#he’s gonna ask what the appointment is for and I’ll have to say a simple procedure because he’s getting frustrated with how many times

[reality-schmality]

I have done nearly no work at all in the last week because I cannot focus for the life of me and it’s baaaaaaaaaad.

My period has gone completely off the rails and my hormones are all over the map. I’m overwhelmingly depressed and crying at the drop of a hat and just I can’t function.

[k-hotchoisan]

Yunho smut with his hands? 🥴

Oh god I love his hands I want them around my neck so bad. My choking kink is off the fucking charts whenever Yunho’s hands are present. Here’s something for you, pretty. Enjoy Yunho and his pretty little hands.

Synopsis: what are the odds of getting a tattoo and getting fucked by your tattoo artist because you cannot stop staring at his fuckin hands

Warnings/genres: tattoo au!, mention of needles, slight size kink, choke kink, unprotected sex, hands kink, cream pies, fingering

A/n: I am so sorry for the amount of typos. I fucking swear this isn’t what usually happens omg

You stood before the apartment door, double checking that you got the right address—yeah you definitely did. He did mention that it was a home-based studio. Your first tattoo appointment and you were so nervous because you don’t know what to expect. Hongjoong had assured you to just go with an open mind. You didn’t know much about your tattoo artist, only knowing that his name was Yunho, nonetheless, you did really like his art style, and you soon settled on him with Hongjoong’s advice.

Back to present, you pushed the doorbell, and it echoes through the apartment. There is a silence before the doorknob clicks. The door pulls back, and before you, stood a really tall male. His sharp eyes make him look very intimidating and for a moment your heart races, and you wonder if you stopped into the wrong house.

“You are?” He asks, and rumbles you even more because his voice is so fucking deep for no reason.

You manage to find the voice stuck in your throat, as you reply, “y/n, here for a 7pm tattoo appointment with Yunho?”

His face softens immediately as his eyes brighten up. “Ah right! Yunho’s client! Come in. I’ll get Yunho in a bit”. He ushers you in as you remove your shoes.

You step inside, soaking in the interior of the apartment. It was definitely a shared space—the common areas were spacious, maybe just spacious enough to serve for two people. It was a pretty clean looking, monochromatic layout.

“Oh right, my name’s Mingi. Song Mingi, but you can call me Mingi”, he introduces himself brightly, his smile contagious. “I’m his room mate.” You smile back.

“Please excuse the mess by the way”, he laughs as he leads you through the corridor, and the both of you are standing in front of a wooden door. Mingi knocks the door before saying “Hyung, I’m coming in” with a raised voice. He pushes the door handle down and the door opens. The subtle hint of lavender hits you from the humidifier and it instantly relaxes you.

On the cushioned rolling stool sat your tattoo artist, his frame is as tall as Mingi’s, messy brunette locks tussled on his head. He’s in simple black shirt but he still looks so fucking good. He’s absorbed on his iPad, still sketching out the little details of what seems to be your tattoo.

You feel your heart beat a little too quickly the moment your eyes land on him because you did not expect him to be that attractive.

And you are gonna be stuck with him for at least a couple of hours together.

Mingi raps the door again, and that’s when Yunho looks up, and you take a good look at his face. He doesn’t look like whatever you expected him to look like, well, not that you had any pictures to reference him from to begin with. But definitely, he is pretty fucking good looking. You stay rooted at the entrance of the door, mooning over your tattoo artist in a tight black shirt while he eyes you up and down with a soft smile.

“Oh right! My apologies”, Yunho finally speaks and he sounds like honey, and it suddenly makes you slightly thirsty. “Hey. I’m Yunho. We finally meet”, he greets with a hand up.

His fucking hands. Oh my fucking gods. He has a silver ring cuffing his index finger. Then he beckons you to go over to him. Mingi tilts his head to Yunho’s direction before saying that he needs to leave, giving you a small nod before shutting the door.

You have no choice but to inch closer to Yunho, who’s smiling at you like a fucking golden retriever, and you wonder to yourself ‘this dude is a fucking tattoo artist?’ Yunho beckons you to take seat on an empty stool across him as he mentions to give him a couple more minutes to finish up the design draft. You nod, even if he doesn’t see it since his attention is back on his iPad. You quietly stare at the way he makes his strokes with his Apple Pencil.

And you get a closer look at this long, slender fingers. You’ve never met anyone with such pretty hands before, yet the way he holds the pencil is so gentle, and almost attractive for some reason. It’s especially the way his fingers are veiny and long—his joints are angled in such a way it frames his fingers so fucking prettily. Yunho looks up and catches your gaze, and you flinch slightly, thinking you are caught in the act.

“Eager to see your design?” He asks playfully, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips. Oh thank fucking god.

“Yeah of course. I wonder what you came up with”, you quickly say, pretending to peek over at the iPad.

He brings up the iPad higher to his eye level and it’s the way his fingers curls around the tablet. He flips it over to you and you soak in the design he drew out for you. It’s what you wanted. You also don’t miss out how clean and neatly trimmed his fingernails are.

“Is it to your taste? Got any last minute changes you want before I print it out?” He asks, as he stands up and walks over to the printer. You shake your head slowly, trying not to swoon at how deliciously tall he is.

He beams. “Great! Then I’ll print a couple of sizes out. Take your pick okay? I’ll go grab some water for you.” You nod as he disappears out of the room through the door. The printer starts up and it begins to print out the stencil.

You look around the room. Despite it looking small, it was pretty cozy looking. The room has comfortable lighting, with lamps, which you assume are for the tattoo work. There’s a small space just behind the empty stool you’re seated on, with smaller studio lights pointing towards the wall, which you deduce is probably where he takes photos of his finished products. His tattoo machine sat near to the tattoo bed, which was cling wrapped for sanitary purposes, including the pillows. Finally, a small desktop computer set up was against the wall, perpendicular to the small studio lights, with a printer at the side. The door knocks, a short pause before it pushes open, and it’s Yunho with a drink in hand.

He walks over to you and hands it to you, his fingers brushing against yours and it takes you so much nerves to have any wild thoughts. You take a sip to distract yourself as you hear scissors cutting through the tracing paper. As you open your eyes, Yunho is so fucking near your face that it makes your heart jump.

“Oh gosh! Did I scare you?” Yunho laughs as he takes the cup from your hand. “My apologies.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. You just move so quietly”, you joke. Yunho smiles in reply as he places the cup on his desk.

“I need you to lift your shirt up for me”, Yunho instructs, staring at your abdomen.

Fuck, for a moment your mind plunges into some unknown territory. You forgot that your tattoo placement was above your hip. You roll the fabric up high enough, and you fucking jump when you feel Yunho’s fingertips brush against your skin, on your waist. “It’s here right? The placement that you wanted?” He confirms, his touch not leaving your skin. “Yeah”, you manage out.

He cuts a piece of tape to adhere the stencil onto your skin before bringing you over to the full length mirror right by the bed to let you confirm your placement. After a few adjustments (and hell of of him touching your waist with his bare hands which was definitely giving you insane haywire thoughts), you came to a placement which you are satisfied with. He sticks the stencil to your skin, much like a temporary tattoo, pulling out the tracing paper and letting it dry, before having you lie down in the bed as he prepared his inks.

“First tattoo?” He asks as he checks his gun.

“Yeah”, you reply, playing with your fingers from the nervousness.

Yunho chuckles. “That placement might hurt a little though. You’re a brave one.”

You only release a nervous laugh—wondering if it is for the tattoo or because of Yunho. He turns to you, tugging against his ring to remove it before snapping black latex gloves on before pushing your shirt higher. You bite you lip.

How the fuck does his hands look even better gloved? The black latex only enhances the length and shape of his hands, which curls around his tattoo gun.

“I’m gonna start now. Let me know if you need a break, yeah?” Yunho assures. You know it’s probably a customer service thing but god, why did he have to be so attentive?

He switches on the gun and it buzzes. He begins tattooing and sure enough, the placement you picked definitely hurt quite like a bitch, but you force yourself to pull through it.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt?” He asks before continuing.

“It does, but I think I’ll be fine”, you reply, thinking of something else to distract yourself from the pain. Throughout the session, Yunho makes conversations with you, making you laugh when you probably shouldn’t because he was stabbing needles at your waist but still. He was amazing at breaking the ice, especially in such a seemingly intimate space. You feel yourself unwind a little, and although it still hurt, you don’t feel so tense anymore. Nonetheless, you could not shake the thought about his hands running down your body every time you glance at Yunho doing your tattoo.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I even wanted to get a tattoo when I have a shit pain threshold”, you say in between soft giggles to cover up the pain and soreness that was starting to sink in.

“But you’re doing so well for me”, Yunho replies absentmindedly with a smile. Your head spins the moment he says that, butterflies were invading your stomach. What the fuck was that even? Now your stomach in twisting into knots when he’s praising you like that.

“We’re almost done. Hold on a little longer for me yeah?” He assures again, as you bear through the pain. It’s over quickly as he smoothes over your tattoo with a final swipe of the paper towel. He moves back a little to admire his work. He looks satisfied. He pulls his gloves off and sits you up gently, your stomach still fluttering as his fingers brush against your skin. He brings you to the full length mirror, and there you admire how gorgeous the tattoo looks.

“It looks amazing” you gasp, turning your side to have a better view of it. Yunho looks proud. He has his phone in his hand now and requests a few photos, which you obliged to of course. He adjusts your shirt before snapping a few pics.

“I really like how this turned out,” you gush. “Thank you Yunho.”

Yunho shakes his head. “Thank you for entrusting me to it, especially as your first tattoo.”

You laugh in response, and you don’t realise that he’s kneeled down at your waist, preparing to stick on the second skin. He sticks it on and instructs you on proper tattoo care before making another appointment for a touch up. You thank him and left the apartment, heart still beating in your ears.

You’ve developed a way too big of a crush on your tattoo artist now.

The touch up appointment came way too quickly than you thought. To be fair, you were still not over it, and as much as the tattoo scabbing and itch , it couldn’t compare to way Yunho’s hands kept brushing against your waist, as he checks on your tattoo. But in the past month, all you think about was Yunho and his fucking hands. Even now, when he’s only taking a look at your healed tattoo, your mind in swimming in the most dirtiest places you wanted him to touch.

You shut your eyes and bite your lip so no weird sound comes out from your mouth. You feel Yunho’s breath right at your waist as it tickles your skin, a soft sigh escapes your lips as your tattoo artist continues to rub against the tattoo.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed by Yunho.

He could very easily just tug your pants down and you would let him because fuck, he’s all you can think about now. Yunho stands up, and definitely notices how flushed your skin is looking, and he decides to test waters. He traps you at the tattoo bed, and you hear your heart in your ears as he inches closer. Now he’s pretty much towering over you as his fingers are tracing against your waist, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Your tattoo healed so nicely”, he says, hooking his index finger and thumb to your chin so you’d meet his gaze. Your gaze travels down to his pretty lips and he takes it as a sign to cup your neck and pull you in for a starved kiss, sending your mind into a fucking frenzy, and fireworks to go off in your eyelids. He tastes even better than you thought. Your eyes flutter open as he pulls back, catching your breath.

“Won’t Mingi hear?” You ask. He shakes his head. “Not anytime soon, doll.” His little pet name making you flush even harder, and it all goes down to your pussy, which is getting wet enough already, no thanks to your little fantasies and the fucking kiss.

“Now, stop thinking about him when I’m here.”

His hands touch your waist again, as he lifts you onto the tattoo bed, the plastic crinkling beneath you. You watch him breathlessly as he tugs against your bottoms, and your clothing articles drop to your ankles. Yunho doesn’t let them touch the ground, instead, he folds it hastily onto the other side of the bed, before turning his attention back to you, or your wet and sopping pussy.

Yunho licks his lips, before stroking your thighs to coax you to spread your legs open, and you do, your eyes following the way his fingers are stroking your thigh, alongside the ticklish feeling it was sending straight to your cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy, doll”, he compliments, his fingers trailing down your slicked cunt, before stopping right at your hole. He hears your little whimpers and cries, and it goes right to his hardened cock that’s pushing against his pants. But he knows being patient reaps the best rewards. He can be patient for you. Yunho’s fingers slowly plunge into your cunt, and your back arches in pleasure, because oh my fucking god, his fingers are long enough to hit a spongy area and it was sending fucking stars beneath your eyelids. Shivers tickle your spine as Yunho’s lips land soft kisses against your skin on your neck. His finger fucking was sending you into the heavens.

A kiss on your cheeks makes your eyes flutter open, and you meet Yunho’s gaze.

“I’ve noticed”, he sighs, slowing down his finger fucking in you. “That you seem really entranced by my hands since our first session.” Then he plunges his fingers in again, another cry leaving your lips as your eyes roll back.

Fuck. He found out.

“You have such pretty hands”, you admit, hiding your face with your arms, wondering what was more embarrassing—the fact that he found out about your fixation with his hands, or that he’s fucking your cunt with said fingers.

“So I should make really good use of it, right?” Yunho chuckles, adoring the way you’re squirming under his touch. He pulls your hands off your face and holds them down, and oh god, he was truly trying to drive you insane. He picks up the pace and every time his fingers press against your g-spot, your moans only grew louder and more desperate, and Yunho is progressively losing his rationale. He wants to fuck you so bad right now, and the thought of him railing you on his workspace only heightened his arousal, because he has never done that before.

Your orgasm only builds up even more quickly when he thumbs your clit after releasing your hands. Your hands are clawing his arms.

“Yunho, please. Oh god. That feels so fucking good. Gonna cum.”, you cry, lifting your legs higher, and that only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, and the words that leave his lips-“cum on my fingers baby. You know you want to”- and a whimper escapes his lips the moment he feels your walls clench against his fingers, as moans pours out of you when your orgasm floods your senses. Yunho lets you ride your orgasm out, slowly pushing his fingers in and out again, enjoying your cunt squeezing his fingers. He pulls out slowly and you barely catch your breath, as your gaze meet his. His fingers are full of your slick and cream, and plasters it on his lips, giving them a lick before sucking this pretty fingers, covered in your arousal, fucking clean. That does nothing but throw your head into a frenzy, and your cunt clenches at nothing, as you struggle to keep your composure.

But now Yunho is the one starting to lose it, as he haphazardly wipes his fingers on his slacks before hastily pulling his pants down, his cock springing out, glimmering with precum already, very evident thanks to the studio lights. God fuck, as if his hands weren’t pretty enough, his dick is too. Yunho bites his lip, staring at how fucked out you looked, especially since he hasn’t even fucked you good yet. He pushes your knees to bend even more, before lining his cockhead to your hole before sinking his cock right into you. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open at this point. Your cunt feels slightly sore, and your walls are hugging his cock so well that Yunho is fighting not to just fuck you senseless. Yunho groans at the sensation, but he leans in for another hungry kiss with you, before his hand snakes around your neck.

He pulls back. “I’m sorry. I really need to fuck you so bad right now. Fuck.” You can’t help but find that so endearing that he’s holding back. Your fingers tug your folds open more, letting him sink his cock further deeper into your heat, which makes him squeeze your throat. It feels so fucking amazing to have Yunho choke you out like this, and you make it even more evident by clenching around his cock.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, and starts fucking you so deep and good, that you fucking swear you see a bulge below your belly button every time his cock hits your cervix. The sensation of Yunho’s cock stuffing you full every time he thrusts into you paired with his hands around your neck—softly squeezing and letting go—is only pushing your second orgasm to hit you.

“I would have never guessed that you’d get off my hands this much”, Yunho hums, looking at the way your eyes are rolled back as his balls slap your ass every time he fucks into you, your hands grabbing onto his arm, clawing again from the bliss he’s fucking you into. “Do you like them that much?”

You fight every nerve to focus on answering him, eyebrows scrunched. “Y-yeah. Fuck, I fantasise you choking me out like this since that day. I dream about letting you do whatever you want to me with your han-“ getting cut off from a sob as his cock fills you up again—or did he just grow even bigger in you? Ah, fuck, it doesn’t matter.

“Naughty girl”, Yunho mutters with a smirk, his free hand slapping against your ass, the sound rippling through the room, making you arch your back even more.

“Yunho, p-please’, you stutter, the knot in your stomach so taut. “I think I’m gonna cum again”. Now you’re sobbing. This only encourages Yunho to tighten his grip around your neck as his strokes become harder, and you snap—broken sobs leaving your throat as your cunt fucking squeezes Yunho’s cock, the sensation of his hands around your neck only amplifies your orgasm as stars burst in your eyelids, and you cream so fucking much, that it gets onto the cling wrapped bed below you. Yunho immediately loses it, his thrusts becoming straight up ruts. He releases his grip from your neck, and the oxygen returns immediately, leaving your heaving. Yunho is leaning into your ear, as his both hands are now on your waist as he fucks desperately into your overstimulated cunt.

“You’re so fucking adorable, y/n. I’m cumming too”, he grunts, as he ruts a final time before a soft moan hits your ears, then a flood of his warm cum right into your spent pussy, and oh god, did that feel amazing. Yunho stays by your side for a moment, before straightening his back, and pulling out, not missing a beat at the way his cum just trickles down your inner thigh, out of your hole.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. This is your work space and all”, you panic, taking a handful of tissues that Yunho had offered to clean yourself up. Evidently, that doesn’t get to him because Yunho immediately rushes over the moment he notices the red marks around your neck.

“Shit, did I choke you too hard?” He asks rather frantically, lifting your chin up, rubbing against your neck gently. You shake your head, suddenly wanting to just kiss him again, but you hold yourself back. “Also, don’t worry about this. My next appointment isn’t until 4pm. I have time to clean up. You alright though?”

Fuck, why did he have to be hot and gentle? It was genuinely driving you nuts. “Is it okay if I use the toilet?” You ask, fitting your clothes on. Yunho immediately nods, rushing to the door to leave it open for you, as you gingerly head to the washroom.

You sigh as you leave the washroom, wondering if it was about to simply be a one time thing, because you were falling for your tattoo artist, hard and fast. Your gaze meets Yunho’s the moment you shut the door behind you, and Yunho has cleaning supplies in his hands. Suddenly your face flushes again, thinking at the mess the both you made.

Yunho’s smile doesn’t falter though, and you see a tint of red colouring the tips of his ears, which you could have definitely missed if you hadn’t noticed closely. There’s a strange air of silence between the both of you, that is, until Yunho speaks.

“My 4pm client is my last one for the day. I’ll text you when I’m done, if you’re down for dinner?” He asks, rubbing the nape of his neck shyly. Oh my fucking god. You laugh softly, because, holy shit, you never expected this outcome, and then you nod. “I’ll be waiting, Yunho”, you reply.

Yunho steps forward to you and strokes your head. “I’ll see you to the door then. And then I’ll see you tonight.”

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 6 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, lots of fluff, Harris and Wayne making us all cry

WC: 1.3k

Divider credit to @saradika

June 1999

“Harris! Lunchtime!” you call out from the kitchen, balancing three plates in your hands, crunchy peanut butter and grape jelly slathered between WonderBread slices atop each one. A gourmet meal, Grandma would have teased, but she wouldn’t deny the simple deliciousness of a PB&J sandwich. 

Eddie saunters in first, taking two of the plates from you and placing them on the dining room table. “Need me to grab anything else?” he asks, watching as you suck peanut butter residue off your thumb. “Like, maybe your boobs?” He grins, crossing his arms over his chest against a faded Corroded Coffin t-shirt. 

You playfully roll your eyes, setting the last plate at your spot. “Could you slice up an apple for Harris? I’ll pour us some lemonade and then get his gift from our room.”

“Puttin’ me to work on Father’s Day weekend,” he grumbles, but the smirk curling his plush lips betrays him. He grabs a Red Delicious from the refrigerator and cuts it into eighths, careful not to nick his ringed fingers. 

You pluck the gift bag from its hiding spot underneath your bed, re-fluffing the yellow tissue paper as though Harris will notice that it’s askew. 

Eddie’s tongue swipes at the apple’s juices on his fingers and calls for your son once more. “Harris! If you don’t get your behind in here now, you won’t get your surprise!”

The TV clicks off instantly. “My surprise?” He races into the kitchen, stopping short and skidding in his socks to avoid colliding with the counter’s edge. “Where’s my surprise?”

“You can open it while you eat lunch,” you reason, swinging the bag between your pinched thumb and forefinger. Harris plops in his seat, takes an enormous bite of his sandwich, and holds out his hand for the present. You relent with a laugh, nerves buzzing as he tears into it. 

Harris is momentarily confused when he pulls out a book, studying the cover intently. “The Berenstain Bears New Baby?” he asks quizzically, looking between you and Eddie for a clue. 

“Why do you think we’d buy you a book about a new baby?” Eddie teases, trying to lead him to the answer. 

You both watch as the proverbial gears turn in the boy’s head, his eyes widening when it clicks. “Am I getting a baby?” A squeal builds up in his throat, the excitement palpable. 

“Mhm. In about five months, you, Harris Munson,” you tell him, poking his chest with your pointer finger, “are going to be a big brother.”

“Mommy’s growing the baby in her belly right now,” Eddie elaborates, beaming as the words resonate with him once again. 

Harris leaps from his chair, bumping into the table and nearly toppling his glass of lemonade in the process, but he hardly notices. “We’re having a baby! We’re having a baby!” He cheers, waving the book high in the air. A slip of paper falls out, floating down to his feet. 

“That’s my latest ultrasound. It shows what the baby looks like and how he or she is growing,” you explain as he picks it up from the floor. 

He squints at it to make heads or tails of the grainy photos. “When do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“At my next appointment in about five weeks.”

He hums in acknowledgment, still focused on the sonogram. “It kinda just looks like a blob,” he says cautiously, as though breaking the news that the fetus in your womb is a gelatinous creature. 

Eddie chuckles, kissing Harris’s wild curls. “Yeah, but it’ll look more like a baby soon, I promise.”

Harris exhales a relieved sigh, launching himself into your arms with a barrage of questions. 

“What are we gonna name it?”

“Is it gonna sleep in my room?”

“Do I have to change its diapers?”

“Are you sure it’s gonna look like a baby?”

It’s your turn to laugh and ruffle his hair. “Slow down there, Har. We can talk about all of that stuff later. Right now,” you lower your voice but keep all of the exuberance, “we need you to do us a super special favor.”

“A super special favor?” His face lights up and he leans in to ensure he hears you correctly. 

“Yup. Grampa Wayne still doesn’t know about the baby, and we were hoping you could make a Father’s Day card that helps us tell him.” You watch as he unlatches himself from around you and scampers off to find his art kit. “That was easy enough,” you say to your husband, who affirms this with a smile-laced kiss. 

Eddie shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “To be honest, I was expecting him to be even—”

“I’M GONNA BE A BIG BROTHER!” Harris’s ecstatic shriek interrupts him, compounded with the pounding of his feet as he jumps up and down. 

“There it is.”

You all pile into the car the following afternoon to celebrate Father’s Day at Wayne’s trailer. Harris buckles himself into his booster seat, the homemade card clutched securely in his hand. Eddie rolls down the window, turning the crank until it’s halfway cracked, letting the warm June breeze tickle his face.

From the backseat, Harris whines, “Dad, be careful! I don’t want Grampa’s card to fly out the window.”

“Don’t worry; we’re not going fast. Just taking the backroads.”

He seems to be content with this promise, but you notice his grip tighten just a bit.

Wayne waits for your arrival, stubbing out his cigarette on the trailer steps as soon as he sees you pull in. His naturally stoic expression dissipates into a wide grin and he pushes himself to his feet, tugging on Harris’s door handle as soon as Eddie throws the car in park.

“Happy Father’s Day, Grampa!” Harris shouts, flinging his arms around him. Wayne reciprocates eagerly, holding his grandson in a loving embrace. “Look at your card!”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head in amusement as he stretches his legs out of the car. “Real subtle, Har.”

Wayne takes the piece of construction paper from Harris, retrieving his reading glasses from where they’re hanging out of his breast pocket and sliding them up the bridge of his nose. “Let me see here,” he muses, scanning the drawing in front of him. “A family portrait, huh? This is gonna go right on the fridge.” He starts back towards the front door, but Harris stops him.

“No, Grampa, look!” Harris impatiently points to where he’s drawn your prominently rounded abdomen, much more obvious than your actual burgeoning bump. “That’s Mommy.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raise, glancing between you and Eddie for confirmation before he says anything further. 

“You’re gonna be a grandpa again, Old Man,” Eddie tells him, resting his hand on your stomach and rubbing it gently. “There’ll be another little mischief maker joining us in November.”

“You’re serious?” Wayne’s eyes mist over, visible even behind the lenses. When you nod, rife with emotion, he ambles over for a hug. “Oh, my word. Nearly got me blubberin’ over here.” He pulls back only to rest his glasses atop his head, wiping his tears with his shirt sleeve.

Harris tugs on his grandfather’s free hand. “Dad said you’re gonna change all the poopy diapers.” He giggles, exposing the gap where a tooth is newly missing after weeks of being wiggly.

“Is that so?” Wayne chuckles, looking directly at Eddie before bringing his attention back to Harris. “Well, I’ll tell ya what: I’ll change the baby’s diapers if Dad changes mine once I’m real old.”

Eddie tries to protest, but you cut him off. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

“Nope, no way” your husband argues, waving his arms in disgust, “I’m throwing you in a home the moment you can’t wipe your own–”

“Eddie!” you admonish before he can utter another word.

“I was gonna say ‘tush.’”

--

[tieronecrush]

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter three: sugar & spice

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 9.6k

a/n: loving my prof. javi and thank you endlessly to @northernbluess for beta-ing <33333 love ya!

“Hey, angel.”

The signal isn’t great when you pick up the phone, an unfamiliar number piquing your interest as you sit on the floor of your bedroom painting your nails. The phone is pressed between your ear and shoulder, and hearing that low, raspy timbre through the cracking line brings a smile to your face and a stir of excitement in your stomach.

No, stop, stupid brain. He’s someone you’re seeing for work, you shouldn’t blur the lines with him when you have other arrangements.

“Hi, Javi.”

“What are you up to, cariño?”

The simple question brings a smile to your face, leaning back against your bedframe. You picture him in his own apartment, probably on his couch or in his bed; imagining his apartment is warm, with leather furniture and sharp edge surfaces — a balance of the firm and clean-cut facade with the worn softness of his gentle personality.

“Mm, painting my nails.”

“What color?”

“Burgundy. Like a reddish purple kind of color.”

“Y’know that’s my favorite color, angel. Bet it looks very pretty.”

“Are you gonna say that about every color I use for my nails? Something tells me we might have this conversation many times,” you giggle and can hear a breathy laugh from him.

“Maybe so. But I don’t think I’d be wrong, you’d look pretty in anything and with any nail color, querida,” you can hear shuffling on the other line, a faint sigh slipping from lips, “Any chance you’re free Friday evening, angel?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure, let me check.” You carefully stand from the floor, leaving the bottle there and walking over to your desk to look over your open planner. Skimming over the day, you see you have a date with a different man scheduled already, pouting to yourself.

“What’s the verdict, cariño?”

“M’sorry, Javi, I actually have something that night,” you confess, quickly following it up, “But I’m free Saturday if you are.”

“That works perfectly for me. Just selfishly wanted to see you sooner,” he runs his thumb across his bottom lip, knee bouncing out of nerves against the floor as he sits on the edge of his bed, “I’ll call you later this week to give you details?”

“That sounds perfect, Javi.”

He desperately wants to keep you on the line, to have your voice in his ear for a bit longer, so he’s scrambling a bit on what to ask you. The first thing that comes to mind spills out, “How’s the essay coming along?”

Palm to his forehead and rolling his eyes at himself, he relaxes only a bit when he hears you laugh, “Professor Peña making an appearance…It’s going alright, I think. I guess we’ll know when I get the grade back.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to really ask that but I couldn’t think of anything else at the moment.”

“S’alright. Just like giving you shit when I can,” another laugh from you, he can hear you moving around your room, “What do you really want to ask me? Or are you only trying to keep me on the phone to track me or something like you do to your criminals?”

“Oh yeah, that’s just it. You caught me, cariño,” he chuckles, exhaling through his nose and smiling to himself like an idiot, “But really, I do want to keep you on the phone. I like the sound of your voice….Sorry, that might have been too weird.”

“No, no, not weird. It’s sweet…” You try to hold in your smile, attempting to calm the flips your stomach is doing from hearing that from him.

“Good, that’s good. Cause I liked telling you.”

It’s another half an hour before you are finally ending the call, nails all painted and even your toes too, checking the time and following up Javi’s answer to one of your questions.

“I think I need to go to sleep. M’sorry, I have a bedtime of a child during the week,” you laugh faintly, waiting for him to speak.

“No need to apologize, angel. Get some sleep, have some nice dreams. Thanks for staying up to chat with me, sweetheart.”

“Night, Javi. I’ll see you in class on Wednesday.”

“Can’t wait. Goodnight, angel.”

Scanning your eyes across the path down below, you easily spot Javi from your vantage point at the top of the stone stairs. He waves to you when he meets your eyes, waiting at the bottom for you with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You make your way down the stairs in your muted paisley slip dress, black tights on your legs, and a shrug cardigan across your shoulders.

The staircase descends to an entrance for the San Antonio RiverWalk, a path throughout downtown lined with bars, restaurants, shops, and more. Javi had asked you here, saying he wanted to do something simple and spend time with you.

Why does he have to be so effortlessly romantic?

You are not supposed to have these kinds of feelings for him. It’s work, it’s a job.

At least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

Javi grins when you make your way over to him, dressed in jeans, a button-up, and a green jacket with tan trim. He drinks you in, reaching a hand out for you to take and pulling you closer.

“Hey, angel.” His voice rumbles from his chest, low volume straining it slightly. With so many people around, he’s desperate to keep you all to himself.

“Hi, Javi.” Your smile widens as you squeeze his hand, inching ever so slightly closer.

As soon as he smells the notes of your perfume — vanilla, jasmine, and amber — his shoulders relax and warmth spreads throughout his bloodstream. It’s soft like cashmere and comforting like a hug, even in the short time he’s been exposed to it up close. With a kiss pressed to your temple, he gets one last inhale before pulling away, nodding toward the left to start walking with you hand-in-hand.

He asks about your day and intently listens as you recount your chores from today, one of which included taking your car in for an oil change. You’re explaining how they offered to get your brake pads replaced too, keeping your car overnight, and giving you a quote of a few hundred dollars over what it should normally cost for it all.

“That’s some bullshit, cariño. Send me the number of this place and I’ll take care of it. Shouldn’t be paying that much for simple repairs.” Javi clicks his tongue as he shakes his head, dropping your hand and wrapping an arm around your waist as the two of you maneuver through a crowd.

He takes your hand again once you clear the crowd, asking about your plans for Sunday. The conversation evolves as the two of you wind your way along the river, not paying much attention to how far you’re walking or anyone else around you.

“Y’know, you have the whole seventies-cool-guy-look down. Were those your golden years?” You snicker quietly as you tease him, slowly swinging your hands between you. He gives you a reprimanding look, not being able to hold it for long as his own smirk seeps in.

“You’re trouble, mi maltenida. With a capital T.” He hooks his arm closest to you over your shoulders, bringing your arm connected to his across your chest and pulling into his side. “Are you making a joke about my age, sabelotodo (smartypants)? You aren’t acting like you’re embarrassed to be seen with me so it must be at least tolerable to you.”

Javi nudges the side of your head with his nose, grinning through a kiss pressed to your scalp. You shrug and glance to your left at him, holding in your own smile, “Hey, I didn’t say anything! I only asked if they were your golden years. I didn’t say anything about your age or if I liked the clothes or not.”

“Sure, angel, sure. The power of intention is always there. And for the record, yeah, they were my golden years. Until now, maybe.”

Now? He must mean cause he’s a professor at a university and a retired DEA Special Agent.

Javi’s heart is thumping in his chest, and he has a small worry that you can feel his pulse with your hand in his. Listening to your footsteps click in sync against the stone path, he inhales your scent again and calms down.

He definitely feels like his time with you is pretty golden right now. What a change from what he felt like a year ago.

“Now? Enjoying your life as a professor that much?”

“Yeah, you could say that, cariño.”

The two of you had been wandering for a few hours now, chatting and drifting in and out of stores. In a bookstore, Javi insisted on getting you one of the novels that you had picked up and talked to him about wanting to read, calling you his ‘maltenida’ once again when you were protesting his purchase. Once you caved, he grinned and went to the counter himself, carrying the bag for you as you continued to walk.

“You hungry, angel? Or want to get a drink?” Javi rubs circles into your lower back, looking at you with a soft, closed smile.

“Hmm, guess I could eat, yeah. Should we walk around and find somewhere?” You start to glance around for something that catches your eye, feeling yourself being led off the path and up to a set of stairs to the street.

“Do you trust me, angel?” His voice vibrates in your chest, lips brushing against your ear and sending a tingle across your nerves.

“I trust you, Javi.”

“Good girl. M’glad to hear that,” he winks and moves his hand to take yours, interlocking your fingers, “I’ll take us somewhere you’ll love, promise.”

It’s about five minutes walk away from the river, further into downtown before Javi veers off to the left. You’re right along with him, stumbling a little to keep up with his wide gait; he slows when he notices you always a step behind, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry, just excited to show you.”

Squeezing his hand in reassurance, you shake your head, “No need to apologize. The rush is keeping it all very exciting.”

The two of you share a quiet laugh before his steps completely slow to a stop in front of an unsuspecting set of double doors, labeled with numbers and letters that are reminiscent of library catalogs — the nerd in you realizes that it’s the Dewey Decimal system.

“What is this place?” A confused expression contorts your face, scrunching your nose and drawing your brows together in a pinch.

“Why am I gonna ruin the surprise now, angel? C’mon, you’ll see.” Javi holds the door open for you before following you inside. A hand is kept protectively on your back over to the staircase, stacks of books that look as if they’re stolen from a library lining the walls and the wide staircase. Ascending up to the second level, you comb your eyes over the open floor plan, Javi stepping over to a host’s stand to your right.

It’s dark, warm mood lighting illuminating the space minimally. Each small table has one of those built-in desk lamps you recognize from the outdated furniture in the university library, worn and stained wooden floors and tables fill up the restaurant area. The bar is made up of old bookshelves, still filled with books at the front and every chair or stool or booth is softened leather of all different jewel tones — emerald, sapphire, ruby, and amber.

If you were to ever design a restaurant, it would surely be something like this. It's a mix of that book, paper smell with delicious food being made, and there’s a quiet hum of chatter and music that isn’t overwhelming.

It’s the “if you know, you know”, off the beaten path kind of place. 

And Javi wanted to take you here. He knew you would love it, he was excited to share it with you.

Again, with the being so fucking romantic and sweet and cute. Makes you want to smack his gorgeous face and walk away from it all so you don’t have to feel these feelings.

“They’re getting a table cleared now for us, angel. Should be a few minutes, you want to sit at the bar and grab a drink?” Javi saddles up next to you, grin tugging up one side of his mouth and exposing the dimple on his right cheek.

For a minute, all you can do is take in the sight of him. Groomed brown locks with the hint of an unruly curl at the nape of his neck. Quaffed mustache, likely trimmed today for the occasion of meeting up with you. Wide, rounded soft brown eyes that are looking at you with all the patience and affection in the world. Plush, pillowy lips that sit in a constant pout and make you want to kiss them all the time.

God, he’s fucking beautiful.

Why does he have to be such a good man too? Can’t he be an asshole for your sake?

“Y’alright, cariño? We can go somewhere else if you want, just thought you might like this place and—“

Cutting him off with a hand on his cheek, you smile widely, shaking your head, “I don’t wanna go, this place is wonderful. I love it….Thank you for bringing me here.”

He replicates your grin and shrugs off your gratitude, leaning in and kissing you chastely.

“Let’s go get a drink, mi maltenida.”

Javier gives you the last seat at the bar, leaning against the surface standing next to you, chest facing toward your seat and neck cranes to the side to grab the bartender’s attention. He’s got a hand on you constantly: roaming from your back over your waist and down to your hip before coasting along your thigh and doing it all in reverse. He orders for you, remembering what you got the last time you two were together and ordering his usual whiskey. After the bartender walks away, he turns to face you and his mouth forms a small ‘o’ in realization.

“I didn’t even ask if you wanted anything different. M’sorry, angel. Did you want to try something else? I’ll grab the bartender again.” He already turning away before you can answer, your hand reaching out for his that starts to extend up in a wave to the server.

“S’totally fine, Javi. Cálmate.” His eyes snap to yours at the sound of your accent being pulled out for your basic Spanish knowledge, a wide grin crossing his face.

“Aye, mi maltenida sabe español? Qué? (Oh, my sugar baby knows Spanish? What?)” his voice slips easily into his accent, the words effortlessly falling off of his tongue in his first language, “Eres la mujer más hermosa del sitio. Puedes entender lo que estoy diciendo, cariño? (You are the most beautiful woman in the place. Can you understand what I’m saying, darling?)”

“Um, un poco? I have the most minimal understanding and am terrible at speaking. I’m in a level 200 class right now and struggling to keep up,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your drink once the glasses are dropped off by the bartender.

“You don’t sound half bad to me, angel. Takes some practice to really get into it, but I’m sure you’ll be much more comfortable with it by the end of the year,” he smirks and leans in, lips close to your ear, “Plus, I can tutor you. One-on-one. Qué te parece? Puedo enseñarte mucho más que tu profesor.”

“You’re going to have to clue me in here, Javi. No entiendo.”

“I asked ‘How does that sound?’ And then I said ‘I can teach you much more than your professor.’”

“Oh, is that right? And what would you teach me?” You match his smirk, scooting to the edge of the stool with his hand gripping your hip a bit harder than before.

“Mm, cosas sucias.” His tongue peeks out to swipe along his bottom lip as he eyes your own mouth, translating without your request. “Dirty things. You want that, angel?”

A nod from you grows his smirk before you’re fully inching closer, pressing your lips to his in a slow, sensual kiss. There’s a bit of a push and pull before he wins out the upper hand, slanting his mouth against yours with quiet exhales.

Another thing to be angry about with this man: he’s a great fucking kisser.

Javier is the first to pull away, leaving you with one last quick peck before he sips his drink, glancing over his shoulder when the host comes by to seat you both. Javi backs up, helping you off of the stool and leaving behind your empty glasses on the bar. You walk next to him, following the host to a booth toward the back. Javier takes a seat on one side of the booth, expecting you to take the other. He’s surprised when you smile shyly, stepping toward his side and sliding in next to him. Backing up toward the inside, he bites back a wild grin at your move, cheating himself toward you.

Damn, he should’ve thought of that move in the moment. But to be honest, he’s glad you’re the one who made the move.

The reassurance calms his constant buzz of nerves, relaxing him as you now look to be the shy one.

“Is this okay? Probably should’ve asked,” your voice is gentle, well-mannered as you question him. Javi scoots closer, stretching an arm onto the top of the booth behind you and circles the knuckle of his index finger featherlight on your shoulder.

“More than okay, angel. Trust me.” He can’t help the grin on his face when he leans in, kissing you lightly and feeling your own smile against his lips.

With another inhale of your perfume mixed with your shampoo, he presses a kiss to your temple before turning to the menu on the table, looking it over with you.

“Gonna get the same thing, cariño?”

“Nah, I think I’m going to try one of their specialty cocktails. They're all named after books, it’s so fun.” Glancing at him, he can see the joy in your eyes and it makes his heartbeat double, looking back to the list.

“Well, which one are you going for?”

“I think I’m gonna do the Gin Eyre. It’s got a dash of sweetener, lemon, mint, and some orange bitters it says. Sounds good.” A faint chuckle slips from your lips, combing over the list. “You should try this one, Javi. The Catcher in the Rye. S’got whiskey, and then sherry, orange liqueur, something called Torani Amer, and bitters. I think you’d like it.”

You meet his eyes and he shrugs, “I dunno know, angel. Whiskey is my favorite but I’m more of a no-frills kind of guy when it comes to my drink.”

“Oh, c’mon, it’ll be fun. I’ll buy you a different one if you hate it. But you can get whiskey at any bar, this place is the only place that’s gonna serve a drink named after a Salinger book,” you plead and pout your bottom lip, fluttering your lashes as Javier tries to hold out. After another moment he sighs and rests his chin on your shoulder, squeezing you closer when his arm wraps around you.

“That look is pretty devious, cariño. How am I meant to say no to that?” He raises his eyebrows and presses his lips together when you laugh, smirking at him with a small lift of your shoulders.

“Guess you’re not supposed to say no.”

“Mhmm, devious, mi maltenida. Devious.”

At that moment, your server comes by to take your order, you giving him the drinks and telling Javi to order whatever food looks good to him. Once everything’s put in, you turn back to him while he leans into the corner of the booth, gently coaxing you closer.

“So if you’re gonna be my tutor, can you answer one question I have?”

“Course I can, ask away.”

“What does ‘mi maltenida’ mean? I’ve heard you say it a few times to me but I have no idea what it means but it sounds bad cause it’s got ‘mal’ in it.” Fingertips graze along his thigh closest to you, his arm around your lower waist coasting up and down your side a few inches.

“S’not bad, necessarily. Sure, it probably has a negative connotation in some circumstances but I mean it as something cute,” he clears his throat and pauses the roaming of his fingers, “Mi maltenida is my sugar baby.”

“Javi! I don’t wanna be called that, that sounds so bad.” Arms crossed in front of your chest, your touch leaves his thigh and you move to face forward with a pout.

“Hey, cariño, I said it didn't mean anything bad. I mean it as a term of affection. You’re so sweet and I like reminding you.”

“Doesn’t feel sweet. It literally has the word bad in the spelling of the word.” You pout more, and when Javi takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, he turns your face up to see genuine upset in your eyes.

“M’sorry, cariño, I was just teasing when I started calling you that. I won’t anymore, promise.”

“Is there something better out there? I like being something to you, just not something like that…” you trail off, not bothering to repeat the translated words. They make you feel dirty, like your feelings in your chest and your stomach right now, your nerves and excitement around this man, aren’t genuine when you reduce your relationship down to that. It makes you feel icky, that dark turn of your insides tugging the corners of your lips down.

“Hmm, what about mi bebita? That sound better to you?”

“What’s that mean? Little baby? I don’t know about th—“

“Babygirl. My babygirl,” Javi kisses the corner of your lips, his own smile peeking through. The press of his lips trails along your jaw and to your ear, until he can speak to you with a low, reverberating roll of his voice, “You wanna be my bebita? Would that make you happy?”

His voice is spreading heat along your neck and down your spine, settling in a syrupy pool between your legs. A languid nod rolls your head, Javi’s fingers once again turning your chin to face him.

“Can I hear you say it, please?”

A quiet clear of your throat pulls your voice back, responding to his request, “I wanna be your bebita.”

He hums with a satisfied smirk, closing the gap between you two to press a light kiss to your lips. Pulling away with a quiet smack of his lips, his hand drops to the top of your thigh and rubs gentle circles toward your center.

“Such a good girl for me. You gonna let me take care of you, bebita? That’s all I wanna do for you. Whatever you want, bebita, you can have from me.”

Underneath the skirt of your dress, you can feel your panties sticking to the wetness gathering there. As you’re nearly about to spread your legs and let him have you right there, the server returns with your drinks and food.

Javi pulls away from you, hand on your thigh possessively when the waiter checks you out from his higher vantage point. The burn of his stare crosses over your chest and your legs, bare from the mid-thigh down. The lick of his lips instantly makes you feel like prey, turning into the booth toward Javi to hide yourself even a little bit. At the discomfort of the wandering pair of eyes on you, your legs cross at your thighs and trap Javi’s hand there, one of your own holding onto his wrist.

There’s a clipped ‘thank you’ from your man at the table once everything is delivered, dismissing the younger guy and slipping his hand from between your thighs. There’s no acknowledgement made of the moment, only Javi running his hand across your back soothingly and picking up conversation about something else, immediately taking your mind off of the uncomfortable interaction.

Turns out you were right, and Javi loves the drink you asked him to get. The two of you share both of them, enjoying the picky bits that Javi chose from the menu. Conversation is easy, as always, and the room falls away around you as you get wrapped up in each other.

A small tug in his gut brings him to ask, “Did you draw in class a few weeks ago?”

You pause your search for the perfect fry, looking up at Javi with your hand frozen, “Uh, yeah, I think so….I kind of doodle in every class, it helps me focus. I can stop if—“

“No, no need. I was asking cause, well, I found one of your drawings after class a few weeks ago. It was at the desk you use and it was of me, I think.”

A quiet groan rolls from your throat, shoulders slumping as you shake your head and resume your fry search.

“God, that’s so embarrassing. Please tell me you threw it out.”

“No, fuck no. I kept it. Sits in my desk drawer and I take it out whenever m’thinking about you. Think it’s cute that I was your muse for the day,” he chuckles with a wide grin, leaning into the corner and admiring you with tender eyes.

“You kept it? As in, you still have it? Why? We weren’t even really anything back when I did that.”

“Told you, bebita, got a big ol’ crush on you.”

It’s another couple of hours and only a few drinks later that the bartender makes their rounds to announce closing. Your conversation took most of your attention for the evening, gently taking Javi’s wrist and checking the time on his watch.

“God, I didn’t even realize how late it was. Feels like it’s only been like an hour since we got here,” you laugh quietly as Javi signs the check, leaning over and pressing a supple kiss to his lips, “Thank you for tonight.”

A couple more kisses are shared before he leans back, smiling softly at you, “Thank you, bebita. I really like spending time with you.”

You slip out of the booth first and watch as Javi stands, groaning quietly before his hands find you again, wrapping you up close to him as you both make your way out of the bar.

“You need a ride home, angel?”

A tingle settles in the back of your neck, blossoming across your whole body as you look at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Actually, I was thinkin’ that maybe we could keep tonight going. Maybe you could show me your place?” Eyebrows raised, you wait for his response as it slowly registers for him, an eager nod bobbing his head up and down.

“Yeah, yeah. Definitely. My place.”

Javier knows he drove as if he was in the streets of Colombia again; speeding when he could and on the edge of his seat, nerves fried from the excitement and adrenaline he felt.

But there isn’t a part of him that regrets it, opening the door to his apartment and letting you in ahead of him. You glance around the space, setting your bag down on the kitchen counter next to you as he walks up behind you after locking the door.

Hooking his arms around your waist, you turn around to face him, biting back you grin as he meets your eyes. Fingertips coast across your back, palms moving to your hips and tugging you to press against him.

“What d’ya think of the place, hm?”

“S’nice. But you haven’t given me a tour, wanna see your room.”

“Yeah? I’ll show you, bebita.” He smirks as he meets your lips with his in a heavy kiss, hands at your hips gripping tighter and starting to walk you backward. A muffled whimper parts your lips enough for him to lick into your mouth, both moaning as your tongues meld together. All the way back to his bedroom, he hasn’t taken his lips from yours. Crossing the threshold, he pulls his lips away, trailing heady kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

You stretch back and gasp with a sharp inhale as he bites at the base of your neck, nipping and soothing the marks with his tongue. A glance around his room proves you right from your guesses about how he keeps his space: minimal decoration, one or two photos strewn around, and warm wooden furniture with dark toned bedding and soft furnishings. It’s welcoming, but a bit sad that he doesn’t have much expression. The difference between his and your place is a bit astounding.

What will he think when he sees yours?

When he sees yours? God, no one has ever been to yours out of all your arrangements and with one night with him you’re going to already be calling him to come over. 

It feels a bit out of your control at the moment, your imagination running wild with feelings that are tamped down inside. Something snaps back into place in your mind, closing that part off and begging you to get some control of the situation. Lacing your fingers in his hair, you pull him out from the crook of your neck, smirking at him and kissing him, leading with much more fervor than before.

He bends to your guide, letting you lead him back to his bed, sitting down at the edge when his knees hit the mattress. Pawing at your waist, hips, and grabbing handfuls of your ass, Javi groans against your lips and pulls away only enough to speak.

“Can I take this pretty dress off, angel?”

You nod, a soft ‘yes’ breathed out in response before the material is being pulled over your head and tossed to the side along with the small shrug cardigan you were wearing. Javi’s eyes drink in your body greedily, standing before him in some off-white lingerie. His tongue swipes along his bottom lip, hands moving of their own volition as they run over your curves and thighs, settling under the cups holding up your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, bebita. Did you wear this for me?” Hands squeeze your breasts over the lace, a whimper involuntarily sounding at the feeling of his hands on you.

“Yeah, yeah I did. Thought you would like it.”

“Mm, I love it, mi bebita. But I want to take this off of you, can I? I wanna see you, amante.” The band of your bra guides him around to your back, fingers tracing over the clasp.

“You have to take this off then.” You tug on his button up under the jacket he still has on, letting him unclasp your bra and slide it down your arms to discard where your dress ended up. Before he can make any move for your newly bare skin, you lift your arms and start to unbutton his shirt. Javi shrugs off his jacket while you work his buttons, grabbing you by the swell of your ass and pulling you down to straddle his denim covered bulge.

“God, babygirl, wanted you so bad. Y’know I couldn’t get my dirty thoughts about you out of my head, every single class,” his voice gets muffled as he nibbles at the crook of your neck again, making you giggle smugly.

“Is that right? What would you think about?” The last button slips through the hole, allowing you to push the fabric off of his shoulders and leaving it to fall back onto the bed. Your own hands roam across his sturdy, solid chest and broad shoulders, down to his soft tummy. Leaning in, your own lips work at his jaw, starting a slow roll of your hips against his hardness.

“Fuck…” he exhales before his head falls back, voice rumbling from his chest and coated with arousal, “Thought about—Thought about what kind of sounds you’d make for me, if you tasted as sweet as you act…Thought many, many times about what that mouth of yours would look like around my cock…”

Even his words cause you to whimper, chastising yourself internally for the hold he has on you. Peeling yourself away, you stand up in front of him, folding over to kiss him sweet and slow before you drop to your knees.

“I can show you what it looks like, Javi, if you want.”

No one else has made you ever feel like this, and it is terrifying.

And you’re going to whatever you can to disarm this feeling inside of you.

“Oh, hell yes — I mean, yes, please. Quiero verlo, por favor (I want to see it, please).” Javi can hear how desperate he sounds in the moment, aching for some relief and salivating over the view of you on your knees in front of him.

Inching closer, you spread his legs apart to settle between them. Featherlight kisses pressed against his thighs and up to his crotch, shuddering out a breath as your lips ghost along the outline of his cock. You rub your cheek against the bulge, whining to yourself before nimble fingers open his belt buckle, pop the button and drag the zipper down on his jeans. He helps you out by lifting his hips, your hands hooking together his jeans and briefs to tug them down to his ankles.

Javier kicks one of his ankles out, looking down at you, licking your lips and smiling up at him. His brain short circuits as he watches you move your head over his cock, dribbling saliva onto it before wrapping your hand around and starting slow, teasing strokes.

“Knew you were a pretty man, but you really are pretty everywhere,” he exhales sharply when your thumb circles the head of his cock, shaking his head at your devious smirk.

“Y’like it, bebita? S’all yours. Lemme feel that little mouth of yours.”

On the next downstroke you make, you flick your tongue against his tip before taking it in your mouth. He shudders out a quiet moan, keeping his eyes glued to you as you take a few more of his inches and swirl your tongue around him.

“You look even better than I imagined sucking my cock, angel. Fucking hell, babygirl, jus’like that.” He exhales content when you have most of him in your mouth, cheeks hollowed out. Your hand continues to work around the base of him, a rhythm being built with the bobbing of your head.

“Mm, such a good girl. Taking my cock so well, bebita, feels so good…” Javi’s hands itch to touch you, one running down the column of your throat before it snakes around to the nape of your neck. The other brushes baby hairs from your face, smirking down at you. “Think you can handle all of me, angel? Your mouth feels so fucking good, I want all of it. Want to feel me hit right here…”

His words are punctuated with the hand at your hair trailing down to your throat, gently running his thumb back and forth over the center of it.

“Can you take it? Be my good little slut?”

It’s not the first time you’ve been in this scenario and been called something of the sort, but it is definitely the first time that the words shoot straight to your cunt, flooding between your legs. A whimper is stifled around his cock and his eyebrow quirks, hand petting at the back of your neck.

“Does mi bebita like being called my little slut? Mi zorrita (My little slut)? Knew you were gonna be so good at sucking my cock when I first saw you in your little plaid skirt and that tight fucking t-shirt of yours. And with those glossy plush lips of yours. You wanted to get my attention didn’t you?”

In response, you hum and take him all, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. You hold back a gag, tears filling your eyes as you breathe through your nose and dig your nails into his thighs.

“Oh, fuck yes! Fuck, fuck, yeah jus’like, angel. Oh, so good for me, bebita. So fucking good.” Javi’s hips jerk off the bed, pushing him further into your throat and hitting harder at the back of it. You really gag around him, the sensation causing a loud moan from him and his head rolling back. The hand at your neck clutches tighter, thrusts of his hips moving him subtly.

With a vice grip on his thighs, nearly drawing blood, he stills and you pull off for a breath. Heavy inhales and exhales fill your lungs with air as he pets your head while you stroke his cock covered in your spit.

“Y’okay, mi bebita?” When you nod and sigh out a tiny ‘yes’, he takes your chin between his fingers and tugs it open once your breathing is steadied. “You gonna keep being my perfect, sweet slut for me, angel? You’re such a good girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

“Mhm, I wanna make you come, Javi. Please.”

With a dark chuckle he nods, one hand stilling yours on his length and guiding it back to your open mouth, “G’head, bebita, be a good girl and make me come.”

Your need to please him clicks on, eagerly licking up the underside of him as you stroke him faster. Getting as close as you can, you take one of his balls in your mouth, rolling your tongue around before giving the same attention to the other and releasing it with a pop. Above you, Javi’s chest is moving quickly with deep breaths, some moans slipping out when it feels too good.

You take all of him again, swallowing around him and gagging, taking all the small thrusts he jerks out. Tears fall down your cheeks and he whispers praises in the same breaths as the filthiest things, all of it making the ache between your thighs worse.

Fuck him for making you so fucking turned on you’re going to have to fuck your vibrator when you get home.

“Mhm, yeah, good girl. Fuck, m’close, angel, keep going. Please, oh shit, yeah—”His own adlibs are interrupted by his loud, rumbling moan as he holds your head and starts to come. Ropes of his release fill your mouth, Javi gently pulling his cock out and you closing your mouth to keep it all in.

“Lemme see, bebita, wanna see you with my come in your mouth.” His voice is breathy as he recovers, jaw dropping slightly open in awe when you show him. Rolling it on your tongue he swipes the few beads that leaked out and sticks his thumb in between your lips. “Swallow.”

Following his orders, you swallow all of his spend, catching your breath when he pulls his thumb from your mouth. You pat his thighs and stand, taking one step to go put on your dress when his hand reaches out to stop you, holding your hip.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” His brows knit together, mouth tugged down at the corners. You look at him equally confused, turning toward him and point to your clothes.

“Getting dressed?”

“Why?”

“Cause you finished?”

“What?”

“What d’you mean ‘what’?”

“What d’you mean ‘cause you finished’?”

“I mean, thought we were done here. Unless you want me to stay until you can go again…?”

“Angel, respectfully, what the hell are you on about? Why the hell would I let you leave my fucking room, let alone my apartment and go home, and not have gotten the chance to even touch you?”

You stutter for a moment, taken aback by his adamant questioning. Never has this happened before with any of your other clients, normally getting them off with your mouth or by fucking them, but never did they want you to stick around for them to make you come.

“Bebita, beautiful, may I please taste you? Been dreaming about it for weeks…”

“Um, I do want you to but you don’t have to feel obligated. I mean normally it doesn’t happen—”

There’s that same flash of anger in his chest that he’s felt with you before, too jaded to be able to see what you’re really worth.

Fucking golden, that’s what you are. Any man who’s been with you, arranged or not, should be so fucking lucky to see you come undone.

“Okay, fuck whoever has made you feel like you don’t deserve that. I don’t feel obligated or anything of the sort, I want to. I’m begging, bebita, please, let me make you feel good.” His hands run up and down from your thighs to your hips, Javi looking up at you from his seat on the bed with those rounded, softened puppy eyes.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Javi, if you ask again, I will actually get dres—“

“No, nope, no. I’ll shut up, just c’mere.” His hands palm your ass, toying with the lace of your panties and moving you between his legs. Kisses are peppered on your abdomen, blowing his breath across your skin and raising goosebumps. His nose presses into your skin as he gently nips and sucks and soothes different spots; your fingers run through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

“Javi…”

“So soft, angel,” he hums, vibrations sent across your torso before he’s standing, turning you both around quickly and guiding you back onto the bed, “Lay back, bebita. M’gonna take care of you.”

There’s a stirring in your gut, nerves high as you scoot back on his mattress. Javi climbs over you, crowding you back against the duvet as he catches your lips with his. Heady kisses are exchanged, one of his large hands coming to your chest and squeezing gently before he pulls off of your mouth and latches his lips to your pebbled nipple.

A whimper cuts out in your throat, holding back as much as you can to stay quiet. Javi mirrors his actions on your other breast before scooting down your abdomen, littering kisses until he settles between your legs. Two of his fingers hook in your panties, pulling them off of you and tossing them aside. Awe fills his eyes as he spreads your folds, licking his lips hungrily.

“Made such a mess, angel. Fucking drenched for me. You were gonna leave all riled up like this, bebita?” His tongue tsks behind his teeth, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Such a good, perfect girl like you doesn’t deserve to have to take care of herself. That’s what I’m here for, cariño.”

Your response catches in your throat when his fingers rub circles into your clit, smirk raising on his face when your own contorts with pleasure. The heel of his palm takes over when his thick fingers tease your entrance, one slowly filling you up and thrusting in and out at a lazy pace.

More wetness pools between your legs, seeping from your cunt and allows Javi to add a second finger, the slight stretch making you wiggle below him. His eyes are glued to your pussy, mesmerized by the sight of his fingers fucking your tight hole, spreading and opening his fingers for a wide stretch.

Javi folds over, saliva coating his mouth as he dives for a taste of you, mouth attaching to your clit and sucking gently.

More whimpers leave your mouth involuntarily as pressure builds inside, Javi pulling away only to acknowledge your feelings.

“I know, bebita, I know. Gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

Obscene noises, lewd and wanton, fill the room as his fingers fuck into the wetness seeping out of your cunt. It’s all you can hear as you hold in your own noises, feeling like if you opened your mouth, his neighbors would think he was making a porno.

His attention is focused back on your pussy, thrusting his fingers into you a tiny bit faster and sucking your clit harder. Your hands clutch the top of his hair, tugging and pulling as he brings you to the edge, pathetically quickly to you, but it’s been a long time since someone else has touched you with such an attentive attitude.

A satisfied hum is felt against your folds, suckling noises filling the air as Javi attempts to drink all that you have to offer him.

“Taste so fucking good, angel. Like heaven.”

His mouth and fingers don’t leave you after the first one; the sight of you coming undone for him flipped something inside, and he is desperate to see it again. He moves faster this time, building off of what he’s already learned you like from him. Fingers hook against that spot inside of you, jerking your hips up off the bed as his tongue flicks over your clit, licking like a kitten lapping milk.

Still burning from your first orgasm, your hands tangled in his hair attempt to pull him away from your cunt, desperate for a break as new pressure, more intense than the first go-round, floods inside of you and makes every muscle ache. Javi grunts at your attempts, his free hand gathering both of your weakened wrists in one grip and pressing them into your lower abdomen. The press from both sides, hands on your stomach and fingers inside of you, adds to the tangible tension covering you.

His fingers and tongue swap, licking into your entrance and fucking you on his mouth with his nose nudging your clit. A finger teases your tighter hole, muscle contracting and breath caught in your throat as he repeats all of the motions over and over.

As your second orgasm builds inside of you, a tight coil winding around and around in your gut, you attempt to hold in your sounds. You think, because in the past it’s been all about your client’s pleasure, you need to stay quiet, letting Javi do whatever he wants to you without an interruption from you. 

Attempting to stay quiet for him, you writhe under him, his grip on your wrists tightening as you try to lessen the stimulation from him between your legs. Pleasure blankets your body, tiny sobs wracking your body as you try to let your moans die in your throat. Javi feels the convulsions of your abdomen, hearing the little sounds from you and pulling his mouth away to look at you properly. 

Brows furrowed, skin sheened with sweat and frustration evident in your expression and tension from the stimulation he’s giving you. The two fingers that were inside of you move up to press in between your lips, hooking his fingers behind your bottom teeth and opening your mouth.

“Oh, baby, feels good, yeah? Your body wants you to make some noise, huh? Moans, whimpers?” Your whines answer him enough, fingers still holding your mouth open. “Don’t hold back. Want you to be fucking loud for me, bebita. Wanna hear you. Hear those pretty sounds you make when you fall apart on my tongue.”

He slinks down your body again, replacing his fingers inside of you with his muscular tongue, fucking in and out of you at an agonizing pace. Slow, deliberate circles on your clit twists your insides tighter and tighter, unable to hold back your sounds anymore.

Whimpers lift your chest up and down shallowly, Javi’s name leaving your mouth like a prayer. Without your hands to hold him closer, you lift your hips and grind against your mouth, gasping at the vibration of his own moan against your cunt.

“Javi, oh my god, please. Need a little bit more, please.” You beg, wiggling under him and being pressed into the mattress by his hand gripping your wrists against your stomach.

The second time around comes much quicker, your push clenching around his tongue as you come, whining from the pleasure melting into your muscles.

“Fuck, Javi…” you say with a sigh, lifting up to look at him still between your legs. His fingers coast along your dripping folds, sensitivity jerking your hips and thighs as he smirks smugly at the sight. Greed fills his eyes when he meets your gaze, licking his lips as he kisses the curls on your mound.

“One more.”

“Javi, I don’t think—“

“One more, bebita, por favor. Please.”

His tongue swipes over your clit, gathering your wetness and swirling the muscle around the sensitive bundle of nerves. A kiss pressed there makes a whine leave your mouth, encouragement for him to start playing with your pussy again.

“You can do it for me, bebita. One more and that’s it.” Two of his fingers easily slip inside of you from your come coating your folds, a languid and lazy pace building up to something more steady as your whines and whimpers grow louder.

“Yeah, tell me about it, baby. How good does it feel?”

“So—so good. Can’t even, fuck, can’t even think straight.”

“Mm, such a good girl for me. Relax, bebita, I’m gonna take care of you again.”

The pace he built is plateaued to build your stimulation before he picks up more speed. His two fingers move quickly, hooking inside of you to press against that spot inside of you repeatedly. His tongue on your clit circles in sync, your mind solely on the sensations he’s providing you. The rest of your body is heavy from the two previous orgasms, unable to fight the overstimulation as he fucks his thick fingers into you at a delicious pace.

An overwhelming warm feeling drops to your pelvic area, feeling familiar and putting you on edge as you try to get him to release your hands to try to push his face away when Javi adds his tongue to your entrance with his fingers.

“Fuck, Javi! Stop I’m gonna — Oh my god, it feels different, feels like—like I’m gonna pee.”

His fingers continue as he pulls his mouth away to rumble out his words, coated in arousal.

“S’okay, bebita, just trust me. Relax, baby, let it happen.”

His voice is gentle and reassuring, skepticism still present as you focus on the pleasure again, burning hot in your torso. Your body relaxes again, his hand pressing your wrist into your lower stomach and fingers hitting the roughened spot inside of you while sobs wrack your body.

Pleasure blinds you as it finally overtakes, his name erupting from your chest in a moan. A warm, liquid feeling spreads across your body, feeling a much more intense release that makes you squeeze your eyes shut, flipping your hands over in Javi’s to hold him tightly.

Opening up your eyes again, you look down your body to Javi lifting his head from between your legs, damp across the lower half of his face and the same glistening on his neck. You wiggle again feeling a large wet spot under you and immediately feeling your stomach drop when you realize what happened.

“Mierda, bebita. So fucking sexy. Doing that for me the first time, m’gonna wanna be greedy and see you do it every time now.” You hide your face in your hands, shaking your head and feeling heat spread across your face and neck.

“I’ve never—” you barely manage to breathe out the two words, Javi leaning his head on your thigh as he stays mesmerized by the sight of your dripping cunt.

“Nuh uh, angel, don’t be shy. Fucking loved it.” He turns to press a kiss on your inner thigh, nuzzling his nose against the pillowy skin.

There’s no thoughts in your head, no words in your mind as you catch your breath following your last orgasm. Your chest heaves, quick inhales to fill your lungs and replenish the oxygen in your blood to get your brain started again.

Clarity spreads in your consciousness, hearing Javi’s voice from between your legs, “What do you say, bebita?”

Brows knit together, you move to sit up and support yourself on your hands, you sigh out as you look down at him. “Huh?”

“Where are your manners, angel? What do you say?” Awaiting your response, he punctuates his question with a swipe of his tongue over your ultra sensitive clit, making your thighs quiver and hips attempt to jerk away from his hold.

Attempting to follow his questioning, you take another second before timidly saying, “Thank you?”

“That’s my good girl.” His smirk grows as he climbs over you again, kissing you gently. A tender look filled with affection faces you, Javi gently running his fingers over your skin. Silence falls between you two before you’re nodding for him to stand, getting off of his bed and looking around for your underwear.

“Um, d’you wanna stay? You can if you’d like to. I mean, I’d like you to if you’re comfortable with it. Jus’thought you might wanna cause it’s late.”

You want to. You definitely want to.

But you shouldn’t. You can’t.

That’s a far more personal line, an intimacy of falling asleep with him and waking up in the morning that has your heart pumping but your mind yelling at you that this is still your job, no matter what feelings are involved.

“Oh, um, next time? I have so much to do in the morning and I have a feeling if I stayed, I probably wouldn’t go home until Monday.” You smile sweetly at him, stepping into your panties and grabbing your bra off the floor.

Javi chuckles and nods, stepping over to you and hooking his arms behind your back. “Probably right about that, angel.”

You give him a peck and reach behind you to clasp your bra, adjusting the straps to your shoulders. Javi steps away from you, grabbing his briefs and jeans, starting to gets dressed himself.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed?”

“Why?”

“To drive you home?”

“You don’t have to do that. I can take the bus or a cab.”

“You’re not taking anything besides a ride in my car from me. S’late and I’m not letting you go home alone.”

“Really, Javi, you don’t have to drive me. I can manage.”

Why is he so stubborn?

You attempt to ignore the warmth his protectiveness is blanketing you in, shoving it all into the neat little box you’re attempting to keep everything Javi in.

He watches as you pick up your dress, sighing to himself and shaking his head as he finds himself wishing you would stay tonight. But if you aren’t staying, there’s no way in hell he was letting you walk out the door without him in tow to get you home safely. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight otherwise, but if he told you that, he thinks you’d be out the door before he could blink.

Why are you so stubborn?

“I know you can. I trust you, I don’t trust everyone else. Sorry, bebita, but m’not arguing with you.” He zips and buttons his jeans before reaching for a white t-shirt on the back of his desk chair and pulling it over his head as you put your dress back on along with your sweater.

“Okay, okay. You can drive me if it makes you feel better.” You finish fixing your clothes and start to head toward the front door to get your bag and shoes. Before you can leave his room, his arm blocks your way out of the doorway, you turning your head to face him.

“It would make me feel better. Thank you, baby.” He smiles subtly, trying to get a grin out of you and succeeding. Heartbeats run at the same speeds in your chests, unknowingly, as you take a moment to look into each other’s eyes. Within the next second, Javi kisses you one last time before dropping his arm and following you out of his room. Both of you get your shoes on, you grabbing your bag and heading out of his apartment and to his car.

The engine cuts in front of your building, Javi jumping out before you can say goodnight and circling around the hood of the car to open the passenger side door. He shuts it behind you and takes your hand, looking both ways before leading you across the street. Standing behind you, closest to the street, as you unlock the three flat’s front door, you take his hand this time, pulling him inside and up the stairs. At the second floor, you slow in front of your door and turn around to him, biting your bottom lip as he gives you a sleepy grin.

“Thank you for letting me bring you home safe. Now I might be able to sleep tonight,” he chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead, “And thank you for coming out with me tonight. Really enjoyed myself, bebita.”

“I enjoyed myself too, Javi. Thank you for tonight. Like, really, thank you.” You double down, the message received from the repeated ‘thanks’ that are insinuating your gratitude for how the two of you ended the night.

“My pleasure, angel.” He laughs with you, quietly as to not disturb your neighbors before he tugs you into his chest, tilting his chin in to kiss you sweetly.

You pout when he pulls away first, grinning when he pecks your pushed out lips.

“Goodnight, mi bebita. I’ll call you tomorrow? See how all the homework’s coming along?” He smirks as he taps your ass, unraveling from you to let you unlock your door.

“Night, Javi. Talk tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, angel. Sleep well.”

“You too.”

Stepping inside and closing the door behind you, both of you turn away on either side of the door; you head to your room and he heads back to his car, both replaying the night over and over again, having the same thought:

This is different from anything else before.

taglist (everything/javi): @northernbluess @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @yazsos @cartoon-garbage04 @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel

[bl00dst41ned]

*.·:·.✦ the other man ✦.·:·.*

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x female oc (named her Alexis)

summary: in which Trent wonders who is the man who got his crush Alexis', attention

author's note: i’m slowly but surely writing for some other football crushes. heavily inspired by the storyline of Sloane and Doug in Grownish (my fraudulent self never watched it, just saw the clips on Twitter). 

warnings: parent character, mention of kids (in case you fear them)

word count: 785

“Alexis” Trent called for the fourth time that night as the girl kept texting on her phone.

“Oh-” Alexis finally looked up to him and immediately apologized awkwardly. “Sorry”

The two were on a date at an Italian restaurant, which she claimed to be her favourite. It must not since Alexis spent her time checking her phone every too often.

“It’s okay” Trent sighed before sipping from his glass of water.

Despite her bizarre behaviour, he still wanted to get to know her. They ordered their food before going back to talking.

“So…how did your doctor’s appointment go, yesterday?” Trent started, trying to engage in a conversation during their meal.

“Oh it was fine, but it was not for me” Alexis responded innocently, concentrating on the plate of gnocchis in front of her and trying her best to ignore her phone.

“Really ?……oh”

Her response had made Trent’s suspicious thoughts come back to his mind. Nobody refuses a date to go to a simple friend’s appointment. 

Maybe it was for something serious and she just played it off. 

It might be for a family member.

He tried to give Alexis excuses but the more he tried, the more it seemed weird. During their few encounters and previous dates, she had awakened his interest and he wanted to see where this could go. But every time she would be glued to her phone, checking it every two seconds. They could never have a continual conversation without her receiving a call and Alexis would always come back and excuse herself claiming it was nobody. 

Maybe there was someone else in her life.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────

They had finished their dinner and were just enjoying each other’s company before being interrupted by Alexis’ phone. She looked at the contact name and stood up with her coat in her hand.

“I’m sorry, I have to pick up” Alexis did not even give him time to say anything, she was outside, her phone to her ear. Trent, whose exasperation had reached a new level, decided to ask for the check, pay and join her outside.

Just as he walked out the door, the girl hung up and approached him, wondering what he was doing.

“I paid already” Trent spoke lowly,  handing her her bag.

“O-okay” She stuttered a bit confused and remorseful.

“I’ll drop you off, don’t worry” Trent grabbed her hand in his, heading towards his car.

He first went on the passenger side, opening Alexis’ door for her, letting her in before going to the driver’s side and getting in himself.

They were ready to go but Trent did not start the engine, his mind too clouded.

“Are we…gonna go or?” Alexis asked in a small voice, confusion heard in her tone.

“I have to ask you something but don’t take it the wrong way” He started looking ahead.

“Is there someone else in your life?” His question had surprised Alexis and made her nervous.

Today was not the day she wanted to tell him. She knew she had to, but not now.

“Um, not really but...” She gave an unclear response, looking down at her hands as she played with them to calm her nerves. “I should just show you”

She grabbed her phone going through her gallery before turning the screen to him.

“His name is Leo. He’s about to turn two. And…yeah, that’s the other man in my life” Alexis told him in a shy voice. “That’s why I always check my phone”

Trent looked at the photo in disbelief. He had imagined all the scenarios in his head, but not this one.

“Woah” was the only word to come out of his mouth.

“Haven’t thought of that outcome, yeah?” She chuckled a bit looking at the picture of her son. “I had him in a previous relationship and my mind has been focused on him ever since”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you would stop talking to me. It’s the first time in years I kinda felt something for someone and I was scared it would ruin it” She played with the rings on her hand still not making eye contact.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you came clean about it” Trent reassured her. “At least, your mind is lightened, and mine too”

The young girl agreed before Trent started the car and drove back to her home. The entire ride, they had spoken about Leo. Alexis told him a few anecdotes all with a big smile on her face.

The excitement she expressed just thinking about him made Trent even more attracted to her. He discovered a new aspect of her: a loving mom whose world revolved around her son.

like, repost and suggest if you want to (hope you enjoyed it)

also tell me if you want a part 2 ( I'll do it anyway so whatever)

masterlist for more

[trashmouth-richie]

WE’RE THE LAST IN LINE: 4

PART: 1 | 2 | 3 | 5

mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Modern AU

W.C 2.5k

A/N: Part 4 is finally here!

Since that night, you had woken up to Eddie’s little “Good Morning” texts all week. They started out normal, a simple, “Good Morning,” but the more and more you two talked, the more sweet and goofy they became. For you it was just nice to have someone to talk to, something to look forward to every morning, and Eddie never failed to make you smile.

For Eddie, it was refreshing to talk to someone who genuinely asked how he was doing, and wanted to know how his day was. Instead of the one way constant texts and calls from her. From the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep it never stopped. But you? You were different. And Eddie was finding himself smiling at work thinking about the texts you would send him. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Finding it easier to wrap himself up thinking of your texts than the doom that followed him wherever he went.

You were practically giddy on Saturday as you came in early to open the shop. Skipping with joy over to Pete’s laptop to start up his weekend playlist. Dancing as you looked over the books at the incoming appointments. And your heart beat faster as you skimmed down the names and your eyes rested upon the name your mind hadn’t stopped racing thinking of, 10:45–EDDIE. Your job on weekends was to call all the appointments for the day and to make sure people would still be arriving on time, or if they needed to reschedule. First appointment was a woman named Marcia, who confirmed “yes” to her cover up at 8:30. The next appointment was a man by the name of Bulldog, he was getting a Prince Albert piercing done by Ziggy at 9:30, he confirmed “fuck yeah” to his appointment. And the next appointment for Pete was Eddie. You thought about texting him but decided against it and called him from the work phone instead.

“P-p-PETE! what’s up man?” Eddie shouted through the receiver.

“Definitely not Pete, it’s y/n,” you say with a laugh. “I’m just calling to confirm your 10:45 with p-p-PETE.”

“Wow, I certainly know how to make an ass out of myself don’t I?” Eddie laughs, “yeah I’ll be there, the real question is when does Pete’s apprentice get to stop practicing on the fake stuff and practice on someone real?”

“Ahh, that would be up to Pete. His apprentice is ready but she’s not sure that Pete thinks the same.” a smile is plastered so hard on your face you don’t recognize yourself in the mirror as you pass by.

“Well, how about a little birdie talks with Pete about it and let’s the apprentice, try—- okay I’m getting confused, I’m gonna talk to Pete and see if he will let you give me a tattoo today, ‘kay?”

“W-what? Eddie!” Your mind is going a thousand miles a minute, you were excited to be given an opportunity like this but on him?, you touching his skin? What if he hates it? What if he never came back into the shop again?! A million different scenarios ran through your mind as your tongue got more and more tied. “I-I don’t want to ruin you.”

Eddie lets out a loud belly deep laugh, “oh honey you’re far too sweet to ruin me.” Eddie slams his phone repeatedly into his head, “just uhh—yeah— I’ll talk to Pete and see what he thinks, so yes, count me in for you doing me at the appointment… uh— what’s that? Yeah ok! Sorry I gotta go! Bye…. MOTHER F—”

Click

Eddie can’t believe that you make him this nervous, nervous to the point that he can’t even talk right. He shakes his head as the heat from his cheeks start to subside.

Giggling you write down that Eddie confirmed his appt as you stare longingly at his name. God, what if Pete actually let you practice on him?

The morning flew by. Pete managed to change Marcia’s hodgepodge of a butterfly into a beautiful black and white rose. According to the blood curdling screams from Ziggy’s back corner, the Prince Albert piercing that Bulldog got was going well. Just waiting for 10:45 to see Eddie’s cute, infectious smile warm the place up. As always you heard Eddie’s motorcycle before you saw him. Perking up a bit and running your fingers through your hair, you apply a generous amount of chapstick to your lips and rub them together before Eddie is opening the door.

“Pete!” Eddie calls swith a cupped hand to his mouth, he’s wearing all black, from his hair down to his boots, he looks like a metal grim reaper dripping of sex and smelling of smoke. He somehow looked hotter and hotter every time you saw him. Blood rushed to your cheeks as he gazed at you with those dark chocolate eyes, winking as he strolled up to the desk. “Uh 10:45 for Sir Edward Munson.” Eddie says with a British accent.

“Edward huh?” You say with a giggle as you mark him checked in on the iPad. “So formal.”

“Yeah I didn’t uh think that through,” Eddie says shaking his head and pinching the corners of his eyes, “please don’t ever call me that, sounds like I’m a vampire hunter from colonial times.” He says with a laugh leaning on the counter. His face inches from your own. His eyes are the deepest pools of melted chocolate, you almost look for Augustus Gloop as you stare into them. “It’s good to see you, funny how I have to go to your work to finally see the girl I text non stop, when we are literally, next door neighbors.” He smiles as he pops a piece of orbit into his mouth, winking again as he munches on his gum.

“Dude ya gonna flirt all day or do you want this shit done?” Pete emerges from the back room rubbing his black latex gloved hands together.

Eddie’s cheeks pink as he pushes off the desk and walks to Pete. “Sorry my guy, hey I was thinking… what if your apprentice,” he says motioning to you, “were to test her skills on me?”

Pete ponders the idea, “what do you think? Ya think you’re ready? I mean it’s just Eddie.”

“Hey!”

You shrug nonchalantly as if you aren’t internally screaming, “I mean I’d like to see where I’m at, and if Eddie is willing..”

“Look at him,” he says motioning to Eddie’s puppy dog eyes, “he’s practically drooling at the thought of your hands on ‘em, come on then. Grab your shit.”

You grab all the essentials needed, and Eddie takes a seat in the chair. “So uh, what are you thinking of getting, and where?”

“Well since this is your first tattoo I’m gonna let you pick.” He leans forward and takes off his shirt. His body is covered in various different tattoos, all patchwork. Except for the Chrissy tattoo. Avoiding staring for too long at the name that has haunted your dreams, you trail your fingers down his arm and find room down by his wrist.

You get the colors needed, and begin sketching as Eddie talks to Pete. A rough draft is drawn up and the final design is put on the transfer paper. Pete looks at it with eyebrows raised. “I mean he’s got weirder shit done, did you see the Land Before Time tattoo I did a few years ago by his elbow?”

“Leave my tree star alone man,” Eddie says proudly displaying it as he cranes his elbow, “shit looked delicious don’t even lie to yourself.”

You let out a loud laugh, he was such a little kid you couldn’t help but snicker at the shit he said on a daily basis. “Alright I’m gonna put the stencil down now so look away, I want you to be surprised!”

The entirety of the tattoo took around three hours. Eddie was probably the easiest person to work on because he already had so many it really didn’t bother him at all. He just sat and talked to Pete about projects he was working on in the garage that week, how he was going to store his motorcycle and start driving the 4Runner again since winter was right around the corner.

You finish the last pieces up and Pete steps over to take a look, “wow, fuck y/n this is good!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why would I lie?” Pete says as he wipes the green soap solution off one last time. “Alright dude, she’s done and this thing is fucking awesome.” Eddie jumps up as he makes his way to the mirror, you stand back shyly as you clean up.

“Shut the fuck up, the pink Power Ranger!” The smile on Eddie’s face is damn near ear to ear, “And what is she holding?”

“Oh ya know?” you tease, “just a cup of sugar.”

You didn’t think Eddie’s smile could break any wider but it does, “I love it! Oh my God this is the coolest tattoo, no offense Pete, that I’ve gotten yet.” Eddie steps towards you and swoops you into a hug, spinning you around. He sets you down gently and keeps his hands on your upper arms, “Uhh— thank you, it’s seriously so badass, you did an incredible job.”

Eddie is staring straight into your soul, his eyes are bright and full of infatuation. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he got to Pete’s earlier today and it was because of you. He had wanted to see you all week but was content with the texts you sent him throughout the day. He didn’t want to ruin a good thing— if there even was a thing to talk about between the two of you. Only one way to find out, and he was praying like hell that the Gods of awkwardness would settle themselves long enough for him to ask.

“Hey, when are you off work today? Do you maybe wanna— I don’t know, grab a pizza and watch some scary movies at my place?” He smiled shyly down at you, cheeks fluttering pink, “I’ll even pick you up.” he says with a wink.

You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t developed small, sweet, ooey gooey, feelings for him. He was affectionate, charming, goofy and extremely down to earth. You would be out of your mind and foolish if you were to say no. “What time?”

Eddie wasn’t kidding when he said he would pick you up, he knocked on your door at quarter to 7, carrying a single rose. He was wearing two silver chains, a long sleeved black shirt and a pair of black jeans and boots. He had on the rings he always wore, and a smile that could make Colgate jealous. “I thought about bringing the sugar over but since you permanently marked me with it I figured I already am bringing it wherever I go.”

You chuckle as Eddie takes you in, you’re wearing a pair of leggings with fuzzy socks rolled over top and an oversized crewneck sweater with ghost face on the front of it, he’s kicking his feet holding a pink phone, a speech bubble over his head reads, “no you hang up first”.

“Okay and props to you for the ‘Scream’ sweater, I don’t care what anyone says, it’s the best franchise out there!” Eddie grins, handing you the rose.

“It was the first scary movie I've ever seen.” you take the rose and inhale it’s beautiful aroma, you turn slow and grab a small vase from your kitchen and fill it with water. Plucking the rose inside of it. “This is beautiful, Eddie, thank you.”

He blushes slightly and hides his face with his hair. “You ready to go? I figured we could hop over to my place and then order the pizza if that’s cool with you?” You lock your door and walk the 8 steps to Eddie’s apartment. His apartment is identical to yours only backwards. Your kitchen is on the left of your apartment, his on the right. The walls in his living room are bare, a lamp beside the big sectional couch provided soft lighting, the tv is the size of the wall it’s hanging from, a small bookcase sits in front of the living room window holding some little odds and ends.

“This is nice, cozy.” You smile looking around some more.

“Eh, it’s alright, not as loved as your place but I do have the bigger tv.”

After much discussion about whether pineapple belongs on pizza or not Eddie orders a large pizza, half canadian bacon and pineapple the other half pepperoni. You excuse yourself to the bathroom as he picks out a good movie. His bathroom is like any other 20 something year old males bathroom. A single towel, a gray shower curtain with a matching rug, toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter, a roll of toilet paper on the back of the toilet. You're pleasantly surprised when you find a bottle of handsoap, but being a mechanic he probably actually uses it.

“And if you’re wrong about the pizza?” You ask him returning from the bathroom and plopping down next to him, “What do I get in return if it’s gross?”

Eddie turns to face you as he wets his lips, “oh I’ll think of something.” He looks so fucking good right now you hardly realized how close you were moving in. His hand gently moves to your chin as he pulls you closer. Your lips party slightly aching to feel his lips against yours. All the pining stares, stolen glances and late night texts were finally building and now exploding around this moment.

A knock on the door breaks the tension between yours and Eddie’s lips. “Saved by the Bell” Eddie grins as he gets his wallet for a tip. He opens the door casually as his eyes are casted downward fishing in his wallet.

A shriek you’re sure is one decibel away from only being heard by dogs bounced off every surface of Eddie’s apartment and rings in your ears.

“WHO THE HELL IS SHE?!”

Eddie nearly fainted at the sight of her, color rushing from his cheeks as his eyes go dark with pure hatred, what the fuck is she doing here? The woman in question?

Chrissy

Taglist: @boomhauer @sidthedollface2 @b-irock @creoleguurl @tlclick73 @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @emxxblog @jadequeen88 @edsforehead @quinnsgrapejuice @idkidknemore @bebe0701 @mandyjo8719 @chelebelletx @big-ope-vibes

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Liability Part 4; Finale

Pairing: College Student!Rafe Cameron x Cousenlor!Reader

Summary: Rafe wakes up the next morning feeling extremely sorry and awkward, so much that he pulls himself out of his hangover to be on time to his therapy session with the reader. She's pretty shocked to see him but after a cathartic conversation, they talk more over dinner and things take an interesting but well awaited turn.

Warnings: S*M*U*T (fucking finally), swearing, trauma, angst, mentions of drugs and alcohol, MINORS DNI.

Word Count: 7.4k

A/n: I love this chapter. It took me so long to write because IT'S SO LONG and I think it's very much worth the wait. This one is directly dedicated to @tee-swizzle cuz she needs this more than anyone😌

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3

Rafe, 

I know my couch is uncomfortable. Please don’t make fun of me if you wake up with a ton of pinched nerves and sore muscles. I work at a public college, I don’t get paid enough for a good couch. I also wanna say, please drink water as soon as you get up, I’ll leave a bottle next to you just because I really don’t want to have to clean up a ton of throw up when I get home. 

I’m also gonna go ahead and cancel your appointment this morning with me since I think you’ll probably have a pounding headache and an overwhelming hangover. I don’t want you to feel rushed or like you’re obligated to come, especially with what happened last night. I’ll write it on the report that you’re sick and spiking a fever, no one will ask questions.

Speaking of last night, we should probably never talk about it again if you think that’s for the best. You might not even remember (I hope you do though because that would be really awkward for me to have to explain why I’m so jumpy). I don’t want you to feel embarrassed because I know you were drunk and I don’t want you to feel bad or like you took advantage of me. I don’t regret bringing you home and hearing you out or giving you a place to crash. Please don’t be mad at yourself for being honest with me, I really appreciate that you came clean about some things and I’m hoping that you’ll start to do that more.

You can text me when you’re up, I’ll be back at 2:00. If you wanna stay on the couch all day, that’s okay too. 

I never would’ve thought Rafe would be a snorer. 

When I left this morning, he had an arm draped across his eyes, shielding the sun that was shining through the curtains from his face and his chest was rising and falling in simple breaths. He had shed his shirt in the middle of the night- which was a pleasant shock to wake up to- so the snoring wasn’t the only shock. I was shocked to see his sweaty, glistening chest in the sunlight, strong pectoral muscles twitching with every move of his body and it didn’t take me long to make the connection that he is an athlete and that I shouldn’t have needed the confirmation of seeing him without a shirt to realize that he’s, well, hot. 

It took everything in me to look away from him and pry myself out of my apartment, wanting nothing but to call off and baby him the whole day, ask him questions about his childhood, his mysterious daddy’s girl of a sister, his dad. I also fought the urge to go through his phone and pull out Josh’s number so I could chew his ass out for leaving Rafe in my care.

Or maybe I should be thanking Josh. 

I have no clue if Rafe will actually want to talk about what transpired between us, the way he looked at me- held me- and the way that his lips fit so comfortably against mine. I genuinely thought I was a bad kisser until he pressed his lips against mine and I felt myself giving up complete control, allowing him to guide me and, with the mindset that his control put me in, I would’ve allowed him to guide me all the way to my bed. Or the nearest flat surface. I want to know what he thought about it, what made him actually want to kiss me and if there’s more to our relationship than our professional one, even though that’s sort of a given at this point. 

It was hard to focus on my clients all morning, checking my phone every once in a while to see if Rafe had finally woken up (and didn’t asphyxiate in his sleep) and read my lengthy note but even now, as noon approaches, there’s no messages from him, zero. 

In a small moment of weakness, I decided that I wasn’t going to cancel his appointment, wondering and silently hoping that he would crawl his way to the campus and stumble onto the couch in front of me in time for his meeting but I’m starting to lose hope with every ticking minute of the loud, obnoxious clock behind me. Is this how Rafe always felt waiting for meetings to end?

My phone loudly buzzing beneath me has me jumping, waving one last time to the student leaving my office before immediately checking who the notification is from. A wave of relief washes over me at the realization that Rafe didn’t die of alcohol poisoning in the last few hours and my heart aches as I watch a plethora of messages come through from his end. 

Rafe: I’m so fucking sorry. 

Rafe: Please don’t hate me, I need you to not hate me right now.

Rafe: I’m such a fucking idiot. 

Rafe: I remember everything after we left the bar, but it’s all still foggy.

Rafe: What did I do? Are you okay?

Rafe: I see you reading my messages, please fucking reply. 

My fingers shake as they hover above the screen and I try my best to type out a half-assed reply, knowing it won’t help but it’s all that my brain can piece together right now. I all of a sudden can’t stop thinking about him sitting in my living room, looking at the spot in the floor where he had me pressed against the wall and hands exploring my body. I too can picture him there, laying on my couch, biting at his lip while staring, wide-eyed at the screen in front of him. 

I’m not mad. I don’t hate you. 

I press a hand to my chest, trying to ease the searing pain that sits right where my heart pounds, watching the bubbles appear and disappear on the screen. I can feel my heartbeat in my stomach as I lean back into my chair, attempting to get comfortable and try to calm myself down, telling myself that I’d be okay if all of a sudden he left my life but I’m not so sure I know if that’s true or not.

Rafe: I kissed you. 

“Fuck.” I mutter to myself, looking up from my phone and at the lava lamp in the corner of the room, trying to steady my breathing as I think of something to say, something that’ll be vague enough to dismiss that is happened but that will also give him the clear to talk about it if he wants to. 

I think it was mutual Rafe.

I feel like a middle schooler with the way that I’m giggling to myself, folding my legs underneath me in my chair as I shove my notebook off of my lap, reaching up to rub at my forehead. We could’ve gone on and acted like it never happened, that we didn’t slip into each other last night, almost too far. We would’ve continued our sessions and he would eventually be cleared to move on and never see me again. It could’ve been simple and we could’ve kept it professional.

So what is it about each other that makes it impossible to stay away?

My heart has to be going fast enough to kill me or at least send me into cardiac arrest, chambers pumping way faster than the rest of my body can keep up with and I feel my head wobble on my shoulders, finally resting my head against the wall for a moment with my eyes closed, waiting for the next buzz of my phone which comes shortly after.

Rafe: You kissed me back.

I snort, letting myself type the first thing that comes to mind but before I can, another message comes through that makes me laugh even louder, earning some looks from the students passing by my open door.

Rafe: Enthusiastically.

Mhm. 

I was more than enthusiastic to kiss him, especially once I realized how badly I needed to kiss him once his lips were on mine. It’s amazing that we didn’t fall into each other sooner but maybe there was something deep down in me that realized that there would be no going  back and it’s true. Now that I’ve kissed him- that I’ve tasted him- I never want to know a day where I don’t fall into his arms and give into him. 

It feels like an addiction.  

Rafe: And you’re not mad?

No.

Rafe: Are you just dismissing it because I was drunk and not in my right mind?

I pause, a chill running down my spine as my mind spins, wondering if he’s going to tell me how much he regrets how he got so drunk that he kissed me and how he never would’ve kissed me if he wasn’t so upset and vulnerable. Is this it? Is this the moment where my chest caves in and I have to end our professional agreement because I let a kiss make me feel so attached to him?

Were you not in your right mind?

Rafe: I wasn’t but, even when I’m in my right mind, I think about kissing you.

There it is.

The confirmation that it’s not in my head and that he wanted me as much as he’s always wanted me, alcohol aside. The same thing that brought him to the bar last night, the feeling that made him open up to me in the car ride home and the feeling that finally gave him the guts to kiss me. I could go with it, assuming that he doesn’t regret it and that he’d do it over again the same way if given the opportunity but there’s this annoying, nagging feeling that suffocates me to the brink of typing out my insecure question.

So you don’t regret it?

Rafe: Nope. Do you?

“Fuck, thank god.” I let out a breath of a relief that seems to pull the plug on all of my anxiety, my shoulders rolling as my chest deflates. All of the tension I’ve held onto all morning oozes out of me and I no longer feel the tension sucking the life out of my lungs. 

No. Do you regret telling me things about yourself that you would’ve normally kept to yourself?

I already know that his answer will be something along the lines ‘of course I’m mad at myself but whatever’, knowing that it’s for the best if I have as much information as I can, especially if we’re still on track to getting him help and figuring out what’s made him such a loose canon. If I had any guess, I’d say his dad is the flame and Rafe’s always been the loyal moth who gets burned when he gets too close. But, like anyone who wants validation from their abuser after years of abuse, he’d do anything to impress his father. 

Rafe: I’m a bit mad at myself but the cats out of the bag and I know you’re not gonna let it go.

You know me so well. 

His side goes quiet for a moment, bubbles popping up and disappearing again until everything stops and I huff, a frown tugging on my lips. I expected more banter, more playfulness or teasing about how willing I was last night but based on the desperation hinted in his first few messages to me this morning, his attention must be elsewhere. 

–

A knock on my now closed doors has my eyes flying open, drool on my chin being quickly wiped off and I take a second to look around, realizing I must’ve drifted off for a bit. I stumble up to my feet with a groan, running a hand down my face before opening the door. 

I can barely process Rafe standing in front of me before his arms wrap around my waist, tugging me up and into his arms in a bone crushing hug. My hands hover for a moment over his back, processing the fact that in just a half an hour, he’s here, in front of me, clinging to me like he needs me. 

He needs me.

In seconds of response time, wrap my arms around him tightly, fingers dragging up and down his back as his back rumbles in quiet cries. I try my best to bite back all of the questions- ‘how did you get here’, ‘why are you crying’, ‘what took you so long’- and instead, I press a simple kiss to the side of his head with a pained sigh.

“I needed to see you.” He mutters, head tilting so he can tuck his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in as I do the same, finally feeling the tips of my toes touch the ground once more. He reaches back to shove the door closed with a loud thud, his hand cupping the back of my neck as I arch my body into his. I can feel his racing heartbeat and how his breathing mellows after a few moments of being in my arms but he doesn’t make any move to let go of me.

“I’m here.” I tremble, feeling his shoulders droop at my confession. He sniffles loudly and his arms finally slack from around my waist, settling me completely on the flat ground and he leans back to look down at me. His cheeks are flushed cutely and his beautiful eyes are lined with tears and an angry shade of red tints the whites of his eyes.

“I’m on time for our appointment. Did you cancel it?” He asks, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

“No, I was hoping you’d still come. Didn’t expect to be swept off my feet though.” I giggle, feeling him let go of me completely before taking a hefty step back, linking his hands in front of him as he awkwardly sways, suddenly recovering from showing such blatant emotion.

“Sorry, I just-”

“No, it’s okay.” I smile as softly as I can, hoping that he won’t take my surprise as disappointment and run out of here as soon as he gets the wrong idea. “Why do you look like you’ve been crying?” I ask softly, sitting down in my chair as he plops down onto the couch with a huff, running his hands along the top of his head with a sad laugh, sniffling loudly as I pass him a box of tissues. I had him in my arms and now he’s feet away from me. Too far from me.

“I was a mess in the taxi on the way here, poor dude didn’t know what the fuck to say to me.” He looks over at the lava lamp briefly and for a second I think he’s going to start crying again just at the realization that it’s lit and shining brightly beside him. Before he can break down again, I call out his name calmly.

“Rafe-”

“I need to talk to you.” He pleads, cutting me off, and his voice hints with a bit of desperation and I can hear that he’s so close to breaking. He looks up at me with a pitiful look that has my heart aching painfully in my chest. “I just need you to listen, no notebook, no snarky comments.”

“Okay.” I nod immediately, leaning back in my chair to get comfortable but he holds a hand up to me, swallowing deeply before a bashful look passes through his expression with a shy smile.

“Another thing-” He sighs, scoffing internally at himself as he scoots over on the couch. “Can you not sit all the way over there?” I can’t fight the excited beat of my heart as I think about being so close to him again, my body heating up and my thoughts running painfully fast but in all the best ways.

“Off the record talk?” I ask with a teasing grin.

“God, please just get over here.” He begs, and my body lifts immediately to step around the table that was separating us, lowering myself down beside him. I gulp at the way that his arm extends on the back of the couch beside me and I instantly turn my body and curl my knees up to my chest so I can face him.  “I don’t really know where the fuck to start.” He rubs a hand over his face and, to help, I reach out to place my small hand on his bicep, capturing his attention and seemingly calming him down.

He takes a deep breath before speaking.

 “When I was 10 my doctor thought I had bipolar or BPD or some shit. When they talked to my dad, he shut them down because he didn’t want them to know that the most well known guy in our town was actually beating the shit out of his eldest kid.” I can already feel the bile rising in my throat and I can tell that this talk isn’t going to be easy on Rafe but it’s also going to be nearly impossible for me to hear about him being hurt for so many years on end without any help or advocacy. “I knew that there was something wrong with me, Rose made snarky comments about it all the time, I asked my dad for help a lot- I told him that something wasn’t right. I was just so fucking angry all the time at everything.” His hands shake unsteadily in his lap and without thinking, I reach out to take his hands in mine, gripping them tightly as a reminder that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. “I’d key cars, I’d smash windows, I’d break shit, I’d beat the living crap out of people and there were always reasons but not that justified that big of a reaction.” 

“You were lashing out because of how you were being treated. You would’ve rather gotten negative attention than no attention at all. It makes sense, it’s valid.” He nods at my words but doesn’t seem to let them process, his chest rising and falling in a strained breath and I can tell he’s trying to muster an appreciative smile.

 “I started cocaine at like seventeen. My dad knew, he bailed me out a few times when I’d fucked up and forgot to pay dealers. He didn’t get me help, he didn’t offer me help. He just wanted me to shut the fuck up and stay out of his way. I could do anything I wanted if I just stayed out of his way.” Fuck he’s way worse than I would’ve anticipated. This boy needs years worth of trauma therapy. “Sarah hated me because I did such bad shit to her friends, things that I should never have wanted to do and she swore that I was just taking advantage of my dad. What she didn’t realize is that, every time he took his shit out on me, he wasn’t taking it out on her or Wheezie. They never saw it, they never saw how badly he had me fucked up. Rose did and she just didn’t care.”   

“Rafe you were dealt a shit hand from a young age and, though you claim to have done horrible things, you still protected your sisters no matter how they felt about you. That takes courage.” 

“I did everything in my capability to help without it being a nuisance. I did the bare minimum, I was lazy. And my dad was just getting so sick of dealing with me and getting me out of trouble so he told me, I had to apply to colleges and that he would pay for it but I had to get out of his hair and his house. I didn’t have an option.” He gulps, eyes meeting mine in a disheartened, broken look and I find my heart cracking in my chest. He looks so small, so helpless as he scoots impossibly closer to me, his arm now closing in around my back to rub between my shoulderblades. “It’s why I do the bare minimum to stay here to avoid making him mad but I never wanted to be here. When he found out about our sessions, he got afraid that I would open up to you about him and that a case would be opened up against him because Wheezie is still a minor and you’re a mandated reporter.” Dots connect in my head, dots that I should’ve put together before but I didn’t. “He wanted to beat it into me that, to keep the family together, I had to man up and suck it up.” His voice wobbles and cracks as a few stray tears escape his eyes, my hands immediately reaching up to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing his tears away. He sinks into my touch, shoulders relaxing a bit as he leans into me. “Stop looking at me like that.” He mutters with a gentle, boyish pout.

“Like what-”

“Like you’re sorry for me.” His hand reaches up to rub at the back of my neck, thumb brushing beneath my ear, the touch soothing him. 

“I’m not as sorry for you as I am sorry for your dad when I stick my fist down his throat.” He cracks a smile finally, eyes fluttering shut in a brief moment of relief and I allow myself to finally relax against him, the tension in the air soothing a bit.

“I think that’s adorable.” He whispers, fingers fisting the back of my shirt as he leans completely into me, tucking his face into the crook of my neck once more. I rub his arm soothingly, hesitantly pressing a comforting kiss to his temple, lingering a bit against his skin. 

“You didn’t deserve any of it. Maybe you deserve to be in counseling, maybe you deserve some rough love- I don’t know. You don't deserve to lose a parent and then get the shit beat out of you for years on end.” He nods but I’m still not completely sure that it’s something that he believes. It takes years of trauma therapy to undo all of the abuse that he’s gone through and I highly doubt my words of encouragement will do much in the grand scheme of things. But if I need to be the first one to tell him that he’s loved and cared for and deserving of all the good things in life, then so be it.  “I don’t know about any of the bad things you did, I don’t want to know. What matters is that you make a conscious effort to not be that person anymore. If you need help, you get it. If you need to talk, you talk.” He nods once more and I can feel damp drops falling onto my collarbone but I choose to not say anything. “Are you still doing, uh…”

“No, not in a while, maybe a year.” He replies, reaching up to rub the tears from his eyes, sitting up with a loud sniffle. “I know I need help, I’m just not ready yet. Not until I know that I don’t have to go back to my dad, that I don’t need to rely on him anymore because if I try to get help now while I’m still so attached to him, it won’t help.”

“Okay. We’ll get you there when you’re ready.” His brows furrow briefly, confused at my words and my lips part, wondering if I said something wrong but before I can apologize, he speaks.

“We?” He asks, a little breathless and taken back, a slight red dusting to his cheeks.

“You think I’m gonna run away now that I know you’ve got some skeletons in your closet?” I tease, reaching out to pat his cheek sweetly, thumb brushing against his collarbone. 

“You don’t even know half of it.” He scoffs, eyes lowering to his lap in a bashful look.

“Are you still that person?” I ask and he shakes his head almost immediately.

“No.” I shrug and he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re not freaked out?”

“Am I still here?” I ask him and he smiles softly, realizing the point I was getting at. “I’m still here, even after you cried and almost threw up in my mouth. My mouth, Rafe.” The memory hits him like a ton of bricks and he buries his face in his hands with a groan and a small laugh. 

“I would not have thrown up.” He mumbles into his palms and I can see the red blush crawling down his neck and beneath his shirt.  “You’re such a tool sometimes, god.” He reaches out to playfully shove me but I catch his hand, pulling him back towards me with a wicked smirk.

“You love it.” I whisper, holding his eye contact in my gaze and I can almost see his eyes clouding over, eyes flickering down to look at my lips. The memory of kissing him last night floors me and I fight the strong urge to lean towards him and kiss him senselessly.

“Yeah I guess I do.” He whispers breathlessly, swallowing roughly before blinking out of his haze. “Are you almost done here? I could, uh, buy us take out?” He offers with a bashful grin, his fingers slipping in between mine. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

– 

“You’ve never had wonton soup?” Rafe asks me, shoving a wonton into his mouth with his chopsticks, giving me an incredulous look from across the couch. I shake my head with a simple smile, taking a bite of my sesame chicken, humming at the delicious taste. “You wanna try?” Rafe asks, holding a wonton out to me by the ends of his chopsticks and when I reach out to take them from him, he backs away with a small tut. 

Shit. 

I bite back a wicked smile, leaning forward and parting my lips so he can feed the wonton to me with the most inappropriate look in his eyes, his gaze getting completely caught on the way that my lips enclose around the chopsticks. 

“Shit.” He mutters, watching me intently as I chew and hum, nodding my head with every bite. 

“It’s really good.” I nod, reaching out with my fork to stab a wonton out of his soup, plopping it into my mouth with a giggle. “Like really good.” 

“Glad you like it.” He grins, bashfully looking down at his soup as the TV noise fills the empty silence around us. I can’t stop watching him, eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips like and he does the same when he’s regained confidence to look back up at me with wide, eager eyes. We’re both completely and utterly enthralled by one another and, like a spell has taken over us, we set aside our food, acting like we’re done but we both know it’s because we’re ready to move on. There’s an awkward moment that passes both of us wanting to make a move but unsure how to and I know that it’s going to take him making the first move for me to feel his lips on mine.

When our lips meet after a few moments, I can already tell that I won’t stop kissing him until I’m out of breath. I just want to be close to him, feel him on me, his lips, anything. His hands settle on my hips, pulling me firmly on top of him as I gasp quietly. The kiss is messy, needy, like we had been needing this for weeks and we have, the kiss last night was barely anything to hold us over. The minute his lips left mine last night, I’ve been waiting and dreaming of the moment where he’ll finally kiss me again and, given the hungry urgency behind his lips, I can tell he feels the same way.

Like I need air, water, I need him against me. 

I moan quietly as his hands slip down, winding around my thighs to hoist me further on top of his lap before flipping us over on the small couch. I squeal with a giggle, my head falling back as he drops down on top of me, strong arms caging me in. 

He’s on me in a minute, his body sliding on top of me as his lips find mine. I grip the back of his shirt, feeling his lips parting gently to deepen the kiss and I whimper as his lips leave mine just seconds later, trailing down to my neck as his hands wander under my shirt, cold fingertips making my arch up into him. He curses against my skin as his eyes flutter down to my parted legs that he fits so perfectly between, his fingers skimming against the material of my leggings. I watch him with parted lips, the room suddenly feeling ten times more heated.

“I can’t stand you wearing these.” His hands slip under my shirt to splay across my lower stomach, pushing up my shirt right under my breasts. His fingers dance against the skin of my abdomen, a shiver running down my spine as I arch into him, begging for him to do more of anything other than this simple teasing. His fingers gently slip lower and my head throws back in frustration as he dips his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, slipping beneath them completely as I let out a pathetic gasp. He moans quietly, my eyes dancing down to watch him palm himself gently and he looks back up at me, his eyes needy and his cheeks flushed. Without a second thought, he pulls his shirt over his head, a huge grin breaking out across my face as I tug him down to me. “I forgot you're a needy one.” He chuckles against my lips as I pinch his side, earning a quiet hiss from him.

“Shut up and fuck me, Rafe.” I whisper simply, his head pulling back to look at me with wide, teasing eyes, blue hues nearly completely taken over by his blown pupils, lined with lust and adoration. I shrug playfully and slowly at him, his head dipping in a quick head shake. Keep him on his toes, right?

“Are you sure you can handle it?” He taunts, his lips lowering to press against the hollow of my neck and I let out a breathless laugh, my fingers reaching up to grip onto his shoulders as he sinks his teeth into my skin. “You’re kind of loud.”

“I was pretty quiet thinking about you the other week.” I whisper, lying through my teeth but I know it’ll drive him crazy and it does, his kisses stalling as he sits up, his eyes dark and mischievous. In one fluid motion, my leggings and shirt are off and on the ground. My hands help him slip out of his pants as he laughs, leaning forward to press a kiss to my forehead, loving my greediness.

When he makes his way back between my thighs, nestling in so the outline of cock is pressing against my core, I moan, the feeling of him against me has my mind spinning and his hand gently reaches up to rest on my cheek, bringing me back to him, and his lips press against my other cheek, the skin heated beneath his lips.

“You’re mine...” He whispers, his hand slipping down my thigh to hoist it over his hip. I nod with a grin, my arms wrapping around his neck tightly. I’m not in the mood to play or tease him, I just want to feel him and to know that his words are true. “You’ve been mine. You’re all I think about.” He whispers, his lips skimming against my neck as I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders as an anticipatory anxiety fills my belly. His hand gently ventures under my bra, his fingers kneading my breast as my hips twitch up against him and I pray he’ll get the hint to stop teasing and to get on with it. Getting the hint, he moves away from me momentarily as I take the time to catch my breath, listening to him  fumble with his boxers that are discarded onto the floor in a moment.

He’s slipping in me almost instantly, his hips stilling as he bottoms out and all I can do is whine.

“Fuck, Rafe- so good.” I whimper, my eyes fluttering shut as I cling onto him, hugging him tightly as his fingers reach around my back to unclip my bra, yanking it off of me as he breathes heavily. His lips move to focus on my breasts, lips skimming and tongue swirling around my peaked nipples, alternating back and forth between breasts as I whine and writhe against him. I tuck my lip between my teeth as his hips start moving, a small sigh leaving his lips as he thrusts. My hands find his cheeks so I can look up at him, wanting to capture every image- every smile, every blink, every whimpered gasp that escapes him- I want to engrain it in the parts of my mind that I can tuck away and keep with me forever, needing him close and needing to comfort that he offers me for the rest of my life. His eyes flutter closed from pleasure, head falling to rest on my collarbone and my lips press against his cheeks in quick, reaffirming kisses.

His thrusts are steady and controlled but he’s ever so deep, my walls hugging them like he was made to be inside of me, fitting my body like his lock to my key, and I can feel him slowly opening up with every thrust. His body relaxes a bit against mine, shoulders slacking as he drops a bit of weight onto me and I take it willingly, loving and memorizing the feeling of his weight on me. I love the sound of his moans and breathy whimpers so much that I feel myself biting my tongue to listen to him.

“Don’t be quiet.” He whispers, his lips capturing mine in a brief kiss and  I nod, realizing that I wanted to hear him but didn’t even think for a moment that he might want to memorize my moans, the way my body moves- I’ve been depriving him. Poor man. I contemplate saying something snarky in return but instead I feel his fingers slip down in between us so that he can rub sensual circles against my clit as I squeal, his hand flying over my mouth with a chuckle. “C’mon, loudmouth- I know you can do better than that.” He taunts breathlessly, his hips snapping against me with such power it has me seeing stars, possibly from the lack of oxygen or just from the intensity of his thrusts and the electricity that’s sparking between the two of us. Between that and his skillful fingers, it wouldn’t be long before I was completely done for, him following closely behind I’m sure. “Fuck, so wet.” He groans, finding my lips in a messy kiss as I feel every vein of him thrum against me, arousal-filled  blood pumping through us at an unholy pace.  “It was so hard not to just tear your clothes off and fuck you dumb on that stupid couch at your office.” I mutter a quiet ‘oh my god’ at the thought of him sitting there across from me, wondering what it would be like to touch me because I was doing the same. I was sure I was going to hell for it but…  “You wanted me just as bad didn’t you?” More, I wanted you more than you could ever imagine. I want you more than you could ever possibly imagine.

“Yes, Rafe.” I moan, fingers skimming up his back and all the way up to his hair, dragging my fingers along his scalp which draws a long, drawn out moan from him, his hips snapping harder into mine as his hands grip my hips, slamming into me full force. He leans up onto his knees so he can look down at me, spine straightening as his eyes widen, watching my breasts bounce with every filthy drag of his cock.

“Yeah? Tell me how much.” He orders and I blank, dirty talk coming up completely and utterly short just when I need it. For all the times I imagined this, I wondered if I would take control and have him completely at my mercy- I was so off because I can barely form words as I watch his abs tense and his jaw grind as he gawks at me.

“I wanted to ride you- fuck.” I get cut off by a firm slap to my thigh, core twitching around him at the sensation and he chuckles, hand soothing up my stomach and past my sternum, fingers gently wrapping around my throat in a simple move that has me clenching hard around him and it almost has me spiraling towards my orgasm too soon.

“Go on.” 

“Wanted you to choke me, call me yours.” It’s as if he reads my mind because he lets out an incredulous laugh at the position we’re already in, fingers tightening their hold just the slightest bit as I gasp, eyes rolling to the back of my head and I struggle to find the right words.  “I just wanted you- want you. Fuck I can’t think.” 

“You just wanted me to take care of you, huh?” He asks, suddenly slowly his thrusts drastically and I feel myself trying to chase the speed he once maintained, hips wiggling to find any sort of friction.  “Take care of you like you’ve taken care of me?” He slides back down on top of me, hands caressing my cheeks as his lips press gentle, bashful kisses to my cheeks, my nose and finally my lips.  “I’ll take care of you, baby- I’ve got you.” 

The pace that he takes next is brutal, snapping against my hips in a calculated way as shameless squeals leave me, his deep grunts only spurring me on. “Rafe, shit, I’m close.” I whimper, tears pricking my eyes as I throw my head back, my hands gripping onto his shoulders as much as I can to help myself stay grounded firmly to the couch, fearing I’ll twitch and tremble right out of his grasp. His fingers don’t stop against my clit, rolling it gently, as his thrusts slow drastically once more, his movements subtle and deep as my thighs tremble. “Please.” I plead, my jaw dropping in a silent moan as his nose nudges mine.

“Was that a please?” He asks with a small laugh and my head bobs in an obedient nod. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me up and towards him as I squeal at the new angle, the new feeling taking me over completely. He swallows my loud moans with his lips, messy, open mouthed kisses that leave me hurtling towards the burning heat pooling in my abdomen and his own groans increase as my walls flutter around him. “Come on, I wanna feel you cum.” He whispers breathlessly, my chest heaving out a breath as I topple over the edge, my lips detaching from him as I mumble incoherently. 

I tuck my face into his neck as I tremble, feeling him fill me up effortlessly and quietly as he falls over the edge soon after, the feeling of him seeping out of me-  dripping down my thighs- it makes my whole body, my mind too, feel so warm and fuzzy. Complete. I feel as if my whole body is vibrating and I cling to him, his weight resting onto me as he catches his breath. He stays inside of me, warm and safe as his arms wrap around me, hugging me nearly as tight as he did earlier when he surprised me at my office. I smile softly, my hair sticking to my cheeks as I press a simple kiss to his freckled shoulder, never wanting to leave his side again.

I love the feeling of his bare skin against mine. 

I can feel it lowering my heart rate, calming my mind and my once rapid breaths. I could get used to this hazy feeling of being pressed against him, his cock softening inside of me as we made a mess of my couch, not caring for one second that we’d have to address our feelings later on.

He pulls away from me gently, a bashful smile on his lips as I giggle, reaching up to cover my face out of embarrassment. He lets out a similar shocked laugh, his forehead resting on my collarbone as we laugh together. I shake my head, the fact that we just did that shocking me to my core. “Fuck.” He whispers, his eyes flickering around the living room as he looks down between us, licking his lips as he thinks for a moment. “Stay still, don’t make a mess baby…” He trails off, both of us suddenly aware of the feeling of a familiar substance dripping out of me and onto the couch beneath us. “Bathroom?”

“Uh, yeah, over there.” I motion to the door on the far side of my wall, a quiet sigh of relief leaving his lips as he picks me up in his arms, cradling me to his chest without slipping out of me.

As we get cleaned up, I watch him intently with a soft smile, leaning back onto the cool counter beneath me as he cleans himself up, occasionally looking over at me to toss me a playful wink. There’s something so domestic, so wholesome about this moment right now, both of us in our most vulnerable forms with bright, flushed smiles on our faces. He catches my watchful eyes every once in a while, a shy smile on his lips but, even under my heated gaze, he's managed to pull his boxers back on and hand me his shirt to put on, his back muscles flexing as he rests his arms against the counter beside me. I urge him to step between my legs and he does, back in the same dangerous position we were in on the couch nearly twenty minutes ago. I wrap my arms around his neck, linking my ankles behind him as I smile softly, giving him a playful tilt of my head, almost saying ‘what next’?

“You good?” He asks, lips pressing against my forehead and he lingers, breathing my closeness in. 

“More than good.” I whisper, my eyes fluttering away from him as I chuckle bashfully. “Fuck that was like really hot, wasn’t it?” I ask with heated cheeks and his eyes rolling playfully at me as he scoots me towards the edge of the counter, his hips fitting even closer between my thighs as he grins.

“Yeah, really fucking good, doc.” He whispers, the nickname forcing my eyes to roll but my sass is quickly disregarded at his lips pressing against mine in a short kiss. “You’re mine.” He adds once more, more sternly than the last time he said it but it only makes my smile grow wider and I nod my head quickly, knowing every word is true. “Say it.” He orders against my lips, my hands cupping his cheeks as he waits patiently.

“I’m yours, Rafe.” He snakes his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug and, smiling like an idiot, I hold onto the happy man- my happy man- in front of me, both of us just happy. 

Both of our paths led us here, right now, to this moment. All of the fights with his dad, my troubling college days, getting harrassed at the bar, Rafe being shipped off to a college he thought he’d hate, keying a professor's car- it led us to one another so how could we possibly complain? 

Rubbing his back gently as he holds me, I can’t help but to throw all consequences, giggling to myself as I whisper, “so how about that pay raise?”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

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[bearsbeetsbeskar]

weed smoking! joel x dispensary shop! reader preview 🍃🔥💨💨💨

A/N: A little taste for you guys! I am very excited at this new idea, especially because I am co-writing this with the actual love of my life @serenaxpedro!!!

So excited to see where it will go and excited to see our grumpy old peepaw finally kick back and relax with some alternate pain management methods. He's not gonna be happy about it at first, but it's going to turn out so good 🤓. Moodboard art also by @serenaxpedro (please go check out her delicious writing as well, she's got some YUMMY Joel fic's posted 🫠)

sneak peak under the cut, feel free to comment or reblog if you want more!

“The side effects from an over the counter painkiller could spike your cholesterol even higher, which is what we do not want,” the doctor continues, unaware of Joel’s steadily boiling frustration. “Which is why I wanted to suggest an alternate method for pain management, something more natural.”

For fucks sake. 

He thought this would be a simple appointment. Show up, get a new prescription for whatever magic pills can help this pain in his back to dissipate, and go home. Not look into ‘alternative methods’ that undoubtedly wouldn’t work.

Joel’s gaze narrows and he huffs, leaning back in his seat. “Natural? Like what, seeing one of those hokey practitioners that read your energies and use natural herb remedies and all that crap?”

“Not quite that per say but it is natural medicine. Medical marijuana to be exact.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry as his jaw hangs open. Weed? Nope. Not the solution he was looking for. 

Maybe what he should be on the market for is a new doctor at this point. 

“Uh listen, I appreciate the suggestion doc, but I don’t think that’s gonna help me at this point. I don’t do that kinda stuff,” he waves his hand dismissively. “If it gets to that point I’ll crack open a beer.” Joel leans forward in his seat and he starts to get up.

“Just a second, hold on. At least let me write you a prescription for it today and you can choose whether or not you want to get it filled at a dispensary.”

“I don’t think-” Joel continues to protest but the doctor cuts him off.

“It’s medicinal marijuana Joel,” the doctor says plainly, as if that’s supposed to calm his nerves. “It has opiate-like properties, which means it’s similar to a pain killer, just without all the usual side effects that come with over the counter medicine. Lots of individuals, older and younger,” the doctor pointedly emphasizes, “use it to help with aches, pain, anxiety, even mental health issues. Not just the physical.”

Joel continues to eye the doctor warily, his spine now stiff as he sits up in the chair. Even now, he can feel his body protesting his upright position, the inkling of that pinched phantom pain coming back slightly. 

“Does it get you high?” he asks the older man. 

Aside from the stories he’s heard, he’s had his fair share of buddies who used to toke up back in the day. Hell, they didn’t even know what was in it back then, they just smoked as a distraction, something fun to do, to take the edge off after a long day's work. Joel tried it once and didn’t like it at all. The hazy, fuzzy feeling not mixing well with his frayed nerves, all glassy eyed and out of touch with his body and his mind. No, he would much rather crack open a beer or pour himself a whiskey neat to kick back and relax when he was stressed.

“Not necessarily, some strains, or some kinds of weed have a higher content of THC, tetrahydrocannabinol, the psychoactive component that makes you feel high or ‘out of it,”’ the doctor explains with finger quotes. “Some medicinal marijuana are low in THC but high in CBD, the relaxing component of marijuana. CBD acts as a relaxer, and it can ease physical pain. So depending on what you’re comfortable with, you can opt for the kinds that have a high CBD but low THC content, which will help with any pain issues, without causing you to experience the high.”

Joel’s mind whirls around the acronyms. THC, CBD, ABC.

Christ.

Does it have to be this fucking complicated?

[carlyyyyxbishhop]

Love me like I haven't changed // Shayne Topp // 1

Okay so hi, long time smosh fan lmao. I used to write stuff for bands back in like 2014-2017 but I stopped for some reason. Recently I kinda wanted to get back into it... so I started writing this. Idk if you'd count this as a fanfic because idk how long its gonna be.

Tbh I got an idea and just started writing so I'm gonna post parts 1 and 2 tonight. Lemme know if I should continue writing because I'm slightly hesitant.

part one // Kate

I bounced my right leg anxiously, out of habit I guess. The waiting room was a sterile white, littered with magazines and children’s toys. But I’ll never forget the smell, funny that. It smelt like pure vomit, there’s no other way to describe it.

I stared at the poster on the wall in front of me, it said something stupid like keep hanging on. I rolled my eyes and looked toward the reception desk. A woman was sitting filing her nails with her airpods in, obviously making great use of company time. I looked to my right as a door opened. 

“Kate?” He called out into the room as if I wasn’t the only person sitting in the waiting area. I stood, flashing him a small smile, before following him into the small room. To say the office was small was an understatement. I took it in quickly before finding a chair in the corner near the window.

“Hi Kate, I’m Charlie. It’s nice to meet you.” He started as he sat across from me. I cleared my throat before I spoke, not realising I hadn’t spoken a full sentence in over 48 hours.

“Hi, nice to meet you too.” I watched as he grabbed a small notepad from the table beside him.

“Kate, I know your mother was adamant that you come to therapy but if you’re not ready you don’t have to be here. I just want to let you know that before we start.” He looks over at me, he can probably already sense I’m hesitant.

“No it’s fine, if I don’t come to the appointments she’ll keep harassing me until I do.” He nodded slightly and wrote something on his notepad.

“Okay well, just know you can back out at any time,” He offered a smile that I returned, “So, uhh, if you don’t mind could you tell me a bit about yourself?”

“What, like my job and stuff?”

“Well if that’s what you want to talk about, then yes we can start with that.” I think for a second.

“Do your clients usually go straight into their traumas?” He furrowed his eyebrows at the question.

“Not particularly,” He starts, “Usually they start with simple things to get us started.”

“Oh right,” I say slightly embarrassed, “I’ve never been to therapy before if you can’t tell.” He smiled.

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself, some hobbies, work… maybe friends?” He offers some starting topics.

“Well, I’m 29 and I’m currently on mental health leave from my job. Mostly because I stopped going to work about 3 weeks ago and stopped answering their calls. Eventually they called my mother because she’s my emergency contact and she made up some bullshit about my Dad dying.” I slightly rambled.

“Did you stop going to work because of your father?” He asked hesitantly, almost trying to predict the reason.

“No, he died years ago. I just kind of lost interest in life when my ex left.” I gulp down the ball in my throat and reach for my water bottle as a distraction.

“Oh right, your ex… was he a big part of your life?” He looks down at his notepad as he makes some notes.

I laugh slightly, “I guess you could say that, we were together for five years.”

“Wow, that’s quite a long time. It’s normal to be upset when going through a breakup.” He tries to reason.

“Is it normal to lay in bed for weeks after a breakup?” I try to find the novelty in it.

“In extreme cases… yes. It can be perfectly normal to have a negative reaction when someone breaks up with you.” I tense slightly at his words.

“See,” I gulp down another lump in my throat, “He didn’t break up with me… he left me.”

“Right… and do you know why he did.” I laugh slightly and look toward the window.

“Yes.” I say shortly, holding back the tears threatening to spill.

“Did you want to talk about it?” He asked, almost unsure if he should. I shook my head no.

“Okay, well why don’t you tell me about him?” He asked.

“What do you want to know?” I looked back toward him and tucked my legs under myself, getting more comfortable on the lounge chair.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

[galaxymagick]

@realvixx

[VIXX 11th Anniversary]

다시 돌아온 524 릴레이 라이브 순서 정하기 방식은⁉️

▶️ https://youtu.be/7Q_Bv00MUrc

5월 24일, VIXX 위버스 채널에서 만나요💙💛

본 영상은 실제 대화 내용으로 제작되었음을 알려드립니다.💫

#빅스 #VIXX #HAPPYVIXXDAY #VIXX11thAnniversary

524 relay live is back The order setting method is ⁉️

See you on VIXX's Weverse channel on May 24th💙💛

Please note that this video was made with actual conversations 💫

video translation and credit under the cut

Relay Live VIXX Convo 

trs cr: @binbingbong_

(only the imp parts because it's too long) 🤖: I'm trying to host a relay live this year, but before that lets under what essentials starlights need to attend a vixx event ?) k: its a mess lol lol N: ID, song download history, album, fanclub membership etc ken: but importantly, an unbroken heart n: unbroken.heart (it's a meme from some Korean TV) ken: hakyeonieee ofc you know what I'm sayin kekekekeej Leo: ah, sorry (just joined) N: jaehwan a~ it's hyung (bc he referred to hakyeon by name💀) ken: daeguniiiiiii~~~ N: daeguni Leo: kekekke n: what are you doing ken: daeguniii what are you doing /image/ our maknongieee where are youuu my lover Leo: hello rovix? k: my everything (referring to hyukie) L: rovix do your work properly ken: laughing N: robic is too slow L: get a grip rovix ken: please laughing Leo: aren't you gonna work (@ rovix) ken : laughing rovix: those are all important (items that hakyeon mentioned) but most important is fast hands! (quick speed) Leo: you're not in sane mind (still scolding rovix) ken: lol not doing work(not paying attention) ken: wdym hand speed (?) (hand power?) N: I think it's taking some time for rovix to process replies N: ahhh, power hands ! k: but why you slow rovix lol N: this jerk (affectionate) N: srsly u K: if it's quick hands it's me! [ t/n 순발력 means ability to make a quick judgement/react quick in an event]   I'm using speedy/power hands because I'm assuming they're talking about catching up to vixx that's why starlights need to have speedy hands but I'm not sure completely hyuk: enter// laughing N: still the same k: you'll be shocked to see my speed h: settle down (?) ken; laugh k: okay we need to have fast hands ... rovix: to test speed it's simple go to form link, answer the questions and submit are you ready for the text agents hyuk: let's do it fast I have lessons rovix: explains the method of submitting a form (what form) ken: rovix ssiiiiiii stop nowwww the youngest has to leave for a lessonnnnn n: seems like copy paste(?) ken: laugh hyuk; talking about how there's still 55 minutes left until form opens and why rovix is already preparing so ahead n and ken talk out of context rovix says they have to wait now ken talks about how he'll go read a book in the meantime hakyeon gets confused at this because hakyeon is in disbelief hakyeon tells him his hobby is reading hakyeon asks what he's been reading (note there is a lot of kekekke in between these I'll skip them) jaehwan says he's reading shin Chan's adventure rovix comes back to say the rule is that whoever submits the form as fast as possible and is the first to submit will be the first to start the relay live on 24 may 8 pm and they will go on order or the submission speed. jaehwan says then he'll surely be the first one to press submit. ken: oh no..I have an appointment on the 24

.....but it's in June lol lol lol hakyeon: jaehwana.... ken: yes hyungnim hakyeon: cute. ken: stickers "I'm stillll babyyyyyy" ken asks where did hyuk and Leo go and calls to Leo as daeguniiiiii

rovix says it'll be back before the form time and Hakyeon scolds him for running away so rovix replies with affirmative that it's running away everyone leaves until the submit time. hyuk asks what if he submits before the 11  time but rovix says it won't count

hyuk says he'll still be the winner hakyeon says something like he's not scared of anyone here he's the scariest around but this sounds so ooc I'm confused lol hyuk shares? croissants? pretzels? in the chat

hyuk says that since he received good energy today, he's already the winner today and hakyeon calls him cute . hyuk also went to Starbucks and hakyeon says that indeed he's the winner . it strikes 11 and then they submit. hakyeon is confident he's the first one and so is ken

the results are announced . because hakyeon submitted one before 11 am his entry is disqualified. hyuk wins first place. rovix announces the winner hakyeon is in disbelief why is he not the first one ken laughs at taekwoon asking if his real name is "Leo" because

Leo submitted it as Leo and not Jung taekwoon like the rest of them. Leo wants to resumits !! rovix says he can do that but he'll still be on last place. Leo resubmits.. rovix says he's in last place. rovix tells hyuk that's he can now decide the order of live. hyuk asks "is the order not the order of the form submission" rovix says no. the winner gets the right to decide the order so hyuk says that the order of form submission is acceptable. (order: Hyuk Ken N Leo)

[kasienda]

Aftermath - Ch 3: Turning Point

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

Read on Ao3

Chapter 3: Turning Point

Marinette considered her face in the mirror. Her skin was pale and oily. She needed a shower, but she couldn’t manage that simple task. And the bags under her eyes were darker than ever. She couldn’t even sleep right despite spending twelve hours in bed.

“You can’t go every day.”

Marinette’s gaze shifted behind her reflection to her best friend who was combing her hair gently.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not okay,” Alya said and Marinette hated that she couldn’t argue. “And you’re trying to do too much.”

“It’s not like I’m doing anything worthwhile at home. At least at Adrien’s, I’m doing something.”

Alya didn’t meet her eyes, instead remaining focused on sectioning her dark hair into two halves. Marinette didn’t really want her hair in pigtails. It was too much a reminder of all things Ladybug. But she didn’t really have the energy to object either.

“You need to go to your therapy appointments at least,” Alya insisted.  

“Why? It doesn’t help. My hand isn’t going to heal. They’ve already said as much.”

“Occupational therapy is not  just about improving. It’s about learning how to use your hand as it is now.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” Marinette grumbled, though she had no intention of doing so. She had yet to even pick her stretching exercises back up and she didn’t see that changing.

“You don’t have to figure it out. That’s what your therapist is for.”

Marinette let out a deep sigh. “Look, Adrien needs me.”

Alya shook her head. “Adrien will be just fine for the 90 minutes a week it takes you to get there, have the session, and get back.”

Marinette didn’t bother to respond. She had nothing to say to that. Alya was right, but Marinette didn’t want to go.  

“He would want you to go,” Alya said, echoing her thoughts. “It would kill him to know you were neglecting yourself for his benefit.”

Marinette glanced at her purse hanging off her desk chair that still held the Ladybug earrings.

She wasn’t going to admit to Alya the real reason there was no point in going to her appointments. There wasn’t any point in relearning how to use her hand if she wasn’t going to stick around.

“I thought you’d be happy that I was going to Adrien’s,” Marinette said softly. “You’ve been trying to get me out and about for months. And you tried to get me to visit Adrien for almost as long!”

“I  am  happy,” Alya insisted, tying off the first pigtail before moving her attention to the second. “You’ve just gone from zero to a hundred overnight. And I don’t want you to burn through your mental resources in one week!”

Alya might have had a point. But Marinette couldn’t slow down. She had always been all or nothing. She didn’t know how to be anything else.

…

Despite Alya’s objections, Marinette continued to visit Adrien every single day. Marinette couldn’t bring herself to regret it, especially on days like today where Adrien was really struggling even more than normal.

She picked up the book on his nightstand and pressed it open in her lap with her good hand. “Where were we?” she asked. She was sitting upright, leaning against a pile of luxury down pillows with Adrien lying on his side next to her.

He didn’t answer. She knew that he wouldn’t, but she would be here anyway. She read aloud from the science fiction novel Nino had recommended. She didn’t process any of the words as she read it, and she doubted Adrien did either, and that didn’t matter. Reading aloud was just an excuse to sit beside him, to keep him company, and to let him know that she was there.

She read to him for over an hour until his rumbling stomach interrupted.

He still didn’t say anything.

She put the book face down back on the nightstand, not bothering with the bookmark. Then she leaned over his prone form and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m gonna heat up some lunch. I’ll be right back.”

He remained silent and still.

She rolled out of bed and made her way to the kitchen so tiny both of her parents would have cried.

Alya had made it stupidly easy to heat up lunch. There was a stack of a dozen individual sized tupperware meals in the fridge. Marinette only had to brace the container against her bad hand and pry off the lid with her good one, before shoving the whole thing in the microwave for a few minutes on medium power. She then would repeat the process for a second meal.

She would have foregone the meal herself. Alya didn’t need to spend time making twice as much food as needed for Marinette, except Marinette had learned that Adrien was way more likely to eat if she was eating as well.

She brought her own meal in first, and placed it on the nightstand next to the book. Then she went back to the kitchen to grab his.

“Can you sit up?” she asked.

He didn’t move, so she just waited, standing there holding the plastic tupperware. She was really glad it was plastic, because if she dropped it, Alya would only have to worry about stains, and not broken glass.

She was just about to set his food down so she could drag him into a sitting position when he moved. She placed the meal in his lap and then settled back next to him with her own container resting on her legs.

She ate slowly. It was the same tomato based casserole that she had eaten with Nino on their first night here, but Marinette barely tasted it this time. She was eating for one reason only, and it wasn’t to feed herself.

But as much as she wanted Adrien to eat, she didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to add any additional pressure for him to partake in the meal himself. If he didn’t she would just spoon feed him after she was done. He wouldn’t fight that.

But it looked like today it wasn’t necessary. Adrien picked up the fork and started eating, somehow even slower than she was.

He didn’t say anything and she didn’t either. No words were necessary.

When both bowls were empty, she moved them back to the nightstand. Adrien was still sitting up, and she wasn’t sure if that was a win or if he couldn’t handle the effort of scooting back down the mattress. It didn’t matter. She picked up the book again.

She read for at least another hour, but she wasn’t actually sure of the time. The words just blurred together in her head.

“Why are you so patient with me?” he interrupted. His voice sounded like gravel.

She didn’t turn to look at him even though she wanted to. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on the book in her lap. “Because I care about you.”

“Even Nino wants to pull out his hair when he can’t get me to sit up in bed or take a shower.”

“Would being impatient help?” she asked.

“I… I don’t know…” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Sometimes it does.”

“Other times?”

He didn’t speak again immediately. She wasn’t sure if he was going to, but she didn’t start reading again.

Instead, she waited, every tiny hair on her arms and neck standing on high alert as her heart beat rapidly in her chest, her ears ready for anything he might share.

She would take anything.

“It makes it worse,” he finally said, his voice cracking, “because I can’t do something so simple and I feel so guilty for not doing such an easy thing when it would make a world of difference to him.”

She nodded. “Nino and Alya can do the tough love bits. I can’t. You’re stuck with me being patient.”

He didn’t respond and the silence stretched out between them once again so long she was convinced that she wouldn’t hear anything else from him today. Even this much must have been exhausting for him.

She was about to start reading again when she realized he was trembling beside her. She flopped down next to him and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m sorry!” she said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

He shook harder, a broken sob tearing from his throat. She clung to him harder, but it felt so inadequate. There had to be something else she could do, something that was actually helpful.

But her completely useless mind failed her. She couldn’t think of anything. And to think Paris had once said Ladybug had a creative solution for anything and everything.

If only they could see her now. Unable to help the life she had ruined. Even in her attempts to comfort him, she only made things worse.

Maybe tonight was a good night to don Ladybug’s earrings once again.

He rolled over in the bed toward her. His eyes were red and puffy, but he looked straight at her.

“I am not  stuck  with you, Marinette,” he said. “I am  blessed  with your presence.”

She sucked in a breath, unable to pull herself away from his eyes that trembled with so much feeling.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve it. I’m really glad that you’re here every day.”

She stuffed her own cries down. It wasn’t like she could tell him that she was the one who had done this to his life, had done this to  him.

“I feel terrible about how much time you’re wasting on me. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

She laughed darkly. “I really don’t,” she said, holding up her fisted hand in explanation. It was just an excuse, but she couldn’t tell anyone what the real problem was.

Especially not him.

He in particular might hate her if he knew who she’d been. If he found out, he wouldn’t want her company or her help. And then, there’d only be one thing left for her to do.

His head dropped against her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he choked into her hair.

“It’s not your fault,” she told him.

He started crying again, so she knew he didn’t agree, but it wasn’t.

She would have to convince him before she left.

But in the meantime, she needed a smaller goal. Adrien clearly wanted to be able to get up out of bed. But in glancing around the drab lifeless apartment the next morning, she concluded there really wasn’t anything worth getting up for.

It needed color and life.

Which was something Marinette knew how to fix.

Or she had before everything had fallen apart.

Over the next few weeks, every time Adrien fell asleep she worked on decorating the living area, and when he was awake she worked on his room. It was very slow going, but she didn’t want to ask for help from Nino and Alya, who were very focused on meeting Adrien’s physical needs. They kept the place stocked with foods that were easy to prepare, did the laundry, and forced Adrien to take showers every now and again.

But Marinette thought she might be able to turn the tiny apartment into more of a home.

She started by bringing knick knacks she had accumulated over the years that were only collecting dust in her own room and placing them strategically on his nightstand, bookshelves, and dresser. She raided her mother’s linen closet for a set of orange washcloths, hand towels, and body towels since she knew that was Adrien’s favorite color. She added an incense holder next to the hand soap, which added a little character to the room and improved the aroma.

When she was at home, she started stitching together some throw pillows for the couch and seat cushions for the dining room.

“You’re sewing!” Alya exclaimed when she came over for one of her impromptu visits.

“I’m making pillows,” Marinette said dismissively.

“Which is amazing!”

“It’s literally two squares threaded together.” Her hand couldn’t hold her scissors, but she could grip a rotary blade just fine, which was preferable for making straight cuts anyway.

And even a closed fist was good enough to guide the fabric through her sewing machine in a straight line.

“I’m allowed to be happy that you’re sewing,” Alya said.

Marinette rolled her eyes. This was hardly sewing.

After she shared a dinner with her parents and Alya, instead of falling straight into her bed, she searched through her closet for the first and only quilt she had made at twelve years old, right after she had learned to use her sewing machine.

It had been an ambitious project for a beginner, but she had persevered over the course of six months to put it together. And then promptly decided she never wanted to make another quilt again because it was too much work.

But quilting only required straight cuts depending on the pattern. Maybe it was something she could pick up again now that making clothes seemed totally out.

It was pretty basic, only squares stitched together, and the fabric bunched up in odd places where she had sewn it to the batting. But it was colorful and hand made.

Adrien cried when she draped it over him and told him its story. But it was a good kind of cry for once, so Marinette was more determined than ever to continue.

Next, she found some old shoe boxes under her desk filled with photographs from college and lycee. She fished through, searching for any that featured Adrien with anyone, and set aside some of with only her, Alya, and Nino as well.

She asked her mother to pick up some frames for her next time she was out, but in the meantime, she picked out her favorites and propped them up on shelves and pinned them to walls. She taped her favorite selfie of the four of them to the side of the bookshelf that faced Adrien’s bed where he could clearly see it, hoping it would remind him every day that he was loved.

He didn’t comment on them, but she caught him looking at it often.

The shelves remained mostly empty for a long time. Marinette didn’t really know what to put there other than the three or four novels Nino had lent for her to read.

She texted Kagami and asked for manga recommendations for Adrien, and her friend had said she would send Marinette a list, but the conversation went dark after that.

Or so she thought.

She had needed Nino’s help to bring in and open the half dozen file boxes Kagami had shipped over.

These are many of my favorites,  Kagami’s letter said. I left notes on which ones I suspect Adrien will like best and ones that you will likely prefer. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Hope you’re doing better. I would love to get some orange juice for old time’s sake. Maybe we can add some tequila to the mix.  

Marinette smiled fondly at the note even as she felt a pang of guilt. Kagami’s social circle had grown a bit larger since lycee, but she and Adrien were still both major spokes on her social wheel.

Or at least they had been.

The notes she left were insanely detailed.

Adrien stared at the letter about five times longer than necessary to read it.

“What is it?” she prompted. She had waited for a reasonably good day to spring the gift on him.

Adrien shook his head. “I just don’t understand why she would spend so much time on me after I never responded to her attempts to reach out.”

Marinette smiled. “Someday you’ll figure out it’s because we love you.”

“But I’m not doing anything worthwhile.”

“So? Love isn’t something that has to be earned.”

Adrien was silent a long time before he finally tapped the list, and held it out to her. “Do you think you could find me volume one of this series?”

She laughed. “Coming right up!”

He only managed to read three pages that day before he set it aside, but he picked it up again the next day.

When it seemed like he was able to engage in manga more days than not, Marinette brought over her own gaming system and several of her favorite games. It wasn’t being used right now anyway. Even her father didn’t play it anymore - not since Hawkmoth had been defeated. He was too busy worrying about her.

Adrien jumped back into gaming enthusiastically. She loved watching him play because his face was so expressive. His mouth would twist with frustration when he lost against the computer or his eyes would light up in triumph when he finally broke through a difficult battle. It was such a contrast from the stoic or crushed Adrien she had become accustomed to since she had started coming over every day.

He had been exploring each character in Ultimate Mecha Strike for about an hour when he offered her the controller.

“Would you like a turn?” he asked.

She shook her head, her right hand solidly clenched at her side. “No, I’m good.”

He frowned. “How about one on one? You’ll likely cream me. I’m so out of practice.”

She smiled sadly. “Not anymore.”

His eyebrows furrowed for a second, and then widened when they landed on her hands curled in her lap. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment of silence. “That was incredibly insensitive of me. I… forgot.”

She smiled in genuine warmth. “It’s okay,” she said, and even she was surprised that it was. “It’s nice to know you still think of me as whole.”

His face closed off once again and he turned away.

She didn’t know how to break this awful silence that was filled with his guilt and his pity.

She hated it.

“Maybe you just need to explore a different genre,” Adrien suggested softly as he mercifully started up another round against the computer.

“What do you mean?” she asked, watching the mech avatars on the screen instead of him.

“I mean fighting games are probably really difficult with one hand, but have you tried puzzle or turn based strategy games? Games that don’t require a fast input?”

She pursed her lips. She was definitely not in the mood to explore new titles, but she hadn’t always been into fighting games. “Ever played Of Might and Magic?” she asked, some of the tightness leaving her chest.

“I’ve never even heard of it. Let’s give it a try!”  

Playing through the turn based puzzle game with him was immensely satisfying. They helped one another spot the best combinations and chains. It just felt really good and almost natural to partner with him on something. He just had a knack for knowing exactly what she was thinking and filling in the gaps as needed.

Her mother finally brought home a stack of collage style photo frames, and Marinette was trying to fill them up with photos whenever Adrien napped.

Trying  being the operative word.

The task was beyond frustrating. She struggled to get the little metal tabs up. Even using her almost useless right hand as a counterweight to keep the frames on the floor didn’t much help because her left hand didn’t have the precision that the task required. Her fingers had slid over the sharp pieces so many times it had started to hurt, and then feel numb.

One of the tabs snapped off in her brute like attempt to force it open, and she stared at it in disbelief before frustrated tears sprang to her eyes.

Which was stupid. It was just a picture frame. She had six more!

But it felt like a sign. A sign that nothing she tried to do would ever work out well, would never be worth it. She had defeated Hawkmoth, but lost her partner and destroyed Adrien’s life. And she couldn’t help him either no matter how hard she tried.

She really should forget all this. She could just go find her purse, put on the earrings and be done with everything.

Then things could stop being so hard.

She startled when solid warm arms wrapped around her from behind.

“Marinette, it’s okay,” Adrien whispered.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was okay and it felt like nothing ever would be.

“But I broke it. Maman spent all this money on me and I’m wasting it.” Because Marinette couldn’t earn her own money or take care of herself, let alone anyone else.

“I’m sure she won’t care,” Adrien reassured her.

“I just got frustrated not being able to do it because of my hand. I tried to force it. And I broke it.” The same way she had broken everything.

Sobs convulsed painfully through her body, clogging her throat and twisting her stomach.

“It’s okay,” he said again, rocking her back and forth. “I’m sure she just wants you to be alright.  I want you to be alright, too.”

She leaned back into his chest. It felt good. When she couldn’t see his face, she could close her eyes and pretend he was Chat Noir.

But it was Adrien behind her. She knew that.

Wait! Adrien was behind her. And not in his bed.

She twisted around in his hold.

“You got out of bed!” she observed gleefully, her cheeks still wet from crying.

“It seemed like you needed me,” he whispered, glancing away.

She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you! I know that was, like, impossibly hard.” And she  did know because she struggled with the same thing much of the time.

“Would you like to have lunch at the table?” she asked. “Or I can bring it to the bedroom if you prefer. Whatever you think you’re capable of.”

“Let’s try the table,” he said. And she held his hand and led him to the table.

He glanced around the living space, his gaze lingering on the pillows and floral arrangements on the coffee and dining room table.

“This place looks really great,” he said. “It… it reminds me of your room.”

She blushed. Yeah, her room was looking a little more barren as a result, but seeing the soft smile of gratitude on his face was worth it.

“I'm glad you like it.” She rummaged through the fridge and pulled out an Alya meal for each of them one at a time.

And they ate together at the table for the first time since Adrien had moved into the apartment eight weeks prior.

She liked to think that day had been a turning point for him, but she wasn’t sure because the next day was the hardest day he had in a long while. He wasn’t able to play games or talk. She had to go back to just reading to him.

But the day after, he had gotten up for an hour to help her open all the abandoned picture frames. Four days after that, he asked if they could eat lunch at the table again. A week later, he managed to eat at the table with both her and Nino there at the same time.

Afterwards, when Adrien had gone back to bed, Nino had seized her in a hug.

“You’ve helped him so much! I don’t know how, but thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she objected.

Nino clung to her harder. “But you did. You did.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t have the energy to explain that it was Adrien that had done all the work.

She let Nino rock her back and forth anyway.

[perfectlysunny02]

Chapter Three

Somehow the one bruise had spread into multiple bruises up and down her spine, and the only thing Steve seemed to be able to do was stare in horror.

“Hey Stevie you guys ready? Her appointment is in an hour. Oh my god. What the fuck happened?”

Steve didn’t have the energy to chastise him, his mind only able to focus on his daughter’s back and the way she was leaning into him heavily.

“D-Darling,” Steve cleared his throat, trying to sound calm as to not alarm his daughter. “Darling, does your back hurt?”

Evianna shook her head before slightly reaching for Eddie.

“Up Dad?” Eddie winced as he gently picked her up, worried he would hurt her.

“Stevie-“ Eddie began, Steve cutting him off as he stood up.

“No. Eddie just don’t. Not here. Not in front of our girl.” Steve felt like her bedroom walls were closing in on him and he had to leave. He couldn’t be her parent if he felt this panicked. He just needed a moment. “Here’s the shirt she wanted to wear, I just-I need a moment. I’ll be downstairs.”

Steve was unsure how he got downstairs, his lungs seeming to burn. There was no denying it now. There was definitely something wrong with their girl, and Steve didn’t know how to cope as his mind went to worst case scenarios. Whatever this was it wasn’t good. His girl was exhausted, and there was no way her back didn’t hurt with the amount of bruises she had.

Oh god, it felt like he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t…

“Stevie.” Eddie saying his name finally cut through the ringing of his ears. “Steve, baby, you gotta breathe.”

“Eddie?” He muttered. “W-where’s-“

“Evi is watching cartoons, okay, she’s okay. I’m worried about you right now. You need to breathe.”

“Her back has to hurt, it has too. They’re gonna think we abused her, they’re gonna take our daughter away.”

“No Stevie,” Eddie said. “They won’t. It’ll be okay, take a deep breath.”

Steve dragged in a breath and his lungs could’ve cried with relief.

“That’s it baby,” Eddie rubbed his back. “That’s it baby, you’re okay. She’s okay. We’re okay. Everyone’s okay.”

Steve nodded, trying to convince himself of Eddie’s words.

“You good? Yeah? Come on. Her appointments soon.”

An hour later, and Steve was back in the same place of panic he was this morning, barely able to hear the doctor of the ringing in his ears, his hold tightening on his sleeping daughter.

“Oncologist?” He was barely aware of Eddie asking incredulously. “But that’s like…”

“Cancer,” Steve whispered, before slightly raising his voice. “It’s like cancer Eddie.”

“No,” Eddie said, and for the first time all day, Steve could hear the panic waver in his voice. “Are you saying our daughter has cancer?”

The doctor, Steve had already forgotten her name to be honest, sighed sympathetically.

“Yes. I’m sorry that must be hard to hear, but I’m saying Evianna’s white blood cells are extremely high, the bruises are a big indicator, and you’ve said so yourself, she’s exhausted. I’m sorry Mr. and Mr. Munson-Harrington, your daughter has Leukemia.”

And with that one simple word, Leukima, Steve’s entire world shattered.

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[ariminiria]

Okay, as promised, here is the theory:

I have reason to believe that Engineer Mark is NOT the Actor. I have no solid proof for who he is, other than some wild guesses, but my theory of who he isn’t stems from this amazing theory by @oswinunknown​ that suggests that ISWM is a choose-your-own that has been designed by Darkiplier rather than the Actor. You should definitely go read it, because this theory is the basis of what I’m about to propose, and actually touches on it in Section 1.3!

This post will contain spoilers for all of In Space With Markiplier. You have been warned!

Working off of this theory that Dark is indeed in charge of ISWM, the pieces begin to fall into place.

Timeline

The timeline of the choose-your-owns can definitely get confusing at times. My personal preferred order is:

WKM -> WMW -> Damien -> Markiplier TV -> AHWM -> ADWM

You may be asking, “Where does Space fall on this list? (And what does this have to do with Engineer’s identity?)” Just bear with me for now.

I believe that ISWM is after ADWM in this lineup.

“But Ari, Warfstache just made our interview appointment! That means AHWM is up next in the timeline!”

Allow me to focus on the minutiae of it all for just a moment and I’ll clarify.

If you’ll notice, Wil also tells us not to focus so much on when said interview is happening... could be in the past, could be in the future!

Now you say, “Okay, but that could still be in the future, Wil technically didn’t clarify...”

Which is true, BUT... Allow me to present this:

We recognize Yancy. Not just the other way around.

Just look at our accusatory point! That’s clearly a “You! Yancy! It’s you!” gesture.

This means that we have been through AHWM and know who Yancy is. Therefore, although Warfstache hasn’t done the interview yet, we’ve already been through it. Timey wimey stuff! It’s a Doctor/River Song situation.

Now, I’m gonna shift gears here, but bear with me, and remember this for later!

The Actor

We know who the Actor is. He stole poor Damien’s body and led to the creation of Darkiplier (and our subsequent removal from our own body). He’s the one who led us through Date and Heist. He also popped up in Damien, to taunt said title character with the fact that he needs a villain.

Why?

Because he wants to be the hero of his story. Simple as that.

And we see this consistently throughout Heist and Date. Yes, we make the decisions, but ultimately, we are guided along by Mark or an Ego at our side the whole way. He has a compulsive need to be involved in the story. He is in the spotlight and we are the sidekick along for the ride.

But in ISWM... we’re the hero. And we lose Mark. A LOT. We even spend some time fighting against him. But it’s odd that we’re left alone by him at all, when you think about it.

Another thing - think about Actor’s ego (not the character kind). I personally do not believe that that man would ever apologize or take responsibility for anything. Mark, real YouTuber Mark, has said before that Actor doesn’t even think he’s done anything wrong.

That feeds into why he comes to Damien to ask him to be the villain. He really thinks that Damien will just go along with it, because of course he will! Actor is giving him the chance to be apart of something, why wouldn’t he be ecstatic?!

Now, see here the moment of realization, when the Engineer suddenly understands that it was his fault all along:

This is the face of a man who is capable of recognizing his actions and their impacts on others, and regretting what he has done - aka, not the Actor.

There is a case to be made that perhaps spending an eternity playing the “hero” role actually got to him and made him care, but I don’t see the Actor being so dedicated to the role - especially a role that involves selflessly saving others instead of just his own skin - that he would continue to go through all of that pain just for a part.

So who is he? Again, I don’t know for certain. I just have theories. But, I have a feeling I know where he came from. Which brings us to...

Darkiplier

Every time we’ve encountered Darkiplier, there has been a recurring theme: The lack of choice.

At the very beginning, he used the images of Celine and Damien to trick us into letting him in. Of course, we had a choice, Celine reassured us. But, of course, we only had one way to get back to the world of the living. Not really much of a choice, huh?

We next see Dark in Heist, going by my order from earlier. He appears to us and talks at us the whole time, never giving us an opportunity to even talk back. Then, instead of giving us a choice at all, he boots us back to the beginning to do it all over again.

Finally, he crashes our date.

Now here, he claims he’s going to give us four whole choices! More than Actor ever gave to us... But only one of those choices can actually propel the story forward, the others are false ends. Not to mention, the original plan, according to YouTuber Mark, was to have all four links be to the same video.

Now, Dark says he is “tired of giving people a choice”. Then comes the scene in the real world where we pick one to shoot and go on to an ice cream ending. But that leads us to ISWM. Remember, our earlier deducing places ISWM next in the lineup.

And think about it - ISWM was no real choice. We all went into Part 1 expecting the same thing we got from Date and Heist, but what we got was a single ending. Again, Part 2 rebooted the universe and we expected to finally find some numbered endings! But no... there’s just one ending. The choices are a bottleneck that lead to the same place in the end.

Remember, this is Dark’s puppet show, and he is tired of giving people a choice, so just like in Date, he gives us the illusion that we have all these options, all these possibilities, but really... there’s only one path that we can ever go down.

Now, finally... The end credit scene.

The crystal on the ground. The tip of Dark’s shoe. The hand. The ring. The IMPRESSIVELY controlled aura.

“So much trouble... all for something so small.”

An echo of the line from Heist. Perhaps trying to point us to the fact that the box also had a warp crystal, but I think it has a deeper meaning.

The trouble he refers to is the whole of ISWM as a choose-your-own. It was a lot of trouble for Dark to have to step into the storyteller mantle, the puppet master role that Actor usually fills... all so he could get that crystal. Why? Who knows. Maybe it will be answered in the next project. But it’s clear that Dark served as the operator of this adventure, and he didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as Actor does.

Engineer

So that leaves us with the lad this whole theory is about. Dark is in charge of ISWM, as we’ve established, and he wouldn’t want Actor messing up his plans - so there’s no way he would let him in as a character.

So, my theories on the possible identity?

Engineer could either be what Dark thinks we want from Actor Mark (as shown in Date, where he passed as Mark by acting far more sympathetic to us in the Chocolate Ending), or what Dark himself wishes Actor could be - perhaps a shred of memory from Damien and Celine of the friend they used to know, before the House twisted him. In either of these options, I see this as Dark, or some piece of him being apart of the adventure in the same way that Actor usually is.

Or... Perhaps Engineer is an Ego made by Darkiplier, which interestingly, puts Dark into a similar playing field as Actor. If Actor is guilty of creating and abandoning Egos like toys, well... now Dark is guilty of the same thing. Although, an argument could be made that at least Dark gives Egos (both Mark’s and his own) happy endings - Yancy is up to apply for parole, whereas the Actor made him never want to be free, and Engineer, Dark’s Ego, gets to be saved from his own mistakes and start a new life on the planet with us.

Conclusion?

Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong. To me, the evidence says that Engineer is not Actor, but maybe Mark (actual Mark lol) will completely blast this theory to smithereens in the livestream on Sunday and I’ll look silly for putting in this much thought and effort lol.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading this whole thing! Keep at it, Lore Hunters, let’s see what we can find.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 5 - The Forbidden Technique

One week after the glorious defeat of Rihito, Ohma finally received the fight money, so he wanted to ask Kisara and his new manager, Yamashita Kazuo, to a bar and have a celebratory feast. Not wanting to partake in illegal activities, the girl went on ahead to catch a solo room and waited patiently for the other two to arrive, ordering a cocktail and playing on her phone. Thankfully, they arrived pretty soon after, with the younger one reassuring his manager that 'the money was on its way' and to order at his heart's content - And just then, a knock was heard and Kaede entered through the sliding door. She took quite a thick bulk of money from her suitcase and handed it to Ohma directly.

"Now, don't spend it all in one place, alright?" Akiyama warned the fighter - Why was she concerned about Ohma's spending habits, Kisara wondered with amusement. "Okay, mum." it made the girl let out an exhale of amusement, how snarky he always is.

Before she left, however, Yamashita called after her, asking her to stay for a few drinks, only for his voice to gradually get meeker, seeing the woman's intimidating face. He was far too pure for this world. Ohma was much too busy with his endless amount of meat to munch on, while the other three would get drink after drink after drink. The girls weren't bothered in the least, while the old man had this relatively lecherous look on his face, and his eyes were wandering to unexplored places.

But then, he asked the blonde whether Mr. Nogi mentioned the reason why he appointed him, of all people, to be Ohma's manager. It was a rather interesting question, but apparently, she had no idea whatsoever. Despite having no answers, she had questions - Mainly, why did Ohma want to become a Kengan fighter. "Do I need a reason to fight?" he scoffed cockily, only for the secretary to start blurting numbers - Of fighters, of matches, statistics of each company and their miracle fighters, how many die or retire due to injuries, even saying how, despite getting compensation, it wasn't anywhere close to the career-ending wound they'd get...  "Either you're one hell of a daredevil, or you have some unshakeable purpose. Tokita, given your strength, it would be simple for you to rise to stardom in public MMA, there's no need for you to expose yourself to this dang--" Kaede tried to speak her concerns... Or whatever that was, with a straight face, only for the man in cause to prop his elbow on the table and lean his jaw on his palm, smirking cheekily. "Hey, woman. You seem pretty worried about me. Are you wet for me, or what?" although Kaede got offended, Kisara couldn't help but shake her head - It was typical Ohma to say things like this when it came to fighting and getting possibly underestimated or redirected on another path. "Good grief, I let you talk, and you just go on, and on, and on... Well, alright. I'll answer. I want to prove who's the strongest, that's all. Any other reason than that is just tacked later. They're all lies." he was so confident when he was speaking, it made the red head smile at him, equally confident. "Is that it? You know you might lose your life for it, right?" her face radiated boredom - But that's just how men are, when it came to fighting. They're all like that. She should know. "Not happening, 'cause I'm never gonna lose." that wasn't just blind arrogance, but 100% pure trust in himself. That's the same self-confidence that made Kisara learn how to see herself in another light, a brighter one, a better one. Although Ohma was engulfed in darkness, his intentions were as raw and pure as always. Nodding in understanding, Kaede expressed her understanding of his devotion to fighting, and even said she'll be watching him and see how far he'd come - With him correcting her, saying he'll make it to the top without a doubt - She received a notification on her tablet, saying his next kengan match is in two days. She showed them a picture of a middle-aged man called 'Medicine Man'. "I don't feel anything from this old man." Ohma drank from his water cup, a bored expression plaguing him. "He looks kinda like a creep, if you ask me." Kisara didn't bother hiding her disgust. "How naive. You'll end up burned if you think of Kaburagi as an average middle-aged man. You can never drop your guard. Kaburagi has a record of seven wins and nine losses... If you just look at the numbers, he's just a mid-level fighter, but what's truly terrifying about him is that every single fighter that's fought Kaburagi, whether they won or lost, had been... Incapacitated." she explained, scolding them for underestimating a fighter. "So, he's so weak, he needs to retort to cheating and maybe poison or something. If you think Ohma's going to lose to something as pathetic as that, you're wrong." the other girl rolled her eyes simply. "Well, it's getting late, I must go. Better prepare for the fight." Kaede was the first to get up and leave. "Ohma... Will you be okay? You haven't recovered from your injuries from the fight with Rihito..." Yamashita voiced his concerns as soon as they left the bar. "Those are nothing. Whether the match is in 2 days, or 12 days, it would make no difference. This pace is great. Don't worry, Yamashita Kazuo - I won't lose." Ohma's smirk was enough to erase all of the older man's worries. "Exactly. Kaburagi is a no one among the strong fighters of the Kengan association. If he can beat Ohma, then he doesn't deserve to become a Kengan fighter." Kisara laughed, teasing the man, only to get tripped by him. "Bite your tongue." he scoffed in annoyance at such an implication. "You do it~." Kisara winked at him playfully. "Well... If you think it's going to be okay, then I have faith in you. You're gonna win this too!" the old man got a bit fired up, even fist pumped the air.

Two days from then, Ohma's match was scheduled. As expected, during this time, he only trained his hardest, ate and slept - What an animal. At least he seemed in peak condition, Kisara remarked, as her mind wondered to whether or not she'd be seeing any of her friends that day. Last time, she noticed Wakatsuki, and apparently, Seki was there too, but she didn't notice him. Maybe this time Cos would be there?

Her thoughts were interrupted once her and Ohma met up with Yamashita and Kaede to go towards the secluded venue - The girl and the elderly man, once again, discussed about how much of a fearsome opponent Kaburagi was - The man in cause appeared in front of them, 'greeting' them, or something. Gosh, he's giving her the creeps even more, now that she sees him in real life. She gives him sleazy, greasy, pervert convict vibes. He came to salute Ohma and ask him to go easy on him. "Relax, I won't hurt you too b--" but as he prepared his reply, Kisara was fell into a crouching position, her hands slapped flat over her ears, as she let a small squeak of surprise and pain - She hated sudden, loud noises, especially grating ones like this one - It reminded her of those annoying summer mosquitos that buzz around your ear in the middle of the night. It was awful. Ohma and Kaede seemed to be affected by this too, unlike the old man. "Well, I must be off... See you at the match!" the Medicine man smiled widely and left with a wave of his hand. "Gah, that was awful... Awful..." the red head managed to get back to her feet, giving her partner a pitiful look. "I hate loud noises." "Says the girl who likes to go to the club every Friday night." he scoffed, rubbing his ears absent-mindedly. "That's loud music, not loud noise - Either way... Ohma, be careful, there are a ton of ways noise can be used in a fight. Whether he, or someone from the public, uses it, it's irrelevant, as long as it works." she gave him a warning. "I told you, didn't I? I'm getting nothing from that old guy. I'll be fine." this made the girl nod reluctantly and hurry him towards the Warehouse17, the venue, so she could bandage him up properly for the match. "I trust you. I don't doubt that you'll win, whether that guy cheats or not. I just can't stand that people resort to cheating in a fight where everything but weapons go, you get me? It's supposed to be the conquest of the strongest, not the conquest of cheating." she sighed, a bit bummed that she won't see a proper fight, but more, Ohma playing MMA-Sherlock or something. "Weren't you the one who said - It's your fault for getting tricked, not mine that I tricked you?" he smirked down at her, raising her chin up. "I did. But you know - I'm a hypocrite. I don't agree with it when it happens to the people I care about... Or me, for the matter. Anyone else, I don't care about." she shrugged simply, only to smile and hum lightly - She looked left and right, making sure nobody was around - And then she sprung up, stealing a quick kiss from the man, before turning around and leaving. "I'm gonna bet on you, darling, better win us dinner for the whole month~!" she laughed, waving lazily at him. "Keh. You little vixen. You know I hate bets." thus, Ohma walked back to the fighting area, so the ref could give him a quick pat-down.

The enemy's, however, lasted significantly longer. Taking precautions against the cheater, as they say. It took a while, but sooner rather than later, the match finally began. Although Kisara didn't find anyone at first glance, she didn't mind staying around Kaede, the old man, and Mr. CEO. She watched as Ohma was ready to throw the first punch of the match, only to get stopped by that insanity-driving noise again - Though he didn't react as before, a significant amount of people did... But Nogi and Yamashita didn't. In fact, no older person did, for some reason.

Still, Ohma received quite the blow to the face from this old fatass. Not only one, but two, in fact. It was Nogi who explained that this Aural Attack was really called The Mosquito, and it only worked on the younger people, based on the high-frequency that only the young ones can hear. It was no wonder, then. A subconscious aversion to that sound in his mind. How awful. And the way his eyes were so bloodshot... It must be some kind of poison that may be interfering... Impairing his vision... Two senses down, what's left? The feeling? That animalistic instinct?

Another punch, and even a high-kink were able to get in contact with Ohma, and everyone around was cheering for the old guy. Come on, Ohma, win that dinner already. Don't let a sleazy, greasy perv win so easily. Another kick to his back and even a headbutt. The younger one raised his hands up to his head, with his forearms in a defensive position - It looks like he had a plan. Maybe he was trying to get used to having both his vision and his hearing hindered and find a new way to pinpoint the exact location of the Medicine Man, through all the noise from the Mosquito and the chattering of the watchers.

That disgusting man, as well, was smirking creepily and picked at his wrist - Kisara couldn't see what it was, but it wasn't good. Yamashita was trying to yell out to Ohma, but his voice was too frail. Hers wasn't anymore. The three main rules of Kendo were to have posture, discipline - And a great shouting voice. She had none, at the beginning, but the more she practiced, the better she got. Although finding a way to raise her voice without losing it, being more on the quiet side, naturally  - It was the hardest part of kendo, but after Hatsumi SENpai, as he now likes her to call him, got her to the top of the mountains, he showed her the best way to get rid of all your anger and frustrations.

Yell at the top of your lungs. Shout. Scream. Cry. Wail. Curse.

All worked, as long as you did it, for as long as you had air - And then, even more.

So now...

Kisara stepped behind Kaburagi, who was behind Ohma, ready to strike his cervical spine and paralyse him - She took a deep breathe and shrieked out. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" having such a loud, raw and desperate voice call out and echo throughout the warehouse was enough to stop the chattering for just the right amount of time, so that Ohma can single out the old man and parry his attack.

As the old man jumped high into the air and fell down, ready to hit Ohma's cervical vertebra, the man that was once in defense mode, swung quickly and did a roundkick, throwing his opponent far away. "This crowd was so damn noisy, so it was pretty tough to identify your sound. Way to make to make things easy for me." he was smirking cockily once again. "I went on the defensive to get you to come closer to me. As I was standing, not moving a muscle, I heard a 'sound' suddenly approach me - And that 'assembly of sounds'... Breathing, heartbeats, moving joints... Was you, Medicine man. Identification complete - No more sneaking around for you, you see?" Ohma turned around and faced Kisara from far away, almost as if he knew she was there. No, in fact, he was sure she was there. Damn, that scream was loud, but it sure made it easier for him to pick up Kaburagi's location with that brief silence of the warehouse. As a thanks, he smiled confidently  at her - And she couldn't help but grin with glee. She didn't even bother telling him that Kaburagi was attacking or throwing faints, because he easily blocked and beat him up, all that while his 'attention' was on her.

Trick after trick, after tooth, after shoe, after nails and needles - The old man tried everything, but it was futile, and with one last close punch from Ohma, whose speed was the same as his normal one, Kaburagi forfeited with a cowardly wail. Tokita Ohma was declared the winner, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead, lifting up the sticking seaweed hair from his face, so he could share a look with his partner. Just as before, she stepped in front of him and threw the towel on his head, drying him up. "I told you, didn't I? I never felt anything from that guy. You worry too much sometimes." he scoffed, putting his hand on the top of her head and ruffling up her already messy hair. "Yeah, I do. Got any complaints, Mr. Seaweed Hair? -... Gosh, never mind, I really need to wash that hair of yours, it's starting to look awful." the girl chuckled lightly, happy that the fight was over. "And... See what we can do about your eyes." "At least I know I gotta be careful next time. If it was my name you screamed, who knows what people would have thought I was doing to you." with this comment, he got nudged to the ribs. "Too bad I can't see what cute face your doing right now." "Lucky me." no matter how much she wanted to get mad or pretend she was flustered, that playful smile of his always made her laugh. "Let's go home. I earned enough money to buy you two months worth of food from all the expensive restaurants."

That night, it was peaceful and quiet - Ohma got the champion's treatment, with more food than he could eat for dinner, and a lot of spoiling in the bathroom. He could never understand what she was doing to him, but all those liquids she was using to massage him were able to relax him more than anything - In fact, his sleep was always the best after such a bath and a successful fight.

But the next morning, or probably, somewhere late into the afternoon, he was awoken by the sound of a phone slamming onto the ground. Ohma groaned and turned to the side, and by peering his eyes open just a bit, he saw the image of his partner, crouched to the ground, with a terrified expression on her face, clutching her phone dearly to her ear.

"Pro-Wrestler, you said? D-Don't tell me... Ohma's gonna be fighting Seki?" he could hear her speaking. Yes, sometimes he forgets that she's more familiar with the Kengan world than he is. Maybe she knows this 'Seki' guy, which means, he must be very strong. "But that's not okay at all! He's not a 3rd fight, he's a... A... 30th fight! Or a 300th fight! There's no way..." no way... What? Does she really believe he'd be beaten by some stupid wrestler? How annoying. Her worrying is pissing him off sometimes. "Yeah, I know, Kaede, I know. Fine, in four days, you've got it, I'll tell him. Gosh, I'll kill your boss someday for this. Bye, see you." and she hung up. "I know you're awake. I heard you." she got up, raking her fingers through her hair, as if exhausted and exasperated. Ohma merely reached out his arm to grab her wrist and pull her into his lap. "You think I'll lose, don't you?" he looked sternly at her. "No. It's not that I think you'll lose. It's that... I'm sure you'll get very injured after your fight with Seki, and you haven't even recovered your wounds after the last two. Remember what I said when you got angry at me for not telling you about Kengan before? There are super strong guys up there - And the last thing I want is for you to get thrown into this mess before you're ready, and have to fight the guy up there before you even know what kengan is. Sekibayashi Jun isn't THE #1, admittedly, but he's not a bottom of the barrel like those guys were. Nowhere close. 5 wins is shit. 10 wins is shit. Seki has about 50 wins and no loss. And you know what? Even that is shit, but he compensates for his TV job as a pro-wrestler in the SJPW. You can say he is, by far, the absolute strongest Pro-Wrestler in Japan, so you're against a master. But what about getting thrown against someone who has a pristine record of no less than 300 wins? What then? You have to fight up the ladder, evolve, get better, get stronger, get smarter. Only that way, can you reach your goal of being the strongest. That's why - I didn't want you to fight Seki so fast. He is strong and definitely in the top 10. You'll like that fight, but don't get complacent and arrogant. He's a fantastic actor." she cupped the man's face, making sure he pays attention to her when she's warning him. "Hmm... All I'm hearing is... 'Ohma, be careful! Don't damage that beautiful face, I can't kiss you if your lips are busted!' or something like that." he smirked, flicking her forehead after seeing her roll her eyes. "Admittedly, that too! But, come on, I'm not kidding. I, unlike Kaede and Yamashita, know what's going on around here. I know the fighters. I don't need their records to know who's on the top and who's not. Don't underestimate him." still, her words didn't get any reaction from him. In fact, he seemed to be mock-thinking. He was coming up with some kind of annoyingly witty comeback or something. "Well, you see, Hasashi Kisara - The way I see it, it is I who's on top. What do you see?" with a low chuckle, he rolled her with her back on the couch, towering over her, with that beautiful, washed, fluffy hair of his dangling and tickling at her face. "You. Only you. Forever you." with a tender smile, she reached out her arms and sneaked them around his torso, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Just be careful, please. You do the fighting, I do the worrying. That's how we function, remember?" "Dumbass bookworm." he chuckled, rolling to the side to hold her, kissing her forehead. "Stupid gym rat."

Still, the fighting day came by unnervingly fast, and now, Kisara was watching Ohma facing Sekibayashi, and that height and weight difference was making her want to tear her hair off. Thankfully, she managed to find both Wakatsuki and Cosmo somewhere in the crowd, and she brought them closer - She couldn't bare with Yamashita's awful worrying, she needed real fighters with whom to discuss the fight and find out realistic opinions.

After some words from Seki, typically of the Pro-Wrestler him, the fight began. "He's looking pretty arrogant." Wakatsuki pointed out, watching as the girl was frowning and nodding. "I already told him multiple times not to get fooled by Seki's acting. Now look at him, he thinks he has the upper hand because he got the first punch in -- Ah, ouch. That slam to the ground broke the cement, didn't it? My scoliosis is cringing." the girl sighed, crossing her arms to her chest and digging her fingers into her skin, a bad habit she got whenever she was anxious and could do nothing but watch. "You can't do more than that, Nee-san. After all, it's not you who's fighting -- But I'd really like to spare with you some day!" Cos chuckled cheerfully, making the girl relax a bit and nod. "Take it easy on me, okay? I'm not a pro, I just know how to defend myself." she replied softly, only to see Sekibayashi kick the over 80 kg Ohma like he was a soccer ball, across the venue. She's seen Seki do a few things that she thought could only happen in movies, but was proven otherwise - This was one of them. "Ohma's getting angry, that's not good. Seki's taunting is getting to him." she had to watch him get a few more kick, punches and flips on Seki, only for the bigger one to outright pick him up like he was a ragdoll and slam him into the concrete - The sound of flesh breaking the ground made Kisara cringe and instinctively step backwards - She couldn't look at how broken Ohma looked, but at the same time, she couldn't look away. Get up, stupid gym rat, get up! "Your friend doesn't look too good." Wakatsuki grunted, placing his hand on her shoulder for reassurance, feeling her flinching every time Sekibayashi would pick him up wrestling-style and throw or slam him around as if he was nothing more than a practice puppet. "Oh no, that's the backbreaker. He's done for." Cosmo shook his head in pity - He didn't care about this Ohma guy, fighting was fighting, and fighting meant risks - But even so, he didn't want to be mean in front of the person supporting him. "God damn that idiot... GET THE FUCK UP, YOU STUPID GYM RAT! IS THAT ALL YOU CAN DO?! WAKE UP AND SHOW US WHO'S ON TOP, DAMN IT! SHOW HIM YOU'RE NOT JUST BARKING!" the girl hollered, but was only heard by Sekibayashi - Probably. "Haha, man, you've got such a pretty princess cheering on you, and that's all you can do? How pitiful! Guess I can steal that pretty princess now!" even though Ohma was unconscious, The Great Seki's pro-wrestling show continued. "What was that sound?" Cosmo gasped in confusion, looking around for the source of the noise. "Look -" Wakatsuki pointed at the shocked Sekibayashi, whose fingers were all bent and twisted. Ohma was out of his grasp, and was pounding him repeatedly. "He looks different, and his fighting style is different. He got faster."  "... I've never seen him fight like this before." Kisara muttered, watching attentively at the change. "He's forcing his opponent backwards... Seki is almost double his weight. How can he do that..?" although she said that, Seki was finally beginning to step forward, despite the relentless barrage of hits from the brunet. "He's pretty awesome! He's putting out just as much power as Sekibayashi!" Cosmo seemed to get impressed, unlike his senpai, who was focused. "No, that's not power. It's Torque." as both of his younger companions looked at him in confusion, he began explaining.  "Isn't that like opening a bottle cap or turning a stirring wheel? The physics-force that makes objects rotate around their axis?" Kisara asked, remembering her lessons. "Textbook answer, yes. But you think the speed or power increased, don't you? It's actually his velocity. You know what 'Force' means, textbook-wise, don't you?" Wakatsuki asked, and while Cosmo smiled wryly, Kisara answered. "Force is Mass and Acceleration multiplied. Basic Physics. Are you trying to say that, with the same power, by amp-ing up his speed, that power will be felt multiplied?" she asked, watching the man non slightly. "If your mass remains constant, then naturally, your striking power will rise relative to your velocity. In addition, by increasing his speed, he can overwhelmingly increase the number of punches he throws, which results in an increase in 'Torque'." if she thought Ohma would be a great Physics teacher, Wakatsuki was a Physics master. "I want to laugh and ask you to be my teacher, but I'll do that after the match. You're going to ask what's this new-found source of power, don't you?" Kisara looked up at the man, and they seemed to have an almost telepathic connection. "I think it's his heart. The heart is the core of everything. His blood vessels are all suffering from ectasia, you can see them popping over his muscles - The heart pumps blood thanks to three structures, with the main one being the Sinoatrial Node - If Ohma's heart goes even beyond the rated of normal  tachycardia, for a prolonged amount of time, there will be no electric shock to keep the heart going, being the heart will fail. Once the Sinoatrial Node fails, the electric shocks will be created by the Atrio-Ventricular Nodule, which does about the same thing, but at a slower, weaker rate - If Ohma's heart keeps getting pushed at the same rate, this Nodule will fail, and with that, there's only the HIS fascicle and the Purkinje web that will keep it still functional - But they're incredibly weak, so they won't keep up with all this... Which means cardiac failure, and with that, the blood will stop going anywhere, which means all cells will die of anoxia... Well. Death. That's what it means." Kisara bit her lip hard, chewing on it anxiously. "Whoa, spoken like a true doctor!" Cosmo was pretty fascinated by the fancy words used. "I think you're right. In his first fight, he was methodical and tactical - Now he looks aggressive like a wild animal with no control." saying that, they watched Sekibayashi grab Ohma's head and deliver a head but, before jumping and double-hitting him in the torso. However, one more clash - And Ohma did something that made Seki fall to the ground with a great gasp. Something that ultimately broke two of his fingers. "Did he just...?!" Cosmo seemed to be looking very shocked. "Yeah. The son of a bitch cut off his 'supply'." Wakatsuki explained. "What - ? You mean he hit his windpipe and stopped his air intake?!" Kisara asked, matching Cosmo's surprise - But she didn't wait until either of them replied, for as soon as Ohma was declared the winner, she sprinted in front of her beaten and battered up partner, who still managed to show a weak smile at her and his cheering manager.

"I thought you'd be matchin' pops in his cheerin'." he teased the girl, watching as she carefully grabbed his injured hand and put his fingers in their rightful position, bandaging them tightly. "Cheer? Cheer for what?!" her jaw was set - She was worried, he realised, and didn't calm down. Admittedly, he did get beaten up worse than she has seen before. "Not only did you get beaten to a bloody pulp... But you didn't win." didn't win...? "At least, not in the way you'd wish for. Total annihilation." she corrected herself, keeping a tight grip on his fingers. "What do you...?" but before she could answer, chatter started going on around everyone's ranks. Kisara turned back to look at Wakatsuki, questioning him with her looks, and he answered with a nod at the old man that entered the venue, before giving a thumbs up -  "That's -- Chairman Katahara?!" she gasped - What the hell was he doing here?! And his two monster bodyguards were walking right behind him.  "That doesn't matter, does it? Politics don't interest me. What did you mean by not winning?!" he was a bit agitated by that remark - Simply, Kisara raised her arm and pointed towards Sekibayashi. It seems Ohma didn't sense that his opponent was already standing up straight, for he turned, his eyes widened. "Hahaha! I see you've got a keen eye for the show, just as always, little princess!" the wrestler laughed boastfully. "Now you see what I mean, Ohma?" she muttered, letting go of him. It would be improper to do anything but pay attention to this war of politics or words. "Well, he's quite something, I'll give him that. I never thought I'd actually lose... Well, you win. For today." he said that, though he barely has any damage on his body. "Hohoho... So he has THE Sekibayashi's stamp of approval - I suppose he must be the real deal. I suppose that settles it then, right, Shikano?" the chairman praised, yet his voice seemed to hold a mocking undertone. "Yes. I admit defeat, Mr. Nogi. As the losing party, Gandai Inc. will endorse Nogi Group's proposal... Of a resolution to hold a 'Contest for the Kengan Association Chairman's Seat'." Kisara, as well as many others, couldn't help but gasp - A Kengan Tournament?! That's insane!

The old man Katahara held an incredible pressure, but Nogi wasn't one to back down. That means... Whoever it is that will reach the top, will have to fight 'The Fang'... And now, Kisara was really scared. He was the #1 of all the fighters all over the world. If Wakatsuki was strong, The Fang was beyond any definition that the word 'Strong' can come up with. There are only two people that Kisara could see, possibly going equal with that guy, and those were Wakatsuki and Hatsumi. Other than that... No one comes to her mind.

She turned to look at her two friends - Wakatsuki seemed to be anxious to beat the one that defeated him, he was aching to be given that opportunity again... While Cosmo was blindingly excited. He may have 20 or so matches, and all won, but there no way a kid like him would even serve as a warmup for THE Fang.

"This is perfect." Ohma was grinning widely, radiating with a kind of darkness and anticipation that only someone with a strong desire to get revenge or something similar would have. "This is horrible." Kisara, on the other hand, knew that there will be one hell of a job, keeping Ohma alive during this tournament... One way or another.

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[watchmegetobsessed]

POSITIVE

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a sebastian fic and the time has officially come! here is some cute soon-to-be-dad!sebastian just for you!

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

word count: 1.3k

This fic is part of the LITTLE ONE series, but can be read as a simple oneshot as well! Find the masterpost of the series HERE!

masterlist

(gif is not mine)

You shouldn’t be this nervous, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You don’t even think Sebastian would take the news in a bad way, if anything, he is going to be thrilled, that’s for sure. But for some reason you’re still scared to tell him. Probably because it’s not how you planned it, not now at least. It’ll change your upcoming plans, but it’s not the end of the world and you know he’ll be happy about it. Maybe it’s just the nerves, because you haven’t even gotten used to the thought of being pregnant yourself.

It’s been only a few days since you found out, Sebastian has been away this past week and you didn’t want to go to the doctor’s without him, so you only have a handful of positive tests, but those all came back undeniably positive so you don’t have much doubt about it.

He texted you not long ago that he just touched down and he would be home soon, he is picking up dinner on his way and now you’re just anxiously waiting for him, trying to figure out how to tell him. At first you wanted to do something special, but you’re not too good at making up plans like this so you decided to just tell him without any fuss about it. But you can’t seem to find the right words now that you’re thinking about what you should even say.

You hear his keys jingling in the lock and your heart skips a beat as you jump to your feet from the couch.

“Hi baby!” he calls out as you make your way to the hallway where he is standing with his suitcase, backpack and a big paper bag from your favorite diner nearby.

“Hi!” you breathe out, feeling a little sentimental to see him again even though he was only away for a week. You’ve went without seeing each other for even two months before, this was nothing compared to that, but still, you are so happy he is back.

“Hey there, missed me?” he chuckles when you throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly as his arms circle around your waist as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, the familiar scent of his cologne filling your nostrils.

“Always,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his skin before leaning back, eyes meeting his bright gaze, the wrinkles running from the corners of his eyes because he is smiling at you widely.

“I missed you too, baby. Brought your favorite,” he hums, loosening his hold around you as he holds up the paper bag.

“Because you’re the best,” you smile at him, taking the food from him as he grabs his suitcase and rolls it into the bedroom, leaving the unpacking for later. You set the dining table for two, unpacking everything he brought while you’re chewing on your bottom lip, trying to figure out how to bring up the big news.

Walking out of the bedroom Sebastian hugs you from behind, his hands slipping under your shirt to the bare skin of your stomach and you almost gasp at the feeling.

Can he feel any change?

It’s a stupid question, nothing can be seen just yet, the baby is as small as a raisin, there’s no way he noticed anything.

“I’m gonna get the drinks,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple before walking to the fridge, grabbing two bottled beers for the dinner and you open your mouth seeing the alcoholic drinks, making him stop in his tracks. “You want something else?”

“I…” You take a deep breath, it’s a now or never moment. ���Sit down, let’s talk,” you tell him with a soft smile and he nods, but you can see the suspicion in his eyes.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you nod as the two of you sit at the table and you take one of his hands, playing with the ring you bought him for your latest anniversary not long ago. You’ve been dating for over three years now and though it didn’t start as easy and unproblematic as it should have, people judged the two of you for the ten year age gap, but eventually it died down when they realized it’s not as weird as it might seem. You knew he is the perfect man for you the moment you met him at a bar when you were out with a few friends. The bartender mixed up your drinks at the bar and that’s how you started talking. He didn’t hesitate to ask for your number and you had your first date the next day right away. The rest is history, now you’ve been living together for almost a year and you’re happier than ever.

“I have something to tell you,” you start, talking slow and a little hesitantly.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” he asks, knitting his eyebrows together as he examines you with worry all over his face.

“Yes. Or… I hope so,” you add with a nervous chuckle. Letting go of his hand you walk to the console table under the TV and pulling out the top drawer you grab one of the positive tests hidden in there. Walking back to Sebastian you just simply place it in his open palm and intently watch his face as it turns from puzzled to shocked and wide-eyed. His head shoots up when he processes what it is, lips parted and his beautiful blue eyes are slowly watering while your nervous smile is widening at his reaction.

“Is this for real?” he asks in a whisper and you nod your head.

“I took a couple of tests, but I wanted to wait for you to go to the doctor’s. But all my tests came back positive.”

“Oh my God! A baby!” he chuckles, a tear running down his cheek as he wraps you in his embrace, holding you tighter than ever, kissing you wherever he can reach you; your shoulder, cheeks, temple, forehead and lastly, your lips.

“I know this wasn’t how we planned, but I hope it’s not an entirely bad timing,” you add while your tears start falling from your eyes as well, arms around his neck as he sways you from side to side.

The baby talk has already come up several times and the two of you agreed to try to keep yourself to a kind of schedule. Sebastian has two filmings coming up in the next six months and you also hinted that you’d like to at least get engaged before starting a family. He seemed to get the message and you have a feeling he has been planning to propose on your birthday that’s coming up next week, but now you got a little ahead of everything with the baby.

“Love, it’s never a bad timing,” he chuckles, kissing you again shortly. “We can make it work, it’s going to be just fine. I’ll try to mess around with my schedule to finish sooner but even if I can’t, I’ll still be done with work before the little one arrives,” he explains and your heart is so full seeing him so excited about it all. Suddenly, you feel so silly for thinking even for a second that he wouldn’t be happy about the news. You knew he wants it to happen, it just came a little sooner than you expected, that’s all.

“I have an appointment booked for tomorrow with my doctor,” you tell him sheepishly.

“Can I come?” he asks with bright eyes, taking your face in his hands as he grins at you like crazy.

“Of course!” you chuckle nodding. “I wouldn’t even go without you.”

“Oh God, I’m so excited!” he cheers, lifting you up from the ground, spinning around as you hold onto him laughing. “I love you so much, baby. So, so much!” He starts kissing you all over your face, leaving your lips last, but when he gets there, he kisses you with so much passion, he sweeps you right off your feet.

“I love you too,” you mumble against his lips, feeling happier than ever in your life.

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