#also decided to split this post into more parts

[tarochimochi]

Losercake, everyday, daily

Day 99

Talking about the design blow!

Wow long time no post! Hi guys i’m back again doing gijinka stuff again it feels good!

This is a kinda semi redraw of this that I think i posted originally back in November…

I HATE THIS DRAWING SO BAD NOW (not the designs I srs think I peaked with this Loser design) BUT I HATE EVERYTHING ELSE ABOUT IT… like I thought that was fat? Bro past me was a fucking dumbass.

I really wanted to do BFB post split and TPOT designs because I hadn’t before!

(For some context for what Imm about to talk about here’s some design notes from the two original designs)

Now infamously with BFB Cake and Loser split up and their outfits aren’t as coordinated as before but on the flip side I feel like they would still be unintentionally coordinated! They both ditch wearing necklaces but they both are wearing scarfs, they both wear sweaters now, and they both have a part of there layers sticking out!

Also thanks to my friend Silver she gave me the idea to “ruin Loser’s beauty” and chop his hair inbetween BFB pre-split and post-split, we decided on him doing it because of him having an anxiety attack while in the jawbreaker and doing a HORRIBLE job cutting it and most likely pencil or balloony fixing it for him (we haven’t decided) clearly his bleached his outfit is also let flashy as kind of a sign of his downfall from fame and him being so obsessed with it yadaddaa.

As for Cake he didn’t really change he’s still the way he was before just alot more cozy!

That’s all i gotta really say without spoiling stuff so thanks for readinf!

[beauty-and-passion]

Why you should listen to Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium

I didn't expect to truly write a post about this album.

Anons introduced me to its genesis, production and themes and they seemed interesting... but was there enough food for thought?

I had no idea. My expectations were positive, so I imagined I would listen to something good: I just didn't know if this album had enough for me to talk about and say something new - considering that the CCCC fans already did a great job analyzing every detail of the songs.

But when I listened to them (and read more theories/explanations), I noticed some interesting things. Things that stirred my brain and made me think. Things I wanted to talk about.

So here I am, writing a post about Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium Volume 1. I am not pretending to explain the lore or the songs in detail and I don't want to bother you with an extremely long post. All I want is to give you some material to decide if CCCC is worth a try.

And, if you've never heard about it before, I hope my words will spark your interest, because this album deserves more attention.

One last thing: please be aware I will talk about all sorts of themes, from love to suicide, because those are also the themes of the album.

_______________________________

A simple plot

I can hear you, fans who have listened to the whole album: simple story?! It's complicated! It's open to interpretations!

And yes, you're right. But if we consider the core foundation on which the songs are built... well, that's quite straightforward. With this album, Chonny Jash is telling us about his struggles and how they led to a psychological split inside him into Mind, Heart and Soul. Then these three parts start fighting, until they find a way to reunite again.

And yes, we can also add that this is a time loop and things are destined to repeat themselves, but the structure is still simple, clear and concise. As clear as the tripartition of the album into Calamity, Cacophony and Concord, three parts that correspond to the story's three main points: the split, the fight, the reunion.

And this simplicity isn't a bad thing, oh absolutely not. This is perfect.

There's a common misconception that a good story should be complicated. The plot should be complex and convoluted and the more complex and convoluted it is, the better the story will be. I made this conceptual mistake too and it took me years to realize how wrong it was: the better stories are not the most complicated ones, but the simpler ones.

Why?, you may ask. Isn't a simple story proof of amateur writing - or even worse, lack of creativity?

Actually, it's quite the opposite and there are four reasons why:

If a story has a simple, clear foundation, it will be easier to build on it: a simple foundation is stable and strong, it won't break down too easily. You can add layers and metaphors and hide your plot points behind different interpretations, but your public won't get lost, because the foundation would still be clear: there are three figures, they fight, they reunite. Everyone can understand it.

If everyone can understand your foundation, your story is universal. Everyone can approach and experience it, from an old person to a child, and everyone will find something inside: a message, a feeling, a piece of advice, anything.

If your story is universal and the foundation clear, your vision is also clear. And if your vision is clear, you know what you're doing. And if you know what you're doing, your story will be much more organized too: there won't be dull/useless parts, filler, or moments in which you're just dilly-dallying, waiting for the right idea to strike.

Since your story will be more organized, the flow will be better too and the events will make sense, the public will be more prone to welcome the suspension of disbelief and immerse themselves in the story. People aren't stupid, they can subconsciously feel when an artist is confident and the story is strong. And once they feel it, you win. The public is yours now, you can guide it into your world and show your vision as you intended. And people will let you do it, because they know they're in good hands.

This is what I experienced too, the more I progressed with my listening. There was a lot of care behind every word, the lyrics kept explaining and expanding the plot and everything showed the confidence of an author who knows what he is doing and how to do it.

And there's nothing better for a story, than a confident author.

_______________________________

Clear elements despite the ambiguity

Even if the foundation of CCCC is very simple, the story is enriched by a ton of ambiguities and things purposely left very vague. They may be better explained when/if Volume 2 comes out in the future, they may be left open to interpretation forever. It doesn't really matter: having a full understanding is good, but leaving everything behind a veil of mystery is a good choice as well. It depends on Mr. Jash's choice - and if my previous point wasn't clear enough, I trust this guy's choices.

However, despite the ambiguity, I also really appreciated how there are a lot of extremely clear elements in this story, starting from some events, to specific details of the main characters involved.

Some examples?

Heart tried to shoot/kill/destroy Mind

Heart's breakdown is due to something love-related

The whole series of events is stuck in a loop

Mr. Jash threatens suicide if the parts of himself don't reconcile

Mr. Jash frequently talks about how he keeps making covers of songs others made before him

And what about the details? For example, we know that every character has a specific set of elements associated with them:

an object: a blindfold (Heart), a crown (Mind), a trident (Soul)

a name: Artemis/the moon/Juno (Heart), Apollo/the sun (Mind), Atlas (Soul)

a color: black+purple (Heart), blue+white (Mind), gray+red (Soul)

And those are all elements we get from the songs and they get stuck with you, while you progress with your listening.

Again, this is a very clever choice: considering everything is open to interpretation, having some clear elements serves as "anchor points" in a sea of ambiguities. By doing that, the listeners won't get lost in a maelstrom of possibilities, but they will keep being guided down a clear path - the one traced by the main points of the album (breakdown, fight, reunion).

Also, having some fixed elements keeps everyone's attention too: some people might like to get lost in pure ambiguity, but most lose interest in a too-vague story. Even if the author had a clear plan, if everything is too obscure, people will inevitably think: "It's incomprehensible, so the author had no idea what they were doing" and ditch the story entirely.

Mr. Jash handled the ambiguity aspect very well, by balancing the obscurities with the clear elements. And this proved, once again, how clear, strong and detailed his vision is.

_______________________________

Favorite character?

Ooof, that's hard.

Each character has a specific personality and that alone proves how carefully Mr. Jash planned every element related to them.

Heart is sad, desperate, apathetic, prone to self-pity, sick and tired of everything. But he's also strong enough to try and oppose Mind out of fear of what he could do. He tried to attack someone as powerful as him and take him down, just to preserve the Soul and save their vessel.

And that proves he's not weak at all: he's a lot more powerful than he seems. And, as he said, he's not a child: he felt Mind could've been a threat, so he took the matter into his own hands and tried to find a solution.

And it makes sense his solution was so drastic, because it was dictated by feelings. Because the Heart is influenced by feelings. It's perfectly coherent with the kind of character he is.

Same goes for Mind: he's cold, harsh, a threatening figure because of his design/nature. He takes control of the situation, he appoints himself as the new leader, he wants to react, do something, move forward and ignore the element he sees as the weak link.

And he definitely doesn't hold a grudge towards Heart, nope nope: my bro spent a whole song saying "Look at Heart, he's an idiot". And then, if this isn't enough, he ended his song, by calling Heart "akaryocyte": which is a cell without a nucleus. Hence, a virus.

I'll admit it: this sick burn is the sickest burn that ever burned and probably the most clever insult I've ever read and that made Mind top #1 best character of the album - sorry Heart, but Mind is too sick. (Also, I am a cold logical person too, so I ended up thinking the guy wasn't so bad after all.)

Last but not least, we have Soul. And Soul is basically shut down all the time by these two motherfuckers arguing, to the point he looks more like a shadow, rather than a real character... until he decides that you know what, time to show how confident he actually is:

You must be so arrogant to think that either of you Can control The Soul so wholly When to be one whole you can't hold solely

One song was enough to show Soul's true colors. He's stronger than the other two, he's more in control than them and he's the only one able to draw a line and make an actual threat: if they do not find a way to reunite, he will kill them both.

A couple words and Soul's picture got flipped: he's not just a background voice anymore, he's the leading figure now. And if he is sick and tired, then these three are facing the real shit.

But just like the other two, Soul isn't just that and we see it in The Bidding.

Here happens something incredibly beautiful: once Heart and Mind find a way to harmonize, Soul immediately rejoices: with the impatience of a child, he asks them to do it again, "One more time, go again/No, this can't be the end". Soul, this powerful figure who threatened suicide one second ago, begs them to try again, to do it "for me", because they can finally harmonize, because "I don't know how much more I can take".

Once again, with a couple sentences, we learn how heavy this whole situation has been on Soul and how eager he is to try again, once the other two find a possible harmony.

This doesn't just show how deeply Soul has been affected by the whole situation, but also (on a higher level) how strong hope is.

Soul was ready to commit suicide: a few verses before he said this was the day "we'll tie the rope". But one small step in the right direction, despite being flawed and made out of spite and resentment, was all he needed to change his mind and drop the idea of suicide entirely.

That also proves how human Soul is. Because this is what humans feel too, especially when they play with the idea of suicide. Most of the time, this idea is the result of desperation and inability to find a way out of a situation that seems impossible to overcome. But once these people find even a teeny tiny fragment of hope, the will to live overcomes desperation and people latch to said hope, no matter how small it is. And, just like Soul did here, they try to have it again, to repeat it, to feel that spark again.

Because the will to live is always much, much stronger than the desperation that leads to suicide.

_______________________________

The choice of a time loop

These three characters are stuck in a time loop: things are destined to repeat themselves. And believe it or not, but this is extremely human too - and a clever choice as well.

From a psychological perspective, Mr. Jash can "break" again anytime. Life is full of stuff and events, so... who knows? Maybe in the future, he will face another heartbreak and his Whole will break down into three once more. Or maybe it won't be because of a heartbreak: maybe something else will happen and lead to a new split, a new fight and a new reconciliation. Maybe even the lack of confidence that starts to shine in Concord is proof of a future split.

But if we think about it, the time loop works from another perspective too: a meta one.

Every time you listen to the whole album, every time to replay the songs, you are relieving the split. Every time you listen to them, Whole splits into Heart, Mind and Soul. Every time you trace their history, they split, fight and reconcile.

In other words: every replay is a new loop, a loop in which these characters are stuck - not just because of their humanity, but because they're characters and this is their story. They cannot escape from it, because that's their entire world.

I don't know if Mr. Jash thought about that while making this album... but he gave me this thought and that's just another proof of what I said at the beginning of this post: if a story is very well made, everyone can find a message inside it. And I'm sure you will find something too.

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

@royalprinceroman @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders​  @idontreallyknow24​  @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake​  @hereissananxiousmess​  @purplebronzeandblue​  @cynicalandsarcastic​ ​@lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire​ 

@riseofthewerewolf​ @rosesandlove44​​  @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan​ @arya-skywalker  @csi-baker-street-babes @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @reesiereads @dracayd-universe​ @starlightnyx​ @stubbornness-and-spite​ @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing

@thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella  @boopypastaissalty @nevenastark @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @coldbookworm @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter  @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

[fiepige]

Did somebody say more Hobie GIFs?

No? Well have some anyways <3 (Theme: Hobie and all his hand gestures) Part 1

[thychesters]

would you guys rather read a long oneshot OR a two-parter

[thethingything]

so whenever there's a special date we normally start celebrating it at midnight in our timezone but just end up still counting it as whatever special thing it is (like birthdays or whatever) until probably like 8am the day after (when we'd normally go to bed) because why not? it's not like anyone can stop us (plus it's also easier to still count it as the day before in most conversations because of the timezones a lot of our friends are in).

anyway, this leads to a situation where the 5th of February is a birthday for some alters, and the 6th of February is the anniversary of us forming the subsystem I'm part of, so we just have a few hours now of counting it as being both dates.

anyway happy whatever the fuck is going on here

[blu00u]

In which Ari gets a lil too silly with some brushes she got in Pinterest/instagram

Brushes below the cut

Brushes used in Mel's doodles (the one with the gradient(?))

Brushes used in aldwyn's doodles (the winged one)

[pathologicalreid]

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

[peachesofteal]

The Pit

COD masterlist Part 1/2 - Part 2

Ghost/Soap/female reader 6.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.

Winter in the mountains can be cruel. 

This is something you’ve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knife’s edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable. 

Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.

There are predators who thrive. 

“You closin’?” Your coworker, the new one, asks from where she’s settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles. 

“I am.” She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top. 

“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod. 

“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.” 

“Fall River? Is that even open right now?” Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one he’s been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.

“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts. 

“Like you haven’t been gettin’ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.” You nod. He’s not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like ‘okay thanks for the concern, we’re done now’ and he sighs. “Well, drive safe.” 

Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. It’s closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights. 

Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained option, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse. 

The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. You’ve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one. 

Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind. 

An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.

Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded. 

You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. It’s not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area. 

You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling. 

Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body. 

It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm. 

You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and- 

You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath. 

You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment. 

Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding. 

But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind. 

Sleep. 

You’re drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if it’s slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.

There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain that’s followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes won’t open. Your mouth won’t work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that can’t quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. You’re drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one that’s infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.

You try to call for help, but you can’t.

You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.

You’re dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or you’re already dead.

Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, you’d think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel. 

Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.

Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-

You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?

Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.

The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing you’re tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.

You’re also awake long enough to truly experience the pain you’re in.

One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.

That’s when you see him.

A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.

“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye would’ve died out there.” He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident… memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. He’s pretty. “Can ye follow my finger?” He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I know, I know.” There’s a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Those bones need setting.” He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.” His thumb cards across your brow.

“It’s been three days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? You’re starting to fade, trying to focus on what they’re saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until you’re losing the battle to sleep.

It's snowing.

You don’t have to see to know. There’s something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains… your mind.

You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. It’s what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.

This snow feels different. It doesn’t feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare… one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? What’s happened? 

And why do you hurt so fucking bad? 

“You’re awake.” A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadn’t as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. “Easy.” He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize it’s the brown eyed man, the bigger one. He’s sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Where… am I?” You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile that’s racing up your throat.

“Are you going to be sick?” He strokes your face, the touch nearly sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. “Tell me.”

“N-no, I don’t-“ You can’t even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and he’s springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.

“Nnrgh-“

“I know, I know. Poor thing.” He coos, and it sounds… endearing, so sweet yet… frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.

Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.

“Hurts.” He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. We’re going to fix it.” A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.

“Poor baby. Were ye sick again?” Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after you’ve had a few sips with a gentle “not too much.”

“Who are you?” The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if it’s well water, maybe?

“I’m Johnny.” He’s setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you can’t turn your head to look, and can’t quite catch it from your peripheral. “An’ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callin’ him that quite yet.” Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why can’t you remember? 

“What happened.” You try again, gritting your teeth.

“Ye had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Ye’re lucky the one didnae impale ye.” Impale?

“And you found me?” You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?

“Aye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.” Home?

“You don’t have to worry.” Simon, the bigger one, tells you. “We’re going to take care of you.” Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.

“I don’t… why-“

“Storm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.” You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess you’re lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.

“Thank… thank you.” Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This… this is not normal? Are Scottish people just… more affectionate? 

“Want ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.” What?

“Do what?” Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. He’s got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?

“Bite down on this, precious.” Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.

“Do what?” You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.

“Your femur is broken.” A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. “And I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.”

Oh. Oh no. 

“N-no, no, you… you ca-can’t.” You stutter. They can’t. A doctor should be doing that, shouldn’t they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong… intimate in a way that makes you shiver. “Please. Please, please… don’t-“

“It’s alright.” He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you ye’ll be alright, that ye’re with them now, and they’ll take such good care of ye. 

“Take a deep breath.” Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.

“Ye’ll probably pass out, bonnie. We’ll get the second one done while ye’re down, and I already gave ye somethin’ for the pain.” He assures, like it’s supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simon’s grip. 

This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-

There’s a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. You think you’re crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.

You sleep and wake in a haze.

You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.

You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.

You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, it’s lovely. It’s comforting. Even when you’re rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.

You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. You’re too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then there’s a void of emptiness around you.

You sleep.

You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something that’s consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.

You sleep.

You wake. They’re there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.

“Hey there, dove.” Johnny whispers, smiling. It’s a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. “Made ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethin’?” Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. “Ye need to eat. Been givin’ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.”

“I- I don’t understand.” You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.

“You’ve been in and out consciousness for the last week.” Simon explains, and your eyes widen.

“What?” Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.

“We had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.”

“You… you drugged me?” You stammer, and Simon smiles, but it’s not sweet like Johnny’s. It’s severe. It’s dangerous.

“Soft calluses form around fractures, after they’ve been set.” He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. “Your breaks aren’t in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.”

“Ye willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but we’ll help ye.” Johnny assures. “We’ll be here for ye, as ye get better.” The words don’t compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:

“Where’s my phone?” There’s a flash of discontent in Johnny’s features, but it’s quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.

“I imagine it’s somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We weren’t exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.” Simon’s hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all… as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down. 

Still… 

Didn’t Johnny kiss you? 

The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.

The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnny’s face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. “I can’t.” You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.

“Alright, ye did good.” Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.

“Tired?” Simon’s already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. “You should rest.” You’re too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.

You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.

You’re content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.

“Sh-sh-shhh.” Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. It’s strange, like you’re exposed, half floating like you’re high, and half spiraling through your pain.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you.” They’re repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. “Jus’ need to get you clean.” Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. You’re naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.

Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.

“Do ye like that?” Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. “Does that feel good?” Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simon’s jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.

You’re naked. They’re fully clothed. 

“We’re goin’ clean this up a bit.” Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?

“My… my-“ you can’t even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.

“Your hair.” Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel that’s been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. “If you’re a good girl for us,” Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnny’s palm, “we’ll give you a treat afterwards. How’s that sound?”

“A treat?”  You squeak, and then whimper, Johnny’s fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Ye’re alright.” He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. “It’s natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.” He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones. 

“Please…” you whisper, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize what’s happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream that’s lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.

“I- I don’t want you to… shave me.” You whisper. You don’t want them to touch you… there, and the panic that’s pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.

“We have to take care of you, sweet girl.” Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. “It will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.” He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. “Stay nice and still for us.” They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain that’s radiating from your broken bones. It’s been so, so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didn’t want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. “Almost done.” Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. “I know, I know. You’re bein’ so good. Such a good girl.” Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. You’re paralyzed, helpless, and yet… soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.

“I think ye need some relief, dove.” Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. “Poor thing is so swollen, Si.”

“Do you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?” Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.

All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnny’s shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience. 

“Will ye show me how?” He’s eager, and you frown, confused.

“Johnny’s never made a girl come before,” Simon tells you gently. “You’ll be his first.” Oh my god. “Will you help him? Tell him what feels good?” Your brain melts. You don’t know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like he’s exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.

“She likes that.” Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.

 “Nice an’ slow at first, when you’re rubbin’ her clit. Feel how hard it is?” He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. It’s sweet, and affectionate, like they’re the only ones in the room, in the world… and you’re intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like you’re a bystander. Or a doll. It’s confusing, your brain trying to sort everything that’s happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear that’s nearly made you dizzy. “See how her little hole is clenchin’ like that? It’s ‘cause she’s empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, she’ll get real tight.” He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. They’re pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.

“Fuck.” You hiss.

“That’s it.” Simon coaches. “Are you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?” You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. You’re trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until you’re drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.

You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s wrist and pulls his hand away.

“We can’t overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until she’s healed up, hm?” He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that don’t make sense.

What just happened?

You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. “What a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.” He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like you’re made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.

The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. It’s dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You can’t get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. You’re overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then there’s a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnny’s, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.

“Sweet dreams, little dove.”

[mondaymelon]

first time in this account lol Idk if you're taking requests but I saw that post some minutes ago and... Idk, wanted to request something lol, if you didn't do it yet! What about headcanons with a reader who doesn't show physical attention until some years of knowing them? Like, they know each other for about 5 years and just then the reader decides to do some small act of physical affection... I wanted the headcanons to be with Childe, Arlecchino, Wanderer and Furina! If you can <3

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔… | childe, wanderer, arlecchino, furina x gn!reader

( childe's part might be a little ooc. havent done that part of the archon quest yet cries. also mwah arlecchino we love her in this household !! )

[ You were always someone who wasn’t fond of physical attention. Fleeting touches and kisses to the cheeks were never your forte, yet what should happen if the lover you’ve had for years is suddenly on the receiving end of such affections? ]

"physical affection... ah- it's okay if you can't show that to me, there's plenty of other ways to tell that you love me!"

CHILDE was the one to say those words to you, and the held the most certain truth. You were his lover, and a hug or two couldn't sway the fact! While the harbinger is quite the puppy and often yearns for your warmth, he'll respect your boundaries and allow you whatever. A lover like Childe places your happiness as a priority over his, wanting more to see your eyes sparkle than his own.

"Love, you wouldn't believe what happened in the courthouse today." You glance up from your spot where you're curled up on the couch, snuggled into a fluffy blanket and holding a warm drink in your hands, one of Inazuma's light novels sitting on the armrest. You hear the door to the two of you's home shut and lock, and listen to... Childe's footsteps. How strange, is he stumbling?

Glancing up, you internally gape at the cuts on his body, your eyes instantly drawn at the red splattered across his features. "'Taglia, what hap-"

He lets out a dry chuckle, grinning sheepishly as he rids his shoes at the door. "No worries, the blood isn't mine. Most of it, at least. I managed to get out of there in time, so all's well, yeah?"

As if that'd provide you any comfort. You narrow your eyes, glaring at him unyieldingly, until Childe has no choice but to force out another tasteless chuckle. "Come on now, I'm home, so let's do something fun instead of just being mad at me, 'kay?"

"Tartaglia."

The man flinches, his deep ocean eyes rounding. When you call him that and not his nickname, he knew that he had landed himself in deep shit. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He says that, but the sentence rounds up in a change of his tone, sounding almost suspiciously like a question. "It won't happen aga-"

The world itself seems to stop.

Your head is buried into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Archons, can you hear how fast his heart is beating? You've made him into a complete and utter mess. He's blushing, his ears practically on fire, and any thoughts once in his brain have been seared away in single second. It takes him to the count of three to remember how to breathe once more, his chest erratically heaving up and down as his shaking arms wrap around you hesitantly, wondering if it'd be okay to do so.

"...Love?"

"Mhm?"

"I- I thought you-"

"If it's with you, I'm okay."

Oh, how those words tug at his heart. You look so perfect in his arms - yes, you looked simply perfect all the time, he'd admit in a split-second. The messy nest of hair atop your head when you woke up in the early mornings, the dark bags under your eyes when you didn't sleep until late at night, your smile, your laugh, even your scowl. It silenced any effort to not fall in love with you.

A smile tugs at his lips. A bright one, a warm one, if that was even possible. Perhaps his eyes are shining with tears, or perhaps it was merely a trick of light, but he holds you all the closer, not wanting to let you go.

"Love, I... Archons, I don't think I'd be able to love anyone but you." ₊˚ෆ

"..great. i don't want your filthy hands on me anyways, so there shouldn't be a problem, hm?"

WANDERER's words were just that, would it kill him to be a little nicer? It didn't matter... you knew your lover well, or at least well enough to tell that what he said wasn't the complete truth.

Sure, you had seen him shrug off and make expressions of disgust directed towards particularly touchy people that he'd become somewhat acquainted with. And you most certainly had witnessed his frustrated outbursts and rants when he returned home to your shared abode, whining and grumbling about any trivial error someone had made - that is, brushing fingers with him while passing him papers. Something that couldn't exactly be avoided, yet he had glared at the wall for a good amount all the same.

Ah, but then there were moments when he thought you weren't looking, and that was when his eyes would drink you in. Grazing over your eyes, to your lips, then to your hands, where'd they linger on your fingers for perhaps longer than they should.

And you'd catch the times where you were inclined to say something flirtatious - words that were never all that flirtatious in the first place, Wanderer just happened to be unusually susceptible. Chin resting on your hand, eyes staring into his, you'd say something about how pretty he was, and then he'd just about go into neurogenic shock, likely not speaking to you the rest of the day, the tips of his ears, if one squinted to a certain extent, pink.

"Love." You glance up at him, a slight pout fixed on your lips. He'd been immersed in minor tasks, and those pesky things were what stole his attention away from you. An ironic twist of fate, as you were usually the one to be drowning in work, and he'd be the one practically begging for affection.

He hums, yet doesn't even bother to look at you.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No."

"Go get something to eat?"

"No."

"Visit the... House of Daena?"

"No."

"Shall we feed the finches?"

A slight pause. "...No."

"Then... let's hold hands?"

He froze at your words, and it seemed that the male lost the function of inhaling, for he sat there unmoving for what seemed like hours, his expression petrified in its form of his large eyes, raised eyebrows, and mouth slightly ajar.

"...Excuse me?" It seemed that he doubted his own ears, for he set his work aside and fixed his focus upon you, fingers trembling just the slightest.

"Hmph, have you suddenly forgotten how to think?" You frowned, yet your eyes curved into crescents all the same, and Wanderer felt his breath hitch at how ethereal you were. The sly fox you were, you took his moment of shock, settling by his side and intertwining your fingers with his. "Like this, is it not?" You were smiling now, and for the first time you glimpsed the red on his ears, but now on his face too, a rosy red descending upon his cheeks.

"What's..." Perhaps you were right. His vocabulary had suddenly dwindled, and now he had nothing but questions - that, and the growing warmth in his chest. "What do you think you're doing right now?"

Whatever attempt he had to sound "mean" had failed. You knew him too well for that. "Holding hands, what else? Your hands are cold you know-" And at that he flinched. "But it feels nice."

D...Did it really?

"You, no... love, let's stay like this. You're... warm." ₊˚ෆ

"when you sought me, i thought it'd be a serious matter. there's no trouble in it, truly, so there's no need to look so dejected."

ARLECCHINO hadn't even batted an eye. Was there a reason to? Yes, this certainly crossed off any thought of romantic couple things like kissing and hand holding, but it wasn't like she'd gasp dramatically and fall to the ground, blaming you for setting boundaries-

As if she'd ever. Your imagination was running wild today, perhaps it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you? It was a stark contrast compared to Arlecchino, who went days without rest, shuffling through paper after paper on her desk and constantly relaying messages to her subordinates. She was a hard worker - a trait most easily overlooked, but it was a point of adoration for you. A point among many. Arlecchino was an easy person to love, despite the bristling thorns she'd show at first glance.

"Darling, a cup of tea, please?" Her gaze flicked up from her work to you, a thin smile decorating her lips. It was more a less a habit the two of you established - that is, pouring her tea. Her favorite cup was the one you had gifted her when you first started your relationship, shaded in a dark hue and embellished with roses, their blooms, petals, and thorny branches spreading across the expanse of porcelain. You placed said cup on her desk with a breath of satisfaction, tilting you head in questioning at the unusual amount of papers on her desk.

"Arle, did something happen?"

She merely chuckled to herself, her eyes shining with delight. "Ah, why don't you wager a guess?" You were her "subordinate" of sorts, although your true association was far more intimate. You knew of her plans with Fontaine, and helped carry them out. She revered your loyalty, but your warmth far more.

"...Has the hydro gnosis been secured?"

She snapped her fingers in one swift motion, her small smile widening into a true one that played across her ruby lips. "Correct, I'd expect nothing less of someone as capable as my lover."

"Then, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet..."

"They've done well." It'd be hard to forsake the note of pride in her voice. Setting down the sheets in her gloved hands, she stood from her seat slowly, letting her eyes scan over your body. "You've asked your question, now shall I ask mine? Darling, I did quite well myself, did I not?"

Her expectant gaze read one thing, but instead of the usual quality time spending the two of you'd share, this time, you had rather differing plans. Smiling, you walked up to her, not letting the way her eyes sparkled just the slightest escape your sight. Promptly, sneakily, you flung yourself upon her, beaming as your hands found refuge winding about her torso, nearly instantly trapping her into your death hug. "You did, Arle~!"

"..." At her silence, you glanced up, only to be met with a sight that drew blush upon your own cheeks. Her usually composed, mystery-shroud features were now conflicted with crossing emotions... of what, however, was rather indecipherable. Arlecchino was a person of many masks, yet now it seemed that her "mask" displayed but one thing - love.

"Darling, I... you look perfect in my arms, so shall we stay like this a moment longer?" ₊˚ෆ

"is that so? a trivial matter, is it by law that i must hold you in my arms in order to prove my love for you?"

FURINA's multicolored irises and teardrop pupils twinkled, their shine dancing on the moonlit breeze. A hand daintily held a teacup, its fragrant contents swirling about the porcelain basin. Her laugh accompanied the cool evening wind, and she fluttered her eyes shut in a smile that brightened her expression. "Come now, why so shocked? Wouldn't this be expected from someone as benevolent as I?"

It was a scene that would remain forever painted in your mind, like a beautiful mural that one's eyes could not possibly forsake. The way her mouth tugged upwards and the manner in which her eyes curv-

"Hey, are you even listening to me right now?" A familiar voice tugged you out of your reminiscence of the confrontation months prior. Furina displayed a childish frown on her lips, her partly furrowed eyes sharpening her gaze into a rather particular one.

Oh, lost in thought once more. You let out a soft sigh, nodding sheepishly. "Yes, love, I am.."

"Mhm..." Your words left a no, you clearly aren't!" Furina sat up, her intensifying discontentment apparent on her features. "I said I got you access to front ticket seats to the hottest new court case! You know, the one involving the robbery... the one that's quite literally got the entire Steambird in a chokehold? Yet, you're not excited in the slightest!?" She sounded offended, and she likely was, for her cheeks were flushed the slightest in rash frustration and her narrowed eyes creased at their corners. "Appreciate my efforts, why don't you?"

"Appreciate" indeed.

Ah, but was a sudden, tight embrace overshooting it? For she tensed in your arms, her frame absolutely suspended in your hold, her slack jaw giving the slightest tremor. "Mon amour, just w-what are you-?"

"Come now, Furina, am I not permitted to hug my own lover now?" The jesting in your voice faded as the sarcastic grin on your face formed a smaller, more genuine one. "I'm... ah, I'm okay, if it's with you. I'll be okay."

She paused at your words, contemplation of them flashing in her gaze, and let out a gratified exhale. "Then..." she nearly melted in your embrace, leaning her head into your arms compliantly.

"Don't you dare think I've forgotten about your previous transgression, but... ah, it can be forgiven, can't it, mon amour?" ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) hc hc hc hc furina calls youfrench petnames because french oui oui baguette.. AHEM my sincerest apologies to any french or french speakers...

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! please consider following me as i amm soosososoo close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be crazy if i could reach it before christmas!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[itsthewritergal]

Just let me go - Bucky Barnes x reader

Okay this one is ANGSTTYYY Also there will be a part two! Posted tomorrow :)

TW: kidnapping, swearing, suicidal thoughts, guns, angst, sadness, suicidal ideation, also I haven't proof read this aha I'm sorry!!

“Sergeant Barnes, there is someone here to see you” One of the agent said as they stepped into the training room, 

“Who?” Bucky replied curtly, being halfway through a session with Nat he didn’t exactly want to be interrupted no matter who it was 

“I don’t know but she looks upset, if I was you I’d be worried” the agent said with a laugh, making a few of the other trainee’s laugh 

“Don’t forget your rank” Bucky said bluntly, 

“Sorry Sargent Barnes” The agent said, 

“You can start sparring, I’ll be back soon and I expect to see some improvements from yesterday” Nat said following Bucky out the room, 

“Who do you think it is?” Nat asked 

“I don’t know” Bucky said 

“What about that girl you went out with the other night?” 

“I don’t think she’d come here” Bucky said with a huff, “she didn’t like me” he said 

“Ooh what about the girl from Tony’s party?” Nat suggested, it sounded as though the idea of Bucky having a girl round was entertaining to her, Bucky narrowed his eyes at Nat, 

“No” He said bluntly, 

“Tensions killing me” Nat said with a dry laugh 

“Come on Nat, leave it alone” he said, turning the corner to the common room, he stopped immediately his breath hitching in his throat for a split second, 

“Y/N?” Nat beamed running over to give her a hug almost knocking her off of her feet “It’s been like a year since I saw you!” She grinned, 

“Hey Nat” She said gently, 

“You have to stay for dinner, Wanda’s cooking, she’ll want to see you. So will Steve, and Tony, oh and Sam!” She said “I’ll text them all now, they’ll set up a place for you” 

“Nat, I don’t think—” Y/N started 

“I don’t want to hear it, you’re staying” She said pulling out her phone and quickly tapping a message, 

“Y/N” Bucky said bluntly, his voice void of all emotions. 

“Hey” Y/N cut herself off unsure of what to call him so deciding against calling him anything,  her eyes wandered to his arm,  “the black and gold suits you” She said softly “Always said silver wasn’t your colour” 

“Shuri agreed with you” Bucky nodded

An uncomfortable silence settled across the two of them, 

“I should go” She said quickly, 

“Why did you come?” He asked a part of him not wanting her to disappear, not again 

“I, uh I found, I found this”  Y/N said her cheeks flushing red as she passed Bucky a t-shirt, one that he had forgotten about, but it certainly looked more worn now than how he remembered it. His heart squeezed at the thought of her wearing it after everything

“This is why you came?” Bucky said 

“You’re right, it was stupid. I’m gonna go” Y/N said quickly,  shaking her head as she turned, Bucky knew how she felt. He had imaged many times making an excuse to go and see her, he just didn’t think she was the kind of person to go through with it. 

“Y/N! Oh my, Nat said you were here. I’ve just laid the table dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes which is just long enough for you to catch me up on your life! Sorry Buck, but she’s with me until dinner. Then you can have her back” Wanda said not offering Bucky or Y/N a second option. 

----

“So Y/N where have you been?” Tony asked as they all sat down at the table “it’s like you dropped off the face of the earth

“Just around,” She said quietly 

“I came by your apartment, but it was empty” Tony said, 

“I had to move out” 

“You moved out?” Nat said “How come?” She said worry filling her voice 

“Life happens” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Bucky’s eyes fell on her face, watching how her eyes studied her plate not daring to look up 

“Well things always find a way of getting better” Wanda said squeezing Y/N’s hand on the top of the table 

“How about you guys, I’ve seen good things on the news” Y/N said softly 

“We’re okay” Steve said, 

“I”m pleased,” Y/N said with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes, 

“What’s your new apartment like?” Wanda asked, 

“It’s nice” Y/N said gently , 

“You should give me the address,” Tony said commandingly 

“I’ll send it over to you, I still don’t quite know it off by heart” She said, it was a lie. Bucky knew it was a lie, even if he couldn’t hear her heartbeat pick up, he would be able to tell from the way she couldn’t look at anyone in their eye. 

“What part of town is it?” Steve pressed, 

“I really appreciate you guys having me for dinner but I’m going to head home” She said quickly, “I’ll see you guys around” She said picking up her coat, 

“I'm sorry if I said something wrong” Steve apologised quickly, he should’ve known better than to press her, Bucky thought

“You don’t need to” Tony said trying to savour the dinner 

“Why don’t you stay for a movie?” Wanda suggested, 

“I need to go” She said standing up and quickly hurrying out of the room 

A gentle silence fell across the room, “I shouldn’t have asked her” Steve said 

“It’s not on you” Wanda said “I don’t think that anyone could have convinced her to open up to us” 

“I’ll find her address and go over tomorrow, it’ll be easier without anyone else there” Tony said fiercely, 

“She won’t talk to you” Bucky said 

“And she’ll talk to you?” Tony snapped “You’re the reason we are in this mess in the first place. She is my friend and I will do what I think is right” 

“What even happened when you broke up?” Wanda asked 

“ Nothing” Bucky said 

“Don’t lie” Tony snapped 

“What the hell did you do? I thought you two were fine” Nat asked 

“You told us all you two were fine after the breakup” Wanda said 

“Leave him alone” Steve said sternly 

Bucky sighed softly “She just came to drop off a shirt” 

“Nobody drops off a shirt after a year” Tony said “She wanted to see you and you couldn’t even give her the time of day” He snapped 

“She’ll be okay, I’ll come with you tomorrow, we can check in on her” Wanda said 

Bucky didn’t dare to say anything, he just nodded gently. It was a thank you, all be it a silent one, but a thank you none the less. 

----

“Tony, you need to see this” Wanda said as an alert popped up on the screen alerting Tony to a new message, they had been in Tony's lab for a few hours scouting out Y/N's new apartment.

“Have you seen where she is living?” Tony said scanning through the photos that FRIDAY had brought up on his screen “it’s worse than I thought”  

“Tony now” Wanda said fiercely,

“What is it?” Tony asked, turning around, his face dropping when he saw the screen. “Is that?” 

“Y/N” Wanda finished

“Who sent this” Tony asked 

“I don’t know, it’s anonymous. I can’t trace the signal either” 

“FRIDAY, call the team and get them into the conference room now” 

“Yes Mr Stark” FRIDAY answered 

“We can’t tell Bucky” Wanda said, 

“We can and we will because he is going to help us” 

“That’s a bad idea” Wanda said 

“He once was one the best assassins, no debate. As much as I don’t like the tinman, he can and will help us” Tony said leaving little room for debate. 

“Tony what the hell? We’re meant to have the week off of missions” Nat said, sitting down in a chair with a mug of coffee nursed in her hands

“This is different” Tony said, 

“How so?” Steve asked 

“This is personal” Tony said sternly, 

“It’s Y/N” Wanda whispered, 

“What happened to her?” Bucky asked 

“I was sent this video” Tony said

 “We thought it was best we watched it together” Wanda added 

“FRIDAY, play the video please”

The screen went dark for a moment and then lit up with a picture of Y/N locked in a room, Bucky felt a strange wave of familiarity wash over him 

“Tell your friends what we want” A voice spoke, it sent chills down Bucky’s spine, he put her in this position. He had done everything to keep her safe, after all these years, this was his fault. 

“They won’t come” Y/N’s voice was strangely calm 

“Don’t be difficult girl, tell them what we want” The voice spoke again 

“You want the soldier, you want someone who’s gone. But here’s the catch. Even if he wasn’t gone, even if the solider still existed he wouldn’t come. Not for me.” She said 

“We’ve done our research” The voice mused, there was a hint of amusement in it’s voice, as though it had caught Y/N out, 

“Your research is wrong. I haven’t spoken to Bucky in a year, he does’t care” Y/N snapped, a gunshot sounded through the conference room, making them jump 

“Turn it off” Bucky’s voice was quiet but cut through the entire room 

“Shooting blanks at me won’t work” Y/N snapped “If you’re going to kill me then kill me”

“Turn it off” Bucky said once more 

“We want the soldat” The voice behind the camera spoke 

“Then you’ll have to find someone who he cares about, because it  isn’t me” She snapped 

“You have six hours or she dies” 

The camera turned off and the room went dark. All eyes turned to Bucky, 

“When was this sent?” He said 

“Barely ten minutes ago” Wanda answered softly, 

“Let’s start at her apartment” Steve said firmly “Wanda, Clint you’re with me, Tony, Nat you should try and find something from the video, there might be an idea of where they’re keeping her.” 

“I need to go as well” Bucky said 

“No” Wanda said “You need to stay away from this” 

“I spent years tracking people down, I think I’m the best chance we have to finding Y/N” He said challenging anyone to speak out against him

“I’ll go as support” Sam said patting Bucky’s back comfortingly. 

“We need to go, now” Steve said 

----

Steve’s skin crawled at the sight of Y/N’s apartment.  He hesitated before pushing the door open, it creaked and echoed through the tiny studio. Clothes were thrown across the room, plates were stacked up by the sink, two blankets were half heartedly thrown across the bed, no sign of a duvet or pillow. Bucky had to tear his eyes away from her apartment for a minute to regain his composure. 

“I can’t believe she was staying here” Wanda said stepping into it

“It was a means to an end” Steve said, 

“I should have helped her” Wanda sighed softly, her eyes falling on the pile of clothes in the corner of the room,  

“We didn’t know” Clint said

“We should have” Wanda snapped “Look at how she was living, we should have been able to help” 

“She was always good at surviving” Steve said firmly 

“She shouldn’t have had to be, we are her friends and the moment her and Bucky split we left her” Wanda said, tears building in her eyes 

“They must have taken her here, look at the mess” Steve said changing the subject quickly,

“No” Bucky said softly “This is Y/N” Bucky said with a sigh

“What do you mean?” Clint asked “this is normal?” 

“When she got busy, she used to get messy, never put things away. Found it hard to do anything” Bucky said swallowing tightly  “We argued about it” He admitted 

“So did they take her here, or not?” Sam asked 

“Not here, this is normal for her. It didn’t happen here” Bucky said firmly

“Ok so that’s something” Sam said, attempting at a loose sense of positivity

“It must’ve happened by the compound” Wanda said “think about it, if they wanted Bucky then surely they’d be keeping tabs on him. When she left last night they must have taken the next best thing to get to him” She said 

“We need to look at security cameras”  Clint suggested 

“Who wants Bucky though?” Sam said, “I think we’re focussing too much on Y/N, rather than on what they want” 

“Hydra” Steve said through pursed lips 

“It can’t be” Wanda said 

“It has to be” Clint confirmed “It makes the most sense” 

“So who are we looking at? Zemo?” Sam asked 

“Maybe” Steve said “Doesn’t feel right though”, Steve’s thought was cut short by his phone ringing 

“Steve, I’ve got an address” Tony said, “suit up”

----

Bucky couldn’t stop shaking, he’d been on tougher missions, he’d been in tougher briefings, he had almost died more times than he could count. But this felt like the worst day of his life, 

“We’ve been sent an address,” Tony said 

“It’s a trap” Nat said 

“We don’t know that” Steve suggested, “Who sent it to you?” 

“It came with a video, it was from the same people as before” 

“What’s the video?” Sam asked, noticing the tension that had fallen across the room, 

Tony instructed FRIDAY to play the video, Y/N’s face was brought up on the screen, 

“Y/N tell them what you just told me” The voice spoke 

“No” She spat through gritted teeth, her hair was matted with blood which dripped slowly from a wound on her hair line, her face was bruised and Bucky was silently pleased he could only see to the base on her neck, anymore and he was sure he would throw up. The skin he had once pressed kisses to so gently was purple and blotted with blood. 

“Our captive here has a death wish” The voice said again, “She had her little suicide letters in her pocket when we caught her” it sneered 

“Shut the hell up” Y/N snapped, there was something in her eyes that scared Bucky, she looked so void of the love that she had once been filled with 

“She was on the top of a building when we found her, she’s only got 3 hours left avengers. Are you going to give in to her wishes?” 

“Just kill me” She whispered 

“What was that?” The voice asked, it was mocking her, teasing her, it was a sight that Bucky couldn’t stand 

“Kill me!” She shouted, her voice sent chills down each of the spines of her old friends “Just kill me” She said settling into a bought of sobs, 

The video stopped and cut to a map with a pin placed directly in it. 

“We need to go” Steve said “We leave in 5” 

----

The quinjet landed softly and Bucky could feel a knot growing in his stomach, he had been on enough rescue missions to know the ways that this could go. It was an old hydra base, one that Bucky was sure should’ve been emptied years ago. But here it stood, admittedly it was partly falling down but the cells were deep underground and the structures were built to last. He knew that much well enough, if he strained his ears he would swear that he could hear Y/N’s cries, but he convinced himself it was all in his head. 

“She’s going to be okay” Steve said 

“I can’t loose her Steve” Bucky admitted “I’ve lost her once, I can’t watch her die” 

“Then don’t let her” Steve said 

Bucky followed behind the rest of the team, Wanda stood beside him, 

“Do you want me to take the fear away?” She asked under her breath, knowing nobody else would be able to hear her 

“No, I need it” Bucky said, he didn’t explain anything else but Wanda nodded, 

“Let’s go get Y/N home” Wanda said

Bucky followed Tony’s lead, any other mission he would have tried to take the lead off of Tony but he couldn’t for this. Y/N needed Tony’s planning, Y/N’s life couldn’t be in Bucky’s hands. He would never forgive himself if anything happened. They descended into the base, it was too quiet for Bucky’s liking. Hydra would never have kept it this quiet, something was wrong. 

“Welcome home soldat” the words echoed through the halls, 

“They know we are here” Steve muttered, 

“She’s down here” Tony said, taking another set of steps downwards, Bucky could hear her shallow breaths getting louder slowly with each step he took. 

“Y/N?” Steve called out, 

“I told you to fucking kill me” Y/N screamed,  Tony immediately picked up the pace to a run following the sound of her voice.  Their footsteps echoed through the concrete walls, as they came across a long hallway filled with cells made of glass. Bucky’s skin crawled at the sight. This was what he wanted to protect Y/N from, she shouldn’t see this.  

“KIll me” Her voice rang through the cells, 

“Soldat” Bucky turned to find the voice behind him. “Do the honours?” The man said, he was older than Bucky thought he would be. 

“We’re surrounded” Steve said, 

“There’s no getting out of this” The man sneered, 

“That’s kind of where you are wrong” Tony said smartly, “You really think there’s only four of us?” He laughed 

“What?” 

“The rest of our team have cleared out your base, and they’re on their way” He said with a smirk “Also not only have we got two super soldiers, we’ve also got a freaky witch and me, ironman, you might of heard of me” 

“Ironman, you forget. You have an unstable winter soldier on your team, All I have to do is say a few words and he’s under my control right?” 

“Doesn’t work anymore” Bucky snapped 

“I’m bored” Nat said sneaking up from behind, with a wicked grin she pulled the trigger and the body fell to the ground with a thud. Instantly Bucky turned and shot the guard who was keeping him surrounded “God why are all the people we go against so boring” Nat said with a huff, once they had dealt with the guards. 

“Let’s just get Y/N” Tony said letting out a breath. 

Wanda took a step away from the group into a nearby cell, it was as though she felt her. 

“Guys she’s here” Wanda called, 

Bucky took a deep breath and turned the corner, Y/N sat slumped on a chair, out of breath and covered in bruises and dried blood. 

“Please” She whimpered 

“We’re going to get you out of here” Wanda said slowly untying her gently 

“Please no” She cried 

“You’re safe” Steve said kneeling at her side 

“No Please, let me go” She said 

“We’re letting you go, you’re going to be ok” 

“No, please” She sobbed again “You have to let me die” She cried as Wanda pulled the ties away from her 

“Y/N, we can’t do that” Steve said, 

“You’re going to be okay” Tony promised

“Just let me go please?” 

PART TWO

[antimisinfo]

Endos / endogenics and why they aren't valid :

We've made posts on this before but we decided it might be good to make one big post to link to for when / if anyone asks again. We tried to cover everything we could in this post but we'll likely be making other posts similar to this later on.

So what are endos? Endos or endogenics are people who claim to have DID/OSDD without trauma or claim to have alters / be a system without having DID/OSDD.

Why is this bad? This is misinformation because as far as science knows DID/OSDD is a trauma based disorder (specifically caused by trauma in early childhood, which is speculated to be 1-9 / 1-12 years old) and your brain would not split / create alters without reason. You cannot have alters without having a disorder, this is common sense as it's not normal to have alters. To add onto this endos also take over our communities and steal our terms. (We'll make a post with further information on that in the future).

There is also a carrd that explains why endos are bad and debunks a few myths if anyone is interested in it! If not continue reading

Why can't you have DID/OSDD or alters without trauma? As far as science knows DID/OSDD is a trauma disorder and in order to have alters in the first place you require dissociation, which is also a trauma ((or stress)) response. Here are tons of medically reviewed sources that say this:

“ They suggest that DID is caused by experiencing severe trauma over a long time in childhood. By experiencing trauma in childhood, you take on different identities and behaviours to protect yourself. As you grow up these behaviours become more fully formed until it looks like you have different identities ” — rethink.org

“ Dissociative identity disorder (DID), previously known as multiple personality disorder, is a complex psychological condition caused by many things. These include severe trauma during early childhood (usually extreme, repetitive physical, sexual, or emotional abuse). It's also known as split personality disorder. ” — webMD

“ DID is usually associated with adverse experiences in someone’s past and traumatic memories. ” & “ Dissociation — a major part of DID — is a defense mechanism the body uses to reduce your awareness during overwhelming trauma ” — pysch central

“ DID is associated with long-term exposure to trauma, often chronic traumatic experiences during early childhood. ” & “ Dissociation—or disconnection from one’s sense of self or environment—can be a response to trauma. It can happen during a single-incident, traumatic event (e.g., an assault, a natural disaster, or a motor vehicle accident), or during ongoing trauma (e.g., wartime; chronic childhood abuse). ” — mcleanhospital.org

“ Dissociative disorders often develop as a way to deal with a catastrophic event or with long-term stress, abuse or trauma. This is particularly true if such events take place early in childhood. At this time of life, there are limitations to your ability to fully understand what’s happening. In addition, your coping mechanisms aren’t fully developed and getting support and resources depends on the presence of caring and knowledgeable adults. ” — my.clevelandclinic.org

“ There are many possible causes of dissociative disorders, including previous traumatic experience. ” & “ Switching off from reality is a normal defence mechanism that helps the person cope during a traumatic time. ” — nhs.uk

“ Dissociative identity disorder is the result of a natural way of coping with childhood trauma. Our page on the causes of dissociative disorders has more information. ” & “ Dissociation is a natural response to trauma while it's happening. But some of us may still experience dissociation long after the traumatic event has finished. Past experiences of dissociation during traumatic events may mean that you haven't processed these experiences fully. ” — mind.org (two links since they're two different pages)

“ Dissociative disorders usually start as a way to cope with shocking, distressing or painful events. The disorders most often form in children who go through long-term physical, sexual or emotional abuse. Less often, the disorders form in children who've lived in a home where they went through frightening times or they never knew what to expect. The stress of war or natural disasters also can bring on dissociative disorders. When you go through an event that's too much to handle emotionally, you may feel like you're stepping outside of yourself and seeing the event as if it's happening to another person. Mentally escaping in this way may help you get through a shocking, distressing or painful time. ” — mayoclinic.org

Most of these sources are pretty recent too, with the most recent one being made in September 2023 (webMD)

What about religious beliefs / tuplamacy? First people are not required to believe or participate in your religious beliefs (and religious beliefs are not exempt from criticism) and second tuplamacy is a closed Buddhist practice that has nothing to do with being a system and should not be compared to being a system nor should it be included / involved in system communities. Note that the DSM-V also says that in order to have DID; "The disturbance is not a normal part of a broadly accepted cultural or religious practice." <- this does not mean it's possible to have alters due to a religious thing, if anything it says they cannot be counted as alters / as a system.

To add on, no you cannot pray to be a system or transition into being a system. If you were to pray and one day magically become a system you are either in denial or you've convinced yourself you're something you're not. Believing you can be a system without trauma or that you can become a system by praying is like believing you can get autism from vaccines or drinking too much dairy milk, that's just not how it works.

What about mixed origin systems? Mixed origin systems are not a thing. DID/OSDD forms purely from trauma, you can't form from a mix of trauma and not trauma, that's not how it works. If you identify as mixed origin you are likely in denial and really need to come to terms with the fact that you are either traumatized or you're not a system at all.

What about other kinds of origins? Other origins like "willowgenic" and all that bullshit? Yeah no, same thing as endos, not possible. Look above for all the proof you need, DID/OSDD is only caused by trauma. Traumagenic is the only valid origin.

But I gave myself DID! / But I created my own alters! No you didn't. That isn't possible, you cannot turn yourself into a DID/OSDD system and creating alters is a coping mechanism, not something you do for fun, sources on this;

“ DID Isn't Something You Can Give Yourself on Purpose. Having DID was not a conscious decision those of us with the disorder made when we were children. Dissociative identity disorder is not a selective disorder, meaning you cannot decide that you want to develop this brilliant coping mechanism and then you have it. ” — healthyplace

“ In any case, additional alters are usually the result of extreme stress. The mind does not like to be fractured even when an individual already has DID or OSDD-1. Many individuals cannot split unless a split is strictly necessary for their protection, functioning, or ability to remain hidden as a system. That said, there are exceptions. Some individuals may become so used to using splitting as a coping mechanism that they may split easily in response to seemingly minor stressors. ” — didresearch.org

Isn't being a system like the same as being trans or being LGBTQ? No, many endos compared the two but they are completely different. Being LGBTQ is an identity, it's something you are born as. Being a system is a debilitating disorder caused by severe trauma, it is counted as a disability which is;

“ 'A person has a disability if: They have a physical or mental impairment, and the impairment has a substantial and long-term adverse effect on the person's ability to carry out normal day-to-day activities.' ” — gmc.org

The reason DID would be counted as a disability is that;

“ Having a dissociative disorder can affect your ability to keep a full-time job, especially one with work stresses, which can worsen your symptoms. ” — disabilitysecrets

And the DSM-V criteria literally says;

“ The symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning ” — traumadissociation

But the DSM-V says that trauma isn't required! No, the DSM-V actually says CSA isn't required, there are other forms of trauma that don't involve CSA or child abuse. To act as if it saying that the trauma isn't always CSA or child abuse means that it doesn't require trauma at all is extremely invalidating to those who are traumatized in ways that don't involve child abuse or CSA.

But this source claims endos exist / DID doesn't require trauma! Most of those sources are extremely old and / or made by endos (or pro endos) themselves. (We'll make a more in-depth post on this topic some other time, but for now this is all we have to say on it)

But we don't know everything about the human brain! You're right, we don't. The brain is mysterious, but we do know enough to know that it doesn't do these kinds of things for no reason. We know the brain reacts to trauma and we know what the difference between a normal brain and a disordered brain is. Just because we don't know everything doesn't give people an excuse to jump to conclusions and spread misinformation. It is better to stick to what science currently knows which is the theory of structural dissociation, which is the current theory about how DID/OSDD forms, and so far no one has been able to disprove it. And before someone says it, no it is not only a theory, it is a scientific theory which is;

“ A theory is a well-substantiated explanation of an aspect of the natural world that can incorporate laws, hypotheses and facts. The theory of gravitation, for instance, explains why apples fall from trees and astronauts float in space. Similarly, the theory of evolution explains why so many plants and animals—some very similar and some very different—exist on Earth now and in the past, as revealed by the fossil record. ” — amnh.org

And to add on;

“ Scientists develop theories to explain the natural world and to advance scientific knowledge. A theory is the highest level of explanation in science. Some features of scientific theories are that they: have been thoroughly tested over an extended period, provide accurate explanations and, predictions for a wide range of phenomena, are widely accepted by the scientific community, demonstrate strong experimental and observational support ” — study.com

[fiepige]

Hobie and his guitar appreciation post (part 1)

I just love all the different ways he uses his guitar <3

[plutolovesyou]

how soon is now? | part one

READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸

teasers: one. two. series masterlist. next part here!!

♡: hallway crush!ellie x uni student!reader

☆: listen, i know this timeline is kind of ridiculous, but i’ve organized it all best as i can! this is the expanded story based on those first little blurbs introducing the au (reads fine on its own though), and this part specifically was originally going to be one huge fic, but i've ultimately decided to split it up and drop the first part now, because i feel like it ends in a convenient enough space where i can make a separation not so jarring. so that means this will have a direct continuation (how soon is now? 2 ? lol this is so stupid-), and that will be posted soon enough once i finish it! but yes that means after so much waiting, it's finally here for y’all. i literally thought up this silly idea right before i passed out on new years, and never expected y’all to love it so much…but i keep my promises, so here. also love the smiths and felt the title sort of fit. i feel like not too much happens but eh anyway, thank you for waiting, thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

♧:4.6k word count

◇:suggestive but not explicit - horny descriptions and tension, however no smut (for now?….BUT DON'T HOLD ME TO THAT.) no descriptions of reader’s physical appearance, no use of “y/n”, slow-burn construction and loooooads of pining, a lot of build up but stay with me, attempts at occasional foreshadowing, smau elements(text messages lmao), savage starlight is a plot point lol, hallwaycrush!ellie is sort of a mix of loser/modern/university au/dorky-ish ellie I DON'T EVEN KNOW. abby is your bestie, girl what else do i put here- this is just kinda plot, plot, and more plot progression about the whole ordeal, and me indulging my obsession with modern!ellie. (lmk if there's anything to be added!)

“Abbyyyyyyyyyy.” 

You rolled around your lifelong best friend’s bed, babbling her ear off while she studied away at her desk, or tried to at least. This situation has been a daily occurrence for weeks at this point.

Laying on your stomach facing away from her, you could hear her scoff in annoyance. “What?” “Please give me some advice..I don't know what I'm even supposed to do. She's driving me up the wall." This crush was the sole thing occupying your poor mind, so naturally, you had to drown your bestie with your troubles as well. That's what friends do. Abby spun around on her chair to face you, with a clearly fed up expression on her face, and leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

“Well I don’t fucking know man, I’ve already given you my best advice, and that's either introduce yourself, or suffer.” She said coolly. You sat up and groaned. Wasn't there an easier way? One that didn't involve actually taking initiative and doing something? Maybe, hypothetically, you ace a test, and the professor announces it in front of everyone as he emotionally congratulates his star student, and she bounds over, beaming. Then tearfully confesses her love and admiration for you- hold on, where the fuck is this going?

“Oh come on, you know I can’t do that..” You gulped a burning bundle of anxiety down as you replayed the scenarios with your obsession for the thousandth time that day, the mere crumbs you were forced to fixate on until you saw her next, the first sighting that started this whole fiasco,  and shook your head to clear it and listen to what your best friend had to say. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, slamming her textbook shut and making her way over to sit next to you.

“Listen babe, I love you, but you really gotta get ahold of yourself, alright?” She spoke sternly, looking you straight in the eyes to make sure you understood and absorbed every last word she said. “Listen, here's what you're gonna do. when you pass her in the hall, smile, it's simple but it's a classic, okay? And then you listen to the lecturer as normal, right? I have no idea what you nerds do in astrophysics, but that's besides my point. Make sure to pay attention and not stare only at her like a stalker or something, I cannot stress enough how normal you gotta be. But here's where it gets good, you still with me?” 

You're listening to her for sure, and nod vigorously. Crystal clear. She continues, “Okay you said you sit as far as possible from her? Sheesh, why'd you do that? When the class is over I want you to go over to her, and introduce yourself. Catch her on her way out, tap her on the shoulder if you're feeling bold. Ask for some of her contact details, play it cool. Just don't shit yourself, got it? All you gotta do." 

Abby finishes her speech, smirking and looking smug. She's positive she got through to you this time. On the surface you're totally chill, confident even, ready to snatch this ethereal being for yourself, however underneath all that you knew you didn't have an ounce of the courage that was required for this seemingly impossible task. 

Breathing deeply to calm yourself and try to take in her helpful words as best as possible, you give Abby a hug. “Thank you Abs, really. I'll do my best. Oh, but what if I freak out and start stuttering- or what if I trip and fall on her…I can't do this what the hell.” Swarmed with worry, you start doubting yourself yet again. Burying your face in your palms, you feel two strong hands on either side of your upper arms and you look back at Abby, who's really not playing around anymore. 

She was so serious about this it almost scared you. Either she cared about you more than anything, or she wanted to hear the end of these pathetic, lovestruck rambles. You prayed it was the former. 

“Suck it up. You can do this. You've had crushes before haven't you? This should be a piece of cake c’mon, I believe in you. Make sure to keep me updated every step of the way! I need to hear every last detail.” She lightens up at the end and releases you from her grip once she sees you've relaxed. 

Unsurprisingly, your best friend always knew what to say to snap you out of your spirals. Maybe most would disagree with her methods, say she was being rough, but they worked for you. Heart rate returning to a normal pace, you reply genuinely. 

“Okay, okay I got this. Yeah, it'll be fine.” She was getting through to you, this time you felt sure of it. “Good, good. Now will you let me finish this stupid assignment? Then we can watch something or do whatever." Abby chatted as she got up and sat back at her desk, resuming her studious endeavor as she left you with your thoughts. 

Immediately you heard her mutter, “All this and you don't even know her goddamn name…good grief.” For the sake of preserving the peace you chose to graciously ignore that one. She said she wanted some quiet, didn't she? 

Drifting away into a sea of daydreams, your thoughts inevitably returned to being clouded by this cryptic figure. It was like she'd cast a love spell on you. Did she even know who you were? Or did she shoot everyone those insufferably charming looks of hers. Was she even aware of how fucking cool she was? 

Dressed in that deliciously grungy style, you yearned to know what floated behind her greener-than-grass eyes. Her hair looked so smooth and soft, the wispy auburnette strands framing her refined features, intriguing fern tattoo decorating her lean forearm…. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up as a portrait of her materialized in your mind's eye. Nestling into the comfortable atmosphere of your best friend's room, you sunk deeper into your thoughts.

Like Abby had mentioned, it certainly wasn't as if you've never had crushes before, you've certainly had your fair share of them, like most people. But that was a sort of flaky, surface level interest, whether it be for their looks, their little quirks, or ways they treated you. Maybe it has been a while since you'd had a proper crush, but you couldn't recall a time when the infatuation, the pure limerence, had hit you this hard before. You almost felt helpless, just besotted by her.

You simply needed to act on this. Right then and there you steeled yourself, and decided you were going to follow Abby's advice after all, and go after this hallway crush. Worst comes to worst, she turns you down, you get over it eventually, bla bla end of story. It wasn't going to be too complicated, right?

You and Abby had stayed up all night, dusk till dawn, gossiping about things other than your hallway crush, shocking, and you were greatly regretting that decision the very moment it was time to gather your books and get to class.

You really did not feel like stunning everyone around you with a gorgeous outfit today, you were just trying to make it through the day in one piece to be honest with yourself. 

With a pounding headache you threw on some mismatched sweats, and ran out the door to be on time. Your bag felt unreasonably heavy as you made your way down your apartment stairs, and you cursed your past self for choosing a building without an elevator. Sure, exercise is healthy, but it can’t be when you’re feeling like a zombie, and wish for nothing more than a good, long nap.

Luckily the lecture hall was a comfortable distance away from your place, not far enough to make it a pain, but enough so you could get a much needed breath of fresh air. The tiredness had pushed all plans of action you and Abby had discussed the previous night to the back of your head, and you weren't thinking of your crush at all. At least for now. 

Walking slowly with your gaze pointed downward, you eventually made it to the hall. Completely dazed and zoned out, you made a mental note to never pull an all nighter again, gross, who’s idea was that- thump. 

Out of nowhere you're rudely jolted from your silent sulking by colliding with something, or someone? It takes a moment to register what happened, and you quickly look up from staring at the ground to sort the situation out. “Oh my gosh I am so sorry..” 

Profusely apologizing while simultaneously being smacked across the face with the realization of who this was. Her. Your words trail off as you’re suddenly winded, and you feel your blood run cold. You’re transfixed by the intense eye contact, and it feels like time has stopped. Goodness, this is dramatic. 

In the time it takes for you to briefly die and come back to life, the young woman has lowered her chunky headphones so they rest around her neck, Morissey’s vocals faintly floating out of them, and is looking at your stunned state with an indiscernible sneer playing on her face. Was this actually happening? Holy shit you and Abby did not discuss this scenario…you weren’t looking where you were going and had collided with an actual Earth angel. Great.

Still gawking at her like an absolute buffoon, akin to a deer in headlights, she breaks the tension first, with a smooth voice that you would obey virtually any command for. 

“Nah, you’re good.” And a wink. Your heart skipped a beat, or four, when you witnessed her wink at you. Did you imagine it? Was she being suave on purpose or did she have an eyelash in her eye…Was your life a literal rom-com or what? 

“Um..” Your mouth opens and closes in an attempt to form a coherent sentence, but your brain is much too fried to do so because, well, you had just made physical contact with the literal girl of your dreams. And gods did she smell good…while you’re unable to tear your eyes away from hers, she keeps talking as if nothing happened.

“I think the prof had an emergency or fuckin’, I dunno.” She stops to gesture around the two of you at the crowd that had formed in front of the auditorium’s double doors with elegant, ring adorned fingers..holy fuck you needed those inside you right fucking now- WHAT. 

Briskly shoving those thoughts down to the deepest depths of your subconscious back to where they belong, you turned your attention back to her, and put on a brave front. Hyper aware of how searing hot your face felt, her pretty self didn't show a hint of caring that you were making a fool of yourself. They say that any situation is always worse in your head than it was in actuality, well you hoped so. 

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Clearing your throat you managed a sentence back, hooray. You were doing this. Good job. Although, of course, before the gorgeous nymph before you had a chance to respond with her own assumptions, a substitute lecturer you had never seen before pushes his way through the crowd and unlocks the door while people file in, separating you from her. You felt like Rose, viciously torn away from Jack from Titanic, what a cruel, cruel world this was.

And once again you didn't get to ask her name. Re-slinging her bag with one arm, she looks back at you one final time and throws you a “cya around.” Before disappearing into the auditorium with everyone else. You meekly nod at her and force a lopsided smile, before leaning against the wall to steady yourself after that fiasco in the now empty hallway.

Wasting virtually not a moment of time, you pulled your phone out and began furiously texting Abby with a recount of the events at a speed faster than the speed of light. 

Once that excruciatingly torturous class was over, you applauded yourself for containing the stares in her direction and keeping your eyes fixated on the professor. Whether you actually retained any information, now that was a different story. Picking up your bags and laptop, you stay behind for a moment as everyone else files out, no need to crowd and suffocate amongst the other students, and you had nowhere to be except catch up on your favorite shows and relax all by yourself. 

Filing out the auditorium with everyone else, you see a familiar face pass by you, and vaguely hear Abby’s voice in your head urging you to seize the moment. Now’s your chance, go! And so you gather every little bit of strength you possess to do just that. 

After a couple deep breaths you jog up to her. “Uh, hey.” She turns around and gives you a warm smile, making your legs instantly turn to jelly. You subtly checked her out and took in her outfit, another bulky jacket and lightly distressed jeans. Fingers studded with layered silver rings, and those big ole headphones seemed to be magnetically attached to her, she always had them on her. Note to self: ask for some music recommendations.

She was even hotter up close…with a beautiful galaxy of freckles scattered across her fair skin, you wanted to place a kiss on every single of them. “I, um, never caught your name.” “It's Ellie.” She sticks out her hand for a handshake and you accepted it, you finally had a name to the face you've been pining over so intensely for so long. Abby was going to lose it once you tell her about this. You steady your voice and hide the glee that was likely evident from this interaction going so smoothly, and introduce yourself to her as well.

After some time of idle chit chat and standing there, neither one of you knowing really what to say, Ellie pipes up, facepalming, tsking, and furrowing her brows. “Oh yeah, I don’t mean to spring this on you outta nowhere, but would you wanna study sometime?” She flushes a dusty pink, “I don't know anyone else taking this course and am having kind of a hard time with it...when I chose it, I expected it to be more about space and the planets, and less about numbers and math, my head hurts.”

Her demeanor was making you feel rather comfortable with her, even though the two of you had just formally met a few minutes prior. “I would love to, yeah!” Maybe you were being a little too enthusiastic, but at this point you were operating on pure instinct and not thinking critically of what was coming out of your mouth. “I actually don't have any plans now, or today at all, so if you want to, we can get a head start before the next class?” Well that just slipped out. Go you, blurting things out. 

You had no idea why you'd said that because your place was an absolute mess, clothes strewn everywhere, trash can still full, you'd been too preoccupied with your studies, and well her, to do much about it. To your horror, Ellie exclaims, “Hey, that's perfect! I don't have anything to do right now either, and it would be good to act on it while it's still fresh in my mind, y’know?” Her face morphs into an adorable toothy grin as she taps on her skull comically, you were becoming more obsessed by the second, if that was even possible.

Every little sliver of her personality you got to see under the stoic one you had assumed she had just grasped at your heartstrings. You smiled back at her so hard you almost pulled a muscle in your cheeks, “Awesome! Follow me, then, my dorm isn't far.”

The walk there was mostly fine as the two of you made it to your place, Ellie occasionally making comments about how she hates the class even though she adores outer space and learning about it on her own time, and you were nodding and acting as if you're listening, agreeing with her robotically while she rambled away and you daydreamed about what her lush lips would feel like on yours. You wondered if she was gentle with it, or if she’d kiss you hungrily, devour you like her very last meal….gulp.

Leading her to your place was an automatic task, not much navigation needed, and when the journey was done you had to legitimately stop short for a moment in an attempt to soothe the pounding in your chest. 

The crush that has plagued your mind for ages, who you've just met formally today, was about to be in your room. The two of you were about to be alone. That was totally fine, yeah, she can't be a murderer…..right?

“You good?” She asked sweetly, why did she have to be so nice, “Those stairs were killer, I totally get it, phew.” “Oh for sure, gets me every time.” Covering up your panic smoothly, you unlocked the door and went inside with her. When she walked inside, Ellie took a glance around your room and set herself down at the edge of your bed, immediately making herself comfortable, while you still lingered in the doorway, awkwardly swaying and staring at her, unsure of what to do with yourself. 

Suddenly you had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. “No way, you read Savage Starlight too???” She spotted the figurine on your desk and snatched it up in her hands to inspect it thoroughly, with a childlike wonder in her eyes. “Wow, this one was a limited edition and it sold out in like an hour, I'm so jealous you got this!! How much you want for it, I'm serious.” She was so excited, and you couldn't believe it. Savage Starlight has always been one of your favorite comics ever, you've loved it since you were a young teen, and now this seemingly perfect human before you, who you're hopelessly obsessed with says she loves it too? Could she get any more flawless, is all you could wonder.

Her happiness because of this little thing you two bonded over was infectious, and some of your nerves slowly began to go away.  Grinning genuinely, you sheepishly said, “I've never met anyone else who likes it, that story has helped me through lots of phases in my life, and Daniela was my gay awakening.” Ellie gaped at you for a beat, making you almost doubt revealing that information.

“No. Fuckin’. Way. Mine too! Her suit was just- damn. And those action scenes in the third volume had my thirteen year old self’s brain just mush for, I don't even know for how long. This is crazy, I can already see we’re gonna get along so well.”

You wanted to talk to her about everything and anything forever, and her glee made you want to squish her, but there was unfortunately work to be done first. “There’s so much we have to discuss, but we gotta get some studying done first if we wanna make it out of this course alive.”

You were sitting at your desk, hunched over the sprawled out textbooks and messy notes, as you drew the graphs and talked to her about the concepts she was struggling with. Your desk was so small and you only had one chair, and you were the one using it, so Ellie was forced to hover over you to see all you were doing.

Focusing solely on the subject before you was proving to be more difficult as studying time went by, because you were a little too aware of the way she had caged you in against the desk to watch, her oversized shirt grazing your upper back. You gripped your pen ever so tightly to minimize any trembling, and kept a steady voice as best you could while explaining it all.

She was so, so close, the tension in the tiny room was palpable, she didn't seem to notice your nervous tremors or the proximity she’d created, and the low murmurs of, “ohhh, mhm, yeah,” as you embarrassingly stammered over your explanations made you flushed and to be frank, needy. You could feel her warmth radiating off of her, could faintly hear her breathing just above you. You didn't dare move a muscle. Was she feeling this too?

At this point you swore the delicious gravelly vibrations from her voice this close to you would be plenty enough to make you cream your pants. The air in the enclosed space was getting hotter and thicker by every passing moment, it took everything you had to keep yourself from losing your mind right now. If you moved back a petty few inches, you’d be pressed flush with her front. What would that be like, you wondered. Oh, no. Your throat felt drier than the desert when you swallowed, the thought of that making you weak.

Since your focus on the work was lapsing, you were beginning to make some little mistakes and blunders, compelling her to take the pen right from your hand and fix them herself. “No, no, this one’s supposed to be like this instead, see? Then you're able to get the right answer which is…” She stretches over you further, you nearly whined, someone save you, and grabs the textbook to review the solution. “Like this, yeah, I was right. Honest mistake though, don’t worry about it.”

You nod your head and make a pathetic murmur of approval, ignoring the fiery tingles spreading all the way up your arm when her hand bumps yours to return the writing utensil, and the blistering coil of want forming in your stomach. This all had to be deliberate, right? She couldn't lack that much spatial awareness, could she? Well, it wasn’t that you minded, she could get as close as she damn wanted to, you'd let her throw you around like a ragdoll even- you were just afraid your heart was going to give out if she kept it up. “Could you show me this work you guys did? Of course the one day I'm late, the prof talks about something new and I miss it.” 

What feels like an eternity later, you hear her groan above you and she returns to her earlier spot on your bed. You can finally breathe properly. Glancing at the clock, your own headache begins to set in. Crap it was late, how time flies. 

“We’ve been studying for so long, it’s getting late.” “Shit, you’re right, I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. Sorry about that, and hey, thanks for this. I understand it all a lot better now, see you tomorrow.”

She stands up abruptly and ushers herself out of your door in a flash, to which you clumsily stand up, knock your chair over, and hastily run after her, not wanting her to go just yet. “Wait, Ellie!” “What's up, did I forget something?”

She pats her pockets and looks at you with concern. Round puppy dog eyes, and lips in a miniscule pout, so cute. You were in front of her now, but did not process what you actually wanted to say. Just ran after her like the smitten nincompoop you are. Upon feeling your face go hot, you look at the ground to mutter, “Uh- nothing. See you later.” Realistically, what were you planning on saying, or doing?

After stumbling over your words you two finally part ways and you slump down against your door, missing her presence already. You simultaneously wanted to jump around or open your bedside table drawer to release the energy you'd accumulated, and wanted to fall into the deepest sleep of your life to recuperate from the experience. This was just, a lot. You wanted to scream and screech like there's no tomorrow, but did not want to deal with noise complaints from the others living on your floor. Gosh she was so close, she shares your niche interest, your hands touched, albeit accidentally, lo and behold you were in love with her.

Maybe it was early to call it that, but you were going to plan out your future together. Preferably a quaint, peaceful farmhouse, the one you two lovebirds renovated together exactly how you envisioned, where you could ogle her doing the farmwork. Ugh. Cook all her favorite meals, make sweet, sweet love under the moonlight. Take strolls through the flower gardens you two planted, receive her curated bouquets as gifts, you two are going to have such a tender, domestic life. 

You had to mull it over some more, and didn’t dare wish to forget how close she was to you, you were still buzzing from her essence. You were pointlessly pacing around your room now, unable to stop looping the study session's events in your head. The simplicity, the eroticism of the encounter. One-sided or not, you had yet to find out more about her, the impatience was going to take over. The day almost seemed too good to be true, but for now you had to force yourself to relax and think about something other than her. Time to browse Pinterest with striking kitchen ideas for your beautiful future. 

What were you going to say to her the next time you see her? You were eager to know how, or if at all, this new friendship was going to progress. Part of you was dying of impatience, but the rest of you wanted to take it all as slow as possible, savoring every little moment and making the most of it. 

You sighed, this was going to be a long, long, year.

lovely taggies: @amiorca @mostlyhornyandsad @lasting-lover @radioheadfan699 @sophie-thefrog8 @machetegirl109 @ellieschair @aouiaa @wavesgocrash @tangerinngi @elliesbitchvenus @dinaissoprettyoml @rxreaqia @camicocom1a @elliesexual @ellslvr @boobdrug @writing-on-a-bathroom-stall @bready101 @yourelliewillms

.......really hoping this doesn't flop because it isn't smutty, yall wanted more fics that are plot soooo

[doobea]

I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.

contents: fem!reader, explicit content (f!oral receiving, m!oral receiving, fingering, my lame attempt to write dirty talk, blindfolds, virginity loss), characters are all in their mid/late-20s, romcom, fluffy smut (if that's even a thing), feels like PWP (there's like 3 smut scenes?) and also mini sex ed, sae makes an appearance!!!, wholesome ending hehe, mdni word count: 8K (idk this could've been split up into two parts but here we are) a/n: words cannot describe how happy i am to see this whim of a series turn into something so huge in a short span!! like tysm!! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy the final part :)

四 : call me Mr. Flintstone, I can make your bed rock -> prev.

Tuesdays are miserable for Rin.

They're usually reserved for prepping for press conferences, answering emails from sponsorships, and posting on his socials to increase interactions with his followers - all courtesy of Ego's 'Blue Lock: Career Manager' program. Tuesdays are the only days when Rin can work from home but it drains the most energy out of him.

Today he wakes up before his alarm, a rare occurrence, and notices an oddly large amount of sunlight in the room. He shifts around and tries to yawn, only realizing that his jaw is stiff and sore from the night before. It soon dawns upon him that he's in your bed and feels the extra weight on the left side. He tilts his head down, eyes softening at the sight of you in his shirt, snuggled right up against his bare chest with just the tiniest of drools sweeping out of your lips, but he doesn't mind.

There's a sudden urge to use the bathroom but he rests in bed for a few moments longer. His fingers brush some of your locks away from your frame and watches as your eyes flutter under closed lids at the contact. He starts counting your breaths in intervals, almost trying to calculate your heartbeat in his weird little head, and begins to feel overwhelmed by how right it feels to be laying next to you.

Tuesdays just got better for Rin.

The first beat of his alarm goes off and he's fast to put it to snooze in order to not disrupt your slumber. The athlete takes this moment as motivation to get up and gently sweeps you over to your sides before crawling out of bed. His back creaks, aches, and pops when he pulls himself to his feet and attempts to do his routine yoga stretches. And, at that moment, Rin decides that he'll make his favorite dish for breakfast.

Your nose twitches you awake from the fragrant earthy smell emanating from the kitchen. You sit up a bit too fast, vision going white as you're hit in the face with the immediate morning shine, and groan. Sounds of stacking plates and water trickling in the background are soon followed by the shuffling of slippers coming close to your direction as you see your shirtless husband carrying in a breakfast tray occupied by two bowls of green tea rice with bream and tall glasses of water.

"Good morning," He sets down the tray on the bedside table and leans forward to plant a kiss on your cheek, "did you sleep well?"

"You wouldn't believe it," You shoot him a cheeky grin, "maybe we should do this more often."

He raises an amused brow, "Sleeping together?"

You shrug back with a teasing look, "If that's what you wanna call it then sure."

The mattress lets out a small squeak as Rin sits down, quickly cupping the sides of your face into his for a deeper kiss. The heat of his mouth on yours feels all too welcoming that you can't help but relax your head back down to the pillow. You find yourself eagerly returning his kisses, searching for his tongue with yours and gently nipping at the corner of his mouth.

Rin breaks free for a moment, redness evident on his cheeks, "The food."

You slouch forward, lips brushing over his neck which causes him to tense up, "I'm sure we can spare just 15 minutes, right?"

"Right, 15 minutes." He breathes and looks at you, "Is there anything you want me to do?"

For the past year, you've dreamt of Rin saying this exact question over a dozen times with a dozen of different answers. Whether it be him kissing you until you were a sloppy wreck, leaving hickeys and love marks all over each other's bodies until his teammates complained, or having him absolutely fuck you into oblivion.

"Up to you."

Rin nods and pulls off the blanket covering you, admiring how cute you looked in his baggy t-shirt, and lowers himself further until his face is right between your thighs. He leaves a trail of kisses along the side of your right thigh, lips moving lower, engulfing the hot candy-coated skin. You can feel yourself growing wetter and start to whine, instinctively grinding your hips against the mattress.

"Calm down." You hear him whisper, breath hot against your wet center.

"Rin." You don't know how many times you were going to cry out his name, but you needed him to understand.

As his mouth hovers over the area that you had no idea was so needy until now, he continues to kiss the insides of your thighs, forcing you to turn your entire body to the side in search of some form of pressure. His name makes its way past your lips again and, at that sound, he holds tighter to your thighs to spread them apart. Rin stares at your dripping opening, spreading it open with two fingers for so long that you look down to meet his dangerous teal eyes.

"I have a meeting in 30." He says as if it was dirty talk and you almost end up laughing but saved the energy to give a light squeeze at his head with your thighs.

"So make it fast."

Rin nods slowly, and soon, his hot, firm tongue is on your sensitive nub. He moves in long, fast strokes, caressing the neediest part of your body while one of his rigid hands settles onto your hip, rooting you against the mattress. You screw your eyes shut at the action, feeling the pleasure beginning to inch its way up to your stomach, and made the realization your husband has already made note of all of your sweet spots in just two sessions.

Your rapid moans begin to fill the room and you attempt to lift your hips against his strength, every muscle in your abdomen tightening as you try to concentrate on finding release.

"Rin, I'm clo—"

A loud blaring ringtone from Rin's pocket snaps you both out of the intoxicated spell and he groans in frustration. He gets up to sit on the end of the mattress, picking up his call with a swift swipe. You can't make out the exact words from the line but, from Rin's pursed lips and hard expression, you knew it was work-related.

"Yeah, I'll hop on in just a second. Thanks." The call drops with a beep.

You pull the blankets up to cover yourself, trying to hide the disappointment stretched on your face, "Ego?"

"Yeah," Rin sighs and throws you an apologetic look, "we'll continue later? My sponsors started the meeting early."

"Mhm, that's fine." You give his arm a small squeeze, a secret way of saying 'Go fuck them up'. And he squeezes back, his way of saying 'I will'.

Rin's meeting with his sponsors is... interesting.

Like most people who know him, he likes to keep things relatively minimal and doesn't like showing much of his personality other than what people usually see on screen - deadpan and curt. And he prefers to keep it as such. Though, and he blames Ego, his recent sportswear sponsors have been pressuring him to 'change' his persona for their new campaign (and gaining a new wide customer audience of course). And the theme for that? Eros.

"Has anyone told you that you have a hidden sex appeal?"

Rin almost chokes on his drink before responding quietly, "Not many?" Aside from you, that is.

The middle-aged man on his laptop screen laughs, "We'd think you'd be perfect, but you need to flesh out that side of you."

"Huh," is all Rin could say because why would athletic wear even be sexy in the first place?

"We're a bit busy today on site but if you could send us full body shots in these poses," the man sends over a link in the chat, "we'll compensate ten thousand for that and then the rest on the day of the shoot, deal?"

Getting these types of offers is usually rare in Rin's case. Brands tend to fit their representative's aesthetics rather than molding them into something they're not. But sometimes they can get a bit ruthless with their pestering.

He clicks on the link and a separate tab opens up, revealing a series of seductive mock-ups of a blindfolded shirtless model in tight Nike boxers. This is what they wanted him to do? Just so they can sell some underwear? Rin finds himself regretting turning down the Mcdonalds' campaign two months ago. Maybe that would've kept his schedule busy and Nike could've turned to someone else like Reo or Karasu.

He wants to say no, but this was one of Blue Lock's biggest donors. Saying no would result in another long meeting with Ego and the rest of the company's executive board. And there's no way that he could sit through that again.

"I'll send them over by the end of the day."

The man snaps up, eyes wide, "Perfect! Pleasure doing business with you as always, Itoshi." Without saying any departures, his screen goes black.

Rin grunts and slumps down in his chair, only looking up when he hears his bedroom door creaking opening slightly, revealing your figure with a sly smile.

Ah, he can't tell if he likes the look or not.

"I'm assuming you—"

"Can I please help?!"

Rin doesn't miss the glint that flashes across your eyes. It appears that you already have something in mind and he needs to send over the photos by this afternoon so does he even have a say? It wasn't like Rin knows how to take gaudy photos anyway.

He fakes being in deep thought briefly with a finger to his lips, enjoying the sight of your bubbling excitement, before agreeing, "Where should we start?"

You strut over to his laptop and eye the mock-up photos that his sponsor had sent over. Rin closely watches your facial expressions change as you seem to take this newfound role with increasing responsibility and seriousness. Of all the time spent together within the past year, he's never seen you this passionate over something silly in his opinion.

"Do you have their product on hand?" Your question snaps him from his thoughts and he nods, pointing towards the guest room closet.

"They sent over three separate pairs last week. I didn't bother trying them on."

A gasp escapes from your lips follow quickly by a pout, "I could've seen you in them?!”

“We’ve only started being intimate a few days ago, honey.” He said matter of factly.

“Still…” Your voice trails off with a playful eye roll before you clap your hands together in movement of an idea.

Rin straightens up from his seat at the action, unsure of what to expect within the next couple of minutes. He hears you mumble something under your breath and watches you leave the room and return with what appears to be a black cloth, some rope, and a pair of handcuffs. While he knows that you usually receive free sex toys from your collaborations, he can’t help but question whether you’ve used them or not. You toss the items onto the mattress and rummage through his drawers to pull out the sealed package with the branded boxers.

"It'll be quick, babe!"

Most likely not, he thinks. With the direction of where this is heading, Rin believes he'll soon revisit this morning's session.

Much to his own surprise, modeling in only his boxers was something he discovered he was effortless at. Or maybe it was your own enthusiasm and concentration behind the camera that made him feel a bit at ease. You both moved to the living room area to catch better lightning and instructed Rin to lay down on the sectional couch with a singular hand tousled through his hair. In just a span of a few minutes, you've captured over a dozen dynamic close-ups and full-body shots of your husband's figure.

"Do you do this often?" Rin speaks out.

You stand behind the camera with unwavering focus, thumb hovering over the shutter as you set up for the next shot, "Not often but only with the toys I get."

Rin flinches from the flash before pressing on, "Do you use anything of them on yourself?"

Your dexterous fingers adjust the settings and angle the device slightly right, "Never, if I'm being completely honest." A faint flush travels to the tip of your ears at the next sentence and you feel yourself hesitating, "I've only ever used my personal vibrator but that's about it. I have a mannequin in my room that I dress up in order to understand visuals whenever I'm writing."

This is new. In the short amount of time that you've guys been spending together, you believe that this is actually the first instance where Rin asks about what you do for work. And despite him going down on you this morning, you can't help but want to crawl somewhere far and away from the sudden embarrassment. You do this for a living!

A few more flashes and loud snaps go by.

"And what exactly are you currently writing?" He asks. Rin is no good at hiding his intentions, teasing leaks into it.

You freeze, feeling his watchful gaze, and choose your next words carefully, "A short novel about a husband and wife. Really corny plot to explain, I don't think you'll like it that much." You try to laugh off your sudden nerves.

Rin crosses his arms, now sitting up, "I don't mind listening."

For a long moment, you stare back at him, mouth agape, trying to scramble for an answer, "Um, it's about their awkward relationship and them trying to get comfortable with one another, if that makes sense?"

The uneasiness of your answer is something he picks up on and Rin can't help but move forward with it, "That sounds awfully familiar." He says as if it's a long-forgotten memory, placing weight on each word.

Your hands fumble with the next camera shot, "A-Ah, there are tons of books that follow a similar premise, it's nothing new!" Rin looks like he's going to add something to the topic but you interject, "Let's move to the next set! Can you put on the blindfold?"

He obeys, your shoulders relax as the conversation dissolves, and he ties the black cloth around his eyes, only allowing his dark bangs over them. You watch him fumble back into his original pose with his legs spread and arms propped up against the couch’s frame. 

Anyone within their right mind would easily agree that Rin Itoshi is attractive. If you were to show any of your penpals a photo they would probably hound you down for stealing a man like him off the market. Even when you were looking through his application over a year ago, you had a general idea of what to expect but meeting him in person blew away your expectations. Seeing him earlier was great, fantastic even, but there was something about having that blindfold on that made your breath stuck in your throat.

"How does it feel?"

"No different from me closing my eyes." Except, well it is different. He feels a lot more vulnerable with not knowing your movements, his sense of touch is heightened and, frankly, he's aroused. And of course, you catch the last part.

"I can feel you staring, you know."

"It's hard not to." You snap the photos and made a mental note to photoshop the growing appendage away. You aren’t really sure what would happen if that gets approved and you really don't want to find out. "Can you lay flat on the couch this time? Hands behind your head? Yeah, just like that - perfect."

He vaguely makes out the flashes behind the thick fabric and jolts when he suddenly feels your cold fingers tracing his lower abdomen. He stays still, wondering where and what you're planning to do next in heavy excitement. His erection jerks hard against the boxer briefs as your fingers make their journey down, hand stopping right when his seemingly wet tip throbs up into your palm.

"Stay still for me?" And he hears you laugh when he nods a bit too fast.

Rin draws a sharp breath through his teeth when you free his erection from the slits of his bottoms, his hands travel to meet yours and place them around his length. Zero words are exchanged as the next thing he feels is your warm tongue wrapping eagerly around him.

He instinctively bucks his hips towards your mouth, toes curling in the process as you start dragging your tongue up and down his arousal. It only took a few more tries before you start to feel the moment when he loses the control that he had been holding onto diligently for so long.

But what fun would that be?

You pull back from his length with an audible pop and laugh, "That's for this morning."

He wants to cry at the loss of contact but holds back. Rin tosses off the blindfold, throwing it across the room, and the moment his gaze meets yours, it's burning. "Not fair."

"It's only fair, babe." You reply back with a tease.

Your body falls softly against the cushions of the couch as your husband gets up and he picks you up easily by flinging a hand under your legs. You wrap your legs around his waist, resting just above his needy erection, and widen your eyes as he starts stepping toward the bedroom.

"What about the photoshoot?"

"Just send over what you have," He makes a low, guttural sound in response and traces his tongue along the crook of your neck, "I want to do something else right now."

He pulls you away gently by your throat, forcing you to look back at him. His eyes scan your face, looking you over and memorizing every detail before they fall to your lips, and he leans forward and kisses you.

As his tongue breaches your mouth, he sets you down on the mattress, crawling on top, and shivering when his bare cock brushes over your bottoms. You can't help the way you tremble under his hold, your entire body lighting on fire. You have an idea of where this might go but, before anything else, you reach over to your bedside drawer and pull out a series of small boxes.

He pulls away at the sound and inspects the items, "You always kept condoms there?" Rin asks.

"No," You said a bit too defensively, "I'm just an optimist and safety comes first." You toss two boxes in his hands. "Check the date on those."

He eyes them strangely and taking out a couple of colored condoms and clear ones. "Why?"

You squeeze his thigh, sitting up on the mattress this time, "The good ones expire within two to three years. I think these should be decent? Pick whichever one you want to use."

Rin blanks for a while, trying to weigh out his options. He doesn't know why but this is harder to decide compared to who he should pass to on the field. You sit back slightly against the headboard, rubbing small circles into his thigh before he finally comes to a decision and picks up a black one.

Your lips quirks up, "Ribbed for her pleasure?"

He plays with the packaging between his fingers and furrows his brows, "I don't trust the ultra-thin ones."

"It's not like they make the condoms break on purpose!"

"I know that," He blushes in embarrassment, "I just want us to be safe too."

You free yourself from your top and bottoms, letting your breasts perk up in exposure to the cold air in the bedroom. Rin doesn't wait long to get rid of his only remaining article of clothing and carefully removes the wrapper from its confinement. He fumbles with the condom for a bit, trying to find the correct way of putting it on so that it doesn't automatically slip off, and gingerly pushes your back against the mattress.

Rin takes a moment to fully absorb the sight, his heavy gaze darting across your fully naked flushed figure along the white sheets that hugs your outline beneath you. Hands rest firmly along your waist and he leans forward, a mixture of concern and lust raging in his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Your arms wrap behind his neck, anchoring yourself below as you waited with much anticipation, "Take your time, I'm right here."

It takes Rin a few long seconds for this realization to hit, spurring him to action. He pulls back slightly, one hand steady on your waist and the other gripping his arousal as he begins to slowly enter your folds inch by inch. A heatwave goes through his system at the feeling of your tight cavern clenching around the tip of his cock, Rin bites into his lip to control himself and gently pushed forward, sliding inside of your entrance and pushing through the thin strip of resistance while you begin to cry softly by his ear.

"I’m sorry," he apologizes when he hears you emit a sharp sound of pain, "We can stop if this is too much."

You hold onto him tighter, refusing to lift your chin from his shoulder.  "It's fine," you manage to breathe out, "I'm trying to get used to you."

You moan and lower your hips, forcing him deeper inside of you, his length fully draped in your tight warmth. It's Rin's turn to wince, this time at the feeling of being fully inside. Without thinking about it and unable to control his body’s response, he begins to thrust his hips up towards yours slowly, still holding onto you firmly as you widen your legs under him.

"You're so tight." Rin rasps out, your nails digging deeper into his shoulders.

You fight back the tears and whimper, "It feels good, don't stop."

"I know," he coos, unable to keep from responding in the heat of the moment.

What started as slow, tepid lovemaking soon became rough and swift. Your muffled moans soon grow into loud, uncontrollable whines as you cry out your passion into the room. Rin screws his eyes shut and lets his concentration break, his mind fully focused on the feeling of you under and tight around him as he works his length as deep inside of you. All he can think about is how good you feel and how long he wanted this, and now finally being with you like this - so close and so unveiled - it's more than he can handle, more than he can believe.

Rin knows that he's moments away from falling apart completely.  Feeling the cord tighten in his stomach,  he leans forward to take one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking it gently while he brought his fingertips to your sensitive nub and begins to circle around the area until your mewling grows further into a frenzy.

 "Fuck," You begin to cry into his shoulders, fingers tearing at his hair, "It feels too good, baby."

Rin is too far gone at that point, and he realizes too late that his climax is bursting out of him, his cock leaking heavily into the wrapper. You're soon behind him, biting into his shoulder as your own orgasm hit, and the feeling of your walls gripping and clenching him only prolongs his own release and it leaves him feeling intoxicated and dazed.

He pulls his hand away from where it sat between you both, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close, both your breathing laborious and loud. Rin tries to process the reality of what had just transpired, but he knows that he would never truly understand why he's lucky enough to be with you in this way.

"As cheesy as this sounds," You rake your fingers through his damp locks and giggle at his exhausted state, "I'm glad we waited to do this."

"I'm sorry that we didn't do this sooner," Rin replies quietly, nudging his face closer to your chest, "you did great."

"You made it great for me."

Your bodies breathe in rough synchronization and you leave the clean-up process to become tomorrow's worries.

Waking up to the sight of you drooling on him has quickly become one of his favorite things to look forward to. Rin doesn't even hide his intentions as he reaches for his phone and snaps a picture of you. The sound and flash from the device wake you and you soon take note of the wet mess that you had laid on his chest from the night before.

You let out a yelp, using the blankets to immediately wipe off any trace of saliva, "Delete that right now!"

Rin quickly saves it as his new phone background and shakes his head, "That's not on my to-do list today." Not like he has a to-do list, but he enjoys seeing this flustered side of you outside of the bedroom playground.

You pout, "Who knew you could be so mean?"

"My parents left that part out of my application for obvious reasons."

Before you could say anything more, Rin's phone buzzes in his hands, and his brother's ID flashes across the screen. This could mean one or two things, he's wishing him a happy birthday or his whole family is coming to visit. Considering that it's not even September yet, you can only assume the latter.

Rin scrambles to put on a pair of boxers and hops out of bed to take the call, "Be right back."

It had been almost three months since your in-laws last visited your home. With his older brother living abroad in Spain and his parents spending their retirement funds on travels, it was hard to find a good quiet week for everyone to fly over. But, when they do visit, it's always an impromptu visit on their end that leaves you scrambling around the house last minute. Rin knows how stressed that leaves you so when he gets off the phone with Sae, he immediately lets you know about the upcoming visit within the next three days. While most people may think three days is still short notice, at least that's better than waking up at 4 in the morning with everyone by the front door.

"How long do you think they're gonna stay for?" You step out of the shower in your bathrobe and eye the wall clock.

"Only two days, it'll be brief. My mother just wants to drop some stuff off and have dinner." He says while making the bed.

You hum in deep thought, "We can spend the rest of today grocery shopping when you get back from work if you want."

"I would like that."

Rin helps you clean the place for the first two days and then on the final day he spends all his time in the kitchen. He reassures that he'll handle the cooking since everyone in his family are picky eaters, especially his older brother.

"You sure you don't need help, babe?" You try and peer over his shoulders but his tall frame made it nearly impossible. Rin notices and takes a step aside for you to look.

He's wearing one of your pink, frilly aprons while chopping up various greens on the cutting board. On the stove he has three separate pots, one pot was nearly filled to the brim with bone broth and tender meat, the other was a smaller pot with already boiled vermicelli noodles, and the last pot is just a placeholder for raw vegetables.

"I've got it covered," He says with focus and tosses the last bit of cilantro into the third pot. "Is everything else ready for tonight?"

"Mhm," You lean against his side, engulfing your nose with the intense aroma from the meat, "The smell alone is riling me up." You said half-jokingly.

His eyes glimmer and immediately pauses his actions, "Maybe we could sneak one in before they arrive?"

You lightly pinch his shoulder and laugh, "Are you a sex addict now or something?"

"No," He sets down the knife and turns off the stove, face leaning into yours as he cages you in between his arms and the kitchen counter. "Maybe just a you addict."

You pinch his shoulder again, a little too roughly, and Rin winces. His lips ghost over yours and, with a simple touch, you latch your arms around his neck and press your lips together. It's firm, rough, and almost desperate. Rin's hand drifts up the back of your shirt, easily snapping the back of your bra band off, and soon gets a hold of one of your exposed breasts. You melt into his touch, whining when his fingers brush over a nub.

You reluctantly pull back when you smell the intense fragrance again, a faint string of saliva stretching and breaking in between you two, "What time are they coming over?"

He glances at the clock on the wall, "About an hour."

You snap your head towards the unfinished dining room table and curse under your breath, "I forgot to set up the plates and runner."

Rin caresses your cheeks, forcing you to readjust your attention back to him. "It'll be quick, don't worry." He ushers, placing your hands against his aching clothed length.

It’s almost like a trend with you two now. Finding odd moments to become intimate during a time crunch. "Fine," You press against his warmth and offer him a sultry smile, "but you're on cleaning duty."

"Fair enough deal." He groans at you, running his fingers across the now damp fabric of your panties.

Lifting a hand, you trace the outline of his face with your fingertip, admiring the sharp angular features and how his long lashes rest under his eyes as he breathed quietly. Your eyes fall on the firm definition of his biceps where they peeked from the black form-fitting t-shirt he always likes to wear around you.

Rin's eyes were glowing in that specific cloudy gaze again before he bashfully asks, "Can I go down on you?"

You shudder when his fingers press down on your clothed clit, "It's hard to say no when it's you, Rin."

He tugs at your waistband, easily slipping off the article of clothing to the ground, and watches you with greed in his eyes as you slither out of your soiled underwear. His hands grip firmly against your ass, lifting and placing you down gently on the counter, away from his carefully crafted meal prep. You shiver against the cold marble countertop and watch with anticipation as he slowly bends down to level his face between your wet heat.

He has already memorized and claimed your scent as his own; it’s a fierce and sweet concoction of hormones and needs that only his words and touch could elicit in you. As your aroma encircled him, Rin couldn't help but grow more and more thirsty. His fingers rest firmly on your folds, spreading you apart.

"Rin," You find yourself panting out his name, hands immediately tugging at his dark locks.

He nuzzles his face right into the wet slick, burying himself in your addicting warmth, "Be good for me, okay?"

Despite the rush of getting everything set up, Rin takes his time. His tongue makes its laps against your folds and he feels your trembling body as you buck against the countertop. You let out another moan, this time contained in your throat but still loud and sweet enough for him to hear, and the sound of it makes his length ache in return.

He tries to ignore the throbbing pain and focuses on your pleasure. His tongue dances in the forms of long, short, and fast strokes against your flesh, stopping only when he reaches your clit. Every time he stopped, your body tensed above him, and it made him smile knowing that he could get you like this. Rin hates to admit it but he loves to tease you as much as he loves to leave you awash with pleasure. As he continues to ravage from below, you begin to whine incoherently and lean back further until your back is flush against the cold countertop.

"Rin, please—" The knot growing in your stomach makes your hands ball up into fists in his hair, knuckles turning white from the immense pleasure.

He can't see your face but, judging from the cadence in how you called out his name, he knows that you're close. Seeing you behaving desperate and anxious only makes him love you ten times more than he had moments ago. Giving your thighs a light spank, his lips latch onto your clit, and rolls his tongue in circles.

He feels the vibrations of your moans echoing throughout your messy figure but he wants to finish you off in a way that'll turn you into putty in his hands. He sucks on your sensitive nerve one last time before pulling away, standing up, and using the back of his hand to wipe away the honey-coated slick that's across his face.

Before you get a chance to cry out in frustration, Rin seizes you by your waist and pulls your body forward so that your feet touch the floor. He meets with your flushed expression as you quietly gasp for air and pulls out a wrapper he had in his pockets.

"Can we?" He says it so tenderly.

"God," You can't help but laugh weakly at the sight, legs trembling from the built-up pressure, "You get cleaning duty and owe me brunch tomorrow."

He hums in agreement as he slips out of his sweats, erection raging red and getting fully wrapped around by the condom, "Consider that a date."

"Just don't take too long because we still—"

Bringing one hand up towards your cheek, he pulls you into a swift kiss that quickly silences you. Your words soon deteriorate into a muffled series of moans into his mouth as he gravitates his palm under your right thigh, lifting and spreading it just enough that he slips his length inside in one smooth glide.

"You fit so perfectly around me." He breathes between your ragged lips before lowering your leg, his thumbs taking place onto your hips.

Rin starts off his thrusts at a swift pace, not too rough but still reaching your deepest spots that had you clenching your eyes shut and tipping your head back. He winces at the tightness and warmth of your sex, suppressing back the moan that rose into a bubble in his throat but it's nearly impossible with how electrifying everything feels.

"Don't look away."

Your eyes flutter open and tilt your head forward, finding his smoldering gaze. Rin stares back, studying the way your lips part as you call his name and the way that your brows furrow in pleasure.

"That's it." He pumps a snap thrust into you, causing your hands to fly directly around his neck, holding onto him tight. "You're such a good girl."

The sound of his voice has always been able to produce flutterings in your heart, but hearing him talk to you like this, speaking words like that, is enough to sharpen the ache and send the deluge of your insides rushing forth like a dam has been breached.

The sounds coming out of you right now are inconvincible. Your sentences and his name starts sounding like a new language but he can't bother to listen to your nonsense chatter right now. Not while he's focusing so hard on the magnificent feel of your warmth that was melting him where he stood, his concentration on heightening your ecstasy until you break under his touch. He brings his hips as close to yours as he can, each stroke smooth and just deep enough to hit your spot every time he falls back into you. You shut your eyes again, dropping your forehead to his chin, and Rin grunts, letting himself drown in the overwhelming bliss of being inside of you.

"Tell me how it feels." He moans against your sweat-covered collarbones.

You launch yourself closer, now chest to chest with your husband, "It's so good—you take care of me so well!"

Another sharp thrust causes your walls to spasm crazy against his arousal, he nips at your neck in response, "I know I do."

He’d built you up so high earlier that it doesn't take long for you to fall apart. Your walls continue to tighten around him and your nails scrape lines into his shoulder blades. You're crying his name again, the sound bright and muffled against his neck, but Rin focuses on the feel of you losing yourself on his cock. You begin to lean against him, your body going slack and limbless.

Feeling a burning hot pressure grows inside his own core as he devours your sounds and drives into you with a few final deep pumps, unable to stop himself when he spills hot against the wrapper inside of you.

Rin is trembling as he finishes, and you're still vicing him in a death grip with the searing wet heat of your sex. Your sounds have mostly quieted now, minus the weak giggling, leaning completely limp against him. Your arms are still looped around his shoulders and the sweat from your brow trails his clavicle where your head had come to rest.

"How long do we have?" You finally breathe, brain still intoxicated by the rush of pleasure.

"15 minutes." He sighs and pulls outs, soon realizing the mess that you both had made all over his groin and legs.

A groan mumbles through your lips, "Think we have enough time to squeeze in a shower?"

Rin places a chaste kiss on your wet cheeks, "Not a chance."

It's a miracle how efficiently you two work under pressure. It's also no surprise that Rin is fast at almost everything he does. Whether it be running from one end of the field to the other or rushing to have the meals all perfectly set up by the dining table as your in-laws were just arriving through the door. You mentally thank him for giving you just enough time to fix your 'post-sex' crazed hair and take care of 'her' business.

By the time you arrive at the dining table, practically everything and everyone had already been seated and served. You shyly say your brief greetings before taking a seat next to Rin, "How was the flight over?"

Sae, who sat across from you, doesn't try to hide the disdain in his voice, "Still jetlagged and tired, if I'm being honest."

Rin picks up his noodles and sends his brother a questioning look, "You literally flew in first class." He jabs.

The older male fakes a yawn, "And? There's still a seven-hour time difference."

Your mother-in-law quickly interjects the growing tension, "It wasn't too bad, we had a layover in Shanghai which was nice, and we even brought gifts!" She reaches underneath the table, pulling out several luxury branded boxes and a lone black plastic bag that was stuffed to the brim with white fabric.

"That one is mine." Sae lamely points at the black bag which earns a huff from your husband. Of all the few times you've met his brother, you don't know if he's genuinely bad at giving out gifts or just did it on purpose to tick off Rin. "Wear it in private." He adds casually in a whisper.

"So," Your mother-in-law's voice chimes in an all too familiar tone at the dinner table, her chopsticks clinking against the noodles in the bowl as her eyes dart between the two of you on the other side. Her husband shifts awkwardly in the seat next to her and Sae mindlessly chews, though his head perks at the incoming conversation. "When are you guys expecting kids?"

You nearly spit out your meal in response, still not used to her directness, "Oh, umm..." Your eyes wander to Rin in hopes of a reasonable reply.

In the past, Rin would be quick to give an answer that fell more along the lines of "We're still getting to know each other" or "We're both busy to focus on that right now". Normally you wouldn't say anything in return and merely silently agree just because he was right. Plus, you never did feel comfortable admitting to his parents that you did indeed want to sleep with their son, maybe not pop out a baby anytime soon, but definitely slipping under the sheets.

You were half expecting Rin to spout out a similar retort this time around but, while looking over at his face, Rin shoots his parents a faint smile and squeezes your hand. This earned a loud gasp from everyone at the table, including yourself.

"Give us maybe two years?"

A time frame? An actual time frame? Everyone is thinking the same thing.

"Oh, my heavens..." His mom places a hand to her mouth and tears start pooling at the corners of her eyes. His dad immediately fetches her a napkin and holds her shaking figure in his arms, chanting that their dreams of having grandkids are now achievable.

Sae lets out an empty huff before giving a small congratulatory clap, "Guess you guys finally did something about that."

"About what?" You and Rin ask in unison.

Sae motions his hands in your direction, expression deadpan, "Sex." He says it loud enough for you to hear but thankfully your in-laws are too occupied crying tears of joy to realize what was said.

Rin glares at his brother and a loud thump was heard. You think your husband just kicked Sae underneath the table but Sae's face stayed unwavering. Or maybe he was trying to hold back his pained expression? You can’t read him that well.

"Quiet." Rin seethes but Sae only shrugs and tosses the black bag across the table.

"Open it up." Sae says a bit too eagerly.

Rin rips into the bag, and he groans when he pulls out two sweaters, the soft fabric spilling over his lap. He groans even more when he lifts one up, unfolding it and holding it at arm’s length. It’s a white baggy, comfortable-looking sweater. There’s black writing across the chest, the words ‘she's just my roommate’ plastered over the front in a Disney-styled font, with an arrow pointing to the right.

"The other one is for Y/N."

The second sweater is identical to the first in color and design, except this one has the words ‘I'm more than that’ with arrows pointing down.

Well, that's certainly embarrassing. You don't even bother questioning where he even ordered it from.

Rin lets the sweater fall onto his lap, "This is going to be our new dish rag. I'm not wearing this."

"Of course you will," Sae takes a sip from his glass and flicks over a rare smirk, "You're going to toss out your big brother's gift?"

"It is comfortable." You point out and Rin groans again when he sees you pulling the sweater over your head. Hair tousled from putting it on and the baggy look does look incredibly cute on you but still...

Sae clears his throat, "I get first dibs on naming the kid, by the way."

Rin rolls his eyes, "And what's the name?"

"Sae Jr."

Another loud thump and you could've sworn a tear rolled down his cheek.

It's Autumn by the time you finish your beloved passion project. You've spent the last few weeks hulled in your room after the family dinner, rapidly typing away on your keyboard for what seems to be hours that Rin legitimately thought he had to buy you a new one. You claimed that you finally knew how to piece the rest of the story together and you couldn't let the idea sit around. He respected your decision but still checked in every now and then to drop off takeout meals and water break reminders.

Once finished with the finalized novel, your penpals were the first ones to gain early access to it on your Patreon site. A quick video call from them in the middle of the night was all the confirmation you need to know that all the "pain" and "suffering" was worth it.

"See? This is why you're number one!" Bachira pops open a bottle of champagne while wearing a cheapy-made party hat.

Chigiri raises his own glass to toast, "How many physical copies are you printing out?"

"I think 500? I have to double-check with my manufacturer for the numbers. But that also means 500 books to sign and I am not looking forward to that."

Your friends roar over the speakers at the fact, downing another glass of alcohol.

Unaware of how noisy the sounds were coming from your phone, you failed to recognize Rin shifting around in his sleep. He wakes up with a low moan. You thought he was going to yell at you but only pulls you closer to his bare chest, his hand soon finding a place to rest on your stomach and eyes flutter open against your skin.

"Who are you talking to?" His raspy voice catches your friends' attention.

"Oh my god," Hiori tries to look closer into your video, "is that your husband?"

Shidou's screen flashes white for a second and grins, "He's hella sculpted."

"Wait, did you just take a screenshot?" Your eyes widen and quickly turn off the video before they could see Rin's face.

"Wait, we wanna see the hubby!"

Your friends begin to whine but your fingers hover over the red button, "Okay bye, thanks for all the love but I have to walk my fish tomorrow morning!" When the call drops, you turn to look at your half-asleep husband, whispering an apology.

He gently pinches your stomach and hums in contentment, "It's fine, but you have to wake up early tomorrow, right?"

"I do," You release a long sigh and press your back deeper into his chest. "But I'm proud of how everything turned out."

"I'm sure it'll be one of your best sellers." Rin hums against your spine, causing you to giggle in reaction.

"Yeah," You reply quietly. "I mean, I hope it does well. I literally wrote a book about us."

He hugs you tighter, looking at you with a faraway look in his eyes, "Life imitates art, I guess."

You feel like you're going to burst with a rush of emotions. With all things considered, you both had come pretty far. "Hey, Rin?"

His lips brush against your shoulders, "Yeah?"

In a barely audible voice, you whisper, "I love you."

The words hang in the air for a split moment. With half-lidded eyes laced with drowsiness, Rin blinks slowly, the corners of his lips twisting into a serene smile.

He leans close to plant a longing kiss on your forehead before rejoining without hesitation, "I love you too."

[ I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK ]

Hana Kay has dedicated her entire career to writing erotica professionally. Everything in her life was going all according to plan when she finally hits a million followers and gets a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get featured on Today's Morning Show. Nothing stands in her way, not even the jarring fact that she's a virgin and that she's too afraid to even touch her own husband. But when Hana has a face-to-face meeting with her seething editor and a fight with writer's block, she has no choice but to face her fears.

YN Finalis resides in the Tokyo Metropolitan area with her husband, who is the sole inspiration for this story. She considers herself a self-proclaimed "guilty pleasure" writer who loves to create uncanny stories for her readers. Please send all messages to the following email below and for physical fan mail please address to the PO Box right after. She strongly requests that her fans send in owl plushies and any merch featuring her favorite football player Rin Itoshi!

Make sure to grab YN Finalis' signed limited edition hardcover novel at your local bookstore or you can order online on her website for just 19.99 USD / 2865 ¥!

Thank you and happy reading!

a/n: WOAH sorry that took longer than expected i didn't expect life to hit that hard so soon! ty again everyone for the love and support for this series!!! this is my first time really writing anything smut related so I'm glad it didn't turn out to be doodoo. let me know who you wanna see in my next long fic series!!! I'll put out a poll soon hehe

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[finalgirllx]

bartender mattheo riddle

i'm a slut for AUs and this one quickly shot up to being one of my favorites for mattheo.

for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge, the prompt i went off of was 'firewhiskey/butterbeer'

3.7k words | nsfw | minors dni | f!reader implied | drink responsibly | wrap it

As you tread the once-familiar cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade, the rhythmic click of your shoes provides a temporary distraction from the storm swelling inside your thoughts. For such a lively village, the action around you feels distant, too far in the past to offer any respite similar to the steady cadence beneath your feet. 

To outside viewers, you appear as any young person donning a modest party dress and looking for a casual spot to unwind for the evening. They wouldn't know this was your first visit to Hogsmeade in over five years since you finished your schooling at Hogwarts. You had left the highlands, your small hamlet, for bigger, better things—or so you had thought. 

Reality didn't guarantee such promises you had dreamed of in those few years. Currently barely making ends meet and running on a general sense of uncertainty, you decided it was as good a time as any to revisit your hometown and the magical communities surrounding it, including this cheerful wizarding town you had frequented throughout your adolescence. 

You first tried your luck with the Three Broomsticks, but the bustling atmosphere proved too overwhelming for the discreet return you aimed for. With the decision between the rundown Hog's Head inn and a newer, more upscale establishment called 'Celestial Sips,' you opted to see what this new 'fancy-schmancy' spot was all about. 

You stealthily step through the polished entry doors to scan the venue, which is dimly lit beside faint golden lights. It is adorned with oddly shaped furniture more suited for artistic expression rather than usability. It appears far more modernized than the traditional charm most common with Hogsmeade’s businesses, young wizarding folk undoubtedly curated it with heavy inspiration coming from muggle cocktail lounges. 

The existence of the bar itself in a place such as Hogsmeade wasn't the most earth-shattering part of this night out. It was when your eyes met with the lead bartender, and a flood of memories filled your senses as you realized it was none other than Mattheo Riddle.

His dark curls were unruly as ever but fell in such a way that made him irresistible. His piercing dark gaze caught yours, sparking with recognition. The scar across the bridge of his nose was just as prominent as it was six years ago, as vivid as the day you had dragged him to the hospital wing to get his split nose mended after a particularly grueling fistfight. 

That memory also reminds you just how close you and him once were. While you had never officially dated, you did everything a couple would and then some. You shared countless fun late nights, as well as having been there for each other during the more trying ones. And although sexual intimacy didn't come until after graduation, the passion of those post-school days also remains etched in your memory. It was your decision to pursue "bigger things" that had cut that short, leaving you with a lingering sense of what might have been.

Despite the distance between you as you reeled from the shock of encountering him here, you couldn't help but notice the changes in Mattheo over the past five years. Mattheo exuded a confidence far from the troubled boy you once knew at school. He had grown taller, broader, and even more handsome than before. He was also now littered with tattoos that only added to his allure, tempting you to bridge the distance separating you further. 

Your knee-jerk reaction would have been to flee the scene, but since you had already met eyes and he was actively beckoning you forward to the bar as you battled with your thoughts, you had no choice but to participate in the unexpected reunion. 

You sat at a bar stool, and Mattheo quickly welcomed you with a warm but distinctively husky tone. It was clear that Mattheo was struggling to mask his excitement over seeing you as he tried to maintain some professionalism while behind the bar. 

"The greatest stroke of luck I've encountered since taking the job at this fancy joint," Mattheo started with genuine delight, "I can't believe it's you. You look fantastic," his quick work of sweet-talking you did the trick as your cheeks flushed, though still totally sober. Mattheo was also swift in amending that, sliding a vodka cranberry before you with a nod, "On the house. Let me know if you want something more 'refined' for the setting; I just went with an old favorite." 

You let out a soft giggle, drawing the straw to your lips to sip the drink. The sweetness of the juice masks the burn, perfectly balanced to not overwhelm from either end. 

With Mattheo's excellent job of putting you at ease, you finally replied. "Indeed, you always teased me for not being a whiskey drinker. Old habits die hard," you quipped, taking another sip before continuing. "But, look at you! A bartender? Mattheo, I must say, I'm thrilled to see you here and not, well.." your words lingered away at the implication, realizing it might not sound as encouraging as intended. There were all sorts of rumors of him headed to a life of dark wizardry, so seeing him here was a relief. But he didn't have to hear about any of that, not now. Quickly shifting your approach, you perked up to suggest, "And at this luxurious place? While I appreciate the old favorite, I would love to see what magic you could conjure up in a cocktail glass."  

Mattheo laughed and shook his head momentarily before piping up again. "Seems your confidence has skyrocketed. I'm glad to see that, princess," he teased with a cheeky smirk, earning an eye roll from you that only amused him further. You again feel a little heated at the nickname, opting not to question it. You could see that the mischievous glint in his eyes was alive and well as he began meticulously combining various expensive-looking drinks and mixers just for you. Simultaneously, Mattheo tended to other existing patrons, expertly traversing the sprawling bar to ensure everyone's needs were met and drinks stayed filled. 

Observing how Mattheo carried himself with such assuredness only heightened your attraction. Each movement he made to speak with patrons and craft drinks allowed you to appreciate his muscled physique. You were no better than a groupie ogling his toned, tattooed arms, his hands still bearing faint scars from his past. The sight of his veins flexing with every motion ignited a fire in your stomach that you hoped wouldn't consume you entirely.

His broad shoulders and slim waist were accentuated by his dark button-up dress shirt. That caught your attention, as did when your gaze moved downward and drifted over his perfectly sculpted behind. You were abruptly snapped from your desirous stupor when the object of your admiration set a much fancier cocktail before you. 

"Like what you see?" Mattheo asked with a smug, teasing tone, causing you to want to disappear into the ground beneath your stool. You must have been less-than-subtle about checking him out, but he didn't seem to mind as he continued without further ribbing. "Try that. It's the Mattheo special," he said, watching you intently to see how you reacted to the first sip.

You smirked at the oh-so-creative name and then inspected the drink itself. It was rather extravagant, a lavender purple hue with swirls of gold shimmering with every swish of the glass. 

Without hesitation, you lifted the glass and took a small sip. A delightful combination of blueberry and lemon overtook your tastebuds, almost completely shielding the strength of the alcohol in the drink. Hell, you were prepared to question if it was mixed at all had you not watched him pour at least a shot's worth of vodka into it.

You gave him a smile of approval, to which Mattheo grinned widely, clearly pleased to see you liked it. With the other patrons momentarily tended to, Mattheo rested his elbows on the counter, surprising you with his sudden proximity as he leaned forward, suggesting he had something enticing to say. 

"I hope this isn't too forward, but I'd really like to catch up," Mattheo spoke in a hushed tone. It sounded innocent enough, but the question, paired with his gaze lingering on your figure, told you he meant anything but. "Would you consider sticking around till close?"

Yes, yes, yes! Your internal monologue screamed. On the outside, you locked eyes with him and smirked, your expression conveying you understood his intentions well. "I don't have anywhere else I want to go; I can stick around." 

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

You were cautious with your drinking to avoid getting too intoxicated for your later plans with Mattheo. As the closing time for Celestial Sips approached, you remained near the counter, bantering with other patrons. Mattheo delegated cleaning duties to other employees while he called for final rounds and closed tabs. Each time your eyes met, a shared twinge of excitement passed between you.

After another hour or so, Mattheo finally shut down the lit 'open' sign, leaving you two together alone. While this is what you wanted, your nerves welled up upon the realization that it was just the two of you here. A hint of insecurity came over you. He had grown to be such an attractive, confident man, and you could only hope he found you equally appealing. That line of thought was interrupted when Mattheo began approaching you. His expression, filled with hunger, was directed at you. His captivating eyes combined with the deep-brown locks drooping over his forehead implored you to swoon from where you sat.

"Merlin, princess, you have no idea how much I've missed you," Mattheo murmured, his voice brimming with seduction as he closed the distance, his hands finding their place on the curve of your waist. “Please let me know if you want me to slow down at any time." His words echoed in your ears, bringing you comfort even though you felt wholly prepared to surrender to all of his desires. 

Mattheo advanced until your back pressed against the front of the counter. His lips found the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with a trail of wet kisses in their wake. A moan escaped your lips as his actions ignited your longing for more; everything you had wished his hands on you would feel like coming true. However, the heat was cut short far too soon when Mattheo suddenly took a pause from all of the heavy petting.

"You seem tense," Mattheo remarked with a hint of concern. You promptly reassured him with affectionate pecks to his cheek before admitting, "I just hope I'm good for you." His eyes briefly darkened as if displeased by your hesitancy. Suddenly, both of his hands moved to cup your cheeks, and he gazed deeply into your eyes.

"You are the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on. I meant every word when I said I fantasized about a moment like this with you for years," he confessed. The sincerity in his voice compelled you to trust him, leaving you with no doubt about whether he wanted this. 

Seeing you take his words to heart, Mattheo's expression then lit up, clearly having a lightbulb moment. "If you're ready, this place is chock full of drinks to help us both loosen up a bit," As soon as he mentioned it, you felt almost silly having overlooked the idea, realizing that some liquid confidence was the answer to easing your nerves. You nodded, and Mattheo took his hand in yours and gently guided you behind the bar counter.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, and you instantly replied, "I do."

In one swift motion, one hand made its way to the back of your head and the other to the small of your back so he could pull you into a passionate kiss. Your tongues found each other in a dance, his dominant side quickly winning over as his tongue protruded into your mouth. When you briefly pulled away to catch your breath, your cheeky side showed itself when you gently tugged on his bottom lip with your teeth. He moaned slightly, to your satisfaction, and you took advantage of the moment to run your hand over his chest, feeling the muscles underneath that dress shirt. You finally had Mattheo Riddle all to yourself, and you wanted all of him.

Without warning, he grabbed you by the hips, pulled you close, and spun you around to bend you over the counter. One hand curled around your hair to create a makeshift ponytail, the other wasting no time grabbing a bottle of fire whiskey within arm's reach and placing it beside you. 

"I'm sorry, doll. I know you love vodka, but whiskey is perfect for tonight." 

You looked up at him with doe-like pleading eyes as he gripped your hair, nodding as much as you could though restricted by his hold. He grinned wickedly over your enthusiastic consent before looming over you with a dominating presence. "Open up that mouth, princess."

Your lips slightly parted as Mattheo brought the open bottle of whiskey to your mouth. He poured a shot's worth down your throat, the intense heat burning on your tongue without anything to chase it down. Yet, as Mattheo force-fed you the drink and whispered praises in your ear about how you 'take it so well,' the burn of the whiskey transformed into a divine sensation, exhilarating in the best way. The bar counter was the only thing stopping you from melting to the floor as you became weak in the knees, your aroused state especially susceptible to his praise.

Mattheo lifted the bottle away from you to take a swig, holding you to the counter with a heavy palm against your back. He sighed, satisfied by the burn.

After a moment, he turned his attention back on you and pulled your hair to the side, hastily marking your neck with suctioned kisses and nibbles. At the same time, Mattheo's fingers ghosted down your back, caressing your ass and jolting you with a swift spank, finally reaching underneath your dress to stroke your cunt through your slick panties.

"Merlin, princess, after seeing the way your lips wrapped around that bottle, I wanted to fuck that pretty mouth so bad. But feeling how goddamn wet you are for me, I'm not sure either of us can wait for my cock to be inside your perfect, tight pussy."

His long fingers moved away from your aching core, reaching up and now brushing against your lips. "Will you wet my fingers a little more for me?" he asked in a voice too enticing for such an indecent request. You immediately allowed him to intrude your mouth, his fingers already covered in your taste though he had just barely begun to touch you. "We have to prepare that pussy don't we?" he groaned into your ear. You were distracted as his hardened cock ground into your ass between the fabric of your dress and his trousers.

You could tell he was beginning to lose himself as he seemed enamored by the way your mouth slipped over his fingers, swirling your tongue around them in a show of desperation to please.

Once content with your wetting of his fingers, he pulled them from your mouth and went back to exploring your panties, pushing them aside to tease your folds before slipping the first of his fingers in. It was seamless, not surprising for you, having lusted over him the entire night.

"Fuck, you're still so tight, doll. I have to stretch you out, so this feels as good for you as it will for me."

After a few moments, he introduced a second finger to your soaked cunt. He didn't move at first but gradually began pumping them inside. He could have cum on the spot witnessing your frenetic response to just two fingers.

"Careful, princess. If you want to come on my fingers, you need to beg for it." The words sent a shudder of desperation through your entire body, legs threatening to give out from underneath you as the artful use of his fingers in tandem with his dirty talk brought you toward your first orgasm, unable to resist it even if you tried. Mattheo kept his movements steady as your eyes rolled back and your walls clenched around him, a deep voice leaving the back of his throat to growl, "that's it, ride my fingers, you little slut," His tone this time was demanding, you knew he was displeased by your disobedience. His untamed, hungry expression evolved into something more conniving as he contemplated how to punish you for cumming without permission.

"You like that, huh? A slut who couldn't wait to beg? I should put my cock inside you and make you cum until you can't stand it anymore, then, hm? Do you want that? Cry for it, princess, or you're not getting it." 

You quickly fulfill this command with desperate pleas, "Please, Mattheo, please, fill me with your cock." 

"Fucking hell, princess--if I wasn't about to bust, I'd have you begging more. Desperation sounds fucking delicious rolling off your tongue," Mattheo growled against your ear as one of his hands haphazardly moved back to his trousers, hastily unbuttoning them to allow his needy length to spring free and press against you. The relief of finally freeing himself caused a deep groan to slip past his lips which only seemed to increase his urgency as his hands quickly found their place on your body again, yanking your dress up over your ass and delivering a forceful slap to your exposed flesh. You yelped and squirmed reflexively from the sting, much to his delight. "That's my fucking ass, don't forget it," he groaned with a certain smugness at the sight of his handprint forming on your skin.

"Please, Matty, please fuck me," you pleaded with a nearly pathetic level of desire. With that, Mattheo decided not to waste another second before indulging you. He took hold of your hips, guiding his cock to your slick folds, and slowly started to ease himself inside of you. 

You gasped at the intrusion, reveling in the stretch, but Mattheo cooed praises to relax you enough so there was little discomfort as you adjusted to his size. "Fuck, you fit around me so well. perfect pussy, perfect girl." he groaned as he could feel your wet warmth surround him. “is this okay?"

"Yes, please keep going."

Mattheo used the makeshift ponytail of your hair to lift your head and press his full weight against you onto the counter. His hips began to move, thrusting slowly to start until he was absolutely sure you could take him. With you now sandwiched between his body and the cold surface, he worked up to fucking you at a relentless pace, the base of his cock clashing against your ass as he bottomed out inside of your cunt. The hand steadying you by the hip reached up to wrap around your throat, squeezing at the sides enough for you to feel his strength but not enough to cause pain. It seemed almost to be a reminder for himself not to completely lose to the animalistic urges as he continued to increase the intensity. Your pelvis clanging against the bar didn't matter; you always like it rough, and he knew it.

"Princess, oh gods, I don't know if I'll last." He moaned into your ear paired with short, hot breaths. "You feel so fucking good; I wanted this for so..fucking...long." he sang his praises between each punctuated thrust that hit just the right spot inside of you again and again. The repeated stimulation triggers your second orgasm, your walls clenching around his cock as a choked moan barely escapes your lips- the sound being caught by his firm hold on your neck. 

"We're fucking meant for each other, babe," Mattheo grunted as you rode through your wave of pleasure. All you could do in your cockdrunk state was mewl in response, which fueled his ego. "Perfect dumb slut for me, you love taking my cock, don't you? Tell me how much you love my cock," his dirty talk turned more degrading as your most depraved desires inched closer to showing themselves on the surface. 

"Love your cock Matty.. mhm so good..." 

"Good slut. Now, say you're mine," he commanded, completely frenzied with his pacing. 

"I'm yours." you babbled with complete devotion. Mattheo groaned as you so willingly gave into his possessiveness, the very idea of owning every part of you being the tipping point to let his release out inside of you. His rutting became erratic and slowed as he rode through his orgasm, the last few pumps matching your third orgasm in stride. 

He then laid limp on top of you, letting out heaving exhales to regain his composure. For the moment, he left his cock to twitch inside of you, relishing in the warm feeling. Once convinced he could get up properly, he pulled out, leaving your pussy dripping with his cum as his entire body lurched over you.

"That was perfect, you were perfect. Best stroke of luck in ages," he mused with a throaty chuckle, recalling his first words when you locked eyes at the beginning of the night. "Can you walk?" he asked, mostly teasingly because the shaking of your legs answered that question without a doubt. 

"No," you spoke softly, the giggles you had at the beginning of the night starting to return even if your mind wasn't still fully there from the back-to-back stimulation. 

With this, Mattheo decided to hold you for a while longer. You had a lot of catching up to do and piecing together both of your stories to find out how, after so many years, you still ended up right here. But for now, the shared presence was enough. 

------------------ huge thankies to @slytherinslut0 for coaching me through this. i was very spooked to share. love y'all <3

[rimunagenius]

And They Were Roomates

☙ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

☙ word count: 2.5k words

☙ warnings: RPF!! use of y/n, not proof read.

☙ ri speaks: I need more kate martin content and i haven’t been fed the specific ones that i need so i must write them to the best of my horrendous abilities. Idek how good this will be…im sorry in advance LMFAO. also this is two thousand five hundred words but it looks a lot shorter….crying

this is also a general announcement that i will indeed be refreshing my blog, so that means new and updated master lists and posts are coming out soon so sorry if you get a spam of rimunagenius on your feed!!

Part 1

| Series Masterlist |

When you first started in Iowa, you never expected the immediate love you recieved from the people there. They were friendly, generous, and so much different from people in California. Especially your roommate, Kate Martin. You had met her shortly after your first day of Junior year. A while after, you two became roomates because you needed more space, and she needed someone to split rent with in her apartment. Sounded like a great deal to both of you.

"You don't mind?" You asked unsure. Not wanting to impose on her, possibly ruining plans with making a deal with her actual teammates.

"No! Not at all! I really like you and you're alot of fun! I'd love for you to move in with me." She beamed at you, giving you a side hug when she saw your expression change. You both were ecstatic.

Since then, you had been living with Kate for almost two years. You two had become inseparable. Always on campus together, meeting up between classes to get coffee or lunch together, sometimes with Caitlin and your other friends. It was great. You were happy with your home away from home.

You had transfered from UC Irvine and decided to pursue your degree and career in sports medicine here in Iowa City. You were one of the new athletic trainees and ocassionly a photographer; your previous major was in photography and Lisa and the administration had really loved your resume and work, so they hired you as a part time (barely) photographer, for whenever they wanted more shots than what they usually wanted or a fill in.

Currently, you were needed in the Carver stadium to help record a mic’d up practice session for the team. It was for the Iowa Hawkeye Youtube channel. You had experience because you too had a youtube channel that you started when you first transferred to Iowa. So you had told Lisa and the coaches that you’d be able to film it.

“Hey, Gabbie!” You smiled at her as you walked into the locker room, approaching Kate’s cubby to set your stuff down. Kate telling you this morning before she left that you could put your stuff with hers.

“Hey, girlie! So guess what?” You and Gabbie loved to gossip. It was so much fun and it started when you were redoing the tape on her ankles, and she looked down so you asked her about it, and since then, you both have told eachother whatever gossip you had.

“Oh my god, what?” You took your sweater out of your bag, the locker room being chilly, so you could imagine the court.

“So that boy Nick in my econ class, totally asked about you today. I didn’t want to crush his hopes and dreams but I did say you weren’t his type.” She took a seat next to where you were standing to put her shoes on.

“Wait, the boy I said would so be my type if he was a girl? That Nick?” You laughed because he was really nice and such a sweet guy but he just wasn’t a girl. Men are pretty but only to look at.

“Yes!”

“How’d he take it?” This guy has asked you out once before but you just said you weren’t looking to date. Probably should’ve elaborated on that one.

“But he asked me “Oh, who is? Does he go here?” And I was like,” she paused to reenact the face she made. “I said it too fast so I didn’t have time to say “Oh, It’s long distance or something” sooo I don’t know.” She rambled and just pulled her hair into a small ponytail.

“What do you mean? That made no sense, Gab.” You were confused. She looked guilty of something but you didn’t want to pressure her but you also really wanted to know what she had said about you to Nick.

“I kinda sorta said you had a girlfriend already, and he took that as ‘Oh, she’s dating her roommate Kate Martin’ because he said he supposedly sees you guys together everywhere.” She meant well. It really wasn’t her fault that Nick totally misread the situation.

“Oh shit.” Your jaw dropped. You thought it was awkward but now it went full fledged horrendous. You were already out, and anyone who followed your insta would’ve saw it in your stories, so you weren’t worried about that but you were worried for Kate.

“So what do we do about the fact that a random kid on campus thinks your dating Kate?”

“Ok wait, i’m actually scared. Like how do you think Kate will take it?” You were talking to Gabbie and immediately knew you fucked up by seeing the expression on her face.

“How will I take what?” Kate walked in, hair down, dressed in her practice uniform, and sat on the chair next to you. You hadn’t realized that you sat down with Gabbie. Lost in the conversation and frenzy of the new mess that could possibly affect yours and Kate’s social life dramatically.

“I’m just gonna…” Gabbie got up, and walked out, meeting the others outside on the court.

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you in a minute.” You said to the girl before turning to Kate. You had caught her up on the lore behind you and Nick, if you could even call this one sided infatuation lore. Now you just had to tell her the problem. “So Gabbie tried to tell him that I was already seeing some girl. But Nick jumped to this whole conclusion that me and you were together.”

You watched her face. Looking for any sort of negative reaction. Waiting for her to blow up on you. “Oh.”

“And when Gabbie tried to say it wasn’t you and that were just friends, and that my supposed girlfriend lives in California, he got up and left. So it may be possible that the whole Iowa college campus will assume we’re together.” You played with your fingers as you watched her some more. Still waiting for her explosion.

“I mean, I don’t mind. He sounded weird so if it keeps the guy away from you, i’m okay with being the ‘pretend’ girlfriend.” She shrugged her shoulders. Grabbing her shoes from behind you, your chair sitting right infront of the cubby that belonged to her:

“Kate. Are you sure? This is so random and so strange and I would totally get it if your uncomfortable.” You wanted it to be clear that this situation could go away if she was uncomfortable. If she was uncomfortable you’d go on a date with him and just tell him it won’t work after. It’d be bad for you if he goes around saying rude things but you couldn’t care less about people you don’t know. You just wanted to make sure Kate wasn’t the one feeling weird.

“Yeah, I mean—I don’t have to kiss you in public, right? I feel like that’s overstepping a boundary we have not thought about setting.”

“No, Kate. You do not have to kiss me in public. Wait so you’d kiss me in private?” You looked at the girl, now fully joking around as you wiggled your eyebrows and laughed.

“Oh yeah for sure.” Kate made a funny face while nodding her head before grabbing her water and standing up. You following behind to get this practice and video recording started.

“Oh, and your getting mic’d up today. I don’t know if Coach Lisa told you.” You say as you both walk onto the court.

You and Kate had showered, separately unfortunately, and sat on the couch. You had been trying to convince her the whole way home from practice to watch New Girl. She agreed after ten excruciating minutes of your nagging.

You were deciding to pick the snack you wanted, grabbing M&Ms you bought at the store yesterday, snickers, chips, and popcorn. You wanted to watch as many episodes as possible because you both started school late tomorrow and it was an off day for practice.

“What are these practices anyways? Are they like preseason workouts to get back in shape or?” You watched Kate as she picked her snacks.

“Yeah. Basically. We’re technically only allowed to goof off a little during those ones.” Kate laughed, referring to the mic’d up practice today. Coach Lisa usually wants a more focused and intimate space during the actual season. “Oh my. What if we just kill this whole tub of Neapolitan ice cream?” Kate took it out of the freezer and suddenly all your snack choices went back to the cabinets.

“Ou deal, Martin.” You grabbed two spoons before making your way to the couch. Grabbing the blanket off the backrest, and throwing it over you both. You both settled and got comfy ready to start the marathon of New Girl.

You were both sitting in silence after you decided to just do a highlight reel of episodes since you weren’t going to force Kate to watch multiple seasons. "Are you excited for this upcoming season? Your last season?" You asked as you looked to your right. Kate was seated next to you while you both decided to disregard bowls and just eat the ice cream straight from the tub. She held the tub as you both dug what you wanted out of it. She shoved more ice cream into her mouth and she smiled and nodded her head.

"I am. Just scared and sad." She said somewhat incoherently due to not having swallowed the mouthful of ice cream. You nodded your head. You had already adapted to the Kate language. When she talked while yawning, mouth full, her body language, and her facial expressions. Not many people were fluent like you, and you were actually proud to be one of the people. So you understood exactly what she meant. You saw everything else she was feeling just by the look in her eye and the shape of her lips.

But you also felt sad for her too. You’d both be a sixth-year, grad students, in a couple months. This year bigger for her more than you. This year being her last and final run in her collegiate career. This was huge. You both knew this but wanted to focus on the nicer aspects. You and the girls would support her and be her friend even if she decided to never touched a basketball again. You guys were for life.You didn’t play, so you felt there was nothing you thought you could say other than just being her friend.

"You'll be okay, sweetheart." You wrapped your arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. A small comforting hug, atleast a hug at which this position provided, and kissed the top of her head. You only used terms of endearment like this in small, comforting, intimate moments. You felt this was the right time. "I'll be here for you, and you have the girls. We’ll back you in whatever you do, outside of basketball and school. You can’t ever get rid of us if you tried. But I will give you all the support and all the ice cream you can eat right now." You smiled at the blonde. You both stared at eachother, a little too long, “We are not beating the supposed ‘girlfriend’ allegations right now, Martin.” She bursted out laughing. You not far behind.

"But seriously, thanks shortie." She said as she patted your knee, right before she lost it again and laughed out loud. You immediatey cringed at the name, and pushed her away from you.

"OH! my god! Immediately no, Kate." You laughed again, half embarassment and half amusement. "That is not funny. You sound like a frat boy." That earned another snort laugh from Kate.

"You're right. I'm sorry." You side-eyed her. Pulling the blanket a little closer to you. Scooting over the tiniest bit over to feign anger and hurt. Still managing to catch her movement through your peripheral.

"Bro, I'm not even that much shorter than you. Just short three inches." You rolled your eyes at your best friend, turning back to the episode where Jess and Nick kiss eachother for the first time. Your favorite episode.

"Yes, I know. I know how you feel about my short jokes. I almost cried when you ignored me for three and a half days." Kate chuckled as she looked to you her smile dropping, a frown forming when you still didn't acknowledge her. "Oh, come on, y/n. Don't ignore me again, please! I was kidding." She asked you while chuckling nervously, she asked you two more times, when that didn’t work she insisted on poking you for a two minutes straight.

"Okay, Kate. I forgive you. Now shush, my favorite part is coming up." You kept your eyes on the screen and tried to reach for your spoon in the tub. Your fingers reaching everywhere but your spoon. "Kate can you help me please?"

"Yes, but haven't you already seen this show like eight-billion times?" She grabbed a spoon, whichever one was closest, forgetting which one was which, and scooping a good spoonful, before bringing the spoon to your mouth. "Open." You opened your mouth and took the ice cream happily.

"Thank you, you big teddy bear. God's gift, I'm telling you." You said as you watched the best scene on sitcom TV about to unfold.

"Im just going to pretend you're talking about me and not your show." Kate whispered. "You're welcome, pretty." She said louder so you could hear.

That got your attention. It wasn’t something that you hadn’t heard come out of her mouth and directed to you before; she's called you pretty multiple times when you had asked if the outfit you were wearing out looked good or if the makeup you put on was good for this dinner a girl you were seeing on and off wanted to take you out to. But she's never once used it in this context. You got a nervous feeling in your stomach, something you recognized as butterflies for sure. Fighting the urge to smile at the compliment, a small blush creeping up on your cheeks. Fighting the thoughts you had about her.

It was something new but this one thing…this you weren't going to get used to. You guys were best friends and just roomates. You can't feel anyway about this.You decided to ignore it and take it as a compliment in the moment to make up for the short joke. It definitely wasn’t something serious as you were making.

"I was talking about both of you. The TV and you, Kit-Kate." You put your arm around her shoulder and continued to watch the show. Watching the scene you had been waiting for all night to play. “This was the best cinematic experience I have ever had.” You whispered, now reaching for the spoon again for some ice cream.

Kate beating you to it, already having got another spoonful for you, feeding it to you like she did a couple of seconds ago. You smiled and thanked her before you both decided to cut the show, and search for a movie of both your choosing this time.