how does rafe react if bunny started calling him ‘sir’ when they’re out mingling with his clients (she thinks she’s being super professional but doesn’t realize it’s riling him up😌💅🏻)
: ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :
it was meant to be professional, you were trying to sound business-y and like you knew what you were talking about as rafe pulled you around the room to socialise, pinned to his body in a little cocktail dress, practically eye candy, a fluffer for the conversations rafe was having.
you get the bright idea, and soon you’re softly responding “yes sir.”, “thank you sir.”, “thats a great idea, sir.” to anything rafe says. you think it’s working the way you want, too focused on the amused grins from the older gentlemen rafe was connecting with to notice the way your boyfriend shifts on his feet a little, unsure of how to react, chuckling it off with the other men.
it’s only when the group go to walk away, you feel rafes hand clasp your jaw. it’s a surprisingly soft touch from him, as he turns your face to look up at him, blinking down at you as he tries to figure out your game. the innocent look in your eye tells him you truly had no clue what you were doing, so he remains understanding.
“quit, okay baby?” he warns quietly and you furrow your eyebrows.
“quit?” you repeat, eyes searching his for an answer. he licks his lips, looking over your head to see if they were watching the exchange before shuffling closer to you, looking down at you.
“the ‘sir’ shit. it’s — it’s not needed okay? i understand what you’re goin’ for but stop. alright?” he raises his eyebrows expectedly and you pout.
“m’sorry rafe, i was trying to be profess—”
“professional — yeah, no i get it. but those guys,” he takes your shoulders, turning you to face the men he was just speaking to across the room, leaning down to talk in your ear. “those guys don’t get that… you know, and — and i don’t want them thinkin’ fucked up dirty things about my girl, right? because… they hear ‘sir’ and… they’re thinkin’ bout you on your knees alright — so… just knock it off for now. yeah?” he explains, as calmly as he can in his usual rafe-like manner.
“oh… right, okay. i’m sorry.” you turn back to him, searching his expression in hopes that he wasn’t mad at you when you were only trying to please him. he shakes his head, snaking his hand back around your waist.
“you’re fine, kid. soon as we’re done here i wanna hear you calling me sir again though. okay? can you do that for me?”
you grin, the prospect of getting freaky with rafe now on the horizon, motivating you to get through this otherwise boring event.
: ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :
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Sebek: *has approached Yuurin right after the class finished*
Sebek: Human! There is something I need to tell you!
Yuurin: What is it?
Sebek: *smirks* Show gratitude, human. Waka-sama has extended an invitation for you to visit Diasomnia. *hands her the invitation*
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: *opens it and reads the invite*
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: *pulls out her pen and starts writing on a piece of paper* *folds it together with the invitation then hands it back to him*
Sebek: ...
Sebek: What was that?
Yuurin: Please give my reply to your housewarden. *bows her head then leaves*
Sebek: H-Hey! Human! Are you going or not?!
Malleus: *chuckles*
Lilia: *chuckles too after seeing her reply*
Malleus: I completely understand.
Sebek: What is it, Waka-sama? Did he accept your invitation?
Malleus: No. However, he suggested to meet some other time.
Sebek: How dare he- HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO DECLINE SUCH OPPORTUNITY TO MEET YOU!
Lilia: I don't quite agree on that, Sebek. According to his reply, he was thankful to receive an invitation from Malleus, but his club activities wouldn't allow him to have such free time.
Malleus: Yes. I honestly think this is a nice gesture.
Sebek: I-In that case... Is there anything you want from me, My liege?
Malleus: There is. *smiles*
Sebek: *spying on Yuurin*
Yuurin: ...
Ace, Deuce, and Jack: ...
Ace: Do you think he needs something?
Deuce: He's been staring at you a lot, Yuurin.
Ace: Yeah. He's not even hiding it.
Jack: Should I confront him?
Yuurin: No, it's fine. He must have reasons.
Ace: Dude, he reminds me of Vil-senpai when he's trying to recruit you to Film Studies Club.
Deuce: You're so popular, Yuurin.
Ace: Well, it's not surprising because you're handsome. I mean, I have a crush on you.
Yuurin: ...
Jack: ...
Jack: You little-
Ace: Let me express my feelings, Jack! I don't get to do this often when Leona-senpai is around!
Sebek: I see. So he has quite a busy schedule.
Sebek: Not bad for a human.
Sebek: Human! Can I ask you to visit Diasomnia this weekend?
Yuurin: Why?
Sebek: You promised Waka-sama!
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: I didn't promise him anything specific. But I wouldn't mind, I guess.
Sebek: R-Really?
Yuurin: Yes. Can you stop following me around now?
Yuurin: The Savanaclaw members are not happy about it.
Sebek: Y-Yes. However, you should do as promised!
*At Diasomnia*
Sebek: WAKA-SAMA! THE HUMAN HAS PROMISED TO COME THIS WEEKEND!
Malleus: Oh? *chuckles* Great job, Sebek.
Lilia: Fufu~ Does that mean you two are friends now?
Sebek: Huh?
Malleus: Seeing that he agreed, he must have considered you as his friend now.
Sebek: I-I don't think that's the case, Waka-sama.
Sebek: Though if I were to be honest, he did earn my respect a little.
Lilia: Aww~ See, Sebek? Being friends with him isn't that bad.
*At Savanaclaw*
Leona: Why?
Yuurin: *has told him that she will visit Diasomnia on weekends*
Yuurin: I promised.
Leona: Can't you just break it?
Yuurin: I never break promises.
Leona: Tch. You're too nice.
Leona: ...
Leona: You can go if you can show me improvement on your voice.
Yuurin: ......
Yuurin: I'm not satisfied with the result.
Leona: Come on now. You need to practice switching voices. That's what your brother asked from you, didn't he?
Yuurin: *nods* '
Leona: Then let's hear it.
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: *clears throat* *breathes in*
Yuurin: Leona-senpai. *her voice sounds soft and whispery*
Leona: ...
Leona: *takes a deep breath in* It's not bad.
Yuurin: *backs to her masculine voice* Really?
Leona: *holding back his laughter* Yes.
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: You are lying, Leona-senpai.
Leona: No! Why would I lie? *with a laughter in his voice*
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Mrs Doctor Reid
Nobody knew Spencer had a wife. But they found out. Nobody knew she was pregnant, not until she walks into the BAU sporting a sizeable bump.
1.2K
Season 4 Reid
Nobody on the team knew that Spencer Reid had a wife. Spencer Reid, the youngest member of the team, the resident genuis. He had a wife. And nobody knew. (Well, JJ knew, but she wasn't about to spill his secrets).
Before he had joined the BAU, Spencer had been engaged. They'd gotten married after his first year with the team, but neither of them wore a ring on their finger. She wore it around her neck and he carried it with him, fingerings it in the privacy of his hotel room.
Spencer told JJ. He had to tell somebody, just in case something happened to him. JJ was more than happy to keep her a secret for him. And, once she met Will, she understood why he wanted to keep her secret, keep her to himself.
Morgan was the first to find out. The case was a pickup artist, an unsub that was patrolling clubs to pick up women and murder them.
Morgan and Reid had been in the clubs, handing out flyers to give to the potentially vulnerable women. When Spencer teased Morgan for getting a lack of phone numbers, he challenged him. So, Spencer used magic to impress the girl at the bar. "Well, if you see anything, call me," he'd said with his usual awkward smile.
The awkward smile his wife loved.
"And, if I don't see anything?" She asked, obviously flirting with him. "Can I still call you?"
Again, Spencer wore that smile. "Uh, my wife would prefer it if you only called if you saw anything."
When Spencer turned around, he saw the expression drop from Morgan's face. "Reid, you're married?" He asked, and Spencer nodded. "I'm so sorry, man. I didn't know."
"Nobody did," Spencer replied.
When the team found out, they felt incredibly guilty. They couldn't help but think back to Tobias Hankel and when Reid got kidnapped. She had no idea. His wife must have been sat in their apartment, alone and worried.
But JJ smoothed things out, assured them that Reid's wife was kept updated while Spencer was kidnapped. JJ told her what she needed to know and kept her calm.
But now they'd been married for four years. Spencer started wearing his ring after the team found out. He called her in front of the others while they were working on a case.
The team was so happy their resident genius was in love.
They knew about his wife, about the love of his life, but they didn't know about the baby.
Kids was always on the cards, but they had waited. Spencer's career was taking off when they got married and, with how often he was away, it didn't feel right.
But they weren't careful. It wasn't like Doctor Reid to not be careful like that. She was on birth control and there was always condoms in top drawer next to their bed.
But they slipped up just once. She'd forgotten to take her pill and hadn't noticed (Spencer was good with gently reminding her when he could. This hadn't been one of those times), and Spencer hadn't reached for a condom.
Neither of them quite realised they weren't being safe. Not until she realised there was an odd number of pills in the packet at the end of the day. She'd taken both pills, the number should have been even.
But she didn't panic. Didn't mention anything to Spencer. What was the chance she was actually pregnant? She kept things quiet until the morning sickness started. Until she took a test, and then another, and then another. When they all came back positive, she called Spencer.
She didn't normally call Spencer while he was on a case. He was busy, she waited for him to call her in the evenings, when he was in the hotel room and he wanted to hear about her day. Spencer couldn't help but assume that something was wrong.
Far from it. Everything was perfect. The minute Spencer got home he pulled her into his arms, his face in her hair. "I love you," he whispered again and again and again.
Spencer didn't tell the team. Didn't want them to worry while he was on cases.
She became, admittedly, a little clingy when she began showing. Not to the extreme of stopping him from going on cases, but, whenever he was home, she was attached to him.
And Spencer couldn't say no to his wife. She was craving pizza? He was getting pizza. She wanted him to read to her? He was bringing in a selection of books, sitting her on the sofa and rubbing her swollen feet with one hand while he read.
If she wanted to bring him something to eat, he'd text her when they were landing to do paperwork.
It didn't matter the time. Mrs Doctor Reid made two sandwiches and set off for her husbands place of work.
She had met the team a couple of times before. It wasn't many, but it was enough for her to be friendly with them. With a science museum tote bag over her shoulder, she stepped out of the elevator and walked into the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit.
Morgan spotted her first. "Hey, Mrs Reid," he called, gaining the attention of the rest of the BAU. But then Morgans eyes widened. "Holy shit," he couldn't stop himself from saying.
Emily let out a gasp as she walked over. "Congratulations, Mrs Boy Wonder," she said as she hugged her. Mrs Reid hugged her back.
Hotch shouted his Congratulations through his office doorway to the happy couple. As he did so, Morgan walked over and placed his hands on Spencers' shoulders. "My man," he said quietly and let go.
With a fond smile, Spencer pushed his hair back. He grabbed his chair and wheeled it over to her. "Hi Honey," he said softly, sitting her down on the chair.
Her bag was in her lap as Spencer wheeled her over to his desk. "I missed you," she said, pushing her own fingers through his hair.
Spencer softly smiled at her. "I missed you too," he whispered as she grabbed his hand. Public displays of affection weren't Spencers thing but, for his pregnant wife, he'd do anything.
She quickly let go of him and opened her bag. "I brought sandwiches," she said as she pulled one out and passed it to Spencer. He leaned against the desk as he unwrapped it, keeping hold of it as she unwrapped the second. Once they were open, they swapped. She took the sandwich from him and he took the sandwich from her.
As they ate, they spoke. She didn't ask about the case, she never did. No, she asked about the city and whether he'd been eating well.
Spencer assured her that he had been eating well. The conversation they had was the one they normally had in the evenings, when he was on a case.
He pressed his hand to her bump for a quick second as he finished his sandwich. "I've got paperwork to finish up," he said and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Wanna sit with me while I get it done?"
She nodded her head and Spencer grabbed another chair. As he worked she kept one hand to her bump, the other holding Spencers.
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⤷ when they're jealous – hq
✩ characters: various
✩ warnings: none
✩ a/n: sorry for being so inactive lately, i've been busy working on my ac island hehe
⭑ gets possessive
this guy is definitely the jealous type. as much as he tries not to, he always ends up letting his emotions get the best of him, and whenever he happens to catch someone else hitting on you he can't help but become all possessive over you. once he notices them getting a little too close for his liking he won't hesitate to approach the two of you, immediately interrupting the conversation by asking you who they are, and making sure to refer to you by a pet name as a not so subtle way of letting the other person know exactly who you belong to. gets super clingy with you afterwards, refusing to leave your side and making sure everyone around you knows that you're his.
⤷ kageyama, yaku, kuroo, yahaba, semi, futakuchi, atsumu
⭑ acts unbothered
pretends he doesn't care, but on the inside he's furious. he can't help but narrow his eyes at the other person, watching as you erupt into laughter at one of their jokes— even though it wasn't really that funny. once the interaction is over he'll try his best to keep up the act, finding himself becoming more reserved than usual as he attempts to hide the fact that someone else flirting with you made him far more irritated than he’d like to admit. it isn't until you call him out on his obvious jealousy that he gets all embarrassed, shocked that you noticed so easily because he genuinely believed that he was being subtle. he will probably try to deny it, but deep down he knows it's pointless as you somehow manage to always see right through him.
⤷ tsukishima, kenma, kunimi, sakusa, washio, suna, shirabu
⭑ ready to throw hands
will definitely try to fight anyone who dares to hit on you, to the point where he's basically your own personal guard dog. not only will he refuse to tolerate anyone flirting with you, he won't let them get away with looking at what's his either. as soon as he realises someone has been staring at you for a little too long, he'll be quick to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him, all while glaring daggers at the person who had the nerve to shamelessly check you out like that. he might get a little defensive about it afterwards, especially if you start teasing him, but whenever someone starts eyeing you up and down like that he just can't stop himself from getting protective of you, simply because he hates the thought of anyone making you uncomfortable.
⤷ kyotani, iwaizumi, tanaka, konoha, aran, nishinoya, matsukawa
⭑ feels insecure
it's not that he believes you would ever be unfaithful, because he trusts you completely— it's just that deep down he thinks you're too good for him and that you could do way better. when he sees someone else trying to flirt with you he can't help but feel a little nervous, insecure thoughts plaguing his mind as he begins worrying that he's not good enough for you. he probably won't say anything to you about it afterwards, but you don't miss the sad look in his eyes or the way he appears to be trapped in his own thoughts. you know by now that he needs a lot of reassurance due to his tendency to overthink, and so you always remind him that he's good enough at times like these when you know he needs to hear it the most.
⤷ akaashi, koganegawa, asahi, hanamaki, tendou, yamaguchi
⭑ super touchy with you
whenever he gets jealous he finds himself unable to keep his hands off you. he's definitely the type to wrap his arms around your waist when you're in the middle of a conversation with someone else, hugging you from behind and leaning his head on your shoulder. it always manages to catch you off guard, wondering why he's being so affectionate with you all of a sudden, but with the way he scowls at the other person and pulls you into him it doesn't take you long to figure out that he's jealous. he won't be able to keep his hands off you for the rest of the day, asking you for cuddles or wanting to hold your hand, and pouting when you start making fun of him for it.
⤷ bokuto, oikawa, sugawara, osamu, hinata, lev, daishou
⤷ please do not repost my works on any other sites!
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Doctor’s treatment
Part 2
Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!Reader
Summary: After so long Tara finally meets you again... only this time a little drunk.
Word count: 3k
It has now been a couple of weeks since visiting the hospital. People would think that Tara has already forgotten about what happened but the opposite is true. In those weeks there wasn´t a day she would not think about you. Her mind was repeating what happened and everytime a smile grew on her face. Mindy and Chad started to make fun of her, saying she looked like a kid first time having a crush. She doesn´t care.
Tara wanted to see you, so badly. She started thinking about how to get to see you again, like she would play another attack and go to the hospital, which to be honest was too cruel, or she would just go there and act like she had some examination and suddenly she saw you start to talk with you, then you would ask her to go on a date with her, you would start dating and-
God, she needs to stop. Young Carpenter sighed and put her head on the table. The voice of her professor was muted in her ears, today she felt like sleeping, just laying in her bed all day doing nothing. It was friday and she promised to go to some party. Mindy has been talking about it forever.
„Mindy I´m not in a mood right now.“ The girl turned her forehead against the table.
„I didn´t even say anything!“ Mindy scanned the shorter girl, looking for any signs of sickness. „You don´t feel good?“ she asked now with a normal tone. Tara shook her head.
„Well then we should probably call some doctor, who knows, maybe they will help you.“ Tara punched the girl beside her, making an angry noise from being teased on.
„Who does he think he is?!“ Tara was angry. They were currently at the party Mindy talked about. Everything was fine at first, everyone was minding their business, and they danced and drank, talked and joked around. It was so much fun.
But that fun soon disturbed that idiot Frankie. He was being himself of course and was trying to get with every girl there, including Tara. But the girl wasn´t in the mood for his stupid games. At first, she ignored him but as soon as he was touchy and started grabbing her to go upstairs, she became furious.
She yelled at him so hard the boy even flinched, wasn´t expecting this behavior from a sweet girl like Tara. Yeah, like she was some easy prey. He then became angry and embarrassed but knowing a lot of people were around him he couldn´t do anything.
„He is a prick Tara forget about him.“ Mindy was standing beside her watching as her friend was getting more alcohol into her cup. Tara wasn´t really drunk, yet at least. And after this incident, she just wanted to get alcohol into her system to forget about his ugly ass face.
„Like...“ the short girl let out and furious sigh out of her lips. „he is such a fucking idiot I´m surprised no girl has punched him yet.“ Tara shook her head at the bitter taste as the alcohol touched her tongue. Maybe she will be first.
„Oh! And on top of that-“
„Tara.“ Mindy said from her side but she only continued, she didn´t even notice the hand of her on her right shoulder.
„-he even-„
„Tara.“ Mindy said a little louder through the loud music that was playing in the house.
„Fuck Mindy what!“ Tara looked at her friend, raising her voice a little. She wasn´t angry at her, of course not and Mindy also knew that, but Tara had a short temper.
„Apollo at 9 o´clock.“
Tara turned pale. Her eyes widen and her body becomes stiff. She felt like she had forgotten how to breathe. What did she say? No, that can´t be. The only person they were calling Apollo was...
„Tara fucking turn around.“ Mindy said between her clenched teeth as she kept looking at the way she told her to look at.
Tara took a big breath trying to calm her beating heart and shot her eyes to the left. There was a group of friends chatting and laughing, they had beers and cups in their hands as they were standing by the side of the room so as not to disturb anybody.
She scanned the group and suddenly saw the familiar figure she had been so desperate to find these past weeks. You were standing there in your civil clothes and cup in your hand. Your bright smile could be seen from every spot of the room, smiling at your friends as you were talking about something, sipping on your drink.
„Tell me I´m not crazy.“ Tara´s eyes kept looking at you as if she was afraid you would disappear again. Her chest kept rising and falling at a fast speed.
„No Tara, you´re definitely not.“ Mindy may only see you from a photo but this was definitely you. You looked far better in a person than in a photo, she must tell.
The young Carpenter turned to Mindy with wide eyes and eyebrows raised. „Oh my God! Oh my God! What do I do?!“ she quickly looked at her clothes if they looked fine. „Do I look good? I don´t have anything between my teeth?“ she smiled widely showing her teeth Mindy to check.
„Stop Tara! Calm down.“ Mindy took her shoulders to make her look at her. „Okay okay stop right now. No, you don´t have anything between your teeth. You´re fine.“
Deep and slow breaths were the next thing she needed to do or she would have another attack and that would be pretty embarrassing. It was just you. Yeah, just the cute doctor who took care of her at the hospital. Yes, only you, as if you were someone special-
Of course, you were special! To her! She wanted to impress you so badly. The girl was always thinking about the ways she would meet you again, what would she say to you, what would she be wearing, and how she would impress you... She looked like a garbage at the moment.
Today Tara didn´t give a fuck about what would her clothes be or how she would style her hair. She just wanted to have a little fun from studying and enjoy the night with her friends.
She looked at your way one more time and your eyes met. You squint your eyes at the girl as if you were trying to remember something. She quickly turned her head to Mindy, a scared look swimming in her eyes.
„Mindy. She saw me.“
„And now she´s making her way here.“
„No, that can´t be real.“
„Oh yes, it is.“
„No no no no.“ Tara shook her head to left and right trying to put herself together. She wasn´t ready to face you. This is not how she imagined your second meeting.
„Hi.“ Mindy looked at you and greeted you back. She took Tara again by her shoulders and turned her to you.
„Hi.“ The short girl said as she was now looking at your pretty eyes. You were smiling at her like you were the first time you saw each other.
„I´m sorry I didn´t wanna disturb but... I think I know you.“ You now lowered your eyebrows a bit and kept scanning Tara´s face.
What? Do you know her? Oh my God, you remember! The girl´s heart started beating in her chest as she now realized that. You wouldn´t remember if she didn´t catch your attention, right? Right?!
„Uhm... I-“
„Oh! I know! You were in a hospital! I knew you were familiar.“ You smiled widely at her, you looked happy that you could remember after all a lot of people came through your hands every day.
Tara breathed out as she looked down. „Yeah,“ she laughed „you got me.“
„Oh, you okay now? You had any complications after?“ You kept asking her as you scanned her face and body, not in a disgusting way. But let´s be honest, Tara wouldn´t mind that either.
The shorter girl smiled softly, playing with her hands as she was softly swaying her body to the sides like a small child. „No no, everything has been fine since then.“ She smiled shyly at you. „Thanks again.“. You just shook your head like she had nothing to thank for. You were just too sweet.
Mindy offered you and your group to be with them and after the introduction, some went to drink more in the kitchen or went to the dance floor. The three of you along with some of your friends were sitting on a couch in a living room with drinks in your hands, talking and laughing at others' dancing skills.
You were so friendly and your friends too, Tara was looking at you the whole time, listening carefully every time you started speaking so none of the words could slip her. The Carpenter didn´t even notice how much alcohol she drank, guess it was because of the stress from your presence but as soon as she stood up, she could feel everything.
Oh no. Her mind was now spinning, „I´m going to the toilet.“ Mindy offered to go with her as she saw her friend's face. She was drunk.
„Oh my God, Mindy.“ These were the first words that left her mouth as she saw herself in a mirror. Her eyes were down and her face was all sweaty from the hot room and alcohol. Tara touched her cheek at the state and turned around to her friend. „I can´t go back looking like this.“ Her mind was spinning and she barely could control her legs. „I´m so fucked up.“
Mindy was behind her smirking, leaning against the bathroom door, clearly dunk as well. „Tomorrow morning will be fun.“ She laughed to herself, eyes closed from the sharp light of the bathroom.
„Hey! Are you even listening to me?“ Tara went to her but stumbled a little. Mindy laughed at her clumsy friend. She wasn´t as drunk as Tara, she could still walk normally. The only thing she was more giggling than usual.
„Come on, it´s fine. Or do you wanna leave Y/N?“ Mindy asked Tara. „Did you forget about how you were these couple of weeks?“.
Right. She can´t do that. She needs to get your number, at least that. They went to the group again but with each step they took the alcohol in their system could be felt more and more. Tara was now so drunk that she laughed at everything she saw. The girl sat beside you again but this time a little more closer than she was before, you turned to her and smiled at her. She giggled at you as she tilted her head a little.
You could see her cheeks were red and her eyes had fallen a little. Every time she was speaking her voice was really loud and her hands were everywhere around the place, even almost smacked you but you were quick to dodge it. Yep, she was drunk.
Tara´s mobile kept vibrating a couple of times but she only ignored that. It was Sam, she was worried about her because they agreed that Tara would inform her every now and then that everything was fine. The first time you caught the notification you wanted to warn Tara about it but then you saw it.
On her wallpaper was your photo from the hospital, the one with all of your colleagues. The photo was zoomed on your smiling figure, it was so cute you wanted to laugh but you couldn´t. You didn´t want to embarrass her so you played like you didn´t see that.
„So...“ Tara hiccuped as she leaned her hand on the back of the couch behind your head. You raised your eyebrows at her as you were trying to hide the smile from how drunk and cute at the same time she was. „How old are you?“ she kept looking into your eyes as if she was trying to seduce you but was cut by a hiccup again.
Laughing at her now you answered her question. „How old do I look?“
„I don´t know, you look really young to be a doctor. You are a doctor? Or you are a student? How old are you?“ Tara squints her eyes at you. You let out a laugh as you threw your head back at her words, closing your eyes in the process.
Tara was drunk smiling at you, showing her dimples. She didn´t know why you were laughing but it was because of her so she didn´t mind. In her head it meant victory. You wiped your unexisting tears and shook your head. „You are so drunk.“
„No, I´m not! Look I can drink more!“ she went to grab a cup that was on the table in front of the couch but you were quick to take it from her hand.
„Absolutely not, you had too much already.“ Tara wanted to argue with you about it but her thoughts were cut by your touch.
„You have really pretty hands. They are much bigger than mine, look!“ she compared your hands and yes, hers were really small.
„And your fingers are so long... I wonder how it would feel inside of-“
Mindy covered her friend's mouth from beside her. She kept listening to your conversation the whole time, making sure Tara wouldn´t say or do something she would be embarrassed about the next day. Something like this.
„Okay, I think we should head home.“ Mindy wanted to pull Tara on her legs but she didn´t want to stand up and leave you. She kept pouting as she sat a little more closer to you almost sitting at your tights.
„Come on, I will go with you.“ You stood up and gently took her hands to help her on her legs. She smiled like a kid and immediately did what you wanted her to do.
You and Mindy were taking Tara to her home. Sam was now calling Mindy asking about her sister. She had the right to be mad, she let her go to a party under the condition of her texting her if she was alright.
As you were close to the apartment door Mindy left you two so you could be alone. Tara won´t remember it but Mindy for sure will and she will make sure her friend will pay back for this.
„We are already here.“ Tara whined and turned around to look at you as you now stood in front of her door. „I don´t wanna leave you, I wanna be with you.“ The girl hugged your neck as she put her head on your chest to stare into your eyes.
You laughed at her. „Don´t worry, I´m sure we will see each other again.“
„Do you wanna come inside?“ she smirked and dragged her finger around your shoulder, tilting her head to the side softly. The young Carpenter had clearly enough for today.
„You know I can´t Tara.“ You breathe out with a kind smile on your lips.
„I love it when you call my name, it sounds so different, and also your smile and your eyes and-“
The door from her home suddenly opened and there stood Sam. The three of you kept looking at each other shocked written on your faces, waiting till someone made the first move.
„Uhm... hey I´m Y/N, I don´t know if you remember me.“ You smiled kindly at Tara´s sister. She kept studying you a little, then it hit her. Yeah, you were the one from the hospital. You helped Tara and that was all she needed to know.
„Yeah, I remember.“ She then looked at her sister, slowly shaking her head. Tara´s arms were still around you, not caring that her sister could see everything. „Come on Tara.“
The short girl let out a whine not wanting to let you go. She tightened her grip on you and was now looking at you to save her from her angry sister. „You need to let go of me.“ Your voice was so soft, it was only convincing her to stay but your words said otherwise and she needed to listen to you.
Slowly pulling away from and with a point on her lips, eyes big as if you were saying that you will never see her again. You didn´t even leave and she missed you already. The girl just wanted to stay with you.
„Will I see you again?“ Tara asked as she was almost at her apartment looking for your answer. You nodded your head at her, shooting her one of your smiles with a wink.
„Okay... Goodnight.“ She said with a low voice, putting her head down and leaving you in a hallway. Sam turned to you and gave you a tight-lipped smile.
„Thanks for bringing her here.“
„It´s fine, she´s amazing.“ You looked from the way she disappeared to Sam. „I guess I will head home also. Goodnight.“ You waved at her and started to walk away.
The next morning couldn´t be worse. Tara woke up with a terrible headache and the urge to throw up, Sam was giving her silent treatment, Mindy kept teasing her about yesterday and she had no way of contacting you. Like she would do that, the girl was so embarrassed that she just wanted to bury herself deep into the ground.
Afternoon Mindy and Chad came, and they kept making fun of Tara and her flirting skills. Suddenly her phone rang signaling a new message.
Y/N:) :Heyy, hope you feel better
What? How did you get her number? It was really you?
„Mindy? How did you get Y/N´s contact into my phone?“ Her friend looked at her with a confused face. „Did you give her my number?“ Mindy shook her head, still looking muddled.
„Maybe she did it herself.“ She shrugged her shoulders. „At least you have her number finally!“
Yeah, at least something but when did you make it? Oh yeah, she probably left her phone on the couch when she went to the bathroom. But if you got your phone number into her phone that must mean...
„Oh God... please no.“ She put her head into her hands, covering her red face from embarrassment.
You saw that fucking wallpaper.
Taglist: @jensortega813 @isawxxp 🤍
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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
"NIGHT TIME RELIGION"
EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"
→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader
→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni
→ wc: 2.3k+
→ a/n: just a simple, sweet glimpse into what our favorite idiots' nighttime routine is like. probably got a little too poetic with it, as always <3
enjoy the main story's masterlist here
“You fell asleep again.”
It’s not a question, just a mere observation. Eddie doesn’t even put any emphasis on the key word there, that it had happened again, as he glances up on you sprawled out on his couch.
“Nuh uh,” you childishly rebuke, ironically squeezing your eyes shut tighter as you let your cheek nuzzle deeper into the page of the textbook you’d been taking notes on, “I’m… I’m wide awake.”
Every word painfully slurs with your next, voice mostly muffled. If he hadn’t been so close to you from where he was sitting on the floor, he probably wouldn’t have been able to make out what you’d just murmured.
It only makes him laugh softly as he focuses back on whatever piece of equipment he’d brought into the apartment that belongs to his bike, “Sure you are, sweetheart.”
The coffee table is spread with hand towels and paper towels alike as Eddie fiddles with the hunk of metal. You hadn’t even prodded him about what it was he was fiddling with; you were too busy, knee deep in your studies as you’d made yourself comfortable in his living room.
It was a normal routine now – something cozy, something domestic. Instead of being holed up in your dorm these days, you found yourself occupying apartment 2C far more frequently than you’d ever admit to anyone else. Half the time, the two of you didn’t even have plans. It wasn’t about elaborate date nights or purposeful hangouts anymore; these days, the two of you simply enjoyed one another’s presence. It was enough to just know he was there with you, in the same room, as the two of you were occupied with your own individual tasks. Sometimes, he would be reading a book as you wrote your essays. Sometimes, he’d steal your laptop to shop for new bike parts and accessories online as you caught up on your favorite TV shows. There had been plenty of phone calls with Nancy in which Eddie had let you simply rest your head in his lap, hands mindlessly carding through the scalp of your hair as he tried to offer assistance to his best friend’s daily troubles and rambles.
It was nice, and it was normal, and it was something the rest of the world would have to pry from your cold, dead hands.
The apartment could have easily become something akin to a prison after the bet, but it hadn’t. Instead, somehow and someway, you and Eddie had turned it into a proper sanctuary.
You no longer spent lectures daydreaming about returning to your dorm; your mind much preferred longing to return to Eddie’s room, to picture falling face down in his bed, where the pillow on the right side had begun to smell of your shampoo rather than his cologne.
“It’s getting late,” he sighs when he hears you go silent again. He’s not annoyed by any means. If he had it his way, he’d probably curl up on the couch with you for the rest of the night, content to fall asleep to the view of your face smoothing out in peaceful rest. But he knows if he leaves you be, you’ll wake up with an aching back and an attitude that makes even Harrington cower. He puts down his project for the night, wiping his hands on a damp paper towel before he reaches blindly behind himself to give you a few taps on your rear, “C’mon, we need to get ready for bed.”
You swat his hand away, and it only makes him grin, “It’s not that late. Plus, I’m comfy.”
“It’s half past eleven, baby.”
And oh, do you shoot straight up at that.
Your eyes are finally wide open as you look at him wildly, face struck with confusion, “Excuse me?”
“I said, it’s half past ele-”
“When the Hell did it get so late?” you fumble with yourself as he slowly gets up, making a show out of stretching all his limbs. You don’t even grow distracted when his arms reach well over his head and tug up his shirt, exposing that sliver of stomach that would normally entice you, “I swear to God, it wasn’t even ten like…. Ten minutes ago.”
“Ten waking minutes ago, maybe,” he teases, holding a hand out for you, “Time flies when you’re napping instead of studying.”
It’s hard for him to not smile so softly down at you right now, even as he watches the defeat take hold. Your entire outfit is compiled of his clothes, yet another t-shirt you’d snagged from him along with a pair of sweatpants that he can’t even remember the last time he’d worn them. Your hair is messy, falling out of the convenient style you’d fashioned in it hours before when you’d declared you needed to focus. Your shoulders sag, the corners of your mouth inch downward, and all he really cares about right now is getting you in bed so he can wrap himself up around you.
Your eyes dart between his outstretched hand and your textbook, still open on a page that you’d embarrassingly drooled on, “I know we joked about celebrating when I aced my finals, but can we still get milkshakes when I absolutely flunk them?”
The way you manage to melt his heart is impeccable. He doesn’t even have it in him to be snarky, or to make another menacing jokes, “Of course we can.”
That seems to make your decision. You finally reach out and take his hand, clearly trying to be dramatic as you pull on him with the entirety of your weight, almost as though your end goal was for him to actually end up beside you on the couch rather than to be standing beside him.
If your goal is the former, you fail miserably. He doesn’t budge beneath your drag, only leaning forward to grab your other hand and properly haul you off the couch.
“Oof,” you huff out as you collide with his chest from the force, letting your face smash into him and making no move to pull back, “Can’t you just carry me to bed? Is that an option?”
He almost says yes. Almost.
“We won’t even make it down the hall,” he chuckles, taking slow steps back, guiding you right along with him, “I may or may not have also dozed off at some point. Jury’s still out on that one.”
“Is it?”
You’re hardly lifting your feet, shuffling your way along, letting him walk you deceiving to the bathroom rather than the bedroom. He has no idea if you’ll be capable of doing your full skincare routine, but at the very least, he has to get you to brush your teeth. If he didn’t, he’d never hear the end of it.
“It is indeed,” he finally stops walking backwards, deciding it might become more dangerous rather than just dragging you along, “Probably won’t get a ruling until morning, so we might as well brush our teeth now, doll.”
He’s trying to sweeten the deal. Coaxing you with adoring pet names to keep you in motion.
“Ugh, effort,” you crunch your nose as you say it, and it’s clearly more for show than anything now. You’re fully conscious, capable of getting yourself to the bathroom sink where both your toothbrushes now sit side-by-side in a glass cup, but you don’t let go of his hand just yet.
His palm is warm, and right now, all you really wanna do is curl up in that heat.
Eventually, though, you let go. The two of you stand in the mirror as you go through the motions of wetting your toothbrushes, applying the toothpaste – all the boring, mundane actions that are more habit than conscious choices. But interspersed in the habits you’ve gathered over your years of life are new ones, minimal but vital after the amount of time spent together. Proof of the way this nighttime routine had become something of a religion between the two of you, something to be offered and to be shared rather than simply going through the motions.
The way Eddie carefully rolls the end of the toothpaste tube before passing it to you, simply so it’s easier for you to get your share of it. The way you leave the water running after you’ve wet your own brush just so Eddie can also do so. All the sneaky glances caught in the mirror as the corners of your mouths foam up. Every ridiculous face, every nimble bump of your hip to his, the way he sticks out his very white tongue at you before he spits out into the basin – new things that have all become the normal, but still settle warmth in your chest.
Things that water a garden of vinery and blooms that no longer only belong within the confine of your bones, but his as well.
A shared garden of memories and comfort. Growing, flourishing, nurturing one another.
You lean down to spit right before him, and when you take a second too long, he tugs on a strand of your hair, trying to move you. And even as tired as you are, you find it within yourself to be a little shit as he so lovingly mumbles out around his toothbrush, lingering until he’s bumping you with his hip with purpose.
Passing the floss back and forth (or more like you shoving the floss into his hands before he can try to argue against it), using the same paper cup to sip mouthwash out of – something so bland that you used to do it alone, now something to enjoy with him.
You kind of love it. You kind of love him.
“Should I wash my face?” you question, leaning in closer to the mirror and poking at your cheeks, checking your skin for any blemishes you can find.
Eddie only moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and making the entire ordeal far more difficult as his chin rests on your shoulder, “Not if you don’t feel like it. Besides, it’s gonna make your nose cold, and then you’re gonna press it all over my damn neck and-”
You cut him off with a joking glare, reaching up to flick at his nose, but he’s quick to pull his face out of your reach. Smiling widely, showing off those fresh and minty pearly whites.
“If my cold nose bothers you that much, I could just stay on my side of the bed tonight,” you scowl, even though you were already taking his advice and calling it a night, twisting out of his hold to flick the lightswitch and exit the bathroom.
He’s still stronger as he keeps his arms in place, only twisting himself around to face the door frame right with you, whining in your ear, “No.”
He drags out the ‘o’, his voice slowly growing more quiet the longer he draws out the vowel. At some point, it’s less than Eddie has ended the protest, and more that he’s just run out of breath.
His arms only leave your waist for the two of you to get dressed in proper pajamas. Well, what you both consider proper pajamas.
You, left in only his shirt and underwear, and Eddie simply in his boxers.
There’s no more sarcastic comments or lazy banter, although you certainly expect it. You’re almost holding your breath for it, right up until Eddie’s lifting his comforter and eagerly motioning for you to climb into bed first. Not one smartass remark about ladies first that could easily backfire on him as you shoved him into the bed before you.
No, he waits until the two of you are lying on your sides, facing one another, not quite touching when his face breaks into a radiant smile.
“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him, overly suspicious of his random burst of happiness.
“You call it your side of the bed.”
At first, you don’t get it, “What?”
“You called it your side of the bed,” he repeats with the utmost emphasis, finally throwing his hand out in search of your own, pulling it up to eye-level so he can toy slowly with each of your knuckles.
“Is it not?” you’re whispering like two children at a sleepover, your feet finally drifting to toe at his calves. If they’re too cold for his liking, you don’t know. He doesn’t flinch or complain, only spreads his legs ever so slightly so there’s a space left for you to fill as you intertwine limbs.
“It is,” he confirms, nodding a little, finally slotting his fingers between your own, “Just nice to hear you say it out loud.”
And suddenly, you get it.
It’s your side of the bed. It’s your toothbrush resting beside his. Your textbooks and laptops are still on his couch, you have a sticky note with a reminder for yourself to buy more milk put up on the fridge, there’s now a space for your shoes at the front door right beside his daily boots – slowly but surely, you’ve whittled out spaces for yourself here, with him.
Even when you’re not here in this apartment with him, your presence remains. Someone could walk in, and they still see traces of you. You exist here, constantly, right along with Eddie.
“Yeah,” you whisper back, finally scooching closer. He immediately shifts so that you can cuddle into his side, your head resting against his chest and your ear pressed to listen to his thrumming heartbeat. A perfectly carved out space for you even here, between this sheets, against his skin, “It’s nice to say out loud.”
Not a routine, but a religion. Something to worship in the quiet hours between the sound of quiet snores and a noisy coffee maker you already have plans to replace as a Christmas gift to Eddie. An apartment turned altar, with offerings from both of you, to all that has and could become.
You whisper your final prayer, just as you do every night, even when you think Eddie might already be fast asleep, “G’night, Eddie. I love you.”
He’s not already asleep.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles
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we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide)
bucktommy
rating: G
words: 5.6k
summary: Tommy cuts their first date short, but to his surprise he gets a call from Evan just a few days later.
or, 7x05 from Tommy's POV.
[read on Ao3]
It’s honestly a surprise when just a few days later, late in the evening, Tommy’s phone rings, and Evan’s name pops up. His traitorous heart beats a little faster when he answers the call and leans against the kitchen counter, where he’s been finishing up making a late dinner.
“Evan?” he asks, confused but trying to play it casually. He’s good at that. He thinks years of pretending, trying to act straight, playing off gay jokes and even joining in to not make anyone suspicious made him way too good at acting cool and unbothered. He’s definitely surprised and excited, though. “Hey.” he smiles to himself.
“Uh, hey- hi, Tommy, hey.” Evan stutters, and Tommy can imagine that flustered smile.
“Hi.” Tommy greets him again, grinning now. “Gotta say, I didn’t really expect you to call.”
“I- I know, I just- I wanted to talk?” he says it more like a question, then huffs quietly, takes a breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee. With me. Tomorrow morning?” he says, sounding nervous but hopeful. And Tommy- Tommy has had a very hard time trying to say no to Evan, especially when he doesn’t actually want to. Besides, they can be friends, if whatever potential for romance didn’t work out. He’d be fine with that. He’s friends with Eddie, anyway, so he’ll surely have to be around Evan sometimes, and he doesn’t want it to be weird. “If you’re not- if you’re not busy?
“Yeah, okay.” Tommy responds, trying to ignore the excitement swirling in his stomach at just the thought of seeing Evan. “I can do morning. What time?”
“Uh, how’s nine? There’s this place I usually go to- I can text you the location? Or we can meet somewhere you like, that’s totally-”
“Evan.” Tommy interrupts softly, still smiling. Even over the phone, even still this nervous, Evan is just adorable. “I’m sure your pick is fine. Just text me, and I’ll be there. Tomorrow at nine.” he assures. He thinks if Evan wanted to meet right at this second, he’d be there in a heartbeat. Which is a surprising thought. He really didn’t want to get attached this fast, but there’s just something about Evan…
“Okay.” Evan breathes out. “So- so I’ll text you.” he repeats. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” Tommy says, before Evan stumbles through a goodbye and hangs up, and Tommy just chuckles to himself. He’s curious what Evan wants to talk to him about. But he also needs to be careful, because he can see himself falling for him so fast and deep and easy. He shakes his head at himself. He’s being silly and ridiculous. Evan makes him feel silly and ridiculous and giddy, and Tommy doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this.
[read on Ao3]
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never lose me • ljh
pairing: woozi x f!reader, established relationship
genre: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI!! slight angst, fluff, miscommunication
synopsis: it’s been awhile since you’ve gotten jihoon alone, and a sundress is all it takes for him to realize how much he misses and is obsessed with you
warnings: pwp, unprotected p in v, oral (f), riding, fingering, reader wears a dress, they say ‘i love you’ a lot, mild angst, fluff, buff woozi, long haired woozi
a/n: i love woozi. unedited of course
jihoon knows he’s in trouble the moment you step out into the living room in a baby pink sundress that clings to your chest and gives you a lift, your hair tossed up in a loose updo, donning gold jewelry, and a smile that makes him physically weak. his chest swells with love and desire, a deep sense of yearning overtaking his being.
he’s been distant lately, he knows. working late nearly every night and leaving early in the morning. sometimes, he doesn’t even make it home and ends up sleeping at the studio or at the dorms, despite having his own place with you. he’s been meaning to make it up to you—he bought you a few things, though he knows the key to your heart isn’t material things—though he hasn’t really found the time (or out in much effort) to do so, other than offering to take you to the farmers market today since you mentioned it awhile ago and he never went with you.
looking at you now, he’s overwhelmed with the information that he’s very much in love with you, and that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. “are you ready?” you ask him, a soft smile on your face. jihoon swallows and nods, standing up from the couch and wiping his palms on his jeans. he places a hand on the small of your back and places a gentle kiss on your jaw.
"you look pretty," he says softly, removing his hand from your back to hold onto yours. you blush and thank him, feeling an ego boost that he at least noticed. it’s been hard interacting with him since when you do see him, it’s short and brief. you understand that he’s busy, and understand he needs his time and space to work—you’ve never taken issue with that—but you do miss him, more than anything.
the drive to the farmers market is short, and you do most of the talking, catching him up on things you know he’s missed, whether it be things going on in your life, or in the pop culture word. he’s quiet, but he hangs onto every word you say even if it’s not about you and your life. it makes him realize just how gone he’s been, and he starts to feel guilty and like the worlds worst boyfriend.
“ji, you okay?” you question, tapping his leg. he looks down at your hand and grabs it with his right, squeezing it. he glances over at you and sees the concern on your face and begins to feel worse.
“yeah, yeah im fine,” he says unconvincingly. you know him better than that—probably better than he knows himself—and you know something is there under the surface, but you never push him unless you feel like he needs to be pushed. rather than forcing the truth out of him, you leave it alone.
soon enough, he’s pulling into the designated parking lot for the farmers market, and the two of you are getting out of his car and walking hand in hand through the street. it’s a bright day, and there are many people, families, and dogs milling about. “ji, we should get a dog,” you say when another toy poodle passes by the two of you. he chuckles and shakes his head lightly. “cmon, it would be like prep for when we have an actual kid.” you say casually, a twinkle in your eye.
the breath gets caught in jihoons throat and his cheeks flush. the two of you have talked about having kids before, but not recently. the fact that you’d still consider him to be the father of your children makes him feel warm and hopeful that he isn’t a total screw up of a partner.
“i’ll think about it,” jihoon says, swallowing. your grin at him and grab ahold of jihoons hand to drag him over to a booth. he lets you guide him, his brain still stuck on the comment about kids. he wants kids, especially with you, and now he can’t seem to think of anything else.
and he lets you guide him to whichever booth you want. you lead him to a booth that sells fresh produce, and he stays close by to you while you pick things out. he can’t help but watch you move and feel an ache deep inside of him, a strong sense of yearning for you despite the fact that he has you. “i’m gonna try to bake something this week, what do you want?” you ask jihoon, picking up a carton of strawberries.
turning, you have an expectant look on your face until you see your boyfriend looking extremely… sad. like a little puppy, his eyes wide and his mouth downturned into a small frown. “baby, what’s wrong?” you ask, placing a hand on his arm.
jihoon opens his mouth and closes it before trying again, taking a step closer to you. he slips an arm around your waist to rest on the small of your back, dropping his mouth close to your ear. “i love you,” he murmurs, mouth ghosting over your jaw in a soft kiss.
you smile and tilt your head to look up at him. “i love you too, baby,” you say, placing a kiss on his lips this time. you don’t really mind PDA—jihoon does, though he’s not complaining right now. he wonders if anybody else can hear how hard his heart is beating in his chest, and whether you can feel it, because it feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.
once you two pull away, you go back to picking our fruit and jihoon goes back to swooning and yearning over you. but he wanders around the booth and grabs some vegetables that he can meal prep with, and finds you when he’s done. you tell him what you’re going to make for the week—blueberry lemon loaf—and then the two of you bound up to the counter to pay. jihoon hands the person behind the counter his card with ease.
afterwards, you pull him to more booths and he follows you closely, letting you wander around but never keeping you out of his line of sight. he can’t keep his mind off of you right now, he's so overwhelmed by you, and he wishes he could get a handle on himself right now. he's so consumed with the fact that you still want to have kids with him, about the fact that your dress is much too tight in the chest and its turning him to mush.
jihoon glances around and finds a spots a florists tent only a few feet away. you're preoccupied with looking at handmade jewelry that he's able to quickly slip away without you noticing. jihoon's eyes quickly scan the bouquets, reaching for a large one full of white, pink, and yellow flowers. he holds them for a second before setting them back where he found them and walking up to the people who run the booth. "hi, do you guys have any bouquets with peonies?" he asks, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.
the woman smiles and stands up, already walking over to another display of flowers. "yes! we have bouquets made up of entirely bouquets–like this," she holds up a band of pink peonies to show jihoon. "or we have a few that contain peonies, but not nearly as many. depends on what you like." she finishes happily, a polite smile on her face. jihoon's eyes dart between both bouquets, a crease forming in between his eyebrows. "is it a special occasion? person?" the florist asks, trying to help jihoon out.
"they're for my girlfriend. she likes pink," he says, reaching for the bouquet of mixed flowers. theres pink peonies, white roses, and a third pink flower he can't identify. "i think i'll just get these." the florist nods and leads jihoon back to the counter to pay. he hands her his card and rocks eagerly back and forth on his heels, feeling a semblance of normalness for the first time today.
taking the flowers, a sense of pride swells in his chest at the mere thought of handing them to you, in seeing the expression on your face when he gives you the bouquet.
when jihoon gets closer to the booth he left you in, his eyes search for you, but he is unable to see you. his eyebrows furrow, but he keeps his panic at bay–you're a grown woman after all, and you definitely could not have gone far since he was hardly gone for more than five minutes. he'll find you.
like a dog with a squeaker toy, his ears perk up at the sound of laughter. but it's not just any laughter, its one that he'd probably be able to pick out even amongst a chorus of people laughing. its the sound of laughter that always makes him want to start laughing; its infectious, and sweet, and its yours. its laughter that comes from your chest, and he can just imagine what you look like: eyes squinty, teeth showing, cheeks round. his stomach churns with butterflies at the mere thought of it.
jihoon follows the sound, gaze landing upon you in a few seconds. but he stops short when he sees why you are laughing. a man stands close to you, a bit too close, marveling at the fact that he was able to elicit such a sound from you. now, jihoon isn't a regularly jealous guy, nor is he possessive. but he sees the way the man looks at you, watches his eyes drop down to your chest for a split second while you're busy talking about something and not quite paying him any attention. the butterflies that once inhabited his stomach vanish, and the churning stems from elsewhere. he swallows and runs a hand through his long, dark hair, and finishes making his way to you.
the man notices jihoon before you do, and he makes his presence known by slipping a hand onto the small of your back. with a start, you almost accuse the man of trying to pull a fast one on you until you turn and see jihoon, immediate relief and relaxation washing over you. "oh! baby, you scared me," you say, sliding closer to him. you notice the flowers in his hand and you break out into a smile. "for me?" you ask.
jihoon smiles sheepishly and nods, but he keeps his eyes trained on the stranger. you notice jihoons attention divert and follow his gaze, lips parting, ready to introduce to two of them but you stop short once you realize you don’t even know the man’s name and that he just started talking to you. “uh,” you start, a shy smile on your face.
“ill leave you two to it,” he says, throwing up an awkward thumbs up and slipping off to wherever he came from. you look at jihoon and get help the laugh that escapes you, dropping a hand onto his shoulder.
“that was so awkward!” you say, hugging the flowers to your chest. jihoon gives you a halfhearted chuckle, the corner of his lip dragging upward before immediately falling into a flat line. he’s not upset, especially not with you. there’s a bunch of emotions swarming through him today, and that man only added fuel to the fire. he feels like he’s on borrowed time with you and can’t get ahold of anything.
a frown takes over your face at your boyfriends mood, your frustration growing. “jihoon, what is wrong?” you ask, voice hushed because of the public setting. he glances around and takes a step closer to you, arm snaking around your waist.
“it’s nothing, i promise,” he says, voice low. jihoon places a consolidation kiss on your cheek, but you don’t believe him. it’s bullshit and both of you know that you know that, but you don’t say anything because you really do just want to enjoy this day with him.
the two of you wander around the farmers market for a few more hours, jihoon hardly leaving your side of letting you out of his sight for too long. he is hyper aware of who talks to you, where their eyes linger and for how long. it’s extremely out of character, this level of possession he’s displaying. it’s not him, but he’s extremely on edge.
you notice it, of course. his hand rarely leaves the small of your back unless you wrap yourself around his arm. he’s not nearly this close and clingy to you, but it doesn’t necessarily bother you—his possessive behavior, though, is where you’re stumped. you’re now 101% sure that he’s been bullshitting you all day. again, you don’t say anything and choose to just embrace him being all over you, especially since it’s been awhile that you’ve been able to get time with him.
after a few hours of walking in platform sandals, your feet start to ache. the two of you have gone to nearly every booth at the market, and have seen the crowd die down. “my feet are killing me,” you say, flexing your toes.
“are you ready to go home?” jihoon asks, rubbing small circles into your lower back.
“yeah, i think so. we basically saw everything, right?” you ask, the two of you already heading back in the direction of the parking lot. jihoon nods, slipping his hand from your back to intertwine your fingers together. you glance over at him and smile, grateful for the time you’ve had with him today despite his strange attitude. “i love you, you know?” you say, bumping your shoulder with his.
jihoon smiles, looking down at that ground. “i love you too,” he says softly, the tips of his ears reddening. the two of you make it back to the car and jihoon opens the trunk to put the tote bag of stuff in the back. you wait for him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a kiss when he closes the back. he holds onto your sides tightly, fingers lightly bunching up the loose fabric of your dress. you press your chest against his own, your nipples peaked and sensitive against the fabric of your dress mixed with the friction of his tshirt.
jihoon feels his mind go blank for a second, almost like he’s a virgin again when he feels your nipples through your dress. he hadnt realized how thin the material was, or what you weren’t wearing a bra, and now that changes everything about today, about the feeling of you in his hands, about the stares you received from strangers. it makes him more agitated and pathetically hard, though the latter makes him feel guilty for even thinking about you in that way when he’s barely spent real quality time with you.
pulling back, you place a soft hand on the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. jihoon relaxes against your touch, letting out a small breath that makes you smile. “i’ve missed you,” he murmurs, grip tightening on your hip.
you hum, placing your other hand against his chest. you flatten it over his right pec before gently dragging your nails over his clothed skin. “prove it,” you say, tone sultry. you flick your eyes up to meet his own and he swallows, his erection straining against his pants. if you notice it, you don’t make it known, just smile that angelic smile and slip away from him to get in the car. jihoon stands there, static flowing through his brain.
there isn’t a coherent thought in his mind other than getting you home as quickly as possible. he quickly hops in the driver seat and starts the car, flying out of the parking lot far too quickly. but he doesn’t really have time to stop and think, his dick agonizingly hard in his pants and you achingly beautiful right next to him.
“baby, it’s a red,” you say, looking over at jihoon with mild concern when he flies up to a red light, hardly feeling like he’s pressing on the brakes. jihoon leans back in his seat once the car is idle, and lets out a chuckle at his own ridiculousness. he won’t be able to fuck you like he wants if he dangerously speeds home, but he’s eager, buzzing in his seat.
“god, i love you,” he mumbles for the millionth time today, running a hand through his hair and pressing on the lightly on the gas when the light changes.
you smile and place a hand low on his leg. jihoon can’t help when he jerks at your touch, leg shifting open wider. it’s embarrassing, pathetic, and whorish, and his face burns in mortification. you bite back a giggle, not wanting to add to his embarrassment.
the short car ride home is tense. again, you talk and he listens—or tries to; unable to fully concentrate with your hand on his leg. you can tell that he’s really trying though, and you find it sweet since the tent in his pants hasn’t faltered once. you’d be lying if you said he hasn’t had you hot and bothered all day. he’s a man of simple fashion: black tshirt and jeans, but his bulging muscles will forever make you drool.
pulling up to the house is like beating the level in a video game before the final boss battle. except in this case, the boss level is getting you naked in the next few minutes. jihoon doesn’t even bother grabbing the stuff out of the trunk, just opens your door for you and ushers you up to the front door. he fumbles with the house key for a moment, lowly mumbling out a few curses before finally shoving it into the lock and opening the door.
jihoons on you in an instant, backing you into the closed front door and placing his lips on yours. you toss your purse onto the entry table and thread your fingers through his long hair. his hair has grown out a lot lately, results of him being so busy with work and forgetting about everything else. you like it, a lot, and rue the day he decides to chop it all off.
he pulls back from your mouth to kiss down your neck, groaning into your skin. jihoon holds onto your sides, hands kneading at the flesh. his mouth is hot against your skin, lips searing like he’s meaning you, branding you.. its a sensation you’ve been deprived of lately, one you’ve missed. jihoon kisses down your chest to the tops of your exposed breasts, resisting the extremely strong urge to rip you out of the fabric. “fuck,” he curses, moving back up to your mouth. he’s desperate for you he can hardly contain himself or get his thoughts straight.
jihoon pulls you from against the door and walks you backwards down the hall. you let him, hands gripping onto his biceps for support. you pull apart when he presses you back against a surface, and you find yourself in the kitchen pressed against the island. jihoons lips are red and swollen, his pupils blown and cheeks flushed. you lovingly run a hand through his hair, pushing the strands out of his face so you can really see him. he closes his eyes for a brief second and grips onto the counter, dropping his forehead against yours. "you're driving me crazy," he mumbles, breath warm against your face. "this dress. you." jihoon lifts his head to look at you, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
your heart hammers against your ribcage, like its ready to beat out of your chest and flop onto the kitchen floors. his gaze is intense and makes heat pool at the base of your abdomen, thighs pressing together. you reach behind you to unzip your garment, but he stops you, gently grabbing onto your forearm.
"leave it on."
jihoon is on his knees in an instant, flipping up the skirt of your gown and disappearing under the material. you want to see him, nearly ready to complain until you feel his mouth on your core. he breathes you in, brain clouding at your scent and wetness. your panties are damp and stick to your folds in a way that makes him spin. he wastes no more time and pulls down your underwear, yanking them off your ankles before stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans. his mouth is on you again, this time making you let out a soft sigh and bunch up your dress atop his shoulders. he grabs one of your calves and props it against his broad shoulders, spreading your open wider and giving him more room to work.
he's an expert with his tongue, and you let him know that by all of the sounds you make. you didn't realize how long its been until you notice how loud you're being, how quickly your legs begin to shake when he suckles on your clit. "fuck, jihoon!" you moan, knees growing weaker by the second. he keeps a firm grip on your thighs, supporting most of your weight. his tongue is everywhere you need him most, licking up your arousal like its the last thing he'll ever do.
jihoon groans against you, making you whimper above him and press your thighs together. his lips find themselves around your sensitive nub, and he lets go of the leg that is propped up against his shoulder to stick to fingers inside of you. you clench around him in a way that makes him feel like he could cum in his pants in the next few seconds. you're warm and tight.
"h-hoonie, i-i-" you cut yourself off with a pathetic whine, tears gathering in your eyes as he fucks his fingers in and out of you, his tongue swirling around your clit.
he's prepared for your release, but he's not prepared for the way your arousal squirts out onto his face. he freezes, watching your pussy flutter around his still fingers, your arousal flowing out of you like rain. "jihoon!" you yelp as you come, body burning and legs shaking. he attempts to retracts his fingers from inside you, but you clench around him and squeeze him back in.
its pathetic the way he whimpers and jerks his hips forward, a dark patch forming on his jeans. he manages to pull his fingers back, and stands up from the floor, hand moving to your hip to support you on your weak legs. the sight before him is one of his favorites: your chest heaving, eyes closed and mouth parted. its a state of bliss that he put you in, and he'll never get tired of it.
upon feeling him stand up, you attempt to sit up against the counter and open your eyes. when you see his shiny face, your eyes widen and your face burns with embarrassment. " oh my g-" he cuts you off with a kiss, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you moan and grip onto his shoulders tightly, body buzzing.
jihoon is the first to pull away, spinning you around by the hips and pressing you against the counter. he grabs the hem of his shirt and wipes his face before pulling it off and and tossing it on the floor. next are his pants, though he doesnt even bother stepping out of them and just lets them pool around his ankles. he's never been this eager and hungry for sex, its almost animalistic the way he feels inside.
grabbing your leg, jihoon props your knee up on the counter and checks that you're comfortable. "yes, just fuck me," you sigh, folding your arms under your head and resting your cheek against them. jihoon pushes up your dress and lines himself up, pushing the head in and letting out a string of curses at your grip on him. you never fully got used to the size of him, but now that’s it’s been a minute the stretch is much more intense than before. "baby." you whine, biting your bottom lip, cunt fluttering around him. jihoon grips onto the counter with one hand and your hip with the other, bottoming out and staying still for a moment to really feel you.
"i l-love you," he says, breathing labored. he leans down against you and presses a soft, loving, kiss to the back of your neck. "i love you so fucking much."
he pulls back and snaps his hips back into your ass, a loud gasp getting pushes from you lungs, followed by a cry of his name. he's relentless with his strokes, unable to control himself. you don't mind the harshness, especially after how long you've gone without having sex. "j-jihoon!" you cry, tears brimming in your eyes for the second time tonight.
"i m-missed you," he grunts, pushing up your dress so he can see your ass, eyes trained on where you two connect. "missed this pussy, fuck!" he groans, knuckles turning white from his grip on the counter. a white rim coats the base of his dick, both of your arousals mixing together to make it easier for him to glide into you.
“it’s yours,” you mewl, pressing your hips back into him and deepening the arch in your back. jihoon grunts in agreement, moving the hand that is on your hip up to your chest. he gropes your chest, tweaking your nipple through the material of your dress.
he pounds into your hard enough to knock the strap of your dress off your shoulder. you want it off, but he’s adamant that you leave it on. “you feel so good!” tears slip out of your eyes due to the pleasure you’re feeling. jihoon pulls the top of your dress down and lets your breasts spill free, the other strap sliding down your arm.
jihoons strokes begin to lose rhythm and his breathing becomes exceptionally labored. you know he’s close—you are too, unbelievably close—and you want to cum with him. reaching back, you call out his name and wiggle your fingers.. jihoon grabs onto your hand without a second thought, squeezing tightly as he continues to give you a few more powerful thrusts. “baby, i’m c-close,” you breathe, the knot tightening in your core.
“m-me too. wan’ c-come with y-you,” he grunts, thrusts becoming shallower by the second. you whimper and clench around him, crying out his name when you start to spasm around him, legs shaking.
jihoon grunts and holds your hip tightly to keep you in place, groaning out your name as he releases his load into you. he folds himself onto your back, unable to hold himself up any longer while he releases ropes of his cum into you. you appreciate the weight of him on you, keeps you from floating up and away from the present.
“fuck,” he breathes, pushing himself up and off of you and pulling out of you warmth with a whimper that makes you involuntarily clench around him. “baby.” jihoon pulls out of you and grabs at your waist, gently spinning you around and cradling you in his arms. you give him a blissed out smile, eyes low and tired, skin shiny from a thin layer of sweat.
“hi.”
“hey,” you smile at each other like two lovesick fools, and you push yourself up to his lips to give him a soft and sensual kiss. “i’m sorry.” he mumbles against your lips, hands grabbing the zipper of your dress and pulling it down, the cool air making goosebumps arise on your skin.
“you’re forgiven,” you say in a rush, letting the dress fall to the floor. you’ll get to the root of the apology later, but right now you still need him.
it’s desperate the way jihoon gets on the floor and pulls you down on top of him, guiding you over his dick. you plant your feet on either side of his hips and lower yourself onto his shaft, mouth dropping open at the sensation of being split open for the second time. “ah, jihoon, fuck!” you cry, planting a hand on his chest for stability. you won’t last long riding him—both of you know that—but you intend to make it count for as long as you can before your legs give out.
jihoon is in a trance watching you bounce on top of him, fully convinced that if he were to die right now this would be the way he’d love to go out: you on top of him in all your glory, fucking him—using him, like he’s your little toy. and he’s happy to be exactly that.
the squelching your cunt makes every time you drop down onto him pushes him closer to the edge. he can hardly keep his eyes open, but he wants to look at you, wants to watch you as you take everything he’s got, milk him for all he’s worth until there’s nothing left. “i-i missed this,” you moan, switching from bouncing up and down to rotating your hips, dropping down onto your knees. “missed you.”
“i’m all yours,” he breathes, whining when you lean back and hold onto his thighs, raising your hips and swirling on his lap. jihoon reaches forward and presses his thumb to your clit and rubs quick circles on the sensitive nub to get you to your release. “cmon, baby. i k-know you’re close.” he rasps, body flushed with heat.
with a few more rolls of your hips and jihoon rubbing on your clit, you’re coming for the third time. jihoon catches you when you collapse against his chest, wrapping his arms around you and sitting up, hard member still inside of you. he cradles you in his arms as he ruts his hips upwards, getting himself to his own release shortly after, your warm heat sucking him in completely.
for a few minutes, you two stay like that on the floor. he holds you against his chest, softly dragging his fingertips up and down your spine. he goes soft inside of you, but deep down he feels like he could go for a third round if he really puts himself to the test, but with the way you’re breathing he knows that you two are done for the night.
sitting in his arms, you clutch him like he’s going to slip from your grasp at any second. you try to push thoughts about your reality away, but the longer he holds onto you the more you realize this probably won’t last beyond tonight. you’re partly okay with it, because he comes home to you. but you miss him. “jihoon,” you murmur.
“hmm?”
“can we talk?”
“always. what’s up?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
you pull your chin from his shoulder to look at him, placing your hands on his cheeks. “jihoon, i know you were… bothered… earlier today. talk to me, please,” you say, eyebrows furrowing. he sighs and hugs you back into his chest, feeling like he’s unable to look at you without feeling like crying.
“i know ive been a bad boyfriend. and i felt like shit today because i haven’t spent time with you in what feels like forever, and i just miss you so much, you know? and i love you so much, i don’t want to lose you—ever. and im just so, so sorry,” he rambles, clutching you tightly. your heart breaks for him and yourself. you’d never leave him, not over his job especially. you know he loves you, he shows it even where there is distance. but you appreciate him saying it out loud.
you pull back against his right hold on you, but he relents. “jihoon, im never going to leave you, okay? we just need to talk—you need to tell me when you feel any kind of way, okay? i love you, and you’re not going to lose me. i’m in this for the long haul,” you say, giving him a smile that makes the corner of his lip go up. for good measure, you give him a quick peck and run your hands through his hair. “i do wish you were around more, but i get it. i’ll always be here.”
he drops his head bashfully and sucks in a breath. “okay. i’m sorry.”
“you’re forgiven,” you say, kissing him once more. “but we need to get off this floor, hoon. i’m getting old.” you say, untangling yourself from him. you rise and let out a sigh at the loss of contact. your legs wobble and you catch yourself against the counter, glaring at jihoon when he chuckles. “it’s not funny.”
“it’s cute,” he says, standing up and picking up your guys’ clothes. he holds your dress in his hands and gives it a long look before lightly shaking his head.
“i’ll wear it more if it gets me fucked like this again.”
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are we talking about broke therapists yet?
I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.
Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.
After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.
Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.
Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?
I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."
Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?
I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.
Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.
At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.
I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.
I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."
My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.
All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.
Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.
I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.
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It's the third day in a row that Wayne Munson has seen the girl in the diner.
Usually, he doesn't pay attention to new faces. He's been frequenting the diner for some years now and there's often ones he doesn't recognise: people passing through Hawkins, visiting family, etc.
The girl has caught his attention, though. She's sitting tucked into the far corner of the diner, a glass of water in front of her and nothing else. She's wearing the same t-shirt and flannel shirt she'd been wearing yesterday, and the day before, he's pretty sure. She didn't order any food yesterday; she hasn't ordered any food today.
Bev likes to joke he has a sense for kids who need help. Says there's an alarm in his head that makes him worry himself sick whenever there's a waif in need.
She's sitting next to him now, one eyebrow raised. He sighs. Waif in need alarm, indeed.
"What's the deal with the kid?" he murmurs, nodding subtly in the girl's direction.
Bev shrugs. "Beats me. That's Robert's girl, that's all I know."
He frowns. "Robert?"
"Nurse. Took good care of me when my knee went bad." She takes a swig of coffee, her eyes going sad. "Died, oh, maybe eight months back."
Wayne looks back at the girl. She's staring down at her half-empty glass of water. Tucked under the table there's a bulky-looking backpack.
"She got family?"
"Just her mother, far as I know. Met her a couple of times, too. 'Nother nurse. Seems nice enough."
"Hmph." Wayne turns back to his coffee. Ain't his business, he tells himself firmly. He should focus on his lunch.
When he gets up to pay, he glances once more in the girl's direction. He'll give it a couple of days, he decides. If she's still here then, still in the same clothes, he'll see if she's alright.
—
Wayne doesn't even last the day.
He's on his way home from work when he sees movement in a phonebox on the side of the road. The road's empty aside from him, and it's raining, and the sky's getting dark, so it immediately strikes him as odd. When he sees it's the teenage girl from earlier, he nearly crashes his truck with how hard he hits the brakes.
She's huddled down in the phonebox, clasping the backpack he'd noticed. She looks sodden. It had been raining heavier earlier; from the looks of it, she'd been caught in it. Her hair's plastered to her face and she's shivering.
He's winding down his window before his brain's even caught up to the movement. He's actually not sure how to go about it, very conscious of the fact that it's just the two of them out here and she's a teenage girl while he's an old man.
Feeling very much like he's approaching a wild animal, he clears his throat. "You okay, miss?"
The girl jumps, her head jerking up. She looks at him with wild eyes, wide and afraid. She reminds him of Eddie the day he showed up on his doorstep, timid and small.
"I'm f—fine." Her teeth chatter as she speaks. Where is this girl's mother? Where are her guardians?
"You need to call someone? I got a couple o'quarters, I think."
She shakes her head. Wayne frowns. Something ain't sitting right with him.
"You waiting on your ma?"
To his horror, her face crumples, and she buries her face in her arms. He's out of the truck like a shot, rushing over to find her shoulders heaving.
"Now, now—" He's panicking, admittedly. She can't be much younger than Eddie is.
"She—She—" the girl sobs. "She kicked me out and I—I don't have anywhere to go and it's so cold and wet and—and—"
A bout of rage washes over him. He pushes it down, tugging his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. It doesn't have a hood, but it's dry. Christ, she must be soaked to the bone.
"Listen," Wayne starts, hesitating almost immediately. It's an insane suggestion from a strange man; he doesn't want to scare her off, but he doesn't want her spending the night in this phonebox, either. "I got a kid about your age. My Eddie. You come to mine and we can get you sorted out, okay? Or—Or I can find you a motel room, or something."
Sniffling, the girl looks up at him, wrapping herself up in his jacket. "Is that... is that okay?"
His heart breaks. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course."
She stands, wobbly, still clutching her backpack. She's soaked through like he'd thought, and she shivers once she's in the front seat. He's quick to turn the heating up, starting the truck again, and for a moment he's furious: her immediate agreement, the lack of hesitation about getting into a vehicle with a strange man, makes him boil with hatred towards this girl's mother.
The journey's quiet and, thankfully, not too long. Wayne ushers her into the trailer, already preparing to make a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Eddie's out at Jeff's for band practice, so he says, but Wayne knows him well enough to know he'll come home stinking of weed.
The girl stands awkwardly in the living room, still shivering. It occurs to him, suddenly, that he doesn't even know her name.
Still. An issue for later. He focuses on the hot chocolate. Once it's ready, he hands it over to her, and doesn't miss how eagerly she accepts it.
Only then does he broach the subject. "What's your name, miss?"
She's quiet a moment, cradling the mug in her hands. "It's Robin. Uh, Robin, sir."
"None of that 'sir' business," he says gruffly. "Name's Wayne. Eddie'll be home later but you can have his bed if you need a place to stay for the night."
This might be the most he's spoken in years, trying desperately to come across as reassuring. It breaks his heart how trusting she's being, though.
"Thank you." Robin goes quiet, her fingers curling around the handle of the mug. "I, um, I can pay you back for the ride—"
He waves a hand, frowning. "None of that. I'd like to think if it were my Ed in your shoes, someone would be there for him like this."
She manages a small smile. She's still in her soaking clothes. He hustles over to Eddie's room, raiding the drawers for whatever looks most comfortable. Eddie won't complain, he knows.
Robin gratefully accepts the clothes. He goes back into Eddie's room to give her privacy, unsure exactly how long to wait. There's that stereotype that women take forever to change, right? It must hold some truth.
He gives it an hour, just to be safe. When he emerges, he finds that she's curled up on the couch, out like a light. His jacket's pulled up to her chin like a blanket.
Waif in need alarm. He sighs. Bev's right after all. He won't be surprised if this situation resolves with him having another kid in his care.
Well, Eddie always wanted a sister, anyway.
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"Revision" - Michael Gavey x Reader
a/n: not REALLY bimbo!reader but reader is bimbo coded, so imagine her however you want babes 🤭 little drabble written for an anon request hehe and a late bday present for my girl @fan-goddess 🩷
Summary: You do your best to distract Michael from revising.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, brat taming, thigh riding, fingering, cockwarming, dom!michael, sub!reader, bimbo coded reader
Word Count: 1,000 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Saltburn characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
You have more patience than most when it comes to Michael Gavey. People wonder how you’re able to put up with him, considering the two of you are practically polar opposites. But they don’t realize that is exactly what makes you work. You’re the yin to his yang, for lack of a better term. And you adore your nerdy boyfriend. The way he wears those shirts with the silly math puns on them, his glasses that fog up when he gets a bit too excited, his intelligence. Maths has never been your strong suit, and yet unlike with others, Michael never makes you feel like an idiot about it. He takes his time explaining concepts to you in a way that actually makes sense.
Of course, at first? He had every desire to make fun of you. You were the quintessential “popular” girl, the kind all the guys want to be with and all the girls want to be. But there was so much more to you. A genuine kindness, an inherent goodness that captured his heart. And when you told him you had a crush on him, an adorable little grin on your face - Michael was convinced that he had to be dreaming.
And now, here you are, two years later, hanging out at his flat. Michael is busy revising for his physics exam while you laze about on his bed, wearing nothing but his tee shirt, the early summer heat already making its way through Oxford. You glance over at Michael, watching as he scribbles away in his notebook, typing like a madman on his laptop. The copy of Vogue you’ve been leafing through has already begun to bore you, so you toss it aside and move to plop yourself in his lap, tugging his face so that it rests on your chest. Michael’s never been able to resist your tits, after all.
True to form, he nuzzles up against you, his face resting against your cleavage, one arm wrapping around your waist while his other hand continues typing away, “Hello, love. What’s got you all needy, hm?”
You pout slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you complain, “‘M so bored, Mikey. Aren’t you done yet? You’ve been at this for nearly three hours now! Everyone knows you’re going to get the highest marks in the class without even cracking open a book.”
He chuckles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and pressing a kiss to your chest, “You’re adorable. You know that? But I really do need to revise.”
“No, you don’t,” you whine pitifully, sick of your boyfriend’s neglect. You move to straddle his lap, completely blocking his view of his laptop, “You need to pay attention to me. Your girlfriend. Who is in your lap right now.”
He arches an eyebrow as you remove his glasses, placing them on yourself, “Well, my girlfriend looks pretty sexy in my glasses, I have to admit.” Michael snatches them back and puts them on once again, maneuvering you back to sit on his thigh, no longer blocking his view, “I swear, love. I’m almost done. Just… Entertain yourself for a few minutes longer, yeah?”
And that’s when a wicked little thought crosses your mind. Michael wants you to entertain yourself? Alright. You’ll fucking entertain yourself. He barely notices at first when you start to ride his thigh, grinding yourself against him. Michael is far too fucking absorbed in his bullshit physics equations to realize that you’re practically humping his knee, whining to yourself like a bitch in heat, wanting nothing more than for him to stop fucking studying and pay attention to you. It’s only when you move your hand to lift the fabric of the shirt you wear ever so slightly and begin circling your pearl with your fingertips, letting out an obnoxiously loud moan of his name.
That’s when Michael’s eyes go wide as he realizes what it is that you’re doing, “B-babe?”
“Fuck, Michael, I want you so bad, baby,” you whimper, playing up every sound for his benefit, “Want that fat cock inside me, baby. Need your hands on my arse, squeezing me, slapping me. Your hand on my throat. Fuck, Mikey…”
If he was half-hard before? He’s definitely hard now. Your ass rubs against his crotch in a way that has him feeling like he’s going to cum in his pants if you keep this up. His coursework finally forgotten, he moves to rest his hands on your hips, helping you ride his thigh, helping you move faster and faster as you chase your peak. He moves one hand to push yours away from your clit, deftly circling it, pressing down with his fingertips, smirking to himself as you cry out his name, soaking his jeans with the evidence of your arousal, your head lolling back against his shoulder as your climax overtakes you.
Your eyes begin to flutter shut, but Michael lightly slaps your face, smirking at you, “Oh, no you don’t. Selfish little thing. Got me all hard and now you want to take a nap? No, sweetheart. You’re going to be a good little girl for me and sit on my cock while I finish revising.”
Your jaw drops, mouth watering ever so slightly at the sight of his length, the tip a red angry color, already weeping pre cum as he lifts you up by the hips, filling your cunt, making you moan. You try to squirm, but Michael lands a harsh slap against your clit, his voice sharp as he reprimands you.
“I said you’re going to sit on my cock. You’re not going to move, you’re not going to come. You’re not going to do anything. You’re going to let me finish revising and then I’ll fuck you all you want, alright? So be a good girl and do as you’re told.”
You frown, sighing slightly, your walls squeezing around him despite his instructions, earning a tremulous exhale from him, “Yes, Daddy.”
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you wasn’t sure what to expect from your toxic ex boyfriend rafe when you finally caved and let him fuck you again. you told yourself it was a selfish act, that he was only getting what he wanted because you let him — but after sex was when you were the most vulnerable.
he’d been alluding to it for weeks, practically stalking you wherever you went to just stare you down and shove away any guy that spoke to you. you’re talking parties, the country club, even making an appearance at the restaurant bar alone when you were out to dinner with your family. rafe cameron had eyes everywhere, and those eyes were all set on making it impossible for you to move on.
you’d given in when he’d cornered you at the country club when you were a glass of wine down, surely knowing it was the best time to convince you. wine made you horny, too easy, and whilst you could deny all you wanted — the thing you needed the most was for your psycho ex boyfriend to have you on your back, cumming around his cock.
so you’d let him drive you back to tannyhill, let him lean over at the red stop light to put his tongue in your mouth, ringed fingers cupping and fondling your soaked cunt beneath your sundress until the light went green and cars were honking. let him walk you to his front door with a hand on your ass and his mouth at your ear telling you that you knew where home was, and that you knew no one could make you moan as pretty as he could. you let him bounce you on his dick until you were overstimulated and crying, teardrops splashing on his tanned abdomen as he threatens to cum inside you and trap you with him forever. it’s only the after math you didn’t feel too in control anymore, curled on your side as you catch your breath in fetal position.
he hadn’t made a move to scoop you up and cuddle you. honestly, he didn’t know if that was allowed. instead, stupidly he wakes you out of your sleepy haze with his voice.
“alright, up. c’mon kid.” he shuffles, sitting up against the headboard and your heart sinks. you don’t dare question, or argue and humiliate yourself — simply forcing yourself to sit up, disorientated and reaching for your dress.
“‘kay. sorry.” you whisper, and you despise the way your voice cracks, tears fat in your eyes as you work your arms through your dress to pull it on over your body. you shouldn’t have come here, all that work to move on destroyed within the space of a few hours just for him to kick you out when he got what he wanted.
“wh— hey, ‘fuck are you talkin’ about huh?” he scooches towards you, grabbing your hands to stop your movements. you gaze at him in upset confusion and he realises his mistake and softens just a tad. “i mean get up and go pee… okay? always make you pee after i fuck you i — i don’t know why you’re…” he shakes his head, trailing off as he watches you melt in relief, still equally embarrassed. “look at me.” he commands quietly and solemnly and you do so, a shameful gaze through your lashes.
he sighs out his nose, shuffling to a better spot to be able to cup your cheek with that same boyish but charming roughness he so often carried. “i’m not going to just kick you out, okay — i… i am proactively trying to show you that i’m not the bad guy here. shit, if it was up to me i’d never let you leave this house but uh… know you’re gonna come to your senses soon enough.” there’s a tinge of sadness in his tone that makes your heart twitch with sympathy, your brows knitting harder as you stare up at him, waiting for him to continue. “but… for now… m’tryna look after you… right? so… so go pee and then you get your ass back in here. wanna hold you n’shit.”
he gives your ass a little pat as you stand, busying himself with finding a pair of sweatpants to pull on, glancing over at you as you hobble shyly to the bathroom like you’d never been to his place before. he hated to admit it, but he was just as emotional and sensitive as you were at times.
when you’re out the room, he sniffs— talking to himself manically in a self deprecating whisper. “god — i suck. man up. she’s yours, alright — just - just gotta remind her.” he tells himself quietly through grit teeth as he pulls the grey material up his legs.
rafe was going to make you his again, and this time he would go to any length to keep you.
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Entangled desires. Leah Williamson x Alexia putellas x reader.
Part 1
“ Fuck me!” You semi yelled at your TV.
“Only if you beg me for it.” Said your girlfriend with a smirk on her face. You were both laying on the couch. She was laying on your lap reading a book, while you were watching the Arsenal vs Chelsea game. Chelsea have just broke through the backline and scored a goal. In their defense the goal was pretty incredible, but you hated that your team got scored against.
“ I would love for you to fuck me amor but not now, I am too busy “ you joked. “You have been stressed for about 50 minutes now. I think you need a release.” She said sarcastically, The book is now laying on her chest. “ Mi Reina, this game is so important for my sanity right now.” you respond. She didn't talk after that, she just turned on her side, her head still on your lap. She put the book aside and focused on the game.
The rest of the match was pretty exciting. There were some missed shots from both teams, a goal from Arsenal, some decent shot blocks from the Arsenal defense, and just overall a lot of tension. Alexia stood up from your lap by the time the final whistle blew. She was alert and satisfied. You were more than happy with Chelsea's defeat since you were a die hard Arsenal supporter. As a result, in celebration, you kissed your girlfriend. The kiss was soft and filled with passion. You then pushed Alexia on her back, straddled her lap and kissed her hard. You didn't want any space between you two. You were hungry for her, needy for her, all you wanted was her touch. The adrenaline from the game took over your body. Suddenly, it all went away and was replaced by tiredness. “ It's okay baby it happens.” She confronted you because you pulled out of the kiss and sighed loudly.
“ I am so sorry.” You apologized. “ Let's go cook dinner instead. Then we can finish later.” She added, a small smile on her face.
At the dinner table you sat opposite each other. You were both comfortable in the silence.
“ That arsenal defense was really good today.” She said, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, most of them are lionesses, so they are pretty good.” You answer.
“ Leah Williamson, the center back, is the captain of England right?”
“ She is the captain, she also captained the team today. She is pretty good.”
“ She was excellent today, made some pretty good deflections.”
“ And?”
“ What do you mean?.”
“ Mi Reina, tell me what you think.”
“ Well she is kind of attractive I guess. If you tell this to someone you won't like your punishment.”
“ Baby relax,I won't. I promise. Now let's go finish what we started after the game.”
“ What do you think about her?”
“ Leah ? Well I agree with you she is hot.”
—----------------
Tonight was one of the best nights of the year. The fifa best awards. This night was special because you were being awarded the best female player in the world which made you very proud of yourself. You were also proud of your girlfriend who made it into the best starting 11 in the world along with you and a few legends of the game.
You and Alexia got ready in the same room. You decided on an emerald green corseted dress that highlighted your chest and your brown hair. Alexia decided on an all black 3 piece suit paired with a red lip and her hair down.
The day leading to the ceremony had nothing out of the ordinary. You did your media duties, got ready, and left for the red carpet.
You and Alexia looked like a power couple, all the cameras were on you two, two of the most awarded and talented footballers. The ceremony was no different either. Kelley Smith presented you with your award and you thanked the most important people in your life in your speech. You talked to a few people but that was it. All the fun started at the after party.
While you were at the bar getting drinks your girlfriend was far from you talking to some people.
“Can I get two vodka sodas please?” You asked the bartender.
“Can you please make that tree?” Said a British voice from behind you. You turned around to find that the voice was Leah's.
“ Vodka soda is the athlete's best choice of drink right? ?“ she asked.
“ I guess so.” you respond.
“ I am Leah Williamson.” She added.
“ I know who you are. You are pretty recognizable.”
“ Not as much as the woman of the hour. Congrats on your award by the way. Spanish football is lucky to have you.”
You blushed at her words, that's when your drinks were ready. You wanted to talk to her more.
“ Why don't you join me and Alexia at our table?.” You asked hoping to get a yes
“Only for a little while I have my own people to tend to.” She responded.
You proceeded to guid Leah to your table. On your way there you passed alexia who said goodbye to the people she was with to join you too.
“ Ale this is Leah williamson. Leah, this is my lovely girlfriend Alexia.” you introduced the girls.
“ It's very nice to meet you alexia. We should have met a long time ago.” said Leah
“ I am glad we met too. How are you finding the night.” said Alexia. You knew your girlfriend well to know when she is nervous and right now she was clearly nervous, other people wouldn't spot it very well.
“ it's pretty boring actually. This is the most exciting thing that happened tonight.” responded Leah.
Your relationship with Alexia was common knowledge. However, Leah was flirting with the both of you for the better part of the hour and a half that Leah stayed with you. Throughout this time you talked about everything from football to your childhood. Several compliments and flirtatious attempts were made by all 3 of you. Leah’s phone was ringing for most of the time but she didn't answer. She then got a text saying that her teammates left and that she should go to the hotel because the party venue was almost empty. You didn't realise the time that passed, you were too immersed in the fun all of you were having. You were sitting on a couch, Alexia’s hand on your thighs occasionally caressing them, and Leah sat opposite you on a chair.
“ I can't believe they left without me.” she complained.
“ Well they did call you several times but you blew them off.” you responded.
“ but still how am i supposed to talk to them and miss out a second with you two.”
“ You can come with us. We are staying at the same hotel right?” suggested Alexia.
“ yeah but I don't want to intrude.”
“ nonsense, consider it an extension of this lovely night.” you added.
You then got out of the venue. You held Alexia’s hand while Leah walked to your other side.
The car ride was quiet. “ I would kill for a burger right now.” you whispered in your girlfriend’s ear because you were nuzzled in her neck. She then ushered for the driver to change direction to the nearest fast food chain.
“ one quick stop before we release you.” you apologized to leah running you hand on her thigh quickly.
“ No, not at all. I really want this to go on forever.” she responded.
The car stopped, you got your order, Leah and Alexia got a meal too after you provoked your puppy eyes.
You were now blissful on the hotel floor, and eating your burger with Leah Williamson and Alexia putellas. You were focused more on leah than on your burger.
“ shit i dont have my key card. I left it with Keira. God i am such a fucking idiot. ” she said after she finished.
“ Don't ever say that about yourself.” said Alexia who was quieter than usual.
“ what she means is it's fine you can stay here. it's too late to wake her up.” you corrected.
“ No, I can't do that .” she said frantically.
“ Yes you can and you will. It's too late to do anything. Plus we can hang out more. And we can put it to a vote and we both want you here.” said alexia before taking the last bite of her burger.
“ Alexia I can't. There is something. I just can't.” she said before heading towards the door.
Alexia got up and stopped her by her wrist. “ Look, it's alright, stay. Please. “ she said softly.
“ alexia almost never says please.” you added.
“ There is this unresolved tension in me. I can't hide it anymore.” she added, now looking at the floor.
Alexia lifted her head up by her chin, and at that moment we were all nervous. We all shared a look with each other, then looked at the floor, then at each other again. The silence was deafening. We all were thinking the same thing. It was just the matter of who starts.
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Abby! For the kiss prompts, could I request #9 (in public) with Bob and Teacher!Reader? 🍎 Very self-indulgent on my part 😂
- @bradshawsbaby 💕
But that's the joy of fanfic! We get to be self-indulgent!
"Mrs. Floyd? You're needed in the front office."
After hanging up the phone, you let out a sigh, looking at your lunch longingly.
This would happen during your lunch period, one of the few chances where you get time to yourself. No meetings, no kids, no questioning or yelling.
You loved your job. You weren't sure what else you'd want to do other than teaching. But the last few weeks had been seemingly endless and mentally draining.
It didn't help that your husband was gone.
By now, you should be a pro when it comes to Bob being deployed.
In a way, you were much better now at the beginning, had found enough projects and hobbies to occupy you, to keep your brain busy and far away from the fact your husband was somewhere halfway across the world.
But after a month, the loneliness and anxiety would seep in. Bob was out there, risking his life instead of being at home with you. Waking up alone to half of an empty bed instead of with him. His return always uncertain.
It made the long, particularly draining days of teaching much harder. Instead of being embraced by your husband's strong arms, you opened the door to an empty house.
Maybe things would be easier if you had a set return date. But even Bob wasn't sure of that.
So with a deep sigh, you put your lunch back in your bag, accepting it'll most likely go uneaten. The trek upstairs to the main office felt longer than usual, your feet feeling heavy with each step.
But instead of your useless principal or an irate parent waiting in the main office, you were met with a man who had eyes bluer than the ocean and a smile sweeter than honey.
"Bobby!"
No longer caring where you were, you threw your arms around your husband, kissing him for the first time in months.
"Hey darlin," Bob smiled into the kiss, also feeling relieved to have you back in his arms.
"What are you doing here?"
"Wanted to see my wife now that I'm back." His cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue that always managed to tug on your heartstrings.
"Couldn't wait until I was home?" You teased, not that you were complaining.
"And not spend time with you?"
Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, Bob knew you had to work, he was literally at your school-
"Your team arranged a sub for you. They made sub plans and everything. Just need to get your bag and we're good to leave," Bob revealed.
Your heart soared at the news, pulling him into another hug.
You were so happy, you nearly forgot that the main office was right by the cafeteria.
"Who is Mrs. Floyd kissing?"
"That's not Mrs. Floyd!"
"Yes it is!"
"She kissed him!"
"Is that Mr. Floyd?"
"That's not Mr. Floyd."
"Yes it is Liam!"
"I think we've been discovered," Bob whispered, unable to hide his smile as your students peered through the window.
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mansplaining. | spencer reid.
request: @a-second-hand-sorrow "hey queen, just wanted to say i absolutely love your spencer stuff, you write him so well!! as a fellow aussie I was wondering if maybe you could write something with spencer and an australian reader? just something cute and silly, maybe with him infodumping everything he knows about australia ahaha, love your work!"
you can find my other fics on my masterlist.
requests are open!
cw: fem!aus!reader, none really, fluffy, silly fr
a/n: short and sweet hehe
Henry held your hand tight as you guided him to the elevator.
JJ had just gotten back from a trip to Michigan for a case. She ended up sleeping for a couple hours before she had to go back into work again, all before little Henry woke up for the day. Since she hadn’t seen her son in almost three weeks, you thought it would be nice to bring Henry to her with some lunch as a surprise.
You had been JJ and Will’s nanny for almost 8 months now. Since Will had returned to work and JJ’s job was still incredibly demanding, they started looking for a nanny for their 3-year-old son. You just so happened to be looking for a job and to finally put your experience as a nursery assistant back home to good use.
“You excited to see mummy?” You asked Henry as you stood in the elevator, his little FBI visitor badge far too big on his little body.
“Yeah!” He replied excitedly, jumping up and down while still holding your hand. You had taken Henry to pick up some lunch at JJ’s favourite place then let Henry pick out a pastry for each of you to have for dessert.
“Alright, remember, you have to hold on tight to my hand, okay? There are lots of people around,” you reminded the young boy, crouching down to his level.
“Uh huh,” Henry nodded, his tiny hand squeezing yours.
The elevator dinged and you gently guided Henry toward the bullpen, silently searching for JJ’s office. Henry stayed close to you as you swerved through the busy agents. You decided to ask someone who you thought looked vaguely familiar.
“Uh, Emily, right?” You gestured toward the dark haired woman sitting at her desk.
She glanced up at you, seeming to recognise you and little Henry almost instantly, “Oh hey! You’re Y/N, right?”
“Yeah, I was just wondering if you could point me in the direction of JJ’s office-”
“Did you know the Australian mainland extends from west to east for nearly 2,500 miles?” someone behind you said, obviously hearing your Australian accent.
Emily rolled her eyes and looked at you, “don’t mind, Reid.”
You turned around to look at ‘Reid’, he was cute, probably the young doctor JJ told you about. You pointed at him, “Dr. Spencer Reid, right?”
He ignored you, “And most of the rocks forming the foundation of Australia are from the Precambrian and Paleozoic time… about 4.6 billion and 252 million years ago respectively,” he looked up at you, “yes, I’m Dr. Reid.”
“Mm,” you hummed.
“I’ll go get JJ for you,” Emily sighed, frowning disapprovingly at Reid. You sat down next to Emily’s desk, picking up Henry to sit him in your lap.
“Where are you from?” Another man asked, “I’m Derek Morgan, you must be Henry’s nanny?”
“Yeah, I am… I’m from Melbourne,” you smiled.
Spencer interjected, “Melbourne isn’t said like that. The spelling negates that.”
“Kid… she’s from there, I think she knows how it’s said,” Morgan retorted.
You just chuckled softly, “I’d love to hear you mansplain my country to me, Dr. Reid.”
“I’m not mansplaining,” Spencer replied, seeming offended.
“You kind of are,” Morgan added, leaning back in his chair.
“Mansplaining!” Henry exclaimed, making both you and Morgan laugh. Henry bolted from your lap the moment he saw his mum. You stood up to greet JJ as little Henry tackled her in a hug.
“What are you guys doing here?” JJ asked, cuddling Henry close to her.
“We thought we would surprise you for lunch,” you smiled, “Henry picked some pastries out for us too, for dessert… I hope it’s okay?”
“No, it’s perfect,” JJ replied, “it’s just what I needed honestly,” she sighed, giving you a side hug as she guided you to her office.
Henry sat on the floor playing with a few toys you brought along for him while you and JJ talked, “so, that Dr. Reid? He’s a character.”
“You met him, huh?” she leans back in her chair with a laugh.
“Oh yeah,” you replied, “he seems…” you trailed off.
JJ nodded knowingly, “Yeah, he’s like that.”
“He’s cute though,” you shrugged with a small laugh.
“Mm, I’ll make sure to tell him that,” JJ teased.
“Don’t you dare,” you retorted quickly.
You spent the last half an hour of JJ’s break sitting with her and Henry on the floor helping him do a puzzle he had left from the last time he was here. It was nice for JJ to see her son, she missed him terribly but she knew he was in good hands with you.
JJ had to get back to work shortly after and she squeezed Henry in a tight hug, reminding you she might be late again tonight, which you didn’t mind.
“Say ‘bye-bye’, mummy!” You held Henry’s hand, waving at JJ.
“Bye-bye, mommy!” Henry called, waving his little hand around.
You spun around, guiding Henry through the bullpen again before an idea popped into your head. You turned on your heel at the side of Spencer’s desk.
“Hey, Dr. Reid?” You asked softly.
“Yes?” He peered up at you.
“Ever heard of drop bears?”
a/n: i hope you liked it! i know it was a short one but i think it's funny. another chapter of pierced coming soon >:)
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Cat-astrophe - Min Yoongi / Suga
Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem.
Genre/tags: Fluff-ish, strangers to ???, minor mention of anxiety.
Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader
a/n: cus we're all soft for long haired Yoongi, right? hehe
It had been officially a month since you had moved to a new apartment place. You loved the new place honestly. It was cozy and the neighborhood looked nice. There were many convenience store nearby and the street was always still busy until late at night, making you feel a little bit of secure when coming home late.
While the place was nice it had one tiny downside. It was rather on the far side from your workplace. It took you an hour of bus ride just to get home from the office, so some days could be more tiring than others. And today was one of those tiring days.
It was around nine at night on a Monday. Having to work overtime for the deadline and missed the bus, really dreaded you out. You were both tired and hungry, arriving home only to find that your pet cat was missing. It really just was not your day.
To say you were panicking would be a bit of an understatement. Cookie was barely a four month-old cat and had a very tiny body. All the negative possibilities start filling your head and you were horrified by all of them. Not to mention how it was basically forbidden to bring pets in the apartment complex. It was one of the policies but you couldn't help it since Cookie was a rescue.
When you arrived at your apartment lobby with a cat snack on your hand, there wasn’t that many people there. You walked past a guy by the front desk, who had medium-length black locks and fair skin, with headphones dangling on his neck. You began to call your pet’s name as soon as you were outside the lobby, but suddenly you felt a light tap on your shoulder.
“Are you looking for a small black Bombay cat?” It was the same guy who just walked past you.
“Oh my god, I am! Have you seen him???” You said, your voice was a little bit shaky.
“He’s in my place, I’m on the seventh.”
“Oh, me too!”
“I know.”
“Oh.” You said, surprised at how stoic he sounded saying that, but didn’t further question him on it. “I’m so sorry for bothering you, can I go get him now?”
“Sure, I was just gonna go up as well.”
When you both entered the elevator, you made a mental note to ask his name or at least introduce yourself. He was a neighbor after all. It was pretty silent inside the lift and you just hoped he didn’t hear your stomach rumbling ever so slightly. You took a deep breath, bearing the hunger for a little while.
When the elevator door opened you followed him from behind as he led you to his door. When he stopped at his front door, your eyes were widened in shock.
“You live next to me?!”
“Yeah.” He said casually and unlocked the door. "I've seen you multiple times."
You chose to not further question and followed him but stopped when you had only took two steps in, because technically, the homeowner had not really officially permit you to come in. The guy seemed to notice how you just stood awkwardly and looked back.
“You can sit down for a sec, I’ll go get him.”
“Oh, right… yeah. Thank you.” You said awkwardly and walked to sit on his couch.
A few seconds later the man came back with your cat in his embrace. Cookie was clinging on his tshirt before he tugged him and gave him onto your lap.
“Cookie!” You called, almost teary.
“I think he jumped from your balcony to mine. Make sure to close your balcony door next time.”
“Thank you so much, I owe you… uh…”
“Yoongi.”
“Thank you, Yoongi.” You repeated and introduced yourself in return. “I’m Y/N, and if you ever need anything please let me now.” You said as you stood up, already making your way out.
“Also, thank you for not reporting it…”
“No problem.” Was all the guy said and by this point you figured he was not much of a talker.
You bid your goodbye to your neighbor, which only gained a small nod before he closed the door on you. You walked to your door and let Cookie down as soon as you got inside. Sighing deeply, you began to feel your stomach rumble again, this time it rumbled quite loudly. Your feet were aching from standing on the bus and now your body finally got on how tired you were.
Cookie meowed and immediately went to his cat bed and laid down. You sighed and smiled at the small creature.
“You little rascal… you’re lucky I love you.”
You then went to your kitchen to cook yourself some instant ramen.
The next day you went to work and had to take another overtime. Unfortunately you had to for the rest of the week until your current project was done. It was exhausting but you had to make it and mostly thinking about the bonus pay from it helped quite a bit. You spent the next few days the same, repeating the schedules, and the tiring work.
It was almost ten at night that you arrived home and found out Cookie had gone missing again. For some reason your first instinct was to knock on your next door, in hope the neighbor who once helped you, could lend you a hand again, and hoping maybe Cookie just ran to his place again instead of being gone somewhere where it wasn't safe for him.
You knocked on the door and didn’t get immediate answer. You waited for what felt like five minutes, before the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of your neighbor with wet hair. He had a small white towel around his neck and the hoop earring that you saw him with before was absent. His skin looked glowing, you probably needed to ask about his skin care routine later.
“So sorry to interrupt you, I was wondering if Cookie might have gone to your place again?”
“He’s right there on the couch.” He casually pointed. His expression was straight and had you wondering if he did not mind it, bothered, or simply didn’t care.
You slowly walked to approach your cat and bent down to its level. “Cookie, you need to stop this…” You tapped the cat's nose, as if scolding the poor cat would do anything.
“He jumped to my balcony again, did you forget to close the door?”
“But I made sure to close it this morning…” You looked at your neighbor, who walked closer to inspect the cat.
“I think he knows how to turn door knobs, since he’s quite a jumper. You need to lock the door.”
“I can’t believe this little demon…” You sighed, fingers still stroking the purring cat.
“He’s… alright.”
You were slightly taken aback by the response and looked up to him, but much to your disappointment, his expression still looked the same. You were about to get up and excuse yourself, but you notice a small steel bowl under his dining table, half full with what you assumed to be cat milk (I mean, it would be weird if it was his, duh!).
“You also have a cat?”
His eyes followed yours. “Oh, that. I got it the first time Cookie came here, I figured he must be thirsty since he came in around noon time.”
“That’s… that’s very nice of you.” You looked at him and smiled. Somehow him addressing your cat by his name sounded lovely.
“You can have the rest of the milk if you want, since you’ve figured out how he escaped and all…”
“It’s okay, you can keep it! Just in case he ran into you again…” You chuckled but then stopped after realizing how that just sounded like you did not mind troubling him with your cat continuously. “I mean… I’m sorry, I’ll make sure he’ll never escape again.”
“It’s alright, I’ll keep the milk for now.” He paused for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just in case.”
You looked at your neighbor and couldn’t help but to feel all warm inside. He seemed like a nice person and from the looks of it he also liked your cat.
“Thank you so much, Yoongi. I’ll be taking this little guy here then...” You smiled at him and stood up with Cookie in your arms.
“I got some dim sum…”
You looked at the guy questioningly.
“Do you maybe want some?”
“That’d be too much, it’s okay, you go ahead and eat.” You politely declined. Although you were hungry, you could bring yourself to bother your neighbor any more than what you had done.
“Have you eaten?”
“Y-yeah?” You asked, afraid you heard it wrong.
“Have you eaten?” He repeated. “If not, then I insist you take some.”
“I…” You wanted to lie, but at this point it would come off as rude if you refuse him again. “I actually haven’t. Thank you very much though, I feel so bad that you’re being this nice to me.”
“You can just eat them here.”
“I don’t wanna disturb—“ You were awkwardly cut by the sound of your stomach rumbling.
“You’re not disturbing me.” He cleared his throat and looked away.
That was embarrassing.
And that was how you ended up sitting down on your neighbor’s dining table, eating dim sums.
In silence.
This Yoongi guy really did not like conversation it seemed. He was sitting down on his couch and had turned the TV on. The volume was on but not quite loudly, and Cookie was on his lap, sleeping as he occasionally stroked the cat’s head softly. Funny that somehow you could see some resemblance of Yoongi with your cat.
“So… how long have you lived here?” You bit your bottom lip as you waited for his answer. You kind of regretted asking as soon as the words came out from your mouth, afraid it would be awkward.
“Around ten months or so.” He paused. “No, I think it’s been almost a year cause I spent two months overseas.”
“Really? What were you doing overseas?” You regretted asking again. Looking at how quiet Yoongi was, you didn’t want to ask too much or indulge into too much conversation, afraid it would be too much for him.
But much to your surprise, he answered. “I’m a producer. I was working for this artist and all the work had to be done in America.”
“Wow, that sounds amazing!” You said. At this point you no longer were sitting facing the table, but to him. “Who was the artist?”
“Uh… Halsey.” He replied while looking at the TV screen, seemingly to avoid your stare.
“Oh my god???” You gasped. “That’s incredible! So you’re like crazy talented?!”
“I’m alright…”
“You should show me some of your work someday!” You said enthusiastically. When Yoongi did not reply to it and stayed silent, you cursed yourself internally. “I mean compared to what I do that’s like really amazing.” You chuckled nervously.
“I’m sure you’re great at what you do.” He looked at you, a small smile was on his lips.
You realized it was the first time you saw him smile and it made your heart raced rather faster than usual. It was the first time you saw him with facial expression other than his usual poker face.
“I’m just a normal product designer at a very normal company.” You shrugged.
“Don’t downplay yourself like that. You work very hard.”
“Thanks…” You replied shyly.
After finishing your food, you got up and went to wash the dishes, which immediately got stopped by the homeowner. He politely told you to go back home and rest. Which again, you could not thank him more for.
You took your pet in your arms and said your goodbyes to your neighbor. Right when you arrived back in your place you came to realize something. Yoongi did not eat with you and there was only one portion of the food. While it could just meant he had already eaten beforehand, you felt giddy, thinking about another possibility. Was this a crush you sense forming? Frankly speaking, you could not care less. You were welcoming the possibility with open arms.
—
Friday finally came and you were ready to take it in. The days of working with your company project was going to an end, which meant you no longer need to work overtime after this. The thought of it put you in a very good mood.
This time right after arriving home, you walked to a nearby chicken restaurant and grab some not only for you, but also for your neighbor. You wanted to repay his kindness the past few days. After changing into some comfortable clothes, not to mention the multiple times you had to re-check the outfit in the mirror for some reason, you took your cat in your left hand and the food in the other. You knocked on your neighbor’s door hoping he was home.
And he was. You were greeted with his silence but he opened the door wider as soon as he saw your face without question. One thing that caught your eyes though was how he was dressed up like he was ready for a night out. He wasn’t in his usual sweatpants and baggy t-shirt, but instead in a ripped wide legged jeans and a light blue shirt, unbuttoned, with a plain white tee underneath. He looked handsome. And here you were, in your so-called comfy outfit that you were starting to regret.
“Before you ask, no, Cookie’s right here.” You smiled awkwardly as you raised the small cat in your hand for him to see. “I’m just here to drop by some chicken I got for you… as a thanks for your help these past few days.” You handed the plastic of food to him. “Alright, that’s all…”
He took the food from you hesitantly. “You don’t wanna come in?”
“Aren’t you going out or something?”
“I was… but you are here.” He said, sounding unsure.
“That’s ridiculous, why would I stop you from going out?”
“I was gonna go to your place…”
Your mouth formed a small O shape, unable to form a word. He was going to your place? But what for??? The butterflies in your stomach were having a blast.
“But you’re all dressed up…”
“I was gonna change back.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair, which made you gulped at the sight. “I knew this was a bad idea I shouldn't have listened to Hoseok—”
You stopped his rambling. “What do you mean?”
“I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go eat together at that one Chicken restaurant nearby…”
“Oh.” You widened your eyes.
“Yeah.” He looked at you, biting his cheek in annoyance.
“This is awkward.” You chuckled.
“Whatever, just… just come in first.”
You saw Yoongi putting the plastic of food on his table. You offered help after putting down your cat on his couch and walked to his direction. Both of you plated the food in comfortable silence, it felt oddly domestic and you liked it. At this point you were used to him being not talkative and see it as his charm.
After you took the plates to the living room, Yoongi suddenly came back with cans of beers and soju in his hands.
“We’re drinking?” You said with an amused grin.
“You can drink, right?”
“Sure, but can you?” You playfully eyed him.
“Don’t challenge me.”
You could see how he was trying to hide his smile, and it brought colors to your cheeks.
—
You did not know how you got in this situation. Five episodes in randomly rewatching Avatar The Last Airbender and you both were drunk. You were resting your head on his shoulder as you watch the screen. It seemed like the booze gave you confidence, or made you shameless, or both, but the guy didn’t complain so it could be a sign of a good thing. While you could see Yoongi holding his alcohol better than you, he was not completely sober either.
It was at this very moment where you saw things through a pink tinted lense. Had Yoongi’s hair always looked that soft? Had he always looked this handsome? You began to question things you should not be questioning.
“Why didn’t you change your clothes?” You randomly asked.
“Do I look bad?” He replied, eyes still on the screen, hands stroking the sleeping cat on his lap.
"Of course not, I just feel severely underdressed now..." You chuckled.
He eyed you from top to bottom, which made you nervous, but he shrugged, seemingly to not have any problem with your clothes.
“You look… handsome.”
“You think I look handsome?” He suddenly moved to face you, making you move to look at him as well. The tone of his voice sounded like he was teasing more than asking a question.
You nodded and bit your lips. “And you kinda look like Cookie.” You giggled.
He raised one of his eyebrows, clearly not satisfied with your answer.
“Your eyes…” You began to ramble. “They look just like Cookie’s, and when you look annoyed, or just your plain expression… you look like a cute cat.”
“Really…” Yoongi hummed.
“Yup!” You giggled like an idiot.
You failed to notice how at this point, Yoongi has put Cookie down from his lap to the floor. His face only inches away from you as you kept rambling.
“Your hair look so soft… like a cat’s fur.” You reached your hands closer to his hair, but stopped mid-way, scared he’d get uncomfortable.
Yoongi surprised you again by grabbing both of your wrist and putting your hands on his hair, letting you stroke his head slowly. You saw his expression softened and as you kept playing with his hair, he closed his eyes. You swore you heard him purr.
“Pretty.” You said with a drunk smile.
“Hmm. Pretty.” He mirrored.
“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense.
Yoongi chuckled. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.”
—
To be frank, you could not recall what happened after. You recalled some bits of karakoe-ing? Singing random PSY songs in your broken Korean using a bottle of whiskey as your mic. That was probably all? You couldn’t think while the throbbing headache was present in the room with you.
So why were you now in a bed that was not yours, wearing a t-shirt that was too big for you and was clearly not yours, also for heaven’s sake, WHY IS YOONGI SLEEPING NEXT TO ME???
You froze. Did you??? There was no way. Sure you found him attractive and all, and you definitely had this huge crush on him, but you couldn’t just sleep with a guy you barely knew. Besides your headache, your body didn’t feel any pain, so that was probably a good sign. What if he was just that gentle? Okay, you need to stop thinking at once before you started a whole as fiction about you and Yoongi in your head.
When you turned your back, you felt the other side of the bed shifted as well.
“You’re up?” He asked with a raspy voice.
“Yeah.” You said, still back-facing him. “We didn’t… you know…”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Oh, okay good.”
Yoongi did not answered to that, but instead you felt him scooting closer.
“I’m sorry, this isn’t probably how you’d wanna spend your weekend.” You chuckled.
Your breath hitched when you felt a hand over your waist. “Is this okay?” He suddenly stopped when your body tensed at his touch.
You nodded, heart beating too loudly for you to form any sentence.
“This is nice.” He said, resting his forehead on your back.
When you stayed silent, he took your hand and turned you over to face him. Heat immediately took over your body as soon as your eyes meet. You noticed he was back in his usual home attire, oversized tee and sweatpants. His hair was messy, but it seemed like universe had its favorite cause he still looked good.
“You know, I haven’t had good sleep in… weeks.”
You were surprised by his sudden confession.
“It’s half past eleven now, and it’s not even ten minutes after I woke up…” He tittered. “My anxiety has been getting worse the past month and out of nowhere a black cat suddenly jumped to my balcony, meowing non-stop while I was working.”
You looked at him, letting him finish his talk. This was the most words you had ever heard coming out of Yoongi’s mouth and it made your heart flutter.
“I haven’t been caring. I’ve stopped caring, for a while now. Seeing you care so much for such a small creature… I don’t know, it feels good. It makes me wanna care.”
“Yoongi…” You cooed, caressing his cheek. "It's not true, all you have been since I first met you until this moment, was caring."
"I'm sorry if it feels like it came out of nowhere but I feel at home with you and I don’t know why...” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yet, at least.”
“I… like this too. A lot actually.” You said shyly.
“I would like to get to know you more if you’d like.” He was being honest and exactly to the point, no flirty bullshit to spice his sentences.
“I’d love that...”
Suddenly you heard a low meow from under the bed and Cookie jumped into the bed, joining you two. Apparently his bedroom door was left opened and none of you noticed how Cookie had entered. You giggled and he smiled as well, the widest smile and the most genuine you had ever seen from him, as he took the cat and cuddled both of you close.
"I think it's about time you give me your number..." You squinted at him playfully. "You know, so we don't repeat the whole chicken restaurant accident again?"
“Okay, but promise me first you won’t apologize again after kissing me.” He chuckled.
“EXCUSE ME WHAT???”
—
“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense.
Yoongi laughed. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.”
“I can be crazier if you open that whiskey.” You wiggled your eyebrows.
Yoongi just shook his head, smiling at your silliness. He stood up and went to grab his Hibiki anyway, which earned a shout of celebration from you.
Things escalated quickly after opening the bottle. Somehow you were starting a drunk karaoke session which followed by many dance breaks. You ended up crying when a sad song randomly came up in the playlist and when Yoongi asked why, you replied. You replied with your lips on his.
In your head it just made sense. It was his lips’ fault for looking so juicy. Yeah, totally his fault for looking so hot that it was driving you insane.
None of you moved and it only lasted seconds before your mood turned sour again.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean…” You pushed him gently. “Oh my god, you’re so gonna hate me!!!”
“Hey, calm down…“
You started to panic, tears now forming in your eyes again. “Please don’t hate me, I just wanted to kiss you…” You cried.
“Okay, I think that’s enough drinking—“
And you puked.
Yes, Yoongi did see your lilac colored bra when he helped you change into his t-shirt. But that’s a secret between him and little Cookie.
Thank you for reading! 💎
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