#am I posting this with fifteen minutes to spare

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Partner in Crime

For @thepenultimateword's Song-Story Writing Challenge Extravaganza

Song prompt submitted by @starry-night-author - I hope this does what you'd imagined justice!

(song info at the end, read the snippet first :)

Empty shadows and dim streetlights. 

A locked door and a pair of headlights. 

Henchman slid down further in the passenger seat of the dark sedan parked strategically across the street from her quarry as the pale lights pulled around the corner and the silence of the empty street was shattered. 

--already late, got to hurry. He might have already left and if I blow this job--

Crooked tires and a slamming door. 

--do I have all the supplies? Yes, you checked twice you numskull, the code, the code, don’t drop anything--

The figure fumbled over their bags until a single finger snaked out towards the shining metal buttons that stood out against the weathered side of the of the old brick mansion that took up half the block. 

--there we go, 64729, yes now the handle, no!--

A thick folder smacked against the ground, and the  crouched awkwardly with their laden arms to reclaim it, turning enough that the streetlight gleamed off the smooth cheeks of the fresh-faced hero. 

When the door finally slammed shut behind them, Henchman dropped her focus, and the chaotic thoughts faded into the quiet buzzing of a trapped fly. 

Four weeks of nightly surveillance, and she finally had the last code they needed. 

Her pen scratched across the inside of her wrist. 64729. 

As the minutes turned to hours, she let her eyes close and her mind wander. He wouldn’t want to wait, not with the XX approaching, Everything else was already in place. Tomorrow, the wait would be over. 

The sky was two shades lighter when the door finally opened again. 

The figure reimerged, hands empty, and darted to their car, head ducked and eyes scanning the shadows. 

The red tail lights were still visible when Henchman blinked, and he was beside her, the driver's door already clicking shut. 

His thoughts hummed, flying by like a bullet train, smooth and blurred like they always were. “You got it?” It was more a statement than a question, and Henchman pressed her lips together to keep from beaming at the unspoken praise. 

“I got it,” she confirmed, twisting her arm to show him the numbers on her wrist. 

This thoughts zoomed, as fast as he was, until the train slowed into a single track of a toy train running circles under a tree as he caught her hand and slowly kissed the inside of her wrist. 

Genius, brilliant talent, indispensable. 

Henchman was glad for the shadows that kept the heat in her cheeks hidden. 

When his mind raced, it was like a override channel, white noise she could focus on to tune out the chaos of the crowds around her. 

But she loved even more the rich texture of his mind when he slowed down and his thoughts turned to appreciation. His praises never failed to make her melt. 

“You’re incredible, H.” 

She barely stopped herself from responding with “No you are.” It would have been too corny, and unnecessary. Villain was a genius, and he knew it. 

His thoughts picked up again, flying by but at a pace she could follow. A silver keypad, a brick hallway, a gleaming brass safe. His forehead brushed her as his thoughts slowed to a stop as the safe swung open and revealed their treasure. 

She looked into his dark scheming eyes, so close to hers. 

“Tomorrow?” 

Villain smiled the wicked smile she loved so much, and, in her mind, he leaned forward an inch until their lips finally met. 

He sat back into his seat, already running through the plan again. 

“Tomorrow.” 

-------

Hurry, hurry we’re going to be late!

Two cappuccinos, one americano, one diet americano, three blacks, two chai-- no three? Was it two? Mia, Thomas, Mindy? Did she have one?? Who am I missing-- 

Four blocks down and take a left--

I should have picked the black shoes, I can already feel the blisters forming. 

Can I just quit and sell books online? I don’t want to people today… 

Get out of the way you moron it looks like rain twelve dozen is not enough cute dog there she is I want oh sorry they’re calling again now please sweaters work open mine stopmyturnclosebootslatepeopleparkwalkinggo--

“Henchman.”

Large hands dropped on her shoulders, and the flood of voices disappeared as the purring hum of thoughts wrapped around her. 

Villain slid one hand down her shaking arms to grasp her hand. 

“Henchman.” 

At the second time, she looked up at him. 

“You can do this. Twenty minutes and we will be back at base.” 

Base. Headquarters. Safety. Home. 

The sanctuary Villain had made for her where no other minds could drown out her own. 

Henchman turned back to the street crowded with light and people. So different from its quiet shadows of the night. 

“Henchman.” 

She pulled her eyes back to Villain. “Six minutes of focus, and then it will be over.” His hand on her shoulder tightened. “Six minutes, just like we practiced.” 

She forced a swallow and a nod. 

His mind ran through the plan once more, and she did her best to follow as the voices pressed against her. 

When Villain was satisfied she wasn’t going to fall apart, he released her and stepped back. 

“We’ll just walk down the street like a happy couple and slip inside.” 

The nod came easier this time. It was an image she often pictured. 

The hand that was still wrapped around hers shifted until their fingers were intertwined, and her heart stuttered as he pulled her out of the alley and into the stream of pedestrians. 

The warmth of it occupied her mind until Villain pulled her to an abrupt halt and before she’d registered they’d stopped, the door was open and they were slipping into the narrow brick hallway. 

Henchman lost track of the turns as Villain pulled her through the labyrinth of hallways. 

Using the humming of his thoughts as a buffer as she used her powers to avoid guards and patrons as he dragged her through the repurposed mansion. 

Three minutes and fourth two seconds since they left the safety of the alley, they came to a stop in front of a wide mahogany door. 

Villain picked the lock in the blink of an eye. His hand on the handle, he turned back to her. 

Henchman shook her head. 

No minds were present behind that door. 

The safe was covered by the painting behind the desk. A cheap imitation of a Monet that was worth less than the gaudy frame that held it. 

Henchman dropped into the leather desk chair with a sigh of relief as Villain went to work at the safe.

The whirring of the safe handle was the only sound as Henchman shuffled through the desk drawers, pocketing a golden hilted letter opener and a ruby crusted pennant ring. 

Leaning back in the chair, she enjoyed the pillowing cushion of silence that eased the pounding headache that was building behind her eyes. 

Through the window she heard a dog barking and the distant echo of a siren. 

Henchman sat up with a jolt as the final tumbler dropped into place and the door to the safe creaked open. 

“Wait!” 

A cloud of mist exploded from the safe; her warning too little, too late. 

Henchman doubled over as the tear gas burned her eyes. The door they’d closed behind them slammed open, and the flood of mind-voices returned like a tidal wave. 

A room that blocked out the thoughts of others. Oh how foolish she’d been. Villain had created for her just such a space. 

The voices crested with the throbbing in her head that had returned tenfold.  

The loudest of the voices was filled with derision. 

“Did you really think we were such fools?” 

A hand on her shoulder. 

She ignored the judgment in the hero’s question and looked up at her partner in crime. His eyes were creased with regret. 

Villain. 

It was as if he was the one reading her mind this time. 

His thoughts were a jumbled mess. A ten lane freeway rather than a bullet train. 

Analyzing all the possibilities. 

But Henchman already knew the answer. 

He’d come back for her. 

She lifted her hand to his on her shoulder. 

“Run.”

The song for this prompt was Partner in Crime by Madilyn Mai

Taglist:

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000@selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess @thepenultimateword @sorrow-and-bliss @technikerin23 @deflated-bouncingball @talesofurbania1 @rivalriotrenegade @valiantlytransparentwhispers

[writing-wh0re]

AAAAH, I just saw you posting your prompts and your requests are open. I don’t know if you write them together or individually, but if you can (or if you can’t but you can write for one of them), could you do Fred and George with a Smutty prompt #3?

All writing will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

George Weasley x Reader x Fred Weasley

Word Count: 6,167 - I had so much fun writing this

Warnings: Smut18+, Unprotected Vaginal Intercourse, Female Performing Oral, Daddy Kink, Slight Choking Kink, Slight Slapping Kink (if you squint), Praise Kink, Slight Degration, Slight Breeding Kink, Spanking Kink. Slight cum kink. Use of pet names.

Basically its a very kinky smut and there's actually plot - look at me go.

A/n: Sorry I have been inactive, life am I right? But I'm getting a desk setup completed so I will be more fequent! I hope. I apologise for this being long, but I truly had so much fun writing this request. My love for the twins is reigniting. I will be fixing up my taglist as well / making a library blog for posts. I have written this smut differently to how I have in the past, let me know if you'd like a part 2!

Merry Christmas x

| | | |

Hogwarts was quiet the closer it got to Christmas, snow was gently falling and the gusts of wind were freezing. Most students went home for Christmas but this year was different for you. Your parents had decided to take a trip to get away from the wizarding world for a few months with no real timeline of coming back, it was something that shocked you but also didn’t surprise you. 

Fred and George had decided to not rush home right away, debating on whether or not to ask you to join them at the Weasley house for Christmas, not really sure of what your relationship was, if it was anything other than lust and desire. 

“You can’t sit alone in the common room for weeks, it’s Christmas.” George grumbled slouching down on the couch beside you.

“I’ll be fine, honestly, I have so many books I can read.” You gestured to the pile of books on the table that you had acquired from the library. “You two should head home, I’m almost certain your mum has made your favourite foods.” 

Fred smiles at the mention of his mum and her tradition of making something for everyone to enjoy. 

“You can come with us, we have a spare room and I’m sure mum would be overjoyed to finally meet our best friend.” 

Best friend

Although not untrue the word still seemed to pang your heart with disappointment. An on and off hook up to them doesn’t mean the same thing it does to you and that was something you were coming to terms with. 

Fred and George sensed the hesitation on you after Fred had dropped the best friend title, it was something they were yet to discuss with you, were you just best friends who fooled around? Or were you also wanting something more that you could all figure out together over time. 

“I don’t want to impose, you’ll have such a full house, isn’t Bill in the guest room this year?” 

George smirks, you do listen to every word they say. 

“What Freddie is saying is there will be a spare bed somewhere, we have two in our room and the couch downstairs, I’m sure something can be sorted.” 

“Mum already thinks you’re coming so hurry up and pack your things.” 

Your mouth falls open at Fred’s revelation, your eyes flick to George who smirks. 

“Go on, we leave in fifteen minutes.”

“I feel like there wasn’t much of a choice in this matter.” 

The twins chuckle as you pack your things up and run up to your dorm, searching your room for a bag to pack things into you. 

You quickly rush out of your dorm, running into the twins as you look up at them. Their eyes wander your face, a blush creeping up your neck. 

You look down at the floor, before George places his hand under your chin.

“Everything okay baby?”

Baby. 

You weren't quite sure how a simple nickname could make your stomach flip and your body tingle, but it did, especially coming for George and Fred. 

“Uh, um.” Your mind is foggy, unsure what you were originally rushing for. The twins smirk, sharing a quick look before your face lights up, having remembered what you wanted to ask. 

“How long are we gone for?”

“We will be coming back the week before term starts.”

“But we can come back earlier if you’d like.” 

“So three weeks?”

The twins nod as you spin and walk back into your dorm, them following behind you. You walk back and forth from your closet to your bed, where the twins have decided to lounge while you pack. Finding outfits is easy, finding lingerie works out to be a little harder under the gaze of the men on your bed. 

You quickly open your dresser draw, looking over the various colours of lace and matching sets. Quickly you grab a hand full and shove it into your bag, closing your dresser and zipping the bag closed. 

“Darling, you dropped something.” George whispers, moving past you and bending down to pick up your dark red G-string, blush creeps up your face, your stomach filling with butterflies as George passes the material to Fred who simply places it in your bag and rezips it. 

Your mind continues to rush, a million thoughts racing through your brain as the twins share a smirk before grabbing your bag from the bed. 

“C’mon love.” Fred holds your bag as he walks out of your dorm, George follows closely behind his eyes looking you up and down, sending a swift wink your way before holding his hand out, an invitation to take his. Which you do, almost embarrassingly fast. 

George squeezes your hand and pulls you along with him to follow Fred. 

| | | | 

After a few days at the Weasley home, you started to feel settled and a part of the family. Harry had joined the household on the same day as you, making you feel not so alone in the imposing feeling. No one was surprised to see you, they were excited to have another friend along for the celebration. Molly had made you feel so at home, hugging you when you first arrived, a feeling of warmth and comfort washing over you within her embrace. 

Over the past few days, Molly had shown you how to bake a few of her signature recipes, she had even gone as far as asking what your favourite food was, setting herself a goal of creating it for you come Christmas Eve. 

Being one day out from Christmas, Molly didn’t want to be disturbed in the kitchen, she needed her space and stated that everyone should go outside to play a friendly game of Quidditch, she emphasised the word ‘friendly’ mainly at the twins. 

So you sat on your broom beside Harry, waiting for everyone who was playing to fly into the air. 

“Have you played before?” Harry asks curiously, not knowing much about you, himself being two years younger. 

“Yeah, but I'm definitely not a pro.” You laugh as Harry smiles, looking out at the Weasley family. 

“I think they’re going to kick our ass.” 

“Oh without a doubt.” 

You and Harry share a smile, your eyes wandering to the golden ball, clearly not the shiny golden snitch but definitely close. The quaffle and bludgers fly through the air with a woosh sound, everyone going into game mode. You and Harry nod at each other, both taking the role of seekers before rushing into the air in search of the ‘snitch’. 

Within a matter of seconds the twins are behind you, chasing after you. You fly past the duo, diving down behind Harry who seems to have his eye on the golden ball. You quickly look over your shoulder, the twins hot on your ass. You notice the golden ball dancing between the twins. A smirk dances across your lips as you fly up higher just outside of the quidditch pitch, pulling up on your broom as the twins fly past you. They stop and look back at you as you flash them your bare tits. Both of them go wide eyed as you hold the golden ball between your hands, pulling your sweater back down. 

“Later losers” 

You turn your broom around, wiggling your ass as you dive down to the grass. 

“We won!” You scream, Ginny, Bill and Ron rush down to you, pulling you into a hug and cheering for your team as the rest of the players come to the ground. 

You make brief eye contact with the twins, a darkness in their eyes but clapping for your victory nonetheless. 

“Lunch is ready! C’mon darlings before the storm comes.” Molly gestures for everyone to come inside as you opt to help clean the game up, the twins staying behind with you. 

You bend down to pick up the spare brooms, your ass brushing against George’s crotch, your eyes locking onto Fred and sending him a wink. 

Fred stands in front of you, shielding you from the view of the house, George holding your hips, pulling you against his chest. Fred caresses your cheek, his head shaking. 

“Do that one more time and we’ll fuck you right here in front of everyone.” 

Your breathing hitches, your eyes never leaving Fred as he hooks one finger into the collar of your sweater, looking down at your bare tits. George slips one hand up into your sweater, groping your boob as you whimper, a shiver runs over your body at his cold finger tips. The fear of getting caught creeps up, a slight wetness running to your core. Fred tilts your head to look up at him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip, your lips parting slightly. 

The twins smirk pulling away from you like nothing happened and begin grabbing the game equipment. 

They walk towards the home, not once turning back to look at you. Thunder rumbles through the sky as you quickly rush inside, not wanting to be left out in the oncoming storm. 

“There you are sweet girl, would you prefer peach or lemon tea?” Molly asks sweetly, smiling at you before worry washes over her. Molly places her hands on your cheeks and a slight frown on her face. 

“Y/n, honey you look flushed, are you okay?”

You heart hammers in your chest, those fucking twins. 

“I’m okay Molly, the wind just gets to me sometimes.” You smile, reassuring her as she pulls you into a warm embrace. You make eye contact with the twins, smug smirks on their face. 

“You tell me if you need anything, now, lemon or peach?” 

You nod at Molly, deciding on lemon tea before squeezing in between Fred and George at the table, conveniently the only spot left. You spin the pasta around the fork, thankful for a warm meal. Your body tenses slightly, feeling both Fred and George place a hand on your thighs. Both of them grab and squeeze the flesh, involuntarily rocking your hips at their touch. You quickly catch yourself, continuing to eat while the twins trace shapes and grip your skin. 

| | | | 

Not much continued to happen yesterday and today had mainly been taken up by Ginny and Molly asking for help with wrapping gifts, a cheeky idea coming into your mind as you pocketed a bit of red ribbon. 

Tonight was the big Christmas Eve feast, Mr Weasley had finished work early and everyone was told, multiple times, that dinner would be served at 7pm, not a minute over. Molly hadn’t made lunch today, wanting everyone to wait with anticipation for her multitude of amazing dishes, a favourite created for everyone in the home, including yourself and Harry. You had simply asked for baked honey carrots, which judging by the smell of honey filling the home, Molly had delivered. 

“Thank you girls, go get comfy while I finish up dinner.” Molly smiled, kissing Ginny’s head before ushering us away from the table so she could set it accordingly. 

“I’m going for a quick shower.” Ginny states rushing up the stairs in front of you. You duck into the twins room, looking over George’s messy bed and Fred’s mattress on the floor, thankful that you could share a room with them but lucky enough to score Fred’s bed. 

“Mum loves you.” I jump slightly at George's words not noticing him behind me. I smile, falling backwards on Fred’s bed. 

“I love her, she feels like home when she hugs you.” I whisper as George hums in agreement. 

Fred walks into the room, his hair dripping and a towel around his waist. I sit up slightly, resting on my elbows, my eyes shamelessly dragging over his toned body. 

“My eyes are here baby.” 

That fucking nickname.

“Oh I’m well aware.” I whisper, looking over at George quickly. “Remind me, do you look like that?” 

George smirks, pulling his shirt over his head, his body just as toned as Fred’s. 

I bite my lip, looking between the two shirtless twins. 

“Noted.” 

Fred locks the door behind him, resting against it. George stands from his bed, nodding at his brother before pulling me closer to the edge by my ankles.

“We’re sick of this game love.” 

“We know you want us.”

“Fuck, we want you.”

“That shit you pulled during the game.”

“Dangerous.”

“Slutty.”

“Showing off what’s ours to the whole family.” 

My breath hitches at their words, looking up at both of them towering over me on the bed. 

“I’m yours?”

The twins smirk, George leans down, his thumb brushing against my lip. 

“Should we remind you?”

“It’s been a long time, baby.”

“We forget what you feel like.”

“Sound like.” 

They emphasise their words by groping at your body. Your body tingles, wetness pooling between your thighs. 

Fred feels your pocket, pulling out the red ribbon with a smile. George smirks, tilting his head at me. 

“Are you our Christmas gift?” 

You open and close your mouth, simply nodding as they chuckle. 

“Don’t be shy, baby.”

“Yes.” You whisper, watching their every move. 

George smiles, leaning down and pulling you up from the bed, your chest against his, your back against Fred’s. 

“How lucky are we Freddie.” 

“Extremely.” Fred whispers, his hands gripping your ass. 

George leans down to your lips, his lips hovering over mine, your breath mixing as my eyes flick from his to his lips. 

“Please.” You whimper. 

George closes the distance between you, your lips moulding against each other. Fred kisses along your neck and shoulder, sucking on your weak spot as you moan into George’s mouth, allowing for his tongue to twirl with yours. 

“Be quiet baby.” George whispers as Fred captures your lips, his kiss just as soft as George, savouring every swipe of your tongue against each other. George’s hands slip under your sweater, a groan falling from his lips at your lack of bra, twisting your nipples. 

“Fuck daddy.” You whisper, both of the twins stopping briefly, as George grabs your hair pulling your face to him. 

“Say that again.”

“Daddy.” You whimper, your lips pouting, Fred moans, his hands spanking your ass.

“We’re going to ruin you.” 

Before anything more can happen you hear Molly shout up the stairs, letting you know dinner is served. 

“Fuck.” The three of you say in unison, the boys pull away from your body. Fred rushes around the room for clothing as George puts his sweater back on. 

George smirks at you, tapping your ass and nodding towards your hair. 

“Might want to fix that baby.”

“Don’t want everyone to know you’re our little slut.” Fred winks, both of them slipping out of the room, their footsteps bouncing down the stairs. 

Your fingers brush against your lips, a slight tingle against the flesh from their kisses. A smirk forming on your face, thankful for the last few minutes, a step in the direction you crave. 

After you fix your hair,you quickly bounce down the stairs, thankful you're not the last one as Harry and Ron rush in behind you.  

“Sit, sit dear.” Molly gestures to the space across from the twins, next to Ginny and Harry. You quickly sit as Molly places the last dish on the table. The house smells amazing, a mix of spices and hints of firewood from the stove. 

“Merry Christmas, I love all of you.” Molly smiles, kissing Arthur. “Including you two.” Molly gestures to Harry and yourself as you knock his shoulder, smiling at him. “Please, eat.” 

No one waits for Molly to say it twice, everyone serving themselves. George serves you a pile of honey carrots and Fred places a few roasted potatoes on your plate before continuing to serve themselves. A soft smile falls on your lips, the simple domestic gesture filling your heart, maybe this could work. 

Everyone is quiet while enjoying Molly’s food, the sound of knives and forks clicking together. You catch Molly’s eye as she enjoys watching her family sharing dinner together, only having this occur a few times within the year. Molly catches your eye and winks at you, scrunching her nose and smiling at you before taking a sip out of her wine glass. You smile back at Molly, a warmth washing over you at the small interaction. Your eyes flick to the twins in front of you, both of them almost finished with their meal. A cheeky thought pops into your mind as you shuffle on your seat slightly, dragging your foot up George’s leg. His eyes lock onto yours, he nudges Fred inconspicuously to get his attention before sitting back in his chair, his legs spreading wider as his older brother looks down at the chair quickly. You press your foot into George’s crotch softly noticing his body tense as Fred shakes his head, grabbing his cup and tipping the liquid into his mouth. You drop your foot from George and move it to Fred, not wanting him to feel left out. Fred grabs his napkin, wiping his mouth as he looks over at George and nods. A wordless conversation shared between the two as George smirks. 

“So Y/n and Harry, what subjects are you looking forward to most next year?” Molly asks, butterflies flip in your stomach, feeling like Molly caught you. You quickly drop your foot from Fred causing him to chuckle slightly, George takes a sip from his glass hiding his smirk at your reaction. 

“Defence against the dark arts, I’m sure I don’t have to explain why.” Harry states, causing a small chuckle to fill the air. 

“And Y/n?” Molly smiles. 

“Potions, I’m excited to create a few remedies for different conditions but also to help these two-” You quickly gesture to Fred and George who go wide eyed, you know Molly and Arthur don’t know about their ‘jokes’ yet but why not keep them on their toes. “With passing the subject. You know they don’t stir their cauldrons, they just expect it to work when you throw things into it.” 

Molly and Arthur chuckle, a smug smirk on your face at the panic you just gave the twins. 

“Oh that explains why their grades for positions are so high, we have you to thank.” Arthur chuckles as you nod, smiling at him. Little does he know, you have them to thank for your grades. 

You pick up your glass, taking a sip of the cinnamon eggnog, freshly made as Molly questions her kids about what they’re most looking forward to. You only half listen, your mind occupied by the pair of redheads in front of you, your mind filled with ideas on what you want to do to them and them to you. Thankfully for such a great break. 

| | | | 

The night flew by, Molly handed out one gift to her kids, including yourself and Harry. Molly stated it was something to wear for Christmas day breakfast and to not fuss over opening one present early. She asked everyone to open them at the sametime, to which you did and found yourself with a handmade sweater with your first initial on the front, everyone had one. You held the fabric close to yourself, knowing you would hold onto this for the rest of your life. 

Fred and George hadn’t spoken to you since dinner, opting to hangout with their brothers and Harry while you and Ginny gossiped on the couch. Ginny was confiding in you about her crush on Harry and how Dean had been sending her letters since he left for break. You hadn’t noticed when the room dwindled down to just yourself, Ginny and Harry. Upon noticing and remembering what Ginny had said, you excused yourself, leaving the two of them alone which caused Ginny’s cheeks to heat with a rosy blush. 

You quickly went up the staircase, noticing how much quieter the house was the further you climbed. You slip into the twins room, hearing soft snores, noticing Fred’s asleep on the spare mattress on the floor. You look to George’s bed and see it's empty. You can hear the faint running of water, a small idea popping into your head. You walk over to the bathroom, your hand resting on the handle, hoping to god it’s George. You contemplate this gamble for a few seconds, bouncing on your heels slightly before the devil on your shoulder simply says ‘fuck it’ and you turn the handle to the bathroom. 

“Hey, knock-” George pulls the shower curtain across, cutting himself off when he sees you leaning against the now closed bathroom door. A smirk forms on his face as pulls the shower curtain open a little for you, simply waiting. The steam flows outside of the curtain, the mirror foggy and walls wet. You quickly slip out of your clothes, untying your hair and letting it fall. A shiver runs over your body in the damp air and you hurry into the shower, wanting the warm water to cascade over your body. 

George has his head tipped under the shower, leaving his body open to your eyes. You drink in his figure, his toned chest and arms, his semi hard cock and strong legs. The water streams down his skin, small sprinkles covering your body. Wetness slips past your folds, your heart beat picking up, this almost feels wrong without his counterpart. But you know they will talk and you know Fred will be jealous. 

George faces you, dragging his hand down his face to wipe away the water, his eyes linger on your body, his tongue dragging along his bottom lip. 

“What’s Freddie going to say?” 

The mention of his name has butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

“Why don’t you tell him and find out.” 

George smirks at your response, stepping closer to you and pushing you against the side shower wall, the cold tiles resting against your skin as a hiss leaves your lips.

“You’re a cock hungry whore, aren’t you baby?”

Your lips part at his words, simply nodding and leaning up to capture his lips. George pulls away from you tutting as he holds your chin between his fingers. 

“You answer daddy when he asks a question.” 

“Only for you daddy.” 

George chuckles, tilting your face up to his. Small droplets of water fall from his hair and onto your skin. 

“Liar.” He whispers, licking along your bottom lip and taking it between his teeth and pulling the flesh. “You’re a slut for Freddie, and fuck it makes me hard, but tonight you’re mine.” 

You nod your head, a whispered ‘Yes Daddy’ slipping from your lips, your eyes staring into his. His lips lock with yours, his wet hand moving from your chin and tangling in your hair, pulling on the strands. A moan falls into your kiss, your tongues swirling against each other, his free hand holding your hip, pulling your dry body against his. 

“You’ve gotta be quiet baby.” George whispers, his lips kissing down your neck, tongue tracing a line to your boobs. You softly whimper as he takes your nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing against the hardened bud. He pulls from your breast with a pop, alternating to the other side, your fingers tracing through his hair, pulling when he bites your nipple. The warm shower water sprinkling your body, the steam filling your lungs as your gasp.

“You’re so beautiful and these tits.” George whispers, grabbing your boobs in his large hands and jiggling the flesh. He sucks on the skin of your cleavage, leaving a red and purple hickey on each one, definitely something to rile up Fred. 

George presses against you, your boobs slip against his wet chest. His lips brush against your ear as you feel his hard cock against you skin. 

“This is all for you.” 

Your moan in response, causing George to place a hand over your mouth. Tutting at you as he shakes his head. He drags his fingertips up and down your thighs, softly tapping against your folds before slipping one finger past. He sucks in a breath at your wetness, pressing his fingers against your clit and looking into your eyes. 

“You’re so good for me, so wet and warm.” 

You nod against his hand that’s still pressed against your lips. His finger starts to swirl around your clit in small circles. Your eyes roll back, a moan vibrating against his hand. 

“I’ve missed this pussy baby.” 

He picks up the pace of his finger on your clit, your legs tense at the feeling of pleasure flowing through you at his actions. George pulls his finger from your clit, placing the digit against his tongue and rubbing it side to side, before his lips encase it. 

“So sweet.” 

If he wasn’t covering your mouth, it would be open in shock. 

“Please.” You beg, whispering against his hand, it is barely audible, he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t feel your lips move against his skin. 

“Are you begging for me to fuck you against the wall baby?”

His words cause more wetness to flow between your legs. He moves his hand from your lips allowing for you to answer. 

“Please daddy, I’ve missed your cock.” 

George smirks, placing his hand under your right knee and lifting your leg up, his other hand resting under your left arm. 

“I bet you’d say the same fucking thing to Freddie.” 

It’s your time to smirk at his words, nodding softly before you reach down and wrap your hand around his hard cock, tip red and beading with precum. 

“I would, because I’m a whore for you and a slut for him.” You whisper, slowly pumping your hand up and down his dick. George bites his lip, looking down at your hand. You place his cock against your folds, the tip brushes your wet clit causing him to hiss at the contact. You guide him lower to your entrance, angling your hips to allow for him to slide into your velvet walls. 

Both of you sigh in unison at the contact. George keeps his hips still, his lips capturing yours, savouring in the feeling of your walls around his cock. You rock your hips up slightly, a silent beg for movement as he smiles against your lips, pulling his cock from your pussy before plunging deep inside of you. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he finds his rhythm, his cock slips in and out of you, your wetness growing the deeper he thrusts inside of you. His lips are resting against your ear, his low whispered moans and groans echoing in your head. 

“So tight and wet for me.”

“Such a good girl for daddy.” 

Hearing him refer to himself as Daddy has your pussy tightening around him, his praise sending tingles through your body. 

The water of the shower continues to run, it ever so slightly sprinkling you both with droplets. The steam continues to fill the room, the water pressure dropping from being on for so long. 

“Touch your clit for me baby, I’m close and want you to cum first.” 

You slip your hand between your bodies, a moan falling from your lips as you circle your clit, the wetness causing it to slip against your finger. You add another, two now circling your clit and fast to help you reach your high. 

“Look at you, such a whore.” 

You whimper at his words, your pussy tightening causing George to hiss, tilting his head back, his wet hair sticking to his skin as he continues to rock in and out of you. 

“D-don’t stop.” 

Your legs tense, your fingers rubbing your clit faster and George’s lips fall to your neck, kissing the skin and whispering for you to cum. 

“Cover my cock baby.”

Your heart beat picks up, your breath hitching and your eyes squeezing shut as you cum. Your legs tingle and untense; George’s cock continues to slide in and out of you, his pace picking up as he moans in your ear. His mouth falls to your shoulder and bits skin to muffle his moan as his cum spurts, warmth pooling inside of you. 

George pulls away from you, watching his cock pull in and out, covered in a mix of cum. He gently places your leg down, slipping out of your pussy with a hiss. 

“C’mere.” George whispers, pulling you to his chest and kissing your hair. He spins you around, softly placing the warm running water against your cold back, his fingers tracing in your hair. He places a kiss on your forehead, his hands now holding your hips. 

“Let’s get you ready for bed.” 

| | | | 

You wake up in the morning, a dull ache in your legs from last night. The memory of last night floods your mind, you lift your shirt looking at your boobs beautifully covered in hickeys. 

“I hear you had fun last night.” 

You look over at Fred leaning against the doorway. Your face fills with blush, your eyes quickly flicking to George’s bed as you hear Fred chuckle. 

“George is out with everyone else, mum insisted they hand deliver Christmas cards to the neighbours.” Fred states, closing the door and moving closer to the bed. “And I insisted on letting you rest because you were up late last night and had to make sure you didn’t wake up alone.” 

“Freddie.”

“Nuh-uh, what’s my name baby girl.” 

Your stomach fills with butterflies, watching the eldest twin sit on the bed beside you, his fingers caressing your face. 

“Daddy.”

Fred nods, his hand tilting your chin up, before settling around your throat. Bending down to your lips and whispering against them. 

“That’s better, I bet you called George daddy and I bet you fucking loved it.” 

“I did.” 

You want Fred to be rough, you want him to compete against his brother, you want to be filled with his cum. 

“I hear you’re a slut for me, is that correct?” 

His hand tightens around your throat before releasing softly, dragging his hand down your body and resting it on your boob. 

“Yes daddy, whatever you want me to be.” 

Fred smirks, chuckling at your response. 

“So submissive for me, you wanted to make me jealous didn't you baby?”

He grips your breast, pinching your nipple and dragging his hand down your body, cupping your pussy through your thin pyjama pants.

“You want me to fuck you better than George.”

“Please.” You whimper, your hips rocking up against his hand. 

Fred slaps your pussy through your pants as your hips stop. 

“He was right, you’re a slut for me.” 

You simply nod in response. Fred leans down, his lips ghosting yours. 

“Get on your knees and show me what you want.” 

Within a second he’s pulled away for you, leaning back on the bed and resting against his elbows. You scramble off the bed, falling to your knees in front of him, the wooden floor hard and cold. 

You loop your fingers into Fred’s pants, tugging them down his body along with his underwear. His cock springs free, hitting against his lower stomach. Your mind floods with comparison to George, the thickness and length comparable, a vein running from the base to the tip. You run your tongue along the vein, flattening your tongue against the head of his cock before slipping it past your lips. 

“Fuck.” Fred moans, falling back on the bed, his hands dragging down his face. 

You wrap your hand around the base of his dick, meeting your lips half way, your tongue flicking side to side around his cock. Fred’s fingers lace in your hair, assisting you with bobbing your head up and down, his hips thrusting into your throat. Your eyes water, a few gags filling the air and drool leaking from your mouth. 

“Such a messy baby.” 

Your eyes roll back, moaning around his cock. 

“You didn’t- fuck- suck George’s dick, did you baby.” You shake your head, popping his cock from your lips. 

“Just for you daddy.”

“Mm, just what I wanted to hear.” Fred grabs your face between his hands, kissing your lips sloppily, his tongue rubbing against yours. Your lips are puffy and glistening with spit, his teeth pull at your bottom lip pulling away from you. 

“On the bed baby, ass up for daddy.”

Within an instant you’re standing in front of him, stripping your clothes. Fred stops you before you can lay across the bed, noticing the hickies covering your boobs. 

“Cocky fucker.” Fred groans, spanking your ass in encouragement to get on the bed. 

You lay with your ass in the air, feeling Fred kiss down your back. He reaches your ass, spanking the plump skin, soothing it with a soft kiss to your cheek. His teeth graze the skin, biting and sucking, leaving his mark on your ass. You squeak as he spanks you, his cock dragging up and down your slit, bumping against your clit, your moans filling the air. 

“No one’s home baby, be loud for me.” 

Fred slides deep inside of you, the angle allows for him to brush against your g-spot a moan pulling from your throat. 

“Fuck, I should just stay inside of you, that would drive you crazy, wouldn’t it baby?” 

“Yes daddy, please fuck me.” 

“Mm, what would George say?”

“Fuck, please, fuck me.” 

You push your hips back against his cock, a low groan falling from his lips. 

“Fuck yourself on my cock baby.” Fred encourages, your hips rock back and forth on his cock, wiggling them against him. You pull forward just far enough to leave the tip inside of you before pushing back allowing for him to slip deep inside of you. This causes Fred to grip your hips, starting his own rhythm and thrusting in and out of you. 

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it baby?”

You nod against the comforter, your hands gripping the material. 

Fred spanks your ass, his fingers looping your hair around his palm and pulling you up. 

“Answer me.”

“Yes daddy, wanted you to fuck me.” 

“Wanted me to fuck you better than George.” 

You moan at his words, his pace picking up. Both of your moans and heavy breathing fill the air, his grip still tight on your hair. Fred uses his grip to pull you up against his chest, his arm wrapping across your boobs as he bounces you on his cock. 

His lips fall to your ear, using his free hand to rub your clit. 

“Fuck, Freddie.”

Fred chuckles against your ear, his warm breath fanning your neck.

“Scream my name louder baby, I want George to hear.” He pinches your clit, your body jumping in response before he rubs fast circles around the bundle of nerves. You rest your head against his shoulder, lips parted with moans pouring from them. Your pussy tightens around his cock as his dick twitches. 

“You can cum for me baby, I’ve got you.” 

Fred’s grip on your body tightens, his hips rocking into you faster. 

“Daddy, so good.”

He kisses the side of your head, his pace picking up on your clit. He feels you clamp around his cock and your body tense. Your toes curl and your body shivers, cumming around Fred.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” Fred whispers, the sound of your wetness filling the air as he continues to pound into you. He pushes your torso back onto the bed, holding your ass in his hands and chasing his high. Fred curses and you feel his load shoot inside of you, a few more thrusts and Fred gingerly pulls out of you. 

“Look at you baby.” He whispers, softly caressing your skin. 

You gently roll over onto your back, attempting to catch your breath as Fred rushes around for clothing before disappearing. You hear the front door to the Weasley’s home open close and a chatter fill the air. You heart rate picks up slightly, your body aching and mind blissed out to cover yourself. 

Fred reappears in the bedroom with a warm towel between his hands. Within a moment later George is sliding through the door. His eyes darkening when they land on you, legs spread and pussy dripping with his brother's cum. The twins share a look as Fred throws the towel to George who stalks over to you. 

“Such a pretty baby, our little cum slut.” George whispers, his eyes fixated on your pussy. A gasp falls from your lips at the feeling of George slipping his fingers inside of you. George pulls his fingers from you, a mix of cum sticking to his flesh. You grab George’s wrist, pulling his hand to your mouth, dragging your tongue up his fingers, sucking the mix of cum, your moan vibrating around his fingers. Your eyes lock with the younger twin, a smile present on both of their faces. 

“We’re so lucky Freddie.”

| | | |

Let me know if you'd like a part 2 with both of them.

[matryosika]

Maknae Line: Love Languages and Sex

Wordcount: 6,250 words

Genre: Smut, headcanons and scenarios.

Includes: Skz maknae line members, female reader, dirty dialogues. Mentions of stress in Seungmin's scenario, and the tiniest bit of angst too.

Author's note: Finally, the maknae version is here! I know it took me a while, and I apologize, but here it is. This is all lovey-dovey, just sweet filth. I had tons of fun writing this, so I hope you guys like it. If you want, you can check out the Hyung Line version here. This is not proofread, and english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Enjoy!

If you wish to support my work further, please consider buying me a coffee! The job hunting has not been good pretty far, so every single tip is appreciated. Also, feedback, reblogs and comments/asks are very motivating for me to keep on posting. I love you.

Smut warnings: Dirty dialogues and curse words. Use of petnames, mutual masturbation (for Jisung's scenario), oral sex, face fucking (for Felix's scenario), cum eating (for Felix's scenario), shower sex (for Seungmin's scenario), choking (for Jeongin's scenario), body cumshot (for Jeongin's scenario), also possessive Jeongin because I love him so much.

Jisung: Physical Touch and Quality Time

"Is this one okay?”

Jisung has been scrolling for about 20 minutes over the movie catalog, trying to pick a movie for you to watch together.

A waste of time, you think. It’s not like you’re going to watch it anyways, and he knows it. But he still spares some of his time to try and find the right one, something you'd want to watch... or have as background noise while you two make out.

“Yeah,” the movie looks promising, but considering’s Jisung’s sneaky hand between your thighs while he mindlessly stare at the screen in front of you two, you’re really sure you’re not going to pay any attention to it. “That one’s good”.

Once the movie starts playing, you two settle in beneath the warm blankets with all sorts of snacks, candy and chips to munch from, happily enjoying each other's company.

Because of college and part-time jobs, it’s has been a while since you last enjoyed a chill, relaxed weekend with your boyfriend. Surely, he does everything he can to meet you throughout the week —a quick call between your classes to chat for a while, an unexpected invitation to eat or have dinner, driving to where you work so he can pick you up and drive you home… Jisung always finds a way to spend some time with you, even for ten or fifteen minutes.

That's why whenever you two are free for the day, he rushes up to your apartment, or ask you to meet in his, just so he can spend all day together with you. Sometimes you two go out and enjoy a nice dinner somewhere, followed by a late-night walk through Seoul’s streets. Some others, you’d rather spend your weekend at home, ordering take out and just unwinding together like you’re doing right now.

But almost always, such dates end with you two fucking like you haven’t seen each other in months.

“The screen is right in front of you, Ji,” you tease him, once you realize his undivided attention is all over you, and not the movie he allegedly chose because he has been meaning to watch it for a while now.

“I know,” he simply replies, tilting his head while his loving eyes keep staring at you.

You turn your face to him, defeated. “You know, ever since we started dating I’ve never been able to watch a 2-hour movie complete”.

Jisung smiles fondly, letting out a soft scoff. “Am I really the only one to blame?”

“That’s not the point!,” you can feel the heat in your cheeks when he says so, but you try your best to remain calm. “The point is that you’re not paying attention to the movie, and it’s really good”.

“Oh, so you’d rather watch the movie?” his teasing tone tells you that you’re most definitely not going to keep on watching the movie, not even if you tried.

And although you’re not a fortune teller, the sudden touch of his hand against your inner thigh proves you right.

“If this is what you wanted since the beginning, why bother spending hours looking for something to watch?” you hum, spreading your legs underneath the comforter, welcoming Jisung’s touch.

He gives you a mischievous look before returning his attention to the screen, leaving his hand between your thighs without doing anything further. 

“You know, you’re right,” he sighs, cuddling into his spot. “We should watch the movie, we’re almost halfway through it”. 

His touch isn’t foreign to your body, but that doesn’t mean you’ve gotten used to it. Every time he touches you, it feels like it’s the first time he ever does so. It feels like a spark of electricity, one that ignites your desire in no time.

“Yeah right,” you chuckle, shifting your position on the couch to get close to him. “You’re saying so like you’re not going to forget about the movie in 5 minutes”.

“Do you want to bet?”

Typical Jisung. His fun and always-down-for-a-challenge personality is probably one of the things that made you fall in love with him profoundly, so you smile at him. “Bet what? That you can’t keep your hands off of me?”

“You can’t keep your hands off of me,” he mocks you, staring at you with loving and playful eyes. “I’m just too handsome for you not to crave me all the time”.

You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. There’s something enticing about him, something that captured your attention ever since the day you met him for the first time. You can’t think of going on a day without kissing him, or touching him, or letting him fuck you in every room of your apartment.

“Okay, okay, I think we’re even,” you tell him, leaving a quick peck on the corners of his lips. “You crave me just as much as I crave you”.

Jisung pouts because of the quick kiss, his hand moving from your inner thigh to your hip. “So we can forget about the movie, then?”

You chuckle softly, brushing your nose against his as he leans over your for another kiss. “It’s not that good, anyways”.

“No?” the dark-haired purrs against your lips, kissing you deeply while his tongue grazes yours. He only stops the kiss to let you breathe for a couple of seconds, but kisses you again right after. “Is this better?”

“A hundred times better,” you smile, still kissing him while his hand gets lost in the hems of your clothing.  

Next thing you know, the comforter has been discarded to the floor and Jisung's running out of clothes to take off from you, only leaving you in your underwear. His hands touch and grope your body like it’s the first time he touches it, like he is just exploring it despite knowing it very well.

Jisung always touch you like he has been craving it for ages, dragging his palms over the sides of your body and pressing you against his to feel you even more, completely at all. He kisses and licks your neck and chest, letting out quiet moans in between, enjoying your smell and the way your skin welcomes his love bites by turning shades of pink and red.

You latch your fingers onto his dark, soft hair when he slides your underwear to the side, his fingers immediately offering you the much needed stimulation. You do the same, sneaking your hand underneath his underwear to find his erected cock that is already leaking, practically begging for your touch.

“You got one thing wrong, though,” he murmurs in between kisses, shifting his position on the couch just slightly so that you can comfortably masturbate him while he does the same for you. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to crave me more than I crave you”.

“Do you want to bet?” you chuckle against his lips, drowning a moan when you feel his cock throbbing inside your fist.

The more you jerk him off, the sloppier Jisung’s fingers get, and the more he stimulates your clit, the slower the rhythm on your wrist —it’s a neverending moment. You’re kissing while pleasing each other, moaning in between, losing the pace of your ministrations as you both chase your highs, murmuring sweet nothings under your breathes, interrumpting the kisses to look at each other with lustful eyes and furrowed eyebrows, parted lips and quiet whimpers.

It doesn’t take you long to come in each other’s hands, making a mess of yourselves and your underwear. You’re now dirty, and practically naked, so Jisung can’t lose the opportunity to change his mind about the movie.

“Do you want me to run a bath for us, baby?”

You’re sure you know how that is going to end, but you can’t refuse.

Felix: Words of Affirmation and Quality Time

You both have been waiting for this exact moment ever since the last time you saw each other. Which was two days ago, but it felt like ages.

Tonight, you’re supposed to attend a dinner party of one of your closest friends, but you’re really struggling to get out of bed. Especially because it's Felix who's holding you hostage between his arms, pouting and whimpering every time you remind him of the very little amount of time left to get ready.

“Let’s ditch the dinner,” he tells you, snuggling underneath the bedsheets and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Let’s stay like this all night. What do you say?”

You throw a pillow at him and get free from his hold. Truth be told, you'd rather accept his proposal, but you can't ditch on this very close friends of you, especially on such an important occasion as a birthday is.

“Come on, Lix,” you murmur, walking towards the bathroom mirror to do your makeup. It had been a wise decision to take a shower before cuddling each other during the afternoon, otherwise you'd be more in a rush than you already are.

You hear him groan, and curse, and groan again until he meets you at the bathroom, joining you in the sink to brush his teeth and do a little bit of makeup.

When he approaches you, you notice his semi-hard bulge underneath his grey sweatpants as he relentlessly tries to fix and conceal it. Perhaps the cuddling session got to him, and he would rather stay at home and fuck you on every position known to mankind than going out and missing the warmth of your body.

You understand him, though.

“What?” he chuckles, his deep voice startling you minutes after being shamelessly looking  at his crotch. “Did you change your mind?”

Hadn’t been this a very close and dear friend of yours, you’d cancel them on the spot. But you really want to go, so the plan is still on.

However, it doesn't really matter if you get there a little late, does it?

“No,” despite your answer, the way you close your cosmetics bag mid-through your makeup confuses Felix. “But we can have fun of our own before meeting our friends, don’t we?”

His eyes widen just a little. “We’re not going to make it on time if we start,” he tells you, tilting his head flirtatiously towards you.

“The point is to be there,” you reply, planting a wet kiss on his freckled cheek. “I don’t mind if it takes us a little while to get ready”.

Felix wraps his arms around your body and holds you close to him, forcing your lips against his in a peck that quickly, turns into a heated french kiss.

He kisses oh so deliciously. Never too rushed, and never too sloppy. He kisses you slowly and roughly, fucking your mouth with his tongue and biting your lower lip in between, pulling it just in the slightest to earn a hiss from you.

“You’re only getting me harder,” Felix murmurs when you interrupt the kiss to breathe. Judged by the strong pressure against your thigh, you can only assume he’s right. “I’m gonna need to jerk off or else I'm going to spend the entire dinner like this”.

“Jerk off?” you query with knitted eyebrows, your hand playing with the hems of his sweatpants and underwear, “I’m right here, Felix”.

“I don’t want to ruin your make up,” it’s not fully done yet, but he doesn’t want to discard your efforts in what you had by now. The eyeliner and mascara were surely going to make a mess —last time he fucked you, you both realize it wasn’t as waterproof as they claimed them to be. “And I don’t want to make a mess out of you either”.

“I don’t care,” you whisper, leaving a trail of kisses from his lips, along his jaw and into the crook of his neck, “let me help you”.

“I won’t take responsibility for anything,” Felix warns you while not being able to divert his gaze from your figure that's currently kneeling in front of him. He rests his body against the edge of the bathroom countertop, with his back facing the mirror, and guides his fingers to your freshly brushed hair, “so you better start thinking about a new outfit option”.  

“Got it,” you hum, lowering his clothes to release his erection that's throbbing and pulsating inside your fist, begging for you to pay attention to it. “What about that black dress you like so much, huh? Should I wear that one tonight?”

Felix closes his eyes and throws his head back when he reminds the piece of clothing you’re referring to. Not only that, but the memory paired with the feeling of your warm tongue swirling against the tip of his dick earns you a deep moan from him.

“Y-yes,” he hisses, forcing his head down and opening his eyes to admire the whole scene. “But don’t expect me to keep my hands off of you tonight if you do”.

You smile while smacking his cock against your tongue, tasting the salty precum from his tip. He looks beautiful from this angle —his slightly sloping face is commanding, and his normally gentle eyes are now dark with desire.

“Like that,” Felix encourages you, grabbing a fistful of your hair while forcing your head back, “do that again for me”.

You stick out your tongue further and slap his cock against it yet again, making sure to put on a full show for him. You let drool fall into your chest, staining the dress you’re currently wearing —and the one you were supposed to use at the birthday dinner tonight— but you don’t do anything about it because you know how much Felix likes that.

“Fuck,” he sighs, guiding the grip on your hair towards his dick, asking you to take him fully inside your mouth. You follow compliantly, because that’s exactly what you want too. “You’re so- fuck, so fucking beautiful”.

Felix has a way with words. He's very vocal at all times, especially when it comes to sex —not a day goes by without him praising and complimenting you. That’s just one of the many ways he shows his love towards you, and he knows how much you love it.

“Since when does your pretty mouth can take me so well?” You hold your breath when your nose hits his pubic bone, drooling all over his cock as he says so. After much fooling around with Felix, your body has grown to know him fairly well, “you’re making me feel so good”.

You take his cock out of your mouth and continue stroking him using your own drool as lubricant, offering him a delicious friction that has him gripping the edge of the bathroom counter until his knuckles turn pale.

Felix does his best to keep his eyes open, staring down at you while you suck on his cock eagerly, demanding something he can only give you. He’s just about to give it to you, but he wants to elongate the moment as much as he possibly can.

“Look at me,” he demands, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “I want to come while looking at your face”.

You're definitely not the best looking right now, with all the drool spilling from your mouth and your eyeliner and mascara smudged, but Felix thinks you've never look prettier. He loves this side of you, the dirty one.

He caresses the side of your face with his thumb, wiping away a few tears running down your cheeks after taking all of his dick inside your mouth. “I love you so much,” Felix quietly moans, his words getting overshadowed by his heavy breathing, but still managing to reach your ears nonetheless. “I love you so- fuck, so fucking much”.

You smile against the tip of his dick and increase the movement of your wrist around him, getting yourself ready for his orgasm —an orgasm that doesn’t take too long to happen, shooting white ropes of cum onto your face and dress while he curses and whimpers your name under his breath.

After a couple of seconds of him overcoming his high, and you licking his arousal up until he’s clean, Felix helps you get up from the floor and kisses you just as deep as earlier, tasting himself off of your tongue.

“I’m fully convinced I want to marry you,” he chuckles against your lips, licking up some of his cum on your chin.

“Well, my hand looks a bit empty without a ring, you know?”

Seungmin: Acts of Service and Quality Time

When you called him, crying over the phone, Seungmin's heart was practically wrenched.

“I’m so- I’m so fucking stressed,” despite his efforts to try and talk to you, asking you what’s wrong, you just couldn’t begin to explain him that there was nothing, specifically, wrong. You just felt overworked and tired because of college, and you were having a hard time handling everything.

“Where are you right now?”

“College campus,” you tell him, trying your best to look collected while crying, sitting on a bench not too far from the main building. “I’m supposed to attend another class in like-”.

“I’m picking you up,” it's not a question nor a proposal. It's an affirmation, one that you're ready to argument.

“No, Seungmin. It’s okay, I-”

“You’re not okay, you’re crying,” his voice is filled with concern, and judged by the noises in the background you can tell he’s walking while on the phone. “Let me take care of you”.

You agree, but feel guilty immediately afterwards once you realize that he probably left everything he was doing just to meet you. You didn’t ask him to, but he showed up a couple of minutes later, picked you up and drove you to your apartment, staring at you from the side every now and then just to see if you were okay.

“I’m sorry,” you exhaled. “I overreacted, I don’t know why I cried like that and I- just wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t mean to worry you, it’s really not a big deal. I’m just stressed over college and that’s it”.

“You’re rambling,” he cuts you off, sweetly and delicately as he always does. It’s not that he doesn’t want to listen to you, because he always does, but he knows you have this habit of rambling whenever you’re anxious. “I drove all the way here because I wanted to be with you”.

“Yeah but-”

“Hamburger or pizza?”

“Huh?”

“What are you craving for dinner?” Seungmin has always said he is not very good with emotions, but you disagree —he might not be one to use words, but his actions always speak louder. “I’m craving pizza, but I don’t know if you’re down for that”.

“Pizza is good,” you reply. “But let me- I just want to apologize, really. I feel so fucking silly for throwing a tantrum like a child”.

“Child’s tantrums are way worse,” he interrupts you, but his voice is so soft and delicate that you can barely hear it over your rushed, disorganized speech.

“My point is that I’m sorry for crying on the phone like that. You didn’t need to do all this, and now I feel awful. It’s just college stress, nothing I can’t handle”.

“And my point is that I know you can handle everything, as you always do,” he reassures you, turning to face you at a red light, “but I want to help you handle everything, too. If you call me crying, I don’t see why I can’t rush out to you and take care of you, it doesn’t matter the reason behind those cries”.

There's a lump in your throat that threatens to make you cry again, but this time for all the opposite reasons. You’ve never felt this safe and loved until you met him.

“So pizza it is?”

He drives to your favorite pizza place and orders take out  —the sky is getting grey, and the wind is getting chill so he would rather have dinner at the coziness of your apartment. You both eat, unwind, talk about your day prior to meet each other, and enjoy the company that you desperately needed today.

“I think I’m going to take a shower,” you inform him after doing the dishes together. “I think it’ll help me sleep better”.

“Mind if I join you?” Seungmin asks you, drying his hands with a small, kitchen towel. “Both to shower and bed”.    

It’s not every day you get to sleep in the very same bed as him, so you agree without thinking it twice. Knowing you’ll get to spend the night with him makes you forget about all the daily stress already, so you’re grateful he’s sharing his time with you.

“Close your eyes,” he warns you with a smile and hands full with shampoo foam. You follow his order compliantly, and the next thing you feel are his hands massaging your scalp and hair with shampoo. “Close them!”

“I’m sorry,” you giggle, closing them immediately afterwards. “I just want to see you”.

“Let me rinse this off, alright?” he guides you underneath the shower faucet and starts wiping away all the foam, delicately caressing your face while the water rinses off a whole day of stress. “Don’t open them yet, or else it’ll sting”.

It’s practically impossible to ignore his touch and body pressing against yours throughout the whole interaction, and he probably notices this too —your nipples are hard, both from the stimulation and the feeling of warm water running through your body, and you can’t help but whimper every time they rub against his bare chest.

“There,” Seungmin murmurs, encouraging you to open your eyes. The first thing you see is his gaze underneath his dark, wet hair, followed by bright smile.  

You tip toe a bit to reach his pink lips, and you leave a wet peck in the corner of them. A quick, single kiss that makes Seungmin’s bright smile turn into a flirty, soft smirk.

He brushes a few wet strands of hair away from your face, and caresses your skin while tilting his head. You know he wants this, just as much as you want it too, but he probably felt too scared to make the first move, considering the wholesome moment you were sharing.

“Can I?” he’s leaning over you, with both of his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Please,” you nod, closing your eyes even before you felt him kissing you.

It starts of slow, but gets gradually deeper as he holds you tightly against him; the water is still running, but it feels ten times warmer now.

“I don’t want to ruin the moment like this,” you whisper, feeling your heart racing, “but I really want you to fuck me”.

“How could that ruin the moment?” Seungmin chuckles, guiding his hands to your ass.

“I don't know, you're being so sweet to me and all I can imagine is how it would feel to have you deep inside me right now,” you confess, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You don’t have to imagine it, you know?” his hands guide you to turn around on your feet, and he presses his chest against your back until you’re trapped between him and the wall. You can feel his erection against your ass, and that alone has your pussy clenching around nothing, wishing it was his cock you were clenching around. “If you want, I can fuck you right here”.

You feel him kissing and nibbling at the skin on your shoulders and neck, and you immediately melt between his arms, “I want you”.

You can’t see him but, once he guides his hand to your core and feels your wetness, the soft scoff he lets out tells you he’s probably amused by your neediness. “You’re all ready for me, hm?”

You press your cheek against the cold, wall tiles, and arch your back a bit more —just enough to allow him a better access to your pussy. He places one hand on your hip, while the other guides the tip of his cock to your cunt, teasing your folds and rubbing it against your clit.

“Please fuck me,” you whine, laying both of your palms flat against the white tiles.

“Take a deep breath for me,” he latches his lips to your neck and the next thing you feel is a sudden stretch between your legs. You let out a painful moan, as you’re definitely not used to have him fucking you while standing.

It’s a challenge, really. The second you felt him entering you, your legs threatened to give up on your weight.

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin hisses once he bottoms out, feeling your walls hugging him tightly. He can feel how tense you are, trying hard to hold on to anything to prevent you from falling, “I’ll hold you tight, won’t let go of you, okay?”

You nod, barely frantically, and relax on the spot. You trust him Seungmin wholeheartedly, so you get completely carried away by the feeling of his cock hitting the right spot inside your pussy.

He reaches his hand forward, into the small space between your abdomen and the wall, and guides his fingers towards your clit, rubbing it gently while fucking you.

“J-just like that,” you moan. “I’m- I’m getting close”.

“Yeah?,” Seungmin purrs, managing to keep the pace between his thrusts and his fingers. “Come for me, then”.

You blame it on all the time you spent without being able to fuck with him because of your schedules, but truth is that Seungmin always makes you come really fast. He knows your body well enough by now, and he pleases you like no one has before. And could he not be? If he has spent hours and hours touching you, eating you out and fucking you so he can be the best at pleasing you.

“Seungmin,” you gasp, feeling your legs shaking and your mind dizzy. If you let go, you’re sure your face is going to meet the floor.

But, as if he could read your mind, he wraps his arm around you and holds you right in place, giving you all the support you needed. “Now,” he moans, “you can come”.

You finally let go between his arms, pressing your face against the wall while Seungmin takes care of everything —from helping you ride your high, to keep you standing on your feet.

He holds you while you overcome your orgasm, feeling your heart beats and the way you breath. He is close to coming as well, but you’re always his priority in moments like this.

Always so caring and sweet.  

Jeongin: Physical Touch and Gifts

[19:28, You: I’m here]

[19:28, You: Where are you?]

You stare at the big, white letters on top of the entrance of the store, and you can begin to guess what this urgent meeting is all about. It’s not the first time you visit it, and it is most definitely not going to be the last, you think.

There are a couple of people inside, people who make you feel as if you’re underdressed to go jewelry shopping —not that you had clothes to match the ocassion, but you didn’t expect to end your day standing outside one of Seoul’s most expensive stores.

“Hey!” Jeongin greets you from inside, smiling widely once he spots you. He walks towards you and the brightness in his eyes tells you that he's most definitely excited about something.

“What is it?” you immeditaly asked, catching his smile.

“I stopped by and I wanted to gift you something,” he grabs your hand and guides you inside the store, following a path and turning around every other table until you reach the jewels in exhibition he’s excited about, “I didn’t know which one you liked best, and I tried to take a picture of them but the camera didn’t make them any justice”.

“What’s the occasion?”

“You,” Jeongin tilts his head. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know, and these are the most beautiful necklaces I’ve seen in my entire life. Is only fair for you to have them”.

“I don’t- These are too expensive,” you furrow your eyebrows, not knowing the final price of each and confident you're better off without that information.

“So?”

“I can’t accept one,” you shake your head. Your eyes encounter an emerald and diamond necklace that’s too stunning it caught your attention —Jeongin has good taste, you have to give him that.

But said taste it’s also very expensive, so you’re not sure that works out.

“What about all of them?”

Your eyes widen in shock, and you playfully hit him in the arm, “you’re so unserious!”

“I mean it,” the dark-haired smiles, tilting his head at you. “Either you pick the one you like the most, or I’ll buy all of them for you”.

Jeongin never gifts you things expecting anything in return —if anything, the only thing he expects when he buys you jewelry, or clothes, or anything, is that you put them to use.

You’re still not used to this kind of love language, but he tries everything to make you feel comfortable.

“Are you sure?” you hesitate, and he nods eagerly, wondering which one is the one you like best. “That one, the one with the emerald”.

“Pretty,” he smiles, “just like you”.

He takes care of the bill, and you keep on staring at the rest of the jewelry exhibited around the store. To be honest, you’re curious about the price, but you’d rather stay ignorant than feeling guilty about the money he spends on you.

Then, Jeongin sees you admiring a bracelet for quite some time, and he makes a mental note to go back and buy it for you on the next occasion. He knows love can be expressed in many, many ways, but a gift is never out of place.

“Let’s go back to my place, yeah?” he asks you, grabbing your hand as you walk through the mall. “I can pick up dinner and we can spend the night together, what do you say?”

“Sounds good to me,” you smile, trying to keep up the pace with his long legs.

Once you get home, and you unwind together, Jeongin brings the small, white bag with the red, velvet box inside it. You saw the necklace on your way to his apartment, but you didn’t try it on.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, admiring the shine of it from every angle. “I’m not- sure how to style it”.

“Pretty sure you’ll find a way,” Jeongin smiles with his eyes fixed on the jewel. “You make everything look pretty”.

“Thank you,” your gaze meets his, and you can tell how sincere and genuine he is. Your heart skips a bit when you spot that spark in his eyes again, and your curiosity makes you question him once again. “What?”

“Let me put it on you,” he tells you, standing up from the dinner table and walking towards you, taking away the velvet box off of your hands, “come here”.

You follow him into his room, that’s barely illuminated because of the street lights and a small lamp on top of his nightstand. You stand in front of a big, full-length mirror, and he stands right behind you, holding the necklace with one of his hands while he makes eye contact with you through the mirror.

“Wait, just let me-,” he motions for you fix your hair out of the way, and once you’re done he he places the necklace around you. “There”.

The necklace is very, very pretty on you. So pretty that, for a minute, you completely forget about the outfit you’re wearing, and how it doesn’t match Jeongin’s gift at all.

“Thank you,” you chant again, caressing the jewel as you watch it become your most prized possession. “It’s just- beautiful. I don’t want to take it off, ever”.

“Then don’t,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on your naked shoulder. “Wear it all the time, let everyone know who gave it to you”.

You turn around on your feet and wrap your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile. “What for?”

“So everyone can know you’re mine,” his siren eyes are staring deep into yours, and that alone is enough to arouse you. Not only that, but the implied possessiveness under these kind of gifts is making you feel some kind of way.

“Everyone knows I am yours already,” you whisper, leaning in for a kiss. “I don’t need to wear a necklace for that”.

“But it’s fun, isn’t it?” Jeongin asks you, “everytime you feel the necklace around your neck, you can think of those times where my hands have done the job”.

You feel the heat rising up to your cheeks almost immediately, and you wonder if he can tell.

“The necklace is very pretty, but you like my hands way more, don’t you?” again, the filthy question makes you a bit timid, but you still nod.

“See? I don’t need expensive jewels to be happy,” you chuckle softly, planting a quick kiss on his lips. He responds the kiss with one much more steamy, one that actually makes you gasp for air in between.

“So what is it that you need, hm?” he teases you, cupping either side of your face with his big hands.

“You know what,” the complicit smile on your lips is the consent Jeongin needs to guide his hand from your face to your neck, squeezing it slightly as he applies pressure to the sides of it. The harder he chokes you, the wider you smile.

“Is this enough to make you happy?” judged by his cold gaze, and the deeper tone of his voice, you know you have Jeongin exactly where you want him.

“I’m missing something else,” you quietly murmur, just as much as his grip around your neck allows you to. “Can you give it to me?”

“What is it that you’re missing?” he asks you, a twisted smile peeking through the corners of his lips, “tell me, and I’ll give it to you”.

Jeongin knows exactly what you’re talking about, and what you’re referring to, but he menas every word he says. If there’s something you’re missing, he’d travel the whole world just to give it to you. If there’s something you want, all you have to do is ask.

“Your cock,” you finally tell him.

In the blink of an eye, you’re both naked in his bed and he’s hovering over you, positioning himself between your legs while he bites his bottom lip. You’re still wearing the necklace, as a request for him, and it feels somewhat heavy on your chest. It will probably weight heavy from now on, everytime you wear it, because it will remind you of how good of a lover Jeongin is to you.

“It looks so good on you,” he hisses, coating the tip of his cock with your slick. You’re so slippery, and warm, and inviting that he can’t spend another second without being buried deep inside your pussy. “You- look so good like this, with your legs spread for me”.

You moan at his words, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing him to bottom out inside you, desperately wanting to feel all of himself.

“F-fuck”.

“So tight,” Jeongin whispers, closing his eyes while assimilating the stimulation your body provides.

He starts off slow and only goes rougher once he’s sure you’re ready for it. He wraps his hand around your neck and chokes you while fucking your pussy, admiring the diamond resting on top of your bouncing breasts.

The necklace is even prettier like this, he thinks.

“Right there,” you gasp, closing your eyes shut while your orgasm hits you unexpectedly. You writhe underneath him, digging your nails on his biceps. He fucks you even faster through your orgasm, making you spill a tear or two —not only he is a good lover, but he fucks oh, so well too.

You moan his name over and over again, thanking him in between. The ravages of your high are hitting you, as well as the painful overstimulation, but you don’t want him to stop. You want him to come inside you, to fill you up until he’s leaking out; however Jeongin has other plans in mind.

“Can I- come, on you?”

You’re not sure what he means, as he usually finishes inside you, but you still nod desperately, wanting whatever it is that he wants.

So he thrusts himself inside you a couple of times before pulling out, kneeling over you while stroking his cock and driving himself to his orgasm. You stare at him with dreamy eyes, aroused by the heavenly sight he’s offering you —there’s something enticing about his facial features when he comes, how they sharpen and his eyes get pitch black.

“Fuck,”  he curses under his breath as he comes over your breasts, spilling his hot cum all over them and the necklace.

You didn’t understand his petition until now, that you realize the diamond is covered with his arousal, glistening even brighter under the dim lights of his room.

“You made a mess,” you chuckle, staring at your tits.

“I just wanted to make sure you're going to remember who gave you this”.

[mychemicalrachel]

Full disclosure, I have not seen the Teen Wolf movie and no I do not plan on it. I have caught a few things through the magic of tumblr and I had some thoughts. So if everything I saw is accurate; Derek has a kid Eli (basically a Stiles replacement since Dylan wasn’t in the movie. Also, nobody knows who his mother is?) and Derek dies, and he leaves his kid to Scott and Allison. Am I right so far? I’ve seen a few posts entertaining the idea of Stiles being Eli’s other dad, fix-its that have him resurrecting/saving Derek in some capacity. And so it got me thinking of my own version of how I would fix this dumpster fire and like,

What if Stiles was not Eli’s dad?

No no no, hear me out, okay?

Derek had Eli with some one night stand or whatever, it’s not important. She’s not in the picture but neither is Stiles. Stiles is just the one that got away, he’s the guy Derek has been pining over for the past fifteen years, and nothing more. Stiles finally got away from the supernatural shitshow and Derek is not going to be the one to drag him back into it just because he has feelings for him.

But Stiles is still the closest thing Derek has ever had to family and it makes sense for Derek to entrust his family with Stiles’ family. So what if he left Eli in the care of John? (hIS NAME IS JOHN, FIGHT ME ON THIS.) And John, he kind of adores the kid, right? Of course when Derek dies (because he does) John takes Eli in just as he promised he would.

But John is getting older. Eli is a handful because he is just like Stiles. John has to tell Stiles eventually what happened and he really could use some help trying to wrangle a grieving teenager, so he calls Stiles.

Stiles is FURIOUS when he finds out what happened. He hasn’t been in contact with Scott for years because he realized what a piece of shit Scott was, but the fact that Scott didn’t even call when everything was happening makes him angry. The fact that they let Derek die?? More than angry. Angry enough to kill somebody. But when he meets Eli, all that anger disappears. Eli, who is this weird mix of Derek and Stiles, who is mourning the loss of his only parent, his only family. He knows what it’s like to lose a parent, but even after his mom died, he always had his dad. Eli doesn’t have that so Stiles makes it his responsibility to become that figure for him. Not his dad because nobody could replace Derek, but a guardian.

He moves back to town, he bonds with Eli, and in his spare time he maybe starts to explore the possibilities of necromancy. Death in a place like Beacon Hills has never been permanent– Peter and now Allison are proof of that. He doesn’t tell anybody because he doesn’t actually plan on bringing Derek back, it’s just a thought that keeps him from falling apart entirely. During this time, he realizes not only his feelings for Derek, but Derek’s feelings for him. He wishes he could have just a few minutes with Derek, wishes he could go back in time and redo everything. Maybe he would have stayed in Beacon Hills, or he would have asked Derek to leave with him. And time travel, yeah that’s a possibility, too, but time is a fickle bitch and Stiles isn’t willing to gamble with it. What if he messes something up and erases Eli from existence?

In the end, bringing Derek back is kind of an accident.

Years have passed and Eli is healing, Stiles is healing– they even manage to fix the jeep together because symbolism. Stiles is going through some old journals or something of Deaton’s and he finds something that looks kind of promising (something about true love being the one thing more powerful than death or something equally as cheesy) and he’s reading it out loud and it just happens. No fanfare, no sparks, almost like it’s not magic at all. One second, Stiles is alone, and the next, Derek is there– older than the last time Stiles saw him, just as beautiful. There’s some panic because what the fuck, the last thing Derek remembers is the fire and being so sure he was going to die and thinking if only I could see Stiles one more time and now he’s here, standing in front of Stiles– also older than the last time Derek saw him, and just as beautiful. But after the panic, there’s some kissing and some crying and some long awaited love confessions, and by the time they go home, Stiles still isn’t sure exactly what happened, what he did, what the consequences might be, but he’s got his arm around Derek’s waist and the burn of Derek’s stubble on his lips and Derek is alive so nothing else fucking matters.

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xxi

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Richie's gone. Sam and Tara rush to the police station, and R gets a visit from someone she hoped to never see again.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder. Mention of sex, violence.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: it's here! GF final reveal. as mentioned previously, I'm going to try keep the blog spoiler free for the next 48 hours, so won't be posting spoilery asks, but please still feel free to send them through! I'll post them a little later :))))) hope you all enjoy, and I hope your theory was correct!

Nobody says anything for a good twenty seconds.

The Sheriff’s face is stony. Serious. 

You feel as if your heart has just dropped down into your stomach. 

Tara’s hand grips tight on your hip. 

Sam blinks, mouth open like a fish out of water. 

And then it’s her who breaks the silence. 

“He’s gone?” 

She blinks once more. Her words turn into a splutter. 

“But he’s dead.” 

The Sheriff swallows. You almost feel bad for her, the way she wrings her hat in her hands like she’s standing in front of a courthouse of jurors. 

“He was admitted to the morgue,” She explains, voice soft, “There was a fifteen minute window where the Coroner was off shift. We think it happened then.” 

“You think what happened?” You ask, heartbeat hammering loudly in your ears, “You think he got up and walked out?” 

“No,” Says the Sheriff, a little impatient, “He was dead. He’s definitely dead-” 

“And you lost him?” Tara asks, her voice rising, “You lost a dead guy?”

The Sheriff looks at Sam. 

“Perhaps we should do this somewhere more private?” 

“Absolutely not,” Sneers Tara, “You don’t exactly have a track record of asking the right questions, Sheriff.” 

Except she does. And you know it. You touch Tara’s arm, try to quiet her. 

Let’s not piss off the person who can haul you right back to jail, the look in your eyes says. 

But Sam crosses her arms. 

“Tara stays. She’s right, Sheriff. First you try to pin six murders on her, then you lose the actual culprit. The dead culprit.”  

The Sheriff purses her lips. 

“I’m not here to argue,” She says, directing a pointed look at your girlfriend, “But I am here to find out what happened. Whoever Richie was working with likely took his body. Why? I don’t know. But I need answers. And fast.” 

Sam furrows her brow. 

“I don’t know who he was working with,” She says, “I didn’t even know what he was doing in his spare time. Hell, I had no idea who he truly was.”

She sounds a little agonized. Like it’s her fault her boyfriend almost had her sister killed. 

“But you knew him.” Says the Sheriff, “You knew his patterns, his friends, his routine. If we can pin down some names, we might be able to find the culprit.” 

She stands a little taller. 

“And I’d like you to come down to the station and help me figure it out. Please.”  

Sam looks at Tara, a little torn.

“I need to be here with my sister.” She says. 

“Your sister will be fine,” Says the Sheriff, “I can arrange for a squad car. Two, if you need it. She’ll be safe, Sam. They won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“Fuck that,” Says Tara, “We’re coming. Down to the station. Sam, I’m not letting you talk to them alone.”

There’s fire in her voice. Fire that usually only sparks when it comes to you. You blink, a little surprised. Sam seems to be surprised by it too, going off the look on her face. 

“That really isn’t necessary.” Cuts in the Sheriff, hurriedly, “Tara, it’s really better if I talk to Sam alone-”

“You’re not talking to Sam without me,” Growls Tara. 

The Sheriff blinks, her shoulders drawn tight like she’s gearing for a fight. And then she slumps them. 

“Alright,” She says, voice even, “What matters is finding Richie and his partner. Tara can be with you.” 

Sam swallows. She nods, only slightly. 

“I’ll get my jacket.” 

-

You’re halfway into climbing into the Sheriff’s squad car when a familiar Ford Focus pulls into the driveway. 

It’s your Mom’s car. You spot her behind the wheel, looking a little forlorn as she hurries to step out. 

And then you see your Dad. Face pinched. Annoyed. Like this is the last place he wants to be. 

“One second,” You tell the Sheriff, and before she can protest, you’re climbing out of the backseat and stepping out onto the drive. 

“YN,” Says your Mom, a little out of breath as she approaches. 

Your Dad hovers by the car, scowl on his face as he surveys Tara in the backseat of the squad car. Your Mom’s eyes widen. 

“She’s not been arrested again?” 

“No, Mom,” You huff, “The Sheriff just needs Sam’s help on something, that’s all.” 

“Oh,” Says your Mom. Then her voice softens, “Darling, please. Come home with us. We all need to talk.” 

“I don’t think so, Mom.” You begin, “Not when Dad’s acting- crazy, like this.” 

You look over at him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Tara. Glaring, eyes frosted over. Like he hates her more than anyone else in the world. 

“Dad has agreed to listen,” Your Mom begs, “Please, sweetheart. He knows he overreacted about the- sex,” Her voice drops, like she’s just said something scandalous, “But the other things - the arrest. The manslaughter?”

“Self-defense,” You say immediately. 

Your Mom swallows. 

“The self-defense. We need to talk about it. You’re still our daughter. Our only daughter. And we’re worried about you.” 

You shoot a look over to the squad car. 

The Sheriff is watching, her eyes pinched. Sam’s watching your Dad, but Tara is looking at you. 

“Babe?” She says from the car, voice soft, “What is it?” 

It isn’t the worst idea in the world. They’re still your parents, after all. You don’t want this - your Dad angry at you. Angry at Tara. You don’t want to ruin your relationship with them if it can be salvaged. 

Your Mom blinks, desperation in her eyes. You soften, pursing your lips. 

“I’m going to go with my parents,” You tell Tara, “My Mom is right. We should talk.” 

Tara sits up. She pries off her seatbelt immediately. 

“I’ll come.” Tara says, climbing out of the car. 

“No.” Your Dad growls from the car. You ignore him. Rub your hands over Tara’s forearms. 

“Babe, it’s fine. You need to go with Sam,” You remind her. You lower your voice, “You need to be in there, make sure she’s okay. Like you said." 

Tara looks at you, conflicted.

“But, babe-” 

“I’ll be fine,” You assure, “I’ll be with my parents. You and Sam can come and pick me up from the house when you’re done.”

“But Ghostface-”

“Isn’t going to attack me in broad daylight,” You say, “Besides. My Dad’s arsenal is almost as big as Sam’s. Remember?” 

Tara looks at your Dad, a little doubtful. 

“She’ll be fine, Tara, I’ll send in a squad car.” Says The Sheriff, looking over the rim of her sunglasses at you, “But if you want to go, I don’t mind talking to Sam alone-” 

Her tone of voice suggests she very much wants Tara to stay with you. Tara picks it up the same moment you do. Her eyes narrow. Sam's an easy target - Richie's girlfriend, perhaps she could even be sold as his partner in crime.

“You’re not talking to Sam without me,” She says, voice a growl. She shimmies out of the backseat and presses a kiss to your lips, “Keep your phone on,” She says, “Text me every five minutes, okay?” 

You nod. 

“Okay, babe.” You assure, offering her a small smile. 

She kisses you once more. 

“And be careful.” 

-

The drive back to your parents house is in silence. 

You sit in the back seat, twiddling your thumbs. Your Mom drives, your Dad stewing in silence. 

When you arrive at the house, it isn’t much better. 

“I’ll make tea,” Says your Mom, hurrying off to the kitchen as you and your Dad settle down on the sofa. His lip twitches, like he has something he wants to say, but you get in first. 

“You owe Tara an apology,” You say, eyes narrowed, “She has a bruise on her arm the size of Iowa-” 

“She’s lucky that’s all she got,” Says your Dad. 

You stare at him for a moment. Then stand. 

“I’m not talking to you if you’re going to be like this,” You say, voice hot. 

Your Dad hesitates. Then puts his arm out to draw you back down. 

“I’m sorry,” He says, and although it’s through gritted teeth, he does sound like he means it, “I shouldn’t have grabbed her. I’ll apologize to her.” 

You blink. 

“Thank you.” 

Your Mom reemerges, cups of hot tea in hand. 

“Darling,” She says, “Please. Sit down.” 

You settle back into your seat, phone buzzing in your hand. It’s Tara. 

In Sheriff’s office with Sam, waiting for her to come back, it reads. 

Then. It buzzes again. 

You ok baby? 

Fine, you message back, Dad said he’s sorry for grabbing u. 

I’ll believe it when I hear it, Tara sends back. 

Your Mom clears her throat. 

“YN,” She says, “Can you put the phone down please? We need to talk.” 

And talk you do. 

Your Dad stays quiet while your Mom outlines her concerns. The plan, the manslaughter. Tara’s arrest. Her concerns are valid. 

Yes, Tara had been arrested for murder. Murders that she had committed. 

Yes, you’d set up a foolhardy plan with Tara’s friends to capture Ghostface. 

And yes, you’d gone into that school knowing you were about to take someone’s life. And done exactly that. 

You watch as your Mother tries to understand. And know there’s nothing you can say to quell her fears. 

“I think we need to get you into therapy.” Says your Mom, chewing her lip, “We should have done it earlier. I’m sorry we didn’t do it earlier.” 

You blink. 

“I don’t want to talk to a shrink,” You argue. 

You don’t want to talk to anyone about this. Talking led to answers, answers that you very much need to keep buried. For your sake, just as much as Tara’s. 

“Please, honey,” Begs your Mom, “You haven’t been coping, that much is obvious.”

“I’m fine,” You say, leaning forward, “As fine as I can be. I know you’re upset about the plan, but Mom- it was the only way. I mean, look what he was doing to us. Dad carries around a shotgun like it’s his wallet, Tara was going out of her mind, and poor Sam is one more attack away from a nervous breakdown-” 

“Exactly why you should talk to someone,” Says your Dad, quietly, “This isn’t normal, YN. Normal eighteen year olds are worried about which colleges they’re going to get into. Not about if they’re going to be attacked in their homes in the middle of the night.” 

He pauses. 

“And it wouldn’t hurt Tara to go, either.” 

Annoyance flares up in your chest. 

“Can you stop going after Tara?” You say, suddenly on edge, “She’s done nothing to you, Dad. All she’s done is protect me, and you’re acting like she’s been abusing me or something-” 

“There’s something not right about her,” Your Dad says. His brows furrow, like there’s something he just can’t quite work out, “YN, she treats you like you belong to her.” 

“I do belong to her,” You say immediately, and then regret it almost instantly. Your Dad’s face contorts in anger. Hurriedly, you walk it back, “I mean, she belongs to me too. I’m her girlfriend. And she’s mine.” 

“Honey.” Your Mom is looking at your Dad, a serious look in her eye. Like she’s trying to warn him off saying the wrong thing. 

You watch his fists ball. 

“Nobody belongs to anyone,” Your Dad says, “You’re not a piece of property. See, this is exactly what I mean. Any shrink worth his weight will tell you the same.” 

“I’m not talking to a shrink,” You say, voice raising, “You can’t make me.” 

Your Dad stands. His voice is like thunder. 

“You’re my child and you’ll do what I say,” He says, familiar vein popping out of his forehead.  

You sink back into your seat, crossing your arms, “I thought I didn’t belong to anyone?” You say, voice flat. 

Your Dad takes a deep breath. The way he usually does before he’s about to launch into a tirade. 

His hand raises, and he points a finger at you. 

And then his face freezes. 

It’s unmistakable. A loud shattering, like a glass has been dropped. Your Mom’s face falls. You blink, head turning to see where it had come from. 

“What was that?” Your Dad says, turning from you, suddenly on guard. 

It had sounded from the kitchen. Butterflies soar within your stomach, but not the good kind. The kind that feel like you’re being eaten from the inside out. 

The back of your neck prickles. And then your heart almost leaps out of your chest as you feel your phone buzzing in your hands. 

It’s Tara. Her pretty smile flashes across the screen. You gulp, silencing your phone with a click of your button. 

“The gun,” Hisses your Mom, “Get the gun.” 

Your Dad fumbles around behind the sofa. He pulls out his shotgun, posies it against his chest. 

“Who’s there?” He calls out, but his voice shakes, “I’m armed. I have a weapon.”

Silence. 

Your Mom grabs you by the arm, pulls you back against the wall. 

“Stay here,” Your Dad says, cocking the shotgun. 

“Dad, don’t-” You hiss, as you grab your phone. It’s buzzing again, Tara’s name flashing across the screen, “I’m going to call the police.” 

But he doesn’t listen. 

He draws closer to the kitchen, step by step. Your Mom’s eyes are wide, fearful, as she clings onto your arm for dear life. 

You press your phone to your ear, answer Tara’s call. 

“Babe-” She says, voice urgent, “Stay where you are, I know who Ghostface is.” 

But you barely hear her. Your heartbeat is thundering in your ears, fire flooding through your veins. 

“He’s in the house,” You say, breath caught in the back of your throat, “Tara, he’s here-” 

The crunch of your Dad’s boots against the kitchen tile. You watch as he disappears out of sight. Tears spill wet down your cheeks. Your Mom’s grip on your hand is so hard you feel as if she might pull it clean off. 

“Baby, I’m coming,” Tara says. She’s out of breath, like she’s running, “Sam- drive.”

“Call the police, Tara, please,” You whisper, voice a beg, “Call the police right now.” 

“Stay on the line, babe,” Tara says. You hear the click of the car door, and Sam’s voice. Urgent. Desperate, “We’re coming right now. We figured it out - Ghostface is-” 

But you don’t hear what she says. 

Your Dad disappears into the kitchen for less than a second. Another loud crash sounds, then your Dad cries out. 

The shotgun blasts. 

Your Mom screams. 

Your ears ring as you drop your phone to the floor, the screen smashing instantly. 

“Dad?” You call out, hands shaking as you move your Mom behind you, “Dad, say something. Are you okay?” 

But he doesn’t say a thing. 

Blood pounds through your body. Your mother starts to cry. Adrenaline floods through you. 

And suddenly you know exactly what you need to do. 

“Run.” You tell your Mom. 

Your legs feel like jelly as you sprint through the living room, your Mom close behind. You make it to the foyer, looking behind you wildly in an attempt to see if anyone’s behind you. You press your hand against the handle and attempt to draw it open. 

But it stays firm, locked. 

“It’s the alarm system,” Says your Mother, face thick with tears, “The house is on lockdown, Daddy set it up to go through our phones.” 

“So get your phone out.” You hiss. 

She fumbles around in her pockets and draws out her phone. You watch the hallway. It’s quiet. Eerie. No sign of your Dad, and no sign of anyone else. You eye the living room window, thinking. 

“It won’t unlock,” Your mother says, voice frantic. 

You seize the phone from her hands, fiddle around in the app. UNLOCK is near the center, a bright green button. You press it once. Then twice, but nothing happens. 

As if it’s been overridden. 

“Window,” You mumble, “Mom, get to the window. I’ll break it.” 

It happens in a flash. 

One moment you’re dropping her phone to the floor, in an effort to grab her hand and run. 

And the next, you see him. 

Black cloak. Mask pulled over his face. 

Your Dad’s shotgun in his hands. Blood coated over his gloves, gleaming in the daylight. 

“Run!” You scream out. 

Your Mother sprints. Ghostface raises the weapon, lets out a single shot that rings out heavy into the air. It misses, flies off into the wall behind you. 

“Don’t move.” Says Ghostface, voice contorted, “Move and you die.” 

But you don’t listen. The gun isn’t reloaded - you don’t know much about weapons, but you’ve seen your Dad shoot it before. You tear off, ignoring his angry cry out as you follow your Mom into the living room. 

Your Mom grabs a nearby lamp, flings it wildly at the window. It shatters, almost as loudly as the shotgun. Pieces of broken glass litter the carpet, but it's the least of your worries. 

You leap over the couch, take your Mother’s hand and lead her to the window. 

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you see him again. 

He’s loading pellets into the shotgun, and then, with a quiet click, he raises it once more. 

But he doesn’t point it at you. 

“Mom!” You scream. 

Another blast sounds out. You grip either side of your head, ears ringing painfully at the sound. Your mother screams, and then falls to the floor. 

Blood spills thick and fast onto the carpet. 

You drop down, watch in horror as you catch sight of the wound. It’s gory, bloody, half of her leg blasted clean off. She wails, eyes wide in agony, clutching at her leg as if it will fall off if she lets go. 

“Mom.” You sob. You grip her shoulders, in a feeble attempt to drag her to the window. 

You should run. You should leave her and run. 

But you can’t. 

She’s your Mother. 

And it’s just the distraction Ghostface needs. 

Your Mom looks up at you, mouth open in horror as sees him, looming behind you.  

“YN!” She cries out. 

But you don’t turn in time. 

You feel the hard press as the back of the shotgun slams against your head. 

And then everything turns black. 

-

You feel like you’re floating. 

Over the earth, mind dizzy, like you’ve been launched into space without an oxygen mask. 

There are stars behind your eyes. The back of your head aches, unpleasantly. You can feel something wet against the back of your neck, trickling down underneath your shirt. You groan, move your hand to wipe it away. 

And then you realize your hands are bound behind your back. 

Panic surges through you as you remember your last moments of consciousness. 

Your Dad, walking into the kitchen with a shotgun. The bang of the bullet. 

Your Mom, screaming, writhing in pain on the living room floor, shotgun pellet in her leg. 

Ghostface. 

You open your eyes, chest heaving. 

Everything’s fuzzy, blurred. It hurts to look. The room is dark, save for a single ceiling lamp, flickering as if it’s down to its last few minutes of light. You squint, trying to make out your surroundings. 

You’re in a basement, maybe. It’s dirty, dusty. Unused. Somewhere completely unfamiliar. 

A wave of nausea floods through you. 

Your head pounds. The wetness seeping down onto the back of your neck is blood, you realize all at once. 

Your phone is broken, gone. 

And Ghostface stands in front of you, shimmering dagger in his hands. 

You tug at your restraints, hysteria surging through you. 

Ghostface has taken you somewhere. To his house, maybe. To somewhere the police, and Tara won’t be able to find you. There’s no sign of your mother, or your father. 

It’s quiet. 

The only sounds are the desperate fidgeting of your hands and the heavy noise of his breathing. 

But it’s hopeless. 

Your hands are bound too tight. You have no weapon, and you feel light. Dizzy. Like even if you managed to stand you’d pass out instantly. 

It’s the end, you realize all at once. 

He has you. And this is how you’re going to die. 

You swallow, squint a little harder, ignoring the waves of sickness that flood through you. 

And suddenly you only want to know one thing. 

“Who are you?” You mumble, “Please. Tell me what you want.”  

“Who am I?” Ghostface says. He tilts his head, and you can hear the sneer in his voice. He drops his dagger, then curls his fingers around the edge of the mask. 

It pulls off in one clean swipe. 

Gone is the mystery. The unfamiliarity. 

Your heart drops. 

You’ve seen this face before. Not once or twice. 

You’ve seen this face so many times in the last twenty-four hours. You remember never wanting to see it again. 

But she’s here. 

She has you here. 

Blood streaming down your neck, hands bound so tight your fingertips are starting to lose feeling. 

She stands a little taller, drops her robes and tosses the mask to the floor. 

Blonde hair, wide blue eyes. 

The spitting image of him. 

Sheriff’s badge pressed to her chest. 

And suddenly it all falls into place. 

She leans in, until she’s so close you can see the untamed lunacy in her eyes. She looks wild, deranged as she tilts the blade against your cheek. 

There’s nothing in her eyes but pure, unadulterated hatred. 

And then her lips curls as she spits out:  “I’m the mother of the boy you murdered.”

[kimi240302]

Craving

A/N: Before you read this story, be aware I am from Germany and can't write a bit of English. That's why I'm sending this through an app that translates it for me.

A/N2.0: In this story, the characters are all a little older.

Summary: Y/N Swan tries everything to keep her promise to stay away from Demetri Volturi. But can you stay away from the man fate bound you to?

Demetri Volturi x Female!Swan!reader

Words: 3,4k

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist / Request list / Playlist 

Part 2 of Daylight Masterlist 

18+ I am new to the whole smut writing so please be nice  

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Tellin' myself it's the last time Can you spare any mercy that you might find If I'm down on my knees again? Deep down, way down, Lord, I try Try to follow your light, but it's night time Please, don't leave me in the end

- David Kushner 

"Y/N?!”

Startled, the young girl flinched. Her gaze, which she had directed outside the entire time, turned to the whiteboard, and therefore to her scowling teacher. When Y/N noticed that the whole classroom was looking at her in a wait-and-see manner, her cheeks turned red as she shrank slightly into herself.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Porter, I wasn't listening." Shaking her head, the teacher sighed. "That's been happening to you quite a bit lately Miss Swan!" Embarrassed, since all the attention was still on her, Y/N just shook her head apologetically. "Just pay attention from now on. The things we discuss today will come up in next week's exam."  Y/N sat up a little straighter, took out her pen from her bag, and pulled her notebook towards her, which made the teacher smile contentedly and continue with the lesson.

For fifteen minutes, Y/N was able to focus on what was going on in front of her, until her gaze turned back outside and her thoughts drifted back to Demetri. As she did so, her hand settled, as if by itself, on the spot where Demetri's lips had touched her skin. Her eyes closed and the memories came back. It almost seemed to her as if Demetri was here in the same room with her, very close again.

Annoyed, Y/N exhaled, opened her eyes and dropped her hand. Three weeks had passed since the meeting with Demetri in the library. Three weeks of pure torture, as Y/N no longer knew exactly where she stood, what she felt, or what exactly she wanted.

Then to top it all off, the young girl felt guilty towards her sister for indirectly breaking her promise. While it had been Demetri who had sought her out, Y/N hadn't really done anything about his closeness either, or really found it disturbing. Y/N therefore kept inventing excuses not to talk to Bella for more than half an hour to an hour, even skipping a phone call here and there. Bella, surprisingly, ignored this. She probably thought Y/N had a lot to do with school, which was true somewhere.

On the other hand, Y/N was overwhelmed with what she was feeling. She missed the feel of Demetri's body against hers. She missed his hands holding her, his lips on her skin, and his presence. Y/N even had to admit that she searched for him whenever she was out.

Yet it was almost as if Demetri Volturi no longer existed. As if he had disappeared from the scene and the only thing he had left behind was desire and words that Y/N did not understand, or rather did not want to understand.

"How long can you hide your sins from the light of day?"

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"You should come out to party with us." Mara, a friend of Y/N, looked at her piercingly. "You've been going out for two weeks only to go to school, and even there you're absent the entire time and hardly talk."

Annoyed, Y/N released air from her lungs as she flopped down on her bed. "I just don't feel like doing anything else. Everyone has that once, it'll pass."

Mara jumped up from the chair she had been sitting on for the past hour and tried to coax Y/N into doing something other than just lying around in her room. Her fingers encircled Y/N's ankles. With a strong tug, Mara pulled Y/N off her bed.

Startled, she let out a scream as she plopped to the floor. Silence reigned for a moment until the two friends looked at each other and burst out laughing. Mara lay down on the floor next to the laughing Y/N, as she couldn't stop laughing either.

Both friends looked at the ceiling, trying to get their breathing under control as they slowly calmed down.

"What's it like?" Confused, Y/N turned her head in Mara's direction. "What exactly?" Her friend looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I have a big sister Y/N, I know what heartbreak looks like. I'm just wondering what it feels like. I've never been in love, so I can't understand someone wanting to pull away from everything and everyone because of it."  Y/N turned her gaze back to the ceiling. Clearing her throat briefly, she tried to collect herself. "It's more complicated than heartbreak." The young girl took one deep breath. "You have to imagine that I never really knew who I was at home. I felt lost, which I still do from time to time." Y/N fell silent. Saddened and depressed by her own words, even if they spoke the truth.

"Why?" "Bella always cast a shadow over me. She was all my parents saw. I tried to step out of it, but every time I did, I stood in it again. So I gave it up and just lived in it. When I met Demetri, that's his name, I had the feeling of being seen for the first time. Really seen. I wasn't Bella's little sister anymore, I was just Y/N." Smiling, she closed her eyes and remembered back to the day she had first seen the vampire.

A cold hand placed itself under Y/N's chin and lifted it. This forced the young girl to look up. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of her bag as she looked into a pair of red eyes. "What's your name Chéri?" At the blond-haired man's voice, a shiver ran down her spine. "Y/N...." Her voice was soft.

With a soft smile, Demetri released her chin and brushed a tangled strand of hair behind her ear. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined."

"What's it like to be around him?" "It feels like coming home. When he's around me, it's like I can finally take a breath." Y/N gave a soft laugh. Confused, Mara looked at her, "What is it?" "At the risk of sounding ridiculous, when Demetri touches me it's like he reminds me that I'm alive and not just existing. His touches almost burn, and they continue to do so long after he's gone."

Mara was silent again for a moment. "That doesn't sound ridiculous. On the contrary it sounds beautiful, like a connection anyone would want to have. But then why are you sad?" "My family is against it." Mara exhaled in annoyance. "You mean your sister is against it."  "And a few other people I care about, or at least used to." Y/N's expression changed to a sad one. "So what's the plan? To forget him." The young girl just nods.

Mara, sighing, nudged her friend in the ribs with her elbow, making Y/N wince.

"Now let's be honest, let's go to the club today. The others are coming too. The first step towards oblivion." Y/N rubbed the spot where Mara's elbow had hit her.  "If I come with you, will you promise not to be violent towards me anymore?"

Playfully thoughtful, Mara put a hand to her chin and considered for a few seconds.

"If I have to..." Dramatically, the hand moved from her chin to her chest. "I promise to behave towards you!"

Rolling her eyes, Y/N grabbed the pillow, which had fallen on the floor with her earlier, and threw it in Mara's face.

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"Look who decided to join us for the night!" Mara spread her arms and showed her group of friends Y/N, immediately they all started cheering. "The lost child has returned!" Y/N rolled her eyes and plopped down next to Mick on the bench in the club. "I only skipped one club visit!" She had to raise her voice to fight the music. "One too many!" called Mick back, pressing his fresh beer into her hand. He put his arm on her shoulders and lifted the other beer to toast with the others.

As the evening went on, more and more alcohol flowed. Which helped Y/N lose any thought of Demetri and her confusing feelings for him.

With her eyes closed, Y/N moved to the tune of the music. The darkness that surrounded her, broken only by green and red lights every few seconds, made her feel safe and out of reach. Y/N felt free for the first time. No vampire drama could find her here. It was just her and her friends here.

The bodies around her, the young girl was already not even aware of, as well as the smell of sweat and alcohol. Smiling, she raised her arms in the air. 

Y/N's peace was quickly shattered. Startled, she flinched when two hands came to her hips. Her arms dropped down so she could put her hands over the stranger's and push them away. But as her skin touched the stranger's and she felt the familiar cold, the young girl literally sank into the body behind her. An unfamiliar feeling of relief spread through her.

"Demetri..."

His name was no more than a whisper, but Y/N knew he had heard her. After all, he was a vampire. The grip on her hips strengthened as if to assure her that it was really him, that he was really behind her and was not just an illusion.

"What do you think you're doing here Trésor?" Goosebumps formed on Y/N's skin. Tightening her grip on his hands, she sought the hold to steady herself. "Trying to forget." She murmured, not stopping to move, forcing Demetri to follow her lead.

The vampire snorted in amusement. His left hand settled on Y/N's stomach, where he applied enough pressure to keep Y/N's back against his chest. Demetri also released his right hand from her hip and let his fingertips travel upward just a few millimeters over the filmy fabric of Y/N's black blouse. When his fingers stopped at the exposed cleavage that started just below her breasts, Y/N had to gasp. Demetri's lips hovered just inches from her ear. "What are you trying to forget?"

Carefully almost, as if the vampire was afraid his mate would shatter like glass, he touched the exposed skin, between her breasts. Slowly his fingers slid up. Y/N bit her lip gently. She didn't want Demetri to know how much influence he had on her. However, the young girl quickly lost her focus as Demetri's fingers slid over her collarbone. Out of instinct, she grabbed Demetri's right arm, causing him to pause in his movement.

"I wanted to forget you." Her words sounded breathless and desperate. Demetri laughed, "And you really thought for a second that I would let this happen?" The vampire lowered his head. As he did so, he let his lips run over Y/N's cheek and chin. Arriving at her neck, he lowered his lips to her pulse point without further thought. Without hurting her he sucked his mouth there to make a mark on her. The young girl's eyes widened before she closed them. Her body automatically pressed even closer to his as Y/N's grip tightened on Demetri's arm.

"Good luck forgetting now." Demetri had moved away from her neck and taken his arms from her. Confused and slightly backward staggering, Y/N opened her eyes and at the lack of presence behind her, turned around. Only to find that Demetri had disappeared and left her behind  once again.

"He can't be serious now!"

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The young Swan girl felt as if a bucket of water had been poured over her head. Any signs of being drunk had disappeared and been replaced by a feeling of emptiness.

Slamming her apartment door behind her, Y/N shook her shoes off her feet. She had told her friends a half-hearted excuse, gotten out of the club into the next best cab, and headed home.

Tired, Y/N leaned against her front door. Her gaze slid around her dark apartment. Sighing, her head lightly banged on the door behind her. Tears came to her eyes as she realized how lonely she actually felt. Y/N didn't miss Forks, her sister, her father, or her friends, though. She was missing Demetri. Which made no sense from her point of view, since they were both never in the same place for more than half an hour.

Shaking her head, Y/N pushed herself away from her door, banished her way through the still dark apartment to the bathroom, and slowly began to undress in the process. She wanted nothing more than to wash the evening off her skin. The alcohol, her sweat, and the feeling of what Demetri had left on her skin. As she walked past her bedroom window, Y/N opened it to let the evening air in and since she lived on the fifth floor she didn't worry about anyone getting into her apartment.

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With a towel tied around her body, Y/N stood stunned in front of her bathroom mirror.

""This bloody..."" Twisting her neck a bit to the side, she looked at the red mark on her neck. Gasping, she propped her hands on the sink. "A hickey? Seriously!"

Shaking her head in front of her, she tugged on her towel again and left the bathroom to get dressed in her bedroom. Just as she was about to open her closet door to look for her sleeping clothes, a voice familiar to her was heard.

"Mon amour you should not leave your window open like that. Someone might come in here unannounced."

With a cry, the young girl turned to her bed. Stunned, Y/N looked at the vampire. Demetri had made himself comfortable on her bed. His hands were clasped behind the back of his head as he watched her with a satisfied grin.

"I live on the fifth floor! No one can get in there just like that. Except crazy vampires who don't know what privacy is!"

Angrily, she braced her hands on her hips. Demetri raised an eyebrow. "I thought the window was an invitation for me. After all, we both know that the height of your apartment is nothing that can stop me."  Several times Y/N blinked as she processed Demetri's words.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Y/N, enraged, grabbed the nearest object that fell into her fingers and threw it at Demetri. The latter jumped up from the bed to avoid the book Y/N threw at him.

"Mon amour you know that can't hurt me, right?" With an annoyed snort, Y/N grabbed her other textbook and aimed it at Demetri again. "I don't care!" Demetri ducked his head, repositioned himself properly, and looked after the book that had knocked a vase onto the floor.

"Think about your decor Y/N." Demetri's grin seemed to make the young girl even angrier. By the third time she turned to grab something and throw it at the vampire, Demetri had had enough. He closed the distance between them and stood directly in front of her.

Y/N, who was just turning back to face him, startled, dropped the book from her hand, and took an avoiding step backward. The skin on her back touched the cold wood, of her closet. This reminded her that she was still standing in front of Demetri in only a towel. Y/N's hands grasped the top hem of the towel and pulled it closer to her skin.

"Why are you here Demetri?" Y/N uttered her words only softly, with an uncertain tone. Demetri could even hear an anxious undertone. He stepped over the inches of distance that still existed between the two. The vampire raised his hand to Y/N's cheek, which made her close her eyes. The trembling of her body became more obvious and Demetri had to admit to himself that this reaction of his mate hurt him.

"Open your eyes Y/N." Demetri rested his forehead against Y/N's as he whispered his next words. "I beg you, don't be afraid of me." The young girl's eyes flew open. She had to swallow because of the closeness of their faces and the intensity of Demetri's gaze.

"Then give me a reason not to be afraid."

Demetri's free hand rested against Y/N's other cheek as he released his forehead from hers. Without hesitating any further, he lowered his lips to those of his mate. Instantly Y/N tensed and Demetri feared that he had gone too far. But Y/N leaned more toward him. Her chest pressed against his to keep her towel where it was as she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss as passionately as Demetri had.

The vampire's hands dropped down to Y/N's hips.

When they both broke away from each other, Demetri stopped with his lips just inches from hers. Y/N opened her eyes, letting her right arm slide down Demetri's chest. The vampire inhaled, even though he didn't have to, not breaking eye contact with Y/N for a second. "I would never hurt you Y/N. I'm not the monster the Cullens want me to be."

Y/N placed her right hand on Demetri's cheek. Her fingertips gently ran over his skin. With a smile, Y/N watched as Demetri's eyes closed as he leaned into her touch. She realized that he felt the same in her presence as she did in his, comfort.

Y/N leaned closer to Demetri with her face getting closer and closer to him. Just as the young girl was about to close her eyes, a ringing interrupted her. Startled, Y/N flinched and separated herself from Demetri. The latter opened his eyes annoyed when Y/N took her hands from him, put them back to the towel and detached herself from his body. Demetri let go of her, watching as Y/N went to her cell phone, picked it up and read the name. "Bella..."

Shaking his head, he walked back toward her. "Don't answer it." Uncertain, his mate looked at him as her fingers tightened around her phone. Demetri had enough of Bella, enough of the promise of what she had taken from his mate, and enough of waiting. He grabbed Y/N`s face between his hands again, pulling her body towards him and letting his lips meet hers. Startled by her mate's rudeness, she dropped the phone on the floor between them. Her fingers buried themselves in the thick material of Demetri's top, at his waist.

"Tonight you're all mine, tonight it's just the two of us!"

Demetri bent Y/N's head slightly to the side with his right hand. Immediately he lowered his lips to the skin on her neck, causing his mate to groan. Meanwhile, his hands wandered over her shoulders to the top saun of the towel, where he untied the knot Y/N had made in it to make sure the fabric stayed where it was.

Y/N shuddered as she felt the fabric of the towel loosen around her body. With trembling fingers she pushed herself away from Demetri. Confused, he looked at her and wanted to protest, but fell silent when Y/N's fingers went to the first button of his shirt and opened it. They both looked into each other's eyes while she repeated this with the other buttons. Carefully, Y/N ran the exposed skin back up as she undid the last button. As she did so, she could swear Demetri gasped several times. Arriving at his shoulders, she slipped the shirt off his body. She let her fingers wander further up his neck and pulled him down to her. This time it was Y/N who deepened the kiss directly as Demetri's hands worked their way down to her thighs. He lifted her up without breaking the kiss and placed her on the bed behind them.

The vampire and his mate created their own little world that night under the protection of her darkness. A world where Bella and the Cullens were forgotten. Where Y/N's fears for the future had no place. Where the ringing of Y/N's cell phone was ignored and where she belonged completely to Demetri.

A world that shattered with the first rays of daylight. When Y/N opened her eyes, she was aware not only of the burning sensation left by Demetri's touch, but also of the tightness in her lungs. She had betrayed her sister.

Y/N turned in bed to face her window. The side of the bed on which Demetri had been lying was cold, but not empty. A note lay on the pillow. Confused, the young girl straightened up, grabbed it and read it.

"Daylight exposes your sins more and more, so why still try to hide them in the darkness?"

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I will write a Part 3

@twilightlover2007​ @ssnapsaurus @svtbpbts

@xxx-wounded-angel-xxx  @ms-sasa​

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

How are you doing? I hope you are feeling well.

Is it possible for a teen power or denji like reader? And if you would like maybe the reader also has the same past as denji or power from chainsaw man. You can choose whoever you want to do. I also really enjoy your posts! Thank you! And reminder for you to not overwork yourself. Please take care of yourself and make sure to take breaks. Stay safe :)

I am doing well, thanks for asking. I am glad, that you liked my posts. Enjoy ☺️

Denji! Teen! Reader

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD Characters x GN! Platonic! Denji! Teen! Reader

Description: There was something strange with Their Guiding Light.

Warning: OOC. Slight-Spoilers to Chainsaw Man (Denji's Past, Fate's of some Characters, Makima mentioned, No Nayuta). English is my second language.

_______

You put your finished homework in your bag, trying not to damage notebook pages. Your handwriting became better, your reading skills proved and, recently, your math teacher praised for all the progress you have made.

Life became... normal.

As normal as a devil hybrid's life could be. Especially, if said hybrid had to take care of a cat and seven dogs, go to school and safe people from devils at their spare time.

Your fingers brushed against a chainsaw cord.

Pochita... Aki... Power...

Would your life ever be normal again?

If someone asked you if you blamed your father, for what has happened, you would say "I dunno"

If it wasn't for his debt, you won't become Devil Hunter, worked with Yakuza, had your heart fused with Pochita... Won't meet your friends. And Makima...

This situation was complex.

Really complex.

And you didn't want to think about it.

Not now. Maybe, later.

For now, you have some reading exercises.

You stand up and took new Bungou stray dogs manga volume.

With your phone near (to look a meaning of words you don't know), you start reading it.

________

🐾Their Guiding Light was really emotional and kind. And each time Guiding Light decided to say something good about them...

"Kunikida is so serious! It's cool and funny at the same time. I wonder if he could help me with math homework." Little Light was practically vibrating, rubbing against Kunikida's cheek.

"I would like to make some bombs with Kajii! Sounds cool!" Little Light was purring, curled on Kajii's head.

"Oh! Fyodor is so smart! I wanna be as smart, as him, one day!" Everyone try to hold back their laughter, looking at Little Light, who were "hugging" Fyodor's face.

🐾 But there was something, that makes them worried. They guessed, that you were a teen. And, for some reason, you have some troubles with reading. You were slow, re-reading some words, and taking your time.

🐾 They were worried, because they were afraid, that Their Guiding Light were bullied because of their reading habits. It was another reason for them to get to the real world faster. To protect you from bullies.

______

You were having lunch on a school rooftop. It's not like you can't eat at the school's cafeteria.

But, if Chainsaw Devil Hunter are needed, you need an easy way to get to the battle. Without being noticed.

You were ready to take a first bite of your food, when the school building started to shake.

Another Devil (you really didn't care about what kind of devil it was), was on a run. You put your lunch box down. Time to get to business.

You didn't notice, how your phone screen became white.

You pull the chainsaw's cord and jumped.

---------

When you returned to the roof, you saw a group of shocked BSD Characters.

______

🐾 Yosano checked fifteen minutes, checking your face and arms, making sure, that you weren't hurt. During check-ups, BSD Cast explained everything to you.

🐾 Your life became even stranger.

_________

🐾 You have a huge family right now. And a protective one.

🐾 When you were moving into the new house, some Devil Hunters (who knew about your Chainsaws) tried to stop them. It took one "F*** off, they are my kid now" from Fukuchi to stop them.

🐾 Chuuya became a second owner for your dogs. Fukuzawa became a second owner of your cat.

🐾 Kunikida and Poe are tutoring you. You wanted to improve your math, writing and reading skills.

🐾 Mori and Yosano will always run a medical check-ups on you, after your transformations.

🐾 Fitzgerald bought every merch with your Devil Form he can find.

🐾 You told Ango, Ranpo and Ayatsuji and Power's last request. They try to help you find a new Incarnation of Blood Devil.

🐾 Kids now attending the same school as you. After you defend them from bullies, they created a fan club of you. Not to Chainsaw Devil Hunter. No, to [Y/N] [L/N].

🐾 Life didn't become less chaotic. But, it became warmer. And more homey.

[icequeenbae]

Giving Love a Shot (m) | BBH

Previous: Snapshot (m) [pt.1], Shot Through the Heart (m) [pt.2]

Pairing: photographer!Baekhyun x idol!Reader

Photographer AU, Established Relationship, PWP, fluff, smut (the usual)

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, Baek is the god of oral™

Word Count: ~3k

Summary: You and Baekhyun have been trying out the whole ‘dating thing’ for a few months now. He comes to visit you in Japan during your schedule and things take an unexpected turn.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Author’s note: Hey hey, your authornim is back!! Thanks to @hwasdollie who took on and completed her beta duties so swiftly, I am able to post this during my birthday month!! I might be able to post smth else for a different fandom before the end of June as well but shhhhh Anyways, since a few people approached me asking for the continuation of the photographer!Baek story, I decided it's time to get my act together and post it! I hope you like it!! And please don't stay silent, you know I love to chat 💕💕💕

Network Tags: @kvanity-main @exo-writers-net @bbh-net @superm-net

‘Goodnight, Miss.’

You bowed to the hotel staff in a polite manner, looking perfectly put together. They only saw your eyes anyway, with your habit of wearing a mask at all times. Especially now that you had all your makeup removed after the full day of interviews. As your skin got pretty sensitive, you didn’t like to walk around bare-faced where people could see. Or worse, take pictures.

Had anyone asked, you would say that you contained your excitement reasonably well. Considering how giddy you actually felt, knowing that your boyfriend was coming to visit tonight. Actually, you were so impatient that you texted him from the elevator.

‘I’m almost in my room. Where are you now?’

Baekhyun was actually supposed to be there before you, so you arranged a spare key to wait for him at the reception desk downstairs. Of course, you made sure that it was discreet. You left it in a sealed envelope stuffed with blank paper to be passed onto him as soon as he arrived. He didn’t text you back in the last thirty minutes, so you assumed he was probably still on his way.

Swinging the door open, you walked inside and instantly removed your shoes. Your legs were killing you after wearing high heels all day. Checking your phone again, you confirmed that no answer came through and decided to make a quick run for the bathroom.

Incredibly short – in your personal opinion – fifteen minutes later, you were all done. But there was still no response from your highly anticipated guest.

‘Where is he, dammit?’ You muttered under your breath, walking into the room to get fresh clothes.

But as soon as you turned the lights on…

‘Oh my g-’ You covered your mouth to silence yourself.

There, on the armchair, was a neat pile of clothes. Male clothes. Meanwhile, said male was… in your bed. Sleeping like a baby.

There he was, your unreachable boyfriend. Resting up well, instead of giving you a warm welcome as soon as you walked in.

As your heart rate returned to normal, you rolled your eyes. If he wasn’t making an effort to stay awake, you were going to change into comfy panties and a crop top, as sexy lingerie obviously wasn’t on the menu for tonight, and join him. Turning off the upper light, you left the wall sconces on both sides of the bed on. Just for a minute.

You crawled under the duvet, instantly embraced by the warmth generated by Baekhyun’s body.

Two assertive arms snaked their way around your body, hugging you tightly.

‘Oh- you’re awake?’ You whispered in surprise, being pulled deeper into his den.

‘M- ‘f course,’ he murmured, eyes still closed.

‘Yeah, right,’ you snorted, squeezing his bicep in mock frustration. ‘I see you grew tired of waiting for me…’

‘Not at all. Your pillows just smelled so nice. And I know you hate when I get on the bed wearing clothes.’ He said, and you nodded in agreement. ‘So, I showered and decided to surprise you.’

‘By sleeping in my bed?’

You huffed out a laugh, brushing his messy hair out of his eyes as he cracked one of them open.

‘I wasn’t supposed to be asleep.’ He began, watching you with just that one eye, like a sleepy pirate. ‘I had an entire performance planned.’

‘That so?’ You nudged.

‘Picture this: you walk in, and I’m already on the bed buck naked, holding a rock-hard dick in my hand. ‘Enjoy the ride’ banner right behind me.’

‘Oh gosh,’ you coughed. ‘I’m thankful you changed your mind.’

‘I didn’t. There was just no scotch tape. And while I was weighing the probability of you killing me in case I used bubble gum,’ he paused to catch your hand that could very well pinch him for the suggestion. ‘…I fell asleep. Just for a second. More like drowsed.’

‘Drooling all over my pillow?’ You teased, causing him to frown.

‘I only drool when I’m dreaming of eating you out, and we didn’t get to that tonight,’ he said in a tone that suggested it was obvious and you should’ve known better. ‘Drowsed for a sec, nothing more.’

You only chuckled, fingers tracing the lines of his face. His sharp jaw, his prominent cheekbones, his soft lips.

‘I missed you a lot, aegiya.’ He said out of nowhere, both eyes closed.

‘You saw me two weeks ago,’ you mumbled, becoming shy as soon as he used the pet name.

It was so strange, even after these past few months, to see him like this. How could anyone become so boyfriend-y all of a sudden? You had no idea Baekhyun even had a side like this when you decided to get into this relationship. He’d managed to surprise you in multiple ways already; him flying across the ocean just to see you was one of the examples.

‘Exactly. Don’t tell me you weren’t suffering through every single day away from me…’

His fingers traced the skin underneath your top, threatening to start tickling you, and you squirmed, pushing him away timidly.

‘Why are you so lovey-dovey out of the blue? Are you talking in your sleep?’

‘Hey, that hurts. The real question is, why aren’t you? Aren’t you happy to see your oppa?’ He kept tugging you closer as you resisted playfully.

‘Ew. I told you, I’m not calling you that.’

‘Why’s that,’ he leaned in to kiss your neck and you failed to push his face away.

‘Don’t be gross.’

‘You’re my aegi, and I’m older, so-’

‘There’s no kissing for oppas. Or anything else fun.’ You pressed, licking your lips. ‘Only for my boyfriend. Baekhyun.’

He looked at your mouth a second too long, before muttering a low.

‘I see.’

You swallowed, trapped in this demonstrative struggle.

‘I see how it is, Y/N.’ He repeated slowly, catching you off guard with a sudden tug to finally press your body to his. ‘You think you got me all soft for you, so now you can do whatever you wish, hm?’

You bit your lip, shivering in excitement. His voice sounded gentle but low. Whenever he used this tone, you knew it was time to be a good girl.

‘Please don’t scold me, Baekhyunie,’ you pouted, caressing his shoulder sheepishly.

‘You didn’t give me an answer. Are you happy to see me?’ He pulled away slightly to give you a sharp glance.

‘Of course.’

‘That’s it?’ His furrowed eyebrows made him look dissatisfied.

‘I missed you. A lot. Too.’ You mumbled, eyes wandering around his bare chest.

‘Why are you so flustered?’ He continued his questioning, not allowing you to move away from his slow offense. ‘Thinking dirty thoughts already?’

The exposed look on your face probably told him everything.

‘Aegiya,’ Baekhyun smiled, content with your reaction. ‘You’re so easy to mess with.’

‘No, I’m no-’ Your protest was interrupted by a quick kiss.

‘Yes, you are. The moment I lower my voice you turn into a cute little puddle,’ he stated with the most satisfied look on his face before nuzzling your neck. ‘You know what else turns you into a pool of hot mess?’

You whimpered, startled by the pressure of his fingers directly on your clit.

‘God, I missed you,’ he gritted, licking a stripe over your ribs and inhaling your scent.

‘Baek-’ You swallowed, latching onto his shoulder. ‘We can’t be loud here. The girls are on this floor, and what if someone-’

‘This is a five-star hotel, princess.’ He made sure to continue his descent despite your feeble protests.

‘It’s not completely sound-proof!’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick.’ He smirked, hooking the fabric of your panties with his thumb to get them out of the way.

Making it quick was worse. It meant he was going to go zero to one hundred in a snap of his dainty fingers, and you were in no way ready to handle it.

During the course of your rather new relationship, he’d managed to perfect his oral technique to such an extent that you had to literally refuse him the pleasures of the mouth whenever you were outside the privacy of your homes. It was just too risky. If someone was to hear you…

He tended to make your sessions extremely noisy.

‘Just relax. I know what I’m doing,’ he hummed before poking his tongue out and dragging it slowly over your slit.

‘Oh-’ You grabbed onto the duvet, and he did it again.

Not forgetting to slurp this time.

Biting hard on your lip, you tried to keep still. But even that didn’t help when his wet tongue flicked your engorged clit. You could see him already getting into it. His heavy-lidded eyes watched you through the blond strands, and his mouth opened wide as if he attempted to swallow your entire pussy.

You panted, trying to move away, but he held you securely in place by the hips.

Baekhyun’s breath became heavier and heavier, and the sound of it only made you go mad with the thrill. His tongue flattened out and he moved his head up and down to drag it over your core.

Just as you thought that this was bearable, he did the unexpected. He sucked your clit into his mouth harshly, coating the area with so much saliva you could feel it trickle down to your entrance.

‘A-ah!’ You flexed your abs and pressed at the back of his head, chasing the contact.

Instead of slowing down as he usually did, he continued increasing the intensity. His tongue ran up and down your core with urgency before his lips closed around your most sensitive spot again, sucking harshly and then breaking out into short licks.

‘Baek, stop- I can’t-’ You sobbed mid-sentence as he shook his head lightly, adding stimulation.

At this point, his own breathing was loud and labored, as if he was the one on the receiving end of this hustle.

But, as soon as your breaths became shallow and your muscles started to clench, he ripped himself away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘I just love bringing you to the edge,’ he admitted, licking his lips hungrily. ‘cause then I don’t have to spare your pussy.’

He slapped your vulva abruptly, and you yelped from the jarring sensation, sitting up.

‘Ride me, baby,’ Baekhyun said, dropping on his back as you got on top of him readily.

You wanted to get this over with. You needed him to finish what he’d started.

‘Shit.’ He cursed as soon as you brought your thighs down. ‘Go on.’

Swaying your hips, you focused on the friction against your walls. He always felt so good inside you.

‘Let me help you a little,’ he suggested, taking hold of your pelvis to aid you in your movements.

Leaning onto his chest with your palms, you went as hard as you could. And his thighs met yours, sounding a skin-to-skin slap upon every fleeting contact.

‘M-Baek,’ you whined, messing up the pace.

‘Don’t slow down,’ he demanded, fingers digging into your skin.

‘I can’t-’

He put his palm onto your back and prodded you to lean forward, gaining enough momentum to start pounding into you from below.

‘Fuck.’ He gritted, ignoring your uncontrollable moans and the lecherous noises from where your skin met his.

Baekhyun’s eyes never left your body, and he kept his tempo for as long as he could.

‘Fuck- Fuck!’ He suddenly growled, and you shrieked as you became undone.

‘B-Baekhyun,’ you cried out, held solid by his hands while his dick kept nailing you.

Thankfully, your boyfriend was quick to follow you and find his release. You whimpered as he shook briefly, letting out only a strained grunt to signify that he was finished for now.

He rolled you over to rest on top of your body, his entire weight pushing you down, and kissed you deeply. Both your and his breathing was hectic, but it didn’t hinder the interaction. Your fingers traced his prickly nape, while his tongue played with yours.

You laid like that for a bit before he scrambled off of you, finally letting you breathe properly.

‘I really did miss you.’

He smiled as you said that, and leaned in to press a playful kiss to your nose.

‘I know.’

You poked his cheek in embarrassment. He was a really affectionate boyfriend, and you loved that about him. It did make you a bit bashful though. Strangely, more so than your crazy sex marathons.

‘Thanks for flying all the way here just for me.’

‘It wasn’t just for you. I got a couple gigs here for the next few days,’ he shrugged, and then added. ‘I might’ve gotten those after I bought flight tickets, but sh-h! I can’t let it go to your head.’

‘Why not?’ You pouted, stroking his collarbone.

‘Aegiya, you already behave like a little princess, we don’t want it to get any worse, do we?’

‘Am I not your little princess?’ You narrowed your eyes at him.

‘You are,’ he sighed in defeat. ‘I guess, you win.’

‘What did I win?’ You chuckled, pecking him on the chin.

‘I don’t know. What would you like?’

The answer came with no hesitation.

‘You.’

‘That’s cute,’ he snickered. ‘You already have me.’

‘Hm. Then I don’t need anything else.’

‘Ugh. You don’t even have to call me oppa. I’m already melting like an ice-cream cone in a warm hand.’

You snorted at his words, and he gave you a long look.

‘I wonder what you pictured just now.’

‘Baekhyun!’

‘Alright, you don’t have to tell me.’ He agreed quickly, beaming at you shamelessly.

You shook your head.

‘It probably has something to do with my dick anyways.’

At this you kicked him lightly with your knee.

‘Ouch. Love hurts.’

~~~

You and Baekhyun stayed up super late (as per usual), talking about your time apart, teasing each other and bickering about pet names. So, when it was time for you to wake up and start getting ready… You decided to have some more beauty sleep.

However, after you ignored a bunch of ‘check-in’ morning messages from your members, the usual procedure was carried out – they sent one of their own to wake you up.

‘Eonni, are you up? We have to move out in an hour.’ Your maknae’s voice reached you through the layers of bedcovers and Baekhyun, who was practically wrapped around you.

Baekhyun.

Opening your eyes, you rose on the bed and rubbed your face to get ahold of reality.

‘Eo- eonni?’

The youngest of the group stood frozen in front of your bed, eyes open wide. Even with your brain barely shaken out of sleep, you realized what stunned her.

The blond man in your bed, who had his arm wrapped around you still, stirred from the noise and laid on his back, stretching out before opening his eyes. Your gaze fell on his exposed chest, and you quickly pulled the duvet up to cover the eloquent scratch you must’ve left on his pec yesterday.

‘What’s going on?’ He asked groggily, and the third person in the room finally broke out of her lethargic state.

‘S-sorry!’ She turned around and sprinted out of your room as if a demon was chasing her.

You called after her, but the click of the door locking announced that she was already gone.

‘Ah, dammit.’ You sighed, rubbing your pulsing temple.

Baekhyun’s hand squeezed your thigh to draw your attention.

‘Sorry. I overslept and one of the girls came to wake me up. Go back to sleep, I’ll deal with it.’ You caressed his cheek gently before turning away to get out of the bed.

‘What are you going to do?’

That was the question you had been asking yourself.

‘I’m not sure,’ you admitted. ‘That was our maknae, so… she’s probably told the entire group already. She is… easily excitable.’

‘Maybe you don’t have to do anything.’ He said, looking up at you.

‘Hm?’

‘Just tell them the truth. You’re not a rookie, no one’s going to kick you out of the group or whatever.’

You sighed. He was right, of course, but… You were scared. Admitting that to your group and management would make all of this official, and there’d be no turning back after that.

‘…or, you can just forget I said that. You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.’

He sounded neutral, yet somehow you knew he only made it seem like he wouldn’t be hurt in this scenario. Baekhyun truly was perfect in those few months you were together, so there was no reason for you to doubt his intentions. And you also liked him, a lot.

Maybe this morning was more of a blessing than a curse?

‘I’ll tell them. I’m tired of sneaking around anyways.’

‘Really? I found that quite exciting. Being your secret lover. Sneaking into your room through the window and all that.’

‘That never happened,’ you laughed.

‘It could’ve!’

‘Shut up,’ you pecked his smiling lips and picked up your phone.

Dozens of new messages in your group chat.

‘Y/N, if you’re not telling us who that ‘blond oppa’ in your bed was, we’re coming over to your room! We’re dying over here!!’

You read the last message out loud to Baekhyun.

‘That’s why I refuse to call you that. As soon as I introduce you to them, it’s going to be ‘Baekhyun oppa’ all the time. I like to be special.’

‘Gotcha,’ he snickered. ‘But princess, text them back before the whole intervention committee walks through that door. I’m not exactly wearing underwear.’

‘Oh crap, I better.’

Masterlist

A/N: This is it for now with our freshly domesticated bf Baek~ I hope you enjoyed it the ride so far!! Let me know in the comments/ asks and reblog if you liked it ❤️

[desceros]

You & GB are RUINING me with your blurple villain Leo au How dare you sirs?! You've turned me absolutely feral a slobbering bitey mess /pos

Unfortunately for you activating my hyperfixation also means activating my obsessive brain spinning... Questions be upon ye!!!

Did Lamb-chan grow up with Donnie? How did she first meet villain!Leo? What did she do/say that flipped Leo from "you're a pretty dumb innocent little lamb huh" to "you're *mine* I am keeping you forever"? How did Donnie react the first time Lamb-chan came home smelling like Leo? Is that what snapped his control, the moment his instincts drove him to finally (thoroughly) demonstrate just how well he can take care of her? How did Leo react the next time he saw Lamb-chan & she smelled like Donnie?

I humbly submit these questions in the hopes that you may see fit to give me any crumbs nay even specks of delicious brain food that can be spared 🙏 pls & ty 🙏🙏

[after i gush for twenty minutes about how this is all their fault for enabling me] oh man i love questions

EDIT THIS GOT SO LONG. OH MY GOD. IM PUTTING IT UNDER A CUT also hi @gbao3 <3 please add your thoughts to this as well

so it aaaaaaall started with this post, with leo being the wolf and donnie being the sheep dog.

as such, you're childhood friends with donnie, since sheep dogs grow up with their sheep. i imagine he's basically always been a little in love with you, but it hasn't always been... ah... healthy? like. when he was young it was that kind of 'when we grow up let's get married bc we're best friends' love. and then as a teenager it became kind of an obsession. doesn't the world know how important you are to him? can't you see how dangerous it can be without him to protect you?

it's during this stage that he's maybe a bit self-destructive with it, literally at one point putting himself between you and another mutant, ending up with him having the scars on his shell. he mellows out a little as he grows older, to the point where now it's just a fact of his life that he's in love with you and there won't ever be anyone else; it's less of a fire inside of him and more just. yeah. duh? of course i love them and would die for them? zzzzz next question. but he's still very much the kind of person who asks you your itinerary down to the fifteen minute mark when you leave so he can make sure to know exactly when you'll be home.

i suspect that as lamb-chan, as much as you also love donnie, that can get a little, uh. overbearing. to say the least. i think that you have a habit of slipping out from time to time (since you live at the lair where donnie is always always always watching), just to breathe, to get away from it a little. the world looks a little different without donatello at your side, after all, and you're a little curious. so maybe you wander a little too far, sometimes.

and leo. god. leo is a breath of something that feels like air, but you're not sure what it is.

i don't have the exact first meeting pinned down in my head, but i do have this mental image of him sitting on a fire escape, one knee bent up to his chest and the other hanging down the side, a toothy grin on his face as he mockingly asks what a soft little thing like you is doing on this side of town. and you see him and you're just like, oh. he. he looks a lot like donnie. so you're a lot less scared than you probably should be, and that—that fascinates him. what kind of world do you live in where he's all but a perfect picture of the underbelly of the world, and you smile at him?

what would it take for you to look at him like everyone else does?

so he invites you to come back again. and you, well, you're just like. wow!! friend shaped!! so you do. but this time leo's not on the fire escape. he's on the ground, and he circles you a bit like a predator would. he's looking for you to be uncomfortable; to be afraid. but he made one small mistake; the shape of his smirk, now that he's close, is eerily familiar. it looks so much like donnie's, you could swear the two were twins. and it makes it so, so hard to be anything other than curious. mikey and raph don't look so similar to donnie, after all. why does leo?

so it continues like that until one day, leo says something and you laugh. and that—that hits him like a bludgeon to the chest. it's not like any laugh he's ever had directed at him before. and when you open your eyes, wiping away the amused tears, your gaze is so fucking soft. in that moment, leo realizes that he's hungry. and you—you look like you'd taste so. good.

meanwhile donnie is like. no really. where the fuck are you going. and one day he follows you and who the fuck is this guy with his arms around you. (but i think i'm going to leave that one for another day bc i have a nice one-shot in my drafts folder about how that'd play out)

[master-sass-blast]

Let's Call it a Draw -Part Two: Victory.

Part One

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika x Reader.

Rating: E for explicit sex.

Word count: 7.2k.

Author's Note: Me? Posting more than once a year? Surely not.

In other news, my CFS/other body and brain shit is still overwhelming. It basically took dragging myself through editing to be able to post this latest round of fics (for those of you who don't check out my other works, no worries, but I like to post in little caches so that everything is updated mostly together). I'm not trying to vie for pity; I'm really fucking proud of myself for pushing through and being able to post. I had an unofficial goal of wanting to post more fics before April was over (because April is my birth month), and I did it! I am that bitch!

Thank you all for your patience -and all the comments! They really kept me going when the grind of editing was starting to wear me down.

Happy Reading!

Your apartment is a moderate walk from The Last Drop; not too far to make the commute unbearable, but long enough that Sevika is able to walk off the last of her buzz on the journey over. (She’s secretly grateful for the jaunt, because the last thing she wants is to go into what’s coming with anything less than perfect clarity of mind.) Your unit is tucked into a series of samey, stone-faced, grime-coated buildings, near the halfway point between the Lanes and Entresol.

Even better, it’s about fifteen minutes from her apartment. She tucks that tidbit of information away for later as she follows you up two flights of wrought iron stairs.

When asked why you picked your particular unit, you shrug and slide your key into the lock. “Quiet.” You open the door, then motion with one hand for her to step inside first. “Private. Decent enough neighbors.”

Sevika shrugs in response, hanging back in the entryway until you turn on a light. “Good enough reasons as any.”

Your apartment is small –a single, sparsely furnished studio with one solitary window that boasts a splendid view of the side of the neighboring building and the metal fire escape stairs. A light, covered with a cracked glass diffuser, hangs in the center of the room. On the far wall, next to the window, is a galley kitchen with wooden cabinets. A bed, stacked atop a few pallets, is tucked against the wall opposite the kitchen –and it is, certainly, bigger than hers. There’s a wooden table and a single chair between the bed and the kitchen. A chipped dresser rests at the foot of the bed. There’s a door near the entryway that boasts a glimpse of a tiled floor and the reflective flash of a mirror on the wall –a bathroom.

Oh, honey. She can’t really judge. She remembers what it was like when she got her first place. Her job had paid shit, and her apartment had looked like shit in return.

Your place, however, is conspicuously clean. There’s no trace of dust anywhere. No dishes left to fester in the sink. The counters and floors are immaculately tidy. Even your bed is perfectly made. The coat you use during the colder months hang on a hook next to the door, and your spare pair of boots sit on a mat beneath your coat.

In sum, it’ll hardly be the worst place she’ll ever fuck in.

“It’s not–” You purse your lips, then duck your head and look away from her. “I don’t –I’m not…” You swallow hard, then mumble, “Not so good at decorating.”

“That’s fine.” She hooks her fingers through your belt loops, then tugs you until you’re forced to face her. When your gaze stays glued to the floor, she murmurs, “Baby, look at me.” It takes a few long moments, but when you finally look her in the eye, she says, “It doesn’t bother me. Okay?”

Something dark and flighty clears from your eyes. You lift your chin, lower your shoulders, then reach behind you and finish closing the door to your apartment. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now–” you turn away briefly to lock the deadbolt and slide the security chain into place “–but uh…” You swallow, then laugh quietly. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve been doing great so far.” Warmth unfurls in her gut when you perk up at the praise. She smirks, then uses her grip on your belt loops to gently draw you further into your apartment. “And I don’t mind taking things slow.” She grins when your gaze flicks from her eyes, to her mouth, to her chest, then back to her eyes. “Might make things more straightforward if I ask you a few questions, though.”

You nod. “Shoot.”

“You ever get yourself off?”

You laugh –a proper, real laugh that makes your eyes crinkle around the corners. Tension melts from your shoulders, and your face lights up like the sun. “I’m not a nun.”

Sevika hums in understanding. She takes a few moments to savor the brightness on your face, then continues. “What do you like?” When you blink blankly, she clarifies, “When you’re touching yourself?”

“Uh…” You look away, eyes wide with confusion. Your brows draw together, and you huff before shrugging. “Getting off? I…”

“I meant how do you prefer to get yourself off?” Sevika interjects. “Toys, fingers, penetration–”

Your hackles rise before she even gets “penetration” all the way out. Your mouth creases into a tight grimace, and your jaw locks. You swallow hard, gazing locking on the floor as you take a deep, bracing breath. You shake your head. “Don’t like penetration.”

“Alright.” She lets go of your belt loops and smooths her hands over your hips in small, soothing circles. “That’s alright.” She waits until you glance at her, then smirks and arches one eyebrow suggestively. “Still leaves me with plenty of options.”

You let out a small, choked whimper.

She grins. “How do you like to touch yourself?”

“Um…” You swallow hard, then follow with dazed, uneven footsteps as she guides you towards your bed. Your eyes stay locked on her –her face, her mouth, her body. “With my fingers.”

“How many?”

“U-usually two.”

The heavy, dark weight of your gaze and your ragged panting makes her ache. She waits for a moment, watches as you wet your lips with your tongue, then asks, “Where do you use your fingers?”

You let out a shuddering breath. “On my clit.”

She grins wider, then goes in for the kill. “Good girl.”

You whine. Your knees nearly give out, and you slump partway against her. A few stitches on the seams of her pants pop when your hands clamp down on her hips. “Fucking hell –Sevika–”

She kisses you. She grips the contours of your waist to steady you both, then sets about plundering your mouth with her tongue.

You whimper into her mouth. Your hands migrate upwards, until they find the gap between the waistline of her trousers and the hem of her top. Greedy fingers press against her skin, mapping out every exposed inch, then edge higher still as you slide them beneath the bottom of her shirt.

She shudders, then breaks the kiss with a wet pop. She admires your kiss swollen, spit slick lips for a moment, then looks up and drinks in your wild, ravenous, lust-heavy eyes. “Mind if I run something by you?”

“Go for it,” you say, voice gone to gravel.

She grins and rubs her thumbs against your waist. “I want to get you in this bed…” She nudges you gently, then pivots when you move so that you’re standing against the bed and she has her back to your kitchen. “I want to get you out of these clothes…” She presses on your shoulders, then clambers onto the bed and straddles your lap when you drop down on your bed. She winds her arms around your neck and looks you in the eye. “And then I want to use my mouth on you until you forget your name.” She smirks when your mouth falls open. “How’s that sound?”

“Yes.”

She chuckles, then kisses you again. She hums with approval when you grab her ass, then slides one hand into your hair. She tugs, then grins when you groan. “You didn’t quite answer my question, sweetheart.” She has to bite back a laugh when you look up at her with dopey, slightly glazed over eyes. “If there’s something you don’t want –or do want–then I want to hear about it.”

You swallow audibly, gaze locked on hers. “I –I like the sound of everything you said.” You slide your hands up her sides, callused fingers catching on the rough material of her shirt. You admire her body for a long moment, tracking the journey of your hands, then look back up at her. “Can –can you get undressed, too?”

She smiles and nods. “Sounds good to me.”

You exhale shakily, then lick your lips. “I want to get you off, too.”

Her smile sharpens with smugness and anticipation. “That’s fine by me.” She strokes her fingers through your hair, and her heart flutters when you sigh contently. “What else do you like?”

“I–” You shiver when her fingers graze over your scalp. “I like it when you touch me.”

She smirks. Easy enough. She drags her fingers down the nape of your neck. “What else?”

“Wh –when you–” You tip your head back to chase her touch. “When you tell me what to do. Makes me feel like I’m –like I’m not gonna fuck up.”

Like she was ever worried about that. “Guess it’s a good thing I like giving orders.” She smirks when you chuckle –but her mirth fades when she catches a slip in your expression. Your mouth pinches tight, and she sweeps her thumb over your cheek. “What is it?” Her eyes narrow when you duck your head and mutter under your breath, and she presses her fingers under your chin and tilts your head up until she can see your face. “Speak clearly, babygirl.”

You stare up at her with wide, glossy, reverent eyes. You swallow, jaw flexing, then breathe out, “I like –I like it when you tell me I’m good.”

Sevika grins. She’d already figured as much, but it’s so much more satisfying hearing you say it. “Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart.” She leans in, relishing how you tremble when she brushes her lips over your jaw. “Because you are so very…” She trails her lips down your neck, over your thundering pulse. “Very…” She licks the hollow of your throat, then finishes off with a graze of her teeth. “Good.”

Your fingers dig into her thighs as you moan. “Sevika–”

She presses her hands against your chest and pushes you back onto your bed. She follows you down, mouth attached to your neck, and murmurs a simple command into your skin. “Touch me.”

You do so quickly, ravenously. Your hands dig into her thighs and ass. You whimper into her mouth when she tightens her human hand in your hair, then your hips buck up against her when she tugs you head back and goes after your neck with her tongue. “Ohfuck!”

She plasters herself against you. Her tongue and lips and teeth trace over every inch of your neck, leaving no inch of skin unexplored. Arousal curls heavy in her gut as you shudder beneath her. She moans when you pull at her hips, causing her to grind against you. She rolls her hips against yours, then leans to one side and nips at your ear. “Good girl.”

A breathless whine leaves your lips. Your hands move up, up, up, until the tips of your fingers catch beneath the hem of her top.

She catches the hitch in your breath and pulls back to study your face.

You’re panting, lips slick with spit and kiss-swollen. Your gaze is locked in on the stripe of skin bared between her pants and her shirt. You drag your eyes up, over her chest, until you meet her own steady stare. Your throat bobs as you swallow. “I… Is this okay?”

“It is,” she assures you. She leans back, then reaches for the bottom clasp of her shirt with her right hand. She holds her hand there, not making to start undoing the clasps (which are designed to be undone with one hand, since her left catches on fabric too easily). “But it’ll be more comfortable if I take it off.”

Your eyes go dark and wide at the suggestion. You swallow again –then, hesitantly, lift one hand until it joins hers. “...Can I?”

Sevika smiles and moves her hand away to give you more space to work with. “Sure.”

You go slowly, but your hands are surprisingly steady. Gaze almost reverent, you work your way up each clasp until her shirt hangs open, exposing more dark skin and the fabric of her bra. You swallow hard when she shucks her shirt off and tosses it aside, then thumb the elastic band of her bra. “Can –is it –would you–”

Sevika merely smirks, then pulls her bra off over her head. The fabric thwaps lightly against the floor when she tosses it away, and then she gazes down at you like the cat that got the canary. “Better?”

All that comes out of you is a faint, strangled squeak. Your eyes jump up and down as you valiantly try to avoid ogling, only to lower back to her exposed chest.

She chuckles, then cups your face with her right hand. “You’re allowed to look.” She smiles down at you when you let out a shaky breath –then grins, all teeth and sly satisfaction. “I’d rather you did, considering I’ve got my shirt off and all.”

“Geh.” You sputter, half-formed words and grunts tumbling out, until your eyes finally wander down and stay there.

Sevika watches, unabashedly proud, as your lips part in dazed rapture. She holds still, lets you study and admire her bare skin and breasts.

She’s not necessarily voluptuous, by any means. The sheer physical demands of her life over the years has lent itself to the development of hardened muscle, not supple fat. Years of food scarcity (and money scarcity, for that matter) also means she hasn’t had ample opportunity to glut herself like the pigs up Topside.

She’s strong. Her body does its job, and garners the attention and attraction she wants. As such, she doesn’t spend time fretting about being “pretty” or more conventionally shapely –a good thing, since the explosion left a great deal of scarring over the left side of her chest and ribs.

Beauty contests are overrated, anyways.

So, it takes her off guard when you stroke the side of her waist and murmur, “You’re so pretty, Sev.”

She blinks a few times, lips parted in surprise. Then, out of instinct more than anything else, she scoffs. “That’s what everyone says to gal with her tits out.”

“No –it’s not–” You plant your hands on her thighs, then stare beseechingly up at her. “That’s not it,” you insist. “You’re pretty, Sevika.” You lift one hand and stroke the swell of her cheek with your knuckles. “I think you’re so beautiful.”

Her stomach flips. She swallows, suddenly light-headed, then leans down and kisses you again.

Callused hands smooth over her skin once more; you’re greedy, mapping out her abdomen and back. But you stall when your fingers graze the underside of her breasts. Your breath hitches against her lips, and your hands go still.

Without breaking the kiss, she takes one of your hands and presses it to one of her breasts. Amusement flashes through her when you let out a choked whimper, but it’s short lived as your touch lights her up. Mirth quickly yields to pleasure; she presses into your tentative touch, then groans against your lips when you squeeze her tit experimentally.

Enthusiasm seems to be all the reassurance you need. Your other hand envelops her other breast, and you squeeze and knead her chest with surprising gentleness.

She sets her agenda aside for now. As much as she wants to strip you down and break you apart until you’re a slick, sobbing mess, she doesn’t want to override your curiosity or confidence. She groans when you roll her stiff nipples beneath your thumbs in tight, circular motions. “That’s it –fuck.” She grinds her hips down against yours to try and appease her aching cunt. “Good girl.”

You whimper when she drags her teeth along the length of your neck.

She wanders lower, down to the collar of your shirt –but freezes when you take your hands off her tits. She leans back when you prop yourself up on your elbows. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you pant empathically. “I just–” You sit up, then shuck your shirt and bra off over your head in one swift movement. You toss the clothes onto the floor next to your bed. Trepidation flashes across your face the second after the garments thwap against the wooden floor. You slowly turn your head and look at her. “Is… is this okay?”

Sevika grins, slow and hungry. “This,” she murmurs as she drapes her right arm over your shoulder, “is very okay, sweetheart.”

The grin you flash at her in return is pure, giddy joy.

You’re built a lot like her. Big, strong, with scars and a few prison tattoos along your arms and shoulders.

The more analytical, tactical part of her mind notes you’ve put on weight since leaving Stillwater. Her mind harkens back to early days of training with you, then cleaning up after in the gym showers after. You’d still been big, and built, but she’d been able to see your ribs while you’d changed shirts. Now, you’ve filled out nicely. You look like you’re actually eating, instead of starving on the prison rations.

She lays you back out on the bed, admiring you from above. She sweeps her right hand along the yoke of your shoulder and over your collarbones, skirting above your chest (for now).

Your eyelids flutter. You sigh, then latch on to either side of her waist and pull her down on top of you.

Skin contact is nice. She’s not usually the type to get up close and cuddly with most of her lays, but even she can concede that the sensation is pleasant. It runs the gambit of being soothing or exhilarating, depending on circumstantial context.

You gasp when her chest presses flush against yours. The bed creaks as you arch up against her. A broken, ecstatic moan falls from your open lips.

Sevika lets out a low, aroused groan in response to your excitement. She plasters herself against you, then busies herself in working her way down your neck and drinking in your unrestrained noises of pleasure.

She pauses long enough, just above your breasts, to ask “Is this okay?” Your immediate, ragged “Yes!” spurs her on, and she lowers her head to kiss your left breast. She slides her tongue over soft skin experimentally, mostly to gauge your reaction. Another open-mouthed kiss elicits a breathy exhale and some slight squirming. Satisfied, she moves lower, and gently wraps her lips around your peaked nipple.

Your responding sigh trails into a faint moan.

She cycles through a few staples –swirling your nipple beneath her tongue, rhythmic sucking, even carefully biting the stiffened bud. The last one gets the strongest response –a deep, broken, surging groan that she’ll be replaying in her mind for weeks to come–but she opts to move on after giving some cursory attention to your other breast. She kisses her way down your stomach, leaving smudged lipstick marks as she goes. Sevika lifts her head to admire how her lipstick looks against your skin, then lowers her mouth once more and drags her teeth over a spot on the side of your waist.

You yelp. The bed rocks as you thrash and try to squirm away from her mouth.

Sevika bars your hips down with her metal arm (but even then, it’s a struggle) and lifts her head. “You okay?”

“You–” You lift your head, then narrow your eyes when you catch her smirk. “You bitch.”

Her smirk widens into a grin. She carefully teases your side with the tips of her metal fingers, then chuckles when you squawk. “Something wrong, baby girl?”

“Fuck you.”

She laughs again, then takes mercy on you and goes back to lavishing your abdomen with her mouth.

She traverses lower, steady but slow enough that she can gauge your reactions. When the tension, the freezing she’s waiting for never comes, she hooks her human fingers beneath the band of your pants and briefs beneath. “I’d like to take these off you.” She waits, trailing soft, barely-there kisses along your abdomen. When you don’t respond past a shuddering, quiet moan, she asks, “That okay?”

“Yes,” you answer in a drawn out, somewhat strangled whimper.

She waits while you undo the buttons on the fly of your pants, then drags your trousers and briefs down once you lift your hips.

You draw your legs up to aid the process. Once your pants and underwear hit the floor, though, the hesitance creeps back in.

Sevika stills when she watches your shoulders bunch up. She waits for a moment –but, when you don’t say or do anything, she nudges. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, then swallow. “Just –uh…” Your tongue works inside your cheek for a moment, and then you let out a breathy, nervous laugh. “Just– I think– might feel less silly, uh, if–”

A small smirk plays on her lips when you gesture between the two of you. “That’s fine.”

The clasp of her belt clacks when it smacks against her thigh. She kicks her boots off, then shucks off her pants and underwear in swift, even motions. The last of her clothes join yours on the floor.

“Wow.”

She does a double take when she hears the hushed, awe-struck whisper. She looks at you, brows raised towards her hairline. She takes in your wide-eyed, almost worshipful expression. Something soft and sweet settles in her chest like Firelight wings, and she smiles in spite of herself. “Good to know I’ve still got it.”

Your eyes rove over her body, tracing out every curve. “I don’t think you ever lost it.”

She chuckles, shakes her head, then straddles your bare hips. “You’re a fucking sap.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes to try and play off the warmth spreading through her chest. She plants one hand on either side of your head. “Try saying that when I’m not naked.”

Wide, panicked eyes snap up to hers. Your mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “I –you’re–”

She laughs. When you let out an irritated huff, she laughs harder. Sevika shakes her head, then cups your cheek with her right hand. “I’m just fucking with you, baby.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, even as you lean into her touch. “You’re a dick.”

“You just got that?”

A bemused smirk plays on your lips, before slipping away to something softer, more contemplative. Your hand hesitates halfway up, before circling behind her head. “Can I take this down?”

“Sure.” She reaches back with her right hand to help you undo the tie keeping her hair back, then shakes her head once her hair is free.

You smile, small and soft. You run your fingers through her hair, then tuck a few locks behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful.”

Heart racing, she leans down and kisses you. “No, you.”

Her journey back down your body is swifter this time around. She still teases your skin with her mouth, keeping that precious contact she’s learned you crave so fervently, but wastes no time in reaching her goal.

You let out a shuddering gasp when she situates herself between your thighs. A soft gulp emanates from your throat. “What –what should I do?”

“You’re supposed to enjoy yourself.” She brushes her lips against your inner thigh, then smirks when trembles wrack your body. “You put your hands on my hair, if you want.” She licks the junction where your thigh and hip meet, dragging a high-pitched moan past your lips. “You can tell me how good it feels.” And it’ll feel good, believe me. “But, otherwise, you just enjoy it, sweetheart.”

Your hips jerk when her breath fans over your cunt. One hand stutters down your body, then settles atop her head. You whimper. “Okay.”

Sevika pushes your thighs a little further apart, then settles on her belly, drapes her metal arm over your hits, and presses a soft, closed-mouth kiss against your pussy.

She's an old hat at eating women out. She’s not so proud as to call herself an “expert” –unless she’s drunk and bragging–but she knows she’s good at it. She knows the rules of eating pussy like the back of her hand.

First, don’t be afraid to explore. Don’t just focus on the clit and ignore everything else. The cunt is a buffet, and you’re there to eat.

Second, pay attention. Listen to how your bedmate responds, and listen to anything they mention beforehand. Being a know-it-all isn’t sexy.

Third, have fun. If you treat going down on your partner like a chore, they’ll pick up on it, and they won’t enjoy anything you do to them.

Fourth, don’t stop until they physically push you away.

She groans as she drags her tongue between your inner labia. Satisfaction sings through her veins –not so much at the taste (though she certainly enjoys that, too), but because she’s finally got her hands –mouth–on what she’s yearned after for so long.

It’s like working a marathon, back breaking, days long shift, just to finally come home and sink into a warm, soft bed. Except it’s eating pussy. Or whatever.

Ah, well. Metaphors can go fuck themselves, anyway. She has bigger priorities right now.

“Sev-vika!”

Like that.

Hitching, needy moans spill past your lips. “Ohmigod.” Your hips jerk against the (literal) iron bar of her mech arm. “Fuck –please, please–”

Sevika’s eyes dart up when you clap your other hand over your mouth. She pulls away from your dripping pussy –resulting in a strangled, confused whine from you–and tugs your hand away from your mouth. “Nuh-uh. Let me hear you, baby.”

Eyes glazed over and slightly unfocused, you stare at her glistening mouth before swallowing hard. “O-okay.”

She settles back between your legs, but pauses long enough to lock eyes with you again. “Good girl.”

Your responding whine is delicious.

She laps at your clit, swirls her tongue against the sensitive bud, then moves back down to lick around your entrance and suck on your sensitized flesh. She moans when you grind your clit against the bridge of her nose. “That’s it,” she growls into your soaked cunt. “Good girl.”

“Fuck!” Your fingers curl tightly into her hair. Thick, trembling thighs squeeze either side of her head. “ Quiet, strangled moans strain from your throat, followed by ragged, full-chested cries of pleasure, before cycling back to attempts to stifle yourself as pleasure rolls through you. You whimper, back arching off the bed. “Nnngh –that –m-more. More p-pressure, Sevika–”

She strokes your clit harder with her tongue, then starts alternating between sucking on your clit and licking it.

“Yes!” Tremors overtake your body. “That –that. Please. Please, please, please–”

Her eyelids slide shut when your cries cut off into silence. Her mech arm strains as your hips jerk against her mouth. She slowly ramps down the pressure and speed, coaxing you through your orgasm and into the afterglow.

Or, that’s the plan, at least.

Your body shudders as an aftershock runs through you. You let out a choked sob –then clap one hand over your mouth as another tremulous cry follows too close behind.

Crap. Sevika pulls her mouth away from your glistening pussy when you draw in a high-pitched, staggered, panicked breath. “Hey, hey.” She wipes her mouth on the back of her right forearm, then crawls up the bed. “Easy, sweetheart.” She wedges herself into the space next to you, then slides her right arm beneath your neck as she lies down. “C’mere.”

You curl into her and bury your face in her neck.

Hot, salty tears smear across her skin. She ignores the sensation in favor of stroking your hair and crooning reassuringly in your hair. “Just breathe for me. Come on.” She models a deep breath for you, then brushes her lips against your temple when you mimic her as best you can. “Attagirl. That’s it.”

A minute, shaky whimper falls from your lips. “I’m sor–”

“None of that,” Sevika cuts off, voice stern but gentle. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, baby. Just breathe for me, okay?”

Within a few minutes, you’re breathing more normally, even if you’re still tense as a rock and hiding your face in the crook of her neck. You swallow audibly, then curl one arm around her torso. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“What’d I say about doing that?” The corner of her mouth twitches up when you grunt into her neck. “It happens more than you think.”

“What, people have the best orgasm of their life, then blubber like a baby about it?”

Resisting the urge to preen is arduous. She inhales slowly, quietly, then forces her voice to come out neutral. “It’s called sub drop in BDSM communities. Endorphin and emotional high, followed by a drop after orgasm or a scene, followed by a crash. Happens in regular sex, too.” She cranes her head back and tilts her chin down until she can just see your eyes. “It’s normal.”

You drop her gaze and grunt against her shoulder.

“If anything,” she continues, “I should’ve warned you that it could happen. Prepared you better.” She strokes your hair lightly. “Ought to be me apologizing.”

You scoff. “Pretty sure you made me see god, if they exist. Think that balances everything out.”

She allows herself a smirk, then kisses the top of your head.

Once she’s confident that you’ve settled reasonably, she excuses herself to your bathroom. She washes and dries her face, then checks a couple drawers beneath your sink until she finds a few folded washcloths.

You lift your head when she walks back out of the bathroom. A confused frown tugs on your mouth when you see what’s in her hand. “Why…”

She arches one eyebrow and lifts the damp, clean rag. “For your sake, I hope you know to wash up after sex. Or masturbating.”

“I–” You sputter and scrunch up your nose at her. “Yes, you jackass, I know that! I haven’t been living under a rock my whole life!”

“Great.” She sits on the edge of the bed, then swipes the cloth over one of your inner thighs. “Figured you did, since you tasted pretty clean.”

“I –shit!” You shiver and hiss through your teeth. “That’s cold!”

“I used warm water,” she chuckles. “Your body’s just hot.”

“Fucking–” You flinch when she wipes down your other thigh, then prop yourself up on your elbows and squint at her. “I can do this myself, y’know. You don’t gotta…”

She shakes her head when you gesture to her hand, then carefully wipes along your cunt. “It’s good etiquette.” She tosses the used rag onto a wooden crate next to your bed that doubles as a nightstand –if the small camping lamp and a couple of books are anything to go by–then meets your doubtful gaze. “I’ve got a reputation for taking good care of my girls. I’m not about to start slacking now.”

You grunt and roll your eyes, but that seems to be the last of your protesting. You certainly accept the glass of water she fetches for you moments later with less belligerence.

Sevika waits until you set the empty glass on your makeshift nightstand, then clambers onto your bed and nudges you with her knee. “Make room.”

You oblige and shift towards the wall. Once she’s flat on her back, you settle against her side, half-draped on top of her.

Sevika resumes stroking your hair with her right hand.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler.”

“Most people don’t.” She twirls a lock of your hair around her index finger. “It’s part of aftercare manners, too. Releases endorphins, helps calm everyone down again.”

You hum softly. Your hand presses flat against her ribcage, fingers smoothing over soft, dark brown skin. “You’re very good at it.”

She chuckles and grins. “Well, thank you, baby girl. You’re not so bad at it, either.”

The two of you settle into silence for a bit. It’s surprisingly peaceful –there’s muffled noises from the adjoining apartments and outside (Zaun is never truly quiet), but it’s a familiar, comforting drone.

Her heart leaps when you let out a little sigh, then relax against her. It’s taking everything to keep from grinning like a sap. She feels like she’s glowing from the inside out; she’s the cat that got the cream. After stewing in frustrated, uncertain yearning for so long, she’s done. She has her hands on you, she’s cracked you open, and she’s drinking everything. Being in the wake of your coveted softness feels like standing in a summer’s evening sunbeam, akin to her rare journeys to the docks, or up to the Promenade when running errands for Silco.

She brushes her hand from the nape of your neck, down the line of your spine, to in between your shoulder blades. Your skin is wondrously soft here –unscarred, untouched by calluses–and it feels exquisite beneath her fingertips. She soaks up the way you shiver, how you bury your face in her neck and sigh contentedly–

You prop yourself up on one hand and rise abruptly. Brows drawn together, you stare down at her with a small frown. “What about you?”

She blinks a few times, caught off guard. “What about me?”

“I’m pretty sure those were my brains you wiped off my thighs.” You smirk when she laughs, then continue once she settles back down. “I don’t want to freeload.”

Sevika shakes her head. “This isn’t how that works. If you don’t feel–”

“I want to,” you cut her off, expression and voice earnest. “I’m just not…” you gesture up and down her body, “...sure where to start.”

“Well,” she purrs as she stretches slowly. Smug satisfaction curls through her chest at the way your hungry, awestruck gaze roves over her body. Damn right. “There’s options, depending on how involved you want to be. If you don’t feel like touching, you can watch me masturbate. If you want to touch, but want me to have more control, I can always sit on your face. And if you want to touch and have more control, I can lie back and you can go down on me like I did for you.”

Your mouth hangs open. Dark, wide eyes flit down between her legs, then back up to her face. “Yeah.”

She grins. “Which one?”

“I mean…” You quirk your mouth to one side, glance away, then shrug ever so innocently. “We could have time for all of them.”

“We could,” she agrees, her grin growing wider. She reaches up, curls her fingers around your chin, and guides your head until you’re looking at her again. “Where do you want to start, sweet thing?”

Your expression goes blissfully blank for a moment.

She’s having far too much fun with this. You’re so responsive, she barely has to do anything to turn you into a muddled, lusty mess. It’s a gamble if you’ll stay this way, once you’re not so touch-starved and have some more experience, but right now she’s going to indulge and enjoy herself. 

A few seconds later, you collect yourself and inhale sharply. “The –the face sitting. That’s a real thing?” Your breath hitches when she brushes her hand downward, over your neck. “I– I thought it was just in dirty novels. Or people talking shit.”

“It’s a real thing.”

“That.” Your voice is a rough, hungry growl. You lick your lips. “Sit on my face. Please.”

Exhilaration sings in her veins. She sits up slowly, maintaining eye contact the whole time, until she’s a hairsbreadth from your lips. “Good girl.”

You whimper into her mouth when she kisses you.

She directs you onto your back, then straddles your chest. She takes a moment to enjoy the view –you beneath her, hair mussed, lips kiss swollen–then works her way forward on her knees. She braces her arms against the wall, gets one knee over one of your burly shoulders –then laughs softly when you let out a strangled, high-pitched moan. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, emphatic. You’re staring at her thighs, her abs, her hips. “Pretty sure this is the best day of my life.”

She cackles, taken in by your enthusiasm, then swings her other leg over so she’s straddling your head. “Glad to be of assistance.” She finishes positioning herself over your mouth, then reaches down and grabs your hands. “Feel free to touch. Or hold on.”

“Hnmm.” Your fingers curl around her hips. “What –I –should –mouth?”

“Tongue and lips,” she answers with a smug smile. “Don’t be afraid to get messy. I’ll give you more direction in the moment.”

“Yesma’am.”

She smirks, then gives into your minute tug on her hips and lowers herself against your face.

You stay still for a moment –aside from your eyes rolling back in your head before sliding shut–until she reminds you, “Tongue and lips,” and then you start tentatively exploring her pussy. The first lick is soft and shallow, but the second goes deeper. Your tongue slides between her folds, and you groan softly in the back of your throat.

She hums lowly. Her head tips back, and she lets out a quiet sigh as you tease her pussy with your mouth. She lets you explore for a few moments –for you, she’s willing to be patient and let you test the waters–but soon rests her forehead against the wall so she can look down at you. “Up higher.” She groans when you tilt your chin up and drag your tongue over her clit. “Right there. Good girl.”

Your responding whimper is muffled by her thighs and cunt. The bed rocks gently as you squirm beneath her. Your fingers curl into her hips as your eyelids flutter shut, and you give into the bliss of eating her out.

To your credit, you’re a quick learner. It only takes a few more directions –adjusting speed and pressure, and reminding you to vary it up between your tongue and lips–before her thighs start quivering on either side of your head.

Your name falls from her lips in a breathy sigh. She rolls her hips against your mouth –then, when you freeze, she reaches down and sinks her fingers into your hair. “Don’t stop.” When you resume with just as much vigor as before, she groans. “Fuck –good girl.”

A strangled groan gets swallowed by her cunt. You’ve got your eyes shut; understandable, since it’s not like seeing in the most important function, given your current position.

But she wants to see your eyes. She wants to see how wrecked you are for her.

Her command to look at her goes unheeded for a moment. (Again, she can’t blame you. Pussy is a powerful drug.) But when she tugs on your hair and growls, “Look at me,” again, you get the message. You gasp, high-pitched, and then your eyes shoot open.

The wide, dazed look in your eyes makes her clit throb. She moans, making her forehead thunk against the wall. “Good girl.”

You whine her name into her cunt, and your eyes slide shut again–

Sevika tightens her grip on your hair until you let out a squeak and open your eyes again. “Keep ‘em open.” She braces her metal forearm above her head for stability, then rolls her hips experimentally a few times. When your gaze stays locked on her –although it unfocuses slightly, but she can’t say she blames you–she rewards you with another growled, “Good girl.”

Your responding whine reverberates through her pussy.

Thirst for obedience quenched, she sets into chasing her own pleasure.

It isn’t terribly protracted. Worshiping you earlier left her in quite the sweet spot –even after a break for aftercare and cuddling. She can already feel the tell-tale ache in her cunt; her orgasm’s not too far off, and between your mouth, the pace of her hips, and the pussy-drunk look in your eyes, it’s not going to be a difficult chase.

“Fuck!” Though she’s trying to be mindful that this is your first time, that you haven’t ever had someone ride your face, she can’t help but grind down harder. “Fuck –shit!” Her eyes roll back in her head, before she forces herself to look down again; she’s told you to keep your eyes open, and she’s not going to waste a single second of your compliance. “G-good girl. Shit. You’re –suchagoodgirl.” A breathless, higher pitched moan tears from her throat when your fingers curl into her ass –and again when you start helping her rock against your mouth. “You’re so –fucking perfect!” She groans, loud and broken. Her own eyes are crossing now; she can barely make out your face. “My perfect… perfect… good girl…”

You squeal the broken syllables of her name into her soaked pussy.

That’s all it takes. She climaxes with your name on her lips, bracketed between slurred curses and praises. Her eyelids finally slide shut, and she slumps against the wall as the rolls of her hips break down into softer, fluid humping. Eventually, she stills, panting like she’s gone five rounds in a fighting pit.

You wait, the picture of patience, while she catches her breath and comes back to her senses. Until, that is, curiosity and impishness overrides nerves and you decide to try sucking on her clit again.

She nearly jumps out of her skin. The ensuing oversensitivity borders between delicious and delirium, too good and too much, but she’s not in her head enough to navigate you through that right now. She lifts her hips off your face with a choked gasp. “You little shit.”

You grin up at her, lips, and chin, and cheeks, and neck coated in her arousal. “Sorry.”

She squints blearily down at you. “Somehow, I don’t buy that.” She smirks when you giggle, then shudders when you kiss the inside of her thigh. “Alright, enough. Make room.” She hefts one leg, so she’s no longer straddling your head –then stills when she feels her metal fingers catch against the wall. Slowly, ruefully, she looks up.

Five jagged, long gouges carved –by her–into the painted drywall greet her with no small amount of judgment.

“Shit.”

“Sev?” You squeeze her thigh gently. When she doesn’t respond, you crane your head back and 

look up. Your gaze zeroes in on the gouges, and you beam. “I take it I did a good job?”

Relief chases away any sheepishness she might’ve felt. She snorts softly, then smirks down at you. “You were great, champ.” She smiles softly when you laugh, then nudges your shoulder with your knee. “Now, move over.”

You disappear shortly after she lies down; the sound of water running the bathroom cues her to where you are –not that there’s many places to wander off to in your place.

Sevika lets herself drift. She feels good. Warm and loose, the way she always does during afterglow.

Your bed’s surprisingly nice, too. Good balance between support and squish, decently soft bedding, solid enough frame that doesn’t shake beneath her every time she shifts.

Definitely not the worst place I’ve ever fucked in. She nestles into the bed, then grunts when her lower back gives a satisfying pop. She doesn’t bother to open her eyes when the water shuts off in the bathroom –not until she hears your footsteps (which are surprisingly quiet) approach the bed, and your shadow cuts through what light she can perceive through her eyelids.

You set another glass of water down on your nightstand with a faint clink. Then, you carefully sit next to her on the bed and start wiping down the insides of her thighs with a warm, wet washcloth.

Warmth blooms in her chest. Sevika smiles, then pushes up her left hand and wraps her right hand around the back of your neck.

You still briefly –then sigh and melt into the kiss once her lips touch yours.

…Yeah. She owes Ran a drink.

[traincat]

Here's that spare 15 hours (read: long post format) if you really did want to tear into NWH. All ears.

I don't is the thing I don't want to do it I'm tired of hating on Spider-Man and I'm sick of the MCU's smug attitude and I can't believe that for like what six years SIX YEARS I have been saying Uncle Ben doesn't exist in the MCU and people have been pointing to a piece of luggage and one vague line from before the actual MCU Spider-Man movie even came out to be like no Uncle Ben totally died it was such a noble sacrifice we just didn't have to see it only for No Way Home to turn around and kill May to teach Peter the meaning of with great power comes great responsibility because the only person who hates these movies more than me is Marisa Tomei because they wouldn't let May be a lesbian so I was right this WHOLE TIME I am right about EVERYTHING ultimately it is SO frustrating I say one thing about MCU Spider-Man and get hate for it and then five years later Jon Watts himself the personification of an untucked collar and award winning director of COP CAR (2015) ambles fifteen minutes late onto a sound stage and confirms what I said the whole time and for WHAT.

[tgmsunmontue]

Come on baby light my fire… 2/2 (or 7/7?)

Hangster. 3k. Explicit. Apartment fire alarm at 1am featuring Jake in his underwear and Bradley with kittens.

All six potential endings are included in one post below. If you'd rather read them as separate chapters you can check out AO3 where I posted it first for once.

PART ONE (on Tumblr)

OPTION A

                Jake looks down at the sleeping man, so tempted to curl up back in bed with him. But he’s got to go and figure out how to get back into his own apartment. Most importantly though is he wants Bradley’s number, and he knows his own. He grabs Bradley’s phone, carefully grabs his hand and presses his finger to the fingerprint reader and sure enough it unlocks. There’s a photo of a couple as the background but he’s more interested in adding himself as a contact. He does so quickly, his name followed by a little flame, night cityscape, cat emoji, then an eggplant and some droplets because he’s hilarious and he’s pretty sure Bradley will think he’s funny.

                He sends himself a couple of messages, basically with all the details of where he’s gone and that he has no plans for the rest of the day and will come back to the apartment if he can’t locate Javy at the gym, or message him as soon as he’s in his apartment and has access to his phone again. He rifles through Bradley’s bag, a little perturbed by the number of Hawaiian shirts he finds, but pulls out a very worn US Navy t-shirt that has a very retro feel. None of it is what he’d usually wear, but all of it is better than being naked. It’s bad enough that he’s going to have to be barefoot and he wonders whether he could really chance taking what look like Bradley’s only pair of shoes. Screw it. He’ll be back soon enough.

                He laces up, the shoes a bit too big, then jogs the two blocks to where Javy prefers to go to the gym, glad it’s not further. It’s still at least another fifteen minutes before he usually starts, but Jake can’t risk him being early and missing him. But he is a man borne of military routine and walks up about a minute before Jake expected him.

                “Javy! Hey!”

                “Man! What are you wearing?!”

                “It’s a long story, well, actually, it’s not that long. My apartment building had a fire alarm, I left without my keys but I was only wearing my underwear. Hooked up with this guy who is fucking scorching hot –”

                “But has terrible taste in clothes.”

                “He’d make this work, trust me. Anyway, I need you to get my spare key.”

                “I’m not skipping my workout for you…”

                “Yes you are, in gratitude for me not waking you at two in the morning in my underwear to give me my spare…”

                “And I’m sure you were really suffering with the scorching hot guy. Your story is truly heart wrenching.”

                “Come on!”

                “Fine, here, take my keys, go and grab yours, then you can return your spare and my keys back to me. Deal?”

                “Yeah, good plan. I probably shouldn’t have both sets on me.”

                “You think?” Javy says dryly and Jake gives him the finger.

                After agreeing to take Jake’s car to make it all much faster he gets through the logistics of getting to Javy’s, grabbing his spare keys and then back to his apartment. Lets himself in with a sigh of relief and immediately goes to his phone, ignores all the other messages and clicks on the new messages and clicks Add Contact. He enters in Bradley, following it with a cat emoji and then three little flames. He’s not going to forget who Bradley is in a hurry. He doesn’t bother changing, needs to return Javy’s car and keys and then come back again. As he’s walking back he sends a message, nerves fluttering in his stomach.

>>I have keys, my phone and am heading back to my apartment. 5A. Want to come over?

>>On my way.

OPTION B

                Jake rolls his eyes, of course Bradley’s phone is dead. Ah well, he can go old school. There’s a pen and paper on the bench and he quickly writes down his name and number, along with his apartment number and a hope to see you soon. Leaves the piece of the paper smack center in the middle of the kitchen counter where it can’t be missed. He pulls on his underwear, then rifles through Bradley’s clothes and pulls out some sweat pants and a t-shirt. Okay, this is going to be a mortifying experience however slightly less mortifying than if he went out in just his underwear. Also less likely to result in any indecency charges.

…            …            …

                Bradley looks at the little pieces of paper and his heart sinks. He’s pretty sure that it’s a note, now ripped to shreds and missing pieces, the kittens having wrecked havoc on the little piece of paper, now scattered around like soggy confetti. He picks up one of the pieces and it’s definitely got a number on it. What number, he has no idea, it could be an apartment number for all he knows. He freezes, realizing that he’s not going to be thwarted by two baby cats. He knows Jake’s name and that he lives in this apartment building. Eight floors, six apartments on each floor. That’s forty-eight handwritten notes, minus six because he doesn’t need to do one for Hilary’s apartment or any of her neighbors, because surely Jake would have mentioned if he’d been on the same floor. That’s something you’d mention right?

                He finds some paper, making sure it’s a decent size because the last thing he wants is for Jake to somehow miss his note in return, that just makes him look like an inept love interest in a romcom. He’s in charge of this. His hand starts cramping around the thirtieth message but he keeps on, then pulls on some clothes, not caring what he’s wearing. He takes the stairs down to the lobby, eyes up all the little mail slots and then just starts posting a handwritten note in each one. Stands back and looks. Right. Now all he has to do is wait for Jake to contact him.

                The entire day goes by and he refuses to panic. Not everyone checks their mail everyday, he might even have to wait a couple of days, although Hilary is returning tomorrow and he’s meant to be going and staying with Nat for a couple of nights before his next deployment. But Jake will still get his number. He just has to want to use it.

…            …            …

                He should have gotten Bradley’s number.

                It’s been hours and Bradley hasn’t sent him a single message.

                Would it be weird to go and knock on his door?

                Yes. That just seems a shade too desperate. He can act cool.

…            …            …

                Jake frowns at the piece of paper, the only thing in his mail slot and he’s only check it because he’s walking past. A note. A handwritten note.

                Hi, I’m looking for Jake. This is Bradley. Please contact me.

                And then a phone number and he grins at it, because he’s going to get some answer now, multiple answers he suspects, because his number of questions has just doubled. He enters the number into his phone as he walks, presses call and holds the phone to his ear.

                “Hello, Bradley here.”

                “Hi. It’s Jake.”

                “You called! Hi…”

                “Hi… any particular reason you’re leaving me a handwritten note and not just using the technology available to us?”

                “Because I didn’t have your number. The cats, they ripped it to shreds and I just… had to figure out a way of contacting you.”

                “Smart and good looking. If you knew which apartment was mine why didn’t you just come knock on my door. I would have let you in.”

                “Ah… I put a note in every apartments mail slot.”

                “Of course you did…”

                “Well, sitting around outside waiting for you to enter or exit the building seemed a little stalkerish.”

                “Yes. So… not playing hard to get.”

                “Definitely not.”

                “Good. So I can assume you’ll say yes if I ask you out to dinner?”

                “Why don’t you go ahead and ask.”

OPTION C

                He knocks on the door, a little disappointed that Bradley hasn’t sent him a message, is surprised because he’d kind of thought they’d connected on a level that was maybe, hopefully, more than just sexual. The door opens and it’s not Bradley answering, but a woman his age, looking very comfortable in too-big sweats and hoodie. His stomach starts souring, twisting into unpleasant tightness.

                “Hi. Uh…”

                “Are you looking for Bradley?”

                “Ah, yeah. Sorry to have bothered you. He just helped me out the other night,” he flushes, hopes whoever this woman is doesn’t read too much into the helped me out aspect of the sentence, because he hadn’t meant it as an innuendo.

                “Oh, yeah, he was just kitten sitting for me while I was out of town. Do you want his number?”

                He sucks in a sharp breath, the relief sharp and instant.

                “Do you have it?”

                “Of course I do, he’s a college friend. And I’m assuming you’re the hot neighbor who he was annoyed at me about not warning him about?”

                “Jake. My name’s Jake.”

                “Nice to meet you Jake. I expect an invite to the wedding…”

                “Well, he didn’t message me, so maybe don’t plan on that…”

                “Oh, yeah, I found little shreds of paper, so if you tried leaving a note that was a no-go…”

                “What?”

                “Orea and Cracker. They shred paper. I think I found a couple of pieces. Floated my theory past a very forlorn Brad Brad and he said it was maybe a possibility. Here, take his number and go put your man out of his misery…”

OPTION D (Version I – fits within TGM events)

                Pete frowns, because he hasn’t seen that shirt in years. Maybe literal decades, and now that’s a scary thought for other reasons. But he’d swear that that man is wearing Goose’s old Navy shirt, old sauce stain down the front and everything. Bradley had taken it when he’d left, had always used it as a pyjama top and it had always made Pete smile to see, the memories still bittersweet of the dinner shared with friends. He needs to know.

                “Ah, excuse me. This is going to be an odd question, but I just need to ask. Where did you get that shirt?”

                “This one? Ah, funny story actually… I ended up locked out of my apartment in the middle of the night due to a fire alarm and this guy helped me out. Said I could borrow anything, cause did I mention I was only in my underwear? Anyway, I left before he woke, and I’ve never been able to return it to him…”

                “You couldn’t go and knock on his door?” Pete asks, because something isn’t adding up.

                “Well, I almost did, but then I saw this woman leaving and decided it was maybe best not to rock any boats.”

                “Oh. Hmm. Well, I’m pretty sure he’d like that top back. It belonged to his father. He usually sleeps in it…”

                “You know him?”

                “Bradley? Yes. You want his number?”

                “I… sure.”

                “Okay. You just can’t ever tell him who gave it to you, okay?”

OPTION D (Version II – only ending where Mav and Bradley have a relationship)

                There’s a guy staring at him and it’s starting to annoy him a little. It’s even starting to border on a little creepy and he gives him the side eye. Instead of it putting the guy off it has the opposite effect and he’s now walking over, about to make fucking conversation of all things while Jake is just trying to work out.

                “Where did you get that t-shirt?”

                Okay, that wasn’t quite what Jake was expecting. Maybe a sly comment on his form, or body… not the almost threadbare shirt he borrowed from Bradley and has never been able to return. Also this guy is old enough to be his father, he’s not familiar enough with the brass on base to not give this man the potential respect he deserves.

                “Sir?”

                “Where did you get that t-shirt?” he repeats.

                “Uh…” Jake looks down at the shirt, and it’s the one he’d taken a couple of weeks ago from his night with Bradley. “From a guy.”

                “A guy.”

                “Yes sir.”

                “Sorry, I’m Captain Mitchell. I… Wait… your middle-of-the-night fire-alarm underwear-guy!”

                “Excuse me sir?”

                “I believe we have someone in common, and he’s going to want that t-shirt back. It belonged to his father.”

                “You know Bradley? I went looking for him, but there was this woman at the apartment.”

                “His friend Hilary, yes. He stays at her apartment whenever she’s out of town to look after her cats.”

                “Oreo and Cracker.”

                “Yes. Who I believe are to blame for shredding the note you left.”

                “What?”

                “They found tiny pieces, some of it chewed up. Not enough to make anything out of it. Trust me, I’ve heard this lamented to me far too many times in the last couple of weeks to not be very familiar with it all. Your first name is Jake isn’t it?”

                “Yes sir. Lieutenant Jake Seresin.”

                “Of course you are. I’m picking he has no idea you’re navy, because this would have gone a lot faster if he’d mentioned that.”

                “No sir, we didn’t exactly swap life stories.”

                That gets him a raised eyebrow and smirk and Jake flushes, not really sure who Captain Mitchell is to Bradley, but if what he says is true, then Bradley does want to see him again. That’s a swoop of positive feelings after a couple of weeks of feeling rejected.

                “Right. Stand just there. I’m going to take a picture and send it to Bradley, tell him I found his shirt… he was just as sad about the shirt as he was about you.”

                Jake blinks, the guy is taking his picture before he can even say anything, Jake doesn’t even know if he was smiling, probably looked like a stunned rabbit. He glances over the shoulder and the man, this Captain Mitchell, is cropping his face out of the picture completely, thumbing out I found something that I believe belongs to you, and pressing send before Jake has time to even think of asking for Bradley’s number.

                “Can I get his number?”

                “How about you come home with me and you ask him for yourself, hmm?”

OPTION E

                Jake wakes slower than usual, warmer, and he stetches and then freezes when something grabs his foot. His brain registers then, kitten and he smiles into the darkness, memories coming back and yeah… this is definitely a preferable way of waking up.

                “Mornin’…” Jake says, sliding his body over Bradley’s, naked skin sliding against his and he’s glad they’re both naked.

                “Mmm… Hi. Why are you waking me up so early?”

                “Well, I realized one of the few ways of getting my spare keys is to hunt down my friend who has them. And he goes to the gym early.”

                “Ugh. This early? Is there any way we can get your friend’s number which does not involve us getting up right now and doing a manhunt across the city?”

                “It’s not exactly the city, just two blocks.”

                “Is he listed anywhere as your emergency contact that we can ring and ask for it?”

                Jake opens his mouth and immediately shuts it. There is someplace he can ring which would maybe give him Javy’s number, or at the minimum pass a message on.

                “Actually, yeah. Well, they might not give me the number but they’d pass a message on for me.”

                “And can we ring them later?”

                “Yeah, we can definitely do that later…”

                Worst case, he can always try catching Javy at the gym tomorrow instead.

…            …            …

                Later, after another heavy make out session in bed, messy and leaving Jake wanting more, he takes Bradley’s offered phone and thumbs open the keypad. He’s going to ring the HR line for military service people, because there are surely people in worse positions than him that call up asking for weirder and wackier things than an emergency contact number. Even if Javy isn’t exactly his emergency contact, they can ring him and give him Bradley’s number. As he enters in the number he sees various contacts pop up and then;

                “Why is the number for the Military HR service line programmed into your phone?”

                “Because I'm a commissioned officer.”

                “Oh shit! Me too. Lieutenant Jake Seresin.”

                “Ha. Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Wait… Bradley Bradshaw. You know Javy. Coyote. He flew with you.”

                “Coyote is your emergency contact?”

                “Well, he’s the guy that has my spare keys…”

                “Well, I already have his number. I was planning on meeting up with him later actually.”

                “Of course you were. Bradshaw. He was right.”

                “What?”

                “You are exactly my type.”

[httpknjoon]

the scariest thing | kth

plot | You were invited to tell your story about the scariest thing you've ever done.

words | 3.6k

genres | angst, unrequited love au, one sided love au, best friends au

pairing | ceo!taehyung x reader

note | was this fic sitting in my drafts for almost a year now? yes. did i read it over and over again that i eventually forgot about it? yes. but here it is. i apologize it took so long. i hope you'll enjoy reading this. let me know your thoughts!

main masterlist | read the first part here! | series masterlist

“Please tell us something about yourself.”

You sat on a wooden stool chair in a middle of a plain white background. The bright studio lights both stood on each side of the camera, which made you a little blinded at first. But you got used to it since you arrive at this studio almost fifteen minutes ago. Your supposed interviewer, Nayeon, is a friend of a mutual friend who invited you to this project. She seemed like a really organized and creative woman. Earlier, when you arrived, she explained to you about their channel. She concluded that their production group has this YouTube channel where they posted videos about stories or opinions of many people. You found it strange at first but decided to join in since you have free time to spare. For now, only three staffs are in the room. The editor, the interviewer, and the cameraman.

“I am Y/N, currently in my early 30s.” you softly smiled after introducing yourself shortly.

Being the center of attention or staying in front of a camera is something you do not usually do. In fact, you usually avoided any kind of these situations ever since you were young and you don’t really have many photos in your apartment now. The one scrapbook you keep is filled with pictures of places you went to, family, and friends you were close to. Especially those you met in college.

“So you were invited here by our editor, Nina, who is your friend. Right?” Nayeon asked and you nodded in answer. “And she told us that you are commonly shy around cameras, what made you agree to come to join us for today?”

You giggled, “I kind of want to try something new.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, my life’s been pretty boring from childhood to graduate school.” you joked and you spotted Nina chuckling in the background.

You met Nina back in your sophomore year in college and she is well aware of how you prioritized your studies a lot before. She is the ex-girlfriend of one of your close friends from your first two years in college. You two managed to still communicate every now and then even after they broke off their short-lived romantic relationship.

“Oh, let’s see about that.” Nayeon smiled before looking down at her notebook with a black pen in her right hand. “I am going to ask a question and maybe you can tell us a story answering it. Will it be fine?”

“Okay,” you replied before a thought popped in. “Wait, how many questions? Nina told me that there going to be twenty of them, which made me a little freaked out.”

Nayeon laughed, “It’s only one main question! Then, some additional ones along the way just to clarify things.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at Nina, who is covering her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud, “You liar.”

After a few more laughs and shared banter with Nina, which Nayeon joined in, the interview continued. The camera guy, Eunwoo, who you also met earlier was grinning hearing how you and your friend tease each other.

“What’s the main question again?” you asked before any banter start again.

“What is the scariest thing you have ever done?”

You crossed your leg over the other as you think of an answer. Looking back on three decades of your life, you only thought of three things.

“Oh, I have three answers. Probably cutting class one time in high school, opening my social media accounts, and…”

“Wait, opening a social media account?” Nayeon repeated, squinting. “How?”

“Well…” you clasped your hands. “I personally think that it’s a messy and toxic place. Many people can say something to someone just by their posts. They can already judge you a lot. So I am not really active on my socials, I only use them when needed. And I am a really private person, I don’t post a lot unless it’s necessary.”

Nayeon nodded at your explanation, “Okay, I get it. How about your third answer? What is it?”

“Oh, uhm…” you paused as you pursed your lips, having second thoughts if you should answer it. Whatever. You exhaled, “This is really cliché. But it’s when I confessed to a very close friend.”

“Can you tell us more about it?”

“Uhm, yeah. Sure.” you forced a smile. “I have been friends with this guy ever since elementary. He was a really good kid and a social butterfly! I, who was a very shy kid, somehow got to befriend him, who is a very extroverted boy. I remembered those times he would pull me into their playground games every single time. He always made sure I am never left out. That’s how we became close over many years. High school came, and he became really into sports and famous. Like, you know, those overused teen movies characters.”

You see Nayeon chuckled and you continued, “Nonetheless, we remained best of friends at those times. He still hasn’t changed. Me too. Gladly, unlike those nerdy movie characters, I was never bullied by the mean girls for being close with the popular guy.”

You raised your hands to put air quotes on certain words, emphasizing them with sarcasm in your tone.

“He was always invited to these parties and he would ask me to come with him. Then, I would remind him about the school activities we need to do. We were often partners in school projects. I think we balance each other back then. He would be the one focused on having fun while I would concentrate on our academics. It was kinda weird how we remained friends in high school since I know others grew apart.”

Stories of teens growing apart in high school were things you always read or hear from some of your patients as a psychiatrist. Somehow, you felt lucky that you and Taehyung managed to keep your friendship past high school.

“No matter how much I hate loud events, I always made sure to watch him play in his basketball games. Knowing that his scary dad does not really support him in that aspect, I hoped that having my presence there gave him the motivation to continue with his hobby. The first and only time I cut a class in high school was the time their team had a game at another school. I remember sneaking out with a friend and I was so terrified while my friend assured me that it was going to be fine since she was already used to cutting classes. Then fast forward, forty minutes later, we arrived at the other school’s gymnasium. We found an empty spot near their bench so he easily spots us in the middle of that game. He looked surprised but grinned widely that time and I remember my heart skipped a bit. It felt like cutting class was really worth it.” you laughed.

“Did he do that common mischievous wink before shooting the ball in the hoops?” Nayeon asked with a teasing tone.

You laughed again, shaking your head, “Fortunately, no. I would really find it corny if he did that. And I think we were both not a fan of public displays of affection. We prefer doing things in our own little worlds. Nonetheless, I never knew how he really show affection since we both didn’t date anyone back in high school or college, that I know of!”

Nayeon’s eyebrows raised when she heard your statement, “You never dated anyone in those years?”

“No.” you shake your head again. “Me, personally, do not really have plans in dating back in high school. Even though that was where my feelings began for my friend. In college, I set my eyes on doing my best in my course as I want to keep my scholarship. For my best friend, I don’t know if he dated anyone back in college since we lost it.”

“You lost it?” Nayeon pushed her glasses up as she repeated your words.

“Yeah, we kind of drifted apart during the first two years of college. We went to different universities, which includes me moving miles away since I got accepted to this really great school. Maybe this is where the growing apart phase happened. I met new friends, including Nina,” you smiled at your longtime friend. “And really improved my social life then. As I said, I rarely use social media so I do not really have any updates from my best friend. It was two years of just texting each other on phone occasionally. It’s really just a bunch of greetings to one another.”

“Then, what happened?”

You smiled as you can hear the mix of curiosity and excitement in her tone, “Then, junior year happened. Things were getting really pricey. An old roommate of mine moved out and that worsen my expenses for a couple of months. So I was about to look for a roommate on Craiglist– it was what my friends recommended– when I got a call from an old friend. The one I cut classes with before. She studies at the same university and told me that she saw my best friend around the campus. He even chatted with her a bit and shared that he is transferring.”

You remembered how surprised, worried, and a bit angry you were when you heard that from a mutual friend. You took some hours alone before calling Taehyung about it, wondering why he hasn’t told you about his transfer plans. Was he mad at you? Did something happen? Are we still friends?. The questions that all popped into your head were later asked when you called him. You remembered how he defensively denied that he have any negative emotions towards you, claiming that he was just ashamed of the unfortunate path he was walking on.

“So, I called him. I think I was too aggressive that time, throwing questions at him.” you laughed. “But I was really worried about what could possibly happen to him. Then, he shared that he was looking for an apartment near the campus and I immediately asked him to meet. After a quick catch-up, I offered my apartment because I trust that man with my life. So I don’t need any more talking just to get to know him!”

You emphasized how you trust Taehyung with the emotions and tone of your voice. You see Nina smiled. Although you’ve been friends since college, she, herself, never met your best friend. She moved to another country at the same time Taehyung moved in to be your roommate. Up until now, she probably doesn’t know who you were talking about.

“So, what happened?”

“He moved in later. I got to teach him things again just like back in middle school except it’s all about basic living needs. That guy doesn’t even know how to budget his allowance. In his first week, he bought a lot of unnecessary things and junk food with his dad’s money. And it only took him three days to finish it all! Ah, it was really unhealthy.” you shook your head while the image of Taehyung having his fourth donut of that day played inside your mind. “Gladly, he later learned how to cook, which I know helped us both a lot since I know I won’t be doing all the cooking alone and he will learn.”

“Wait, with all of these happening, do you still have the same feelings you had for him back in your high school years?” Nayeon wondered.

Your lips pursed as you think quietly, organizing your thoughts before speaking out. 

“The thing is… it was never gone. The feelings are just always there… or here,” you told her as your hand unconsciously landed on your chest while you explained. “Back in high school, I can say that all I felt for him was possibly a tiny, tiny spark of crush. Then we drifted apart for two years and all the feels lie low, I guess. But I knew, it was still there. Because in every important event, I was like a little kid excitedly waiting for his messages.” you giggled at that memory.

“And when we got more time together in our last years in college, I could say that it grew into more than just a crush. Unfortunately.” you grimaced sarcastically. “He’s not hard to like… or even love.”

This time, you looked down as a soft, bitter smile stays on your lips. Your eyes remained on your shoes as you continue to talk, “He is a nice guy even though he said he messed up a lot in his first years in college. He always told me how he wants to be a better person than his dad and I think he is doing well now. He always thinks of himself as a jerk or something bad. But, he’s not... He is always willing to learn and good at accepting change. He is so much friendly with everyone that my college friends became his friends too after just a day of hanging out.”

Your friends first guessed that you two were dating before they visited your apartment and met Taehyung. It took them two months to move on and be convinced that you and your Taehyung are nothing but roommates and best of friends. But it never dies down, since there were times they tried setting you two with different people and without even talking to each other about it, both of you declined. There was a time that they suspected you of keeping your relationship a secret but you and Taehyung just laughed it off, calling it silly.

“So yeah, to make it short, the feelings I had grew. Especially when he began doing things that fed my adoration for him to grow more.”

Nayeon leaned in a bit, still out of the camera shot, “Things? What things?”

“Okay, first was he left these sweet mini chocolates that I really love in my stuff. He would place them near my textbooks on our dining table or even on my study desk. We never talked about it but I knew it was him. One time, he slipped one into my laptop bag. But it was later colonized by these annoying ants and I ranted about it during dinner for hours and it never happened again. I appreciate it nonetheless.” you chuckled. “The second was when he watched movies with me during my down days. There were times I am tired and would just wrap myself in a blanket for the whole day. And then there was this time, months after he moved in, he sat beside me to watch this really funny movie with me. Later on, we ended up cuddling. It ended up being a weekly event until our senior year. There were times we ended up sleeping like that. Just quiet and peaceful. And I swear, it warms my heart every time I think about it.”

“Until now?” Nayeon asked with a little hope and teasing in her voice.

You nodded, “Until now. The last one that I really kept with me is when he gifted me something handmade. I really loved it since I love handmade stuff! That was the most memorable thing I received ever. It was so awesome and beautiful. I think even ended up taking it on the bed with me at some point.”

“So, when or how did you confess?”

“Oh, it was sometime before we part ways after our college graduation.” you smiled as you remembered it like it just happened recently. But in fact, it all happened almost a decade ago. “I actually didn’t plan it, which is very not me. We were just talking alone, looking back to our years. Maybe because of the ambiance during that moment– I don’t know. But I just thought, fuck it! Just say it. So, I gathered courage through alcohol. And just said it right there.”

“And… how was it?” Nayeon asked.

Her tone was in the middle of the curiosity and care scale. A little awkward. She was careful as she don’t want to assume how your confession turned out. Even though, she hoped it headed to a good aftermath. But you inhaled sharply, your chest heaving before you exhaled the answer,

“Heartbreaking.” An awkward laugh follows. Then, you continued, “He rejected me and it was my first time. So yeah, it was heartbreaking and made me feel shit for like months. At the same time, I was also confused why because I thought we felt the same thing. But turns out, he didn’t. Maybe I just misunderstood everything…”

Your voice trailed off as you look back to that time. That rejection really caused you a lot of confusion and questions to yourself. It took you months to finally accept that you probably just misunderstood your best friend and his actions around you. But once in a while, you still wonder about why he rejected you since he never really explained it. Your eyes looked away from the camera for a few seconds before turning it back there again, forming a small smile.

“Guys, guys, guys! Don’t worry, I already moved on. It’s been years!” you lightheartedly laughed as you see the gloomy expression from Nina and Nayeon.

The latter pouted before asking another question, “What happened to you two after that?”

“We did not talk again after that. Even though we still lived in the same apartment for like a few days. But we were already preparing to move out at that time. To avoid awkward moments, I decided to pack early, secretly leave the place– much earlier than we planned, and stay back home in the meantime. I didn’t ghost him. I e-mailed him that I just had to go back home early for a cousin’s wedding. It’s an obvious lie. I know that he knew it. I think that was the only I addressed my confession to him and let him know that we are still friends. But we became acquaintances for years before we finally met again. Our friendship rekindled, I think, sometimes when I was in med school.” you shared.

Nayeon’s eyes widened, “So, you still talk now?”

“Of course, he is still my friend. We still hang out if we can. But due to our conflicting schedules and workloads, we rarely do anything together now except for video chatting or calls. We tried planning a dinner or something but there will always be something that would stop it. So, we just settled in virtual meets.” you chuckled. “So yeah, those are the scariest things I’ve done. The confession is, of course, the highest.”

“Okay… So let’s base it on the scariest one which was the confession. Our last question is… on a scale of 1 to 10, how scary was it?” 

You poked your cheek with your tongue as you think of it. And answered, “Probably 10.”

“Why?”

“Other than it was really nerve-wracking…” you paused for a second and bit your lower lip. “I have more than 10 years of friendship with him to risk before making a decision to confess. It was a fun, crazy, decade-long platonic relationship and I love every nanosecond of it. And for me to decide to confess, I was aware that I had to make sure that all of it will not go to waste. So yeah, a big 10 for me.”

“Did I ever meet this guy?”

Nina walked you out of their studio after you finished your appearance for their video and said goodbye to their small team. You chuckled as you two entered the elevator.

“No, I doubt that you met him in college. You probably saw him in pictures though.”

She gasped and immediately pulled out her phone from her back pocket. You laughed.

“Good luck with finding him. You need to scroll back to years of your ex’s posts to spot the guy I talked about.” 

It was a useless warning. Nina was unbothered and scrolled as you reached the ground floor for parking spaces. You easily spotted your car. Nina sighed, putting her phone back in her pants.

“I’ll look for him later.” she sneered. You just smiled. Nina spoke again, “But thank you for coming today, Y/N! I’m really happy to see you again after years.”

She hugged you and you hugged her back, “Me too. Thank you for inviting me.”

After more minutes of planning to meet again soon for drinks and bonding, Nina finally lets you go. You waved to her from your car before driving away. You took a glimpse at your phone that sat on the passenger seat, no messages. It was only six in the evening. Here you are heading straight home. You got nothing to do anyway. You don’t have any work schedule anymore, you already did them before the interview. You thought of going to a drive-thru for a burger and fries. But maybe you’ll just order online. 

This whole interview thing has worn you out a little but it felt refreshing at the same time. You’re probably from all the talking and limiting the things you could share. Nonetheless, it was nice to talk about the past. You get to relive that part of your life for a short while. High school, college, and all the memories you had with Taehyung. 

It’s probably for the best.

That’s what you always thought when you found yourself reminiscing about the time he rejected you. You really had your hopes up before confessing to him, you always thought that there was something. But you had to learn you were wrong the hard way.

SERIES TAGLIST

@bloopkook

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[nasuversekinkmeme]

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[jerzwriter]

Karma is a... Barbie Premiere (2/2)

In part two, we learn a little more about Dr. Eva Mendoza, (a new OC in my Tobias & Casey world. An Introduction), and find out about her and Etahn's rocky start. Now that Tobias & Casey have them calling a truce, what does the future hold? 💄💗💋

I changed this a little because I'm going to see Barbie tomorrow. I didn't feel right commenting on the movie prior to seeing it. But, if I feel it's helpful to the story, I'll write a drabble about the conversation the four of them have over drinks after. :)

Karma is a Barbie Premier - Part 1

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairings: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey) Ethan Ramsey x F!OC (Eva) - Maybe? Rating: Teen Words: 2,300

Full Masterlist | Open Heart Masterlist

Karma is a Barbie Premier - Part 1

A few days later at work.

The morning was busier than usual at Edenbrook, something most appreciated. Being busy was better than being idle. It made the day go faster, and lunchtime arrived before they knew it. The diagnostic team members on duty headed to the office for a working lunch.

After discussing current cases and determining a few new ones to bring in, they had fifteen minutes to spare. Tobias threw his feet on the desk with a yawn, and Casey rushed to put her food in the microwave, but Ethan started for the door.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Tobias called after him. “Where are you going?”

“It’s a hospital, Tobias. I’m going back to work.”

“Not for fifteen minutes, you’re not. Sit down and eat... and don’t tell me you had a smoothie. That doesn’t count as lunch.”

“It does if it contains spinach.”

“Ethan,” Tobias said, putting half his pot roast on a plate for Ethan. “You really need to live a little.”

Ethan turned to Casey for support, but she just shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I agree. Take a few minutes to eat.”

Ethan sat down with a heavy sigh and started shoveling the delicious food into his mouth. Tobias and Casey had the right idea, though he wasn’t going to admit it.

“See,” Tobias teased, seeing the smile on his friend’s face. “This is why I’m here... to make sure you enjoy life a little.”

“Oh, that’s your reason for existence?” Ethan shot back. “Not your wife, your daughter, not even your career, but to be a persistent pain in my ass.”

“Hey, the others may be more important, but the last one has longevity. I’m not letting it go.”

“Oy, boy...” Ethan grumbled, noticing Casey had stopped eating. “Hey, are you done?” He asked.

“Sure am. Want the rest of mine?”

“If you’re not going to eat it...” he said, pulling her plate in his direction. 

“It’s almost as good as a spinach smoothie,” Tobias chuckled.

“Fine!” He surrendered. “I’ll give you this one... just this one.”

“See!” Tobias boasted. “You need to listen to me more often!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Casey laughed, watching the two world-class doctors squabbling like little boys. “I’m with Tobias,” she grinned. “You do need to have more fun. I’m glad you’re going to the Barbie premiere with us.”

“Yeah, about that...” Ethan started.

“Screw you, Ramsey. Don’t even try to weasel out of it!”

“But, Barbie...”Ethan whined.

“I think you’ll be surprised, Ethan,” Casey offered. “From what I’ve read, it’s going to be a lot more meaningful than you’d think. Regardless, it’s a big premiere, and we’ll have fun!”  

“Fine! Who else is coming? Trinh?”

Casey shot a look at Tobias. “You haven’t told him?”

“Told him what?” Ethan groaned.

“Hadn’t gotten around to it yet, baby.”

Casey rolled her eyes. “OK, before I tell you... this is in no way, shape, or form a setup...”

“Oh, God...”

“The day Tobias asked you, I had already asked Eva, and...”

“OK. No. Forget it.”

“Ethan!” Casey scolded. “Why not? You two are so weird. You sure looked cozy at our wedding, but since then...” she shook her head. “Ethan, she’s a colleague and our friend. All you have to do is be polite. It’s not a date!”

“Well,” Tobias simpered. “In fairness, it’s our date night.”

“Our date night, Tobias! Not theirs!”

“Does she know I’m going?” Ethan asked.

“Yes, she wasn’t overly enthusiastic either, but she didn’t try to back out! Now... put your big boy pants on because you’re going to see Barbie!”

Ethan shot a look at Casey. “Please repeat that sentence, and you’ll see how wrong it sounded.”

Casey looked at her watch with a sigh. “I have a consult in five. You two babysit yourselves. And Ethan, make sure you wear something pink to the premiere.”

“I am not wearing pink!” He hollered after her as Tobias spooned the last of his pot roast into his mouth with a smirk.

“Oh, you’re wearing pink!”

~~~~~  

The day of the premiere arrived, and Casey bounced around with the excitement of a child. Tobias slipped his pink sweater over his head as she entered the room. A slow whistle escaped him as he took her in from her fuschia high heels that perfectly matched her flouncy tutu to the pink and black floral corset that had him forgetting they were expected anywhere.

“Damn, baby. You know, we don’t have to go. Mom’s watching Sammy, and we could have a perfectly enjoyable night right here.”

“I’m sure we could,” she giggled. “But have you forgotten our friends are coming along, too?”

“No, watching them may be more entertaining than the movie.”

“It’s possible.”

“Hey,” he said as they headed to the car. “When we get there, let’s rush to our seats so they have to sit next to each other.”

“You’re terrible,” Casey laughed.

“All part of my charm, hon. All part of my charm.”

They picked up Eva first. 

“You look amazing!” Eva beamed as she slid into the back of the car.

“Thank you!” Tobias replied enthusiastically.

“Not you, jackass. Your wife!”

“Yeah,” he smiled, taking Casey’s hand. “She looks hot as hell.”

“I didn’t say she... you know... never mind.”

“You look beautiful, too. Eva,” Casey laughed.

“Not as festive as you,” she replied. “But I managed to find a pink tank top to wear.”

“Hey, that’s all that matters!”

“Speaking of pink,” Tobias said as they pulled in front of Ethan’s. “Ethan better be wearing pink. I’ve told him a half dozen times....” his voice trailed as Ethan came into view, wearing a long-sleeved grey t-shirt, jeans, and a bit of a scowl.

“You were saying?” Eva grinned.

“That fucker isn’t wearing pink!”

“Hello, everyone.” Ethan nodded as he entered the car.

“You’re not wearing pink!” Tobias admonished. “How many times did I tell you... wear pink?”

“And how many times did I tell you... no?”

“Ethan, you’re such a party pooper,” Casey sighed. 

“And you’re...” he stalled, looking over Casey’s ensemble. “...Barbie.”

“Which is fitting... since we’re going to a Barbie premiere!” Tobias groused.

“Children,” Eva scolded. “Behave, or no one gets dessert after dinner.”

“Oh, I’m getting dessert,” Tobias snickered. “Trust me...”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Ethan grumbled.

“What?” Eva laughed. “I think they’re kind of cute.”

“It may have been cute in high school. I’d even say in college if they had a few drinks in them. But at their age... It’s not cute anymore.”

“You’re right,” Eva replied. “It’s adorable.”

Tobias caught Ethan’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Looks like you’re outnumbered, Pal.”

“What else is new?”

The conversation lagged, and every attempt at small talk faltered too quickly, usually with Ethan or Eva disagreeing with one another or locking horns. Tobias mouthed, “Music?” to Casey, but she couldn’t ignore the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.

“So,” she stated. “What’s the deal with you two? Eva, I know you and Tobias had some beef back in Kenmore, but you’re nice to each other now. This begs one question. What did Ethan do?”

“Hey!” Ethan jumped in. “Why do you assume it was me?”

“Because it was,” Eva deadpanned.

“That’s not true! We didn’t meet under the best of circumstances, but I have apologized.”

“It was new intern day, wasn’t it?” Casey asked.

“How’d you guess?” Eva replied.

“Because that’s probably the worst day to ever meet Ethan.”

Ethan hit Tobias’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to defend me?”

“Ow!” Tobias frowned. “I was planning on... if they said anything inaccurate, which they haven’t. But you broke the pink rule, and now you’re assaulting me. Sorry, I’m on their side!”

“Yes!” Casey cheered. “Now, Eva, what did he do?”

“It all started when I got a page. Someone needed an interpreter....”

“You’re not really going to share this, are you?” Ethan protested.

“Oh, this has to be good,” Tobias goaded. “Spill, Eva, and drinks are on me tonight.”

“Drinks are already on you,” Eva retorted. “But...”

As Casey and Tobias waited with bated breath, Eva noticed the pained look in Ethan’s eyes, and she decided to refrain.

“You know what, it doesn’t matter. It’s old news.”

Tobias’s face fell in disappointment. “I am so not buying drinks!”

“It was a shitty day,” Ethan started. “ I was... less than cheerful.”

“Read: you were being a jerk,” Tobias smiled.

“BINGO!” Eva replied.

“Anyway...” Ethan continued. “I had a very difficult patient who insisted they didn’t need an interpreter, but they didn’t speak any of the four languages I do...”

“Ethan,” Eva whispered, gently touching his arm. “You don’t have to.”

“No,” he replied. “I want to. These are my friends, and I’ve apologized to you, but perhaps I haven’t done it well enough, and I’d like the chance to do it again.”

“Guys, we’re just playing around. You don’t have to...” Casey started, but Ethan interrupted.

“I do. I had this total PITA patient. Their blood pressure was dropping, and I couldn’t get any medical history from them. Throw in it was new intern day. Several kept buzzing in and out for one ridiculous reason or another, completely grating my nerves. So, I called the nurses’ desk and asked them to find a Greek interpreter on staff. They sent someone who spoke Bulgarian. How does that help? So, I called again, and they sent someone who spoke Turkish. The patient is sicker by the moment, and I’m about to lose my mind when Eva walks in.”

“Now, it was my first day at Edenbrook, too... and Ethan assumed I was an intern.”

“Oh, no...” Casey groaned.

“I walked in, all eager to help. I said, ‘Hello, I’m Dr. Eva Mendoza. I hear you need an interpreter.’”

“And I turned around and said... “Those damn idiots can’t get a thing right. I need a Greek translator! I’m going to have those imbeciles fired!”

“I’m trying to explain I’m fluent in Greek, but I can’t get a word in...”

“So I tell her, I speak Spanish. I don’t need a Spanish interpreter, an intern much less, and you can go.”

“Oh, Jesus...” Tobias moaned.

“I stepped around him and started talking to the patient in Greek. Ethan looked like a deer in the headlights... after it got hit.”

“That’s a pretty good assessment of how I felt.”

“After we stabilized the patient, we went outside, and Ethan tried to apologize. But I wasn’t having it.”

“Rightfully so. She gave me a huge piece of her mind.”

“I informed him I wasn’t an intern, but a fellow... and assuming I could only speak Spanish because of my name was a bias and unacceptable. I’m half Greek, and I happen to speak four languages.”

“She didn’t say it quite so politely,” Ethan chuckled.

“Good!” Casey countered. 

“I apologized profusely, but she turned on her heel, and I’m pretty sure steam was coming out of her ears.”

“An accurate depiction,” Eva corroborated. “But as much as I thought you were an utter idiot that day, you have apologized several times.”

“But you still think badly of me, and whenever I feel like I’ve knocked down a piece of the wall you built around me, you quickly build it back up again. I don’t get a second chance at a first impression, but I hope you’ll let me start fresh. It was a bad day, and I acted out of character. But I’m not that guy. The sad thing is, we’re surrounded by people who are... that guy... but they aren’t as hot-headed as me, and you’ll never see it. They don’t lose sleep over messing up like I did.”

“You lost sleep?” Eva asked.

“I have. So, it might be asking too much, but can we start fresh? If you don’t want to, I’ll leave right now. I won’t ruin the night for you. But I’d really like a second chance.”

“Ethan,” Eva sighed. “You don’t get out of seeing Barbie that easily. And if I were to ask you to go home, it would be because you broke the pink rule. If I’m wearing pink, you should be wearing pink! But thank you for the explanation and your umpteenth apology. I’m sorry for choosing to see the worst in you, even though you have shown other sides. I can be stubborn as the day is long, and that’s on me.”

“So,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Dr. Eva Mendoza, and you are?”

“I’m Dr. Ethan Ramsey,” he smiled. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“This is like the end of a Hallmark movie,” Tobias joked from the front.

“Honey, you’ve obviously never seen a Hallmark movie,” Casey laughed. “So, are we all friends now?” Now, are we all friends?”

“Yeah,” Ethan smiled. “We’re friends.”

“Good!” Tobias smiled. “And Ethan, your face is so flushed. You kind of do have pink on now.”

“Oh, but that’s not nearly good enough,” Eva laughed. “Tobias, stop the car!”

“Why?”

“I need to stop at that street vendor. That pink boa would perfectly compliment Ethan’s outfit.”

“Yes!” Casey clapped as Tobias pulled over.

“No, oh no!” Ethan yelled. 

“You could have just worn the pink polo shirt I gave you, bro. This is all on you.”

Giggling like a schoolgirl, Eva returned to the car with the pink boa, gleefully handing it to Ethan.  

“If I wear this, am I 100% forgiven?”

“Yep,” Eva smiled. “Unless you do something stupid again.”

“Oh, good,” Tobias chuckled, pulling up to the valet. “We should have at least fifteen minutes before he does that.”

“OK, this ride has been nice but way too serious. Can we walk the red carpet and get our Barbie on?”

“Yes, dear,” Tobias smiled.

“You really are a whole new Tobias, aren’t you?” Eva said in wonderment. “Speaking of that,” Ethan said as he shut the car door behind him. “What was this beef you had with Carrick at Kenmore? You and I may have more in common than I initially thought.”   

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Look In My Bottom Drawer

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Blog Details | Let's take a trip

Eddie Munson x a Black!fem!reader

a/n: holy shit, it's been almost 3 months since i've posted. how's everyone doing? sorry for the disappearance. i had some issues with my university that left me unmotivated. i got everything fixed but now i'm on my period with a sprained knee, so enjoy an old draft.

warning(s): cussing, sort of proofread, fluff, self-indulgent, format is weird because i turned this in as an assignment back in April

word count: 3.4k

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Does he even like black girls? I mean he isn’t racist, nor does he seem to have a preference. I don’t know, it’s just that sometimes it feels like I shouldn’t even try. People would probably look at us weird considering we’re in Hawkins fucking Indiana and it’s 1985. If I keep staring in the mirror with existential dread I’m gonna be late for school. Not if I speed… Let me get up.

I look in the mirror one last time. I take the last perm rod out and fluff my hair a little. I already know the humidity is going to fuck up my hair, but nothing I can really do about it, but put a scrunchie on. I’m gonna get judged for my outfit, but so be it. I’m always judged for my outfits because it isn’t como se dice what’s in right now. I mean tennis skirts have been in since the 20s, but this top I actually made myself. It’s a lilac long sleeve (Yes, I know it’s 87 degrees outside. Shut up.), but it doesn’t button or anything. You put it on like a sweater and then there are two ties in the front. One right above my bust and another one right below my bust. It shows enough of my boobs to consider me a whore, but not enough to get me dress coded. I slipped on my Vans that I usually only wear to skateboard, but I’m running out of time, and they were the closest. My socks are a bit thick, but that’s a problem for a later time.

This backpack is heavier today, I swear. I took shit out and it’s still heavy. Whatever I don’t need I’ll just throw in my locker. I step outside and the heat is already blazing. Do I regret my shirt choice? No. Am I hot as hell? Yes. Oh well. I look at my baby. My pride and joy. My 1983 Audi Quattro that I spent for fucking ever saving up for. I get in and put my bag in the passenger seat. I probably should’ve turned the AC on before I got in the car. Better late than never. I bring my wrist closer to my face and sternly stare at my watch. I have ten minutes to get to a school that’s fifteen minutes away. About to Back to the Future this shit.

Okay, so I don’t actually end up going 88, but I do go a good 50 in a 30. Luckily no police are around. I still can’t believe the DMV let me get my license. I think I ran probably like three curbs. I take another quick look at my watch and see I have four minutes left. Good thing the school is finally in view. You would think I’d managed my time better since I’m a senior, but old habits die hard I guess. I’m about to pull in when Eddie’s van zips in front of me and gets in first. Fucking asshole. I pull in right after him and hurry and park. It’s not the best parking job but fuck it. I take my keys out and hurriedly grab my bag. As I’m locking the door I hear Eddie get out too. Any other time I’d sneak a glance at him, but I have two minutes to get to class and I don’t feel like hearing any of Mrs. Brown’s shit. I start jogging toward the doors when I hear Eddie’s voice.

“Sorry about that, princess,” He yells to me. Nothing but humor is detected in his tone, so I just flip him off and continue to pick up my pace.

-.-.-.-

Made it to class with one minute to spare. I still got the “You were almost late. I expect more from you” look as I walked to my seat, but that I could deal with. Whoever gave me Trig at the beginning of the day must have it out for me. How am I supposed to focus on quadratic formulas at the ass crack of dawn? This blows. It doesn’t help that Mrs. Brown’s voice drones on and on. I decided to just doodle in the back of my notebook And by doodle I mean to write “Mrs. Eddie Maguire” in different fonts. Corny, I know, but doesn’t hurt to dream, right? I mean, he doesn’t really seem like the marriage type, to be honest. I’m buggin’. I wish I didn’t think about him all the time. Let’s start, now.

College. What are we doing? I applied to Lincoln. The one in Missouri though because the one in Pennsylvania was just a bit too far. I could’ve chosen an HBCU that was closer to home like Central State in Ohio or Simmons College in Kentucky, but neither appealed to me. Lincoln is a small school and everyone that I’ve talked to in administration was nice. It’s also pretty affordable considering I’m an out-of-state student. God, I hope I get accepted.

I continue switching topics until the bell rings. I’m usually the first one out, but since I came in late I’m in the very back and therefore the last to leave. I made sure to put my headphones on, so I could escape anybody that tries to talk to me. I also got Tears for Fears’ new album on cassette so I figured I could just listen to it all day since I don’t pay attention in my classes much anyway. I do however pay attention enough to remember that I have every class with Eddie after 1st period. There goes my streak of not thinking about him. Not like he shows up anyway.

-.-.-.-

I should’ve knocked on wood. Why the fuck did he show up? I’m sitting in the left corner in the back when I see him stroll through the door. I tuck my head into my elbow and face toward the wall.

“Hey princess.” You’ve gotta be kidding me. “I really am sorry for cutting you off earlier.”

I roll my eyes before sitting up and looking at him. Maybe he was being sincere. I look into his eyes until I’m satisfied with my decision.

“Sorry for flipping you off. I was just running late and was really irritated. I woke up late and then my curls weren’t coming out how I wanted them to, so I took most of that anger out on you.” He nods his head in understanding before turning to the front. I take out my notebook and continue my drawing of Marvin the Martian. I’m testing out what designs I want to put on my board. I kind of just have a hodge-podge of shit on it so it looks messy. Probably just gonna clear the whole thing and start over.

“We match.” A whisper says from beside me.

“What?”

“Our hair. It matches.” He says a little louder. I take a look at his hair and sure enough, it’s pretty similar. I give him a quick smile before going back to my doodling. I turn the page and facing me is the name “Maguire” in Metallica font. I try to turn the page but hear a whispered “holy shit!” as I’m in a half turn.

“Was that my name?”

“What? No.” I say in a completely obvious tone. I hurriedly turn to the next page and tell me why it’s a page that has “Eddie” in big font across the middle with hearts surrounding it. I just close the notebook and look up front.

-.-.-

He’s staring at me. He’s been staring at me for the past 45 minutes. I slipped my headphones back on about 40 minutes ago, but that didn’t deter him. I wish he would just say what he wants. Right then, a note makes its way in front of me.

“Do you like me? Yes or no.”

It takes everything in me not to chuckle out loud. I respond by writing, “Are we in middle school?” and tossing it back on his desk. At this point, I’m just watching the clock which is like watching a pot of water boil. Just a few more minutes. The paper lands in front of me again. “Depends. Yes, if that means you’ll answer the question.” I roll my eyes at his answer. The bell rings and I get up fast. With the note tossed in some random page of my notebook, I walk out the door and to my locker. I hopefully lost him in the crowd. I’m so thankful that my locker is nowhere near his. My lock decides to be on my side today and the combination works on the first try. For once my locker is actually decent, so I take unnecessary books out of my bag and add them to any empty space. I look through the notebook I had last period and find the note. I take the pencil that was in the spiral part and circle yes. A defeated sigh escapes my lips as I toss the note in the locker too.

“Hey Kendrick.” With the smuggest fucking face. I bring my headphones down to their original place around my neck.

“Yes, stalker?” I respond while walking towards our next class. His arm wraps around my shoulder which makes me smile internally.

“You gonna answer my question?” I stop on the side of the hallway so as not to be in anyone’s way. I look deep into his eyes. I hate the height advantage he has over me. I scrunch my face as if I’m thinking. I know the answer though. It’s been the same answer for years.

“Yes,” I respond with a smirk before continuing my way to class. Luckily it's study hall which doubles as lunch, but there are five shifts and ours is shift four which isn’t for about an hour. I walk in and it completely slipped my mind that the desks are doubles. The seat next to mine is usually empty since I don’t really mess with anyone like that at this school.

Right on cue, as soon as I sit down, Eddie pulls into the chair right next to mine.

“Yes you’ll answer my question or yes you like me?” A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips, and I put my headphones back on. I’m putting up the hugest front right now but in all actuality, my heart is beating so hard that I hear it in my ears and feel like it’s about to burst out of my chest. A sheet of sweat keeps reappearing on my forehead no matter how many times I wipe it off. I’m messing around by not giving him an answer because I don’t know if his question has good intentions.

He pulls my headphones off, and I look at him as if he committed a federal offense.

“I like you if that helps influence your definite decision or not.” I feel my heart stop. I never thought I’d hear him say those words.

“You still deal?” I ask after turning my full attention towards him.

“Depends on who’s asking.” I give him a pointed look and roll my eyes. “Yes, princess, I still deal. You lookin’ in the market?”

“Depends on how much you’re charging nowadays.”

“For you? A date.” I laugh at his pure corniness.

“I don’t think Rick will appreciate not getting his profits.”

“I’ll overcharge some freshmen. So, what do you say?” I smile and nod my head at him.

-.-.-.-.-

After that moment, the day went by pretty fast. Eddie didn’t bother me as much, but I would catch him staring at me a lot more. I basked in the attention but feigned to be oblivious. The only time I got true peace was when we went to lunch and that’s only because when he went to the cafeteria, I went to the library. You’re counted as truant if you’re caught, but the librarian and I are cool since I’m in here every day and treat her like an actual human being.

As I walk out of the classroom, I don’t even get a moment to blink before Eddie has my hand in his and we start walking the halls. I look around and see a few people giving us questioning glances. I stiffen up my hand before slipping out of his grip, becoming paranoid. Hawkins is probably one of the least racist cities, but I can’t help but still feel nervous. We finally make it outside and we move over to the sidewalk.

“My place or yours?” Eddie asks me with a look on his face that I can’t decipher.

“We can go to mine. Parents are gone for the weekend, so we can play house.” I say while trying to lighten the mood.

He agrees and we decide to just take our own vehicles and meet at my house. Not to save face or anything. Just so we can both still have our cars instead of driving all the way back up here to get our shit. It also gives me time to calm myself down before spending more time with him. I don’t even have my seatbelt on before I’m zipping out of the parking lot. No music, no nothing. I just want to get home before Eddie. I’m zipping in and out of traffic and skillfully dodging the cops, so I don’t get another speeding ticket. Can you believe they give speeding tickets in this small town? It’s some bullshit. Feels racially motivated. Let me shut up.

The drive goes by faster than this morning. I don’t even both parking straight as I turn off the car and rush to unlock the door. I toe off my shoes by the door and look around. Everything seems to be in order. I should probably have something cooking, right? I mean, we’re usually fine just ordering pizza. But we have food in the house. But pizza is good. But you already spent your paycheck on hair products…

I walk over to the fridge and see some leftover chicken alfredo that I completely forgot I made. I take it out and place it on the counter. Now, where did I put that casserole dish at? As soon as I find it, I dump the pasta in. Shit, I forgot to preheat the oven. I turn the dial and then hear a knock on the door. I didn’t even get a chance to check my room to see if it was decently clean enough or not. I yell “one sec” before taking off toward the door.

“Hey,” I say before turning back around and walking back to the kitchen. I grab a spoon and make sure that everything is out of the container and into the pan. I open the fridge and look for the shredded mozzarella. I put an even layer on top of the pasta and carefully put it in the oven. I’ve never really done it this way, but I’ve seen it in cookbooks so why not? Okay, timer, timer, where did I put it? I look around the kitchen and see Eddie standing in the doorway, holding the timer.

“Aw, look at my wife making food for me after I’ve had a long day at work.” I roll my eyes and walk over and grab the timer from him. I set it for fifteen minutes. I also set a mental note to sporadically check it, because some part of me tells me that that’s too long for it to be in the oven.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have it ready before you got here. I was just cleaning away and thinking of my dear husband and the time got away from me.” I say matching his energy.

“That’s okay, dear wife. I’ll forgive you just this once because I love you, but next time there will be consequences.” I feel myself freeze at him saying I love you, but I shake it off just as quickly knowing that he most likely doesn’t mean it.

“Thank you, my dear husband. Care to join me in the bedroom?”

“How could I ever say no to that?” His eyebrows wiggle suggestively before he grabs my hand, and we walk upstairs. My heart starts palpitating as we closer to my room.

I take a quick peek and it’s not as dirty as I thought it would be. A few (1/3 of the floor is covered) clothes are on the floor and my bed is unmade. I think it gives the room character. We walk in and he makes himself comfortable on the bed. I guess I spaced out because I look around, too nervous to do anything else, and notice that his lunchbox is right next to it, but I don’t even remember him having it in his hand.

“Do you have a musical preference this afternoon, husband?”

“Whatever you want, wife. I’m not picky or proud.” I snorted, knowing that was a lie. If it’s not rock or metal there’s a fat chance he’ll listen to it. I actually have a custom cassette tape that I made. It’s somewhere in this pile of junk, but it’s not really his type of music. None of my tapes are labeled so I guess we’re gonna play cassette roulette. I tell Eddie to look in my bottom nightstand drawer and get my grinder and tray while I find something to play. I’m not looking long before I hear Eddie talking.

“What?” I ask as I turn to him.

“Robin thinks I should do it, but Chrissy (gag me) told me I should play it safe and get with a college boy-“ I start chasing him around the room before he runs to my bathroom and locks himself in.

“YOU LITTLE SHIT! I TOLD YOU THE BOTTOM DRAWER, NOT THE TOP!” I yell while banging on the door.

“I’m most likely gonna do neither. I’m in love with Eddie..” His voice starts fading from a high-pitched girl voice to his regular tone, “and I don’t think that’ll change even if I’m not his type.” I could almost cry from the embarrassment. The timer rings from the dresser. I don’t even bother waiting for him to come out of the bathroom before hurrying downstairs.

Why doesn’t he listen? I clearly said the bottom drawer. Right? I’m pretty sure. Whatever. I open the oven door and the pasta looks good, but I’m gonna give it about two more minutes. I lean over the kitchen counter and put my head in my folded arms. I have to face him eventually. He’s in my house. Sooner happened rather than later because right after that statement I felt a hand on the middle of my back.

“Why wouldn’t you be my type.” His soft tone is what triggers the tears.

“Because I don’t look like any of the girls we go to school with. You should be with someone like Heather, Nancy, fuck maybe even Crissy. Besides. People would probably look at us funny. Interracial relationships aren’t very common.”

The timer goes off. I open the drawer next to the sink and get my oven mitts. I take this moment to gather my thoughts and breath, so I don’t have a mental breakdown. I open the oven door and thankfully the food looks good. I pick it up with both hands and close the door with my foot. I lay it down on the counter to cool down and I sit the oven mitts next to it.

“Look at me.” He says. I’m hesitant but eventually, turn to him. “My type is a girl that spends more time maintaining her hair than actual sleeping. My type is a girl that designs her own clothes because she doesn’t like the stuff at the mall. My type is a girl that skips lunch every day because she has social anxiety. My type of girl is you.” I look into his eyes and see the exact look I’ve been giving him since I met him.

“Now, I don’t know what I did to give off the impression that I was sitting here comparing you to other girls, but I have you right now and that’s all I need to care about.” Heat rushes to my face at the confession. I turn around and open the top cabinet and reach for a couple of bowls. His arms wrap around my middle, startling me a bit but doesn’t deter me from reaching for a serving spoon.

“By the way, I meant what I said earlier. I do love you. Even if you were late with dinner.” I laugh at his quip as I spoon the pasta into one of the bowls.

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Eddie Masterlist | Hawkins