#so i appreciated his humor cause he seems like a pretty nice guy. and a good dentist

[stellacendia]

The dentist to me earlier: Wow, you're really chill in the dental chair

Me internally: Excellent. I'm getting a good grade in dental patient, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve

[13as07]

Desert Lily #1

(Kankuro Sabaku)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to unknown]

Requested by: Myself

[Idea (somewhat) inspired by the imagine above]

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 4,123

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Definitely going to do a part #2 and #3 cause I like this story line

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     I hum softly to myself as I walk through the empty hallways of the Hokage mansion. I'm not a fan of the place. The muniment gives me the creeps; as do its residents.

Well, just Lord Fifth. The way he slithers around the huge place, appearing where he pleases when he pleases. Given it is rightfully his home and always has been. Nepo-baby at its finest. Though I shouldn't be so harsh. Temari and Kankuro hold high standings in the village because of their father right alongside our Hokage.

I should take it as an honor that our Lord welcomes me into his home, even if it doesn't seem he does it willingly.

As if Kankuro's emotionally underdeveloped brother could hear my thoughts, a door swings open with the Sand's Kage walking out of it. He's wrapped up in his official robes, the Kage hat coating his face heavily from the oversizing. A big hat for a big-headed Hokage. I smile a bit at that. I’m really mean, perhaps I should be nice to my village's leader. Or at the very least, be nice to the little brother of the man courting me.

"Lord Fifth," I mumble, bowing my head down. If my thoughts can't be nice, my body language can be.

"Do not bow to me," he huffs, my eyes catching a glimpse of the end of his robes as he walks toward me.

"I didn't know you didn't appreciate respect," I mumble, snapping my head back up. I shouldn't have said that. My big mouth always getting in the way.

Gaara tilts his head some, a sliver of confusion in his eyes as he looks at me. "I appreciate the respect given to me by all my civilians," he answers, tipping his hat back. It doesn't stay though, slipping right back down to coat his eyes.

What a humorous little guy. I know very little about Kankura's childhood and even less about the childhood of his siblings. From the offhand comments and whispers around the village, it was not very pleasant, much less the luxurious one you'd expect for the princes and princess of our village. Even if only a fraction of the rumors are true, it would explain a lot.

     "Is that so?" I ask, a bit of a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.

     "Yes," he answers shortly, turning on his heels and walking away. "Walk with me?" Gaara asks though it's more of a statement than a question. I obey, making quick steps so I can fall in pace with him. "What are your thoughts on sapphires?"

     "Sapphires?" I ask, glancing at the young leader of our village. He's looking back at me, the paleness of his eyes catching me off guard a bit. I snap my eyes away, focusing on the hallway ahead of us.

     "Yes," he answers shortly, eyes still burning into me.

     "They're nice... I think."

     "You think?" Gaara asks, stopping his movements.

     I stop too, turning my attention back to the scary kid standing next to me. Our Lord is the same age as me, but despite that, he still has quite the baby face. "I've never seen one so I don't know."

     He rolls my words over for a while, still looking at me as he does so. Our Lord's eyes are pretty despite their pale coloring of them. They remind me of Kankuro's, though Ro's are brighter than his brother's.

     "Well," he starts, head tilted in confusion again. "A lady of your standing should know what a sapphire is."

     "My Lord, I do not have any standing in the village. I'm not even on the waitlist to be considered for any standing. Perhaps you are mixing up my bloodline," I answer in a bit of a ramble.

     Does my Lord not know who I am? I mean, I would understand since our village is quite large but his brother is courting me. Am I not the only woman Kankuro is courting? Maybe both of them were misled about my family. Is Kankuro going to stop courting me when this misunderstanding is cleared up?

     "Of course, you have standing in the village. Quite a high standing, might I add," Gaara says, starting up his paces again.

     I follow after him, face scrunched up with confusion. Did he not hear me? Maybe he just doesn't believe me. What has Ro told his brother about me? Is he ashamed of courting the daughter of a nightshade farmer?

     "My Lord-" I try again, but get cut off.

     "Gaara."

     My voice catches in my throat, causing a small squeak to come out instead. "Gaara," I say quietly before continuing my sentence. "I don't think you understand-"

     Once again, I get cut off. "I am aware of your bloodline. I am also aware of my bloodline. The same bloodline my brother shares. Even without my... egotistical brother, your family is quite useful to our village. After all, I don't know a single shinobi within the gates of the village that hasn't used nightshade after an injury."

     Oh. Maybe he's not confused. "I still don't fully follow, my Lord."

     "Gaara," he corrects again, causing the warmth of embarrassment to start crawling up my neck. "You shall eventually. I may not understand my brother but I am aware of his title, the title you'll inherit."

     "I don't-"

     "I must go. The meeting break will be ending soon. I shall see you soon I assume, Princess?" With that Gaara knocks on the door next to us before nodding at me. Before I can get another word in, he turns on his heels and starts walking back down the corridor.

     My head is spinning as I look after him. What title am I going to inherit from Kankuro? How would I even inherit anything from him? Why was the Lord asking me about sapphires? Why would he want to walk with me? Why did he call me Princess? There's no way he meant it as a pet name, he doesn't even know what sarcasm is! Why would he want me to call him-

     "Y/N?" A voice calls, cutting off my thoughts. I'm getting annoyed with getting cut off. Do people have no respect?

     It takes a second but I do end up processing it as Ro's voice. "Ro," I call, turning in the direction of his voice. Even more confusion rolls around my head as I look at him. "You're... where's... goodbye," I stumble over my words for a second before closing the door, separating me from a makeup-less Kankuro.

     My suitor hasn't kept his features hidden from me. He's taken his hood and forehead protection off around me before, showing his brown locks and his face better. I've even played with his hair before, usually picking out sand specks after a mission or training exercise. I've held his face so many times that I have the layout memorized and almost permanent purple ink on my fingertips from his makeup.

     I've never seen Ro without his makeup though. He's very handsome with and without it on. I just wasn't prepared to see his bare face after the confusion dump his brother left me in.

     I feel like this is a big step in our relationship... right? I mean, he's never seen me without makeup either. If Kankuro saw me without makeup I'd consider it a big step. Does he expect to see my bare face now too? Is he upset I saw him without his face paint on? Is he going to be mad? Maybe I should apologize. Maybe I should just go home.

     A knock on the door cuts me out of my thoughts again. It causes more confusion to swirl around my head. The confusion is quickly racing towards upset territory. A second and third knock echo through the hallway, not helping the headache that has started to form from my overthinking. A fourth, fifth, and sixth knock comes before I decide to open the door again.

     "Hello my Desert Lily," Ro says, a smile on his still bare face. His head is titled in confusion, the same way Lord Fifth's was a few minutes ago. The confusion has reached his soft eyes, concern mixing with it. "Are you alright?"

"I'm... my..." I puff out my checks, trying to get words to form as I focus on Ro's face. I like him without his face paint. Don't get me wrong, he looks good in it, but his face is so handsome without it.

"My little Lily," he mumbles, hands reaching out to cup my face. The roughness of his skin brings me some comfort and helps me sort my thoughts a little easier. "What is on your mind?"

"You're not... you don't have your face paint on," I answer, sucking my cheek in so I can nibble on it.

My eyes end up settling on Ro's mouth, memories of our first kiss swirling around my head. It happened a couple of days ago. It was sweet but short. I didn't want it to be that short, and I wanted it to happen again but it didn't. The Lord ended up needing him for something, so I didn't get what I wanted.

"Do you not like it?" He asks, his words slow and careful as they fill the air. His tone is filled with worry, also evident from his scrunched-up face.

"I-"

"If you don't like it I'll go put some on. I don't mind," Kankuro rushes out, eyes blinking quickly as he scans my face.

"You just... look handsome," I answer, tilting my head in worry. "Ro? Do you... you know you don't have to change your appearance for me right?"

"Ya, of course, I know that," he rushes out, his breath a little huffy as he drops his hold on my face. "It would be, so lame if I... yes, I know that." I tuck his reaction away for later. I have the feeling if I push the subject it'll end up with us talking in circles. "So... um was the whole 'goodbye' thing just because of this?" He asks, circling his face a couple of times.

"No, your brother has me doing mental laps."

"Oh great, what did Gaara do now?" Ro asks, taking hold of my hand and gently tugging me into his room.

This is another first. I've never been in his room before. It's how I expected it to look. Tools and puppet parts are littered all over the room. There's less mess than there is in his workshop, but still very much a puppet-making space. His bed is one of those huge fancy beds with the currents you can pull around it. There's a small couch pushed across from a TV, the coffee table in front of it covered in different scrolls and paper. The wood-shaving-covered desk in the corner looks the same as the coffee table. Two single doors are stamped into one of the walls, but both are closed so I don't know what's passed them.

"My Lily?" Kankuro calls, pulling my attention from my surroundings to himself again.

"He just... said a lot of confusing things."

"Like what?" He asks, gently herding me towards his bed. I do as he wants, heading towards the bed before sitting on the edge of it, the footboard gently digging into my thighs.

     "He asked me about sapphires," I answer, scanning over the room again. My focus is mostly on the puppet parts. Kankuro's art always interests me; all the different colors and how the parts are put together.

     "He asked you about what?" Ro asks, voice chipped and sharp with anger as he asks his question.

     "About sapphires," I repeat carefully, tearing my eyes away from a half-made spider-looking puppet. Ro's chest is pumping fast, eyes wide but I'm not sure why. His voice seemed angry but his eyes seem fearful. "Why are you upset?"

     "I'm not upset. I'm fine. What... exactly did he ask?"

     "Just my thoughts on them," I answer, trying to keep my voice calm in light in hopes it'll run off on my suitor.

     "Okay, okay, okay," Kankuro mumbles to himself, pacing around the room. A piece of wood catches his eye, turning his panicked attention toward it. I watch as he toys with it, his eyes scanning the room for something. "What are your thoughts on them?" He asks, words broken up as he walks toward whatever he is searching for. It's a pencil.

     I watch as he sketches soft lines into the wood, my eyes locking in his fingers that flex and relax against his work. "Haven't seen one so I don't have any thoughts on them."

     Silence falls between us, giving me time to look over his half-worked art pieces again. When the board digging into my thighs becomes too much I decide to shove my shoes off and settle into the bed better.

     Once I'm comfortable lying on my back with my knees propped up, Ro peeps up again. "Is that all you two talked about?" His words are careful again, attention on me as he scans my face. His face is the shallow 'trying to stay cool' look he does when we run into shinobis around the village. I don't know how to take that.

     "No, we talked about some other things too."

     "Like what?" Kankuro's sentence falls out so quickly that it almost overlaps the end of my own. Is he mad I talked with his brother? Is that why he's trying so hard to keep her cool?

     "He seemed a little upset when I bowed," I murmur, doing my own scanning for a reaction. I've seen Ro mad before and it's pretty scary. Would he lose his temper with me? I'd be lying if I said the knowledge of what Kankuro can do didn't scare me. He is a puppeteer after all, which makes it pretty easy to control others, especially those that aren't trained as shunobis, like me.

     His face softens, concern breaking the mask he tried to hide behind. "What do you mean by upset?"

     "Lord Fifth was just a little snippy about me bowing to him. Well, I wouldn't say snippy. He was pretty relaxed about it and about me calling him Lord instead of Gaara."

     Kankuro's mask is back up for a second before a huge smile covers his face. "My brother asked you to call him by his name?" I nod my head, yes, sending him a small smile back. "That's... chill," he murmurs, turning his attention back to his wood chunk.

     My sand prince is a really happy person, but other than his normal 'happy-go-lucky' attitude he won't show his other emotions very much or for very long. I've accepted that if we do plan to start a relationship it'll take some time to build enough trust for Ro to be more open about himself and his feelings.

     Once again silence falls between us, but this time Kankuro moves closer to me. He sits down on the edge of the bed, his back to me as he focuses on his handy work. I take the time to admire the soft outline of his shoulder muscles. Puppeteering works out your arms a lot and it has done Ro some favors.

     Before I can stop myself I reach my hand out, letting my fingertips feather over his shoulder muscles. Ro tenses under my touch but slowly starts to relax as my hand dances over his clothing. "I want to talk to you about something," I whisper, sliding myself closer so both hands can rub on him.

     The pencil scratches that were filling the space stop, but nothing else ends up filling the space. "So, the main thing your brother and me talked about was social standings."

     "Gaara can be a little... unaware of what he says sometimes. Whatever he said probably just came out wrong."

     "I don't know about that. He seemed pretty set on what he said," I mumble as I sit up. I shift myself around again, sitting on my knees. I make sure to keep plenty of space between us, causing my arms to stay stretched out. I start massaging Ro's shoulders instead of my light touches. I can tell he needs it from all the knots tightened up under his skin.

     "What did he say?" Kankuro says, a soft groan following his words.

     My heart flips at the sound as thoughts of our kiss fill my head again. I can feel the heat crawling across my face as the thought of asking for another - deeper - kiss keeps repeating in my head.

     "Gaara said I have 'high social standing' and when I tried to correct him he kept insisting I did. He also mentioned something about title inheritance which I don't understand at all. Plus your brother called me 'Princess' and I'm pretty sure it has to do with all that cause I don't think your brother understands pet names," the words come out in a word dump, my attempt to shove the words out before my overthinking gets to me.

     Ro's head tips back to look at me, eyelashes flutter on overtime as he rapidly blinks at me. I stare back at him, my eyes blinking a lot slower than his. "My desert Lily," he says, his words warm as they collide with my ears. The warmth continues to fill me up, making me feel like actual lilies are blooming in my chest.

     "Ya?" I call back, my eyes settling on his lips again. I want another kiss. I let myself scoot closer, my hands dipping down to his chest as I move.

     "You are aware of my siblings and my titles, ya?" He asks, eyes drooping over my face slowly. Kankuro's hands slide up, tangling themselves with mine, the wooden project completely forgotten.

     I hum a yes, dipping my head down lower. The space between us is thin, so thin that only a sheet of paper could slip through. My mind races from our position. Should I kiss him? Should I wait for him to kiss me? Am I too close to him? Am I not close enough?

     "Uh... with... our father being the last Kage, my siblings and I still hold titles of... um, princess and prince, which passes down to our life partners and kids." Ro's words come out broken again, his head tilting to take up more of the small space between us. His lips are so close to mine that I can almost feel them against me.

     "Oh," I breathe out before fluttering my eyes closed. I need him to kiss me, I need him to do it now before my thoughts pull me back.

     The bedsheets ruffle as Kankuro shifts again, his lips feathery light against mine. "There are customs that come with that though. Approval from the family Kage, family jewelry being gifted, and a dumb long list of all the other customs."

     I can feel a desperate whine clawing up my throat from the teasing butterfly touches. "Kankuro," I whisper, a hum being sent back as an answer. I huff a little, coating his face in warm air.

     I can feel the smile curling on his lips, which only makes the stifled whine even harder to hold down. More shifting fills my ears before the feeling of Ro's fingertips ghost over my neck. Shivers are chased by sparks that rash from his small touches. "I can't read your mind. Tell me what you want, my beautiful flower."

     By the last syllable, my whine had won. The long soft mewl gets me what I want. Ro's hand slides around my neck, his palm barely against my neck, fingertips slightly denting my skin as he holds me still. His lips are finally pressed against my own, his mouth catching my noise before it's finished. Our lips dance against each other for a while, lungs screaming for air, and more sparks filling me up and sinking to my stomach.

     When Kankuro pulls away another whine spills out, getting me sparkling eyes and a soft chuckle from my suitor. My nails dig gently into his chest as I attempt to pull him back to my lips. Once again I'm given what I want, a string of soft short kisses.

     Sadly my kisses are cut off from a knock at the door. "I'm sorry," Ro mumbles, peppering a few more kisses to my lips before letting me go. I can feel the deep pout on my face as I watch him get up and walk over to the door.

     He smiles at me softly, eyes soft and so full of admiration as he looks at me. "Absolutely gorgeous," Kankuro murmurs before turning his attention away from me.

     I flap back on the bed, the tension slowly creeping out of me from the lack of Ro being wrapped up in my space. I watch as he opens the door, cracking it enough to fit himself in the open space but closed enough that I'm not seen. Is he ashamed of me being in his room? Or is he just worked up from our make-out session? Maybe it's part of the customs he was talking about? Is me being in his room against those customs?

     The voice on the other side of the door is hushed enough that I can't make out the words but loud enough that I recognize it as Temari. "I know," Kankuro whines, slumping against the door frame.

     Another hushed whispering before "No, she's not in here, that would be like so against the rules."

     This round of mumbles is harsher, Temari's anger making her voice raise a bit. "I know!" Ro whines again, a groan following his words. It's not the relaxed happy groan from earlier though, this one is a pissy groan. "Ya, ya, ya. Give me a couple of minutes," he answers again before slamming the door shut. The frame creeks against the tension before falling silent again.

     Once the door is shut Kankuro races back to the bed. His hand is instantly back in place, gently wrapped back around my neck, the other pinning my wrists down as he hovers over me. I can feel every inch of him pressed against me, securing my spot on the mattress.

     He wastes no time, lips back against mine. Ro is a lot rougher this time; hand tighter on my skin, lips doing all they can to bruise mine, body pinning me in place. Kankuro's hunger is evident from the way he devours me, only pulling back long enough to suck in a quick breath before going back to my mouth.

     "I'm sorry," he races out once he's gotten his fill. Ro's hands stay in place but are back to the light touches from before. He picks himself off of me a bit, giving me room to move around again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I am so sorry, my little lily." More apologies fall from my suitor, each one chased by little kisses on any skin Ro can get to. His hand shifts as he jumps between my neck and my face.

     "Ro-"

     "I'm sorry."

     "Kuro-"

     "I shouldn't have - I'm sorry. I really should have - I'm sorry," I can feel the waves of panic ripping off of him, his kisses getting desperate as if he can kiss the experience off my skin.

     "Kankuro," I call again, wiggling my wrists in his hold.

     His hands drop off of me and shift to lifting himself off of me, leaving him in a push-up-like form. "I'm sorry," he says for the hundredth time.

     "Why are you sorry?" I murmur, lifting my hands to cup his face.

     Ro's head tilts, gentle kisses being pressed against my fingers. "I shouldn't have been so rough without asking," he whispers as if the words will click my reaction in the other direction.

     "Kankuro," I call out smoothly, letting my fingertips slide against his lips as he presses more kisses into me. "It's okay, you're fine, I'm fine. Just give a little bit of a warning next time, okay?"

     "Okay. Okay, I will, I swear, okay," he murmurs more to himself than me. It hurts a bit seeing how panicked he is. Maybe Kankuro fears what he can do to me more than I fear it myself. I think in our next meeting I should start poking at his life before me. There has to be a reason Ro fears himself so much. "I'm sorry," he says again, soft kisses tracing up my arm.

     "It's okay," I answer again, softly playing with the ends of his hair. Perhaps my suitor’s walls aren't as high as I thought they were.

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[anisecandy]

Do have any ideas how Eddie can be or act creepy?Like I think many people are scared of him by just looking at him.He can probably do some weird and unhinged stuff and because of his unpredictable behavior you don’t know if he’s friendly or he’s about to maul you

Oh gee, my elbows decided to not hurt long enough that I could write a longer post!  …Lol nah, I just wrote it while taking breaks.

…why are we here just to suffer…

Hm, but wait, are we talking just Eddie-Eddie or Eddie with the Symbiote? Bc being bonded with it def can give him a big creepy boost lol. Either way… Lemme try and make a list, from the most mundane to “can somebody call an exorcist please??”.

Over-familiarity. To put it simply, Eddie(especially the classic era) thinks of himself as quite the charismatic guy, with which the rest of the world doesn’t… exactly agree. He kisses strangers’ kids on the forehead, talks about his daddy issues on the first date and invites himself in to help with the laundry. Some will find it friendly and sweet. Some - unsettling.

Morbid sense of humor. It has to be said that (as much as he sometimes also wishes people to look past his rough exterior) Eddie definitely enjoys intimidating people. The problem is that more often than not he’s the only one in on the joke, because for most of the time it’s nigh impossible to tell when he’s serious, since he absolutely can and will (in certain situations) do exactly what he’s joking about. (“Are you scared we’ll eat you?” quips the man known for eating people).

The stare. Eddie is pretty menacing just by the virtue of his build, but what really sells it is his facial expression. You’ve heard of “resting bi*ch face”? Well, get ready for “resting serial killer face”. He’s scowling 23/7 (with exception of 1 hour per week of smiling because he loves his Other) and with those eyebrows of his he sure can give Kubrick a run for his money.

Talking to himself. I mean, for obvious reason, yeah, but I also think he’s so casual about talking to his Other out in the open because he used to talk to himself anyway.

Animalistic body language and behaviour. This one, (I think) comes after the Symbiote. Maybe. Probably not, but you know. Let’s give him some benefit of the doubt. When angry or threatened Eddie definitely hisses and growls at others, bares his teeth… 

Eating bugs. No, I don’t believe this is in any way caused by the Symbiote. Eddie’s just this damn weird. Besides, this isn’t how it works. (however, after bonding with it I’m also headcannoning that he started eating raw meat as a snack).

Seeming to have eyes on the back of his head. Thanks to the Symbiote, unless they’re both distracted, Eddie’s field of view is virtually 360°. Which can be a little creepy at times.

How do I put this nicely… Well, Eddie is a pretty… Intense person. Yeah. And he’s not, well, not great at taking the hint. And respecting boundaries. If he likes you, he REALLY likes you. He has a tendency for getting obsessed with people and can be really pushy, because if he does his best and applies himself surely you will appreciate it, right? Right?? And while this personality trait probably gets amplified when he’s with the Symbiote, it couldn’t have appeared out of thin air. Look, he just doesn’t have many people in his life and sometimes being so isolated makes him compensate in a way that understandably makes others uncomfortable.

This is sth I’ve never seen other people headcanon, but I like to imagine that when Eddie and the Symbiote are, you know, just chilling at a safe location, sometimes they… blur? collapse? a little, like on the physical level specifically? The Symbiote emerges to a certain degree, because Eddie enjoys from time to time having it around in a more corporal form that he can look at and touch, but without the prying eyes of other humans and their human sensibilities, it doesn’t form into anything particularly coherent. So they turn into this really casual, domestic, utterly horrifying body horror varying from black goo oozing from Eddie’s mouth, eyes etc and a full on mess a’la “The Thing”. It’s their version of stretched out sweatpants and holey undershirt.

Those are the ones I came up with so far, but I'm certain that if he'd put his hear into it, he could be even creepier ♥ (lol)

[helluvapurf]

-Oop, almost forgot about today being the debut of the newest HB episode "Unhappy Campers" lol Lets talk about it!~ :>

*Spoiler warning ahead for those who didn't see the ep yet-*

Soooo to start things off, lets get to the Positives!

*-M&M get to stand out more in the main A-story for a change, yay! 👏👏And even including a bit of drama for the couple to deal with as they started to clash over their roles in this "mystery"-solving; especially with Millie revealing to carry some insecurities over not feeling "appreciated" outside of a supportive role/killing-machine… poor girl :c Glad to see she was able to have her moment to shine on stage by the end while Moxxie "took care" of their suspect, the gal deserved that time to just let loose on her own, yknow? 🥺

*-The summer camp aesthetic was a fun change of scenery for the story here, and I liked the designs for characters like the blue demon client at the start, alongside Millie & Moxxie's human disguises ("Moxxine" & "Millard"), they were cute~ :3

*-While Blitz didn't play too big of a role here in the long run, his gentle coaxing to his sister Barbie Wire at the end to try and amend things was rather touching to see (not really seeming to mind her pronouncing the "O" in his name either, unlike with other characters)… even if ultimately tragic given her rejection at the end :(. I really hope we get more insight of their family background later, 'cause there's alot of story potential for Blitz to try and face the "shadows" of his past (outside of just general exes-drama), in a meaningful character building way imo 👍

*-Not quiiiite as strong on the humor aspect (which I'll get into in a sec-), but I'll admit there's still some good chuckle-worthy moments like the "kid-stuck-in-a-crater" gag, along with this one still-shot during the Blitz & Moxxie VS Barbie fight lol

*-Nice to see a return of those Asmodean crystals, ever since their cameo in "The Circus" I've always been curious to see them in-action given their role as another portal-making item :o the crystalline-looking portals made from them look so pretty too~

As far as the Negatives of this ep are concerned? …Ehhhh-

*-As much as I enjoyed the M&M spotlight… I'd be lying if I said I didn't find the execution a bit… "clunky" at certain points ^^; Mainly on Moxxie's end 'cause… oof did he feel rather cringey at times, getting randomly hung up about some camp kids not liking him over Millie? :| Like… okay sure, its one thing to criticize her not prioritizing the "investigation" mystery as seriously as she should've… but I mean, you're basically doing the same thing trying to win over everyone as this ditzy teen girl, Moxx so like… who are you to talk? :/ Thankfully he got over that by the end and made things right by his wife but still… smh, dude >>

*-For a character as hyped up as Barbie Wire's been by the fandom since the pilot… I'm surprised that her first-ever reveal is only in the last few minutes of a B-plot? .-. Like… this is the long-lost sister of our main character, mind you, and her presence alone through that one photo in "Ozzie's" was enough to shake up Blitz to the core… so, why wasn't she given more of a major story to come back into her brother's life? 🤷‍♀️ I don't even mind that she's not interested in making amends with him atm (esp. with his stalkerish behavior here I can't really blame her tbh, as much as I love the guy- ^^;), but still…more additional context in-general could've helped make her debut a lil more interesting imo (same with Stella's brother Andrealphus).

*-Humor wise… ehhhhh yeah, some of it didn't really sit right with me tbh :/ Like, okay I get HB's always been a rather "raunchy" show since its inception, and I'm all for some clever adult humor when done right…

…But I mean, did we really need bits like M&M pretending to be "siblings" while disguised (when… idk why they couldn't have just pretended to be a regular teen couple tbh? .-.), only to then having that big "steamy" moment in front of a crowd of campers…? :| Idk, humor IS subjective at the end of the day so, I guess your mileage may vary on some of these joke executions… 🤷‍♀️

*-Pacing felt a bit imbalanced (again), with moments like the big ending fight scene feeling rather… "stiff", in some parts? : o Idk, probably could've benefitted from adding in a few more minutes or something to make it flow a lil better .3.

*-Fun as it was seeing Millie getting her own song for a change (that's not just another love duet with Moxxie)… idk, it admittedly wasn't the most memorable compared to some previous HB songs (minus the lil lyrics popping underneath like a cheesy music video, that was funny lol) 🤷‍♀️That and Moxxie's own "solo" attempt at the campfire scene was… again, cringey (though I think that was the point lol) :P.

-----

…Aaaaand yeah, that about covers my initial first impression thoughts of the ep! If I had to give my own rating again… prooobably somewhere around a C-rank? Again, I still enjoyed the M&M (+mainly Millie's) spotlight overall, but with the rushed-over Barbie Wire addition & some of the cringier humor bits… Iiii just don't know if I'd consider it among my fave eps anytime soon, imho ^^;

[thefanficmonster]

Keeper

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral) x Dream - Poly Relationship

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Dream is not too happy with the flattering comments sent Y/N and Corpse’s way.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request and I’m so sorry you’ve had to wait so long to see it turned into a fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

“You know, if you’d stop screaming you’d be able to hear us, right?“ I sarcastically remark, earning myself a scoff from Karl.

“I’m sorry, how about you try to find yourself in this situation with this fucking ghost Suzanne. Yeah, fuck you, Suzanne.“ He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence properly before he screams, probably startled by the ghost he just insulted. 

I cackle to myself, “Trust me, I wouldn’t be able to find myself in such a predicament even if I tried.”

Playing Phasmophobia with Karl, Dream and Corpse has become my favorite hobby while I use my vacation days off of work. I don’t have the budget for an actual vacation just yet, so this is what I consider to be the closest thing to it - gaming. Obviously, I will go on a vacation when there’s a bigger bang to my buck.

This content creator thing is working fairly nicely so far, I’m not complaining. To be completely honest, I never would’ve thought I would be making money from this and I never counted on it. I did it for fun and relaxation until my boyfriends convinced me otherwise.

Yup, you heard that last line correctly.

“Yes, yes, Y/N’s very respectful towards ghosts. They definitely didn’t cuss out the poor old man ghost the last time we streamed. No way.“ Corpse interjects, making me gasp in faux offense. 

“In my defense, he was being an asshole! You and Dream weren’t any better either. Regardless, I stay as respectful as possible. Don’t wanna piss off the dead.“ I explain, scrolling through my chat and donations.

“Yeah, just as respectful as the people making passes in your chat.“ Dream contradicts me sarcastically, causing me to raise an eyebrow at his comment.

“Are you talking about that dude with the ‘roses are red bla bla bla’ comment? I saw him too.“ Corpse asks, jumping onto what Dream said.

Oh for the love of God...

“You’re not one to talk, Corpse. Your chat is just as thirsty as Y/N’s.“ Dream laughs, getting Corpse to drop him a quick ‘Fuck you‘ midst his own laughter.

I, on the other hand, seem to be the only one with a head left on my shoulders seeing as how these two have kinda, sorta forgotten that we’re streaming. Oh, and that Karl is here. “Are you both watching my stream? Focus on yours! Get out!“ I scold them, hoping I come across as pissed and not desperate. I really hope no one digs into this any deeper than they need to. It wouldn’t be pretty if they did.

“First of all, all we have to do is peer over your shoulder to see your chat.“ Dream says, too matter-of-factly for my liking and a bit too cockily for my annoyance level to not rise at least a little.

“Second of all,“ Corpse continues, “You can’t chase us out of our own apartment! It’s yours as much as it’s ours.“

I smack each of them lightly on the back of their head, causing them to let out a sound of complain and dare to ask...

“What was that for?!“ 

Oh, the AUDACITY!

And they said it in sync, that was funny

“Really? What was it for? For being little tattle tails, that’s what!“ I narrow my eyes at them, knowing full well that it has zero effect and that it only entertains them, contrary to what my intention is.

“I didn’t say shit! Dream started it!“ Corpse complains, raising his hands up in surrender or to possibly shield him in case I decide to swing again, “And still, you shouldn’t be mad at the guy! He was just looking out for us. Although a bit jealous, his intentions were nice. He meant well.“

The two fist-bump as a way of Dream showing Corpse his appreciation for standing up for him in protection of my wrath. 

“Oh, yeah!“ I grin at them menacingly - now that does manage to scare them, “Yeah, he’s a real keeper, just not for secrets.”

“It slipped! I’m sorry!“ Dream whines, attempting to fish me and sit me down in his lap but I swat his hands away.

“No excuses, Clay!“ Even Corpse lets out an ‘oof‘ in response to that one. I don’t call Dream by his real name unless he’s really fucked. Which he currently very much is.

Before he could beg for forgiveness, however, another voice rings through our headphones, “Wait, wait, wait...Can someone please explain to me what the fuck is going on here?!”

Oh shit, Karl’s here....I forgot

.....and we’re streaming....

...fuck...

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[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Reassurance

masterlist

part one

Summary: Spencer feels insecure, and Reader puts his worries to rest. 

A/N: I got several requests to write a follow-up to Avoidance , and after writing almost the whole entire thing, only to scrap it all because it was literal trash, here we are! I initially planned to go a different route with this, but it didn’t flow right and I ended up changing the entire plot line somewhere along the way. I really like how this turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy it, too!

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom!Reader

Content warnings: cursing, Spencer being insecure, hand job, oral sex (male receiving), anal fingering, pegging, light degradation, Spencer experiencing sub-drop

Word Count: 6k

           Spencer’s lips drag against mine at a slow, deliberate pace as I sit perched on his lap, my hands tugging lightly at where his hair curls at the nape of his neck. One particularly harsh tug has Spencer gasping into my mouth and tightening his grip on my hips, pulling me down until I’m fully sat on his lap. The bulge tenting his slacks comes in full contact with my clothed core and I hum appreciatively against his lips.

           “Getting excited there, baby?”

           Spencer lets out a whine of protest when I pull away, leaning forward in an attempt to reunite our lips. I press my hand flat against his chest and push him back until he rests against the couch cushions.

           “I thought you wanted to watch a movie tonight?” I ask him, my lips curled up into a knowing smile. Spencer’s thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into my hips as he fixes me with a shy smile.

           “Maybe later,” he replies, sheepish. He looks breathtaking - bathed in the soft glow of the lamp light, shadows dancing across every perfectly chiseled inch of his face. Faint purple bruises dot the underside of his jaw line, remnants of the last time we had been afforded enough time to get tangled up under the bedsheets. I press my thumb to one of them, applying just enough pressure to cause Spencer’s breath to hitch. In another day or two, the purple and yellow discoloration would be gone, leaving no trace of our time together.

           I release my hold on his jaw and make a mental note to see to it that he has another set of pretty marks before the weekend is over.

           “Later?” I lift the hand that was splayed across his chest until I’m able to fiddle with the top button on his dress shirt. “You talk as if you have something else you’d like to do first. Care to share?”            Spencer squirms underneath my gaze, eyes flitting between my lips and where I’m pressed firmly against his erection. I watch him flounder to come up with a response before deciding to forgo words completely and rut himself against me, eyelids fluttering closed as he lets out a low whine.

           I click my tongue at him and raise up until my center hovers over him, torturously close but not quite close enough to touch.

           “What’s the matter, Doctor? It’s not like you to be at a loss for words,” I taunt as I pop open the last three buttons of his shirt. Now that the milky white skin of his chest is on full display, I waste no time in dragging my fingernails from his collarbone down to his navel, light and teasing. The action elicits a shiver from Spencer, who looks up at me with glossy eyes and blown pupils.

           “P-Please,” he stutters out.

           “Please, what?” I prod, cocking my head to the side. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

           Spencer’s tongue pokes out to run across his bottom lip.

           “I want you,” he breathes out, low and sultry. “Now. Don’t wanna wait.”

           I let out a pleased sigh as I lean forward to capture Spencer’s lips in a heated kiss. Spencer’s quick to reciprocate, eagerly licking into my mouth as soon as my lips brush against his.

           It’s not long until I feel the hands on my waist begin to tug me back down onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from me.

           “Such a needy little thing,” I murmur against his lips.

           Usually, a comment like this would be met by some sort of mumbled affirmation. But this time, as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel Spencer’s whole body tense up beneath me.

           “Does… Does that bother you?”

           I pull away and give Spencer an inquisitive look.

           “Does what bother me?”

           Spencer averts his eyes, “That I’m so submissive.” He spits the word out like it burns his mouth – like it’s something to be ashamed of – and I can’t suppress my frown.

           “Why would that ever bother me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble shrug of his shoulders, still refusing to pull his gaze from where it rests on the floor.

           “I read an article in Psychology Today that discussed a survey in which 172 German adults completed a personality questionnaire and then measured their own preference for a dominant partner. Not only was the general consensus that both genders prefer dominant partners, the participants also agreed with statements like ‘a very nice partner is often boring’ and ‘I feel attracted to assertive partners.’ So, it’s only natural that you might get tired of me always being such a pushover and search for a more exciting partner than can keep you stimulated-”

           I clamp my hand down on Spencer’s mouth, effectively ending his self-deprecating rant and forcing him to look up from where his eyes were burning a hole into the floor. When I know he isn’t going to try and continue down that particularly awful train of thought, I remove my hand.

           “First of all, you are not a pushover. Insinuating that you are a pushover would also be insinuating that I’m taking advantage of you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?” Spencer’s eyes grow wide and he frantically shakes his head.

           “Absolutely not. I… I love what you do to me – with me. What we do together. I-I just want to be sure that you like it to. That you’re not just humoring me until someone who can actually give you what you want comes around.”

           I feel my mouth fall open from shock somewhere during the middle of his spiel. He can’t actually be so oblivious to the fact that I enjoy the hell out of our sex life, can he?

           Apparently, he can and he is, because Spencer takes my silence as affirmation.

           “I could try? To d-dom you, that is. I’ve been reading up on it and-”

           “Spencer, where on earth did this come from?”

           Spencer blinks hard, “I told you – I read it in Psychology Today.”

           I shake my head at him and slip off of his lap and onto the couch cushion beside him.

           “No, that’s not what I meant. What made you think that I’m not happy with our sex life?”

           “N-Nothing in particular,” Spencer stammers. “I just know that I’m not exactly the most masculine guy, and I want to make sure that you’re, you know… happy. With me.”

           And there it is.

           I reach for Spencer’s hand and link our fingers together.

           “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that comment Derek made this morning, would it?” Spencer doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes drop to his lap tells me everything I need to know. I tighten my grip on his hand. “You know he was just messing with you, right? As out of line as it was, he was just being… Derek.”

           “He wasn’t wrong, though. I am extremely docile – along with a litany of other very passive traits. I’m not strong or assertive or confident like Derek; I’m basically the complete opposite of the ideal male partner. All I’m good for is spouting out information that’s only sometimes useful. No wonder you don’t want to-” Spencer clamps his mouth shut and his cheeks burn red. “Forget it. C-Can we pretend this conversation never happened?”

           “No wonder I don’t want to what?” I prod, brows furrowed in confusion. But still, Spencer refuses to meet my eyes. “And as far as all the other stuff goes, it doesn’t matter if you’re assertive or strong. I prefer my sweet, gentle boy over guys like Derek Morgan, any day. My ideal male partner just so happens to be pretty boys with curly brown hair and massive IQs, not aggressive alpha males with overinflated egos.” I bring Spencer’s hand up to my lips and place a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “I’m being serious, Spence. There’s a lot to love about you.”

           Spencer’s next words are hushed, so quiet that I almost don’t hear him when he says, “Then why haven’t you told anyone about us yet?”

           In the two months since our first time together, neither of us had been brave enough to broach the subject of what exactly we were doing. With neither of us quite sure how to go about defining the relationship, we’d fallen into a sort of routine. Whenever it came time to pair off for the night and retreat to our hotel rooms, Spencer and I always made sure that we were paired together. Hotch never seemed to care – he was just happy that we weren’t walking on eggshells around each other anymore - and the others were kind enough to keep their suspicions to themselves. On the weekends, or really any time that we weren’t working a case, time off was spent in each other’s company, be it at Spencer’s place or mine. Days full of impromptu adventures to farmer’s markets and niche antique shops devolved into passionate nights spent learning every inch of each other’s skin until no stone was left unturned. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Or at least it would’ve been, if Spencer and I hadn’t managed to fall half way in love somewhere along the way. It was glaringly obvious early on that it was way more than just sexual chemistry that kept us both coming back for more, but owning up to that fact was a whole other issue that neither of us was ready to deal with.

           Until now, apparently.

           “I-I mean, we haven’t talked about what exactly this is, so I wasn’t quite sure how to go about that,” I stammer. “But now that you’ve brought it up…”

           Spencer finally looks up and his eyes are filled to the brim with equal parts fear and hope.

           “I-I really want there to be an us,” he whispers. “I kind of thought that much was obvious.”

           “And I thought the fact that I have absolutely zero complaints in the bedroom was obvious, but here we are,” I tease, and Spencer lets out an involuntary giggle when I poke at his side. “I want there to be an us, too. And for what it’s worth, I like you just the way you are, Spencer Reid - just so we’re clear.”

           “Really?” Spencer persists. From anyone else, it would seem like they were fishing for compliments, but from Spencer? I knew my sweet, darling boy just needed some reassurance.

           I lean forward and capture his lips in a long, languid kiss.

           “Really really,” I mumble when I pull away. “Have I done a thorough enough job drilling that into your head, or do you need some more convincing?”

           “More convincing,” Spencer replies as he ducks in for another kiss. “Lots and lots of convincing.”

           I smile against his lips, “That’s good to hear, because I sorta had a little something special planned for you.”

           “Something special?”

           I slide my hand from its place on his knee until my fingers glide across the tip of his clothed cock.

           “Remember that thing we talked about last week?”

           I can feel the way Spencer’s cock twitches under my hand and I have to bite back a smile.

           “Y-Yeah?”

           I give his bulge a light squeeze that has Spencer moaning low in his throat.

           “Only if you want to. There’s no pressure at all. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’d be perfectly fine if you just wanna watch that movie and cuddle a bit - you know that right?”

           “Yes, but I still want to,” Spencer chokes out. “Very, very much.” And then he’s bringing a hand up to cup my face before slotting our lips together again.

           The kiss is sloppy, seeing as we’re both much too excited to worry about being precise. Spencer spends time exploring my body with his free hand, starting at my hips and then dipping underneath my t-shirt. Spencer’s hand is just shy of skimming over my bra when I pull back and he lets out a frustrated whine when I pull his hands off of me.

           “I wanna ask you a few things before we do this, okay, baby?” Spencer flushes a deep crimson as he nods. “Have you ever experimented with any sort of anal play before?”

           “N-No, I haven’t. Is that okay?”

           Spencer Reid, you are going to be the death of me.

           “That’s perfectly fine, sweet boy,” I coo. “I’m just trying to get a feel for what’s going to be the most comfortable for you. We’ll start small and work our way up, okay?” Spencer nods, prompting me to tack on an, “Assuming that you want to, that is. This is all on your terms, and I need to make sure that you know that nothing’s going to happen that you don’t expressly consent to first.”

           Spencer’s lips pull up into a sweet smile.

           “I know, and I trust you,” he says. “And I consent to it. To all of it.”

           “You’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that,” I chuckle. “What exactly are you consenting to?”

           Spencer shifts in his seat, “Y-You know.”

           “Yes, but I want to hear you say it, baby.”

           Spencer gulps hard, “I-I want you to fuck me. Please.”

           I let out a satisfied hum and remove my hand from Spencer’s lap.

           “I want you to go to the bedroom and take off all your clothes. Then I want you to lie in the center of the bed and if I walk in and see you touching yourself, I’ll walk right back out and I won’t touch you for a month. Are we clear?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss.”

--

           I spend much longer than necessary in the living room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through my phone for nearly ten minutes before getting up and making my way to the bedroom. The anticipation is half of the fun, in my opinion, and I take great pleasure in imagining Spencer squirming against the sheets, desperate for me to walk through that door.

           I rid myself of my skirt and blouse as I make my way down the hallway, leaving me in only my panties and bralette. I can hear Spencer’s heavy breathing before I even reach the bedroom, and it makes my stomach flip excitedly as I push open the door.

           Spencer lays in the middle of the bed, hands grabbing at the sheets as he rolls his hips in vain. His cock stands painfully hard, leaking precum and bobbing up and down with every motion of his hips. Spencer doesn’t see or hear me when I come in – his eyes are closed tight and his bottom lip is nestled between his teeth, blissfully oblivious as he ruts up into nothing.

           “It seems like my poor, needy boy has worked himself up into quite a state.”

           The sound of my voice startles him and he immediately halts the movement of his hips. Spencer’s eyes watch on and I walk over to the night stand, taking my time as I remove a bottle of lube, my harness, and the newly purchased dildo bought especially for my sweet boy.

           Spencer’s eyes linger on the silicone member, wide and curious as I set the items on the bed and crawl in between his legs. He spreads his legs without being prompted, leaving him completely exposed to me, and the action makes my heart swell with pride. My good boy has learned so much in the past two months.

           “M’gonna suck that pretty cock of yours now, and I want you to keep your hips still. Can you do that for me, baby?”

           Spencer nods frantically, “Y-Yes, Miss. Please – I need your mouth. I’ll be still, I promise.”

           I let out a pleased hum as I take him into my hand, dragging my fist up and down, spreading precum across the entirety of his length.

           “I know you will, baby. You’re always so good for me. So eager to please.”

           I lean down and begin placing kisses to the sensitive skin of his thighs, all while continuing to work my hand against him. I nip lightly at the skin above his right hip and Spencer sucks in a ragged breath when I suck a pretty purple bruise in the very same spot. It contrasts starkly with his porcelain skin, and I enjoy the way it looks so much that I continue until a plethora of love bites litter his inner thighs. When I finally sit back and admire my work, Spencer’s writhing so pitifully against the mattress that I decide to put him out of his misery.

           Spencer devolves into a whimpering mess the moment I take his tip into my mouth, his head thrashing wildly against the mattress when I swirl my tongue around him. I take my time with him, not at all rushing my descent onto his cock, choosing instead to tease him with a slow, steady pace. If Spencer minded my slower than usual pace, he didn’t say so. He was too busy choking out an unrelenting string of the most wanton moans I’d ever heard as he watched himself disappear into my mouth.

           I decide now is as good a time as any to up the ante and I pull my mouth away from him.

           “W-Why did you stop?” Spencer stutters, chest heaving up and down.

           I raise an eyebrow at him, “Are you being ungrateful, Doctor? Because if you are, I could always just leave you here like this - cock hard and leaky with no way to get off other than your own hand. That wouldn’t be nearly as fun as having me fuck that pretty little ass of yours.”

           “No, please! I’m so sorry,” Spencer mewls. “I’ll be good, just please don’t leave!”

            I loosely grasp Spencer’s cock in my hand and run my thumb across his slit.

           “You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. I can’t wait to hear how pretty you are when you’re begging for me to fuck you harder.”

           Spencer’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth hangs open, panting hard.

           “I want it so bad. Please, please, please, Miss.”

           I use my free hand to reach up and push two fingers into Spencer’s mouth, “Suck. I want them real nice and wet so that I can use them to get you ready for me.”

           Spencer moans around my fingers, laving his tongue around the them as he hollows his cheeks. When I retract my fingers from his mouth they’re practically dripping and I reward his effort by tightening my grip on his cock.

           “Good job, baby. Are you ready for me to finger that tight little hole of yours?” I ask him as I release his cock and grab the bottle of lube. I drizzle a healthy amount onto my fingers before dragging one across his puckered hole, eliciting a high-pitched cry from Spencer.

           “Yes!” Spencer gasps as he attempts to wiggle closer. “So ready for you, Miss. Use your f-fingers on me, please!”

           I start by slowly pressing one in, so as not to overwhelm him, and to my endless delight, it glides in almost effortlessly.

           “Already so ready for my fingers, Doctor. You sure you haven’t touched yourself here before?” I ask as I begin to work my finger in and out in slow thrusts.

           “N-Never. O-Only you,” Spencer stutters out between moans. “C-Can you add another, Miss?”

           I pull my finger out, only to add another and resume my efforts at a slightly faster pace. Spencer’s back arches up off the bed when my fingers brush against his prostate and he lets out a half startled, half delighted yelp.

           “Oh fuck!” Spencer moans as he grinds down onto my fingers. “Again, please, Miss!”

I comply, and with every press of my fingers against the fleshy bundle of tissue, Spencer’s body jolts from the sensation.

           “S’that feel good, baby? Do you like how my fingers feel?”

           “Oh, God, yes! F-Feels so good. Never felt like this b-before,” Spencer sobs. “I-I’m getting close, Miss.”

           “I didn’t say that you can cum, baby. I wanna save that for when I’ve got my cock buried inside you. How’s that sound?”

           “Y-Yes, Iwantitsobad,” Spencer slurs, his words running together as he draws nearer and near to the end. “Want you to fuck me, Miss! Please, I’ll do anything-”

           I take pity on him and withdraw my fingers, which makes Spencer keen in protest.

           “Calm down, greedy boy. Just gotta get ready so I can give you what you want.”

           I crawl off of the bed and step into the harness, fastening it in place and making sure that the dildo is secure before I crawl in between his legs. Spencer watches on with rapt fascination as I pour lube into my palm and work it over the silicone cock until every inch of it glistens.

           “What’s your color, baby?” I ask as rub the tip of the cock over his hole.

           Spencer’s breath catches in his throat and his whole-body tenses with anticipation.

           “So green, Miss. So fucking green,” Spencer whimpers.

           I raise a hand up to his hip and begin to rub soothing circles into the skin there.

           “Gonna need you to relax for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?”            Spencer bites his lip and nods his head. I watch as the tension begins to melt away, and when I see him relax back into the mattress, I bring up my hand to stroke his cock. I keep my touch light, barely applying pressure – I knew if I applied too much, Spencer wouldn’t be able to hold out longer than a few thrusts. He was already teetering on the edge as it was.

           Mine and Spencer’s eyes meet and he smiles up at me, dopey and drunk from pleasure, and it’s all the permission I need. I press into him slowly, and I’m left in awe as I watch Spencer Reid completely unravel beneath me.

           “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Spencer curses, head flying back and hitting the pillows. It never ceases to amaze me at how fucking responsive he is, and tonight is no exception. It’s like his body is a live wire, trembling beautifully as I press in further and further and further. I stop just shy of being fully sheathed inside him, trying to allow him a moment to adjust, but Spencer seems to have other plans.

           “Keep going, Miss, don’t stop, please! I want all of it, please give it to me! I can take it, please let me show you!”

           He looks up at me and those beautiful brown eyes are so wild, so positively feral that I can’t even entertain the idea of denying him any longer.

           Spencer looks positively ruined by the time I bottom out inside him. His hair sticks to the sheen of sweat that gathers on his forehead, and his lips look positively abused from the way he’s been biting down on them. His eyelids flutter closed every few seconds, and every time he blinks them back open, I’m able to see that his pupils are so blown that his eyes look almost black.

           I pull back until all that’s left inside him is the very tip of the cock, and just as he opens that bratty little mouth to beg for more, I give particularly harsh thrust of my hips until I’m fully sheathed inside him. Spencer lets out a surprised cry as I set an unforgiving pace, all the while still loosely jerking him off as I bury myself inside him again and again and again.

           “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Spencer chants loudly, face contorted beautifully in an expression of pure ecstasy. I spare a brief thought to Spencer’s poor neighbors and make mental note to invest in a ball gag.

           “S’that feel good, baby? You look so pretty taking my cock like the good boy you are. My pretty little cock slut. Such a shame nobody’s fucked you like this before,” I hum as I focus my attention on the head of his cock, thumbing lightly at where he leaks for me.

           “D-Don’t want anyone else, just wanna be good for y-you. Wanna m-make you proud,” Spencer whines, tripping over his words as he struggles to form a coherent sentence. The sentiment sends a jolt of heat down to my already soaking core, but I do my best to ignore the slickness running down my thighs for the time being. Right now, my only focus is the boy chanting my name, praying for a type of salvation that only I can give him.

           I smile down at him and my hand drifts lower to where I’m steadily thrusting in and out of him. Spencer’s body jolts as the pad of my thumb brushes against the sensitive skin of his hole.

           “Of course, I’m proud of you. Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. It’s like you were made to take my cock,” I praise him.

           My words, mixed with the way I’m working both Spencer’s cock and his tight little ass, seem to be getting the better of him, because Spencer doesn’t even try to formulate a response. He just continues to let out strangled moans that almost sound like sobs as his hands grasp at the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

           It doesn’t take long until I feel the muscles in Spencer’s stomach and thighs begin to tense, and when his cock twitches in my hand I can tell Spencer won’t last much longer.

           “Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” I ask him as I grind my hips against his, and Spencer’s reply comes in the form of an incoherent, garbled moan.

           “What’s the matter, baby? Have I fucked you so stupid that you can’t answer me anymore?” I taunt him. I use the leverage I have from the hand placed on his hip to propel myself deeper. “Is my poor dumb baby incapable of replying?”

           Spencer makes a feeble attempt at a reply, “P-Please let me – f-fuck – cum! Oh, God, m’socloseMiss. Harder, please!”

           I take a minute to bask in the way he’s completely fallen apart at my hands - relishing in the way his eyes are glossy and dark with lust, in the way that his chest is flushed a deep red, and in the way that precum beads at the tip of his cock, aching for a release. He looks beautiful like this, whining and squirming, hips grinding down in search of more, more, more. I’d never imagined in a million years that I’d be so lucky as to see the illustrious Spencer Reid fucked absolutely senseless, but here he was, waiting for my permission to throw himself off the edge and into the best kind of oblivion.

           “Cum for me, pretty boy,” I say in the softest voice imaginable. “Show me how good you are.”

           The tension that had been steadily building since the first press of my lips against his snaps in an instant, and copious amounts of cum spurt out from his cock, painting his chest in thick, white ropes. Spencer chants out muddled thank yous as I fuck him through his release, pushing in and out of him in shallow strokes as slowly comes back down from the high.

           When his breathing slows down to a normal rate, I pull out of him, quickly freeing myself from the harness and tossing it aside to be dealt with later. I crawl up until I’m at eye level and begin pressing soft, sweet kisses to Spencer’s face.

           “You did so well, Spence,” I murmur against his skin. “You’re amazing, baby. Thank you so much for trusting me to be with you like that.”

           Spencer lifts a shaky hand to my hair and pulls me down into a heated kiss. I indulge him and pour every ounce of passion I have into my efforts, hoping to express my gratitude with every swipe of my lips against his. And when I pull away, my pretty boy smiles up at me, sated and full of adoration, and it’s beautiful.

           “D’you think you can handle taking a shower with me?” I ask as I pull away, and Spencer gives a shy nod in response. He sits up in the bed and swings his legs until his feet hit the floor. I’m just about to stand when his hand comes down on my wrist to stop me.

           “What about you? You didn’t . . .”

           “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Tonight was all about you.”

           I move off of the bed and help him to his feet, holding him steady when his legs begin to shake. “Might be a little sore for a while, but it should go away within a day or so.”

           I help him to the bathroom and turn on the shower, and when it’s warm enough I rid myself of my bra and panties and motion for him to join me. I urge Spencer to step under the spray first, but his arms snake around me and pull me with him.

           Spencer nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck and he lets out a deep sigh.

           “You okay, bubs?” I ask him as I tangle my arms around his torso and begin to rub soothing circles into his back.

           “I just feel a little… down? I-Is this a sub drop? I read a little bit about them, but I don’t k-know…” he trails off, sniffling pitifully against my neck. “I-I just know that I want to hold you. Is that o-okay?”

           My heart lurches painfully in my chest as his voice wavers, and I pull back just enough that I can look into his weary eyes.

           “Baby, that’s more than okay. Sub drops are a perfectly normal thing to experience, and I’ll be right here to hold you for as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

           Spencer’s eyes fill with tears and he makes no attempt to hold them back, choosing to let them fall freely and mix in with the water pouring from the shower head.

           “T-Tell me you want me,” Spencer begs, lip wobbling pitifully. “I-I just feel like I’m not good enough for you, and I know it’s all in my head, and I know how you feel about me, but I just think it would help if you just… s-said it. Please?”

           I feel my heart break for the man that stood before me. The implication his words carry - that this wonderful, kind-hearted, extraordinarily gifted man could ever think so little of himself – was enough to bring tears to my own eyes. I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat and, with all the sincerity I can possibly muster, I reply.

           “I want you, Spencer Reid. I don’t want anyone else – only you,” I tell him, never once breaking eye contact. “For as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

           Spencer chokes out a weak laugh, “And if I want you forever?”

           I nudge his nose with my own, and the act feels almost more intimate than everything that preceded it.

           “Then forever, it is,” I murmur. I press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away and reaching for the shampoo. “Now, turn around, pretty boy. Let me pamper you.”

--

           “Y/N!” Penelope calls out, sauntering over to me in a flash of hot pink taffeta. I’m in the middle of throwing my satchel over my shoulder when she runs up to me, excited smile on her face. “Me, you, JJ, Elle, and a bottle of tequila. You in?”

           On a normal day, the answer would have been a resounding hell yes. But today? I let my eyes wander over to where Spencer lingers near the glass doors, trying to look like he isn’t listening in. Very subtle.

           “I’m gonna have to pass on this one, Penelope.”

           Penelope’s smile transforms into a pout.

           “This is the third weekend in a row you’ve ditched us!” she whines, stomping her kitten heeled foot like a petulant child. “Either you’re avoiding us or you’ve got some secret lover we don’t know about. And if that’s the case, then we have a whole other problem, because that’s the kind of thing I expect to be told about immediately.”

           The giddy smile that stretches across my face gives me away before I even have the chance to open my mouth, sending Penelope into an absolute frenzy.

           “Oh my God, I cannot believe this. We’ll talk about how angry I am about being kept in the dark later because right now, I need details,” Penelope gushes. “Who is he? Where did you two meet? Is he hot?” Penelope barely gets the words out before she’s shaking her head. “Wait, that’s a dumb question. Of course, he’s hot - just look at you. Do I know him? When do I get to meet him?”

           I can’t help but laugh at Penelope’s enthusiasm.

           “Slow down, Pen,” I chuckle. “I didn’t tell you about it because it’s still relatively new, and it wasn’t until this past weekend that we finally decided to put a label on it.”

           “A label? Does that mean this guy is your boyfriend? Oh my God, I thought this day would never come,” Penelope sighs dreamily. But the far-away look in her eye quickly fades and Penelope begins to grill me with renewed fervor. “Y/N, you have to tell me who it is. It’s like, practically a crime that I’m only just now hearing about this, so you owe me this much. And I’ll be needing his first and last name, along with a DOB so that I can run a full back ground check ASAP. Don’t even try to talk me out of it – we deal with enough freakiness during our day jobs, and I insist on making sure the freakiness ends there.”

           I can feel a flush spread over my cheeks and I fiddle with the strap of my bag.

           “I, uh, don’t think a background check is going to be necessary. You know this guy pretty well already.”

           If Penelope had been worked up before, she was practically vibrating with excitement now.

           “I know him? Oh my God, this is so huge. Is it Brendon from down in sex crimes? Or maybe James from counter-terrorism?” Penelope muses aloud, before her eyes go almost comically wide. “Holy hell, it’s Anderson, isn’t it?”

           “It definitely isn’t Anderson, or any of the others, for that matter,” I laugh. “Do you want a hint?”

           “What I really want is for you to just tell me, but if you insist on dragging this out then yes, I would very much like a hint!”

           I cut my eyes over to where Spencer stands, and it’s impossible to miss the giddy grin on his face. So much for trying to remain subtle, Doctor Reid.

           I fake like I’m looking around for anyone within earshot before motioning for Penelope to lean in. She’s quick to comply, and I do one last exaggerated sweep of the room.

           “Alright then, here’s your hint,” I whisper into her ear. “He’s got an IQ of 187, and he’s a pretty kickass magician.”

           I lean back and adjust the strap of my bag, sparing one last, parting glance at Penelope, whose jaw is practically on the floor.

           “See you on Monday, Pen.”

           “W-Wait, are you serious?” Penelope calls out after me. “Reid is your mystery man?! Y/N, get back here right now and explain yourself! Derek, did you hear that?!”

           By the time I reach Spencer, Penelope’s voice fades into background noise as I focus all my attention on the way he smiles down at me. I link my hand with his and I’m vaguely aware of an increase in volume coming from Penelope’s direction, but I ignore in favor of smiling back at him.

           “You ready to get out of here, boyfriend?”

           Spencer squeezes my hand in his and he nods.

           “Ready when you are, girlfriend.”

-

-

-

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[jenoismydad]

2 + 3 = You In Me

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Pairing: Tutor!Jaemin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (pwp), Slight Angst, College AU

Words: 4.6k+

Warnings: 18+ content. Unprotected sex.

Synopsis: He agrees to tutor you and you end up becoming good friends even though you both so clearly want to be more. What happens when you let you bodies talk for you?

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Jaemin was coming over to help you prepare for a test. You had no clue how he'd agreed to assist you, but you were thankful nonetheless. Jaemin rarely ever studied with girls. Mostly because they were always hitting on him. But it seemed you were an exception. You wondered why but you figured it was because he was trying to make some extra money.

Yes, Jaemin made you pay him. He made everyone pay him so you didn't think too much of it. From what you'd heard, his methods never failed to prove effective. You hoped he could help you study well enough to pass this test. After all, a majority of your grade depended on it.

You'd spent a good amount of your time trying to prepare a nice study space for you both to sit at in your apartment. So far you'd only managed to clean your coffee table and place two cushions for seats at its feet.

Jaemin would be here any minute. You rushed to get everything you'd need for the day, wanting to keep it all ready so that you wouldn't have to interrupt the study session. Your bell rang not soon after. He was here on time.

Opening the door, you welcomed him with a smile. He nodded and entered without a word. Black track pants and a plain white shirt. Jaemin hadn't made much of an effort to dress to impress. He ventured into your dorm, looking around the place silently.

That's when he came across your makeshift study zone. He pointed at it and looked at you.

"We're studying here," he asked, placing his hands in his pockets. He sounded a tad bit dejected. Your eyes widened slightly in panic. Was he not comfortable with sitting on the floor? "Yeah, I figured. Is there a problem," you asked, fearing the worst for no reason. Jaemin shook his head. "Nope, I just thought we were gonna sit in your room. That's where most of the girls take me anyways," he revealed, flashing you a small grin. You immediately felt at ease.

"My room's kind of a mess at the moment," you admitted, joining him near your couch. He took a seat on the floor, placing the cushion behind his back instead. He cleaned his black-rimmed glasses and patted the space next to himself. "Let's get started."

Jaemin was a pro at breaking down the complex concept so that your pea-sized brain could understand it to the fullest. The only drawback with that method was that it took much longer than you'd like it to. Two hours later you'd only finished one of the chapters that would be coming for the test. You still had four more to go.

"Fuck it's already three o'clock," you complained, falling dramatically on the coffee table. Jaemin flipped his pen in his fingers and stretched his body with a yawn. "I don't mind staying overtime," he joked. He'd made a lot of humoring comments during your time with him. The last you'd heard, he tended to be quite serious, never straying from his purpose. Not that you minded or anything, but Jaemin wasn't really meeting the expectations everyone had set for him in your mind. Maybe they were just trying to intimidate you.

"Don't you have to study too," you asked, turning your head to glance at him. He looked at you and shook his head. "I already studied beforehand. Plus, this test's gonna be super easy. You pass it with a breeze," he admitted. As relieving as that sounded, you didn't wanna take any chances. What if he flunked the test because he didn't revise or something. You really didn't want to be the person he blamed when that happened.

"You don't have to stay for my sake. You can go home if you want to. I think I can manage on my own now." you flipped through the pages of your coursebook, sighing in despair. It was a lot to go through. At least you still had half the day left.

Jaemin folded his arms. "Don't worry about me y/n. Not to undermine you, but I don't think you can get through all of this by yourself. I mean, you barely managed to understand the basics. All those chapters just branch off from this one and get increasingly tough to learn."

If this was him trying to convince you to let him stay then it sure as hell was working. You groaned and sat back up. "You promise you won't fail the test because of me then?" Jaemin chuckled. "Of course not. I'll pass with flying colors."

So you resumed studying. Jaemin was right. What he taught you next was more confusing than the first chapter you'd covered. You regretted not paying attention during your lectures. Jaemin never got impatient with you. In fact, he took ample time to make sure you understood everything he explained to you. He was very thorough and you appreciated that. However the more knowledge you absorbed, the more exhausted you felt. It got to the point where you felt like you couldn't study any further. Jaemin then suggested that you take a small break. You couldn't have agreed faster.

"Once we're done you should go through the practice questions that I emailed you," Jaemin reminded, taking a sip of the soda you'd offered him. You gave him a thumbs up and fell on the ground. "You're a lifesaver Na Jaemin."

Jaemin chuckled and turned to you. "I'm guessing it's not just math that you're having a problem with."

You raised your head and narrowed your eyes at him. "Nicely deduced."

"We can get together to study together for your other subjects if you don't mind. No need to pay me either," he offered.

You furrowed your brows. "Jaemin the longer you spend teaching me the dumber you're gonna get."

He brushed you off. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that."

"You never know, and besides, after today you should know that it's gonna take five hundred years to clear all my concepts. Do you even have that kind of time?"

Jaemin tilted his soda can at you. "You'd be surprised at how much free time I have on my hands."

You smiled. "Wait so you're actually agreed to be my personal tutor."

Jaemin rolled his eyes amusedly. "It was my proposition but yes. I wouldn't be your personal tutor though. Just a study partner."

You sat up and leaned back. "So like, studying in the library after class and stuff like that?"

He nodded. "If the library's closed we can come here or I can take you to my place."

You pursed your lips, considering his deal. But something paused your train of thoughts. "Wait a minute. Why are you asking me this all of a sudden? You hardly seem like the type of guy who'd study with someone else."

Jaemin downed his drink, wincing at the fizziness that clawed at his throat. "I've had fun studying with you so far. Like, you're genuinely dumb, unlike some other people I tutor who just pretend to be dumb so they can spend a few hours with me."

You raised a brow. Had he just called you dumb? "I'll try not to take offense, thank you very much."

Jaemin apologized with a laugh.

"Does it make you feel smarter in some type of way," you asked? Jaemin hummed in response. "It kinda does now that you mention it. But I also feel like it would help me revise and clear my own concepts at the same time."

That made sense. "Damn, and here I was thinking you wanted to do this cause you were interested in me."

Jaemin's eyes widened. You raised your hands in defense. "It's just a joke. Don't take it seriously," you assured. Jaemin relaxed at that.

"Let's get started again. We're almost halfway there," he said, changing the topic. You agreed and sat beside him again, pen in hand, ready to go.

_

You walked out of your lecture with a bright smile on your face and headed straight to the library. Sure enough, Jaemin was already sitting there, waiting for you patiently. You sent him a small wave and skipped over to him. Handing him your graded test paper, you watched excitedly as his eyes lit up.

"Oh my god. You passed!"

You squealed and sat next to him, placing your bag near your feet. Jaemin smiled up at you. "This is such a good score," he added, glad that he'd been able to help.

"Henceforth we're studying together for every single test. I don't care if you're sick or at a friend's house."

Jaemin laughed and nodded. "Sure thing. If it means seeing you this happy then I'm down."

You froze at his words, glancing towards him. He clearly didn't seem to realize what he'd just said. Maybe you'd heard wrong. It was possible. After all, he was whispering. You didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to listening anyways. Concluding that you were mistaken, you pulled out your books and got to finishing up your assignments.

A few hours later Jaemin and you exited the library. You both usually parted ways since your dorms were in the opposite direction. However today, Jaemin followed behind you.

"What are you doing," you asked when he jogged up next to you. "We should celebrate your achievement today," he suggested. That sounded nice. "Okay then, what do you propose we should do?"

Jaemin pondered on your question. "Let's go to the cafe. I'll buy you coffee and anything else you want."

Coffee was perfect. You nodded and agreed. Jaemin grinned and led you to a small cafe that was just a little outside campus.

You both entered the small shop, the tantalizing scent of coffee hitting your senses immediately. Even though it was almost lunchtime, the cafe was brimming with multitudes of students. Luckily, the queue was short.

"Go find us somewhere nice to sit. I'll buy us some drinks," Jaemin said, pulling out his phone. Before you left, you let him know what you'd like.

Venturing to the back of the cafe, you found a secluded booth for two. It faced a large window, one that gave a fantastic view of the campus. You took a seat and placed your bag next to you. After a couple minutes of waiting, Jaemin emerged with your drinks in hand. He handed you yours before sitting down.

"Iced Americano? I see you're into the classics," you chimed, deciding to spark up a conversation. Jaemin took a sip of his drink. "Simple is the best after all."

Of course, it was. "Hey Jaemin," you started, setting your drink down on the table. He hummed. "Do you wanna come over later today," you asked. Jaemin furrowed his brows. "But we already finished studying."

You shook your head. "Not to study. Let's hang out, maybe watch a movie or something like that."

He seemed a bit taken aback, but nothing too alarming. It was just that you two never really did anything other than study together. Sure enough, you'd become close because of it. But you figured as friends, there were other things you could engage in to pass the time.

"Let's do it. What time should I come over," Jaemin asked? "Does seven work for you? I'll order pizza, so you don't need to worry about dinner."

Jaemin nodded. "Seven works for me."

_

As soon as the clock struck seven, there was a knock on your door. The ever punctual Jaemin would never be a second late. You let him in, eager to get your night started. He walked into your dorm and went straight to your room, plopping down on your bed as if it were his own.

You'd already been browsing on Netflix, wondering what genre he liked. It had never come up in conversation before so you didn't really know.

"What are we watching," he asked, scrolling through the options. You shrugged and joined him on your bed. "I'm not sure. I didn't know what you like," you admitted.

"I usually just watch whatever's in the top ten or 'new this week'," he shared. He stopped at a movie you would never have believed he'd be interested in.

"You wanna watch Yes Day," you asked in disbelief? Jaemin giggled and nodded innocently. "It looks super lame but I've already finished watching everything," he revealed. Here you were thinking you both would watch something more serious instead of a family movie. Instead of spending forty minutes trying to settle on one movie, you decided it best to just go with the first choice.

Jaemin started the movie and leaned back beside you. It was quiet between you both for the most part. You watched the movie in silence. It wasn't as entertaining as you'd thought it would be, but Jaemin seemed to be engrossed in it so you chose to say nothing and continued staring at the screen.

Halfway into the movie, Jaemin stifled a yawn and fell to the side, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He looked at you and pointed to the screen. "Are we gonna keep watching this?"

You let out a breath of relief and exited out of the movie once and for all. "If you didn't like it why'd you make me watch it," you complained, shutting your laptop. Jaemin sat up and crossed his legs. "I thought you were enjoying it. You even laughed at the funny parts."

You stuck your chin out. "You should know what my fake laugh sounds like by now Jaemin." He raised his hands in defense. "The only time I hear you laugh is when you realize you're doing something wrong."

You tsked. "That's called nervous laughter genius. You suck at interpreting emotions."

He hit you with a pillow softly. "Hey, stop making me out for a robot."

"You're the human embodiment of the AI," you joked, dodging the pillow he swung at you. Raising your hands in defense, you shielded yourself from him. "At least I said you're intelligent."

Jaemin paused his attacks. "You're lucky I think you're cute. I'll let you off the hook for now."

You had another one of those moments where you froze, wondering if the words that had come out of his mouth were true or not. He didn't whisper this time. You'd heard everything word for word. But you couldn't believe it.

"Did you just call me cute?"

Jaemin nodded, not seeming too surprised about it. "You aren't not cute," he added. Maybe you were misinterpreting the meaning behind it. Friends called friends cute. It was normal. That didn't mean that they liked each other, did it?

Noticing the conflict in your expression, Jaemin leaned forward and cleared his throat. "I didn't mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way."

Something about that made your stomach churn. You felt uneasy all of a sudden. You wanted to be relieved, that he didn't think of you as more than a friend. But a part of you wished he felt otherwise. You didn't know why, it just did.

You chuckled awkwardly and faced him. "Yeah, of course, you didn't. I don't know why I thought that."

Jaemin hummed and rested his chin on his palm. "Maybe because you wanted it to be true."

"Huh?"

"Maybe you wanted me to tell you that I like you."

You didn't know what to say to that. So you just smiled awkwardly. "But you don't, do you?"

Jaemin grinned. "Do you want me to?"

"No! Of course not, why would I-"

"I'm just messing with you y/n. Don't worry, we're just friends," he assured, finding you getting alarmed quite amusing. You hit his shoulder. "Don't joke around like that. Who knows what might happen."

Jaemin's laughter died down. He met your gaze sombrely. You knew he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. His eyes traveled down to your lips for a moment. You sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling giddy. Jaemin looked back into your eyes, this time with a small smile. You didn't know what he was doing. You also didn't know if you liked it or not. Your mind said one thing and your body said another. Jaemin subtly licked his lips. You had no clue why the action had such a devastating effect on you.

Before you knew it, your lips were on his. Jaemin didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, he relaxed and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your body onto his. He fell back on your mattress, bringing you on top of him. Straddling his lap, you placed your hands on either side of his head, kissing him with vigor. Jaemin groaned against your mouth, the sound sending warm shivers down your back. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be and he tasted faintly of coffee.

His hands slipped under your shirt, resting on your skin. His touch felt fiery hot. You rolled your hips over his lap impulsively, biting his both lip as a throaty groan left his mouth. He squeezed your waist and trailed his hands down to your ass.

Before things could escalate, however, your bell rang. You both stilled, separating from each other. When your eyes met, you scrambled off of him and sat at the edge of your bed, completely stunned. Jaemin rubbed his face and sat up as well, not really knowing what to say. The bell rang again, snapping you out of your daze. "I'll go get that," you muttered disorientedly, leaving Jaemin in your room. He nodded and stood up. "Actually, I'm gonna go," he said, leaving your room before you could say anything. You heard the door open and shut soon after. Your bell rang again.

You went to open your door. A delivery guy stood before you, hands empty with a confused look on his face. "The guy that just left took the pizza with him. He said that you'd pay for it." You couldn't believe it. Nonetheless, you paid the man and shut your door. What had just happened?

_

A few days passed after the incident at your dorm. Jaemin hadn't called or texted you and in all honesty, you hadn't made an attempt to contact him. You felt too embarrassed to face him. After all, it was you who'd gone onto him. Even if he didn't push you away it wasn't like either of you had agreed to start making out. You were anxious because you knew you'd ruined your friendship with him.

A part of you missed him. You enjoyed spending time with him, even though all you did was study. Everything was so bleak now that he wasn't around to humor you.

You didn't want to regret whatever had happened that night. It was amazing. You just wished it hadn't ended the way it did. You should have understood that he indeed was joking. Instead, you mistook his prodding for sarcasm.

It made no sense for you to not speak to him. You wanted to make amends, figure out what had gone wrong. But you were scared he'd ignore you. That would just make you feel worse than you already did.

So you passed the days, wafting in your own misery. Pitying yourself as if the entire weight of the world had been thrown on your shoulders.

Little did you know that all it would take was another shitty test score for you to pick up your phone and call Jaemin.

"Help me study," you said as soon as he answered the call. Jaemin was silent on the other end. "Don't just listen to me. Say something," you begged. Your heart felt heavy. You heard him sigh. "I'd rather not y/n." You got goosebumps. "Jaemin, please. We can go to fucking library if that makes you feel better," you suggested, desperate for him to agree. After giving it some thought he finally answered you. "Okay fine. Tomorrow at three. But no longer than three hours."

He hung up, leaving you feeling a tad bit better. You looked forward to the next day. Hopefully, he wouldn't act indifferent to you.

_

Jaemin sat in your usual spot at the library. He was on his phone, leg crossed over his lap leisurely. You walked up to him and took a seat beside him without a word. Seeing you had arrived, he put his phone away and turned to you. "What are we studying?"

You took out your books and opened them. "This."

Jaemin glanced over the material. No wonder you'd flunked your test. He sighed, placing the textbook between you two. Without wasting a second, he began tutoring you.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't pay attention. You were too busy staring at his face, more specifically his lips. They way he'd lick them ever so often made butterflies soar in your stomach. He'd run his hand through his fluffy hair and adjust his glasses, letting your mind run wild. Jaemin didn't seem to notice your lack of focus. You figured he didn't really care. He kept glancing at his watch. It was like he was waiting for your time with him to come to an end.

Much to your dismay, eventually it did.

"I'll send you a picture of some practice material. You can use that to prepare better," he concluded, getting up from his seat. You quickly stuffed your books in your bag and ran after him.

"Jaemin wait!"

He paused. "What," he asked as he turned around. He sounded disinterested. "Can we talk," you asked? Jaemin sighed and shrugged. "What do you wanna talk about," he questioned, placing his hands in his pockets. "About what happened at my place last week."

Jaemin tensed up. "It was a mistake. I think we both understood that."

You shook your head. "I don't know Jaemin, I'm not sure I did."

He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"The more I thought about it the more I realized that I wouldn't have kissed you unless I wanted to. Not just that but you wouldn't have let it go so far if you thought it was wrong."

He seemed at a loss for words.

"When you called me cute, you did mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way." You didn't need an answer for him to know you were correct.

"What are you trying to say y/n," he asked, sounding defeated.

"That I like you," you admitted. Jaemin's eyes widened. "And that you like me too," you added.

Jaemin bit his lip. "Okay, so then why were we acting like we hated each other for so long?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because you overthink everything and I'm a big pussy."

Jaemin chuckled and slung his arm around your shoulder. "I'm sorry about that babe."

You cringed at the nickname. "Don't 'babe' me. We're not dating. Not yet."

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "Does it really need to be that formal?"

You nodded adamantly. "Of course it does."

He sighed. "Fine. Will you go out with me y/n?"

You smiled and shook your head. "I'd rather not Jaemin."

"Yeah whatever," he said with a scoff, leading you outside.

_

As soon as you were past your door Jaemin's lips were on yours in an instant. He pushed you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. You held onto his shoulders, sighing into his mouth. "I missed you so fucking much," he muttered, stumbling to your room.

He dropped you on your bed and hovered over you, staring down at you somberly before kissing you again. His lips didn't stay on yours for too long, trailing down to your jaw and then your neck. You tugged at his shirt, urging him to take it off. When he did, you stared at his chiseled body in awe. "I didn't know you worked out."

Jaemin chuckled at your comment and pulled your own shirt off. He flicked the tiny bow on your bra with an amused grin. "This is cute."

You nudged his arm timidly. "I wasn't exactly preparing myself for this moment."

He said nothing further and latched his lips to your neck once again. Running your fingers through his hair, you craned your neck to the side to give him more access. He gently sucked on your skin, not too harsh that it would leave marks. You sighed and fiddled with the waistband of his sweatpants. "Do you want it off," he asked quietly, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded, biting your lip when he pushed his pants down.

His member came into sight, making your mouth water.

Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his cock. Your fingers wrapped around his girth instinctively. Jaemin suck in a breath as he made you stroke his length. His hand slipped past your panties, fingers toying with your clit. You gasped and spread your legs wider, loving the way his calloused fingertips felt. Tightening your grip around his cock, you jerked him off earnestly. In turn, Jaemin began rubbing quick circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Letting go of his member, you hastily pushed your pants down your legs. Jaemin peeled your panties off of you, marveling at the sight of your glistening pussy. "Don't just stare," you complained, shutting your legs, "do something."

Jaemin wordlessly, spread your legs apart and settled down between your thighs. He glanced up at your through his lashes, asking for permission before licking a stripe up your folds. You pushed your hips against his mouth, eyes falling shut when he repeated the action. Holding onto your thighs, he nipped and sucked at your clit, groaning every time your bucked your hips into his face. You gripped onto his hair, tugging at his roots. Jaemin's fingers prodded at your slit, slowly entering your walls. He curled them up, making your arch your back in delight. It felt so good. He knew exactly what he was doing.

With his tongue skillfully moving over your clit and his fingers continuously pumping in and out of you, it didn't take long for you to feel a familiar knot in your stomach. You sat up, pulling his mouth off of your cunt. "I need you to fuck me now." Your voice was hushed, breathless because of how much you'd moaned. Jaemin's eyes had darkened considerably. He pushed you down on your back again and pressed his tip to your entrance.

Jaemin felt bigger than he looked. Not that you were complaining or anything, it just took a while to get used to. He made sure you were comfortable before slowly starting to pound into you.

You grabbed his arms as he fastened his pace, head falling back in ecstasy. Shallow breaths left his parted lips. "You feel so good," he muttered, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot on your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in response. You were close. Jaemin could tell.

Gripping onto your waist, he went faster, slamming his cock into you as he chased your highs. You cried out his name, squeezing your eyes shut. Your walls clenched tightly around his length, your orgasm crashing down on you intensely. Soon enough, he twitched inside you. His thighs stilled, hips snapping into you one last time before thick ropes of his cum shot into your walls. He let out a pleased groan, voice deep and raspy.

"That was amazing," you breathed, pushing your hair out of your face as Jaemin moved off of you. He smiled and tugged his pants back on, joining you under the covers. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Jaemin pulled you into his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You laughed to yourself. "What is it," Jaemin asked. You shook your head, looking at him. "To think this all started after you agreed to tutor me."

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tagging: @neosmutcollective @hoehousenet @kdiarynet @kafenetwork @nct-writers @ficscafe @whipped-kpop-creators @kpopscape

[siriusmydeer]

george weasley smut alphabet

george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: at this point i don’t even know what to write, seggsy things

a/n: that took 3 days holy shit

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

ok molly taught him to be respectful alright, always treat your lady well. kisses, showering, praise, love, affection, cuddles. the whole nine yards, not one step left behind.

“c’mon, dove, y’gotta get up. please, f’me?” the boy slightly-slurred, pulling up your hair slightly damp from sweat, grasping it all into double french braids. showering you, meanwhile showing you immense praise and affection; kissing from your ankle points all the way to the apple of your cheeks, and dressing you in the process.

“mhmm, don’t wanna.” you proceeded to mumble, your body begging you to sleep and rest; feeling immense of exhaustion from previous rounds. finishing the braid in your hair, the red head picked you up and placed you onto the red-plaid comforter of the bed.

your body starting to meld with the mattress, and breathing becoming heavier almost delving your subconscious into the realm of sleep; feeling him slip under you and place your head right on his bare skin, feeling the bone of his sternum.

“did i... did i do well?” you murmured through fatigue, yearning to feel the warmth and affection of your boyfriend while his heart beat lulled you like a baby from a lullaby to a deep hearted sleep.

“you’ll always do perfect for me, forever ‘n ever.”

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ok so, he loves his hands. they’re big, and skinny, and his fingers are long. i mean he catches you looking at them all the time so it also happens to be a nice ego boost. george’s self esteem has kinda always been there but it hasn’t been amazing, but when you came in the picture then it was like 📈

“george, georgie, please. s’too much, too much.” your vision had been immensely bleary for the last few minutes due to pleasureful tears dripping from your waterline. your fingers tried to find the closest thing they could grapple at, george’s hands.

after three continuous rounds, george had been finger fucking you for the last thirty minutes pushing you to vast overstimulation. you had the feeling of pins and needles dance upon your cunt; the waves of pain and pleasure mixing into your nervous system and sprawling throughout your entire body.

you grasped ahold of his ivory-toned hand, trying to beg for his mercy; yet none was shown, this was your punishment. he reclined his hand that had a tense hand on your thigh, now directly on your abdomen pressing you back onto the messy comforter bed keeping his hand placed there.

seeing the arch of your spine in his direct view, seeing your face slightly contort in delectation as he hit the g-spot with the pads of his fingers. feeling the intense pride on how he could get you, so delighted and filled with pleasure at his decree.

“taking it like such a good girl, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

he likes tits, i mean... HE GIVES THE VIBE. like if he could he would hold them, squish them, kiss them, mark them in anyway he wanted FOREVER. which he would, but he couldn’t 24/7 so he took his opportunities when he could.

“hello george, how are you? i’m great, thanks for asking.” you chortled with intense sarcasm after your boyfriends sudden disruption from your reading and dramatically bursting into your dormitory and shoving his face into your chest beneath your his t-shirt.

“shhh, i need a minute of peace please.” he hushed you, feeling his lips suck a little on the flesh of your sternum, his voice incredibly muttered from the smothering of your boobs onto his mouth. feeling the vibrations from his lips send a mini-shockwave through your spine and attempting to repress an overdue shiver.

he left light kisses, from his previous red splotch, as he moved more underneath your shirt praising your skin as you chuckled a bit. his ginger hair tickled your neck as he continued, “my tits are peaceful?” you questioned, yet again in a sarcastic tone awaiting his response.

“yea, immensely.”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person) (isa i could kiss u for this one)

so, messy messy man. on your tits, on your thighs, on your face, on your STOMACH, on your ass and his fave.... inside of you <3 he just loves to see it on you, it turns him on again no matter how many times you’ve been at it.

que: birth control potions, because i’m pretending they exist and creampies are fun.

“gonna— gonna finish, where d’you want me?” the boy heaved while doing continuous thrusts deep into the walls of your cunt. furthering your grasp onto the clenched biceps and forearms that laid tense beside your perspired face.

“inside me, please. want it inside me.” your voice was winded and huffed, feeling the euphoric pleasure crinkle and bend onto your nervous system from your orgasam lull you into a relaxation, while your boyfriend continued to thrust into your overused cunt of the night.

feeling his tepid release stick into the planes of your thighs and a light sheen layer onto the lower abdomen of your torso. feeling the dripping of his cum directly laid upon your skin. the contrast between his release and your flesh looking almost exquisite in his view point.

you were so beautiful, so beautifully messy.

currently clenched around his prick you felt the tremble in his cock as he released into the velvet walls of your cunt, remaining inside of you as he caught his breath between his lungs from his swift thrusts.

“gonna keep you all full, yeah?”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

george is in fact, a switch. like when he’s dom, he’s soft dom. but when he’s sub, he’s whiny and extremely forward in begging. it took him awhile to tell you because he felt embarrassed but after that you guys had a lot of... fun ;)

“please, please, ‘m sorry. i promise!” he griped, pulling on the silk on his restraints regulating the control of his wrists that laid on his lower back. “but georgie, isn’t this what you wanted? to be punished?” you sent a faux pout in his direction, your finger tips dancing upon his clenched torso once again edging the boy upon his ration.

“but, but—“ the boy faltered whilst speaking, trying to excuse his actions of venturing to grasp your attention whilst you were busy with another task, and disregarding you both friends pleas. “c’mon, georgie. you were bad, this is your punishment; if i hear anymore you won’t cum for a week.” you chastised, seeing his eyes widen in fright and obnoxiously nod his head in compliance.

your brought your hand back to his prick, thumb slightly outlining the slit in his tip; his most sensitive spot causing a small groan to escape his lips subconsciously, his back slightly melding off of the mattress and arching into the air at your pressure.

attempting to repress his pleasureful shivers that were scratching at his sensorium, his cock basically at your dictation for his release.

“you’re being punished, not pleasured.” you chastised once again, sprawling you hand on his abdomen pushing his back directly onto the ridged comforter once more.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

so people would agree to disagree, but george lost it first. i don’t think george would do one night stands, they were always with past girlfriends but you are the girl he truly put his all into.

“and you’re sure?” the boys frantically questioned once more, he had been previously skittish about if the both of you were ready to go into the next stage of your relationship; wanting your full consent to continue with anything.

and worrying that some kinks he had in mind might’ve been to much for future references, and just yearning for you to feel as comfortable as possible.

“told you, georgie, i want all of you.” the question was heaved through your words from the foreplay that had taken a gust of your air right out from under of you.

“we’ve talked about this darling, ‘m ready.” adding on to your comment, reassuring the boy who seemed to be faintly timorous on his next action that was soon to take place. you caressed his forearm, feeling the rigid bends of his veins over the pads of your finger tips. your other hand maneuvering itself on the curvature of his neck and bringing his lips to slot with your own.

feeling the comforting and familiar taste of pumpkin and cinnamon transfuse onto your tongue in the midst of feeling his plush lips blend with yours.

“i’m ready, want you inside of me.”

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

any position where he can see your face, he can see your body, he can see all of you. he wants to kiss you, mark you, caress you. he wants everything he wants to feel so connected with you.

“you my darling.” he spoke, sighing as he spoke. in between words of his affirmations, splotching small kisses that bore on the planes of your lower abdomen and shifting his way up your bare-body.

“are the most ethereal thing, to ever exist.” the boy continued in his wake of appraisal, of your complete quintessence and soul.

“i love you.” you whispered in a small, barely audible murmur in appreciation of the red head you had been destined with. he was truly put in your path of life to give and receive love and adoration. “i love you.” the boy whispered back at your confession, muffled into the flesh above your sternum.

continuing to leave small vermillion hues of colour, making his way to the the junction of your neck and resuming with his praises of adorations of your complete essence.

the scarlet-haired boy was completely entranced with every element of your being, almost besotted with your every move. always wanted to praise, and adore every aspect of you in anyway he could possible.

“no, i love you more.” he corrected himself, undeserving of your mutual appreciation.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

healthy use of both. sometimes you guys have your super serious moments and other times you guys are giggling together.

“oh merlin, i really hope fred did not hear that.” you spoke through a sporadic chortle, your previous whimper being a little bit too raucous. the both of your wands misplaced and unable to cast a muffling charm meant you and george had to be as quiet as possible.

“y/n, he definitely did. let’s hope he’s asleep.” george making an effort to whisper but his own disgustingly humours mind getting too himself and letting chuckle slip out from his lips mid-sentence.

“i didn’t say stop, keep going!” you hastily spoke, sending a cheeky grin in faux annoyance at him as he continued his slow but intensely deep thrusts in your pulsing cunt, the both of you close to a release.

you were deeply trying to muffle your pleasureful noises from the palm of your hand, but discreetingly failing as you let another strangled moan bubble from your vocal cords.

both you and george looking at eachother frantic for a moment, completely silent and worried if one of his dorm mates had heard the both of you. silent for a moment then chuckling together whilst bumping noses at the voyeuristic acts that were being taken place in his very bed.

“oi, some of us are trying to sleep here!”

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

yes the fucking carpet matches the damn drapes HE HAS A CARROT CROTCH DO NOT TELL ME OTHERWISE. as for grooming, i think he just just have a stubble? like i don’t feel like he cares to much about hair so he would just shave most of it off. as for u he does not give a fuck, as long as you like yourself he likes you so it does not matter at all for him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

ITS GEORGE WEASLEY IF UR NOT EXPECTING ROMANCE AND INTIMACY 89% OF THE TIME GO REEVALUATE. i’m not saying he’s not rough or not kinky, but he’s very intimate with you especially during aftercare. if he’s feeling special, like on anniversaries, birthdays, or days he wanted to make you feel really really good he would bring out rose petals, floating candles i mean he would WHIP OUT A LAVENDER OIL DEFUSER OR SOMETHING?

the floor was coated in tons vermillion bloomed rose petals, the scent of cinnamon and fresh linnen was intense through the air of the newly-cleaned dormitory, the fresh ivory bed made and the pillows slightly puffed to perfection.

“just, y’know, one last birthday surprise?” the red-head boy muttered staring at the scarlet-shaded floors whilst attempting to distract himself by fumbling his clammy hands into the pockets of his overworn grey slacks.

“d’you like it?” george continued to mutter, his eyes staggering around the room he had prepared for you both that night so he could kiss, cherish and adulate your entire being till the depths of early morning sunrise.

“georgie, i— i love it.” you felt perspiration sting in the waterlines of your eyes as you stammered slightly in shock, intense adoration and tenderness hastily speeding through your bloodstream hitting you directly into the warmth of your heart.

facing said-boy, you looked at him with complete fondness, grasping upon of his hand that was resting in his slacks now in the palm of your own comically-smaller hand.

“it’s truly amazing.”

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

gonna be honest here, not really. unless he wasn’t seeing you for like weeks, like during a holiday or something. even then i feel like he would imagine you were doing it to him, like whenever he was feeling needy he would normally just go to you and you were more than happy to oblige to his request.

“oh— fuck me.” the boy groaned while stroking his cock in quick circular motions, the other hand preoccupied with a risqué polaroid photo of you that you had sent him in the mail during the winter holidays.

it wasn’t the easiest being away from him during the winter holidays and his randomly occurring hard-ons apparently happened to occur more frequently without a desirable girlfriend around and more time to use your undesirable hand.

attempting to finish himself off fairly quickly so he could scoundrel himself back to bed counting the days till you would dramatically reunite on the hogwarts express and more than likely pull you away from peering eyes for a quickie in the bathroom.

just the thought of your beautiful skin melding with his own in the humid air of the bathroom made him spurt his release all over his prick and a groan emerging from his throat in the process.

“fuck.”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

he has a innocence kink.... like the thought of teaching you everything like in bed makes his mind go WEEE WOO WEEE WOOO

now i shall elaborate

“pretty girl, does it feel good?” he crooned into the shell of your ear, feeling the tense grasp of your agile hands on his clothed biceps where his dress shirt laid on him and suddenly crinkled from your clasp onto him.

“mhm— yes, yes georgie.” you gasped mid sentence, trying to catch your breath from the new sensations that had washed over your nerves, feeling new pleasureful burning sensations in the pit of your abdomen and run along the curvature of your spine.

attempting to suppress small moans you continued petite chokes of air in ecstasy feeling george’s pads of his fingers dance upon your clit. “oh— fuck.” you muttered in a form of a bleary headspace trying to manage a coherent thought.

the red-head grinned in gratification, your full pleasure at his decree, knowingly giving you these new sensations. “i thought you were an innocent girl, now you’re my dirty one?” the boy mocked at your trembling figure in his lap.

“maybe you’re not my innocent girl after all.”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

in my head.... he likes voyerism. don’t ask me why but the thrill of someone catching y’all 🤪

so i will no would have to say that he likes his dormitory a lot but i also feel like he likes the common room couch.

“oh, fuck—“ the moan has blossomed out of your throat and tinged in the previously solemn and peaceful common room, but now the air felt humid and extremely titillating common room that had been used for social and cuticular activities now being used for intercourse.

“darling if you’re not quiet we’re going to be caught.” the vibrations of his words directly muffled onto your perspired flesh, due to his manipulation of your body strictly at his will. “so good, daddy, so so good.” the words mildly uttered from your throat due to the infrequent gasps of pleasure between your words.

the both of you fused together passionately on the snug common room sofa in the late hours of the night, to be caught in a very comprising position by a student or supervisor if not subtle enough. the fire being your only production of light source throughout the entire room, dismissed in the backround close to being burnt out entirely.

“but daddy, you make me feel so good.” you’re voice tinged into a slightly higher pitch, feeling his deep thrusts enclosed inside of your cunt, your attempted muffles of rising gasps and lament whimpers to be heard significantly prominent throughout the walls of the vermillion shaded common room.

“awe slut, you want everyone to know how i’m making you feel?”

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

so since georgie is a switch i feel like most of his motivation comes from when you’re bossy, outside of the bedroom. telling him what to do, how to do it, having to fix it for him. because either he’s gonna punish you for thinking you can be in charge or he’s gonna do literally everything you tell him too without a second thought.

“ok so for today, we’re not playing around here, you finish your charms, then we have lunch, we do transfiguration together, play some quidditch with fred, eat dinner, and then free period to do whatever we want, got it?” your hastily speeding voice catching the attention of his ears and consuming every single word that you had to say.

you glanced at him for a moment, his eyes slightly out of zone but still attentive to your words, also wanting to distinguish if he had been following to the list you had for the day so he could ultimately stop procrastinating and get his work done.

“yeah, er, i got it.” george spoke awkwardly for a moment, trying to discreetly shuffle around his body at the feeling of immense amount of pressure and tensity starting to form around his groin.

you raised a brown, you’re forehead slightly creasing as you tested the waters at his slightly timid figure and lack of response. “do i need to make you repeat it back to me.” tilting your head, trying to pan off as more intimidating so the red-head would coherently listen to you rather than pawn off and work on a prank with his mischievous-twin.

“no, no— i’m fi— you’re fine.” he groaned and he hesitated mid-sentence aiming to speak as casually as possible, moderately shuffling around his pants as he spoke at your firm and unyielding tone with him.

“you’re sure? because if you’ve got it wrong i’m going to upset, got it?” your voice at an adamant expression, annunciating that everything for the day was going to be smooth sailing rather than difficult and irritating for either of you.

“no, i understand.” he cleared his throat in compliance, aiming to remove any unnerving tension that might be there as he awkwardly trailed behind you to the library.

not to mention with a rock hard cock just sitting in his plants.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

threesomes. “bUt pArIs” NO. he would not want to share you, he had literally had to share everything his whole life and seeing his twin brother or literally anyone else pleasure you is a big fat NONO

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he’s a giver, if u say no, ur lying. hearing you go literally whimper, tremble, moan at HIS will that’s enough for him to cream his pants.

“georgie— fuck. keep going.” your praised the boy deep between your legs, your words of appraisal going straight to his groin area whilst you threaded you fingers directly into his damp ginger locks.

feeling his tongue swirl directly onto your engorged clit, small gasps emitting from your mouth as his face was buried into your cunt for the last hour. the exceedingly amount of ecstasy built up into a broiling pit in your belly and ready to explode at any given moment.

“‘m gonna cum, gonna finish.” you gasped, feeling his tongue prodding at your entrance, his thumb placed directly onto your swollen cunt and swirling in figure eight like motions to make your orgasam rapidly occur.

his prick immensely hard, beseeching for a release. his nearest output being the subtle grind of his hips and the soft mattress of the bed as you continued to sensually yank at his hair.

feeling the overflow of desire, the whimpers exceeding from your lips and the pressure against his cock made his orgasam occur midst your own; finishing together the only thing to be heard was your heaving breaths and george’s hoarse voice from not speaking for the last while.

“so, i might’ve just done something.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

i feel like he’s very medium paced, he’s not to fast nor slow. he has his moments where it’s very slow and loving or if he just lost a quidditch game and it’s very fast in rough. i don’t think it’s set on just one i think it varies.

“needy little slut, just wanted me so badly, hmm?” the grit in george’s teeth prominent as he spoke to you, the tensity of his hands on grip of your waist also clinically distinguished as he pulsed in and out of your from behind.

“fuck— please.” the begging was evident in your tone, feeling the grasp on your waist and he plunged into you emitting gasps every few seconds from desire. his hand grasped onto the root of your tresses, your cheek melding with the mattress and a moan exploding from your trachea at his aggressive demeanour.

“please—“ you continued you beg, not for anything in specific but the feeling of him to continue his thrusts and not falter his pace. the feeling of being exceedingly full of him, the explicit belligerent emotion he was feeling and turning that into passion.

knees bucking at his will as he continued the fast and thrown pace that was previously endured. feeling the ecstasy rome freely through your veins as he degraded you.

“my slut, so dirty.”

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

so... george wants to appreciate you fully. and i don’t think either of you would be so horny that he had to just pull you in a broom closet. even if it’s fast and rough aftercare is still extremely keen to him after having sex no matter the circumstances so i don’t think he would be into quickies.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) - this was in fact somewhat inspired by 50 shades of grey

george is the kinkier twin. there i said it, and i will not change my mind. yeah he’s more quiet whatever more emotional, throughful BUT THOSE ARE ALWAYS THE ONES WHO ARE KINKIER. i so as long as you were cool with it i feel like he would be as-well.

“so you wanna play, dove?” running the tip of the small blade down the depth of your torso, and across your abdomen seeing the heaving rise and fall of your torso. the slight scarlet-coloured ribbon peaking from underneath the arch of your back that restrained both of your wrists.

“yes, sir.” the mumble was stern, and tense but slightly heaved from apprehension on what he would do with the tip of the stygian-coloured blade that was held in his ivory hand. your safe word explicitly-clear before he had restricted your eyesight.

a slow light vermillion trailed in its wake from the tip of the blade that moved across the skin of your navel. he heard the audible gasp release from your mouth in anticipation.

“keep going, please.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

so i feel like george goes for like.... 3? but he definitely does foreplay and stuff too. so it’s like a healthy mix of a lot. so a couple of rounds, sometimes more, sometimes less, it all depends on the time like early in the morning or really late at night.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

so, i don’t think so. so the only thing i feel like he would have is like ropes/ties and blindfolds. other than that i don’t think so, but fred has definitely gifted you something just for the kick of it all.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

i feel like it depends if he’s more sub or more dom. if he’s dom he will tease you all he likes just to see you squirm, but if he’s sub then he definitely will wants you to tease him.

“georgie, please, i cant take it anymore.” you pleaded, your tone was soft but irritated, the continuous edging was extremely displeasing for you. you wanted him, you wanted to feel every withering inch of him, his body, his essence; but he simply wouldn’t give it to you.

“c’mon, weren’t you the one who ‘said patience is a virtue.’ you’ve got to be patient then, right dove?.” george made a mockery of something you had in a different context but instead he used it to his advantage.

his middle finger crept its way back to the depth of your navel and right on your cunt, starting recurrent swirls on your engorged clit. feeling a similar sensation that you had previously endured till your denied orgasam.

“be patient, or you won’t be getting anything.”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

i feel like it’s a lot of grunting and dirty talk, or even just praising. there’s more moaning when doing oral. it’s not necessarily loud but you can clearly hear it.

“my pretty little witch.” the words of appraisal blossomed from his mouth as he kissed upon the column of your neck and the bend of your shoulders. he proceeded to kiss around the shell of your ear and speaking.

“nobody can make me feel the way you can.” george murmured making sure you know, followed by a pleasureful grunt by the way your cunt was continuously clenching around his cock and the way your hand grasped at his lower back.

“oh, merlin—“ your voice sounded like a gasp, arching your back directly into his freckled chest from his prick prodding at your cervix, you’re breathing was heaved from his continuous thrusts that faltered as he was close to release and exceedingly praised into your perspired skin.

“i love you so much.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

george likes pda. i’m not talking like sex in the great hall or obnoxiously making out in the courtyard but he does like to show everyone that you are together.

“georgie if you kiss me again fred is going to throw up.” the murmur sent vibrational waves into the boys cheek your own affections shown at the proximity between you both, partly because the incessant chatter of the great hall.

“and? you’re my girl.” the statement was clear as day in his eyes, he wanted to show everyone just how much he loved you, the intimacy in the situation between two teenagers who were in love; he didn’t care what anyone else had to say.

you looked at him for a moment with challenging eyes, seeing the intimacy in his own cocoa-coloured ones. poorly making an effort to suppress a grin at his affections.

he took his opportunity to press a kiss to your plush-smooth lips, then the hued rose coloured flesh on your cheek, then the tip of your pointed nose.

“i love you, i won’t not show that because my git brother doesn’t like it.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

i feel like it’s a bit bigger than average, probably around 8in when hard? i think it’s more longer than thicker.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

i mean..... he’s a teenage boy. i think it’s average like i don’t think he’s dying to have sex every second but he does in-fact like to appreciate you in more ways that one. because sex for him isn’t just a way to get rid of a hard on it’s a way to appreciate your body and just you in general.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i feel like it depends on how hard the both of you went, because you guys could either end up talking for hours or simply just cuddle and fall asleep.

“‘m so tired, georgie.” you murmured into the boys bare chest, stroking the side of his torso as the both of you laid below his his fitted sheet bed. the time around twelve am and your eyes desperate for sleep.

“sleep, darling. i’ll be here in the morning to wake you up.” he uttered. his voice fairly hoarse and rough, whilst stroking your back feeling the wrinkle in the shirt he had given you. fairly prideful that you had been wearing something of his.

“love you, georgie” you wiped your nose while speaking, feeling love and adorned by the boy you were cuddling with; wanting these solemn peaceful moments forever.

“love you more, forever ‘n ever.”

taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

[0097linersb]

Pink Lemonade

CHAPTER 1

Pairings: Jaemin x Renjun x Haechan x Jeno x Mark x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humor (I guess), Slow burn af

Summary: The dreamies decide to spend some weeks at an Inn in the middle of the nature to relax and enjoy some outdoor adventures, far away from their crazy idol life. What they didn’t expect was the nice girl running said Inn.

Word count: 3k

You should read the intro first so this story makes sense <3

☼  previous / next  ☼

A/N: Honestly guys this fic will probably be long and detaild af ‘cause I’m using it as a distraction from real life lol guess who just finished their engagement. If u would like it to be more straightforward and go right to the fun parts let me know, I’d really like some opinions! Also, it’s like 2 AM so I’ll proofread it tomorrow 

As you woke up the next day, you were not shocked to find that the boys were not up yet. Last night you were surprised to come downstairs to an already fully cleaned kitchen and as much as it made you embarrassed, it also made you immensely grateful. You thanked them and told them to stop being so nice and doing your job for you, to which Mark only responded that seven guys could be really messy sometimes.

You had given them the folders that informed all the activities the Inn (well, you) offered and the ones they could book in the city a few minutes away, it made you smile at how excited they got reading the paper and planning their days. Haechan was already asking if they could go stargazing that same night but the rest of them groaned saying they were way too tired to move after the long trip (and you felt bad once again for having them clean the kitchen).

Everyone eventually agreed on a time for breakfast and you were just sure they wouldn’t wake up that early by the dark circles under their eyes and, turns out you were right. They did go to sleep pretty early the other night, showering after the meal you had and just going straight to bed.

You lazily stretched as you left your room with Koda and Kenai tracing after you, to find a very much awake Jaemin sitting on the living room’s couch holding a cup.

“Good morning, did you make coffee?” You yawned at the boy, scolding Koda so he would get off the couch.

“Good morning. Yeah, sorry for taking the liberty, I really needed to wake up,” He smiled at you, petting your disobedient dog with his free hand so he could get distracted from the way your shirt had ridden up. Damn morning horniness.

“It’s ok, smells good. Are the rest of the boys awake?”

“Nop, and probably won’t be for a while. I know we agreed on going to the lake at 8 but everyone’s dead, I can wake them up if-“

“No, it’s ok,” You laughed. “I imagined this would happen, not a fan of waking up early myself.”

“Oh, you can go back to sleep if you want, I can knock when everyone starts waking up.”

“Don’t worry. You just really made me want some coffee.”

“I left it downstairs, I can go get you a cup.”

“Jaemin, we’re playing opposites here, don’t make me feel useless,” You joked, already making your way to the stairs, missing how the man stared at your legs in your little pajama shorts. “Plus, I need to take the boys on a walk before they become too fidgety.”

“Can I come with?”

“Of course.”

Jaemin was quick to stand up and follow you downstairs, where you quickly poured yourself a cup of coffee and opened the door, the dogs running past you excitedly. You silently lead the way out of your property and into the unpaved road, warming your hands with the coffee mug – The days were hot but the nights and early mornings could be quite chilly, especially with all the trees surrounding you and blocking the sunshine from reaching you.

“Do they sleep with you?” Jaemin asked, pointing at the dogs who were sniffing around the bushes on the side of the road, like they didn’t do this same route every day.

“Sometimes, they often prefer to stay outside, lots of animals to chase when I’m not there to scream at them.”

“They don’t wear leashes?”

“No need to, there’s barely people here and they are really well-behaved. I trained them well, Koda just gets a little bold when we have new guests over,” You smiled, remembering not even 5 minutes ago said dog was trying to get on Jaemin’s lap on the couch. “Do you like tangerines?”

The boy looked at you confused but nodded.

“Wait a second,” You asked before leaving him, walking off the road and into the trees. After a minute or so, you were back, throwing one of the orange fruits at Jaemin. “I steal them from the neighbors sometimes.”

“Will we get in trouble?” He asked but was already peeling the tangerine with his hands.

“Nah, they are never here. These would just rot.”

“Seems only fair then.”

You walked for another few minutes in silence, eating happily as you appreciated the sound of your feet crushing the small rocks on the floor.

“Ok, tangerines do not go well with coffee,” You make a face after eating half of your fruit, only now stopping to pay attention to the actual taste in your mouth.

Jaemin laughs at you before putting his last slice into his mouth, “Cute.”

“There’s nothing cute about this flavor.”

“Didn’t bother me,” He shrugged, smiling down at you.

Damn that boy was too attractive for his own good. You meant, all of them were.

It was just unfair, really.

The two of you talked a bit more until you hit the end of the road and then made your way back, it was a light-hearted comfortable conversation and you liked the way it made you feel warm inside. You learnt that Jaemin likes to photograph stuff and you asked him to take lots of pictures during their stay so you could use them on the Inn’s social media, telling him you shared that hobby with him. You then started a discussion about digital vs. film photography, in which you two clearly didn’t agree on, but it kept you entertained for a long time.

“Listen, technology evolved to this point to make life comfortable and easier for a reason!” Jaemin whined as you two were entering your property once again. “Is there something worse than developing your pictures only to find out your film was ruined?”

“That’s the thrill of it!” You exasperated.

“I call that heartbreak.”

“It’s a raw form of art for the strong hearted,” You sigh dramatically, opening the door for the man.

After your half an hour walk, as you got back home, only Renjun was up, pouring himself some coffee and looking super sleepy.

“Good morning, slept well?” You asked as Jaemin made his way to sit down on the table after getting Renjun to pour him some more coffee.

“Yeah, this is the first time I dreamt in months,” He smiled at you but his eyes were still half closed. Like you, Renjun was still in his pajamas, light sweatpants and a wrinkled white t-shirt.

“Do you guys want to eat something before breakfast?” You asked, not knowing how long they would have to wait for the others.

“It’s ok,” Jaemin answered.

“If you change your mind just let me know,” You smiled, wondering on what to do now, since you had already prepared the food for today last night and didn’t have any other chores until everyone was up so you could make their beds.

You figured the boys would drink their coffees and go talk or lay down in the hammocks, maybe even try to nap a bit but you were proven wrong when Renjun pointed at the end of the table suddenly excited, “Are those cards?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we play?”

“Of course.”

The man was quick to pick up the little box and sit down across the table from Jaemin, who tapped the place next to him before you had the chance to leave. You happily took on the offer, content with finally spending some fun time with people your age. No, scratch that: Attractive men your age.

“Let’s play Rummy!” Renjun suggested, the sleepiness leaving his body at the simple thought.

“I have no idea how to play that,” You informed.

“It’s ok, I’ll teach you. Come closer,” Jaemin smiled at you and you obeyed, heart beating fast at your thighs suddenly touching. What were you? 12?

The game was way too complicated for your morning brain to understand so you basically just watched the boys play, giving your input here and there.

“Jaemin, here!” You excitedly pointed at one of the cards he was holding.

“Oh, I had missed that, smart girl,” He smiled at you, patting your thigh as a thank you or maybe a praise, making your heart almost leave your body through your mouth. 

Freaking pet names dude.

After an hour or so playing, Jeno and Haechan appeared already fully clothed and awake. The second boy gave you and Jaemin a weird look, noticing how the boy’s right hand was just casually resting on your thigh. At some point it just happened and it felt comfortable (if you ignored your blood pumping through your body twice the normal speed, of course), it had been months since you had flirted with someone and you were enjoying the touch fully, thoughts of being professional nowhere to be found.

You greeted the boys and they sat down too, informing Mark and Chenle would be down in a second and Jisung would just skip breakfast to sleep. You decided then to get up and leave them to chat as you went into the pantry to organize the food you had prepared yesterday, into the baskets.

“Dude,” Haechan whispered to Jaemin.

Just by looking at the boy, Jaemin already knew what he wanted to comment on so he just, “Don’t.”

“Game on, bro.”

“What? This is not a game, we were just-“

“I said game on, bro.”

Jaemin sighed and gave up, knowing Haechan was just joking and being annoying as usual.

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

After all the men (minus Jisung) were downstairs and ready to go, you guided them down to the lake, setting up one of those cliché plaid towels for everyone to sit on. As you and Mark organized the foods around, you smiled at the others running around the grass and taking pictures, impressed at the view. The lake really was pretty and your property had a privileged clearing to sit down and enjoy it.  

“I would love to say they are normally not this energetic,” Mark smiled at you, placing the bowl with the grapes and strawberries down. “But I’d be lying.”

“It’s refreshing, I rarely deal with people my age around here. We didn’t add bingo to the activities’ folder for no reason.”

“There are no clubs or bars around here?”

“The biggest city around has barely 2.000 habitants so I’ll say no to that. Although this region is becoming really famous for the ecotourism these days, they opened a nice pub for the tourists like last month but there’s only ever people during the weekends.”

“Well, if you ever go to Seoul, let me take you out,” Mark offered before realizing what he had said and stiffening, cheeks going red like the watermelon juice in your hands. “I mean, like, to show you the places and-“

“That sounds fun,” You smiled at him, deciding to end his misery right from the start. He was cute. “Boys, the food is ready.”

Jeno excitedly dropped Haechan down (who he was holding for a picture) and ran over, leaving a very whiny boy on the floor. Jaemin took a picture of that and soon enough, everyone was sitting down on the picnic clot.

“Wow, it looks like we’re in a movie,” Renjun awed, looking around.

It really did, that’s why you liked bringing the guests to this spot on their first day. After everything was set, the scenery resembled a Renaissance painting and you loved it. It was a bit hotter than normally since it was a few hours later then the time the guests usually have breakfast, but the gentle breeze of the wind was enough to not make it unbearable.  

The meal was fun, the boys made you feel so comfortable that it felt like you have known each other for a longer time than the actual truth. You all chatted, joked around and posed for pictures with the food. You had brought your analog camera just to tease Jaemin, asking him to take a picture with it for you.

“How do you want it?” The boy groaned, pretending to be annoyed.

“Here, I have an idea,” Haechan shared, excitedly, holding up one of the strawberries from the bowl in front of your face. “Bite it on the side.”

You accepted the advice confused, not understanding where he was trying to go with it but excited, you loved a good old-fashioned improvised picture. Jaemin pointed the camera at you and counted to three, and you smiled around the strawberry when on the count of one, Haechan bit on the other side of the strawberry and looked at you cross-eyed. After you saw the flash of the camera going off, you decided to take a big bite of the strawberry to play around with Haechan but apparently the boy had the same idea and your lips ended up touching, slightly. Since when has your life become a cliché teenage movie? 

You quickly took the stem of the fruit from between your mouths, pulling away from the boy to tease him, “Damn. Didn’t even buy me dinner first.”

The others joined in on teasing Haechan but the man simply winked at you, “Would be my pleasure.”

You didn’t even have time to giggle before the other men pretended to puke and Renjun legit slapped Haechan.

                                       _____________________________________________

The boys decided to not do any activities that day because Jisung would simply not wake up and after a while waiting, Chenle decided to join him on the hibernation. It made you feel sad for them, that their days were so busy and tiring that at the first sight of some time off, they would sleep for hours and hours to make up for it.

The rest of you decided to play some volleyball in the parking lot (which  was not the best idea considering it was noon). As expected by the almost 40 degrees climate, one by one, every single boy started taking off their shirts, body dripping and glistening with sweat and you just felt in heaven. This could just not be real, you even looked around for cameras, scenes like that just didn’t happen in real life. One hot shirtless guy was the acceptable quota for normality.

But also, you didn’t miss the way they looked at you in your little shorts and top (equal rights after all). It made you feel powerful even though you knew it was just their hormones talking, yours were screaming too after all. If it was already like that on their second day here, you couldn’t imagine how you would survive for the next few weeks, you just wanted to cry every time Jeno (who was on your team) approached you to celebrate when either of you scored, high-fiving you with his huge arms (you would die a happy woman if you were choked by them).

After the game was over, the boys decided to go swim on the lake to cool off and you figured it would be a good time to shower and organize their beds, which you quickly did before starting to make some lunch for everyone. The youngest ones of the group didn’t even wake up to eat so you decided to leave them some food in the microwave in case they got hungry in the afternoon.

Unfortunately the Wi-Fi was being annoying as usual and refused to work, so you couldn’t even google about the boys yet, the curiosity was almost killing you. Maybe it was better like that, right now you were just seeing them as 7 young men living their normal lives and you liked it, it kept you from being nervous at the fact they were probably some big stars that had the world at their feet – They all just seemed so chill sprawled around the living room floor playing the bingo you had joked about earlier, it was hard to believe they probably had hoards of screaming girls around them daily.

They thanked you for cleaning their rooms and told you that you didn’t have to, which technically you did, considering it was literally your job and the whole reason you were there.

You could be wrong, considering you have known them for barely 2 days, but you quickly noticed some little things about them: Like how Jaemin liked to touch you, even if it was just a light brush of his hand on your arm (in his defense, he was touchy with everyone, but when he touched you, it just lingered for a bit longer), or how Haechan liked to playfully flirt with you, that boy just had no shame and you admired him for that. You saw how Renjun often stared at you but when you looked at him, he looked away (which could mean either he was shy or he just didn’t like you very much), but at least he was more subtle about it, as opposite to Mark, who became a blushing mess every time you caught his eyes (and you just wanted to squeeze him). You realized Jeno was a manlier guy, you hadn’t gotten what his deal was yet but you loved the way his eyes disappeared when he smiled and that was enough for you.

It was funny, really, how everyone decided to ignore the tension in the air and go on with the day normally – You did only meet the day before after all.

After getting bored with bingo, the boys told you they planned on going water skiing tomorrow and you agreed happily, telling them you could have a little barbecue party in the camping next to the docks where your parents kept the Inn’s water sports gears, which got them even more excited.

“Can we go camping too?” Jeno asked, receiving a groan from Haechan. Classic city boy.

“Like at night?” You asked and Jeno nodded. “Yeah, actually the stars here are crazy pretty since there’s no light pollution.”

“See?” The boy told Haechan excitedly, who only sighed, accepting his fate.

Barbecue, bonfire, alcohol and a beautiful sky: You were a city girl too but you were also a sucker for a good camping night.

taglist: @eggbutnotyolk @lauraneuuh @geeisaclown @jenotation @riemm @junguwuuu @prettychaeng @satanssugaraddiction @luvlyjaemin @sweetjaemss @oofimdumb @junglekooks @unknown5tar @rosedchae@

[xjoonchildx]

greedy | myg x reader | chapter one: you like milkshakes?

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.3K

notes: confession, i am struggling these days with my insane attraction to min yoongi.  this guy has it all.  looks and talent and mystery and sweetness -- he’s the total package. so i really wanted to give him a story in this AU that i’ve come to love so much and i truly hope you guys enjoy it.  

i also hope you guys know how much i appreciate every single one of you. i see your reblogs and comments and likes and i try to answer every one because it truly makes my day.  you guys make my day.

i could not post this fic without shouting out the amazing @hobi-gif because honestly, if hope didn’t read it, did i even write it? and i’m sending major love to three people who are such a source of laughter and support for me, @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna @taetaewonderland. you guys keep me in stitches.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece! Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

*************************

Yoongi had fucked up.

He’d misread the massive man’s approach, tracking him in one direction when the guy was actually headed in another.  That’s how the asshole managed to catch Yoongi off guard with one meaty fist to the face. 

It didn’t matter that it was hundreds of pounds of fat -- not muscle -- behind that punch.  It was wielding more than enough momentum to blow up the side of Yoongi’s face like a bomb. 

That’s the night he landed in the ER at Songdo at nearly two in the morning, pressing gauze to his bleeding face.  

That’s the night he found himself chuckling inside an empty exam room, reading triage paperwork that made him sound like some kind of war hero instead of just an idiot who got caught looking the wrong way.

That’s the night he met you.

“Rough evening, Mister Yun?” 

Yoongi had looked up from the floor just as you’d breezed into the room, tablet in hand.  That moment marked the second time he’d been caught off guard that night.

“That looks like it hurts,” you’d murmured sympathetically, eyes raking over the bloody mess on his face.  Your gaze was clinical -- professional -- as you assessed his grossly swollen eye and the half dozen bleeding cuts that surrounded it.  

But then you’d stopped looking at him -- and stepped back to really look at him.  

Yoongi had taken one look at your enormous, dark eyes and your soft, sweet face and he was dumbstruck.  He’d blinked back at you with the only eye that could still move.  

“You’re a doctor?”

“Nope,” you’d replied casually, turning to reach for a pair of latex gloves. “I’m a janitor. But I’ve always wanted to give this medicine thing a try. You don’t mind, right?”  

Your eyes had sparkled then, bright with humor -- and Yoongi couldn’t help but grin despite the pain pulsing from the left side of his face.

“Here’s the deal, Mister Yun,” you’d said, pulling on your gloves.  “I’m a resident.  And I’m more than qualified to handle the -- situation -- on your face, but if you feel more comfortable waiting for the attending, I’m happy to step back.  Good luck seeing him before sunrise, though.”

“Nah,” Yoongi had chuckled.  “I think I’ll take my chances with you.”

“Good call.”

You’d leaned in close after that, gloved fingers firm under his chin as you turned his face from side to side.  You’d smelled fucking amazing.  The light, fresh scent that lingered on your skin sure as hell beat the disinfectant odor in this place.

“What happened to you tonight, Mister Yun?”

“It’s a funny story, actually.”

“Oh, great,” you’d said dryly.  “‘Cause it turns out, I love funny stories.”

Yoongi had flinched when you’d peeled the gauze back, exposing the angry wounds to the air.  But he’d forced himself to sit dutifully still as you got to work cleaning the caked blood off his face and eye.

“Thing is, I work for the circus,” he’d started, hissing under his breath when you swiped across an open cut above his eye.  “One of the elephants got rowdy while we were practicing a number tonight and just kicked me right in the face.”

You’d stopped dabbing at his eye then, one brow raised and a cynical slant to your mouth.

Yoongi liked that you knew he was full of shit right away. 

He liked that you’d played along anyway.

“God, I hate when that happens,” you’d said with feigned outrage, cutting your eyes at him as you dropped a piece of bloody gauze on the tray at his side.  

“I know, right?”

That’s when Yoongi had won a real smile from you, wide and genuine.  That's when Yoongi made the mistake of looking at you for just a moment too long.  

He knew it by the way your smile fell away as you cleared your throat and turned your focus back to his damaged face.

“Well, I have good news for you Mister Yun,” you’d said after a while, eyes scanning the freshly cleaned wounds.  You’d run your gloved fingers gently over one particularly deep slash over his eye and Yoongi felt a shudder run up his back.  “I’m pretty sure you’re going to live.”

“Well, that is good news.”

There was that smile again.  

It seemed like no time at all before you had him all patched up -- cuts sanitized and sealed with skin adhesive; swollen eye cleaned and medicated.  Yoongi had felt a strange kind of disappointment as he’d watched you gather your supplies, pull your gloves off and drop them in the trash can near the door.

“You’re all set, Mister Yun,” you’d murmured. “Watch out for those elephants, okay? I’d hate for them to ruin a perfectly nice face.”

Then you were gone.

***************************

Thing is -- Kim Namjoon is a rules guy.

It doesn’t matter that he runs a criminal organization -- or that the men in his employ are gangsters in custom ties and suits.  He expects dirty work done clean because that’s what sets the Gajog apart.

Rotate hospitals.  Use fake names.  Pay in cash.

All of those protocols are in place to keep any one of the Gajog from drawing unwanted attention.  Truthfully, Namjoon’s operations usually run so neatly his men rarely have to seek treatment for anything beyond the occasional black eye or broken bone.  That’s why he’d rather trust his men to legitimate doctors in legitimate hospitals than hand them over to some back-alley hack.

Thing is -- shit has gotten a lot more heated of late.  

An audit of the Gajog books has turned up millions in missing won, stolen over time by street-level guys all over the city.  Yoongi and Hoseok are the ones on the front lines, tasked with confronting those men -- getting them to pay and getting them back in line.

Sometimes they play ball.  Sometimes they don’t.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Yoongi knew the moment they arrived at the crumbling warehouse in the Nowon district that shit was probably going to get messy.  Their contact was fucked up -- sloppy drunk -- and belligerent from the jump.

After that, everything was a blur.

At some point during the scuffle, Yoongi heard his hand crunch under the heavy weight of the man’s steel-toed boot. The pain was still flaring hot from his knuckles when Hoseok finally took the guy down.  

Right now Yoongi should be at Asan or Gachon or any of the other half-dozen hospitals in the city.  He should have dragged his tired ass and bloody hand across town because those are the rules.

But instead -- for the second time in a month -- he’s sitting under the sickly fluorescent lights in an empty exam room at Songdo at nearly three in the morning.

Hoping to see you. 

*************************

Yoongi is gingerly flexing his aching fingers when a light knock sounds at the door.

It was a long shot that you’d be here tonight -- and an even longer shot that you’d be the one treating him. But when the door to the exam room opens, it’s you on the other side.

Yoongi’s pulse picks up in response.

“Sorry to keep you waiting tonight Mister -- ”  you stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide on his before darting back down the tablet in your hand.  You scan the screen slowly then look back up, gaze critical.

“ -- Mister Woo.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi replies casually.  “It’s no problem.”

You approach him slowly then, disbelief etched into your delicate features and Yoongi takes in every detail.

It’s like he’d forgotten how pretty you are since the last time he saw you.

You’re nothing like the flashy women who like to hang around the usual Gajog haunts.  You’re the kind of pretty that doesn’t cost hundreds of thousands of won a month to maintain.  The kind of pretty that doesn’t come off at the end of the night. 

Yoongi swallows thickly as you eye him, lips parted like you’re about to fire off a hundred different questions.  But you don’t.  

You play along.  

Again.

“Right.  Let’s get to it then, Mister Woo,” you say carefully, slipping on your gloves.  “What happened to your hand?”

“Well, you see, I’m a hot air balloon operator.”  

His mouth quirks into a smile and your eyes flash in response.  

“Wind was nuts today and the basket came down on my hand.  I think I might have broken something.”

“Hmm,” you murmur.  “Hot air balloon operator, huh?”

Yoongi winces when you take his hand between your gloved ones, gently applying pressure to each knuckle.

“Yeah.”

“That’s an interesting way to make a living, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi chokes down a groan when you press against one particularly sore spot.  You back off the pressure, turning to make a note on your chart.

“Well, I’m an interesting guy,” he whispers.  

You look up at him then, dark eyes focused and intense.  

“That you are.”

You’re looking at Yoongi like you can see inside him and the scrutiny makes him squirm.  He lowers his eyes to the floor and keeps quiet while you clean his hand and apply ointment to his cuts.

“Mister Woo, it looks like most of these are surface abrasions, but the knuckles concern me.  I’m going to have to send you for an X-ray.”

“Yeah, okay.  It hurts like hell.”

“I bet it does,” you say quietly, typing into your tablet.  “Someone is going to come and take you back when they’re ready.  I have to go check on some other patients, but I’ll be back when we have some images to go over.”

“Sure,” Yoongi breathes.

You take another long look at him before standing to leave and Yoongi wonders for a moment if he’s made a mistake. Maybe he’s misread you like he misread that brawler who caught him with the nasty punch all those weeks ago.  

You could be off to flag a security guard.  Or leaving to call the police.

He really should have just followed protocol.

Yoongi sits in the quiet of that exam room waiting -- ready -- for trouble that never comes.  Because when a knock finally sounds at the door, it’s not the Korean National Police.  

It’s the X-ray technician.

Maybe he didn’t misread you after all.

*********************

It takes hours for you to come back.

“Mixed news tonight, Mister Woo,” you say upon your return.  “You have hairline fractures in three of your knuckles, which explains the pain.  Unfortunately, that means I’m not going to be able to do much for you beyond wrapping your hand.”

Yoongi nods.  “Got it.”

“And you should probably lay off the ballooning for a while,” you say under your breath as you lay out your bandages.  “Just a suggestion.”

“Good idea,” Yoongi chuckles.  “Safety first.”

You fix him with another one of those long, indecipherable looks before getting to work on his hand.  But you don’t say anything and the longer the silence stretches on, the antsier Yoongi feels.

“So…” he exhales, clearing his throat, “... you like milkshakes?”

“Everyone likes milkshakes,” you return evenly.  You don’t take your eyes off his hand or the flexible material you’re carefully wrapping around his sore knuckles. 

“Lactose intolerant people don’t like milkshakes.”

“Lactose intolerant people like milkshakes as much as the rest of us,” you argue.  “They just can’t tolerate them.”

“What are you, some kind of doctor?”

Your lips quirk with the threat of a laugh you manage to suppress but Yoongi catches the expression before it disappears.  You seem to relax after that.  He does, too.

“Dijeoteu has the best milkshakes in the city.  Ever been there?”

“Can’t say that I have,” you admit, taping off a bandage.  

“It’s not far from here.  Open twenty-four hours.  I hang out there sometimes.”

“So you’re a milkshake-drinking hot-air balloon enthusiast,” you murmur, inspecting your handiwork closely.  “Anything else I should know about you, Mister Woo?’

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Not really.  That about covers it.”

You hum thoughtfully under your breath as you finish wrapping the bruised knuckles.

“All done.  How does it feel?”

“Better,” Yoongi admits.  “Thanks.”

You gaze at him then, thoughtful -- expression soft with something that looks almost like concern.  Yoongi drops his gaze down to his bandaged hand.

This is the part where you’ve finished -- the part where you leave.  

This is the part where he should say something to you but he has no idea what or how.

“I would say come back soon, but this is a hospital and that seems wildly inappropriate,” you announce, voice breaking clear through his stupor.

You turn back to him just as you’re walking towards the door, and for a moment Yoongi thinks you’re going to give in and ask him any one of the dozens of questions that must be swirling around your mind.

But you don’t.

“Try to take care of that hand, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi nods.

“Thanks, Doc.”

**********************

YOU

Doctor Lee is on his Houdini shit tonight, apparently.

The ER is packed -- waiting room crowded with crabby patients -- and you are, once again, running yourself ragged to get to every last one.  Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

“Page him again,” you call out as you pass the charge nurse outside an exam room.  

A quick scan of your tablet confirms the toddler behind this magic door has been vomiting all night.  You shut your eyes and wish a slow, violent death on your absent attending.  Vomit is the single worst phenomenon in medicine.

“I’ve paged him three times,” Nurse Ko calls back.

“Page him again,” you repeat, forcing a smile and pushing into the room.

Thirty minutes and one change of scrubs later you are checking charts on the next patient in line.  You pat the pocket of your new scrubs and realize you’ve left a half-eaten energy bar around here somewhere.  

No chance you’ll get that back.

Lee picks this moment to reappear, back from doing God knows what.  He strolls down the hallway like a man with nothing on his to-do list.

“You paged for me?” he inquires casually.

“A few times, actually,” you mutter.  “I’m getting killed out here.”

“Relax,” Lee purrs, condescension dripping from his tone.  “We’ll get it done.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from firing back the half-dozen nasty responses that spring to mind. There is no we when it comes to Doctor Lee.  He’s always been flighty and inconsistent, but these days he’s practically a missing person.  You’re still not sure how hospital management hasn’t figured out that he’s making his resident run the overnight ER.

“There’s a guy down the hall who says he swallowed a magnet,” you say, waving a hand in that direction.  “If you can pick him up I can get to this head trauma.”

Lee sighs like it’s a major inconvenience that you’ve asked him to do his job.

“Yeah, I’ll grab it.”

***********************

It’s nearly four in the morning by the time you have a chance to catch your breath.

You walk out to scan the waiting area and to your relief, there are only a handful of patients yet to be seen.  Then your eyes land on one young man -- slumped into a chair in an oversized coat, hat pulled low over his eyes.

You freeze.  

The man in the chair must feel your stare from across the room because he straightens, giving you a better look at the face hidden under the brim of his hat.  You let go of a breath you don’t realize you’ve been holding.

It’s not him.  

It’s not the mysterious man with the fake names and the bogus stories and the insanely handsome face. You shake your head as you look back down at your tablet, silently chastising yourself for even entertaining the thought.  

You shouldn’t still be thinking about this guy and you know it.

But it’s driving you nuts that you can’t figure him out.

He’s never tried to play you for pills and that seems to be the only thing people lie about these days. But if his problem isn’t drugs it’s certainly something because no one lands in the hospital that many times, with that many phoney stories unless they’re up to no good.

So you ignore the nonsensical disappointment you feel when the guy in that chair is not the guy. 

Because deep down you know he’s either in trouble -- or he is trouble.

***********************

Your pager goes off for a second time and you silence the alert, tossing it onto a nearby blanket.

It’s not like you’re hiding out in here -- not really. 

It’s just that you’ve already had one patient cough up blood on your sneakers and another swing at you when you refused to give him narcotics, so this night is off to a spectacularly bad start.

Besides, Doctor Lee could use a taste of his own medicine.  

This week has been the worst, by far.  You’ve been seeing at least three patients to his every one and you’re exhausted.  If there’s any justice, he’s walking into the exam room where the infant with explosive diarrhea is waiting to be seen -- you check your watch -- right about now.

The door to the linen closet cracks open and you groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“What, you thought I didn’t know about your little hiding place?”  Nurse Ko asks with a grin.  “I find everyone’s hiding place, eventually.”

“Haven’t found Lee’s yet,” you gripe. 

“Yeah, well he’s sneakier,” she laughs.  “Here, I brought you something.”  

She tosses a granola bar at you and it lands in your lap.  

“Thanks,” you sigh, ripping it open.  You take a bite and Ko leans against the doorframe.

“I don’t page you for my health, you know.”

“I know,” you whine around a mouthful of dried oats.  “I just needed five minutes.”

“Well, I’ve got a guy out here who says he’ll only see you.  Doesn’t want Doctor Lee and says he’ll wait as long as it takes.”

A piece of the granola bar lodges in your throat and you cough around it, spluttering while Ko looks on, amused.  She waits for you to collect yourself.

“Is he -- ”

“ -- hot? Yes. Very,” Ko smiles.  

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment at both the observation and the fact that it’s coming from a woman in her sixties.

“I was going to say young,” you grumble, standing and dusting your hands off with a towel.

“That, too.  Come to think of it, I know I’ve seen him here before.  You have some kind of admirer, jagiya?”

You flush.

**************************

“Good evening, Mister Kim.”

You hope the air of nonchalance you affect when you enter the exam room is enough to mask your jitters.  

Your mystery patient looks back at you with those dark eyes and a half-smirk that makes your heart trip in your chest.  You take a steadying breath as you look down at your tablet.

Get it together, girl.

“What brings you in tonight?” you inquire lightly.  “Sword-swallowing accident?  Lose a fist fight with a bear?”

Your mysterious patient chuckles under his breath.  

“Where would you get a couple of outlandish ideas like that, Doc?”

You look up at him just as the teasing smirk on his face becomes a full smile and heat blooms in your chest and face.  You force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“I dislocated my shoulder.  Did you know I work air traffic control at Incheon?”

You shake your head with amused weariness as you make notes on your tablet.

“Crazy night.  One of the planes nearly slid off the runway and I threw my shoulder out trying to get it back on track.”

“Did you save it?”

“Saved it and all 227 people on board.”

“Bravo, Mister Kim.” 

“Just doing my job,” he shrugs.  

You set your tablet down on the exam table with a thump, eyeing him as you reach for a pair of gloves.

“The charge nurse says you asked for me.”

“I did,” he admits.  “You never told me what your favorite kind of milkshake is.”

You cock your head to the side as you look at him.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mister Kim,” you murmur, feigning ignorance. “According to my records this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.”

“Oh, yeah.  Right,” he chuckles.  

“You need some help getting undressed?”

“Yeah,” he admits, slipping one arm out of his leather jacket.  You lean in to help him pull the other side off, compelling yourself to ignore the way he smells like soap and sweat and man when you’re this close.

“It’s strawberry.”

You blurt the words out, anxious to give your brain a task that doesn’t involve analyzing this man’s smell.  Something about the mischievous twist to his mouth tells you he knows you’re flustered by his nearness.  

“I would have guessed chocolate,” he muses, reaching one hand down to grab the hem of his shirt. He drags it up his abdomen and you will your eyes to stay on his face -- refusing to give him any indication that you have more than a clinical interest in what lies underneath.

“Everyone likes chocolate,” you argue, taking over when he can’t get the shirt up any higher.  You push it over his head and carefully work it off his shoulder.  “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

“Mission accomplished, Doc.”

He gazes at you then -- chest bare and eyes sharp beneath those inky lashes --  and you feel a bolt of awareness run the length of your spine. You pray the heat you suddenly feel all over your body is not manifesting in damning spots of color on your face.  

You remind yourself to get back to work. 

He sucks a breath between his teeth when you press gently against the inflamed muscle and tissue.

“My shoulder’s been shit for years,” he confesses.  “I screwed it up when I was a kid and it hasn’t been the same since.”

“So this happens to you from time to time?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then I’m going to have to refer you for an MRI,” you say, and he groans when you press into his shoulder again.  “There could be a lot of scar tissue in here, but I won’t be able to know what’s going on until we get some clear scans.”

Your eyes flick back to his.  

Every word that’s ever come out of this man’s mouth is a lie -- but there’s something that feels honest about the way he’s looking at you right now.  Something that makes you feel seasick, unsteady.

“Turn to the side for me,” you say quietly, and the thin paper that lines the exam table rustles as he complies.  The relief you feel when he pivots away from you with those eyes and that look is whole-bodied.  

“For now, the best I can do is probably pop -- “

Your words trail off as your eyes lock on a wound that sits just a few inches from his spine, just above the line of his jeans.  The edges are white and soft with age -- the area long-healed -- but the trauma is unmistakable.  

Textbook.  

The anger you feel as you stare at the wound doesn’t make any sense.  

But you feel it anyway.

“Is it still inside of you, or did they pull it out?”

“What -- ”

“-- The bullet Mister Kim,” you interrupt sharply.  “If it’s still in you, I promise it will come out the second they load you into an MRI machine.  The hard way.”

The muscles of his back flex as he stiffens.  Tension bleeds into the lines of his body and into his voice when he finally speaks.

“It’s out.”

Neither of you says another word.

The room feels hollow now, painfully quiet without talk of elephants or hot air balloons or milkshakes.  The two of you work together silently to crack his abused shoulder back into place.  Somehow he manages to endure that pain without making a sound.

In the end, it’s you that has to speak first.

“That should hold you for now,” you say tightly, standing to toss your gloves in the trash.   You grab your tablet to make notes.

“You mad at me, Doc?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter, fingers flying over your screen.  “I don’t even know you.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re mad at me?”

You tear your eyes away from the screen to find his.  

There’s no teasing or humor there anymore.  He looks boyish and unsure like this, peering back at you with somber eyes from beneath long black bangs that have fallen into his face.

“No more stories, no more bullshit.  Tell me who you are.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think better of them -- before you can consider how stupid it is to interrogate a complete stranger with a now confirmed history of violence.  Before you can consider that you have no right to the anger that now streaks white-hot through your veins.

“I can’t,” he breathes quietly.  “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head in disgust.

“Are you dangerous?”

Before he even speaks, you get your answer.  You get it in the way color erupts across the bridge of his nose and cheeks.  The way he looks away from you and down to his hands.

“I guess that depends on who you ask,” he whispers.

“I’m asking you,” you fire back.

He doesn’t answer.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, waiting for him to say something in his defense. Waiting for him to pull another gag and tell just one more ridiculous story.  But the seconds tick by and he says nothing.

“A nurse is going to come by with a sling. She’ll help you get dressed, too,” you say tightly, walking to the door.

You don’t know why your heart feels like it seizes in your chest when you turn to give him one more look.

“Take care of yourself, Mister Kim,” you say quietly.  “And don’t come back.”

*****************************

Glossary:

Dijeoteu: dessert

Jagiya: sweetie, sweetheart

*****************************

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[toosweetfiddlesticks]

Can I request something with Mirio Togata x male intimidating reader? So like the reader is really tall and scary looking but is a totally sweetheart when you actually talk to him. So even Mirio was a little wary at first but as soon as they actually talk he immediately falls for him.

Paring: Mirio x Male! Intimidating! reader

Summary: Mirio’s usual friendly demeanor was tarnish by the freakishly tall y/n. He always seem to be a bit solemn and cold. But, with just one little introduction, Y/N’s sweet and warm personality caught Mirio by surprise and his heart.

Side note: tysm for the request, I really appreciate it! 💕

————————————

Mirio’s eyes hastily glanced away from the lingering and spine-chilling stare of Y/N. Now, Mirio wasn’t the type to hesitate in social interactions. His many classmates could agree that he had a bright and sunny personality. He could talk to the most awkward, weirdest, grumpiest person in the world and crack at least a smile on their face. He was friendly and socialized with everyone.

But when Y/N came into the classroom, Mirio would feel a bit daunted from his mere presence.  

He almost resembled a giant, towering over all his other classmates and colleagues. And his face was devoided of humor. Mirio would say he’s was quite dignifying, if it weren’t for the chilling stare he gave people almost if not all the time. But besides the chilling eerie expression, Mirio would have to admit that Y/N was a good looking guy. Y/N has stolen a couple of Mirio’s glances, peeks, or stares. He just seemed a little...ya know, scary. 

Once class was over, Mirio caught another peek of Y/N once again before focusing back on packing his bag once Y/N glanced his way. Mirio hummed a little as the quick taps of Nejire’s shoes and the dragging feet of Tamaki came towards him. Nejire’s long light blue hair pushing and rubbing around the anxious boy’s flustered cheeks and eye. A broad smile wore on her face.

“Mirio!” She waved a hand towards Mirio, catching his attention. His face had the iconic Mirio smile painted all over it as Tamaki struggled to pull Nejire’s hair out of his face. He felt his cheeks burn from embarrassment as people were already staring at the two cause of her call towards Mirio. “You doing anything today?” Nejire asked. Mirio rubbed his thumb and pointer finger against his chin in thought. Besides some studying, he’s schedule for the complete day was empty.

“Nothing besides studying to night.” Nejire smiled and clapped her hands together at Mirio’s reply. The two completely ignoring the still struggling Tamaki.

“Great!” She cheered, “Y/N-” Tamaki, who was able to swim and free himself from the sea of Nejire’s hair, cut Nejire off before she could finish. He eyes staring intensely at the enormous student leaning on the wall through window.

“Is scary.” Tamaki remarks, making Mirio nod in agreement. 

“No silly!” Tamaki winced at the loud laugh that bubbled up in Nejire’s voice. “Wanted to know if he could hangout with us today at the mall.” She explained, “He’s been really wanting to talk to you guys.” The boys reaction made it seem like she was talking about cannibalism. Their eyes nearly bludged out of their skulls, earning a small look of puzzlement at the two.

Y/N, the guy that gives the most deadliest death stares...Wanted to hang out with us?

“Come on guys, he’s super nice once you give him a chance.” Mirio internally questioned her statement. Super nice? Maybe he was being a little too judgmental. “Mirio, you always love meeting new people.” Mirio couldn’t argue with that. 

“You do have a point.” Tamaki concerningly stares at Mirio and worries at his words. But no matter how much he wanted to protest, the two had their minds made up. He mumbled a few words along the lines of agreement, his hand clinching the arm of his other.

“As long as he is as nice as you say..” Mirio heard mutttered under Tamaki’s breath. Seconded that.

———————-

Nejire cheerfully hopped along to Y/N with the other two weary behind her. Y/N’s back leaned on the exposed brick wall, his expression the usual blankness besides the cold stare he was giving his phone. As the other two behind her were a bit confused on why Y/N was giving his phone the death stare, Nejire swung her hands high in air as the reached him closer, catching his attention. She chirped up, yelling his name with a smile.

“Y/N!” she yelled. While Nejire jogged over to Y/N, Tamaki and Mirio’s pace only seemed to increase by alittle. A shiver were crawling down both of their spines. Wow, how is he able to be leaning against a wall look intimidating, pretty impressive, scary, but impressive.

The more they got closer, the more of the sense of anxiousness snaked around Mirio. He looked at Nejire, she was excited to see him. And she really wanted them to meet Y/N. It would be mean to hurt Nejire’s feelings Mirio swallowed his anxiety.

With a determined look in his eyes, Mirio began to walk more proudly and with confidence. Ok then!, Mirio internally exclaimed, Y/N’s a nice guy, and wants to be friends. It’s time to make a friend.

Mirio gave his most friendliest smile and locked eyes with the taller boy. But unlike the intimidating stern Y/N usually give people, his eyes enlighten with a spark of surprise and happiness just like the rest of his face. It seemed so much brighter than his usual blank expression. Did Mirio see a look of... excitement? Y/N cheeks rised like the sun, his smile being even brighter. With a small laugh, he broke eye contact to hug Nejire and a shocked Tamaki.

“Hi! I hope I didn’t ruin any plans for you guys or anything.” He spoke with cheerfulness. “I don’t really have many friends and you guys seemed friendly.” Nejire waved him off and gave his cheek a soft pinch with a smile as his scratched the back of his head. He turns his attention back to Mirio again, “Hug?” Mirio’s felt a sense of a indescribable feeling in his chest.

“Of course!” Mirio replied. There as no longer a feeling of weary or hesitation, expect embracement. The feeling of Y/N’s hands closing in around Mirio’s shoulders was, warm and soft. His breathing was slow and he squeeze tight, embracing Mirio as much as he could. The feeling was like hugging a big soft teddy bear.

Woah

Y/N and Mirio thought. Mirio’s smile was so sweet and his ocean blue eyes were as deep as the seas. He’s touch opened a cage of buttflies in Y/N stomach, swirling around up to his heart

Y/N’s warm touch made Mirio’s heart jump in excitement. His smile shined as bright at the other.Their touches to on another, felt like electricity on each other skins. Their hug lasted longer than it should have, but it didn’t bother each other. (But Nejire and Tamaki was lowkey confused)

Y/N finally let go, with a feeling of warmth on his cheeks.

“They have ice cream that’s really good.” He words were almost fumbled, “Wanna go get some guys, I can pay if you want!”

———————

“You sure you don’t want me to drop you two off?” Y/N concernly ask. Him and Mirio sitting on the sidewalk, finishing up their second ice cream of the day. With bags of clothing in one hand and Tamaki’s hand in another, Neijire waved Y/N’s concerned look.

“Don’t worry.” Her brigths reassurance calmed Y/N worries down a little. “Tamaki and I live close together anyway!” And with that, Tamaki and Nejire began to walk away, Nejire skipping happily off with Takami being pulled along. She waved at them with her bag filled hand once again before skipping away. “Bye!”

“Bye!” Comfortable silence consumed the two boys after waving to Nejire back.

As the sun began to slowly creep away, Mirio’s eyes casually examined his friend. Even now he was surprised at how open and friendly Y/N is. He guessed he never noticed Y/N bright e/c (eye color) eyes with that soft look in it. It always seemed to be so intimidating from far away. Either way, the intimidation is in the past and he’s happy to say that Y/N was his friend now.

Once the sun was completely gone, the boys were about to go separate ways...

Until

“Y’know,” Y/N spoke, “I was always kinda of intimidated by you.” Y/N looked back to see Mirio’s widened eyes with honest ones. His hands shoved down into his pocket as Mirio looked at home with puzzlement. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squinted, wondering if he was serious.

“Really?” As mirio approached closer to Y/N again, Y/N in confirmation.

“Yep.” Y/N answered. Sighs left his mouth as he looked at the now appearing stars. He watched them sparkle and gleam back down at him. “You’re strong and you have such a powerful quirk.” He continued. “On top of that, you were always so kind to people. I guess you can say I was kinda jealous of you and the people around you.” He looked back down at Mirio, his head tilted at the h/c (hair color) boy.

“Jealous?” He asked. ”Why jealous?” Y/N approached Mirio closer as he continued, “I mean you have any amazing quirk yourself?” He countered but was only left with a chuckle.

“I wasn’t jealous of your quirk.” Y/N replied, “I was jealous of the people that got to see your beautiful smile, Mirio.”

Y/N smirked at Mirio slowly began to notice how close they were. His high cheeks were began to pour with pink, and his face began to warm. Y/N’s chest filled with a feeling of fuzzy warmness as their noses seemed to almost touch. Their eyes were glued on each other’s lips.

“Y/N..” Mirio slowly said. “Can...” Y/N’s nostrils flared as Mirio inhaled. He mentally prepared himself for this, “can I kiss you?”

Silence engulfed each other. The stars watched the two stand in the thick air of tension. Y/N almost couldn’t even find the words he was looking for cause of excitement. Passionately, he spoke.

“...yes.”

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

--

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

--

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

--

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

--

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

--

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

--

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

--

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

--

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

--

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

--

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

--

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

--

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

--

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

--

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

--

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

--

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

[spook-central]

So you know how I said I was gonna write a short Ray fic based on that garage kiss in Some Kind of Wonderful?

GUESS WHAT I DID IT

I’ll be posting it here and on archive of our own! Find me there at egonspenglersnose and give it some love!)

It’s based on this scene and this song if you need a little more context! Enjoy!

•••

She Loves Me

Word Count: 2939

Warnings: none it’s fluffy!

The day had started off normally enough, aside from the usual craziness that often occurred around the firehouse. Spring was in the air, and after what had felt like a bleak and oppressive winter, it was finally time to open up the doors and air the place out.

It felt good, letting the spring air in, and it made your overtime far more bearable.

You often stayed late a few times a week to make sure everything was caught up on for the next day when things got busy during the work week, something which Janine always appreciated greatly. Tonight was no exception, but the sun staying out for a longer time in the evenings definitely made it more enjoyable.

It also helped that Ray had lingered behind this evening to work on the Ecto. You had always been incredibly fond of him, and it was obvious to just about everyone that a crush had blossomed on your part.

You recalled the day you had met him; they had hired you on the spot mainly because they needed the help but also because you had a fairly impressive resume, and Ray was one of the first of the guys you had been introduced to.

He was quite honestly one of the best looking men you had ever met, and so incredibly sweet. You immediately liked him and got a good feeling about him.

You loved how passionate he was about the Ecto, and his overall knowledge of cars had always impressed you. Even if you didn’t know much about them, you loved his enthusiasm for them and it easily rubbed off on you.

Now, as you finished up the last of your paperwork for the evening, you could hear him tinkering away not far from you. Ecto had her fair share of problems, but there was nothing Ray wouldn’t do for that car. It was like another member of the team, and you couldn’t imagine the guys doing anything without it.

Ray would occasionally come in from where he was working for something he needed, and your eyes would meet on occasion. You had never had the guts to tell him of your feelings. Ray was just so cute and enthusiastic about what he did that it was hard NOT to give him heart eyes 24/7.

From time to time, you would hear him shuffle in for a drink of water or a missing wrench that he had left in the lab, smiling at him as you took in the sight of his wild brown hair and big, sweet eyes. How was it fair for one human to be that cute? You felt like you were sixteen again with the way you wanted to fawn over him.

However, restraint was a quality you possessed as well, and you hoped that you had been able to be somewhat subtle around him.

Oh well, maybe someday you would have enough courage. Sighing as you finished up your paperwork for the night, you stood to stretch your back, adjusting your jeans, purse and blouse as you made your way towards the door.

“She still down and out?” You asked Ray as you came to stand carefully beside the lovely car he had so caringly constructed and repaired. It really was his baby, in a funny way, and you respected the work that had gone into it a great deal. Ecto kept the guys in one piece, and you gave the vehicle a sweet little pat on the roof as if to say thank you.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he said, his voice echoing off of the metal interior before attempting to stand up too quickly and bumping his head on it. “Ow!”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it always gets me like that,” he chuckled, rubbing the spot on the back of his head that had been bumped and smiling that sweet, bright smile of his at you that always made you melt. “Are you headed out for the day?”

“Yup, unless you need anything else from me that is,” truth be told, you would’ve gladly stayed all night just to hang around with him. Ray seemed hesitant to fully say Goodnight, and you couldn’t help wondering if he was thinking the same thing.

“Well, uh...hand me the socket wrench?” You had gotten a fairly decent rundown of which tools were which upon receiving your first car as a teenager thanks to your father, so luckily you knew exactly what he needed. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing,” adjusting your purse on your shoulder, you couldn’t help asking about a case that had piqued your interest. “How did that class 5 turn out?”

“The one from yesterday?”

“Yeah, that one sounded nuts!”

“It was,” he laughed, “Venkman’s aim is getting better, he didn’t make any chandeliers explode this time.”

“I thought that one was Egon?”

You both laughed, and part of you was thrilled at how naturally conversation came for the both of you.

Needing a socket wrench turned into needing pliers, but soon enough Ray ran out of tools to need and it was clear that he really just wanted to spend time with you. You weren’t about to object in the slightest, comfortably sitting on a nearby stool and watching as he worked.

Truth be told, he had liked you ever since meeting you on that first day. You were always kind to him, and listened to anything he had to say no matter how out there it was.

He also couldn’t help thinking that you were incredibly pretty and very smart, but his own shy nature prevented him from saying so the way he wanted to.

A long time passed with you talking to Ray as he worked, and it was quite nice. The sun was setting now, the light golden as it streamed in from the open door beside the Ecto, but you didn’t mind.

“So Venkman seriously busted up this woman’s entire China cabinet?” The conversation had strayed back to Venkman now, and you couldn’t help laughing. He was such an odd duck, and you always got a kick out of him and his wild antics.

“We were able to blame it on the ghost being rowdy, but my god, it was a mess!” Ray tried to smooth back his messy hair as he laughed again, his hands covered in engine grease and not helping the situation much.

“He seems like he can be a real peach when he’s not causing trouble,” you rolled your eyes, smiling as Ray closed up the Ecto’s hood.

“He teases me plenty, that’s for sure, but I love him. He’s one of my best friends,” Ray was clearly fond of Venkman, and you didn’t doubt that their bond was a special one.

“What on earth does he tease you about?”

“Mostly my luck with women. Not that his is anything to go by,” this got a gut laugh out of you, and you were surprised by how witty Ray could be at times.

“No kidding. What, does he think you haven’t got game or something?”

“He tells me women won’t want to kiss me since I smoke so much.” Ray rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help thinking about how far from the truth that actually was. “Or he acts like I don’t know how to do it at all. I mean, sure, I spend a lot of time at work but I’m not a complete hermit.”

You both laughed again, and you sat your purse on the ground as you got a rather cheeky idea. Was it even smart to try and approach things like this? Would he go for it? God, you hoped so.

“I’m sure you know how. I mean, everybody has a general idea of how to lay a proper smooch on someone if they want to.”

He raised an eyebrow at this, thinking the phrasing was humorous and wanting to hear more from you on this subject in particular.

“A ‘proper smooch’?”

“Yeah, you know. The kiss that kills. Butterflies and rainbows and all that stuff.”

He watched you as you took a few causal steps toward the Ecto now, the gears visibly turning in his head. Was this some subtle attempt at flirting?

The nearby radio, which had been playing softly in the background the whole time, played a song that perfectly fit the mood, the lyrics softly ringing out as you contemplated what to say next.

‘Who made the rule

that I should always play the fool?

All the nights I suffered

when I need not have bothered…’

“I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those, now that I think about it,” he admitted with a half smile.

“I uh...I think I’ve gotten close, but never all the way there,” you tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, watching as Ray adjusted his uniform, which he still had on. It had smudges of engine grease on it now, and you found it endearing.

He realized that this chance was now or never, gauging by the look in your eyes that you wanted what he wanted and deciding to go for it.

“How would it work? I mean...you seem like you know more about it than me,” he took a step closer, and you knew your eyes were shining in an undeniably flirty way.

“Oh you—you want me to show you?”

“I mean...if you feel up to it. I’m no expert and I could use the help.” Cheeky man, you thought. You could certainly show him if that was what he wanted.

“Do you have your eye on somebody, Ray?”

He wiped his hands on a nearby rag, the tension heightening as you watched them and then met his eyes again. You had always had a thing for those wonderful hands of his.

“I guess you could say that, yeah,” he nodded, his big brown eyes warm and sincere and you knew what he wanted to say but didn’t right then.

Instead of pressing further, you nodded, thinking this might be the most fun lesson you ever had the pleasure of teaching anyone as you got right into it.

“Well...I mean, first you have to start off in a stationary position. That helps,” he was closer now, and your cheeks flashed a soft tinge of pink as the space between you lessened. You didn’t usually have it in you to be playful, but decided to gently hop up on the hood of the Ecto in an attempt to bring him closer. “Come a little closer than that. Can’t do a thing from that far away.”

You moved to scoot nearer to the edge of the hood, willing Ray closer and practically beaming as he closed the space between you both more and more with each step.

Had anyone else sat on the hood like this, Ray might have gotten finicky, but the sight of you so close to the car he loved so much actually only ended up getting him going even more.

“It definitely helps,” he rubbed the back of his neck now, seeing that this had clearly turned into something beyond just a lesson in kissing techniques. You could smell his cologne now that he was so close, which only seemed to set your senses on overdrive even further.

“Now, uh...do you know where your hands go?”

His eyebrows raised in what seemed like a mix of curiosity and confusion, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched now that he stood directly in front of you.

“My hands?”

“Yeah. They go on the hips of whoever you’re kissing,” the mood had certainly shifted now, and you felt more daring than you ever had before. A timid smile crossed your face as Ray allowed you to guide his hands to the appropriate place, and the realization that this was definitely about to happen made your stomach do leaps.

“Hips, got it.” God, his hands were so strong and steady and you didn’t even care if this got engine grease on your jeans, it was just thrilling to have him this close.

“Okay, now look into my eyes. Eye contact is important.” The both of you gave a shy, breathy chuckle as your eyes met, and you playfully shoved Ray’s chest. “Come on, we’ve gotta take this seriously if you want to learn anything.”

“Sorry, I get a little skittish with these things,” he admitted, and you shook your head with a smile.

“It’s okay, but the lesson isn’t quite over yet,” you said, your cheeks noticeably warmer. The tension was enough to make your heart race.

“Alright, and uh...after that?”

“Well, uh...my hands go here,” you reached up to loop your arms around his neck, inevitably bringing him directly between your legs and causing Ray to clear his throat.

“How do you, uh...I mean, how do you know that that happens every time?”

“I watch a lot of TV, I guess,” you managed a soft laugh with this, “now, uh...close your eyes.”

Ray’s heart was pounding. Was this seriously about to happen?

“Close my—? Oh, yeah, okay.” He nodded a bit, doing as you said and knowing he had wanted this for what felt like forever. He was so handsome up close, and you couldn’t believe your luck.

It was time to go in for the kill, and you didn’t waste a second.

Leaning in, the first contact was soft and exploratory, and it took Ray a moment to figure out exactly how to respond. But once he got the angle right, it was everything you had described and more.

The music swelled on the radio nearby, and you thought you could’ve melted right then and there.

‘The minutes that we missed

idle lips that should’ve kissed

and now gently together

The first kiss lasts forever

She loves me, she loves me

Oh and she loves me, all the time…’

Tilting his head a bit, Ray found just the right angle, and one kiss turned into what felt like a million. Your hands made their way into his hair, that hair you loved so much that often seemed to fly out in all directions.

His lips were soft and very pleasant to kiss, and it occurred to you that he must use lip balm of some kind. Ray himself couldn’t believe this was happening. He honestly couldn’t fathom how he had been lucky enough to end up kissing you like this, but he was, and he was putting everything he had into it.

Ray’s mind moved at a million miles a minute. All he could think about was how it felt when you moved in a rhythm with him, how soft your lips were, your soft body, and how GOOD you smelled—

He nearly sighed as he felt your leg brace around him to bring him in as close as possible, gripping your jeans to pull you close by your hips in return.

You nearly melted into a puddle on the floor at the feeling of his grip, so strong and firm on you like he couldn’t bear to leave any space between the two of you at all.

He must have shaved that morning, you thought, having expected him to have at least a little stubble and feeling surprised that there was none. Where on earth had Ray learned to kiss so well? Boy would Venkman have egg on his face if he knew about THIS.

Unfortunately for you both, you had to break away and breathe at some point, just looking at each other until you finally managed to speak.

“Well, uh...Venkman was wrong. Way wrong. Wow.”

“It was...I mean, was it like you said? Butterflies and—and all that for you too?”

“Are you kidding?” You laughed, “sheesh, I didn’t know you had that in you. You wouldn’t have any trouble hooking any woman you wanted if you kissed her like that.”

He seemed surprised and incredibly flattered, looking down and then back up at you with a grin and eager brown eyes.

“Was it obvious at all that I was referring to you?”

“I kind of hoped that was the case,” both of you grinned then, the final chorus of the song fading out in the background as the spring breeze blew in once more.

‘She loves me, she loves me

Oh and she loves me all the time…’

You couldn’t resist leaving a sweet peck on Ray’s cheek just because you could, earning a bright smile from him as he got a somewhat playful gleam in his eye.

“The guys are gonna be gone for the rest of the evening, and I don’t have anything else planned...would you want to grab some dinner with me?”

“Sure, but only if we can do more of this afterwards,” you giggled, and Ray helped you off the hood of the Ecto to stand you up and kiss you so that he could press you flush against him now. You were sure you looked like a cartoon character with birds chirping around your head as he pulled away.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ray said, unable to keep from grinning as he took your hand, “but you’ve got yourself a deal.”

What a lesson to teach with anyone, you thought. He was a fast learner, that was for sure.

Picking up your purse, the two of you headed out, and you couldn’t help humming that lovely chorus to yourself one last time.

‘She loves me, she loves me

Oh and she loves me all the time…’

[thefanficmonster]

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it. 

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went? 

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him. 

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

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[jungle321jungle]

Until It Becomes A Pumpkin- Part Four: Irregular Shapes

When the Student Council President and Vice President are both crushing on the same guy- who is actually crushing on his friend and classmate- and the friend and classmate is crushing on a different friend and club member who is crushing on the Vice President, things get… complicated.

anime high school rom com au

Ao3  - Previous Parts - Masterlist 

Part Four: Irregular Shapes

The unlocking of the old club room was akin to a child getting to go into a candy store. The moment the door was open Roman was through the door and flopping on the couch praising it for being a good couch and waiting for him.

“You’re insane,” Virgil told him.

Roman sat up and shot a glare at his friend, “You don’t need to ruin people’s happiness for sport.”

“I don’t need to, I just like to.”

“You-”

“ So,” Patton interrupted. “ Mr. Club President, can you tell us what’s the plan for our first meeting?”

Roman quickly rose from his spot and moved to the small desk in the room, from it he pulled out a few expo markers and moved to the whiteboard. “We have a few things to accomplish for the first meeting of WeView. First thing we need to do is-”

“Can I ask why it’s called WeView, quickly?” Dee asked awkwardly as he and Logan both moved to sit down.

“Patton came up with it and I liked it. But now what we really need to do is-”

“Pick where we’re going to film first?” Remus suggested. “Cause I suggest that new cafe by the station.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Virgil nodded in agreement.

“No, that's the obvious choice!” Roman disagreed. “We gotta be more fun than that.”

“From a publicity standard, going with what’s new is probably a better way to start,” Dee mused. But at Roman’s glare he gave a cough. “ But considering that place is supposed to be expensive, the idea of a nice but cheap place is good too. Students would like to know where they could get good quality on a budget.”

Roman gave a nod of approval. If he had to deal with Dee all the time he was gonna milk this for as long as he could. “Exactly. And actually what I was gonna say is we need to…,” he paused to write what he wanted on the board before saying it aloud. “We need to pick the cohost of the show. It’s clear I am the lead, but who else will be on camera with me?”

“Can't we just rotate?” Patton asked in confusion.

“I think it should be Remus,” Virgil said. “The two of you are oil and water, it’s entertaining.”

Remus opened his mouth but Logan cut in, “I’m not entirely sure Remus’ sense of humor would be... appreciated. ”

“Then it should be Virgie,” Remus decided.

“ Actually ,” Roman put in. “I already had an idea. Mr. President?”

Logan blinked in confusion, “Yes?”

A pause. “Will you do it?”

The Student Council President gave him a dumbfounded look. “Me? I don’t understand.”

“The opposites of your personalities could be entertaining,” Dee mused. “Mr. Tall-Stern-And-Stupid pairs with someone with a flair for drama.”

“My grades are higher than yours,” Logan said shortly.m as he shook his head. He was about to list multiple reasons why it shouldn’t be him, but he managed to catch Roman’s eye and in an instant he seemed to understand that what Roman had planned was more than it seemed. Because the current rumor had grown a tad boring, so it was time for a new one wasn’t it? “Fine,” Logan sighed. “I’ll do it.”

“I can film then,” Virgil offered.

Roman gave a nod and began to write their positions on the board, hoping to hide his satisfied smile.

~~~~

It was strange.

Not a bad strange, rather it was a pretty good one. But it was strange nonetheless. Walking home with Virgil that is. Or well it really the whole club, but somehow he had come to linger in the back of the group with Virgil. If only he could think of something to say.

“Thanks for joining us again,” Virgil said to fill the silence and calm Logan.  

Logan gave a nod. “I am a man of my word.”

“Yeah but...” he gave a sigh and his pace slowed further as he glanced at the others walking ahead. Logan followed suit. “Yes, but I basically tricked you and Dee into joining. You could have very easily backed out after that.”

Logan gave a swallow and tried to be like Dee by summoning a false confidence. “You were just being smart. And that was using Dee and I’s guilt at closing down your old club to your advantage. Because I think it’s clear that neither of us would ever-”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant because you both have a crush on me.”

The next words died on Logan’s lips. His mouth felt dry. Virgil knew? How? How did he know? It didn’t- how? He knew?

“I’m sure this is all awkward for you,” Virgil was saying. “So I wouldn’t blame you if you left because of it. I don’t want you to be upset and hang around because of me.”

“How..?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow in confusion before he seemed to understand. “Did I know? Because I’ve seen you compete with Dee.”

“I...I see.” Logan said. Virgil’s gaze turned downward toward the ground but he didn’t say anything more. “I appreciate your concern but I assure you I am fine.”

Virgil gave a slight nod. “Still I’m sorry... If it makes you feel better I’m in a similar spot. Patton’s only got eyes for Roman... Oh and I'll apologize to Dee himself so you don't need to tell him.

Logan nodded in acknowledgement of the words, but his mind was elsewhere. Patton Liked Roman? This was the first Logan had heard of this. That truly only managed to complicate things further.

“You look like you aged five years,” Dee said, raising an eyebrow before he switched and began to tease. “Was walking with Virgil bad? Did you screw up all your chances?”

Logan didn’t reply and rather he stopped walking and opened his backpack and pulled out a paper and pen and began to scribble something Dee couldn't see, but ultimately he frowned at the page. “There’s no logical way this works out for me.”

“Most likely, but you gotta be more specific than that if you want me to know what this conversation is about.” It had been a little while since the two had split from the rest of the group to walk their ways home- because of course  Logan had to live only a few blocks away from him. But for some reason ever since splitting with the group after what Dee would call a successful first day of club. Logan seemed... off . Dee couldn’t even use the word sad or angry. He just seemed to have given up hope. But Dee resigned himself to deal with whatever Logan was doing because he needed to know what was discussed.

“I exist outside,” Logan said suddenly. “It’s cruel.”

“Explain idiot.”

Logan turned the page he had drawn toward Dee and began to point out features. “Here’s Virgil. These lines are connected to you and me, it’s clear as to why. This line connecting both of us is the fake dating one. Here on your name is one that’s connected to Roman cuz he loves you. But then Patton loves him, but Virgil loves Patton. Don’t you see! You’re all connected in a happy little square and I’m out here ! I’m barely included so I barely have a chance- the math doesn't work!”

“Remus seems to think you're cute. He was checking you out all afternoon.”

Logan didn’t even seem to be in the mood for jokes, “He just enjoys making me uncomfortable.”

Dee gave a sigh, “If it makes you feel better because of this insanity shape-”

“Insanity shape?”

“Well what is it?”

“An irregular pentagon given our relationship is a false one.”

“Whatever, the point is no one is going to end up in a happy relationship!”

“That is... a tad comforting.”

“Can we go home now?”

Dee had gotten Logan to continue moving but the words he had given had a reverse effect on him. Because he may have comforted Logan, but his own chances of love seemed to get smaller due to this irregular pentagon... Or perhaps he was finally seeing things clearly after they had been written down. Either way he gave a sigh.  “If we are fake dating we should have some fake dates,” he announced to change his line of thought. “Buy me dinner.”

“You caused this mess, you owe me food.”

“Sure. You want a candy bar?”

“C-candy bar? Are my feelings and humiliation nothing to you?”

Dee gave a slight laugh as he looked to see Logan’s lips dip into a frown. With it Logan’s posture straightened as that usual stuffy attitude began to seep back into him. Good, Dee certainly preferred when Logan was in a good mood. But when he was smiling was certainly best, but he hadn’t done that much lately... Maybe two candy bars would bring it back.

Dee gave himself a mental shake at his thoughts. He must be going soft.

After getting home Patton had quickly busied himself with helping his mom with the shop and watching over his younger siblings. And after that came dinner and homework so it wasn’t until far later than he had intended that he clicked on the small lamp beside his bed and his phone began to ring.  The moment the phone connected Patton quickly sat up as straight as he could. “Heya Ro!” He said loudly before remembering his sleeping brother and quickly lowered his volume and repeated his greeting.

Roman gave a yawn on the other side, “Aren't you usually asleep by now?”

Patton glanced at the clock before he shrugged, “I had lots of work to get done and I’m finally free. And I assumed you’d be awake.”

“You’d assume correctly,” Roman replied. “I actually tried to sleep early tonight, but I just can’t.”

“Is- is it because of today?”

“Today?”

“You know, with Janus? I- I called because I wanted to know how you’re feeling.” The silence that followed after Patton’s words seemed to echo for a lifetime. It was a strange position, he didn’t want Roman to be upset over this afternoon and if he was, Patton wanted Roman to lean on him for it. But at the same time, he never exactly liked to hear Roman gush about his crush. At least in person he could see Roman’s excited face and watch his childlike personality emerge, but on the phone there was far less to distract him from the context. The context of Roman would only ever see him as a friend. But as a good friend he stayed on and listened to every word. Because at least Roman could distract him from his regular life.

~~~~

Virgil gave a content sigh as he sunk in his usual seat in the club room. The comfort it gave him was a large amount as he knew things were about to become uncomfortable. The other members had gone to their other clubs first and would arrive later to discuss the details of filming their pilot episode this weekend, but until then Virgil was alone. It was something he both loved and hated. He enjoyed the quiet comforting peace of it, but there were times that it pained him more. Times when he would just spend his time wondering what he had done wrong to his classmates, and how exactly he had ended being by himself all the time. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he laid out on the couch, he had time to kill and a nap always made him feel better- or at the very least it would push the negative thoughts away for now.

The sound of thunder jolted Virgil awake as his heart drummed in his chest. He took a few quick short breaths and took in the situation being nothing more than a sudden storm outside, and then he realized  he was no longer alone in the room. Dee was sitting across from him, with what looked like his math homework spread between them on the coffee table, watching Virgil with a mixture of a surprised and concerned expression. He said nothing at first before he reached for a water bottle and offered it, but Virgil shook his head and grabbed his own from his backpack. “Have you been waiting long?”

“N-no. I’ve only been here for about ten minutes or so. I… I didn’t want to wake you," he shrugged looking back down to a notebook in his lap and marking something.

“Why not? I asked you here early to talk.”

“What about?”

Virgil gave a sigh, “I wanted to apologize to you... and also to thank you.”

“Apologize? You have nothing to be sorry for. And I shouldn’t be-”

“The Roman situation,” Virgil clarified, causing Dee to swallow and set down the notebook and pen. “While I don’t like you lying to my best friend- and even though I know you weren’t trying to do anything in particular- I think this is easier on him then the truth would be. So for that I thank you, even if I’ve put you and Logan in a tough spot. And I took advantage of you to get your help with the club… So I’m sorry.”

A beat passed. Then another. And finally Dee gave a scoff followed by a laugh of disbelief. “You know I always dreamed of the day you would acknowledge my feelings rather than just ignoring them, but I never thought about it in this sort of context… I always hoped it would end in a date.”

Virgil focused on the bottle in his hands rather than on the other boy's face, “Thought you were going to say you hoped for the chance to laugh in Logan’s face.”

“I wouldn’t do that until after the date. I have some class.”

Virgil gave a slight laugh, but he didn’t say anything more. He was being selfish and greedy to keep as many people around him as possible, he didn't deserve to take further advantage- to say anything more.

“I take it there’s no way I can compete with Hart?” Dee asked.

Virgil chose to give an answer with some honesty, Dee deserved that much. “You could turn back time I suppose, I considered it now and then. But you never exactly asked me out.”

“That was my fault, yeah... I spent far too much time enjoying the chase of it,” Dee sighed, leaning back in his seat. “But its your fault too. You look so pretty when you-”

The attempt at shameless flirting was cut short as the club room door opened to reveal a shocked looking Roman and Patton and their expressions of shock and frustration were enough for Virgil's heart to plummet to the pit of his stomach.  His childhood friend- his best friend- Roman looked betrayed. His gaze was on the ground, but his hands shook in their fists, and Virgil knew Roman well enough to know that he was on the brink of tears and the reason he wouldn't move or speak is because he was afraid they would fall. Beside Roman stood a flushed Patton. His hands covered his mouth as his eyes flickered between everyone but they seemed to linger on Virgil the least as if he was too suprised to look Virgil in the eye anymore. Virgil wanted to say or do something, but the third person who had apparently been outside- Remus- walked in the room (after apparently having opened the door) and pulled out his earbuds that were blaring something similar to circus music as he moved to look out the storm outside seemingly unaware of the one he had stumbled into.

“Sorry I’m late!” Came Logan’s voice from the hall. “Why are you two st-”

His sentence wasn’t finished as Roman was shocked into being and he took off running down the hall. Virgil was quick to move to the door, but Roman was already rounding the corner. He was going to go after, but Patton held up a hand freezing Virgil in place, but he still wouldn't meet Virgil's eye “I...I think he might need a minute kiddo.”

Virgil gave a hard swallow as heard the sounds of his best friend running off, and he focused on Patton’s seemingly embarrassed state before dropping his gaze and moving past Patton anyway- he could almost laugh at himself. When was the last time he hadn't done exactly as Patton asked? Since meeting Patton Virgil had done his best to keep his feelings a secret and not to ruin anything with his friends since they were all he had. But now if he had the chance to keep one person by his side he owed it to himself to try. He opened his mouth to speak to Patton, but when no words came out Virgil found himself sprinting off down the hall. Thankfully no one attempted to stop him, so now all he could do was hope that he still had a best friend after all of this.

~~~~

Previous Parts - Part Five