#i really wanted to do all four prompts okay

[godsfavdarling]

How does that feel?

my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You've been having a hard time finishing in bed and you finally tell Spencer what's going on. words: 4,4k warnings: smut - oral (fem! receiving), breast/nipple play, unprotected sex (don't do that) a/n: this was a request! also, i've stared at this thing for so long i don't know anymore what's going on, but i hope yall like it <3

You sat at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by your closest friends - Penelope, Emily, and JJ. The four of you had met up for a much-needed girls' night out to finally have a chance to unwind and catch up. 

"Can you believe the latest case we worked on?" JJ said, shaking her head. "Sometimes it feels like we're living in a crime novel."

"Tell me about it," Emily agreed. "But PLEASE! Let’s not talk about work. I need to decompress."

Penelope raised her glass. "To decompressing! And to… friends!"

You all clinked glasses, smiling at each other. Very quickly the conversation shifted towards more personal topics.

"So, how are things with Will?" Emily asked, turning to JJ.

JJ smiled. "Things are great, actually. We're planning a little getaway next month, just the two of us. What about you, Em? Any romance on the horizon?"

Emily shrugged. "I'm enjoying the single life right now. Besides, it’s not easy to find love having this job. When am I supposed to do that?"

Penelope grinned. "Don’t you worry about it, pumpkin! You’re gonna find someone soon. I can feel it in my bones!."

The conversation continued in this vein for a while, each of you sharing updates about your romantic lives. You listened and laughed along, but Penelope's observant eyes caught the slightly distant look on your face.

"Alright, spill it," Penelope prompted, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's been going on with you lately? You've seemed a bit off."

You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. These were your friends, after all, and you knew you could trust them. "It's just... I've been having a hard time finishing in bed lately. It's been… really frustrating."

Emily raised an eyebrow, her expression sympathetic. "Have you talked to Spencer about it?"

You shook your head. "Not yet. I mean, I want to, but I don't want to make him feel bad or think it's his fault. He's always so attentive, and I don't want him to think he's doing something wrong. And he’s not doing anything wrong. He’s perfect. Obviously."

JJ leaned in, her voice gentle. "Hey, communication is key. Spencer loves you, and I'm sure he’d want to know what's going on so he can help. I’m sure his big brain knows exactly what to do."

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be an opportunity to explore new things together… Sometimes all it takes is a little experimentation."

You smiled, feeling a bit more encouraged. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll talk to him."

-------------------------------------

Later that evening, you found yourself back at home, sitting on the couch next to Spencer. He was engrossed in a book, the dim light casting soft shadows across his focused face. He set the book aside when he noticed your pensive expression, concern immediately clouding his eyes.

"Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest. "Spence, there's something I need to talk to you about."

He turned to face you fully, his full attention on you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Of course. What is it?"

You hesitated, your fingers twisting in your lap as you searched for the right words. Finally, you decided to dive in. "Lately, I've been having a hard time finishing in bed. It's been really frustrating for me, and I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want you to feel bad."

Spencer's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding and concern. His mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but he hesitated, clearly processing what you had just revealed. "Oh…”

You immediately regretted saying anything. It wasn't the end of the world, after all. You still enjoyed sex but just couldn't reach the high. Maybe you were just too stressed. 

It had nothing to do with Spencer. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as Spencer seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed as he tried to find the right words. Why would he know what to say? You felt like you were just making things difficult.

“Forget it. It’s fine,” you said quickly, trying to dismiss the conversation and spare him the discomfort.

“No, no, no, wait,” he said, reaching out and grabbing your hands as you started to stand up. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you. “It’s okay. I’m glad you told me. I just… how did I not notice? I… I’m just trying to remember, well, I remember everything and I just… I can’t believe I… couldn’t tell.”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I didn’t want you to know. It’s embarrassing.” Your voice wavered, and you looked away, feeling tears start to spill down your cheeks.

“No, it’s not. It’s not embarrassing. I want you to feel good.”

“It does feel good. Always. I just… I don’t know. I just can’t cum. It’s like I get almost there and it feels good, but it never happens.” At this point, you were crying openly, the frustration and embarrassment overwhelming you.

Spencer pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and steady beat of his heart. He rubbed your back soothingly, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. "Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out together. I want to help."

You clung to him, feeling the weight of your frustration starting to lift just a little. "I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to think it was your fault."

Spencer pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with love. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault. Sometimes these things happen. What’s important is that we’re in this together. We can try new things, we can talk and see what works for you.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. “Okay. I’d like that.”

“Good,” he said, smiling gently, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek. “We’ll take it slow and explore together. Your pleasure is important to me, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re satisfied.”

As you snuggled into his arms, the tension slowly easing from your body, you wondered why you had been so scared to tell him in the first place. Spencer always knew what to say, always knew how to make you feel safe and loved. 

This was Spencer - your Spencer - and you realized you had nothing to fear.

-------------------------------------

Spencer was clearly waiting for you to initiate anything, respecting your pace and comfort. In the meantime, he very carefully tried to understand you.

Despite his constant reassurances that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that he was more than happy to figure this out together, you couldn't shake the lingering embarrassment about your problem. He was understanding and supportive, trying to create a safe space for you to open up about your frustrations.

You spent several nights just talking, diving deep into the details of your intimate experiences. Spencer approached it with a mix of curiosity and determination, asking thoughtful and sometimes probing questions. 

You discussed every position you'd tried before, analyzing what felt best and why. You talked about your feelings toward toys and whether they might help. 

Spencer inquired about foreplay - whether it felt too short, too long, too intense, or not intense enough. He wanted to understand what was most pleasurable for you in terms of finishing. Was it when he was eating you out, fingering you, or through penetration? Or did you find that a combination of these was most satisfying? 

He also asked if you enjoyed it when he talked to you during the act. What were your favorite things for him to say? 

He wanted to understand everything about your experiences. What went through your mind when you masturbated? What kind of porn did you watch? Each question, while sometimes making your face flush with embarrassment, was asked with genuine care and focus. 

Spencer treated it like a meticulous scientific research project, aiming to solve the problem with the utmost care and attentiveness. His dedication and focus made you feel deeply cared for, as he was on a mission to be the one to help you find the satisfaction you deserved.

On Saturday night, you and Spencer lay in bed with your books, enjoying the quiet comfort of each other's company. He was engrossed in a thick classic novel in a foreign language, while you were absorbed in your favorite author’s new romance. The plot had just reached the point where the two protagonists had sex for the first time. The scene stirred something deep within you, making your skin feel hot and your heart race. You bit your lip, trying to concentrate, but your thoughts kept drifting.

As the scene ended, you finally allowed yourself to look over at Spencer. He was completely lost in the pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Having problems, genius?” you teased, your voice carrying a playful edge.

“What? No!” he replied, not even looking up from the words on the page. “How’s your romance? Is it good?”

“Oh... it’s very good,” you said, scooting closer to him, propping your head on your hand. Finally, he looked at you, curiosity mingling with his usual attentiveness.

“What is it?” he asked, sensing your change in mood.

“Nothing,” you replied with feigned innocence, placing your hand on his chest. 

His eyes stayed on you, studying your expression. Your breathing grew heavier as you stared at his neck, unable to hold back any longer. You lowered your face to the side of his neck, your lips brushing against his skin.

Spencer's breath hitched slightly, and he set his book aside, his attention fully on you now. "Are you sure it's nothing?" he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

You smiled against his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Well, maybe it's something," you admitted, your voice a whisper. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his chest, feeling a now quicker beat of his heart beneath your touch.

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “Tell me,” he urged softly, his eyes filled with desire.

The room felt charged with electricity. 

“Well… I was just reading this scene… where, you know… the girl and the boy finally fucked. On the floor. It made me think of us.” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

“You want to have sex on the floor?” Spencer asked with a serious tone.

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “No, too many germs,” you said with a playful grin.

Spencer chuckled, his eyes softening with affection. “Alright, not on the floor then,” he said, his voice low and inviting as his hand gently caressed your cheek. “But I get the idea.”

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding with anticipation. “I just want to be close to you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone.

Spencer's eyes darkened with understanding, and he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft yet insistent. “Then let’s explore that together,” he whispered against your lips, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip, pulling you closer.

His kiss was deep, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that sent shivers down your spine. 

His hand, now resting on your hip, guided you closer, pressing your bodies together. 

You instinctively rubbed your thighs together, seeking some friction, and Spencer, ever observant, immediately noticed. It seemed impossible for him to be more attentive, yet somehow he was. 

With a gentle but deliberate motion, he turned you so that you were lying on your back beneath him. As he shifted, you felt the press of his already hard cock against your core, making you lift your hips slightly, yearning for more contact.

“We’re gonna take things slow, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “I want you to feel good.”

You wanted him, you wanted him now, but you understood his approach. 

After all the endless conversations, you and Spencer had reached a few conclusions about what worked best for you both. 

For one, you often found yourselves too excited, mostly you, to slow things down. Foreplay, though it was present, had usually been quite brief due to the intense need to get naked and feel him inside you. So, longer foreplay became a new priority.

Two, you discovered that you felt most connected when he was close to you, every part of his body touching yours.

Three, you both agreed on the importance of more kissing. Spencer had given you what felt like a comprehensive college level lesson on erogenous zones, emphasizing the need to focus on and cherish these areas. 

His lips, his touch, his breath - every aspect of physical intimacy was to be savored and explored in greater depth.

With these insights in mind, Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. His hands roamed your body with a slow, deliberate grace, each touch designed to explore and stimulate. 

His kisses traveled from your lips to your neck, then lower, each movement a careful balance of passion and tenderness.

He paused to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with both love and a hint of playful mischief. “Ready for us to take our time?” he asked, his voice a soothing murmur.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and relief. “Let’s take our time.”

Your nipples were already hard against your tank top, the fabric offering little barrier to the stimulation. Spencer grazed the side of your breasts with his hands, his touch both teasing and tender. 

As his lips kissed and nuzzled your collarbones, his thumb began to circle your nipple through the thin material of your shirt. The sensation made you shiver with pleasure, and you melted further into his touch.

His leg, now firmly pressed between your thighs, rubbed gently against your inner thighs and core. The pressure of his length pressed into your hip, amplifying the heat building in you.

“Please, take it off,” you whispered, your voice quivering with need.

“Take off what?” Spencer murmured, his face still buried in your chest, his hair brushing against your face with every movement.

“My shirt. Please,” you pleaded, a hint of desperation in your voice.

He chuckled softly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he slid his hands lower, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He showered your exposed skin with soft kisses, his lips warm and affectionate against your belly. 

As you reached for the hem of your shirt, you quickly pulled it off, tossing it aside.

“What happened to taking things slow?” Spencer asked, looking up at you with a teasing grin, his chin resting against your stomach.

“Sorry,” you said, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t be,” he replied with a smile. “I just want to make sure you feel really good.”

“I do,” you whispered, your voice filled with need. “Keep going.”

“Whatever you say, angel,” he murmured with a soft chuckle.

With that, Spencer moved between your legs, lifting them and resting them on his shoulders. He positioned himself comfortably, and you felt the anticipation rise as his face moved closer to your core. 

He inhaled deeply, his breath warm against your sensitive folds, making you whimper in response.

“Please,” you begged softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, pulling down your underwear with careful, deliberate motions. He started with a gentle kiss on your nub, his lips exploring with a tenderness that made you gasp. 

He then trailed his kisses down to your thighs, peppering them with soft, teasing pecks. The sensation was delightful, and you giggled, placing your hand on his cheek.

He turned his mouth to your hand, kissing the inside of your palm before taking it in his hand and guiding it back to rest gently beside you. His fingers lingered, his touch warm and reassuring as he held your hand. 

He then looked at your cunt.

“You’re already so wet. For me?” he asked, his voice filled with both awe and desire.

“For you? Always,” you replied, your breath hitching.

He chuckled against you, the sound and the vibration making you shiver. “Don’t do that,” you said with a laugh, trying to steady your breathing.

“Sorry,” he murmured with a playful tone. 

Before you could say anything more, he gave you a long, slow lick from your entrance to the top, his tongue moving with a deliberate slowness. He stopped at your sensitive nub and began to suck gently, his mouth working with a rhythm that made you arch your back and moan in pleasure.

Spencer’s mouth was a world of sensation against you. 

He kept going with long, languid licks, his tongue gliding from your entrance to the top of your sensitive nub. Each stroke was deliberate, exploring every inch with a careful, loving precision. 

The warmth of his tongue, combined with the perfect pressure, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you gasp and moan.

You felt your breath quicken as his movements became more focused. 

He moved his tongue in quicker, teasing circles around your clit, his mouth creating a constant, delightful friction. 

You squirmed under the intensity, your hips instinctively bucking in response.

When you no longer felt him on your clit, a desperate cry for him almost escaped your lips. But then, he gently slipped his tongue inside you, and a wave of relief and pleasure washed over you. 

He moved with precision, his tongue exploring deeper while maintaining the steady, teasing motions that drove you wild. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to elicit the maximum pleasure from you.

His nose brushed against your folds and clit with each movement, adding an extra layer of sensation. The combination of his tongue inside you and the gentle pressure of his nose against your most sensitive spot made you tremble. 

Your hand clutched at the sheets, your body arching toward him, seeking more.

You could feel the build-up of tension and ecstasy swelling inside you.

Through all of this, Spencer held your hand firmly in his, his fingers intertwined with yours. 

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you squeezed his hand tightly, your fingers gripping his with a mix of desperation and pleasure. 

Spencer responded by tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, his touch soothing and intimate amidst all the intense sensations he was creating.

With a final, expert flick of his tongue, he sent you spiraling into a powerful climax. 

Your body tensed and then released in a wave of pleasure, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued his slow, consistent movements, savoring every moment of your release.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, he slowly eased his mouth away, leaving soft, lingering kisses along your inner thighs. 

His hand remained clasped with yours, and he looked into your eyes from between your thighs, his expression a mix of content and desire. “Wanna keep going? We can stop if you need to.”

You shook your head, a determined glint in your eyes as you pulled yourself up and crushed into him, pressing your lips against his with an almost desperate intensity. 

The kiss was fervent, your tongues dancing together, both urgent and consuming as you tasted yourself on his lips and on his tongue. He was covered in you.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your back, his touch warm and gentle, but firm at the same time.

Tonight felt different. It was more intense, more electric. 

As your kiss grew deeper, you moaned into him, the sound mingling with his own soft groans of pleasure. With a deft maneuver, he turned you so that you were straddling him, his hands firmly on your hips.

“Is this okay?” he managed to ask, his voice a low rumble as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. The effort it took to break the kiss was evident, his breaths heavy and laden with desire.

“Yes,” you responded quickly, your need palpable as you crashed your lips back onto his, kissing him even harder. 

“Baby, slow down,” Spencer said softly, though his voice was tinged with longing. “We were meant to go slow.”

You moved your lips to his cheek and jaw, leaving a trail of kisses that were tender but laced with urgency. “I need you. I need you so bad,” you whispered against his skin, the words laced with an aching desire.

Spencer gently cupped your face, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your jawline. He guided your gaze to meet his.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise and his eyes filled with affection “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. We have all night and even more.”

He leaned in and kissed you with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of moments before. 

“How do you do it?” you asked breathlessly, your curiosity blending with the haze of desire. You wondered, as you looked into his eyes, how he managed to maintain such control over himself amidst all the passion.

“What?” Spencer’s voice was a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“Stop yourself,” you clarified, your voice barely above a whisper. “How do you manage to hold back?”

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s not about holding back,” he said, his voice calm and sincere. “It’s about making sure you feel good. I want this to be perfect for you, for us, every time. That’s what matters.”

His words stirred something deep within you, and you were hit by a wave of warmth and appreciation. As he leaned in to kiss you again, the tender, loving nature of his touch gave you goosebumps.

“Can we fuck now?” you asked, your voice husky with need.

Spencer looked at you with a warm, eager smile. “Yes. Yes, we can,”

You gave his cock a few teasing strokes, feeling the way he reacted, his breath hitching as he moaned softly into your shoulder. You slowly guided him to your entrance. 

The sensation of him pressing against you was both thrilling and comforting, a familiar solace you will never get tired of and always makes your world shudder.

With a gentle, deliberate motion, you positioned him at your core, and you slowly lowered yourself onto him. 

The gradual stretch and the way he filled you completely was exquisite, causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths softly. 

You took your time, savoring each inch, feeling every subtle shift and movement.

Spencer’s hands were steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you as you adjusted to his size. His breaths were heavy, matching the rhythm of your movements. 

The room was filled with only the sound of your shared pleasure, a mix of gasps and moans.

As you slowly rode him, the rhythm of your movements became more synchronized, each motion building both of you up to the peak. 

Spencer’s hands were not idle - he moved with purpose, his touch exploring every inch of your body with a deep, loving attentiveness.

One hand continued to support you around your lower back, while the other trailed up to your breasts. His fingers began to play with your nipples, gently pinching and rolling them as you moved. 

That was one thing you had confessed to him during one of your intimate conversations, and Spencer had clearly taken it to heart. You had shared with him how much you loved when he played with your breasts, revealing, a bit embarrassed, the deep pleasure it brought you.

“How does that feel?” he asked in between the kisses he left on your neck, his voice a husky whisper against your skin.

“Fuck,” was all you managed to say, a breathless gasp that made him chuckle, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire.

He massaged your breasts tenderly, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, adjusting his touch to match the rhythm of your thrusts. His lips covered every inch of your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

The combination of his hands on your breasts, the feeling of him inside you, and his lips on your skin was overwhelming. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Spencer’s breath came in ragged gasps, his groans of pleasure mingling with yours. His hands worked skillfully, keeping your nipples sensitive and aroused as your movements became more frantic and desperate. Then his eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of concentration and passion evident in his gaze.

While you stared into his brown eyes, he finally teased your nipple with a light lick of his tongue. 

You almost screamed. 

He started kissing it while his other hand worked on your other breast, his mouth hot and insistent. His tongue traced circles around your hard peak, sending shivers down your spine, while his slim fingers squeezed the other one.

At that point, you screamed into his ear, unable to contain the intensity of your pleasure.

“Sorry,” you whispered, your voice a trembling apology.

“It’s okay. You’re so beautiful,” he replied, his eyes softening with affection as he looked at you, his hands never ceasing their tender ministrations. His words and touch combined, making you feel cherished and desired in every way and that made your heart swell.

His lips returned to your other nipple, sucking and teasing it with more insistence now.

Finally, the pressure inside you reached its peak. 

With a gasp and a shudder, you came, the wave of ecstasy crashing over you while his lips stayed on your breasts peppering them with kisses.

Your body tensed and then relaxed as you rode out the climax, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued to stroke your breasts gently, his touch both soothing and stimulating as he guided you through the final throes of your orgasm.

As you slowly came down from the high, you leaned your head against his, your fingers gently threading through his hair, the other arm wrapped around his neck. He held you close, his hands now lingering on your back with a soft, affectionate touch. 

He squeezed you tightly, turning his face to kiss your neck, which elicited one more moan from your lips. 

You could feel him smiling against your skin as he squeezed you tightly one more time.

[suugarbabe]

Unexpected | m.r x reader

prompt: Hii! How are you? This is my first time sending an ask and I just wanted to say that I love your writings! May I ask for a enemies to lovers with Mattheo Riddle? The reader is from the golden trio and they get into an argument with a lot of chemistry and tension. Thank you and I'm sorry for my bad english.

maybe enemies to lovers, like they hate each other and then realize that they are soulmates and then have to figure out what to do. some angst but ends i fluff please 

word count: ~3.8k

warnings: slight angst feeling, fluff, e2l, soulmate trope, some heavy petting

an: so there's no argument like the prompt asks (sorry) but when I started writing it just kind of flowed out this way so hopefully it's still okay.

“Go on, show us again,” Ron Weasley was shaking a turkey leg in your general direction, asking to see the words that appeared on your arm this morning. In the wizarding world, on the day you were going to properly meet your soulmate, the first sentence they speak to you, excluding their name, will appear on your forearm in their handwriting. 

It was incredibly annoying to you that Ron and Hermione got this mess out of the way the first day on the bloody train. To your and Harry’s amusement, neither were originally excited about the match, but after the chaos that ensued for the four of you by the end of that year they were inseparable. Nothing brings two people closer than tragedy. 

Things got even more frustrating for you when Harry and Ginny realized they were soulmates, leaving you the lone wolf in your foursome. Entering your sixth year this year you were hopeful that maybe you would finally be able to find out who your soulmate was, roughly three fourths of those leave Hogwarts knowing who they’re intended to be with, and you would rather Avada Kadavera yourself then leave your seventh year soulmateless. 

You grabbed the sleeve of your jumper, tugging it up to your elbow, sticking your arm out in the middle of the table for your three friends to view. There on your arm read a singular sentence, do I intimidate you, love?

Hermione sat back on the bench, “His handwriting really is awful, whoever he is.” You scoffed at your friend, “Not exactly my biggest concern, Mione. More worried about why he thinks he would intimidate me? Who would even think that? By this point in our school life you’d think any of us were more intimidating than the majority of the student body.” 

“Yeah, except Slytherin,” Harry snorted, Ron following with his own round of laughter. But you weren’t laughing, you were looking at Hermione who was sporting the same grimace and worried eyes that you were sure your face looked like. 

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then looked at the two of you. “It was a joke, y/n/n,” Harry tried to ease the tension that was building. “Yeah, I mean, y’don't really think your soulmate might be…one of them,” Ron was anything but subtle with his tone of disgust, as well as his entire body turning around to face the Slytherin table. 

Ron’s actions didn’t go unnoticed by a particular group of Slytherin boys. “Staring problem, Weasley? Got a crush?” Malfoy shouted across the dining hall, earning laughs and teasing hollars from his friends. 

“Oi, Malfoy, got a present for you,” you stuck your hand in your school bag, pretending to roam around before pulling your hand back out and lifting it high in the air, giving Malfoy the middle finger. His face immediately turned into a scowl. The boy next to him, however, pretended to catch your gesture in the air and put it in his pocket, winking at you in the process. 

You rolled your eyes, turning to Hermione who had a look of disgust on her face, “Riddle’s ego really is massive innit.” All three of your friends' heads began to nod. “I swear if he didn’t verbalize how much he bloody hated us I would think he was flirting with you y/n/n.” 

“Shut it, Weasley, don’t you put that on me,” you pointed your finger at him, tone joking but words serious. He put his hands up in defense, laughing along with the rest of your friends as you all gathered your things and headed towards your first class. 

Unbeknownst to you, a similar conversation was being had at the Slytherin table. “Glad to see meeting your soulmate hasn’t deterred you from trying to flirt with anything that breathes,” Pansy took a sip of her pumpkin juice, teasing the curly haired boy across from her. 

“Dunno what you mean, Pans,” the dimples on Mattheo’s cheeks popping out as he smirked. 

“Show us your arm again, cousin,” Draco’s words causing everyone to look at Mattheo now. The younger boy scowled, rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt. There on his arm, in beautiful loopy script were the words you’ve got to be fucking joking.

Theo couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a foul word in such pretty handwriting.” 

Mattheo rolled his eyes, pulling his sleeve back down, “Yeah, well let’s just hope the bird is someone I can tolerate.” 

You let out a long groan, hands rubbing up and down your face as you leaned your elbows on your knees . Hermione was sat next to you in the common room, rubbing up and down your back, “The day’s not over quite yet, y/n/n. It wouldn’t appear if you weren’t gonna meet them today.” 

“Yeah,” Ron put on his best attempt at an encouraging smile, “maybe they’re another Gryffindor and you’ll meet them before we go to bed.” Harry nodded next to him in agreement. 

You stood up, grabbing your jumper off the arm of the couch and throwing it on, “M’gonna go for a walk.” 

Hermione’s lips downturned, “It’s nearly curfew.” You sighed, looking over at Harry. “I’ll go get my cloak,” he sighed, standing and walking quickly to his dorm room. 

After Harry’s return you thanked him, spending an extra twenty minutes convincing Hermione that you would be the utmost cautious and affirmed to Ron that you would stash the cloak if you were to be caught. 

Now you were quietly climbing the stairs to the astronomy tower. When you got to the top, you did a quick look over the railing. With no sign of Filch anywhere you dropped the cloak, laying it on the floor so you didn’t have to sit on the bare ground. 

As you got comfortable you dug in your shirt, pulling out a spliff. Hermione would murder you if she found out you smoked, however the year you all had to study for your O.W.L’s, you were so stressed you ended up buying from Theo Nott.

He promised to keep it to himself and you promised it was a one time thing, but you found yourself buying from him every couple months. You weren't sure if she would be more disappointed in your smoking, or you interacting with someone in the forbidden Slytherin group.

You mumbled a short incendio before taking a long drag. You blew the smoke out slowly, watching it ripple through the air and up into the night sky. You looked up at the stars, knowing the day was likely to be over soon and wondering if you were the only witch that was destined to not run into their soulmate like everyone else. 

You were lost in your thoughts and self pity. So much so you didn’t even hear someone come up the tower steps until they hit the top. You scrambled to your feet, ready to cover yourself with the cloak when you realized it wasn’t Filch, but a boy instead. 

The dark of the night made it difficult for you to see exactly who it was at first, that and the fact that every time he took a step forward you seemed to take a step back until your back was against the stone wall. When he finally stepped into the light, your breath caught in your throat. Standing in front of you, signature smirk adoring his face was Mattheo Riddle. 

You stayed rigid against the wall as he got closer to you. His fingers brushed yours as he took the spliff, bringing it up to his lips and inhaling. His eyes never left yours as he turned his head slightly, blowing the smoke into the night. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your black sleep shorts and house jumper. When he looked at your face again he locked eyes with you, almost like he was trying to read what was going on in your brain. 

“Do I intimidate you, love?” The words seemed to leave his lips without a second thought and you felt like your chest was going to cave in. There was just no way, absolutely bloody not that he said those words, the words you had been anticipating someone to say all day. Him of all people that could’ve spoken them. 

He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly looking for you to answer. Instead of some sputtering response of nervousness like Mattheo was expecting, your face just dropped. 

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Mattheo’s face went white after you responded, and that was all the evidence you needed to confirm that Mattheo fucking Riddle was your soulmate. He hated you. You hated him. How could two people that despise each other be destined to be soulmates?

"What are you even doing up here?" You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting into your hip. His smirk only seemed to grow, "I think the better question is what are you doing up here, partaking in drugs no less? Little miss golden girl."

You rolled your eyes, "What's that supposed to mean, Riddle?" Mattheo's jaw clenched, "It's Mattheo. And you know what it means. Wonder what everyone would think if they knew little miss perfect liked to come up to the astronomy tower to get high."

"Why would anyone believe you over me?" You were acting a little cocky now, but Mattheo was right in the aspect that you and your friends were seen in an overall more positive light than he and his.

However the look on Mattheo's face made you think he knew something you didn't, "I guess I could just have your dealer tell everyone, or are you buying from someone besides Nott these days?"

He was irritating you on purpose now. You grabbed the spliff back from Mattheo, going to sit where you were before but now leaning your forehead against the railing, “This is got to be some kind of mistake.” 

Mattheo could only snicker as he went to sit next to you, hanging his arms over the raining as he looked over the grounds, “S’destiny love, no mistake about it.” 

“Thanks so much, you’re being really encouraging about this whole thing,” you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out to him. He took it from you, filling his lungs with smoke again, passing it back and forth throughout the conversation. 

Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, “At least we’re both fit.” You snorted at this, “Who said I thought you were fit?” He scoffed, “Please, I’ve seen the way you ogle me.” You found yourself laughing, a true full belly head thrown back laugh before you looked at him and he thought the smile you were wearing was actually kind of cute, “How would you know that unless you were ogling me, hmm?”

Mattheo opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse before you were speaking again. The sigh you let out let him know how stressed you really were, “Our friends are not going to like this.” 

He nodded, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke, “Merlin, no. They’re going to bloody hate it. But s’not like it was really our choice.” You knew he was right, and you knew he was trying to be comforting, but the tone in his voice let you know that he was just as worried to let his group of friends know as much as you were. 

You opened your mouth to respond to him when you heard the all too familiar jingle of Mrs. Norris’ collar sounding like she was ascending the stairs. Your eyes grew wide as you and Mattheo both jumped to your feet. It looked like Mattheo is contemplating jumping over the tower railing when you grab his arm to push him flat against the stone wall. 

He looked at you with utter confusion as you grabbed the cloak before turning around and pushing your back flush against his chest. “What are you-”

“Shut it,” you cut him off, indicating to him to wrap his arms around your waist as you threw the cloak over the pair of you. As the cat walked on to the tower landing you felt Mattheo’s arms tighten around you, doing his best to pull you impossibly closer. 

He was decently taller than you, having to duck down slightly so the cloak covered you both properly. His face was tucked in close to your neck. His breath warm and tickling your skin as Filch followed after his beloved pet, glancing around for anything out of place. 

When he was satisfied, Filch turned around to leave, letting his cat lead the way. You waited a few beats, making sure they were nearly to the bottom of the staircase before pulling the cloak off the two of you and pushing Mattheo’s hands off of your body. 

“Thing comes in handy, that,” he pointed to the cloth in your hand. You chucked, “Yeah, m’sure your lot would get a lot less detentions if you had one.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “Yeah, we can’t all be like the golden quartet.” 

You scoffed slightly at this as you headed down the stairs, Mattheo close behind you, “We didn’t give ourselves that nickname, you know.” He couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah but m’sure you all don’t mind it. Definitely gets you some favoritism.” 

You stopped at the end of the corridor, Mattheo running into your back at the action and cursing. You turned to face him, “You know, my friends and I have endured a hell of a lot of shite over the last couple years, maybe we deserve a little break when we’re actually able to do normal bloody teenage things.” 

As much as you were trying to be harsh with him, be the slightest bit intimidating, his height gave him all the advantage. Mattheo knew what you meant, what you were saying without saying the words themselves. “I’m not like him. Don’t clump me in your same category of hatred. He’s done things to me too,” his eyes reflected a bit of hurt as he spoke and you knew he was telling the truth. 

Everyone in school assumed Mattheo was just like his father, held the same ideals and wanted the same things for the wizarding world. The look you were seeing on his face told you otherwise. Your frustration quickly fizzled, instead turning into something closer to pity, “M’sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he deadpanned, “Let’s just get back to our common rooms.” You walked together in silence until you had no choice but to split off. You agreed to meet each other in the courtyard during lunch the next day and you were racking your brain on how you were going to break this news to Harry, Hermione and Ron.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. When you broke the news to your friends about who your soulmate ended up being it wasn’t exactly well received. Hermione was worried, but understanding of the fact that you had no choice in the matter. Harry was upset, but again was trying his best to be mature and said he wouldn’t interfere with you spending some time with Mattheo to get to know him better. Ron took it the worst, which you wished surprised you but he did have a flair for the dramatics.

You were first waiting for Mattheo on a bench in the courtyard, but you couldn’t stop your legs from bouncing, therefore you found a place beneath a tree, attempting to read the same three lines of a book Hermione had loaned you the other day. 

When Mattheo found you and finally sat down next to you, you shut your book immediately, letting out a sigh of relief, “Oh thank Godric, you’re here.” It didn’t go unnoticed by you the way a pair of dimples christened his cheeks, “Miss me already, pretty girl? S’barely been twelve hours.” 

You shoved his shoulder lightly, trying to resist the pink that tinted your cheeks at the nickname he used, “Not at all, I’ve been sitting here for the better part of twenty minutes, mind you. Thought maybe you decided to ditch me.” Mattheo shrugged, “M’always late. You’re gonna have to get used to that. And I would never ditch you, we’re soulmates, love. You’re stuck with me for life.” 

He had a childlike grin on his face when he said that latter part and you couldn’t help the slight notion of butterflies that seemed to flutter in your stomach or the smile that appeared on your face.

All last night you thought it was going to be difficult to fall for Mattheo, but maybe the universe knew something when it paired you two together. 

“So how did your friends take the news?” You tried to keep voice neutral, but you really were worried about their responses. Mattheo leaned back against the tree, “They were shocked for sure, Draco took it the hardest. He was more worried about having to spend more time with Potter than me being with you though. Told him that would probably be more rare than he anticipated. W’bout yours?”

You nodded, “Not as bad as I thought, actually. Mione was understanding, as always. Harry was actually pretty good about it, but very skeptical. Ron actually took it the worst, but he’s just protective. Basically like me brother.” 

“How d’ya mean?” 

You leaned back against the tree yourself, shoulder to shoulder now with Mattheo. You could feel the heat radiating off of him and you wondered if his skin was always warm to the touch, “Both my parents are aurors so they travel a lot. They didn’t think it was safe for me to go with them, so Ron’s mum offered for me to stay at theirs whenever it was needed. Turns out it was needed more times than not growing up.” 

Mattheo nodded, listening intently as you spoke. You both started asking surface questions about each other; favorite color (he said black), favorite hobby (quidditch), favorite class (free period). 

When both your friend groups came looking for you after lunch period Mattheo asked if you would go to Hogsmead with him over the weekend. You agreed, finding yourself wanting to get to know more about him. Over the next two months you went to Hogsmead with Mattheo at least one day during each weekend. 

You slowly learned that his favorite candy was fizzing whizbees, having to stop at Honeydukes every trip for him to grab some. You learned that he was actually very intelligent even though he tried to seem like he wasn't, as he was passing all of his classes even though he skipped half of them. You learned that even though Draco was older than him, he felt like an older brother to his cousin. And maybe your favorite thing that you learned, purely on accident, was that if you squeeze just above his hip that he was incredibly ticklish. 

Throughout all of this you still hadn’t kissed. You kept telling yourself (and your friends) that you didn’t want to, but the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for it. There were times of lingering touches; his hand on your lower back as he guided you into a building, his fingertips brushing yours as you walked, his leg pressing against yours while you sat next to each other in the courtyard or at the Three Broomsticks. 

Hermione, the ever observant friend that she was, noticed your shift in attitude towards Mattheo even before you did. So when she cornered you in the common room, demanding you tell her your true feelings it was almost a relief to let it all out. 

“I think I might actually like him, Mione. Like, I know that sounds like something an insane person would say, that they like Mattheo Riddle, like romantically, like someone who isn’t just some daft bimbo, but there's just so much more to him that he lets people see.”

Hermione can’t help but laugh, “I get what you mean. Harry and Ron are coming around, you know. They see how happy you look when you’re with him.” 

You tilt your head slightly at this, “What do you mean how happy I look?” 

Hermione just shakes her head with a smile, “Like you’re with your person.” You can’t escape the blush that creeps up your neck and covers your cheeks. Hermione’s giggling at you now, “Have you still not kissed him yet?” 

You scoffed, “Godric, no.” She pushed your shoulder playfully, “Well why not, y/n/n? Don’t you want to?” 

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers, “I mean…I think so? But he just hasn’t really…gone for it, you know?” 

She nodded in solidarity, “Oh I know, trust me. I had to make the first move with Ronald. Maybe you have to do the same thing?” 

You contemplated her words. They invaded a space in your brain for the rest of the night, then the rest of the next morning, and through dinner, and even now as you stood leaning against the railing in the astronomy tower waiting for Mattheo to meet you. 

When you heard him coming up the steps you turned only to see him with the sweetest smile on his face. “Hey pretty girl,” he greeted as he enveloped you in a hug. “Hi, Teo,” you had donned the nickname on him your third or so time at Hogsmead. He gave you a good squeeze before letting go, his arms still lingering on your waist with yours around his neck, “What’d you wanna talk about?” 

His question was innocent, no implications in his voice that he expected anything beyond you wanting to see him. With Hermione’s advice in the back of your head you knew you needed to just act, as any more talking might lead to you psyching yourself out. 

You slid your hands down from his neck, grasping lightly to the lapel of his blazer. He raised his eyebrows slightly at the action, the smallest of smirks on his face. 

Without giving yourself time to overthink you pull him into you, lips crashing against yours. He’s shocked at first, but just for a moment before he responds, walking you back until you’re pressed against the stone wall.

One of his hands slides up your body, ghosting over your stomach and the valley of your breasts before settling lightly on your neck. The implication of the hand gesture makes you whimper slightly and Mattheo takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly at the curls.

When he finally pulls away you find yourself chasing his lips and he smiled at the reaction. “I think I could kiss you forever,” his forehead is resting against yours, lips still so close you can feel his breath on your own. “Yeah?” you laugh a little, smile only increasing when he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Yeah, pretty girl. Forever.”

[madelynn-sienna]

ms americana and the heartbreak prince (logan sargeant x reader)

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★ prompt : ❛❛ it's you and me, that's my whole world... ❜❜ ★ pairing : logan sargeant x reader ★ face claim : unnamed women on pinterest ★ genre : fluff and comfort ★ a/n : i wanted to release this yesterday but got a bit busy, but in light of william's announcement, i figured a happy, feel-good logan piece would be nice for fans of his out there (+ i feel really bad for him) 🥺 ★ feedback and requests are always appreciated!

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f1 🚩 Red flag in FP3 at Circuit Zandvoort as Logan Sargeant suffers a huge crash. Thankfully the Williams driver is out of the car and reports that he is doing okay, but the same cannot be said for his car.

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user1 he's making williams bleed money.

user2 he is definitely bringing in more than he costs. user3 logan's been in what four crashes already? user4 he's made them lose at least $3 million in repair work.

user5 glad he's okay!!

user6 they need to fire him.

user7 exactly, logan isn't good enough to race in formula one user8 dude roscoe or leo could probably drive better than him user9 honestly, how does he have a job atp user10 petition to fire sargeant before monza

user11 why is he still here?

user12 right? the crash was so avoidable. user13 he should have been replaced over summer break.

user14 how does his guy have any fans?

user15 he doesn't user16 mainly just fangirls who like him for his looks user17 how does he still have a car or a team?

user18 just sack him honestly

user19 guys stop saying bad things about him, i can't like everything!

user20 you got me at the first half 😂

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williamsracing We'd like to thank Logan for his work over the past two seasons. He will continue as a member of the Williams family and we wish him all the best for his future endeavours.

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user1 good riddance

user2 right? how did that guy have a car for this long!? user3 i mean i can drive better than logan 😂 user4 that's not too difficult uk, just don't crash 👀

user5 well done williams!

user6 took them long enough to come to their senses user7 now that they have a good car, it really was time to sack him

user8 i feel so bad 💔

user9 thank god, he's just a financial liability

user10 bye bye 😊

user11 really was about time! user12 can't wait to see colapinto in the car user13 watch him make the points in his debut race user14 that'll be so embarrassing for sargeant user15 who cares?

user16 nooooooo 🦅 🇺🇸

user17 let's go franco colapinto 🇦🇷

user18 is this really a shock to anyone?

user19 i was counting down the days after zandvoort user20 i thought they'd sack him right after that fp3 crash!

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text exchanges between y/n & logan dated 27/08.

logansargeant added to their story.

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yourinstagram there's escape in escaping.

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lilyzneimer this is so cute 💖

user1 couple goals fr fr

user2 right? i need a logan in my life 🥺 user3 why so he can crash into you? man's jobless.

logansargeant a much needed break with my favourite person ❤️

yourinstagram you deserved every second of it! logansargeant thank you for making it so special, babe. logansargeant i'm still smiling 😊 yourinstagram awww, i love you more than words can describe 💕 logansargeant not as much as i love you, but nice try 😉 user4 why are they so adorable?!?

oscarpiastri i hope you two enjoyed france, it's a beautiful place!

user4 i'm sure they did 👀 yourinstagram we had a great time, got to visit annecy too. lilyzneimer they took our suggestion osc❣️

alexalbon been to france twice in less than two months 😮

logansargeant did it without the yacht this time dude. yourinstagram its logan's new favourite country 👀 user5 what happened to mr america?! logansargeant the betrayal babe 😢

user6 they're so cute together 🫶

user7 right? we love ms americana and her heartbreak prince💜

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logansargeant Couldn't be prouder, dr. l/n 🎓 ❤️

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georgerussell congratulations y/n!

yourinstagram aww, this is so cute babe - i'm going to cry 🥺

logansargeant you deserve this moment so much ❤️ logansargeant i can't wait to watch you shine as a doctor 🤩

lilymhe such a beautiful graduation 💕

alexalbon where are my photo credits logan?!? congrats y/n

logansargeant you took one picture. alexalbon which you used! yourinstagram why do i sound like an afterthought alex 😢 alexalbon sorry? 😅 yourinstagram that sounds like a question, i'm heartbroken! alexalbon you're dramatic yourinstagram well, so are you. logansargeant presenting the drama king and queen, everyone. user1 i live for the alex and y/n banter! user2 right? they are so sibling-coded.

oscarpiastri we're so proud of you, y/n!

lilyzneimer ❤️

user3 excuse me, logan's girlfriend is a doctor?!?

user4 yeah, she graduated from oxford, she's like super smart! user5 i'm so happy for her tbh

user6 love how successful they both are rn!

user7 right? logan's doing amazing in indycar rn 🤩 user8 they're honestly living the american dream user9 after all the williams and f1 drama, i'm so deserve it

user10 it's giving miss americana

user11 so demure, so mindful user12 that trend's getting so old now 😭

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yourinstagram It's you and me, that's my whole world 💍 🫶

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user1 oh. my. god.

user2 we're finally getting mr and mrs americana🤩 user3 i can't believe she'll be mrs sargeant soon!

lilyzneimer congratulations 💕

user4 just can't take the florida out of the man

user5 i was just about to comment that! user6 this is definitely in fort lauderdale user7 they met there, so it's probably really special <3

georgerussell can't wait for the wedding mate!

alexalbon can we take a minute to appreciate my help?

logansargeant shhhhh 👀 yourinstagram go on... lilymhe please, you literally did nothing alex alexalbon i did too, i let logan borrow the marquee letters! lilymhe you let him borrow two m's and a y user8 i live for lily roasting alex in the comments 😂

oscarpiastri congrats, just saying, i expect an invitation 🥺

yourinstagram the matchmaker gets a spot on the bridal party 👀 user9 oscar introduced y/n and logan?!? user10 don't be afraid to spill the story oscar, we're all waiting...

user11 this is going to be the wedding of the year!

user12 more like the century user13 of course, it's the royal american wedding 🦅 🇺🇸

user14 i'm so happy, this has been such a good year for them

user15 right? y/n's a doctor now and logan won rookie of the year user16 what a turnaround after his f1 career user17 counting the days till they're begging him to return user18 his replacements haven't even bagged any points 😂

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yourinstagram I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover...

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logansargeant you made me the luckiest man alive, mrs sargeant ❤️

logansargeant or should i say dr sargeant 👀 yourinstagram not as lucky as i am mr sargeant 💕 yourinstagram or should i say indycar drivers' champion 😉

oscarpiastri so happy for the two of you!

lilyzneimer what a beautiful wedding ❤️

user1 you can't just drop a whole wedding with no warning 😭

user2 right? like i'm going to need 2-3 days to recover user3 i love how they were able to keep a whole wedding hidden user4 exactly, i'm glad they got some privacy.

alexalbon and best man of the year goes to...

oscarpiastri me! alexalbon the lies, the outrage, we both know it was me 😮 oscarpiastri please. alexalbon y/n, logan, what's the verdict? yourinstagram i plead the fifth! logansargeant what she said. alexalbon traitors.

user5 y/n's the prettiest bride i've ever seen 💕

user6 and logan's the most handsome groom! user7 they really are a match made in heaven. user8 i'm so, so happy for them!

user9 these pictures are so cute

user10 definitely the wedding of the year 💖

user11 that dip is so extra, but we love it 💙

user12 presenting miss americana and her heartbreak prince!

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logansargeant I was enchanted to meet you❣️

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yourinstagram the best christmas gift ever ❤️

logansargeant absolutely, i couldn't have asked for anything more logansargeant thank you for giving me this opportunity darling 💕 yourinstagram couldn't have done it without you love 💖 alexalbon they may be all love dovey here, but that's all lies alexalbon y/n threatened logan so many times during labour 😂 lilymhe cut my girl some slack, you'll have a broken hand if you put me through that kind of pain 😠 alexalbon but babies? 🥺 user1 we all know who's sleeping on the sofa tonight...

oscarpiastri so who do we have a godfather in mind?

alexalbon we both know it's going to be me. oscarpiastri i'm just saying, i am more responsible alexalbon for the 100th time, i didn't lose my cousin oscarpiastri no, you just misplaced him in a massive crowd 👀 user2 i didn't know i needed alex and oscar banter in my life.

user3 awww, the baby is so adorable

user4 right? logan and y/n make such cute babies user5 i wonder what they've named the baby... user6 we all know it's going to be the most american name ever!

user7 congratulations!

georgerussell amazing news guys! can't wait to meet her 💕

estebanocon Félicitations à vous deux!

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logansargeant I am incredibly excited to announce that i'll be returning to formula one in the coming season to drive for Haas. I would like to thank Andretti for giving me three phenomenal seasons with IndyCar and two drivers championships. I wouldn't be here without your help and guidance. This a dream come true for me, and I cannot appreciate my wife enough for all the sacrifices she has made and love and support she has showered me with in the last seven years. I am who I am today because of her.

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yourinstagram so proud of you logan, i love you ❤️

logansargeant you mean the world to me, i love you so much 💕

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[gloomwitchwrites]

Their child is getting bullied at school.

Ugh, anon. Are you trying to break my heart? Are you trying to make me ache? I think you are. I really think so especially with a prompt like this.

Firstly, I love some Task Force 141 Dad prompts, headcanons, etc. It's so indulgent on my end. I adore picturing them as fathers. Personally, I see them all as girl dads but that's just me. I didn't do that here, but I still headcanon it. Enjoy some protective 141 daddies.

Presented in four drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings: swearing, hurt/comfort, mentions of bullying

Word Count: 400

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny breathes deep. He needs to calm down.

Johnny goes to one knee, staring into his son’s eyes. “What happened?”

The story drives his irritation higher. It’s frustrating. And nothing is being done about it.

Johnny should be an adult about this. He should let the school handle it. But he also knows that bullies are slick. They don’t want to be caught.

And sometimes all they need is a physical reminder.

“If it happens again, you form a fist. Like this.” His son nods. “Hit them here. Got it?” Johnny points to a spot on his face.

“Got it.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle softly knocks on his daughter’s bedroom door.

She glances up.

“Can I come in?” She nods and Kyle enters, sitting on the bed of her bed. “Your mum told me what happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“She pushed first.”

“I believe you,” Kyle says softly. “I taught you stand up for yourself.”

“I did.”

“I know you did, baby.” He gently cups her cheek and leans in, placing a kiss on her forehead. “But come to me first. Allow me to help. Okay?”

She leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Love you, baby girl.”

John Price

“Enjoy your lunch?”

John’s daughter nods. “Yep.”

“Did you like the blueberry muffin your mother packed you?”

“Yes.”

“And your sandwich?”

“Perfect amount of jelly.”

John frowns. “I know you’re lying, dove. Your mum packed a peanut butter brownie and a turkey sandwich.”

His daughter goes quiet.

“You’re not eating your lunch. Why?”

She bites her lip and John drops to her level.

“Talk to me.”

The words spill out of her, and John goes cold. Someone is taking her lunch, leaving her with absolutely nothing.

John nods, pulling her in for a hug. “I’ll take care of it, dove.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon has to bite his tongue and clench his fist. His irritation is rising. His wife places her hand on his thigh, squeezing it with reassurance.

“It’ll be fine, Simon,” she murmurs.

“Someone hurt my little girl. Our daughter is being punished. I want some fucking answers.”

“I know. But if you go in guns blazing, it won’t help. She’s already upset.”

Simon sighs heavily. His wife is right. He needs to calm down. Being combative won’t help anything.

“And you won’t confront the parents?”

Simon bites the inside of his cheek, growling. “If it stops.”

“Simon.”

“Promise,” he says.

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[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

-

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

-

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words. 

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

-

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity. 

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

-

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

-

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

-

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

 Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers. 

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

-

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

-

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth. 

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this. 

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail. 

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-" 

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering - 

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

-

(There's got so much on her mind. 

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

-

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

[dstryvampres]

drabble or short fic, where the reader is a ballerina and cillian (or any of his other characters) is her teacher and they start an affair??? please arhgggh i love your fics!

Doll Parts

Cillian Murphy x Ballerina!Reader

Warnings: age gap(reader is 20, cillian is late 30s early 40s), power imbalance, smoking mention, fingering

Word count: 2k

A/N: thank you so so so much for the request ! this honestly was a prompt i’d never thought of but really just ended up loving :)

You had essentially been raised by your ballet studio. Years and years spent in the small confines of the studio, moving from the soft and simple preschool classes to the advanced stages. As you moved up your class sizes became smaller and smaller, and your teacher’s became stricter. Finally, as you prepare to audition for the role of Copelia in your company’s spring ballet production. You have been given the honour of training one on one with one of the studio’s ballet instructors. Unfortunately for you, they had paired you up with Mr. Murphy, a teacher you had during your late teens that you found distracted you far more than he actually helped you. You were infatuated with him ever since you first walked into that class with him at 16, and it stayed that way now as he watched you stretch before practice, four years later. His blue eyes were haunting at points, analysing every inch of you at almost every second you were in this practice space together. At almost every moment he tore you apart with his eyes, and you couldn’t get enough of him.

Every night you left the studio to go back home you continually thought of just him. The small touches on the waist as he adjusted your posture, his smooth voice as he whispered praises in your ear, and how you longed for him to press his lips against yours. God, how you longed for him to do anything to soothe the fire that he lit in your body.

Mr. Murphy clapped his hands together, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Okay. Do you think you’re ready to run through the routine from the top, one last time?” Mr Murphy asks, walking over to stand in front of the mirrors

You nod, picking yourself off from the floor and to the centre of the room. Taking a deep breath in before going into the starting position.

“One, two, three, four,” Mr Murphy counts in, clapping his hands in a steady beat as you move through the routine.

Your legs still ache from practice before your break as you start up the routine, but as any dancer at your level would, you work through it. Focusing elsewhere on your breathing and the steps. Gentle leaps, spins, and footwork move you around the fake stage you’re on to the beat of Mr Murphy’s clapping. You’re doing well enough that he hasn’t stopped you yet, able to make it through 3/4th of the routine before you hear anything.

“Stop!” Mr Murphy shouts, and you freeze with your hands above your head and a foot off the ground.

He walks over, shoes making soft thumps as he approaches you. The sound stops as you feel a hand settle on your waist, you close your eyes as his other hand moves to the thigh of your raised leg.

“I understand that you’re tired,” Mr Murphy sighs out, directly in your ear, “but you can’t start to get sloppy when it’s almost over. Your work needs to be consistent all the way through sweetheart.”

You want to melt at the pet name, but stay still as he pushes your raised leg upwards a little bit more. His breath fans over your ear and cheek, grabbing ahold of your chin lightly and turning your head to face the mirror with the hand that was once on your waist. His touch is soft, light, and warm, something that will keep you up tonight. Now the two of you are cheek to cheek, it’s so intimate that for a second you falter, but are able to gain your composure quickly. He smiles at your falter and clicks his tongue.

“Look at how I’ve positioned you,” Mr Murphy whispers, the movement of his lips tickling your cheek.

He slowly removes himself from you, but his touch still feels like it’s burned under your skin, like it always does after practice.

“Continue,” he demands when he is situated in front of the mirror once again.

You start from where he left you, pushing through the last minute of your routine with as much energy as you could manage. Finishing up in a wilted position on the ground, breathing heavily as you wait for any sort of feedback from your instructor. A couple seconds pass before you hear a slow clapping from him. Slowly you look up to be met with a warm smile from Mr Murphy, a foreign sense of joy peaking through his normally harsh and critical exterior.

“Well, that was quite wonderful. Dare I say one of the best practices we’ve gotten through so far. If you continue improving like this for the next three weeks you could land a sizeable role,” Mr Murphy says, walking over to you. He sticks out a hand to help you up, and you take it gently.

“Thank you. All my progress is thanks to you,” you reply meekly, not able to look into your instructor's face now. He’s far too close than what is professional, but it’s not like you mind.

“Would you want to go out and get a drink? Just a small celebration, on me,” Mr Murphy asks, whispering it into your ear. A secret you know that if you take in, you won’t be able to back out.

“Yes,” you whisper back, face getting warm with excitement.

He pats you on the shoulder, tracing his hand down your arm and to your hand before squeezing it. Your chest feels tingly and heavy at the action.

“I’ll meet you outside the studio then,” his hand is slowly pulled away from your own before he leaves the room.

You know why Mr Murphy wants to take you out of the studio tonight. It’s the same reason he looks at you with his icy blue eyes in that way, it’s the same reason why his touch lingers on you for far longer than necessary, and why it’s only you he ever praises and compliments. Still, you wonder if you’re right about your hunch as you meet your instructor outside your studio tonight. He stands leaned up under a light post in the snow, a cigarette between his lips. As soon as he sees you he takes one last puff before squashing it on the ground.

“Hello,” He greets, offering a sly smile to you. His cheeks and ear tips are red from the cold, you almost feel guilty about making him wait for you out here.

“Hi.” You don’t voice your guilt to him, too worried about embarrassing yourself.

“You’re one of my best students,” Mr Murphy states, stepping closer as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think you’re one of the best dancers at the studio.”

Now he’s so close that the condensation of your breath is mixing together with his. Forming a big cloud above your heads each time either of you take a breath. You stare into his eyes for a couple seconds, searching for what he means by any of this. He smells of cigarette smoke and vanilla. A hand cups your cheek.

“Are you cold?” He offers as a horrible excuse for his close proximity and the hand on your cheek. You both know this, so he leans in slowly, and your eyes flutter shut.

His lips are pressed against your own, softly, gently, like if he pushes any harder against you you’ll shatter. Slowly he pulls away, eyes scanning your face for any discomfort. This time it’s you that pulls him into a kiss, hungrier and harder than the last one. You both pull away.

“I am a pretty good bartender myself,” is all Mr Murphy has to say to get you to follow him back to his apartment.

You walk with haste beside him, arms brushing against one another, almost, the whole way there. Once you get into the elevator he’s already unzipping your jacket and kissing you again, hot and passionate. You know years of longing for him are being released on your end tonight.

Soon enough you’re sitting criss cross on your dance instructors couch, taking in the fairly nice space. Mr Murphy comes to sit beside you after he’a put away your coat. His hand comes to rest on your upper thigh, rubbing it softly and slowly. You bat your eyelashes at him and he leans in to kiss you again, this time you get enough courage to slip your tongue into his mouth. His hands settle on your waist and direct you into his lap to sit. Pulling back from the kiss just so he can stare at you for a brief second, perched upon his lap, before bringing you back into the kiss.

His kisses alternate between your lips and your neck, filling you with hot desire as you trace up and down his torso with your hands. In return Mr Murphy slides his hands under your skirt, toying at your panties underneath.

“Do you want me to finger you baby?” He prys, biting at your ear to punctuate the sentence.

“Yes,” you breath out, grinding down against his lap.

His lips are back on yours once again, pushing you off his lap and into the cushions of his couch. You shudder as he starts to trace your slit through your panties, only able to release now just how wet you are. Spreading your legs open to try to tell him to start fingering you already. The message seems to come across, as he flips the front of your skirt up and pulls your panties down your legs.

Mr Murphy breaks from the kiss to stare at your pussy, spreading it open with his fingers and toying around your wet hole. You whine, bucking your hips up demanding more. He clicks his tongue as he looks back up at you, but still goes back to kissing you. Sliding a digit up and down your pussy, gathering your wetness before sliding a finger in.

You gasp into his mouth at the finger, feeling him smile at your reaction. He pumps it lazily in and out of your wet hot cunt. Not going deep enough, it makes you want so much more. He slides in a second finger, earning him a moan from you. Now with two fingers inside of you, he finger fucks you properly.

He sets a steady pace, hitting different spots inside you each time until he finally hits the spot that has you moaning into his mouth with every push of his fingers. His fingers are long and thick, something you’ve craved for so long to be inside of you. Nights of dreaming about gagging on his fingers, and about him making you cum on them has now come true.

“Do you like this sweetheart? You like how I finger your dirty wet hole?” Mr Murphy asks, speeding up his pace.

You let out a moan in response, nodding your head as your eyes roll back. Your hands look for purchase somewhere, one lands on the couch and the other on his bicep. Mr Murphy’s fingers feel so nice inside you, the way he fingers you brings you to as close to heaven as you’ll get. You squirm around as he speeds up, feeling the heat in your lower stomach increase with every pump on his fingers into your cunt. His heavy breathing just pushes you further to your release.

Mr Murphy’s thumb reaches up to your clit, rubbing small fast circles into the bundle of nerves. As soon as his thumb came to brush your clit, you knew you had seconds to go before you were tumbling over the edge.

“Cum for me sweetheart,” Mr Murphy says, looking at your face contorted in pleasure.

His words finally push you over the edge as you cum all over your dance instructor's fingers. Gasping and moaning loudly, as your hips buck upwards a couple times. You lay on his couch for a couple seconds, breathing heavily as you try to compose yourself. Mr Murphy removes his fingers slowly from you, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table to wipe his hands off. The embarrassment of the situation comes back to you as you try to cover your pussy with your hands.

“There's nothing to be embarrassed by now,” Mr Murphy lets out a dry chuckle.

[firewasabeast]

if you're still doing prompts: maybe eddie thinks he sees tommy cheating and confronts him only to find out just how wrong he is. thanks!

“Sorry, man, I can't. I took an extra shift.” That was what Tommy had told Eddie when Eddie asked if he wanted to go to their usual sports bar for beer and wings.

Which is why Eddie was very curious as to why Tommy was walking down the street, passing right by the bar on his way to wherever he was going.

Eddie kept watching as Tommy reached the crosswalk, stopping as he waited for traffic to clear.

Buck wasn't with him, but some other guy appeared to be. At least, he kept talking to Tommy, leaning in close and laughing at something Tommy said.

“This can't be good,” Eddie muttered. He could feel himself starting to get heated already.

The light at the crosswalk changed just as Eddie threw a twenty down for the wings he ordered but hadn't gotten yet. He hurried out of the bar and managed to make it to the crosswalk just as the hand lit up telling him not to cross.

He crossed anyway.

Eddie waved off the honks and hid behind a building until he was sure Tommy wouldn't be looking back toward the noise.

Slowly he peeked around the building and glanced around until he spotted Tommy again. He and this guy were continuing down the street, so that's what Eddie did too.

He made sure to keep enough distance between them, but honestly Tommy looked so enthralled with whatever conversation they were having that Eddie was pretty sure he wouldn't be noticed anyway.

He had half a mind to whip out his phone and start taking pictures and videos. Get proof of whatever was happening so he'd have evidence when he told Buck.

Because he had to tell Buck.

Because Buck was all in on this relationship. He was undeniably in love with Tommy. Together for a year now, living with one another for four months, and Buck often talked about their future.

He had to tell him before papers were signed; before things were made official.

It would break Buck's heart. Eddie knew that. He'd be out of it for weeks, maybe even months.

But how could Eddie let this continue while knowing that Tommy was a backstabbing, two-timing, cheating skank?

Okay, maybe he was beyond heated. It was possible he was livid.

It didn't make it any better that the two men had stopped now, and this unknown homewrecker was reaching out and putting his hand on Tommy's shoulder.

“Hey!” Eddie yelled before he could stop himself.

Tommy's head jerked toward him, wide-eyed. Like a deer in headlights. “Eddie. What... I-hi.”

“Hi? That's what you have to say to me? Hi?”

Tommy's face went from surprised to confused. “Would you prefer hello?”

“Don't play dumb with me, man! How could you do something like this?”

“You gotta help me out here, Eddie. What'd I do?”

“You lied to me, for one.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Sorry, Eddie, I just had this thing I had to do today and I didn't want anyone knowing about it.”

“That's what you call this? A thing? Right in front of him?” He motioned to the man, who seemed a bit anxious at the moment.

“Well, it's not like he doesn't know what I'm doing.”

“Of course he knows! Buck's the only one who doesn't know. Have you thought about that? Have you spared a second to think about your boyfriend in all of this?”

“He's kinda all I've been thinking about during this.”

Eddie put one hand on his hip, the other pointed at Tommy. “I'm so close to punching you right in the face, Tommy.”

“I'd rather you didn't,” Tommy deadpanned. “Eddie, would you like to meet Gordon? He's the owner of the jewelry shop we're standing in front of.”

“You're cheating on Buck with Gordon? Really, Tommy? Gordon?” Part of Eddie felt a little bad. Gordon wasn't a bad looking guy. He was shorter than both of them, short brown hair and even browner eyes. He wasn't very muscular, but the suit he wore fit him well. Tattoos peeked out from underneath his collar, and the black frame of his glasses really tied the whole look together.

Still, he wasn't Buck, and they both needed to know that!

Tommy's eyebrows rose. “I'm doing what with who now?” he asked as Gordon shook his head nervously.

“Oh, no. That, um. No.”

“And you're gonna do it in his jewelry store? Shame on you, Tommy. Shame!”

“Eddie, I'm gonna need you to take it down like ten notches. I'm not cheating on Evan.”

“Then what's with the lying?” Eddie questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. “And Gordon?”

“Like I said before, Gordon owns the jewelry shop we're standing in front of. We met a few months ago on a call. We got to talking and that's when he told me about this place. He's usually closed today, but he was kind enough to bring me here on his day off so I could pick up the ring.”

Sometimes it took Eddie a minute to connect the dots, but he always got there. “Ring?” he questioned, his tone lighter now.

“Yeah. Ring.”

“You mean like an eng-”

“Engagement ring, yes.”

“Oh... Oh!” Now Eddie was smiling brightly, holding out his hand to Gordon for a shake. “Great to meet you, man! I'm Eddie.”

“H- Hi, Eddie.” Gordon returned the shake, but he was still a little nervous, and very confused.

“Gordon,” Tommy explained, “Eddie is Evan's best friend. I was supposed to hang out with him today, but I lied and said I had to work. My mistake.”

“Mm,” Gordon nodded. “It's starting to make sense now. Would you both like to come in?”

“Yes, we would,” Eddie answered, following behind Gordon as he unlocked the door.

“I'll go get it from the back,” Gordon said, locking the door back once they were inside. “It may take me a minute, but shouldn't be too long.”

Once Gordon had left them in the front of the store, Tommy turned to Eddie. “I can't believe you thought I'd cheat on Evan. Are you crazy?”

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “I couldn't believe it, that's why I was so mad! Why didn't you tell me this is what you were doing?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “I was nervous. Figured if he said no, at least no one would know I'd asked.”

“He's not gonna say no.”

“You don't know that.”

“Dude, he's not gonna say no.”

“But what if he does, Eddie? What if I screw it up somehow?” Tommy rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “I want it to be perfect. He deserves that.”

Gordon came back out then, box in hand. “Here you go, Mr. Kinard. Make sure everything is perfect before you pay.”

“You didn't have to pay for it yet?” Eddie asked as Tommy took the box.

“No,” Tommy answered, glancing up at Eddie. “Another kind thing he did was let me wait until it was engraved before I paid. Because he's a nice person.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, then turned to Gordon. “Sorry for calling you a homewrecker, man. I didn't mean it.”

“I... I didn't know you called me a homewrecker.”

“That might've been in my head. Still, sorry.”

Gordon felt in a little over his head here. This Eddie person was... interesting. “That's okay.”

Tommy stared down at the ring, biting at his lip.

“Gordon,” Eddie flashed him a smile, “could you give us a couple more minutes? Then we'll pay and be out of your hair.”

“No problem.”

Once he'd retreated back to his office, Eddie moved closer to Tommy. “What's engraved on it?”

Tommy pulled the ring out of the box and handed it to Eddie. Silver with a gold band running down the center, dots and dashes on the inside. “It's um, it's morse code. It just says “ILY” for I love you, obviously, but the morse code is the special part.”

“Why's that?”

Eddie watched as Tommy smiled at whatever memory was popping into his head. “They still taught morse code when I was in the army, and when Evan found out I knew it he was determined to learn. We'd practice every time we were together.”

“I remember him doing that at work too.”

Tommy nodded. “Yup. He had it down in a month. We still use it whenever we can. He'll tap something out on my thigh, or even blink something at me from across a room.”

Eddie placed the ring back into the box. “Propose to me.”

Tommy stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Propose to me,” he repeated.

“Wh... Why, exactly?”

“You said you were worried the proposal wouldn't be perfect. That you'd screw it up. Practice on me, and I'll let you know.”

“That's insane.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Two months ago you and I parachuted out of a plane when the engine failed and got lost in the mountains for nearly two days. That was insane. This is being prepared.”

Tommy looked down at the ring, then to Eddie, then back at the ring, then back at Eddie. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Eddie clapped his hands together. “Okay, go.”

After a slow inhale, he began. “Evan.”

“Yes, Pooh Bear?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, tilting his head. “He doesn't call me that.”

“I've seen the texts, man.”

“Forget it. I'm not doing this with you.”

As he turned to walk away, Eddie grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him back in. “Okay, okay. I'll be serious. Now, come on. Propose to me.”

Tommy sighed. “Fine, but I'm not kneeling.”

“That's okay, I'll pretend.”

Tommy straightened his posture and cleared his throat before beginning again.

“Evan.”

“Tommy.”

“Growing up, I never thought I'd find love. Not real love, anyway. I thought that maybe, if I was lucky, I could fabricate it. Play pretend and be fine with settling. Then, as I got older, I realized how unfair that was to me, and to whoever I would have ended up with.”

Tommy blinked away the tears that were blurring his vision as he continued. “I went through life with people, friends and colleagues that kept me busy, but I felt alone. And then you came along, and you lit up my world. Every doubt that I had collected over time slowly washed away with each smile we shared. Getting to do life with you over this past year has been an honor. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep. If you would, I'd love us to have each other for the rest of our lives. So, Evan,” Tommy opened the box, presenting the ring to Eddie. “Will you marry me?”

Eddie stood there, staring between the ring and Tommy for what felt like an eternity, his own eyes red-rimmed and doe-like. “Holy hell,” he managed to utter out.

Nervously, Tommy asked, “You think he'll say yes?”

“Well, if he doesn't, I will!” Eddie took a step forward and wrapped Tommy in a hug, earning a surprised, “Oomph,” out of him.

“Yes,” Eddie said, patting his back. “He'll say say.”

When he finally pulled away, Tommy was smiling. He let out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay. So, buy the ring, then?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, man. Buy the ring.”

[cheeseceli]

It's a secret!

Pairing: Seo Changbin × Gn!reader

Genre: drabble, fluff, f2l

Prompt: "there used to be nights where you were a little bit drunk, baby. The stories I heard for the first time, I liked to see you being honest"

Warnings: reader is drunk, not proofread

A/n: all I got is like one of the best songs to ever exist| daily click

"I'm never letting you drink that much ever again."

You didn't respond. Changbin doubts you even heard him at all. With the amount of alcohol that was in your blood right now, he was surprised you even managed to stay awake this whole time.

"You're no fun..." You muttered under your breath as a delayed answer. He could tell you were using all of your energy to try to say actual words instead of nonsense "Changbin would let me drink."

He laughed at that. You were drunk drunk.

"Oh really?" He engaged in the small talk as he tried to hold you in one arm while he opened the door.

"Really. He always lets me have fun. You'd love him. Everybody loves him."

Changbin smiled to himself. Although this time you had drunk a little bit too much, it wasn't the first time he saw you in a similar situation. It mostly wasn't the first time he brought you home after you start to stumble over your words and get your vision blurry. Still, he doesn't think he'll ever get used to the things you say when you're in this state.

He should know better than to believe in your actions when there's more alcohol than recommended in your brain, especially when you never seem to remember what you tell him in the night prior, but it gives him hope. Maybe one day you'll bring yourself to confess to him once you're sober. Then he will believe in it all. For now, he focuses on opening your apartment's door.

"C'mon Y/n. You need to rest."

You followed him inside, trying your best although it wasn't much. Changbin wanted to put you in your bed, but you seemed satisfied enough with your living room as you threw yourself in the sofa.

"I do too."

Changbin kneeled in front of where you were, taking off your shoes quickly whilst you were resting "What?"

"I said everybody loves him. I do too." he looked at you surprised. It was the first time you talked to him, about him, like that "I think I love him differently though. Right?"

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to confirm or deny, considering that you were now humming to a song that probably didn't even exist. You admitted it all so casually that Changbin doubts he even heard it right.

"And how exactly do you love him?"

"Like the love songs he writes. Which is funny actually. I realised this when-" you hiccuped "when I was in the studio with him. Two years ago? Three years ago? No, I don't even know him for three years. Four years?"

And there you went, back to the casual nonsense. It was the first time he heard you tell this story. You seemed so honest that he truly wanted to believe in your words. Your eyes started to close, but there was a smile still latched in your lips. So that was your face when you were in love?

"But hey" you held his hand and turned your head in his direction, even though your eyes were still closed "Don't tell him that, okay? He wouldn't understand. At least I don't think he would."

"Alright" Changbin smiled softly at your sleeping figure. He wondered what your reaction would be if he told you that he writes love songs because of you "it's a secret."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: sweet night

Taglist (open): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji

Credits for images 1 2 and 3

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

[embarrasingmf]

what an idiot

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x reader

SUMMARY: you don’t listen to Dean after he gives you an order, and now he’s smug about it.

WORD COUNT: 668

WARNINGS: a little bit of swearing, not beta’d so there may be typos…

A/N: I had no idea what to make the title ugheklekwjfj. also would’ve loved to write more but I couldn’t think of anything 😭😭

prompt/idea requested by @0ffwiththeirh3ads !

“Y’need to listen to me next time.” Dean chastised you. He had been doing so for the last ten minutes.

All because he had told you not to waltz on into the vampire nest like you owned the place.

For context, you and Dean were hunting down a vampire nest.

Well, aspiring vampire nest considering there was really only four vampires. And you thought you could take them all on your own.

You remember Dean’s words so clearly: “Don’t go running in there without me.”

Of course you didn’t listen, you practically bolted in there while shouting “Who made you the leader?” after him.

Now that you think about it, you should’ve listened to him. Because now you were stuck with Dean patching up your injuries from trying to take on four vampires by yourself.

You could just feel the smug aura coming off of him in waves. He was fucking enjoying this. He was enjoying the fact that he was able to scold you for not listening to him.

In your defense, he wasn’t the actual leader of whatever Godforsaken team you, Sam, Castiel, and Dean had named Team Free Will.

Dean probably just gave the title to himself, because he was the oldest. Well, oldest physically considering Castiel was a literal angel.

“Will you listen to me next time?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked over at him.

He was currently knelt down by your side so he could get better access to the deep gash on your torso as you sat on an uncomfortable motel chair.

You cleared your throat, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Dean tsk’d, shaking his head. “‘m gonna need a more definitive answer than that, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Dean called everyone that. But he used it more on you to get under your skin.

And it worked, it worked so well.

You felt your head fall back, finding the popcorn-textured ceiling much more interesting than Dean all of the sudden.

You could feel his green eyes on you as he waited for your reply. You groaned before muttering a weak “yes,” under your breath.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear ya.” You grit your teeth, you could hear Dean’s smirk. You didn’t even have to look at him!

“Yes.”

That reply was much better than before, at least according to Dean it was, as he let out a small hum of contentment.

“Good,” He grinned, suddenly tugging on the makeshift stitch he had created to sew your wound tight.

You jumped in your seat as the sudden pain that shit through you. “Jesus Christ-!”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope, just me.”

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to slap some sense into him so bad.

“Fuck you…” You grunted under your breath, Dean didn’t reply as he kept working on your wound. His touch much more gentle now.

You averted your gaze from the ceiling and looked over at Dean’s hands deftly stitching your gash closed.

It would definitely scar, but hey, at least it would make a cool story to tell in the future.

After about five minutes, Dean patted your leg before standing up.

He stretched, his back and knees popping from kneeling down and being hunched over.

“I think you should get me some pie as a reward for actually patching you up.” Dean teased, crossing his arms.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Nah, you can get that yourself.”

Dean pursed his lips together. “Oh c’mon, just do it!” He insisted.

“Fine!” You relented, shoulders slumping a bit. “But you owe me then.”

Dean raised his hands in the air as you pointed a finger at him. “Okay, I owe you a favor then I guess.” He chuckled, patting your back as a sign for you to get going and get him his pie.

“Better be back before I fall asleep, wouldn’t want to eat a cold pie in the morning.” He commented before you walked out of the room.

—————————————————————————

reblogs and feedback r appreciated! they keep me motivated <3

[reiderwriter]

Okay, I just wanted to start off and say I love your stories. They're always so good. You've reblogged one of my stories a while, and I actually squealed and scared the crap out of my friend. But yeah, I live you and your stories 💖💖💖

So I read your one story of Spencer being a soon-to-be dad, and I really like the idea of seeing Spencer and reader as actual parents just feeling the emotions. I thought something based around their daughter (because Spencer's a girl dad) hitting a milestone like walking, talking, or something even bigger like the first day of school. I don't know if that makes sense, but either way, I hope you like it!

A/N: I love the idea of new-dad Spencer. He deserves a loving family and a baby so much 😭 I combined this request with one of the prompts for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic challenge which you can find the details for here! ❤️

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Masterlist

You never thought leaving to go for a spa day would be one of the hardest things you'd have to do in your life, but here you were. 

In the ten months since you'd given birth to your daughter, you'd been stressed, lacking in sleep, leaking fluids from places that you forgot could have fluids leak from, and you'd been totally, irreversibly, head over heels in love. 

Both with the tiny little gremlin you'd given birth to, and with the man that you watched become a father. 

Spencer Reid was a great dad. 

He'd had a fair amount of anxiety leading up to the birth, worrying about every detail, talking to geneticists, driving you to and from each check up or attending via video call if he was on a case. After she was born, he helped out as best he could. 

For a man who had delivered a baby before and was absolutely great with his teammates' kids, he couldn't hold her for the first week without an intense look of panic crossing his features.

“Y/N, what happens if I drop her?” 

“Y/N, she sneezed. What if I got her sick?”

“Y/N, she fell asleep, I can't move.” 

A genius with an IQ of 187 slashed to 60 in front of a pretty girl. His tiny daughter had him thrown through a loop he got seriously stuck in. 

He was still helpful, and he got used to all his new duties and tasks within a week, but watching those cute clueless expressions pass over his face now and then endeared you to him that much more. 

He knew everything, but he had to learn this right there with you. 

So yes, leaving for a relaxing spa visit was hard. 

Spencer had been on a case for the last four days, his first since your daughter had arrived and the official end to his paternity leave. You'd been happy to see him get back to it, in all honesty. Spencer’s job, his research, and his work at the FBI were like muscles he needed to stretch. It wasn't that he couldn't live without them, but there would always be a part of him that felt stiff or unsure of himself without the possibilities of a case to unravel or some theorizing to do. 

You were slightly panicked at the thought of being alone with your daughter for four days, but you managed. With a phone call home every single night where he asked you about every single thing your little bundle of joy had done outside of his watchful gaze. 

Now, it was your turn. 

Spencer had insisted on it upon returning from his case. He got four nights of relative peace after 20 months of waking up with the baby, sleeping with the baby, napping when the baby napped, carrying the baby around when it became evident that she was desperately scared of not being the center of attention. 

He came back with a spring in his step, and the deep desire to see you get a solid night's rest the way he'd been able to. 

You'd tried shooting him down, multiple times, to no reward. 

“Spencer, you didn't exactly just up and go off gallivanting. You were working.”

“I was working, and I still got more rest than you. I really needed that sleep and time away, Y/N, and I think you do, too. Now, please, go away,” he'd pulled you into his arms when you'd put the baby down that night to reveal his brilliant plans. 

“Just for the night. Go away for a lovely overnight break. Not indefinitely. I love you.” His panicked confession at the end sent you into giggles, that with a few well times kisses had you reluctantly agreeing to the girls trip he'd planned you. 

The BAU girls had been roped into accompanying you on the trip, which honestly meant that he'd be getting status updates any time he asked for one. 

JJ, Penelope, Emily, and Tara were all going to strong arm you into the car if need be to carry you off to the nearest 5(ish) star Hotel and Spa. 

And that's exactly what happened. 

The man had even packed the bag for you to send you off, had made you breakfast in bed and had run to every sound your daughter had made from dusk until dawn so you didn't have to lift a finger. 

“Y/N, you're resting today.”

“But-” 

“No. No buts. Just rest.”

“At least let me hold her for a second to say goodbye.” He blinked at you for a few seconds before his stubbornly helpful face turned softer, and he quickly handed your daughter back for a small cuddle. 

With a lingering hug, you told your daughter - who absolutely did not care one bit that you would be wandering out of the house soon enough - that you'd be back in the morning, kissed your husband on the lips, and were swiftly kidnapped by JJ and Emily. 

To your credit, you lasted two whole hours before breaking down. 

The drive to the hotel was quick and peaceful, and it felt nice to breathe in the fresh air without having to also check for various baby smells. 

You checked in fast, and all gathered in the in-hotel restaurant for brunch and mimosas, and then it hit you. Another mother walked in with a stroller, and you were blubbering. 

Your bottom lip wobbled, and the rest of the world ceased to exist as you gave in to the emotions. 

You knew, of course, that you were going to have to leave your daughter at some point. It wasn't healthy for either of you to have attachment issues, and you didn't want to hinder your daughters development by sticking too close - but that didn't mean you didn't miss her. 

JJ noticed your watery eyes first. “Oh no, I know that look,” she smiled over her drink, taking a sip. 

“What? What look?” You said, but giving yourself massively away with a good sniff and watery blink. 

“You lasted longer than I did. I couldn't go half an hour without turning my car around and heading back to Henry, and I swear it was only worse with Michael.” 

You giggled a bit as you wiped your eyes. 

“Do you think… do you think we could go back? Just for a little bit. I just want to check on them.”

The women passed a look between them and then nodded back at you, obviously having expected this. 

“Actually, we didn't book any spa treatments until the afternoon. We had a feeling something like this would happen,” Tara smiled at you, and you snorted in surprise as you dabbed away your tears with a handkerchief. 

“We are laying some ground rules though,” Emily said, a stern tone fighting the playful smile on her face. 

“We can peak through a window, but we're not going in. And we're not going to call ahead and let Spencer know. The kid needs to know you feel confident in his parenting skills, and if he's just got the baby settled and you come back in, it won't be easy to calm her down again.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” you said, but you were already halfway to the car by the time you could finish the sentence. 

The girls pulled up a block away and let you walk calmly back to your front door. 

You'd since agreed to a time limit and not to unlock the door. Emily went ahead to scope out the house, communicating with JJ on the phone who was holding your hand to stop you from wringing them. 

You'd never been a part of the BAU, but somehow you felt like a team member on a case getting ready to stake out a target. 

When Emily gave you the signal, the rest of the girls gave you space, and you ducked down to peer into your ground floor window. 

Spencer was on his stomach with your daughter, and they were having what seemed like a riveting conversation. 

“And so then I obviously got tongue-tied. Like I said, Daddy isn't good at talking to people, let alone beautiful women like Mommy.” 

“Be be be da.”

“Exactly. I really embarrassed myself, actually. I went up to her and said ‘do you have a number?’ and she was so confused.”

“Ba!” 

“Yeah, she sounded like that, too. I kept talking more and more, and she couldn't understand what I meant. She thought I was asking about her age at one point. I was just getting redder and redder, and then she grabbed my hand and led me to a seat at the back of the bookshop because she thought I was sick.”

He smiled down at the infant again, still babbling to herself.

“I was sick, of course, but it was just love sickness. I still am.” 

The tears that you'd delicately wiped away earlier came back hot and heavy now as you resisted the urge to crawl through the window to your precious family. 

Spencer was telling your daughter the story of how he first asked you out, near disastrously, and from the sounds of it, he wasn't done telling stories. 

“I really love your Mommy, you know. She's wonderful.”

“Mmmm,”

“See, you think so too. Everyone thinks so.” 

“Mmmma” 

“Yes, your Mama. You’re just like her, everyone loves you, too.” 

“Mama.”

You heard Spencer's breath hitch as you closed a hand over your mouth to stop a shocked squeal from coming out. 

“T-That's right. Mama. One more time, say mama.”

“Mama,” the little baby squealed in delight, reacting to her fathers utter joy. 

“You're speaking. One more time, Mama.”

“Mama!” 

“Your mama is going to be so mad,” Spencer whispered, grabbing his daughter up in one more careful hug and kissing her face as she giggled delightfully. “We need to keep this a secret. Tomorrow, you'll have you say your first word in front of her, and we'll both act surprised, okay? Promise?”

The gargle he got in response was enough to have your shoulders shaking as the others extricated you from your own front lawn. 

Back in the car, you broke down into giggles and tears, shoulders rising and falling in sobs and laughter intermittently. 

“Is this a total psychotic break or just a symptom of seeing Spencer as a dad?” Penelope asked, nudging you with her elbow as you tried to regain your composure.

“It's… whew, it's okay. We can go back now.” 

“You sure?” JJ asked from the driver's seat, and you nodded once again.

“Yeah. I'm fine now. I'm really good.” 

The women all offered you similar smiles as you drove away, blissful and content. 

[five-bi-five-mind]

Could you please do a part 2 for New Additions where there is more smut that actually results in a baby (or twins because it runs in the family). I feel like Wanda would be obsessed with the idea that the reader is carrying their child! And you could pick the gender. (I would love to see the Twins reaction to finding out that their gonna have a sibling)?

Another New Addition

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff & Smut

Words: 5.6k+

Summary: It finally happened, you were pregnant and growing your family that you now shared with Wanda. However, pregnancy was a little rough on you. Wanting to take care of you, and also absolutely adoring the way you were glowing from being pregnant with her child, Wanda had a plan. She was going to pamper you all night long.

Warnings: lots of pregnancy talk; pregnancy sex I guess? Bathtub sex, clit play, nipple play, top!Wanda but she's topping from the bottom lol, bottom!r, strap-on (r receiving); enchanted strap, cum-filled strap, strap riding, thigh riding, aftercare

A/N: this isn’t quite what the prompt is asking for but… still gonna use it to post this part two. Also, full disclosure I’m not sure what a power bottom is so can someone please tell me if that’s how I wrote Wanda to fix my warnings lol

New Addition (Part 1)

This whole pregnancy thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Then again, you knew it wasn’t going to be some magical journey that television loves to tell you it is.

One might think, though, if this pregnancy was happening because of your magical soon-to-be wife then it wouldn’t be so difficult sometimes. It wasn’t always awful, but you also were barely four months pregnant and already feeling ready for this kid to come out. There was still a long way to go and today was a particularly hard day for you.

What people don’t really talk about, outside of morning sickness, in this part of a pregnancy are the other random symptoms. For instance, you were just sore all time, in random places. Your back would ache, or your whole body, or sometimes just your legs. It depended on the day. And the hormones raging through your body right now… God, those fucking hormones caused the weirdest shifts in your mood. You cried at everything.

It was a little humiliating when you’d sit down and watch a silly Pixar movie with the boys and end up sobbing your eyes out at every happy ending. The boys, being as sweet and perfect as always, would wrap their little arms around you and tell you everything was already right. They had no way of understanding that it was just your body wreaking havoc on your emotions. What was worse was the more they tried to console you, the sweeter you found it, and the harder you cried. 

It was always Wanda who would end the tears. Seeing her children wrapped around either side of you, she just somehow knew that was making it harder for you to stop. She’d always say just the right thing to calm her boys’ sweet, but protective nature towards you. 

“She’s okay, my loves,” Wanda would coo at them. “But I can take good care of her now, hm?” It always seemed like it was that promise of care that would reassure them you’d be okay if they untangled themselves from you. And each time, Wanda would take your hand and pull you out of the living room and into your now shared bedroom to get you ready for much needed rest. 

That’s another thing people don’t tell you. With all the emotions and changes running rampant in your body you’re just tired all the time. You honestly felt a little guilty with how often you’d take midday naps or go to bed early. Your days were filled with family time with the boys and Wanda if she wasn’t busy. But after these afternoons, you’d be drained. There wasn’t much alone time left for you to give Wanda the attention you worried she was missing.

And she was missing this attention, but she also knew it was temporary. What you were doing for her, carrying her child, was so much more important than a temporary shortage of your attention. Plus, she had her moments with you. Currently, her favorite thing was waking up next to you and sneaking her hands under your shirt to press to your stomach. You had just started showing, even though it wasn’t too much yet. It was still enough for Wanda to be able to feel the difference. Most mornings you’d wake up to her fingertips tracing over your belly, or pressed flat trying to feel a kick. You told her multiple times it was too early for that, but Wanda wasn’t going to miss the opportunity if it were to come soon. 

Even though Wanda cherished these moments of being close to you, she still craved certain other moments of intimacy. It wasn’t like the two of you completely stopped, though. The frequency was just… less. Especially since you started to show. Part of you was a little self conscious about it, even though Wanda continuously reminded you of how beautiful you were each and every day. Part of it was also because your body was just changing and you genuinely were a little more tired lately. It wasn’t that you were avoiding or rejecting Wanda exactly, things were just a bit different now. Wanda understood, she really did. But still, this change in frequency didn’t go unnoticed by her. 

So when a week went by and you two hadn’t really done more than spoon in bed and kiss each other here and there, Wanda was getting a little pent up. Not only that, but the way you just utterly glowed from being pregnant with her child, it was doing something to Wanda that she didn’t expect. She hated that she felt so desperate to have you, especially when she knew this week you had been struggling with some rough pregnancy symptoms, but she just really couldn’t help it. Of course, she would never make you take care of this problem for her or make you feel bad if you said no, but she really really didn’t want you to say no. So, she came up with a little plan. One that made sure you knew you were loved and cared for, while also getting opportunities to be closer to you and touch you in a way she hadn’t all week. 

Wanda had asked you to drop the boys off at a friend’s for the night, claiming she had forgotten something she needed to take care of right away. You, being the kind soul that Wanda knows and loves, gladly said yes and even offered to take them to buy snacks for their big sleepover with their friend. Grateful for more time to prepare and just out of the sheer love she had for you and the way you loved her boys, Wanda made sure to use the extra time to her advantage. 

She was setting up the finishing touches when she heard the front door open and close. An eager grin spread across her face as she heard you call for her and that’s when she knew she needed to wrap up. With a snap of her fingers, candles lit all across the room and she took a moment to soak in what she had done. As she looked around the room, her smile grew. Everything was perfect. There was no doubt in Wanda’s mind that you were going to love it.

After one more quick check that everything was in place, she finally went downstairs to greet you. The minute her eyes fell on your bright smile she couldn’t help herself, she hurried down the stairs to wrap you up into her arms. 

“You’re back!” She exclaimed between kisses she showered across your cheeks. You giggled and wrapped your arms around her waist as she kept kissing you. 

“I was only gone for less than two hours,” you laughed and brushed your nose against hers. “We could’ve waited so you could join us.” 

“Hm, I know,” Wanda pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “But then I wouldn’t have had time to prepare your surprise.” 

“Surprise?” You pulled back to look at Wanda and the way you gave her such a curious, yet excited look, had her heart melting. 

She pulled you in again for another kiss, this one slightly longer and lingering. “Mhm,” she mumbled against your lips. “I’ve spent a lot of time planning tonight.” 

“Oh?” You tried to pull back from the kiss to question her again, but Wanda leaned back in, capturing your lips one more time. “Wanda,” you giggled against her lips as you tried yet again to pull back. “Do I get to see this surprise?”

“Hm?” Wanda blinked, already getting carried away just from kissing you. “Oh, yes! Sorry…” she gave you a sheepish smile and slid her hand into yours. Without hesitation, you let her lead you back upstairs to the bedroom. 

The whole time you followed her, you looked all over, trying to catch a glimpse of this surprise. Wanda looked back at you for a moment as you kept scanning the bedroom, and couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you were being. She shook her head, sometimes your excitement matched her boys. It’s no wonder you three clicked instantly. 

“So…” You were still looking around the bedroom. “Where’s this surprise?” 

“In the bathroom.” Wanda pointed to the door. “Go see for yourself.” 

The confusion in your eyes grew, but you eagerly made your way to the bathroom. Wanda had let you go, no longer guiding you as she watched you reach for the door. She walked up behind you as you opened it and you let out a surprised gasp.

“Wow…” You took in the sight before you. Candles filled the bathroom, leaving you both in a soft muted light. The tub was filled and full of bubbles. Sprinkled in and around the tub were rose petals. It looked like a stereotypical scene out of a romcom. Wanda pulled out her phone for a moment to press a button and suddenly, soft instrumental music filled the room. 

“Do you like it?” Wanda’s arms came to wrap around you from behind. Her lips placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “I know this week hasn’t been easy for you. So, I wanted to give you the most relaxing night I possibly can,” Wanda kissed your shoulder again. “And to show just how much I love you.” Her lips pressed to your neck before her hand reached up to turn your head so she could meet your lips. 

“I really like it,” you whispered into the kiss. “And I love you.” 

Wanda stepped back and began to undress. Even after being with her for a while, you still couldn’t help but feel a little flustered from seeing her naked form. She was almost completely undressed and you still just couldn’t take your eyes off her breathtaking form. It wasn’t until she caught you staring and threw a wink your way that you felt your face flush and you instantly turned your attention to your own clothes. 

When the final piece of clothing came off, that was when you realized Wanda had moved closer to you. Her hands reached out and her finger tips traced along the sides of your stomach before she pulled your naked body into hers. Her eyes sparkled as she looked down between you two and at the small baby bump that was starting to show. In her mind, it blew her away just how lucky she was that you were actually willing to do this for her, for the two of you, for the family you now shared with her. There was nothing more beautiful than watching you carry her child. Seeing this physical reminder of that just made her want to worship you for how gorgeous you looked. You, on the other hand, felt slightly self conscious about these small changes. While the fact that you were actually starting to show made it feel more real that your family was growing, you still were unsure of how Wanda felt about these changes to your body. Wanda could sense that unsureness that you had too. But tonight, she hoped she would help put that self-consciousness at ease. 

Wanda’s hand went to cup your cheek. Her loving eyes stared back at you for a moment. Her thumb brushed against your cheek gently and she gave you a soft smile. “You are so,” her voice was thick with emotion as she spoke, “so beautiful.”

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you turned your head to press a kiss to her palm, before moving to press your forehead to hers for a moment. A soft whisper of “I love you” was exchanged between the two of you before Wanda’s hand slipped back into yours and led you to the bath.

Her hand stayed in yours, steadying you even if you didn’t necessarily need it, as you stepped in. The water was the perfect temperature and you had a feeling that was just another magical perk of being with Wanda. When you had eased in and sat down, Wanda motioned for you to sit up and move to the middle so that she could step in and sit behind you. With her legs around either side of you and her arms wrapping around your waist under the water to pull you closer, you ended up with your back completely pressed against Wanda’s bare front. 

Wanda’s hands urged you to lean back onto her and when you did, her hands immediately began to trace along just about any part of your body they could reach. “Are you comfortable?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Your eyes were closed and your head was resting against her. It wasn’t until she asked you again that you realized just how instantly relaxed you really were. 

“Oh, mhm” you sighed happily. “Very comfortable.”

“Good,” She let out a small laugh as her hands kept slowly tracing your bare skin. 

When her fingers brushed against your nipples, the small gasp that left your lips did not go unnoticed by Wanda. That small reaction alone absolutely floored her. She needed to hear you make that sound again. It had only been a week since she last was able to draw a sound like that from you, but to her a week without having you like this was a long time. So, her fingers circled your nipple, this time with more intention. And, just as she hoped, a small gasp left your lips yet again.

You were surprised by just how sensitive you were. One little touch of your nipples and you were already struggling not to whine and moan? Yes, you could be quite vocal and needy when it came to being with Wanda, but it wasn’t usually this easy for her to get a reaction out of you. Although, you were also well aware that it had been a week since you last let Wanda touch you and your hormones were going crazy. Pregnancy really did a lot to a person’s body and one thing you didn’t expect was to be crazy horny more often than you usually are. And with Wanda… that was usually pretty damn often. Except, your insecurities had started to win here and there this week. Plus you really were struggling just a bit more with fatigue and other not-so-fun pregnancy things. So, those things had kept you from actually acting on some of the things your pregnant, hormonal body was screaming at you for. 

But now, Wanda was being so sweet and romantic. All your insecurities melted away with just the way Wanda looked at you before you two even got into the bath. The bath itself was helping too. All the aches in your body felt like they were distant memories the moment your body was engulfed in the warm water. On top of all that, you had the house and Wanda all to yourself. That was a rare luxury with the boys. Not that it stopped you both from just about anything, you just had to learn how to be more discreet. When were you going to have another chance like this, though? Certainly, nights with just you and Wanda in the house would be increasingly rare once the new baby comes.

Wanda’s hands were now fully cupping your breasts. Your eyes were closed and you squirmed in the tub, pressing your legs together as you felt her roll your nipples between her fingers. You were completely aware of the way her bare body felt against your back and that sensation alone was causing the ache between your legs to get worse.

Without even having to ask, Wanda knew to move her hand where you needed it. Even as she played with one of your nipples, while her other hand was busy spreading your legs as best she could in the tub, her touch was still gentle. You felt utter admiration and love in the way she whispered soft praises as her hand finally cupped your pussy under the water. When you felt two of her fingers press ever so gently to your clit, your body tensed for a second and low whine fell from your lips.

“Shh,” Wanda cooed into your ear from behind. “Let me take care of you.”

With your eyes still squeezed shut, you nodded your head and gave in to the feeling of Wanda playing with your clit and switching between both your nipples. 

Your head fell back on Wanda’s bare shoulder as her fingers kept rubbing against your clit. Your eyes were still closed and your lips were parted as small sighs of pleasure kept falling from them. One of your hands had a grip of the edge of the tub, but the other came up to intertwine with Wanda’s as she moved it from your breasts. The whole time Wanda kept steady pressure on your clit, she was also softly whispering even more praises about how good you were doing. How much she loved seeing you like this. How she couldn’t wait to get you out of the tub so she could see you naked and spread open on her bed. 

The feeling of Wanda’s fingers was intoxicating and it only added to everything to feel her wet, naked body against your back too. You were fully leaning into Wanda as she touched you. Your hips were no longer still and were starting to slowly grind up into the way her fingers were working on your clit. The familiar feeling was building inside you and your small sighs turned into louder whines and moans as she kept up with what she was doing to your clit. 

As you felt yourself build up and up, you couldn’t take it anymore and reached behind you for a fist full of Wanda’s hair. Wanda leaned forward just as you tugged her closer and turned your head. When your lips met in a heated kiss that’s when her fingers picked up the pace. She felt your hand squeeze the one that was still intertwined with hers and she knew you were two seconds away from that edge. When she applied more pressure, your body tensed and you let out a final desperate whine against her lips. Your hand squeezed tighter against hers as you came, but she kept a hold of you, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

After a minute your body completely collapsed back into Wanda and her hand moved from between your legs to wrap around your waist and pull you even closer.

“How are you feeling?” Wanda asked after placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“Good…” You were still trying to catch your breath. “Great actually.”

“Yeah?” You felt Wanda smile against your bare skin and you nodded, your body relaxing even more against her. The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, relaxing in the still warm water with Wanda’s arms wrapped around you. After a while, both of you decided to get out.

Wanda, again, made sure to keep you steady as you got out of the bath. With a towel already wrapped around herself, she made sure to wrap you up within a split second of the cold air hitting your wet body. You both smiled and giggled with each other as each of you attempted to dry the other off. 

Neither of you bothered to put clothes of any kind back on when you were both nice and dry. The both of you knew tonight wasn’t quite over yet, and your body still craved way more from Wanda than the one, albeit amazing, orgasm she did give you. 

When you both were done with the bath, Wanda sat you gently on the bed as she began to move the candles from the bathroom to the bedroom, as well as the speaker she had for the instrumental music that was still playing. The romantic mood from the bath you shared was effectively recreated in your shared bedroom and you couldn’t help but smile at Wanda as you watched her fuss over small details. The way she looked, as she made sure the candles were positioned just right, the glow of their flame plus the moonlight coming from the window, was stunning. Wanda always said that you looked like you were glowing, even before you knew you were actually pregnant with her child, but she was glowing too. You made a mental note to tell her more about how beautiful she was, just like she would remind you. 

When the room was finally ready, Wanda walked up to where you sat on the bed and leaned down to kiss you. Your hands immediately grabbed at her bare hips, pulling her closer and parting your lips for her tongue to gently run against your own. The soft sigh she let out as she felt your tongue against hers was intoxicating and it immediately made you want to hear more. However, you also desperately wanted to feel Wanda touch you more, or at least to feel her finally inside you. Rarely did you specifically ask for what you wanted, always struggling with being too shy, but tonight you had something very specific in mind that you think the both of you would enjoy.

Pulling back from the kiss you looked up at Wanda who was looking at you with a blush across her face and lust in her eyes. She knew just by the way you looked at her, that you wanted something. 

“What is it, my love?” She gave you a knowing smile. Excitement grew in her eyes as she watched you struggle to get over your shyness. She loved seeing you communicate what you wanted from her. It was hard to coax out of you, but it was a huge turn on for her when she finally got you to admit it. 

“Would you um…” You bit your lip, feeling your face flush more before you even got the words out. Really you shouldn’t be shy about this anymore, but you couldn’t help it. “Tonight, could we use the…” 

“The what, baby?” Wanda’s eyes sparkled as she watched you struggle to get the word out. She knew exactly what you wanted and she loved when you asked for it. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” you pouted. Wanda was going to give you a harder time, but any time she saw you pout she’d instantly cave. It wasn’t fair really.

“Do I?” She kept teasing, not quite ready to let you off the hook. “You could want a number of things. But I think I do know.” Her grin grew as she watched you squirm. “Is it that you want my cock again?” 

Your face was bright red at this point and despite covering it with your hands, you still nodded. 

Wanda just let out an amused chuckle in response, but you knew by the way she was shifting where she stood that you were going to get exactly what you wanted. “Alright,” Wanda began, “but if you want this, we’re going to go carefully and slowly” 

You nodded eagerly, waiting for Wanda to do her thing and put on the magic toy you both loved so much. “We’ll go carefully,” you agreed, trying to reassure Wanda so she’d make a move.

“And slowly,” she corrected. 

“And slowly,” you nodded again, still eager for Wanda to conjure up the toy.

“And you’re going to ride me.”

“And I’m going to r–” you paused as the words sank in. “Wait what?!”

Wanda gave you a devilish grin. “Yes, you’re going to ride me. Listen, this way you can set the pace and we can make sure nothing gets too out of control.” By nothing, Wanda meant herself. Before you were pregnant, any time she used the enchanted strap-on she created for the two of you, it didn’t take her long to get a little… overly enthusiastic. No matter how many times she’s fucked you with it, she hasn’t gotten used to the fact that she can actually feel herself inside you. Any time you start to get close, a part of her loses it just a little bit, and she struggles with the urge to just fuck you into the mattress. Usually, you have no quarrels about letting her do exactly that, but right now things are different. You were more fragile. She couldn’t risk the safety of you or her unborn child just because she can’t control herself. The best solution, in Wanda’s mind, is to have you in control. Hopefully, it’ll be easier to control her constant need to ruin you when she can feel herself inside you, if you’re using this toy with you in charge. 

“I– Wanda, I haven’t done that before.” To Wanda, you looked so cute when you were nervous like this. Her hands reached to cup your face and you didn’t put up a protest when she pulled you in for a breathtaking kiss. Her tongue immediately licked into your mouth and you moaned against hers as it did. Your hands grabbed at her naked body as she tilted your head back and kissed you harder. Suddenly, she was moving while she was kissing you. Her knees went onto the bed on either side of you and you realized she was straddling your waist.

Your mind short circuited for a minute and your hands grabbed harder at her as she kept kissing you. Her naked body pressed down against yours and for the first time, you felt how wet she was as her pussy pressed to your thigh. You didn’t even care about the whines that were being suppressed by Wanda’s lips as you felt her start to grind down. But all too soon, Wanda broke the kiss. 

“See,” She said breathlessly, “Just do this…” Wanda dragged her body against your thigh again and you groaned at the feeling. All you could think to do was nod as your eyes fell between your bodies to watch the way she was moving. Wanda was breathing hard as she continued to grind slowly against you. “Are you ready to try?” Wanda stilled her movement and you swallowed hard, trying to muster up more courage. You didn’t want her to stop what she was doing, but you also desperately wanted to feel her inside you and that feeling was growing by the second.

“Yes, I’m ready.” You practically sounded like you were pleading with her, even though you were trying to keep your cool.

“Good girl,” Wanda kissed your lips again before crawling off of you. You watched with curiosity as she got comfortable on the bed, leaning herself against the headboard. With another wave of her hand, suddenly the thing you’d been waiting all night for was right in front of you, with the straps already tightly attached to Wanda’s hips. “Now,” Wanda’s eyes were dark and her grin was wide as she looked at you. “Come here.”

You could feel your heart rate pick up just by looking at the sight in front of you. Wanda had her hands folded behind her head as she rested against the headboard. Her legs were spread and in between them was the crimson strap-on you loved so much, even if you still weren’t quite used to the size. To ride it seemed daunting, but as Wanda waited for you with a hungry look in your eye, it was all you wanted to do. 

With a little bit of hesitation, you crawled to where she was on the bed. “Take it slowly,” she instructed as you began to mount her. Her hands moved from behind her head to rest on your hips. You felt her gently guiding you so that you were steady as you started to line her strap up with your entrance. 

“That’s it,” she practically groaned as she felt your wetness against her enchanted toy. 

“Fuck…” you muttered under your breath as you started to slowly lower yourself onto it. The size was still hard to take, but as it stretched your walls it still felt incredibly good. 

When you were finally all the way down, your thighs flush with Wanda’s hips, her hands tightened their grip on you. You didn’t move for a minute, just watching in awe as Wanda clearly reacted to the feeling of being inside you. Her breathing picked up and her eyes grew darker as she looked back at you. Eventually, you experimentally picked yourself up only slightly and then ground back down onto her cock. The movement was not lost on Wanda; her nails immediately dug into your skin when she felt it. 

With a sudden burst of confidence, you started to move, rocking your hips against Wanda’s as she sat below you and just let you ride. She felt every single thrust though, and it took every ounce of strength in her not to lose control like she wanted to. Her instincts were screaming at her to just flip you over and fuck you until you had tears in yours eyes. However, she knew that wasn’t a good idea, not when you were more fragile right now. So instead, she held onto you tightly and let you ride her.

As you picked up the pace, Wanda’s head fell back against the headboard. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her lip was between her teeth. She was breathing hard at this point too and you started to notice the way her hips would jump with each time you pressed yourself down hard against her cock. Eventually, you felt her hands tugging at you and you realized it was her way of moving you faster. 

“Fuck baby,” Wanda groaned between pants. “You feel so good.” Her eyes were open again and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as you kept fucking yourself on top of her. The way she looked right now was a rare sight. Usually, you were too busy getting lost in the way Wanda made you feel to watch her lose control because of you and it was making you even more wet as you rode her.

Wanda could already feel your wetness drip down her cock and onto her bare thighs. That plus the way you let out moan after moan with each time she moved her hips and fucked up inside of you was driving her crazy. She hated to admit it, but she was so fucking close already. She was feeling you squeeze against her cock more and more with each time you practically bounced on top of her. At first, she wanted to make you cum one more time before she came with you, but that wasn’t going to happen. Wanda severely underestimated just how fucking good you’d look fucking yourself on her cock like this. 

Suddenly, as you felt Wanda’s thighs begin to twitch underneath you, she surged up. Her arms came to wrap fully around your waist and her hips began moving up harder and faster into you. Your body immediately fell forward, overwhelmed by how hard her cock was pumping into you. Your eyes closed and your face buried into her neck. Wanda felt your nails scratch at her back as she kept a fast pace, pulling your entire body to fuck yourself faster on her cock. 

“Fuck fuck,” Wanda groaned as she kept pumping her hips up to fuck you harder. “Like that baby, keep riding my cock.” You tried your best to speed up, but at this point Wanda was practically just fucking you onto her cock herself. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m going to cum inside you.” 

“Please,” you moaned. Your only thoughts now were of how badly you wanted her to cum and how badly you wanted to cum with her. Suddenly, Wanda used all her strength to pump her cock harder up into you a few more times before, finally, you felt her warm cum fill your pussy. With a loud cry, you followed after, coming hard on top of her. She could feel a mix of both your and her cum dripping down the strap and onto her lap.

Eventually, her movements slowed until she felt your body completely relax against hers. Both of you were breathing hard as you tried to come down from your orgasms. Wanda’s hands found their way to your hair, stroking gently while she placed a few light kisses to your shoulder and then your neck up to your jaw.

“How are you feeling?” She mumbled against your skin. 

“Mm, good,” you breathed. “A little worn out.” Usually, you could go a few more times, but you wanted to be honest. Your stamina and energy wasn’t what it used to be and you definitely understood that it was the pregnancy. 

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” Wanda kissed your lips briefly before gently moving you up and off her strap. With a flick of her wrist it disappeared from her hips and the both of you looked down. “I think I might need another bath,” she chuckled. 

You looked back up at her sheepishly. “Can I join again?” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she grinned before hopping up from the bed. Her hand slipped into yours and she helped steady you when you stood up on shaky legs. “Plus, I’m not done spoiling you. I promised the boys I’d take care of you. It was the only way they agreed to go to the sleepover.” 

She stopped for a moment and pressed a hand to your stomach, her eyes shining with so much love as she looked down at your small baby bump. “And you and their new sister deserve the absolute best care in the world.” 

You smiled as you watched Wanda admire you and the changes your body was experiencing. You knew you weren’t just in for a night of love and care from her, but a whole lifetime. Not just from her, but from the whole family you now shared with her.

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[flamingpudding]

I just got done reading the prompt that I asked you about and it's wonderful thank you so much and if you're okay with it I'm here to help you make a part two but if you don't want to do that that's okay I'm just adding some bonus to it.

I'm just imagining Danny full Ghost King attire showing up with two things to cookies one with kryptonite in them cuz I love the head can of ghosts eating good tonight like candy and the other set a normal batch of chocolate chip cookies. Looking down Young Justice being like in the most Patrick electric entity sounding voice with a country accent "I'm so just the cutest oddiest little berries on the bush" (sorry just speaking in my little country Danny headcannon)

But I can also see Danny being embarrassing for Klarion. Danny sit down the two trains of cookies Evan just start hugging and kissing his son on his head like the embarrassing mom he is talking about how he's so skinny and he should eat more. Also really nice to Young Justice it's like them realizing they just might by the end of the day be adopted by enemies mom.

Justice League is getting to the location ready to fight and do what they can just for a Young Justice member with a cookie in hand to walk up and explain and tell them to play along for free cookies.

RedRobin badly wants to try one of the kryptonite cookies to see what it would do if he ate it. Klarion keeps stopping him because as much as he doesn't like them he doesn't want RedRobin to die.

Who I'm just adding on a couple of things really love your writing though oh yeah what are your pronouns so I can know to refer to you as just asking.

So glad you liked it and no problem i don't mind at all. I was thinking about adding a part two honestly. Well then lets continue the shenanigans. I hope this part two won't disappoint either. And out of courtesy for once added people who asked for tags in the comments. Don't get used to it. I usually don't to tags. This is an exception for this awesome prompt idea.

--------------

The moment a Lazarus green portal started to open in the Living Room, Red Robin suffered a small, probably slightly traumatic, flashbacks to all the times he had seen the Lazarus Pits, but before he could even react Klarion tackled him to the ground with a distinctive hiss of "Play alone." His friends, the traitors, had managed to doge Klarion. Impulse had simple used his speed to step aside and Superboy apparently had headed a warning. Wonder Girl hadn't even been in the path of Klarions tackle. So this was why Red Robin was currently the only one getting sort of wrestled and put into a headlock on the ground in a hold he knew he could easily get out of but was to distracted by the ceiling high, eldritch as well as royal looking being stepped out of it.

The portal closed behind that being and Red Robin swallowed seeing six eyes in inky black that mirrored the night sky blink down at them.

"Klarion?" The static voice ringed in their ears and from the corner of his eyes Red Robin saw Superboy flinch visibly.

"Mom! Your early!" Red Robins head hit the floor as Klarion suddenly let him go to greet the being that's apparently his mother. He glared at the witch boy for that as he sat up and rubbed his had.

"Oh my, sorry my dear." Superboy flinched again, and Red robin could hear Impulse whispering to Wonder Girl if he was the only one seeing four mouths talk at the same time. Klarion appeared to have it heard to as he send them a quick glare over his shoulder before turning back to his mother.

"Mom, could you tune down on the eldritch?" Red Robin blinked stunned before seeing the bing apparently blush green in embarrassment and its form changing until there stood a man, about Red Hoods height still with a floating crown and a royal cape, but at least more human like and resembling Klarion but with more blueish skin before them.

"Sorry baby, I thought my royal appearance would make a better first impression." The man pinched the witch boys cheek lovingly, to witch Klarion whined out a drawn out "Mom."

The four young heroes couldn't help but stare, was that seriously their villain Klarion? The one that tried to cause chaos and make their lives difficult on regular basis?

"Klarion. Why is there a magic barrier around your apartment." The man in royal clothing suddenly asked and they blinked seeing Klarion flinch and laugh nervously. "Oh you know mom, keeping the bonding in one place so other mortals won't be bothered." To which the man cooed. He cooed!

"Bonding? What bonding?" The four heroes echoed blinked and exchanged stunned and confused looks. Bonding? What Bonding? What were they talking about? Sure they hadn't gotten a lot of explanations out of Klarion before that portal opened and apparently his entire act about his mother visiting was the true. It was clear that the witch boy's mother was some kind of other worldly being but it looked like there was more to it. Also considering the royal like outfit and the grown.... did that mean that they had been dealing with a prince of some kind as villain the entire time.

Suddenly the man bristled turning to glare at them back in his eldritch form towering over them. "Are you telling me you mortals have been ignoring my sons bonding?! And that is why my son's bonds don't appear to be properly formed?!"

They flinched back staring at that being that was now back to locking eldritch horror like with a crown and royal cape. Their eyes were locked onto the being, only distantly they realised that Klarion was pulling on his mother hissing something that sounded very much just like static to their ears. It to a while longer but finally the being drew back staring what sounded like a static filled discussion with Klarion and Impulse was pretty sure he had been ready to sully himself if it had taken any longer,

Apparently Klarion and his mother finished their exchanged as they both turned to them, his mom now again more human like looking. "Mom these are my friends. The punk looking guy is Superboy the half alien, Red Robin the one in red and black, you know Dinner boy. Impulse from the Flash-Clan and Wonder Girl one of the Amazonian. Guys this is my mom, Ghost King of the Infinite Realms."

Red Robin couldn't help the eye twitch at his introduction, he also noticed that Impulse flinched back as the mans eyes locked onto him and he didn't need Superboy's confirmation of having heard a grumble about 'why did it have to be a speedster'. Great so this eldritch being, apparently King and most likely a danger and possible hostile did not like one of them already. Why did Klarion ask them to play pretend friends again?

"Well I will be, you have quiet the colourful and oddest batch of fleshy mortals here." The man grinned at them, that were sharp teeth the four heroes observed. "Titles are a bit stuffy, feel free to call me Danny kids. Now come here. I brought some cookies with me."

Before they knew it the four of them were seated on the couch with a huge plate of cookies on the coffee table before them. The four of them blinked at the two kinds of cookies. Impulse was already reaching out to them fearlessly but Wonder Girl had the foresight to stop their friend for the moment. Superboy on the other hand appeared to look quiet queasy and was slowly turning green to the worry of Red robin. They noticed Klarion turning towards his Mom when he took note of this. "Mom! I have a Kryptonian friend! Why did you bring cookies with kryptonite chunks! Look! Superboy is turning green just looking at them."

The Ghost King, now known by the name Danny to them, appeared to be waving his son. "Oh he will be fine in a moment its not enough to completely bother his species, he will just be more human like till you ate all of them. These ones are more for you anyway, you are way to thin lately." Danny then turned to them with a smile. "Please feel free to eat the chuckles chip once. I can guarantee they are human friendly. My sister helped me make them. She is a liminal human."

That was all Impulse needed to rip his wrist free and stuff the first of the chocolate chips cookies into his mouth. "They are good!"

Danny smiled at them satisfied, and with that out of the way started to make small talk with them while also embarrassing his son with occasional comments like. "Oh you should have seen when Klarion first got Teekl." Or "He nearly burned down our entire castle when he started actually learning magic." Or "He used to be such a grumpy adult until he deaged and became such a cute grumpy little baby boy. Want to see photos?"

They never got to see photos to Wonder Girls disappointment. Klarion managed to cut in between suffering embarrassment and glaring at them for encouraging his mother to tell more embarrasing stories and forced the portal, his mother was going to reach into for the photos, to close.

By now the teens have become more relaxed around Danny. The man had a friendly charm to him and genuinely showed an interest in them as well as in the well bing of his son. They could understand why Klarion didn't want to disappoint a parent like that. They snacked on the cookies and Red Robin watched with interest whenever Klarion and Danny reached for one of the cookies with green Kryptonite chunks. Danny had mentioned off handedly in one of his stories of Klarion that they both used to be normal humans. Red Robin was very interested in this right now.

Suddenly Superboy elbowed Impulse and Red Robin, having caught the movement turned to them with an arched eyebrow. "Mentors." The other mouthed to them and they sighed, of course their mentors would show up sooner or later. They shared a glance and Red Robin took on the task to subtitle inform Klarion since they were sitting next to each other when Impulse excused himself to a toilet break shortly.

Red Robin used that quick distraction to reach towards the cookie plate.

Meanwhile Impulse came to a stop in front of the front door stopped by his foot from slamming shut behind him again, thankfully Klarion had removed his magic barrier that could have made this difficult. He had one cookie in hand and grinned up at their mentors and the Justice League Dark members.

"Hi everyone!" He greeted them cheerfully, taking a bite of his cookie.

"Impulse? Are you okay? What happened?!" Flash was instantly on the teen checking him over for any sort of injury. They were prepared to fight since Deadman had reported the location where the Ghost King had appeared. They had chosen to halt their search for the missing teens for the moment but had paled when Superman had mentioned he was hearing their voices from the same location.

"Oh i am fine! Great even. Did you know that there are other dimensions that have melon flavoured chips?" Impulse easily answered grinning. "Also you might wanna dile back on the battle ready aura you guys radiate. Klarions mom is visiting, pretty awesome guy."

"Klarion? The witch boy?" Wonder Woman asked stunned to which Impulse nodded. "Yea, pretty nice guy. Ghost King of a dimension that holds everything together like glue. Kinda badass."

"Bloody fucking..." Batman glared at Constantine who swallowed the rest of his curse. "The hell you mean the Ghost King is badass? That a fucking tyrannical blood hungry war maniac!"

Impulse blinked at them. "Really? I mean he does have scary form that made me nearly piss myself but he is pretty chill. Awesome parent, we get why Klarion loves his mom so much now."

The blond Brite pinched the bridge of his nose letting out a suffering sigh. "Just let us in mate, we will deal with this before our dimension can kiss its arse goodbye."

Impulse appeared to be thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Uh nope. We are having a good time actually. A nice break. Sooooo no!" Before Flash or anyone else could react impulse stepped back closing the door into their faces. They blinked stunned, Batman was the first to recover stepped towards the door to attempt to open it only for his lockpick to be deflected by a red barrier suddenly appearing. The man growled turning to glare at the Justice League Dark members with a silent comment.

Inside the apartment a little bit earlier....

Klarion snatched another green glowing cookie from Red Robins hands with a glare at the other teen, who only glared back. Danny was watching them amused feeling reminded of himself and Tucker by their interaction. But then his attention turned to Wonder Girl as she asked for another story about Klarions childhood.

A moment later Klarion felt a nudge and looked at Superboy who nudged him across a pouting Red Robin who got another green glowing cookie snatched from him. The witch boy arched an eyebrow when Superboy asked to recreated the barrier to keep their mentors out but did so the moment Impulse was back with them with already three new chocolate cookies in hand as he joined Wonder Girl in fishing for more stories.

[waldau-archived]

hii i would like to request a fake dating scoups x reader au where the reader falls first but coups falls harder <3 thank u!

here you go anon, hope you like this :)

reset — choi seungcheol | 2,008 words | fluff, hurt/comfort

cheol brainrot go brrrr

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

technically speaking, the party’s going fine.

despite how much you want to hate it, it’s going the way parties do. there’s music, there’s alcohol, there’s your own corner if you want to tune out the sound of everything else, and there’s seungcheol’s friends. he’s spent at least half an hour introducing you to everyone — you’ve met a lot of them before, but there’s still some new ones. there’s always new ones.

and even though they’ve been nothing but polite to you, engaging you in conversation and making an effort to learn more about you, you can’t shake off the feeling that this isn’t really where you’re supposed to be.

you don’t know who you were kidding when you agreed to be his fake date for the party. he’s already had a ton of people hanging onto him throughout the course of the night. you’re not sure why he even bothered asking you. he could have asked his manager to find someone that would actually match with him, and maybe create a big splash if it made it to the news.

instead, he’d asked you out.

it won’t make a difference in the news, anyway, he’d said, like he wasn’t aware of the way he shattered your heart with those words. like it was common knowledge that nobody could even imagine the two of you together. like it wasn’t worth anyone’s time or imagination, most of all his.

suddenly, you find the sounds in the room too loud to bear. it’s not the first party you’ve been to, but it’s the first one where you’ve felt truly alone. you’re glad you haven’t touched your drink yet.

no one’s really paying attention to you exclusively, and you’re okay with nodding along and throwing in an occasional response here and there. but then it’s not okay, anymore. you shouldn’t have to be here in the first place, on this stupid fake date you agreed to because of your little crush on seungcheol.

okay, maybe it’s not just a little crush. but the point is that you shouldn’t have to be here hurting your feelings in order to spend a little time with him.

you excuse yourself under the pretense of having to take a call and head towards the balcony. joshua, one of seungcheol’s closest friends, comes up to ask you if everything’s okay. you’ve been friends with him for long enough that he can tell when you're fine and when you're not, but you give him a look that hopefully conveys you want him to let this slide.

“seungcheol mentioned this isn’t really your thing, so let him know if you want to go home. i know he’ll be okay with that.”

you nod wordlessly, words of gratitude stuck in your throat. what seungcheol tells you is true — joshua is just too damn perceptive.

you feel like you can finally take a better breath when the door shuts behind you, separating you from everyone else. the cold air makes you feel better, even if it’s beginning to seep into your skin because of the outfit you’ve worn.

it doesn’t matter, though. you need a bit of a reset.

somehow, it hardly takes four minutes before you feel someone behind you. and it’s not just anyone.

“do you have a death wish or something?”

you choose not to grace him with an answer.

“hey,” seungcheol prompts when you don’t reply. “what’s up?”

“shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

seungcheol steps to your side and looks at you. even though you’re gazing down at the empty road sparsely dotted with streetlights, you can feel his gaze pierce you.

“do you want to go home?” he asks softly.

it hurts. he shouldn’t be this considerate to you and then not like you back. it can't just be one without the other.

“i don’t know, do you?”

he sighs. “okay. i don’t know what i’ve done wrong, but i can tell you’re not comfortable right now. are you done for tonight?”

you shake your head. “i don’t want you to leave because of me. it seemed like you were having fun back there.”

“and you weren’t,” he replies, reading between the lines.

“it doesn’t matter, okay? it’s not your fault i’m not having fun.”

“that’s not how this works,” seungcheol stresses, stepping forward to grip your arms and recoiling a bit. “you’re cold.”

you shrug. another thing that’s not gone well today.

seungcheol takes off his jacket and hands it to you without any hesitation, but you don’t take it. you can’t keep living in your little daydream, living on moments where you think he might love you just a bit more than he would a friend. one of you needs to break the cycle, and if it’s going to be you, you’re prepared.

“seriously, what is wrong with you?” he asks, soft but sharp. you finally look him in the eyes. he has that gaze — the one where it looks like he knows exactly what you’re thinking about. it scares you sometimes, the way he’s so accurate. he must have picked up something from joshua over the years.

“nothing’s wrong with me, cheol,” you say, slightly bitter. “just because i don’t want your jacket doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.”

"you're right, i'm sorry," he says, taking a step closer to you. "i shouldn't have said it like that. but...it's not just about the jacket. at first i thought i caught you on an off day, but you seemed fine till we got here. i don’t know what happened after that. are you hungry? did someone say something to you? do you need me to punch anyone?”

you give him an exasperated look. “you’d punch someone if i asked?”

“in a heartbeat. i thought you knew that by now.”

“and if i was wrong?”

“you’re never wrong when it comes to things like these. and i’d forgive you even if you were.”

"you're too trusting, you know that?"

"well," seungcheol says, lowering the jacket. but it's still in front of you, still on offer. "you're my best friend. i think you have some privilege."

you hate the earnestness in his voice as much as you love it. “i know. sorry.”

“don’t apologize, sweetheart. tell me what’s wrong, and tell me how i can fix it. i’ll do anything.”

“it’s…nothing you can do,” you say, turning away from him. it's most definitely not in his control, but it’s not your fault for loving him, either.

“how will you know if you don’t try?”

“you just know some things, cheol. trust me on that.”

“yeah? like i know you’re hiding something from me right now? something that’s eating my best friend up, and i don’t even know what to do to help?”

again. those two words. they tear you up from the inside just as much as they hold you together. you can’t help the sharp feeling in your throat which indicates tears might be on the way. you're just frustrated at the unfairness of it all. if only life was a little kinder.

seungcheol, ever perceptive, notices immediately. “sweetheart? it’s something i did, isn’t it? something i said?”

you shake your head, not wanting tears to well up.

“don’t lie to me,” he says, draping the jacket over your shoulders and pulling you into his embrace. you push him away, even though you whole body wants nothing more than to be with him.

“please tell me?”

you take in a breath, the cold night air stinging your nose. “you said something.”

“what was it?”

“you said it wouldn’t make a…difference, if i was your date,” you say, focusing so much on not crying that your voice is barely audible to your own ears. “you said it like no one would care if we were together. like it wouldn’t affect you in any way. like i’m just…your best friend. and no one can see me as anything more.”

seungcheol sucks in a sharp breath. “can i hold you? please?”

you almost refuse, but decide otherwise. you’ve spilled out your mind to him, anyway. the least you deserve is a hug from him.

“i’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes into your hair, his arms looped around your waist and holding you close to him. “i didn’t— i’d never say something like that. that’s not what i meant when i said it.”

“then what did you,” mean, you mean to ask, but your breath gets swept away when he presses a kiss to your head.

“it’s just…everyone knows how close we are,” he says, hand gently running up and down your back. “i thought people wouldn’t bat an eye if they assumed we were dating, you know. i know people who already think we are. or…that we should.”

you look up at him at that. he looks serious about what he’s saying, but also shy, like he doesn’t want you looking at him when he’s speaking.

“people?”

“some of my close friends.”

that's news to you. “so you don’t mind…people thinking we’re a thing? or thinking we should be?”

“of course not,” he says, holding you with one hand and tracing your cheekbone with the other. you fall for him just a bit more, right there. “anyone would be lucky to have you. i’d be the luckiest guy to have you.”

he just says things like that, and it makes you wonder if he really means them. so you decide to push him this time, and see where it goes. and blame it on your nerves and the drink you never had if things don’t go well. “would you?”

“want to have you?”

you nod, breath trapped in your throat.

“yeah,” he breathes out, leaning forward and tucking his chin in your shoulder.

you swear your world stops for just a second. you’re hardly even aware that he’s leaning on you now.

"yeah as in?"

“i’d like you to take you out for a real date. if you’ll let me.”

you pull away to look at seungcheol. he’s blushing, but he’s not looking away.

"if i'll let him, he says."

"well?" seungcheol lifts a hand to fix your hair.

“this isn’t a joke?”

he steps back and rubs his face, probably in an attempt to brace himself for whatever he wants to say. it doesn’t work. you like him like this, you think. with his hair messy and his eyes shy.

“of course not. i’d never joke about something like this. especially when it’s you.”

you should be the one who's shy and blushing, and yet there's nowhere else you'd rather look. “what made you…”

seungcheol takes your hands. they're a warm contrast to your cold ones. “i’ve been wrestling with it for a while, and i never told you because i didn’t want things between us to be weird. but i couldn’t keep faking it after i saw you tonight. you look so good, it’s been killing me.”

you shake him off to loop your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, feeling a bit braver. “so if i told you i wanted to leave right now…”

he swallows loud enough for you to hear. “we’d be out of here right now.”

you stand on your tiptoes to bring yourself to his height and place a little kiss on his nose.

he pouts. “that’s it? that’s all i get after confessing to you?”

“i don’t want our first kiss to be in front of an audience, cheol.”

seungcheol smiles. “fair. but i don’t know how much longer i can wait now.”

“you’re going to have to ask me out for real, you know.”

“but you haven’t told me you like me back yet,” seungcheol says. you can hear the whine in his voice and it makes you laugh a bit.

“you need to hear me say it?”

“of course i do! i've spent weeks thinking about tonight.”

“aren't you lucky, then?" you tease.

“the luckiest,” he says solemnly.

it's your turn to blush now.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi

[momotonescreaming]

Part One (You are Here) | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

“So.” Jeff starts, voice rising over the Dio cassette Eddie put on, volume down low for once. It makes good background noise. Filling the space of Eddie’s bedroom. Not that it’s not full already.

“Okay so we’re doing this?” Eddie asks, turning around from where he was sorting through the pile of stuff on top of his dresser, stray D20 in hand. He flings himself onto his bed, bouncing on the mattress. He’s looking at Jeff with a shit-eating grin, although it’s not unkind.

“Doing what?” he replies, frowning, turning from where he’s sat at the small desk by the door. There’s not a lot of space, not a lot of wiggle room, so Jeff is immediately faced with Eddie staring at him knowingly from the mattress. They’ve known each other since middle school, since Eddie moved into town, and he can tell with just a glance that Eddie is seeing straight through him. 

It’s only fair, he concedes, he saw straight through Eddie.

“This thing you can’t stop thinking about, but haven’t told anyone. That thing?” Eddie starts, resting his head in his hands. It almost looks like he’s going to start kicking his feet like a girl in a sleepover. The kind of scenes you see in movies. All cliche and shit. “We’re talking about it?”

“Yeah.” Jeff sighs. Takes a deep breath. He looks over at Eddie, watches as his best friend raises an eyebrow, smiles, silently prompts him along.

“You know your horrific crush on Steve Harrington?” he eventually starts, fingers absently tapping at the wood of the chair he’s claimed. He can feel it swirling in his chest. The words, the feelings, all the stuff he had been running through his mind. Eddie won’t be mean about it, of course he won’t, but there’s going to be gentle ribbing and he’s really not sure if he’s ready for it. Maybe with just the two of them it'll be okay. Eddie gets it, after all, maybe better than anyone. 

Eddie just snorts. “I’m aware, yes.”

“And how I teased you for being into the preppiest jock in Hawkins?” He adds, resisting the urge to tap his foot, bounce his knee, run his socked foot along the carpeted floor.

“Also, yes.” 

“Well.” Jeff says, and he grimaces. Leaves the sentence there. He doesn’t need to finish it just yet, Eddie will pick up the pieces. Slot them into place.

He sees the exact second Eddie gets it. Watches his eyes light up as it clicks. The glee on his face is evident, the bastard. It's fucking radiating out of him, leaking out through his pores. 

“No,” Eddie gasps, scrambling to sit up on his bed, inching towards Jeff. He's gripping the sheets, the tan floral fabric strained between his fingers. “No fucking way. You have a crush?”

He just nods, humming in affirmation. 

“Well who is it?” Eddie asks, bouncing in place. He's giddy, fidgeting and not quite staying still. “C’mon, tell me. Are they more attainable than Steve Harrington, at least?”

“On one hand they're more attainable,” Jeff starts, gesturing with his hands. “Because, y'know, straight.” 

Eddie hums, nodding, eyes wide. He wouldn't ever admit it, but he was an incorrigible gossip at heart. Always wanting to know things about people. Listening when Wayne talks about the guys from the plant, picking up rumours from people who bought from him, slowly learning what's happening in the trailer park. Who was sleeping with who, who doesn't do their job, who was moving in.

So when Jeff hinted he had a crush? Eddie was all over it. He was also his best friend, so that helped.

“But on the other hand they're less attainable,” Jeff says, taking a deep breath. Bracing himself for whatever dramatic reaction Eddie was going to spout. “Because it's Chrissy Cunningham.” 

His traitorous heart leaps in his chest the second he says her name. A smile threatens to creep across his face. Chrissy Cunningham. Out of all the cheerleaders, she was the one who stood out. She was cute, and kind, with a smile that lit up the room. The curl of her bangs that framed her face, the way she matches her eyeshadow to her scrunchie. Jeff couldn’t stop staring at her. Couldn’t stop noticing things about her. 

Eddie looks positively giddy, bouncing on the worn springs of his mattress, grinning like the devil himself. Wide eyes and bared teeth, ringed fingers gripping his sheets even tighter. He’s electric, he’s vibrating out of his skin. If he were wearing his wallet chain, Jeff would hear him jingling. 

“Yes!” He exclaims, hair swinging around his face as he moves. Not unlike he’s headbanging. “Jeffery! Jefferson! Join me in Hell!”

Jeff can’t help but concede a laugh, ducking his head, almost pressing his chin to his chest. Hiding a smile, almost shy. It’s kind of nice, having it out in the open now. Having Eddie welcome him into the world of crushes on the most popular kids in school. 

“The fucking karma is so juicy right now Jeffington, oh my god! Eat shit!” Eddie adds, excitedly tapping his feet. He bounces back onto his bed, patting a spare spot of mattress beside him. “But I’m just too excited, Jesus Christ, you get it now!”

“I fucking get it now,” Jeff laughs, getting up off the chair and flopping onto the bed beside Eddie. Feeling the worn sheets beneath his back, looking up at the yellowed ceiling of the trailer. “There’s no way in Hell anything is going to happen, I know this, but fuck, she’s the cutest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, says you and half of Hawkins High,” Eddie replies, laughing, looking over at Jeff, crossing his legs underneath him. 

“Like you’re one to judge, ‘Mr I have a crush on Steve Harrington,’ the most popular guy in school. Even him stopping throwing those parties didn't make people hate him.” Jeff laughs, gently shoving at Eddie, moving him towards the edge of the bed. “You call him an asshole and then turn around and daydream about his laugh, or his eyes, or his hair.”

“Listen,” He retorts, splaying his hands out when he talks. “I am but a humble homosexual, and even I can’t deny the fact that that preppy, douchey, jock is a fucking smokeshow.”

“What?” Jeff laughs. “You want him to slap your ass and hook up with you in the locker room? Woo you with all his dumb jock shit?”

“Literally, yes,” Eddie laughs, flopping down onto his bed now next to Jeff, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a grin as Jeff snorts. Locks eyes with his best friend, and lets his gaze soften a bit. “But tell me about Chrissy, how did this happen?”

Jeff sighs, and is only a little embarrassed at how wistful it sounds. His stomach swoops, organs melting into something soft and gooey as he paints her in his minds eye. As he pictures her. 

“I just,” He starts, and then stops. Sighs again. “I always noticed Chrissy, always thought she was pretty — because y’know, cheerleader, it's a given — but I didn’t think much further than that.” 

“Until?” Eddie asks, drawing out the word. He nudges Jeff's leg with a socked foot.

“Until I held open a door for her one time,” he sighs, giving into Eddie's prompting. “And she giggled, and thanked me, and it sort of hit me just how much I wanted to kiss her.” 

Eddie fucking yelps, grabbing and shoving at Jeff's shoulder. He laughs along with him, his energy infectious. Let's himself move along with the motions, shoving back at Eddie, bedsprings creaking underneath the pair of them. A part of him absently wonders how much of this Wayne can hear. Raising Eddie, he's probably used to it — the noise. The energy. “Jeff, you sly dog!” 

“I didn't actually kiss her,” Jeff laughs. “I just thought about it.” 

“Oh I bet you thought about it,” Eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows, continuing to grip and shove at Jeff's arm. 

“Oh shut up,” Jeff laughs. “Like you're one to judge.” 

“Oh, I'm not judging,” he replies, stopping his shoving so they're just resting on his bed together. Hair splayed out across the mattress, fingers absently picking at his sheets. “You remember the things I've said to you about Steve.” 

“I do, yes.” 

“But,” Eddie says, rolling over onto his side, propping himself up and looking down at Jeff. “We’re not talking about how much I’ve talked about wanting to suck Steve’s dick right now.”

Jeff snorts.

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jeff exhales, the air leaving his lungs softly, as he lets himself melt a little further into Eddie’s mattress. It’s easy, here with Eddie. His best friend, whom he knows everything about and knows everything about him in return. “I see Jason hold her hand as they walk through the halls, and hold her books for her. One time I saw them at a movie date together at The Hawk when I was out with my parents, and I want that.”

Eddie makes a noise, low and soft, as he looks over at Jeff. 

“I’ll never get it, not with her, but oh man,” he adds. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I get it.” Eddie adds, voice still soft and low. “I know I talk about how hot Steve is, but I saw him and that Wheeler chick in the halls. How he’d swing her round and kiss her.”

It sort of hits him, just then, just how much Eddie wants this as well. Wants soft kisses, and romantic gestures. Intimate dates and someone happy to see him. But he can’t be seen wanting things he’ll never get. It hurts too much. 

“When we get out of Hawkins,” Jeff says simply. “We’ll get this. We’ll find people who find our metal music and shitty garage band endearing. You’ll find someone who wants to kiss you in the halls.”

Eddie snorts, but he’s smiling sort of bittersweetly while he does it. “And you’ll bag yourself a cheerleader.”

Jeff smacks Eddie’s side, waving his arm out half-heartedly. They stay like that, sitting in the silence, chilling on Eddie’s bed together. It’s nice. 

“So we agree we’re not telling Gareth about this?” Jeff says, propping himself up to look at Eddie.

“Oh we’re absolutely not telling Gareth about this. '' Eddie replies automatically. “He’ll be so annoying about it.”

“One day he’ll get a crush on a prep,” Jeff replies, smiling. “And then we’ll tell him.”

“The Corroded Coffin curse?” Eddie laughs. “Getting a crush on a prep?”

“Definitely,” he replies. “First you, now me. Frank’s next, and then Gareth is going to eat his words about those hot metal chicks he definitely has a crush on.”

“Who are definitely real, and absolutely not just models in magazines he jerks off too,” Eddie laughs, and it’s nice. Sharing this. Sharing this with someone who gets it. It’s not just that their crushes are preps, or jocks. It’s that their crushes are popular, and hot, and people who are never going to look at them twice. 

Jeff laughs, an exhale of air, and nudges his foot against Eddie’s. 

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

[praisetheaxolotl]

The Arsonist Theory, Part 2: We Get It, The Billboard Was A Metaphor

Part 1: Mandibles!

First off, I want to say thank you all for giving the first part of my theory such love! I appreciate each and every one of you and I'm so happy that you all like my theories so much!

For those who are new here, the Arsonist Theory proposes that Bill wasn't alone in destroying his dimension- rather, he was used by a third party. This is part two of four, with the remaining two parts coming out very, very soon.

Also, same as before:

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK OF BILL, INCLUDING SOLUTIONS TO CIPHERS

Let's get into it, shall we?

In The Great Gatsby, certain motifs have more than one symbolic meani-- no, really, stay with me here!!

...Okay, fine. Let's back up.

In the Book Of Bill, you'll find a webpage called thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com. Go there, and you'll be prompted to enter a password. Go back to the Book of Bill, and hidden in a stretched-text section, you'll see the phrase NEED A PASSWORD? FINE, I'LL TALK / IT'S THE NAME OF THE EYEBALL DOC.

"The eyeball doc" is from the excerpts of The Great Gatsby further back in the book-- T.J. Eckleburg.

(Honestly, this explanation is moreso that context doesn't get lost to time.)

So... Gatsby. T.J. Eckleburg.

Hirsch could have chosen any number of public domain novels for that gag in the book... so why this one? Why tie it in by making it the password?

I believe it has some significance to the greater plot. Furthermore, eye doctors in general are a large point of Bill's early life in Euclidia. Take the silly straws- the red one has a numeric cipher, while the other three use a Caesar cipher.

In the order of RGBY, they read as follows:

TWISTED OUT OF SHAPE AFTER THE KILL / THE GHOSTS OF HIS FAMILY ARE HAUNTING HIM STILL Eye doctor of a different kind / Who wants to make his patients blind The doctor says / Three sips a day / Will make the visions / Go away Fussy eater / Baby Billy / Wouldn't drink / Unless it's silly

These ciphers refer to a certain couple of tidbits Bill tells us about his home.

One- He could see the third dimension. A rare mutation.

Two- Talking about it at all was illegal.

So, what were his parents to do when their son started talking about nonsense that was illegal to even mention? Well, if your child started acting strange and seeing things that weren't there... you would take them to the doctor.

It's clear to me that Bill's parents were concerned about the "visions" their son was experiencing, and took him to the doctor to cure them- an eye doctor that wants to make his patients blind. The blue straw explains how the medicine is supposed to work. The yellow straw explains why Bill has such a fondness for silly straws- he was a picky little kid, and hated his medicine, so his parents got him silly straws to drink it out of.

I wonder if that's why he collects them- because they remind him of home, of his mother urging him to take his medicine, of his life before all of this happened.

But never mind all that.

The thing is, an eye doctor is crucial to Bill's past, which of course brings me back to T.J. Eckleburg.

In The Great Gatsby, certain motifs have more than one symbolic meaning, and the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg are no exception.

(Okay full disclosure, I have not actually read Gatsby and I'm Sparknotes-ing this shit. But, so did all of you when you were assigned this in high school, so we're even.)

They appear on a billboard in a place called the Valley Of Ashes, and at first, they seem to symbolize God. But as the scenes continue, they take on a different meaning.

See, our POV character, Nick, is going on this journey to meet the mistress of his friend. Nick is aware that this is an immoral action, yet does it anyway. Now, the eyes of Eckleburg cast judgement... along with issue a warning.

They now take on a new meaning-- a foreboding omen about the tragedy that lies in wait, inching ever closer. The tragedy in Gatsby being the death of Myrtle, the mistress, and subsequent string of deaths that follow it-- and, curiously, Nick states that the eyes of Eckleburg almost supernaturally draw him someplace... which ends up being where Myrtle is.

Both a higher being, and a warning of a horrible tragedy that ends in death upon death upon death... curious!

What's more curious is when Bill is admonishing the story and Un-Gatsby-ing us, he says this:

The billboard is a metaphor? Why mention that? Out of all the symbolism in this book, why the billboard? Is it because it was mentioned in the preceding pages? Then why mention the theme of the American Dream being a myth? That wasn't on those pages! If you had to mention symbolism, the green light would have been the most iconic example of it from the book.

So why the billboard?

Is, perhaps, the image of some sort of higher power watching you, admonishing you of the tragedy you will have a hand in causing, supernaturally pulling you to someone that will be the catalyst for it all.... relevant somehow, to Bill?

(And, as a sidenote- the theme of the American Dream being hollow could also apply here, as Bill got what he wanted- freedom into the third dimension, Weirdmageddon, all of it. But he's still not happy and still wracked with guilt over Euclidia, ultimately an interloper in a place he doesn't belong in, just as Nick says at the end of the novel that he is a Midwesterner unsuited to life in the East Coast city.)

Let's talk about Flatland.

It's interesting to note that in the original novel, A. Square does have help witnessing the third dimension-- a Sphere contacts him, and tells him about the third dimension, intending to use the Square as a conduit to educating the rest of Flatland.

This, of course, leads to mass imprisonments and executions, one of said imprisonments being of the Square's own brother, with the Square being imprisoned himself at the end of the book.

Point being... in the original story of Flatland, the two-dimensional outsider was visited by a higher being, one that used him to alter Flatland and only ended up causing chaos and ruining lives.

All I'm saying is, the Book of Bill and Bill's story in general draws parallels to two existing books-- Flatland, and now The Great Gatsby. It would be foolish to write this off as a random occurrence when the game of Gravity Falls has always been analyzing the smallest of details. I believe the choice in book was on purpose, and moreso, that it was specifically used to hint that maybe Bill wasn't alone in all this. There was some kind of higher being that influenced him, just as the Square was influenced. That looked down upon him with impossibly wide eyes, pulling him closer and closer to ruin.

Oh, by the way-- Bill up there mentions being touchy about his weaknesses ever since... something. This is clearly his death, but... is that all he means? But that's gonna be in part four.

Next time, it's all about the many cycles and the distinct breaking of them present in Gravity Falls itself, and what that means for Bill as the villain and foil to them.

Part 3: Journey To The Vicious Spiral Nebula

Part 4: Blame The Arson, Not The Fire

[cinnamonest]

Genshin x Reader - Silent Treatment

Okay so this was for an anon a while back that requested Childe + silent treatment, so 1) I got carried away and wrote the same prompt for several others, and 2) I lost the original screenshot of the ask I was going to post this with, sorry anon, but I have the content for it at least :’)

(includes: Childe, Xiao, Albedo, Heizou, Cyno, Kaveh, Kazuha, Xingqiu)

//this is mostly very lighthearted but there's still implications of yandere content. Some mild pain, Childe’s contains very mild nsfw, there might be indicators of fem reader somewhere in here, Kazuha’s and Xingqiu's are a little darker so both of those are at the bottom

Childe

“Hey.”

The second time he said it, he waved his arm to catch your attention, as if under the impression you somehow didn't hear him, despite being trapped to the confines of the same small room.

One little bedroom, far too small at that, a temporary lodging whilst on the ship’s return voyage home. Four days, which you were about halfway through at this point.

You were thoroughly convinced it was some sort of trial imposed upon you by a higher power. The sort of grueling test of perseverance so common in tales of legendary heroes, through which they'd become stronger, or reach some well-earned reward for their virtue.

Unfortunately, you had a feeling no such reward awaited you.

“Hey…”

The third time, it was more like a whine, he slouched over in the chair on the other side of the room before, after another moment of pause, setting aside whatever oh-so-important paper he was reading (those identically-masked soldiers were always handing off important things he was supposed to sign, but he never looked over them for more than a few minutes), and walked over to where you sat, needle in hand, mending his clothes after he got them torn for the umpteenth time, no doubt doing something completely unnecessary, after very specifically requesting he be more careful, and— well, it was one of many reasons why you were so very irritated.

He waved his hand directly in front of your face. “You spaced out or something?”

You clenched your jaw, exhaling a huff of frustration through your nostrils before jerking your head away, returning to your work.

He bent his knees slightly, crouching down to get at eye level with you, but you kept your gaze fixed, refusing to make eye contact.

Even though you kept your gaze to the task in your hands, he was still directly in front of you, and thus you could still see his face go through the stages of reaction. First a slack-jawed confusion, then eyes widening with realization, and then — much to your dismay — you saw the corners of his mouth turn upward into a sly, eager grin.

“Are you ignoring me?”

You gritted your teeth, eyebrows furrowed, poking the needle through one side of the cloth before reaching around to pull it through, making sure the action was harshly done and thus conveyed your frustration.

Which was, predictably, taken as a confirmation.

“Awww. That's so mean.”

His tone was obnoxiously gleeful, playful even — you were hoping for a negative response, not whatever this was. You tried to conceal any reaction yourself, knowing he'd only be satisfied if your irritation showed on your face.

“But, you picked a really bad person to try that with, you know. I'm pretty good at being annoying if I want to.”

The immediate retort that came to mind — that he could be very annoying even when he wasn't trying — took all your willpower to refrain from speaking aloud. You grinded your teeth.

“Hmm…”

You didn't like that sound. He was contemplating something, that couldn't be good for you.

His hand latched onto your wrist, forcing your work to a halt — at least he had the decency and forethought to specifically grasp the needle before yanking the whole thing away from you, setting it on the bedside table. Likely messing up your handiwork, you thought with ever increasing frustration.

Before you could move away, the mattress shifted and bounced with the sudden added weight as he moved onto it behind you, grabbing you by your arms, pulling you back against him. His arms wrapped around your body, firmly pinning your own arms to your sides. He then rested his chin on your shoulder — you could feel the smile on his face as the side of his face brushed against your neck.

Ah. So that was the tactic. The message, unspoken as it was, was clear — he had no intention of letting you move until you spoke to him.

You clenched your jaw and closed your eyes, refusing to give in.

A minute or so passed that way, likely testing your reaction, waiting to see if you'd give in so easily. The unfortunate thought occurred to you that he would probably be disappointed if that alone worked, that he probably wanted you to make it more difficult, and was likely enjoying the challenge. Perhaps you should have put a bit more thought into the plan, but it was too late now.

Your body stiffened as his hands met your bare skin — one reaching up your shirt, the other maneuvering underneath the waistband around your hips, groping at the sensitive flesh beneath. Your jaw clenched, and your hands balled into fists, the discomfort no doubt evident on your face, but you maintained your silence.

“Oh, wow. You're pretty dedicated to this, huh.”

You hated the fact that he sounded amused, more or less a confirmation that he was in fact enjoying this. Dammit.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on looking around the room — not that there was anything to really look at — and not the sensation, nor your increasing desire to give it up for the sake of strangling him. He continued the discomforting motions for another few moments, but soon gave up, slouching forward against you and returning to holding you still in his arms.

…And then, nothing. At least, for a moment. Only his arms wrapped around you, and the quiet, only dispelled by the low sounds of the ocean outside.

And then—

You squealed, lurching forward as a sharp pain shot through your shoulder. Your back arched and you jolted as you tried to squirm, only held back from doing so by the iron grip holding you in place.

You tried to turn your torso around, struggling against the grip, sputtering in near disbelief as you attempted to speak, voice quickly going shrill.

“You—you just— did you just bite me?!”

Rather than give any response, he merely pulled you to lean to your other side, bringing his mouth up to your opposite jugular, taking a dramatically deep breath, no doubt just to elicit a reaction.

And admittedly, it worked. “No no no, don’t you dare—eek!”

You squealed again as his teeth sank into your flesh once more, keeping a firm biting grip for just a second before releasing you again.

You began to squirm, trying to pull yourself away. “That— the hell? I was already talking to you, you little…!”

“Mhm. I know.” He pulled you back effortlessly despite your efforts to pull away, resting his head on your shoulder, nuzzling the side of his face to yours. “I just wanted you to make that noise again.”

A low, grumbling noise of irritation came out of your throat. You finally went limp, resigning yourself to your defeat.

“Fine!” You sighed. “What is it?”

He paused.

“…Eh?”

You could hear the confusion in his voice. You sighed.

“You were trying to get my attention, remember? What were you going to tell me?”

“Oh. Uh…”

There was another pause. A few seconds of quiet passed before he finished—

“I actually don’t remember now.”

You closed your eyes and let your head fall forward, saying a small prayer to the gods that this ship sank and took you with it.

Xiao

“I'm going to get food for you. Do you have anything particular you want?”

With those words breaking the silence, you now had your chance to carry out the intended act of spite you’d spent the last hour planning in your head. It had been quiet for some time, making it a bit difficult to exercise said plan. Your captor was perfectly content with silence itself, which meant that this was, perhaps, not the best tactical approach, but you didn’t exactly have many tools of conflict at your disposal, so this expression of resentment would have to do.

Clenching your jaw, you exhaled in a frustrated huff, turning onto your side to face away from him. After a few moments of pause, he spoke again, seeming to not understand your lack of response.

“…I was asking you a question. I need to know what to bring back.”

Still, you didn’t reply.

You heard him shuffle over to you, feet brushing against the cold stone floor, before you felt his hand grasp your shoulder through the blanket, giving you a light shake.

“What do you want? You need to tell me.”

“…”

A few more seconds of silence passed. You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel the staring on your back as he seemed to slowly piece together the significance of your current behavior.

“…You are doing this on purpose.”

He gave his conclusion as if it needed to be said aloud, apparently less immediately obvious to him than it was to you. After a few more seconds, in a similar tone, he drew another conclusion.

“You’re upset.”

If not for your current effort of silence, you would have made some snarky comment about his brilliant deduction skills.

But you said nothing. Your eyebrows furrowed. Part of you did want to lash out, to express your irritation verbally, but you forced yourself to stay silent. More seconds of silence passed by.

Taking your lack of reply itself as confirmation, his next words took on a tone of increasing frustration.

“This is pointless. What do you accomplish by ignoring me?”

“…”

“You will die without food.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…Stop that.”

“…”

A minute of silence passed. The adeptus was seemingly uncertain of how to proceed, perhaps confused to your whole purpose with the effort of silence.

And then, you jolted at a sudden sharp pain as the cartilage of your ear was grasped and subsequently twisted.

“Ow ow ow!!” You bolted upright, jerking your head out of his grasp, clasping a hand over the now-sore ear as the momentary pain began to ebb away.

You glared, narrowing your eyes. “Was that necessary?”

He folded his arms, an equal look of displeasure on his features, and with a deadpan voice, replied—

“Yes.”

You waited for anything further he had to say, but it seemed that was all he had to say. You sighed, slouching over.

“…I dunno. Just get me whatever’s easiest for them to make.”

He folded his arms.

“Why didn't you just say that then?”

You merely shrugged, not having the energy nor the desire to explain any concepts of human social phenomena — a process that was always frustrating and time-consuming — on this day in particular.

After a few moments of pause as he looked to the ground, he looked up at you again, eyebrows furrowing.

“…Don't do that again.”

You nodded, exasperated, and closed your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I won't.”

You opened your eyes, turning your head to look at him, only to be met with an empty room, only the faintest trace of color, like a flickering light before it faded.

And thus, you sighed, laying back down in bed, resolving to try and conjure up a new tactic.

Albedo

“Hey, do you mind turning that light off?”

It was the first time he had spoken to you since your earlier fight. Well, perhaps ‘fight’ was not the best descriptor — it was more like you getting upset over something trivial and whining, only to get increasingly upset when he gave only his typical dry, snarky replies, ultimately ending with you turning your back to him — but nonetheless. It seemed he thought that enough time had passed that you would be over your petty anger.

He would find that assumption to be incorrect, and as childish as it was, you felt some satisfaction by remaining silent from where you sat upright in bed. You rested your head against your hand, turning your gaze out the window.

“Hey, ___,” he said your name again, trying to gain your attention. “The light, next to you.”

Still, you didn’t reply, this time closing your eyes as if to block him out, this time turning your body away from him and towards the window instead.

“…Ah. I see.”

You waited for him to continue, to press you about why you were upset so you could resume your earlier ranting.

But then, there was only silence.

You waited another moment. And another. And another.

But he didn't say anything further.

After a minute or so had passed, you slowly turned your head, confused by the lack of the reaction you had desired.

Seeing you turn in his peripheral vision, his motions of whatever he was working with paused as he turned his gaze towards you, tilting his head. “Mm?”

The bastard had the audacity to smirk at you. You glared, jerking back to turn away from him again.

…And more time passed. You waited. Minutes turned into an hour. And then another. You picked up a provided book to read after the boredom became unbearable, deciding that as long as you still gave him a cold shoulder, he'd still get the message.

…And even more time passed. A third hour. The sun fell and set and it grew dark, moonlight — and the light you'd still neglected to turn off — illuminating the room.

And then, finally, around three and a half hours after your initial interaction, after you were already lying down for the night, you heard the distinct sound you'd come to recognize as him putting the various tools away into a drawer. Then footsteps that pattered around the room, putting a few other things back into their proper places, the rustling of clothes being removed, and finally, the footsteps came close.

The mattress shifted and creaked as he climbed into bed next to you — finally turning off the lamp as he'd requested. He leaned over you, turning the blinds shut, and then, laid down in bed.

…And then there was only quiet.

The irritation swelling in your chest finally boiled over. You bolted upright.

“…Ugh! You— you…!”

“Oh, and here I was worried you were developing a throat cold.”

The dry-humored reply only served to infuriate you further.

“Why didn't you say anything?”

He didn't bother sitting upright himself. You could make out his form, but perhaps it was a good thing you couldn't see his face, as it was certain either a smug or unbothered expression that would only anger you further.

“My patience exceeds yours. It was just a matter of waiting.”

Your fists clenched so hard your hands trembled. You opened your mouth, but before you could give a spiteful reply, the sheets shifted as he sat up alongside you. His arm reached out, wrapping around your waist, and firmly pulled you back down to lie side-by-side.

He took a deep breath in, a heavy sigh out. “I'm pretty tired now, though. I understand you have some complaint to make, but I’d prefer you save it until tomorrow. Is that alright?”

Your eye twitched. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him.

“Jerk.”

“Mhm.” His arm reached over and pulled you close, your back pressed to his chest. “Goodnight.”

You huffed, pouting, but nonetheless—

“…Goodnight.”

Heizou

“Hey, so, I noticed there’s no food made or anything… it’s fine if you’re tired,” he raised his voice just enough as was appropriate for speaking to someone from the next room over. “I can go pick something up.”

The ever-upbeat tone to his voice only irked you further. Normally, you would have had food made yourself by the time he’d been home — now he’d been back for half an hour, and had finally walked into the kitchen to grab something, seeming to notice your act of protest. You’d been hoping he would immediately suspect something was wrong, but of course, he was too optimistic for that.

“But, if I’m going to do that, I need to go now,” he continued, as he made his way back into the living room, “before all the stalls close for the day.” He came to stand directly in front of where you sat on the couch, huddled with your blankets.

You said nothing, keeping your gaze turned to the floor. He tilted his head at your silence.

“…That good with you, or…?”

Several more seconds passed. You huffed, turning to the side.

Thus, it finally seemed to click with him.

“Oh dear. Cold shoulder.” Much to your irritation, though, he only sounded amused, not genuinely upset. “What might that be for?”

You gritted your teeth, pulling the blanket over your head, just leaving enough space for you to see. You could still see him from your side as he sauntered over a few steps, leaning over against the wall as he continued.

“I’m being serious, you know. I don’t know why you’re upset… although I suppose forcing me to figure it out is the intent, of course.”

Every word that came out of his mouth only made you angrier. The audacity to sound so smug, a playful sort of dramatism he always seemed to carry in his voice. It irritated you to no end, especially in moments like these.

And to make matters worse, you could see him smile in your peripheral vision.

“I know you probably intended this to make me upset or something, buuuut, you’re really just giving me a challenge to figure out.” You didn’t miss the cocky expression on his face. “And that’s kind of my thing, you know?”

…You supposed he was right about that. Dammit. You probably should have thought about that before deciding to go through with this… but it was too late now. You merely shifted around, pulling your knees up to your chest, hoping your frustration showed on your face.

“Will you talk to me if I get it right?” He only waited for a single second before seeming to realize the futility of the question. “Ah, well, I guess asking that is pointless. Hmm…” He put his hand up to his chin in a pensive pose, speaking aloud as much to himself as to you. “If you just wanted me to get you something, simply telling me would be the more logical course of action.”

Your mouth pulled into a taut line with your irritation. You waited, listening as he continued his deductions.

“You don’t have any complaints that have gone ignored or anything… and even then, you’d probably just remind me if there was something I’d forgotten to fix.” He stood back upright, beginning to pace around on the floor. “Besides, this sort of behavior generally indicates that the other party has committed a specific transgression. If you just wanted something, this would be an impractical way of going about your goal.” He nodded, as if confirming the thought to himself. “The whole silent treatment thing is generally just a means of communicating displeasure, so that the offending party is forced to acknowledge their transgression.”

You pulled the blanket fully over your head, flopping down onto your side in exasperation and frustration, listening to him go on. At this point, his analysis was starting to feel humiliating, the description of it more or less a reminder of just how petty and childish it was. You felt a burning sense of embarrassment in your chest as you curled up into a ball, hugging your knees.

“There are two major factors to narrow it down — an active or passive transgression,” he continued, “and if the former, was it something I said, or something I did? Hm…”

You heard his footsteps make their way around the room as he spoke.

“You were talking with me normally this morning, and I didn’t notice any hostility then, so it would have to be something occurring just within the half hour or so since I came home, or—”

And then, he stopped mid-sentence.

“Ah.”

The tone of voice of that single syllable was immediately recognizable as realization. You felt a surge of bitterness come up in your chest again, and although it was embarrassing, you were still determined to get your point across.

“You forgot,” you finally muttered. Your voice came out incredibly whiny and petulant, but at this point, you just dealt with the nagging sense of shame.

“I know, I know. I said we’d go take a walk and get some food when I got back, right?” You heard his footsteps draw closer, coming over to you, and the couch cushions shifted with his weight as he sat down. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? It was just a busy day, is all.” He reached over and rested his hand on your head through the layer of blanket. “I’m not going back on what I said, I just forgot. We can still go, we have time.”

You slowly sat up, pulling the blanket back down and uncovering your face. Your face felt hot, you looked down to the ground, unable to bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“…Sorry,” you murmured. Now that it was over, you felt horribly embarrassed by the whole stunt you’d pulled. You buried your face in your hands.

“Aw, don’t be upset. It’s fine.” He stood up, smiling, extending his hand out for you to take. “Come on, the lines will get long in just a few minutes.”

Now, you were actually quite grateful for his cheeriness. Still flustered, but humbled, you grasped his hand, letting him help pull you up. “Okay.”

“Mm.” He took a few steps over to the door, turning the knob, before coming to a halt. You saw the expression on his face waver, the smile twitch. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped short, closing his mouth again and taking a deep breath—

“I won’t talk to anyone.”

You gave him the assurance before he could ask, your voice quiet, as if by speaking softly, the matter itself could be more easily swept away once you were done addressing it.

He let go of the breath he’d taken, exhaling as his shoulders relaxed. For just a second, there was some discomfort in his expression, but it was gone within a moment, replaced with another playful smile.

“Ah, thanks.”

And thus, he turned the handle, pulling you out into the fresh air, and the many faces of strangers you’d learned to pretend didn’t exist.

Cyno

“I'm going to head out in just a minute. You can come with me, if you promise to behave well.”

You grinded your teeth. The choice of words was irritating enough, but you were primarily angered by the mere notion that being able to go outside — such a simple, basic right — was somehow an earned privilege.

No matter. You were already determined to ignore him anyway. You chose not to respond, returning to the book in your lap as you sat on the bed, refusing to turn to face him where he stood a short length away.

Sure enough, after a moment, you heard his footsteps on the stone floor, gradually coming around to your side, leaning over to try and look at your face.

“…Did you hear me? I was saying—”

You huffed, turning yourself away from him.

There was a pause.

“Oh.”

It didn't sound particularly bothered, only mildly surprised — perhaps that itself irritated you even more.

You saw him tilt his head out of the corner of you eye, white strands of hair brushing against his shoulder. “Isn’t this rather pointless? Communicating your emotions would be faster and easier if you just verbalize it.” After a pause, he added, “You can't keep this up forever.”

He crossed his arms, waiting for a response, but after several moments, received none.

He sighed. “Well, suit yourself, I suppose.”

You were not expecting, however, what came next — the book you were focused on was suddenly torn from your hands. You almost verbalized the ‘hey!’ that ran through your mind, only catching yourself just in time to stifle any noise, but the irritation and surprise surely still showed on your face as you looked up at him in bewilderment.

“What?” He tilted his head. “The obvious course of action here is to do things to upset you into speaking. You have to give it up at some point.” He shrugged. “I might as well expedite that process.”

You inhaled, automatically preparing to retort, but snapped your jaw shut as you caught yourself before you spoke once again. Your hands curled into fists.

He held the book under one arm, quickly reaching over and grabbing the two others sitting on the table beside the bed. “Alright… hm.” He turned his head, scanning the room. “I'll take all your reading material, and leave you alone with nothing to do while I'm gone. That's… maybe eight hours. You’ll have a good deal of time to reflect on your choice, at least.”

Your mouth pulled taut in an expression of displeasure. You didn't like the thought of such boredom.

He made his way over to the nearby desk, scooping up the remaining books into his arms before turning towards the hallway door. He turned his head back towards you.

“Unless you change your mind.”

He then began taking steps towards the door — slowly, deliberately so. It was infuriating that he responded with such calmness, and far more so that he was so easily able to completely overturn your attempt with barely any effort, without even being affected by it at all, and above all, most infuriating that he knew you'd give the exact response he anticipated.

And you did.

“Wait, wait—”

He came to a halt, but didn’t bother turning his head back to look at you. “Yes?”

Your hands balled up into fists, you were so irked by his words and demeanor, but nonetheless, you told yourself, you had no choice. You weren’t about to endure the alternative.

“…Fine…” You stood up, looking to the ground in embarrassment and frustration as you stomped over to where he stood. “I’ll go.”

He gave you a nod. “There, see, that was a much easier way of going about this.” He then took a few steps back towards the desk, depositing the books that had been used as leverage in your bartering as he added, “don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, displeasure scrawled on your face. “…I guess.”

You stepped out of the room before he did, waiting for him to exit before following behind him, since you didn’t know exactly where you were going. For a few moments, you merely walked in silence. You didn’t know if he intended to address the matter again — hell, you never knew what he was thinking — but after a minute or so of silence, you got your answer.

“You know, if I were as spiteful as you were being, I might have rescinded the offer entirely,” he said, voice ever so blunt and monotonous. “And forced you to stay in there with nothing to do.”

You grinded your teeth, narrowing your eyes as you looked over at him.

“…Are you trying to get me to thank you?”

He didn’t miss a beat in his reply.

“It would be appreciated.”

You crossed your arms, puffing your cheeks out in a petulant pout, which seemed to get your refusal across well enough. He shrugged.

“Well, it was worth a try.”

Another minute passed. You took a turn down a dark hall, which seemed to prompt another thought to his mind.

“And in the future, you should probably be aware that such a strategy is rather weak. It’s very easy to turn around on the one using it, as you just observed.”

You huffed in irritation. “Yeah, yeah.”

“It’s actually very similar to a common flawed strategy used by beginner card players. You see…”

You sighed in exasperation, pressing your palm to your face as you prepared to tune out the following hour.

Kaveh

After the second time calling your name with no response, you finally heard him get up, walking over to where you lay in bed. You clenched your teeth, irritation exuding off your form in waves, so you hoped, at least.

As soon as he got closer, you huffed, closing your eyes, waiting for him to speak, and he did.

“Hey…”

Which you used as your cue to turn over, rolling onto your other side so that your back faced him.

There was a few seconds of pause before he pieced your actions together.

“…Are you mad at me?”

His voice was soft and pitiful-sounding, so much so you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

That momentary guilt was, however, almost immediately replaced with another surge of irritation. No. You knew exactly was he was doing, it was intentional, and you weren't going to fall for it.

He walked around to the foot of the bed, leaning over to look you in the eye.

“Hey—”

But you averted your gaze, pulling the blankets up over your face, turning over onto your stomach.

There was a moment of pause. His tone shifted.

“…Hmph. Fine.”

With that, he turned on his heel, stomping back to the desk at the other side of the room, and sat down, huffing as he resumed his work. You could hear the bitter irritation in his pencil scribbling, much heavier-handed and harsher than moments prior.

You waited for him to say something more, thinking his resolve to walk away from being ignored wouldn’t last long, but to your surprise, after some time passed, he still managed to stay quiet.

And more time passed, and then some more. You’d initially begun ignoring him around ten-thirty or so, and now, you confirmed as you peeked out from under the blankets — having almost fallen asleep — it was well past midnight.

Finally, your attention turned back to him as you heard him put the pencil down. He stood up (you did not miss the harshness with which the chair was pushed back), walked (with heavy footsteps) over to the floor lamp at the side of the room, and turned it off, leaving only the moonlight to cast light through the room.

But rather than coming over to bed, he only made his way back to the desk, dramatically slumping back down into the chair, putting his forearms on the desk before slouching forward and burying his face against them.

And then, there was only silence. You waited, but nothing happened.

It wasn't exactly difficult to figure out the intention. On one hand, your immediate thought was that it was petulant, but then again, you felt a twinge of guilt realizing you were more or less the instigator here (even if it was only in reaction to him annoying you earlier), and that your course of action wasn't exactly mature either.

Well, you supposed the right thing to do now would be to at least try and reconcile. You sighed.

“Kaveh.”

That time, you were the one who only got silence as a response. Turning your own act against you, you guessed.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and, having been a bit hesitant the first time, fully committed to resolving the situation. You tried again.

“…Kaveh.”

….

After a few more moments, your voice took on a tone of frustration, which you tried to suppress for the sake of your goal of conflict resolution.

“Kaveh. I know you can hear me. Come on.”

He didn't lift his head, so his response — thankfully giving one, at least — was not only in a bitter, pitiful-sounding voice, but also muffled by fabric.

“What.”

You sighed. “Look, I… I'm sorry, just… come to bed, okay? Let's just forget this.”

Ugh. Although you still figured it was the right thing to do, you realized with disappointment that you were giving in yet again, as you tended to be the one to do. You resolved to be a little stronger-willed next time… then again, you always did that too.

“…No.” Even in the dark, you could see him — albeit only in the form of a vaguely red-white-blonde lump — shift around as he spoke, bitterness in his voice. “You obviously don't want me over there. I'll sleep here.”

You reached up to pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation as the defeat settled in. “No, I… I do. Please?”

Once more, you only got silence, even after waiting for half a minute or so. Finally, you took a deep breath, in and out, and — after a moment of hesitation to ask yourself if you were really going to do this, to which you determined it was for the best, regardless of what it did to your pride — swung your legs over the side of the bed, feet brushing against the cold floor.

Your footsteps shuffled against the hardwood with each of the very few steps it took to get from the bed to the desk. You could see him fidget as you approached.

In what you hoped would be perceived as affectionate, you bent your knees just enough to be at the same level as where he sat, an awkward positioning, but just enough to reach out and wrap your arms around him in an embrace.

“Come on. I’m sorry, okay?”

There was a few moments of quiet, and for a second, you thought maybe you would have no success, maybe he really was that upset. But then, he lifted his head, still speaking in a blatantly upset tone of voice.

“…Only if you tell me why you were doing that in the first place,” he muttered.

You sighed. “I dunno… I was just upset about everything from yesterday, and… look, it doesn’t matter.” You smiled, although you weren’t sure if he could see it. “Let’s just go to sleep… come on, please?”

There was a moment of pause, but finally, he stood up, huffing in residual stubbornness as he walked over to bed, falling flat on his back. “…Fine.”

You were too tired to be annoyed at that point, instead walking over, taking your place next to him. You decided to try and take the high road, so to speak. “…Sorry for ignoring you.”

You reached out and put your hand on his head. He turned, pulling you close, burying his face against your chest.

“…No, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, muffled by your clothing and flesh. “You’re right… let’s just forget it.”

You hummed in agreement. You were going to leave it at that, but after a moment, you felt him shift. He propped himself up on his elbow to speak.

“Hey, wait, what time is it? I was gonna show you the thing I was working on when you wouldn’t talk to me… I can still—”

“It’s one in the morning. PLEASE go to sleep.”

You both stiffened as the muffled voice came through the wall. Several awkward seconds passed.

Ah… you forgot how little privacy this place gave you. You raised your voice just enough to ensure you were heard.

“Sorry, Alhaitham…”

You heard him sigh and turn over on his side of the wall.

“Yeah, yeah.”

More silence as the seconds ticked by.

“I’ll, uh, show you tomorrow.”

“…Yeah.”

And with that, he finally laid back down to sleep.

Kazuha

“Ah, look at how bright it is. I didn't realize it would be a full moon tonight.”

He had a soft, blissful expression. He was one of those people that always seemed to find a great deal of joy in simple pleasures of life… depending on the circumstances, it could be either endearing or annoying.

At the moment, it was very much the latter. If you weren't so mad, you'd feel bad about what you were about to do.

It would certainly work, seeing as he was talkative by nature, always making little comments as you went about your day. You'd already tried to make your displeasure very clear — ever since you'd begun setting up camp for the night (in the middle of nowhere, where you now spent the majority of your time), you'd given him curt, cold, one-word replies, and the irritation was certainly audible in your voice.

He turned his head towards where you sat cross-legged on the ground, a wide smile on his face. “We should go for a walk, since it's so bright.”

The very last thing you wanted to do was more walking after having spent the entire day doing just that. You clenched your jaw, slouching over and resting your head against your hand.

A few seconds of quiet passed. After realizing you weren't responding, he leaned over to better look at your face, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, is something wrong?”

You huffed a heavy breath, jerking your head away from him.

“…Oh.” You could see him smile in your peripheral vision, albeit now an awkward, uncomfortable sort of smile. “You’re, ah, still upset about earlier, I take it?”

You didn't respond, maintaining your silence.

“…I'll take that as a yes… haha…”

The laugh was as forced and awkward as his expression. He stood silently for a moment, as if hoping it would be a very short effort and that you'd break your silence, but you did not.

“...It seems you really know how to find my weaknesses.” He gave you an awkward, sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head. “This is bothering me more than I would have thought it would… but that's your intention, I imagine.”

You didn't really have any particular direction to take this effort — you didn't have anything you wanted to accomplish with it or anything, it just seemed the only way you could think of to express your frustration. Now, you weren't certain what to do — your only real course of action, you supposed, was to keep it up. You kept your silence. He moved to sit beside you, just a short distance away.

Silence followed, only disrupted by the crackling of the small fire beside you and the wind weaving between the tall grass. He kept up the same cheerful-but-mellow voice as always, the one that so very much got on your nerves whenever you tried your best to exude negativity, which he always seemed to shrug off effortlessly, perpetually unbothered.

Yes, your snide, sometimes even mean comments, your cold tone, your disgusted expressions, those never seemed to bother him at all. He just laughed and smiled and carried on as he always did.

With this, on the other hand, it seemed you’d finally found a weak point. You resisted the urge to grin, quite pleased with having found a greater success than you’d even expected.

Meanwhile, his own smile continued to falter, twitching right alongside his arms.

“If there's anything I can do that will make you… not do this, I'll gladly do it. You just… you know, have to tell me.”

You saw his fingers curl, straining the fabric as they dug into his thighs with such force and strain that they began to tremble.

But for a few minutes, he did nothing. Perhaps he was just waiting, giving you time to see if you'd change you mind, or maybe he just couldn't decide how to proceed. You kept your gaze focused on the scenery, the blades of grass as they waved back and forth in the breeze, the reflection of the moon wavering in the pond off in the distance. As irritated as you were, the landscape was admittedly quite serene.

You were brought out of your focus by the rustling sound as he stood. You remained still, but your heart began to accelerate as he took a few steps towards you, his ever light-footed way of walking barely making a sound, maneuvering behind you before slowly sitting down.

He shuffled forward, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you back. Once your shoulder blades touched his chest, he tilted his head forward, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You fought the urge to squirm. You didn't like the quiet. Something about it, in that moment, was ominous, suffocating, as if some innate instinct was telling you something was wrong.

When he finally lifted his head, he spoke directly into your ear, breath warm against the flesh.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

The sudden quiet, low voice sent a chill down your spine. You found yourself going stiff, eyes widening.

His grip tightened, squeezing your waist firmly enough that it began to hurt.

“…I don't like doing that… it makes me feel really weird, you know…?”

It grew tighter. His fingers began to dig into your sides, ten small points pressing with painful force. You stiffened, body reflexively arching forward to get away from the pain, but they only dug in harder, pulling you back.

“But,” he continued, voice low and quiet, so soft yet somehow so chilling, “I really don't like you doing this.”

Your heart felt as if it were pounding out of your chest. Your breathing grew quicker.

He tilted his head downward, resting his forehead against the back of your neck. The final words came out wavering, almost a whisper.

“So… you’ll stop this, won’t you?”

You swallowed. Your response came out instinctively, the dread you felt having easily defeated your stubbornness.

“O-okay,” you stuttered as you spoke, “I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't mean to make you…”

The pain came to an abrupt stop, his entire body relaxed with a heavy sigh of relief.

“Ah, haha,” this time, he squeezed you in his arms only enough to convey affection. “I was worried for a moment there.” His voice immediately shifted back to its usual timbre, soft and soothing. “I’m glad you weren’t too upset.”

You shook your head, eyes still wide with fear, needless to say struggling with the psychological whiplash of the rapid shift in the atmosphere.

If he noticed your stiffness, he didn’t say anything, instead opting to affectionately rest his head on your shoulder, leaning his face against yours. “Well, it’s probably too late to walk anyway… and you’re probably tired, too. Hm…” he paused for a moment, then lifted his head, tilting it up to the sky. “We can appreciate the beauty of the night while being sedentary, though. Say, are you familiar with the constellations?”

You struggled to give a verbal answer. “A-ah, well, I…” You swallowed.

“Ah, that’s alright. I know them very well. Right now, hmm… see that one directly above us?”

He started to point up, you let your gaze follow his direction as he began to ramble on about this and that star. Most of the time, you found that soft-spoken but avid enthusiasm rather endearing — although in that moment, you found it a bit difficult to appreciate.

“And a little to the right, those four that form a bit of a square shape, that’s—hey, are you cold?”

“Mm?” You gave your best attempt to smile, knowing he could at least see the side of your face. “I, uh, I guess… why…?”

“You’re just shivering pretty badly,” he replied. “You should have said something. Here…”

He leaned backwards, grabbing the blanket atop your shared makeshift sleeping bag, pulling it over and wrapping it around the both of you, covering you from the night wind that, in reality, barely even did anything to alleviate the sweltering summer heat.

“That better?”

You nodded. “…Yeah.”

“Mm, good. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

Once you nodded, he wrapped his arms around you again, pointing back up at the sky and resuming his lesson.

Xingqiu

“There’s a yearly festival going on tonight.”

You were already irritated, but the cheerfulness in Xingqiu’s voice when he came bounding into the room certainly did not help.

He quickly made his way over to where you sat, leaning over to the side to better look at your face.

“It’s one of the most exciting ones the harbor holds, in my opinion. We should go!”

Silence. You said nothing in reply, only curling your fingers into fists, clenching your jaw and looking down at the floor.

A few seconds passed as he processed your response, or rather, lack thereof. Given the dispute that had taken place a few hours ago, you were certain it wasn’t difficult for him to figure out.

“Ah… aha… surely you’re not still upset about earlier, are you?” He tilted his head, the smile on his face unwavering. “Come on, this will be fun. It’s only for a few days, so we should really make the most of it.”

More silence. Even though you didn’t speak, you didn’t try to hide the spite and irritation on your face.

He then crouched down to get face-to-face with you. His smile was still there, but his eyebrows shifted to an expression of displeasure, the top and bottom halves of his face seemingly misaligned.

“You’re not going to let some silly little disagreement ruin your whole day, are you?” He reached out, patting the top of your head. “Come on, now, you’re more mature than that.”

You almost snapped at him, but you held your tongue. You had become increasingly aware of the subtle ways he seemed to manipulate your thoughts and feelings, slipping in little choices of words to have very specific effects, like with the last thing he’d just said. It irritated you to no end — much more so how often it worked, only for you to realize it later on.

But not today. You were going to be firm, resolute, not let him influence you, so you told yourself. You huffed a heavy breath, crossing your arms and jerking your head out from under his hand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his expression shift — his eyes narrowed, his smile fell, and you heard the soft -tch of disapproval as he stood upright — only for his face to shift back to a pleasant expression as quickly as it had fallen to an unpleasant one, a degree of composure worthy of being called a honed and trained skill.

He sighed, overdramatically so, holding his hands out palm-up at each side and shaking his head. “And here I was trying to do something to make you happy. Oh well.”

He turned on his heel away from you, facing the door.

“How unfortunate. I suppose I'll just have to go by myself.”

He began to walk towards the exit, each step deliberately slow, an unmistakable smugness to his eloquent, dramatic way of speech.

“Of course, I'm sure my father will ask where you are...” he sighed again, shrugging his shoulders. “I'll just have to tell him that the spouse he found for me is so very disagreeable.”

You clenched your teeth. You could feel it coming, knew exactly what the next words out of his mouth would be. You nearly trembled with how hard your muscles tensed.

He paused his steps right at the edge of the door, and without bothering to look over at you, in a voice just so perfectly quiet, he added—

“I'm sure that will have a positive effect on your family’s standing with mine.”

You clenched your jaw. There it was. The one card he always held, an instant defeat.

“Wait…”

The word came out of your mouth on impulse. You winced at your own failure, but it wasn’t as if you had much of a choice.

Then he decided to turn around.

“Oh?” He tilted his head, cheerfulness returned to his voice and expression. “You’ve changed your mind?”

You shuffled over to where he stood, keeping your gaze to the ground. “…Yes. I’ll go.”

“…”

There was a pause. His eyes were half-lidded, the look on his face and the heavy tension in the air making it obvious what was expected of you.

But again, choice was not a luxury you had. You swallowed your pride.

“…Sorry for… being like that.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, that? It’s no big deal, really. I’m not upset at all.” Then, he extended the same hand out to you. “You’re ready, then?” He smiled, this time seemingly back to a genuine cheer. “I already have a route planned out to get us to all the best spots in one night.”

You nodded, taking his hand in yours.

“Sounds great.”