#something like us and we have to know them. we have to understand

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Let's Have a Talk, First"- Stereotypes, pt 1

Come sit down. You and I, before we get into any of the things I'm sure you're impatient to know: we need to have a come to Jesus talk, first.

There are some things that I've been asked and seen that strengthens my belief that we need to have a reframing of the conversation on stereotypes in media away from something as simple as "how do I find the checklist of stereotypes to avoid". Because race- and therefore racial stereotypes- is a complex construct! Stands to reason then, that seeing, understanding, and avoiding it won't be that simple! I'm going to give you a couple pointers to (hopefully) help you rethink your approach to this topic, and therefore how to apply it when you're writing Black characters- and even when thinking about Black people!

Point #1: DEVELOP THE CHARACTER!! WRITE!!

Excuse my crude language, but let me be blunt: Black people- and therefore Black characters- will get angry at things, and occasionally make bad choices in the heat of the moment. Some of us like to fuck real nasty, some might be dominant in the bedroom, they may even be incredibly experienced! Others of us succumb to circumstance and make poor decisions that lead to crime.

None of those things inherently makes any of us angry Black women and threatening Black men, Jezebels and BBC Mandingos, and gangsters and thugs!

Black people are PEOPLE! Write us as such!

If all Black characters ever did was go outside, say "hi neighbor!" and walk back in the house, we'd be as boring as racist fans often accuse.

I say this because I feel I've seen advice that I feel makes people think writing a Black character that… Emotes negatively, or gets hurt by life and circumstance, or really enjoys hard sex, or really any scenario where they might "look bad" is the issue. I can tell many people think "well if I write that, then it's a stereotype" and to avoid the difficulty, they'll probably end up writing a flat Black character or not writing them at all. Or- and I've seen this too- they'll overcompensate in the other direction, which reveals that they 'wrote a different sort of Black person!' and it comes off just as awkwardly because it means you think that the Black people that do these things are 'bad'. And I hate that, because we're capable of depth, nuance, good, evil, adventure, world domination, all of it!

My point is, if you write your character like the human being they are, while taking care to recognize that you as the writer are not buying into stereotypes with your OWN messaging, you're fine. We have emotions, we have motivations and goals, we make decisions, and we make mistakes, just like anybody else. Write that! Develop your character!

POINT #2: YOU CAN'T CONTROL THE READERS!!

Okay. You can write the GREATEST Black character ever, full of depth, love, nuance, emotional range, all those things…. And people are still going to be racist about them. Sorry. There is absolutely nothing you can do to control a reader coming from that place of bias you sought to avoid. If it's not there, TRUST AND BELIEVE, it'll be projected onto them.

That passionate young Black woman who told the MC to get her head out of her ass? Yeah she's an angry Black bitch now, and bully to the sweet white MC. Maybe a lesbian mommy figure if they like her enough to "redeem" her. That Black gay male lead that treats his partner like he worships the ground he walks on? Yeah he's an abusive thug that needs to die now because he disagreed One Time with his white partner. That Black trans woman who happened to be competing against the white MC, in a story where the white MC makes comparable choices? Ohhhh they're gonna be VILE about that poor woman.

It really hurts- most especially as a Black fan and writer- knowing that you have something amazing to offer (as a person and creative) and people are gonna spit on that and call it "preference". That they can project themselves onto white characters no matter what, but if you project your experiences onto black characters, it's "pandering", "self insert", "woke", "annoying", "boring", and other foul things we've all gotten comments of.

But expect that it's gonna happen when you write a Black character, again, especially if you're a Black writer. If you're not Black, it won't hurt as personally, but it will probably come as a shock when you put so much effort in to create a lovely character and people are just ass about them. Unfortunately, that is the climate of fandom we currently exist in.

My favorite example is of Louis De Pointe Du Lac from AMC's Interview With The Vampire. Louis is actually one of the best depictions of the existential horror that is being Black in a racist White world I have ever seen written by mostly nonblack people. It was timeless; I related to every single source of racist pain he experienced.

People were HORRIFIC about Louis.

It didn't matter that he was well written and what he symbolized; many white viewers did NOT LIKE this man. There's a level of empathy and understanding that Black characters in particular don't receive in comparison to white counterparts, and that's due to many of those stereotypes and systemic biases I'm going to talk about.

My point is, recognize that while yes, you as the author have a duty to write a character thoughtfully as you can, it's not going to stop the response of the ignorant. Writing seeking to get everyone to understand what you were trying to do… Sisyphean effort. It's better to focus on knowing that YOU wrote something good, that YOU did not write the stereotype that those people are determined to see.

POINT #3: WHY is something a stereotype?

While there are lists of stereotypes against Black people in media and life that can be found, I would appreciate if people stopped approaching it as just a list of things you can check off to avoid. You can know what the stereotypes are, sure, but if you don't understand WHY they're a problem and how they play into perception of us, you'll either end up writing a flat character trying to avoid that list, or you're going to write other things related to that stereotype because "oh its not item #1"... and it'll still be racist.

For example: if you wrote a "sassy Black woman" that does a z formation neck rotation just because a store manager asked her something… that's probably stereotype. If you thought of a character that needed to be "loudmouthed", "sassy", and "strong" and a dark-skinned black woman was automatically what fit the profile in your mind, ding ding ding! THAT'S where you need to catch your racist biases.

But a dark-skinned Black woman character cursing out a store manager because she's had a really bad, stressful day and their attitude towards her pushed her over the edge may be in the wrong, but she's not an "angry Black woman". She's a Black woman that's angry! And if you wrote the day she had to be as bad as would drive anyone to overstimulation and anxiety, the blow up will make sense! The development and writing behind her led to this logical point (which connects to point #1!)

I'm not going to provide a truly exhaustive list of Black stereotypes in media because that would ACTUALLY be worth a college credited class and I do this for free lmao. But I am going to provide some classic examples that can get y'all started on your own research.

POINT #4: WATCH BLACK NARRATIVES!

As always, I'm gonna push supporting Black creators, because that's the best way to see the range of what you'd like. You want to see Black villains? We got those! Black heroes? Black antiheroes? Assholes, lovers, comedians, depressed, criminals, kings, and more? They exist! You can get inspired by watching those movies and reading those books, see how WE depict us!

I've seen mixed reviews on it, BUT- I personally really enjoyed Swarm, because it was one of the first times I'd ever seen that "unhinged obsessed murderous Black fan girl" concept. Tumblr usually loves that shit lmao. Even the "bites you bites you bites you [thing I love]" thing was there. And she liked girls, too. Just saying. I thought it was a fun idea that I'd love to see more of. Y'all gotta give us a chance to be in these roles, to tell these tales. We can do it too, and you'd enjoy it if you tried to understand it!

POINT#5: You are NOT Black!

This is obvious lmao, but if you're not Black, there's no need to pretend. There's no need to think "oh well I have to get a 100% perfect depiction of the Black person's mind". That's… That's gonna look cringe, at its best. You don't have to do that in order to avoid stereotypes. You're not going to be able to catch every nuance because it's not your lived experience, nor is it the societally enforced culture. Just… Do what you can, and if you feel like it's coming off hokey… Maybe consider if you want to continue this way lol. If you know of any Black beta readers or sensitivity reviewers, that'd be a good time to check in!

For example, if your Black character is talking about "what's good my homie" and there's absolutely no reason for him to be speaking that way other than to indicate that he's Black… 😬 I can't stop you but… Are you sure?

An egregious example of a TERRIBLE way to write a Black character is the "What If: Miles Morales/Thor" comic. I want to emphasize the lack of good Black character design involved in some of these PROFESSIONAL art spaces, because that MARVEL comic PASSED QA!! That comic went past NUMEROUS sets of eyes and was APPROVED!! IT GOT RELEASED!! NO ONE STOPPED IT!!

I'm sorry, it was just so racist-ly bad that it was hilarious. Like you couldn't make that shit up.

Anyway, unfortunately that's how some of y'all sound trying to write AAVE. I promise that we speak the Queen's English too lmao. If you're worried you won't get it right, just use the standard form of English. It's fine! Personally, I'd much rather you do that than try to 'decode AAVE' if you don't know how to use it.

My point is, if you're actively "forcing" yourself to "think Black"… maybe you need to stand down and reconsider your approach lmao. This is why understanding the stereotypes and social environment behind them will help you write better, because you can incorporate that Blackness- without having to verbally "emphasize how Black this is"- into their character, motivations, and actions.

Conclusion

We need to reconsider how we approach the concepts of stereotypes when writing our Black characters. The goal is not to cross off a checklist of things to avoid per se, but to understand WHY we have to develop our Black characters well enough to avoid incorporating them into our writing. Give your Black characters substance- we're human beings! We have motivations and fears and desires! We're not perfect, but we're not inherently flawed because of our race. That's what makes the difference!

And as always, and really in particular for this topic, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black character design #black culture

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

[scarfacemarston]

Teacher!Natasha x Teacher!Reader Oneshot

For Lesbian Visibility Week! If you enjoyed this, please note and reblog! Feel free to send other prompts or requests! Prompt: The students come into your classroom complaining about Natasha as a teacher not knowing you're her wife. This is version 1. You sighed as you glanced at the digital clock on your computer. Damn. Your planning period was almost over, and you really needed to finish grading these essays. Soon, you would be back to teaching your high school history classes for the day. The period ended far too quickly as students began to file their way into the classroom, discussing this and that. You were so engrossed in your work that you were hardly paying attention until you heard “Ms. Romanoff” mentioned not once, not twice, but in a string of sentences. Oh boy. Ms. Romanoff was one of the more controversial teachers at the school known for her no-nonsense attitude, sternness and sarcasm , but she was also fair with a dry sense of humor. “Why did I take international politics as an elective? Oh, that’s right, I thought it would look good on my transcript!” One student said sarcastically. “She’s so nitpicky! I got an A-. AN A MINUS!” “Hers is the only class I don’t fall asleep in anymore. Not since….last time.” “She’s so strict even the Macklin brothers shut up.” “She’s terrifying. I heard she used to be an undercover agent in the CIA”. You smirked at that one. You should probably look into that rumor. “A spy? Shut-up, man. Who’s going to believe that?” “I heard she was a failed actress.” “I heard she voiced the Russian Siri.” “I heard she’s a rich heiress that lost all her cash.” “Look, guys, I don’t care. She just ripped our class to shreds.I just can’t right now. Nearly the entire class failed her last test. These test corrections are going to take all night.” “At least you’re allowed test corrections! We’re her AP class and the only way we can make up points is through a new essay.” “She’s scary. I swear” “I think she knows what I’m thinking and then that makes me think more and then she thinks what I’m thinking and that thinking makes my head hurt.” “I was ONE minute late to class and she gave me a late slip!” “One time my grandma called me in class, and she made me pick it up.” You shot a quick text to Natasha before the bell rang. Her classroom was two doors down from yours since you two were technically in the same department. Time to log off your grading program and begin class. You pulled out the binder with today’s lesson plans ready to begin. “Wow, you all are full of comments about Ms Romanoff today.” You said neutrally. “Miss Y/N, you don’t understand. She’s so ….uh, extra.” You withheld a smirk. Natasha wasn’t what you would call extra, but she was set in her ways.” “I don’t think she’s extra. I think she just has high standards.” You responded. One of the students rolled their eyes.

"Do you all talk about me like this when I'm not here?"

"Nooo Ms. Y/N, we would never!"

"Well, maybe you could extend the same courtesy to my wife next time," you said, withholding a laugh. The room fell silent. A pin could have dropped.

“Fuck” you heard someone say under their breath. “Language”, you chastised, but you couldn’t say you blamed them. You saw the students in various forms of awkward shuffling, a cough here or there or “Ummm” or “Uhh” as students tried to form sentences. “Wait, you’re married?” a student questioned before being glared at by the others. Your fourth period class was near silent for the rest of the period, with the students seemingly still in shock. One minute til the bell rang. You saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of your eye. Thirty seconds. Natasha knocked on the door. “Hey, you, we’re all ordering from Robert’s Deli for lunch. You want your usual or will you finally try something new?” Natasha teased. The class whipped their heads collectively towards the door. It was becoming harder not to laugh. Natasha narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on, Y/n?” “Oh, you’re scaring my class, dear!” You said, smiling widely. Natasha scoffed. “Dear, huh? Oh, so they found out, didn’t they? As if us entering the building together and leaving together in the same car wasn’t hint enough that we’re married.  Yeah, I might have scared a few of them. It was well deserved, trust me, Isn’t that right, Reynolds?” Jason Reynolds sank down into his seat, not meeting Natasha’s eyes. The bell rang. The students couldn’t scramble enough as they grabbed their bags and rushed past Natasha. You gave a small laugh as you finally met Natasha. “You’re a mean woman, you know that?” “Hey, you texted me, babe.” “It was great, not gonna lie. Sorry the “secret” is out.” “It’s not like we’re closeted, we’re simply professional. I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner….or maybe I’m not.” Natasha muttered. Your stomach growled. “Alright, I’ll look up the menu. Find something new to try for once. Promise.” You said in response to your stomach. Natasha nodded. “Don’t want you to scare the next class because you’re hungry.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romonova #black widow #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs

[wosoamazing]

Brunch w/ Steph & Beth

Part 2 - Fire on Fire Series

From Beth: Good Morning, I know this is late notice and you might be socialised out from last night and probably have things to unpack but we were wondering if you wanted to have brunch with us this morning. I think Steph might join us too if that is okay.

To Beth: Good Morning, that would be nice, could you maybe just come to mine again if that is okay. There are some tradies coming over this morning and so I have to be here from when they get here where I don't know when that will be. I'm up and ready now so any time would work, I could cook something for you all.

From Beth: Oh no, don't be silly, Steph will pick something up from one of the local bakeries on her way over to ours. And then we will come to yours. Any dietary requirements?

To Beth: No, all good and thank you. See you soon.

You looked at the plans your aunts had lying out on the tablet for the workers when they got here, they were turning the theatre room into a home gym/entertainment space, your Moster claiming they decided they needed to be healthier but you knew it way there way of trying to make their home more inviting for you now you were older and keeping you there.

From Beth: Hi again, Steph just arrived, Viv has gone out and so I was just wondering if I could bring Myle our puppy with us, but I understand if it's not okay just thought to ask.

To Beth: Um.. normally I would say yes but I don't exactly know if Myle could come over if the workers will be here. I'm so sorry.

From Beth: No problem at all, we are just about to head to yours now.

You were still going through the look book, viewing all the products your Aunts were putting in both rooms when the doorbell rang, you swiftly moved towards it. You were surprised when you saw Steph and Beth standing in front of the now open door, you thought it would be the builders, they had only just left Beth's house "How are you already here?" "We actually live two streets over so it isn't far at all," you gestured for the two Women to come in.

"Um, we can sit on the couch or the table, I'll just clean all this up," "knock, knock, knock," you heard a man say from the door, turning around to see the builders.

"Oh, um just one second sorry girls, I just need to show them some things," they both nodded saying something along the lines of don't worry, and you quickly showed the builders the theatre and the plans and look book. They had already been given an in depth brief from your Aunt's so it didn't take long.

"I'm so sorry, they are just here to do some work," "Oh no it's totally fine don't worry," The women said as they followed you into the living room.

"I do have a question though," Steph said as you were grabbing some plates, "mmm" "How did you manage to get a place like this?"

"Oh, this isn't mine, it's my Aunt's, they are away for like the next 2 months in Paris, my Aunt is from there." Steph nodded as Beth was looking around at some pictures.

"Is this you or..." She said as she looked at a photo from one of your school events, "yeah it's me, they are all of me," you replied.

"Wow, that's insane, I think there are more photos of you in their house than the amount of photos my parents have of my brother and I in our home. Did you see them a lot?" She asked, meaning no harm, you knew the question would come eventually, you just didn't think it would be so soon.

"Um, yeah, I guess you could put it that way, this is technically my childhood home. When I moved out of my parents home I moved into this home with my Aunts, but we were only here for around 6 months before we moved to Australia. So technically the home we have in Melbourne is my childhood home but as this was well I guess is, the main home all the photos and trophies and everything else got moved into this house,"

"Oh, why did you move out of your parents home? Sorry that sounded a bit insensitive, you don't have to answer," "Oh no, it's okay I don't mind, I-" you were interrupted by another person at the door, they handed you a massive bouquet of flowers and as you brought them into the house and set them on the coffee room table, both girls looked at them.

"Wow, secret admirer, Leah is going all out," Beth cheeked as you looked at the gift tag, letting out a knowing sigh as you read the names.

"Of course, giving me somewhere to stay and building me a gym with some entertainment stuff too isn't enough," you lean back on the couch, before looking over to Beth.

"Wait, what did you say that about Leah? Do you think she likes me?" You asked curiously.

"By the way she looked at you when you walked into the locker room, I would say she has a crush on you" she said quite seriously, you let out a small 'oh' and both of them looked at each other, before continuing on with the conversation, changing topics.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #wosoamazing fireonfire

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Lynette, Eula, and Lumine with an s/o whose love language is acts of service, and enjoys cooking/baking for them?

(Genshin Impact) Signs of Love for Lynette, Eula, Lumine, Arlecchino, Chiori, Lisa, Yae, Xianyun, Dehya, and Kokomi

WOE, EIGHT EXTRA WAIFUS UPON THEE

Lynette prefers this type of love over any kind of flowery words.

After all, with her true profession words mean very little.

How someone acts tells her everything she needs to know.

It especially show in the way S/O cooks their meals.

After coming home from a show, she sees S/O gently smile at her, with a bucket full of shellfish on the table, and a small plate of lemons near it.

She doesn't need to say anything, a small smile from her and her tail swishing faster than usual tells S/O how happy she is.

Having some true peace and quiet with the people she loves nearby is all she could ever want.

Eula is actually thankful S/O shows affection in a language she can understand: nonverbally.

With a simple hug, she can immediately tell how S/O is feeling with how tightly their arms are wrapped around her.

Eula chuckles, being behind closed doors allowing her more gentle side to come out.

(Eula) "Nice to see you too, S/O."

(S/O) "Dinner's already done, kept it warm for you."

(Eula) "How chivalrous of you."

She teased, before seeing a change of clothes already on the table for her.

This was something she could get used to.

With all the things Lumine gets up to, having someone just prepare dinner for her while she's away is enough to make her to cry.

With no other obligations than just to come home safe to someone she loves, Lumine completely relaxes around S/O.

(S/O) "Welcome back. Busy day?"

(Lumine) "You already know."

Lumine slumps down on the chair, letting out a dramatic sigh making both of them laugh.

(S/O) "Dinner should be ready in a second, and I got a bath running upstairs."

S/O heard her head lean back into the chair.

(Lumine) "I could kiss you right now."

(S/O) "Do it when you don't stink."

Lumine rolled her eyes, hearing S/O chuckle.

Arlecchino can easily smell the barbecue coming from the House of the Hearth, as well as the sound of children laughing.

And she knew S/O was in there, keeping them happy.

It was strange, admittedly.

To have someone who genuinely loved her, without knowing entirely what she was actually like.

And instead of showering her with useless words or gifts, S/O let their love show in how they treated her and her children.

It made her quite fond of S/O, and if they were already like this, then she knew she didn't have to say "I love you" to them every day.

(S/O) "Arle, care to join us?"

(Arlecchino) "Of course, have you made sure to make some for yourself?"

(S/O) "Mhm, just didn't want to dig in without you."

A smile finally grows on her lips as she sits down, S/O next to her.

(Arlecchino) "Apologies for keeping you waiting then, Shall we?"

Chiori's not gonna sugarcoat it: Instant kiss with both her hands behind S/O's head the moment she sees her tools already brought out in the order she likes.

She didn't need S/O to do that, but this was way better than some expensive gift she'll never use or wear.

In fact, S/O made damn sure to never buy her clothes, as that would be the ultimate insult.

Instead, it was everything that could help her, ranging from tailoring tools and new windows.

All with an admittedly very cute smile they wore just for her.

(Chiori) "Hm, you have me head over heels for you, S/O."

She said, with a relatively deadpan voice.

(S/O) "You can barely keep the affection in, dear."

Both of them quietly chuckle as they work on their jobs inside the store.

Other than making her name known across all of Tevyat, she doesn't think she could ask for anything more.

Lisa's eyes haze over with more love than she thought possible when she realizes that her tea is already on the table.

(Lisa) "Oh, you sure know how to make a woman's heart skip a beat, S/O!"

(S/O) "Well, I learned from the best, right?"

Lisa absolutely adores S/O's love language, seeing as she barely needed to lift a finger.

But that being said, she makes sure to return the favor. It isn't much of a relationship if only one side is putting in this much effort.

Both S/O and Lisa constantly do little things for each other, whether it be work or home related.

The real moment Lisa is ready to just drop down on one knee for marriage is when they already have a hot bath for her the moment she closes up the library.

Yae gladly takes the sake S/O has prepared for her on the table, making sure to pour them some as well.

(Yae) "Oh, where would I be without you?"

(S/O) "Hm, probably very bored. But still in the same place."

Yae simply chuckles at that, not even bothering to argue.

S/O was certainly interesting in her eyes, as they rarely needed to be told how they could help her out.

She honestly expected their love to be a bit more grandiose instead of something so plain.

And yet she could hardly find room to complain about it. Especially with all the fried tofu they cooked for her.

(Yae) "Remind me to get you something nice for today. Oh, how about a signature from our very own Miss Hina?"

(S/O) "I think I'd prefer my reward not paid with someone's tears, Miko."

(Yae) "Hm, your loss."

S/O already had Xianyun's heart at the good food, but everything else was a bonus that just kept on adding.

And what better way for One to repay S/O's love than eating every single morsel?

For all their efforts, Xianyun works to invent something special, only for S/O.

(Xianyun) "Hm..."

A single finger brushed the bottom of her chin, lips pursing as she struggled to think what machine they could use.

They already had her cooking tools, and while newer ones could be good, she felt the need to give them something even better.

(S/O) "Something on your mind, Xianyun?"

(Xianyun) "No, One's problem is that nothing is coming to it..."

She wanted to repay her affection in kind since this was her love language as well.

What about a machine that could allow them to fly with her?

...Actually, that'd probably be a bad idea....Or would it?

(Xianyun) sigh "If only you could fly, S/O..."

(S/O) "...?"

As a mercenary/bodyguard, actions always spoke louder than words to Dehya.

And she'd be damned if S/O didn't show how much they loved her.

Whether it be buying a nice makeup set for her or preparing an entire bag of Candied Ajilenakh Nuts, it never failed to make her cheeks heat up at least a little.

(Dehya) "Thanks, I'll be sure to use it later! Let me know if there's anything you want me to get you as well!"

She had many types of people try to win her love with trying to smoothtalk or bribe her.

But all S/O had to do was pay attention to the little things.

And seeing how they were trying hard to reinforce her makeup case, Dehya already knew her heart belonged to no one else.

(Dehya) "...Is that steel?"

(S/O) "Think that's too much?"

(Dehya) "Hah, just a little!"

It does not matter how tired Kokomi is, the moment she sees S/O tidying up her bed with a few books already by the nightstand.

Her energy skyrockets back up to full as if she got hit with a power boost.

(Kokomi) "S/O, thank you so much!"

She does feel a little bad for S/O to do so much for her when she's so busy.

But at the same time, it was hard to deny that being pampered like this was greatly relaxing for her.

So much responsibility was thrust upon her, it felt nice to have someone who had no expectations in return to do something just because they wanted to.

In her journal, the energy S/O gives her had at least four digits at any given time.

Of course, she makes sure that they don't ever see that, lest her energy drop to zero by making her want to bury her head inside a pillow.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #lynette x reader #eula x reader #lumine x reader #arlecchino x reader #chiori genshin impact x reader #lisa minci x reader #yae miko x reader #xianyun x reader #dehya x reader #kokomi x reader #lynette genshin impact #eula lawrence #lumine genshin impact #arlecchino genshin #chiori genshin impact #lisa minci #yae miko #xianyun genshin #dehya genshin #kokomi sangonomiya

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not sharing my tic tacs

This sounds ridiculous plus please bear with me. I (22f at the time) and my then bf (22m) used to work together in a warehouse and then we’d take the same bus home after work but he would get off and transfer to a different bus after a couple stops to get to his home.

One day while we were waiting for the bus and it was taking a while he said he was hungry as he had forgotten his lunch at home (warehouse work is kinda physical so it’s def important to eat during the day). He had gotten something from the vending machine during break but not really enough to be filling. I had just taken out a box of tic tacs and put a couple in my mouth before he said this. He asked if he could have a few and I said yea sure. Then he asked if he could eat all of them and I said no, just have a few.

He was upset by this saying we’re dating so we should share things. I said there’s no reason to eat the entire box of tic tacs because they won’t help you feel full so it’s just a waste to eat them all at once instead of savouring them. We argued about this for a little while before he dropped it. His friend was sitting next to us but not saying anything if that’s important.

He got quiet when we got on the bus and instead of sitting next to me like he normally does he sat a few seats away (we were at the back most seat of the bus where it’s like 5 in a line and I sat by one window and he sat by the opposite window). I moved next to him but left a seat between us and asked him what was wrong, he just said nothing and didn’t want to talk really. He said bye and got off at his normal stop but I was kinda confused still why he was so upset over tic tacs.

For added context, I’m bisexual and I got those tic tacs at the first ever pride parade I had attended earlier that month so I was kinda trying to make them last for as long as possible but he didn’t really understand their significance to me.

Also, sometimes I would by a drink from the vending machine at work before walking to the bus stop and he’d always want a sip, but sometimes he’d just grab it and not give it back (kinda in a teasing way but also just annoying).

Also this happened almost two years ago now and we broke up right after this (because of this) but are still friends.

I just want to know, was I the asshole for not giving him all of my tic tacs when he was hungry even tho it wouldn’t have really satisfied him, or was I not because they’re mine and they were somewhat significant to me and it felt like he just expected me to share.

#aita #am i the asshole

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories | Twelve | Azriel x Rhys' Little Sister! Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven

You laughed as you walked through the forest with your mother and Michaa, your maid. Though, you almost could have believed she was your father’s bastard daughter. In another life, maybe she could have been your sister. You were on your way to meet Rhys, before continuing on to the War Camps to the north. 

You hated The Illyrians and their prejudice, but you loved your brother, Cassian, and Azirel. Although you weren’t sure if you’d see Az or Cass on this trip. It’d been too long since you’d laid eyes on them though, and you were aching to feel their arms around you. 

“How much further?” You groan, dropping your wings slightly, “Can’t we just fly?” 

“You know the winds are too strong today, my love,” your mother informs you softly, “I think we’d all father fly anyway, you know how much Michaa loves it.” 

The young woman only grinned and turned her eyes towards the sky. She was Illyrian too. Wings unclipped thanks to having been born in Valaris. Why she wasn’t in Illyria you weren’t sure, but you were glad to have her. Your life wouldn’t be nearly as fun without her by your side for all of the trouble you caused. 

You close your eyes for a moment and reach your power out, focusing on the soft shadows that lurked by the trees. You weren’t as good at commanding them as Azriel, but you had a small kernel of that power dwelling inside you. Something your father knew nothing about. 

I’m coming, you willed them to say. Before searching for their master. You felt his mental shields, just as strong and powerful as he. You stroked down those shields, gently, sensually. Begging for entrance to his mind. 

I’m in a meeting, his voice fills your mind. 

I plan on sneaking into your tent this weekend.

And you swear you can hear him groan. Not in frustration, but in wanting. You can feel it rippling through his mind. You smile down at your feet, heat rising in your cheeks. You knew the effect you had on him, just as he knew the effect he had on you. You were playing a dangerous game. 

Your father would likely kill Az if he ever found out. Which is why you had to get good at sneaking in the shadows, using them to conceal you from prying eyes. You were a quick study though, and was beginning to master the skill. Az was always proud of you when you manages it. 

Don’t get me in trouble today, he warns, although not sounding very convincing, I doubt the Lords would like it very much if I start smelling like I want you as badly as I do. 

You pause, nearly tripping over a fallen log. Your mother gives you a knowing smile, seeming to understand who you’re talking to. She only knew because she once caught Az sneaking out of your rooms just before dawn. Her and Rhys had been out flying all night and were just returning. She only smiled and turned around, wishing you both a goodnight as she went. 

I doubt my brother would like it very much. 

Minx. 

But you can hear the laugh in his voice. It fills your head and your chest, filling the void that always seems to be there when Azirel is not near. You rub your chest subconsciously, feeling that void a little more today knowing you’ll be seeing him in just a few short hours. 

“Rhys will winnow us to the camps, won’t he?” You ask your mother. 

“Yes dear, he’ll winnow you and Michaa first and then come back for me,” She tells you once more. 

I want everything with you, Az. 

I want it all too. 

You smile to yourself, knowing he meant it. If only your father wasn’t the male that he was, maybe you’d be allowed to follow your heart. Free to love whoever you wished. Not be sold for breeding when the time came. But you were still young, only eighteen. Marriage was still a good while away, thanks to your mother convincing him you still had growing up to do. She was right in some ways. 

“Pay attention to where you’re walking, Y/N,” your mother warned you, “Your Shadowsinger will still be there once we reach our meeting point.” 

You blush ferociously, heat flooding your cheeks so much that it radiated from them. Michaa smiled and let out a little laugh. She knew too, of course. You two sat up late most nights, when you weren’t out flying together, and talked about the Shadowsinger and just how wonderful he truly is. 

He’d seen such darkness already in his life, but yet his smile was still so beautiful it took your breath away. Sometimes that smile was reserved only for you. Sometimes you felt as if you were the only fae alive that got to see it, and you were okay with that. With the thought that he only smiled for you, and sometimes Cassian and Rhys. They were his bastard brothers after all. You were different though, you’d never seen him as a brother. From the moment you met him, as young as you were, you knew he was destined to be something else to you. You could already feel that strange tug in your chest, pulling you towards him. 

I’ll see you soon, you promise him, sending images of the two of you curled up together into his mind. 

You can practically feel him smiling against your skin, can practically feel him against you. You bite your lip, trying to regain control. But he seems to caress you in his mind, making you go weak in the knees. 

You pull away from his mind, noting how he seems to leave a small spot open just for you to return whenever you feel like it. You smile to yourself as you continue to walk. You wished you were strong enough to winnow more than one person, so you could just winnow to the camps and be done with this walking. 

But you weren’t far from the halfway point where you were supposed to meet Rhys. You would probably have to wait on him, seeing as he was apparently in the middle of training a new unit, but he would come for you one way or another. And he would take you to Azriel, whether he wanted to do so or not. 

But the shadows swirled around you as you reached a clearing. Your mother and Michaa falling silent. The whole world fell silent it seemed like. The shadows swirled, reaching your ears as you sniffed the air around you. 

Run, they said, run far and run fast. 

“Mother?” You question, smelling several distinctly male scents lingering in the air. 

She didn’t get the chance to reply before an arrow shot through her wings, causing her to scream out. You screamed too, seeing a flash of blonde hair in your vision, before arms came around you. Your wings vanished, too afraid of what might happen to them. But your mother, Cauldron, your mother’s wings. 

They grabbed Michaa next, holding a blade to her throat. You felt the cold steel kiss your own neck as lips caressed your ear. 

“Don’t scream,” He said into your ear, “Or I’ll slit your throat.” 

You swallow thickly. Fear gripping every part of you. You forgot the training Cassian and Rhys and Azirel drilled into you. Forgot that you weren’t a helpless little girl, that you had powers too. But all you could think of was the fear that gripped you and the smell of blood, your mother’s blood. And the realization that you were going to die, one way or another. 

You wake with a start, jolting up in your bed before hurtling yourself into the washroom nearby. You empty your stomach over and over again, before the sound of your bedroom door makes you stop. Cassian is by your side in an instant, rubbing your back. 

“I have them too,” He confirms, “Every night.” 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” You say softly, feeling the nausea fade. 

“I was already awake,” He sighs, sitting down on the floor across from you, leaning against the bath, “I heard you scream.” 

“It was that day,” You confide in him, “In the woods.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” He tells you slowly, “I don’t want you to have to relive it.” 

“I relive it every day. Everytime I close my eyes, it’s there.” 

His eyes soften at you. He reaches a hand out for you to take. He’d been too far away that day to get anywhere near you. He couldn’t have made it even if Rhys called for him. He didn’t know it happened until it was too late. He made it to the clearing not long after Azirel and Rhys, having flown as quickly as he possibly could. 

“It was Lucien,” You spoke after a long while, “I slept with Lucien.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” He replies softly, “You did what you had to do to survive.” 

“I did it to survive,” You agree, in your own way trying to convince yourself, “It kept Tamlin from darkening my door.” 

He sighs deeply, knowing you’d been through more than any of them. You watch as he gets to his feet, wings tucked in tight, and holds a hand out for you, “C’mon, let’s get you back in bed.”

You take his hand and allow him to pull you up before slowly walking you to your large bed. Big enough to accommodate wings, you realized. Big enough for more than one winged person. You had a lump in your throat, because once upon a time that was all you could’ve asked for. 

You climbed into your bed, allowing Cassian to pull the covers up over you before he walked to the other side and crawled in. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Not leaving you alone,” He said gruffly, curling his arms around your stomach and pulling you to him, “We all know you slept better when Az was in your bed, but seeing as he’s at The House of Wind, being an ass, I’ll just have to do.” 

You swallow and nod. Trying to fight the blush on your cheeks at his admission. You knew, of course, that he knew about you and Az. He hadn’t made his knowing very secret over the years. But was always smart enough to lose his tongue whenever your father was around. 

Now he didn’t have to worry about that. Your father was dead. You didn’t mourn him the way you mourned your mother. You didn’t feel the need to mourn him in that way. He wasn’t a loving man. He was the opposite of your mother. 

“Why won’t you fly?” Cass asked softly. 

“It hurts too much to try and summon my wings now,” You tell him honestly. It seemed that tonight would be the night to let all of your secrets go. 

“Hurts too-” 

You cut him off by rolling over onto your front, your nightgown cut low enough in the back to reveal two long scars stretching down your back. You know the moment Cass saw them, because he went rigid and sucked in a deep breath. He reached out, fingers carefully brushing the top of the scars. 

“Hurts in more than one way,” You confirm, “Emotionally, and physically. The scars are thick, right where the wings should be.”

“You didn’t heal?”

“Faebane.” 

He rolls you back over so you’re on your back now. You refuse to look up at him, refuse to meet his eyes. You can feel him staring at you though, you can almost feel his emotions rolling off of him in waves. 

You shake your head and roll back over on your side, “I’m tired.”

You feel him nod behind you before wrapping you back up in his arms. You melt into his arms, missing the feeling of being held by someone. Maybe that’s why you turned to Lucien all of those years ago. He was there and he was in pain too, and needed someone to help him move on. He was sweet and gentle and not at all like his ruthless brothers, or Tamlin. 

It just seemed to work between the two of you. There was no love between you, no true feelings. It was physical, and that was it. He would occasionally try to go to bat for you against Tamlin, but much like how he was with Feyre, he would never really push his friend for fear of what would happen. 

You fall asleep quickly, and do not dream again. 

 You wake in the morning to the sound of a door opening and a low growl. Fear rips through you and you refuse to move. Even as arms retract from around you, even as the male next to you sits up in the bed. 

“You don’t get the option of being mad,” you almost let out a sigh of relief at Cassian’s voice. 

You were in the Night Court, you were safe. 

“You’re in her bed,” Azriel growls. 

“All because you weren’t here,” Cassian shrugs, or you assume he does, “She needed you, and you were sulking because she did what she had to in order to survive.” 

“You know nothing about what she did,” Az growls again. 

“They carved her back,” You feel Cassian shudder in the bed, “Two long lines, right where her wings should be, like they carved her up trying to get to them.” 

You wanted to tell them that he was right. That’s exactly what they did. They carved you up like a piece of meat trying to find your beloved wings. The thought made you want to vomit again. But you refused, you refused to let them see you like that again. 

“Get out of her bed.”

“Brother, you know I’m only here to help her,” Cassian said softly, “She needed someone. Preferably you, but I made do.” 

The bed dipped as Cassian got up, leaning over long enough to brush a kiss on your forehead. It’s a simple gesture, but he’d been doing it since you were a small child, maybe even before then. 

“It was Lucien Vanserra,” Cassian said softly at the door, “Which I thank the Mother for. Because at least he still had a heart, before Amerantha came. For all he’s worth, he was a good male, once upon a time.” 

Azirel growls again and shuts the door in Cassian’s face. Az’s shadows make their way towards you, curling around your body as Az slowly moves closer. You know they’ll tell him that you’re awake, but maybe he’ll ignore them and let you continue this farce. 

“I’m sorry,” He said pulling a chair up to the edge of your bed, “I should have handled things better yesterday.”

You finally peel your eyes open to see him leaning over, hands folded on your bed. You want to reach for those hands, those beautifully scarred hands. You wanted to kiss them again, like you used to do all those years ago. But it didn’t feel right anymore. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” You admit, “It was wrong of me. I aimed to hurt you, and that’s something I promised I’d never do.” 

His head shook slowly, “I hurt you too. I promised I wouldn’t let you go. And instead I turned my back on you the second you said something I didn’t like.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows and reach over to brush a few strands of hair out of his eyes. You missed his eyes, so telling to you and cold to everyone else. The Shadowsinger of the Night Court, violent, cold, and deadly, yet so soft and warm to you. 

“I love you, Azriel,” You admit softly, feeling his shadows gather on your back. 

You knew what they were doing, even if he didn’t, but you didn’t try to stop them. He would want to see them eventually. But not this morning. Not when you already felt so laid bare in front of him. 

“I know you do,” He leans forward to kiss you, “I love you too. C’mon, Rhys said he should be back today. And Mor is waiting downstairs to eat breakfast with us.” 

So you find yourself sipping on coffee and eating a rich pastry with Mor when Rhys, and a very soaking wet Feyre and Amren slam into the floor of the living room. You all shoot to your feet. Moving towards the three quickly. 

“What the hell happened?” You questioned. 

“I’d like to know the same thing,” Rhys stated. 

“Did you get it?” Is all Mor can think to say. 

“Get what?” Your head rips to her and then back to Rhys. 

“Nothing.”

“No!” You yell, “Not nothing! Obviously not nothing. What happened in Summer?” 

And then you hear it, you hear the book.

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @queerqueenlynn @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @witchymomfrien

@one-big-fangirl @amara-moonlight @annamariereads16 @maddybraps @saltedcoffeescotch

@wallacewillow0773638 @minnieoo @st0rmyt @hunterksmith @sleepylunarwolf

@sh4n @emryb @mikatanazaki @nickishadow139 @ilovespideyyy

@mysticalfuncollectorus @judig92 @tele86 @oksloan3 @darling006

@dr4g0ngirl @weasleyreidstyles @ren-ni @fleurrreads @i-am-infinite

@thestartitaness @fxckmiup @inloveallthetime @isa1b2h3 @fightmedraco

@val-writesstuff @acourtofdreamsandshadows @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @mybestfriendmademe @azzydaddy

@lilah-asteria @quinzzelx @5onedirection5 @its-sam-good @mp-littlebit

#acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

[marragurl]

I have this VISCERAL need for an AU where everyone’s perception of Ratiorine is completely skewed and they all think they hate each other when in reality they’re actually married.

They had a small ceremony years ago, fully live together, have matching pajama sets, cutely bicker and have inside jokes with each other, constantly use endearments when referring to one another in public, have a combined 20 step hygiene routine, are each other’s first choice if there’s a mission that require 2 people, AND NO ONE BELIEVES THEY’RE MARRIED! OR EVEN IN A RELATIONSHIP!

AVENTURINE EVEN SIGNS HIMSELF AS AVENTURINE RATIO ON INVITES OR LETTERS OR PAPERWORK (Kakavasha Ratio on their marriage certificate, I like to think in this AU they’ve worked through their past trauma together already), BUT EVERYONE THINKS IT’S A TYPO AND HE MEANT TO WRITE THEM SEPARATELY SINCE THEY’RE ALWAYS ASSIGNED ON MISSIONS TOGETHER.

The only people who know are the Stonehearts, and that’s only due to Aventurine’s contract/work as IPC, so they were the ones who officiated/were witnesses to the wedding.

Everytime they all go out to get a drink or something, I need Topaz in the back looking insufferable as Ratiorine are in full lovey-dovey mode AND NO ONE NOTICES. I’d be the same girl, they could broadcast their honeymoon and STILL people would think it’s some weird powerplay hate thing, Topaz is later found crying to Jade about how she finally understands why Ratio calls everyone idiots, how are people so blind?! They’ve even started using the same motions and same phrases Jade, WHY CAN NO ONE ELSE SEE IT???

The only reason the Penacony plan goes off without a hitch is that everyone has the biggest preconceived notion that Aventurine and Raio despise each other WHEN IT’S JUST THEIR USUAL MARRIED BICKERING. NO ONE CAN EVEN FATHOM THE TWO OF THEM LIKING EACH OTHER, LET ALONE MARRIED???

(In this AU, Aventurine gives up his room because the Reverie made the same mistake of not understanding the signature and assigned him and Ratio to different rooms, and now there’s a nice clean way of getting rid of the extra room, making a connection with the Astral Express, AND rooming with his dear husband, what great luck!)

I want it to get to a point where they could fully make out in front of Sunday and the man would STILL believe that Ratio would betray Aventurine. Aventurine during the entire interrogation scene is just constantly in the state of “my husband is such a good actor, I’m so proud of him” *heart eyes and winks to Ratio when Sunday isn’t looking* and Ratio is just straight up looking worried for Aventurine and immediately rushes after him when it’s all over AND NO ONE BATS AN EYE

Ratio just mentally apologizing to Aventurine after every little fake fight they have and dying on the inside and doubling down on every bit of affection he can in between (and even during) the fights, and Aventurine is just having fun having his husband’s attention all to himself no matter the form. (plus the rush of knowing just how much they trust each other always makes him warm)

Aventurine is fully ok with this weird perception people have of him and his husband since it always helps with his schemes and gambles paying off, and while Ratio wants to bash everyone in the head for even daring to think he hates his husband, he keeps quiet because he trusts that Aventurine will always come back to him and make it all work.

But that’s not enough to stop him with showering Aventurine with adoration and love in public. If the public are too much of idiots to realize something as obvious as their love, Ratio won’t stop it from showing his dear husband just how much he means to him.

This is fully AU of course, we all know canon Ratiorine is the longest softest pining game in history. Funny enough, Topaz is still suffering in the back due to their relationship shenanigans. She better be getting some financial compensation for this, I just know Aventurine complains to her about his crush. Ratio is fully at his own place writing out thesis after thesis about the meaning of love and psychoanalyzing his own feelings. He forwards them to Topaz for review because I like to think she’s somehow become a weird bouncing board for his frustrations about her coworker. Topaz is crying.

#honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #hsr #ratio hsr #dr ratio #dr ratio honkai star rail #ratiorine #aventio #idk what else to put here #I just #we keep getting so much ratiorine food #I’m drowning in them #I can’t-

[mykoreanlove]

i need skz angst like rn??😭

hyunjin x female reader, and they maybe decide to go out to like a club or something, and some guy hits on the reader and hyunjin is like “you were flirting back!” and the reader is just very confused bc they tried to let the guy know as kindly as possible that they are taken, but hyunjin is still really mad and it results in them fighting

and then maybe hyunjin decides to go home but not like a shared apartment thing like he goes somewhere reader doesn’t know about

and then a day passes and he’s like “oh no i fucked up” and comes to readers apartment to apologize

happy ending? tysmmm🎀

I was like sure, let's writing something short and quick but somehow it turned into 6 pages lol. hope u enjoy it :)

The pros of being an insanely hot couple? A lot of sex and affection, a lot of people wanting to be like you and a lot of praise and admiration.

The cons of being an insanely hot couple? A lot of people trying to take your place, a lot of jealous envy and a lot of insecurity.

“Baby, you look incredible”, Hyunjin whispered into your ear as he hugged you from behind. You were standing in front of the mirror, admiring your look for the night. “I wanted to look good for you”, you shyly admitted as you leaned into him. “There is absolutely nothing you have to do to accomplish this, y/n. Nothing, you hear me?”

Ever since you met Hyunjin a couple of weeks ago your whole world turned around. You were used to dating a lot and having fun, but this was different. He was different. Both of you fell for the other rather quickly, a romance that revealed a hidden side within you.

“I want to kiss you so badly”, you whined.

“Why don’t you?”

Instantaneously, you pointed to your lips covered in deep ruby red.

“Ah”, he nodded understandingly. “Is it okay then if I do this?”, Hyunjin asked before kissing every inch of your collarbone, slightly sucking to mark his territory.

Hyunjin was a confident guy, knowing damn well that he was good looking and talented and still he felt conflicted at times. What if this was not enough? What if he was not enough for you? Since you were in your early dating stages, he never had vocalized his concerns, but his body did. His need to be near you, touch you and possess you was evident from the start.

“Jinnie, stop”, you giggled as you pushed him away.

Irritation grew on his face, not understanding why you were distancing yourself.

“I’m gonna be covered in marks that everyone is going to see”, you teased.

He felt his chest tighten. Did you not want others to see them? Did you want to be perceived as single? His own sparks of insecurity got ignited again, waiting to turn into a full-size fire.

The club was crowded with people of all kinds – dancers, jocks, hot models, a real feast for the eye. You were used to people turning their heads, especially when you were together with Hyunjin. It never bothered you that much since you knew how devoted he was to you.

“Can I tell you something?” You were laying on his chest, watching him breathe calmly. “Sure.” “I found your old DVDs in the basement, and I started watching them while you were at work. Binging them, really. And I saw something that really stuck with me”, he explained silently. “What was it?” “Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours”, he explained softly. You turned your head and gazed into his teary eyes. “We haven’t been together that long, I know. But this is exactly how I feel, y/n. I can’t imagine my life without you anymore. Cannot. Do not want to. Impossible.” You started tearing up as well, finally feeling at home with another soul. You placed a soft kiss on his plush lips and whispered: “I’ll be your Carry, baby.”

“Come dance with me”, you shouted as you pulled him to the dance floor. It was hot and sticky, but you didn’t mind, in fact you loved it like that. The music was energetic and vibrant, filling the whole room with energy and life force. You only had eyes for Hyunjin, watching his body move gracefully to the music. When he danced, he became one with the tunes, one with the movements. He smirked as he caught you staring, knowing damn well that you were weak for his dancing. As the song changed into a slower, sexier one you found yourself in front of him, grinding on his muscular body. All the other people were forgotten as you swayed your hips on him, feeling him getting hard behind you. His hands on your body and his hot breath on your neck was all you needed to know.

Hyunjin however was more prone to your surroundings. He enjoyed having you like that, but he hated sharing you with others. He was too aware of the other pair of eyes that was set on you. Like a reflex, he pulled you closer, grabbed a bit harder and provoked your surrender, demonstrating whom you belonged to.

“Fuck, baby, if you keep this up, we have to go”, you moaned into his ear.

“Let’s do that”, his whole face lit up. “Let’s get out of here, y/nnie.”

“But we just came?”, you whined in annoyance.

Hyunjin’s eyes darkened as his gaze pierced through you. Just like that, goosebumps formed on your skin, electricity cursed through your body making you feel all hot. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“I’m going to the bathroom really quick to fix this situation right here”, he said as he nodded to his crotch, “and when I come back, we leave, you hear me?”

You swallowed and nodded, already anticipating the night ahead.

“Good girl.”

He placed a kiss on your forehead and turned around, quickly looking for the bathroom.

You walked over to the exit and leaned against the cold wall, waiting for your boyfriend, already picturing him doing unspeakable things to you. You were so engulfed in your naughty daydreams that you didn’t even notice the guy from the dancefloor approaching you.

“Hey!”

“Oh, hi”, you replied politely.

“I saw you dancing earlier, damn you got moves!”, he complimented you.

“Thanks”, you replied drily.

“So uhm, would you like to have a drink with me?”

“No”, you shook your head.

“Why not?”

“Well, if you saw me dancing earlier you must have seen my boyfriend behind me, right? That’s why.”

“Shit, sorry. I kinda hoped that he was just another guy hitting on you.”

“Far from that.”

“He’s that great, huh?”

“Y/N”, Hyunjin called out angrily while glaring at the other guy.

You were taken aback by his tone, feeling anxious so you followed him without saying a word.

Fumingly, he marched to the car, while you were trying to keep up. Hyunjin placed both of his hands on the cold metal of the vehicle as he was trying to calm himself.

“Jinnie”, you called out softly.

“Don’t fucking call me that, y/n.”

“What?”

He turned around and faced you, his pupils were dilated, and his nostrils flared – he was angry as fuck.

“Don’t fucking call me that when you were flirting with some dickhead behind my back!”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course, I am. That bastard was eye-fucking you while we were dancing, and I left you alone for 5 minutes and you were already cozying up to him?”

“Cozying up to him? Cozying up to him? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“What? I know what I saw!”

“Enlighten me, then. What did you see?”

“I saw you all smiley and giggly, you were practically shooting heart eyes emojis at him! Is that why you hated me giving you hickeys on your collarbone? So, everybody could see you were available?!”

You felt the punch to your stomach, making it harder to breathe. Every single word of his was laced in the most painful accusation, one that you had been familiar with way too often.

“Yeah, you’re right. I was flirting back and shooting heart eyes emojis at him. It was so much fun! And I was damn grateful that my body was free of your damn hickeys!”, you retorted angrily.

Hyunjin was about to explode, not being able to differentiate between your lies and his perceived reality.

Wordless, he turned around and got into the car. You looked at him one last time, hoping that he would come to his senses – but he didn’t. The loud sound of his engine disturbed the quiet of the night and not seconds later he was gone.

What should have been a fun night out for a young couple turned into a vicious disaster. One was crying hiding in the dirty toilet of a club, while the other was crying racing down the highway. Promises of forever love turned into accusations of unfaithfulness, painting your rosy world of adoration into black loneliness.

You had no idea how you made it back home, nor did you care. The following day was torture – you were ruminating over everything, trying to understand what had happened yesterday. Deep sadness filled your whole being. Hyunjin did not call, nor text. He vanished out of your life, just like he vanished into the night air yesterday. Was that it? Was it over?

“Damn, you look like shit. Why are your eyes so puffy?”

Hyunjin pulled the covers over his head, trying to dissolve into thin air.

“Hey, come on. Talk to me”, his friend encouraged him.

“I may have made the biggest mistake of my life yesterday.”

“Oh my god, did you cheat on y/n?”

“What? No. Of course not. I would never do that”, he explained.

“What did you do then?”

“I accused her of cheating on me.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t be. This was the last time I let my demons take over”, he mumbled as he left his room.

By evening, you felt better – at least good enough to go for a walk and clear your head. Minutes after you left Hyunjin appeared at your door – holding a giant bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands. He rang your door hundreds of times, knocked on it until his knuckles were swollen and called out for you until his throat was sore. But nothing.

Defeated, he slid down to the ground and thought of what to do.

“Y/N, I made a big mistake yesterday. I am so sorry. I should have never accused you of shit like that.”

He was wiping away his tears again, the thought of loosing you made his heart break every single time.

“You see I’m not perfect. Far from it. Yet somehow you seem to think that way. And I just… I just wait for the shoe to drop. For you to finally realize that I’m nothing special.”

“Jinnie”, you called out his name while stopping in front of your apartment. His eyes widened in surprise, immediately followed by relief. “You didn’t open up because you hated me but because you weren’t home…”

“Don’t flatter yourself, hate is on the top of the list right now”, you glared angrily.

He lowered his head in defeat.

“Are those for me?”, you nodded to the bouquet of flowers.

“Yes.”

You opened the door and passed by him. “Put them in a vase, then.”

Surprised, he got up on his feet and followed you inside.

“Can we talk?”

You sat across from him, giving him the cold shoulder.

“Talk.”

“Y/N, I am sorry. Please believe me, I am so sorry. I was seeing things, I let my insecurities win and I accused you of shit you didn’t do. Please, forgive me.”

“What did you think happened there?”

“I saw you guys talking and then I saw red. Like, you were smiling from ear to ear, practically shooting heart eyes emojis at him. I just, I just saw red.”

You sighed deeply, finally understanding where he was coming from.

“You’re right. I was shooting heart eyes emojis at him.”

“What?” Hyunjin’s heart was about to explode.

“But only because I was talking about you, Jinnie. He asked me out for a drink, and I explained to him that I already found the greatest guy on earth. I was gushing over you, like a freaking fan girl.”

“He’s that great, huh?” “Oh my god, yes. He is the greatest. No really, he is great at everything. Dancing, painting, loving? The best. He is also the kindest and loveliest guy I ever met. Always caring for the ones he loves. Never a dull moment with him. He makes me laugh so much. I swear I got abs because of him. And did you see how handsome he is? Fuck me, it’s like God created him himself and brought him to earth, so we could adore him. Fucking masterpiece, that man.” “Okay, okay, I got it”, the guy gave up. “Must be one hell of a lover.” “One hell of a lover. One hell of a soul. My soul, actually.”

“I feel like the biggest idiot right now”, he admitted ashamed.

“Yeah, you should feel like that.”

“I’m sorry, y/nnie. Can you forgive me?”

Silence lingered between the two of you, only for a moment, until you got up and walked over to him. You put your arms around his lean torso and hugged him tightly, willing to put this past you.

Hyunjin’s body finally relaxed, as he hugged you back. His lips landed on the crown of your head, simply resting there, and holding you close.

“Jinnie, wait. There is something else you need to know.”

He released you from his grip and looked at you anxiously.

“What is it?”

“When I was younger, I got bullied for hickeys. My first boyfriend always left them on my neck and the others harassed me for it, calling me slut and all sorts of names. So, it’s true, I don’t like them being visible.”

Hyunjin’s heart broke once more – for one because you had to endure this harassment, but also because he bullied you himself.

“I’m sorry, y/nnie. I won’t do that ever again.”

“Wait, no. I love your hickeys. I love your lips on me, I really do. But can we, maybe, agree to leave hickeys in places only we can see?”, you asked shily.

Hyunjin chuckled and pulled you in for a kiss, promising to do just that.

“I really meant what I said. I can’t imagine my life without you. I really can’t.”

You grabbed his hands and squeezed them, agreeing you felt the same way.          “I feel like we should talk about your insecurities, but I’m drained from last night.”

“Let’s relax for now, baby.”

“What do you want to do?”

Hyunjin’s lips turned upwards, forming the loveliest yet sneakiest smile.

“Okay, fine. I get the popcorn and you switch on the TV. Sex and the city marathon it is”, you rolled your eyes at him teasingly.

#mykoreanlove #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids x you #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin cute #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #hyunjin x you #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin romance #hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin skz #hyunjin drabbles #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin hard thoughts #hyunjin hard hours #hyunjin soft thoughts #hyunjin soft hours #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #skz soft thoughts #skz soft hours #skz x y/n #skz requests #hyunjin comfort

[mcflymemes]

DUNE (2021) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary. suggested by lalamoon

it's good you're up early.

why do we have to go through all this, when it's already been decided?

if you want it, make me give it to you.

you look tired. more dreams?

there is no call we do not answer.

you put on muscle!

i would like you to take me with you.

can i trust you with something?

so you dreamed about stuff we all know about.

i dreamt about you.

i saw you lying dead, fallen in battle.

dreams make good stories, but everything important happens while we're awake.

i wish we could bring them all with us.

you don't think we'll ever come back?

i understand your impatience.

great leaders are raised in the mud, not around tables.

don't throw my words back at me.

i told my father i didn't want this either.

a good man doesn't seek to lead. he's called to it, and he answers.

i found my own way to it. you might find yours.

we have to be ready for anything.

don't stand with your back to the door.

i guess i'm not in the mood today.

you fight when the necessity arises, no matter your mood.

i have you.

will it be that bad?

you don't really understand the grave nature of what's happening to us.

the last of our ships have left.

to break a virtuous man, give him a burden too heavy to bear. a lesser man would drop it, but a good man will carry it 'til it crushes him.

get dressed and come with me.

what's in the box?

i must not fear. fear is the mind killer.

an animal caught in a trap will gnaw off its own leg to escape.

i will face my fear.

tell me about these dreams.

do you dream things that happen just as your dreamed them?

i could have died.

how does it feel to walk on another world?

how are you, old friend?

they were pointing at us. what are they shouting?

let's get you out of the sun.

if you mean to harm me, i warn you. whatever you're hiding won't be enough.

treat them well. these are friends.

i have so much to tell you.

that is all i have to say to you.

wait 'til you see. it's beautiful out there.

you're out of your mind! we're not going out there!

i knew you couldn't stay the hell away.

legend is a pretty word for a lie.

i think you're afraid it might be true.

how can i make my way if my destiny was written before i was born?

you have to sleep.

why not just cut their throats?

don't you dare touch my mother!

it's not safe for you here.

you're not coming with us?

one move and you die.

i would not have let you hurt my friends.

you chose the hardest way up.

i will not have them.

this will be an honor for you to die holding it.

this world will kill you.

do you yield?

this is only the beginning.

#rp meme #mcflymemes #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #dune #dune sentence starters #dune prompts #dune meme #thank you lalamoon for the suggestion :)

[theslayers-world]

Yearning

- Bucky Barnes x reader

Smut and hint of fluff at the end.

In which John Walker is an a**hole (as usual) and reader ends up in Bucky’s room.

Warnings: Sexual themes (obviously)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Then why were you flirting back with her?” You ask

John sighs. He knew this question was coming, so he’s not surprised by it being asked.

“I might have…” he says back to you, his voice trailing off.

He tries to get out with just that, but your look of displeasure tells him that he needs to continue.

“Look, I’m not going to deny it. We were flirting a bit, I know. But like I said, it’s been years since we actually talked to each other like that, and it just felt a little good to flirt again.”

You look at John and feel your heart break. You pull away from him furiously wiping at my tears

“Hey, don’t…” John says gently, as he tries to keep you in his arms by wrapping them around you tightly.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I swear.” he says, his tone of voice desperate to reassure you and make you believe him.

You get up from the bed and walk out.

John watches you get up and leave, feeling absolutely powerless in this situation as he wants to follow you but knows that it would just end with him making things worse by trying.

He’s now sitting alone on the bed, feeling frustrated with himself because he should have been smarter than that, not allowing himself to flirt the way he did with Olivia, which is what has set you off in the first place.

After a moment, he decides to go after you, not willing to let you leave things like this.

Without knowing. You make it to bucky’s room. You’re sniffling now.

Bucky hears the sound of you sniffling as you walk down the hallway, and his ears naturally perk up because he’s used to hearing things like that.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed when the door to his room opens, and he sees you on the other side of the room.

“Y/N…” he starts, feeling his own mood shift as it changes instantly upon seeing you here.

You walk in and close the door. You practically run to him and hug him.

Bucky wraps you up in a tight hug as you come up to him, and when you close the door to his room, he immediately senses that something is going on that has made you very emotional.

“Hey…” he says gently when he feels you close in for the hug, pulling you in and wrapping his arms tightly around you, hoping to provide you with some comfort while he tries to figure out exactly what’s going on.

You cry into bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky rubs your back slowly and gently as you cry into his shoulder, letting you cry without saying a single word.

He isn’t the most emotive or emotional individual, but he knows that you’re in a bad place right now, and he hopes that simply being here and letting you cry on his shoulder is going to provide you some sort of comfort.

It’s all he can think of trying at the moment, and he’s willing to take it one step at a time until you’re ready to tell him anything more.

“John was talking to his ex…well more like flirting…he actually admitted it.” I finally say through my sobbing.

Bucky sighs as you say that, his eyes remaining fixed in place as he listens to you, processing your words and what this all means.

He rubs up and down your back while holding you in his arms, which naturally makes you feel a bit comfier.

“Wait, he was flirting with his ex?” he says back to you, wanting to make sure he understands you correctly.

You nod.

Bucky can’t help but frown as you say that. This isn’t good. This is actually pretty terrible.

“And you didn’t like that…” he asks, his tone now a bit softer as he starts to wrap his arms around you even more, trying to be compassionate and comforting.

“Obviously not.” You sniffle.

“Right, of course…” Bucky says, but he’s still holding you gently and rubbing your back slowly, hoping to continue to support you.

He hasn’t figured out exactly what he’s going to say yet, but he knows that he can’t just sit here and do nothing.

“…John said he was just flirting with her?” he asks, wanting to make sure his tone doesn’t sound too harsh or upset as he tries to talk about it with you.

You nod again.

“Did he say why?” Bucky asks, still rubbing your back slowly in a comforting way, hoping to help you calm down slightly.

“He used the excuse of not speaking with her in a long time. What a stupid excuse.” You say trying to wipe at your tears.

Bucky nods his head to agree with you.

“I mean, he shouldn’t be flirting with his ex in the first place, especially when he’s in a relationship with you. And the fact that he didn’t even have a good reason for it makes it even worse. It really is a stupid excuse.”

Bucky continues rubbing your back and you can’t help but gaze into his eyes. It feels very.. sensual you could say.

Bucky can’t help but notice your stare, and he starts to notice that the way you’re looking at him right now is almost flirtatious.

He feels your breath catch in your throat as you lock onto his eyes, and now he’s also unable to look away.

It’s almost as if his rubbing of your back has transformed from a comforting gesture into something else entirely…

You can’t help it. You lean in and kiss Bucky and it’s like an explosion. Years of yearning for each other has now come out.

Bucky is surprised by the sudden and unexpected kiss, but he also can’t help but respond to it.

He kisses you back passionately, his feelings of wanting you just as high as yours are.

He pulls you in tightly and holds you close to him as the explosion of emotion that has been brewing for so long comes together in a single passionate moment between the two of you.

Your hands begin to explore Bucky’s body.

Bucky doesn’t resist you as you begin to explore his body, and he allows you to take charge in this moment of pure passion that you share together.

Your touches are gentle but deliberate, and your fingers seem to know exactly where to explore and how to explore it in a way to leave Bucky feeling hot and flustered.

His breath starts to hitch and quicken as your hands run across his body, and you can tell that he’s quickly growing flustered because of you.

You moan into the kiss now, starting to feel more and more aroused.

Bucky kisses you back with an even more passion as your moan, and his tongue presses against yours.

The moan sends his mind into overload as it makes him even more aroused.

He starts to feel his body get more heated as he feels you explore his body, and now he’s even more eager to make sure you feel good.

He runs his hands up to your ass, pulling your body close to his as he tries to bring the two of you even closer.

You whimper at Bucky’s actions.

Bucky notices that whimper as he grips your hips firmly, and he starts to feel your body pressed to his as he becomes even more eager and more aroused.

The sensation of pulling your body closely to his has made him more desperate and needy, and his hands start to move down your hips and lower back as he starts to feel that heat building up between the two of you as well as his desire to make your moan and whimper again.

Your body moves on its own now and your body grows hotter. You rock your hips against him and you can feel his erection grow through his pants.

Your hips rocking against him are the final straw for Bucky.

He can feel you doing it and he also can feel how much pleasure you’re getting out of it, which is only making him more desperate.

His hands grip your hips a bit tighter as he starts to grind back against you, and you can tell that he wants you even more.

You move your panties to the side and Bucky unzips his pants and lowers them. He pulls his member out and finally slides into you.

You let out a long moan. Years of wanting Bucky makes it feel so much better.

That long moan is the final straw for Bucky. It sets off a chain reaction as he lets out an even more intense moan, making you moan even further in response and turning the two of you into a flurry of moans and grunts of passion.

You whimper. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” Bucky has his human hand on your stomach and his metal one on your hip.

“I know…” Bucky says back to you, his voice breathing heavily with the pleasure of the moment.

He continues to keep his metal hand on your hip as he wraps his human hand around you, his fingers lightly caressing across your body and your stomach.

“…I’ve been waiting a long time for this, too…” he adds, breathing heavily with excitement and pleasure as the two of you share this moment of passion together.

“Oh my god.” You moan out as you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Oh god,” is all Bucky can manage to muster at first as he continues to experience all the pleasure that is coming his way.

He rubs your hip softly as the two of you share this moment of pure, intoxicating pleasure that feels so right.

“Oh god, oh god…” he says softly, his breathing getting a lot lighter as he feels his body begin to get almost too hot to handle.

You bring bucky’s human hand to your throat making the experience even hotter. You remember all of the fantasies you had while you touched yourself.

The gesture you make with his hand sends him into overload, because it’s something that has been a part of his fantasies and his dreams.

His hand moves to your throat the way you request him to, which makes you moan even further in response, the two of you growing even hotter now than before.

Bucky starts to move his hips faster almost pounding into you and you release more whimpers.

That movement of his hips and the pace that he’s taking sets off an explosion inside you.

As you whimper and moan, he moves with you, going faster and faster in response to the sounds that you’re making and making it impossible for you not not whimper and moan with pleasure.

“Bucky.” You repeatedly moan his name. “Oh my god!” You squeal as you cum on his cock.

“Oh god…” Bucky says back to you. “Oh god…”

He cums as well, and his body feels like it got taken over as he felt it all explode.

He pulls your body up against his as he rests his hands on your back, pulling you in close and holding you for as long as he can, while the two of you simply enjoy the feeling of that passionate moment you just experienced together.

You can almost feel his cum deep inside you.

“I love you.” You finally admit as tears roll down my face. “I’ve always loved you.”

Bucky’s heart melts as you say that.

It’s something that he’s wanted to hear from you for so long. To know that you felt the same way that he did all of these years—it means the world to him.

“I love you too…” he responds, still trying to keep his breathing at a normal pace as he still holds you against him.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the avengers #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #Spotify

[obsessedwithceleste]

Mattheo Riddle Headcannons

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Being the son of the Dark Lord is no easy task. Obviously.

Growing up, Mattheo had very limited contact with other people, which stunts his social skills a lot, especially with his peers

Once he breaks out and has the ability to meet other people, he's 100% an extrovert because he feels like he has to make up for everything that he missed out on

Growing up alone though made him very independent and self sufficient

Lots of trust issues, lots of abandonment issues

But he's also very bad at picking up on social cues, and reading other people's emotions

He grew up being outwardly judged by everyone around him, which caused him to develop a sort of apathetic attitude as a buffer

This gives him a sense of freedom because if he doesn't care about other's opinions, he can do whatever he wants, they'll judge him either way, so why not do what makes him happy

Mattheo also has a deep internal rage

Like, level 11 out of 10 on the scale of anger issues

He bottles up all his emotions and frustration with the world, often lashing out and exploding at the smallest triggers

His frustration mostly stems from the fact that it's not fair that he's suffering for the actions of his father. Because at the end of the day, he's still innocent in all of it

This is also why he's particularly spiteful and disdainful of authoritarian figures

He simply doesn't owe them anything

At Hogwarts it's hard for him at first. It's pretty clear that he didn't have much of a childhood and that he was forced to grow up much too fast

And once again, he finds himself being judged by everyone, so nothing new

His biggest pet peeve is when someone complains about a minor "tragedy" from their childhood, because he's absolutely certain that he had it worse

Lowkey victim complex™️

He's able to eventually bond closely with Theodore Nott, sharing a lot of similar childhood trauma (we <3 trauma bonding) and surprisingly Lorenzo Berkshire who shares his fuck-all mentality

Many assume that he's a malicious bully, based solely on his last name, but he's really more of a chaos instigator

He rebels against authority and stands up for what he might find to be an injustice, but he'd never go after someone without cause

Hogwarts is one of the first places he's able to truly act his age

He joins the Slytherin quidditch team,

He's a beater (which is kind of therapeutic as it allows him to let out a lot of his anger)

Often skives off of class,

He's not book smart like Theo, but makes up for it with street smarts

And likes to pull Theo into the fray simply because he can

This is also how he gets his reputation for frequently sleeping around to put it nicely

Mattheo grew up with a distinct lack of affection from those around him which causes him to search out any hint of it that he can find

He doesn't really use girls per se, he just doesn't quite understand the concept of love

But when Mattheo falls, he falls hard

The first time he catches feelings, he's absolutely terrified that he's under the influence of a love potion

Very confused, very upset, and denies it to the ends of the Earth

But once he comes around, he's all in

He doesn't like to think of himself as jealous, just territorial.

Jealousy is when something isn't yours and you want it. But you belong to him, and he'll be damned if he doesn't defend his territory

He also isn't shy at all when it comes to PDA, simply because he wants everyone to know what's his

Definitely love bombs, but he doesn't know what that means

Won't bat an eye before hexing someone for looking at you too long (will act innocent and pretend it wasn't him)

Honestly probably would not be the best partner initially because he's so used to being independent

And would likely try to hide a lot of his anger and emotions from you because his biggest fear would be being judged by someone he loves

It would take a lot of time and effort to work through, but Mattheo would be willing to put in the work because he's determined to have the one thing his father never could

#slytherin boys #slytherin #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle headcanons #harry potter universe #my boy desperately needs therapy

[sharkfinn]

Looking again at the posts from your au masterpost and--

I think I got a theory for what's happened here?? Maybe??

So first vecause of the sentence you wrote here "is it okay to talk about it yet?", it's a sentence from the comic, specifically the page where spots tells draxum about something that happened in the past I guess, how the rat king got the other turtles and kidnapped them. (From my understanding I guess.)

Anyway because it's the same sentence I am linking them to one another. Well what happened in the comic I think is the turtles played in the sewers(I guess lou jitsu was there to check they're okay, maybe draxum asked him to? Idk) and then the rat king came, because he lives in the sewers and there are also a lot of rats so they told him the turtles were there and he came to kindap them or something because they are draxum's and are supposed to be warriors, so they wiuld be very valuable. Anyway he came and beat lou jitsu. Now for the post I wanted to talk about--

I think he somehow got control over raph(and maybe the other turtles too? You showed only raph so we can't really know) because like, his eyes are glowing purple and... That's not normal for him, and concidering the situation I guess that is a logical posibility. Anyway he got control on raph and made him take spot so he can cobtrol him too, but then spot didn't listen and well... He had to use force, to MAKE him listen. I guess there was a fight and spot managed to get away somehow, but the others got left behind woth the rat king. Now that spot is older, and he has trained, he wants to save his brothers from the rat king's control, and to have them back.

Also when spots finds them the first time when he spies on them, it looks like the rat king is "talking to raph", like whispering in his ear, controling him. Idk if that's spots' illusion or real but I guess it's worth mentioning.

But hey, that's just a theory, a probably very very not accurate one!!

heeheehee

i guess itll be helpful if i confirm what is known so far

the rat king killed lou jitsu, kidnapped the turtles and blew up draxum's lab

(notice spots mentioning "got into our heads")

2. the rat king takes the turtles to the sewer, pixel ends up hurt, and spike is heavily influenced by his magic.

3. spots at some point tried to run or retaliate, and the rat king ordered spikes to put him in order.

4. draxum was barely able to rescue spots, but none of his brothers. they are still with the rat king.

#little brother au #sharkfinnasks

[animentality]

not to be a boomer, but I do worry about the current generation of kids being raised with iPads.

first off. some of them literally can't hold a pencil because their parents never gave them physical toys to grip and play with, developing their fine motor skills.

you might ask why do we even need to learn how to write physically anymore- well, frankly, because if you're stranded on an island somewhere and you need to write HELP, you might not have the strength to hold a pencil, but you can at least hold a stick.

but on a more general note.

writing by hand helps you remember things better. it forces you to focus in a way that typing something word for word does not. a person can transcribe what a professor says without even thinking about it.

someone writing notes has to consider what to write and what to omit. it also activates more parts of your brain, forcing you to flex the parts of your brain related to learning and communicating, while also engaging the part of your brain dedicated to muscle control and precision.

but in general, I think the issue isn't even oh technology is bad and kids are getting dumber.

you can have PowerPoints AND take physical notes. that could help you learn even better than the olden days where you just had to remember everything that was thrown at you. or read very limited, out of date books.

the problem is that the generation that raised/is raising this generation of children just doesn't understand the true impact that all this technology will have on their kids. or they just don't care.

because our generation had the internet yes, but it wasn't widely accessible for most of us, sharing our computers with the entire family in the kitchen. it was also the internet in its infancy, where it wasn't quite so predatory, when it was lawless and disturbing, yes, but it wasn't weaponized by corporations trying to sell you things and steal your data, it wasn't flooded with bots and ai and all sorts of things that the human brain can't even distinguish as real or fake, especially when you're just a little kid.

that generation still played with physical toys. we celebrated when it snowed and we could stay home.

we also came from a gen that still, vaguely, cared about some form of community and had third spaces for kids to hang out.

90s children, who still had some memories of both playing outside on a playground and playing Mario Kart on the Nintendo 64 with their friends, who both went out to the mall and had a club penguin account.

we grew up with laptops and smart boards. maybe some of us had them in high school or college, but we still physically went to class and developed relationships. learned uncomfortable things about ourselves and others, the way humans do.

met new people and were exposed to new ideas, away from our parents. but not from some fucking influencer trying to sell us Sephora products.

we had to study for things, instead of just being able to Google shit for some bullshit online test.

which is also something that really concerns me. so many kids today can so easily Google answers for every test, and while tests don't ultimately matter in the real world, they still provide some basis for things that do matter.

like I'm just imagining medical students googling how to perform an appendectomy on the day of, and just using a YouTube tutorial to guide them through, and shuddering.

there are some things that the Internet can't teach you.

there always will be.

but I don't think my generation is really helping their kids find the balance that we were given naturally growing up.

the boomers and gen xers had fist fights and we had bullying someone online until they committed suicide.

and now kids use AI to spread fake nudes of girls.

but the laws haven't caught up with a lot of this stuff yet, and certainly won't while we have dinosaurs running our government. and culture takes even longer to change than laws.

I also worry because I know how badly covid affected kids worldwide. how they struggle to read and do math, because remote learning just isn't good for kids.

and I can't even blame them!! I literally teleworked for 4 years and even I can admit that I'm not nearly as good at focusing at home as I am in the office.

it's hard for kids with social anxiety and disabilities, yes I know, I know, trust me, I have social anxiety, and as a hybrid worker ATM, I highly doubt I'd be able to handle 5 days a week in the office.

but it's also not particularly good for kids to stay home ALL the time, entertaining themselves in their room and never being challenged, and never meeting people other than their parents.

the iPad is more of a symbol of that problem than the direct problem.

if your entire... world view is limited to what you can see on your iPad... I mean what a terrible world view you'll have.

you're a 10 year old using TikTok and all you ever see is the same opinion over and over until you can scarcely comprehend people who have an opposing opinion.

you see fake videos that seem so real. that must be real, and so comforting, aren't they, those videos that seem so real?

you let 30 year old influencers who are trying to grift people shape your world view.

and it's not even your fault.

your parents aren't doing anything to help you.

you're young and you're being barraged with entertainment and fake educational videos and how to guides that accidentally create mustard gas in your toilet.

your parents should be teaching you to find a balance between these things. they should be telling you what's real and caution you about the things you see.

they should limit your fucking time on the iPad actually. take you to a fucking park and let you roll in the mud or some shit.

and then when you're a teenager and a young adult, then you can start deciding for yourself what you believe.

but a lot of these weird millennial/gen z parents, man. just let your 1 year old scroll through vids on TikTok while you don't even talk to them or look at them once.

maybe it's because they don't see the harm in it, but I don't get it.

adults can watch TikTok all day and know, ahhh this is bad for me. I'm not doing anything I actually want to be doing.

adults can see other adults doing dumb shit and say ah you're sponsored. someone paid you money to say and do that. silly.

but kids are just kids.

they don't have discipline and frankly, that's not their responsibility. that is yours.

you should be teaching them that they can't have everything in life at their finger tips at all times, actually.

the iPad doesn't solve all of your problems, nor will it think critically for you.

so I worry about if humanity can really keep up with its own technology.

our species is still in its infancy, believe it or not.

so maybe these are just growing pains, and future generations will be able to look back on this era and know the proper balance.

but as someone living in 2024.

I wonder just how much pain is left before we really mature and either make it or break it.

[gauloiseblue]

And at every table / I'll save you a seat

(Gaz × Reader)

[+18 | Adult Content MDNI]

Tags: fluff, smut, family issue, friends to lovers, slow burn, [A bit of warning] tradition view on virginity and marriage, piv sex

Words: 9.8k

It all started with a little request

"Will you take my virginity?"

He's taken aback by the ask, but he quickly regains his composure.

"No." He replied.

You look at him for a while, before you mutter out, "I understand."

"Wait," He grabs your hand before you could turn around, "Let's talk about it."

He observes the hesitation rising from your face when you look away, "I don't think you'd understand."

"You haven't tried yet." He smiles gently, "Try me, (Name)."

"... It's a long story."

"I got time for it." He told you, "Tea?"

With that, he invites you into his place.

You're silent when he offers you a seat, and he lets you sit with your thoughts as he works on the drink. It's not your first visit to his apartment, since you've been here quite often. But you never came with a somber mood, and he didn't know what to say to cheer you up.

He hands you the cup, before he pours the tea from the pot. He hears you murmur something, and though he doesn't quite catch it, he can roughly guess it.

"So," He began as he sat down across the table, "Would you mind telling me why you suddenly wanna lose it?"

You had blown the steam away from the cup, before you took a sip. He watches you take your time with the drink, until you're ready to talk.

"I know that I said I'm keeping myself until marriage, but I don’t think it's possible now." You bit your lip, as you fidgeted with the handle of your cup, "Because I'm going to be wed to someone I didn't know."

He raises his brows at your statement, "That practice still exists today?"

"Yes, it still does." You begin to explain the outline of the story. "My family came from a community that still holds an orthodox belief. My parents aren't conservative, but they can't escape the tradition either. When they told me about the engagement, I begged them to call it off, yet they asked me to go with it. But I don't want that. I don't want to be trapped in a loveless marriage." Your eyes shift as you hold back tears, "I know that they love me, if they don't, I won't be here. Away from home."

You quickly wipe your cheek before you continue, "The man who'll be my husband is highly respected in the community, but he's at the same age as my mother. I don't know why he asked for my hand, we barely talked. But for the last few months, he began to send me gifts. It's customary for a suitor to give the girl presents as a way of courting. Anyway, I won't bore you with the details."

He waits for you to gather your thoughts, before you start again.

"To be a bride, it's common for a girl to go through a ceremony, to see if the girl is suitable for marriage. I have to fulfill all of certain criteria to be recognized as a proper fiancée." You snort when you mention it, "Ky, you're a smart person, you must've known what that means."

He crosses his arms when you subtly ask him to make the conclusion. "If you fail the virginity test, then you're ineligible to be a bride."

"There are other factors that can annul the engagement, but yes, purity is the most important aspect for the bride to have." You stated, "If I fail that test, then I can be free from the custom."

"Won't you be shamed for… not being pure?" He carefully asked.

"Yes, but It's better than the other option."

You went quiet after the confession, as if you've retreated back to your shell.

He gazes at you long and closely, while a sense of familiarity comes to rest on him. The way you carry yourself reminds him of the old you—who couldn't look him in the eyes when you both were strangers.

"Say," He begins, as he rubs his face, "If I were to help you, what then?"

"Nothing, we can pretend it never happened."

"You know it's not possible, right?" He frowned, "We can't go back like we used to, at least I can't see it that way."

"I know, but I don’t have a lot of choices." You replied with a sigh, "I can never sleep with a stranger, and I can't do it myself either." You told him, "I have to lose it somehow, but I don’t know how. And the reason I asked you this because you seem to have a lot of experience, so—"

You stop when he presses his hand against his lips. While it's impossible to tell if he blushes or not, you swear you see a red tint on his cheeks.

"You're not…?"

He scratches his neck, as he coyly replies, "My ma raised me well, (Name). Of course I'd save myself before marriage."

"Oh—" You cover your mouth in shock, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked you—"

"It's alright." He smiles, "How much time you have left until the ceremony?"

"About a month." You answered.

"I'll help you then." He said with such ease, that it made you stare at him wide-eyed, "But let me take you to a date first."

"What," You gulped, "What do you—Why? I thought… you said no…?"

"I hate seeing you like this, and I don't want you to resort to one night stand." He told you, "Besides, you didn't force me into this."

"But I did make you sympathize with me." You shook your head, "That's why you changed your mind."

"I said no because I knew you're saving yourself for marriage."

"But you said that you did too."

"That makes us even then." He tilts his head, "I'll take yours, and you'll take mine."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out of it. Not because you're at loss for words, rather, you have too many questions in your head.

"You can decide how many dates we'll go before you decide if you want to do it." He reaches out to squeeze your hand, "How's that sound?"

Although you're still unsure at that time, you can't help but nod at the offer.

The first time he takes you on a date, it's on Sunday, 07:20 PM, at an independent cinema. He phoned you earlier, telling you that they're going to play an old romantic film.

"I thought you like mystery?"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't pick that on the first date." He grins, "Besides, the movie has Binoche in it."

By the time you arrive at the cinema, you spot him talking to another man by the ticket booth. He turns his head when he hears your call, before the other man leans to the side to see you.

"You're early." You told him.

"I could say the same to you." He said with a smile, "The movie's starting in 10, c'mere."

He extends his hand towards you, and you take it with a little bit of apprehension.

The man whistles when he drapes his arm around your shoulders, "I see ya bringing a date tonight."

"Yeah," He turned to you, "Ain't she pretty?"

His friend chuckles when your face turns red, "Can't argue with that."

"Well, we'll talk later. I'm gonna show her around for a bit." He gives the man a pat on his arm, "You still have that shrine of yours?"

"'Course!" He warmly retorted, "Wouldn't close it for ya."

He mutters something back to him, and the man gives him a thumb up. When the two of you part with him, you ask him about the shrine.

"It's just a room full of merchs." He explains, "He's a movie fanatic, so when he liked a film, he'd find any of the collectibles."

"Like graphic t-shirts?"

"More than that." He grins, "You'll see."

At the end of the hall, there's a door smaller than the theater one. He opens it for you, and guides you inside.

The room is roughly the size of a humble apartment, but it's filled with many posters and other things you have to see up close to know what they are. Your eyes scan the movie posters that are mounted on the wall, before you turn to a doll. It's a porcelain doll, adorned with old-fashioned clothes. You lift the little paper beneath it and begin to read.

"It's from 'Interview With The Vampire'." You hear him say, "It's one of the collections that he's proud of."

"I've seen that movie years ago." You murmured, while tracing the edge of the paper with your finger, "I didn't understand what the story was about, until I read the book."

"You read the novel?"

You nod, "I still read it from time to time. Oh, would you look at that." He turns his gaze towards the spot you point at, "Didn't we watch that movie together?"

"Mulholland Drive?" He rubs his chin, "Didn't you say you hate it?"

"Well, I did. But it's been stuck in my head since then." You turn on your heel and skim through the titles of the posters, "I see a lot of foreign movies but not french." You commented, "Isn't he a movie fanatic?"

"He is. Just not a hypocritical one." He replied, "He told me that many of the French directors are lecherous, and they like to put their fantasies into their movies. Guess what caused them to earn a good rating?"

"I don't know, affinity bias?"

"Precisely." He grins, "He likes a few French films though, like Plein Soleil, Amélie, Playtime,"

"Léon?" You smirk.

"He'd berate you if you ever mentioned that name in front of him."

You laugh at his playful warning, "I think I like him."

"Too bad, he already has a wife." He circles his arm around you, "Why don't I introduce you to someone else?"

You roll your eyes at him, as you're so used to hearing those words.

"Yeah, his name is Kyle Garrick, and he's currently single."

"Come on, you loved it the first time you heard it."

"Well, I did laugh at it, but it's getting old." You jest as you poke in his ribs, "Try something else, and maybe I'll fall for it."

And he gives you a response that gets you burst into a laughing fit. You shove him away as you retort back, ignoring the quiet tension that begins to hang in the air.

When the two of you enter the theater, he places his hand on your back as he guides you to your seat. Though it's just a small gesture, it sends a warm feeling to your stomach.

He settles down beside you, and his arm brushes against yours. The seats are quite broad compared to the commercial cinema, but still, there's not much space left between you and him. You try not to think about it too much, as you rest your hand on the same armrest as his.

The opening of the film with the scenery of a small town, before it shows the greetings between churchgoers and the neatly dressed gentleman. It then cuts to a standing crowd, who begins their worship with singing. You frown when you listen to the narrator, as she portrays the minds of the villagers as singular. As the hymn comes to an end, the parishioners bend down to sit on the pews, before the pastor climbs up to give a sermon. The colors of the scene contrasts with the next bit, as it cuts to two figures in the middle of the snow. The figures are covered with red hoods that they hold tightly as they walk against the wind.

The movie soon changes right after the wind blows the church door open. It focuses on the two figures earlier—a mother, and a daughter, as they begin to settle down at their new house.

Scene after scene, the narratives begin to blur into one, and you let yourself be immersed into the flow of the film. Instinctively, your body leans forward as you watch the chocolate and the store begin to take form. Yet in doing so, you missed the look your friend gave.

When the first conflict happens, you can't help but show your dislike towards the man—the well-dressed man from the beginning. But it soon dissipates when the woman invites her guest inside.

They talk for a little while, and the way she—her guest behaves, the clumsiness that she shows—that makes her look like a cornered cat, it almost looks surreal, as if you're watching yourself from the future scope. You press your hand against your lips, as the crease between your eyes deepens.

Perhaps it's just the right moment, or perhaps your thoughts spill over into his, that he decides to push your head gently onto his shoulder.

You were taken aback by the gesture, but you welcomed it. You murmur something to him, as you wrap your hand around his arm.

"What?" He asked in a low tone.

"Nothing." You told him while hiding your smile.

Kyle Garrick. You wonder if kind has always been his middle name. If it's not kind, then it must be thoughtful. It must be nice, to receive such affection from a man like him. In the midst of thoughts cartage, you begin to ponder, if it's alright for you to keep them from someone who's more deserving.

At the end of the movie, you slip your hand from his arm, as you stand up from your seat. You still remember the way he understands, and doesn't push further. He keeps the rest of the night in a lighthearted mood, though his hand lingers on you a little longer, and his gaze doesn't stray further from you, even just a little bit.

That night, you lay down on your bed with your thoughts as your lullaby. It doesn't help you sleep, but it does keep you company for the night.

The next day, you ask him if he's free on Friday.

It's curious how fast he responded back, considering that he still got jobs to do, particularly reports. When you read the message, you bite your lips as you type a new one.

'Wanna have dinner together?'

A new chat pops up in a second.

'Sure'

And another one after.

'When?'

'Today' You reply, 'Takeouts?'

'Let me cook for ya'

And it's settled.

When you show up on his doorstep, he opens it up the first time you ring the bell.

"Hey," He greets you with a grin, and you notice a red stain on his shirt, "Come in."

"Smells good." You commented as you stepped in, "What are you cooking?"

"Bolognese." He replied, "I haven't decided on the pasta yet. What do you want? Pappardelle or spaghetti?"

"Fusilli?" You said, before a smile betrays your lie, "Anything's fine, really."

"Pick a color then. Yellow or blue?"

"Yellow."

"Pappardelle then."

You thought it's just a random decider, until you saw the color of the packaging.

"Guess you're used to people who say it's up to you." You remarked while you climbed on the bar stool.

"You can say that." He chuckles as he drops the pasta into the pot.

"Were they your dates?"

"Pshh, no. Just my little brothers and sister. You know the story."

"I know." You trailed off and looked away, "But you must've had those moments in your dates."

"Like what you did earlier?" He smirks and you groan at him.

"Come on, you know I'd never complain about your choice."

"I know, that's why I like you."

"You always say that."

The conversation ends with a quiet chuckle, as he goes back to watch over the boiling water. You sense a reply from him that should be laid bare, but he left it at surmise.

"Dinner's ready." He announced, as he lifted up the plates from the counter. You follow him to the dining table, and you pull a seat while he places the dishes on the table.

As the two of you dig in, you quietly bite on the broad pasta. You might not be aware of it, but you always chew on your food longer when you're preoccupied with your mind.

You hear his voice as you snap out of your thoughts, but not clear enough for you to grasp.

"What?"

"It's alright if you wanna back down." He repeated, as he swirled the pasta with his fork, "I agreed to help you because you asked me to, but I know it might make things awkward between us, so."

"Oh, that's not—it's not about that, it's just," You chewed on your lip, "It's just that, when I think about you, I can't help but think that… I'll end up stealing something from you." You shook your head, "You could wait for the right person, you're not obligated to help me—"

"Well, I want to."

"I know, that's why I feel bad because I knew you wouldn't hesitate to help." You frown, "You're too kind for me, Ky. Sometimes I'm scared that I might get the wrong idea."

You almost jump when he holds your hand, and witness the fortitude that reflects in his eyes. "Go ahead then, go on and get the wrong idea. Because it might be true after all."

The way he said it—with a clear, unmistakable voice, drags you into silence. You can't find the words to say, nor the right response for his statement. While you're not entirely sure about the truth, you can see the trace of it on his face.

Your throat begins to tighten, and you try to swallow down whatever's in the way.

You know that he's hopeful that you'd give him some kind of clarity, but you don't. You couldn't.

After the dinner, you don’t extend your visit as you excuse yourself from staying.

"Let me take you home."

You shake your head, "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

You shoot him a smile, "Yes, don't worry about me."

He seems hesitant for a moment, but it disappears the moment you pull him into a hug.

"I'll call you when I'm home."

He picks up the phone at the second ringtone, and asks you if you're home. You give an affirmative answer, before the line turns silent.

The words that had wrapped around your throat came back to the surface. They beg to be let out of your tongue, but you bite them down. Not now. Not yet.

The call ends not long after, as you both say goodnight. As you sit down on the vanity stool, you look at the reflection of you in the mirror. It's the shape that you've known so well, and yet, you don't recognize it at the same time. Has your face already been like this? Is this what he always sees whenever you're around?

Absent-mindedly, you reach up to touch your lips. What would you taste like, if he ever kissed you?

Unfortunately, you can only imagine for now.

Four days would pass, and you soon find yourself waiting for the bell. He had messaged you earlier, telling you that he'll pick you up at your place.

The destination of your date is still unknown, since you only asked him to take you to somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can talk without the presence of curious ears. Of course, the first thought that came to your mind is the privacy of your home, but he got another idea, and kept it as a surprise.

"Bring a jacket with you." He told you on the phone, "You might need it."

But you don't know how cold it'll be, so you stick with a cardigan.

When he gets to your place, he doesn't ring the bell. Instead, you hear your phone rings, before a honk of a car announces his arrival. You walk out of your place and lock the door behind.

"Where are we going?" Is the question you asked him after you got into his car.

"You'll find out." He replied with a grin.

He doesn't give you any clue, other than the paper bag on the back seat. He also told you that it's a one-hour drive, so it's alright if you want to rest your eyes.

"I'm fine." You said, as you turned on the radio.

The ride is predominantly filled with songs, and the occasional chat between you and him.

On the other day, you either wouldn't stop talking, or you'd sit in comfortable silence. But that morning, both options seem unreachable.

"I'm sorry." You uttered quietly.

"What?"

"Sorry that I dragged you into this." You muse, "And I'm sorry that I made such a big deal out of it. I made things worse, didn't I?"

"Why'd you say that?"

"Because things have already changed between us, even when we haven't done anything."

"You think so?"

"Yes," You divulged, "When you said those things, I couldn't help but think that maybe you really meant it. But then again, you never told me anything before. Anything that could… indicate something."

"Are you sure?" You frown at his reply, "Think again, (Name)."

"What—?"

The car comes to a halt, and you snap your head towards the window. The usual view of the city has been replaced with trees. You stare at the board near the entrance, and you notice the words 'National Park' on it.

"We're here." He stated while unbuckling the seat belt.

You soon follow him as you push the door open. The cold air rushes inside, and makes you shiver.

He offers you his hand when you step out of the car. "Let's take a walk."

The trail that he chooses isn't as rough as you thought, and you can easily keep up with his speed. Though you knew that he slowed it down for you.

As you walk by his side, you feel a tug on your hand. It was his hand, and he wrapped it around yours. He smiles when you turn to him, and mutters out the same line he used whenever you're out with him.

"Wouldn't want to lose you here."

And it just clicked. Every piece of the puzzle just falls into the right place, and you begin to see the whole picture. He never changed at all, it was you who's changing.

"You like me."

You feel his hold tightens, before he loosens it up a second after.

"Like is an understatement."

"I'm afraid to use the stronger word."

"I know." He spoke softly, "That's why I never said it."

At the end of the path, a quiet lake waits for the two of you, providing a place for a silent conversation. The water is calm, but the breeze is colder than before. You hug yourself, trying to savor the little warmth that your cardigan provides. It doesn't take seconds before you hear a rustle, and feel yourself wrapped in a parka.

"Told you to bring a jacket." He murmured, as he held the garment for you.

His coat is warm, as if it has absorbed the heat of his skin. Your hands slip into the sleeves, before you roll up the cuffs. You watch his face as he zips up the parka, before he returns your gaze.

Perhaps it's him who leans closer, or it's you who wraps your hands around him first, but in the end, your lips meet with his. The kiss you both share is soft, and filled with longing. It's impossible to tell who's feeling it belongs to, but it envelopes around you like a mist.

When the two of you part, you smile as you murmur against his lips.

"I like you."

He softly chuckles as he cups your face, "I'm glad."

You both recognize the nuance of it, but no one speaks of it louder than a heartbeat.

I like you. What an understatement.

—

"Why do you like me?"

He lifts his head from the magazine when he hears your question.

"I could tell you all of the reasons, but at the end of the day, I simply like you."

"Really?" You roll your eyes, "Is that your way of saying you don't know?"

He lets out a small laugh, while he closes the mag. "Fine, I'll tell you." He begins, "I can't remember when it was, but we're pretty close at that time. We were just talking that night, and you asked me if I chose to be the giver because I felt uncomfortable receiving. I never thought about it, but it made sense. When I said yes, you told me, if I don't learn to receive, then I'd end up hurting other people. Because I denied their affection."

You lift your brows at the recount, "Did I really say that?"

"Yes, but it's not your words that got me the most. It's the way you broke my logic, and helped me see things from a new perspective." He stated, "It felt… nice, to be understood by you." He rubs the nape of his neck, "Well, what about you? Why do you like me?"

"I'm not sure." You pucker your lips, "I think I've always liked you. Because you're thoughtful, and it's something that's easier to say than done."

"Just that?"

"What? You want more?"

"Yeah," He smirked, "Go on."

You look at him long and hard, before you decide, "No."

"Why?"

"I'd say something embarrassing."

"Like what?"

"... I'm not telling."

He jumps on the sofa as he seizes your body. You squeal when he digs his fingers on your waists, and you shout, "Cut it out!"

He chuckles when you try to slap his hand away and fail, "C'mon, tell me." He grins, while his hands don't stop tickling you.

"Stop—I'm not telling—!"

When he had you pinned down, you kicked around to get him off you. Which, unfortunately, ends up knocking the empty glass on the table. You both watch in horror as the glass falls off the surface, and into the floor.

But it doesn't shatter. Instead, it bounces twice, before it rolls in a half circle. When it stops moving, it takes about five seconds before the two of you burst into laughter.

"That's the second time you almost broke it."

"Sorry." You muttered through your giggle, "But whose fault was it?"

"Me." He grinned, before slowly bent down to kiss you.

Just like the other kisses you've shared, it goes on for more than a minute. He gently guides you as he cups your cheeks. Your arms find their way around his neck, and keep him close to you.

He leans his forehead against yours, as he catches his breath. You observed the way his chest rises and falls while you follow the same rhythm. Maybe you soften at the sight of him, or maybe a kiss'd really loosen up someone's tongue, that's why the words fall out of your mouth so easily.

"I like your kisses."

He raises his head as he turns his gaze on you. "Was that the thing you're embarrassed to admit?"

You give his shoulder a punch.

"Hey." He retorted with a chuckle, "'M just kidding."

He presses his lips on your cheek, before he lays down on your side. You shift your body to give him space, and settle your head on his arm, while the other one is wrapped around you.

"Comfy?"

You nod, "You're warm."

"Glad to be your heater."

You bury your face into his chest as you giggle.

"I just wish you're portable," You jest, "So I could use you whenever I'm cold."

"Who says I'm not portable?"

"Well, you can't be with me 24/7."

"Careful what you wish for." He smirked.

You raise your brow at him, "Is that a warning?"

"Maybe."

"Mmm," You rested your finger on your chin, "Didn't sound like one."

"Really?" He teases, "Then you won't mind if I keep you here for the night."

"I'm busy tomorrow, so no." You hold your chuckle when you see him pout, "But I'm free next weekend, you can keep me until Monday if you want."

A glint of mischief crosses his eyes, as he pulls you into a kiss.

"I can't wait."

But waiting doesn't feel longer than you expect, since you meet him for dinner almost everyday. If one of you couldn't make it, you both would be on the call that night.

Talking has been a part of your relationship, even when the two of you still carried the friends title. You could talk with him for hours, and bring up every topic into it. Doesn't matter how random or strange. But there was a line that you both couldn't cross, something that kept the two of you in circles. And you thought it'd stay that way, until you stepped into the other side.

It's a wonder how a familial issue could push your relationship to this point, since you wouldn't think twice about him for the sake of friendship. Now that you've crossed the line, you have nothing to hide from him.

While it might be a good thing, it also leads you to unknown territories. When you're with him, you can no longer ignore the tension that fills the room. Any time that he kissed you, or held you tight in his arms, you couldn't help but think if this would be it. This would be the right time for it. But you couldn't bring yourself to ask.

Maybe that's the reason why—after the 2:01:31 mark on the call, you bring up the obvious question to light.

"Y'know Ky," You start, "I don't have much experience with sex, and neither do you. So how exactly are we gonna do it?"

The line goes silent for a moment, before you hear him draw a breath in. "Are you afraid it'll hurt?"

"No—I mean, yes. But that's not my point." You sigh, "I just—I don't know, I feel like I need to learn about it before getting to the act."

There's a subtle hint of a rustle that you could only guess coming from the papers, "It'll definitely help if we do some research beforehand."

"But where do we start?" You asked, "Porn?"

"I wouldn't recommend that. It's… unrealistic."

"What then? 'A guide to sex' book? 'Sex for dummies'?"

You catch the sound of his chuckle from the speaker. "Only grandmas would read that."

"I would read that if it helps me prepare."

He hums, and your ear picks up the sound of clink, like a metal is placed against a wood. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How far have you gone with your partner in the past?"

You hum as you think back, "I think I stopped at heavy petting. I was in high school back then and I was curious. But it hurted, and I was bleeding after the session." You snort when you recall the moment, "Of course I freaked out, but when I secretly tested myself out, I found that I'm still a virgin. I could only guess that he tore something with his nail. That's why I bled."

"I see."

"What about you?" You asked, "How far have you gotten with it?"

"Same as you." He responded, "Fingering, oral, hand job, all the foreplay stuff."

You bite your lip as you hear his tone becomes heavier with each word, something that you notice whenever you dive into a risky topic.

"Should we give it a try?"

There's a pause from the other side of the call, before you receive a reply. "You sure you want it?"

"Yes." You breathe out, "We gotta start somewhere."

Your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, as you wait for him to answer.

"Alright." He mused, and you felt the warmth creeping up from your lower belly. "Is the plan still on?"

"What plan?"

"You staying over for the weekend?"

You smile against the phone as you reply, "Of course."

"I'll be waiting then."

Friday evening, you arrive at his door with a bag of clothes and other necessities. When the bell rings, it takes about three seconds before the door swings open.

He greets you in the usual manner, except this time he speaks in a softer tone.

"Hey." He smiles upon seeing you, "Come in."

He steps aside when you walk in, before he takes the bag from your hand. You mutter a small 'thank you', and wait for him in the living room while he puts your things aside.

"You want something to drink?" He offered, but you shook your head.

"I'm fine."

You watch him come near you, before he bends down to his knees. You raise your brows when he tugs your hand towards him, and presses a kiss onto your palm.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?" You asked.

"Your boundaries." He squeezed your hand gently, "What's your preferences, what you're not comfortable with,"

"Oh." You look down to your lap to hide your blush, "I don't have any preference yet, I think." You shrug, "I have to experience it to know what I like or dislike, but I think I'm fine with everything you do. Just… don't treat me rough, because I don't think I can handle it."

"Wouldn't dream of hurting you." He pecks on your cheek. "Come,"

You stand from your seat as he pulls you up, and your body follows him naturally as he drags you with him. As he closes the bedroom door behind, your heart leaps when he lifts you up with his arms to kiss you. Your legs wrap around his waist, while you keep your hands on his chest.

When he lays you down on the bed, you push his body away for a little as you mumble, "My, aren't you eager."

He observes your face before he chuckles, "You don't know how long I've waited for this."

You moan when he presses his kiss on your neck, and you feel his hand slip under your garment. Soon, the elastic band of your underwear is dragged down on your skin, and you instinctively close your thighs together.

"Let me taste you, (Name)."

He tugs your pants down until they reach your ankles, he takes his time to unhook them from your feet, before pushing your legs apart. You call his name as a protest, but any attempt to cover yourself from him is useless.

"Ky—" You stare at him wide-eyed as he lowers his head to your core, to the point that you can feel his breath against your labia. Your body tenses up when he gets the first taste of you, before he buries his tongue into your core.

"Tell me if I hurt you." He told you, and waited until you nodded to continue.

You gasp when he presses his tongue against your clit—not out of pleasure, but foreign feeling as the rough texture of his tongue latches on your nub. Your hand shoots up to grab his hair, while your legs clamp on his head. He grunts when you squirm away, and links his arms around your thighs to keep you still.

At first, you only feel a strange sensation every time his tongue swipes against your bundle of nerves, but soon it builds up into a familiar surge. Warmth begins to spread from your lower region, and you muffle a moan when he flicks his tongue on your sensitive clit.

"Ky—!" You hissed when it hit the right spot, "Keep going—"

Your hips bucks involuntarily as he sucks on the swelling bud, it sends an electricity through your body, before his lips detach from you. You whine at the loss of contact, but it doesn't take a second before his elastic muscle returns to its previous place.

The grip on his hair tightens as he picks up the pace, and soon the pleasure starts to coil inside your stomach. Your brows are knitted as you focus on his tongue, chasing after the high that's been hanging in front of you. It's not until you tilt your hips, that you finally reach it.

You cry out as your back arches, your eyes snap open as the wave of pleasure hits you. It was different, more satisfying than what you did on lonely nights. As you slowly come down, your body relaxes under his touch.

When he reaches up to kiss you, you chuckle as you taste yourself from his lips. "And you told me you're a virgin." You mused.

"I don't need to lose it to be good at oral."

You roll your eyes and hold him off by his chest, "Yeah right."

He seems taken aback when you push him to the side, before straddling him between your legs. Your hands work on his pants, as you loosen up the drawstring. "What are you doing?" He muttered out.

"Returning the favor." You replied with a smirk, while you tugged down his pants.

You've seen the outline of his member when he's still dressed, but now that you strip him off, you finally get the full view of it.

You sense his gaze on you as you stare at his cock. Your hand reaches out to touch the tip, and it twitches under your fingertips.

"Are you just gonna stare?"

"Patience." You shot him a teasing look, "I was just admiring."

He props himself up to watch you bend down, taking his length into your mouth. You look at him through your lashes, as you slowly drag your tongue along the shaft. Your fingers wrap around his base, and begin to give it a pump.

His breath becomes shallower with each stroke of your hand, while you wrap your lips around his cock. The tip feels hot on your tongue, as if it's filled with impatience. He groans as you sink your mouth deeper, "Keep going, baby."

You perk up at the nickname he used, but it needs to wait before you can bring it up to him, since your mouth is occupied at the moment.

He places a hand on your head, and runs his fingers through your hair before they settle on your crown. You grunt when he begins to rock his hips gently, while his hand gives you no room to pull back. He's careful enough not to push too deep, but he still overwhelms you.

"That's it—" He panted, brows knitted together as he focused on you. "Fuck—"

His heavy breath, his gentle grip on your hair send warmth through your body. It's not the first time you've done this, but it's the only time you felt desired. He's eager, but he's careful at the same time. He doesn't rush things, he fixates on the moment instead. When you place your hand on his thigh, he slows down as he loosens up his grip on you.

"You alright?"

You nod before you pull away from him.

"I want to ride you."

His brows are raised as you climb on top of him, slowly lowering yourself onto his lap. He takes a sharp breath when your core touches the base of his member, leaving a wet trail as you grind on him. You hear a quiet groan from his sighs, and it becomes heavier each time you pick up the pace.

You bite your lip as you feel your core throb at the sight beneath you. The way his head digs into the pillow, half-lidded eyes and panting, and the way his muscles tense as he chases after pleasure. His hands settle on your waists, keeping you from moving too far from the right spot. Your breath comes out as a huff when the friction starts to get to you. It almost feels real, as if he's really inside you.

"I'm close." He chokes out a moan, and you feel his fingers dig into your skin. "(Name)—"

Your lips curl into a grin when you hear the urgency in his voice. You lean down to kiss him, and he eagerly returns the favor. You grunt against his mouth, as you struggle to move with his arms wrapped tightly around you. But he doesn't seem to mind the erratic pace, since his hips move on its own.

His body shudders and he throws his head back as he groans, loud enough that you can feel his chest rumble through your palms. His member twitches against your core, spilling the white release onto both of your and his clothes. It takes a moment for him before he registers your lips on his neck, which he tilts his head and leans his cheek against yours.

"That was…"

"Good?" You grinned as you gave him a kiss.

"Great. Amazing. Ten out of ten." He chuckles, "Are you sure you're a virgin?"

You playfully pinch his cheek while you laugh, "Shut up."

He shoots you a coy smile, before he gently rolls you down with him on the bed.

"We should take a bath."

"Later." He muttered, wrapping one arm around you.

"Come on." You protested while tugging his hand off you, "We can cuddle after that."

"Fine," He lets you go, "Let's take a shower."

And he said it in a not-so-innocent voice.

The two of you end up prolonging the bath time, as he's taking you for a second round. If he's eager the first time, the second time must be worse. Since he's got the taste of it. You knew that he's exceptional, that he's a quick-learner, but you didn't expect it'd apply to sex as well.

The thing is, you never came with fingers alone. But when he cornered you in the shower, knuckles-deep in your core, he had you screaming as the sweet shock from the orgasm went through your body. He doesn't give you much of a break, as he bends you down until your ass touches his hip. You gasp in horror when you feel the tip of his dick against your drenched hole, he teasingly rubs himself on your labia, before it slips down to your clit.

He had your thighs pressed together, which made the friction even stiffer. You groan as he begins to thrust, hitting your throbbing bud everytime without mercy. He pins both of your wrists against the wall with one hand, while he keeps your body still with the other. It's almost unfair how strong he is to hold you down like this, and how cruel he is to tease you as he whispers dirty words into your ear. By the time you come, you have no energy left, even for standing.

He catches you right before your legs give up, holding you up while he sneaks a hand under the back of your thighs. You yelp when he props you up in his arms, carrying you out of the bathroom.

You land on the bed with a bounce, and receive no privilege to get up as he holds your legs together, before placing them against his shoulder. The color in your face is drained the moment his length rests on your thigh, fervent and heavy.

"I hope you're not tired yet," He grins, and you swear you see horns growing from his head the moment he says it, "Because I'm nowhere done with you."

—

Kyle Fucking Garrick.

You take back what you said about his middle name. It's not kind or thoughtful, it's fucking Prick.

It should've been obvious to you, after all the gossip you heard from your friends about him. Something that you thought as a baseless fact, a Lavater-physiognomy type of bullshit, but somehow they got it right. He's not as innocent as you defended him to be. He is freaky, and he's good at keeping it a secret.

After he exhausted you the night before, he decided that the best way to wake you up was with his mouth. Your clit was already swollen from yesterday's activity, and he abused it again in the morning. You stirred in your sleep, before your eyes snapped open at the sharp tug on your sensitive bud.

"G'mornin'." He greeted you the moment you woke up, still disoriented. "How's your sleep?"

You narrowed your eyes, as you tried to turn your vision focused. "Wha—" You slurred.

"Shh." He pushed you down to the bed, while his hand worked its way to your fold. "Let me take care of you, baby."

And thus you started your day with an orgasm.

Of course it's only the beginning, since it's him that you're talking about. He could make you faint in the bathroom if you didn't lock the door behind, and he could certainly numb your mind with his fingers if you didn't cut two apples for breakfast. But once you ran out of excuses, you're pretty much doomed.

While you knew he'd stop right away if you told him so, you couldn't bring yourself to say it. Because once he puts his hand on you, you just melt. The irritation that you carry in mind dissolves the moment he wraps you in his arms, and every curse you hold on your tongue comes out as a whimper, as his mouth latches onto your nape.

It's a game of self-will, and he plays it underhandedly. You both know what you want, but no one speaks of it, no one takes the initiative. You grit your teeth as frustration begins to take over you. It's pretty clear he wants you to say it, with the excuse that it's yours to decide. But he lures you with sweet words, and waves your much-needed release in front of you. Close enough for you to see, but far away from your reach.

And finally, after three neglected orgasms, you swallow your ego and beg. "Please Ky—" You cried out, "Please, just fuck me—"

His hand ceases to move, as he pulls it out of your sopping core. You whine at the loss of contact, before he muffles it with his kiss.

The trip to his bedroom is quite messy, with a lot of thrown clothes and sloppy kisses. When you find yourself on his bed again, you crawl up to give him some space. He follows after you, and presses his lips against yours with impatience. Faintly, you hear the sound of a wrapper being ripped, before he pulls away to roll down the rubber on his length.

He comes back to your side, locking his lips with yours again, while he slots his hips between your legs. Your hands find the purchase on his back as you cling to him, digging your fingers into his skin the moment you feel his tip against your hole.

A gasp escapes your lips when he pushes himself in, stretching your pussy open with his dick.

"Shit, you're too tight." He hissed, as your walls tightened around his glans.

Your face contorts in pain, as he tries to squeeze himself deeper.

"No good." He mused, pulling himself out of you. You whimper as your hole clenches around nothing. "On your side, baby."

He gently rolls you to the side, sliding his arm below your head as he lays behind you. He places a hand under your cheek, and guides your lips back to his. You wince when you feel the nudge against your core, before it slowly sinks deeper into you.

It doesn't hurt much, compared to what you endured earlier. But it still stings, and you smack your palm against his hip when he begins to thrust. "Ky—" You moaned against his lips, gripping onto his skin as you felt yourself stuffed to the brim.

"Just a little more, baby." He places a kiss on your shoulder, while his hands find their way to wrap around your body. "Just a little more."

No words could form in your tongue, as your mouth snaps open at the steady thrust of his cock. It was slow, torturous, and left you wondering if you've underestimated his size.

But it soon comes to a stop, as his lower stomach touches the curve of your bottom. Your heart is beating against your chest, and you try to catch your breath while he showers you with kisses. The push of his hips comes to a halt, and you take it as a chance to rest. You lean your head back to his shoulder, giving him access to your neck, which he soon decorates with love marks.

"You alright?" He murmured, tenderly stroked your arm.

You hum as an answer. "You can move now."

"You sure?"

"Yes." You breathe out, "Please."

You sense a hesitation in his touch, before he presses a kiss on your temple.

"Tell me if it hurts."

You nod, giving his forearm a squeeze as a reassurance.

He shifts your body closer to him, readjusting the position to make it more comfortable. You raise your head a bit while he moves, before he guides you back to his arm. A grunt escapes your lips the moment he drags his member out, before he thrusts it back in. Your core flutters around him, as the numbness slowly fades into pleasure.

Perhaps your body is still sensitive from all the teasing he did, but you can't deny that he's good. Every stroke of his cock just hits right, as it grazes you in the place where his fingers couldn't reach. You grip his arm when you feel his pace quickens, filling the room with the wet slaps of the skins. And when his tip nudges the tender part of you, your body reacts in a way you don't expect.

He seems to notice it, as he lifts his head up to see your face. "Does that feel good?" He whispered in your ear, and you yelped when he snapped his hips against yours.

"Oh God—" You scrabble at his body, trying to find something to grab on. "Do that again."

"Gladly."

A warning comes up to your throat, before it dies down as soon as he moves. You squirm against his strong grip, digging your nails into his thigh like a claw machine. When his cock grazes the right spot within you, you cry out a strangled moan. And the second time he does it, the suspicions you had in mind are all erased. He's no longer teasing you, because now he really intends to make you scream.

When he rolls on top of you, you feel your legs being spread apart with his knees. Stretching your pussy open for him to go deeper. With him on top of you, and your stomach flat on the bed, you have no room to crawl away.

His hand snakes around your shoulder, propping you up into a half-arched position. A whimper comes out of your mouth the moment he slams himself into you, while his lips are busy with your neck. Niping and sucking on your reddening skin. Your hand reaches up to the back of his head, gripping the curls of his hair as you moan.

"I'm close." You hissed, "Kyle—"

"I know, baby." He presses a kiss on your nape, "I know."

He raises your hips slightly, before slipping his hand between your thighs. Your body jerks when he touches your clit, rubbing it in a circle motion. The fact that it's already swollen doesn't help you either.

"Ky!" You claw his hand in panic, "I can't—I can't—"

"You can." He grunted against your ear, "Let it go, baby."

Your grip on his wrist tightens, as every muscle in your body tenses up. You could barely hold it when he fucked you slow, and now with his finger on your clit, you just break.

A loud cry fills the room as you come. Hard. Your eyes roll up, hands gripping tightly on the sheet until your fists turn pale. And for a moment, you forgot how to breathe, until you gasped for air. Which comes in the form of short and trembling puffs. The moment of bliss and numbness only descends for short seconds, before you realize he's still inside you.

The burning sensation in your core comes back to you, although weaker than before. You whimper against the sheet, as he prolongs the high you just reached. His fingers no longer slotted between your folds, as they move to grip your waist. In daze, you begin to wonder when it'll end. Until you feel a shudder from the body on top of you, and a strangled moan falls from his mouth.

He rests his head on you, catching a breath, before he slowly rolls down to the side. You watch him as he wearily pulls off the condom, and throws it aside.

The two of you lay down still, mustering the energy that's left after the laborious session. Although you doubt if it's the same case for him, since he has no trouble getting up to fetch the tissue box.

As he wipes himself off, you mutter out with a low voice, "You've ruined me for other men."

He turns his head to you, before a grin spreads on his face. "Already thought about leaving?"

You know from his tone that he's not serious, but neither of you can carry the usual banter. At least not now.

"You know what I mean." You mused.

His face softens, as he bends down to kiss you. "I know."

You smile against his lips, and carefully shift your body until you lay on your back. He climbs on top of you, planting each arm on your side as he latches his lips on yours. You reach up to cup his face, pulling him closer as you part your lips, giving his tongue the access to dive into your mouth deeper. The two of you relish in each other's taste, before you feel something on your thigh.

"You're hard." You let slip what you saw, and he flushed.

"Sorry." He rubbed his neck, "You just… turn me on."

You observe his face for a moment, noting how he avoids your eyes whenever he's shy. His expression, and his candid confession set something in you, as you feel the warmth in your lower belly.

"I think we can go one more time."

"Aren't you tired?"

"A little." You replied, "But it's nothing I can't handle."

His eyes search into yours for a second, before he gives in.

"Alright." He uttered, "Let me grab the condom."

—

Now that you've gotten the taste of it, you can understand why sex is often called forbidden apple. Because once you put your teeth to it, you can't go back to what you're used to. No more friendly cuddles, and no more innocent kisses that won't lead to something.

While it's easy to get swept up in the new pastime, you can't help but worry. As a lot of 'what if's fill your thoughts. You never doubt him, no. But you'll never know what the future's like. For you and him.

One day, when the two of you lounge on the couch—with your head on his chest, as it rises and falls in a slowing rhythm, you divulge a question that's been eating you up.

"What if it doesn't work?" You brood, "What if he still wants to marry me despite of everything?"

You watch the subtle change in his face as he meets your gaze. "Do you want me to come along?"

"No," You muse, "It'll make things worse."

He hums, "Have you talked to your parents?"

"... No." You looked away, as you chewed on your lip. "No, I haven't."

"I think you should." He gives your arm a squeeze, "Talk to them, maybe they'll help you."

"They didn't help me at all." You said bitterly.

"You wouldn't know that, (Name)." He let out a quiet sigh, "Parents don't usually tell what they've done for their children. And that could be the case with yours."

"They didn't stop the engagement."

"Maybe they couldn't." He replied, "Hey, look at me." He gently pulls you to face him, "I know it's hard for you, and I can't imagine how you feel about it. But your parents love you, you said it yourself." He reassured you, "Maybe they didn't stop it because they're powerless, but they knew that you'd find a way out. After all, they're the one who told you about the ceremony, right?"

While you're still frowning at him, you begin to soften up in his hold. "... Yeah, they did." You muttered.

"They knew that you're against it and you'd deliberately failed one of the tests, so they just told you what to do and what you shouldn't. It's their way to tell you which one to break, and which one you should keep in mind." He sighs, "And I hate to say it, but I'd do the same if it's the only choice I have."

Though his words have put you at ease, you can't help but sense a new doubt entering your mind. "Will they… will they be okay if I fail the test? Won't it give them a bad name?"

"I think it's the risk they're willing to take." He smiled softly, "Talk to them, (Name). You need it."

You follow his advice two days later.

You've been mulling over the talk for days, going through all of the possibilities over and over again in your mind. You've prepared for a whole speech, but it all disappears once you hear their voices. Just like that, all of your thought falls from your mouth, as they flow out like a stream.

There's a lot of talking, a lot of 'sorry's, and maybe a few of tears. But in the end, you feel better.

As the conversation slips into a mundane, but comfortable chat, you slip his name between your life update. Though you have your doubts about it, it's worth telling in spite of all.

"You should introduce him to us." Your mother chirped, "Bring him with you the next holiday, I want to meet the lucky fellow."

You chuckle as you tell her alright, but no promise.

Four days later, on the evening at the airport, you reach up to kiss him before you say the words. You almost laugh at how easy it was, to say such words with such ease. And he'd laugh with you, if he wasn't struck by it.

"I thought you're afraid to use that word."

"Not anymore." You said with a smile, "Not with you."

He seems confounded for a moment, before he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear.

"I hope you won't regret it, because I'll say that to you everyday from now on."

"Well, why don't you start now?"

You both chuckle, before he wraps his hands around you and pulls you into another kiss.

"I love you, (Name).

"Come home to me soon."

#it's finally DONEEEEE #alright. I'm officially done with long fics #it's not healthy for my sleep schedule #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #i'm too lazy to tag more #enjoy