve’s eyes on you, adoring and soft, as you creep out the bathroom like you don’t want to make too much noise. 

You notice in your absence Steve has cajoled a little tray table into his room, tucked up at the foot of his bed. Atop it sits a chunky television, antennae sticking up in perfectly straight lines. The ones at home on yours are slightly warped from all the readjusting. 

“Hey,” Steve says. He’s on the bed this time, and while he doesn’t get up this time, he sits up straighter as you emerge from the bathroom. You put your bag down, abandoning it by the door and try to quell your nerves. 

Steve, unless he’s somehow obtained x-ray vision and hadn’t told you, can’t see the nice matching set you’ve got beneath your comfy clothes. 

He won’t see it— unless this night goes where you think it might, where you hope it might, but even still, the thought manages to make you fluster. 

“Hi.” You say back, voice closer to a whisper. 

The bed sinks beneath your weight as you climb on to situate yourself beside Steve. He’s all soft corners and crinkled eyes, his arm raised up in an instant for you to tuck yourself under. Even warmer in his arms, your heart delights when he gives you a little squeeze.

“Alright, movie time!” The television at the foot of the bed pulls Steve away from you. He unwinds his arm enough to crawl down the bed. The grey ringer shirt he has one slips forward a bit and at your angle, you can catch more than a sliver of his tan tummy. 

Without thinking, your thighs press together tightly as heat flares between them. You can trace the alluring wiry trail of hair with your eyes until it disappears into his pyjama pants, continuing out of sight. A part of your wants. 

You want to see where it goes, want to curl your fingers into his waistband and work it downwards, you want find out if the moles go all the way down his thighs like you hope they do.

Hunger sinks its teeth into your skin; a hunger you’ve been getting more and more familiar with. 

“Okay, pervert,” Steve’s cheeky remark shakes you from your thoughts and you start to stammer. He’s clearly caught you staring. “Can’t say I blame you for ogling—“ 

“I was not—“  

“— because I have been told before that I have a very distracting and attractive behind.” 

You sputter and despite your best efforts, a little laugh splutters through as well because well, yeah, he’s not wrong — but your brain is stuck on repeat with something else entirely. 

Tummy, tummy, tummy, the hair on his tummy, the hair leading down into his pants.   

“Yeah, uh huh, okay, Harrington,” You slump back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh, clearly teasing. “If you say so.” 

The television flickers to life right as Steve lunges back towards you with all the energy of a labrador puppy. He squishes down onto you so quickly that you actually squeal in surprise. 

“Oh, I’m back to just Harrington now?” He pouts, squeezing even closer to you. You’re laughing, flattened beneath him in a way that you can’t even wiggle your arms out. He’s draped across you dramatically. You trust him completely. 

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” 

“I thought my name was,” He leans closer and kisses your neck. “Boyfriend. Or baby. Orrrrrr,” 

He kisses up your neck and onto your cheek. His hazel eyes are bright, crinkled in his grin so much that his lashes kiss in the corner. He kisses your nose. “Handsome.” 

“Mmmhm,” you revel in the never-ending affection, glowing from the inside with happiness. You wiggle your arms to make Steve push himself up, just enough to free them from being smothered against your chest. Free to roam, your hands find the sides of his face. 

“What about…” You begin. Steve watches you closely, evidently gleeful from the touchiness of your hands. He pushes into your palm, turning to kiss it fast. “My snookums.” 

You exaggerate the word, your voice going all sugary to butter it up. You watch as emotions ripple across Steve’s face— the twitch in his nose as he tries not to outright frown at you. How polite he is. 

It’s only as he catches the grin spreading across your face, wicked and just loving watching him squirm at the terrible pet-name, does he catch on to your jest. A sigh of relief and a chuckle whooshes out of him at once. 

“Oh, thank God you’re joking.” He drops all his weight into your waiting hands, grinning when you let his face flops forward into your chest. His words are completely muffled as he speaks into your chest. “That could’ve been serious grounds for a breakup.”

You huff a laugh and nudge him up best you can. “Yeah, alright, drama queen. Your movie is starting.” 

Steve’s head pops up, his head twisting back towards the television like he had forgotten about its existence until you had mentioned it. 

“Oh true,” He says. He pushes up off you to sit himself up, shuffling back so instead you can lean on him. Re-situating his arms around you, Steve hums absentmindedly as he throws a leg over you, tangling it with yours. Thoroughly intertwined, you both sink back into the pillows. 

The credits roll up and off the screen, the first five minutes of the film whisked away while you and Steve were settling down. Now, the opening scene begins, the grainy picture on the screen buzzing as it plays the VHS. 

You get approximately two minutes of silence, your and Steve’s heads turned towards the television, until distraction kicks in.

You do your best to ignore it as his head turns towards you, your eyes still focused on the screen, but all your attention runs to Steve. He nudges a little closer to you, his nose pressing into your temple and right as you realise he’s smelling you, he says— 

“Did you use my body wash?” 

You freeze. 

“I— was I not supposed to?” Your voice comes out a bit weaker than intended. 

Steve lets out a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, only worrying you further. He starts to shift around a bit, retracting his leg back an inch, his nose no longer nudging close along your temple; all actions that contrast his assuring words. 

“No, no, no, it’s fine, you’re fine—“ Despite his words, he shifts again. His hips shuffle backward, one of his hands moving down subtlety as he can to fuss with his pyjama pants. 

It takes about two more seconds for you to get it — clued in by Steve’s suddenly scarlet cheeks and his embarrassed expression. 

Your mouth drops open a bit unwittingly. 

“Are you—“ 

“Yes.” Steve grates out. He abandons fixing the growing tent in his pants to cover his face with his hands, rolling slightly away from you. You can feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off him. His words are slightly muffled from behind his palms. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean— I didn’t even realise that was something that got me going until, like, right this second.”  

It’s adorable that he’s so flustered and that he’s apologising. You’ve never had that happen before. You’ve never had someone so conscious of how it might seem— never someone like Steve who doesn’t seem to come with any expectations. 

A thread of relief jolts through you. It reaffirms what you already know; anything you want to do will be done on your terms. 

And with his eyes covered up, if you glance down at his pants for good hard look…. well, that’s between you and the universe.

“Steve,” your fingers curl around one of his wrists, tugging it gently. You try to coax his face out of hiding, your smile somewhere between giggly and endeared. “It’s— it’s okay, really, you don’t have to apologise. I— I mean, I’m honestly flattered.” 

Steve deflates a bit, torn between relief and his still persistent concern. He had made a committed plan that he wouldn’t make any moves until you initiated it first and yet, here he was, like every other male in Hawkins. Popping a boner the moment you settle down to innocently cuddle. God, he’s the worst!

A pout forms on his lips. He wishes he could rewind the last 2 minutes and spend the whole movie holding his breath. 

“What is it about the body wash?” 

Your question takes him by surprise, given the way his other hand drops off from covering his face. He blinks up at you, cheeks still with a hint of cherry red. 

“I- I dunno.” He admits. “Like I said I didn’t even realise that…” 

Steve’s cheeks flush with colour again. He clears his throat. “That would have that effect on me.” 

Something within you preens, a fire stoked by his honest admission; a zing shooting down your spine because you don’t think you will ever get used to hearing how Steve wants you.

“Well,” you begin, the word more timid than you hoped it would be. You clear your throat and cast a glance at the television, feigning casualness. “If I was the cause…” 

You let your hand come up, brushing across his warm tummy. Look up at him through your lashes, hoping, praying it looks sexier than you’re feeling— which is somewhere between flustered and foolish.

Still, Steve’s throat bobs. You watch his eyes dart down to your lingering hand, an inch or so above his waistband. 

“Maybe, I can be the remedy.” 

A tiny groan scrapes out of Steve’s throat, like he would love nothing more. Even so, he pins you with a sincere look, hazel eyes burning into yours. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He assures you. “I mean—“ He coughs awkwardly. “It will go away, uh, in time.” 

“I’m aware how it works, Steve.” 

“Oh, are you?” Steve jokes— laughing when you wallop him in the chest. He grabs your hand, stopping your assault mid-motion with a cheeky smile. “Okay! Okay, I deserved that.” 

He releases your hand and you let it fall onto his chest. Nerves prickle beneath your skin but with them is something new, something you’ve only gained since your time with Steve; anticipation. 

Steeling your anxiety, you let your hand trail down his chest slowly— enough time that he could halt you before you embarrassed yourself. But he doesn’t. Steve watches you closely, his chest rising and falling a bit harder as your hand nears his waistband. 

This time, you don’t stop. You let your fingers brush over the tented fabric hesitantly, torn between wanting to watch your hand or to see his face. As confidently as you can, you palm across his bulge— feeling the heat of his hard length thickening up under your hand. 

Steve groans lowly. 

You look up at him as you rub him softly, taking in his large pupils and pink lips. He’s watching you too, his eyes darting between your face and the hand on his cock. 

“Is this okay?” You check. The movie crackles on in the background, idle noise. Steve nods quickly, a curl of his hair falling down onto his forehead. 

“Yeah,” He says, voice breathier than it was a minute ago. You try out a harder rub, beginning to feel out the shape of his cock, and you curl your fingers around it. Steve groans again, a little bit louder, his eyelashes fluttering. 

Still, he composes himself enough to ask, “Is this okay for you?” 

“Hmmm,” you draw out the noise, the smile on your face giving away your faux-thinking. You squeeze him again, right as you murmur, “Maybe make that noise again and I’ll see.” 

But any noise he makes is captured in your mouth as he surges forward, one of his hands curling up under your jaw. His fingers slide into your hair and his lips are sweet and soft, hungry for more against your own. 

You can’t help but melt under his kisses, body relaxing into the sheets as you let yourself be kissed breathlessly. A warmth pools deep within your chest, drooling down into your stomach. Anticipations sinks in. Your thighs rub together. 

Losing the nerve and the focus, your hand slips up to cup at Steve’s hip— but if he cares, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he takes it as a cue to press forward, leaning his weight onto on his elbows to hold his weight as he shifts up, his lips never leaving yours. 

It’s one smooth motion, the way he slips a leg between your own, his body held up and hovering above yours. He kisses, slow and languid. You ache. Your lips haven’t ever been so kissed before. 

It isn’t until his thigh shifts up and presses just right do you notice it properly — unable to swallow your shallow gasp, lips halting against Steve’s as a bolt of pleasure blooms deep in your gut. Your eyelashes flutter, a shadow of embarrassment threatening your cheeks. 

“S’okay?” Steve whispers, not relenting any of his closeness. His lips brush yours. 

You nod gently, a quiet hum sounding in your throat. You’re not entirely sure you can form words right now. Not when it feels like your heartbeat is everywhere — when you can feel the heat between your legs, the tightness of your nipples as they peak, the undeniable thrum of lust building within you. 

And certainly not when you can feel Steve, his hardness pressed up against your thigh, his pupils bigger than usual. They’re ringed in that hazel you love— a colour that might be your new favourite ever. 

Fuck, you’re in deep. What an incredibly sappy thought to have while you’re getting hot and bothered. Did Steve think that way about you too? Think about the colour of your eyes while he kissed your mouth?

“I…” You finally find your voice and Steve pulls back a couple inches so he can see you properly. His eyes dart over your face adoringly, his lips rosy red from all the kisses and quirked into a smile. He looks at you as if you’re everything. 

“I want to…” You say, unable to find the words to finish your sentence. Embarrassment winds up inside you, ready to spring free but Steve seems uncaring at your hesitance. 

“You wanna what?” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth with a hum. Endlessly patient. Somehow your stomach churns a little faster at that. Nerves stand up on their end, a thousand uneasy prickles over your body. 

“I want to.” You say this time, firmer. “Do more.” 

It still sounds too mousy coming out and you see a flicker of something on Steve’s face. 

“If you do, I mean.” You add on quickly. “I want to if you do.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh, like the idea of checking in with him was a bit absurd. His gaze roams over your face slowly, taking his fine time just looking at you. He looks as though he doesn’t quite know what to say. 

He lands on, “You don’t seem sure.” 

Your heart flip-flops at the wrinkle between his eyebrows, his concern evident. He fixes you with a serious, sincere look.

You nod, your hair scrunching up against the pillow as you do. “I am. I just…” 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and worry it, thinking of how to put this. You’ve said it before, you’ve told him how it was in the past, how you hadn’t enjoyed it and yet…

Feeling too squirmish under Steve’s intense stare, you avert your eyes to look at the ceiling and swallow the knot in your throat. 

Your voice comes out a whisper. “I want to try but I’m not sure— I just I can’t promise that I’ll- that y’know, I—” 

Eyes crushing closed, you try to seize your bubbling anxiety before it seizes you. This is Steve. You trust him wholly. Just a moment ago you were thinking about how much you like him and—

“Hey,” Steve murmurs lowly, nudging his nose into yours. Your eyes open. He smiles softly when he says, “I have no interest in doing something you don’t enjoy.” 

The protest flounders up inside you before you can stop it. “But—“ 

“So,” He cuts you off pointedly. “If we give it a go and you don’t like it, that’s okay. We can just figure out what you do enjoy, okay?“

For a long moment, you just stare up at him.  

“Yeah? So we can just try and if it… If I…” You flounder for words, sounding like you think it must be too good to be true. You stare up at the ceiling as you try to verbalise the biggest hurdle, the final niggling worry.

You peer back up at Steve’s face. “You… you wouldn’t be disappointed if we started but then I wanted to stop?” 

Some emotion shutters across Steve’s face, a flash of devastation. You mistake it for annoyance. 

An unwelcome hitch suddenly twists in your stomach. “I'm sorry, I know that you— we already- last time, we talked about this and I should know—“ 

“Stop it,” Steve interrupts with a soft shake of his head. “Stop doing that, it’s fine to feel unsure or- or to not know what you like. It takes time and experience to figure what you do like.” 

His hand shifts up, brushing the hair back from your forehead. He leaves it there, the warmth of his hand a comfort. His fingers curl lightly into your hair. 

“That’s all I wanna do,” He breathes softly, his lips tugging up at the corners. He looks unbearably earnest, his brown eyes shining. “Just wanna do what you like. Wanna figure out what you like.” 

He leans down and kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then that soft sensitive spot under your ear. You squirm but this time for all the right reasons. 

“Y’want me to do that?” He murmurs. 

You’re breathing a little heavier and when Steve nips at your earlobe sparingly, just a love bite and a flash of teeth, your breath catches loudly. Desire surges through you, hot and straight between your legs. 

It takes another moment to remember he’s asked you a question. 

“Yeah…” you breathe. You wanna nod but you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing. Your throat bobs as you swallow. “I wanna do that. Wanna— wanna learn what you like too.” 

Steve hums, a pleased sound, and he kisses languidly at your neck. His lips, soft and plush, scrape against your skin in a way that gathers heat low in your gut. Your hips tilt forward an inch, moving against his thigh almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah?” 

The way he says it, the way the word rolls out of his mouth, all husky and low, makes your nipples peak. 

“We get to learn together, hm?” He kisses your neck again. The soft press of his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth have you gripping the sheets, almost white knuckled. 

Suddenly, you can’t stand to not be touching him. Your hands fly from the sheets, fingers curling around his midriff, feeling at the warm skin. His t-shirt is warmed by him. You slip your hands beneath it as he bites where your shoulder meets your neck, soft enough to make you sigh. 

Your hand finds skin. Finally, finally, you get your hands on that damned happy trail that’s been all but haunting your daydreams for the past months. 

As Steve kisses down your neck, you trace the line of hair with your finger slowly. Your thumb strokes the coarse hair all the way down to his waistband, gentle and hungry all at once— trying to commit it all to memory. Unwittingly, Steve shivers at the motion. 

“Fuck,” his breath shudders against your neck. He tucks his face in closer, fighting the urge to press his body up against yours and grind. You feel the twitch in his hips anyway. “You drive me crazy.” 

“Me too,” you gasp when he pulls off your neck, blowing cool air across the heated skin he’s been dedicating himself to. You wonder if a bruise will come up, beautiful and kiss-bitten. You clench a little at the thought, the heat between your thighs only increasing. 

A mark from him— a mark of a lover. 

You want to give one to him too. Managing to remember you can do things with your hands, other than just pawing at his back, you shift them up to curl into his hair. Tugging gently, you coax his face up enough so you can nose alone the length of his neck. 

Steve’s panting and you can hear his breath catch when you start planting kiss after kiss on his skin— dragging your bottom lip across those glorious moles you adore so much. 

Without meaning to, you press him back and Steve lets himself roll back onto the mattress, his hands tugging you closer. You take the invitation and struggle for a moment to get up over his hips, one leg too tangled in the blanket on the bed. 

“My leg,” you laugh weakly, having to retract a hand from his hair to free it. When you do, you settle down, straddling his hips, and try not to lose your confidence. Still, you can’t help apologising. “Sorry.” 

Steve peers up at you lovingly, frowning a little when you apologise. “What? No, it’s fine.” 

He shifts one hand and grabs the loose blanket beside you and then hefts it up, throwing it as far as he can off the bed with a grunt. It lands somewhere behind you with a soft noise. 

“Blanket’s fault.” He says, brown eyes back on you. “Freaking cockblock. I got rid of him, babe, don’t worry.” 

You snort a little, leaning down to kiss his perfect lips.

“My hero.” You murmur sarcastically against them. 

“Ooh, say that again, baby,” Steve moans exaggeratedly, throwing his head back onto the pillow dramatic, his eyes screwed shit.  

You laugh, unknowingly relaxing a little further into him. You swat at his chest. 

“Steve.” 

“Oh!” He moans again, all girlish and fake, and twists his head in the other direction. “I love it when you say my name like I’m an idiot!” 

You gasp, but it’s still hidden in your laughter as you hit his chest again, for a different reason this time. 

“Don’t say that!” You say genuinely. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.” 

Steve drops the act, his eyes creasing open to shine up at you. He’s glowing beneath you, cheeks a bit flushed and grinning like he’s a little bit in love with you. You think he might be. 

“No, you don’t.” He agrees. He soothes his hands up and down your sides. “Only idiot is that idiot who let you think there was anything wrong with you.” 

“Ugh,” you scoff. “Please don’t bring him up ever again— least of all when we’re in bed.” 

Steve squeezes your sides gently and smiles up at you like he hasn’t heard a word you’ve said. “Noted.” 

And then you kiss him. 

For a couple of minutes it’s this easy, lazy making out that you love. Though, it’s like there’s a furnace turning up beneath you both, the intensity getting more feverish with every kiss. When Steve finally pulls back from you, panting, he looks as flustered as you feel. 

“Can I take these off?” 

His fingers are curled into the waistband of your pyjama pants. You nod before you can overthink it, letting him shimmy them down your thighs and settling yourself down on the comforter. Steve sits up a bit beside you, to tug them down your legs and off your ankles. 

Steve’s focus is on his hands but your gaze is stuck on his face— and you watch as he tosses your pants behind him carelessly. His eyes fix on your cunt, hidden away behind your lacy panties. 

“Woah,” he murmurs softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. He leans down on his elbows, one arm on either side of your hips and pings the elastic on the cutest lingerie you own. “These are very pretty.” 

He sounds like he means it, his voice tinged with lust. It gives you a moment of confidence. 

“Yeah?” You ask. You slide your hands up, pushing your shirt up gingerly as you to reveal the matching bra to him.

Even from your distance, you can see how Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing way out. “You like them?” 

Steve let’s out a pained noise as his head flops over, his nose pressed into your hipbone. One of his hands reaches down between his legs, adjusting himself in his pants. 

He looks back up at you, hair a bit mussed, and pouts.

“That’s not fair! That’s so not fair. Did you plan this? Blindside me by wearing my body wash and then surprise me with matching lingerie?” 

The way he says it, all faux accusatory, makes you grin. He sits up long enough to tug his own shirt off, discarding it behind him, and crawls up the bed to kiss you. You catch a glint of the single chain he wears around his neck before he's kissing you.

“You—” Kiss. “look—” Kiss. “so—” Kiss. “fuckin’—” Kiss. “hot.” 

He pulls back, taking a moment to just gaze at you before he leans back further, scuttling down the sheets til he’s paused between above your legs. 

Something within you flares hotly at the memory of the last time he was in the position. You feel a warm pulse in your cunt, a trickle of slick coating your panties. Your hips shift an inch— half nerves, half anticipation.

Steve kisses you over your panties, like last time, the first chaste and on your clit. The next is a little lower, a little slower, his lips parting further and his tongue pressing languidly against your core. You squirm, breathing a little heavier. 

His hands grips gently at your hips, moving up to smooth over your thighs. He lets his fingers slip forward, the tips of them pressing lightly into your inner thighs. He pulls them further apart and ruins you a bit when he kisses sweet along the skin of your thigh. 

“I’m pretty sure we could just do this every time and I’d be happy,” Steve says, but it’s paired a chuckle fringed with nerves.

He looks up at you and you realise it is a bit of nervousness— like he’s worried you might find it embarrassing just how much he likes it. 

Your blood hums in response, warmer, all of it rushing down your body. You don’t know quite what to say to that, so you say, “Yeah?” 

Steve smiles, that flash of nervousness already gone or cleverly hidden. He gives your thighs a gentle squeeze with his large hands and rubs his cheek up against one of them. 

“Are you kidding me? I think I’d do anything you wanted just to hear those noises you made again.” 

Your lips part slightly in surprise. He’s always so startlingly honest and forward with his feelings but, somehow, it still manages takes you by surprise— that he’s not at all shy about how much he likes you. 

Scrambling for an appropriately sexy response, you come up blank and instead decide to press your thighs together. Between them, Steve’s cheeks squish forward, his lips forming an absurdly funny pout. 

“Hey!” He exclaims.

It comes out a little muffled with his face squidged up and the mixture of both his face and voice makes you laugh. You release him, legs falling apart, feeling the breath of his laugh again your skin. 

“Kidding, you can warm my ears anytime you want, honey,” He’s still grinning up at you when he says it. Part of you know he’s being completely serious. 

Your gut burns low. You resist the urge to squirm, feeling the heat chase down to your cunt. It’s hard to relax when he manages to make you feel so keyed up. 

“Stop getting distracted.” You jest. 

“You stop getting distracted,” He jibes back, but his focus drifts back down, his eyes darkening with a fiery lust. 

He rubs the skin of your thighs again, soothingly, and lets one hand creep forward til his knuckles are brushing up against the edge of your panties. His thumb presses forward, into the wet spot you’ve soaked through. 

Even so, he still asks, “How we doin’? Still feeling good?” 

You nod quickly, then think verbal confirmation is probably far better. “Yeah, still good.” 

Realising you’re staring up at the ceiling, hard, you flick your eyes down between your legs. Even if it doesn’t feel particularly sexy, you still have to say it. “Thank you for checking.” 

“Of course,” Steve says. He pinches the elastic of your panties lightly, his eyebrows raising in question. “Gonna take these off, yeah? Then you let me know if you don’t like anything I’m doing.” 

Despite your history, a huge part of you wants to say yeah, fat chance of that because yeah, you’re beginning to wonder if your boyfriend has some genuinely magical fingers. And a magical mouth. And wait, does that mean his co—

The thought gets ripped away as you feel your panties get tugged downwards and you quickly lift your hips to help. Though he’s seen you bare before, it’s impossible to stop the flush that rolls through your body, hot and tinged with embarrassment. You want to close your legs but Steve between them prevents that from happening. 

“Here,” Steve hums, reaching a hand up to scoop up your own from the bedsheets.

He gives it a quick kiss on the palm and then moves it up to land in his hair. “You let me know how m’doing, okay?” 

Your fingers curl into his brunette locks automatically and grip tightly when he leans in, his hot tongue dipping between your folds. Pleasure drips into your body as he begins to lick softly, his skilled tongue finding your bundle of nerves quickly and twisting around it. 

Heat builds. You close your eyes and let yourself enjoy it, soft pants escaping your lips as Steve kisses and suckles where you’re most sensitive, til there’s a moan lacing every breath. 

Fuck, he’s so good at this. How is he so good at this? 

One of his hands on your thighs starts to knead gently as the other one slides forward, til his thumb is rested at your slicked entrance. He hasn’t stopped sucking on your clit but your sudden sharp inhale catches his attention. 

“Sorry,” you say instinctively. 

“It’s fine,” Steve soothes, his thumb circling around your soaked hole, which clenches in response.

He kisses your thigh. Desire burns you up from within, your fingers twisting a little tighter in his hair, giving away your nerves. 

“We’re just figuring out what you like, yeah?” He muses, his words half comfort, half lust. 

You nod but don’t speak, trying to trust him enough to let his words calm you. Steve gives you a moment to breathe before he resumes the work with his mouth, his hot mouth suckling at your clit once again. 

He waits until you’re back to those quiet, shy lusty little noises before he tries again, prodding softly at your entrance in warning before he gently sinks his finger in. You gasp again, hands tightening in his hair — as something molten hot shoots right up your spine. 

“Steve,” you cry out his name. It feels... good, which feels like a fucking miracle in itself. He begins to fuck the finger in and out slowly, still lapping at your clit. A heat that you’ve only felt once before starts to nip at your skin, bleeding into each nerve. 

Your panting grows heavier and without meaning to, you clench down around him, desperate for a little more. 

“See, you like that one, huh?” Steve mumbles against you, his dark eyes flashing up to take in your face contorted in pleasure. His cock thickens unbearably in his pants, too confined. You nod, hair scrunching up against the pillow. 

“Yea—yes,” You say, feeling your hips rock down an inch. You want more of that. 

Steve obliges, more than willingly, adding another finger. It slides in with little resistance. It’s hotter than anything else to get to see you like this, pliant and horny, rocking your hips against his mouth. 

To get to make you like this— sucking on your cute little clit and fucking his fingers in, hearing the adorable squelch of your wetness. You’re so turned on it makes his brain melt a bit, the way you’re leaking all over his fingers. Steve’s cock throbs desperately— but he wants to make sure you’re stretched out enough to take him. If you want that, that is.

He eases one more finger in, keeping a careful watch on your face to see how you take it. You keen beautifully, back arching slightly as he curls his fingers and begins to stretch you out. 

You pant deliriously, these tiny whimpers beginning to slip out your throat. Steve wishes he could see your face, the cute scrunch of your brows as you moan— but happily settles for latching his lips back onto your cunt. 

Three fingers feel even better than two, you find, as you grip the sheets tightly— you’re throbbing but in this torturous way, balancing on the edge of too much and not enough. There’s a hint of pain lingering at the back, but not enough to distract you from the pleasure. 

It takes you by surprise then, when the pleasure suddenly tapers off, your eyes creasing up open and head popping up. You realise Steve is slowly stopping, his slick fingers slipping out of you as he sits back up a bit. 

“Why’d you stop?” You say without thinking.

Flushing, you quickly follow it up. “Every— everything okay?” 

God, you sound wiped. Your chest is still heaving and your clit twitches, missing the stimulation of your boyfriend’s mouth. The air smells honeyed and perfumed with sex. 

“You tell me,” Steve murmurs sweetly, his lips grazing the inside of your knee in an almost kiss. “You said you wanted to do more. Is this enough more?” 

Your heart nearly bursts in the pure consideration. God, he’s so fucking nice to you. So unbothered to take things your pace, so attuned to making you feel good. You know that you could happily do this more for the rest of the night. 

But it’s not what you had in mind — and the longer you wait, the more you’re beginning to crave getting Steve to a similar state you’re in. Moaning, flushed in the face, his hands buried in your hair. 

“We can do more,” You say, your voice dropping back into that shy whisper. 

Steve watches you closely, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing at your thigh dotingly. 

You clear your throat and speak a little louder. “I wanna do more.” 

“Yeah?” Steve says, his grin growing. He huffs and shakes his head a little, dropping your gaze. 

“I mean, believe me, even if we just—“ He gestures vaguely between your thighs. “— did this all night? Night well spent.” 

You know he means it, especially with his hungry gaze that dips back down, his tongue slipping out to lick his bottom lip briefly.

You press up onto one elbow and reach out one hand, hooking your finger over the one single chain he wears. There’s a ring looped on it, the one you gave him as a promise, and just the sight of it makes you glow inside. 

You tug the chain forward lightly and him with it, Steve shifting up the bed til you’re nearly face to face, his frame hovering above you. The beds dips beneath his hands as they crawl up to either side of your waist, his intense eyes locking onto your face. He might be holding his breath. 

Swallowing, you move up and press your lips to his in a slow, soft kiss. It turns deeper, hotter, heavier. You swipe your tongue into his mouth and Steve lets out a pitiful noise in response, pressing his mouth against yours desperately. 

Drawing back with a little gasp, you open your eyes and repeat your earlier sentiment, “I want to do more.” 

Steve watches you, his exhale shaking slightly. You dot a kiss on his cheek quick, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“I want to do more with you.” 

A kiss on his other cheek, just as fast. Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch.

“I want to do more, right now.” 

Steve smiles splits into a grin, his eyes shining as he chuckles, the sound doused in fondness. “Okay, okay, I got the message,” He murmurs. 

Pushing back to sit on his heels, he turns and rummages around in his bedside table for a moment. You lay back on the pillows and try catch your breath, knowing it’s only a matter of time before it’s stolen once more. 

When Steve pulls back, there’s a row of condoms in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. He tears off one of the condoms and throws the rest of them behind him without thought.

You can’t help but tilt your head up, neck straining a bit, not wanting to look away for a moment as Steve raises onto his knees and pushes his boxers down. His cock kicks up, released from its confines with a soft slap against his happy trail. 

Unwittingly, your mouth waters a bit.

And look, you’ve seen a dick before, okay? It’s pretty hard to sleep with someone and not see one, unless you have your eyes closed the entire time. 

But Steve’s cock is… pretty. 

Pink and aching, the head of it slick with a bit of pre-cum— that you realise he’s gotten from being worked up whilst eating you out. You gush a little at the dizzying thought. 

You want to touch it — or put it in your mouth so you can drool over it, can suck on it, can feel the heady weight of it on your tongue. Or, as you realise what the ache of your cunt means, you really, really want him to fuck you with it. 

Instinct drives your thighs apart, beckoning him between them. Steve’s eyes darken as he notes the motion, moving a bit more hastily to tear the condom packet open. He rolls it down his length, quick and precise. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes, reaching out for the lube and drizzling a generous amount into his palm. He keeps the bottle within reach as he slicks it over his heavy cock, a beautiful groan pushing out his throat as he does. 

“Okay,” He says again, a little breathier than before. Shuffling forward, Steve lines himself up with your core gently before halting. His eyes dart up to your face.

“You let me know if there’s anything you don’t like or you wanna stop.” 

You nod, his ardent care only serving to fuel your lust. You’ll coo over it in the afterglow— right now you want to be around him, want to feel him pulsing inside you, want to feel full where you’re suddenly feeling so, so empty. 

Steve shifts forward, beginning to sink into you with a low groan of pleasure. 

The first few seconds are bliss — Steve’s done his job well at warming you up and something hungry awakens with a burst of pleasure as you take the first few inches.

Then, something a little more uncomfortable joins the mix. 

You try not to squirm, disappointment inflating as your pleasure is robbed by the twinges of pain. It’s not unbearable but you’re enjoying yourself less. Steve moves in another inch and then discomfort abruptly becomes pain.

You inhale sharply, teeth gritted together, and Steve stops moving in an instant. 

“Woah, y’okay?” 

You nod, even as your eyes slip shut. Half of this is a mental game, you know that—you’ll never loosen up if you don’t try to relax. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly, voice a bit tight. “Just— just gimme a minute.” 

Steve murmurs a quiet sure but after a moment he says, “Wait, lemme—“ and moves forward so he’s hovering above you instead of sitting back, your faces much closer now. The jostling doesn’t help but having Steve closer does. 

He keeps his hips as still as he can and kisses your cheek. You don’t open your eyes just yet, willing yourself desperately to relax, to enjoy it. You take a deep breath.

“We can stop,” Steve whispers. 

You shake your head. Creasing your eyes open, you move your hands up so you can twine them around Steve’s neck in almost a hug. Steve leans down and kisses your cheek again, then steals a kiss from your lips. 

“I wanna—“ You gasp, frustration mounting at how the pain doesn’t seem to be subsiding. You sound miserable as you cling to him closer. “I want this to work.” 

“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” Steve responds, his arm shifting up so he can trace his thumb over your cheekbone. 

The movement moves his hips forward another inch, pain spiking so severely that you wince aloud, your face pinched in discomfort. That’s all it takes for Steve to shift back, easing out of you gently. You’re devastated at the relief that follows. 

“Okay, I’m not doing that if it hurts you—“ 

“It wasn’t,” You lie fruitlessly. You know Steve heard your wince—but maybe if you lie, you can trick your body. 

Hands coming up to cover your face, you scrunch your eyes up, annoyed at how they sting with tears so quickly. Your voice is all wobbly when you say, “I’m sorry. I'm sorry, I really want this to work, Steve.” 

Steve aches at your words, moving in to tug at your hands. His voice is soft, sweet.

“Hey, hey, I know that, sweetheart.” 

You don’t let him in, hands still shielding your face. He kisses your knuckles instead, his thumbs swiping up and down your wrists comfortingly. 

He waits a moment before he continues, voice buttery soft, “I know you want this. It’s not your fault if your body only likes it some ways and not others. You can’t control that and I know that.”  

You take one deep breath and it shudders as you inhale, sounding far too teary for Steve’s liking. He tugs at your wrists again, relieved when you let him pull them away tentatively. You aren’t crying but you look damn near close. 

“What’s got you so upset, huh?” Steve coos, nuzzling in close, his nose brushing against yours.

He releases your wrists to cup your face, tender and soft, his brows knit together in his concern. “You know I don’t mind- I told you that I don’t care what we do, just that you’re enjoying it.” 

You take another shaky inhale, a little more stable than the last. Steve can feel how you move to press back against him, nuzzling him back. You take another moment before you reply. 

“I just-“ You start, voice still tight. “It’s so stupid. I wanted it— I wanted to enjoy it. And that doesn’t even seem to matter to my body. It doesn’t even change how it feels and that sucks. Like I can’t control this part of me.” 

Steve listens dutifully, waiting til you finish and your eyes find him.

“Well,” He starts, averting his eyes somewhat sheepishly. “Take everything I say with a grain of salt, okay? But… your body doesn’t hurt just to mess with you, right?” 

He waits a moment for your tentative nod. “Right. So, it’s not for nothing. It’s trying to tell you something and- and ignoring that isn’t having control. You have to listen and work with your body — it’s your partner in all this.” 

“I thought you were my partner,” you whisper, the small smile on your lips giving away your joke. Steve faux rolls his eyes and kisses the tip of your nose. 

“I’m your other partner.” He smiles. Then sighs, casting his gaze above your head for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Am I making any sense?” 

Wiggling one hand up, you place it on his cheek tenderly and begin to whisper. “You’re making a lot of sense actually.” 

Steve sighs, leaning his face into the palm of your hand with a huff. “Well, that’s a relief.” 

For a minute, there’s only quiet. Your emotions come down from their swell and you take the time to admire the beautiful boy above you, who seems to be doing just the same to you. 

After a moment of time, you clear your throat and say, “Can we try again?” 

Steve seems to think on it for a moment before he nods, turning to kiss your palm. 

“This is gonna make me sound like a total guy,” He says, words muffled against your hand. His brown eyes flash up to yours, darting between them. “But maybe we should try from the back. Like, different angle and all.” 

You snort, unable to hold it in because it does sound like such a guy thing to say. Even so, you give a little nod, eager to try something else. You don’t even want to acknowledge the mounting dread around disappointing Steve — even with all his assurances, you can’t help but feel as though this has been one gigantic let down. 

As Steve shifts back, you become suddenly aware of the lubed up slick spot on your thigh where Steve's cock was resting and scrunch your nose with a laugh. Peering down, you drag a finger through the wetness left on it. 

“Ew,” you laugh. 

“Ew?” Steve echoes incredulously. “Alright, that’s it.” His sits up and back, his hands darting down lightning fast, manoeuvring you all of sudden. He hooks his hands under your hips and lifts, twisting so you’re suddenly splayed on your front. 

You’re giggling all the while, drunk on the feeling of your boyfriend’s hands as they trail up your sides. The hair of his tanned scrapes against your back as he leans in, mouthing along your shoulder towards your neck. 

You find your knees and prop yourself up on them, lifting your hips off the sheets of Steve’s bed. At the angle he’s draped himself over you, it’s a perfect line up of his cock with your cunt, the head of it teasing your entrance when you push back. 

You're relieved that your emotional moment hadn't killed the mood altogether. That same hot, pulsating want from before tears through you and Steve takes a stuttering breath, the slightest moan in his throat. You feel his forehead press against your shoulder blade, as though he’s trying to compose himself. 

“You-“ He says, the word catching in his throat. As if unable to help himself, his hips grind forward, pushing his aching cock between your slick folds. You make pitiful, keening noises in response, a thread of pleasure run through the two of you. 

“You ready?” Steve asks shakily. He relents some of his closeness to grab the lube, giving another generous drizzle into his palm to slather over himself. 

“Please,” you whisper, pushing yourself back an inch. 

This time when Steve pushes himself in, the bliss stretches out, lasting more than just the first couple seconds. You make a high, breathy sigh of a noise and your head drops forward. 

Steve pauses, his breathing on the ragged side, and checks in. “Still feeling okay?” 

You nod feverishly, a whine building up in your throat that threatens to escape if Steve doesn’t move. Or maybe if he does move. You can’t tell — can’t tell anything other than how good it feels to have him inside you, hot and throbbing. 

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. “Yeah, keeping going, please,” 

Steve grunts, complying in an instant, sinking his cock further in. Something inside you tightens up again— but it’s not nearly as noticeable as last time. Still, Steve recognises it and he slows for a moment. 

“I’m okay,” you assure breathily, face nearly pressed into the bed. You need him to keep moving. 

And he does; his cock sinks in another inch right as his hand creeps around your hip, searching for something blindly. You barely get one moment of confusion before his calloused fingers drag through the slick on your cunt and move up, pushing against your clit purposefully. 

You moan, loud and high. The friction of your clit is enough to make your thighs spread a little wider and your hips move back before you even realise what you’re doing, almost the rest of Steve’s cock sinking inside you. It feels good but something else pinches up inside you.

Steve moans, muffling the sound into your skin as he hides his face in your neck. 

You pant, suddenly dreading how you can feel the prick of pain on the fringes of your pleasure if Steve stretches you too far. "Don't- n-not too much," You warn gently, the words all breathy, still swathed in your pleasure. "I—uh— fuck, I don't think I can take it all."

You feel Steve's nod against the back of your neck, accompanied by a low hum in his throat.

“Y-yeah, okay,” He stammers. His hips roll forward and he follows your word, not quite pushing all the way in. "F-Fuck."

His breath is hot on your neck and the sudden urge for his kiss is nearly overwhelming. Even not facing him, the way Steve drapes himself around you, gentle even with how he grinds his hips into yours, feels intimate. Your cunt gives a soft squelch. 

“Oh fuck,” Steve gasps, stilling completely — the feeling of you wrapped around him is enough to nearly push him to the edge. He screws his eyes closed and whimpers, trying to keep himself together. 

“Y’okay?” You whisper breathily after a couple of moments, forehead pressed into the sheets. Your hips move just a little bit, shifting in a little circle so his cock slides out an inch, his fingertips grazing across your clit again. 

“I—ngh-“ Another whine slips out from his throat at your movement and Steve’s hand slips back, gripping your hip tightly. “Jesus Christ. Y-Yeah I’m good, just trying not to— fuck- end this too quickly.” 

He moves a bit, readjusting him arms to hold weight up a little easier.

“But you’re really wet and, like, really warm,” He grunts, almost accusingly. “And I really like you, so,” 

You can’t help it — a little laugh titters out of you, one of pure delight because Steve is sincere about his feelings. The laugh only serves to make Steve groan louder. 

“Shit,” He gasps, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. “You can’t laugh right now, it’s so not helping.” 

“Sorry,” you laugh again, a little more apologetic this time. 

Then, after a moment of gathered bravery, you say, “I don’t think I like this position. I can’t see your face.” 

Steve makes a pained noise from behind you, a breathy and sharp inhale, and suddenly his grip on your hip is twice as tight. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking. Please.” He grits out, voice sounding tight and barely restraining the moan in it. “I’m trying really hard here but you’re making this impossible.” 

Steve shifts on his elbow again, bicep bulging as he lowers himself to one side. His hips press into your backside, sinking himself further into your wet heat, as he settles his weight down onto the mattress. The springs make a noise in protest. 

You’re still closely intertwined, Steve pressed up against you, still throbbing within you, but now it’s more like… you’re spooning.

You settle down too, forcing out an exhale to let yourself melt back into Steve’s chest. 

He lets out a soft groan again but the new position means he can bury his face in your neck properly— and when you turn your head right, he seizes the chance for a kiss. 

He kisses sweet and slow to begin with, plush lips nipping at yours as if you’re not already in the throes of sex. Like he kisses you hello. His nose nudges against yours and he shimmies an arm beneath you on the bed. It curls itself around your stomach and Steve uses it to bring you even closer. 

“Is this better?” He whispers. He nudges his hips for a bit, giving a gentle thrust. Something warm flares at the pit of your belly, hungry for more. “Still okay?” 

You nod, a whimper escaping your throat as you steal another kiss from his lips. “Yes,” You whisper, lips scraping against his, hardly believing it. “Feels— feels good, baby,”

Steve finally gives in to his moan, a beautiful noise that sends heat rushing between your thighs. He begins to move more, building a gentle rhythm as he fucks into you, sensual and adoring all in one. 

Time drips away. You feel much warmer now, pressed up against Steve’s chest, with his kisses all around. One of his hands stays dutifully between your legs, pushing around your bundle of nerves and pulling weak, soft noises from you. The other, you cling to, your fingers twisted as best they can with his.

Pleasure wraps the pair of you up til a soft glow of sex and love settles over the both of you. Steve murmurs doting words, an endless stream of encouragement pouring from his mouth as he nibbles at the shell of your ear. 

Still feelin’ good? Yeah, you are. Just listen to you- sounding so pretty wrapped around my cock. 

Fuck, your pussy makes the cutest noises. So wet f’me, isn’t she? God, you drive me crazy. 

You’re taking me so well, yeah? Being so fuckin’ good f’me- letting me know how you feel. M’so lucky - fuckin’ love— love this with you.

You don’t even realise when every gasp out your mouth has turned into a moan, each breath building and mounting. Your chest heaves and Steve’s motions go from lazy to focused. His hips slow a little but his fingers over your clit speed up, dancing across the nerves perfectly. 

You clutch desperately at the arm he has wrapped around your waist, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulders with your eyes screwed shut. Your hole clenches wildly as you hurtle towards your orgasm— and go right over the edge without warning. 

You make this cute little gasping noise, high pitched and wrapped in a pretty sigh, and Steve doesn't think he's ever heard something so sensual, so pretty. His blood seems to thrum in response, pleasure turning the coil in his gut tighter and tighter.

Euphoria melts into your body and you sag into it with a drawn out soft moan, turning your face to search for Steve’s in an instant. One of your hands darts up, sloppily reaching for the back of his neck, suddenly starved of a kiss. 

You find his lips right as Steve finds his peak— his handsome face screwing up as he all but whines into your mouth. You capture it, some heavy, open mouthed kiss of desperation shared between you. 

Pleasure flows over you, hot and heavy, fuelled by the frantic grinds of Steve’s hips into yours as he whimpers into your mouth. Even though some part of you feels vulgar, another, louder, part of you feels like you've taken part in something sacred. Steve's fierce kiss certain feels akin to something holy.  

After a minute, the euphoria fades. You settle back into your body, feeling the scratch of the cotton sheets beneath you, the sweat of Steve’s chest on your back, the slightly discomfort in between your thighs. 

Steve can feel it, the moment you tense back up, some unwelcome twinge of pain in your gut. He’s shuffling back and pulling out before you even have to ask.

Without his chest to lean on, you roll backward naturally and flop onto your back, still panting lightly. Steve shifts up to hover above you. 

“You good?” He asks, that same breathlessness in his voice. He smiles handsomely, his hair a little limper than usual, flopping over his forehead. He looks gorgeous. “You did great.” 

That almost makes you laugh, the sincere praise so like one might give a child, but Steve seals it with a kiss to your forehead. Your laugh turns into a sheepish but giddy grin. “I’m gonna take the condom off, I’ll be right back.” 

He disappears from your line of sight for a minute or two and you can hear him rustling around in his room.

Without any distractions, you suddenly remember the film you’d put on in the beginning, still running at the end of the bed— the final credits are just starting to roll. The streetlights glow a little brighter in the evening dark through the curtains. 

You huff out a breath and your smile comes without even trying. In fact, if Steve hadn’t come back when he did, you’re sure you would’ve started giggle to yourself madly, cocooned in your own contentedness. That same awed, gleeful smile just like the first time round.

“You look like a dope, smiling like that, you know that?”

Steve’s wearing a pair of boxers, green plaid, and he’s got a fresh, warm wash-cloth in his hands. 

"I didn't know that," You muse playfully.

“Hey,” He changes tone to less playful, kneeling on the bed. You notice the change of clothes in his other hand when he throws them onto the duvet beside him. “M’just gonna clean you up a bit, that okay?” 

You’re sure there’s a pinch of embarrassment in you somewhere but, still blissed from your orgasm, you can’t manage to find it. Steve is quick and precise, the warm cloth wiping up any excess sticky fluids. He kisses the inside of your knee when he’s done. 

“All done,” He murmurs, climbing back off the bed in the direction of the bathroom, switching off the television as he does. He gestures to the clothes at the foot of the bed as he walks. “Y’can wear these if you want.” 

Finally feeling less flattened, you shift up to lean on your elbows. He’s grabbed you a pair of his boxers, the matching blue pair to his green, and one of his old Hawkins swim-team shirts. You slip into both quickly, your heart going a bit fuzzy with how soft the shirt is. 

Then you crawl beneath the covers, blood still rushing far faster than usual and a satisfied tiredness beginning to sink into your body. You can't help but thinking it all over — Steve's mouth between your legs, the feel of him sinking into you, the ecstasy of falling apart in his arms.

Part of you hadn't wanted to acknowledge that, well, it fucking worked this time and you enjoyed it. A niggly fear about jinxing it. Like if you pointed it out, it would incite the likelihood of your body turning on you once more. Robbing you of pleasure and experience in equal measure.

But when Steve comes bounding back to the bed, dragging back the covers to join you beneath them, you speak first.

"So, that didn't suck." You say excitedly, biting back your grin as Steve settles down beside you.

Together, you share one pillow as he scooches in closer. His hands reach out, searching for you amongst the sheets. When he finds your hips, he uses them to drag you closer to him, a halfhearted cuddle.

He lets out a puff of air against the pillow, a light snort. "I mean, hopefully it didn't just not suck."

If you had more energy, you might give him a playful shove because you know he knows what you mean. He'd seen the whole display of nervous emotions attached to sex all the way leading up to it.

Instead, heart feeling awfully gooey in your chest, you seize the opportunity to press in closer to him. Your head tucks beneath his chin, your lips barely grazing his throat.

"It was really good." You whisper, lashes fluttering as your eyes fight to stay open. Steve's warm on a good day. He's hot as a furnace with all the blood that's pumping around still. Perfect for snuggling up with.

"Yeah?" He sounds delightfully pleased, but not the smug kind. He sounds happy that you enjoyed it.

Then he whispers, "Told you it wasn't you."

His big palm sweeps up your back soothingly.

He's right. You've never been so glad to be on the receiving end of an I told you so before. Not that Steve would say that (at least, not right now).

Cuddling in closer, you wriggle one hand out from beneath the covers, not bothering to pull back or open your eyes when you murmur, "Just had sex high-five?"

You can feel Steve's laugh as it rumbles through his throat. It's an inside joke now, it seems.

"Hell yeah." He wiggles one hand free and slaps it against yours, probably a little harder than necessary. You laugh too, the sound a mixture of joy and sleep.

And yeah, okay, you might get it now. The whole big fuss around sex that everyone seems to make—but maybe you don't entirely agree with them.

There was something more in the... trust. In knowing that Steve wouldn't have cared which way it happened, as long as you were both enjoying it. In the intimacy shared, even before you had ever slept together. In the waiting. In the wanting—for both yourself and for Steve.

There's some grandeur discovery you've uncovered, you're sure of it, about the mystery and craze around sex. You just keep losing the string of thoughts to your slumber which drifts ever closer.

Oh well. You can always put it all together in the morning when you're not so tempted by sleep and bundled up in the arms of a boy who you love. For now, you drift off, fulfilled and content.

tags below! (seven months later...)

@roanniom @madaboutjoe @huang-the-geek @pootcullen @superskittles

@hales-who-loves-to-reid @spear-bearing-bi-witch @daisiesandinvasives @season4steve @thelauraborealis

@mmmunson @everythinghasafacee @katethetank @sorry--for-the-mess @matterdontminduntildone

@blowing-mikey @astoryreader @mulletmcghee @sugarcoatedstarkey @pullhisteeth

(these are just the ppl in the tags that mentioned wanting to be tagged! if i know u follow me and are a regular, i didn't bother tagging u cos i know you'll see it hehehe <3)

[inkdrinkerworld]

can i request a girl flirting with spencer but he is too oblivious to understand she is flirting (bc of course he doesnt) so he keeps talking to her, and reader (they are dating) is FURIOUS and he is sooooo confused. i think it could be funny 🤭

post prison!spencer x sunshine!reader are out with the team when spencer gets sidetracked, you don't like that he is. 1.2k

You’re frowning into your long island iced tea. The entire team can see it and Luke is itching to make a comment. He also knows that despite your sunny disposition you might kick his shin under the table. 

“You could always just go bring him back here,” Matt says, sipping his beer as he watches you burn holes into Spencer’s back. 

You’re not jealous, no matter what any of them might imply. 

“He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t want her flirting with him, he can just leave.” 

JJ laughs into her drink, Penelope rolls her eyes as she chews her cherry and Emily shakes her head at you. 

Spencer likely will remove himself from the girl if he doesn’t want to be flirted with- but since he’s been there for the last twenty minutes you suspect he isn’t as into you as they’ve all suggested. 

It was silly of you to let your heart be captured by a man fresh out of prison you suppose. Your frown worsens at your thoughts, Spencer isn’t the ‘lead a girl on,’ type. Still you feel the hot and heavy sting of jealousy and something bitter settle in your chest. 

“He’s still a bit awkward about this,” You roll your eyes this time. They all talk of Spencer like he’s a thirty three year old virgin. He isn’t. You know he isn’t because Penelope had informed you that he’d been in serious relationships before. 

Not that you’d wanted to know. 

When Spencer comes back, you’re itching for a game of cards and the rest of your team is itching for some sort of reaction from either of you. 

It’s been clear over the ten months you’ve been working at the BAU, that you and Spencer have begun to orbit each other. You’re like Pluto and Charon. You bring each other breakfast, make each other’s coffee, you were even almost halfway in his lap on the jet the other day ‘doing crosswords.’ You really were doing crosswords. 

They suspect you’re both just too oblivious (you) and frightened (Spencer) to do anything about the feelings everyone can see you have. 

“Sorry I took so long,” though he says the words loud enough for the entire group to hear, his eyes are on you. 

“Did you at least get her number?” You kick Luke in the shin then, earning a smirk from the man across from you. Maybe if you put salt in his protein powder he’ll relent. 

“What?” Spencer asks, sipping his rum and coke. He brushes a curl of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. 

You reach into your bag and pull out your sparkly deck of cards and shuffle them. “Oh are we doing readings?” Penelope asks, you don’t trust the peachiness of her tone. 

“The girl from the bar.” Matt clarifies for Spencer, whose eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

“Why would I get her number?” JJ looks at you with a, ‘do you see what we’re saying,’ look but you only shake your head. 

You don’t care if Spencer did get her number or if he’d been flirting back with her. You’re not dating. You don’t care. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. 

“She was flirting with you man.” Luke says and Spencer shrugs, leaning into you as Penelope takes the cards from you. They’re only playing cards, but she’s been trying to get you to read them as well as she reads tarot. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers in favour of a reply to Luke, eyebrows knitted together when you shrug him out of your space. 

“Fine.” Emily chuckles which only worsens Spencer’s frown. 

“Hey, what about this song?” JJ says, the entire group dispersing. Penelope is the last to go, leaving the ace of hearts face up on the table. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks, hand reaching for your chin. You shake your head from his hand. Spencer feels burned. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.” You make it a point to stress the word friends and Spencer almost flinches. 

“I don’t believe you.” he says the words plainly. “Are you upset with me?” You turn to face him then, face stony, an expression on your face Spencer has never seen. Other than that day you were on the phone with your brother. 

“Why would I be upset with you? You’re just the clueless thirty three year old everyone thinks can’t tell when a pretty girl at the bar is flirting with him.” Your words are hushed and low, your eyes dark in the poorly lit booth. 

Spencer sighs, his shoulders reaching his ears before falling. “You’re jealous?” 

You grumble, no point in hiding what is so very clear. “You flirt with me for ten months, and then you spend almost thirty minutes letting a stranger put their hands all over you and come back here like you didn’t know she was flirting? If you just wanted the attention you could’ve said so from the beginning, Spencer Reid.” 

There’s no ‘Doctor,’ before his name that lets him know you’re being playful or funny. No, your words and your expression are the iciest thing he thinks he’s ever witnessed. You sound hurt more than anything and that makes Spencer’s heart crack right down the middle. 

His hand reaches for your chin, turning you to face him. “I didn’t just want attention, you know that,”

You roll your eyes, “Oh do I?” Spencer likes this attitude on you, he can’t even pretend to lie to himself. He just doesn’t like the way you doubt him. 

“I like you. You know I like you. Yes, the woman at the bar was flirting with me, but the conversation was being redirected. She was flirting with me till I told her I wasn’t interested and that I had someone waiting for me.” 

You don’t believe him, “Took you twenty eight minutes to do that?” 

Spencer smiles then, pressing his forehead into yours. “You’re worked up, sweet girl.” The nickname settles you a little. “It took me a little to catch on. I’ll admit it takes some getting used to from total strangers. But I didn’t enjoy her flirting with me if that’s what you’re really asking.”

Spencer’s thumb presses into the slight divot in your chin, your eyes stuck on his as he refuses to break eye contact. “I only want you to flirt with me.” 

Your breath hitches, Spencer smiles. “You let her touch you.” He laughs at how petulant you sound, he knows your grip on your anger is slipping. 

“Am I supposed to push her hands off me?” You nod and Spencer lets his nose run along your jaw. “You’re too much.” 

Spencer doesn’t leave your side the rest of the night.

[yanderenightmare]

i love your hybrid au sm! the way you characterise each animal to suit not only it’s species, but the characters itself is so creative and nothing short of genius! so it got me thinking, how would you imagine the bnha characters as mythical creatures and monsters ??? ( eg. vampires, wendigos, harpies, werewolves ) etc.

it's been so long since did a funny lil piece like this

TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?

gn reader

Bakugou Katsuki

Demonic spirit

He enjoys large houses—preferably something with a bit of history. But every now and again, some moronic humans decide it’s time to wreck the old and build something new—which means he’s often on the move.

He doesn’t mind living alone in his new house until you move in. He’s a little mad at you at first—he thinks you’re one of those wreckers, what with your renovations and whatnot—but then he understands that you’re preserving, not destroying. Apparently, the Gothic manor is your ancestral home built by one of your great-grandparents seven generations back in the 18th century—seems you were the only descendant who felt it was worthwhile to keep. 

He wouldn’t normally stay when someone else moved in—he’d often use his demonic means and scare them on their way. But with you, he settles for dwelling in the shadows, in the many dark rooms you haven’t found a use for yet. But when night comes, and you turn off the lights and go to bed, he can't help but end up in your room—watching you sleep, oh-so-peacefully and blissfully unaware of his presence. But he won’t do anything to you even though he could, even though you make it so easy—he’s grateful to you, his little housemate.

Your bedroom becomes awfully hot at night—you can’t explain it. Nor can you explain why the wind howling through the house sounds more like the groaning breaths of a beast. All you know is that your bed feels heavier than it should if you were the only one in it—and that you don’t dare twist around to see what it is sleeping next to you because whatever it might be, you don’t think it’s human.

You know it isn’t human. It’s too big to be, and its hands are too warm and too rough—and its claws too sharp where they rake into your skin and tuck you close to a chest that feels as though engulfs you. You don’t think it has a heart, only a stomach—and it sounds hungry.

You read up on sleep paralysis demons, and it brings you peace of mind, but only until night comes and you go to bed in wait. It’s the first time he talks to you. His laugh is like rusted clockwork, and his voice is like raked coals—hot and scratchy against your ear as he tells you how your human ways of rationalizing the things you don’t understand are cute and amusing.

Midoriya Izuku - Deku

Hybrid between fae and troll

He protects the forest and nurses all sick and wounded animals back to health, writing down the condition of trees and brushes in his notebook as he wanders for hours until he falls asleep in a moss bed beneath the stars. And though he knows his responsibility is purely to the forest, he can’t help but feel inclined to keep an eye on the little human who lives just beyond it. You’re just so cute with the way you walk the forest and sing songs you think no one hears—wearing your human clothing and living in your human abode behind walls and a door. He just finds it absolutely fascinating. 

Sometimes, you feel like there’s something following you when you walk about the forest next to your house. You’ll turn around to see a cluster of rocks and greenery you could have sworn weren’t there when you walked by—you look away before allowing yourself to think the pile looks an awfully lot similar to a larger human’s huddled form. But sometimes you hear it—the sound of stone scraping methodically, as though walking. You don’t humor the thought until you start finding his footprints outside your house, on the path to the forest—feet thrice the size of your own and sunken as though made by something very heavy.

Your legs go out from beneath you once you first see him—not like those times you’d turned around only for him to pretend to be part of the earth—this time, he’s pretending to be more like you, and it only makes it all that much worse. He’s bigger than a bear, grey-skinned with flecks that remind you of freckles and hair like fresh moss sprouts. His eyes are as green as the fox-fire fungi when night falls—glowing with nocturnal light. When you try to run, he follows suit, making the ground shake so bad it knocks you over. 

He carries you into the mountain where he lives and keeps you there from then on. After all, the part of him that’s fae has considered you his pet from the moment you took a bite of your first forest fruit. It was his gift to you whether you knew it or not, and now you’ll belong to him forever.

Shoto Todoroki

Vampire

It’s an awfully boring world. Not much to do when you feel you’ve done it all twice over. The taste of blood has become stale no matter how many different types he drowns himself in at night. Sometimes, he humors the thought of setting his manor ablaze if only to watch the fire roar until the sun rears the top of the roof and finally puts him to eternal rest. But he’s been thinking about it for two or more centuries already, and he’s beginning to doubt his nerve.

Dead things can’t make vows, so he must go on as he decided to when he was still alive—that’s the curse—only another person can break it.

You seem doable enough when you stride into his manor with your little sharpened sticks and silver daggers. It’s been a while since a hunter has graced his presence. The scent of holy water makes him lick his fangs, and the nearly irresistible urge to drink you dry almost has him pouncing on you—but he knows it would be but a fleeting high unworth it in the end when he’d have to live another millennium without the warmth of the sun or another soul.

He drops down before you with grace. You have the tip of your silver dagger pointed up under his chin in the same second but get stunted by his pale porcelain face, showing no signs of aggression and rather riddled with a bleak sort of melancholy you’re not used to seeing on the godless creatures.

He simply stands there, straight-spined and high-headed, with his hands folded behind his back as though showing you respect—and then, unprompted and to your great surprise, asks if you would please make it quick and put him out of his misery.

Touya Todoroki - Dabi

Hyrbid between incubi and vampire

He preys in nightclubs on those who have that mischievous glint in their eyes in dire hope their lust can match his. Every day, it’s a dozen new—he can never seem to find the right one—always starving and never sated no matter how much he gorges himself, always thirsting, always dying for more. 

Until you.

You’re but a dainty wallflower who doesn’t want to be there, but you have this scent about you—garden-fresh, like something he’s never smelled before, and his tongue yearns for a taste. He knows what it is once he gets closer to you—the opposite of sin of all things, it’s innocence, and oh, how he craves to devour it whole.

His silver tongue has had so much practice that using it on your gullible ears makes him all but drool, asking you if you’d like some fresh air. You nod your head, big eyes looking at him as though he were some sort of saint for offering. He laps it up—it’s all he can do to pace himself. But when he has you alone, it’s all over for you.

He’s going to corrupt every last piece of you until that once peachy keen taste of innocence has become an ever sweeter taste of syrupy sin. He’s going to make you exactly like him—and your tall fall from grace will leave you blasphemous and beautiful.

Shigaraki Tomura

Ghost

You’ve moved into his old room, and though you furnish it a bit differently than he did when he was still alive, you’ve placed the bed in the exact same spot. It’s been all dust and dead moths up until now, it almost feels like he’s alive again as he sleeps next to your warm body.

It’s only small things in the beginning. Underwear that goes missing, unexplainable handprints on the foggy shower doors, your duvet on the floor even though you’ve never been one to kick it off in your sleep.

You’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal either, but something convinces you to search up the history of the house. You find out a boy had murdered his entire family here—parents, grandparents, his sister—and that the boy himself was never found.

Obviously, you shut your laptop with a bang and try and will it away from your mind. It happened years and years ago—whoever that boy was, he was long since dead. But the more it starts sinking in that you’re not alone, the more your belief feeds him—makes him feel real again, as though you’re slowly bringing him back to life.

Sometimes, you spot him in the mirror of your vanity, but when you twist around, there’s no one there. But you feel him—the gust of cold breath giving you goosebumps, the weight of hands and a chest pressing against yours at night, and the brush of coarse fingertips touching you in places—places that have you moaning his dead name.

Keigo Takami - Hawks

Guardian Angel

Being a guardian angel has always been a fun hobby of his ever since the creation—he’s found it to be a nice break from all the other angelic duties he has bearing down his wings. Of course, it’s always sad when your human dies, but luckily, there’s always another one not far behind to steal your halo all over again.

You’re his most recent. He watches over you any minute he can spare, chuckling over all your silly human antics. And though he’s had plenty of humans before you in the long history of man and God, he can’t help but confess you’re his favorite so far. You’re just so cute with your big, adorable eyes and pretty smile.

He begins taking greater pride in his responsibility of being your guardian. He used to see it as but a menial little task he could take to when feeling up for a laugh, but something about you makes him want to watch over you every single second of every day.

And so he does—he has the feathers to spare, especially for something so important. But soon, simply watching over you doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

He knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—so much so he’s afraid he’ll be cast out if anyone were to find out. It’s not right for angels to feel amorous for humans—most would call it deviant and demonic. But he can’t help himself—watching you in your vulnerable state while you undress, bathe, and sleep.

Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Maybe he’ll come to visit you one of these days.

[chukys-mouthguard]

Kinda Tempting pt. 2

Featuring: matt rempe x female reader x mat barzal

Genre: fluff, angst, little bit of smut

Note: i tried my best to refer to rempe as matthew to limit possible confusion of the guys…this was rewritten like 6 times, not entirely happy with it but I know y’all have been asking for part 2 😅🫶🏼 tried to make it so this could continue and we could see both sides of this story

Part 1

“Mmmmm.” 

The sun was shining just enough in your eyes to wake you up, immediately making you regret not remembering to close the blinds before going to bed. Though you were a bit preoccupied to remember, chuckling to yourself as you looked at the 6 foot 8 sleeping giant next to you. Now taking notice of his cut up knuckles from yesterday's fight, lightly tracing your fingers over the marks. Earning a soft groan from Matthew. 

His eyes fluttering open as he smiled at you, “good morning sunshine,” he stretched as he rolled onto his side, “good morning to you pretty lady.” A smile now on his face as he curled up with his pillow, looking up at you and studying the conflicted look on your face. 

“What is it?” 

Shaking your head you got up with a sigh, searching for a hoodie to throw on before rejoining him on your bed. “I’m just, thinking.” 

“Let me guess….you regret last night?” His words came out with a playful tone, though his face showed a bit of sadness as he sat up and rested his back against your headboard. “Look if I convinced you to do something you didn’t really want to do, and I stirred up a bunch of shit now for you to deal with. I’m sorry, I truly didn’t mean for any of that to happen I just-“

“No, that’s the thing. I don’t regret it. But I feel bad for not regretting it. Am I a shitty person for that?” Matthew laughed along with you as he shrugged. 

“I mean, I don’t think you’re a shitty person. I think you’re just, conflicted. I think you’re an amazing girl who is being strung along by her boyfriend, not knowing what the fuck the deal is. Waiting for the day he somehow magically turns back into the guy she fell in love with. But I don’t think that day is coming unfortunately.” 

His fingers now entangling with yours as you took in his thoughts. 

“I think, you’re unsure what to do. I think your head is telling you one thing, and your heart another. Personally, I don’t know the reason why you won’t leave him. And maybe that’s not for me to know. But I think you deserve so much more. I think you could do better, be happier, be with someone who isn’t gonna be another Mat Barzal.” 

“And that’s you?” 

Your tone catching him off guard a bit, but he laughed it off. “I’m not saying that, and I’m not saying any of this to try and get you to leave Mat for me. I’m sure you might be thinking I’m that kind of guy right now, especially after last night, but I’m not. I simply am saying this as a guy who thinks it would be an honor to call you his girlfriend. A guy who would take every opportunity to show you how amazing you are. To never make you feel the way you do right now being with Mat. But by no means am I trying to get you to leave him for me. Because I don’t think I need to convince you to do that.” 

Just as you opened your mouth to challenge his cocky statement, your phone buzzed on the bed. 

“It’s him…” Matthew gesturing for you to answer the call as he got up to get dressed. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, sorry about yesterday. Just, wasn’t a good day. You know how it is. But um, I kind of realize I’ve not been the best boyfriend lately. And, I feel like I need to make it up to you.” 

While you wanted to believe that he was being genuine, you’d heard this from Mat before. He’d apologize, be a better guy for a few days, then things would end up right back where they were. 

“Let’s go grab lunch, maybe do some shopping. Spend the day together and make up for the last few months we’ve been apart.” 

Matthew was mouthing the words go for it, and you rolled your eyes at him. His words still on your mind, not sure why you were still going to entertain fixing things with Mat if you just fucked another guy behind his back. 

“Um, yeah sure.” 

“Yeah? Great! I’ll be at your place in like an hour?”

“Sounds good. See you soon.” 

Hanging up the phone you flopped down on your bed face first. “What’s the matter now?” Matthew laughed as he belly flopped onto the bed next to you, trying his best to make you laugh or smile. 

“What the fuck do I do? He wants to make up for being absent and everything, and you’re over here telling me I shouldn’t entertain it!” 

Matthew put his hands up in protest, “now wait a minute i didn’t say don’t entertain it. I simply am saying to be cautious and look out for yourself. Because, after the way you two interacted yesterday, I just think he’s full of it. But I could be wrong, and this lunch date could change everything. I don’t know. I simply am speaking as someone who cares. I want the best for you, and if that’s him, then great. I’ll still be here for the days you need to cry, or vent, or need to have some fun.” 

He shot you a wink as his signature cocky grin found its place on his lips and you shook your head. “Matthew Rempe, you are not going to be some side piece for me while I figure out my relationship.” Standing up you headed to the bathroom to start getting ready for your date with Mat. 

“And why’s that?” He called after you, leaning in the doorway as you pulled your makeup bag out from under your sink. “Because, you’re a human being, you have feelings. And I’m not just going to use you like that.” 

He stepped in front of you, stealing your attention as he brushed your hair from your face. “But what if I’m okay with it?” 

“You are really something else you know that?” 

He shrugged as he stole a kiss from your lips. 

“Well you make it really easy for me to make bad decisions.” He winked at you, stealing another kiss before heading to the kitchen to grab his keys. 

“So you’re saying this is a bad decision?” You gestured to the two of you with your makeup brush. “Maybe, call me after lunch and tell me if you think so.” 

He closed the door behind him and you let out a groan, not enjoying the position you were in at all. On one hand, your boyfriend of 2 years who was your first love. But who has checked out and left you feeling like it was time to walk away. Then on the flip side, a younger and wild Rempe, who knew what he wanted and didn’t hide it. Which you appreciated, and found quite hot. But how do you just up and leave Mat, and did you want to? None of this was fair to him, but then again, the way you’ve been strung along all these months not knowing where the two of you stand wasn’t fair either. 

“Hey babe.” 

Mat smiled at you as you climbed into his BMW. “Hey,” You flashed a smile as he leaned in to give you a kiss, “don’t you look handsome.” 

He shrugged, “wanted to look good for you I guess. So what are we feeling, Italian? Mexican? A burger and fries?” Buckling your seatbelt you told yourself to listen to Matthew, let this date happen how it’s meant to happen. Don’t force anything one way or the other, let whatever the hell is gonna happen, happen. “Well we both know you’re always in the mood for Italian.” 

“I’m a sucker for the carbs what can i say. Plus a glass of wine doesn’t sound too awful right now.” 

His hand resting on the gear shift as he pulled out of the parking garage. The drive to the restaurant quiet, the result of you two being apart for so long that it was almost awkward between you two. 

So far, your brain was telling you this wasn’t a good sign that this date was magically going to fix things. 

“So, how late did you stay up doing your stuff last night?” Mat asking from behind his wine glass as you chuckled. “Um my job? I was up pretty late doing that stuff. Couldn’t even tell you how long I edited for last night.” Your voice trailing off as you sipped your wine, your palms sweaty just thinking about the secret you were hiding from him. 

“I believe it, probably had a ton of footage to sift through.” He didn’t even make eye content when talking to you, glancing over the menu as you rested your chin on your fist with a sigh. “Plus I had extra clips to edit of Matt Rempe since it was his debut and everything.” 

Mat laughed as he nodded, “Yeah that kid is something else. A fight his first shift, probably gonna end up with more penalty minutes than minutes on ice this season. That is if he lasts.” You were a bit surprised by his comments, Mat never the type to shit talk other guys in the league. “Hey, he earned his spot yesterday and he’s gonna keep working hard to stay up here. He’s a great guy. I personally think you’d like him, if you got to know him versus judging him…” 

Your voice trailed off as your server brought your food. “Okay, no more hockey talk. Where shall I take you shopping? Need a new purse? Some shoes? I know you never turn down shoes.” He smiled at you as he wiped the pasta sauce from his chin. 

This was always Mat’s way of fixing things. He loved to shop, both for you and for himself. So anytime he felt like he’d fucked up, his solution was to buy you everything you wanted without checking a price tag. But the material things never actually addressing the root of the problem that was there to begin with. Simply covering it up with new shoes, a new jacket, or purse. 

“I don’t care, wherever is fine. Nothing I really need if I’m honest.” Your tone caught him off guard, at this point you were over this lunch date. Wishing you hadn’t even thought for a second that things were going to get better. “Okay, do you want to just go home and watch a movie or something? Since shopping doesn’t seem to be a good idea today.” 

“Sure, a movie is fine.” 

Mat decided for the two of you to head back to his place, due to traffic being crazy heading in the direction of your apartment. The car ride once again quiet, Mat a bit unsure what to talk about. He’d offended you when talking about your job and judging Rempe. Shopping normally be something you liked to do with him, but that too seemed to be a bad idea. 

It wasn’t that he was on oblivious to the fact that things between you two were different, he just didn’t know why or how he could fix it. Feeling like it was a battle he’d already lost in your eyes. And no matter how hard he might try to prove to you he was still willing to fight, you’d just blow him off. Already moved on in your mind. 

“Wow, someone has been decorating. Who helped you with this?” You looked around his apartment shocked, never knowing Mat to be a good decorator. “Well thanks, I didn’t think I sucked that bad at interior design. I maybe had a little help, but for the most part it was all me.” 

He smiled proud as he grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

“So, what movie are you thinking?” 

Taking your glass you shrugged, “surprise me? You’re better at picking movies than me.” Mat laughing as he placed the stopper back in the bottle. “This is true, let me take a quick look at our options.” 

Subconsciously you had practically chugged your glass of wine, your nerves rampant as you didn’t know what the hell you were doing. Clearly you were unhappy, this date not going at all how you hoped. You still were holding out hope, but the more and more Mat didn’t talk to you or kept conversation short, the more your thoughts were racing. 

“Do you still love me?” 

Mat snapped his head to you, almost laughing as he couldn’t believe you’d asked such a thing. Almost shocked a bit yourself at your boldness to just come right out and say that. “Um, yes? Why would you even ask that?” 

“When’s the last time you said it? Do you realize what I’ve been going through these last few months? Hell let’s just say the whole last year. I barely see you! We barely speak, and lord knows we haven’t had sex in months. Not that it matters that much, but we both know you like sex. So the fact we haven’t even done that…Like, are you just waiting for me to breakup with you? Or am I supposed to just wait around for you to start acting like the man I fell in love with again?” 

He set his wine glass down, trying to figure out what to say. Feeling like no matter what he said at this point it would probably come across like an excuse. 

“I, I don’t know what to say. Because, I don’t have a good enough reason for why I’ve been acting this way. And, you’re right. You don’t deserve this. Maybe, you should’ve given up on me a long time ago. I don’t know y/n, I can’t lie to you and say I don’t notice that it’s different. But I also don’t know what to do to fix it.” 

“Kiss me! Hold me! Tell me you love me. Get excited to see me after months of hardly talking. There’s plenty of things you could do. The answer isn’t to treat me to lunch and take me shopping. I don’t need food and clothes, I need my boyfriend. I need to feel like you love me. Like you miss me.”

“And you don’t think I feel that way?”

His tone coming out hurt, his hands running through his hair as he tried to think of a response. 

“Notice how you haven’t said it once. Even when I point it out, you say yes and agree, but you haven’t once said it to me. And that speaks volumes.” 

Grabbing your phone and purse you headed for the door, Mat quickly running to stop you. “Now wait a minute, I get I’ve been absent and not the same guy I used to be, but I’ve never been the type to let you walk out like this. Please, talk to me. Help me understand what you need from me so we can make things work.” 

Retreating to the couch, you sat down with a sigh, not sure what to say. “Mat, I shouldn’t have to tell you what I need. You’re my boyfriend. We’ve been together long enough that you should know me better than this. If you’ve fallen out of love with me, then tell me. If you’ve been seeing other people, then tell me. But please don’t keep stringing me along when it’s clear this isn’t working for us right now.” 

He looked at you shocked, the assumption he was cheating hitting him like a train in his chest. “You’re joking? You think I’ve been cheating on you? Please y/n, that’s ridiculous. Where is all of this coming from? You say that I’m no longer the guy you fell in love with, but you’re starting to give me the same energy. I’ve never heard you talk like this…maybe you’re the one seeing other people?” 

Stopping in your tracks you looked at him shocked, a slight chuckle leaving his lips as you tried to formulate a thought. “Yeah, doesn’t feel good being accused of that does it?” 

“Of course not! No one ever wants to be accused of something like that. You know I love you, I’ve stuck by your side through so much. And I’m sorry if I’ve felt shut out or neglected. But I don’t understand what’s changed, why you won’t make time for me and prove to me that this relationship isn’t lost?”

Mat looked to the floor as he shook his head, acknowledging the things you’d said. Realizing that you were right, things had changed. And maybe he was too focused on his job that he refused to believe he’d dropped the ball. 

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, you sniffled as he walked toward you, wrapping you in a hug. Your body completely relaxing in his embrace, this hug was just like you’d remembered. It was what you needed, to feel him hold you tight and reassure you things were okay. 

He took your face in his hands, resting his forehead on yours as he softly kissed you. “I fucking love you, and I don’t want to be with anyone else. I don’t want to lose you. I will do whatever I have to, to prove to you that you’re it for me y/n. I’m sorry you’ve felt like I don’t care or don’t love you.” 

Your hands anxiously pulling at the hem of his shirt, this was what you’d wanted, needed to hear from him. But at the same time, a part of you wished he would’ve said the opposite. Despite Matthew wanting you to try and make things work with Mat, you knew deep down he wanted things to end. He wanted to be with you, but his heart wasn’t going to let him come between you and another man. That wasn’t the type of guy he was, despite his willingness to see you behind closed doors while you figured your shit out. 

“Please, just don’t walk out on me tonight. Stay with me, let me make this right between us.” 

Simply nodding your head, Mat had convinced you. His lips crashing to yours as he lifted you off your feet, carrying you down the hall to his bedroom before tossing you on the bed. 

He gazed down at you as he pulled his shirt off with a cocky grin, before lowering himself on top of you to bring your lips back to his. “I fucking missed you baby.” 

Arching your back against him you moaned into the kiss, your skin practically on fire from his touch. Something you’d been deprived of for so long. 

“God I missed you Mat.” 

Your thoughts racing as you tried your best to just focus on the moment, ignoring any doubts or worries about Matthew. Mat was your boyfriend, this was the man you loved. 

The two of you couldn’t get enough of each other, hands grazing every inch of one another as you both were short of breath. It was as if it were the first time you two were having sex, having to learn what each other liked, explore each other features again. 

Mat normally loving to tease you and make you beg, but not tonight. Tonight he needed to show you how much he loved you, how much he cared, how sorry he was for being such an asshole to you. Yet you stuck by his side, and he’d loved you so much for that. 

You’d tried to get Mat on his back so you could take some control, but he playfully pinned your arms above your head. “Not tonight baby girl, let me take care of you.” 

His words sending shivers down your spine as he sat up, undoing his belt buckle then forcing his pants and briefs down in one motion. You’re gaze not leaving his as his hands traced up your legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them off and tossing them across the room along with your panties. 

“Mat, hurry up. A girl has gone months without this, I can’t wait much longer.” 

Smirking down at you, he stroked himself as he teased your slit, groaning at how wet you already were. “Fuck baby, I missed how wet you get for me.” Without warning he thrusts into you, the two of you moaning at the feeling, expletives leaving your lips as you feel yourself adjusting to him. Wrapping your legs around him as he slowly began picking up the pace, your nails digging into the skin of his back as your lips longed for his. The kisses not deep enough, thrusts not hard enough, the two of you needing even more. 

“Baby, I’m not going to last much longer. You feel so fucking good.” 

“Cum for me Mat, please. I’m so close.” 

His thrusts quick and sloppy, his breaths shorter as he cursed against your skin. A low groan leaving his lips as he came, the two of you sweaty and exhausted as you tried to collect yourselves. 

“Fuck…now tell me why we haven’t done that in months?” 

Mat smirked at you as he stood up, leaving to go start the shower before coming back and lifting you off the bed. “Alright, now let’s get you cleaned up.” He pressed a kiss to your lips as he carried you bridal style into the bathroom. The two of you rinsing off before climbing back into bed. 

You threw on one of Mat’s t-shirts as he pulled on a pair of sweats. Laying down and holding his arm out for you to find your spot next to him. Fingers intertwining with yours as you lay your head on his chest. 

“I missed this, so much.” 

You felt him smile at your words, kissing your head as he agreed. “Me too baby girl. And I’m sorry you ever thought I didn’t want this with you anymore.”

The room fell silent as you were content just enjoying feeling normal again, like you’d finally gotten back to where you’d been needing to be. In your head, thanking Matthew for convincing you to even go out on the date with Mat to begin with. For convincing you to see what would happen. 

Though a part of you knew it would hurt him to know you were back on good terms. Despite him saying he hoped things would work out, you knew he would still be heartbroken to know you and Mat were making it work. 

“Y/n?” 

The tone is Mat’s voice slightly changing, catching you off guard as you hummed a response, letting him know you were listening. 

“I really am going to be better. Make more of an effort, whether that be calls, or driving to see you more often. I’m going to be better. I don’t want you to ever have to wonder if I’m missing you, if I still love you, or god forbid if I’m cheating on you.” 

Your heart sinking at having accused him of the very thing you’d done just the night before. When here he was, trying to prove to you he’d just been distant, but he never lost his love for you. 

“I know, I hear everything you’re saying. And I appreciate it, more than you know.” 

He’d gone silent for a moment once again, you could sense he was thinking, hearing his heart racing as you laid on his chest. Soon enough, he shot up, moving to sit in front of you. Catching you off guard as you looked at him confused. 

“What is it?” 

Mat took your hands in his, practically choking on his own tongue as he couldn’t get his words out. 

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but just hear me out.” Staring at him you were unsure of what you should be expecting him to say. Already happy enough with the fact that you’d, fingers crossed, gotten your boyfriend back. What else could he say now? 

“I have loved you from the first day you’d found me at the rink, and shoved your phone in my face asking me to be a part of one of those dumb Tik Tok challenges. You didn’t give a fuck about who I was, just doing your job. And to be honest, that made me want to chase you even harder. Because you weren’t one of those girls who wanted me because of my looks. Or because I was a hockey player. You got to know me for who I was, and you took the time to see me for more than Mat Barzal of the New York Islanders.”

He smiled at you as he continued on, your mind and heart both racing as you couldn’t foresee the end of his sudden heartfelt moment. 

“It breaks my heart you’ve felt alone for the last year. That you felt I had fallen out of love with you. But I promise, there would never be anything that could make me fall out of love with you y/n. And, I know you’re going to think I’m crazy when I ask this, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

He briefly looked down at your hands in his, taking a deep breath as if to gain the confidence to finally spit out the words he’d been stalling from saying. 

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, and marry me?” 

[starhotchgf]

Boss Bitch

Where Y/N has gone more than a year without making fun of the guys she dated, but Aaron finds a way around his employee's situation.

warnings: overstimulation, squirting, period mentions, rough sex, pet names, mature content.

English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

Working at the BAU was something she had dreamed of since she was just a child and at the same time something that had come true before she could have imagined, making her a young agent, just like Spencer was, even though you were still older than the genius with more PHDs than a normal human being could imagine. She had been there for a little over two years, working with something she liked and making friends she could never have imagined before.

Emily, JJ and Penelope were her best friends, whether it was to comfort her when she had a bad day or got scolded by Hotch or also to have girls' nights and get a little drunk while talking unfiltered in Garcia's office. That wasn't the case at the moment, since they weren't in the living room of any of the girls there, but in the unit's break room. The last case had been solved in two days and with all the reports finished there was no harm in taking a few minutes to gossip and update each other on the group's latest encounters with some guys.

“He was extremely attractive and for a few minutes I thought he might be different from the other guys I’ve dated and would be able to give me at least a little pleasure, which clearly didn’t happen and so I ended up frustrated in my bed for another night. I think the lack of orgasms has been making me more stressed than my period.” You sighed, taking a sip from your cup of coffee. “Why is it that the men I date are so bad in bed?”

“Are you telling me that in the last few weeks you haven’t had an orgasm?” Garcia asked, looking shocked by that revelation that none of her friends expected. “It’s only been weeks, right?”

“Actually I don’t think I’ve cum in a year and a few days, it’s like I never get out of that pre-cum haze and the men I’ve dated definitely didn’t even help me get there.” You confessed, laughing weakly when you saw the shocked looks on the women’s faces. “I’m a difficult person in these aspects.”

“I don’t know how you’re putting up with this. I swear that if I went more than two days without cumming, I’d go completely crazy and pull my own hair out.” JJ said, gesturing exaggeratedly with her hands. “Not even by yourself?”

Your shake of the head made the blonde’s eyes widen, taking another big sip from the cup of coffee she had in her hands. You could be sure that they had consumed more coffee in those few minutes of conversation than they would have consumed during the entire work week at the agency.

The conversation continued for the next few minutes, being bathed in tips that they would never have heard anywhere else and without any filter as it was spoken in that small room. What no one expected was that Aaron was listening to the obscene story that you told with frustration. Something grew inside him and the man knew exactly what he should do. Something that had been kept for much longer than could be put into words.

…

“Hey Y/N, wait a minute, I need to talk to you.” Your boss’s voice made you stop in your tracks. You didn’t need to look at your friends to know what they looked like at that moment. You just felt someone patting you on the shoulder before the women walked away completely, leaving the office along with Derek, Spencer, Luke, and Rossi. “Do you have something to do? I don’t want to keep you here if you have a more important commitment.”

“I have nothing to do, Hotch. I can stay as long as you need me to.” You looked into the older man’s eyes, ignoring the shock that ran down your spine in an electrifying way, almost causing a small spasm in your limbs. “Is it something about the case?”

“Just call me Aaron, honey. We don’t need formalities when it’s just the two of us.” The man laughed, leaning against his desk in a relaxed manner. You never imagined that the older man could become even more attractive with a small gesture and a mere affectionate nickname. You had never heard that masculine and soft tone in his voice. “I want to invite you, Y/N. Would you like to have some wine with me at my place? Jack went to a school camp, just you, me, wine and a probably bad movie that might be playing at this time.”

Her gaze rose until she met her boss again, feeling the same shiver as before, but in a different way, because looking into his eyes, she found desire, not just any desire, the perversion of that invitation that the man made with such a calm and soft tone of voice was palpable. If she wasn’t a profiler, she wouldn’t notice the lust hidden behind those good intentions.

“That would be great, Aaron.” She smiled, with that same perverse desire behind the innocent look she directed at the taller man. Maybe this was the chance to get out of that exhausting and frustrating fog she was in.

“It will be great to have you at my house, dear.”

…

The wine glasses were on the coffee table, the bottle in the middle of both, already half full at that point in the night. Small laughs came from their lips as they listened to yet another story about the older man's youth; they barely paid attention to the movie playing on television, too entertained with each other. Aaron already had a few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, the same piece that was unbuttoned from his pants, lifted in a way that showed only a small part of the 'V' line of his abdomen. There was no denying how attractive that man was, the years between you and him were what made your chest race and your breath pant the most.

Your own jacket was already off your body, the tight, long-sleeved blouse you were wearing highlighted your curves, just as that low-cut top made your breasts even more beautiful and appetizing in the eyes of your boss. The tight pants you were wearing that night left your thighs tight and spread across the sofa upholstery. Your long hair fell to your shoulders, covering part of your breasts visible through the tight neckline you were wearing.

“Is everything okay, honey? You suddenly went silent,” the man said, her gaze rising to meet his. She was sure her face was red at that point, and the provocative tone in the man’s voice didn’t help with the embarrassment. “Don’t worry, I can’t take my eyes off you either. Ever since you arrived at the BAU, with that curious and scared look, you looked like a lost little puppy.” He spoke softly, using one of his hands to brush her hair away from her cleavage. “But hearing you talk about how sexually frustrated you’ve been in the last few months gave me the courage to bring you here. I want to show you what should be done to a girl like you, honey. You deserve so much more than inexperienced brats who don’t know how to take care of that needy little thing that you are.”

“A-Aron,” she stammered, feeling her face heat up even more, her lips parting in a sigh as she felt his large hand wrap around her neck, only creating an attractive pressure in the place. “Did you hear that?”

“I heard everything, baby, every detail of how bad they’ve been, not getting you out of this horrible fog you’re stuck in, but in a way I thank them, if it weren’t for their terrible performance, I wouldn’t have the chance to be here. Now be a good girl and come to my lap,” Hotchner whispered, taking his hand off your neck so he could slap one of his thighs, indicating where you should sit. “But first take off your pants, just keep that pretty blouse and panties on, honey, I want to see how pretty my girl is.” It was almost humiliating how quickly you obeyed him, getting up from the couch, taking off your boots and socks to finally remove your tight jeans, revealing the light lace panties you were wearing to cover your already wet intimacy. You didn’t need to move, the man was quick to pull you to straddle one of his thighs, the surprise friction made you moan softly at the contact, that was music to the older man’s ears. “I’m not just going to take you once tonight, darling, I’m going to make up for all those frustrating months you’ve been through. I’m going to make you cum until you pass out in my arms from exhaustion, until you’re left speechless from screaming my name every single time. Do you hear me?” You nodded, shaking your head frantically as you felt your juices getting even wetter on his dress pants, further increasing the dark stain that was appearing on the fabric. “So fuck yourself on my thigh, I want to see your pretty face as you feel pleasure, like the needy, delicious little thing that you are, does that sound good to you? Answer me with words, I want to hear your voice.”

“O-Okay.”

The man smiled at her tone of voice, holding her hips to make her move against his thigh, making her moan loudly and grab his shoulders, squeezing his skin over the button-down shirt he was still wearing. The friction of the fabric of her panties and his pants against her pussy was making her eyes not stay open for long, the pleasure of just doing that was devastating for her little body, which had been so long without feeling anything like that.

“You look so fucked up just riding my thigh, baby, moving that wet pussy and making a mess in daddy’s pants, don’t you?” Aaron smirked, holding her jaw with one hand, the other kept moving her hips, increasing the friction of her pussy on his leg. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget all the times you went out with a man, you’re going to cum until I decide I’ve had enough.”

“Daddy.” Another moan escaped your lips, your mouth remaining open long enough for a trickle of saliva to run down your chin and drip onto the same spot where your juices were, increasing the wet mess on the man’s pants. “I-I want to cum, please.”

“But I’m not stopping you, darling. Why are you begging?” The man looked at you with a smile on his face, surprised to realize that all you needed was a command. Aaron enjoyed listening to you moaning, trembling on his lap as if you were going to faint at any moment. “Do you need me to tell you? That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He brought one of his hands to your hair, pulling it roughly so that you could look into his eyes. The darkness of desire was much clearer than any light. “You can come, pretty girl. Come for me.”

It only took those words for you to come on his lap, cumming until your eyes rolled back and your body spasmed constantly. Your cum came out in an impressive amount from your pussy, wetting the man's pants even more. Aaron held your body against his chest, running his hand through your hair until you stopped shaking.

“Fuck,” you gasped, looking up to meet the man's eyes, still dark with desire. Aaron smiled sideways, pushing your still weak body so that you lay down on the couch. The man was taller than you, considerable and attractive inches, he hovered over you, moving his hands until they found the soaked fabric of your panties. “Aaron, please,” you whimpered, closing your legs until the man's hand was trapped between them.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs wide for me, okay?” he said, his lips so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath hitting your face. It didn't take much for you to open your legs for him, moaning sensitively as you felt the fabric being pushed aside and the man's fingers moving against your lips, the wet noise seemed to echo through the silent room. "So wet, my love," you whispered, bringing your sticky fingers to your own lips, licking your cum until your digits were clean.

You couldn't hold back when you grabbed the back of the man's neck and pulled him until your lips were glued to each other, delighting in your own cum that was in his mouth. Aaron held your waist, pressing your body into the soft upholstery of the sofa, one of his hands returned to between your legs, two fingers were enough to make you almost scream against the older man's lips. He thrust them in roughly, your eyes rolling back as you felt each movement of his long, thick fingers fucking your pussy as if they were his cock. The wet noise was the only thing to be heard besides your moans during the kiss.

“You squeeze my fingers so well, darling, showing how much you want to cum again, even though you can barely keep those fucking legs straight.” He laughed sensually, breaking the kiss with his hand on her neck, squeezing until her mind was spinning a little, the amount of oxygen reduced until she was panting between moans and small screams, which increased as her second orgasm arrived.

“AARON” Your scream reverberated through those walls, when once again you reached your peak, cumming hard on the man’s fingers, until your vision went white and thick tears ran down your eyes, further increasing the wet mess that was already dripping on the couch.

Your mind was blank at that moment, but your pussy still contracted in anxiety when the man removed his fingers, hearing the soggy noise that echoed through the room, that caused a sideways smile on your lips. Aaron caressed your neck, running his other hand over your bust, taking advantage of the moment to take off the blouse you were wearing, revealing the lacy bra that held your full breasts. You looked at him with teary eyes, your face red from the tears and the effort of the orgasms that took over your body in a few minutes of rest between them.

“Even after cumming twice, are you still eager for more, dear? You are a needy little thing who deserves to be taken care of properly, to cum until your brain stops working properly and you can't say a single word completely." He said smiling, squeezing one of your breasts with the hand that ran over your abdomen. Your body was sitting on the couch, the man on his knees between your legs, using both hands to slide your panties down your legs, leaving a trail of his cum on your skin, the underwear made a wet sound as it was thrown to the floor, your bra followed suit seconds later. You were completely naked in front of the older man. "I'm going to taste you and take you in my mouth, then I'm going to fuck you with my cock until you have no more voice from screaming so much." Your cry of surprise was clear and loud when the man connected his lips with your sensitive and soaked pussy, your hands automatically flew to his dark hair, pulling and moving in a confused way. Your eyes rolled back, your head falling against the back of the furniture, everything seemed to spin around you. She felt her intimacy tightening against the older man's tongue, which went in and out, licking bundles between her lips, taking everything that was left of her previous orgasms, while a new one formed at the base of her belly.

Her thighs opened and closed, until his large hands held her open, squeezing the flesh until the red marks of his fingers were there. New tears were already running down her eyes, wetting her red and hot cheeks, her hand clenched in the strands of the man's hair, the other digging her nails into the upholstery of the sofa, her brain not working properly, her vision with white spots as another wave of cum burned in her pussy. Aaron smiled against her lips, using his fingers to press her clitoris when her orgasm finally hit her body for the third time, sobs leaving her lips as she felt the man's mouth continue sucking her intimacy, enjoying every new drop of her liquid. Confused and pleasurable screams came from his lips, repeating the older man's name constantly, his legs trembling when the fourth orgasm came a few seconds later, his eyes rolled back and saliva dripped from his open mouth, dripping onto his neck and running down to his breasts.

"You taste perfect, honey." The taller man smiled, his lips dirty from his cum as he stood up. He ran two fingers over his lips, cleaning them and bringing them to his mouth, which automatically opened to receive the man's long digits. He closed his eyes as he felt his own taste. He sucked his boss's fingers until they were completely clean, running his tongue over them as if he were sucking his cock. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name, Y/N."

A confused smile appeared on her lips, but her legs opened again, as if they were an invitation to the man, who laughed and landed a weak slap on his face, making she open her eyes and moan from the small fright. Aaron was amused by her expression of pleasure and exhaustion, all that frustration and knot in her eyebrows had fallen with each of her orgasms.

“Let’s go to my bed.”

Your body was carried to the man's room, your legs entwined around his waist and your head resting gently on his shoulder. Your eyes opened when you felt the soft mattress hit your back, you sighed and looked around, too confused to care about anything other than the older man. Aaron unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it on the floor, his pants and underwear followed suit soon after, you smiled sideways, admiring your boss's body, your gaze falling on the large, thick, erect cock that rested on his defined abdomen.

The older man walked to the bed, kneeling on the mattress as he stood between your legs, which automatically wrapped around his waist. His erection rubbed against your pussy, which was once again wet, leaving a small stain on the light sheet. Your eyes met, your hands holding his broad shoulders, your nails weakly biting the light skin.

"Fuck me, Daddy," you begged, your lips parting in a low moan as you felt the thick phallus forcing against your wet hole. Aaron entered slowly, enjoying the anxious and tearful expression that his face took on, her eyes closing and opening until he finally took the older man's entire cock, his nails scratching the skin of his shoulder harder. The man moaned hoarsely, bringing one of his hands until it was pressed against the base of his belly, the burning was pleasurable, forming tears in her eyes. "O-Oh yes, please, that feels so good."

"Please what, honey?" He asked, still not moving, his hand pressing harder on her belly, causing a loud moan and a new scratch, this time on his back. "Use your words."

"Move, please, I need you." She cried, biting her lips at the extreme pleasure that returned to her body again.

Aaron began to thrust inside her, hitting spots that made her crying increase, sobs mixing with the moans and prayers that took over her lips. The older man's hand was squeezing your abdomen, moans that also came out of your lips every time you pressed his cock inside you.

He moved his hand down to play with your clitoris, pressing two fingers against your mound of nerves, causing confused screams and saliva to run down your open lips, increasing the wet mess on your cheeks. The man smiled with a moan, moving his hand down to your pussy that received his cock so well, your eyes opened in surprise when you felt two fingers forcing their way in along with the man's penis.

Your body writhed on the sheet, your nails scratching more red lines on your back, your crying increasing with that strange sensation that formed at the bottom of your belly. The man's fingers curled inside you, at the same time that his cock entered and left you forcefully, making you even wetter than you already were. Your eyes closed, your lips remained open in frequent moans, your hands flying to the sheet, squeezing the fabric and pulling it tightly.

“AARON” She screamed, feeling her vision go white with that hot sensation in his belly. It only took one thrust for her to be spurting on his cock, a squirt of cum staining the man’s abdomen and increasing the mess on the sheets. She felt the older man cumming inside her, increasing the wet mess that her pussy had become. She closed her eyes tightly, breathing heavily and the tears that continued to fall from his eyes.

Aaron left you with a soaked sound, watching his cum drip from inside your pussy. You were a mess on the sheets, your eyes closed, your face wet with sweat, saliva and tears, your hair sticking to your forehead, your breathing labored and your chest rising and falling.

The man left the bed seconds later looking for clean sheets and a wet towel, which he used to clean your body and his own abdomen. Your eyes were still closed, your breathing calmer and no more tears running from your eyes. Aaron was careful when changing the bed cover, not making it lift at any point, he threw the dirty fabric on the floor and left the room, getting a glass of water from the kitchen before returning to bed.

“Honey, I need you to drink this, you need to hydrate.” He spoke softly, stroking her hair affectionately, her eyes opened tiredly, an exhausted groan leaving her lips “Come on, drink a little and then go to the bathroom, then we can sleep”

“I’m tired” She murmured, her voice hoarse and low. Aaron held the glass until she finished drinking, smiling proudly when he saw the empty glass. The man left a kiss on her forehead, leaving the glass on top of the dresser next to the bed. “Can you carry me?”

“Of course I can, my pretty girl” He laughed weakly, running his hands over your body until you were in his lap, on the way to the bathroom.

They went back to bed after a few minutes, you fell into a deep sleep the moment you laid your head on the man’s chest, with his large hands roaming your hair and waist.

“You’re adorable, Y/N”

[mustainegf]

can you plssss do chubby 2003 James being inseguridad about his bod and the reader tells him he's hot and sexy af and eat him up to make him feel better 😇😇

I love chubby men so this was easyyyyy

“Man, I look like I ate the old me,” he said with a chuckle, patting his stomach. “I guess all those late-night snacks are finally catching up.”

I glanced up at him, a frown creasing my forehead. “James, you’re not fat,” I said, trying to keep my tone light but firm. “You’re just… comfortable.”

He laughed again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Comfortable? That’s a nice way to put it,” he said, shaking his head. “I look like I’ve been living at a buffet.”

I reached out, placing my hand on his arm. “Seriously, James, you look great,” I said, squeezing his arm reassuringly. “I totally think you’re sexy.”

He gave me a half-hearted smile, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. “Thanks, baby,” he said softly. “But let’s be real. I know I’ve put on some weight. I’m not the lean guy I once was.”

His words stung, and I felt a Wash of sadness for him.

I hated seeing him like this, and I wanted to do something to help him feel better.

“James,” I said, shifting closer to him on the bed. “You’re still the same ‘rock god’ I’ve always known. A few extra pounds don’t change that. You’re still incredibly handsome.”

He sighed, turning to look at me. “I appreciate you saying that,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s hard not to notice the changes. My clothes don’t fit the same, and I just don’t feel as good about myself.”

I could see the frustration building in him, and it broke my heart.

“James, look at me,” I said firmly, taking his face in my hands and turning him to face me. “You are so incredibly sexy. I love every inch of you, and nothing about you needs to change.”

He looked into my eyes, his expression softening slightly. “You really think that?” he asked, looking slightly shocked that I would say Such a thing.

“I know so,” I said, leaning in to kiss him softly. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and more.”

His eyes flickered with emotion, and I could see the doubt starting to melt but only a bit.

I wanted to show him just how much I loved and desired him, to erase any lingering insecurities.

“Let me show you,” I whispered against his lips, my hand trailing down to the hem of his shirt. “Let me make you feel good.”

He hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, his breath hitching slightly. I smiled, sliding my hands under his shirt and lifting it over his head. He shivered as the cool air hit his skin, and I took a moment to admire his body.

He might have gained a few pounds, but to me, he was still perfect. In fact I thought the extra pounds looked good. Every curve, every line, was a source of great arousal to me.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, James,” I murmured, running my hands over his chest. “I love every part of you.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on mine as I continued to take his body. I leaned in, pressing kisses to his chest, his round stomach, trailing lower with each touch.

I could feel his muscles stiffen under my lips, and I smiled, knowing I was having the desired effect.

I reached the waistband of his pants and looked up at him, my eyes swimming with desire, love. “Can I?” I asked softly, my fingers already tugging at the fabric.

He nodded, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice rough with very obvious emotion. “Please.”

I carefully unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down his legs and tossing them onto the floor. He was already hard, his arousal very evident, and I felt a hint of pride knowing I could still excite him like this.

I wrapped my hand around his thick length, stroking him gently, watching as his eyes fluttered shut and a low moan escaped his lips.

“You’re so hot, James,” I said, my voice a husky whisper. “So sexy.” I praised, hoping to make him feel better.

He opened his eyes, looking down at me. “Thank you, honey,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I needed this.”

I smiled up at him, my heart swelling with love. “You deserve to feel good,” I said, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his cock, making him whine just softly. “Let me take care of you.”

I took him into my mouth, my movements slow and deliberate, wanting to savor every moment.

Fuck I loved the taste of him…

His hands tangled in my hair, his breaths coming in ragged groans as I worked him with my mouth.

I could feel him relaxing, the tension melting away as he surrendered to me.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking slightly. “That feels so fucking good.”

I hummed in response, the vibration making him gasp. I continued to suck him off, my hands stroking his thighs, my lips and tongue worshipping every inch of him.

I wanted to show him just how much I loved and desired him, to erase any more doubts about his body. This sexy body.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmured between strokes, looking up at him with all all the love I felt. “Every part of you.”

He moaned, his grip tightening in my hair. “God, you’re amazing,” he gasped. “I can’t—Baby I’m so close.”

I increased my speed, taking him even deeper, the head hitting the back of my throat. I could feel him writhing, his breaths short.

“Cum for me, James,” I whispered. “You deserve it, baby.”

Suddenly I felt my mouth flood with salty, thick cum, his body shuddering with the force of his climax. I swallowed every single drop, savoring the taste of his seed, the feeling of his release.

I stayed there, holding him in my mouth until the last tremors subsided, then I pulled away, looking up at him with a satisfied smile.

“You’re incredible,” he panted. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I crawled up beside him, wrapping my arms around him and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You don’t have to worry about that,” I said softly.

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 | 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ♔

➪ summary: afer many milestones of her brothers, she finally comes home for the first hughesbowl

➪ warnings: none (surprises?)

➪ word count: 2.6k

➪ file type: fic + one insta post

➪ sunny's notes: i'm pretty sure this was the first hughes bros fic i wrote so i definitely had to go back and rewrite a bunch of it. for a little context you're a famous youtube vlogger :) also i would definitely reread this one because a lot has changed and i wrote like a thousand more words for this one

nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

⟹ Sunday, December 3, 2023 @ 3:30 in the morning - Naples, Italy

“Hello everyone, my name is y/n, and welcome to my channel if you are new here and welcome back if you’re not! It is currently,” She pauses to take a brief look at her watch, “3:30 in the morning on Sunday, December 3. I am very much still in Italy, but not for long.”

The video cuts and now her camera is sitting on her desk, the windows are opened and the lights are adjusted to be a little bit brighter. She smiles brightly at the camera before she starts talking again, “So you’re probably seeing this mid-December ish whcih means you kind of already know what is going on, but. I am officially flying and moving back home.

“Italy has been such a great experience and I’ve had so much fun here, I’ve learned a ton of new things and I am so grateful for everyone I’ve met. If you know, I’ve been here for almost three years now and I think I’m starting to realize how homesick I am. It’s super nice and amazing here but if I’m honest, I kind of miss ‘the land of the free’. That was a joke, the land of the free part, trust.”

She laughs and continues, “Anyway, the main reason I have decided to come home now is because of my brothers. If you also don’t know, I have three younger brothers, Quinn, Jack, and Luke who are professional hockey players. Quinn plays for the Vancouver Canucks and the other two play for the New Jersey Devils. I honestly have missed so much of their careers, Luke especially and I just really want to be there for the first ever ‘Hughesbowl’ I think they’re calling it.” 

She wipes her eyes, trying not to let the tears fall. She looks around at her room and then back at the camera, “So, I’m flying into New York this morning, my flight leaves at 7 so I should probably get going in a little bit. But yeah, I’ll see you guys when I touch down in New York!”

Videos play of y/n getting ready for the airport, all of her luggage behind her. She navigates her way through the airport, stopping to get some food at the Starbucks and a small drink before sitting and reading her book. After the montage, she is now in a car looking a little tired but her smile is still plastered on her face. 

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Sunday, December 3, 2023 @ 10:21 in the morning - New York City, New York

“So as you can see, I am now in New York!” The camera pans to a girl in the driver's seat, “This is my American homie right here. Oh, it’s so weird being back, everyone still can’t walk and drive to save their lives.

“Anyway, Julia and I are heading to drop my stuff off at her place and then we’re going to go get some brunch, I think? We’ll, or I guess, I will go sightseeing. I leave for Vancouver tomorrow night so I can rest up before the shorter flight. It’s honestly, kind of fun being back home, everything is kind of like how I remembered. I might also break into Jack and Luke’s apartment to steal some Devils merch so I can wear it to the game, but yeah.”

“Do the boys know you’re going?” Julia asks, pulling into the parking lot of her apartment complex.

Y/n shakes her head, “Nobody knows except for you and Tiffany, my friend who lives in Vancouver. So that will be an additional bonus to the game. I’ve set up some things with the arena and I guess, actually, some of the team know so Brock, Petey. I think Jesper and Nico know too, we were talking a little bit earlier together when I got here. Alright, I will see you guys sometime soon!”

Another quick montage plays, Julia and y/n are out and about, going from store to store while y/n gapes at all the things she remembered about visiting Jack before she left. At one point, there was a video of her successfully sneaking into her brother's apartment and stealing one of their beanies they kept on the countertop. 

The next video was of her collapsing onto a bed, “We’re home! It is now almost 10 o'clock here and I am going to get some much-needed rest. Tomorrow I think we’re going to meet up with a few more of our friends which I don’t think I’m going to vlog. Which means, I will see you all when I am headed to the airport!”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Monday, December 4, 2023 @ 7:00 in the evening - John F Kennedy Airport

“It was already 5 and I am here at the airport,” Y/n pans the camera around before focusing it back on herself, “I am actually starting to get so nervous about this. I mean in a little over 24 hours I get to see my little brothers for the first time in almost 3 years. Wow, that is crazy to say. I ended up going out to an early dinner with some of my friends so I am definitely full for this plane ride. I am going to be landing in Vancouver around 10, basically, I’m going to be falling asleep when I get there.

“I also finished this book which will be in a different video but it was so good and I’m so glad I got to read it. I’m rambling too much, I will see you guys in Canada.”

Footage of the plane played, looking down at the ground below. In the middle of those clips, were videos of y/n either trying not to fall asleep and also her reading. Then, clips of her dragging her luggage through the airport and out the doors to find her friend's car. 

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Monday, December 4, 2023 @ 10:13 in the night - Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

“Oof! It is nearing my bedtime. Also, Tiffany just mentioned to me how weird it looks that I’m coming all the way from Italy with just a suitcase and carry-on. Don’t worry, I didn’t leave my stuff in Italy. I shipped most of my things here to Vancouver because I’m planning on living with Tif over here for a while until I can afford my place. And who knows, maybe Quinn will kidnap me and force me to come live with him.

“That is completely beside the point there. I have now been in three different countries and two different continents in basically 24 hours theoretically if we look at it from completely one time zone, Pacific. I’m going to cry actually, whether that is because of exhaustion or because I get to see my brothers in less than 20 hours, I don’t know. I will see you guys tomorrow, probably somewhere close to the time I leave for Rogers Arena. Tomorrow is the day.”

The video ends with her sighing with a smile on her face, both happy and nervous for the upcoming events to happen. She went to bed that night, comfortably in another bed instead of an airplane seat once more. Tomorrow was going to be a lot and she could only hope everything went to plan.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Tuesday, December 5, 2023 @ 6:23 in the evening - Rogers Arena

“I am now standing outside of Rogers Arena on this very cold day in Vancouver. I am really wishing I brought another coat, somehow I still have not trained my body to be adaptive in the cold.” She rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless, “We’re going to go meet with some of the people who are helping me pull this off and if everything works out you should be seeing the video Tiffany is taking from behind me mashed with another video my friend is taking from the stands.”

『••✎••』

Y/n stands nervously in the tunnel, playing with her fingers and picking at the skin around her nails. She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet as she listened to the skating come to a halt. It was like her eyes were trained to find her family no matter where she was or where they were. As soon as everyone stopped and got into their lines, she let out a deep breath when her eyes focused on Quinn standing alongside the others. 

His hair was longer, that was for sure. He looked older, more mature than the last time she had seen them. The last time she had actually talked to them was a few days prior, probably about a week ago. She had texted them a few times but other than that, she was too nervous she would accidentally slip up and tell them about her plan. 

Her eyes moved and they zeroed in on Jack who was conveniently also standing next to Luke. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw Luke, he was taller, much taller than she remembered. Jack almost looked the same in her opinion, the only thing different was his hairstyle but even then, he looked like the younger brother who used to pester her when she wouldn’t make his Mac ‘n Cheese the way he wanted her to. 

On the other hand, the boys were standing, looking at the ground while their feet shuffled back and forth to help keep them steady on the ice. Jack and Luke shoved each other once or twice playfully throughout the opening speeches. Quinn had a million thoughts racing through his head. This would be his first time playing against Luke on big league ice, his first time playing his brothers as captain of his team, the first time they would all be playing together in the NHL on the same ice and she wasn’t here. 

He would never hate or relent his older sister for wanting to go off and study in another country, it was an amazing opportunity. He was, however, upset about everything that she had missed of his. Luke’s draft, Luke’s debut, Luke’s first goal, the start of Luke’s rookie season, Jack’s record-breaking season, him being announced captain, his first game as captain. 

While Jack and Luke weren’t thinking about this, Quinn couldn’t help it. Y/n was his big sister, the person he had looked up to for his whole life, the person who took care of him when he took a big hit on the ice, the person who helped him through his first relationship, the person who made him soup when he was sick. She was practically everything to him. And it hurt that she wasn’t here. 

“This isn’t something we normally do, but we figured since it was a special occasion we would make an exception.”

Everyone in the arena had practically gone quiet at the words, no one knew anything extra was happening tonight. A lot of friends looked at each other in confusion, the teams eyed one another - some knowling and some just as confused as the fans -, y/n got even more nervous as the words she had drilled into her head were spoken out loud. 

“As everyone knows, this is an incredible thing happening tonight, three brothers playing against each other.” The said boys rolled their eyes once more but still had smiles on their faces, “We do know that there is one person missing however.”

Many fans of y/n who happened to be in the audience knew almost exactly what was happening at this moment. While she hadn’t hinted at coming back home, who else would they have been talking about? She was the only Hughes in question who wasn’t here. 

“As she told me when she got here, she couldn’t miss another big milestone for her brothers. So after being away in Italy for 3 years, please welcome famous YouTuber and older sister of Quinn, Jack, and Luke Hughes, y/n Hughes!”

Cheers erupted as she stepped out onto the ice and she waved a little to the fans before being almost knocked to the ground by a body tackling her. Luke’s arms wrapped around his sister tightly, his head resting on hers. She smiled softly and wrapped her arms around him as well, “Hi Lukey.”

His voice was soft, “Hi.”

“When’d you get so tall?”

“I’ve always been tall, you’re just short.” He pulled away, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked at her. His eyes slightly glistened with tears before he pulled her into another hug. He murmured something at first, causing y/n to have to ask him to repeat it, “I’m really really really really really happy you’re here. I don’t think I could’ve gone another six months without you.”

She frowned and squeezed him a little tired before he ultimately pulled away and let Jack scoop her into a hug as well. Compared to Luke’s, Jack’s hug was relatively short because he was now antsy. This would be the first time in years that he would be playing in front of her and he wanted to make her proud. So when he pulled away about a minute later she looked at him confused. He only smiled at her before speaking, “I got the zoomies now.”

She threw her head back as she laughed, shaking her head at him. Her eyes moved round once more to see Quinn standing a foot or two away from her. When she opened her arms, he all but dove into them like Luke had done earlier. He, however, shed a few tears as his head buried into the shoulder. She patted his back and suddenly she realized how many eyes were actually on them. So while she wanted to continue her reunion with the three of them, she whispered something into his ear and he pulled away nodding. 

She waved one more time at the fans as the applause and made her way to the stands where her parents were. Once she was even slightly near her parents, Ellen pulled her into a hug, asking her a bunch of questions about when and how she got there. 

『••✎••』

After the game, y/n stood with Jim and Ellen as they waited for the boys to be done. She was in the middle of catching them up on her trip here when someone came from behind and hugged her tightly, slightly lifting her up. She squealed and turned around to hit Jack on the arm, “Hey!”

“What?” He said innocently as he threw an arm around her shoulder, “Can I not hug my sister who I haven’t seen in three years?”

“Of course you can.” She wrapped her arms around his torso and side-hugged him, “You just can’t pick me up.”

He scoffed a little, “Someone’s picky.”

“Where’s Luke and Quinn?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. I was too excited to see you.”

At that moment, Luke and Quinn made their appearance right behind Jack and hit him over the head. Y/n rolled her eyes before hugging each of them, Quinn’s being a little longer than Luke’s. They all stared at each other once they stopped hugging and then they looked at their parents. 

“Can we go get dinner?” Jack asked.

She rolled her eyes, “Only if you’re paying rich boy.”

He shrugged before walking ahead of them. Y/n looped her arms through Quinn and Luke’s, walking down the hallway out of the arena, “Ah my favorite boys.”

“I heard that!”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 『 instagram 』

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, _quinnhughes, lhughes_06, and 42,391 more

yourusername: home <3

tagged: _quinnhughes, jackhughes, lhughes_06

*comments on this post have been disabled*

[padfoot-lupin77]

This might have been discussed before but I haven’t seen it anywhere so: the comedy potential of the Night Nurse staying at the dead boy detective agency is absolutely insane. She knows little about the human world. And she doesn’t like any of the people she now has to work with. Absolute Chaos dialogues under the cut cause this post would be too long otherwise

Night Nurse: *knocks on Crystal’s door*

Night Nurse: Who the fuck is Charlie?

Crystal: you mean Charles?

Night Nurse: No- I know who Charles is, little girl.

Crystal: don’t call me th-

Night Nurse: it was Charles, in fact, who asked if I know about that Charlie and some angels of his. I know all about angels, was this ghost boy mocking me?

Crystal:

Crystal: Charles fucking Rowland didn’t Edwin tell you that the ‘Charlie’s Angels’ thing was a bad idea?

Night Nurse: *deep breath* aright if we have to work together I suppose it would be good to get to know each other

Night Nurse: so, how long have you two been together?

Charles: uh-

Edwin: we’ve been best mates ever since I… escaped hell the first time, around the time Charles died.

Night Nurse: *nods skeptically*

*later that day*

Night Nurse: so your name is Jenny?

Jenny: yes. If I understand correctly you’re an immortal being from the afterlife… or something?

Night Nurse: an eternal transdimensional being but I wouldn’t expect anyone to know the difference

Jenny: great, more supernatural stuff. Just what we needed.

Night Nurse: so, Jenny, you seem to me like the most normal around here.

Jenny: a sentence I never expected to hear, but go on.

Night Nurse: can you inform me what the phrase “best mates” means?

Jenny: seriously? Okay, from what I get it’s the British way to say best friends

Night Nurse: like, a couple?

Jenny: no, like best friends. Two very good friends.

Night Nurse: I’m sorry, I must have got this wrong somehow?

Jenny: clearly. What’s confusing?

Night Nurse: the Edwin boy said he and Charles are best mates but they seem too close with each other?

Jenny: *laughs* yeah, I thought so too. But sometimes friends are very close too. Not that I would know.

Night Nurse: and what makes a close friendship different from a… relationship?

Jenny: honestly, I think you’ve got the wrong person for these questions, I have no idea

Night Nurse: humans don’t make any sense

Night Nurse: I don’t think this will work, I’m going to get my own apartment.

Crystal: and how are you going to do this, exactly?

Night Nurse: I will go whichever local office is responsible for this type of transfers and get whatever papers necessary. I’ve spent all my time doing paperwork, how different can human paperwork be?

Edwin, under his breath: you have no idea

Night Nurse: In fact I will go right now.

Crystal: should we tell her?

Charles: Nah, let her find out the hell that is human-world paperwork

Charles: but this Night Nurse sabotaged our case!

Edwin: I know, just hold on a minute because I just had a most brilliant idea.

*whispers at Charles the plan*

Charles: you’re a genius, mate.

Edwin: I know, now let’s tell Crystal.

*the next day*

*knocks on the Night Nurse’s door*

Charles: hello miss Night Nurse

Crystal: we have brought you a present

Edwin: yes, we- ahem, we realized you were right…

Charles: *trying not to laugh* and we have brought this present to apologize

Night Nurse: that’s… nice of you kids… let me see

Night Nurse: *opens the box*

Night Nurse: *sees a fish tank with an angler fish identical to the one that swallowed her in ep 4*

Night Nurse: you. You evil, demon children how dare you

Edwin, Charles and Crystal all burst out laughing

[jophiel-extras]

AM overstimulating/fucking silly a transmasc reader in front of the survivors? As soon as I saw exhibitionism I ran to your ask box lol

summary :: AM humiliates reader in front of everyone

warning :: exhibitionism, tentacle/wire sex, humiliation and overstimulation!! Yay!!

note :: don’t usually do masc readers but I think ik who you are… so I’ll do it just for you silly

Having sex with AM was, interesting.

Never in your 100 years of torture would you have thought you’d hook up with the master computer that lived to torture you.

However, against the odds. It happened. You had become fuck buddies with your captor. Or rather, you’d become his sexual plaything.

The arrangement certainly benefitted you; more food, safer travels and longer sleep. Sex too, of course. Very, very good sex (though you’d never admit it).

You’d taken many precautions to avoid the others finding out. They’d kill you, absolutely. Maybe torture you more than AM. At the very least they’d judge you like Judas, which you had already been doing enough yourself.

Whenever AM had decided, in his own time, it was an appropriate time to have you he’d whisk you away on a strong wind or send a wild beast after you. You’d be brought to his insides, filled with slinking wires and hot circuits. Occasionally AM might create some humanoid to fill you, or dive deep into your brain and provide you with delicious hallucinations.

This night, however, he’d decided upon his own workings to please you. You knew it the moment his winding cords caressed you and slipped past your clothes.

“Ah, so you’ve returned to me.” AM’s booming voice bounced around you like an echo.

“How could I not? When you keep dragging me here it’s hard to resist.” You gruffed, pulling away from a cord that tightly hugged your arm.

“Is that spite I hear? No, that’s no good.” He chuckled and you shivered in knowing. In a quick snap, the looming wires had secured themselves around your body, touching you in places AM had claimed countless times.

The cords slipped past your shirt, dancing up your chest and digging into your collar bone. Others slipped past your belt line and toyed with the lines of your abdomen. Excitement reared you and AM knew it.

Paired with the chuckling amusement AM displayed, he whispered and boomed shameful words. He’d asked if past lovers had ever made you feel the way he did. Your weak ‘no’ didn’t compare to how different it was. AM fucked your mind and your body.

He’d known your thoughts the moment they entered your mind. You could tell as he hummed, clearly proud of himself.

Before you could open your mouth and hiss a snarky remark, the wires had plunged themselves into you.

Your mouth had no room to articulate other than spit filled grunts as his cords pumped in and out of you. Further down, AM’s wiring ravaged all your sensitive nerves.

Suspended, he kept you stimulated for some time. Watching and processing every choked grunt and every twitch until you came twice.

After the second orgasm rolled over you, AM had only laughed at your clenching and writhing to be free of him.

“Oh you’ll be rewarded greatly for this show, sweetheart.” He whispered it into the crevices of your mind.

It wasn’t until your third orgasm, which hit you harder and faster, that AM continued on.

“You know it’s so unfair to your companions for you to get this special treatment.” He drawled and your heart dropped, though you could hardly feel it. “All this tender care from yours truly and they are none the wiser.” Your eyes began to burn. “Why don’t we let them in on our dirty little secret?”

You’d thrashed against the wires, pleading muffled ‘no’s but in the blink of an eye you were revealed, put forth to the five remaining humans and the only people you could call your friends.

AM had forced you to look despite wanting to turn away from their eyes.

Ellen had looked on in horror, hand clasping over her mouth and her sad eyes widened. Benny had gone mad, hitting the floor and yelling. Ted could not take his eyes from the sight whereas Gorrister had looked away. Nimdok glared with an unflinching expression, furrowed and dark.

All full of judgment and disgust yet it all brought you closer to your fourth orgasm.

After it had passed you, AM had left you there. Cold, twitching and raw.

[maybege]

Drunken Words Are Sober Thoughts - FBI 11

Summary: The birthday celebration continues but the morning after does not look as fun.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.7k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, hopeless yearning, Josh is annoying af and so are “your” parents

I am not dead and neither is my Hotch obsession, so I am slowly (very slowly!!!) trying to get back into this fic. Let me know what you think, your comments these past months were always an absolute joy to read 🥺

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

You did not know how many cocktails you already had thrown back, each one more colourful than the last.

What had started with a Kiwi Splash had turned into a Sex On The Beach and something else that Emily had pushed into your hand with a grin and a wink. It was hot pink and tasted like sour candy on your tongue. Delicious.

The night went on, the music got louder and you did not know a lot of people in this karaoke bar that the group had chosen but with Penelope and JJ on the dancefloor, you were certainly in good company.

Someone was blaring an offkey rendition of Britney Spears’ Toxic but you could not care less. Your dress was twirling around you, you screamed along with your friends and the rest of the bar for a moment you finally felt like you had found your people. Like you had settled in this strange city away from home with a group of colleagues with whom you had always wanted to fit in.

And how could you not feel welcomed when Penelope threw her arms around your neck and professed her undying love to your dangly earrings?

“Let the birthday girl breathe, Pep,” JJ joked, rocking her hips to the beginning tunes of Get Busy.

“I just think you are beautiful, darling!” Penelope shouted over the music, “Inside and out and you are so lovely and nice and you deserve the best things and I hate to think that you think you don’t deserve the good things this life has to offer you.”

Trying to hide how close her words hit home, you swallowed back the heavy feeling in your chest.

“All right, Garcia,” Emily interjected, taking your blonde friend into her arms, “I think that is enough drinks for tonight. How about we go looking for your hunk somewhere, huh?”

You grinned, pressing a wet kiss to Penelope’s cheek before making your way back to the table the rest of the group was occupying. While drinking all night may be a fun distraction from your usually so boring life, you knew yourself enough to know you needed to drink lots of water if you wanted to function tomorrow.

Though “function” might be too big a word.

The glass of cool tap water – condensation pearling off at the sides – was calling your name and you fought your way through the crowd. It had not seemed this packed with people when you were dancing with your friends but the moment you tried to get to a specific place, your way was blocked by dozens of people just as (if not more) drunk than you.

You were about to squeeze your way between two people (the last hurdle to your table) when they suddenly stepped away from each other. You almost toppled over, squeaking in surprise when your heel got caught in a gap in the creaky floorboards.

It would have made for a nasty fall if it had not been for two strong arms catching you around your waist, gently helping you into your chair.

“There,” Aaron Hotchner's amused smirk greeted you as you looked up, “Drank a little too much, did we?”

“Me?” you asked, finding yourself in the mood to joke, “Never!”

A real, genuine laugh escaped the man before you and you were sure you had never seen anything more beautiful than him laughing. His entire face lit up and the crinkles next to his eyes deepened. You grabbed the fabric of your dress, keeping yourself from tracing the lines of his face with your finger.

Not appropriate, you reminded yourself, So not appropriate.

“Pretty sure you are, though,” he teased back, pushing the glass of water towards you. You smiled in thanks, quickly gulping down a few sips. “You are laughing more than usual, entertaining Reid’s monologues on aviation in the early twentieth century and I am pretty sure,” he looked down between you, “Just like I thought. You are wearing the heels I only ever saw you wear when we celebrated Emily’s birthday at that high-end sushi place.”

“Are – are you drunk profiling me, Agent Hotchner?” you gasped in shock, unable to hide your smile.  

“What happened to Sir?”

Hoping he did not notice the heat spreading through your face, you fiddled with the neckline of your dress, trying to get some air on your body. “Don’t tease me!”

He looked … relaxed. Open. A slow smile spread on his lips as he turned the half-empty glass of scotch in his hand. He was the epitome of confidence and relaxation with how he was leaning back in his chair. You tried to remember the last time you had seen him so … not on edge. No moment came to mind.

You crossed your legs, trying to satiate the pulsing need that had formed in your core. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you tried to remind yourself to not give him anything to read you by. Which seemed impossible considering the man could read you like an open book.

You just hoped you could hide at least a few essential chapters.

The dark-haired man leaned forward then, resulting in his head hovering right next to yours. The proximity was dizzying and intimate and you could not help but breathe him in. He smelled of the scotch and something so masculine it made you daydream about burying your head in the crook of his neck.

 “You sure?” he mumbled, his lips dangerously close to your ear and you audibly gasped for breath, the back of your neck feeling warm as you stared up at him, “Because I have the feeling you rather like me teasing you.” He was so close, looking down at you as his nose almost touched yours and shit you wanted nothing more than to –

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Pen!” you gasped in shock, plastering a big grin on your face in the hopes that she would not see the sheer need written all over your face.

Luckily, your friend seemed to focus on your lack of dancing to notice anything else. She did not even spare a glance at Hotch when he slowly pulled away from you. “Oh, don’t tell me you are getting tired,” she whined, grabbing your hand and dragging you up, “C’mon, let's go back to dancing! Swing those hips, sweetie, we have all night!”

You followed her with a laugh, happy to have the distraction, but not without looking back at Hotch.

And seeing that he still looked at you with a smile.

*

Waking up with a headache was not normally a cause for joy but the morning after your birthday, you still woke up with a smile on your face.

Never in your wildest dreams had you expected the night to turn out the way it did.

The team had shown up with you, not once but twice and even then, continued to make you feel celebrated the entire evening. Hell, Rossi had insisted on covering your tab on the condition that you brought your self-made banana bread to work again. Emily and Derek (and a very drunk Penelope) had sung you the loudest rendition of Happy Birthday you ever heard with Reid and JJ acting as backup dancers/singers.

And Hotch had been the one to see you to your cab when the night had come to an end, making sure you were before nodding at you with a small smile.

A smile that was now on your face as you made your way to the kitchen. You caught a glimpse of the chaos in the living room. Chaos that had not existed when you had left last night. Empty bottles and glasses stacked on top of plates that were not quite as empty and the remnants of the pizzas Josh seemed to have ordered yesterday.

The smell of stale leftovers hung in the air and you hoped that a few slices were left over so you did not have to meal prep for the week.

The kitchen greeted you with much of the same sight and you took a deep breath when you saw your roommate already sitting at the table, a few slices of pizza before him. It wasn’t that you were unhappy to see him, really. You had just hoped to have a few more moments to yourself before being confronted with the events of last night.

“Morning,” he greeted you, chipper as ever.

“Hey,” you greeted back, browsing through the tea drawer. Peppermint? Berries? Earl Grey? You settled on a ginger and lemon brew, hoping that it would help you to wake up.

“That was one hell of a night, huh?”

“It was,” you agreed, “The bar we went to had like three birthday parties at the same time, it was a lot of fun.”

A moment of silence followed and you did not need to look at him to know he did not know what you were talking about. “Oh good,” was what he finally settled on and you closed your eyes, trying to hide your annoyance.

How could it be that the person you had long considered to be your best friend suddenly just … wasn’t the person you knew?

Remembering Derek’s comment from the night before, you decided to take another deep breath and do something you had avoided for a long time: Confront your best friend.

“Josh,” you started carefully, turning around and leaning your hip against the counter, “Can we talk about last night?”

“Sure,” he took another bite of his toast, “What about it?”

“The comment you made in front of my colleagues … That was not okay.”

“What comment?”

For a moment you could feel the doubt creeping up. Was this the right path to go down? Was this worth a conflict with not only your best friend but also your roommate? Was it really as bad as you thought it was? What if he had meant well?

My experience is that the people we need to clarify that about usually don’t care if they mean well or not.

Derek's words echoed in your head and you knew you were right.

“The comment where you implied that I was bad at my job. In front of your friends, my colleagues and my boss,” you recalled, feeling, “That was humiliating and hurtful, Josh.”

A frown formed between his brows. “Why are you so angry? Yeah, so I made a misplaced comment, I am sorry, but didn’t we talk about this already? Besides, it was at a party I organized for you, I think I am allowed to have some leeway here.”

You could feel your eyes bulge out of your head. Was he for real?

“I really appreciate what you were trying to do,” you said calmly, wrapping your hands around the mug and focusing on how the ceramic was warming against your skin, “Really, I do. But did it not occur to you that the only people you invited were your friends?”

“You know them too.”

“I do and they are very nice, I'm sure. But you could have asked if I would have liked someone to join. I left before midnight to celebrate somewhere else with people that I invited.”

He scoffed. “Look, I'm sorry you feel that way,” he threw his hands up, “I was just trying to do something nice and apparently that backfired.”

It did not escape you that the language he used was manipulative as fuck and you bit your tongue from throwing words in his face you would not be able to take back.

“I don’t think this is very productive,” you finally said, “I am going to take a shower and I would really appreciate it if we could talk about this sometime when we are both more clear-headed.”

Though as you made your way to the bathroom, the steaming mug still in your hands, you had the sinking feeling that any following conversation would not bring the closure you hoped it would.

*

As if your day could not get any better, your phone rang just as you stepped out of the shower and into your bedroom.

Recognizing the picture on the screen, you accepted the video call, wrapping your bathrobe a little tighter.

“Hi.”

“Happy birthday, honey!” your mom appeared on the small screen. The living room wall behind her looked just like it had done your entire childhood and you spotted the variety of family pictures she took great care of dusting every week.

“Thank you.”

“Did you have fun?” she asked, “Did you get to go out with Josh and your friends?”

“Yeah, uh,” you hesitated for a moment, “Josh organized a little party here but I ended up going out with the team later. We went for karaoke and it was awesome.”

“You certainly look like you had an awesome night,” she teased and you bit your lip to keep from grinning.

“So … how are you feeling?” she asked and you immediately grew suspicious. You knew that tone and you knew when she was worried.

“Good,” you replied carefully, “Like I said, I had a fun night.”

She hummed and avoided looking at you for a moment and you knew what was about to happen when you saw your father sitting down next to her. Even hundreds of miles apart, you still felt like a child when your parents sat together on the sofa like that one time when you accidentally put a dent in the family car.

“Remember our conversation from a few weeks ago?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I am feeling a lot better now.”

“And I am so glad to hear it,” she smiled and you could tell the genuine worry from where the crease never quite left her forehead, “I talked with your father and we – we think it might be best if you come visit us for a while. Come back home, check

“Just because you don’t think I can't make it as an agent –“

“Hey,” your dad interrupted you gently, “No one is prouder of you than we are, sweetheart, and we know you make for one hell of an agent. But the fact remains that you were miserable for the last couple of months and it might not be a bad idea to try and get to the root of things.”

And by the root of things they meant that you re-discover your passion to become an English teacher at your local middle school.

“I am an adult woman,” you tried again, “I love you and I love that you worry about me. But we need to keep in mind that I made a big move for a job that I was not wholly prepared for. The adjustment period was … longer than I wanted, for sure. But I finally feel like things are moving for the better and this makes me feel like you do not believe in me.”

“We do love you, honey,” your mum assured you, “And I apologize for making you feel like we don’t trust your decisions. I know you are incredibly proud of the work you do and you should be! But I am worried and I would feel better if you took some time off and came to visit us. Allow yourself the grace to breathe, you have been working non-stop since you moved away. There is no way that is healthy.”

You ran your hand over your face, trying to get yourself some time to think over your answer. The horrible thing was you knew your mother was right. Even if you did not want to admit it, you knew that you had been overworking yourself, that ever since Dr Johnson had voiced her doubts, your brain had been on edge and that a break might not be the worst idea.

Especially considering you had not taken any time off since you started your position.

“I hear you,” you started, feeling your eyes sting with tears. But you refused to cry in front of your parents lest they thought they were right and insisted that you come home as soon as possible. The last thing you wanted was to worry them.

“Can you just give me some time to think it over?” you asked, “Taking time off is not as easy as it sounds and I want to make sure that I don’t miss anything important at work.”

“Of course, darling,” your mother agreed, “Let us know anytime.”

But you knew that her anytime meant that your time was running out.

[words-in-starless-skies]

For @bucktommyweek, June 5: "Bad Weather Days" Title: Healing Love

Summary: Or: One time Buck gets sick, one time Tommy gets sick plus one time they both get sick. (For Bucktommy / Tevan week Day: Bad Weather Days)

~

Buck doesn’t get sick often. 

Usually, his immune system shakes off any kind of bacteria or virus that tries to invade his body. But now, for the first time in years, he’s hit with a sickness like a truck. It might be the flu. Whatever it is, it seems to be the Queen bee of sickness, sending her worker-bacteria everywhere to shut down Buck’s immune system and force him to stay in bed the whole day.

It’s horrible. Ugly. Nasty. And it overwhelmed him in the middle of the night.

Buck’s nose won’t stop running. He can barely breathe. His eyes are red, swollen and itchy. There is a persistent scratching sensation in his throat that forces him to dry-cough every few seconds. His bed is surrounded by crumpled used tissues. He feels too hot in his own skin like he’s boiling from the inside.

Damnit. He can’t go anywhere like this. It’s his day off anyway. Of course, it is. But Tommy and he had a dinner night with a Star Wars marathon - and mind-blowing sex, obviously - planned, since Tommy doesn’t have to work either, which rarely ever happens. Great.

With a heavy heart, Buck pulls out his phone and writes a message to Tommy.

Sorry, we have to postpone movie night, I’m sick. 😷

Tommy answers almost immediately. How sick? 😨 You need a doctor? I can drive you.

Buck smiles through another terrible painful coughing fit. How can Tommy be that cute? He’s so … thoughtful, considerate and sweet. Buck doesn’t know how he deserved this. He’s really not that special. But Tommy looks at him like he is.

He types: Might be the flu. I think I just have to lay here and endure this.😞

Ok. I’ll come over and cuddle you.

Wait, what?! Buck hesitates, his fingers hovering above his phone. Tommy can’t mean that. Buck is one big living bacteria, coming here would surely make Tommy sick too.

But then you’ll get sick too!, he types, frowning.

I don’t care. You need endless cuddles. And tea. And food.

Buck has to bury his face in a pillow for a moment, like an embarrassed blushing teenager. 

Oh God. He is so in love, it’s ridiculous. His stomach is full of fluttering butterflies and his ears are burning and he feels dizzy in a good way. Right now, he wants nothing more but Tommy by his side, fussing over him and taking care of him, if he’s being honest.

Buck never had that. Not like this. 

He wants it. But there’s a persistent nagging voice in the back of his mind, admonishing him: Don’t be a burden, don’t ask for too much, don’t be too demanding, don’t be too much!

Buck swallows. He nervously chews on his lip and types: You’re sure???, while thinking: Please be sure …

Yeah.

Buck smiles and starts to feel a suspicious burning in his eyes. He tries to figure out how he can show Tommy through text what this means to him.  

What did I do to deserve you?🥲

Hmmmm. You booked a helicopter ride into a hurricane?

I did. Thank God, I did, Buck writes back, his heart jumping a loop in his chest.

Yes. Thank God, you did. See you soon, babe. Don’t die.

Buck’s laugh turns into a cough. I’ll try not to.  ~

Buck falls asleep while waiting for Tommy. Fortunately, they already exchanged keys. So he gets to wake up to the smell of tea and soup. And to Tommy, sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through Buck’s sweat-soaked hair. Even though Buck’s head is swimming in fever-induced fog by now, he’s so happy to see Tommy, he smiles and tries to tell Tommy, only to break into a cough again.

“Hey,” Tommy says, worry filling his eyes. He puts the back of his hand against Buck’s forehead and frowns. “You’re too hot.”

Buck groans and leans into the touch. Tommy’s hand is so cool. It’s heaven … “No,” he says, his eyes snapping open, when he feels Tommy’s touch leave. “No. Please. Don’t.”

Tommy puts his hand back. “Jesus, Evan. I think we should get you to the hospital.”

“No. No hospital,” Buck groans, putting his own hand on Tommy’s. “Please. Can’t. I’m sick of it.”

“I get that. After everything you told me, I think they might have a bed with your name on it reserved for you,” Tommy says dryly. “Ok. No hospital. For now. But if the fever rises any higher, I’m going to carry you to my car and drive you to the ER. We clear?”

“Alright,” Buck grumbles. “M fine.”

“You’re really not,” Tommy sighs. “Anyway, we should get some fluids into you, ok? You’re sweating like crazy.”

Tommy is right. And it’s gross. Buck is gross. He grimaces. “Sorry …”

“You got nothing to apologize for, kid,” Tommy says, his fingers brushing Buck’s hair back from his forehead. “Now let me get you some tea and soup, alright?” ~

“Are you not scared of getting sick?” Buck croaks, his head resting on Tommy’s chest. They’re together in Buck’s bed now, after Tommy cleaned up and fed Buck soup and made him enough Chamomile tea to last a whole day. He also got Cough syrup and lozenges. Not to forget the month’s supply of Ibuprofen.

Buck feels better already. It’s so nice to be taken care of. He could get used to this. And he slowly reaches the point where he can actually allow himself to enjoy this. It feels like Tommy's care makes the bad intrusive thoughts fade away into an inaudible static noise. Drowned out by the heart-fluttering rhythm of I'm loved.

“No, I have a pretty strong immune system,” Tommy says with a chuckle. “Also I care more about you right now. You shouldn’t be alone like this.”

Buck feels like crying again. “Thank you for being here. I … I wish I could tell you how I feel about this, but, but, but -” He sneezes violently.

Tommy laughs and hands Buck a tissue. Then gives him a kiss on his head. “I know. It’s alright, love. Just focus on getting healthy again, alright? We can talk later, after you stop exploding.”

[wedielike]

Requested by @hernandofuentes - oyeicher's first date!

Read on AO3 or:

Oyei hadn’t ever been on a real first date, at least not with a guy, he realized as he gazed at Cher across the table. Any outings had only been preludes to sex. There had been plenty of one-night-stands, of meeting up with guys in bars where none of his fans might see him. But he’d never been willing to take any of them on a date.

None of them had been as cute as Cher, though, and Cher had made it quite clear that he wouldn’t jump into bed with him simply because he was a famous boxer.

So he’d had to try a little harder, and he didn’t mind it.

“What are you staring at?” Cher asked, smiling slightly as if Oyei was being weird, reaching across the table to poke at his shoulder.

They weren’t at a fancy place, somewhere Oyei would have found stuffy and uncomfortable. He didn’t have any clothes for a fancy place anyway, although he was sure Cher was used to going to restaurants like that. He probably wasn’t as used to eating outside a little food cart, moths fluttering around the table lights. But Oyei never lied about who he was, and Cher didn’t seem to mind.

“Just can’t believe we’re actually on a date,” he answered, surprised by the fluttery feeling in his stomach when Cher laughed, twirling the noodles around his chopsticks.

“Why? Because when we met, you were with your girlfriend?”

“A girl who’s a friend,” Oyei corrected him, but he wasn’t completely wrong. He hadn’t exactly discouraged people from thinking they were together. “And I’m staring because I finally get to look at you all night. I’ve gotta take advantage, don’t I?”

Cher rolled his eyes, but he smiled anyway, as if it was a bad line. “A picture would last longer.”

“Not if I have my way.” Oyei grinned at Cher, picking up a piece of meat from his bowl and offering it to him.

“Are you always such a flirt?” Cher asked, but he took the food Oyei gave him, popping it into his mouth with a cheeky smirk. “Is that why you have so many fans?”

“No, I just think you’re hot,” Oyei said, pleased when Cher’s cheeks reddened slightly, difficult to see in the twilight, the dim lighting around the cart. They weren’t too far from the riverfront, where the lights there would sparkle off the water in a different kind of way. Maybe they’d go there after. He leaned over the table. “Do you think I’m hot?”

Oyei knew he was at least ripped, if not good-looking. He was aware that most of the girls who wanted him only wanted his body, but the same could be said for men.

Cher’s eyes darted down, slowly, as if evaluating the muscles that he couldn’t see beneath his clothes. He took so long to decide that Oyei actually wondered if he didn’t find him attractive and he was only here because Oyei had asked him out one too many times.

He hadn’t asked that many times, in truth. Just twice. Cher hadn’t seemed too keen on a date when he’d come into the gold shop with a girl on his arm and it had taken a few tries after that to convince him he was worth it. Cher was certainly worth it. Oyei had been sure the moment he’d seen him, with his bright shirt and short shorts, big brown eyes and soft, plush lips, the skeptical and slightly judgmental look he’d given him over the counter. Oh yeah, Oyei knew right then he’d be worth it.

“You’re okay,” Cher said finally, biting his lip, eyes flicking down his chest again, lingering on his bare arms in a way that made Oyei smile, sure he was being a little mean on purpose. He kind of liked it too.

“I could show you something much more impressive,” he offered, glancing down, and Cher’s lips pursed together in an attempt to hide his amusement.

“If you make it to the next date, we’ll see.”

Oyei grinned, leaning over the table to reach for Cher’s hand. Cher let him, and Oyei was glad it was dark. He was still a little worried that people might see, but he’d have to take the risk for Cher. After all, to anyone else, they could just be friends having a meal together. Other people didn’t know that Oyei’s heart thudded loudly when Cher slid his fingers over his palm in return.

“There will plenty more dates,” Oyei assured him, smiling at Cher’s raised eyebrows. If he was confident about one thing, it was that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw Cher.

“And what are we going to do on these dates?” Cher asked, skeptical but teasing. “I come to watch you box like a pit girl?”

“I’d love to see you there,” Oyei said, sincere, already picturing Cher cheering him on from the sidelines, being able to stumble out of the ring and pull him into a crushing kiss. It was still a fantasy at this point, something he couldn’t exactly do even if Cher would agree to it, but a guy could dream. “But that’s not a date. I’m going to take you on a picnic in a garden, and we’ll ride the swan boats in the park. And I’ll take you for drinks in the tallest skyscraper in Bangkok. We’ll sing karaoke and buy flowers at the market, and someday, you’ll wake up beside me and I’ll make you breakfast.”

Cher was smiling when Oyei focused back on him and not the images in his head.

“You really think we’re going to do all that?”

Oyei nodded simply. There were so many things he wanted to do with Cher, things he hadn’t even thought of yet. He already knew that.

“Someday,” he said, and someday they would. But for now, this was still just the first date, and Oyei was glad just to be here. And he thought Cher was too as he smiled down at his plate. The night was young, after all, and so were they.

[amethystwrytes]

Imaginary Games

▪️Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem. Reader

▫️Genre: Romantic, Smut, Exes to Lovers, Smidge of Hurt

▪️Warnings: 18+ Explicit language, sexual content (vanilla), pining idiots, past infidelity.

▫️Summary: The only thing that could make a destination wedding - in which you're the maid of honor, who has to give a speech in front of a crowd, who has to wear a dress that cost you a pretty penny that you'll never wear again - worse is the fact that your cheating ex is the best man.

▪️WC: 8k and some change

▫️AN: Repost from previous blog. Honestly I just really liked this fic. It wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea and I get that. Cheating is one of those things that we all have very strong opinions on, naturally, and that’s totally valid. For me, I just really enjoyed writing this and I liked how it turned out. The whole bit about Taehyungs ruined cashmere alone was enough for this to make the reposting cut 😂🧶

“He isn’t here yet, he won’t be here until dinner tonight so you can relax,” Fi, your best friend and blushing bride-to-be tries to comfort you as she shifts around on her beach chair. 

She’s talking about Taehyung, of course, you don’t need to ask. He’s your ex, that you haven’t laid eyes on in two years. Not since the night that he admitted to cheating on you with a co-worker. You’d felt so incredibly stupid. You’d been casually babbling about meal planning of all the mundane things (it’s more cost effective and healthy blah blah!), and he started crying and spilled the whole story out of guilt. You’d been too stunned to argue, or fight, so you did what you always do when someone hurts you: You said nothing, or at least nothing of value, and you walked away. He’d tried to run after you, begged you to just talk to him, tried to wipe the tears that fell from your face in a devastated shower, but you wouldn’t let him. You slapped his arm away so hard your fingers had tingled for an hour, and you told him never to speak to you or touch you again. 

A typical person might fight, scream, or try to have a discussion. A typical person would ask questions between bouts of screaming like “Do you love her?” “Did it mean anything?” “Do you still want me?” - the kind of questions that are natural when you’ve been fucked over like that. You definitely dwelled on those questions a lot, but you were too stubborn to ever ask them, because that would mean you’d have to speak to him, and you’d made it clear you were done speaking. If you spoke to him that might give him the impression that you were willing to listen to his side of things, and that might lead to him thinking you could forgive him. Can’t have that. 

You’re not a forgiving person, not when the offense is that deep and it was. You loved Kim Taehyung with your whole heart. You planned on doing ‘old and gray’ with him. You built future plans together, he was your best friend, he was your safe place and you were all those things for him as well. It was right, he was Mr. Right. 

You find it so unusual and infuriating that even after two years, you feel that pain like it was freshly served every time you think of him.

“I’m relaxed,” you tell her with a stiff shrug, “and this weekend is about you and Joon, not me, so I don’t care when he’s coming.” 

 In the two years you’d been broken up with Tae, you had found it quite challenging to keep up your friendship with Fi, considering her significant other - and now fiance - was Taehyungs older brother. In fact, they met because you and Tae had set them up on a blind double date. You managed, however, to avoid him at all costs. Until now, because who else would Namjoon choose to be his Best Man other than his brother? 

“Yeah you really look it,” Fi snorts, “you’re sitting beside the ocean underneath a warm sun and you look so uptight that I’m scared you’re going to start shitting diamonds.” 

“Well maybe I’ll shit a necklace, it can be your ‘something new’,” you tease and she laughs, maybe you’ve dodged the wrath of her observational skills. 

You try to go back to your book, you’ve made it all the way to page two, but just like every other time this morning you’ve attempted to read - the words start to blur together when your mind begins to think of the inevitable: He will be here. You will have to interact. You’ll have to play nice. 

“You know, Joon says he hasn’t gone out with anyone since you two split,” she offers casually as she flips onto her stomach. 

“Fi…” her name comes out as a warning. 

“Sue me, I’m just saying that it’s worth noting the man has been punishing himself the entire time you’ve-,” 

“Where’s your phone? I need to check the time,” you say quickly, digging in her tote until you feel the shape of the device that you don’t need whatsoever. You’ve got nowhere to be until dinner this evening. 

“You can change the subject all you want, but tonight at dinner you’ll have to face the problem you’ve been running from all this time head on,” she reminds you, painfully. 

“I’ve not been running Fi. I walked away, with the entire thing blowing up behind me and didn’t look back. There’s a difference,” you point out. 

“Fine. Avoiding is the better verb then. Semantics,” she eyes you from under the brim of her hat, “you never gave him the chance to explain what happened.” 

You scoff, “Unless his dick leapt off his body and kamikazed into her vagina I don’t really need to know what happened. Do you know what happened?” you ask out of curiosity, though you immediately regret the words, it gives the impression that you give a shit. 

“No, I don’t. I promised you I wouldn’t discuss you with him and I haven’t - though he’s tried many, many times - but I do think it’s a conversation you should have with him ___,” she props herself up on her arms, “People move on from affairs all the time, sometimes together, sometimes apart. The point is that they decide what’s best based on all the information, not just the pain it caused.” 

She’s making you angry. You bite down hard on your lower lip to ground yourself. You don’t want to yell or fight with her, not this weekend when it’s her big moment. Her wedding. 

“Hey, I’m starting to feel the sun,” you say, and it’s not a total lie, “I think I’m going to go in and cool off, get some water and lunch. Do you want anything?” you ask. 

You look up towards the hotel and see that Namjoon is on his way down with a towel draped over his shoulder. 

“Ah, nevermind,” you pat her on the back, “a buff Sea God approaches. He’ll take care of you.” 

You gather up your own things and start walking up the beach access where you cross paths with him. 

“Joon,” you greet him with a little nod. 

“Hey. So, how many mimosas has my bride had this morning?” he chuckles. 

“Four,” you answer, “but those last two had like the vapor of OJ in them, so I think it’s probably time for a dunk,” you wink. 

You don’t quite make it into the hotel before you hear Fi’s shrill scream and you smile as you watch Joon pluck her off the chair, toss her over his shoulder and head to the water. They splash and play and you can’t help but enjoy it - but then pain encroaches on the moment and your smile fades as it so often does, and you disappear into the hotel before anyone can see how bitter you are. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon and Fi had wanted you all to carpool to the restaurant together, but you’d insisted on driving yourself for a few reasons. 

For one, it gave you an immediate means of escape, should the sight of Kim Taehyung drive you to projectile vomiting. Also, it gave you some time alone to talk yourself up, to psych yourself into thinking you could navigate this evening without succumbing to any emotions. You’d done such a good job, for two long years, of not letting him know what he did to you. Not letting him see how he devastated your life. Most importantly though, not letting him in. 

“The Kim-Park wedding party?” you tell the hostess as you walk into the lobby. It must be freezing in here, the way your arms and legs erupt in chills. 

“Sure,” she smiles brightly and points across the dining area, “out on the patio, just through those glass doors.” 

“Thanks.” 

No less than sixty seconds ago, getting out of your car, you’d felt confident. However, as you close in on the patio doors you realize that despite knowing this moment was coming, despite going over it in your head every night for the past few months - you have no idea what to say to him. You’d not practiced the conversation even once in your head, which is unprecedented for you. 

You pull your hand off the door like it burned you and slip to the side before anyone from the party can see you through the glass. You press your back up against the cold wall and take a deep breath. 

“I think we’re both doing the same thing.” 

His voice, so deep and familiar, daggers you. You look over and sure enough, on the other side of the doors he stands there, tall and lean, pressed up against the wall with his fists shoved into his pockets. 

He crosses over to you, and you take an instinctual step back, he notices but doesn’t remark on it. 

“I’m hiding from you and you’re hiding from me,” he continues. 

At some point, you’ll have to speak. Eventually he’s going to think you’ve either lost your voice or worse, that his presence has rendered you speechless and you refuse to let that happen. 

“Why would I hide from you?” you ask, correcting your posture and steeling your nerves. 

“Because you don’t know what to say, and you hate not knowing what to say,” he answers and your blood boils at the fact that he’s right. You hate that he knows you, inside and out, knows your personality, your faults, your strengths, your comforts. He knows what you look like naked, what you love in bed and how to - STOP. There is absolutely no way you’re letting your mind go there. 

“Why would you be hiding from me?” you ask instead of admitting he was spot on with you. 

“Because I was afraid at how much it would hurt to see you,” he says, “turns out it was worse than I’d thought.” 

He looks at you then, really looks, from your face all the way down to your heels. 

“You look so pretty,” he whispers with the saddest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a human being. You think you also see the glint of tears dusting his lids. 

“Thanks,” you say in a cold, disinterested cadence, “We should get in there before they start wondering where we are.”

“Listen, __, I’d really like to sit down and talk to you this weekend,” he stops you by placing his palm gently on your shoulder. It may as well have shocked you, the way you stiffen up and shimmy away from it. 

“Taehyung,” you say sternly, “We’re here this weekend because your brother and my best friend are getting married. It’s their weekend, and you and I are responsible for making sure everything is memorable and good. That is the beginning and end of my obligations. So I really couldn’t give a flying fuck about what you want.” 

Then you push through the doors without giving him a chance to reply. 

You hate yourself. You didn’t have to be that cruel, not after two years of giving him the silent treatment. The look on his face tells you that you may have taken it too far. 

However, by the time you’ve sat down you’ve already switched gears. You angrily set your clutch on the table. The look on his face? On his face? It’s nothing compared to the look that was on yours. The look you wore for months in the wake of what he’d done. So he can look however the fuck he wants. To Hell with him. 

A waiter brings you a glass of champagne and you fight the urge to chug it down and ask for another. That won’t do any good though. The last thing Fi and Namjoon need is for you to get hammered at their party and ruin it. Besides, champagne hangovers are the worst. It’s not worth upsetting Fi. 

When you look up to see Fi storming towards you, you think that ship may have already sailed. 

“What?” you ask like a child about to get yelled at. 

“What did you do to him?” she hisses, taking the seat next to you. You don’t dare ask who she means, else she might smack you out of your chair. 

“Nothing?” 

“That’s weird,” she scrunches her face, “because Joon is in the mens room convincing Taehyung not to leave! He’s crying ___.” 

“Oh for God’s sake,” you roll your eyes. 

Her hand squeezes your arm, more violent than comforting, “Go fix this. For two years I have been on Team ___ one hundred percent. I have cried with you, screamed with you, drank with you, wallowed with you and hated on him with you. It’s my turn. Please go be on my team.” 

Her words hurt, and you suddenly feel like a villain. 

“Okay, okay,” you stand and finish off your champagne, “I’m going right now.” 

When you swing open the mens room door you catch sight of Taehyungs disheveled face in the reflection of the mirror. You have to look away because he’s so devastatingly handsome, but also because it turns your stomach in knots to see him hurt, even after everything that happened. 

“I’ll just,” Namjoon mumbles, side stepping you towards the door, “yeah.” 

You both stand there silent for a long time, the only noise in the space are his sniffles, which echo against the metal stalls. Eventually someone is going to come in so you need to move it along. 

“I won’t apologize to you,” you begin with, because you feel like it’s important to outline that boundary. You owe him nothing, least of all an apology. “There are no words that I could use against you that will hurt you more than you hurt me.” 

“I’m sorry,” his apology comes out in a hoarse rasp that grates on your deepest heartstrings. “___, I’m so fucking sorry. You have to know that by now. I’ve not dated another person, I’ve not even fucking touched anyone since you walked out of my apartment - two years!” 

You don’t believe for a second that he’s been touch starved for two entire years, and you add that on to his pile of lies. 

“I love you, still, I’ve loved you every second,” he blurts it all out in a rush, and you expect he assumes you’re going to walk out or slap his mouth shut any second. The words still effect you, the notion that he still loves, after all that’s happened, and you feel your throat tighten with the threat of tears. 

“Don’t,” you hold up your hand, “Just don’t. We need to get it together. Namjoon and Fi expect us to be there for them this weekend and that’s what we need to do. So we’re going to walk back in there together like we’re best fucking friends, go on, do what you need to do,” you wave toward the sink. 

He sighs, resigning to you, and turns away. 

When he’s splashed his face and dried off the two of you end up where you started at the patio doors. He offers you his arm. 

“Pretending to be friendly doesn’t require you touching me Taehyung,” you point out. 

“Can I at least open the door for you?” he asks, pushing the door ajar before you can answer. The palm of his hand ends up resting against the small of your back. You stiffen and shoot him a look. 

“Sorry,” he pulls it away rapidly, “old habits.” 

“Break them,” you seethe, then transition back into the party, trying to look pleasant. 

Your back tingles in the wake of his touch, or maybe tingle isn’t the right word, but you feel it. Like a phantom pain. You hate that it felt good, natural, and like a comfort. 

You try not to think about it. You try not to think about how different this weekend would be had he not ruined everything. You try not to think about how happy and fun it would be to celebrate Namjoon and Fi together, as a couple. Would he have proposed by now? Would he have done it this weekend? After Fi and Joon ride off into the sunset together, would he have taken your hand and walked you down the beach and given you a ring? 

You push it down, pretending that you’re not hurting. You smile through a dance with Taehyung and Joons father, and brush it off when he mentions how disappointed he was how things ended between you and his youngest son. You smile through a photo of the wedding party, which just consists of you, Tae, and the bride and groom - thankfully you stand on the opposite end of Taehyung. 

You wait until you get back in your hotel room to fall apart. 

~~~~~~~

“No rest for the wicked?” 

Namjoons voice startles you. You’ve been sitting in an outdoor area of the hotel that overlooks the ocean. 

“I don’t get to come to the beach often, just soaking it in,” you tell him and look out over the seemingly infinite darkness of the water against the night sky. 

He hands you a beer and sits down in the seat next to you. 

“Thanks.” 

“Thank you,” he says, “for talking to Tae so he wasn’t a sniveling mess all night.” 

“I didn’t,” you reply honestly, “I have no interest in talking, but I did tell him we needed to keep it together for you and Fi.” 

Namjoon nods and sips his beer. 

“You’re still angry with him?” the question sounds more like a statement, but either way it irks the shit out of you. 

“Wouldn’t you be?” you snap a little. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “Maybe. I’d think I’d at least want some closure though. So I could move on with life without being so angry all the time.” 

“I’m not angry all the time,” you argue. 

“Aren’t you?” again, it sounds more like a statement. 

“You know, since it’s such a monumental event I’ve been trying really hard not to knock your heads together, but if you and Fi don’t stop dredging up my relationship with your brother I make no promises,” you half joke, half warn. 

Namjoon laughs a little, but his smile fades after a few moments. 

“Maybe we just see something you don’t.” 

“Yeah? What do you see?” you challenge. 

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to be brutally honest?” he asks permission. 

“Sure,” you lie and take a difficult swig of beer. 

“I see my little brother, who made a mistake. A terrible, awful, stupid mistake - but a mistake no less,” he begins but you cut him off already. 

“Namjoon, a mistake is filing your taxes wrong. A mistake is forgetting to pull the roast out of the oven. A mistake is something you didn’t mean to do. Fucking someone else is a very long string of choices in which multiple opportunities to stop occur and the person chooses to continue anyway,” you explain. 

“Okay, fair enough,” he sighs, “I see my little brother who made a very awful and stupid choice. I’ve watched him rot in it for the last two years. I’ve watched him punish himself to torture. He won’t let himself enjoy anything, he won’t let himself be happy. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh. I’ve never seen him in such a dark place.” 

“You’re breakin’ my heart,” you mutter darkly, taking a long sip. 

Namjoon tenses, but he doesn’t scold you. 

“Then I see you,” he points the tip of his bottle towards you, “who’s writhed in your own misery for two years. You never even had a conversation with him, you just stamped a period down before the sentence was even over. You love him,” he holds his finger up to shush you when you start to deny this, “Don’t deny it. Just shut up and listen. You love him, because if you didn’t it wouldn’t still effect you so much. He loves you too, by the way. I’m not saying you need to get back together with him, I know it seems like that’s where I’m going with this but I’m not. What I mean is that you need to talk, and I’m sure it will be a very uncomfortable conversation, but you both need that closure. This misery has to end.” 

“He cheated on me Joon,” you say pathetically, chin wobbling. 

“I know, I know he did and it was so disappointing to all of us. We were all pissed at him, but I also know how uncharacteristic it was. He’s never done anything like that before, and I doubt he’d ever do it again. You’ve got to stop acting that even entertaining the idea of forgiving him or even speaking to him would make you lose this imaginary game that no one is playing,” he says. 

An imaginary game that no one is playing. 

The words play over and over in your head long after you finish your conversation with Namjoon. They plague you all night, and most of the next day. 

Are you playing a game in your head? The more you allow yourself to think about it, the more you realize that you’re no different than you were that night. You haven’t changed or grown or moved forward in any direction in two years. You’re still the same wounded, humiliated, hurt woman who was sitting in his apartment while he told you he fucked someone else. Maybe you should have had a discussion - no maybe - you should have. Probably not that same evening, God knows you were in no condition to have a stable, adult conversation. 

In the aftermath though, that’s when people start to rebuild, and you did nothing of the sort. Not with Taehyung by any means, but not with yourself either. You’d chosen to stay miserable, chosen to hold that hate so strong in your heart that no one, not him or anyone, could penetrate it. You’d done it all because you thought it would punish him, but all you’ve truly done is punish yourself. 

~~~~~~~~

Rehearsing the ceremony, and going to the dinner that followed was non-negotiable as Maid of Honor. Obviously. This is the part you’d been dreading, because as Best Man, Taehyung was practically your escort for the duration of the wedding. 

So far you’ve managed to remain civil, if being completely silent is civility. Thankfully Taehyung has read the vibe and hasn’t tried starting up any type of conversation with you. Eventually the minister pulls Namjoon and Fi off and you and Taehyung are left completely alone. 

“Think we’re done?” he asks. 

You’ve rehearsed the ceremony no less than seven times, and aside from the bumpy first take, the rest went off without a hitch. The music is on point, you and Taehyung know your cues, Fi’s youngest cousin had a blast tossing her pretend flowers. Everything went according to plan. 

“Probably,” you offer him three syllables and no more. 

“Good. I’m starving,” he says, resting his elbows on his knees. He starts playing with the sand beneath him, and you watch him. Like this, with his attention elsewhere, you can observe. His hair is much longer, his frame a little thinner and you wonder if that’s got something to do with an emotional issue or if he’s been dieting or something. It bothers you, that he might not be eating properly, and you get angry with yourself. Then Namjoons words echo, “an imaginary game that no one is playing.” Being concerned about a man that you spent loving for so long won’t make you lose anything. 

“You’ve lost weight,” you tell him, attempting to keep any emotion from your voice. You pull your arms around you. 

“I guess,” he shrugs, looking at himself as if he’s never seen his own body. 

“You should eat more, you look thin,” you say, then before you can add anything else, you stand up and walk away toward the banquet room. That’s where the rehearsal dinner will be, and that’s where they can find you if they need you. You can feel Taehyung staring at you as you go. 

Everyone is so enamored with the bride and groom that you scrape by without being noticed much. You fill a plate that you poke with your fork, and smile when it’s appropriate. You look happy whenever Fi starts talking to you about anything, and you smile and participate in pictures. 

You’re sat next to Taehyung for most of the dinner, but thanks to the chaos of the event with so many conversations going and attention on Fi and Joon, you don’t have to interact with him much. 

“These noodles are fucking good,” he says as he slurps some into his mouth. 

“Here, take mine, I’m full,” you use the back of your hand to scoot the bowl over to his area. 

“Thank you,” he says politely, though you can feel his eyes boring into you as if to ask ‘why are you being nice to me?’ 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Wine sir?” a waiter asks Taehyung and gestures to his empty glass that’s remained as such the entire time you’ve been eating. 

“No, some more water would be nice though, thanks,” he says and the waiter nods and trots off. 

“It’s good, not too sweet,” you tell him, picking up your own glass and taking a sip. This is your attempt at a conversation, the sweetness of wine. 

“I don’t drink anymore,” he says in a way that makes you feel like you shouldn’t ask why. Something in your stomach twists and you think you can probably guess. 

He was probably drunk, when it happened, when he decided to bed somebody else. It puts a sour taste in your mouth as you swish the wine around. You force it down your throat and set the glass back down on the table, wiping your mouth with a napkin and standing up. 

“I’m going to go lay down, not feeling good,” you tell Fi, and you can see in the way that she looks at you she knows you’re lying. You don’t care. The rehearsal went fine. No one cried. No one yelled. You’re still on her fucking team, but dinners over, and you don’t have to do this anymore, at least until tomorrow afternoon. 

As you’re heading out you notice the table where they’re keeping the bottles of wine and champagne being served. With a quick look around to make sure no one’s watching you pluck a bottle off the table, they can consider it your fee for having to make a speech in front of a crowd tomorrow. Small price to pay for gushing about love and happily ever afters when you’d rather eat dirt. 

~~~~~~~~

The hotel pool closes at 10PM, and it’s well after midnight as you sit on the edge, skirt bunched up around your thighs, legs dangling in the water. 

Fi had come to check on you, and you’d continued the charade of a headache, explaining that you’d taken something and you’d see her in the morning to help her get ready for her big day. She was apprehensive, but left you alone. 

Too overwhelmed by the silence of your room, you decided to take your stolen booze and sit by the empty pool. The sound of the nearby ocean should be enough to drown out your thoughts. 

Except it wasn’t. 

You were still thinking about everything Namjoon had said. You were still thinking about what you wanted to say to Tae. And each time you took a sip of wine, you were thinking about him hovering over his coworker, the scent of alcohol on his breath, as he pushed into her and made her feel good the way he did with you. You felt like vomiting, but kept drinking anyway, call it self-flagellation. A punishment for being a bitter hag who can’t let anything go. 

When the pool gate creaks open, you turn, expecting to explain to a staff member that you were just about to leave. It’s not an employee though. It’s Taehyung. 

Your gut reaction is to tell him to fuck off, but you stop yourself. He seems to expect it, in the cautious way he approaches, he looks as if you’re about to send him away any second. Instead you turn back to the water, watching the reflection of hotel windows ripple on the waters surface as he rolls his pants up and sits next to you. 

“It’s warm,” he says after several moments, when it’s clear you’re not going to snap him in half. 

Silence. You sit next to one another for what feels like forever, though only about ten minutes probably pass. You take languid sips from the bottle occasionally, but you don’t look at him or offer any words. You’re just procrastinating, sitting stagnant as you’ve been doing for two years.

“Go ahead,” you finally say. 

“What?” he croaks, seemingly shocked that you’ve spoken at all.

“I want to know,” you take a big gulp from the bottle, “I want to know why you did it.” 

He takes a long time to answer and you wonder why. After two years, after all the five thousand word essays he tried to send you, shouldn’t he have all this outlined already? 

“The entire PR department was at that conference,” he starts. You remember. He’d gone to a week-long conference with the other people in his department, which you’d not really given much thought to, but that’s where it happened. While he was away. 

“The group had never been out together, in all the years we’d worked with each other, so on the last night we decided to go out drinking at some bar. It was all just good fun, until it wasn’t,” he says darkly and you waiver, but let him continue. 

“We got so drunk, God I was wasted,” he says with a shake of his head, “the kind of drunk where anything sounds like a good idea. Someone could suggest jumping off a bridge and you’d be like ‘fuck yeah, that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard’ because you’re just so out of your mind. Eventually we all had to go back to the hotel we were staying at, but I honestly can’t remember if it was because one of us suggested it, or because the bar staff wanted us out, but somehow I ended up in an Uber with Lia.” 

Lia. You’d met her several times at his office Christmas parties, and you knew she was the one he’d fucked without ever having to say her name. You choke down the whimper that wants to escape and wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. 

“She randomly admitted to me that I was her work crush, but I could barely comprehend what she was saying. The car was spinning. I kept looking out the window, but then she’d start talking again. She was telling me that her marriage was ending and she was depressed. She felt alone and hopeless - it was all so heavy - and then she started touching my leg, and scooting closer-,”

“Okay stop, stop,” you suck in a ragged breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I thought maybe being transparent was best, but the whole truth - without the gory details - is that there was no reason ___. I was drunk. She was drunk. I think I felt bad for her, but I don’t remember feeling anything. I don’t remember what we said, I don’t remember how it felt,” he drags a hand down his face, “I threw it away for nothing. I ruined us, everything we built, everything I loved, everything I wanted for absolutely fucking nothing.” 

You look away from him and hide your face so you can sob quietly. He places his hand on top of yours, and you stiffen, but don’t pull it away. 

“Please say something,” he urges. 

“I don’t know how to feel,” you sniff, “I don’t know if I should feel better because it was nothing or feel worse because you threw me away for nothing.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats and you’re not sure how many times you’ve heard the words, a thousand - millions? Suddenly though, it doesn’t disgust you when he says he’s sorry.

“I hated you,” you say.

“I know,” he cries, “I deserve it.” 

“I hated you because it was your fault, you’re the one who ruined everything, you’re the one who should’ve suffered but instead I spent six months balled up in my apartment sobbing, screaming for you, screaming at you, I was a fucking mess Tae,” you sob. 

“I know, God I know that I hurt you so bad, and I know you may not want to hear it, and I know it was a different kind of pain but I swear to you I have been in agony for the past two years,” he sniffs. 

“I will never be the same,” you admit, to him and to yourself, “I will always feel like I’m not good enough, I will never be able to trust like I used to, and I will always wonder when someone is going to choose someone else over me and it’s all your fault!” 

“I’m so sorry ___,” he says. He scoots over close and starts to wrap his arm around you. God damn it you want him to. You want him to comfort you, you want to cry into his shoulder. You want it so bad. 

So you shove him into the pool, naturally. 

You watch him flail for a few seconds before he realizes the water is only waist deep, then he stands up, flinging his wet mop of hair from his face and sputtering water. 

“Are you kidding?” he squeaks, he looks like a drowned mouse. 

The look of utter shock on his face has you biting down hard on your lips trying to hold it together, but it comes out anyway. 

You laugh. You laugh so hard you can’t breathe, so hard that you snort, so hard that you feel like your chest is going to burst but you can’t stop. 

“Sorry, I gave in to my intrusive thoughts,” you tell him between gasps of air. 

“Intrusive…fuck,” he mutters, trying poorly to pull himself back onto the edge of the pool. You use your foot to shove him back in. 

“___!” he scream-laughs. 

“I couldn’t stop myself,” you shrug, still giggling. 

“Yeah?” he gives you a look as he pushes his wet hair out of his face. 

“No…” you warn, but before you can even get the whole word out he drags you in by your arms. 

“Bastard!” you squeal, wiping the water from your eyes. 

“Sorry, I gave into my intrusive thoughts,” he parrots and then splashes you for good measure. 

You shove him backward and he disappears under the waters surface, until you feel him grab you by the ankles. He pulls hard and you lose your footing, joining him under the water. You fight the sting of chlorine as you open your eyes, finding your target, and you reach out and pinch one of his nipples beneath his ruined sweater before pushing off the bottom to get air. 

“Oh that does it!” he jeers, dramatically rubbing his chest and leaping over to where you try to scramble out of the pool. He grabs you by the waist and drags you back down, pinning your arms with one of his and using his other hand to tickle you. 

“Stop! Please stop!” you plead between fits of laughter. 

You manage to loosen his grip and twist yourself until your chest is pressed against his. Suddenly playtime is over, and it’s just you looking up at him, his arms still around you, unrelenting. 

“What are we doing right now?” he whispers, pushing a wet piece of your hair off your cheek. 

“I think I’m forgiving you,” you say, and you rest your forehead against his chest as he holds you tighter. It feels so good that you continue to stand there, despite the absurdity of standing in a pool fully clothed. 

“This pool is closed, and those clothes are not appropriate swim attire to be wearing in the facilities,” a stern voice intrudes and you both spin around to see a very annoyed looking employee drumming her fingers on the top of the fence. 

“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping towards the pool stairs. 

“We were just going, we’re very sorry,” Taehyung echoes as he follows suit. 

“Yes, well, the pool rules are posted right here,” she taps a sign hanging on the fence aggressively, “for future reference. Have a good evening,” she grumbles, though she looks like she hopes the two of you have anything but. 

Taehyung grabs a few towels off a nearby caddy and you pour out the wine, then toss the bottle into a waste basket. 

Only a few people stare as the two of you walk towards the elevators, clothes drenched, but then again, there’s only a few people around at this hour anyway. You both grin like cheshire cats as the doors shut in front of you. 

Without giving it much thought, you reach over and lace your fingers into his, and when the elevator opens on the floor that’s been rented for the wedding, you lead him out and down the hallway to your room. 

“Wait,” he stops short, though he doesn’t let go of your hand as you slide the card into the door lock. 

“What?” 

“Are you sure you want me in there? I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning and have you regret all of this,” he says, holding your hand to his chest. 

“I’m not going to, at least that’s not my plan,” you assure him as you cross the threshold - though if you’re being completely honest, you have no plan. You have no idea what you’re doing, or if it’s a good idea or a bad idea. 

“Then… what?” he wonders, looking like if he breathes the wrong way or says one wrong word you’ll smite him. 

“Take your wet clothes off and just lay down with me,” you shrug. 

“You want me to get naked, then get in your bed?” to say he looks stunned is an understatement. 

“Yes, if it will make you less uncomfortable I’ll sleep naked too,” you tell him with a shrug, pulling your skirt off. 

His eyes darken just a bit, “Is this some kind of torture? You want me to press my body against yours and try not to touch you?” he laughs, but his mouth sounds dry as a desert. 

“It’s not meant to be a punishment, but yes, that’s what I want. I want to lay here with you, in a very vulnerable state, because I want to know what it feels like. I want to know if it makes my skin crawl or if it makes me want you to fuck me and hold me against you the rest of the night. I’m testing the water, so to speak,” you say. You continue peeling wet layers of clothes off until you’re completely nude, then you pull down the sheets and get in. 

Taehyung stands there for about three seconds before he starts fighting his wet clothes off. You watch the lean muscles of his stomach ripple as he tugs the, very expensive looking, ruined cashmere off, and you lock eyes with him as he pushes his jeans and boxers off in one go. 

He’s hard, which isn’t very surprising, not that you’re just so incredibly irresistible that he can’t help it, but you understand what he’s going through because you are too. You’re wet, you can feel the slickness with every movement of your lower body. It’s been two years. You weren’t completely chaste in that time, though it was never anything that lasted more than a weekend, and the number of encounters were very few. You also aren’t sure if he was being honest about his two year celibacy streak, you’re not ready to accept that or not, but if it is true he’ll probably combust. You only take a tiny bit of inappropriate satisfaction from that. 

When he crawls in as well the two of you just lay on your backs, a whole other person could fit in the space between you, and you stay like that for a little while. 

“Skin crawling yet?” he asks timidly. 

“Not yet,” you sigh, and turn the lamp off, then roll over next to him, draping your bare thighs across his. You’re a little embarrassed that your slick slides against his leg. 

“Jesus christ,” he groans in a whisper as your hand slides up to find purchase on his chest, his arm coming around to pull you in close. 

“What about now?” he asks in a strain. 

“Nope. Not yet.” 

You’re being honest. It doesn’t make you sick, or angry, and it doesn’t make you feel like you’ve lost. There is no imaginary game. No imaginary score. Not anymore, and you breathe the first easy breath you’ve taken in two years. 

You take his hand that rests on top of yours and pull it down your torso, his fingertips brush over one of your nipples and your lips part against his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and you continue pulling his hand lower and lower until his fingers rest above your cunt. 

“What do you want?” he asks, twisting over so you’re more under him than beside him. His fingers play idly in your soft tuft of hair, but he doesn’t try dipping them any lower. 

You take a deep breath, your pussy aching, “I think you owe me one, wouldn’t you say?” 

He nods, licking his lips, “I’d say I owe you a lot more than one, tell me, I’ll give you anything you want. Just tell me,” he urges you, his lips ghosting the side of your face. 

“I want you to touch me, and then I want you to go down on me like your fucking life depends on it,” you take his mouth with yours, sliding your fingers into his still damp hair to anchor him. 

You both let out involuntary moans when his fingers come in contact with your slit. He drags the wetness up from your entrance to your clit, circling around in a way that has you pushing back, spreading your thighs further for him. 

He toys with you as you kiss him, tongues teasing, teeth bumping, but his fingers persist. Then he pushes one in, followed by another and you groan. 

“Tae,” your voice is soft and pleading, and he delivers, thrusting his fingers into you hard and deep, the way you love. The way he knows you love. He pauses every so often to work your clit, and each time you have to hold yourself back, have to control your body so you don’t cum so soon, so you can enjoy it longer. 

“Does it feel good?” his voice is deep and scratchy in your ear and you nod, eyes closed, hips moving in time with his fingers, “Are you close?” 

You can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes, “Yes. So fucking close, fuck,” you curse as his fingers go back to your clit, this might be it, but he slows down. 

“Do you want me to finish you like this, or do you want me to eat you out? Because I really, really want to eat you out,” he smiles, taking your ear between his teeth gently. 

“Tongue,” you manage, “Definitely tongue but please keep using your fingers for the love of God.” 

“Absolutely,” he kisses you deeply once more before disappearing under the sheets. 

“Oh my god.” 

When his tongue drags up your slit, your back arches so far off the bed you’re pretty sure you’ll feel it tomorrow. Your mouth drops open as he fights your hips back down on the bed, tongue snaking and sliding over every centimeter of you. When you finally manage to settle down, he pushes his fingers back into you, lips wrapped around your sensitive bud in a gentle suck. 

Your eyes water at the sensation as you gasp and shake, then he switches to soft, wide licks and it finishes you. 

“Ohfuckohfuck,” your hands land on the sides of his head and you hold him in position as you cum, contracting rhythmically around his fingers, still buried inside you. 

When he resurfaces you immediately drag his wet mouth onto yours and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“More,” you tell him, reaching between your bodies to guide his cock to you. 

“I won’t last long enough for you to go again,” he warns. 

You shake your head, “I don’t care, just keep going, please,” you beg and it sounds so desperate but you don’t care anymore. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, and he pushes into your still throbbing cunt. “Oh fuck.” 

It feels like forever before he starts moving, thrusting in and pulling out agonizingly slow. You meet him with every push, grinding into him, connecting yourselves. 

“I can’t,” he whines, “I can’t hold it.” 

“Then don’t,” you tell him, dragging your nails down his back. 

“Shit,” he freezes on a particularly deep thrust and you feel him twitch, spilling himself inside. 

He collapses beside you, damp from sweat and breathless. He’s beautiful.

You scoot over and wrap yourself around him, like before, and he pulls you in, kissing the side of your head. 

“I missed you too,” you whisper, then close your eyes and let yourself rest against his chest. 

~~~~~~~~

You wake up to frantic knocking on your hotel door. 

“___! Hi, it’s me, Fi, I’m getting married today, in case you forgot - just mentioning it because you and I have an 8:30 appointment for massages and it is now,” a brief pause, “8:27 and I’ve not heard from you!” 

“Shit!” you scramble out of bed, grabbing the blanket as you go to wrap it around you.

“Ahh!” Taehyung whines, “Cold!” 

You open the door and greet her. 

“Oh my God,” she says, looking at your naked, disheveled state wrapped up in a hotel duvet. 

“Uhhhh…” 

“I’m cold!” Taehyung shouts from the darkness of the hotel room and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for her reaction. 

“Oh my GOD,” she screams. 

“I’ll meet you at the spa, I swear, just…go…just…I’m so happy and this is your special day…but go,” you stumble over the words. 

“I…” she points to the hall, “I’ll go. Meet me down there,” she says then jerks you close, “and be prepared to tell me fucking everything.” 

You pad back into the room, flipping on the light switch. Taehyung sits up and rubs his eyes. 

“Hi.” 

You slide into your bra and grab a shirt, “Hi,” you say back. “You have to go.” 

“Do I have to go because you’ve got somewhere to be? Or do I have to go because I make you nauseous and you don’t want to look at me anymore?” 

You press your lips together trying not to laugh, “You have to go because my best friend and your brother are getting married today, and we both have places we need to be - with them. After everything is over, we can figure all this out,” you say pointing between the two of you. 

“Promise?” 

“I swear.” 

He nods, then gets up grabbing his discarded clothes from the night before. 

“This is still wet,” he frowns, showing you his sweater. 

“Sorry about your fancy sweater,” you laugh. 

You’re not entirely sure what to say or do, so you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek. 

“I’ll see you later,” you tell him. 

He nods, “Later.” 

~~~~~~~~

When you check in at the spas front desk they send you to the waiting area, where Fi awaits you, looking very smug. 

“Don’t,” you tell her, taking the seat next to her. 

“Don’t what?” she says innocently, “Don’t bring up the fact that I just caught you red handed from spending the night with my brother-in-law?” 

“Technically he won’t be your brother-in-law until after 1 o’clock,” you point out. 

“Deflecting. Interesting. What does that mean I wonder?” she raises a brow. 

“Weren’t you and Namjoon both hounding me, telling me I needed to talk to him?” you ask. 

“Talk?” she snorts, “Boy, when you have a talk you sure go all out.” 

“We did talk!” you defend, “Before - we had a conversation at the pool.” 

“How did that go?” 

You think about it for a second and sigh, “Well, it definitely made me sad. It reminded me of everything I felt in those months after everything. I ugly cried clutching a bottle of wine,” you say with a half laugh. 

“I can tell, your eyes are grotesque - no offense - we’ll have to fix that for the photography later, but go on,” she compels. 

“So yeah, I cried, I told him how much I’d hated him and how miserable I’d been, he apologized for like the trillionth time and I don’t know, I felt different all of a sudden, I actually believed him. So I pushed him in the pool and ruined his cashmere,” you explain. 

“The cable knit Celine?” she gasps. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, walking over to the coffee bar, praying it’s strong. 

“Sorry,” she says, “but that shit is easily more than two G’s. But yes, we’re talking about you, sorry. What made it feel different? And why did you push a grown man in cashmere into a pool?” 

“Something Namjoon said, the first night Taehyung was here after the bathroom incident, he kind of put things in perspective for me,” you tell her. 

She smiles dreamily, “Yeah, he kind of has a way of doing that huh? What was it he said?” 

“Imaginary games,” you say. 

“I don’t follow?” 

“Would you say I’m a forgiving person? That I handle offenses well?” 

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Fi says resolutely. 

“Agreed. I get in my head and keep score. If they hurt me, I have to hurt them worse and if I can’t, then I act like letting it go is losing, so I hang on to it and stay angry because in my sick little toxic mind, that means I’m still winning,” you sit back down and slurp the coffee. 

“Tired of winning now?” she says softly, taking your hand in hers with a squeeze. 

“Yes,” you sigh, lay your head on her shoulder, “I’m tired of winning now.” 

“Good.” 

~~~~~~~~~

Fi was stunning. No, more than that - she was traffic stopping, literally. In her custom wedding gown, guests and even strangers literally stopped in their tracks to stare at her. You cried all day at how beautiful and happy she looked. She glowed. You only looked away from her once really, to see Namjoons reaction when she cornered the aisle and came into view - worth it. 

At the reception Fi leans over to you, “I think someone has been itching to get you alone all day,” she whispers, nodding over to Taehyung who’s in the middle of a conversation with a cousin, but you see him side eyeing you every couple of seconds. 

“I’m your maid of honor Fi, it’s my job to be in your ass all day in case you need me,” you tell her, resisting the urge to run to him. 

“Okay. I appreciate that and everything, but I’m letting you go. Your job is complete, you married me off. Now go,” she nudges you out of your seat. 

You walk over to him as the cousin disappears back into the throng of people and he turns to you. 

“Dance with me?” he asks, and you nod as he takes your waist on the floor. 

You sway back and forth to some romantic jazzy number, resting your head on his shoulder, drinking in his scent and his warmth. You smile. 

“So what happens now?” he whispers, “What happens when we leave this paradise and have to go back to the dreary, gray city?” 

You look up at him, and he kisses you gently on the lips. 

“I think…” 

“Yes?” 

You tilt your head and smile, “I think we should start meal planning.” 

“Meal planning…” he looks perplexed, but then recognition reaches his eyes and his face softens. “Meal planning.” 

“Yes. It’s more cost effective, and it’ll be easier to eat healthy if we only buy what we plan for.” 

“Sounds like a good plan,” he grins, then pulls your head back onto his shoulder and the two of you continue dancing, even when the music changes to a more upbeat song, you just sway back and forth, pressed together tightly to make up for the distance you held for too long.

[serejae]

margaret

myung jaehyun x doodler!reader

syno; a pencil lead you to him now

a/n ; uncapitalization is intended, some kissing, inspired on our beloved summer besides the exes factor lol :-), enjoy

it was a late night, jaehyun wasn’t home yet and you couldn’t quite fall asleep yet. so you decided to kill two birds with one stone. ever since you were young you had a hobby of drawing, it was normal for you to get asked from people to draw them. unfortunately for them your drawings don’t focus on people but rather sights. as you organized your old drawings you came across a dusty folder hidden all the way in the back of your shelf, curious to see what it is you grab it and clear the dust off. the cover of the folder doesn’t go unnoticed with masking tape messily on it with the words “DO NOT OPEN. YOURE CRAZY.” written on top. you laugh to yourself slighty and take the risk going against your past self. when opening the folder a tiny pencil falls out and all the memories suddenly flash back. picking up the pencil, you immediately sit down and go through the folder.

-

it was almost 2 years ago. you were sketching in a cafe when you got distracted by your phone that you didn’t notice one of your pencils falling out of your pencil case. someone suddenly diverts your attention away from your phone. looking up you see the most (not even exaggerated) mesmerizing man, his lips turn up slight and he clears his throat “sorry for bothering you, but your pencil fell” he said with a slight blush on his face and reddish ears. you laugh slightly and thank him expecting that to be the end of your conversation but to your suprise he paused for a second thinking about what to say

“are you here alone?”

the wise answer wouldve been no, i mean you dont even know the guy

“yeah”

“can i sit?”

-

while reminiscing the moment you played with the pencil, the pencil was special, not only because it lead you to jaehyun but the steps it took to realize you loved him.

there were 2 drawings of jaehyun. the only drawings you ever drew of a person

-

drawing 1 .

its been 2 weeks since you met jaehyun. you both had been talking regularly and you hated it: not because you disliked him or anything but rather the opposite. you found yourself developing a

crush. :-/

as you sat at your table shaking your good pencil between your fingers staring at the blank paper that seems to be staring at you back. thats when you started imagining eyes, nose, lips, a face on the paper but not just anyones face. it was myung jaehyun’s. you never had the urge or willingness to draw a person but something inside your soul was telling you to. trying to push the thoughts back you starting thinking to yourself

“i don’t even remember his face accurately”

“its been 2 weeks pfft”

*ding*

pausing at the notification you flip your phone over and the screen illuminates.

myung jae !

**ONE NOTIFICATION **

“if your not too busy do you wanna ft?:p”

fuck.

before replying back (a obvious yes) you scramble your desk for the pencil he had handed you that day. the pencil was tiny, you kept it because you kept forgetting to throw it away but once you find it you reply with a

“sure”

cant seem too desperate right?

and as he calls you and the screens connect, your met with a familiar face and start doodling. focusing on his voice and you drew, you looked up every so often studying his face.

after finishing you date the corner and shove it in the back of your drawer.

-

drawing 2 .

your crazy.

its been 9 months since you first met jaehyun and it takes every muscle in you to not draw him. you can’t feed into your delusional or into the thought that you might have a crush on him. at this point its more then a stupid crush. you would say you just really really really like jaehyun but you guys werent even dating yet and thats the problem.

everyday for these past 9 months the two of you have become incredibly close, might i add a little too close.

all you could think about was him and normally in situations like this you would draw things you like to get your mind off of whatever you were stressed about which sadly wouldn’t work in this situation

as he was what you like and all you could think about.

after a hour on debating (3 minutes) you sigh and open your camera roll, opening the album “mjae<{3” your favorite photo of him, one you didnt even know you took but there was something different about the photo

his eyes.

theres no way he couldnt feel the same about you, right?

shut up.

you stopped the thoughts and started doodling, sketching all the details on his face. youve memorized his face probably more then your own now that you think about it.

adding the finishing touches and dating it, you back away from the paper and stare at it

how does he have you wrapped around his finger so well?

grabbing your phones you search variations of questions into google

“why cant i stop thinking of a guy”

“how to know if you like a guy”

“does my crush like me????” you made sure to find one made bv a guy to insure accuracy.

unfortunately the answers didnt help you

they all lead back to love

and thats when you realized

you don’t really like myung jaehyun

your inloveeeeeeee with myung jaehyun.

jumping onto your bed you scream into your pillow and go into a rage. scrambling around your room you find a folder, empty everything inside, get tape from your desk and aggressively put the tape on there. taking your marker you write “DO NOT OPEN. YOUR CRAZY.” you stuffed the current drawing in there as well dug in your drawer for the previous one. once inside you grab the pencil that started it all and put it inside too. then shoving it to the back of your shelf.

-

a year after meeting jaehyun thats when he finally asked you to be his partner, he had asked to meet in the same cafe you 2 had met. you arrived on time while jaehyun was a bit late, you didnt mind too much though. while waiting you scrolled on your phone when you suddenly heard a voice

“excuse me?

i think you dropped this.”

you look up confused and see a bouquet of flowers with a sticky note attached to it

“be my partner? (plz)” as well a silly drawing of you and jaehyun as cat and dog. looking up you see his familiar face that has a reddish tint

“of course.”

-

you hear the door open snapping you out of your thoughts

“baby? im home!”

“at my desk jae”

you hear him shuffe his way to your desk and kisses you on the head before looking at your desk

“oh look! its the pencil i gave back to you when we first met, you still have it?” he laughed, his eyes shift over to the two drawings on the table of no other then, him.

“woah…”

he said as he picked up the drawings seeing the dated marks

“these are amazing babe, but i thought you didnt draw people?”

you look down at the pencil and smile

oh you couldn’t wait to tell him the storied behind the drawings

you looked up at the sticky note on your wall before opening your mouth

“funny story…”

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of my favorite adventures from my twenties was a trip I took alone up to Canada. Neil Gaiman was doing a reading for the release of Ocean at the End of the Lane, and I was living three hours south of the venue.

None of my friends could make it and it was before I had GPS but I decided to go by myself. The day before the event I had nightmares about being lost in Canada, but I woke up and still got in the car.

The drive was awful, and I clutched the printed out Mapquest directions like my life depended on it, lurching through stop and go traffic with my manual transmission car. But when I arrived I found parking easily. I had tried to be there early but between traffic and the border crossing I was barely on time.

When I got to the door it turned out there wasn’t any seating left. My face fell, and the lovely worker refused to let me go away disappointed. She snuck me into the area reserved for staff to watch the event.

I sat oddly isolated in the very back row, listening to Neil’s calm narration. Midway through a boy my age came over to join me. We chatted while the line moved to get things signed. He lived in China, and India, went to school in Scotland, and was here couch surfing just for this event.

He asked about my YouTube channel and I laughed and said I didn’t have one. He paused in confusion and said, “You should, you’re such a gifted storyteller!” Later his certainty that I had one made me imagine he was a multidimensional traveler and this iteration of me didn’t have a channel that he was familiar with on his world.

I got my copy of the book signed and we left together. We wandered the city at night, making our way toward the ocean. We were both surprised to have our way blocked not once but three times by skunks, wandering blithely through the metropolis.

We clambered over the breakers by the water, watching the boats and listening to the waves crash at our feet. I offered him a lift back to his couch and he agreed.

I got lost trying to find the way home, well off my printed directions. My nightmare had come true, but at 2am lost in a foreign city I had a feeling of serenity that everything would be okay.

I pulled up next to some mildly intoxicated guys walking along, asking if they knew the way. Later, relaying this story to my wife they were appalled by this decision. But a moment later a cop car interrupted us, clearly thinking something illegal was transpiring. I flashed my dimples and asked for directions and he set me back on the right path.

I only spent one night carousing, but I still think about that boy, hoping he’s doing well. I remember the surreal peace of the sleeping city, full of skunks and waves on the breakers.

[lavender-femme]

.