#correct me if i am wrong however ! its been a long while since i read up on the blackwood family members

[euthanizeher]

0̲1̲.̲ ／ㅤ ✿ ⸺ sudden epiphany

after putting off reading through 4dbarbie's non-dualism posts i finally said that enough was enough. funnily enough, i read @4dkellysworld 4dbarbie adaption post on how to realise self. i'm not sure why i read the second post first instead of going in order, but i fully plan on reading through them all.

p.s, anything that is indented comes straight from 4dkelly's adaption post about realising self!

p.p.s, all dividers belong to @v6que.

There is no external life, there is no need to use any methods to recondition or train your mind. It is much faster, much easier and you are hundreds times happier just letting go of the mind. The process is one of letting go more and more until you find yourself having nothing, being nothing.

immediately i felt relieved upon reading this. being in the law of attraction & assumption, and shifting community meant that i had to "recondition" my mind if i wasn't manifesting my desires - to constantly think only positive affirmations. if i wanted to be blonde, i'd have to think "i am blonde, i love being blonde, i adore my blonde hair" constantly throughout the day. and it was tiring.

Stop thinking you are Vanessa, the thoughts of needing this or that drop away. By thinking you are it, you create a character who desires and then identify yourself with it. You can only have when you let go of thinking that you don't.

this seriously spoke to me as i can recall countless times i desperately tried any method i could, two cup, 5x55 challenge, pillow method, you name it! but it makes sense now. i was caught up with wanting and thus identified with a character who wanted, when in reality i always had.

i say "identified" and not "became" because, and correct me if i'm wrong, you cannot become anything - only identify with. the only thing you are is self.

I've said it before, you don't have to convince Vanessa that she's unreal. Just stop taking the thoughts you don't like for truth or reality. There is no convincing involved, it is all letting go... you're holding so tightly onto your ideas now, that's why you can't see their falsity. 19 You don't have to convince anyone of anything. What I teach here is to leave your mind alone, that is all. Don't go along with it. 2 Thoughts will keep on coming for a while, just now you know they have nothing to do with you.

i understand. simply observe the thoughts as clouds passing by, do not take them as truth and do not fight them. previously when i was still in the loa community i would combat them. a thought would enter, "you won't shift!" and i would fight him back, "yes i will! i already am in my desired reality! i am a master of shifting!" but this isn't right, as kelly said there's no need to convince anyone - especially your own mind.

First you start doubting "the facts", then you become indifferent to the facts, lastly there are no facts anymore and you can establish your own.

the beautiful process of shedding the ego! metamorphosis.

her post is rather long (and informative, go read!!) so i don't want this entry to be taken up of me nodding and going "yep so true!". instead as i read through it yesterday and allowed the info to soak into my brain i felt enlightened. i wondered why on earth didn't i read through this earlier? for the first time since late 2020, my mind became quiet on its own.

i observed the world differently, as if it were a dream - a lucid dream, because that's exactly what it is. it was mind-blowingly peaceful. a damn breath of fresh air to be told to simply let go, wholly, instead of repeating affirmations 69x, get into SATS every night, etc.

although, i will admit a part of her feels anxious at being told to "let go". many of us from the loa, subliminal, and shifting community, LOVE doing things and putting in an active effort because it's been instilled in our minds that hard work pays off. however, i shall only observe her fears and treat it with indifference.🦋

if you made it this far, thank you for reading! ⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

[coolingrosa]

Honestly about nightmare....it upset me quite a bit how he just didn't at all understand why Killer was acting out like this. It felt so obvious? Like with Dust showing up and Killer acting out in response to it....Unless this is a common occurrence? I am really wondering what nightmare thought about this, if he even tried to read Killer and his behaviour or perhaps ask Dust about the relationship between the two. Did he just not think anything about it? Just assume "oh its a kid throwing a tantrum, it'll pass"? Man i'd rly like to know it from his perspective. Maybe he is used to ppl throwing tantrums, considering I am pretty sure error flips out a lot too. I guess the problem hereby lies with the fact error is an immortal and an adult and killer,.,,is not. and nightmare just simple doesn't distinguish the two properly.

But honestly I think nightmare should have known better than to snap at Killer ToT..... I believe that him snapping did ultimately the most damage, error just kinda added a bit more salt to it to be put it simple. After all Killer favoured Nightmare obviously a lot more than Error, he was like a parent figure for him basically. So Nightmare snapping would mean a lot more than what Error says. I don't like how error told Killer that advice though, he basically just told him to "suck it up", in the pretense of "caring" for nightmare and not wanting to see him upset. It feels wrong to say that error cares though, because of how he is STILL stuck in the past. It almost feels like he is talking and giving advice to Killer more for himself than for nightmares sake.

Both error and nightmare are so inexperienced with mortals and so fucking mentally fucked up themselves, I doubt they will act any different unless someone who is a mortal corrects them...And I honestly thought Dust would do it? At one point it felt like he knew why Killer did it, but then it felt like he did not?

ultimate question however: how will nightmare react to Killers change? I wonder if alarm bells will ring or if he will just think that Killers "phase" finally passed. And I fear it'll be the latter.... So sorry for the long ass essay, I have SO many questions AND IT IS SO HARD TO TELL WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN AND HOW THIS MESS OF A MAKE-SHIFT FAMILY IS GOING TO DEVELOPE.....

You’re analysis is so wonderful and definitely the mixed emotions I wanted to give. Especially since good and evil doesn’t exist in Roseverse, just people and their actions. A lot of my YouTube and tiktok dragged on Dream solely for a while due to the limited knowledge, so chapter four was a big drop as it showed just how out of depth and horrible Nightmare and Error could be as well. I’m gonna try to answer each part of this the best I can without revealing too much!

1. Nightmare is used to Killer acting out, which happened a lot in the pilot, so he doesn’t put two and two together that these moments are connected- especially since Killer has never been put in a situation around him to show that he ALSO has jealousy issues as well as self esteem issues. For a while it was just them and sometimes Error in the castle, which Killer never showed an act of jealously towards- only distrust.

2. Nightmare’s perspective won’t be shown a lot in the next Bad Sanses chapter unfortunately, so I’ll try my best to explain his reasoning here. Don’t take it as a defense. I may explain characters and their actions, but at the end of the day, Nightmare is a adult and has a responsibility.

Nightmare’s main flaw (and I can now finally state this) is that he doesn’t care for people who are not under his radar. Saying he doesn’t know much about negative emotions is redundant, but his abilities to help with them have long since faded ever since the loss of Ink. Killer clearly is the product of a teenager with intense mental health issues, and Nightmare never got to see Ink as a bratty teenager. Killer is the only example around him and so he quite frankly sucks at it and sees his outbursts as…well…tantrums. He can’t fully see Killer for what he is and constantly sees him as a child due to his own age, and that belittling makes Killer’s emotions and rightful feelings come across as childish to Nightmare.

The mention of Error is also correct. Nightmare is used to emotional and violent outbursts since he was thirteen- especially from those close to him. Error and Nightmare as children weren’t healthy and Error was an abusive friend. I will always state that. However, though Error improved his ways, Nightmare never fully blamed him for such things and therefore never saw anything wrong with the people he loved lashing out and being hurtful. It’s normal for him- and also not smth to be addressed in his eyes. However, Killer is a child and as the adult, Nightmare has a responsibility to step in and correct his behavior with disciplinary action rather than passiveness. But, of course, he doesn’t until he finally snaps

3. Yeahhh I will say what Error told Killer didn’t bother him too much until he made the comment about Dust. Killer is far too use to the verbal abuse Error shoots at him that it rolled off of him and he was more annoyed Error was still in the room. Error and Killer just aren’t and will never be close enough for their fights to leave any impact. Nightmare, though? After finding out truly what Nightmare is capable of and then being told that? Oh, yeah, Killer is crushed.

4. This was one of the few times Error tried to actually help in his own way. Error doesn’t word himself well, even when being vulnerable. He hoped Killer would understand it as “there’s no need to lash out as ur already here and cared for. So just stop hating urself and others and finally feel secure. “ Was it not so great advice and easy to be misunderstood from what he actually meant? Yea. Did he just COMPLETELY miss the mark on mental health and the struggles of slowly getting over the fear of abandonment and the steps it takes to FEEL that security? YEAH LMAO. But Killer definitely misunderstood him as well. And Error also misunderstood something about Dust as well. I’ll expand more on that in my last point.

5. Dust may be smart, but he can’t put together a case without solid evidence and explanation and due to him not being there from the start, he doesn’t truly understand why Killer is acting like he is. He knows it has something to do with Nightmare, but what that actually is? He can’t know. I believe this won’t be a shock, but Dust does think Killer was being abused by Nightmare and therefore becomes like a guard dog. When Killer jumps him, that ideas gets thrown out the window and Dust is left utterly confused on the motives. He doesn’t hate him, though. He’s just confused, and hurt.

6. And unfortunately, Dust isn’t empathetic enough to be the one to truly understand things. Wonder who will be, though…

7. I cant say too much as that’s a chapter seven thing, but I will say it’s where Gus the immortal frog comes in (Killer’s pet) and given by Nightmare. I’m sure you can put two and two together as to why Nightmare, who is clueless about everything teenager related, is stooping to giving the apathetic Killer a pet 😭

8. Almost forgot this part but Killer is an unreliable narrator. He will always be, and the next bad Sanses chapter will see that, as it won’t be in his perspective solely. Everything he sees and thinks is unreliable. For example, when they reach the au and Dust is slowly blinking at him while Killer demands to know why he came too, Killer takes it as a threat. What if Dust actually doing? Blinking at him like he’s a angry cat bc Dust doesn’t understand emotions and defeats to animal behaviors to help soothe this teenager LMAO

[moonspirit]

hi! I hope you’re doing great today ☺️ I wanted to ask you one thing

how do you think Annie got her ring? was it her idea so that she would not have to bite herself? and if so, what does it say about her personality?

Hello! I hope your day is going well too :3

Interesting question tho. I don't think anything about Annie's ring was ever mentioned in the manga beyond the obvious reference to its purpose. Please correct me if I'm wrong tho, my memory these days is WELP xD

However, assuming I am right, this is where I have to say that I like picking tidbits of information from other published sources to expand upon lore, as long as it doesn't straight up contradict canon information.

So, I'll dive into Lost Girls for a bit.

I recall a chapter in it where Mikasa confronts Annie over her ring that she found in the training grounds (we already know that Annie doesn't wear her ring all the time, only putting it on when she's likely to use it, and Lost Girls maintains this). Annie's response to this is that it was an item given to her by her "parents" before she left home, and that it's important to her. Mikasa then asks her something like, "Why are you here, in the military?" And follows it up with, "It doesn't look to me like you're here to secure a place in the inner districts, rather, you're doing it because you have to." Annie then explains that the ring is what gives her purpose, and that's good enough a reason.

From this I've always assumed that the ring wasn't a thing Annie made or bought herself - it was given to her by her father, probably once she was seen by the Marleyan military as a definite successor to the Female Titan.

Now where did the ring itself come from?

Since we aren't told much about Mr.Leonhardt either except for the fact that he was shipped off to Liberio for his half eldian blood, his background remains murky. But I remember reading a reddit post years and years ago about how the pointy blade on Annie's ring was a bit similar to real life poison rings that were used in the middle ages by nobility. These rings were used to poison enemies as well as to facilitate suicide in case of capture. Sound a bit familiar? Anyway, somehow I ended up imagining that Mr.Leonhardt came into possession of a similar such ring with a blade as a part of a loot of stolen goods before he arrived at Liberio, and that has been fact in my head haha xD

So while I've just taken Annie's words (about being given the ring by her dad) at face value and accepted them, it is also highly interesting to explore the possibility that Annie bought it herself. Why? Let's see:

Whichever take you go with, the ring is very symbolic. The choice of using the ring to transform instead of a bite or cut, is very much reflective of what Annie was taught: to be quick, powerful and lethal. With a ring you attract less attention, and the cut will be smaller and therefore easier to hide as it heals. It can assist in situations where the hands and mouth are bound and gagged. It can also act as a psychological trigger: putting it on means you have a mission to complete and see through, no matter what; aka, you mean serious business.

So to put it simply: Annie getting the ring for herself would basically speak about her tactical mind and quick problem solving abilities, leaning towards methods most efficient and able to get the job done with minimum effort - the ring achieves exactly that.

On the other hand, Annie getting the ring as a "gift" from her father would speak to narrative symbolism. The reason I personally like this more than the first one is because Annie calls the ring "important to her", and perhaps that is because the ring is her one, single tangible link between her and father (in the Lost Girls chapter, she pats her left breast pocket to check for it), and as such, it's very precious. This brings out Annie's softer side that yearns and longs for affection and love.

Anyway xD Long ass reply, but I hope that satisfies you!

[ringworks]

So uh let me try to get this straight here.

Pride is the old man in the boy's body (is the boy's name Hugh or something else. My apologies I'm going off Google translate here. It wasn't clear.) The boy is gone I think or is he still in the body with the old man??? I think it's just the old man alone in the body. The old man's name being Algernon. At least from what I can gather.

Anyway, Pride's full name of Hugh the Dark Algernon III is a combination of the boy's name, the boy's nickname for the old man, the old man's name, and the fact that he's the third being of them both maybe (1st person Algernon + 2nd person Hugh = 3rd person Pride). And if what I think Google translate is trying to tell me is true then Pride doesn't, and never has, had an eve because if he does he'll lose his name. Which he refuses to do as it is the name that is his own but also one he gave himself, a constant reminder of what happened, of who he is, and the memory of the boy. (Which again begs the question of why servamps even need eves to begin with. Outside of companionship and as a source of blood I mean.)

However, if that is true then that brings up an interesting notion. So remember when Kuro couldn't remember his orginal name with the excuse of its been such a long time since he's thought about it he must have just forgot?

That was already rather suspicious and as such I assumed there was more to it then that so maybe this is what Tanaka had in mind.

As far as we know Mahiru is Kuro's only and first eve. And while that dictates that Kuro could have just forgotten his orginal name when he contracted with Mahiru a line from the count makes me wonder again if perhaps there is more going on here.

Or maybe I'm just overthinking this as I do all things with this series. The count doesn't seem to have made a contract with Kuro ever as far as we can tell. The count might just be trying to explain what an eve is right here.

Also the chapter mentioned that there are spies on the Alicein and Tsukimitsu sides of the war working for team revive the count. Which I am again assuming for the Alicein's is Mikuni (idk maybe there are others). And I guess because of the ending...Yumikage for the Tsukimitsu?? Otherwise how did he know where Tetsu was. I don't think he was the person talking to Mikuni in the C3 arc who's shoes we saw but idk idk. I don't think Nico would have been able to tell Yumikage where they would be (he only knew the general direction Pride had gone in I believe) so to me it seems like it's the only option.

Please correct me if I am reading any of this wrong.

On a side note it's nice to see the karaoke pride subclass again.

[beesandwasps]

Not Magic But Intent

The phrase “intent is not magic” used to be pretty popular on social media a few years back — it means “doing a bad thing while having a good mindset does not somehow make the bad thing good”. This is true.

However, intent does have some practical effects. Right now, neo-nazis are trying to take over relief efforts for the train derailment in Ohio. They are doing this in hopes that if they talk really loudly about how mutual aid is coming from fascism, they will be able to recruit more fascists, or at least make the recipients of the aid stop opposing it. Since we don’t even want the fascists we already have, let alone a new crop, this is concerning.

I bring this up not because of that specific issue but because I am starting to see something on the left which worries me, involving intent.

Fascists are evil and we should stop them. If you’re here and reading that, I’m kind of presuming you agree with that statement. (If not, go away.) But it is worth asking ourselves “why?” now and again, so that we remain clear about this.

The correct answer is “fascists need to be stopped because they will, if left unchecked, harm (and usually kill) people for traits which they cannot control, such as ancestry or sexual orientation”. If there were, somehow, a fascist movement which exclusively sought to improve the lot of its favored group by nonviolent collective bargaining on their behalf, like the AARP does for old people, then it would not be necessary to resist it — but it also would not be categorized as a fascist movement, because a movement is called fascist because of its hatred of and, ultimately, violence towards the “other”. Nobody is seriously going to categorize the AARP as fascist (unless they start blaming young people for things and trying to kill them, of course — that would put them over the line).

Now, note the specifics of that answer: the fault is with the hatred of and violence against others. It’s not the particular selection of who those others are. If you encounter a political movement which blames all problems on white people and wants to kill them, that’s as bad as American fascists who blame all problems on dark-skinned people and want to kill them, or nazis who blame all problems on Jews and want to kill them. The wrongness is the desire to scapegoat people and then harm and kill them.

I bring this up because I keep seeing posts which seem to be saying “we need to resist nazis because they hate Jewish people, and Jews are special and should be exempt from violence”, with the implication that if said nazis were targeting some other group it would be okay.

Think that’s an exaggeration? Think again — the current Prime Minister of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, leader of the single largest political party of Israel — which is considered centrist and mainstream in Israel, no matter how right-wing it may appear from the outside — has spent years trying to whitewash not just nazis but Adolf Hitler himself. In 2015 he tried to claim that Hitler didn’t want to kill Jewish people and just a couple of years ago — there’s an article on this somewhere in my blog’s archives which I can’t find, and I don’t want to Google this too specifically because I don’t want a bunch of searches with these terms in my history — gave an interview where he said that if the Nazis hadn’t specifically put Jews on their enemies list they would have been fine (which means that the other people who were in concentration camps, gays and Roma and disabled people and dissenters and so forth, were fine to exterminate). It is absolutely a mainstream opinion in Israel that fascism is fine as long as Jews aren’t the target.

Hate crimes against Jewish people should not be tolerated. But they should not be tolerated because hate crimes should not be tolerated, not because the target is Jewish people. We don’t need Jewish übermenschen any more than we need “Aryan” ones; unfortunately it is clear that Zionism is increasingly linked to exactly this worldview. Deciding that Muslims — and particularly Palestinians — are inherently evil and then trying to kill them, which is official Israeli policy now, is fascist, and must be stopped.

[proeliarp]

can the blackwood have a gift like greensight or skinchanging? since the brynden rivers/the three eyed raven is a member of that house, it seems as though that may be a family trait

you  are  correct,  ‘non  !  brynden  rivers  was  a  member  of  house  blackwood,  and  he  is  canonically  known  to  have  greensight  and  skinchange  into  a  flock  of  crows  but  it  is  uncertain  if  he  attained  this  gifts  through  the  children  of  the  forest  after  he  disappeared  beyond  the  wall.  this  quote  in  the  awoiaf  hints  that  he  may  have  had  the  gifts  since  birth  (  or  perhaps  he  is  just  exceptionally  crafty  )  :  

brynden  was  rumoured  to  be  a  sinister  sorcerer  and  spymaster  who  effectively  ruled  the  kingdom  “with  spies  and  spells”  and  as  “lord  bloodraven”.  a  popular  riddle  asked  was,  “how  many  eyes  does  lord  bloodraven  have  ?  a  thousand  eyes,  and  one.”

it  seems  to  be  a  very  rare  trait  in  the  family,  however,  as  i  believe  he  is  the  only  blackwood  in  canon  to  possess  it,  so  i  suppose  this  is  up  for  discussion  and  depends  on  the  character  and  the  application  itself.  watch  this  space  for  potential  input  from  admin  svet  !

eta  :  at  current  time,  all  our  greenseer  spots  are  filled  !

[jaeminscoffee]

Daddy Issues | S. Jn

Pairing | Seo Johnny x Fem!Reader

Genre | Smut, fluff

Wc;type | oneshot: 3.93k [not proof read]

Warning(s) | Pwp, dilf!johnny, y/n's a pillow princess, daddy kink, overstimulation, teasing, edging, dacryphilia, slight voyeurism, degradation kink, heavy use of the words 'doll, princess, slut, pretty, angel', typical lyra smut, i made haechan johnny's son (i was about to write changbin as johnny's son but decided against it) age gap, unprotected sex ( the Reader's on pills. Remember this is a fiction, don't play the wrong card irl) filth.

a/n- i found this request buried in my asks and was tempted to write it. Sure, the warning looks intimidating, but i know you wanna read it, y'all whores (ily) shoutout to @bakugou-is-my-bae @cvntzennie and @jenopollo for helping me decide what to post first! @suhpersonic

Minors try not to interact! <3

Age is just a number, so surely, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of, right? 

There's no reason for you to not fall for the friendly neighborhood bachelor, well not so bachelor bachelor, since he does go around asking people who knows of his marriage to pretend it never took place. 

Johnny's hot, super hot. Has the build of a supermodel. Has the face that one can only imagine belongs to a greek god, as you'd jokingly tell him how he seemed to be god's favorite and how you loathe Aphrodite for showing favoritism (which would always end up with you getting a very sultry, teasing look from the lad) 

Johnny has the type of personality that women can only wish the entirety of the male species would possess. He's an absolute sweetheart, life of the party, definitely the center of attention wherever he goes. And oh god, does he have an immaculate fashion sense. 

But Johnny's also the father of Donghyuck. Your best friend. 

More than being ashamed about the fact that you actually fell in love with a man who has a child of your age, it was the fact that you had to fall for Donghyuck's father of all people. 

Donghyuck is a sweetheart, definitely got his personality from his father but he's also got that glare that could creep the Lord's of the darkness from his father. He's got so much from his father that the resemblance is uncanny. 

You'd not want to get onto hyuck's bad side since you've gotten first hand experience at stopping him from almost committing homicide to someone who spoke shit about his friends, more specifically, you. 

But Hyuck's not in town. So a little fun with Mr. Suh wouldn't hurt anyone, correct? After all, you're still only a human with desires and the want to take risks. 

You'd always not so subtly drop hints at Johnny and he'd always give you that look that would have slick collecting itself between your thighs. A warning look. 

A look that said, "cross the line and you'll get it" 

But that's the thing, you want to get it and will do anything to get it.

"Y/n." 

You'd ask yourself less than a million times if you want to do this or not.

Sure, you weren't this hesitant when you decided to sext your best friend's father knowingly when he was in business mode to irk him up but that's one thing. 

And having to confront the same father who left a message smaller than a sentence that completely disregarded all the obscene text and images to show that he's not the slightest bothered or suprised by your behavior for that matter was another thing.

"Tomorrow at mine." 

It's almost as though he deals with hormonal teenagers one as such as yourself on a daily basis and that thought kind of backfired at you considering the whole 'Let's piss Johnny off so that he'd finally give me what i want' agenda. 

Ironic, huh? 

"Mr. Suh." you start hesitantly, unsure of what to call him, scared of what his reaction would be after your inappropriate shenanigans last night. 

Your stiff demeanor broke down a little with just a hint of shiver passing down your spine as you watch his features contort into a subtle but cocky smirk, "So now you're being all formal,"

"Well, what else would you like me to address you as?" you inquire, feigning oblivion to his tone and what he's implying at. "You tell me, doll. You seemed to have a lot of names to call me last night," he takes a step forward, prompting you to walk a step backwards, further into the corridors of his apartment and away from the actual location. 

"I do not know what you're talking about.. " you let your voice shrivel towards the end, eyes wandering around the complex, finding interest in every small detail as you avoid Johnny's teasing gaze. 

"You don't?" Johnny takes another step forward, latching his hands onto your forearms to prevent you from stepping further away, "You must have had a heavy sleep to forget all that you did last night," his voice drops dangerously low as he begins to walk backwards and back into the safety of his apartment, all the while keeping his gaze fixated on you.

"That won't do, would it? How about we take a walk down the memory lane? And see if that rings any bell?" He brushes your hair away from its static position on your shoulder, allowing him to appreciate all those fine details of your shoulders and neck that are exposed from your selection of clothing, an off shoulder. 

"How about we don't...?" You ask with skepticism, jolting slightly when you hear the door shut behind you and at the new intrusion of personal space by the lad.

"Why are you acting all shy now, Y/n? Weren't you the one so eager to get into her best friend's fathers pants? Just be the whore you are, darling. Your facade's fooling no one." okay you definitely didn't see that coming. 

Johnny's expressions morph into that of mischief as he watches your eyes grow wide and mouth fall ajar, "Am i not correct? Are you not a whore?" he asks with an eyebrow quirked up in a questioning manner.

You don't reply, almost as though the question was meant to linger in the open and that it was a rhetorical one. What you didn't expect, however, was for Johnny's hands to find pursuit around your neck, not necessarily applying pressure, but there as a warning. 

"Answer me." 

"I'm not.." you answer with a feeble voice, internally cringing at how squeaky you sound which only added to Johnny's amusement. 

"Really? Because I don't think good girls go around drooling at a divorced man, her friend's father for that matter and definitely do not send lewd images and voice out their fantasies to a guy twice their age, still want to pretend you're innocent? Or you admit it and we cut down the chase?"

"Yes, I am." you breathe out when his fingers tighten around your neck, a triumphant smile making its way onto his lips. Yet, Johnny felt the need to keep pushing,

"you're what?" 

"I am what you said I am," you speak, trying to avoid looking at the scrutinizing look on his face which seemed futile as he had his arms wrapped around your neck, keeping your head in place. 

"I want to hear you say it, doll. I need to hear you say it." At this point Johnny's intent was to get you into a flustered puddle in his hold and it sure as hell was going in that direction, seeing how you can't even hold his gaze for more than a few seconds in a shot. 

"I am.. I am a who-"

The sound of a phone ringing loud cut you off midway through your sentence, to which you were absolutely relieved. Johnny only seemed to grow annoyed the more he heard the phone ring. With a loud huff, he lets you go, not before giving you a stern look, "Go to my room." he instructed, making his way to the study. 

You let out a breath you've been holding in unknowingly the moment he steps away from you. You watch his figure retreat from you with awe, only now realizing how messy you felt between your legs and how your knees keep buckling. 

"Oh Hyuck!" you hear Johnny exclaim into the phone the minute you step forward to follow his command. 

Your best friend is on call with the guy you're about to fuck. 

Your blood runs cold as you shakily make your way into the apartment and towards the bedroom, shrugging off your sling bag, hanging it behind the door as you place your phone on the bedside table to wipe your hands dry from all the sweat that had accumulated at the palm of your hands. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, about to eat to my dinner actually" you hear the moment to make yourself comfortable at the edge of the bed, looking over to the door where Johnny stood with his arms across his chest, the other holding up the phone as he leans his weight onto one shoulder, leaning into the doorframe.

You take the time to really appreciate his appearance. He adorned nothing more than a simple grey sweat and tight black tee but he seemed ready to walk down a runway at any given moment now. His long hair, slightly disheveled looking almost intentionally messed up, compliments his features. And oh his features. 

The everlasting smirk stayed still on his lips, moving as he exchanged words with his son.

You only come back to your senses when Johnny snapped his free hand in front of you, gaining your attention. He points at his own shirt, then points at you, mouthing 'off' while he listens to Donghyuck speak about whatever he's speaking. 

"Really? Jeno said that? Tell him I'm more than willing to welcome him as my gym partner, the lad seems strong" Johnny makes a quick move to remove the gadget from his ear, before holding it in front of him after placing the call on speaker mode 

Your eyes widen the moment you hear the disturbance in the background and Donghyuck's voice resonate through the room. "no?? Why would you want to work out with him? He'll only make you feel old, you know?" 

"Says the one who still can't beat me at arm wrestling. If anything, i think Jeno would make the perfect gym buddy for me," Johnny raises an eyebrow at your defiance, cocking his head towards the side, staring down at you with a predatory look, "Hyuck, you know, Y/n-" you scramble to take your shirt off at the mention of your name on the call, "-stopped by earlier" he lets out a silent laugh of disbelief.

"Oh? Oh yeah! I'd told her I'd give her book back before I left but I forgot, did you perhaps give it back to her?" Donghyuck questions. 

"I figured you must've forgotten so, yeah i did." Johnny replies, pushing himself off of the doorframe, now walking towards you. 

"Man, I miss her! I might facetime her after I end the call with you," Johnny sets down the phone beside you on the bed, leaning down, placing both his hands on either side of your lap, finding comfort at the crook of your neck,

"I remember her mentioning something about her cousin coming over? Maybe wait for an hour or so before calling her" his lips graze against your neck each time he spoke, you let out a tiny whimper at the so longed feeling, only to earn yourself a small bite at the earlobe, immediately accompanied by a hand over your mouth, "you need to be quiet, doll. Or my son would find out how much of a slut his best friend is," he whispers in your ear. 

"Yeah? Did she mention which one?" 

"No, not really, she kinda just stormed out after getting what she wanted" Johnny creates a trail of kisses all the way from your neck to your shoulders, down the collarbone while one of his hand worked to unhook your bra, "Yeah, she's weird like that," you hear Donghyuck let out a chuckle as you whine into Johnny's palm, your figure slightly trembling from the fear of getting caught all the while being excited about the risky situation he's put the two of you in. 

"Anyways, I'll call you tomorrow? The boys are coming over now so I got to go! Night, dad!" Donghyuck speaks up again, "Night, Hyuck." 

You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Johnny let's his hand drop from your mouth and makes its way towards your hair, brushing through the strands before pulling at it with a firm grip, "I had my son on call and here you are making all these sweet noises, you wanted to get busted, doll?" 

"It's not my fault! You-"

"ah-ah! Don't talk back, angel. You're already in deep trouble, don't want to add onto that now, do we?" He makes a swift move to have you lying on your back, your torso completely exposed to him while he remains clothed. 

"But Johnny-" you whine, jolting when you feel his hands caressing the soft flesh of your inner thighs, "How do you think Hyuck would feel about this?" his hands travel further north, cupping your heat from underneath your skirt. "fuck, you're drenched"

"Now tell me, pretty girl, what are you supposed to be calling me, now?" 

"Johnny-, tha-that was a joke! I don't have daddy kin-" you try clenching your thighs close from the sudden attention your core was receiving. Johnny wholeheartedly lets out a laugh at your attempt to hide your true feelings, making a quick act of disregarding your soaked panties somewhere behind him.

"Darling, the more you deny it, the longer we keep going at it-" his thumbs at your clit, applying pressure but making no move to quench your needs. You let out a sigh of bliss at the feeling, your back arching off of the sheets at the sensation.

In any other situation, you'd be embarrassed at how sensitive you'd gotten just from all the dirty talking and looks Johnny passed you. But that's the catch, he's Johnny, the only one who can get you this sensitive while doing the bare minimum. 

"Say it, Y/n." 

"No, Johnny! It's-it's embarrassing.." you plead with your eyes, grinding your hips against his fingers, earning a satisfied, dirty look from the lad. 

"Very well.. I'll just draw it out of you"

Without warning, Johnny with little to no resistance, slides two slender digits into your wetness, setting a pace fast enough to draw loud chains of cries from your mouth.

"You hear that, doll? You hear how fucking wet you are? Hm?" he growls animalistically, the thumb that remained on your clit now moving in circles with a motive to get you undone in seconds. 

"Johnn-..!" you whine out, feeling your orgasm growing so close that you could almost taste it, "Still going at that, angel?" he questions, not really expecting an answer as he soaks up the pleasured look on your face. "Johnny- I'm close.. -" you fail to notice the mischievous grin growing on his face as he speeds up the movement of his fingers. 

"Of course you are, doll" He feels you clench around his fingers, back coming off of the mattress as you ready yourself for your release, waiting until the last minute to draw his finger out.

"Why would you-? Johnn-I was so close!" you cry out as you sense your core clench around nothing, whining about the incomplete orgasm. "Why would I give you what you want when you wouldn't comply, baby? That's not how this works." He shrugs, licking his fingers clean of your essence, moving up from the bed to remove the shirt that seemed to be suffocating now.

"Johnny, please!" you whine louder, rubbing your thighs together to create some sort of friction, all unsatisfactory as it did not meet the same intensity as that of his fingers. 

"Please what, doll?" He smirks, knowing the ball is in his court and that you'd had to give in any moment now. Johnny leans down once again, drawing lazy circles at your clit, using his other hand to hold himself up above and close to you, his minty breath which had a hint of coffee fanning your face as you whimper, finally feeling your high building itself up again. "Spit it out, princess, you know you want to." he speaks in a soft voice.

"Please..please" you beg for nothing in particular, getting all worked up again, "The begging's lovely, doll. But you're starting to anger me here, will you say it? Or should I leave you hanging again?" 

You mutter prayers under your breath, hoping he wouldn't actually leave you hanging again, "Fine-" he moves again to remove his fingers from you to deprive you of pleasure all over again when you finally latch onto his wrist, keeping his hands in place blurting out, "Daddy! I'm so-sorry.. There, daddy, please make me come" you give in, the name, the feeling and look of pure victory on his face as he grins like a cheshire cat only intensifies the heat growing at a rapid pace at the pit of your stomach. 

"Final fucking ly, princess. Daddy will make you feel good" He reinserts his fingers in, drilling it with desperation to see you come undone as he draws rapid circles on your now sensitive clit with the other hand, watching you squirm under him.

"Joh-Daddy i'm coming..!" you cry out weakly as you feel your orgasm hit you with much force, easily driving you into over sensitivity. Johnny's patient in helping you ride out your orgasm, not stopping until you let out a throaty sob and plead him to stop to allow yourself some room to breathe. 

Johnny, however, makes no move to stop, only speeding up his fingers, his gaze fixed on where his fingers disappeared inside of you while his other hand held you down with a vise grip, "Give me one more, doll. I know you've got one more in you. " he pants, the feeling of his girth in confinement only throwing himself to sensory deprivation as he feels himself twitch inside his sweats painfully. 

You shake your head, tears now flowing elegantly down your cheek, your lips puckered into a slight pout, your eyebrows drawn together as you let yourself melt into the pleasure Johnny was providing you with. "Daddy.." 

You whine, feeling your second high reaching you ridiculously quick as you see Johnny's face contort in concentration, 

"I need to get you nice and wet for me, princess, you're doing so well. Give daddy another one" you coaxes you with his sultry tone, words and actions, inevitably having you come undone under him for the second time that night. 

You let out a choked moan, finally having enough as you curl upon yourself the minute Johnny removes his fingers from you, full fledged crying at the overbearing feeling of sensitivity. 

Johnny groans at the sight, leaning down to press a soft peck on your sweaty forehead before getting off of the bed to remove his pants alongside his boxer at a slow speed, granting you some time to recover.

"Condom?" he asks, readying himself to reach into the drawing when he notices you shake your head a no as a reply, "I'm on pills.." you mutter weakly. 

You hear him curse out at the thought of doing you raw, flexing his muscles before climbing on top of you again. He takes his time to gently turn you back onto your back, pressing his tender lips against your irritated one for the first time that night, his hand ever so slightly moving to play with your clit once again, making you jerk, "Daddy!" 

"Sorry, doll. Daddy just needs to make sure that princess is ready to take his cock" 

Your whining intensifies at his words, wiggling your hips to move closer to his own, "But I am ready! Look, daddy! I'm so wet and ready for you!" you whimper, earning a chuckle from the lad. 

Just like all the other times that night, he aligns his cock at your entrance without a warning, the tip ever so slightly pushing through your walls, "Alright, big girl. Show daddy how much of a slut you can be for him."

Suddenly, Johnny detaches himself from you, moving further away as he leans by the edge of the door, smirking at you whining at the loss of contact, "Patience, angel" 

He grabs hold of your hips, manhandling your body into all fours as he enters you completely with no trouble once he's got you where he wants you to be.  

Something about having to take Johnny from behind was so sexy that you could almost immediately feel your orgasm grow, "Fuck baby, keep clenching around me like that and i won't last long," he grunts, moving in you with a steady pace, 

"I never expected my son to befriend such filthy sluts like you, Y/n. Look at the mess you're making on my sheets" He grabs a fistful of your ass in a tight squeeze, the sudden shift in his demeanor only serving as a whiplash as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to the sweet orgasm. 

"Jesus, doll, you're so fucking tight i can barely move" Johnny growls, talking to keep himself from coming too fast. 

"Daddy.. I'm close. M-I'm so so close" you cry as your arms give out and you fall face first onto the mattress, the new stretch in your back only encouraging his cock to hit you deeper, finding the sweet cushion that serves as extra pleasure for you. 

"Me too, princess, me too.. '' You hear him let out a whine, his thrusts growing sloppier as he does you slower but deeper. 

He reaches around your body to find pursuit at your clit for the nth time that night, rubbing rapid, messy circles to go with his deep thrusts, "Daddy!" you reach your high with a high pitched cry of his name. 

Johnny comes not too long after you as he couldn't resist the constant tight clenching of your walls around his cock. He thrust slowly to ride out his high as you twitch helplessly, face scrunched up in too much pleasure. 

You feel your body being manoeuvred onto your side as he whispers sweet nothings which pass right through your ears as you feel him softened inside you, the feeling ridiculously soothing for your used up walls, 

"You did amazing, darling." he kisses your temple, not making any move to remove himself from within you, which you silently thanked him for. 

You both lay in silence as you turned your body towards him, earning a hiss and a playful smack from him as it added pressure onto his sensitive member. You wrap your arms around his torso, about to nuzzle into his chest and just drift away to dreamland when you hear the familiar ring of your phone from the table beside the bed. 

You feel Johnny's body shift to reach out to get your phone, looking at the caller ID before handing it to you with a smirk that you knew meant that he was up to no good. "Oh! It's hyuck" you exclaim in shock, quickly accepting the call and placing it near your ear, moving to get away from him. 

But Johnny seemed to have other ideas, as he latched an arm around your torso to keep you from moving, "Hey-" you begin, immediately feeling Johnny experimentally thrust into you again, making you whine, "Y/n! I miss you~-oh hey, are you okay?" you hear Donghyuck's voice from the other side, 

You look at Johnny with a pleading and warning gaze to which you earn yourself a toothy grin from the lad, 

"Of co-course! Just a little.. peachy,'' You turn around to place a hand on his chest to halt his movement, "You don't sound just peachy.. I've heard you like this before!" you hear Donghyuck make those noises he makes when he's thinking as Johnny keeps thrusting lazily the more you look at him, you see him open his mouth to speak, "Oh fuck! You're getting laid, aren't you???" 

"Tell Hyuck daddy says hi"

[youn9racha]

I Know (Part II)

Pairing: Changbinxfem!reader

Genre: smut

Warning: mild stalking, stripping, phone sex???, mutual masturbation, semi-exhibitionism, a tiny bit of corruption kink, and an even tinier praise kink, switch!changbin, switch!reader

Words: 2.8k

Extra Notes: like I’ve mentioned in the last part, everyone is above the age of 21 (think senior year of college age), so thats that. I’ve also noticed that the lyric is not that related to the story, but oh well :’) anyways, hope you enjoy this

And baby, I know, I know whatever city you’re in, you’re still the boy that I’d pick…

PLEASE READ PART 1 FIRST BEFORE THIS !!

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This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

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Changbin’s calling me…

What in the world does he want to talk to me about in this ungodly hour? It wasn’t late, but it certainly wasn’t early enough for a call like this. I looked back at the window and I still see the curtains still closed, assuming he was out or maybe in another room. I answered and put the phone in my ear.

”Hello?”

“Hey, (y/n)! I just wanted to call to check up on you,” he said, “how are you?”

Damn, he only called for innocent intentions... Why is he so damn cute?! (y/n), you got two choices to respond back; you either respond give him a nice sweet response, or you give a sly yet friendly comeback. It can work—

“(y/n)?” The voice out of the phone took me out of my inner self’s debate.

“Yes! Yes! I am fine,” I said, embarrassed and mentally facepalming myself. This is not doing well, he already thinks I am a creep and a loser. Or maybe not, since its seems like I heard a faint chuckle and the word “cute,” followed by, but that could just be a figment of my imagination. “How are you?”

”Oh, I am good, just came back from hanging out with Chan and Han,“ changbin responded, there were shuffling in the background so he could be doing something while on the phone, but what is it? I wouldn’t know. I heard him and Chris mentioning a ‘Han’ in our conversation we had while preparing for my apartment, so that name is familiar, however the owner’s not. “You should meet him one day, I think you both will be good friends.”

”Woah there, you better take me to dinner first before I meet your friend,” I teased. Keep it going, (y/n), you’re on the right track, you’ve definitely caught him off guard, like you always do.

“Give me a place, time, and date, you’ll get that dinner, or maybe I’ll let Chris take you.” Changbin nonchalantly said, oozing confidence just by his voice. That bitch… Always makes it harder for me than it already is. As if he saw my blushing reaction, he began laughing.

“What’s wrong, princess? Cat’s got your tongue?” He said it in a low voice. Usually, I would gag if anyone—let alone a man—calls me princess, but with him, it felt different. It felt… arousing? No! No! (y/n), get a grip!

I rolled my eyes and laid on my back to be more comfortable, “What is it, Changbin?” I said, changing the subject, “What is that you wanted to call me at 10 p.m?” Yes, pretend like he didn’t just call you princess in the sexiest tone of voice you’ve ever heard. Totally would work.

”I told you, I just want to check up on you,“ he confessed but he also paused to say something further, “and also I am bored and I kinda felt like talking to you. I’m not wasting your time, aren’t I?” Although I couldn’t see him, he does however sound really sincere with his words. I don’t want to sound naive, but he sounded truthful.

“No,” I shook my head, “you really didn’t, besides I just got out the shower and was just scrolling through instagram.” I said, looking down in my nails.

”Oh, really?” He said, “were you going to sleep?”

”No, I stay on social media for a long period of time, I don’t sleep that easily“

”I see,” he said, but then he stopped talking. As the awkward silence has erupted between us, I started to think more about the first time I saw him and how I felt. While I thought it would be better for me to tell him later on and on person, but this balloon inside of me was getting bigger and bigger as guilt is inflating it. I sighed and started to speak, “Hey Changbin.”

”Yeah?”

“Can I confess you to something?”

”Tell me anything, doll, I’m all ears.”

Dammit! You’re not making it easier.

I bit my lips, “uhh,” I am glad he wasn’t looking at me, grimacing and slapping my head.

”You know hitting yourself isn’t gonna help,” as soon as Changbin uttered these words, my heart sank. My eyes widened as I got up and looked out window. His curtains were open, and it showcase a very, very pleasant show.

I see Changbin, sitting at the edge of his bed, facing me as his black shirt was fitting his form really well, especially with the semi-flexed arm that has his phone near his ears meanwhile the other arm was holding the elbow of the occupied arm. He was look at me straight at my eyes when we made eye contact, and fuck, was that an image to look at. As I looked like a deer going through a headlight, Changbin tilted his head in confusion, but he still had a smirk, “what is it you wanted to me?” he said through the phone.

”I-I“ I stuttered. At this point, I’ve lost all sense of dignity and my self thought, I am about to get called a creep by a good looking man I met not too long. Here goes nothing.

”I may have invaded your privacy,” I said, which caused Changbin to furrow his eyebrows in even more confusion, still having a slight smile to it. “What are you talking about?”

”Ugh, Changbin, I saw you half naked when apartment touring numerous times!” I yelled in frustration, as he kept pushing my button. I looked away, not bearing to look at him, as I closed my eyes out of guilt. “I understand if you don’t want to be friend, even though we met for only a week, but I just couldn’t bear the guilt that I—“

As I confessed, I heard a laugh coming put of the phone, I opened my eyes and looked at Changbin looking down, with shoulders shaking up and down. Now, I have the confused look that he had, “What’s funny?”

“Oh, princess, you have no idea,” He said, still looking down. Me still being bemused, he noticed my silence and looked up at my frowned face.

”I know…” He smirked, while my eyes were widened. Son of a bitch.

”W-wh-“

“I thought you knew that I’m doing all this on purpose, I’ve been trying to catch your attention every single way.” He leaned forward, placing both elbows in his knees, “I thought you were smart, only to be a gullible baby.” He whispered the last part, as I gulped at the last part. God damn, he’s so intense with his gaze. His eyes wandering all over me meanwhile maintaining a very dark yet exciting aura, which typically puts me off but now, I’ve never wanted to pounce a man so badly.

I smirked at him, the guilt I had had fizzled away, only to replace with arousal.

“So you’re not mad?” I looked at him, with innocent eyes, now laying on my side, facing him, as my robe slipped and exposed a part of my shoulder and the upper of my chest. He breathed in, as he was examining me, “no, why would I be mad at you?” He leaned back, as his head was thrown back, neck exposed, placing his free hand on the back of his neck.

God, is he so fine…

”I could never be mad at my precious baby.” He smiled a seductive smile at me, which made me riled up by rolling my eyes and looking up. “You like getting called that, don’t you?” He may have said it in a question form, but it didn’t feel like one, it was rather a statement than a question. “Hm,” I said, looking back at him, eyes half opened out of hunger for him.

We had an intense eye contact, where if it weren’t for the distant and the glass that is placed in front of us, we’d probably be all over each other.

”Has your hang out with Han and Chris worn you out?” I asked, decievingly innocent. Man, the power this man has over me is no joke. He scoffed, “so you’re just going to mention other men like that?”

Ignoring him, I got up, letting the towel that was loosely in my head fall onto my bed, and went closer to the window, “let me relieve you of your stress, if you don’t mind.” I shyly fidgeted on my robe belt. He looked at me up and down, licking his lips, “I wouldn’t mind, if you don’t as well.”

There’s nothing more sexier than mutual consent. (y/n), shut up, don’t ruin the moment.

I smiled and backed away from the window. I put my phone on speaker and put it on the side. I looked back at him, as I held onto my robe belt, he looked at me with a smile. I turned around with a slight sway on my hips, as I slowly undid my belt, slowly exposing my back at him, smiling as I heard a shuddering breath coming out of the phone.

As the robe completely fell off my body, being just in my underwear, exposing whatever secret flaws that has been hidden from the public. I silently gasp at the cool breeze as I held onto my chest, sensing my nipples getting hard. “Turn around for me, baby,” Changbin’s breathy voice echoed all over the room.

We may not be in the same room, and we maybe exposing ourselves to whoever is above and under us as well, but neither of us care. In our eyes, we only got each other, and we’re the only ones in existence.

I turned to him, letting go of my breasts and letting myself be bare, only to see him palming himself through his tight pants, groaning at his lack of full on skin-to-skin touch. It’s like he was waiting for me to tell him touch himself, which proved correct when he said, “please, let me touch myself.”

I smiled sympathetically, and also slightly astonishingly. I have never met a man with such switch like that. His dominating demeanor has faded and been replaced to a submissive cutie, which I obviously seem to admire very much. Pretending to thinking, I sat down, and looked at him, putting my hands behind me, “only if you give me a show too.”

I smirked at his state. He was disheveled, and adorned a beet tint all across his cheeks and nose. He looked beaten, but I loved it, and he does too. He put his phone on speaker too, quickly got up, and rapidly got his shirt.

“Ah ah!” I said, which caused him to freeze, looking at me, desparation was seeping through his eyes. Menacingly smiling, “slowly.”

Which he obeyed, surprisingly patient and sensual, I jokingly remarked that “he got dancer hips,” with the way he took off clothes while his hips moved in a way not many who can control their bodies can. He chuckle, “you should see how it works wonder,” his cocky attitude has made a comeback, which should piss me off but it made the whole thing hotter than it already is.

We’re both in our underwear, looking up at our eyes and looking down at each other’s half-nude bodies. Changbin wasn’t the tallest man I have ever met—not that it matters—, but he got many aspects that makes up for it, and its not just looks or personality. Just by the outline, I can tell that his little guy wasn’t little.

I propped myself with my elbows as I spread my legs, for him to see the wet spot that is stained in my underwear. He grunted at the sight, while I chuckle, “you like what you see?” I faux-innocently asked as I trailed my hand from my neck, making my head fall back, down to the valley of my chest, onto the waistband of my underwear.

“Fuck…” Changbin cursed, admiring the sight in front of him. He didn’t realize how lucky he was to see me in a state like this, not many have the privilege, especially not with men I met in a short amount of time.

I tugged my panties, took it off and exposed a part that he was dying to see, which caused him to gulp. He sighed with a smile, “god damn, (y/n),“ he shook his head in disbelie, “I’ve always thought you were gorgeous, but now I’m convinced you’re a goddess“

I giggle at his words, “and you, sir, are a demon disguised as a greek god” I teased back, tracing my two fingers around my lips, I noticed that he still was in his underwea. He still waited for my permission. How adorable.

”You can take off your underwear, Binnie” I didn’t even mean to give him the nickname, but I was too excited to even think straight. I looked at him, and saw him reveal his friend, and I gasped loudly, which made Changbin alert. “What? Whats wrong?”

”Nothing, its just,” I chuckle, “you have a nice dick.”

”Thank you,” He smirked as he sat down and looked at me, with full attention. I put my two fingers into my mouth, while maintaining eye contact. I then trailed my finger down to clit, which resulted in me letting out a blissful gasp. Meanwhile, Changbin was repositioning to a comfortable position as he began to touch himself, which caused him to let out a choked out groan.

”Binnie, as you touching yourself?” I half-whispered, but it was still loud enough for him hear along with my fingers movements that moved from my clit onto my slit, which made me moan.

”Ah-y-yes” Changbin groaned and nodded, as he was stroking his dick following the pace that I was going at.

After hearing Changbin’s groans, I began inserting my fingers at my slit, making me whimper in the process, “oh, fuck” I cursed, as I started to thrust my fingers in and out, noises coming out of my mouth along with the wetness of my pussy were getting louder, which excited Changbin, as his stroking was audible through the phone along with his beautiful groans.

“god, (y/n), if only I could touch you,” Changbin spoke through groans when he saw me fondling my breast and going faster. I was getting louder with my noises, in contrast of Changbin’s quite yet beautiful and audible noises. So much so, it sounds like Changbin was watching porn, rather than getting fucked at a distance.

“Ah-are-fuck-are you close?” Changbin asked through whines, his speech was getting difficult as he was getting closer to climax with his strokes going as fast as I was.

I nodded, out of struggle of speech, whining out, “Ah! Binnie!”

“Fuck, (y/n), I’m—“ Changbin grunted, as his strokes was started to get sloppy, he began to thrust onto his hands. I began to feel like something burning up in my stomach, moaning at the sensation, “Chang—I’m cummin— I’m cumming”

“Me too…” He choked on his words, as his groans and moans were also getting louder. Our phone voices combined was dirty but erotic, topped with the scene of two people masturbating to each other, now thats even a hotter view.

“Binnie!”

“Go ahead, baby... cum”

And just like that, I let out a squeal as I reached my peak, still playing with myself until I sensed an overstimulation. Not too long after, I was hearing a lot of grunt from the call and then I looked at Changbin, who ended up cumming onto his stomach, his chest raising up and down, letting himself catch his breath. Still out of breath, we both looked at each other, we both laughed at our fucked out state.

“Holy fuck, was that hot?” Changbin commented, taking the phone, putting it out of his speaker and back to his ear. I laughed at his sudden remark, nodding, “oh yeah, can’t wait to feel what you feel like,” I bit my lip.

”At least buy me dinner first,” He teased, referring to the remark I had at the time, which made me roll my eyes and him to chuckle. “You’re a dick,” I said.

”A big one, and a pretty one according to you,” He teased again. I started to jokingly groan at his words, causing him to laugh, “alright, alright, I’ll stop.”

I got up and picked the phone, looking at him, “I had fun, we should do this again,” him and I started exchanging a smile, this time it was more pure than the smiles we had earlier. He nodded, “for sure, but the next time is going to be in one of our beds, I really need to touch you.”

”The feeling is mutual.”

We began to talk a little more, until we both have felt that slumber was starting to sneak up onto our eyes. We both ultimately had to hang up, since we don’t want to raise our phone bills with our already long call. While facing away from the window, I couldn’t help but started admire Changbin in my head.

I typically hate men, but Changbin wasn’t just like any man.

He was Changbin, and I highly doubt that you’ll ever find a man like him.

[caelestis-composition]

killshot anon! YEAH i totally agree w/ your view on kaeya. it's so weird to me that people will blame him for his role in a situation he was forced into as a child through no choice of his own. that itself had to be traumatic, not to mention everything that happened later. i hate when people say he's untrustworthy - like yeah, he's lied, so has everyone? it's clear he does it mostly to protect himself. not to mention that (& sadism) can be symptoms of trauma. kaeya deserves nothing but happiness

take a seat folks it’s time for a “brynn should’ve been an english major” lesson! today we’re gonna learn some literary theory; specifically, we’re gonna apply psychoanalytical trauma theory to kaeya’s backstory and current character. killshot anon i bet you never thought this would result in a whole ass essay.

disclaimer one! you are allowed to dislike kaeya! i am not saying you need to like him or his character, you’re entitled to your opinion and i’m not here to change your mind.

disclaimer two! i am in no way an expert and this is all for fun! this is just my silly little analysis of one of my favorite characters as someone who’s studied literary theory and rhetoric and can also apply personal experience. seriously analysis is like a hobby to me and this is just an excuse for me to ramble about kaeya.

disclaimer three! this contains lots of spoilers! basically for everything we know in-game, general knowledge as well as stuff from his voicelines and character story. don’t read this if you don’t want spoilers.

since this is going to be filled with spoilers and is about to get really long, everything will be under a cut. for those who wanna read my dumb super informal essay: enjoy!

final note: yeah this is over 2000 words long can you tell i like analysis

⭒

let’s start by getting a quick rundown of trauma theory out of the way. to begin, what is “trauma?” in this case, trauma is going to refer to an experience that greatly affects and changes one’s life; attitudes, memories, behaviors, mental state, etc. while not all changes may be bad, per se, the overall effect of trauma is generally a negative one, which is why it’s so significant. literary trauma theory, then, explores these changes and the impact of trauma in literature. it analyzes the psychological and social effects of trauma, explaining what those effects are and why they happen. in the context of a specific character, trauma theory breaks down said character’s behaviors, feelings, and general mentality in relation to their past experiences; trauma theory hopes to explain to others the reasons for why a character may act or feel the way they do, all based upon the character’s experiences, particularly traumatic ones. our character today is the lovely kaeya alberich, with the “literature” being genshin impact. i’ll be referencing kaeya’s wiki page to ensure i get all details correct for his character story and voicelines.

it would be good to review kaeya’s backstory before delving into the actual analysis. though we don’t know much about his life before living in mondstadt, we’re told he was sent as an agent of khaenri’ah. and by “sent,” i mean his biological father abandoned him in a completely unfamiliar land to serve khaenri’ah’s interests and fullfil his mission—what this entirely entails hasn’t been revealed. mondstadt, however, welcomed kaeya “with open arms when they found him.” crepus ragnvindr took him in as his adopted son, with diluc as his adopted brother. kaeya and diluc were “almost like twins,” so close they “[knew] each other’s thoughts and intentions without a word.” he’d began a new life in mondstadt, one surrounded by friends and family that loved him; one that was completely shattered by crepus’s death. kaeya arrived at the scene of the disaster, and was led to believe diluc was the one who killed their father to “set his father free” from the effects of his delusion. there’d always been one big question in kaeya’s life: if it came down to it, who would he support? the nation that abandoned him, but he still felt loyal to, or the nation and family that took him in and really loved him? overrun with guilt, kaeya confessed his purpose to diluc, sparking a fight between the two brothers. in this fight, kaeya receives his cryo vision. though both brothers stepped away alive, they’ve never been able to make peace with one another. now, kaeya is the eccentric and charming cavalry captain of the knights of favonius; a man who gets his way by using any means necessary, regardless of whether or not it seems right.

kaeya’s not evil; he’s morally ambiguous, and that stems from what appears to be a general distrust of others. his life is one shrouded in secrecy. from the moment he stepped foot into mondstadt, he was surrounded by secrets. even now, he doesn’t talk about a lot of things, namely his past, vision, and feelings. though he’s always willing to get information out of others, kaeya never reveals anything about himself. he repeatedly tells the player they can confide in him, but whenever you try and pry into his life, he deflects your questions with some sort of witty comment or flirty remark. anything he does reveal is vague, or spoken in some sort of “code.” for example, his “interesting things” voiceline. he tells us about the owl of dragonspine, how it “seems to look right through you, while letting go of none of its own secrets,” and then tacks on a “quite fascinating, don’t you think?” it seems like an awfully accurate parallel to himself; kaeya does all he can to get information from others, but never gives anything about himself. now, this whole thing—his relationship with diluc falling apart and his need for secrecy—could have probably been avoided if he had just come clean about his mission years ago. so why didn’t he? to start, kaeya was a literal child. not only are children unable to properly tell the difference between right and wrong, but they’ll also typically follow their parents’ orders blindly. kaeya had just been abandoned, and he wouldn’t want to risk being cast out by mondstadt as well if he came clean right away. you see, there’s this thing about trauma, something that trauma theory states. traumatized people feel a sort of shame or guilt regarding their traumatic experience; they’ll keep quiet because they don’t want to cause problems or bother others with their issues. of course kaeya wouldn’t tell the truth about his past, he doesn’t want to destroy the genuinely loving relationships he’d built in mondstadt. his fight with diluc only proves what he was afraid of: if he’s honest, he’ll be abandoned again. and if kaeya’s used to all the lies, why should he bother changing?

another thing, if he’s not going to tell the truth, then why would he have initially gone along with his father’s plans? again, he was a child. he really had no choice, and was forced into a very wrong and cruel situation. there’s a good explanation for this, too, which is also stated in trauma theory; traumatized people will still do their best to please their abusers. especially if said abuser is a parent, that will drive traumatized people to work even harder to please them. although his father hurt him by ruthlessly abandoning him, kaeya still sought to make him and his homeland proud. he was willing to be used as a tool for their gain; that is, until he found people who actually cared about him. he was an impressionable child, of course he’s going to obey orders. but as he gets older, he feels torn. does he serve those who abandoned him, or those that took him in? his father—and arguably, khaenri’ah as a whole—hurt him, sure, but he still feels some loyalty and connection to his former home. instead of revealing anything, he lets the situation play out. that way, he can’t be blamed when things fall apart.

the thing about claiming he’s untrustworthy is that hardly anyone in-game believes that. he’s adored by the older folks in mondstadt, and foes and allies alike find him easy to talk to. despite seeming lazy and uninterested in work, kaeya takes his job very seriously. in fact, his story states that crepus’s death was the “first and only time kaeya failed in his duty.” the “only time” is especially important, because it signifies kaeya still fulfills his duties successfully. he’s had a total of one slip-up, and hasn’t failed since. no, kaeya is not untrustworthy. rather, kaeya finds everyone else untrustworthy. it’s not unlikely that this is a direct consequence of being abandoned as a child. although it’s been established that kaeya and diluc were very close as children, when crepus dies, kaeya assumes diluc is the one that killed him. in order to jump to such an extreme conclusion against someone he was so close to, there had to be some underlying sense of distrust. furthermore, kaeya expresses feeling as though he doesn’t belong anywhere. he was abandoned by khaenri’ah, and then worried he wouldn’t be accepted by mondstadt. he is, but there’s still that worry. if you place him in your teapot as a companion, he tells you that your home feels like someplace he belongs, following it up with a “heh, who’d have thought…” kaeya still feels as though he doesn’t belong in mondstadt; despite the fact that he’s a high-ranking knight of favonius and rather popular, he still feels like an outsider. he doesn’t trust that anyone actually wants him around, and he finds joy in testing peoples’ trustworthiness. it’s noted in his story and through his voicelines that the beloved cavalry captain has a rather sadistic nature. he likes putting people into difficult situations, to see what decisions they will make. he does this to both opponents and allies, testing to see who’s going to back out and who’ll keep fighting; in the sake of allies, who can he trust? or who will turn tail and abandon their teammates at the slightest hint of danger? i mentioned it previously, but kaeya doesn’t care what measures he has to take so long as his job gets done and he gets the answers he wants. it’s a sort of self-preserving mindset, putting himself above the safety of others. kaeya’s trying to protect himself, which makes sense with all he’s been through. he doesn’t want to be hurt, and instead finds pleasure in threatening harm upon others. it’s twisted, sure, but it’s because he can only trust himself in a world that he believes is out to get him. he’s got as many enemies—if not more—as he does allies; of course kaeya focuses on protecting himself first, whether physically or through keeping his secrets, well, secret.

his most obvious traumatic effect is definitely his alcoholism. but he uses it as a distraction, not just to wallow in self-pity. this is seen again in his story, particularly in story 3. it’s found that when his favorite drink, death after noon, is out of season, mondstadt’s crime rate is decreased drastically. at face value, this just means kaeya spends more time working when death after noon is low in supply. but kaeya doesn’t skip work to go to taverns; it’s already been established he takes his job very seriously, so this means he actually patrols and tracks down threats while off work when he can’t indulge in his favorite alcoholic drink. he doesn’t get drunk simply because he’s depressed. if he did, there wouldn’t be a drop in incidents when death after noon is out of season. no, kaeya uses both the alcohol and fighting to distract himself. after all, it’s a little hard to think about feeling sad when you’re either drunk out of your mind or fighting for your life.

despite being so secretive, kaeya gives us glimpses of his true emotions from time to time. as previously mentioned, his flirty attitude is nothing more than a mask to hide how he really feels; and kaeya is terribly, terribly lonely. that may be why he seems so extroverted. constantly being around people should, logically, drive away that feeling, but it doesn’t work like that. when he talks with the player, he frequently expresses disappointment when you have to leave. each time, though, he dampens the weight of his words with playful or flirty language. he’s lonely, but doesn’t want you to know that, like he’s afraid of asking you to stay. he takes the seriousness of his feelings, and basically bends it into some sort of lighthearted joke. kaeya hides his true feelings—negative feelings, to be exact—so that he doesn’t bother anyone. which is, again, something that happens with traumatized people. he displays that hesitance to reveal his true feelings, because there’s a shame or guilt that comes with his past. he doesn’t want to bother others or hold them back, so he puts on a smile and amps up the charisma. one other very important thing—but very small detail—i would like to note is his feelings toward family. his fell apart not even once, but twice, and kaeya still holds familial relationships in high regard. we know he doesn’t exactly care how he goes about getting his work done. he doesn’t pay attention to what’s “right” or “wrong,” so long as he gets what he needs. but one of his informants, vile, notes that the cavalry captain has one exception: he won’t work with those who threaten others’ families. in fact, kaeya claims those who do should be hunted down and destroyed. even though his own families have caused him so much pain—and he ended up estranged from both—he still understands the importance of having people who love you in your life. because he didn’t get that.

kaeya’s not evil. ultimately, as a knight of favonius, his goal is to protect others, because no one was there to protect him. and because no one was there to protect him, because he’s been hurt time and time again by people who were supposed to love him, kaeya has taken to protecting himself. he hides any and all negative feelings with a charismatic, friendly façade, because he thinks it’ll drive away his persistent loneliness. any “bad” actions of his were hardly his fault; he was forced into a life of secrecy and lies, and then abandoned by the first people who truly loved him. kaeya’s a multi-faceted, tragic character, one that toes the line between good and evil, and that’s what makes him so interesting.

[iam93percentstardust]

Hi, happy Shared Birthday Month, cause it's my birthday month as well!! Can I please prompt you a WinterIron, where Bucky and/or winter soldier is a science nerd and a massive Tony Stark stan? Happy with setting in any era, any rating 😄 Thank you! You are amazing and I love your stuff!

Happy late birthday! Sorry it took me a bit to get to this prompt but here is a cute no-powers au, featuring some minor Natasha/Steve and some science from a paper my lab group read in group meeting yesterday (check the ao3 story for the paper citation). Sorry I didn't come up with something more original for the science but this was on my mind.

As always, everything I write is also on ao3.

~

“Okay, Steve, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me—for us,” Bucky quickly corrects when Steve shoots him an amused look. “So what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to sit quietly in the audience,” Steve says.

“And what are we not going to do?”

“Shout that our best friend would like to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane,” Steve dutifully repeats what Bucky has been telling him for the whole drive to the studio. He gives Bucky a sly smile. “Even if it’s true.”

Bucky swats his skinny arm lightly, enough to sting but not so hard that it’ll bruise Steve’s arm, which bruises like a peach. He still can’t believe he managed to win the tickets to watch the live taping of the one hundredth episode of Tony Stark’s show, It’s Only Science If You Write It Down. He’s been following the show since its first episode five years ago. Growing up, Tony Stark was to him what Britney Spears was to other kids. Stark was always in the news for his innovative inventions for his father’s company. Everyone had thought he would take over SI after his parents’ deaths, but instead he’d handed the company over to Pepper Potts, a then-unknown young woman working in SI’s financial department. Stark still held the majority of shares in the company but he’d turned his focus to becoming the next Bill Nye, along with his best friend. Bucky had stumbled across one of the articles about him when he was young and immediately developed one heck of a crush on him that hadn’t at all disappeared with age.

And now he’s here, attending the first ever live taping of Stark’s show.

It’d be a dream come true if only Steve wasn’t the one attending with him. Don’t get him wrong, Stevie’s great, but he’s also convinced Bucky needs to date more often and he’s very… enthusiastic about making sure that everyone they meet that Bucky thinks is even the slightest bit cute knows that.

Stark is the crush to end all crushes. He knows that Steve knows it. He also knows what Steve is like, and he thinks he’ll die of shame if Steve feels the need to let Stark know it too.

“You have your inhaler, right?” he asks as the line creeps forward.

“Yes, mother,” Steve sighs, patting his pocket. “And an EpiPen in the other pocket and my meds in my wallet.”

They’re reminded to keep their phones firmly in their pockets by the surly security guard—incongruously named Happy, according to the badge he’s wearing—at the front door and then ushered inside the studio, only to be stopped by a young woman with a clipboard as they’re climbing the risers.

“Hi,” she says with a sphinxlike smile that makes Bucky want to check that his wallet is still in his pocket. “Which one of you is Bucky Barnes?”

“Uh, that would be me,” he says, raising his hand slightly.

Her eyes catch on the silver sheen of his prosthetic. They don’t register anything other than idle curiosity, but Bucky still awkwardly tucks the arm away. It’s been almost ten years since the accident, but he’s still not used to the looks he gets when people see it.

“I’m Natasha,” she says. “Mr. Stark’s personal assistant. JARVIS noticed you when you entered the studio. Mr. Stark wanted me to inform you both that there’s been a change to the contest winnings.”

Dread starts to pool in Bucky’s stomach but it doesn’t have long to settle before her smile gentles and she adds, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. He just wanted to invite the two of you backstage after the show is over.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. Steve reaches over to close it and asks, “Why?”

To Bucky’s surprise, Natasha gives Steve a clear onceover, seemingly pleased by what she sees. “Mr. Stark wouldn’t like me to give away his secrets, but I’d imagine it has something to do with the way he spilled his coffee all over his front when he saw your friend’s picture.”

“Really?” Steve asks skeptically. “A notorious playboy tripping all over himself for this yahoo here?”

Natasha laughs, hard enough that Bucky mutters, “It wasn’t that funny.”

Once she’s calmed down, Natasha says, “He’s not as bad as you think. A lot of it is just reputation. And yes, as soon as he got a look at him, he was demanding I figure out a way to get him backstage.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Steve demands, taking an indignant stance.

Natasha hums, eyes going dark. “Oh no, you got invited backstage because I wanted to meet you,” she purrs. “I’ll come find you boys later. Enjoy the show.”

She saunters off, putting just enough of a sway to her step that Bucky suspects if he were attracted to women, he’d be mesmerized. As it is, he’s the one who has to reach over to close Steve’s jaw this time.

They take their seats and a few minutes later, Tony Stark and James Rhodes walk on set. They’re quietly talking to each other as the crew bustles around them, makeup artists darting up to make sure their faces look perfect. Stark is dressed in a t-shirt that says Engineers do it on the test bench—which is a terrible joke really and shouldn’t make Bucky want to laugh as much as he does—and well-worn jeans that perfectly mold to the shape of his bubble butt. Rhodes could be dressed in a paper sack for all that Bucky notices him.

Steve leans over and whispers, “You sure that I can’t yell that you want to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane? Natasha made it sound like he’d be open to it.”

“You do,” Bucky hisses back, “and I’ll tell Natasha you were looking at her rear when she walked away.”

Steve makes an indignant noise and sits back in his chair, sulkily crossing his arms.

“Quiet on set!” the director yells. “And… action!”

“Hi!” Tony Stark says, smiling right at the camera. “I’m Tony and this is Rhodey and you’re watching Disney Channe!”

“He’s kidding,” Rhodes says long-sufferingly. “You’re watching It’s Only Science If You Write It Down.”

Later, Bucky wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what the show had been about. He’d spent the entire show too entranced by Tony’s voice and charisma to pay any attention to the actual science, which is a bit of a shame. He really does like science—he wouldn’t be getting his PhD in physical chemistry if he didn’t—but he can’t tear his eyes away from Tony long enough to actually watch the experiment. It’s fine; he can always watch the show later when it’s released (and maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll have Tony to watch it with).

It seems like both an eternity and only a moment before the show wraps. Tony and Rhodes leave to thunderous applause, only coming back out for quick bows before disappearing backstage again. Bucky and Steve stay seated while the rest of the audience filters out slowly until Natasha comes to get them. She and Steve chat quietly as she leads them backstage but Bucky can only listen with half an ear; he’s too nervous about meeting his personal hero.

Rhodes is leaving the room Natasha leads them to. He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots the three of them. “Good, you’re here,” he says, specifically looking at Bucky. “Maybe you can calm him down. He’s been bouncing off the walls since he saw your picture.”

“Really?” Bucky squeaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Really?”

“Really. He read all your papers last night—twice.”

“He has?”

Rhodes nods. “He really likes your piece on inelastic electron wave packet scattering.”

“Yeah? What did he—”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Rhodes interrupts. “I might be a rocket scientist but chemistry isn’t my preferred field of science. If you don’t mind, I’ve got a date to get to.”

He pushes the door open, letting them in, and leaves. Natasha slips through the door, followed immediately by Tony saying, “Where are—oh god, they left, didn’t they? I knew this was too much. Nat—”

“They’re right outside,” Natasha says smoothly. She opens the door further, revealing the two of them awkwardly standing there. Bucky’s gaze darts around a fairly nice dressing room before finally landing on Tony, who is blinking back at him with a wide-eyed, slightly stunned look.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

The corner of Tony’s mouth twitches up in the tiniest of smiles. “Hi.”

“Great, now that that’s out of the way, get out,” Natasha says, giving Tony a shove so that he stumbles out of the room, right into Bucky’s arms. She reaches out and grabs Steve, pulling him inside. “Don’t disturb me for the next hour.”

“Uh,” Steve begins, but he doesn’t actually look upset by this turn of events, so Bucky doesn’t worry—too much, anyway.

He does, however, turn to Tony and ask, “Is he going to be okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine,” Tony says breezily. “Natasha’s just very direct.”

“Right.”

Now that it’s just the two of them alone in the hallway, it’s a little more awkward. Bucky opens his mouth twice to say something, only to shut it again as soon as he realizes his question is stupid. For his part, Tony shoves his hands deep into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet.

Then the sound of what is obviously Steve moaning floats through the door. Bucky cringes and jerks his thumb in the direction of the door. “We should—”

“Yep,” Tony agrees.

They get all the way back to the set before they stop. They look at each other for a beat before dissolving into giggles. “Oh my god,” Tony says, clutching his sides. “I knew she moved fast but—”

“Well, Steve doesn’t move fast at all,” Bucky says, “so you can see where I’m a bit lost.”

That sets Tony off into another round of laughter. Bucky is calming down a bit so he takes the moment to admire the way Tony laughs with his entire body. It takes Tony a moment to realizes he’s being stared at. When he does, his laugh tapers off as he gives Bucky a lingering look.

“I’m Tony,” he says eventually.

“Bucky.”

“Wow, that’s really unfortunate.”

“You’re not wrong,” Bucky agrees. “Blame Stevie for that one.”

“Childhood friends, huh?”

“Literally played naked together in the kiddie pool.”

Tony grins. “That sounds familiar.”

“You and Rhodes—”

“Oh no, but if you ever get the chance to meet Janet Van Dyne, remember to ask her about the time she thought she could make a living selling mud pies.”

Bucky takes a moment to marvel that this is his life now, that Tony thinks nothing of giving him dirt on the most prolific fashion designer of their generation. “So, uh, Rhodes told me you read my papers?”

Tony’s eyes light up, and, wow, he looks really pretty when he’s excited. “Yes!” he exclaims. “I want to hear your thoughts on the—uh—the time-dependent density functional theory model.”

“I’d love to,” Bucky says honestly. He bites his lip. “Maybe over coffee?”

A delighted smile spreads across Tony’s face. “I’d really like that.”

He holds out his hand for Bucky to take, which he does. Tony’s hand is small and warm, fitting perfectly against his. They stand there, smiling at each other like idiots, until the surly security guard pokes his head around the corner and asks, “Boss, do you need me to drive you?”

Tony jumps. He shoots Bucky a sheepish grin and then calls over his shoulder, “No, I think we can walk, Happy.”

“Are you sure? There’s—”

“It’s only two blocks.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You know what, Happy. You should go see if Natasha needs you to drive her somewhere. I think she’s got a date too.” While Happy is distracted, Tony tugs Bucky towards a side door he hadn’t noticed earlier. “Come on,” he mutters. “Before Natasha decides to kill me for sending Happy to interrupt her.”

“You could not antagonize her,” Bucky points out.

Tony shoots him a mischievous grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”

[simpingfortheages]

//YOU WANT SOMEWHERE TO SIT?//

Ms Venable x Fem Reader

(SMUT PACKED! CANING, DEGRADING,THIGH RIDING, EDGING, MANIPULATION, PRAISE)

Gallant and the reader seem too close to each other for Me Venable's liking. Something ignites in Ms Venable and she doesn't like it . Not. One. Bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

Outpost 3 was a prison. It was the same damn routine everyday- wake up, get dressed,go to lunch and then join everyone in the common room. It's sickening but bareable. It's bareable only because of Gallant. Over the past 2 years we have become quite close to each other, if someone didn't know that Gallant was gay and I was a full blown lesbian . One would swear we were a couple.

Everyone was all currently gathering in the common room, either ready to read a book or simply gossip about the secret affair that has been taking place being the back of Ms Venable between the two greys. What did you expect? There's not much to do in this hellhole anyway . As I made my way towards the common room, I spotted Gallant, who was currently sitting on the couch talking to Coco about the next style he would like to try on her hair. I sauntered my way over and took a sat right in his lap, his hands automatically wrapping around my waist,not bothering to stop his conversation with Coco as my arm nestled upon the back of his shoulders. I unknowingly brought my hand up and played with Gallant's hair while I daydreamed about the leader of Outpost 3. Ms Venable. The intimidating, prestine,squared shoulders leader. She really is a sight for sore eyes, the way she carries herself is quite attractive. From her perfectly painted dark lips to the shape of her sharp eyebrows. The click of her cane the against the concrete floor doesn't fail to have a cold tingle run up my spine. Yes she scares me,I gay panic around her all the time that's why you would never catch me breaking her rules. Lost in my dazed state I failed to hear the click of her cane as she entered the dimly lit common room. "Ms Y/L/N, do you not know where the seats are located?" She seethed between her teeth. Out of shock I snapped out of my daydream and quirked an eyebrow in her direction, " I'm sorry What?" I asked. " I am sorry what Ms Venable" she corrected me with annoyance dripping in her voice. "Why are you sitting on Mr Gallant' s lap? Can't a daft moron such as yourself see that there are multiple areas elsewhere?" Ms Venable snapped. Her response stirred something inside if me. I didn't realise but I scoffed outloud at her question. " Ms Venable I don't see why it's such a problem I'm not breaking your rules. I am in the outpost, I referred to you as Ms Venable and Gallant's dick isn't inside me for us to make a baby." I snarled,not before mumbling silently ," not that I would want that anyway..."

Me Venable's hand tighten the grip she had atop her cane. I am pretty sure they were digging into her the skin of her palm ,leaving indents. Her chest rose with anger and the slight flare of her nostrils didn't go missed as well. Without hesitation she said 2 words, " bring her". I went without a fight as the Iron fist dragged me from Gallant's lap. Everyone was arguing and yelling, but no one dared to pull me from the Iron Fist's hands. That was a no no. It would result to them getting the same punishment as me. I couldn't help but whince at the thought of getting whipped I've seen the aftermath from Gallant's back. It was gruesome ,they took aleast 2 months to fully heal, but of course he still had the scars. I wasn't going to cry and give her the satisfaction of knowing how much she scared me. She was a sadist. An evil yet hot sadist,either way what she was doing is wrong. While being dragged, Ms Venable stopped and whispered some thing in the Iron Fist's ears to which the fist only grunted in reply. There was confusion painted on my face as we began to pass the Outpost's turn to head into the basement. Where was she taking me? Am I getting thrown out, all for sitting on Gallant's lap?? Fuck! Fuck! I closed my eyes tight in hopes that I passed out before they could do my anything . The only thing I felt was me and my dress being dragged across the dingy floor of the outpost. After a few minutes of being pulled by the Iron fist. I heard the opening of a wooden door,before I could register what was going on. I was roughly thrown against the ground. The adrenaline that was coarsing through my veins , numbed my fall. The door was slammed closed and locked???, she locked the door? Why'd she do that ?...momentarily I was lulled into a false sense of safety and lonliness, that was until I heard the click of her cane again. I struggled to get onto my feet since the wind was also knocked out of me. Ms Venable was making her way to sit behind her large oak wooden desk. I paid attention to my surroundings as i stood up...the realisation dawned on me . I was in her chamber, which was the furthest room for the common room. She could shoot me and the thick stones and great distance will also cover the sound. I was so fucked. There I was standing, infront Ms Venable,trying to dust off the dirt that accummulated on my dress.

The sound of my dress crinkling bounced off the concrete walls. Too intimidated to even look at her, when I was done. I just twiddle with my thumbs. Ms Venable peirced the silence in the air, " Come here." She snapped coldly. I swallowed thickly and moved turtle pace towards here. "Hurry up Ms Y/L/N" her voice now filled with impatience. I hastened my steps and stood on the opposite side of her desk. As I looked at her face, there was a scowl that made its way to her plump lips. "Not there. I meant here" she stated. Her sentence was accompanied with the movements of her gloved hands. She was gestering to the floor. I maneuvered my way around her desk and stood before her as she swivels her chair to face me. The distance was miniscule. My ruffled dress was now brushing against the material her clean dress. Ms Venable's growl was low and guteral. "On your knees." She commanded. I was shocked at her words "Excuse me?" I commented. "You heard me" she replied quickly. A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. Out of fear, I submitted I looked away from her gaze and proceeded to get on my knees. As I did so, Ms Venable parted her legs. I couldn't help but blush at the act, this however didn't go unnoticed by her. All for sudden Ms Venable grabbed hold of my wrist, digging her sharp manicured nails into my skin. She managed to rip small whimpered from me. "I know the truth Ms y/l/n . I see the way you react when I enter a room. How hot and bothered you are right now kneeling for me like the filthy slut you are." She stated in raspy voice . Not listening to her words I was consumed with embarrassment. She knows, she knows, she fucking knows! I tried to yank my wrist away from her grasp but her hold was stronger. She sunk her nails further into my skin. "Ahh please Ms Venable." I begged in a pathetic manner. "Hmmm this is new? Where has the big bad attitude gone." Ms Venable said with a smirk tattooed on her face. I stayed silent. "Strip." Was all she said. My eyes opened wide with at her words. Out of reflex I stumbled back murmuring the words no repeatedly. What the hell is happening? I needed to get out. She is insane. What was I thinking? Having a liking to this woman. I made quick notions to shift away from her, only for my actions to be stopped . She was stepping down on the back of my dress with her black boots. "And where do you think you are going?" She questioned in a condescending manner. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. My throat was parched. " your punishment didn't even start." My eyebrows knitted together in fear of what she has planned. I grabbed the back of my dress and yanked on it, freeing it from the soles of her boots. I bolted making my way to the door to escape I don't know where but I wanted to be anywhere. Just anywhere but here. The atmosphere was stifling and heavy, which made the air hard to breathe. " Oh my Ms y/l/n I won't just do that... we wouldn't want to have Mr Gallant's scars renewed. I am sure you remember how long to took for him to recover." My movements were halted,my back was facing her . I slowly released out a very audible shakey breathe. I turned around to look at Ms Venable,only to see her motioning me to come to her with her finger in a beckoning gesture. Unwillingly I made my way back to her,tears pickled in the corner of my eyes. " now strip" she recited once again. I faced the floor as I slowly began to unbutton the top buttons of my dress. "No i want you to look at me while you do it" she demanded. I summoned all the courage I had to meet her piercing brown eyes. She was taking my dignity and she knew it. She enjoyed seeing me crumble .When i was done, I stood in nothing but my underwear. I quickly covered my breast with hands,which Ms Venable didn't like. She yanked my hands away and shamelessly roamed her eyes all over my body.

"Hmmm" was all she said while biting her bottom lip. This felt like forever, like all of time stopped,dragging out this moment. " bend over my desk" Ms Venable said. I didn't even bother to rebel against her anymore. Just get it over with Y/N and I can lock this memory away. I slowly bent myself at the waist and pressed my breast against the cold desk. My hands rested beside my head against the bare desk . I squeezed my eyes closed once more trying to control my breathing. " you will get ten and for each one you will said please again Ms Venable." She said. Ten What??? I thought. Without thinking I nodded my head against the desk in confirmation to whatever she meant, she didn't like my lack of words so she grabbed the sides of my hips ,digging her nails once more into my skin. " Yes yes okay Ms Venable please I will" I cried out. She laughed lowly at my reaction. From the corner of my eyes I saw her grab her cane. "Wha- Ms Venable please that will hurt me, please not that"i pleaded. My cries fell on deaf ears. She didn't care. She flashed a smiled lipped smile at me.

*WHACK* the pain I felt on my rear was immense,my knees almost gave out at the sharp and lasting pain . Yet i managed to spit out the words " again-...ple-se Ms Venable". After 15 minutes of prolonged torture the tenth lash was bestowed upon me. My voice raspy and almost gone from pleading ..." thank you *sniffle*Ms *sniffle* Venable". Suddenly I felt a pair of hands groping my ass, massaging it in a pleasant way. I couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of both the pleasure and pain. My legs twitched at the feeling. " I know you liked it Y/N" she whispered. My breathe hitched at the fact that she used my first name. Ms Venable stood even closer behind me and pressed her entire clothed front fully on my ass. Ms Venable was grinding against me. A mewl escaped my lips at the feeling. " didn't you like it y/n?" She asked. To embarrassed by the truth, I shook my head no. Ms Venable yanked me by my hair causing my back to arch and my neck to tilt backwards. She then leaned over and pressed herself against my back. I could have felt how erect her nipples were through the fabric. She was getting off on this. "Don't you dare lie to me now my little one" she whispered into my ear,as she did so Ms Venable licked a strip up the cartilage of my ear. I shivered at the action. " The slick dripping from between your legs says otherwise."I could hear the smile in her tone. She roughly pushed my head forward causing my head to jerk forward . She returned to her chair and waited until I turned around to face her. "Come here little one" she said again. I began to kneel once more,only for her to say "No I meant here this time" . This time she was referring to her lap. The colour of pink covered my ears and my chest. I was flushed. With maintained intense eye contact Ms Venable rolled up her dress revealing her smooth shaved and toned legs. I could have seen her purple lace underwater peaking right at me, where she stopped her dress. "You want somewhere to sit ? You want to sit on someone's lap little one? Sit on mine." She scowled. With shaking legs I gently straddled her thighs. I hovered over her thighs with my knees holding me up in either side on her lap. Ms Venable found her hands on my hips and pulled my down onto her left thigh. I jumped at the contact. My clit was swollen and throbbing. I was heavily aroused. Out of reflex I tried to move, but Ms Venable didn't allow it. "No no little one" she cooed at me " you're gonna take it." She finished her sentence with a smile. I whimpered and nodded in reply.

The outpost leader began moving my hips against her thighs encouraging me to move. Out of desperation I started to grind against her thighs faster,ready to relieve the ache that she created. "Slow down my little one..." she tightened her hold on my hips making me slow my movements. " Hmmm that's it, ride me baby" my breathing got heavier as did hers. The smell of Ms.Venable' s perfume and my arousal that was currently coating her leg was the only scent that invaded my senses. It was intoxicating. A foreign feeling began to build in my lower stomach,my eyes were struggling to keep open as they were going to roll to the back of my head any moment. My hands held on to her shoulders to stable myself. "Mmm Ms Ven-ohh Ms Venable can hmm I cum?" I struggled to get out . "No" was all she said. " hold on a little longer. I enjoy seeing you like this" . My face twisted in pain and pleasure. The knots in my stomach was tightening, ready to burst at any second. Oh but Ms Venable knew that. She fed off of that. After 3 minutes I begged again,"please please oh fuck Ms Venable please can I??? can I cum for you?". "No you don't have my permission,but you are oh so close aren't you?" She mocked me. I sob in sexual frustration at her mockery. Ms Venable leaned her face closer to my ears and began nibbling at the tip. While her other hand was removed from my hip and found it's place on my erected nipple. She twisted and pulled until I watched against her." Break my rule you little slut. Break this one rule. Cum without My permission"she teased. I shook my head side to side . I was going to be good and show her. Ms Venable admired me for such an act. But she wanted to see me crumble. She removed her hand from my nipple and slowly made her hand reach my clit. Her talent slender finger, slid in between my folds with ease,applying pressure and rubbing me. I couldn't hold it back anymore. I came without her permission. She wanted that. She wanted me to break her rule. I soaked her thigh with my fluids. As i looked down I saw her remove her hand from my clit. I whimpered at the loss of contact. Her hand and my clit were still connected by a string of my arousal. Ms Venable locked eyes with me as she took her 2 fingers and sucked off my cum. I moaned at the sight. She then removed her fingers with a loud pop. After she did so, she took her same wet fingers that were now covered with some of my cum and some of her spit and held them up to my mouth. I parted my lips and I accepted her slender fingers. All the while keeping eye contact.

This was a distraction that she did. While I took her fingers into my mouth. Ms Venable lifted her thigh,pressing my clit directly to her thighs that were covered with my slick. I squealed at the sudden pressure on my already sensitive overestimulated clit. I tried to move away but she tore her fingers away from my mouth and returned her grip on my hips,"that's it baby take it,take your punishment like my good filthy slut" she praised. I nodded in response and proceed to grind against her thighs . It's didn't take me long to get worked up again. She could have seen that i was holding back. Feeling sorry for me this time," Cum all over me baby. I am here" she cooed softly. My back arched against her chest, my sensitive nipples rubbing against the front of her fabric. As i threw my head back, Ms Venables's lips found my neck. She sucked and bit my pulse point. I released and whimpered as i came the second time . She kept marking me as I came down from my high. I then rested my head in the crook of her neck as i tried to regulate my breathing. I almost dozed off if it wasn't for Ms Venable grabbing my face by my jaw. I looked at her with hooded eyes, her face milimeteres away. My lips were slightly parted as the warmth of each of our breathe were felt on our faces. Ms Venable then stuck her long tongue out and slowly licked my lips. I shuddered at the action. As I go to close the gap, the slim finger that was once coated with my arousal was press against my lips.. With confusion etched on my face, Ms Venable opened her lips and spoke," now will you sit on anyone else's lap?" She asked. "No Ms Venable "I replied . She smiled," who you belong too now?" She questioned. "I belong to You Ms Venable" I said with a voice thick with lust and tiredness. " that's my good girl." She praised me once more. Ms Venable then slowly removed her finger and leaned into kiss me. As we both did so, I couldn't help but repeat her words "....your good girl."

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid 

tag not working: @gloriousmuffinempathstudent 

[qqueenofhades]

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all). 

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

[spencersawkward]

omg i’m so glad u have a tumblr!! ur literally my fav mgg fic author ❤️ i’m a hoe for that man can u do sleeping together for the first time with like an age gap or something spicy lmao

hi omg thank you 😊 that literally means the world to me! also thank you for requesting one of my fave things to write haha i love first-time-having-sex-together tropes. happy reading! 

summary: reader is an artist who needs some inspiration, preferably from her new boyfriend.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, age gap, creampie, a little breeding kink, oral (male receiving), kind of Dom!Matthew vibes, dirty talk, praise kink with a hint of degradation as well (not super prominent). 

word count: 4.4k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

masterlist

I straighten up and bend backward a bit to relieve the pressure on my spine. my hair is falling out of the knot on my head and I push a stray piece behind my ear, placing the wooden paintbrush between my teeth. aside from the warm, mellifluous tones pouring from the speakers, the apartment is silent.

I've hit a creative wall, it seems. every time I've tried to paint this week, I find myself standing above a stretched canvas with nothing but a frown and crossed arms. even little details feel wrong to add; the empty space is taunting me. it doesn't help that my thoughts have been flooded with memories and fantasies of Matthew. we've been on a couple dates now, sweet outings that leave me fluttery inside. I remember the words he says, the shape of his smile and the curve of his jaw, like they've been been in my mind forever. he's elusive, however, and hasn't initiated anything sexual with me. I think he's afraid of coming on too strong. there's a considerable age gap between us, but I don't care. I want him all the time-- whenever I'm at work, or trying to paint, all I can think of is how good it would feel to have those strong, veined hands on me.

christ.

before I can lose my courage, I text him. if anything can inspire me, it's his presence. likely, he's at work and won't be able to respond or come over, but it's worth a shot.

I'm just sliding my phone into my back pocket when the response comes in. a smile spreads over my face; he'll be over in half an hour. in the meantime, I'll sweep the background with shades that remind me of him: rich, emerald greens, honeyed tones that reminisce of his eyes. he'll pop against any backdrop.

I'm bent furiously over my work when he tells me he's arrived, and my heart thuds in my chest. even after hanging out several times, the butterflies are as alive as ever. they flood my stomach while I buzz him into the building.

"hi." he greets me when I open the door, curls messy. he must have just come from work.

"hi, Matthew." I smile up at him. his gaze travels over my face, my body, taking in my appearance for a moment.

"you look lovely." he says it genuinely, despite the fact that I'm literally wearing a paint t-shirt under a pair of rummaged overalls. I forgot to fix my hair, too.

"thanks." I blush, about to turn away when he bends down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. it's the first time he's said hello that way, and part of me flushes with the knowledge that he's attracted to me right now.

"now," he looks around my apartment as I step back to let him in. "what can I help you with?"

"I have a small favor to ask." I spin the paintbrush between my index and third fingers, reaching out to take his wrist and pull him towards the couch.

"anything," he replies, then sees my setup. "is this your studio?"

"slash living room." I chuckle. Matthew sits on the soft cushions before staring up at me. I don't miss his pupils dilating as they travel over the shape of my body. instead of allowing myself get distracted, I gesture to the wet paint on my canvas. "I need you to model for me."

"like, be your muse?" he beams at the notion, incredibly pleased with himself. I like this about Matthew; although he can be self-deprecating and doesn't take himself too seriously, he appreciates my admiration.

"oh, hush." I giggle. he laughs, reclining on the couch now that he knows why I invited him over.

"how do you want me to pose, Picasso?"

"well, let me re-orient myself." I hold up a hand, grab the abandoned easel, and try to get everything set up. he never takes his eyes off me.

"why were you painting on the floor?" he asks, slightly amused. I jerk my head toward him, narrow my eyes.

"it's my process."

"no judgement." he holds up his hands in surrender. I place the canvas carefully on the easel so that he can't see my work, then gather up my paints, palette, and brushes. there's a moment of pure silence when I frown as I glance between his face and the chasm of space awaiting its representation.

"you look tired." I observe. he lets out a sound that resembles a laugh.

"I am."

"how long did you sleep last night?" I ask as I start painting, focusing on the shape and planes of his face. if I don't get the composition exactly correct, I'll have to throw the whole thing out.

"three hours." he says this like it's normal. my eyebrows shoot up.

"three hours? why?"

"I had to work on lines." he shrugs.

"don't move." I order. he suppresses a grin.

"my sincerest apologies."

"uh huh," I dip my brush into a pale skin shade that I've mixed to match his pigment. "you need to get more sleep."

we continue on like this for a while, making light conversation while I get down the basics of my portrait. I can't handle anything that requires more than a fraction of my attention while doing this, and he seems to appreciate my concentration.

that said, it's beyond difficult to focus when he stares at me like every movement is magical, something he wants to memorize. I feel pliable under his watch, a little bit like a doll. he could bend me every which way, ask me to do anything, and I would give in. and who could blame me?

my thoughts slip into darkened territories, and the hue of my cheeks must do the same, because he gets this mischievous smile on his face that I can't ignore.

"what are you thinking about?" he asks softly.

"hm?" I turn to him. "oh, nothing."

"really?" his brows lift in that intimidating, delightfully entertained way that sets my skin on fire.

"I..." I trail off, wondering if I should give into the chaos in my mind. the thoughts that slash through my psyche whenever I see the width of his shoulders, the fit of his shirt. "I should have asked you to pose nude."

Matthew blushes-- actually blushes-- when I say this, his head dropping momentarily as a grin takes over his features. when he lifts his gaze to mine again, there's a different look in his eyes.

"yeah?"

"mhmm." no taking it back now. "I think that would be too distracting, though."

"how so?" the corner of his mouth tugs up.

"you know why." I avert my attention, only once flitting back to him. his tongue darts out over his lips and he holds contact.

"say it." he dares me. the tone of it, slightly dominant, makes my stomach flip. quietly, I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I have trouble keeping my hands to myself."

we stare at each other, words finding and dying on tongues in the silence.

at this point, my painting has been somewhat abandoned. brushstrokes sit unaccompanied by actual structure, except for the general godly shape of his face, and I'm clenching the utensil between my fingers as if to channel the sexual tension elsewhere.

"is that right?" he notes my absolute stillness and stands up, walking toward me in a relaxed, confident gait. all I can do is look up at him when he stands before me. the top button of his shirt is undone, and I can see the smooth skin beneath, each of the other buttons awaiting my fingertips.

"yes." the word is messy. he runs his index finger over the shell of my ear, bends down, whispers so low that the phrase almost gets lost in the air.

"me too."

he plants a gentle kiss on my jaw, hand reaching tentatively to rest on my waist. I can feel the caution in his actions, the worry he has about pressuring me. I'm cognizant of every breath he takes, especially the hitch when I give into myself and kiss him.

his mouth is warm and soft. the tension twists and knots between our bodies, roiling in the empty space as we resist the energy still. but I don't want to resist. I know that I want this, and he seems to want it just as much.

"Matthew." I pull away, his teeth tugging gently on my bottom lip.

"what is it?" his eyes, dark, search mine. my pulse quickens beneath my skin.

"I want to be with you."

"you are with me." he chuckles lightly, glancing at my features. the full circles of my eyes, the bloom of pink spreading over my cheekbones.

"no," I shake my head. "I mean... I want to be with you."

"you want to have sex?" he asks, clarifying. I nod eagerly, though he frowns a bit. "are you sure?"

"do you not want to?" I try to keep the disappointment out of my face. maybe I misread the situation. the most we've done is make out on his couch and once in an Uber on the way back from our first date. but there's a sweet, burning sensation whenever I see him, something I want to dive into. I want him; I've wanted him since the moment we met.

"of course I want to," he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. relief loosens my chest. "I just don't want you to regret anything."

"I couldn't ever regret this." my eyes travel over his frame, over the little scar beneath his chin. he angles my face up to examine my features. there's a smirk on his face.

"then what are we waiting for?" his hands move to encircle my waist, tugging me to him like I'm something long-awaited, like he needs my weight against his. our lips meet again, my head tilting as we kiss deeply, my fingers twining in his soft hair. I'm standing on my tiptoes as I do it, and one of his hands reaches down to squeeze my ass. he grunts as my pelvis moves against the quickly-forming hard-on in his pants. I can feel it against my stomach as he ruts against me just slightly. I smirk.

"sit on the couch again." I whisper when I pull away. he's holding my face with one hand, staring into my eyes with the kind of dominance that tells me he knows exactly what to do. but I appreciate that he follows my request, pulling my hips toward him as he backs up and sinks onto the cushions. he sits, awaiting my next move. when I sink onto my knees and settle between his legs, he bites hard on his lip. I don't move at first, willing to draw out this beautiful moment when he's watching with undivided attention.

"what are you doing down there, sweetheart?" he feigns innocence when I give him my doe eyes. I run slender fingers over the erection in his pants, his quickened breath an indicator of just how needy he secretly is. I revel in it.

my free hand wraps around his upper thigh, digging my nails in slightly. he's so gorgeous, and the tension of his muscles beneath me is enough to break my resistance. I start to palm him through the fabric, torturing slowly while he runs fingers through my hair and tries not to buck up against my touch. I finally get around to undoing the button on his pants. he waits impatiently. I tug them down his legs, lingering on the waistband of his boxers. when they come down as well, another kind of knot forms in my tummy. he's perfect.

"oh my god." he throws his head back when his dick hits his stomach, the pleasure of releasing it its own sensation.

"hm?" I wonder aloud, wrapping my hand around the base and starting to slowly pump him. he raises his head to look at me.

"you're just... doing so well." he breathes. I grin at how easily I've got him; I was worried about being too shy or him being more experienced, but he's greedy for me. I love the power I have right now.

I surprise him by flattening my tongue against the underside of his cock, dragging it up over the throbbing vein and pausing at the top. I let him stare at me with my mouth hovering over him, the head resting on the tip of my tongue. he moans when I begin to kitten lick the precum that leaks out, grip tightening in my hair as it comes out of the ponytail I made earlier. the veins in his arm clench as I sink slowly onto him. my cheeks hollow. his jaw drops open, dewy skin catching the light, as I start to suck on him.

"fuck..." he trails off. I begin to bob up and down, doing tricks with my tongue and swirling around the head, savoring every single second. his desperate touch, the way he bucks his hips up involuntarily when I try to take him to the hilt, all of it causes me to moan. vibrations draw out sinful noises from him as well, those heavenly sounds that he litters with my name. my hands rest on his thighs at first, then move up to rest on the warm, taut skin of his abdomen. I crave every centimeter of his skin, his contact, especially when I can feel the rushed rise and fall of his panting. I give him full use of my throat, sliding over him and moaning with every tug of my hair. he mutters profanities, praises me, struggles to keep his eyes open just to see me peek up at him from beneath my lashes. his expression tells me he's got plans for me.

"if you don't stop, I'm gonna cum, baby." he groans, smoothly tugging me off of him. there's a slight popping sound and I settle onto my knees, staring up at him. the smile on my face is unmistakable. I love that I can do this to him. I grip his legs and pull myself up into his lap, drawing myself across him just before his erection, glancing down at it. his hands rub over the tops of my thighs, tracing over the curve of my hips and resting on my ass. I start to roll my body down, my lips finding his throat as I suck and bite. my tongue licks over his Adam's apple and he shudders, drawing me closer so that my stomach brushes his cock.

"stop teasing." he starts to undo the straps of my overalls, chuckling a bit to himself as they fall easily. I blush.

"pretty sexy." I joke. Matthew suddenly grabs my chin, holds me in place so that I look him dead in the eyes.

"you're perfect." he smiles admiringly, then toys with the hem of my t-shirt. I reach down, pull it off and toss it somewhere in the room. I'm not wearing a bra, and Matthew slides his hands up my waist, ribcage, pausing just below my tits. when I grab his fingers and place them over me, his dick twitches.

"excited?" I smirk. his fingertips seem to have a mind of their own as they begin to toy with my nipples, the pad of his thumbs teasing me. I sigh, chest pushing out towards him desperately. he holds my body like he's worried I'll crumble, but also in a way that connotes a deep longing. something spilling over.

"can I take you to the bedroom?" he asks me breathlessly, one of his hands leaving my chest to stroke his own cock. the sight makes me groan helplessly while I grip his shoulders and grind against his lap. he picks up the pace for himself. "I can't wait any longer."

I nod eagerly, gasping when he stops touching himself to pull up his pants, hoist me up into his arms, and stand, carrying me with surprising ease down the hallway of my apartment. I point him to the correct room and he laughs when we get inside.

"you're messy." he laughs, although I'm not sure if he means the scattered papers around my bedroom or the whine that issues from my throat as I reach for his clothed dick while I'm pressed to him. it's sitting against my navel and I want to see his undone expressions.

I ignore the playful comment; he lays me down gingerly on the bed, straightening up to gaze at my figure before I push the rest of the overalls down my legs and cast them off. he lets out a giggle as I pout at the work I have to put into getting naked.

"stop laughing..." I blush, smiling. but I'm giggling too. he grazes the inside of my thigh, unable to keep from touching me while I discard my panties.

"I'm sorry." he laughs in a way that shows he isn't sorry at all, but the soft kiss he plants on my lips tells me it's all endearing to him. I wrinkle my nose slightly. for the first time being naked around him, I feel surprisingly comfortable. he watches me with a quiet adoration, like I've spun sugar and gold between my fingers. unable to contain myself anymore, I grab fistfuls of his shirt and undo the rest of the buttons. every second that his skin isn't against mine is a new kind of torture. it comes off easily and then the pants come off, too, until we're just staring at each other.

"do you still wanna do this?" he speaks carefully with me. I don't know where to look-- at his perfect chest, stomach, the purplish bruises already forming across his throat, or his enraptured face. it's almost overwhelming, and the waves of desire crash over me, hindering my words.

"yes," I nod. "yes, yes, yes." the word keeps falling from my lips even as he crawls on top of me, burying his nose into my collarbone and kissing feverishly. one hand supports his arm beside my head while the other reaches down to part my legs. I sigh at the cool air that's interrupted by his dick rubbing over my folds. he starts to grind down, drawing out every second of foreplay while I try to catch my breath. my eyes tilt to the ceiling, fluttering shut. I bask in every sensation. his warmth, his weight, all of it presses down.

"do we need a condom?" he asks softly, his cock throbbing against my center.

"birth control." I shake my head. he nods against my skin, allows me to tangle my fingers in his curls. "I'm clean."

"me too." I reply. he grabs my hip and yanks it towards him, pulling his chest away to straighten while he lines himself up at my entrance. he's concentrating on the place where our bodies meet, eyes full of lust when they peek up at mine.

"tell me if you need me to stop." he says softly.

"okay." I can't think of anything else. every cell of my existence is consumed with thoughts of impatience, and when he slides into me, my thighs tense and my mouth drops open.

"Matthew... oh my god." my voice is more like a mewl, in shock as my walls squeeze around him like they're trying to reject the sudden pressure between my legs. his jaw clenches, sinking into me until he reaches about halfway.

he lets out a surprising groan, leans down to kiss my shoulder as he finds a sweet spot. our chests are pressed together and, judging by the way he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts my torso to his, he likes the feeling.

we stay there a moment, him trying not to hurt me. but then I lift my pelvis up, trying to take more, and he inhales sharply.

"do something," I beg him quietly. "please."

I feel his lips curl into a smile and he pulls his face up to see my expressions. his hips push forward, my body sliding up the bed with the force. he watches my eyes roll back, my ribcage expand, my face overcome by pleasure. his gaze is unrelenting with lips slightly parted as he begins to thrust in and out of me.

I'm already a panting, moaning mess beneath him. he touches his nose to mine, swallowing each other's breaths while he moves.

"is this how you want it, baby?" he smirks, getting lost in his own lust. I nod and he gently turns my face to his. "tell me what you want."

"more." I sigh, hips again raising to meet the thrusts that are growing more forceful each time. my nails drag up his back, the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair and tugging at the ends. he sinks his teeth into my neck lightly and moans. I wrap my legs around his torso.

"such a pretty girl..." he growls in my ear. his grip on the sheets tightens when I clench myself around him, drawing him impossibly closer to my core. I can't help the helpless moans spilling out of me. I'm insatiable right now, scratching at his shoulders until I'm sure I'll leave red marks. he groans lasciviously at the clawing, ramming into me with an unrelenting voracity.

"oh my god," I yelp, back arching as he hits my g-spot. "right there, Matthew." my pleas fall on receptive ears: he holds me tighter to his chest and pounds into me.

"you like getting fucked by older men?" he whispers dirty things in my ear and I nod quickly, hardly able to speak through the ungodly sounds escaping my mouth. I cling to him and he lets me, treating every limb like it belongs to him.

"yes-- fuck, yes." I moan, almost sliding out of his grip from how hard he goes.

"you can take it," he breathes out, fingertips digging into my ribs while he holds me up. he's leaving marks that won't go away for a while, remnants of the full power of his desire. I want more, writhing and using my limited mobility to grind against him. he chuckles darkly over my skin. "look at you."

"Matthew, I'm gonna--" I gasp when he slams into me particularly hard. "I'm gonna cum."

"good." he shudders slightly, that attitude showing again. he reaches his hand up a moment to run through my hair. "cum on me, princess."

my lips part and I try to gulp down air, but it's impossible with the way he's holding my attention. the thing about Matthew is that he's so sweet and gentle that whenever he looks at me like I'm a plaything, it shocks my insides. they turn to jelly, eager to please and quick to satisfy. he switches so easily with me, and he doesn't even need to request my submission. I give it more than willingly.

"fuck me..." I pant out, feeling my pussy start to clench over and over around him. my orgasm fuzzies the edges of my vision, creeping up my spine until it's arched. "oh fuck-- Matthew!" I practically scream while my frame gives out. I'm shuddering, crying out at the absolute euphoria wracking my body.

"scream my name, baby." he groans, his own orgasms approaching quickly. the fluttering of my cunt around him is causing the vein in his forehead to throb. he rocks into me, the headboard knocking into the wall while he nears the edge. "such a good girl for me."

I nod and meet his thrusts with my hips while I ride out my orgasm, inadvertently finding myself wound up again. the pleasure of his fingers when they reach between our bodies to rub my clit causes me to buck into him, whining mercifully while he gets me off again.

"oh--" he sucks in a breath when I squeeze, keeping him here with me. "you feel so good."

he starts to lose control, hips juddering to get as deep as he can get.

"can I fill you up, baby?"

"yes." I reply immediately. he smiles a little, lifting me up more so that he can hold me under my ass while he pounds into me so deeply, I can feel his dick brushing my cervix.

"oh my god," he moans, the sound desperate as I feel him twitch and spill inside of me. he keeps pushing as though to keep his cum within me, panting over my skin. "such a tight little cunt."  

the circles on my clit, combined with the sinful things he continues to say, cause me to whimper and climax all over again. I moan his name, absorbed in the warmth of his seed in my stomach.

"you want more?" he slows his thrusts but pleasures me through my orgasm while I nod helplessly.

"I'll cum in you again tonight." he promises, taking my shaking, weak form as a sign to withdraw. both of us wince at the sensitivity until he lays me back down on the bed so gently, it makes me question if what we just did was real.

neither of us speaks for a moment, trying to regain our composure as he rolls down onto the mattress beside me. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling him drip between my thighs.

"that was..." he turns his head to gauge my reaction. I don't even bother to hide the satisfied grin on my face.

"amazing."

"yeah?" he rolls over onto his side and places one large hand on my stomach. his touch makes me bloom.

"mhmm." I hum. his face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, a beautiful sight that makes me want to kiss him all over again. I didn't know it was possible to feel this way for someone so quickly.

"can I get you anything?" he smiles. I don't say anything at first, only reach out to cup his face in my hands and pull him to me for a chaste peck.

"no, thank you." I rub my nose with his. "I'm gonna take a shower and make something to eat if you want to join me."

"definitely." he examines my features once more as if to assess damage. but there's only pure joy painted across my face. "are you sure I didn't go too hard on you?"

"you can go harder tonight." I tease.

"what about your painting?" he suddenly recalls the project lying in the living room.

"rain check." I shrug. he laughs, wraps an arm around my waist.

"alright, then."

[babygirldennis]

This shit is fake bby!!!

Here she is.. My masterpost of all the dumb, illogical bits of info contained within these s15 “leaks” that make me fairly confident they are complete bullshit. It also includes my little tinhat theories that have absolutely no evidence.

I will be putting it all under a Readmore in case you don't want to risk it or if you simply Do Not Care

First up, I'd like to point out that these call sheets repeatedly give very detailed backstories to characters that have few lines which conveniently paints a picture of each episode's plot. And I'm not an expert so correct me if I'm wrong, but after looking at other similar casting calls, they only ever include the demographic and necessary skills.

Basically who in their right mind would write up casting calls that give away so many spoilers? Seems like that could cause and issue if they were leaked lol. But anyway that's my 1st point. But onto the actual content

So the conceit of this episode as a whole is that during the pandemic, the gang "gamed the system" and received three (3!) Loans to start businesses that went bankrupt. One of these businesses is implied to be the one started by dee and charlie who end up selling to Qanon shaman. Already this is so impossible baby.

1. We've already seen the gang try to get a loan and it didn't work. They don't have good ideas. Ur telling me, they managed to finagle 3 separate loans for 3 separate business ideas from an actual bank?

2. Maybe I just have bad reading comprehension but how does one have a business that is both fictitious and bankrupt?

3. If the customer is supposed to be Qanon shaman, an actual real life guy, why are the only descriptors white and male? They say he's shirtless so are they going to paint on all of the tattoos he has? And if so, doesn't that kind of ruin the dramatic reveal when charlie "throws in" the viking helmet? Why would he do that anyways? Sus.

Moving on

Alright this episode would fucking blow for obvious reasons but im going to refrain from looking at this through my gay dennis thruther lens because im biased.

Purely from a narrative standpoint, a woman hasn't been shown to be interested in dennis in nearly 5 years during the wade boggs episode. Ever since, every single woman he approaches has been actively creeped out by him. And now I'm supposed to believe that 3 "smart, passionate woman" (In Their Twenties!!!!!!) agreed to go on a date with him? And Anna even slept with him! Just because he what? Agreed with her? I'm not buyin it.

Plus the concept of this scenario lacks any potential for comedy. When iasip gets political, they always discuss a very specific topic using hyperbolic situations and flawed metaphors. If this is supposed to be a political episode, what ultimately lukewarm point would rob be trying to make here? So far we know they're ranting about

The patriarchy

Privilege

Socialism

No more personal responsibility(?)

The... nature of power in society(??)

How on earth would an episode like get approved? This shit sounds like a Ted talk. It sounds like it was written specifically to sound like a political episode so boring and pointless it would generate outrage and mile long essay posts from Tumblr users and reddit users alike. Almost like this one lol.

On a completely unrelated note, do not try and convince me that Frank "casual cock ring wearer" Reynolds is unable to perform.

Jeez this is getting out of hand fast. Let's move on

Ok now we're starting to getting into the Ireland of it all. Let me go on a bit of a tangent here about all this.. Now I thinq there are just 3 possibilities. Either this is all a publicity stunt and there is some truth to the Ireland rumors, the entire thing could be bogus from some weirdo fan (ps, if a fan did write this I want you to know I fucking hate you. You did this to me), or it is a publicity stunt but Ireland is just more bullshit.

I am going to assume it was a publicity stunt, otherwise I just wasted my entire evening and I can't have that kind of mentality rn. Additionally, I'm Going to tinhat here for a second and say that the Ireland rumors are true, but the details are different.

I say this because if they were going to do filming in Ireland, they probably figured that that information would be impossible to hide. In essence, my completely unfounded hypothesis is that this leak was their fucked up little way of controlling the situation while simultaneously messing with us.

Ok tangent is over, returning to the casting calls. From the looks of it, dee starts a "scam" acting class and has some very devoted students (Note that Tony was also the name of the porn shop owner. Seems weird!) Presumably after the gang replaces her with a monkey as the title suggests.

Honestly, there isn't too much here that's a red flag to me... seems like a nice little dee-centric episode that is the link to the Dublin angle. Assuming I am At All right, this could be a genuine plotline for Dee. However, the monkey could be a red herring and there could be a whole different side plot with the guys. who's to say. Next one!

Ah yes this is the dennis we all know and despise.. no red flags for me here really, I'm also running out of steam because idk if it shows, but I am majorly sleep deprived atm. Anyway I'm going to the next one

Okay this is where things start getting weird again ough a migraine just hit, anyway back to my earlier point about how casting calls would never contains major spoilers bc the people who see these wont be under any kind of NDA..

These ones reveal that bonnie dies. Again, that info wouldn't be in a casting call.

But also they suggest charlie has a irish penpal named Shelley who is his biological father. First off charlie is illiterate, although as pointed out by @undeadbreeze shelley could also be communicating in symbols. However, this scenario is still unbelievable to me for a couple reasons:

1. Bonnie's last name is Kelly obviously, and we know it's her maiden name because Jack's last name is also Kelly. But Shelley's last name is... also Kelly? In the context of this big ol hoax, it feels like it was written to show that look! his last name is the same as charlie's! That's how you know that's his dad! But It would be way too big of a coincidence if charlie's dad happened to have the same last name bonnie.

And 2. There's the whole mystery of charlie's long-lost sister from 'charlie got molested' but never any mention of a brother which according to this, shelley has been pretending to be his brother for years. And we all know how much rcg loves their continuity, it seems uncharacteristically lazy to just tack this on without any prior buildup.

And finally let me talk about mac for a second and specifically the line in gus's summary "both are gay men who are attracted to the priesthood for all the wrong reasons"

Iasip has commented on pedophilia in the priesthood many times in the past which leads me to believe that they are implying that mac is a pedophile? Please let me know if I completely misread the implications of that statement, but if not, then that is completely insane and one of the biggest indictators that this is fake. Mac is awful, just like everyone in the gang but he is definitely not a pedophile.

However even if i did completely misread that, it's still proof this is fake.. For all his faults, Rob put a surprising amount of care and effort into mac's coming-out. It hasn't been perfect, but Mfhp in particular firmly established that mac's faith is integral to his identity so Its unlikely that rob would throw all of that away for a cheap shot at priests.

Ok my brain is irradiated sludge at this point, but in conclusion. I hope that 1. I'm right, at least about it being fake (Otherwise damb that'll be so humiliating for me) And 2. This eases ur fears a bit. I don't want to lose all faith in future seasons bc I love iasip and miss the gang. If you read this far youre insane but I literally love you so goddamn much because I spent so so long tapping this out on my silly little phone

Please feel free to add on or message me your thoughts and opinions I need to know I'm not the only one who uhhh went a bit insane. And finally: whoever made these is a cunt. Mwah.

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you have a crush on college student renjun so you make use of your best lamest flirting attempts and surprisingly they work?!

pairing: renjun x gn!reader

genre: college!au, romance, pure fluff

warnings: very lame jokes, mentions of a cruel prank in the past (someone asking out renjun as a joke, pls never do that to people!), lots of awkwardness & sweetness, a bit of swearing, reader has an obsession with renjun’s pretty hands

word count: 4.7k

It had been a while since you had a crush so strong you even had a hard time focusing in class. Usually, you were a very good student, diligently taking notes and participating when the professor asked questions. But that was until you saw Renjun for the first time. 

It was like something possessed you and suddenly you couldn't think about anything else but his pretty, gentle face, his angelic voice and his lovely hands always drawing something in his notebook. It certainly didn't help much that you were seated right next to him during your shared lectures. It most certainly didn't help that you forgot all your vocabulary when you were in his immediate vicinity. Usually, your teachers and friends described you as well-spoken and eloquent, always knowing the right thing to say. 

But that was, of course, until Renjun. All words disappeared from your poor brain whenever he was around. And it's not like you didn't want to talk to him, get to know him better. But you physically couldn't bring yourself to form a coherent sentence. You kept telling yourself it was just a silly crush and it would pass in time. But the more time passed, the stronger you felt the need to do something about your feelings. Naturally, you couldn't speak, but there was still something you could do. Something you probably did best. Write.

So one day, after what felt like an eternity of yearning, you finally gathered the courage to act on your emotions. Taking a small sheet of paper out of your notebook, you wrote a little something. It was probably super lame but apparently, even your writing skills were affected by your crush on him. As soon as your "masterpiece" was done, you slid it towards Renjun before you could chicken out and change your mind about this whole thing. The note had the following text:

Roses are red, Violets are blue, Your drawings are almost As pretty as you. P.S. Key word: almost ;)

The second he spotted the little note which was folded in a hurry, he opened it curiously. Once he read its insides, you could hear him snort under his breath. Was it that bad? You couldn't help but worry. Then, he took his own pen and started writing something under it. That was a good sign, right? You were feeling hopeful. Once he was done, he slid the paper towards you. You opened it in a rush. His response was:

Hey! Are you bullying my art?!?

You looked at him in confusion. How could he have possibly misunderstood? However, he was too focused on multitasking (drawing most of the time and occasionally taking notes based on the lecture) to spot your reaction. You decided you had no choice but to be as explicit as possible and wrote another note:

Nooo, I meant to compliment both you and your art, sorry if it came off wrong and lame :(

When he received it, you could swear you saw him smiling a little, which made your heart melt. How was he so beautiful? Soon enough, his reply came:

That's alright, I'm just teasing...Also, it worked.

You couldn't believe it. It worked? You'd successfully grabbed his attention by using this first-grade flirting method in college? You were suddenly feeling brave and kept writing. It was too late to turn back time.

I just think you're really pretty and cool especially when you draw but I was too hesitant to talk to you directly...

When he read your most recent note, he even gave you a look of disbelief, which you couldn't interpret until you saw his response:

Cool? Wow, that's a first...And it's ok, I don't bite.

You chuckled quietly and suddenly noticed that class was ending soon. You couldn't wait until tomorrow so you hurriedly wrote the content of your next note:

What do I have to do to get your number?

Renjun shook his head in amusement and this time, his reply came quicker than before:

*number enclosed* Here, that wasn't so hard, was it?

You could hear the lecturer saying his words of conclusion and you hurried to respond via another note, because you couldn't trust your voice to actually speak to Renjun. Not yet, at least. So, you wrote:

Thank you!!! Here is mine: *number enclosed*

And just as he received your final note, the students around you started gathering their things. You simply looked at Renjun and you still couldn't believe he'd actually replied to your silly flirting and even gave you his number! You waved him goodbye like a lovesick fool and practically ran outside of the lecture hall. Stage fright whomst? Try having a crush on the prettiest boy in the world.

After you went back home, you debated calling Renjun. Eventually, you talked yourself out of it. What if you said something stupid and embarrassing? With texting, you could at least have more time to think things through before sending them. Actually speaking to him seemed too terrifying a task to accomplish. So, you texted him excitedly and your heart did a back-flip when he replied. Was it strange that you already missed him, even though it had only been a couple of hours since you last saw him? Naturally, you couldn't tell him that, it would probably freak him out. So, you settled for texting (for the time being).

Renjun: Why did you run away after class?

You: I was too nervous to speak to you, I'm sorry!!!

Renjun: That's strange, I see you talking to your friends all the time...Am I so scary?!?

You: Nooo, you're not scary, I'm just being an idiot 😔

Renjun: Top of the class does not equal idiot but I'll let it slide this time

You: Thank you for your generosity!

Renjun: What are you up to?

You: Probably gonna work on that assignment for next week

You: Sorry, I'm so boring 😔

Renjun: First of all, you don't have to apologize so much, you did nothing wrong

Renjun: Second of all, saaame. We can brainstorm together if you want?

You: Sorry, I'll stop. Oops, I did it again. Pretend you didn't see it.

You: Also omg, yes pls, that would be great!

And that is how your friendship with Renjun started. Texting on your phones and exchanging notes during class lasted a week until you finally decided to ask him out. Again, via text, because you were feeling too shy to speak to him. The only other contact you'd had was waving at each other. And it's not like he spoke to you, either. There were two explanations for that: 1) he chose to respect your decision or 2) he was possibly just as shy as you were. Whatever the reason, you thought this could not go on forever so you managed to find the bravery to propose a date.

You: Do you wanna go out with me? 👉🥺👈 

Renjun: Sure, where do you wanna go?

You: Oh, wow, I didn't think I'd get this far lol

You: Where do YOU wanna go?

Renjun: Hmm, there's this new art gallery I've been meaning to visit...if that's okay with you

You: Anything is good with me as long as I get to see your pretty face

Renjun: What

You: I said you're pretty

Renjun: Shut up, oh my God...

You: Do you want me to stop?

Renjun: Say that again

You: You're pretty

Renjun: 😳😳😳

Renjun: I can't wait to see you again

You: Same here

Once you got to the front of the art gallery, it struck you how strange it was that you would speak to Renjun for the first time ever. You mentally braced yourself as you awaited his arrival anxiously. Your nails were digging into the inside of your hands and you were terrified you'd pierce holes through your own skin. You told yourself this was silly, you had no reason to be so nervous. Renjun was a total sweetheart and he obviously liked talking...well, writing to you. You needn't worry that much, you kept repeating in your mind. You were too busy hyping yourself up to notice him approaching behind you. Too busy to be prepared for what came next.

"Hiii," Renjun greeted you with a surprise back hug.

"Oh dear," you jumped in shock as you turned around.

"Did I scare you, angel?"

Shit. Already with the pet names? How were you supposed to survive?

"No, it's fine," you waved him off, trying to play it cool. "Isn't it weird this is the first time we're actually speaking to each other?"

"Um...kinda," Renjun scratched the back of his head. "But I like it, it's what makes this so special."

"Wow, you sure do have a way with words," you chuckled.

"Shall we go inside?" he suggested.

"Yes, please."

As you looked around the art gallery, you kept pointing excitedly at the paintings, while Renjun was quietly evaluating them and telling you interesting stories about the artists. You couldn't help but be amazed by how attractive he was as he exhibited his knowledge. And of course, you couldn't help but wonder at how he was so much more beautiful than all the art you've ever seen. Naturally, you wouldn't tell him that. First of all, because it was too lame to speak aloud. Second of all, because your voice would undoubtedly betray you and crack or something even more embarrassing. As time passed, you were surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, despite your previous concerns. Renjun was very polite and soft-mannered and he made you feel comfortable, while the two of you looked at the paintings and discussed them. Once you'd seen everything, you were starting to feel a bit bummed out that your lovely date was coming to an end. When you were outside the art gallery, you impulsively asked:

"Can I walk you home?"

"I mean...sure. On one condition."

"Anything."

"I get to walk you home next time."

"There'll be a next time?" you whispered hopefully.

"I hope I don't sound presumptuous if I share my observation we both had a wonderful time."

"That's perfectly alright. Your observation is correct," you admitted.

"I live just around the corner, though. You really don't have to-"

"But I want to."

"So do I," Renjun said and the two of you began walking towards his home.

"I was wondering about something...You already know I didn't speak to you because I was feeling shy, but why didn't you? I have two theories, but I'm curious which one is more on point."

"Do tell and I'll try my best to enlighten you," he joked.

"Okay, so theory number one is you were being respectful of my wish not to talk yet. Theory number two is that you're just as shy as I am."

Renjun laughed and you could swear this was the sweetest sound in the entire universe.

"Am I so transparent? Honestly, it's a little bit of both. But there's another part you didn't guess. But it's too embarrassing."

"Come on, tell meee! It can't be more embarrassing than my lame attempts to flirt with you."

Renjun smiled gently.

"Well, to be honest, I couldn't believe you thought I was cool and pretty...I even feared this was some sort of prank. It wouldn't be the first time someone decided to mess with me like that."

"Renjun, are you serious? I don't understand why anyone would...Scratch that, whoever messed with you didn't deserve even a fraction of your attention. I meant every word I said. I really like you...and your paintings. And I'm sorry I couldn't say it aloud earlier. You genuinely deserve to hear nice things more."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," he blinked cutely. "But enough about me. I never told you...how beautiful you are. How kind and smart."

"I know," you waved him off teasingly. "But coming from you, this means a lot."

Renjun shook his head, amused by your words.

"We should go somewhere you like next time. Maybe a bookshop?" he suggested.

"Am I so transparent?" you repeated his words. "But sure, yeah. That sounds nice."

"Well, this is me," he said, pointing towards his home.

"Already? Aw, time sure flies by when you're having fun."

"I'll see you tomorrow in class, right?"

"Of course," you promised and before you could talk yourself out of it, gave him a quick but heartfelt hug. "Bye, Renjun."

"Bye, angel."

After your first date with Renjun, things were going quite smoothly. You finally got over your nervousness when it came to talking to him and the two of you would occasionally whisper things to each other during class. The first time he held your hand under the desk your cheeks filled with colour. Despite your embarrassment, you held his hand right back and granted him with a grateful smile. After that, holding hands in class (whenever you weren't busy taking notes) became like second nature to you two. It just felt so sweet and comfortable to be close to him. You couldn't wait till the next weekend for your second date. Even though you were just going to a bookshop and had nothing that special planned out, you enjoyed being around him so much that you were more than excited for spending time with him one-on-one. No professors or other students to distract you.

When the day finally arrived, you were surprised to find out your anxious self had made a comeback. Even though you were around him everyday and had grown accustomed to holding a conversation, it had been an entire week since your first date when it was just the two of you and you couldn't help but get cold feet as you were waiting in front of the bookshop. This time Renjun didn't surprise you from behind, you could see him approaching from a distance. Mentally bracing yourself for his inevitable arrival, you knew you'd be an awkward mess no matter how hard you tried.

"Hey, angel," he greeted you with the usual hug.

"It's nice to see you again, Renjun," you replied dumbly, briefly melting into his arms.

"You saw me yesterday, remember?" he teased you.

"Um, yeah, but still," you chuckled.

"Is everything okay? You don't seem like yourself," Renjun immediately noticed the change in your behaviour.

"Why wouldn't it be? Everything's peachy," you lied, but he didn't seem to believe you.

"Be honest with me, please," Renjun asked. You suddenly remembered what he'd confided in you during your first date. It was no wonder he had a hard time trusting you after someone in his past had had the nerve to pull such a cruel prank on a soul as sweet as his. You felt guilty for lying rightaway and began explaining yourself.

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I don't want to fuck anything up. Like I just did by lying and swearing. Fuck. I did it again, didn't I? I'll shut up now," you were rambling anxiously.

"Relax, Y/N, I totally get it. I was just worried maybe you didn't want to be here...with me."

"What? Nonsense. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. No one else I'd rather be with."

"Well, the feeling's mutual so there's no need for concern. Let's look at those books, yeah?"

"Yeah, sounds good, Renjun."

As the two of you went inside and started exploring the hundreds of shelves together, you felt yourself relaxing a little. Being surrounded by so many familiar titles, so many gorgeous covers was comforting. And as you kept showing Renjun some of your favourite books and telling him about your most beloved characters, he realized you were back to your usual self in no time. Attentively listening and occasionally sharing his opinions on certain authors, you didn't notice how quickly time passed by and how much you had enjoyed yourself and each other's company. Once you had looked through the bookshop in its entirety, you felt like it was too early to put an end to your date, but you didn't want to come off as too clingy or something. So, you simply looked at Renjun, expecting him to say what he wanted to do next.

"I promised you I'll walk you home this time, didn't I?" he smoothly said.

"I believe you did," you giggled. It was so sweet of him to remember such a detail.

"I'm a man of my word so lead the way," Renjun replied, offering you his arm.

"It will be my pleasure," you eagerly took his arm and the two of you began walking. You were deliberately moving at a slow place, simply because you didn't want this to end and felt like prolonging the time around him.

"Your hands are so pretty," you blurted out at one point.

"You like my hands, huh?" Renjun smirked.

"Did I say that out loud?" you were undoubtedly blushing really hard.

"I'm afraid so."

You felt completely mortified as you covered your face with your own hands.

"Hey, hey, it's fine. You can tell me anything. Chances are I'll take it as a compliment."

"Really?" you sneaked a peak. "You don't think I'm weird?"

"Maybe a little bit, but it's one of the things I like about you."

"One?" you blinked curiously.

"You're really fun to be around and you've been nothing but sweet to me. And of course, you're stunning, but that goes without saying."

"Without saying? I don't mind hearing it, though."

"I'll have that in mind," Renjun smiled gently.

"Renjun?"

"Yes?"

"Can you hold my hand?" you almost begged.

"I don't know, can I?" he tormented you with a joke.

"Will you hold my hand?" you corrected yourself.

"All you had to do was ask," Renjun acquiesced and intertwined your fingers.

Walking hand in hand, you eventually reached your place. As you two stared at one another, you refusing to go inside, him refusing to go, both of you refusing to let go of the other's hand, you thought to yourself how badly you wanted to kiss him. You had no idea if it was too early for that but you knew that the longer you tried to postpone it, the more you'd crave him. And you were an impatient person. So you quickly kissed him without thinking much. It was a bit awkward and rushed but at least, you had finally done as you wanted. Renjun looked taken aback and blinked at you a couple of times.

"I'm sorry," you apologized again. "I just..."

He silenced you softly with another kiss, this time more slowly and putting your mind and heart at ease. You lost yourself in the feeling of his plush lips against yours, finally letting go of his hand so that you could wrap yours around his neck. Hesitant at first but growing bolder by the second, you could sense Renjun's tongue testing the waters. You slightly parted your lips, letting him in. As the kiss intensified, you could feel him becoming more eager to touch you, his arms wrapped around your lower back. When you were seconds away from losing your breath, you finally broke the kiss. Opening your eyes to look at him, you couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He'd kissed you back.

"I thought I told you to stop apologizing so much. Especially, when you haven't done anything wrong," Renjun scolded you politely.

You opened your mouth to argue, but when you realized your immediate response would have been another 'I'm sorry', you closed it. A second later, you came up with a different reply.

"I guess you'll have to discipline me, then," you huffed in a challenge.

"Dumbass," Renjun flicked your forehead.

"Hey!" you complained with a pout. "That hurts."

"What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?" Renjun gave an unamused look.

"That doesn't sound like such a bad idea," you mumbled, not expecting him to actually...kiss your forehead. But he did. And damn your knees for threatening to give out.

"Feel better yet?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"Get inside already," Renjun tickled your sides, nudging you in the direction of your door.

"You want to get rid of me so badly?"

"No, but we can stand here forever if you don't," he rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to invite you in?"

"Don't tempt me and go," he was impossible to sway.

"Okay, okay," you relented. "See you tomorrow, Renjun!"

For your third date Renjun suggested something different. While your first and second date had all taken place in public locations, this time he offered going to his place. And maybe the shock on your face was too obvious, because Renjun was quick to keep talking and almost take it back.

"We don't have to if you don't want to! We can just watch something at the cinema or whatever. Forget I mentioned it if you're uncomfortable."

You quickly shook your head.

"No, no, I do want to come over! I was just...not expecting it."

"Yeah? You sure?"

"A hundred per cent," you nodded excitedly.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm at two hundred per cent," Renjun teased.

"It's not a competition," you reminded him.

"It's not if I'm winning," he kept playing around.

You rolled your eyes.

"So what are we watching?" you asked.

"You can't go wrong with Harry Potter, am I right?"

"You are so right," you squealed. "Which house are you in?"

"Don't get me started. Sometimes I get Ravenclaw, sometimes Slytherin, it's a mess."

"That's pretty cool, though," you were practically staring at him with heart eyes at this point.

"You're a Hufflepuff, aren't you?"

"Am I so transparent?" you complained, this line becoming something of a running gag between the two of you.

"Cute," he mumbled under his breath and you blushed, not managing to maintain eye contact.

When the time arrived for you to go to Renjun's place, you were more excited rather than nervous. He was so easy to talk to and you were genuinely making so many wonderful memories that you had made it your mission to not waste any second worrying needlessly.

"I have arrived," you announced the obvious as you stood at his door.

"I can see that," Renjun chuckled. "Come on in."

"I wasn't sure if I should bring something so I bought some pizza on the way. It's still hot, so I hope you're hungry," you said as you followed him inside like a puppy.

"Oh, that's very thoughtful. And I always have enough space left for pizza."

You grinned and the minute you put the box on the table and your arms were free, you wrapped them around Renjun in a hug.

"You're so warm," you murmured against his skin.

He kissed the top of your head swiftly. Soon after, the two of you were too busy re-watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, eating pizza and holding hands to talk much. Once the movie was over, you realized how badly you didn't want to go home and how cozy leaning your head on Renjun's shoulder felt. And how much you liked him and couldn't stop thinking about his hands, his smile and his overall existence.

"Do you want to go home already?" Renjun asked the dreaded question.

"I mean, not really, but I don't wanna impose myself on you," you whispered.

"Don't be so formal," Renjun replied. "Just stay a little longer."

"Yayyy!" you were quite overjoyed and kissed his cheek. "What do you want to do?"

"Hm, I don't know. I could give you a tour around the place."

"Sure, that sounds fun," you immediately agreed.

"Don't get your hopes up, it's just a regular college guy's apartment."

"I'm sure I'll be amazed by every little detail."

"Even my socks?"

"Especially your socks," you joked.

As he showed you around his apartment, you couldn't help but be amazed by how Renjun-like everything was. From the snug kitchen to his art supplies scattered around. Every corner made the atmosphere feel extremely homey. Until you saw something that you hadn't expected, something that hadn't come up in conversation before. A stunning grand piano. You looked at the instrument and then at Renjun and finally, back at the piano.

"Do you play?"

"No, I just keep things like that as an accessory," he responded sarcastically. "Of course, I play."

"Can you...no, wait," you stopped yourself before making a similar mistake to the one you made a while ago. "Will you play something for me?"

"Right now?"

"If it's not too much trouble," you gave him the very best pleading look you were capable of.

Renjun sighed reluctantly and sat down on the bench in front of the piano.

"Don't just stand there awkwardly, sit next to me," he urged you courteously. 

You followed his advice and took the free spot. However, nothing could have possibly prepared you for witnessing Renjun's skills up-close. Watching him play was like magic. You were simply in awe and couldn't help but stare at his pretty fingers hitting the keys in just the right ways. When he was finished performing the piece, you were too frozen to do anything. Couldn't even manage to clap, even though he deserved it so much. But you were too transfixed by his playing and those damn hands of his you couldn't possibly move.

"Earth to Y/N?" Renjun went as far as snapping his fingers right in front of your face.

"Huh?" you let out.

"Did I enchant you or what?"

"I think you did," you chuckled. "Just...wow. You're insanely good."

He looked away bashfully.

"Thanks. It just takes practice."

"Nah, I've heard people play before but what you have is different. So pure and genuine. Like a blessing. And I'm not just saying that because I think I'm falling in love with you. I really mean every word."

"Care to repeat that?"

"I really mean..." you started, still not registering what exactly you'd said. How far you'd gone. What you couldn't take back.

"Before that," Renjun reminded you gently. "You know. The part about falling in love with me."

"Shit. I was thinking out loud again, wasn't I?" you asked dumbly. "It's too early for that, I know. I'm really sorry. Let's just pretend I said nothing and forget about it, yeah?"

In your panic, you jumped up from the bench and were about to escape like a coward but Renjun grabbed your hand before you could take another step.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, too," he said.

"W-what?" you stammered.

"And I don't care about whether it's too early or not. And I'm not going to pretend I didn't hear it. So the question is...what are you going to do about that?"

"Me? What...am I supposed to do?"

"What you want to do," Renjun clarified.

"Um...I want to keep falling in love with you, Renjun. And holding your pretty hands. Spending time with you. Listening to your angelic voice. What I want...is for you to be my boyfriend."

"I thought I already was."

"You were?"

"We went on a couple of dates...we kissed...Haven't I made it obvious enough?"

"Oh, right," you chuckled. "Sorry."

"Say that word one more time, I dare you," Renjun slowly ran a finger down your lips.

"S-sorry?" you had to test his patience. Before you could argue, he kissed you fiercely, wrapping his palms around your cheeks. You were drowning beneath his touch, which was ridiculous, considering he was also setting your lips on fire. You figured if saying sorry too much was going to end up like this, you would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

"Pretty angel," Renjun whispered against your mouth. "My pretty angel."

You were practically melting and the only thing holding you together were Renjun's arms.

"For fear of sounding lame, I'm inclined to say your pretty angel's almost as pretty as you. Key word: almost," you giggled, recalling your earliest attempts at flirting with him.

"Lies," Renjun shook his head.

"Hey, it worked the first time!" you pouted.

"It only worked because you're the pretty one," Renjun ruffled your hair playfully.

"Oh my God, shut up," you covered your face to hide how red it was.

"Never."

The End