#have barely listened to anything else for the past week

[mostly-imagines]

Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes and Tim sits atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges past them to the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

It’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He wouldn’t mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stay behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out.” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason kept his head down as he blindly reached for the spoon in his cereal and chucked it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work.” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think.” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth.” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

#jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #red hood fanfic #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #batfam fanfic #batfam fanfiction #jason todd x you #red hood x you #batfam x you #batfamily x reader #batfamily imagine #batfamily fanfic #batfamily fanfiction

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Trust Me

Pairing(s): Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You haven’t been able to sleep in a couple weeks, and Natasha knows just the way to get you to close your eyes.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None? (If anyone finds any feel free to message me!)

Author’s Note: Heyy guys! I know I haven’t posted a fic in like 6 months, but I got writers block and it just never really went away. I’m not sure when I’ll post again, but I’ve had the idea for this fic for a while and I finally got the motivation to write it. It might not be that good but I hope you enjoy it at least a little! Think of it as a little Christmas gift :)

Author’s Note Pt. 2: Also, this is not proofread because I just wanted to get it posted so there might be some spelling and grammar errors!

You heavily sighed once again for probably the fifth time in the past five minutes. It’s been a few hours since you and Natasha had called it a night, and yet here you were at nearly three in the morning still lying wide awake.

Although it’s not as if you were surprised or expecting anything else. You’d been having trouble falling asleep since the first night you and Natasha arrived in Norway.

Despite not having gotten many hours of sleep lately, for some reason you still weren’t tired and still could not fall asleep.

When your girlfriend came to you a week and a half ago and told you she had no other choice but to leave the states in order to evade the government after the whole incident between Tony and Steve, you instantly decided you’d be going with her without a second thought and left no room for her to disagree.

After all she should’ve known you’d follow her anywhere, but you guess it’s taken a toll on you.

You wanted to sleep, and yet you weren’t sure what was keeping you up. Maybe you were worried about something happening to Natasha?

‘What if she gets caught? Or what if we both somehow get hurt?’ you thought.

But you knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself and keeping you safe at the same time.

Even with the amount of times you told yourself not to worry, your mind wouldn’t listen.

You eventually sighed and turned your head to look at the redhead behind you. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you and no matter how much she shifted throughout the night, she never let you go.

The mere thought of that would be enough to bring a smile to your face if you weren’t so frustrated with yourself.

Deciding you’d had enough of laying there awake, you carefully unraveled your girlfriend’s arms from around you and slid out of bed.

You almost shivered at the cool temperature of the trailer as your bare feet touched the floor and you made your way into the kitchen.

The random plastic bags on the counter rustled as you rummaged through them in search of something to snack on, finally coming across a bottle of water and a pack of chips you’d never heard of.

As you went to open the cap of the bottle, a pair of arms slipping around your waist startled you. The yelp you let out made the person behind you chuckle, and you relaxed recognizing the sound.

“Sorry, malysh (baby).” Natasha said and you turned to look at her to see the apologetic look she had on her face.

You gave her a slight smile before shaking your head, “It’s okay. But what’re you doing up right now, Nat? You should be asleep, you need to rest.”

She dipped her head down to press multiple kisses to the skin of your neck, “I could ask you the same question because so do you.”

You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to leave the warmth of your shared bed without her noticing.

“I just couldn’t sleep.” you said, making her eyebrows furrow as you opened your water bottle and took a sip. “But I know you’re still tired so you should go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

“No, not without you.” Natasha was quick to disagree, “What’s going on, dorogaya (darlin)? You were yawning quite a bit before we went to bed. Why can’t you sleep?” she rested her chin on your shoulder, ready to listen to what you had to say.

You sighed realizing that you were going to have to have this conversation now. Your shoulders shrugged, “I don’t know.” was all you offered.

Natasha stayed quiet, giving you the floor for when you were ready to add on. A moment later, you did.

“I haven’t really gotten any decent sleep recently, so I’m not sure why I can’t fall asleep or why I’m not tired.”

Your girlfriend pecked your shoulder blade, acknowledging that she heard you.

“How long has this been going on for?” she asked.

For a second you went quiet, not exactly wanting to answer when you remembered that now that she knew, she wasn’t going to let it go until she made it better.

“Since we left the states.” you admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Once again, you shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t want to worry you.” you said. “You already have a lot on your plate with this whole situation and I didn’t want to add more to it.”

You heard Natasha sigh and now you appreciated that fact that you weren’t standing face to face at the moment.

“I guess I’m thinking too much.” you added. “At night I finally get the time to actually think about stuff, and I worry about you and if you’re going to be okay.”

Natasha was also glad you weren’t standing face to face right now because if you were, you would’ve seen the way her lips pulled into a smile.

“Well if you’re going to worry about me then I think I have every right to worry about you.” she chuckled and you fought back a smile at it.

“I’m sorry.” you said.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments until you heard her soft voice with that hint of rasp speak up.

“Look at me, krasivyy (beautiful).”

You craned your neck to see green eyes which were filled to the brim with love and tenderness staring at you, the singular warm light above the kitchen sink allowing her to see your sad ones.

The frustration that’d been building up in you beginning to melt away ever so slightly.

“I want you to talk to me about what you’re going through.” Natasha spoke. “I don’t care about what you think I might have going on, you’re always my first priority, okay?”

You nodded as she raised a hand to caress your cheek, brushing a hair behind your ear in the process.

“I love you too much to have you worrying that pretty little head of yours all alone when I’m always right here for you.” she pressed her lips to your temple to emphasize her point. “So promise me next time you’ll tell me if somethings wrong?”

“I promise, and I love you too, Nat.”

“Good,” Natasha smiled and leaned in to connect your lips in a loving kiss, pulling away shortly after and leaning her forehead against yours. “I’m going to be okay, so there’s no need to worry. We’re both gonna be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. You knew Natasha would make sure of that.

“Alright, do you think you’re ready to head back to bed?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that. Even though you were relieved Natasha knew now and you talked about it, you still weren’t even close to being able to go to sleep.

“No,” you spoke quietly. “I’m still not really tired, and I honestly don’t know if I will be until this all blows over.”

Natasha went silent for a few moments, thinking. She turned you around to face her and moved your arms to wrap around her shoulders.

“Nat, what are you—”

“Shhh,” she interrupted your sentence, “Just trust me.”

So you did.

Her arms snaked back around your waist and pulled you into her. You weren’t exactly sure what she was doing until she began swaying with you from one side to the other.

You’d danced together before, but at Tony’s many parties. Not when you were trying to make yourself fall asleep.

“Nat, I don’t think—”

“You’re supposed to be trusting me. Do you not?”

“I do, but—”

“So shhh,” she said and you couldn’t help the little giggle you let out. “You said you were thinking too much, right?”

“Yeah.” you confirmed.

“So just relax and let me do all the thinking. I don’t want you to worry about anything except trusting me.”

“Okay.” you whispered, giving in and resting your cheek on her shoulder, allowing her to move you.

A few seconds later Natasha began humming. It wasn’t a song that you knew, but you recognized it as one of the many Russian lullabies she’s hummed and sometimes sang to you before.

The way she hummed them always made you feel relaxed and peace, and this time was no different. Because soon you started to lean into her more as you became more and more weary.

Your heavy eyelids fell shut and your head found security in her neck as you cuddled closer to it, happily letting her comforting scent soothe you.

After a couple of songs, Natasha finally looked at you to find you pretty much sound asleep.

She grinned to herself and pecked your head before lifting you into her arms, making her way back to your bedroom.

“Told you to trust me.”

~ end ~

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff mcu #natasha fanfic #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #natasha alianovna romanova

[tasteracha]

kinktober - day ten

kink: voyeurism with jeongin

warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. jeongin is a bit of a creep. slight sub!innie. afab!reader.

jeongin was an amazing roommate. he was a perfect roommate, by all means. he cooked and cleaned up after himself, he never walked past the foyer with his shoes on, he left little notes for you all over the place with badly drawn foxes on them. he watched your favorite shows and cuddled you when you were sad, even though he claims that he doesn’t like skinship. 

he never does anything to make you uncomfortable, easing your worries about living with a guy. he respects your boundaries, and apologizes immediately if he ever breaks them accidentally. the only problem you could think of was your insurmountable crush on him that would never amount to anything, but you were doing your best to get over it. despite never bringing anyone else home, he never showed any interest in you. 

or, so you thought. 

you had found it a little weird to masturbate when you had first moved in together; you had never had a roommate before, so you didn’t really know the social cues around this kind of thing. as long as he didn’t know, it wouldn’t be a problem right?

you had started doing it only when he wasn’t home, and while you weren’t addicted to orgasms once every couple weeks wasn’t enough sometimes. you’d wait until he went to sleep, but he had the annoying habit of needing to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and you were always scared when you heard his footsteps outside of your room as he was stumbling to your shared bathroom across the hall. eventually, you got comfortable enough that you just did it whenever you pleased, knowing that if he caught you the only thing that would happen was a teasing remark here and there about it. 

sometimes his footsteps would pause right outside your door, like he was checking to see if he had accidentally woken you up. you thought it was kind of sweet, at first. but he would linger, to the point where you thought that he could have been sleep-walking. you would pause with your dildo halfway inside of you or frantically turn off your vibrator and wait with paused breath until he walked away, and you would sigh into your pillow. it felt wrong to continue, but the fight between your embarrassment and a potential orgasm usually ended up with the latter as the winner. 

you think you knew what he was doing far earlier than now, but some sick part of your mind liked it too much to fully identify it. he was listening to you, he probably had his ear pressed up to the door to hear the way your breath would catch when you twisted your dildo just right or the whines you couldn’t hold back when you finally came. 

you suppose your lack of confrontation made him a bit bolder, because his steps started getting a little louder and you began seeing the shadow of his feet under your door. 

you waited, day after day, for him to slip up so that you could finally catch him in the act, wanting to reveal him with his hands painted red. the opportunity came on an otherwise unassuming day, with you lying on your back with your hands between your naked legs and your shirt bunched up under your neck - his phone pinged. a loud, lingering bell-like sound that seemed to echo through your room. you hear him curse under his breath and move to do what you hope is turning off the sound of his notifications. he doesn’t move, both of your breaths are held as you wait for something, but he lets his out earlier and remains at the door. 

you slide off the bed, leaving your dildo on the sheets that you’d definitely need to wash after this and padding to your door on socked feet. you’re quiet, your steps not making a sound as you creep your hand to the door and wrench it open to reveal jeongin almost leaning up into the space the door just was in. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, his eyes walking down to your bare legs and the hem of your t-shirt just covering your dripping pussy. 

he shifts on his legs, eyes widening a bit as the shock of being caught settles in. 

“i-” he starts, his words getting stuck in his throat. what would he even have to say about this? how could he possibly explain this violation of privacy, even if you weren’t nearly as bothered by it as you should be?

“what are you doing?” you ask, knowing exactly what he was up to but wanting to hear him say it himself. 

“i was,” he clears his throat, a red flush making its way up his neck. “sleepwalking?”

“hmm, i don’t think so,” you wave your hand towards him, gesturing to the way he was clearly very aware of his surroundings. “do you know what i think? i think you were being a creepy, disgusting man and listening to me while i masturbated. and not for the first time.”

“shit,” he squeezes his eyes shut, tight like he was trying to cut his vision of you off permanently. the two of you sit in excruciatingly silence for a moment, him opening and closing his mouth a few times, scrambling to find something to say. “i’m so sorry-“

“do you want to watch?” you ask, cutting off his useless apology, the words leaving your mouth before you can think about what you’re offering. “i didn’t finish.”

“what?” he asks, the disbelievement overriding the panic on his face. “you just found out that i’ve been a creep and you’re offering me to do that?”

“i’m going to come with or without you,” you eye his crotch, his cock tenting up in his sweatpants, and you can almost see the timer in his head run out before he brushes past you into your room. “and give me some credit; i’ve known about you for weeks. you’re not as sly as you think you are.”

he ignores you in favor of crashing into your desk chair, a place he’s sat in several times before but never for this. you crawl back onto the bad, resuming the position you were in before. you keep your shirt further down this time though, covering you until your lower belly. 

you felt so exposed like this, despite him having heard you do this before it was different having him see it, witness you sliding your dildo into your hole right in front of him. the fit feels tighter, the give is harder as you fit it inside of you - was it nervousness? you’ve never had trouble with this particular toy before. 

when it bottoms out he whines, his hand moving to his crotch before moving away, like he was looking for some kind of permission. cute, you think, now he’s looking for approval. 

“you can touch yourself,” you say, words catching on your own pleasure as you begin to pump the dildo in and out of you, faster with each thrust. there’s a wet patch shining through his sweatpants now, and you feel a little bit of pity for him. “take your cock out and show me how hard i make you.”

you don’t know where these words are coming from, you’ve never been this bold in your life, always relying on partners to bring dirty talk to the table, but he had this way of bringing out sides of you that you never thought were possible. 

“fuck,” he takes his cock out, stroking it a couple times before rubbing his thumb over his slit to collect the moisture there. “i can’t believe i’m doing this, feels like a dream.”

“try harder,” you groan out, throwing your head back when you twist your wrist just right. 

“think about you all the time,” he says, almost babbling, his eyes never leaving your pussy as he strokes himself faster. “want to do so many things to you, can’t get you out of my head.”

“tell me,” you breathe out, the idea of him thinking about you making your head spin in circles. 

“do you know how fucking hot you are, walking around without a bra all the time?” he sighs, his hand not losing pace on his cock. “i want to squeeze your tits, whenever i want. when i walk past you, when we’re sitting on the couch together, when you’re asleep next to me, fuck.”

you want to say do it, i want you to, it’s all i want, but he keeps going. 

“when you wear those short, the tiny ones,” his eyes stray to your thighs, the soft, unmarked skin there. “want to pull you down into my lap, leave bruises on your legs that last for days.” 

“keep going,” you all but beg, his words hitting you like a tidal wave, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. you’ve lost control of the situation but you don’t really care. “please.”

“when- when you’re in the shower, and you make those noises,” he’s visibly affected by how close you are, by the way you throw your head back when you move your free hand to rub at your clit. “wanna get in there with you, want to hear you moan and whine and press you up against the shower wall-”

you cut him off with a gasped out fuck as you finally come, wrenching the dildo out as your hips buck up. you keep your fingers circling your clit as you ride it out, but you keep your eyes on him so you can see him come except -

he doesn’t. his hand is off of his dick and he’s clenching the armrests of the chair like he would pass out if he wasn’t. you fix him with a look when you come down from your high, confused and a little offended. 

“i didn’t want to-“ he starts, looking away with a flush to his cheeks. “i didn’t know if i was allowed.”

“oh, honey,” you melt, emotions bubbling up in your chest. he’s so cute. “of course you’re allowed. but wouldn’t you rather fuck me instead of your hand?”

--

kinktober masterlist

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #jeongin imagines #jeongin smut #kinktober 2023 #stray kids x y/n #jeongin x reader #jeongin x you

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART EIGHT

previous chapters | yall are absolutely fucking incredible. truly. i never could have ever expected the response to the last chapter and i'm so so SO grateful to everyone who's been contributing their thoughts and theories over the past week. your engagement and passion for this story means the world to me. so many people wanted so many different things for this chapter and i know i can't please everybody, but i hope this satisfies most of you. thank you so much for being here and for loving this story. here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: you don't know what to think after catching joel at the bar. tasha wants to help in the best she knows how - getting fucked up. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexual assault (nothing to do w joel), alcohol, almost penetration word count: 13.6k ao3

You've never felt like this before.

Tasha practically has to drag you into a cab, gripping tight to your hand with an arm around your back as she gives the driver the address of where you're both staying. He barely bats an eye to the fact that you're practically inconsolable, tears streaming steadily down your face as you gasp and sob and stare at the floor with wide eyes. He's probably picked up countless passengers in similar situations and it's not like you can bring yourself to feel any sort of embarrassment over it.

"Shh," she soothes you, still rubbing your back and peering down at you with empathy in her eyes, an expression that somehow makes you feel even worse - she'd told you this might happen. She'd known all along, but you hadn't wanted to believe anything she said about the lack of definition in your relationship with Joel. You'd chosen to believe differently, believe that he was different than the guys your friends have encountered.

How could you have been so stupid?

It's your own fault you're even in this position now, crying in the back of a cab while Joel makes out with some woman in a bar you don't belong in. Your own fault for putting any ounce of faith in someone else for once, for choosing to be blind to the obvious - of course he doesn't want you. Of course you're not his priority. You're not his girlfriend. You're his fuck buddy. You're a warm body and nothing more.

You don't speak for the entire drive, just cry and try desperately to control your breathing. By the time you reach the Airbnb your throat hurts from the sobs, although throwing up on the sidewalk could also have something to do with it. You're just a mess, lightheaded and distant as Tasha guides you into the house and helps you settle on the couch.

"Stay here," she says softly, grabbing a throw blanket and carefully covering your loose and exhausted form, "I'm gonna go get some necessities, okay? This place doesn't have shit."

You nod slowly, just to let her know you acknowledge her words, though you're unsure exactly what necessities she's talking about. She reaches her hand down and strokes your cheek, still looking at you with that sad expression.

"I'm so sorry, honey," she repeats to you for probably the fortieth time in the past hour.

You close your eyes; you can't stand to see the pity on her face.

--

Tasha returns shortly after with her "necessities", which mainly consist of junk food and alcohol. You haven't moved an inch from where she'd left you, still laying on the couch with bloodshot eyes and a quivering mouth. You listen as she busies herself in the kitchen, putting together some sort of snack platter for the both of you that you already know you won't eat. You're not hungry. You've never been less hungry in your life.

"You were right," you finally manage to croak out as she seats herself beside you on the couch, placing the food on the coffee table and turning to you with that familiar look of pity, "He's just like the rest of them."

She shakes her head, "No, that's not true, I never said that," she rips open a bag of chips and starts munching, seemingly lost in thought.

"Oh, we're gaslighting now, are we?"

She raises an eyebrow, "Girlie, tell me when I said what you just said."

"Boys are mean," you quote hastily, turning a bit on the couch to stare up at the ceiling.

"Yes, it's true. Boys are mean. And so are men," she sighs then, dropping the chips back on the table, "Look, I'm not defending him, I promise, but-"

"Tasha," you state coldly, still staring at the ceiling, "Do not continue that sentence."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

"Yes, I do," you shut your eyes and bring your hands to cover your face, feeling the tears starting up again, "You're gonna tell me we never defined what we had, that he was never my boyfriend, that this can't constitute as cheating because there was no relationship to begin with."

She's quiet but you can still feel her looking at you with that sadness, that sympathy, the look of someone who's been here before and knows how it feels. And it makes you so angry. Because-

"Joel wasn't supposed to do this," you continue, softer now, voice shaky as the tears flow down your temples and into your hair, "He's not a boy, he's not like the guys you date. He- he was different, I-" you choke, throat tightening at the thought of him, the image of him with her at the front of your mind again, "I thought he- I thought that we-"

You can't continue, words turning into cries and sniffles turning into sobs. You feel Tasha's hand on your calf, stroking your skin gently despite the fact that you just criticized both her own judgement and her taste in men in the same breath.

"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings," she says soothingly, "That's the last thing I wanna do. If anything I'm trying to tell you that this doesn't necessarily make him an asshole."

You scoff at that, "Right. Makes sense," you finally pull your hands down to look at her through your tears, brow furrowing, "Tasha he was kissing her. That- that woman, he was- he touched her face."

"I know he did," she murmurs with a frown, eyes casting downward, "And I know it hurts, but-"

"But nothing," you find yourself tossing the blanket to the floor and standing up shakily, not bothering to even look at Tasha as you stomp toward the bedroom. "I don't need this right now," is the last thing you say before slamming the door behind you.

She doesn't follow you. This is the first time you've ever yelled at her, the first time you've ever felt truly mad at her, and even though you know deep down that this isn't her fault... you still feel betrayed. Betrayed by Tasha's nonchalance, betrayed by Joel's actions, but worst of all - betrayed by yourself.

Because how did you manage to get into this mess in the first place?

You practically rip the too-tight and too-short pink dress off your body and stagger to the bed, not even bothering to pull back the covers. You still feel sick, lightheaded and woozy as you press your face to the cool pillow and try to collect yourself. You can't get the image of the woman out of your head; you hadn't even seen her face and yet it's like she's somehow consuming every fiber of your being. All you can see behind your closed lids are those long, perfectly styled braids hitting her bare waist, skin a deep and rich brown that almost sparkled under the bar lights, the way her bare ankle traveled up and down his leg, the soft curve of her cheek as he'd cupped it in his hand-

A sob wracks through you and you pull the other pillow toward yourself, wrapping your legs and arms around it like a koala, remembering how less than twenty four hours ago you'd been in a bed just like this one - except it hadn't been a pillow you were cuddling. And now, what? Who's in that bed now? Another woman? That gorgeous woman who you don't stand a chance against?

You're sure Tasha can hear you crying but she doesn't come, staying in the living room and giving you the space you need. You already feel awful for snapping at her like that - you know she means well, that she's just trying to alleviate the situation in her own way, but you barely even know how you feel about it.

And how do you feel? Hurt? Sad? Angry? Of course you feel all of those things, to a degree you've never felt them before, but underlying all of those emotions is something else entirely, something you can't quite put your finger on - or would rather not put your finger on, because doing so would mean finally admitting something you're not sure you're ready to admit yet.

You try to think about your relationship with Joel up to this point, try and pinpoint the exact moment it went from being something frivolous to being something real, but you find that it's impossible to do so. For you, you could say the moment you walked past his threshold was when it became official. Or when he touched you for the first time. Or when he kissed you. When he made you come. When he called you his babygirl. When you touched his cock. When he put his mouth on your pussy. When you woke up this morning completely naked in his bed.

Any of those moments could have been the moment. But a gnawing voice in the back of your mind reminds you that any of those moments could have equally not been the moment as well. Maybe there was no moment. Maybe this really has just been a whole lot of nothing.

But then you think about the way he looks at you. The way he treats you.

The way he'd comforted and reassured you last night, held you, made you feel safe and secure - "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

The way he'd shared his insecurities with you over the phone, been vulnerable, honest and open - "I don't want you to look at me differently".

The way he'd dressed up just in case your mother took you to your lesson, looking like he was ready to attend a church service, purposely putting himself in uncomfortable clothing to make sure things went smoothly - "I wanted to make a good impression."

The way he'd told you about his past on his back deck, related his own childhood to yours, tried to calm your own fears and tell you things would be okay - "You gotta focus on what's right for you, on livin' the life you want, not worryin' about what they'll think".

What did any of it mean? What does any of it mean? Has it just been sex this whole time or does he actually care about you? And if he does, why would he kiss someone else?

And what if he's been kissing someone else... fucking someone else... this entire time? What if it's not just you he's been seeing? The thought makes you want to throw up all over again.

You hear a peal of laughter from the other room, a sound that feels odd in the silence and sadness of the bedroom where you lie. Tasha must have put on a movie or something. You feel bitterness rise in your throat, a sudden urge to run out to the living room and grab the remote and toss it out the window, scream at her for finding something to laugh at when you're literally falling apart at the seams.

But the bitterness fades when you hear her laugh again; you love that laugh, have missed it ever since you came home. Tasha has always had such a free and fun way about her, a natural joy that you've always envied. You'd watched her go out night after night over the past three years, come home with the most bizarre stories that you were never able to fully relate to, and yet she always tried to include you in some way, ask you questions, make you laugh.

You remember the looks of shock you'd received from the other girls when you'd first shared that you were a virgin, that you'd never done anything except kiss. She'd sensed your discomfort immediately, seen your embarrassment, and had quickly flipped the conversation to something else more shocking, more embarrassing - at her own expense. Easier than flipping a light switch. And any time it was mentioned after that, she'd always emphasize how lucky you were, how she wished she'd taken her time, how all you were missing out on was bonehead losers who didn't know how to please a woman.

She's always reassured you, always listened, and has always been your number one fan, even when you had nothing to give. You'd told her all about your upbringing, about the way you'd begun to question everything, and she'd given you her own two cents and made you feel better for the first time in a long time. And when you'd told her you were coming home for the summer she'd said, "Are you sure that's gonna be okay for you?"

You trust her. So why are you in this room avoiding her? Why aren't you listening to what she has to say?

With heavy limbs you manage to climb off the bed and tug on your pajamas, wiping your eyes and letting the sadness and humility settle for just a moment. Yes, this is a fucked up situation. But Tasha wants to help you. Let her.

A few moments later you find yourself back on the couch, this time with Tasha's arm around you as she pours you a glass of wine and shakes away your apology. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she tells you softly, "You're upset, I get it."

You sigh deeply and take a sip, wincing at the bitterness but making no move to put it back on the table. "So," you murmur hoarsely, "Why is he not necessarily an asshole?"

--

You stay up late talking for hours about the situation and listening to Tasha's theories, most of which center around a lack of communication - based on her own personal experiences. She also has to factor in the fact that Joel is a lot older, a detail she's still beyond surprised over.

"I just can't believe he's fifty six," she faux whispers the number with wide eyes, shaking her head. "Like... this man knows things. How to take care of you, ya know? You're luckier than you realize."

"Lucky," you scoff, "Yeah, that's one way to describe how it feels."

She slaps your hand playfully, "I'm serious. This is yet another reason I think you just got your signals crossed here. I refuse to believe he's trying to hurt you, especially after how considerate he's been with you up until this point. If this was just about sex he would have dropped you ages ago, honey. I mean, no offense but you're not exactly making it easy for him, are you?"

She's certainly blunt. But she's also right. Joel has been nothing but patient with you this entire time, never expecting anything more than what you've been willing to give. If it was just about sex, this thing between the two of you wouldn't have gone beyond that first day in his house when you'd told him you were a virgin.

You slowly begin to come to the conclusion that you should give him the benefit of the doubt. As much as what you saw hurts, as much as it makes you want to crawl in bed and never get up, you were never Joel's girlfriend. There was never an establishing conversation, never a moment where you laid your heart on the line and told him exactly what you wanted, mainly because you haven't been sure what you wanted up until this point. But now you do.

"Communication," Tasha repeats for maybe the fifth time, "Communication is key. He doesn't know what you want, so you need to tell him. You need to stand up for yourself. And if he doesn't take you seriously, you move on. Simple."

"Simple," you echo, your third glass of wine already getting to you as you peer at her hazily with an upturned brow, "Communication."

"Communication," she repeats, "Simple."

Communication. Simple.

It's what echoes in your head over and over after your head hits the pillow that night, and continues to repeat the following morning as Tasha rouses you from sleep to get you ready for your "lesson". You don't feel as hungover as you'd expected - "That's because we didn't get totally fucked up like we were supposed to," Tasha says to you with a roll of her eyes - but your face is puffy from all the crying.

You're splashing your face with cold water when you hear Tasha call out, "Hey, I think you have a text."

Heart pounding in your chest you run back to the bedroom and grab your phone from the nightstand, the first time you've checked it since you got back from the bar. Your eyes go wide when you see not just one but two texts from Joel. One from last night, around midnight:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

And one from this morning, around seven:

You get home ok? Let me know x

"Don't text him back," Tasha advises over your shoulder, "Keep him sweating a bit, you're leaving soon anyway."

You nod slowly, still staring at the messages, especially the one from last night. When had he sent that? Had he still been at the bar? Still with her? Did he take her home? That familiar sadness and betrayal from last night bubbles in your throat again, tears pricking in your eyes.

No. You will not cry anymore.

You let your phone fall onto the bed and turn on the spot, marching back to the bathroom like a woman on a mission.

"Tasha, make me fucking hot."

--

The Plan: Go to your lesson with Joel. Talk to him about what you saw. Tell him how you feel. And look good doing it.

Communication. Simple. It certainly seems easier said than done; you've never been very good at communication. Your whole life has been spent suppressing your true feelings and your true self for crying out loud - the concept of being completely vulnerable and honest with someone is terrifying. But you know that it's necessary for your heart, and you also know that if you're going to be able to be vulnerable with anyone, it's Joel. He's already seen glimpses of the broken parts of you, not to mention seen you completely naked. How much harder can it get?

And nothing can be worse than how you felt last night.

Tasha essentially makes you her very own doll for the majority of the morning - doing your makeup, styling your hair, choosing your outfit - and you're surprised to find that you don't hate any of it, have no notes or critiques or changes to make. You stand in the bathroom staring at yourself in the mirror with your eyebrows raised, lips parted in admiration at a job well done.

"I look good," you say with a smile, and Tasha grins at your reflection, "I mean it, Tasha. Like, I still look like me, but..."

"All I did was accentuate what you already have, my love," she replies, reaching forward to fix a piece of hair that's not sitting quite right, "You're just a gorgeous human, inside and out."

You can't help but feel touched at her words, lips turning down into a pout as your hands come up to touch your heart, "Tasha-"

She waves you away, shaking her head, "Bitch, do not get sappy on me right now. Save those doe eyes for Mr. Miller."

Twenty minutes later you're winding through the suburban streets of your neighborhood. You're about half an hour early; Tasha had wanted you to be fashionably late but there's only so much of yourself you can alter in such a short amount of time, your punctuality being one of them. You figure you'll just drive around for a bit to build up your courage, plan out your words.

Joel, I saw you at the bar last night. I saw the woman. And I'm not mad, I'm just....

Joel, my feelings were really hurt last night...

Joel, I can't believe you would kiss another woman after everything we've been doing. Do I not mean anything to you at all? Do I-

Nothing really seems like the right thing to say. You figure once you're standing in front of him the words will just come naturally, flow easily in a way that makes sense and articulates your feelings properly. You can only hope.

You've still got about fifteen minutes before your lesson but you figure there's no point in continuing to circle the area - you're just delaying the inevitable. With a heavy sigh and a few quiet words of encouragement directed at your rearview mirror, you turn onto Joel's street, gripping the wheel tightly and trying to keep your breathing as even as possible. You can do this. You can do this.

You're a few houses down from his when you see it.

Panic turns to shock. Shock turns to confusion. Confusion turns to anger. Anger turns to sadness.

You're already pressing Tasha's number in your contacts before you can fully collect your thoughts.

"What is it? Did you go in?"

"There's a car in his driveway," you hiss through your teeth, feeling the tears spring to your eyes again, your hand coming up to cover your mouth, "She stayed the fucking night, Tasha. He fucking slept with her."

"You don't know that," Tasha replies quickly, calmly, already trying to calm you down, "Maybe it's his, maybe he has another car."

"He doesn't have another car, Tasha," your voice is stoic despite the lump in your throat, "He has his truck and that's it. Joel Miller doesn't drive a purple fucking convertible."

"A purple convertible?" Tasha repeats, voice faltering now, processing the information, "Jesus Christ."

You stare at the driveway, at the car in question - you're still a few houses down so it's hard to see any specific details, but you're sure you can make out a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror inside. This is definitely not Joel's vehicle by any means. Your stomach is in knots, unsure what the fuck you're supposed to do now; you'd thought briefly of the possibility that he'd slept with her, and up until this moment you'd been prepared to hear him admit it to you. But you hadn't expected it to really be true, to almost come face to face with the woman herself.

"I don't understand," Tasha suddenly says on the other line, "He knows you're coming for your lesson, why the fuck would he still have her in the house?"

"I don't know," your voice is almost a whisper, thick with sadness and disbelief, "I- oh shit." You cut yourself off and sink deep into your front seat when you catch the front door of his house opening, eyes going wide as you watch two figures emerge out onto the front step.

"What's happening?" Tasha asks frantically - you can practically hear her pacing on the other end, "Talk to me!"

"They're coming out!" you hiss, "They're on the fucking front step."

"Oh, honey, you gotta leave. You're not gonna wanna see this, you need to just turn around and come back," her voice is full of disappointment, anger that mirrors your own, "I'm serious, this is just-"

"Shhh," you peer over the dashboard at them, squinting against the sun. You can make out Joel's broad back in the early morning light, can recognize one of his band t-shirts and his signature bedhead, pointing in all directions. You can see him, but it's difficult to make out the figure he's with, his body blocking her almost entirely from you. "I think she's leaving."

You watch with a mix of rage and horror as he suddenly leans down and wraps his arms around her, her own winding around his broad form as her hands interlock together behind his back. Your eyebrows raise in confusion, mouth dropping open.

"It's not the same woman," you whisper.

"What do you mean it's not the same woman?"

"Literally that," you breathe, shaking your head and feeling a few tears begin to make their way down your cheeks, "It's not the one from last night, it's someone else."

"How do you know?"

"Because the woman last night was black and this girl isn't, I can see her arms," you snap, a sob threatening to burst its way past your lips, "And this one's shorter, he has to bend down to hug her."

"To hug her?!" Tasha echoes, "What the fuck?"

You watch as they separate from one another, watch with rage burning in your chest as she walks down the steps toward her car. You can see her better now, get a good look at her in the few seconds it takes her to reach the driver's side door. She's wearing a pink dress, frilled at the bottom with a pair of white sandals - she looks young. You're already redacting your prior statement about her not being black - now that she's properly in view, you can see the brown softness of her skin, her afro textured hair plaited neatly into two rows. But it's not the same woman.

"So, what, he had two girls in one night? Is that what you're telling me?" Tasha is saying in your ear while you continue to stare at the woman, watch her open the car door and climb inside with one last wave to Joel, "Hello?"

"I - I don't know. I'm-" you watch Joel wave to her and then head back inside the house, presumably to wait for you to arrive. Your stomach is tight and painful, bile in your throat all over again. "You were right," you whisper, tears cascading down onto your bare legs, "I didn't need to see this."

--

So much for not crying anymore.

You're back on the couch again, wrapped up like a burrito staring at the wall while Tasha paces back and forth around the living room in front of you, talking a mile a minute.

"It was a whole different story when it was just the one girl," she's ranting, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed in anger, "But two? Two girls. In one fucking night. And one of them is half his age," she scoffs, almost a growl, "So what, he just does this in his spare time? Fucks around with girls' hearts and bodies and then acts like some tough, macho contractor with a busy schedule? Please."

You don't need to remind her that you're also half his age - you know she'd come up with a reason why you're different, why you're the exception. And you do appreciate that, but the more she talks the more you're starting to realize that maybe that's never been the case. Maybe you weren't some beautiful coincidence that wandered into Joel's life - maybe he's been doing this for a long time.

Your gaze follows her as she walks around, pacing the same circle over and over again around the coffee table; it's typical Tasha - you've seen her do this on numerous occasions before, but never on your behalf. Your phone suddenly vibrates on the table and your heads both snap toward it, plunging the room into silence. You already know it's him - who else would be texting you this early? You reach over and unlock it, eyes scanning the message:

Where are you?

"He's wondering why I haven't shown up," you say quietly, voice still hoarse from all the crying.

"What a fucking prick. Do not reply," she resumes her pacing, "Two girls the night before he's supposed to have a date with you. Who does that? Who actually does that? Men, that's who. Men do that. I'm swearing off them forever after this. Seriously, I mean it. What the fuck."

You appreciate her concern, appreciate that she's no longer arguing on Joel's behalf, but her words cut you deep regardless. The whole situation still feels surreal. How is it that just over twenty four hours ago he was kissing you softly, sweetly, peering at you with those beautiful brown eyes and telling you he had something special planned for your lesson? What had he wanted to try, a fucking threesome?

"I don't know him at all," you whisper softly, sadly, "I never did. He's a stranger. A complete stranger who I was stupid enough to trust."

Your words seem to touch something in Tasha. She stops her pacing, slowly turns toward you with that empathetic look again and then carefully steps toward the couch, sitting down on the end.

"He just... he was there," you continue, lip trembling, "My parents were being so controlling and I was literally thinking about just... just leaving, finding some way to get back to campus without them knowing and then I heard that fucking guitar and-" you hiccup through a sob, clutching your hand to your chest, "I should've known then. I should've just kept walking. He asked me to come in, Tasha. He wanted to fuck me, then and there. And when I said no I guess I... I became some sort of challenge. Just a stupid, naïve little Catholic girl he could fuck and dump. And I fell for it, hook line and sinker."

She places a hand on your calf, just like she had last night, stroking gently up and down, "You're not stupid," she murmurs, "You're just a girl. A girl experiencing something really special for the first time. And I'm sorry he took that experience from you."

You manage to smile at her, soft and sincere. Despite everything, it feels good to have a friend, to not be alone when you're feeling like this. To be validated and comforted. You have no idea how you'd be processing all of this without Tasha by your side, if you'd have even been able to leave your bed this morning.

"This is so not what I wanted this weekend to be," she suddenly sighs, putting her head in her hands, "I wanted you to have fun, be free. And here you are feeling like shit about yourself. It's not fair."

She's right. It's not fair.

You take a deep breath, then carefully pry yourself out from underneath your blanket, rolling off the couch and coming to stand in front of Tasha with a determined expression on your face.

"You didn't dress me to the nines just for me to cry and feel sorry for myself on the couch," you say confidently, doing your best to wipe away your tears without completely smearing away Tasha's hard work, "I don't wanna think about Joel anymore. I don't wanna cry about Joel anymore. You know what I wanna do?"

She looks up at you, a grin slowly spreading across her face, "Go have fun and be free?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

--

You never thought you'd be the kind of person to go day drinking, but here you are. Tasha had fixed your makeup and then gotten all dolled up herself, ready for a whole day of doing exactly what you'd both set out to do this weekend: have fun.

Your first stop is a little bistro within walking distance of the Airbnb; you already know that neither of you will be fit to drive by the time this is all over, so you stick to places that are relatively close to the house. As you sip your cocktails and dig into a plate of sandwiches, Tasha informs you that she'd purposely booked this house in particular because of its proximity to the local club scene - you're not surprised in the slightest.

Your phone vibrates a few times while you're eating but you don't check it, forcing yourself to avoid reading anything else Joel has to say to you. It's only when it actually rings, two cocktails deep and plate empty, that you briefly consider picking it up.

"Nope," Tasha says, grabbing the phone from you and canceling the call before you can answer, "No more Joel today, we agreed."

"No more Joel," you repeat, nodding. You let her slip your phone into her own purse after putting it on silent - you know she'll keep it safe, and you know it's for the best.

--

You spend the majority of the afternoon popping in and out of local bars and boutiques, shopping and chatting to your hearts content as your body adjusts to the constant thrum of alcohol running through your system, making your head a bit foggy in the best way. It's like nothing really matters except this moment, right now, the beat of live music here and there as the sun gets lower in the sky, the conversations drifting past, the smell of food wafting out of restaurants. Tasha is a constant presence at your side, arm linked with yours as she dishes on all the drama of her life you've missed thus far this summer.

You don't think about Joel.

It's obvious throughout your little adventures throughout the day that people - particularly men - gravitate to Tasha very easily. You're not sure if it's simply because of how gorgeous she is - all curves and plump lips and dark curls down to her waist, purple cowboy hat askew above her perfectly applied makeup - or because she's simply a light. She's so bubbly and completely herself, smiling and laughing and dancing, never apologetic or ashamed. It feels good to have a girl like that in your corner, helping you out of your shell, only wanting what's best for you.

You realize as the day passes that you're beginning to mimic her behavior a bit. Whether it's due to the alcohol or your admiration for her, you're not sure, but either way you can feel yourself loosening up, allowing yourself to be more uninhibited, less insecure, not caring if people are looking at you. And people are definitely starting to look at you.

"Dude over there is staring at you," Tasha says quietly to you as you sip margaritas on the back deck of a country bar. You're now wearing her cowboy hat, stolen it after what can only be described as a predictable turn of events where she'd rode the mechanical bull and lost it in one particularly hard buck. You'd picked it up off the floor and placed it on your head, laughing hysterically as the bull threatened to launch Tasha across the room.

"Where?" your eyes go wide as you take a long sip, waiting for her to point him out. She nods at something behind you and you do your best to slowly turn around, not wanting to be too obvious. In your drunken state, however, it's not very smooth. You almost topple off the chair as you spin in place to find who she's talking about.

Through your laughter you spot him. Typical young Texan - floppy blonde hair and a strong jawline, sun-kissed skin and a white smile that practically glimmers against the sunset. He nods to you when he sees you looking, tilts his head to the side a bit and winks.

You turn back to Tasha, shaking your head, "He is not looking at me," you feel your skin heating up, not just from the alcohol, "There's no way."

"He is looking at you," Tasha reiterates, placing her empty glass down on the table, "You're fucking hot."

Your mind can't help but flash back to freshman year, that godforsaken party when another boy with a similar appearance had looked your way. The hope you'd felt, the desire, the confidence... all of it fading when he approached and chose your friend to talk to instead, not even bothering to glance your way despite standing right there beside her. You can't help but worry that it's happening all over again.

But then you hear a deep voice behind you, southern and sexy: "Pardon me, but I just had to tell you, I think you're the prettiest girl I ever saw."

Your eyes widen and you spin back around, still half expecting him to be talking to Tasha, not you, but his green eyes connect with yours instead. His gaze holds you there, your lips parting with no words coming out as you stare up at him in shock.

"She was just telling me that you're not so bad yourself," Tasha offers with a smile, nudging you under the table with her heel, "Right?"

"R-right," you manage to stammer out, still staring open-mouthed at this gorgeous specimen that has somehow decided that you're the girl he wants to talk to right now. The prettiest girl he ever saw.

He smiles at that, toothy and beautiful, "I'm Noah," he puts his hand out for you to take and you do, grasping it tightly and trying to hold on to the reality of this moment, the way his soft skin feels against yours, the way your brain is buzzing with amazement - and tequila.

Tasha's foot hits your ankle again and you quickly splutter out your name, releasing his hand and awkwardly placing yours back in your lap. You feel the bare skin of your thigh and you're suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you are right now - this dress certainly doesn't leave much up to the imagination. Your thighs and breasts are practically spilling out of it, pink material clinging to your body. But he isn't looking at any of that - he's looking at your face.

"It's real nice to meet you," he says with another smile, "Can I buy you a drink?" he suddenly looks at Tasha, like he's only just remembered she's sitting there, "And one for your friend too, of course."

"She'd love one," Tasha answers for you, nudging her arm against yours gently, "We'll both have another margarita."

Noah nods once, sets his gaze to your face again with a smile, then disappears inside the bar to go order the drinks.

The second he's gone it's like you're released from some sort of spell he'd put you under. Your heart is suddenly pounding in your chest, breaths coming shorter as you turn to Tasha with utter horror.

"What happened to swearing off all men?" you hiss, brow furrowing.

"Please, Noah isn't a man, he's a boy," she scoffs with a smile, twirling her hair between her fingers, "And I know alllll about boys."

--

You don't know how it happens, somehow lost the plot about halfway into your second margarita, but Noah is going to the club with you.

You are drunk. You know this for a fact. You hadn't been expecting to already feel this fucked up upon setting foot in the club but here you are, Tasha on one arm and Noah on the other. Tasha's had just as much to drink as you but doesn't seem anywhere near as intoxicated as you feel, continuing to be her excitable self when the bass drops and the neon lights start to dance across her skin. She's stolen back her cowboy hat but you've somehow gained your own - you think it might be Noah's.

"LET'S DANCE!" she screeches, pulling you away from Noah and dragging you onto the dance floor. You watch with slightly blurred vision as he goes in the opposite direction, toward the bar, probably to order more drinks.

The music is loud, the dance floor full of people, bodies swaying back and forth, people jumping up and down, grinding on one another, screaming conversations over the heavy bass. The lights are bright and it feels like all of your senses have been heightened, like you can feel, taste, see, and hear everything in your immediate vicinity to the utmost degree. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but you can feel it in other places too - your feet, your kneecaps, your skin.

"I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG!" Tasha screams to you, throwing her hands up in the air and spinning on the spot, smile wide and joyous as she starts to dance, "DANCE WITH ME, COME ON!"

Your senses are overloading but you try your best to match her energy, copy her movements, focus on just this instead of everything else that's going on around you. This is what you've been missing all these years; this is what you've been waiting to experience. Enjoy it. You let your inhibitions flow and just exist in this moment, having fun with your best friend, far away from anyone who would ever judge you for being here. Far away from your parents and your neighbors and Bethany and -

No. You do not think about Joel.

You and Tasha dance to about three songs before she's tugging you away from the dance floor and over to the bar, back to where Noah is leaning with a beer bottle perched against his lips. He smiles when he sees you approaching, gestures to the little mini drinks beside him, small enough to only have about a thumb of liquid in each.

"Shots!" Tasha squeals, clapping her hands together, "Shots, shots, shots!" She picks one up and hands it to you, then grabs her own, "Come on, Noah, do one with us!"

Noah still can't seem to keep his eyes off you, though you've begun to notice that he's no longer just looking at your face anymore. This time his eyes fall to your breasts as he puts down his beer bottle and replaces it with one of the shot glasses, gaze falling down to your legs before finding your eyes again.

You catch a glint of something darker there, something seductive, and as you bring the glass to your lips you're suddenly aware that beneath the alcohol you feel a bit... uneasy.

--

You're fucked up. You're really fucked up.

Tasha doesn't leave your side, something you're extremely grateful for. You're starting to have difficulty seeing straight, even walking is becoming confusing, let alone dancing. You grip Tasha's shoulders tightly on the dance floor as you both sway to the music, unsure exactly how long it's been since you arrived at the club. She's looking at you with hazy eyes, much drunker now than she was earlier, and your very intoxicated brain is wondering if you're actually going to leave at some point or whether you're just stuck here for the rest of eternity.

You can feel Noah against your back. He's grinding against you to the song, hands on your hips as his groin presses firmly into your ass. It's weird, being in a Tasha-Noah sandwich that you didn't really sign up for. You're too drunk to really know what you want, actually. You feel fine having Tasha this close, feel safe in her embrace, but Noah's presence is starting to make you feel a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm really drunk," you slur, but it's too quiet for either Tasha or Noah to hear you. Tasha just nods as if she understands, head tilting back and mouth popping open as another song begins. She mouths something, probably I love this song, something she's said about ten times tonight.

Noah pulls you in closer, almost like he's tugging you away from Tasha, but your voice is too faint under the music for your protests to be heard. His arms come up to wrap around your middle, and you feel the unmistakable shape of his cock dip down between your cheeks through your dress. At first you think maybe it's unintentional, but then he does it again, and again, like he's using your body to get himself off. On the fucking dance floor.

"Let go of me," you breathe, but it's lost to the music. You watch as Tasha gets further away, your arms dropping completely from her shoulders as she turns and starts to spin on the spot, still staring up at the ceiling, unaware of what's happening. "Stop," you mumble, feeling his clothed cock rub against you again, a sensation you're now familiar with but certainly not in this context. And certainly not with someone who isn't Joel Miller.

The thought of Joel is what does it.

"STOP," you practically scream, yanking yourself away from him and taking a few heavy steps back, shaking your head frantically, "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME."

A few people are turning to look and Noah seems more than embarrassed, hands going up quickly. He's drunk too, you can see it in his face, in his eyes, but you already know he's certainly not the harmless young Texan you thought he was. That feeling of unease earlier sure as hell hadn't been the alcohol talking.

You feel a hand at your waist and you flinch but only for a second, gaze coming to rest on Tasha who's now standing beside you with a look of pure horror on her face.

"What'd he do?" she asks, voice panicked and quick, almost like she's not even drunk anymore, "Are you okay?"

You nod but you can feel tears in your eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. Your ears are ringing like they had last night, but it's different this time, almost like you're underwater as Tasha grips your arm and leads you toward the front of the club, away from the loud music and drunk people. Away from Noah.

"Oh my fucking god, I am so sorry," her voice is shaking with emotion when you get out onto the street, hand holding tight to your arm, "I didn't even notice what he was doing. Jesus fucking Christ," she pulls out her phone and dials the number for a cab - through your bleary eyes you see a few teardrops dribble down the bridge of her nose, "We're going home, I'm so sorry, honey."

"S'okay," you manage to garble out through your tears, flowing heavily now in your drunken state, "It happened really fast."

"Doesn't make it okay," she replies, bringing the phone to her ear.

No, it doesn't.

--

"I want Joel," you whisper through your tears once you're settled in the back seat of the cab, Tasha beside you with her hand resting soothingly on your arm.

"What, honey?" Tasha asks softly, "Say it again, can't hear you."

"I want Joel," you repeat, words slurred as your hands come up to cover your face, "I don't wanna go home. I want Joel."

"We can't go to Joel's," Tasha murmurs, stroking your arm, "It's almost three in the morning, he's asleep."

"I want Joel," you repeat, "I wanna see him."

"I need an address," the cab driver says over his shoulder; he's already started running the meter, "Don't got all night, girls."

Before Tasha can say anything you're spluttering out Joel's address through a sob. Tasha starts to protest but you shake your head furiously, tears scattering everywhere, "I'll just walk," you mumble adamantly, "If you change it I'll just get out and walk."

"But-"

"You owe me," you practically spit, "You owe me after what just happened." You don't mean it, but your brain is nowhere near sober enough to fully realize that. And neither is hers.

She doesn't say anything else.

--

It's very strange being back in your neighborhood not sober. Your mind is still ridiculously fuzzy from the alcohol but part of you is able to acknowledge how crazy it is that you're back here so late at night in such a drunken state, driving through the dark streets while your parents are none the wiser. The cab passes by your house and you find yourself ducking down into the seat, afraid they might see you despite it being almost three o'clock in the morning.

"Can you just keep the meter running?" Tasha asks the cab driver quietly as you approach Joel's house, "I'm not staying, I just wanna make sure she gets in okay and that someone's here to help her."

"You're not coming in," you mutter, voice still slurred and heavy. You don't look at her as you say it.

"I'll just wait in the car for a few minutes then," she says quietly, just as the cab comes to a stop in Joel's driveway.

His truck is here, just like this morning. Except this time there's no purple convertible blocking him in, no other woman standing on the front step hugging him, waving to him.

Anger rises in your chest at the memory.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Tasha says softly - what happened earlier has clearly sobered her up, almost no trace of drunkenness in her speech, "He's asleep, there aren't any lights on."

"Then I'll wake him up," you mumble, opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air.

"I'll wait here for a few-," she calls out to you but you slam the door before she can finish her sentence.

You're not sure why you're suddenly being so mean to her. That is, until you stagger up Joel's front steps and feel even more rage bubbling inside you at the thought of standing where he'd stood this morning, where she'd stood this morning. Where the woman from the bar had probably stood too. Oh. You're an angry drunk.

Without any hesitation you push down on the doorbell. You don't bother to wait in silence; you just keep pushing it and pushing it over and over, hearing the dull sound of the bell dinging inside the house. You're vaguely aware of a light being turned on behind the frosted glass as you lean your hand against the door, suddenly feeling dizzy now that you're standing again.

The door opens and you practically fall through it, squinting against the sudden bright light and bringing your hands up to your face as you stagger inside. You feel someone catch you, big hands coming to rest atop both of your arms, and then your name being said in a deep voice, husky with sleep.

Joel.

"Are you okay?" he asks somewhere above you; your ears are ringing again and his voice is loud and muffled, that underwater feeling coming back. You try to mumble something but it comes out an incoherent garble.

You feel him pull you inside, hear the door shut behind you as he kicks it closed with his foot. He guides you inside the living room and your eyes shut tightly against the brightness of the overhead light, shining down on top of you like a spotlight.

"Too bright," you manage to mumble out, bringing your hands up to cover your face. You find yourself being seated on the couch before the light is switched off, plunging you both into total darkness.

"Baby, what happened?" you hear him ask, voice still swimming thickly through your muted ears, "I've been so fuckin' worried about you, where've you been? Where'd you go?" you feel his hands take yours, gripping them tightly. They're so rough and callused, nothing at all like Noah's, and it makes you smile.

"Feels nice," you mutter, already forgetting what he asked you.

"What'd you take?" he asks, and you suddenly realize that there's a very frantic edge to his voice, thick with worry and... fear? "Huh? Tell me what you took so I can help."

"D-didn't take anything," you hiccup, shaking your head slowly.

"Christ, babygirl," he mutters, squeezing your hands again, "Where were you? I called you so many times, I texted you, I-"

"Tasha's got my phone," you mumble.

"Where's Tasha? She alright?"

"In the cab."

"Jesus," he releases your hand and stands up, turns on a dim lamp in the corner of the room so you're not in total darkness anymore. You watch with hooded eyes as he opens the front door again, walks out onto the step and starts gesturing something into the darkness. He looks ridiculous, waving his arms like that - it makes you giggle.

He turns around and walks back over to you with long strides. You can see his face more clearly now, expression lined with worry. He looks tired. He probably is.

"Just wanted you," you mutter, staring at him.

Before he can say anything Tasha is suddenly walking in through the door, expression stoic as she passes the threshold. She avoids Joel's gaze completely, looking only at you.

"What the fuck happened?" Joel asks her, any sort of introductory pleasantries gone out the window, "Where's she been? What'd she take?"

"Nice to meet you too," Tasha grumbles, hitching her purse over her shoulder and walking over to where you sit on the couch, "She's fine, we went clubbing and she got drunk. I'll take her back."

"No you fuckin' won't," he says indignantly, moving to stand directly in front of you with his arms crossed, "How could you let this happen to her? She's never done shit like this before, you know that right? She's never been drunk in her fuckin' life and you bring her back like this? You ever heard of takin' it fuckin' slow?"

"Oh please, like I'm gonna take advice from you," she snaps back, walking around him and reaching down to take your hand, "Come on, honey, we need to go. Now."

"She's not goin' with you, she's stayin' here," his voice is loud, louder than you've ever heard it. In fact, you don't think you've ever seen him mad before. It's strange, seeing the way his eyes narrow, his mouth downturned into an angry frown, fists tight against his chest.

"I only brought her here because she said she'd jump out and walk if I didn't," Tasha argues, voice firm, "She's safe with me."

"Safe, huh?" he scoffs, "So why the fuck do you have her phone? Do you know how many times I've tried to call her in the past fuckin' twelve hours? I was this close to callin' the fuckin' police."

"If anyone here needs the fucking police called on them it's you," Tasha's voice is louder now, every word echoing in your brain, "Fucking creep."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Your drunken brain can't process much of what's going on at all, both Tasha and Joel's voices blending into one constant loud noise. You bring your hands up to your head and cover your ears, though it can only do so much to block out their voices. What they're saying still manages to come through, albeit muffled and distant.

"You heard what I said. Fucking. Creep." Tasha repeats, "She knows what you've been doing, you asshole."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"What, don't have the balls to admit it?"

"Admit what?"

"Stop," you say loudly, bringing your hands down from your ears, "Stop yelling, you're hurting my head."

Joel crouches down, picks up your hands and takes them in his again, peering into your eyes. You can't see him properly anymore and you hate it, can only make out bits and pieces as your eyesight just continues to get worse the longer you sit here. You feel sleepy, almost like you're on the edge of unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, thumbs stroking yours gently, "I'm sorry, babygirl. I'll stop yellin'."

You close your eyes, nodding and breathing deeply in and out, loving the feeling of having him touching you again. It's almost like last night didn't happen, like this morning didn't happen.

Last night. This morning.

You suddenly yank your hands away from him, eyes going wide as you remember exactly why you're even here in the first place, why you wanted to get fucked up to begin with. His face comes back into view again, expression confused.

"I know what you've been doing," you hiss, echoing Tasha's words and scooting away from him. You reach your hand up for her to take and she grips it tightly, helping you get up.

"Babygirl," he says softly, brown eyes tender and soft as he eases himself up from the floor, "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"We saw you," Tasha says then, linking her arm with yours, "At the bar last night." She means business now, you can hear it in her voice, "We saw you kiss someone else."

His expression changes instantly. Worry, anger, concern... all of it gone in a single second.

"That's what I thought," Tasha says firmly, then carefully eases you out of the living room, walks with you as far as the porch before you hear Joel speak.

His voice is quiet, shaky, "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it, exactly?" Tasha turns then, rounding on him again while you cling to her arm, "You're not playing her? You didn't waste weeks of her life making her feel special only for it to turn out you're just like the rest of them?"

He doesn't say anything and you can't bring yourself to look at him, heart in your throat and tears in your eyes once again as you stare at the hardwood floor.

"I didn't... that's not what..." he finally breathes, "It's not what you think. That's all I can say."

"That's all you can say?"

"Well, I can hardly fuckin' explain myself when she won't remember it, can I?" his voice is raw, hitching on the last few words, "Nothin'... nothin' happened other than some kissin'. It didn't go any further, I swear."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?"

"I'm not askin' you to believe me," he breathes, "But that's the truth. That's the fuckin' truth, swear on my life."

"And what about the girl she saw leaving this morning?"

He's quiet again for a moment. You're still afraid to look at him, can barely even comprehend that this conversation is even really happening right now.

"That was - Jesus, I never wanted you to find out like this," he mutters, and Tasha laughs without humor.

"Yeah, you thought it'd just stay your little secret, huh?" It's hard to believe she's had just as much to drink as you have tonight - you wouldn't know it by the way she handles herself now, the way she speaks to Joel like she already knows him. She's done this before. She's no stranger to confronting men who did her wrong, or in this case, her friend.

"That was my daughter," he says softly.

Tasha freezes.

The words do their best to seep into your skin, to make their way into the sober depths of your brain that lie dormant, somewhere hidden. You still feel so fuzzy, bleary eyed and heavy and confused, but the words register somehow.

You slowly unhook your arm from Tasha's to finally look up from the floor, moving your gaze to Joel's still form. He's standing there by the couch, arms still crossed across his chest but not angry anymore, a look of pure sadness and shame on his face. He looks small.

"Y-you have a daughter?" you whisper.

"Yes," he replies softly, eyes slowly lifting to meeting yours, "And the woman at the bar, that was her mother. My ex wife." You see tears shining in his eyes, watch as his lip trembles as he softly whispers, "And I swear - I swear it never went further than some kisses. And it won't go any further than that ever again."

You feel Tasha reach down and squeeze your hand. What she's trying to communicate to you, you're not sure. You just stand there staring at him, unable to process this information in your current state, head swimming and ears still ringing.

"I'll tell you everything," he continues quietly, taking a slow step toward you, "When you're feelin' better, I swear. Anythin' you wanna know, I'll tell you." He takes another few steps until he's standing directly in front of you and Tasha, leaning down so he can peer directly into your eyes, "I'm so sorry it happened this way," he whispers, "I never thought - Jesus, I'm just so fuckin' sorry."

You swallow tightly around the lump in your throat, completely unsure of how you feel, of what you're supposed to say or do. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is computing properly.

"You need to take her home," he murmurs, pulling back and turning his attention to Tasha, "Look, I'm sorry for-"

"No, I'm sorry," she suddenly breathes, "I was- wow, that's... I mean, I wasn't expecting that. I'm sorry. I just, I thought-"

"It's okay," he replies, voice still a bit stiff, "Just get her back safe, okay? She's-" he cuts himself off to look at you again, eyes peering down at you sadly. "She's special."

Tasha nods, "I know she is."

The last thing you remember, the last thing that's at least semi-clear in your mind, is the soft look of affection on his face as he stands on his doorstep and watches you go.

--

You're not sure exactly what time it is when you wake up on Sunday. The only thing you're sure of is that your head is pounding and the sun streaming through the window is only making it worse. You roll over in bed and press your face into the pillow with a low moan.

You're never drinking that much ever again.

There's movement beside you and you open your eyes briefly to see Tasha laying in a similar position, still in her dress from yesterday, face smooshed into her own pillow. You can't remember how you got back, memories extremely hazy and shrouded completely in too much alcohol. The last thing you can remember is being at Joel's house, of the brief conversation he had with Tasha, the words he'd said to you...

My ex wife.

It never went further than some kisses.

That was my daughter.

Now that your brain isn't under the influence, you can finally think straight, can finally process everything he said to you last night. Or at least what you can remember. You roll over again with another moan, sensing nausea in the pit of your stomach.

"The hangover is the worst part," Tasha mumbles, and you turn your head to see her looking at you through messy mascara, smudged and smeared all over her eyes, "But you'll be okay."

You stare at her for a few seconds, everything else from the night before slowly coming back to you in bits and pieces. The club, Noah, the way you'd snapped at her...

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, "Tasha, I was so fucking mean to you."

The part of her lips that you can see curve upward into a smile and she shakes her head slowly, "It's all water under the bridge, babe," she murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep, "You had every right."

"No, I didn't. That stuff with Noah, that wasn't your fault."

"I should've known better than to invite him along," she sighs deeply, "I just wanted you to have fun, you know? I wanted you to forget about..." she trails off, biting her lip.

"I know," you breathe, "And I did, for a while. You couldn't have known about Noah, he certainly had me fooled."

She nods, closing her eyes and nuzzling the pillow a bit. You both lay there in silence, the elephant in the room growing bigger and bigger the longer you go without talking about it.

"So, Joel's got a daughter," you finally whisper, "And an ex wife."

She opens her eyes again, raising an eyebrow, "I'm surprised you remember that. You were pretty fucked up."

You wince, "Did I completely embarrass myself?"

"No, not at all," her hand comes up to touch your shoulder gently, thumbing the skin there, "You stood your ground, you did good. And now... now we know the truth."

"The truth," you echo.

More silence. It's like neither of you really knows what to say to the other. You're sure Tasha has already formulated her own opinion, has probably known since last night exactly how she feels about the whole thing. And that scares you a bit - because what if she doesn't feel the same way you do?

And how exactly do you feel about it anyway?

"I think he texted you again a little while ago," she finally says softly, pointing toward your phone on the night stand, "I heard it when I got up to use the bathroom. And there's a lot of texts there from yesterday. He, uh-" she bites her lip, "He was really worried about you, honey."

You reach over and pick up your phone, taking a deep breath before unlocking it and looking at the damage: 9 texts. 18 missed calls.

Shit. You suppose it makes sense. The last time you'd talked to him was on Friday morning in his kitchen, when you'd told him you were planning on going out with Tasha and having a girl's weekend, finally having your college experiences. He hadn't known anything that happened between then and last night, hadn't known you'd seen him at the bar, that you'd gone to his house on Saturday morning and left again, not giving him any explanation as to why you hadn't shown up for your lesson. To him, it had just been complete radio silence.

With a shaky finger you press his name, heart pounding as the unanswered text messages flood your screen. First, the three you've already seen:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

You get home ok? Let me know x

Where are you?

And everything else:

???

Hey, I'm worried about you. Give me a call or a text ok?

Please call me.

I'm outta my mind over here baby. Please let me know you're alright.

I'm scared for you. Last I heard you were going out with your friend and then nothing since. Please call.

Just a text is all I need honey. I promise. If you're not feeling this anymore that's okay. Just wanna know you got home safe last night.

I'm so worried about you. I can't sleep. Please call me.

I don't know what to do angel. Can't stop thinking about you. Wish you were here in my arms. Please be safe.

Please.

The most recent text was sent this morning, around ten:

I'm so sorry. Words can't even describe how fucking ashamed and embarrassed I am. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you. I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I want to tell you everything, if you'll let me. I hope you're feeling okay today, angel. Drink lots of water, stay with Tasha. Text me whenever you're ready.

"Did you read these?" you ask Tasha softly, eyes unmoving from the last text, scanning the words over and over.

"No," she replies, "Just saw the notifications."

You scroll back up and read them again, and again, like you'll somehow be able to rewind time if you just keep reading them. You can't believe there's this many, can't believe that the man who'd been so distant the past week is the same man who sent you all of these.

The same man with a whole other life he never told you about.

"What do I do?" you whisper.

Tasha sighs, then carefully pulls herself up to lean against the headboard, crossing her legs and looking over at you, "What do you wanna do?"

You lock your phone again and sit up beside her, exhaling deeply, "I don't know."

You both sit there in silence for a few moments, lost in thought. You can't explain it but you feel nowhere near as betrayed or angry as you'd felt yesterday. Rage is no longer present - and neither is sadness. The only way you can describe how you feel is... relieved.

"He has a daughter and an ex wife," you state.

"He does."

"He has a daughter and an ex wife," somehow saying it again makes it feel more real, but the words still don't trigger any strong emotions. You sigh and look at Tasha, urging her to say something else.

"So, other than that, what's changed?" she asks.

You bite your lip and turn away from her again, shrugging your shoulders slowly, "I mean, that's... that's a lot."

"It is," she agrees softly, "It is a lot."

You swallow, fingers playing with the edge of your dress, reminding you that you're still wearing the same outfit from yesterday. God, you need a shower. You need to wash this entire experience off of you.

"You remember where we landed Friday night?" Tasha asks suddenly, "We talked about the possibility of him kissing someone else and we agreed that communication was the way to go, right?"

"That was before we knew he had a daughter and an ex wife, Tasha."

"Yeah, well... now we do know. And we know he's willing to talk to you about it," she twists her mouth in thought, "So do you wanna talk to him about it?"

"...I don't know."

She suddenly eases herself off the bed, stretching her arms above her head and yawning loudly. You watch as she assesses her pillow, grimaces at the dark makeup stains on the white cotton.

"I'm scared," you admit softly, avoiding her gaze.

"What are you scared of?"

You don't know how to answer that, biting your lip and sniffling a bit. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them and leaning your face into your warm skin.

"You're falling in love with him, aren't you?" she asks quietly, absolutely no judgement in her voice, "That's it, isn't it? You're really starting to fall and that's why you're scared."

You can't speak, unable to say anything because you know you'll burst into tears if you do. Instead, you nod your head slowly, up and down against your knees.

"Then you gotta talk to him, honey," she kneels down on the bed, places her hand on your shoulder soothingly, "You gotta hear what he has to say."

You groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you stretch out your legs again, turning on the bed and scooching downward to smoosh your face back into the pillow.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Tasha murmurs softly, "I feel disgusting."

"Welcome to the club," you mumble into the pillow.

You're vaguely aware of Tasha moving around you, grabbing things from the nightstand and puttering around the room as she gets ready for her shower. You sense her standing close to you for a bit longer than necessary, like she's just staring at you without really knowing what to say. With a roll of your eyes you turn to face her, and you catch the briefest moment that she places your phone back down on the nightstand.

Your brow furrows, "What are you doing with my phone?"

"Nothing," she says quickly, turning around and leaving the room without another word.

--

You fall back to sleep without meaning to, and when you wake again, it's only because you hear someone talking in the other room, someone with a deep voice. Tasha must be watching a movie. You curl in on yourself a bit, rubbing your eyes and wincing when you feel the makeup smudge across your face. You really should get up and shower.

You suddenly hear footsteps in the hallway, getting closer. But there's something different about them, something heavy in the way they sound against the floorboards.

The door opens and there's just silence for a few seconds, no movement. Then the footsteps return, closer now, slow and unsure.

You know it's him before his weight sinks into the bed.

Oh, Tasha. Of course you did.

You close your eyes as you feel his arms snake around you from behind. You allow him to pull you in close, feel his nose against the back of your neck, his scruff against your shoulder. He smells like his cologne, feels warm and solid against your back, the denim of his jeans brushing against your bare legs.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers.

You immediately turn within his embrace, coming face to face with the man who you've spent the past twenty four hours hating, being angry at, feeling betrayed by - he's looking at you with a tenderness you can't describe, lips downturned into a soft frown that says everything. He's upset. He's ashamed. He's sorry.

"Why did you kiss her?" you whisper.

He takes a breath, "We have this... arrangement," he murmurs, "We've had it for years. Whenever she's in town - which isn't very often, maybe once every three years or so - we sleep together. It's been goin' on for over twenty years now, it's just.. it's just what we do."

You nod slowly, eyes falling to his mouth and then back to his eyes, "But you didn't this time."

"We didn't," he breathes, "I swear to you, we didn't. We went back to my place, we... we were kissin'," he winces but doesn't close his eyes, keeping his gaze on you, "I.. I went to grab a condom out of my bedside table before things got heavy and I-" he cuts himself off, taking another breath.

"What?"

You watch as he reaches down into his pocket, fishes something out. He brings his hand up and extends his fingers, shows you what's sitting in the palm of his hand.

Your crucifix.

"I saw this," he breathes, "And all of a sudden, I just... I just knew I couldn't."

You stare at the gold cross, watch it glint in the sunlight still cascading through the windows. His breath hitches and your gaze goes back to his face, the lines and wrinkles and grey whiskers, his soft brown eyes and curved nose.

"I understand if you can't forgive me," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I don't expect you to, but I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry that I did."

He closes his fist around the crucifix again and slowly brings it downward to your own hand, urging you to open it. He slips the chain past your fingers, goes to pull his hand away, but you stop him. You grip his hand tightly, the cross digging into both of your palms.

"We never established anything," you whisper softly, "We... we've never said that we're anything. It's just been sex."

He doesn't say anything, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he waits for you to speak again. He's so handsome, so unreal in a way that doesn't make sense to you, and probably never will.

"I wanna be yours," you breathe, meeting his gaze, "I don't want you to be with anyone else."

He leans forward to gently brush his nose to yours, eyes closing as he breathes deeply, the tears spilling over onto his cheeks.

"Okay," he whispers.

You know there's more for him to explain, so many more details you don't have yet that you do want to know. But in this moment, you don't care about any of it. You just want him.

It doesn't take long for you both to be completely undressed, clothes tossed over the sides of the bed as your naked bodies press warmly up against each other, soft and eager. He presses kisses to your neck, breathes you in, runs his fingers through your hair as he hovers above you with absolute need in his eyes, a look you're sure mirrors your own.

He knows you're still not ready without you having to say it. Knows this isn't the right time. There's no need for any words of reassurance or any questions. He knows what you need. You know what he needs.

His cock moves firmly down against your tummy beneath the sheets, his shaft settling perfectly against your pussy, already wet and aching for him like it had been the second he walked into the room. He puts both hands above your head, leans down to kiss you as he drags himself up and down within your folds, up and down, up and down.

It feels incredible, just having the thick length of him rubbing back and forth against your clit, the wide head catching at your entrance every now and then, eliciting a deep groan from Joel and soft whimpers from you. You grip his back tightly, broad and firm and yours, fingertips digging into his skin as he fucks himself against you.

"Feels so good," you whisper in his ear, voice trembling with every thrust, "Feels so good, Joel."

"I know it does, babygirl," he whispers, kissing your ear and grinding himself against you even deeper, moving his hands down to grip your hips as his cock continues to slip back and forth against your folds, "You're so sensitive, aren't you? That big cock feels so good against your little pussy, hm?"

You nod frantically, arms moving up a bit to wrap around his neck, your cheek brushing against his.

"You want a bit of my cock inside your hole, baby?" he whispers softly, secretly, pushing your hair away from your face, "Huh? You want the tip, honey? Just a little bit?"

You don't even have to think.

"Yes," you moan, "Yes, please, put it in, please."

"Okay, baby," he murmurs, pulling back a bit to look down at the mess you're making together, reaching his hand down to position his cock at your entrance, "Just the tip, babygirl, I won't go any further than that. Don't be scared."

"I'm not scared," you breathe, and you absolutely mean it, looking up at him with what you're sure is a completely wrecked expression, "I want it, Joel. Please."

He places the head of his cock against your hole gently, very gently. Then he takes your hands from around his neck and holds them in his, presses them up against his chest as he looks deep into your eyes. You look back, gaze never leaving his as he slowly pushes himself inside you - just the tip.

You gasp.

"Shhh," he breathes, squeezing your hands and continuing to peer into your eyes, never breaking eye contact, "Shhh, you're okay," he murmurs, "You're okay, angel."

You lay completely still, lips parting and eyes going hazy as you focus all your energy on experiencing this moment, on feeling the way the head of Joel's cock feels inside of you. It's pulsing, warm and wide and big inside your pussy, throbbing against your walls.

It feels fucking amazing.

"Joel," you whimper, eyes still locked completely on his.

"You're mine," he breathes, jaw tense and eyes alight with something you can only describe as pure passion, "You hear me? You're the only one I want. Don't want anyone else, baby. Nobody."

You nod desperately, thighs shaking as the fat head of his cock pushes inside just a little more, making you squirm. He stills his hips, still holding your hands against his warm chest.

"Look at us," he murmurs, "Just look."

Your gaze finally unlocks from his, eyes trailing downward to where you're connected, where the thick length of his cock juts out from between your legs. You rise a bit on the bed, whimpering as you look down at exactly where he sits inside of you, wet and dark and filthy and fucking beautiful.

"You can take all of me," he whispers, "I know you can, babygirl. But not now, not here."

"I know," you breathe, swallowing and looking up at him again with tears filling your eyes.

He pulls himself out of you then, places his thick and throbbing shaft against your pussy again and begins to thrust, moving downward so he's pressed up tightly against you, your hands caught between each other's bodies, the crucifix still hanging between your fingers.

"I'm gonna take you away with me, okay?" he says, almost a whimper as he stares into your eyes again, intense and focused, "We're gonna go away and I'm gonna tell you everything you wanna know about me, alright? And I'm gonna fuck you, baby. I'm gonna fuck you so good."

You're nodding as he speaks, whimpers and whines flowing continuously from your mouth as you near closer and closer to your orgasm, that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach growing stronger.

"I'll fuck you in the bed, I'll fuck you in the shower, I'll fuck you on the fucking floor," he groans, eyes suddenly shutting and breaking the eye contact he'd managed to hold for so long, his face coming down to bury itself in your neck, "You're mine, angel, you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cry as your climax hits you, knocks the wind out of you as you start to shake beneath him, your hole fluttering against the length of him, "I'm yours, Joel, only yours."

You feel his come hit your stomach, painting your skin as he releases a deep groan into your ear and puts his entire body weight on top of you. You just close your eyes and feel him, exist in this moment for as long as you can, just listening to his breathing match your own as you both come down from your high.

He nuzzles his face against the heat of your neck, squeezes your hand in his between your bodies. The crucifix digs into your palm but you barely feel it.

"I want you to keep it," you whisper in his ear, and he doesn't have to ask what you're talking about, just presses a soft kiss to your neck and finally pulls back to peer down at you with total adoration.

"Okay," he murmurs with a soft smile, "I will."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

[maxespurr]

Giving In

Warning: Nat has a Penis, 18+ Only, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Natasha is holding herself back. Little does she know that Wanda already knows and decides to give the redhead an incentive...

Words: 934

---

Natasha was alone at the gym in the Avenger Compound, in the middle of unleashing a flurry of punches at a large punching bag.

It was past four thirty in the afternoon, an odd hour to be training. Most of the Avengers that lived in the Compound either did their training during the early hours of the morning or in the dead of night. These days, Natasha preferred to train alone. The cause to the shift in her training schedule was frustrating, with only herself to blame.

It started when she came across Wanda showering in the locker room after a rough morning of cross-country training from Steve. Wanda heard her come in (they were the only girls on the team so it was easy to guess it was Natasha) and asked her to get her a towel. When Natasha returned with a freshly cleaned and dried towel, Wanda shut off the shower head and stepped out of her shower cubicle, her bare self fully exposed for Natasha's eyes to drink in. It was the first time she ever saw Wanda naked and almost instantly, Natasha felt her cock twitch in her pants, and it was only getting harder. Wanda asked her what was wrong, but Natasha said nothing and quickly excused herself.

That was a week ago.

Every time she saw Wanda, her body had a strong response to the young witch's presence. Natasha became distracted every time they were within proximity of each other. The head on her shoulders could not focus on anything else because the head between her legs could only think about being buried deep inside Wanda. It got to the point she had to actively avoid Wanda if Natasha wanted to get any semblance of work done.

She knew that Wanda noticed the shift in her behavior. After all, Natasha was making no effort in hiding the fact she'd leave the room whenever Wanda walked in. Natasha would make eye contact with the young woman for five seconds and she could feel whatever pants she would be wearing at the time to suddenly feel tight. It was incredibly frustrating that her body was reacting like a hormonal teenage boy, and she couldn't stop it.

Natasha finished her workout panting heavily, beads of sweat sliding down her face.

Her body felt hot, and she knew it wasn't because of exercise.

She wondered how much longer she could last before she would break.

---

"Goddammit. I don't understand how the hell Tony built this damn compound without a working dishwasher. It's been a week already," Natasha muttered to herself while slowly going through the massive pile of dishes in the sink (she was going to have a talk with Sam later).

"Need some help?"

Natasha froze.

She turned to her right to find Wanda standing beside her, a small towel in hand. The moment their eyes met, Natasha felt her cock throb in her sweatpants. She wanted to get away and privately relieve herself, but her sense of responsibility and not wanting leave Wanda with the pile of dishes won over her desire to leave.

Natasha tried to hide her growing erection by having the leg closest to Wanda positioned a bit forward, praying the brunette did not notice. "Sure, I could use help drying."

Wanda nodded and took a plate from Natasha.

They stood beside each other and silently went through the stack of plates, silverware, and coffee mugs. Natasha wondered why Wanda wasn't saying anything else considering this was the first time they've spoken to each in over a week.

When she handed Wanda the last of the dishes, Natasha turned off the faucet and hastily dried her hands. "Thanks for your help, Wanda. I'm-"

Wanda cut her off and backed her against the counter, placing her hands on either side of Natasha and trapping her.

"You're not running away again, Natasha. I won't let you."

"W-Wanda, wait...!"

But Wanda didn't listen. She pushed her pelvis against the older woman's.

Natasha shuddered at the contact and swallowed back a moan. She could tell she was fully erect, and it was impossible for Wanda to not feel it herself.

"Did you really believe I didn't notice the reason you've been avoiding me?" Wanda spoke in a low whisper, eyes never leaving Natasha's packing pair. "This... lively thing?" She traced the full length of Natasha's erection, starting from the base and slowly making her way up to the tip.

Natasha gritted her teeth and gripped the counter with such force her knuckles turned white when Wanda began stroking her through her sweatpants. She felt something burning, something primal, welling up deep inside of her. It had been growing this past week and was about to burst at the seams when Wanda pulled away. Natasha, in a lust-filled haze, could only stare dumbly as the brunette walked away.

Then, Wanda looked over her shoulder at Natasha and lifted up her skirt: she had no panties and her pussy glistened with arousal.

"If you're done running away, come to my room and this will be yours."

Wanda let her skirt fall and left the kitchen while Natasha was still reeling and processing what just happened. Each second that passed, her willpower crumbled, and her reasoning was thrown out the window.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Natasha knew it was a bad idea to mix work and sex, but the thought of finally getting Wanda under her and having her way with her overpowered any rational thought she had left as she finally took a step forward towards Wanda's room.

---

A/N: Part 2...? 🤔

#wandanat #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov

[lijojo]

how the genshin men rizz you up

premise: although you two have been dating for some time now, they never keep trying to charm you. what are ways your boyfriend keeps you on your toes?

WILL get into your favorite books/shows and try to copy your favorite characters

sometimes while you’re just chilling, he’ll walk into the room reading one of your books or having your favorite show playing on his phone. and because your tastes aren’t always shared, you’ll raise an eyebrow in question. “i thought you didn’t like it.” 

he doesn’t say anything, just merely shrugs at you and simply goes on with his day. and after that point, whenever you try to playfully glance over his shoulder, he flinches away. you’re confused, but don’t really say anything else. you trust him. if he didn’t want you to know, you’d respect that. 

you’d never expect two weeks later to be greeted with the sight of him with a fake rose in his mouth dressed as your favorite character you’d been gushing to him about for the past two months. you’re 100% sure he ordered his costume right off of amazon, with the way it barely fits him.

“why hello there,” he greets, still with the flower in-between his teeth. outstretched in his hand is a bag of your favorite candies. there’s something about his wig that makes this situation seem unreal. even if your favorite character shared the same hair color as him, he still puts on the wig, as if to really sell it to you.

you don’t even bother trying to stifle your laugh. if your carrying anything, you drop it immediately to bend down, cradling your stomach. “oh my god,” you say in-between chortles, wiping away a stray tear, “you are so cute.” 

he pouts. “is it not good?”

you can barely contain your smile. “it’s perfect.”

“but you’re laughing. you’re not supposed to do that. you’re supposed to get flustered and play along while i sweep you off your feet.” 

you tenderly take the candies out of his hands and put it on the table, placing his terribly-placed wig down along with it. running your hands through his hair, you kiss him softly. he’s quick to reciprocate, quietly moaning and cupping your jaw. he matches your pace, if not a little more eager. 

“don’t you worry, you do that already.” 

alhaitham, zhongli, gorou, tighnari, scaramouche, xiao, thoma, ayato, baizhu

bluntly expresses his feelings towards you

almost painfully so. 

“you look sexy in that hoodie.” 

“i know,” you reply monotonously. “i also know that we’re in a grocery store right now and there are children here.” 

he’s not always straightforward about his thoughts, but on days he’s feeling especially affectionate, the words slip right through. 

“listen, i just think the way you wear them is really cute. not anyone can pull it off, you know? but you do it so effortlessly. it makes your butt look super squeezable,” he comments, grinning when you give him a glare. “your face in general is just very hot. it’s just my type. i didn’t even know i had a type. i think i have a crush on you, honestly.” he leans his head on your shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “you always know how to make me feel like a nervous teenager all over again.” 

“that’s very sweet,” you say with a chaste kiss on his cheek, “but i don’t know if saying this in the middle of the self-checkout is appropriate.”

he huffs, scanning the fruits and vegetables. “it’s fine if the children hear that, though, right? it’ll teach them to be more expressive.”

“i guess that’s true,” you humor him, “still, i’d appreciate it if we could enjoy this moment where it’s quieter.”

he contemplates before nodding. “okay, if that’s what you want.” he fixes his posture. “anything for you.”

you smile. “thank you.” 

when you get home, he continues to shower you in compliments. as he takes the large haul of groceries out of the car, he rambles. like a puppy, he trails after you as you unlock the door to your shared house, letting him inside to put all of your groceries on the dining table. 

“i just don’t think i appreciate you enough,” he mutters. “whenever you get me coffee in the mornings, i never thank you, but you spoil me as if i did anyway. i know sometimes i get mad at you for disagreeing with me but later on i end up regretting it.” 

he takes out the eggs carefully as if they were his own children and puts them in the fridge. “you’re always looking at the pros and cons for me, even when i don’t want to hear them. i love you so, so, so, so much. i appreciate you and respect you. even when you sometimes don’t want to cuddle.” he laughs, taking the strawberries out of your hands to put them away.

“i love our relationship dynamic, did you know that? because i know that. we’re always making sure we don’t go crazy. like that one time you helped me calm down when i was having a bad day. i love how you and i always tackle our problems together, whether they’re shared out not. you never make me feel like a bad person, just in progress. and i love how you trust me enough to open up to me, i know it hasn’t been easy but i appreciate that you’re always trying. you make loving you seem like the only right answer.”

by the time he’s done talking, you’ve put everything away. he ends his talk with tranquil silence, gathering the empty grocery bags and setting them aside for later use.

this time, you’re actually flustered. “where did all that come from?”

he doesn’t always get like this. sometimes he’s a little quieter, sometimes he gives you a small “love you” and it’s all you need to know. 

he shrugs. “i don’t know. i just felt like you needed to know and i had to tell you right away.” 

he gives you a little kiss like it’s nothing and goes to turn on the tv, leaving you speechless. in your previous relationships, romantic or platonic, no one had really taken the time to acknowledge your efforts so directly. you’d spend hours if not days worrying if your affections were equally reciprocated (or at least appreciated). being so openly appreciated was a new feeling that left you feeling open and vulnerable, which you were beginning to learn wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling at all. 

thoma, childe, itto, gorou, heizou, kaeya, kaveh, venti 

writes love letters to you

he writes them everywhere. on post-it notes, on pieces of scratch paper, on the margins of your work notepad (although you’ve had to hide them at some point because they were starting to get outside of the margins and you still needed them to write in). 

in these little notes, he’ll write all sorts of different things. whether it’d be how much he loves you, about a particular moment you shared that he felt was precious (he’d write it in specific detail, as if it were an excerpt from a novel), or any miscellaneous thoughts he believed was important to convey (”you looked really cute in that dress that other day. i love how you looked so happy in it.”).

he writes things as he thinks them. sometimes you two will be watching a movie together and he’ll have an ‘aha’ moment, get up, and grab a piece of paper to write in.  

and then he’ll leave them everywhere. 

everywhere. you once found a note just as you were putting your clothes in the washer. (”oh, i must’ve left it there.”)

one day, you end up asking him why he writes them, even though sometimes they’re not even intended to be read by you.

“i heard that you remember things better when you write them down,” he started. “sometimes i’d get little thoughts of you and i thought it’d be a waste to forget them.”

you open your mouth to say something but he continues. 

“on anniversaries and stuff like that, i always end up forgetting what i want to say. i’ll get so nervous or in the moment my mind will go blank. i don’t like that. so i thought that if i wrote them down, it’d help me remember exactly how to put my feelings into words.” he turns to look at you and beams. “and if they also help remind you how much i love you, then i’d say it’s an added bonus.” 

alhaitham, diluc, cyno, kazuha, albedo, baizhu, zhongli, xiao

makings kissing a game

whoever gives the most kisses wins. of course, neither of you are keeping track, but that doesn’t stop him from planting a big kiss on your mouth in the middle of the movie and saying, “fifteen points!” 

and naturally, not one to lose, you take up the challenge. you plant two kisses. that is where it escalates to the point where you two are trying to kiss each other without being kissed. it ends up with a lot of strange head movement that results in a fit of giggles. 

he kisses you on the cheek when he hands you your coffee like it’s a habit. in early mornings, when the two of you are still waking up, he’ll whisper a soft “five points” with a raspy voice. when you lunge to get him back for it, he’ll dodge, rubbing his eyes and pointing a little finger at you. “haha missed me.” 

on days you have work, if you don’t give him his goodbye kiss he’ll catch you on the way out. he’ll follow you groggily, silently. mid-way with putting your shoes on he’ll plant his lips on yours. his hand comes up to cup your face, gently caressing the apple of your cheek. you’re expecting him to murmur some amount of points at that point. but instead, he smiles into the kiss and hums. “i love you,” he whispers, “have a good day.” 

you end up leaving with a racing heart. although you’re used to his antics, he never fails to remind you how swoonworthy a simple kiss goodbye can be. 

venti, childe, ayato, heizou, tighnari, kazuha, cyno, kaveh, thoma, kaeya

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin characters #genshin men x reader #imagines #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #scenarios #x reader #fluff #domestic fluff #comfort #comfort fic #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kazuha x reader #kaveh x reader #ayato x reader #thoma x reader #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #alhaitham x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #heizou x reader #venti x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader

[mellifiedprincess]

GOT MY FIRST MATT REQUEST😝 this is angsty to fluff, so be warned. i got kind of carried away and don’t have anyone to proofread my writing so sorry if this actually sucks ass.

“I’m gonna be working 16 hours again today, so I won’t be home until late.” You can feel the annoyance from your boyfriend before you even turn around. Matt absolutely hated when you worked long shifts like that, but he also knew you loved your job as a peds nurse. Still. He hated the hours. He hated how tired you were after work, all because you would pick up everyone else’s slack.

“Again? Baby-“ He stops himself, watching you pull the baby pink scrub top over your head. You can only laugh softly at his expression. “That’s the 3rd one this week.”

“I know, but I Lisa asked me to cover part of her shift. She’s always been super nice to me.”

That was one of the things Matt loved and hated about you, you were too nice. Always doing for others, never for yourself. And he worried you were gonna burn out.

He places his hands on your cheeks, placing a kiss to your slightly squished lips. “You’ve barely slept baby. You haven’t had anything to eat. You’re barely a person right now.”

“Matt, please don’t do this right now. I’m gonna be late.” You watch as he rolls his eyes, stepping away from you as you gather the rest of your things. “I know you’re just worried about me, but don’t be. I’m fine!”

“Just please text me and let me know you made it to the hospital okay, and let me know when you’re on the way home. Just so I know you didn’t fall asleep at the wheel.” He reaches out for you, and you greedily fall into his embrace. “I will. I love you, okay.” You place a soft kiss to his lips and smile sweetly. “I love you more baby.”

And with that you leave.

You kept your word of texting Matt and letting him know you made it to the hospital safely. Even sending him a cute little selfie of you blowing him a kiss.

But when he saw it was almost 45 minutes past the time you should have been home, he felt a pit of anxiety form in his stomach.

He immediately ended the game of fortnite he was playing, and grabbed his phone wasting no time in calling you.

No answer.

So he tried again. And again. And again.

No answer. So he calls the floor of the hospital you work on. Only for the nurse on the phone tell him, you left almost an hour ago.

Kid was shitting bricks he was so scared.

“Nick!” At the sound of Matt’s terrified voice, the older brother of the triplets rushes into his room. “What?” Nick asks as he watches a frantic Matt put his shoes on. “I need you and Chris to take the other car and help me look for Y/N.” This only confuses Nick more.

“Isn’t she at work? And we can’t drive without our-“ “She’s not answering her phone. She left work almost an hour ago. She should have been back by now!” Matt cuts Nick off, trying his best not to break down.

Next to his brothers, you were the most important person in Matt’s life. The thought of anything happening to you made his want to throw up.

“You need to breathe before you pass out. Y/N is fine Matt, she’s gonna be okay.” Nick rubs comforting circles on his back, trying his best to calm his younger brother down.

“Maybe she fell asleep in the parking lot.”

You were not in the hospital parking lot when Matt arrived, only making his anxiety worse. “She’s not here!” He tells his brothers who are on the phone with him as they drive around the city in search of you.

“Chris is gonna take me back home, in case she shows up, but he’s gonna keep looking.”

Matt was barely listening anymore, because as he turned to get back on the highway he sees your car. And when he looks closer, he sees you in it. Asleep.

“I just found her and I’m going to kill her, right after I tell her how much I love her.” “Is she okay?” Chris asks.

“She fell asleep in her car. She’s fine.” Matt hangs up after that. He was relieved to say the least, but so furious with your stupidity.

As he gets out of his car and walks up to your window, he allows himself to take a minute to actually breathe.

You’re startled out of your sleep to a tap on your window, looking up you meet the eyes of your very angry looking boyfriend.

As soon as you unlock the door, he’s pulling it open and unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’m so sorry-“ He cuts you off by pulling you into his chest, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against yours.

“Do you have any idea how fucking worried we were?” You begin to gnaw at the inside of your cheek, the feeling of guilt all consuming your body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize I was falling asleep.”

“I need you to realize how stupid and dangerous that was. We’re not in Maine or Utah, baby. We’re in LA. You know from working in a hospital how dangerous it is here.” He knows he should be a little more cautious with his words, but fuck he was scared.

“I’m sorry. I closed my eyes for two seconds! I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Matt stops himself from berating you anymore, knowing you probably feel guilty enough. “Just- go get in the car. I’ll grab your things.” “I can’t leave my car here-“ You don’t even finish your sentence at the look Matt gives you.

You get in the passenger seat of his car and watch as he grabs your things, and double checks that your car is locked, before settling in the drivers seat.

“I need you to really listen to me when I say this.” You turn in your seat to face him, his hand reaching for yours. To comfort you or himself, he’s not too sure at this point.

“The next time you even think there’s a possibility of you falling asleep like that, I’m talking you yawn for 2 seconds longer than usual, you better call me. I don’t care what time it is. I love you and you scared the hell out of me tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Matty. I love you and promise I’ll never do anything like that again.” He smiles softly, and places a delicate kiss to your palm.

Now that you’ve faced the repercussions of Matt, you spent the drive home preparing yourself for the inevitable lecture to come from the one and only Nicolas Sturniolo.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

[reiding-writing]

hiii, i hope you're well! i saw that you are taking requests for spencer and i really like your angst fics so i was wondering if you could write one with unrequited love?

preferably bau!reader who has feelings for him but he doesn't and she watches him get with someone else and everybody knows how she feels about him but he is oblivious, ending is up to you but i love me a sad ending heheh 😸

transgression [ s.r ]

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. He’s in love with somebody else.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE MAEVE ARC, LOTS of misunderstanding, Spencer is kind of a bad friend, lots of arguing, major character death

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 8.2k || masterlist!!

a/n: sorry for the delay, but i did warn you it was gonna be long so- also i listened to ceilings on repeat whilst writing this so take that as you will 🫶

did i bend the maeve arc to my will for this fic? yes. yes i did.

taglist (slashed blogs couldn’t be tagged): @babyspiderling @marsxoxo2 @vytvyvy @hpstuff244444 @frostooo @ohmysw33 @radioactiveinvisible @devilsadvcte @the-local-pendeja @kakashis-formal-simp @robinswrld

You suppose you did it to yourself.

Spencer’s migraines had gotten increasingly worse over the last few months, and after a few consecutive days of hounding him, he’d finally decided to go and see a medical professional about it.

You’d expected him to come back with news about how his brain stem was too active from how hard he was working himself, or that he’d managed to raise his blood pressure to an unhealthy high from all the stress he was under.

Instead he’d told you that they couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him and that he’d been referred to a geneticist to check if the cause of his sudden mind-numbing aching was due to an underlying condition that might have been passed down from his mother.

He’d come back and forth to you for weeks about his phone calls with the doctor.

How she was helping him with his sleep deprivation.

How she was helping to manage his diet.

How she loved classic literature.

How she and him had spent four consecutive hours on the phone debating over the logistics of a novel they both enjoyed.

You could see the change happening before your eyes, and you weren’t the only one either.

“Pretty boy’s chipper this morning,” Morgan joins you at the kitchenette, his eyes following Spencer as he takes a seat at his desk with all of the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy who’d been let off his leash for the first time.

You hum with a nod, focusing your attention on the two cups of coffee you were making, heaping tablespoons of sugar into Spencer’s Doctor Who mug to satisfy his insatiable need for sweetness. “They’re reading a book together,”

“Really?” You respond to Morgan’s raised eyebrow with a short nod and another hum.

“Thoughts in Solitude by Thomas Merton, apparently she finds the religious analysis ‘fascinating’,” You can’t help the small contemptment that seeps into your tone as you reiterate what Spencer had told you to Morgan, and you can practically feel his pitiful gaze as he watches you make your coffee.

“I’ve heard of that book before from somewhere,”

“I tried to get him to read it a few months ago,” You take a sip of your coffee at the end of your sentence, barely able to taste it over the scolding water but not finding the mind to care.

You leave your conversation with Morgan at that, taking the two mugs in your hands and walking back into the bullpen, placing Spencer’s mug in front of him and walking around the cluster of desks to reach your own.

He’s sure he doesn’t need to verbalise it, but Morgan feels increasingly sorry for your situation, noting how you skirt past Spencer’s “thank you” without a response as you bury your head in your files.

he can’t imagine how much the fact that Spencer had seemingly formed a crush on his geneticist ripped you apart.

And the worst part? He’d never met her in person.

All scientific laws of attraction be damned, Spencer Reid had fallen in love with someone he’d never met in the span of three months, and you we’re resigning yourself to sit on the sidelines and watch as the man you had been in love with for six years find the happiness that you longed for with somebody else.

How you managed to keep up your facade you didn’t know.

You’d offered him change for the pay phone he’d call her from when he was running short. You’d let him rant to you about her opinions on a novel that you had failed to get him to read. You made excuses for him to leave the office early so that he could spend his time on the phone with her.

You were the one that sent him to the hospital and caused him to meet her in the first place.

He never hesitated to remind you of that fact, thanking you vicariously every time he relayed his conversations with the doctor back to you.

As the weeks progressed he stopped calling her that. She wasn’t ‘the doctor’ anymore. She was Maeve.

He didn’t call you by your first name and you’d known him for ten times longer that he’d known her. He didn’t even call Morgan by his first name and those two were practically brothers.

And that part was probably what hurt the most.

Maeve.

A name of Irish origin meaning ‘intoxicating’. How fitting.

Apparently the Irish goddess of love and desire was named Maeve. You could see the glimmer in Spencer’s eye that told you his Maeve was just as important as the mythological goddess he was describing.

His Maeve.

“So why haven’t you two actually gone on a date or anything?” You take a sip from the mug in your hands, swivelling your chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot. “You’ve been talking for what, four months now? Surely it’s about time you actually met her in person,”

“It’s complicated,” Spencer sighs as he collects the loose papers he was working on in a pile. He didn’t want to divulge Maeve’s issues without her permission.

“You’ve been saying that for the last six weeks Spencer,” You roll your eyes as you discard your half-empty mug on the table. “If I didn’t know any better i’d say you’re putting it off,”

Spencer shook his head adamantly at your suggestion. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He did want to meet her. Desperately. He’d wanted to meet her since the end of their first phone call. But he also wanted to keep her safe.

How do you meet up with somebody who’s hiding from a stalker without endangering them?

“I do want to meet her. It’s just- she’s dealing with something personal and it’s put a rift our plans, that’s all,”

“So it’s her not wanting to meet up with you then?” You raise an eyebrow at him over your desks.

“Look it’s- You don’t get it okay? It was a mutual understanding from both of us.” You can hear Spencer’s tone become more defensive as you spoke, and you raised both of your hands in surrender.

“Okay, i’m sorry for prying-” You ended your apology with a laugh, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite feeling your heart deflate in your chest at the way the friendliness his his eyes fizzled out the longer you looked at him.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer’s late to work this morning.

It’s 8:06 when he finally walks through the glass doors, the coffee you made him stone cold after sitting lamely on his desk for the better part of twenty minutes. He doesn’t so much as offer an apology as he picks up the mug and makes his way over to the kitchenette to pour the coffee down the sink.

You follow behind him in a mix of intrigue and a want to refill your own mug, swilling it out with some water as you watch Spencer load a coffee pod into the machine. “Phone call last longer than you expected?”

“Hm? Oh- yeah, we were discussing the literary analysis of Annabelle Lee,” Spencer’s demeanour seems to brighten immediately once he’s given an opportunity to discuss the details of his phone call with Maeve, although the beginning of his ramble is quickly cut off by the beeping of the coffee machine.

You wait patiently for his coffee to finish before you begin making yours, raising an eyebrow as Spencer pulls out a regular teaspoon instead of the usual tablespoon he’d incorrectly use to load his coffee with sugar.

Your intrigue only heightened when he pulled a carton of milk from the mini-fridge. Not even normal milk. Soy milk.

“Since when do you drink coffee like a normal person?”

His eyes flickered from his mug to your face as he tipped a single teaspoon of sugar into his drink before replacing the bag back where it came from. “It’s a part of my managed diet, Maeve thinks that my increased sugar intake might be one of the risk factors for my headaches,”

“Did she tell you to put soy milk in it too?” You don’t know why you have the urge to be petty, Spencer had long since needed to change his coffee drinking habits for the sake of decreasing his sugar intake and Maeve’s suggestions were beneficial for his health.

It was just the fact that it was her that ticked you off.

“She did actually, it provides the same amount of riboflavin as cow’s milk, which acts as a soothing agent whilst also helping constrict inflamed blood vessels, but without all of the excess fats in regular milk that might make my migraines more frequent, it’s genius really,”

He thought that her ideas were genius. Him. Mr ‘I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187’, thought someone else’s ideas were genius.

You’re sure that he already knew the benefits of milk alternatives, and yet he attributed the ‘revelation’ of what they could do to Maeve. Of course he did.

“When was the last time you made a decision for yourself?” The question comes out much harsher than you intend it to, and you can tell by the way Spencer furrows his eyebrows that he’s taken offence to it.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” No it didn’t. “I’m just a little surprised that someone as independent as you is so… willing to follow blind instructions,” Your attempt at saving yourself half-works, that wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears and you can see that the glimmer in his eyes is returning slowly.

“She’s a doctor, of course i’m going to follow her suggestions,”

You give him a soft nod as you pick up your mug from under the coffee machine. “Yeah, no, that makes sense, it’s just a little surprising is all,”

You don’t give him a chance to respond to you before you’re walking away from the kitchenette to retake a seat at your desk, fearing you might say something out of pocket if you continue the conversation any longer.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were really pissed off now.

You’d arrived back in Quantico three days ago, and you were still piled up to your neck in paperwork.

Maybe you would’ve had it finished by now if Spencer would stop talking about the fact that he was “-finally going to meet Maeve in person,”.

You had half the mind to snap and tell him to just shut up, although by the saving grace of Morgan you thankfully didn’t have to.

“Reid, give their poor ears a break man,” Your thankful for Morgan in times like this. He knew you were knee-deep in your feelings for Spencer, and he knew that every time Spencer so much as spoke Maeve’s name it carved another hairline fracture in your heart.

You were close to shattering, and Morgan could tell.

“Oh- right, sorry,” Spencer offered you an awkward smile which you mirrored back at him.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it,” You shake your head in a polite dismissal of his apology before turning your head back down towards your files.

“I take it you’re nervous then?” Alex’s voice cut through the beginning of an awkward tension between the two of you as she entered to bullpen with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Well- I mean- you know…” Upon being unable to find a sufficient response, Spencer resorts to shrugging into his chair. “I just don’t want to ruin anything,”

“But aren’t you curious what she looks like?” Alex raises an eyebrow with concern like Spencer was he son going on his first ever date.

“it doesn’t matter what she looks like I mean- she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me it’s just-”

You don’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation.

You sudden upheaval from your desk stops Spencer’s sentence as his eyes follow you across the bullpen and out of the glass doors, followed shortly by Morgan as he jogs after you.

“Hey- Wait up a minute-” Morgan catches your arm before you have a chance to get in the elevator, and as you turn your eyes towards him he can see the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..”

Morgan can do nothing more than pull your head into his shoulder and wrap his arms tightly around your back with a soft mutter of your name. “I know kid, I know…”

“He thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” You turn your head up from Morgan’s shoulder to meet his eyes, a single stray tear cascading down your cheek, illuminated under the florescent lights. “How am I supposed to compete with that..?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Incidentally, Spencer’s date with Maeve didn’t end up happening. Conflicting work schedules or something, you weren’t really listening.

Maybe all of your subconscious thoughts had leaked into reality and finally gave you momentary release from the crushing defeat of having Spencer go on a date with someone else.

Maybe it was them punishing you further by forcing you to sit through him rant about the book she’d left him at the front of the restaurant.

It didn’t help that you already had a headache that made it feel like your eye sockets were being kicked by an annoying kid sat behind you on an aeroplane, leaving a dull ache in it’s wake and making you just want to bury yourself in a hole and hibernate.

“And right at the back she wrote ’Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another’ it’s a quote from-”

“Thomas Merton. Yeah, I know.” You dig the knuckle of your left thumb into cavity of your eye socket over your closed eyelid, hoping to relieve some of the tension that’s lingering there and disrupting your thoughts.

“Thomas Merton’s ‘Love and Living’ specifically,” If Spencer noticed your discomfort he didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s a collection of his essays on the importance of love to live, so for her to have written it specifically knowing that I would read it means-”

“Reid.”

Your tone stops him from continuing any further, and he blinks at you with that sweet puppy-dog expression that would usually have you weak at the knees.

“No offence, but I don’t care about your over-the-phone girlfriend or the quote that she wrote in your book.” Your tone carried a harshness to it that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing from you. It was cold and detached and not like you at all.

“Are- you okay?”

“No, Reid, I’m not, and if you’d bothered to ask about my life every once in a while instead of using me like a human diary maybe you would’ve realised that already.”

You practically slam your file closed as you speak, pushing your chair out from your desk and leaving him sat in shock at your sudden change in attitude.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

After a bit of introspection, Spencer did realise that he hadn’t been treating you very fairly. He hadn’t asked you how your life had been in 3 months and 26 days. Four of those days he’d spent in damn near radio silence. He wasn’t sure he could take it much longer.

He missed you.

It was a bit ironic considering you sat directly opposite him for almost eight hours a day five days a week, but after you’d snapped at him last week, he truly realised just how much of his day he spent socialising with you, and just how much he missed talking to you.

So he decided that he was going to apologise.

And what better form of an apology for being dismissive of your feelings than putting a personal effort into something for you.

He walked into the office that morning with a leather bound copy of The Parasite by Arthur Conan Doyle stored cautiously in his messenger bag, pages scrawled with annotations from Spencer’s own reading of the novel that he hoped would be insightful to you as you read it yourself.

He’d remembered you saying how much you wanted to read the novel a few months ago, so he figured giving it to you as a personalised apology would show that he really did care about you and had listened to what you’d told him.

“Are you busy?” Spencer asks, though he already knows the answer to the question.

He’d been watching you from the other side of the room all morning, hoping for a moment or two of eye contact to see if there was a possibility of a conversation. A look from one to the other; even a smile would’ve been enough to make him feel validated and content. And he would have been willing to settle for that.

But you never looked up. Not even once.

"Mhm," You continue to not spare Spencer so much as glance as he speaks, turning over the page of the file you were working through.

“Can I take a minute of your time?” He tried to catch your gaze again, only to be met by your continued focus on your work. The last thing he wanted to do was disrupt your work routine, but he also knew that he needed to talk to you sooner rather than later.

“Please,” he said softly. “It’s important.”

You exhale heavily through your nose, exasperation written clearly in your expression as you leave your pen as a page marker to close the manilla folder on your desk. You turn your head upwards, raising an eyebrow and opening your hands to agitatedly indicate for him to continue.

You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt being so openly cold towards Spencer, but you’d reached a breaking point, and you couldn’t bare sitting idly on the sidelines and letting him tear your heart to pieces anymore.

Spencer was relieved that you’d granted him your attention, but the look you directed towards him was enough to make him wince. You weren’t looking at him through a lens of indifference but rather cold, hard disappointment.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather the right words for what he had to say.

“I’m sorry,”

He seemed almost breathless as he spoke, like he’d just finished a tangent about something without taking the time to breathe. “I know that I’ve been spending too much time talking about Maeve and not enough paying attention to you.”

"You don’t say," You mutter the words under your breath to yourself, but your sure that Spencer heard you based on the way his eyebrows knit and the small gleam of hope in his eyes dwindles to barely a flicker.

He was trying not to react to your snide comment. Spencer knew that your tone didn’t leave any room to deny your meaning. He’d been selfish in talking exclusively about his relationship and hadn’t realised how it was affecting you.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer repeated. “You mean so much to me and I haven’t been showing that.”

"Thank you," Your thanks are polite but dismissive, like you were acknowledging his apology but choosing to not actually consider it as one, and it left Spencer with an expression of clear frustration.

He was used to being able to read your facial expressions and emotions in the past, but now you were just an unreadable wall of disappointment. He had hoped the apology would've been enough, but it was clear that you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

Time to pull out the last resort.

He bent over and fumbled with his bag for a few moments before pulling out the novel he’d brought with him face up.

“I uh… got you this,” He holds out the book towards you. “You said you wanted to read it right? So I uh.. annotated it for you to make it more enjoyable,”

You take the novel from him with a raised eyebrow as your eyes scan the cover, a clear flicker of confusion in your expression.

Spencer noticed your expression and furrowed his own brow in confusion. You didn't seem to recognise the book. In fact, the look on your face made him wonder whether you even knew this book existed at all before this moment.

“I hope you… like it,” he said nervously. “I was going off what you'd talked about before. You mentioned the book was a classic?”

"I… have never seen this book in my life,”

“B-But…” Spencer knew this was going to be awkward at some point, but he'd hoped not this early into the conversation. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment, and it was only getting worse as he searched your face for an answer to this awkward situation.

“I… swear I heard you mention it once.”

You give him a short shake of your head and a pursed smile of awkward thanks as you put the book down on your desk.

Spencer looked away, embarrassed beyond belief. He hadn't even been able to deliver an apology properly, let alone make you feel special like he'd originally intended to.

How had he gotten it wrong? He had an eidetic memory for god’s sake.

When you put the book down on your desk, his eyes flicked back to the book. He'd spent almost 4 hours annotating and researching it and now it felt like all that effort had been wasted.

If you hadn’t mentioned it then who had? Someone must’ve. Someone he obviously equated with you to the point where he’d somehow managed to override his eidetic memory to mix the two of you up.

It takes him a few moments before you hear him whisper out a name under his breath, the palm of his hand dragging down the front of his face at the realisation.

"Maeve…"

The mention of her name had your eyes flickering away from the leather cover and right back to Spencer’s face, awkwardness completely rid of your features and replaced with a mix of negativity that Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to dig into.

"Are you serious?" Your words come out less questioningly and more accusatory, and you hold the book up so that he can see it once more, the gold embossing on the cover glinting under the overhead light as if to only taunt Spencer further for his mistake.

“You apologise for continuously disregarding me for your girlfriend by giving me a book that she showed interest in?”

You could see Spencer's face fall as your words sink in.

He hadn't even taken the time to think over what he was apologising with. It was almost as if his brain automatically just reverted back to his girlfriend's interests as an escape from dealing with his own guilt and sadness.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself. And in that moment he realised he'd just committed the biggest crime someone could make when trying to apologise.

“Like you constantly flaunting your relationship in my face verbally wasn’t bad enough.”

"I'm sorry I-" he says again, voice teeming with sincerity and guilt.

"You are truly and utterly unbelievable Spencer Reid." Your words didn’t carry anger as much as they did disappointment, and he could see the astoundment in your eyes as you pushed your chair backwards to stand, dropping the book straight in the trash bin by your desk before walking off.

It’s where it belongs; Right alongside the small sliver of respect you still had for him.

Spencer could've said so much more: he could've admitted how ashamed he felt for his careless actions and he could've apologised again and again a million times if it meant you'd stick around and give him a chance to make it up to you.

But you had already made it clear that you weren't in the right state of mind to discuss this matter further.

The best thing he could do now was give you space as he watched you walk away, a deep pain in his heart that slowly ate him alive from the inside.

He’d well and truly fucked up.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You were bordering tears by the time you reached Garcia’s office, unintentionally interrupting her lunch break with Alex in the process, though the two seemed to care less about the interruption and more about the fact that you liked like you were about to cry your eyes out.

You take in a sharp breath through your nose as you try to tape together the cracks in your composure, although with every one you seal three more seem to appear in it’s place.

“I-” You can barely get the first word out before the tears start rolling down your face, and Alex immediately stands from her seat to guide you to sit in her place.

“Hey, you’re alright, slowly,” Alex’s hands find your shoulders and rub reassuring circles against your shirt. The slow breath you take in doesn’t stop the flood of tears that’s blurring your vision, and you only manage to get out a single word, but it’s all the two need to understand what’s got you so overwhelmed.

“Spencer-”

“I swear I am two seconds away from smacking that boy over the back of the head,” You can hear the clear frustration in Garcia’s tone. “Surely he’s got to realise how much he’s hurting you by now,”

“He does… I lashed out at him and then left to come here…” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand alongside a small sniffle, trying to rid your vision of it’s blurriness from your tears.

“Good, the boy deserves to have some sense knocked into him,” You appreciate Garcia taking your side, but you can’t help that small lingering feeling of guilt that invades the back of your mind.

“He’s just in love, it’s not his fault…” The words almost physically pain you to say. The verbal acceptance that Spencer Reid was indeed in love with somebody. Somebody who wasn’t you.

“That doesn’t mean that he should be disregarding you though sweetheart,” Alex’s tone is soft and almost maternal, and your sure that it doesn’t help how emotional you are.

Garcia’s right hand reaches forward to straighten out the collar of your shirt, unintentionally crumpled as you try to wipe your face of your emotions. “You’re his friend, and you have been his friend for longer than he’s known this girl he’s talking to, it’s not fair for him to completely push you to the side,”

Garcia was right. It’s not fair. Nothing about how Spencer had been treating you since he’d started speaking to Maeve had been fair. And you were done making excuses for the boy just because you knees deep in your feelings for him.

You didn’t deserve to feel guilty. You didn’t deserve to feel bad for lashing out at Spencer for apologising for not showing interest in your life by further proving just how little he’d actually payed attention to you. You didn’t deserve to cry because he was the most stupid genius to ever live and couldn’t see that you were hopelessly in love with him. You didn’t deserve to suffer by his hand.

It wasn’t fair.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Maeve’s been kidnapped.”

You have to consciously suppress the small voice in the back of your head that celebrates the possibility that she might not be a part of Spencer’s life for much longer. It’s a horrible thought. You should never wish ill upon anyone, no matter how much you internally despised them.

Still, that part of you that was still petty, that was still infuriated with Spencer and Maeve, wanted you to tell Spencer straight to his face that you weren’t going to help him find her and that it was karma for how he’d treated you.

But you weren’t a bad person.

As much as you might hate her, she was still important to Spencer.

“I have a wealth of knowledge i should be applying to this case, but- i can’t focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time… which makes me the dumbest person in the room-” Spencer’s eyes are full of desperation as they scan across your teammates.

“So please help me… Please help me find her…” The desperation in his voice is heartbreaking, the remnants of tears staining his face as he explains the context of the situation through broken sentences.

“We don’t have an official case, so we’ll be working on personal time,” Hotch’s voice is much quieter than you’re used to. Softer, more considerate. “Does anybody want to leave?”

You can feel his eyes linger on you as he asks the question, and you subconsciously purse your mouth into a tight line to stop yourself from impulsively pulling out of the investigation.

You might be detrimentally frustrated with him, but you did want to help. Even if it ultimately resulted in your downfall.

Hotch gave you a short nod before turning to the rest of the team. “Good, let’s get to work,”

It didn’t take Garcia very long to track Maeve down, mostly attributed to her unique name and specialised job.

Dr. Maeve Donovan, a professor at Mendel University who took a sabbatical leave 10 months ago.

The group split into different groups once they’d found her, JJ and Morgan heading off to a loft her parents owned, Alex and Rossi heading to the lab she used to work at, and you and Hotch, accompanied by Spencer, going to speak to Maeve’s parents.

“Reid,” Garcia’s tone is soft as she looks over her laptop screen towards him as he begins to stand from the conference table. “I have a picture of her, do you want to know what she looks like?”

“No,”

Spencer’s answer is immediate, joined by a shake of his head.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You and Spencer watched from behind the one way mirror as the interview progressed.

They’d last spoken to Maeve five days ago. Her mother had cancer. She was also a geneticist. They were suspicious of her ex fiancé Bobby.

Her fiancé?

You can see Spencer’s face drop at the words despite the low lighting in the room, and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows yourself.

She had a fiancé?

Spencer practically storms out of the office after the questioning is over, and Hotch has to remind him to calm down as they reach the apartment of Robert Putnam with Morgan and Rossi in tow.

When the door opens the five of you aren’t greeted by Robert, but rather a girl, a girl who looked very confused.

You invite yourselves inside at the girl’s recognition that Robert was inside the apartment.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Diane, his girlfriend,” She raised an eyebrow as the five of you looked around, confusion cut short as Robert rounds the corner questioning the sudden voices coming from his living room.

“Hey babe what’s-“

“Robert Putnam, FBI we’d like to-” Spencer’s voice cuts him off harshly as he rushes to speak, although he stops his sentence halfway as a flicker of recognition falls across his features and his anger turns to dread.

“Hey, I know you,” Robert doesn’t have the time to say anything else to Spencer before Hotch forces him out of the room, shutting the door behind him to speak to Spencer privately whilst you Morgan and Rossi remained inside.

Hotch returned a few minutes later. Spencer didn’t.

You end up taking Hotch’s place as you push yourself out of the apartment with a small “excuse me,” to follow after Spencer as he walks out of the apartment building.

“Spencer- wait up a minute-”

He doesn’t stop at your call, and you’re practically running down the stairs by the time you get to him, already out of the front doors of the apartment building.

“Hey-” You take a second to catch your breath before turning your eyes back towards him again. “Are you alright?”

You could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he met your gaze.

The last time you spoke to him you threw away any remnant of your friendship with him in the bin alongside the book he’d given you, and now here you were, chasing after him to make sure that he was okay.

“Why did you agree to help?”

Your face falls from concern to surprise at his question, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I know that you don’t like her, so why are you here?” You could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, clearly overwhelmed with how the investigation was going.

“She’s important to you Spencer. Like her or not I care about you. So therefore I care about her,” You don’t think as you speak, words spilling out of your mouth with no conscious filter.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer’s apology elicits a sigh from your mouth, and you shake your head softly at him.

“Forget it, let’s focus on getting Maeve home safe alright?” He obliges to your request with a purse of his lips and a small nod, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“What’re you thinking about?” His eyes fall on yours once more at your question, round with confusion and glistening with the starts of tears. “I can see it in your face, you’re calculating something in your head,”

He exhales through his mouth in a small laugh. You’d always been able to figure him out, and not just because you were a profiler.

“2,412 hours,” His tone is uncertain, mixed between gratefulness for you observance and something far more upsetting. “That’s how long Maeve and I have contacted each other counting letters and phone calls…”

“That’s what-” You take a second to do the calculation in your head. “100 days?”

“100.5…” He runs his hand backwards through his hair, pressing his eyes closed like he’s afraid tears will spill from them if he doesn’t. “What if that’s all I get?”

“It won’t be Spencer…”

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes Spencer, I do,” You have to consciously suppress the sigh that threatens to leave your mouth, pushing your lingering distaste for Maeve down with it. “She is going to be fine, I promise,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Turns out Maeve’s ex fiancé wasn’t the stalker. In fact, he was being stalked himself, and whilst JJ and Garcia were looking over the images posted to Robert whilst him and Maeve were still together they discovered something that changed the entire direction of the investigation.

Maeve’s face had scribbled out in eyeliner.

You and the team spent the next thirty minutes rebuilding the profile from the bottom up.

“Celebrity stalkers are usually non violent,”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon Rossi?” Spencer looked up from his lap towards the group at the table, having separated himself from the group to sit on a sofa lining one of the walls so he couldn’t bias the profile.

It wasn’t going too well.

“What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him?” Spencer stood from his seat, anger flaring in his nostrils. “‘It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided’,”

You could hear the rise in his tone as he worked himself up the more he spoke.

“Spencer-“

“Maeve is somebody. And this- bitch is a nobody.”

“Spencer.”

Spencer caught your gaze, and immediately fizzling out of his eyes and replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry- I can’t be very helpful right now I should leave-“

“Yes you can Reid, you have 100.5 days of communication with this girl and a recall everything verbatim,” Morgan’s gaze is entirely concerned with Spencer’s outburst.

“There’s too much of it, and I can’t sort through any of it clearly-“ Spencer is clearly on the edge of breaking, and you can tell he’s not going to be able to keep his composure for much longer.

“Then pick one of us and we’ll go through it with you,” Hotch leaned his elbows against the table, his voice again portraying that soft, parental tone that said he knew how overwhelmed Spencer was getting.

Spencer didn’t even say anything, his eyes just silently flickered over to you and you knew you couldn’t refuse him.

You return his silence as you get up from your seat and pat your hand on his shoulder for the two of you to exit the room together.

Time to torture yourself for the sake of Spencer’s wellbeing.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Diane Turner, a research assistant working for her PhD in the same lab as Maeve. A student who had her thesis rejected because it contained a heavy sample bias that included both of her parents.

It took a while, but Garcia eventually managed to track down a loft that was owned under Diane’s parents’ names, less than 10 minutes away from Maeve’s apartment.

“Take your gun and vest off,” Diane’s voice is harsh through the receiver attached to the front of the building, and Spencer’s eyes flickered up from the silk blindfold in his hands to the metal box.

He doesn’t question the orders as he immediately begins stripping the vest from his torso, dropping it and his gun on the floor.

“Now come in alone.”

“Spencer.” You call out to him as he reaches for the door handle, and he gives you that look that makes your stomach do flips in your torso. Except this time it’s not that pleasant fluttery feeling, but instead an existential dread at the fact that he might not walk out of the building alive.

“I’ll be okay,” He gives you a nod of reassurance as he pushes the door open, and you find yourself clenching your hands around your gun to stop yourself from following after him.

The six of you wait outside for what feels like hours, and you lean back and forth on the balls of your feet as you become increasingly restless with the situation.

Then, a gunshot.

And a second.

And your heart drops in your chest.

You’re not entirely present as you rush into the building with the team following behind you, gun raised at your eyes.

Spencer had to be okay. He had to. He was going to be fine. You were going to walk into that room and he was going to be perfectly fine.

You hoped Maeve was alright too. As much as she was unintentionally causing you literal hell, you knew that she meant everything to Spencer.

You knew that he’d choose her over anything. He’d choose her over you.

And right now you don’t care. You just want him to be okay.

You force the door open to the loft with your foot, gun pointed straight ahead at the first person you see.

“Stay back-“ Spencer practically shouts from where he’s half lying on the floor, right hand clutching tightly at his left bicep, trails of blood cascading down his fingers and onto the floor.

“Stay back stay back don’t shoot-“

You let out an audible sigh at the fact that Spencer wasn’t critically harmed, although upon a whimper of his name from further across the room you turn your eyes up to the noise.

And you finally meet the girl that’s caused you ten months of hell. Held at gunpoint.

That small voice in the back of your head tells you that this might be your chance to finally rid her from your life, to let her succumb to whatever Diane had planned and leave Spencer to you.

But you take one look at the desperation in her eyes and any loathing that remained in your mind immediately fizzled out.

It wasn’t her fault. Of course it wasn’t. She was just a girl that happened to be in love.

“Diane,” Spencer pushes himself to stand, and you can see the pain in his face as he does. “There’s still a way out of this,”

“You never wanted me. Never!” Diane pushes the gun she’s holding hard against Maeve’s neck, and you can see her eyes squeeze closed as she attempts to keep herself from crying. “You lied!”

“I didn’t.”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly, and you glance over at Hotch as you spread across the back of the room, guns raised in Diane’s direction. “Diane, I offered you a deal, and you can still take it,”

“Me for her. Let me take her place,”

You only have a view of the back of Spencer’s head now, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that his expression is a pure display of desperation, one that you’re happy you can’t see because you’d lose your composure in an instant.

“You would do that?” Diane’s question is angry and accusatory, tears rolling down her face as she presses the gun against Maeve’s neck once more.

Spencer nods with no threat in his tone. “Yes,”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

You practically feel your heart stop.

“Thomas Merton,” Maeve’s voice is almost exactly as you imagined it to be. Soft, smooth and, as Spencer had called it all those months ago, ‘dipped in honey’.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane’s tone contrasts Maeve’s tenfold, pitchy, uneven and overrun with manic anger.

“He knows,” You can see Maeve’s eyes flicker, and you assume that they meet Spencer’s as his shoulders drop. “He knows.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane shakes Maeve in her grasp as if to intensify the urgence of her question, and you tighten your grip on your gun in instinctual response. “Who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve’s voice is confident and defiant despite the clear tears in her eyes.

Thomas Merton could’ve been something between Spencer and you.

“No.”

You can see a clear change in Diane’s expression at Maeve’s words, and she lowers the gun from Maeve’s head only to hold it up against her own, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes.

“Wait-”

Spencer barely has time to shout the word before the gun fires, and you flinch at the sound as you watch Maeve and Diane both drop to the floor, dark red blood pooling around the two.

You can feel the tension in the room as everyone computes what just happened, guns lowering slowly as their eyes lock onto the two women on the floor.

You’re not focused on that. You’re focused on the tightness of Spencer’s shoulders as he takes sharp breaths in and out of his nose.

The way he seems to forget about the bullet wound in his arm as his legs give out underneath him.

The way a sob that leaves his mouth despite the fact that he tries to muffle it with his hand.

The way that Spencer broke.

He's crying. Big, heaving, heart-wrenching sobs.

His shoulders are trembling.

His hands are shaking.

His head is hanging downwards so that his hair is covering his face.

You approach him slowly, kneeling down at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His eyes slowly shift from Maeve, his sobs only seeming to amplify as he meets your gaze. His eyes are red and closely with tears, his cheeks running hot and his lips trembling.

You don’t speak, knowing that you’ll break if you do. Instead, you guide his head into your shoulder and let him crumble in your arms, grieving the loss of the love of his life.

You’re sure you’re going to cry yourself to sleep when you get home, but right now, you needed to be strong. For him.

“I’m so sorry-“ Spencer speaks through broken sobs as you hold him, the rest of the team moving to secure the scene.

“Shh,” You shake your head against his softly, rubbing the palm of your hand up and down his back as you let him cry until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“I treated you so horribly-“ He pulls away from your shoulder to look into your eyes once more. “I’m so sorry- Please don’t leave me…”

You purse your lips into a line, your expression full of so many emotions Spencer can’t distinguish any of them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You pull his head back into your shoulder, leaning your head against his. “I promise…”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #neuvillette #focalors #furina #dont ask what happened here idk #this was. also supposed 2 be neuvi focused and then i. #dont talk 2 me abt focalors i wont ever shut up #got a 300k word essay on hand abt how i feel abt her character/how i interpret her personality and her story #focalors jsut like me fr fr (cries at the slightest inconvenience or the slightest mean comment) #shes so pathetic girlfail im gonna chew on her #what happens when reader gets stuck with two emotionally repressed french bastards?? hell #neuvi is the “emotionless” flavor of emotionally repressed in that hes HORRIBLE at showing emotions at all #ask him to smile and its incredibly unnerving and theres too many teeth but hes trying his best please call him pretty or he will cry :( #furina is the flavor of emotionally repressed where she makes it up by having Too Many emotions #using theatrics and masks to show everyone what they want to see but inside this girl is a MESS #constant anxiety and panic 24/7 #will do random shit and look at you and if u dont compliment her she will think u hate her and cry #compliment her and she'll do even stupider shit to try and impress you more #i love my scrunkly little babies they r so stupid and mentally ill someone get these bitches some THERAPY #i want 2 put them under a microscope #watch this be ooc fr furina when more of her lore drops if shes not girlfail im leaving #anyway see u in a week im going on a trip ill get back 2 u in 6-7 business days

[minhyungsluvr]

MARK + 00' LINE | FIGHTS WITH THEM

a/n: would you believe this has been in the drafts for a year now!!! The dialogue kicked my ass, but alas I prevailed

MARK: NOT TAKING CARE OF HIMSELF

He had texted you, saying it was another late practice. For the past week he had left earlier in the morning, and came back late at night barely able to keep his eyes open long enough to slip into bed beside you. You had brought it up before, or tried to, and he brushed you off. Saying it was apart of his job, he doesn't need a break, he feels fine. You not even sure if he's eating properly. The final straw was when he came home late again, this time you were away waiting on him. Like clock work, he comes through the door sluggishly. Movements slow, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. It almost pained you to bring it up now when the last thing he probably wanted was to hear you fuss over him again. But if you didn't bring it up now, then would you be able to again. "Mark, this really isn't healthy. You're not sleeping, I'm not sure your even eating meals. I'm sure you can afford a couple of days to relax." You spoke softly, hoping that keeping your voice soft would slim the chances of a fight starting. That didn't work. "Baby..." he started with a sigh. " I really don't want get into this tonight, I'm tired" he said as he walked past you to get to the bedroom. You followed him, still trying to make your point. "I'm not trying to nag or anything, but I just want you to start taking better care of yourself". He's still not listening to you, he to busy chaning into his pajamas. "Are you listening to me", you ask, now feeling frustrated. "I am, and I mean it when I say I'm fine. So can you please drop it so we cam go sleep." He turns to you as he speaks, waiting for you to say something else before moving. You nod once, "okay, fine." You slip under the covers, back towards him, you don't say goodnight and neither does he.

RENJUN: NOT WANTING TO MEET YOUR FRIENDS

Renjun was your first serious relationship, and you had hoped he'd be your last. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. He was caring, you had similar interests, and be made time for you despite his busy schedule. You've met a lot of the members of his group, you loved their dynamic. The way they were like family, how they were able to joke with each other like brothers. Your relationship was moving beautifully, until you invited him to brunch with some of your friends. When you asked, he Immediately froze up. Stumbling over his words to give you a quick, barely thought out excuse of why he would be busy during that time. You asked him again a week later, this time it was bowling. And again, he suddenly had to go do something with his members that he just thought about. It had been a month of bad excuses and dodging ever attempt at trying to meet your friends. They were starting to think you were making it up. It came to the point where you had to confront his about it. On a day where he was most definitely not bust you asked him again, "do you want to come with me a few friends for lunch"? You could feel him tense from his position on you as you both were stretched across the couch. "Ummm....." he started, beginning to sit up. "Why don't you want to meet my friends? I've met yours, and it was a lot of them." You spoke, exasperated. He starts looked around, like he's trying to find another excuse. "Stop" You saying, now also sitting up, "be honest with me Renjun. Why do you keep lying?" He hears your voice wobble, see your eyes get glossy. "I just don't understand, I've told how important my friends are to me and you won't even try to meet them." He's quick to console you as a tesr finally makes its way down your cheek. "It's not that I don't want to, I'm just nervous. I know how much they mean to you, and-" You cut him off, " I really like Renjun, and for us to get build our relationship your going to have to meet the important people in my life like I've met yours." You had taken his hand in yours, giving reassuring squeezes every now and then as he let your words sink in.

HEACHAN: DOESN'T TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY

This problem has been festering for a minute, and it’s probably your fault the situation is as big as it is. You should’ve brought it up when it was only a small issue, not when you came home from work later than usual with an attitude because your boss is a jerk. All you wanted was to come home to a clean and quiet home, instead you walk through the door to hear your boyfriend yelling through from the bedroom. All the dirty dishes were piled up in the sink, including the ones from the morning that you asked him to clean before you got home. When you walked in the room to ask him about the mess that was your kitchen, you didn’t want it to turn into a fight. It started with you asking him why he didn’t wash the dishes like you asked, especially since he was home all day. Then it ended with you accusing him of never taking you seriously. “What do you mean I don’t take you seriously?” he asked, no longer shouting. “I mean exactly what I said, you don’t take me seriously. When I tell you something you only joke about it.” The frustration was on your face and his as you started listing instances where he turned what you were feeling or what you said into a joke. Hot tears welled up in your eyes as you kept talking, anger building up from the long day you had and the argument you were having with Haechan. Seeing your face, how tired you looked, he calmed down. “Gorgeous, why have you never brought this up earlier?” You shrugged,feeling all the fight leave at his quiet tone. "Look, I promise to start listening better if start telling me how your feeling before it blows up." He stands in front of you, head tilting down to meet your teary eyes. He's only given a single nod, but the small, barely there smile on your face tells him everything will be alright.

JENO: FORGETTING IMPORTANT DATES

It's embarrassing, humiliating! You sit alone, at a table for two, in a restaurant with fancy lights, all by yourself. Looks of pity are being thrown from across the restaurant as you check the time of your phone for the fourt time that minute. Nope, still no text from Jeno. No text saying he's late, no text telling you why he hadn't shown up yet, not even a text to cancel. You could feel your face heat up as other couples walked past to get to their tables. Finally you gave up, you've waited thirty minutes too long. Walking out the restaurant, you call him, eager to see what held him up. "Hello" he answers on the first ring, "y/n..... are you there"? You had froze, he didn't show up to dinner because he was sleep! Not because he was in some life threatening situation. After the last time he had missed a date, he promised that he wouldn't miss another. Or at the very least let you know ahead of time why he couldn't come. You held the phone for another second before answering. "Did you forget about out plans" you ask. You hear him cuss quietly on the phone, before there is a rustling sound. Probably him fighting with his sheets to get out the bed. "I'm so sorry", he starts, "tell me where you are and I'll meet you there, ok sweetheart." He throws the pet name on at the end, knowing what it does to you. But it doesn't have the same effect this time. "Don't worry about it Jeno, I'm going home." You hung up before he was able to answer. He wasted no time calling you back while getting dressed, each called went ignored and only fueled him to move faster to meet you. By the time he showed up at your door, all his calls and texts still went unanswered. He could only hope you'd answer the door so he could try and make it right.

JAEMIN: NOT MAKING TIME FOR YOU

Of course you knew how busy he was before you even started dating. But if he was able to make time for you when you were just friends, you assumed that wouldn't change when he became your boyfriend. You'd spend weekends together watching romcoms, going out to eat, and now your lucky if you see him at least once a month. At first you blamed it on comeback season. Then of course there was the tour. But now he was back, and the most he done is respond to your texts telling you he's made it back home, or to laugh at a meme you've sent. You'd ask if he was free one day to come over, to hang out, he says he can't because he's playing games with Jeno. A new movie with your favorite actress just came out, and he can't see it with you because he's already getting lunch with the members. This goes on for a while, you trying to set dates up and him declining because he already has plans. You and your relationship have been pushed aside for a while, and you were sick of it. You called him on night, to ask him when he'd be free next. "I'm not really sure, I was going to spend some time just relaxing." Normally, he would've invited you over, but your not sure whats going on with him now. "Jaemin, are you tired of me?" He makes a noise of surprise over the phone, "What makes you say that, you know I'm crazy about you". You sigh, "It's like you don't want to be around me anymore. You're always busy, but not to busy for everyone else." It's a hot minute before he answers, "I didn't realize I was making you feel like that, I didn't even realize I was pulling away from you". "I understand that your busy, but I don't know...." you trail off. "No, I get it, I do. And I'm sorry", he says, "I just need to find balance is all. But don't think you're not important to me". His reassuring words bring a smile back to your face, "so are you going to be free soon" you ask hoping his answer would be different from earlier.

#mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee angst #renjun imagines #renjun fluff #renjun x reader #renjun angst #haechan angst #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #haechan fluff #jeno fluff #jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jaemin x reader #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #jaemin fluff #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #mark lee fluff #nct dream x reader

[liliacamethyst]

I briefly expressed the idea of Miguel finding out his partner is pregnant in this imagine, and I can’t help but wonder about the possibility of Miguel finding out this way (just as angsty in my opinion).

Another alternate universe Drabble:

Your heart races as you swing through the city, the wind whipping past your face. You are exhilarated by the adrenaline that comes with being a superhero. You’ve always felt like you belonged in the skies, protecting the people who trust you.

But something feels different today. You’re more cautious, more protective, and it’s not just because of yourself. There’s someone else involved. The thought makes your heart swell. You recently found out you’re a few weeks pregnant, and the thought of being a parent excites you. But you’re also scared. You don’t know how Miguel will react, considering his past.

As you land on the rooftop, you notice Jessica Drew waiting for you. Your nausea catches up with you as you double over.

“Jessica Drew, you breathe a word of this to anyone and I will kill you with my bare hands,” you whisper fiercely through clenched teeth.

“How can you when you're throwing up every five minutes?” she retorts. At your wince, she huffs out a breath. “You gotta tell him, at the very least.”

You take a deep breath, nodding slightly. Before you can answer her, your spider-sense tingles and your head snaps up. From the corner of your eye, you see a figure cloaked in shadows zooming toward you and Jessica. You recognize him immediately – it's the Vulture.

"Jessica, look out!" you shout as you push her out of the way. The Vulture’s sharp talons miss her by inches.

You don't waste a moment, shooting webbing to pull yourself towards him. As you close in on the Vulture, you exchange blows, his claws trying to find purchase while your punches land solidly.

Meanwhile, Jessica joins in, and you both engage in a fierce battle above the city. The buildings become blurry as you fight, your focus narrowing down to the Vulture’s relentless attacks.

At one point you see an opening. Your instincts tell you to go for it. But just as you lunge forward, the Vulture spins and his wing catches you in the abdomen. The force sends you hurling toward a building. You try to shoot a web, but the pain is too much.

Jessica catches you before you hit the ground and lays you down gently. She’s saying something but the world is growing dark. You reach for your abdomen.

"Please.. protect my baby," you whisper before everything goes black.

-

As you slowly regain consciousness, a sterile scentfills your senses. Your body feels heavy and a dull ache resonates through your abdomen. Your heart clenches as the memory of the battle rushes back and you instinctively move a hand to your belly.

Soft murmurs float around you and you blink your eyes open to see Lyla beside you. Her holographic form is displaying medical data in front of Miguel, who is pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back and a deep, angry frown on his face.

"...stable, but she must exercise caution due to early stages of pregnancy..." Lyla's words cut through the fog in your head, and your breath catches.

Miguel freezes, his gaze snapping to Lyla then to you. His expression crumbles as he takes in what Lyla just said.You slowly push yourself into a sitting position, your hand still protectively over your belly. Your eyes lock with Miguel's, his eyes widen with disbelief.

"You... We... Is this...?" Miguel stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You give him a simple nod.

"But...how? How did this happen?" His voice is choked.

"Miguel, listen to me," you start, your voice steady yet just a little bit above a whisper, "You don’t have to... This isn’t an obligation.I dont expect anything from you. I can raise this child alone. I..."

But before you can finish, Miguel leans in, pressing his lips against yours, effectively silencing your rambling. It’s a gentle yet passionate kiss filled with so many unsaid emotions and promises.

I loved this idea, and I really hope this is what you were looking for 💜

#miguel x you #miguel o hara #spider man 2099 #miguel ohara imagine

[messylustt]

Hii 👉🏻👈🏻 Could you write an Ethan Landry fic where he tries anything too woo the Reader and get together with her even though she has already a boyfriend. Hope you have an amazing day! 🩵

FRIEND-ZONED roommate!ethan landry

he would hate the readers boyfriend so much, but then the reader would like smile at him and his scowl would be gone

contains: protective ethan; ethan lusting over taken reader

step one step two

“HEY! HOPE YOU DON’T MIND, TOBY IS COMING OVER A LITTLE LATER.” You said as you finished eating your breakfast.

You lived in a dorm with Chad and Ethan. There was a mix up, you were meant to be rooming with some other girl. But you gradually didn’t mind being around the boys, and neither did they mind being around you.

Especially Ethan. Once the first week of you living with them past, Ethan became nearly infatuated. Your joyous personality and bright smiles made Ethan days all the more better.

Chad brushed it off as just a fleeting crush since you were a girl staying in their dorm room. Plus Ethan didn’t exactly get much action. But Ethan gradually grew to realise that it was certainly not fleeting. He liked you, but then he found out about your boyfriend, Toby.

He was unimpressed the first time he came over. You had triple checked with Chad and Ethan that it was okay. Chad of course said yes, while Ethan did also, but he certainly wished he could have said no.

Like a normal boyfriend, Toby would visit. You’d usually just stay in your room majority of the time. And Ethan tried not to listen in, or call for you to help him with something when his jaw tightened too much at the thought of what you were doing in there.

Ethan knew he had no right to feel jealous. Toby was your boyfriend, and he was just your roomie. You had announced him as your friend, which of course felt good, but then he’d catch you introducing Toby to others. ‘This is my boyfriend..’

“Of course!” Called back Chad from his room. “Bring him ‘round, I’ve got this new game I wanna try out.”

Ethan walked into the kitchen, seeing you sitting on a stool, wearing a large top…and nothing else. Of course you weren’t like flashing him or anything, but the effect of your bare legs did all the same.

"Morning, Ethan." You smiled. Ethan easily reciprocated it, loving the way your eyes lit up.

Later that day, when lessons and study had finished, you and the boys settled on the couch. You plopped down beside Ethan, who placed his arm around the back. Close enough without meaning anything more.

"Chad maybe don't hit it, and it might start working." You chuckle, watching as Chad got pissed at the tv. Ethan watched you as you grinned. You looked so pretty.

"Did you style your hair?" Ethan asked, suddenly noticing the way it fell differently today.

You turned your attention to him, touching your hair. "Yeah. I wanted to try out something different."

"It suits you." Ethan smiled, and yours widened.

"Thank you."

"Alright, I give up. y/n, fix it." Chad said, glaring at the tv.

You scoff. "I'm no more 'techy' then you." You cross your arms.

Ethan absentmindedly picks some lint off your sleeve, shifting slightly closer to do that. You turn back to Ethan. "Wait." You say, making Ethan meet your gaze.

You leaned slightly closer, and Ethan could smell your strawberry shampoo. "Hold still." You raised your hand to his hair.

A tiny spider had found its way into his curls. Your breath hits Ethan's face as you focused, picking the spider out. You catch Ethan's confused gaze. "Sorry, there was a spider."

"A spider?!" Chad exclaimed, eyeing you.

"A tiny one. No need to freak out." You scoffed as Chad slightly shuffled away. You teasingly brought the spider closer to Chad you backed up, before placing it on the couch.

Ethan grabbed your wrist pulling your hand back to his hair. "Are you sure thats the only one? What if I have a family growing in my hair?" Ethan just wanted to feel your hand again.

You chuckle and sink your hand back into his curls. You shift closer, tilting his face. You had one hand on his chin, directing his head where you wanted. Ethan tried to hold back a smile, but feeling you touching his face and hair, while your body stayed close, made a grin form.

You drop your hand, slightly knocking his head away. "Don't worry, you don't have a spider family living rent free."

Ethan still had that giddy smile present. "Are you sure? We live in the same dorm. What if some of its babies crawl into your bed?"

You hit his shoulder. "I could have left that spider in there."

"You wouldn't have." Ethan let his arm drop around your shoulder. "Your just too sweet."

You scoff. "You say that like it's a fault." Your brows cutely furrowed as Ethan's gaze darted. That's when a knock resounded on the door. You quickly stood, to Ethan's disappointment. He refrained from grabbing your leaving form, because he knew exactly who was at the door.

You shot Toby a smile once the door was open, and he gave you a hug. Chad was busy setting up the controllers for the game, and Ethan was busy watching you both. His jaw tightened, as he watched Toby peck your lips.

Toby then spotted Ethan. "Hey, man." He darted his gaze to Chad. "Oo, new game?" Toby rushed over, taking your previous seat.

Chad then went to explain what this new game entailed as your boyfriend became invested. "God, the minute he's through the door, your taking him from me, Chad."

You rested your elbows against the back of the couch, right behind Toby. Chad just sneakily grinned as you narrowed your eyes.

Ethan shifted his gaze from the game to you. Your hands were rested against Toby's shoulders as Chad and him began the game.

Ethan couldn't help but poke your side gently, earning you to glance at him. He narrowed his eyes on the hands that had been touching him earlier, now touching your boyfriend.

Ethan tilted his head, asking you to sit beside him. You ruffled your boyfriend's hair, before jumping over the couch to sit beside Ethan. Ethan tried not to scowl at the fact that you had touched Toby's hair and not his. But his smile soon returned when he heard you whisper in his ear.

"Who do you think's gonna be more of a sore loser?" You asked in reference to Toby and Chad. Ethan leaned closer to whisper in your ear, placing his hand behind your back. "My bet's on your boyfriend."

You scoff. "That's just because you don't like him very much."

Ethan turned his head, so that he was facing you. You were close and Ethan hated the way his breath hitched. "Why do you think that?"

You raise your brows. "I've never seen you smile at him once. And you always smile at people you like."

"Do I?" You noticed that?—Ethan thought to himself.

You nod. "Do you have some secret beef with him or something?"

Yes. "No."

You narrowed your eyes. "Yes, you do." Your gaze darted between his eyes and Ethan tried not lean in. Your boyfriend was right there—hellbent way too busy, but still there. "What—he steal your lunch, or something?"

Ethan rolled his eyes. "No, he's just not my type of guy."

"He's literally so similar to Chad."

Yeah, with the games, the frat vibes and loud personality. "Then, you should have dated Chad."

"Ew no." You shake your head. "I mean he's cute, but like very much a friend."

Cute? Did you find all your friends "cute"? More specifically, him? Would you say "ew, no" about him too?

"Well, then let's say your boyfriend wasn't in the picture..."

"Is this a dare or something? To see if I really like Toby?" Your eyes widened. "No—or did Toby put you up to this?"

"No, fuck!" Exclaimed Chad, most likely having either died or went off track.

"Toby? No." Ethan scoffed.

"Then what's got you all weird?" You still spoke so sweetly. Ethan hadn't moved his hand from behind your back, maybe even slid it further around you.

"Humour me. Besides Toby, I don't know the sorta guys you like."

You tilted your head, a small realisation—you thought was true—hitting you. "Oh my god. Do you like someone? Are you trying to see what girls like?"

Yes, Ethan thought to himself, I do like someone. Someone I can't have. You quickly grabbed Ethan's hand, and drag him into the slightly hidden kitchen.

You looked giddy, excited for Ethan. "Why didn't you tell me? I'm happy to help."

Ethan wished you were happy to help him get what he wanted. Still, Ethan went along with this small lie. It had gotten him alone in the kitchen with you.

"I don't know why I didn't. I just..." Ethan shrugged.

"Okay, well, who is she?"

Ethan shook his head. "I can't tell you. If she rejects me, I'll be embarrassed."

"Fine." You say, leaning against the counter. "But different girls like different things."

Ethan nods, stepping closer. "Well, whats a general thing that'll "woo" any girl."

You stayed silent, thinking. Chad and Toby's cries of anger and annoyance could be heard from the lounge, but Ethan was entirely focused on you.

"Attention." You nod. "Anyone loves when someone gives them attention. It also means that she'll most likely notice you more."

Ethan moved slightly closer, resting his own hip against the counter. "So, if I just smiled at her and stuff?"

"That, and maybe if there's a project, ask her to be apart of it. That shows her you want her company too."

Ethan nods, paying close attention to the way your lips moved. "And if she still doesn't notice you. Talk to her, ask her out."

"What if she has boyfriend?" The words slip out extremely fast, and Ethan curses himself for being possibly obvious.

"Oh." You say, slightly deflating. "Then, there's not much you can do, I'm afraid."

"Really? Nothing?"

"I mean," you sigh. "You could still talk to her and get to know her. But if she's a good girlfriend you'll know you've been friend-zoned."

And that's exactly what Ethan knew. You had friend-zoned him straight way, leaving him to just pine after you. "Is there anyway to get out of the friend-zone?"

"If she has a boyfriend, it's hard."

"But possible?" Ethan now stood directly in front of you, trying his best to not lean down and kiss you.

"If I'm being honest. You should just talk to her and try. No harm in getting shut down. You can easily tell if she isn't happy in the relationship. And if she isn't, then of course wait till they've broken up, but their's hope for you." Your trying to be supportive, knowing Ethan can be very shy around girls.

"So, if I just told her how I felt. She might shut me down or..." Ethan lets you fill in. What is he looking for to show him that he has a chance?

"Or stay silent. For a while." You say. "It means she actually had to think about it, or get rid of the butterflies in her stomach."

Noted, Ethan thought.

Soon, Toby had lost the game, agitatedly walking into the kitchen. He reached you, pulling you to his lips. You pushed away from his sloppy kiss, tasting the alcohol on his tongue. "Toby, I'm not kissing you while your tipsy."

Toby scowl but leans back. He finally noticed Ethan, who stared at him with a clench to his jaw. Toby had grown to realise Ethan's little crush on you, you stayed oblivious, but Toby had noticed the lingering glances shot your way.

Chad and him had a few drinks while playing, resulting in him being a bit more brazen than usual. Toby gripped your waist a fraction tighter, keeping you close to him, as Ethan's gaze shot toward the action.

Toby went to kiss you again, this one oozing with possessiveness. "Toby." You say, placing your hands on his chest, growing embarrasses by the PDA in front of your friend. "Not here."

"Then why don't you come back to my place?" He grinned.

"Not while you're drunk." You say pointedly, slightly freeing yourself from is hold. When you step back, Toby tries to grab you again, but Ethan gets there first, pulling you to him, while keeping his gaze on the your tipsy boyfriend.

Ethan had tugged on your shirt, until your back hit his chest, making you sightly jolt. "Your drunk, just go home and sober up."

Toby glares at Ethan. "Why are you touching my girl?"

"Okay, Toby, how many drinks did Chad give you?" You ask stepping away from Ethan as you usher Toby to the door.

My girl. Toby's words circled Ethan's head. He hated them because they were somewhat true, you were his girlfriend, but by all means not his.

When you all reached the door, you opening it for Toby. "Head straight home. Don't do something stupid." You said, hoping your boyfriend wasn't too drunk to walk home.

"Come on, y/n. Just come stay at mine, you can bring all your uni shit with you."

Before you could answer Toby, Ethan spoke. "She's fine."

"Really, Toby. Just head home, and I'l call you, alright?" You kept your tone light, a strange tension filling the room.

"Y/n, just come." Toby goes to pull you through the door, when Ethan wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you flush to his side. "She said go home, Toby." And before Toby could speak Ethan shut the door in his face.

"Maybe that was a bit harsh." You say to Ethan, before calling through the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Toby!"

Ethan kept his arm around your shoulder, even when you glanced up at him. You scoff seeing his expression. "I knew you didn't like him, like a lot."

Ethan rolls his eyes, and finally lets you go. Maybe he’d have to execute the plan you had laid out for him on a silver platter.

this may need a part two if I find the time

kisses, holly

🏷️ @jakesully-sbabygirl @emlovesya @netey6m @lullvu @wenvierismycomfort @lilihale23 @urmomlovesliyah @shesoperfectt @dazedmind @ummmmwhatsblog @isabela30 @2683d @kyliemarief @elandrys @aqellano @explosiongamora @jackchampionswife @h-e-y-y @mixed-theater-faisty-tings @imbiafandbored @svmh-1 @moonroamer @wickedmunson @nina357 @h34rtsformilli @pastellixz @bigtittitiffanyy @mistpx @oscarisdaddy69 @dizzyscreams @bungunz @fandom-freak-geek @joemama352 @c78r @igotmajordaddyissues @justanotherkpopstanlol @ily2lia @ethanlandrysgf69 @tesstesla @motusilas @melllinaa @kaamiyato @karslyn @minyiyiii @joce09slay @nooimmaastarr @itlover8000 @imabee-oralizard @petersniya @criesinlies @m-ar-i @radiant-whore @stopnala @babygguk98 @feral4austinbutler @michaelangdonsslut

#ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream 6 #scream #ethan landry #jack champion x y/n

[strwberri-milk]

Ok thanks for answering my question about the Sumeru boys.

So if it's alright, I wanna request alhaitham and kaveh x afab (they/them) reader. Sfw and also nsfw if that's okay.

Kaveh being the one to bring in bunny reader when they found them curled up, all alone in the rain, injured and deciding to take them in. Kaveh also taking care of the reader. Alhaitham not approving at first but warming up to reader over time. So after a few weeks, once they know the reader better and enjoy having them around, they go into heat. They go to Kaveh for help and he helps them but alhaitham over hears them and then a threesome happens when Kaveh walks in on them. The rest that happens, is up to you.

Kaveh has a bleeding heart and that's incredibly evident when he scoops you up and immediately takes you home after seeing how pitiful you looked sitting in the rain. He tries to patch you up as best as he can, using the knowledge he does have and when you seem to be taking a turn for the better he knows he's succeded.

Al Haitham is a lot more skeptical of you. He didn't expect to be housing another unwanted house guest but he also is a little too nice to outwardly say no. Instead, he just slinks around the house and quietly disparages Kaveh for picking up another sad little stray because it reminds him of himself.

That doesn't stop him from making sure the house is stocked for three people, and he doesn't really say anything too mean to you in particular. Again, he just does a lot of grumbling about how he didn't sign up for this but if you read between the lines it seems that he's just really only mildly inconvenienced.

Kaveh's done everything he can to help you adjust to your new life. He's always willing to provide a listening ear or stay up a little later to spend time with you. You're also invited to sit with him while he works, provided you don't breathe too loudly as to avoid bothering his work. He won't exactly snap at you, but he does have his moments where he comes close before stopping himself.

When you start to show symptoms of an upcoming heat you first try to suppress it yourself. You knew of a few at home remedies you could try to do but you can't find all of the things that you'll need to properly try and make your feelings ease up.

You know that Al Haithaim is really smart and thankfully he's been staying home more often these past couple of days. You think that there's a chance he'd know more about your condition and that he might know what to do. Unfortunately however this was one of the days that he was out, meaning you'd just have to sit at home, alone, trying to figure out what to do. You couldn't help but get yourself off to try and take off some of the edge, whimpering on your bed as you cum for the nth time. It was only helping you a bit, barely ridding you of the heat of even more much-needed orgasms.

When he returns home he can hear the desperate noises you're making even just from the door. He steps in quickly, unsure if someone else was home with Kaveh, or if you were in danger but as soon as he comes to your room he quickly puts the pieces together. The desperate look you flash him makes his heart skip a beat, knowing that he thought you were cute but thinking that was all there was to it.

Without thinking he finds himself pulling his clothes off to crawl over your body, hushing you gently as he puts his hands on you. Your reaction is immediate, whimpering as you keen into his touch. You pull him into a hungry kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist and letting him into you.

Kaveh has almost the same reaction as Al Haithaim, except he's a little confused when he hears the sound of low grunting adorned with loud moans and whimpers. He isn't expecting to see you on all fours, getting absolutely destroyed by Al Haitiham. You look dumb from all the times he already managed to make you cum without trying, his cock shiny with your slick and mattress soaked with your arousal.

The picture is too perfect for Kaveh's eyes, especially since he's been hiding his burgeoning feelings for you for quite some time now. With that in mind, he feels himself getting harder at the sight of you on your knees, mouth open in permanent moans. His gaze catches Al Haitham's for almost a second too short to catch the slight nod he does towards your body. He looks down at you, the same eyes that pulled the former in now drawing Kaveh's attention.

He quickly pulled his hard cock out of his pants, getting on his knees in front of you before trailing his weeping tip on your lips and pressing it gently into your mouth. The two of them quickly work into a rhythm, finding what makes your body finally hit that point of release that you're desperate to have, loving the way you mark them up in pleasure.

They devolve into pulling and moving your body into different positions, taking turns fucking your holes and running their hands over your body. Your pussy feels spent, but despite that your heat keeps you aroused and desperate, keening into their warmth whenever they try to leave. Neither of them mind, wanting to see just how much cum they could cover your body in.

#kaveh x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

[luvyeni]

❛CHERRY TOP !❜ ( s. eunseok )

p. nerd!eunseok x bimbo!reader w. 1.9k+

warnings? meandom!eunseok, degradation, unprotected sex, oral ( m.receiving ), breeding kink

— 𖦹 ( eunseok coming to terms that he really loves airhead girls like you ) !

You never really had a thing for quite nerdy boys — maybe that was your problem, horny frat boys and toxic jocks who care more about their teammates more than anything else were more your speed, well that was until you met eunseok, a cute nerdy kid who sat in the back of your class.

You don’t know when he joined your class – was probably there the whole time, but you failed to notice not him because you never really paid attention to anything that wasn’t your newest boyfriend for the week, or your hair – that’s beside the point, the point is he really caught your eyes and you really couldn’t wait to sink your pink glittery nails into him.

Eunseok on the other hand, he wanted nothing to do with you – of course you were hot, any straight man, with a brain and a cock could tell you that. But you annoyed him – the way you pranced around, your skirts barely covering anything – your boobs being held up by your push-up bra, your boobs almost spilling out your tight crop tops, even the professors would stare.

You didn’t do any work either, but you still got good grades – he didn’t even want to know how. You came to class just to play, and now play with his mind while he was working, actually trying to get an education – you were sitting right beside him like you had been for the past 3 months, popping bubble gum, while watching him work.

“Eunseokie.” Your mouth formed a pout, he sighed, turning to you. “What is it?” You smiled, he finally answered you, most of the time he ignored your presence, but occasionally he’d answer. “Can you help me, i don’t understand?” Your shiny pink lips, he couldn’t help but let the thought of you wrapping your lips around his cock, pink lipgloss coating his cock cross his mind, but he quickly suppressed it, you won’t get him that easily.

“Well for starters, take out a paper and a pencil.” He said, taking a look at your purse, it wasn’t even big enough to hold your phone, let alone a piece of paper. “Then pay attention to the professor, I can’t help you.”

He could, he totally could help you – but your tight cherry tank crop top was seriously distracting him, he was already struggling himself to pay attention to the professor – your shirts were getting tighter and tighter, and it was becoming hard for him to not to stare at your boobs.

“But I don’t understand what he’s saying.” Your voice whiny, he was getting pissed, he was getting pissed because he was getting hard – God you were such an air head, but fuck your whines did something to him. “Of course, you don’t.” he said under his breath, maybe he did have a thing for dumb girls, cause this was getting him hard.

You were so close to breaking him, you knew so because he was about to turn his screen to you – until you the professor ruined it, “Okay class over.” He turned the light on, you frowned. “Let’s talk about the upcoming project.”

Eunseok watched you zone out, not even listening to the instructions to the project instructions – just chewing on your plump bottom lip. “Eunseok, I assume you’ll be working with yn?” the professor said. “no I would rather work by my— good luck.” the teacher said nothing else, walking out of the class.

He wanted to scream; he didn’t want to work with you – one he’d end up doing all the work, two, how was he supposed to focus on the work when he could only think about fucking you stupider on his cock.

“Hey.” He snapped you out your daze, “get up, let’s go.” He spoke. “Huh?” you questioned. “Because you sit here all the time bothering me, we now have to work together on the project.” You processed the information, smiling. “Really!” he watched your eyes light up, rolling his. “i’m glad you're happy.” He sarcastically spoke. “Let’s go we’re going to yours.”

You jumped out of your seat, grabbing your things, following behind him. “Wait!” he heard your shoes clicking against the floor. “Let’s go.” You linked arms with him, he sighed as you dragged him along.

You finally got to your tiny apartment, opening the door, letting him in. “Let’s go to the bedroom.” He followed behind you, taking in your apartment – it was a spitting image of you, your bedroom was even worse.

“You like?” You smiled, sitting on the bed. “It’s pink.” He said stoically, dropping his book-bag, sitting down in your chair. “let’s go over the instructions before we start the outline.” He explained, pulling out his laptop, waiting for you to say okay or something. “yn?”

he looked up and you were climbing to the head of your bed where a mountain of plushies were placed, your ass was on display due to the short fucking skirt you were sporting, your shirt riding up, stopping right under your boobs. “yn?” his jaw clenched, you turn to him, laying down on the plushies, picking at your fresh set of pink stilettos nails.

“yn, come pay attention.” You ignored him, pissing him off even more. “yn i’m ser– I don’t like this color pink, i’m definitely gonna get another color next time.” He lost all of composure – he didn’t even want to be here, but here you are, your ass peaking from your skirt, shirt begging to be ripped off, ignoring him.

“You know what?” he said, getting up from the chair, coming up to the side of the bed. “Get the fuck up.” He spat; your eyes widened. “Don’t act surprised now, you wanted this.” His hands tangled up in your hair, pulling your body up, you gasped.

“you’ve been throwing yourself at me for the past few weeks, and I don’t know how many times I made it known that I don’t want to deal with you.” He scoffed, looking at how your eyes were already glazing over. “Silly me, I forgot i’m dealing with a dummy.”

That made your cunt wet, you bit your lip. “of course, this is turning you on.” He shook his head, laughing dryly. “Okay, i’ll treat you how you wanted to be.” He let your hair go, throwing you – you lightly bounced on the bed. “Lay on your stomach.” He ordered, you looked at him confused. “Why?” He scoffed, “Because i’m gonna use your throat like a sex toy, now lay of your fucking stomach, unless you prefer being on your knees?” you scrambled on to your stomach.

You came face to his clothes cock, “look at you drooling already and I haven’t even pulled it out yet.” He undid his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles. “Fucking slut.” He pulled his underwear down right under his cock, his tip was a fiery tip was red, dripping with pre-cum.

“So big.” You said, going to reach for it, but he slapped your hands away. “Did I say fucking touch me; you want to be treated like a fuck doll; well fuck dolls don’t move.” You whined, desperate to touch him. “Quit complaining slut, that’s all you do.” He gripped the base of his cock, slapping it against both of cheeks, smearing the pre-cum on them.

“These fucking lips.” He slapped his tip against your lips. “Too busy putting on that pretty gloss and sucking cocks to pay attention to the professor – open up.” He pushed his tip into your mouth. “Fuck.” He sighed, pushing his cock all the way into your mouth. “Stupid slut this is all you’re good for.”

He began to thrust into your mouth, holding the back on your head, fucking your mouth. “Gagging on my cock -fuck- this is what you wanted right?” He groaned, “for me to shove my cock down your slutty throat?”

You nodded, he pushed your head against his pubic bone, you gagged, trying to hold on his thigh, your eyes widened once you felt the sting to your face – he had slapped you. “Didn’t I say don’t fucking touch me.” He hissed, “You don’t fucking listen, so fucking dumb, you can’t even follow simple instructions.” He said pulling you off his cock, you were in a coughing fit, but he didn’t let up, grabbing your hair, stroking his cock against your cheek. “gonna stain this pretty face with my cum.” He grunted, squeezing his cock. “Fuck!”

Cum spurted from his cock, covering your face in his seed, some getting on your eyes. “Look at that.” He pushed his tip into your mouth, cum dripping on to your tongue. “Pretty dumb princess covered in my cum, swallow it.” You obeyed, sticking out. “Good slut, that’s the only thing you can comprehend.”

“Take a shirt off, it’s not hiding much anyway.” You took your shirt off, pink bra on display. “The bra too.” You unhooked the bra, letting your boobs free, he groaned. “Nice titties, should just fuck them instead.” He climbed on the bed, pinching your nipples. “Since you like to flaunt them so much, should just used them to get off, cover them in my cum, and leave your nasty pussy untouched.” He pulled you down by your ankle, your back hitting the bed.

“Spread your legs, let me see your messy pussy.” You opened your legs, your juices soaked through your panties completely. “So fucking wet, no use for the underwear now.” You gasped as he practically ripped your underwear.

“Get on your stomach.” Flipped you over, lifting your waist up. “Pl-please fuck me.” You whimpered, mind completely on another planet. “Shut the fuck up, I told you sex toys don’t talk.” He slapped your ass, wasting no time, slamming his cock straining into your cunt, you tried not to moan out, but you couldn’t help it.

“Fu-fuck, didn’t I say shut up.” He growled, pushing your head into your piles of plushies. “Are you really that dumb?” he pushed down on your back, making you arch your back even more. “God this pussy is warm, you’ve let anyone inside you and you’re still so tight.” He gripped your waist, plowing into you.

You were a drooling mess, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you bit down on your plushie to keep from moaning. “Perfect fuck toy, might keep you around, just to use your hole whenever i’m stressed.” Your cunt clenched around his cock. “Fucking hell is that what you want?” he cursed. “For me to use this pussy when i’m stressed, treat you like a sex doll?” he gripped your head, pulling you flush against his chest. “Answer me whore.”

“Fuck! Yes, please use my pussy, please.” You screamed, he growled against your ear. “Fu-fuck i’m gonna cum, gonna fill this tight cunt up, use you as a cum-dump.” He pushed you back down, “Fuck! eunseokie please!” you begged desperately, his hips snapped against your ass – he pressed himself against you sighed, smiling dumbly as your came – he came right after you, cum filling up your womb. “fuck.” He sighed, pulling out, cumming on ass

He pulled his softening cock out of you – you fell flat on your stomach, eyes opening and closing. “Hey, stay awake, we have to work on the project.” You didn’t say anything, your eyes closing as you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face. He shook his head, “dummy.”

He cleaned you up, not even bothering to put new clothes on, pulling the covers over your body, you snuggled into your plushies, he smiled slightly, sitting at your chair starting the project while you slept, he had a lot of work to do knowing you wouldn’t even bother to help once you got up.

Yeah, you were a little dumb, but made he did like air-headed girls after all.

©LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #riize x imagine #riize scenarios #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize smut #eunseok smut #eunseok riize

[planet-dusk]

Imagine

Jeongin is your roommate, actually there was nothing between you two. But when it come to him wearing glasses, its just something else. It brings the dirtiest images of this situation. you cannot let this opportunity slip anymore; youre riding jeongin, praising him, kissing and nibbing on his skin. He is not understanding anything and dont know how it even started

-🤡

🏷️ fingering, oral (f) implied, mentions of perv!jeongin

with his glasses askew, his hair mussed and purple bruises decorating his collarbones jeongin’s a living vision of debauchery.  

you’re seated in his lap and he doesn’t know where to put his hands. your skirt has ridden up so high he can almost see your lace thong. he knows you’re wearing the black one with the little bow on the front; he’d watched you fish it out of the dryer earlier and had made a mental note to pocket it later. 

somewhere between then and now you’d come home from the club and pounced. it’d happened so fast jeongin’s brain is still struggling to catch up. it doesn’t help that most of his blood is rushing south. 

“these fucking glasses,” you mutter between sharp nips at his skin. it hurts more than he’d like but he doesn’t dare to stop you. doesn’t want you to even if he should know better. he can’t ruin things. not with you. 

“you’re drunk,” he protests weakly, “we shouldn’t —”

“shut up, i’ve only had three drinks,” you push at his shoulders. your strength surprises him. it also turns him on, which isn’t helping. neither are the words you utter next: 

“yang jeongin, listen to me. i need you to fuck me. right now.” 

never in a million years did he expect to hear those words coming from you. he stares at your face, searching it for any signs of trickery. this has to be a prank. it’s either that or he’s dreaming. 

“what about jisung?” 

jeongin’s not sure why he asks. he doesn’t give a shit about jisung. 

“what about who,” you scoff and roll your eyes. jisung is the guy you’d been dating for the past couple weeks. ‘dating’ is a big word; it’d been more fucking than dating, with very little room for any conversation. it probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway. “he left with minho’s sister.”

it all makes sense to him now. you’re horny, and jisung left you high and dry. jeongin pushes the bitter taste of being used as a rebound away and tentatively puts his hands on top of your bare thighs. this might be his only chance. 

“c’mon, innie, don’t be shy,” you giggle. why do you have to be so cute even when you’re teasing him? “i know you want me.” 

he lets his gaze drift from your eyes to your mouth. fuck, you have no idea how badly he wants you. 

“the walls are thin, y’know. i can hear you moaning my name at night.”

his eyes snap back up, feline eyes now wide and rounded, his ears turning the brightest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. you giggle again and grind your hips against his. jeongin’s so hard he’s sure he’s going to explode if you keep doing that. somehow the thought of you knowing about his little crush is more enticing than embarrassing. or maybe today’s the day he discovers he’s got a thing for humiliation. he realizes he doesn’t care. not when your skin is hot underneath his palms and you’re making the neediest little noises. 

“i need your fucking hands. the amount of times i’ve fantasized about these long fingers…” 

jeongin swallows hard. you’ve thought about him too? 

he tightens his grip on your thighs and his mouth finds yours easily. the kiss is hungry and eager, more teeth and tongue than necessary as you lick into his mouth like you want to devour him. the low moan he lets out only seems to spur you on. 

encouraged by your enthusiasm jeongin pushes your sodden underwear to the side and teases your slit with two fingers. he grins when he feels how soaked you are. “all this because of some glasses?”

you’re not laughing anymore, jaw going slack and eyes rolling back when he finds your clit. “down,” you tug at his shoulders and clamber off his lap. he lets you maneuver him into position, reclining on the couch with your thighs on both sides of his head. “the answer is you, you idiot. but you can keep the glasses on.”

#answered #🤡 anon #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #i.n x you #i.n smut #tw: perversion #;skz blurbs

[ryker-writes]

No I’m sorry but if Azul was my sibling and he treated me like that he’d be dead to me. I would have torn into him the second he tried to get me to sign anything. Believing he’s above me and everyone else? No better the those who used to pick on him. I’d quite then and there and even after his overblot if he tried to call me his sibling I’d make it very clear that with the way he’s treated me at this point he’s just a cruel stranger with the same parents

Fair. A lot of people have actually said that they wouldn't forgive the boys after what they've done. The amount of people who've asked for this amazes me

For those who didn't see the first part, you can find it here

Request rules and Masterlists

Azul as a sibling (Broken relationship with no forgiveness)

Azul had been avoiding you for years now

it started when he became friends with the Leech twins

before then you had always been there for him

always defended him when others picked on him

but when he met the Leech twins, he didn't need you anymore

and he cast you aside

even when you both got into NRC, he didn't pay you much attention

but he made you work for him at the Mostro Lounge with all the worst jobs possible

while you worked for him, he barely ever interacted with you

the only times he did was to tell you not to call him brother

and then he wanted you to sign a contract

it said that you would work and do anything he wanted you too, and you could never tell anyone that you were related, you used to be close, or even give details of his childhood

in return you get some of the better jobs like actually dealing with customers and more discounts

there was no way you were signing that

the contract basically wanted you to become a slave to Azul and for slightly better jobs and a few extra bucks off the food you make?

not a chance

who does he think he is?

you two were family at one point but it's like he thinks he's so much better than you now

this was not the Azul you knew in the past

this was someone you've never met

enough was enough

you teared apart his contract and said

"If you don't want to be siblings that badly, then fine. We aren't siblings. I'm not going to sign some contract in order to be bossed around by someone who wants nothing to do with me. In fact, I quit. You're no better than those who used to bully you."

with that, you walked out

Azul was angry, but you didn't care

you didn't want anything to do with him

so you left Mostro Lounge and hung out elsewhere on campus

you made your own life and got friends who didn't associate you with Azul

then a few weeks later, there was talk of another student overblotting

it didn't take long for someone to mention who it was

of course Azul would overblot

it didn't matter much to you

but then you noticed Azul around you more often

he didn't say anything and was just "coincidentally" in the same place as you when you were

there would times when you would glance near him and see the panic set into him

Azul really wanted to say something but was too nervous and didn't know where to start

you didn't even give him the time

you never talked to him, and never even looked directly at him

until one day when you were having a disagreement with a classmate

Azul thought this would be the perfect time to step in and show that he still cares and even start a conversation

maybe you would even be grateful for his help

"Excuse me? It would be wise to watch what you say. After all, that's my sibling you're talking about."

how dare he

how dare he step in like everything was fine now and even try to "help" you like you couldn't help yourself

the classmate walks away and you're left with Azul who looks very proud of himself

until he looks at you and sees just how cold your expression is

"Listen to me Azul. I don't need your help, and we certainly aren't siblings. I used to defend you all the time and you returned the favor by pushing me away and trying to get me to serve you. You are not the Azul I used to know. You are just a cruel stranger that's taken up too much of my time."

he looked slightly stunned and then he avoided even looking at you

whatever

for how he's treated you for years, this is what he had coming

you weren't going to put yourself through that kind of pain again

so as you walked away from Azul and his life, you simply said

"You should be glad. After all, you never wanted to be my brother in the first place. You got what you wanted."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #twst azul x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader