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fatecantstopme · 11 months ago

Text

Spell Bound

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen...I couldn't help myself.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names. An excessive amount of heavy SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), rough sex, oral (F receiving), multiple cream pies

"I freaking hate witches," Dean mumbled as he picked the lock on the apartment door.

You chuckled softly, very used to hearing him grumble every time you were hunting a witch.

He slowly walked into the apartment and you followed in after him.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" you asked quietly.

"Big scary magic book. Sam said it's probably on or near some kind of altar."

"Big scary magic book," you muttered under your breath. "Makes perfect sense."

You sighed as you walked into the living room and noticed several bookcases lined with large books. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Dean shot you a weary smile. "Guess it might take a little longer than I thought."

"You think?"

You took one side of the room and Dean took the other. Sam had described the look of the book to the both of you, but there was really no way to be 100% certain if you found it.

About 15 minutes into your perusal, you spotted a large leather-bound book tucked under what appeared to be an altar cloth. You slowly removed the cloth, wary of what you might uncover. The book was almost exactly as Sam had described, so you had a feeling it was the right one.

"I think I found it," you said aloud.

At almost the same exact moment, a crash sounded from behind you and Dean let out a string of curses.

You spun around to see the hunter brushing off some sort of florescent pink dust from his face. "What the hell did you do?"

"I was moving some of the books and this box fell out and some powder just kinda...sprayed my face."

"Seriously?"

He looked sheepish. "I didn't even see it."

You sighed. "Great. God only knows what the hell that was."

He looked at the box carefully, but there was nothing written on it to identify the powdery substance he had inhaled. He gave you another sheepish look and shrugged. "Maybe it's not harmful."

You shot him a stony look. "Dean...it's a witch. It's not gonna be fairy dust."

He sighed, knowing you were right. He started shifting his shoulders a bit as if he was uncomfortable.

"Let's get out of here. I'll call Sam on the way back to the motel and see if he has any idea what it could be."

Dean nodded and followed you out the door. By the time you got outside the building and to the car, he was twitching like an addict in need of a fix.

"Dean?" you asked tentatively.

"My skin feels like it's on fire and--and it's like--itchy. And there's a weird feeling inside that I can't describe, but it doesn't feel nice."

"Okay...how 'bout I drive?"

He looked up at you with concerned eyes, but he handed you the keys and got into the passenger seat. You knew he must really be feeling terrible if he was letting you drive Baby.

You started the car up and pulled out of the parking spot while simultaneously calling Sam on your cell. He answered on the third ring.

"Dean got some sort of witchy powder on his face and now he's...itchy?" you said quickly in lieu of a greeting.

Sam sighed. "What are his symptoms?"

You put the phone on speaker. "Dean, what are your symptoms?"

Dean couldn't look at you and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "I feel like crawling out of my own skin, everything aches, and I'm having a hard time breathing right. Oh and I can literally smell (Y/N)'s skin, which is totally not normal!"

"You can smell my skin?"

He grumbled under his breath. "I can smell your skin and your shampoo and your goddamn body wash, and I want--fuck. What the hell is wrong with me, Sam?"

"Uh, I honestly don't know. Let me call Bobby and see if he has any ideas."

You set the phone down on the seat beside you. "Maybe you're turning into some kind of animal?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean...you can smell me...which is weird and kind of--animalistic."

"I don't think that's it," he said harshly. "My body is aching in a way I can't even begin to describe to you, but I don't think I'm morphing into anything."

You eyed him carefully, worry etched into your face. He was your closest friend and trusted hunting partner, and you hated seeing him like this. Witches scared the shit out of you...you knew what they were capable of.

"Maybe drive a little faster," he hissed.

You pressed harder on the gas and the Impala shot down the road. When your phone rang, you answered it immediately.

"So I think I might know what it is, but I have something I need to ask Dean first," Sam said.

"Okay." You looked at Dean. "Can you hold the phone? Sam wants to ask you something."

Dean took the phone from your hand, hissing as his skin made contact with yours. "What?" he grumbled.

"This is gonna be awkward, but I need to know, okay? Do you feel--umm--aroused at all?"

Dean was silent for a moment as he let his brother's question sink in. Ohhh fuuuuck, he thought to himself. He glanced down at his jeans and noticed the bulge straining against them. With the intense pain he was experiencing, he hadn't really noticed. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled. "Yeah."

"Okay, well the good news is, I know what it is. It's called sex pollen."

"It's called what?"

"Sex pollen. The name doesn't really matter, but you have all the symptoms. They're only going to get worse until--well until you die."

"Die? Is there a cure?"

You looked over at Dean in terror, your foot pressing down even further on the pedal. Dean's hand was shaking slightly as he put the phone on speaker so you could hear.

"You have to--uhh--well--shit. You have to umm...fuck it out."

"I have to what?"

"Dude, I know, okay? But you don't have a choice. If you don't you'll die a rather painful death."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said again. "Can I, umm, take care of it myself?"

"According to what Bobby read, the only option is actual intercourse with another person."

"How long do I have?"

You were acutely aware of Dean's close proximity to you, and now you understood the nature of his pain. Your own breathing was more labored, but you desperately tried to maintain control of yourself. Don't make it weird, (Y/N), you thought to yourself.

"30 minutes from the time of contact until...until death," Sam answered.

"30 minutes?" you gasped. You started doing the math in your head as Dean continued talking to his brother. "We have maybe 10 more minutes until we get back to the motel and that leaves about 10 until..."

Dean looked over at you, his normally green eyes dark with need. "I'm so fucked," he muttered.

"That doesn't really leave us time to find someone for you to--you know," you said worriedly.

"Shit."

"Might wanna make it fast," Sam said.

"Obviously," Dean snapped. "How long will it take to...get out of my system?"

"That depends," Sam began. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

"Another story?"

"It could take a lot longer."

"Great," you mumbled.

"Sam, don't be there when we get there," Dean growled at his brother before hanging up the phone.

"Dean?" you questioned softly.

"Just drive, (Y/N)."

You continued driving, but your focus was most definitely not on the road. You could hear the heavy breathing and the soft pained sounds coming from the man beside you and it made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. It certainly didn't help that you had wanted him for years and seeing him like this was making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't be feeling.

Dean flirted with you regularly, but he flirted with almost every person he came into contact with. It's just a part of his personality, so you never read into it. While Dean quite obviously adored you (and you him), you were not his type. You were a good fighter, sure, but where you really excelled was research. You were brilliant--almost as knowledgable as Bobby, though you still had plenty to learn. You were also significantly more--voluptuous than the women Dean gravitated to. Soft, chubby, more to love--whatever you wanna call it. As such, you'd never made any sort of move to announce your feelings for him. You didn't want to face his rejection.

"Sweetheart, if you don't speed up, I'm liable to die before we make it there," Dean hissed.

You shot him a look. "We're less than two minutes away, so don't die on me yet, Winchester."

He exhaled sharply and nodded. "I'm not gonna make it either way, (Y/N). Like you said, we don't have enough time to find a, uh--partner."

You took a deep breath. "I can't let you die."

He looked over at you and you felt his gaze boring right into your soul. "I can't do that to you."

"I really don't see how we have much of a choice here."

You pulled into the motel parking lot before he could respond.

"Let's go," you said quickly as you got out of the car and made your way to your room.

Dean was right behind you, so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. As soon as the door was unlocked, Dean was pushing you through it and locking it behind you.

"Shit," he muttered. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"It's okay, Dean," you said softly. "I'm not afraid."

His eyes widened and he grabbed your chin. "You should be...I'm going to lose control."

"It's alright...use me."

He let out a low growl and squeezed your chin tighter. "I--I won't be able to make this good for you."

You pressed yourself against his body, feeling the hard ridges against you. "It's not about me. You need this."

That was all it took for Dean to let go. His lips attacked yours with a hunger you were not expecting despite the intensity of the situation. He was not at all gentle as he tore your clothes from your body, ripping his own off with equal force.

He tossed you down on the bed with shocking ease. He had absolutely no difficulty manhandling you. You weren't sure if it was the sex pollen or just him.

His lips and hands were everywhere, touching every inch of your soft skin he could possibly reach. He needed to be inside of you so badly it was almost impossible to breathe. His skin burned with each touch and his instincts screamed at him to just break you.

He moves his way down your body and you're surprised as he stops just above your core. "Dean, what are you doing?" You knew he needed a release--and soon--or he wasn't gonna make it.

A voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him this was (Y/N), his (Y/N). Even in his current state, he wanted to avoid hurting you if he could. "Need to get you ready," he grunted.

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was devouring your pussy. The sounds he made were incredible, the feeling almost electrifying. He slid two fingers in and moved them in a scissoring motion to help loosen you up.

He was only down there for a 30 seconds before he came up and locked eyes with you. "I can't hold off anymore."

You nodded. "Just let go. I'll be okay."

He knew the moment he slid inside you, he'd be a goner. Whatever tiny amount of self control he'd managed to hang onto would disappear in an instant. But he could also feel the roaring agony inside him and he needed to feed it before it devoured him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your ear a split second before he sheathed himself fully inside you.

You cried out--pain mixing with pleasure as his large member stretched you in ways you'd never before experienced.

Dean couldn't give you time to adjust--he was too far gone. His hips began to move and his sole focus was on his own pleasure--his own release.

His thrusts were powerful and fast, so much so that your body started to scoot farther up the bed. He grabbed your hips and held you in place, pace never faltering. The sensations were almost painful given his size, but you wouldn't have stopped him even if you could have.

"Fuck, baby--you feel so good," he grunted.

You were more than a little surprised when he spoke--you hadn't pegged him as a dirty talker. Then again, it could very well have been the pollen. The same could be said of the sounds coming from his mouth. You'd never heard such sinful noises and you loved them.

"So tight--squeezing me so good. Feels like heaven."

You squeezed his cock purposefully, making him groan each time you clenched down. He needed his release and you were gonna make sure he got it. Your own enjoyment was far from your mind--this was essentially a transaction--a lifesaving measure. You had to view it that way to protect your heart...at least that's what you told yourself.

"Baby," he moaned. "Imma fill you up--so close."

Despite the voice in your head telling you this wasn't real--that you shouldn't have any emotional attachments--you reached up and touched his face, caressing it lovingly. "Cum for me, Dean," you whispered.

His eyes locked on yours and he bit his lip--hearing you say his name in the heat of the moment was a bigger turn on than he'd ever imagined. It pushed him right over the edge and he spilled inside of you with a grunt.

You lay beneath him, panting despite the minimal exertion on your part. He'd had his orgasm, but he was still moving, much to your surprise. "You're not done--?"

He shook his head. "Need more."

He pulled out and quickly flipped you over with no warning. You instinctively lifted your hips to allow him access, which he took without hesitation. His cock was still throbbing and the need still burned in his veins. His mind remained singularly focused on his relief--his pleasure.

He slammed into your pussy and set a brutal pace, earning a cry of pain from your lips. This new angle allowed him better access, sending his cock deeper inside of you. His head brushed against your cervix with each thrust, a stinging pain accompanying the pleasure.

Dean's large palm came down on your ass with a hard smack, eliciting a gasp of surprise from your lips. Your pussy clamped down on his cock as he landed another slap to your round cheek.

"Fuck baby, you like that don't you?" Smack. "You like it when I slap this sexy ass?" Smack. "Fuck--squeezing me so tight, sweetheart." Smack.

He was right though, you loved it. You always had, but there was something extra enjoyable about having your ass smacked by Dean Fucking Winchester. Even if you couldn't verbally express your pleasure to him, your pussy made it well-known.

Dean's right hand gripped your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him as he continued pumping. His left hand trailed up your back until he grabbed a fist full of hair at the base of your neck and pulled. Your head snapped back and you cried out, but you didn't fight him.

"Do you know how badly I've wanted to pull this hair, pretty girl? Fuck--I think about it all the time." His pace was relentless and his hand remained entangled in your hair.

You'd never really noticed him looking at your hair in any particular way, so you assumed once again the pollen was making him say such dirty little things.

After several more thrusts, Dean let go of your hair and pushed down on your upper back, forcing you to press your upper body into the mattress. Dean gripped your hips with both of his hands and slammed into you with an intensity that was unmatched by any of his previous actions.

You had a feeling he was close to another orgasm, at least if his grunts and curses were anything to go by. You clenched down around him again, intent on pushing him past the brink.

It worked like a charm. Dean came with a cry of your name, thrusts continuing as he emptied inside of you once again.

You were exhausted and you hadn't had a single orgasm. Part of you really hoped Dean had gotten it all out of his system, but another part of you didn't want this to end. Even if it wasn't real--even if he didn't actually want to be having sex with you, you liked pretending, if only for a little while.

Dean pulled out of you slowly and rolled you over with a surprising gentleness. You assumed that meant he was satiated and the pollen was out of his system.

When you met his eyes, you were surprised by how brilliantly green they were. You'd almost gotten used to the dark forest color that had taken over as a result of the pollen. He was looking at you with an odd expression you couldn't quite place, but for some reason it made you want to scurry away and hide.

"Better?" you whispered.

He cocked his head to the side and a small smirk played on his lips. "Not even close," he murmured.

His lips met yours in a fiery kiss before you had time to respond. Unlike the previous kisses, this one was more passionate, more intense. It made your body tingle all over and a warmth spread through your veins.

Dean's brain fog had finally cleared enough that he could actually slow down and focus on what was happening--on what he was doing, or rather who. He hated that he'd cum twice without even thinking about you, let alone making you orgasm. Dean prided himself on being an excellent lover and he wasn't about to let you leave this bed unsatisfied.

His cock brushed against your pussy as he shifted to hold you closer. You both inhaled sharply, enjoying the sensation. Dean's lips began to travel down your neck, leaving soft, wet kisses in his wake. He nipped at your pulse point, earning an excited moan from you. He liked hearing that sound, so he sucked on that spot until you were panting heavily beneath him.

His hands traveled over your soft curves, touching and squeezing all the parts of your body you were self-conscious about. Dean didn't seem to give a damn that your stomach wasn't flat, that your hips weren't narrow and your thighs weren't skinny--in fact, he seemed to be reveling in the feeling of softness.

His lips were so gentle as he continued his downward movements. He kissed and licked and sucked on each of your breasts, spending several minutes focusing on each one. "You have such perfect breasts," he murmured.

You were too surprised, and perhaps too lost in pleasure, to formulate any kind of response to his words. Luckily, he didn't seem to need one, and he refocused his attention on you.

Once he was satisfied your breasts had received enough love, he continued moving down your stomach, stopping to place soft kisses to every mark and scar he saw.

When he reached your sweet pussy, he spread your legs as wide as he could and settled down between them. You were surprised at his actions, especially since you knew he was still hard--that he still needed another release.

Dean was now singularly focused on one thing--and that was you. Now that his damn brain was working properly, he wanted to make sure you enjoyed this--even if it was a one time thing because you didn't want him to die, he wasn't about to walk away from this without making you scream his name at least once.

He breathed in deeply, smelling your arousal mixed with his own spend, and he smirked. His eyes flicked up to yours and his mouth latched onto your clit, unleashing an overwhelming assault on your swollen mound.

You gasped as the sudden pleasure washed over you. You couldn't take your eyes off the man between your legs--nor did he take his eyes off you. Every time your hips bucked or you tried to move, his strong arms held you in place so he could continue to watch you.

You were writhing against the sheets in what felt like seconds--it was probably longer, but either way you felt embarrassed at how quickly you fell apart under his touch. Your orgasm tore through you like a hurricane, broken moans dripping from your lips.

To your shock, and perhaps concern, Dean didn't stop his assault on your pussy. Even as you tried to squirm away, he held you in place, desperate to give you another orgasm. You whimpered that it was too much, begged him to give you a break, but all of those words quickly morphed into pleas to keep going--don't stop.

"Dean," you gasped as your fingers slipped into his hair, grabbing hold of the short locks by the roots. Your nails scrapped lightly against his scalp and he let out a soft groan.

His tongue seemed to dance across your clit, creating beautiful designs and languages only he seemed to know. He paid attention to what motions made you quiver, which ones made you moan, and which ones had you tugging on his hair with an iron grip.

"Dean, please--I--so close," you moaned.

He smiled, enjoying the immense pleasure he was giving you just as much as you seemed to enjoy it. A few moments later, you were once again coming apart against his mouth and he eagerly lapped up everything you had to give him.

This time as you tugged on his hair and squirmed away, he obliged, lifting himself up from between your thighs. He licked his lips as he looked down at your blissed out face.

"You taste like heaven, baby," he murmured. "Wanna taste?"

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes widened and you nodded hesitantly. He smiled wolfishly as he leaned down to kiss you, tongue invading your mouth almost instantly, allowing you to taste yourself.

You moaned into the kiss and he held you even more tightly, lips sealed to yours like he needed your air to breathe.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to control his urges long enough to coax two orgasms from you, but he could feel that control waning. "I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips. "I need you so badly."

You looked up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. You lifted your hips to brush against his cock and he groaned at the contact. You nipped at his jaw and pulled him back down to you. "Fuck me, Dean. Please."

He groaned. "Yes ma'am."

He didn't hesitate as he gripped his cock firmly and lined it up with your entrance. He slipped inside easily, having plenty of lubrication to assist him. Despite having been inside of you multiple times at this point, he was still taken aback by how fucking incredible you felt.

"God, I love this pussy," he murmured. "She was made for me."

You moaned softly at his words and the feeling of him inside you once again. As he started to move, he was much more gentle and you found yourself enjoying the sensations--perhaps more than you should.

"You're so good for me, (Y/N)," Dean mumbled, already lost in the feeling of you.

You would have given anything to hear him say that, but the words broke your heart a little. Had he had any other choice, he likely wouldn't be here right now--you wouldn't be the one he was fucking.

"Hey," he whispered, a rough, calloused hand running along your cheek as he looked at you. "Where's that pretty little head at?"

You smiled at him. "Right here, Dean."

Somewhere inside of him, he knew you were lying, but the damn pollen was still affecting his senses. He accepted your response and went back to his actions, focusing on the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock like a vise.

He wanted to feel you cum one more time...wanted to feel the way you'd squeeze his cock as you came. He wanted to watch you come undone beneath him, lost in pleasure he gave you.

He grabbed a pillow and gently lifted your hips, sliding the pillow under them. This provided him a new, improved angle, allowing him to cage you beneath him and hit that sweet spot inside you.

"Dean!" you gasped as the first thrust hit your g-spot.

He grinned and picked up his pace, slamming into it repeatedly. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge of an orgasm you knew would ruin you. Dean Winchester already made you feel things no other man ever had and his ability in bed was no exception. Damn him.

His thrusts were firm and measured, each one sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through your body. The familiar tightening in your gut was so intense you thought you might actually explode.

Dean's strong arms were on either side of your head and he was looking down at you with that same strange expression from earlier. "You're so damn beautiful, baby. I wanna watch this pretty face as you cum for me."

You gasped, unprepared for the way his words made you feel. You felt emboldened, so you asked for what you needed. "I need more, Dean."

His hand slipped between your bodies, a single finger gently massaging your clit as he continued to fuck you. "That better, baby?"

You nodded rapidly, earning a soft chuckle from his sweet lips.

"You gonna cum for me beautiful?"

You nodded again.

"Yeah? I want you to keep those pretty eyes open when you cum, okay? Wanna see you fall apart."

"Dean..." you whispered.

"I know, sweet girl. I've got you."

Your brain seemed to short-circuit in that moment. All you could feel was a blinding hot pressure immediately followed by an intense euphoria. You heard someone scream "Dean!" and you belatedly realized it had been your voice.

The intensity of your orgasm sent Dean spiraling over the edge of his own. He hadn't even been prepared for it--the mixture of you screaming his name and the sensations of you squeezing him so tightly and the gorgeous way your face contorted as you came was all he needed.

He emptied into you a third and final time, his cock finally beginning to soften as he helped you ride out your high.

He pulled out and flopped down beside you on the bed, his body aching from what had to be some of the best sex of his life--sex pollen or not.

You were just as sore as Dean--probably more so given you literally couldn't move. The two of you laid there in silence, slowly coming down from the electrical highs you'd experienced, both trying to catch your breath for the first time in what felt like hours.

Dean was the first to recover. "Did I hurt you?" he asked so softly you almost didn't hear him.

You turned your head to look at him and your heart clenched at the expression on his face. He was genuinely worried, brows furrowed in concern. You contemplated lying to him, but you knew he'd see right through you.

"A little," you said honestly.

He winced and his beautiful eyes closed. "I'm so sorry, (Y/N)--I would never hurt you on purpose--ever."

You offered him a small smile he couldn't see, until your hand touched his cheek and he opened his eyes again. "I know."

There were a thousand other things you wanted to say--a thousand words you wanted to string together into just the right sentences, but you couldn't. You wouldn't put yourself through it.

"Shower?" he asked softly.

"I honestly don't think I can stand."

A smirk played on his lips. "That should not make me feel so damn good."

You laughed lightly, glad to hear the teasing tone in his voice that you loved so much.

He managed to pull himself into a sitting position. "It's not ideal, but there is a bathtub..." he trailed off.

"I wouldn't mind a bath," you admitted.

He nodded and got to his feet. He was a little unsteady at first, but managed to make his way to the bathroom. You heard the water running as he filled up the tub.

You laid there thinking about everything that had just happened. This was a position you'd never imagined you'd be in--with anyone, let alone Dean Winchester.

You knew this wasn't something you were going to be able to forget about, but you hoped things would go back to normal between the two of you and eventually this would just be a funny story.

Suddenly, Sam's words from earlier snapped into your mind. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

One and done...one and done. This most definitely had not been a 'one and done' scenario. But didn't that mean...? No. No way. Impossible. Dean Winchester does NOT have feelings for you.

You began to rationalize your thought process. Maybe "care about" included a friendly relationship. Yeah...yeah that made the most sense. Of course Dean cares about you. You're his best friend. There couldn't possibly be anything more to it...right?

As if on cue, Dean stepped back into the room. "Bath's ready."

"Okay." You tried to pull yourself up, but you immediately fell back against the mattress, body too worn out to sustain any kind of movement.

Dean chuckled lightly and came up to the side of the bed. He pulled the pillow out from under your hips and slipped his arms under your body, hoisting you up bridal style.

"Jesus!" you yelled. "Put me down! I'm too heavy--you'll throw out your back."

Dean laughed. "Calm down, (Y/N). I just threw you around this bed repeatedly with zero issues. I promise I can carry you to the bathroom without dying."

"But--"

He glared at you and tightened his grip on you as if to prove his point. "Ain't a damn thing wrong with your body, so shut it."

Your mouth closed immediately. His words sent a jolt directly to your core and you were almost annoyed by it. As if three orgasms wasn't enough...

Dean very gently set you on your feet in the bathroom and slowly helped you into the tub. As soon as he got you into a seated position, he got into the tub as well, slipping in behind you.

"Umm...whatcha doing?"

"Taking a bath."

"Isn't the tub a bit small for both of us?"

You could feel him shrug behind you. "I think it's perfect size. Now come here." He grabbed your shoulders and gently pulled you back so you were laying against his chest. "That's better," he muttered.

Your mind began to race once again as you laid there, body tense and uncomfortable.

"Okay, (Y/N), I know you better than anyone, so don't you dare lie to me. Where's your head at?"

"I--" you sighed. "I'm not really sure how to feel."

He nodded. "I know you didn't want this--I feel like I had to literally force myself onto you and I hate that. I know you only agreed so I wouldn't die, but--"

"Woah--stop." You sat up and turned your head to face him. "That's not true at all. You didn't force me to do anything."

"Okay, maybe 'force' is the wrong word...but you did have sex with me to save my life. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I'm painfully aware," you muttered.

He ran his hand over his face. "I'm not saying any of this right."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

He bit his lip. "Remember what Sammy said? About...how long the effects would last?"

You nodded.

"Well in case you didn't notice, I had three orgasms."

"Both me and my very sore vagina noticed," you said lightly.

He sighed. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, (Y/N)?"

You turned a little more so you could see his face better. He had that same look he'd had when he was making you feel incredible. "I need to hear you say it..." you whispered.

He nodded and leaned forward so his face was mere inches from yours. "He didn't mean 'care' as in 'we're friends, so I care about you'...he meant 'care' as in 'love'."

Your lips parted and you inhaled sharply.

"So you see, I don't just care about you as a friend...and I don't just love you as a friend...I'm in love with you."

"You--you love me?"

"In love," he repeated. "For as long as I can remember."

"You're in love--with me?"

He chuckled softly. "Who else would I be talking to, baby? Yes, I'm in love with you."

"I--I don't know--" you stuttered.

"The only thing you need to know is how you feel. Do you know how you feel about me, (Y/N)?" he whispered.

You nodded slowly.

"And?"

"I'm in love with you too."

He grinned widely. "Yeah?"

You nodded, cheeks turning red.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back against him. He looked down at you with that expression he'd been wearing and you suddenly realized what it was...it was love--real, true, beautiful, heart aching love.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to your lips, which you returned in kind. He held you tightly, loving the feeling of your body in his arms.

"We better get cleaned up before this water gets cold," he said softly, lips pressing to your hair.

"Mhmm," you hummed.

He chuckled. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me, babe."

"But I'm comfortable," you whined.

He smiled against your cheek. "Give me five minutes to clean you up and then we can sleep, okay?"

You looked over at him and smiled. "Deal."

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sorchathered · 2 months ago

Text

He’s in love with the girl

Pairing-Jake Seresin x reader

Warnings- smut and language

A/N- I’m baaaack yall! Here’s a little smutty one shot to tie you over until I post for kinktober! @bobgasm and I have been reading too many cowboy romances lately so here’s a little brother’s best friend romance for ya.

Summary- Jake comes home for the summer and falls head over heels for his bestie’s little sister. How’s he gonna tell him that he thinks she’s the one?

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He shouldn’t be here.

He knows he absolutely shouldn’t , and yet here he is, body pressed up against your bedroom door with his hands in your hair and your lips on his neck.

Any other girl on earth would have been suitable, but no, Jake Seresin just had to fall in love with his best friend’s baby sister.

He’d come home on leave for a month and had expected it to be just like any other trip to Austin. Bar hopping and wrangling cattle, until you walked into his mama’s house. Freshly graduated from college and looking every bit his type. Gorgeous, smart, funny, and a little bit mean to him; it was like kryptonite to him.

He could lie and say he tried to stay away, but you both know that wasn’t true at all. He was down bad, sneaking quiet moments with you in the barn, stopping by to see you after your shifts at the hospital, midnight drives to nowhere that ended with you both tangled up in the back seat of his truck. Your poor brother didn’t have a damn clue, his own life and family kept him just busy enough to keep him out of the loop, and you’d keep it from him as long as you could. Last thing you wanted was for him to pop the perfect bubble the two of you were in.

It wasn’t like he’d held a torch for you or anything like that, anything untoward he was sure Gavin could dream up just wasn’t true. When he’d been reintroduced to you at the beginning of the summer it was like you were a completely different person, not at all the annoying pre teen girl with her one direction obsession that had followed them around years before. You were a bad ass nurse now, someone who took no shit and he’d been falling over himself to get your attention ever since. You’d brushed him off and tried to stay away, but you couldn’t deny that there was absolutely something there, and when he kissed you for the first time it had scared you just how much you wanted more.

“You’re a goddamn dream you know that?” Jake sighed as you ran your nose along his sharp jawline, hands fumbling with his belt as he let his hands roam over the small of your back down to your ass as he kneaded one and then the other cheek before lifting you into his arms. You let out a shriek and erupted into giggles as he carried you to your bed and spread you out on the worn cross and crown patterned quilt.

“You’re gonna get us both in trouble if you keep manhandling me like this you big oaf, the whole house is gonna think-“

“I don’t give a shit what they think, you could scream my name loud enough that they hear it in town, don’t make a difference to me, sugar. I’m tired of sneaking around; want you to be mine.” He had both hands on your hips, staring down at you like you hung the moon and stars. It stole your breath away, you’d thought he’d just been fooling around with you all summer, just another notch in the Hangman’s belt. But the way he was looking at you, it made things feel very, very real.

“Jake. What about Gavin?” You whispered, and he gave a little shake of his head, trying to rid himself of the spell your half naked body had him under. He needed to get this off his chest, if you wanted what he wanted then Gavin could take a long walk off a short pier for all he cared; he’d get over it eventually.

He eased himself on top of you and swiped a loose hair behind your ear, watching as your body relaxed from his touch. Cocky grin plastered on his pretty face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, he took a deep breath and let the words loose that he’d kept buried deep all summer long.

“You know I love Gavin, I’d go to the ends of the earth for that idiot, but I’d be lying if I said his opinion matters one bit when it comes to this. I want you, y/n. I don’t just want you for the summer, I’ll do long distance, late night phone calls, whatever you’ll let me until I can make this permanent. I never thought I’d be the settling down type but damnit darlin’ I’ve got all sorts of dreams planned for me and you, and if you want that too it doesn’t matter what anyone wants or thinks about us, all that matters is how much I’m totally wrapped around your little finger.”

“But-“ he cut you off by placing his lips on yours, letting his hands slide up your sides to cup your face and stealing your breath.

He wasn’t having it- clearly your stubborn ass wasn’t hearing him, he’d just have to show you instead.

He had you naked and spread out before you could even come up with another coherent thought, golden head of hair buried between your legs as he brought you to the edge…and then stopped.

“Look at me pretty girl, I want your eyes on mine when you come, all those sweet noises you make are for me, no one else you got it?” He was being a giant tease, fingers still buried deep as you tried to fight the urge to smack that stupid grin off his face.

“Fuck- you can’t just stop, I- I need-“

“I know what you need baby, and I’ll give it to you every time. But you’re gonna commit this to memory, no one’s ever gonna get to see you like this ‘cept me ever again, you’re mine, and you know I’m used to getting what I want.” He says with a wink, sliding back down to suck your clit into his hot mouth, watching as you arch your whole body into him with a whine.

“Yours Jake, just yours.”

He felt the sun through the blinds and groaned, it was too damn early and warm all wrapped up in you, but he couldn’t put off his plans forever, there was too much at stake and he’d chicken out if he waited much longer. Pressing kisses to your face and neck he untangled himself from you and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He had to come clean to Gavin, and if it didn’t end up with a black eye he’d call that a win.

He pulled up to the diner on Main that had been home to many a hangover meal and found Gavin lounging in their favorite booth along the back wall, his gruff exterior a complete facade as soon as Jake came in the door. Goofy wide smile splitting his face as he made his way over to the table, but Jake couldn’t bring the smile to his eyes. He’d been ready for battle on the drive here, but now that he was inside he felt his resolve crumble a little. He’d known him since they were in diapers, their moms had been debutantes together for god sake; what was he supposed to do if this ended sour?

Knocked loose from his thoughts as the waitress, Gladys, who was probably here when the town began, brought him a steaming cup of coffee and ruffled his hair. He could do this, he just needed to man up. He’d fought in firefights thousands of miles in the sky, surely this would be easier.

“You’ve been here all summer and I swear it feels like we’ve barely seen you brother, where the hell you been?” Gavin says as he digs into his breakfast, chomping away at his pancakes with no idea what bomb is about to be dropped on him.

Jake wipes his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans as he stares intently on his steaming mug, drawing a shaky breath and preparing for the worst.

“I’ve uh- I’ve been seeing somebody. I know I should’ve been better about keeping in touch, just kinda got caught up in it. It’s why I asked you here bud, gotta talk to you about it before I explode if I’m honest.”

Gavin stops his Joey Chestnut impression long enough to look over Jake’s stoic exterior, and guffaws. Throws his head back and quite literally cackles.

“Ha- oh shit man, I’ve been waiting on you to spill the beans on this shit. You should see your damn face “we need to talk Gav, I’m in love.” Hahaha goddamn, if I’d known all it would take is my sister coming back into town to get you to settle down I'd have tried to play matchmaker years ago.”

Jake nearly drops his mug, eyes bugging out of his head.

“You- you know?! Jesus Christ Gav, I’ve been losing my shit over this for days, way to bury the lead.”

“Oh come on, you two haven’t exactly been subtle. For someone who is supposedly a stealth pilot, you sure don’t know how to hide a relationship. Also, if you’re going to fool around with her at mom and pop’s, might want to remember the walls are paper thin. We found you guys out weeks ago dude.” He goes right back to destroying his plate, like the two of them had been talking about sports scores and not the fact that Jake was definitely fucking Gavin’s baby sister.

“You don’t need my permission, and you definitely have my approval if you were really that worried. She’s harbored a crush for years, doesn’t surprise me in the least that she shot her shot. Just do me a favor, don’t make her wait too long before you propose, she’d probably say yes with a ring made out of napkins from the way she looks at you.”

He didn’t make you wait long at all, and crazy as it all sounded to his squad back in Fightertown when he showed up at the end of block leave with a fiancée, they knew he was hooked from the minute you introduced yourself. You transferred hospitals and made the move to California, and made his empty bachelor pad a home with all your fancy appliances and skincare products he couldn’t pronounce to save his life.

When you both had gotten all the boxes unpacked he laid you down in your shared bed and made love to you like he hoped he’d get to do for the rest of his life, he couldn’t wait to start a life with you, and maybe a baby.. or 5, but that would be a whole other discussion for another day.

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🏷️ tagging- @roosterforme @nouis-bum @sebsxphia @teacupsandtopgun @sunsetsimpsblog @sio-ina-bottle @kissmecaitie @mynameismckenziemae @senawashere @seitmai-too @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @dizzybee03 @mygyn @jessicab1991 @djs8891 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @86laura11

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin

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shoeistars · 10 months ago

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— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 2

༺ feat. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

— REO ! car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

— BAROU ! wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

— RIN ! under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

— SAE ! checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

— SHIDOU ! pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

#bllk smut #blue lock smut #reo smut #reo x reader #barou smut #barou x reader #rin smut #rin x reader #sae smut #sae x reader #itoshi smut #itoshi x reader #shidou smut #shidou x reader

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barnesafterglow · 5 months ago

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first burn

summary: your crush on peter may burn you alive

pairing: mcu!peter parker x avenger!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: not canon compliant (no snap, everyone is happy and healthy and no one did anything stupid), peter is of age and well within his rights to fuck!!, a little tropey for a second (brief "fake dating" and "only one bed" to move the story along), smut [unprotected sex, pull out method oral (f receiving), just some sweet love making dude], listen i'm here for a good time not a long time

a/n: two fics in a year?? who is she

main masterlist - i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary for updates!

Peter Parker was going to be the death of you.

With each grunt that echoed through the gym in Avengers Tower, your eyes flicked to his sweaty form. The goddamned death of you.

You tried to backtrack, to see when these feelings first started as a small burning in the back of your mind that had turned into a raging wildfire every time you were in his presence. It had to have been the mission in London.

It was normal - or as normal as any Avengers mission could be.

You had just stumbled through the throes of midtown London, hand in hand with your boyfriend, looking with every bit of wonder like neither of you had ever seen the delights it had to offer.

Then, as soon as you stepped through the hotel door, Peter dropped your hand as if it had burned him the whole time.

Maybe it started then, with that glimmer of disappointment. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend and he would never take the time to take you around tourist London like he had just done.

And then that pit in your stomach grew as the door to your room opened: only one bed. Jesus Christ, Tony.

“I know,” came the response from beside you; you must have spoken out loud. “It’ll be fine.”

Those were the last words he spoke for a long while, as you both got ready for bed, then slid in beside each other. The tension was palpable, and you didn’t know if it was your slowly mounting feelings or the clench of his discomfort, but regardless you slept fitfully for hours until you finally stumbled into a deep sleep.

You woke up to a strong pair of arms wrapped around your middle - somehow pressed there in the dark of the night - and the world spun around you as you shot up.

Peter was alert in seconds, standing by the bed assessing for a threat, when his eyes met yours - utterly confused and you had no real answer for him.

“Bad dream,” you mumbled as you headed to the bathroom, the door clicking with a sort of finality behind you.

And it was fine, really it was. You definitely didn’t think about the way press of his body against yours and how sexy his bed head had looked. Nope. Not at all.

And you definitely didn’t imagine what he would have looked like if you were the one who made him sweaty and flushed like he was right now.

Snapping out of your borderline impure thoughts, you stood from your spot on the ground where you had been warming up and - before your mouth said something you could regret - you walked out of the gym.

With your back turned, you missed the way Peter’s eyes followed you the whole way.

Saturday nights were girl’s nights, as Wanda so boldly claimed. And girl’s night came with a lot of complaining.

Throwing the shot back, you groaned, not even wanting to voice your thoughts aloud.

“I shouldn’t even think about it,” you said. “He’s practically a kid.”

“Not to impede on your self-loathing, but he’s not a kid anymore babe,” was Natasha’s response. She nodded across the bar where Peter was sipping his beer, laughing at something Sam had said. Right, he was 22 and totally within your age range, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still see him as the 16 year old kid who had fought by Tony’s side. “Plus you’re not that much older than him. We used to call you a kid too, you know.”

Dragging your hand down your face, you stood from the table to order another drink, ignoring Nat and Wanda’s laughter at your misery.

As you leaned against the bar waiting, Peter dropped down into the stool beside you.

“Alright, what did I do to you?” His words were casual, joking, but you could hear the hurt laced within. That was never your intention, and your heart sank.

You and Peter had been friends for a long time, since Tony had first brought him in after the air had cleared with him and Cap. You bonded over being the youngest Avengers and what that meant for your lives. The two of you understood each other on another level that no one else truly did. And here you were, ruining everything over a little crush.

“Nothing, Pete.” You ruffled your hand through his hair and his face lit up in a blush that he tried to hide behind his beer bottle. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad, I guess,” he replied, then looked down at you - when had he gotten so tall - with an unreadable emotion on his face. “I miss you.”

Right. And you were back where you started. Admittedly, you had avoided him for the most part since that London mission, only saying hi in passing and at the occasional movie night or debrief. You weren’t exactly proud of it, but you didn’t know what else to do.

“I miss you too,” you whispered, shame coating your words. You never meant to hurt him - honestly, you didn’t. “Listen, kid, I just-“

“Don’t call me kid.” And the anger in his words surprised you. “I’m not that kid you met six years ago - when you were barely any older, might I remind you - and you know that. I know you know that. So don’t use that as an excuse to stop whatever is going on here.” His hands gestured between the two of you.

Strong, capable hands that you had seen hurt and save, had seen run through his hair, had seen play video games. Hands that you had imagined for weeks now. Hands that you couldn’t help but grab out of mid air, clasping one in your own.

“And what’s going on here, Peter?”

He leaned in close, breath hot on your ear.

“I see the way you look at me.” Your breath hitched, then stopped altogether. “But I don’t think you see me looking right back.”

Body all of a sudden hot and raging with emotion, you squeezed his hand and took a deep breath.

“Take me home.”

Your apartment was closer, so you walked the handful of blocks from the bar in tangible silence. Every brush of fingers was an electric jolt through your body and every bump of shoulders sent heat through your core. By the time you reached your front door, the tension was pulled so tight it was bound to snap at any moment.

And snap it did.

As soon as you had the apartment door closed behind you, Peter was on you, his hands everywhere all at once. He crowded you, pulling you close to him when you winced at the door knob digging into your side. One hand came to rest on your hip, rubbing soothing circles there, while the other cradled your face, eyes searching for permission.

You didn’t know what you were giving him permission for, but you nodded anyway.

The world around you stopped as Peter placed a searing kiss to your lips, stealing the breath from your lungs. The hand on your face moved to gently tug your hair and he took your gasp as an invitation to explore your mouth. God the boy knew how to kiss.

His tongue pressed into you, tasting every inch while your hands roamed his body. When he pulled away - not for air, not to leave you, but to place hot kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of burning fire in their wake - you tugged on his t-shirt in a silent plea for him to take it off.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before. Between missions and training and plain old gym sessions, you were thankfully no stranger to a shirtless Peter Parker. But in the dim light of your living room, with those brown eyes boring into your own, everything was suddenly different.

You just stared - for far longer than necessary, you were sure - until he took a step back towards you, his fingers intertwining with your own. Nodding at him, you started to lead him towards your bedroom, not making it more than two steps until his hands were once again exploring your body.

When you finally made it - a trail of both of your clothes left in your wake - your breaths were heavy and panting, aching for more of him.

He stood there for a moment just looking at you, taking in the red lace of your bra and underwear. Unable to contain himself, he ripped it off of you in two quick pulls, leaving you bare before him.

You expected him to jump on you the second you were naked. Instead he pressed his front against your own - you gasped at the contact of your nipples against his bare chest - and lightly traced shapes over your exposed back, moving down to trail along your legs, then back up your arms. Everywhere he touched burned the memory into your skin.

Finally, finally, he gently pushed you against your bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft bounce, and he peeled off his jeans and underwear before manhandling you towards the center, moving your body as if you weighed nothing.

You truly didn’t need any foreplay, the tension on your own end built up these last few weeks on top of Peter’s heated discovery of your body made for an easy transition, but he wasn’t about to let that happen.

No, Peter Parker was a fucking tease.

He started by kneading the soft skin of your breasts, touch light and gentle as if you were something precious. Even when he leaned down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, he still only gave you quick nips, nothing as satisfying as you needed. He made his way down your body, placing lover’s kisses everywhere he could reach, before finally settling down on his stomach between your legs.

You thought that this was surely the moment you would get some reprieve, some kind of real touch that may or may not send you over the edge, but no. He wasn’t done with you yet.

He kissed the inside of each thigh, alternating until he was breathing right where you needed him most. When you thought you were about to explode, he finally lowered his mouth to your core.

The feeling after so long of teasing was euphoric, and you swear if you were a weaker woman you could have come from the first swipe of his tongue against your clit. You held out as his tongue made its way in circles and figure eights, then he pressed a finger against your entrance, eyes looking up through dark lashes to silently ask permission.

Once you had given it, he sank a finger into you, pumping it a few times before adding another. With that, both his hand and mouth picked up speed until you were grinding on his face, chasing your orgasm.

You were on the edge, ready to jump off, when he pulled back. You whined at the loss of contact and tried to sit up, but one large hand pushed you back against the bed, the other starting its assault all over again.

This time, he didn’t stop until you were coming all over his face, and you think you blacked out for a second because the next thing you knew he was over top of you, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before kissing you, driving his tongue in and swallowing down your moans.

He ground his hips against you, his cock sliding easily through your folds, and you both whined as his tip caught at your entrance. He continued his movements, getting closer and closer to fucking you with every pass, but never quite committing.

Sick of his teasing, you pushed hard on his shoulders and, in his surprise, were able to flip him so he was on his back.

“Stop teasing, Peter,” you whispered in his ear as you straddled his waist. “I need you.”

You pulled back, eyes searching his, before he nodded and wrapped his hands around your hips. Taking that as permission, you grabbed his cock, lining it up and slowly sliding down.

He was big, much bigger than you had anticipated, and you had to take your time before he was fully seated inside you. Once your hips were flush together, you took a breath, practically feeling him in your throat.

He looked up at you - almost adoringly - as you adjusted to him. You leaned down, pressing your chest against his, and kissed him gently, pouring every ounce of emotion you possibly could into it before starting to move your hips. Now more adjusted, the burn of the stretch turned into a pleasure that had you melting against him and hands guided your hips to move you along his length.

For long minutes you let him move you as he wanted, content to hang on for the ride. You didn’t expect for Peter to flip you over and start pounding into you.

“Fuck,” you gasped out as he settled your legs over your shoulders. “So fucking deep.”

All you could do is hold onto him as he fucked you, alternating between hard thrusts and slow grinds until you were dizzy with pleasure, chasing an orgasm that wasn’t going to come unless Peter damn well wanted it to.

And when he did, when he reached down and rubbed harsh circles into your clit, you exploded around him. The clench of your heat around his cock spurred his own orgasm, and he pulled out at the last second, his come coating your stomach and tits.

That on is own was hot enough, but Peter fucking Parker did not come to play. He swiped two fingers through his own release before pressing them to your mouth. You opened up for him, cleaning off his fingers as he groaned, and you could see his cock give an interested twitch, like it was already trying to go for round two.

The weight of his body disappeared from yours and you whined, reaching out for him even with your eyes closed. He quickly returned with a warm rag and cleaned you up before maneuvering you both under the covers.

Regaining a semblance of strength, you turned so that you were facing him, suddenly very aware of each of your nakedness.

“What now?” Your voice was hoarse-sounding, it’s only use in the last bit from moans and gasps.

“Well,” he started, once again tracing shapes along your bare skin, “I think we maybe skipped a step in the middle of all this.”

“What do you mean?” If he was going to say what you thought he might, your heart would implode.

“I mean, I’ve liked you for a really long time, longer than I’m going to admit, and I took this chance because I didn’t know if I would ever get it again. But if I’m right - and I think I am - then you feel the same way I do. So, I want to take you on a proper date. I want to make this work.”

His confession made your heart stutter-step and you couldn’t even find the words to tell him yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Instead, you pulled him in for a soft kiss, hoping every emotion he had just poured out to you was matched in the press of your lips against his.

“I’m taking that as a yes, then.”

“Yeah, Pete, it is.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #mcu peter parker #mcu peter x reader #mcu peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker smut #mcu peter parker fic #mcu peter parker smut #mcu #marvel #marvel fic #mcu fic #tiff writes #first burn

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bluebeary-jay · 2 years ago

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clouded judgment / clear mind

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: it was a long time since Joel had felt a maddening rage like this, but he weren't about to let anyone who dares to hurt you get away with it (based on this ask)

Tags: Joel goes apeshit, angst, a bit of comfort at the end, established relationship, protective Joel (REALLY protective lmao), basically he goes feral

Warnings: uh. VERY graphic descriptions of violence (I'm not good at writing action sequences but it is graphic), swearing, kinda torturing 😬

Word count: 4.5K

A/N: this one was really challenging, but i hope yall will like what i came up with :) i really didn't expect it to be so difficult to write buuut i tried to focus on the "giving-his-brother-nightmares" side of Joel and i think i succeeded. anyway !!! happy reading ❤️

He should have never left you alone.

Which was a ridiculous thought, of course, because how are you supposed to patrol efficiently if the other person refuses to leave your side even for a moment? Besides, he didn’t want you to think he didn’t trust you – he saw multiple times what you were capable of first-hand and he knew you were able to take care of yourself.

He put it forward once – to not split up and patrol the same area within the eyeshot of each other. You sent him a crooked smile at that, saying something about him being a little too overprotective before you gave him a kiss and went on your merry way, leaving him alone and slightly annoyed (but with a faint, stupid grin on his face).

So he tried to rein in this ‘overprotectiveness’ you mentioned. He never brought it up again, even though a cold shiver ran up his spine every time he lost sight of you beyond the safe walls of Jackson. Each time you two went on a patrol, he had to take a second to calm down and remind himself this is not one of his dreams when he loses you.

That’s why at first, when he heard your voice screaming his name from a distance, he wasn’t sure if it was really happening.

The instinct, however, kicked in the next second and he rushed back to where he saw you last, to the interior of a resort around which he was scouting. This was supposed to be one of the safest options for patrolling – no one ever saw any signs of life here besides occasional infected, and Joel was never that worried when you went inside alone to check the place.

He had a feeling his cautious (he really didn’t want to call it ‘overprotective’) nature was gonna become a nuisance again after this incident.

The goddamn downpour outside made listening for any noises aggravatingly difficult. Joel yelled for you, but he didn’t hear any answer and the driving rain beating against the windows of the resort absorbed all the sounds.

He made his way inside the building and up the stairs when he noticed your hat lying discarded against the wall. A wave of ice-cold dread washed over him. The stairway was dark but even with the little light he had he could see a couple of wet, almost black droplets on the dirty floor.

What he felt next reminded him of falling asleep – his shoulders relaxed and from head to toe a cool, silent equilibrium crept over him. Joel gripped his rifle firmly and pushed on soundlessly. It didn’t seem like you were stabbed or shot – there would be much more blood present – but you were hurt. Someone must’ve laid in wait to ambush you, and now…

It didn’t matter. Whoever it was, they made a grave mistake.

Joel reached the second floor, listening intently for any clues as to where you might be or how many people are in the building with him, but he didn’t even have to check the rooms one by one. A faint light, which couldn't have been left by the previous patrol, was spilling out from underneath the doors at the far end of the corridor . He did consider the possibility that it was a decoy and your attacker was hiding in one of the other rooms, but the closer he got to the sliver of light on the dusty floor, and the more doors he passed, it became clear that whoever got you, they weren’t that cunning.

And then he heard it. A sound of a blow from the other side of the door, and then a strangled cry.

It was you. Your voice.

Joel took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and kicked the door open, bursting into the room with his rifle held high – only to find himself surrounded by six men, five of whom were holding him at gunpoint.

The sixth one, a ragged-looking blond, stood over you and the second he saw Joel, he grabbed you by the hair and pressed a knife against your neck, making both you and Joel freeze.

“You’re from this town nearby, right?” asked the man with a heavy accent Joel couldn’t place. “The one that fucking shoots off any newcomers.”

Joel didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at this man. All he could see was your bruised and battered face and the blood running freely from your – probably broken – nose and down your chin. You had a black eye and a split brow, but your gaze was sharp and alert when you looked back at him.

He felt like his insides were boiling.

“Hey, dickhead!” the leader of the group yelled, gripping your hair tighter and making you hiss in pain. “You deaf or something?”

Joel finally managed to take his eyes off you – your blood and your bruises, and the concealed fear on your face – and glared at the man standing over you. His jaw was clenched and nostrils flaring, but he quickly collected himself. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him when you were in danger.

He lifted his hands slowly, showing that he was no threat to them. The thug tilted his head at one of his friends.

“Put down your gun and slide it over.”

Joel watched you following his movements with your eyes as he carefully put his rifle down and kicked it in the direction of one of the men. The blond holding the knife nodded twice.

“Now. You two are from the town, aren’tcha?”

“Let her go,” said Joel, trying to remain calm and not use – quoting Ellie – his ‘asshole voice’. “Then we’ll talk.”

The man shook his head and chuckled.

“Oh, no, no.” He pressed the blade harder against your throat. “We have the upper hand here. You understand?”

The man was looking at him expectantly but Joel’s eyes were nailed on the trickle of blood now running down the column of your neck. He remembered kissing that same neck this morning and tickling it with his nose, and the thought of this fucking bastard cutting your soft skin and leaving such a mark on it made him feel like he was about to burst.

“Fine,” he ground out with his jaw set. He looked over at the leader of the group. “What do you want?”

Had any of them been smarter, they would have picked up a dangerous note in his voice. But just like he suspected, they weren’t that bright.

“You go back to your town and bring five more horses here,” said the blond. “And ammo. My buddy here,” he used his chin to point at another guy, standing behind Joel, “will tell you what kind. You try anything or come back with someone else, and I’ll slit her throat right open.”

“She will go get that shit for you and I will stay,” Joel negotiated strongly, but the leader of the group shook his head again.

“No. No way. You go and bring back everything we ask for, and I’ll let your little friend go.”

Joel’s eyes once again shifted to your form and something inside his chest twitched. You noticed it – of course you did, you were always able to read him like no one else – and tried to offer him a half smile.

“I’ll be fine, Joel,” you reassured him. “Nothing I haven’t–”

“Shut your trap!” The shorter man standing to your right yelled and raised his hand, making you flinch.

Joel could almost feel fire burning in his veins and through his skin, peeling it off his bones.

“Hey! There’s no need for that!” he said louder, taking a step forward, but the gang lifted their guns higher. He stopped and spread his arms wider. “I’ll get you the stuff you want. Just leave her alone.”

“You better hurry, then,” said the blond with a nasty smile, and Joel nodded while trying not to look too desperate. He looked at his friend. “Tell him what we need.”

Joel didn’t give a shit what they were saying – it was him who needed to think of something, and fast. He had a suspicion as to who these men were – he heard from Tommy about a larger group trying to gain entry to Jackson several times. Apparently they threatened the patrol which found them when they were denied permission to join their community. It was before Joel came to the small town for the first time with you and Ellie, but the word around was that any rogue group around this terrains wasn’t to be trusted.

And everything from the description Tommy gave him fit: ragged looks, traveling on foot, low on ammunition.

While one of the men listed what kind of guns they had and how much supplies they wanted, a motion in Joel’s field of vision caught his attention and his eyes darted to you – or more specifically, to your left hand.

You stared right back at him, moving your fingers slightly so the others didn’t notice.

N… O… A… M…

No ammo.

None? That’s probably why the one standing next to you wasn’t holding you at gunpoint but with a knife to the throat. The rest of them must’ve had their pistols drawn just for show. Joel had no idea how you figured it out, but a thought struck him and he surveyed the members of the group. He remembered which one held onto his rifle, but you were armed, too…

As if reading his mind, your fingers started to twitch again the second he looked back at you.

U... Left… B, E, H, I…

Suddenly the man to your right bowed over you again and punched you square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of you.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarled with contempt and glared back at Joel. “No funny games, you hear me? You come back with a gun or anyone else, and I won’t hesitate to fucking kill her, man.”

Joel’s heart was pounding in his chest. All he could see was your face contorted in pain, all he could hear were your coughs and grunts.

Two of the men came forward – the one on his left had a loaded gun from what you managed to convey to him in sign language – and pushed him towards the exit. Joel shifted his icy stare at the man standing next to him, and then at the two situated near you.

They were all going to die.

When he gets back, he’s going to kill every one last of them, and he’s going to enjoy it immensely.

Joel sent you one last look before turning around and slowly walking out of the room with both men close behind, pointing their guns (and only one of them loaded) at him.

It was going to be alright. He had a stirring of a plan and when he comes back, maybe with Tommy or someone else…

You gasped and coughed again behind his back after the sound of another punch.

Joel came to a dead stop, not registering the gun barrel digging into his back, and he felt like his jaw was going to snap if he kept clenching it like that.

You murmured something he didn’t quite catch and Joel turned his head slightly just in time to see the short man kicking you in the ribs and your form lying on the wooden floor, spitting out blood…

“You think you’re so clever, huh? I swear to fucking god, if you pull something like that again…”

Joel didn’t even let the man finish.

In a split second he elbowed the man behind him, grabbing his hand holding the gun – the one they took from you – and shooting the blond standing over you. He fell backwards and the knife fell out of his grip. Taking out the guy Joel grappled with was embarrassingly easy, and once he had a good grip on the pistol belonging to you, he spun around to face the other thug with his gun, standing on the opposite side of the room.

The ragged man fired at him, but Joel didn’t even need to duck, for the bullet missed him by half a meter at least. The man was lying dead soon after, shot twice in the head, and the remaining three took out their weapons, ready for a fight.

None of them reached for Joel’s rifle, lying under their friend’s corpse.

“That’s even better,” he murmured to himself, unloading the gun and throwing it against the far wall.

If looks could kill, they’d already be lying on the ground and writhing in agony. But Joel was more than happy to do it himself. And with his bare hands.

He strode with confidence to the nearest man who swung a machete at him. Joel avoided the attack and pushed him back, quickly darting to the side and decking the other man coming at him.

A sharp pain ripped through his body from the back of his arm when the third thug cut through his clothes. Joel blocked the second strike and twisted the opponent's arm, applying so much pressure that the bone in the forearm snapped and the man’s scream pierced the air.

He lurched back to dodge the machete aimed at his neck and picked up a knife dropped by the previous guy. He surged forward, driving the blade into the thigh of his current attacker, which made the other man lose his balance. Their friend, the last one still unharmed, managed to punch Joel’s jaw, making something crack and reverberate inside his skull, but he only wiped the blood from his face.

When the last thug came closer, Joel used his own momentum and grabbed the back of his skull, bringing the guy's face down onto his own knee. After that his movements were practically automatic when he grabbed the dazed man from behind and broke his neck in a swift motion.

Breathing heavily, he made his way to the first man he knocked out and took your gun from, picking up the machete en route. That son of a bitch wasn’t even conscious, but it didn’t stop Joel from bringing the weapon down and through his head.

The next one was the bastard with the broken arm, but his screams quickly died away when he, too, received a deep and lethal wound from Joel – this time aimed at his chest, almost cutting it open.

Your yelp ripped through the roar of blood in his ears and Joel turned around just in time to see the blond he shot in the shoulder sitting on top of you, trying to stab you with his knife. You managed to dodge it and before that idiot could try again, Joel came up to you both, grabbed the man’s hair and all but threw him off of you and onto the floor.

The blond was still holding the weapon in his hand, but didn’t get another chance to use it – with all his strength Joel brought the heel of his heavy boot down on the injured man's fingers. The man screamed when the satisfying crunch of the bones in his hand breaking echoed throughout the room and Joel couldn't hide a smirk.

He deserved it. All of them deserved it.

He again saw before his eyes the way this motherfucker kicked you and how his friend threatened to cut your throat. Again he saw red.

“You piece of shit,” Joel whispered, still blinded by rage, and gave the man a taste of his own medicine by kicking him in the stomach as hard as he could. The bastard coughed and yelled in pain but it wasn’t enough.

Joel’s focus was sharp and clear when he stood over the battered and bleeding man, staring down at him with hatred. He thought the blond tried to say something – his lips were certainly moving – but he didn’t concern himself with any begging or threats the thug had to offer. Instead he gripped the front of his sweater and punched him in the jaw, letting the limp body fall to the floor and relishing in the sounds of his curses, his grunts of pain, his blood dripping onto the floor…

Not enough.

Joel did that several more times – grabbing the idiot’s clothes, hair, whatever – to pull him up and hit him in the jaw, temple, nose and wherever else his fist landed. The face of the man was bloodied and he was barely conscious at this point and still all Joel could see was the look of sadistic glee on this man's face after finding an excuse to hurt you.

Joel didn’t have much strength anymore, but he ignored the biting pain from the cut on his arm and the raw wounds on his bloody knuckles, and straddled the lying man. The survival instinct must've kicked in and the blond started to tussle, reaching with his not-broken fingers to Joel’s face, scratching his brow and cheek.

And just like the glee he saw in the thug’s eyes earlier, Joel was more than happy that he gave him an excuse – and an idea – how to hurt him more.

“I saw how you looked at her,” he said in a low tone to the unlucky man, holding his left arm in place with his knee and pressing his own thumb to that fucker's swollen eye. “You like hearin’ people screamin’ in pain? Because I just know this is going to bring me great joy.”

Blood was flowing from under Joel’s finger and down his hand when he gouged the blond’s eye out and the man was shrieking. He was writhing and struggling under Joel's weight, and his voice became guttural and hoarse soon after when the dark blood started to flood his mouth. Joel pulled his hand away, panting heavily, and soaked in the suffering of that bastard whose face now resembled a smashed, bloody goo.

Not enough.

It was unfortunate that the blond was the only one left Joel could take it out on, but he couldn’t find any compassion in himself at the moment. So he punched him again, staining the floor with the scumbug's blood.

And again.

“Joel.”

Joel turned around sharply, grasping the thug’s knife. He could still feel rage churning inside of him and he was breathing heavily, trying to contain the fury filling him without screaming out loud. His hands were covered in blood – not his – and he subconsciously knew that the man lying motionlessly under him was long since dead, his face completely destroyed, but he wished that son of a bitch was still alive so that he could feel the suffering Joel longed to inflict upon him.

Everything because he hurt you.

You…

The ringing in his ears stopped suddenly and the knife fell out of his hand when he ran up to where you were still lying on the floor. You were curled up on your side with your arms wrapped protectively around your stomach and your face twisted in pain.

Joel’s breathing got quicker, now for an entirely different reason, when he noticed that the cut on your neck was bigger than he originally thought, and still bleeding. Your face was bruised and he knew your whole torso will probably turn green and purple soon, too.

“Oh, babygirl,” he whispered tenderly, his trembling hands hovering above your body, but not touching it. “It’s…” It’s alright, he wanted to say. Or maybe, where does it hurt the most?

He had trouble finding his voice, though. In his fury he completely forgot that you were still here and in need of his help.

You took a deep breath and turned your head ever so slightly to look at him in the corner of your eye. A sad smile appeared on your face.

“Hi, Joel.”

Joel breathed in. Out. In again.

For fuck’s sake, what was he thinking?

He quickly wiped the blood of the people he killed on his pants and cursed at himself mentally.

“Hi, darlin’,” he murmured in response, focusing back on you. “You’re gonna be alright. How are you feeling?”

“I think I might have a broken rib or two,” you breathed while Joel pulled out a clean piece of cloth he carried in his jacket for cases like this one and pressed it against the cut on the side of your neck. You winced and he felt a pang of pain in his own chest.

“Can I check?”

You let go of your stomach with a strangled gasp. Joel started to gently feel your torso, trying to discern if he could feel any broken bones or signs of internal bleeding. He kept his touch as delicate as he could, not wanting to hurt you even more, or worse – scare you.

He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, though, no matter how much he tried to calm his breathing. He wished he could hold you as securely as he held his gun, with a quiet heart and sharp focus, but the fear of accidentally hurting you made his fingertips recoil at times.

Although you two knew each other for years now, you were never a witness to this cruel side of him. You knew about it, of course, of horrible things he’s done before he got to Boston and met you. A couple of times you even saw with your own eyes snippets of these primary emotions of fear or anger overtaking Joel’s mind and body.

But never like that. Never with such ferocity, hatred and satisfaction from hurting those who did the same to you.

He just really didn’t want you to be afraid of him. You were so precious to him and often he thought those brutal hands of his, which he knew were guilty of inflicting unimaginable pain and suffering, weren't worthy of touching someone who in his eyes was so delicate and pure.

But it never stopped you from seeking his touch, and although Joel could be stubborn and tough at times, he didn’t have it in himself to ever refuse you anything – even when he knew better.

That was always the case. His judgment and mind were clouded when it came to you.

“I don’t think anythin’ is broken,” he finally said in a quiet voice, cupping your cheek gingerly and turning your head to look at it better. “But the nose probably is. How did it happen?”

“They jumped out on me in the hallway,” you answered, not meeting his eyes while he gently touched the base of your nose. Then you looked to the window against which the still pouring rain was beating. “One of them punched me when I shouted for you. I thought you might have not heard me.”

“I heard you,” he murmured and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You came for me pretty quickly, so–”

“Not that. M’sorry you had to see… this.”

To that, you didn't say anything. Joel felt his heart clenching on itself and almost stopping from the wave of terror that washed over him.

His treacherous mind was rushing him to defend his actions or make excuses – because if he doesn’t, if it turns out you’re scared of him and the things he’s capable of…

You might leave him. And if you leave, Joel won’t survive that.

But he didn’t give in to those cruel thoughts and silenced the voice in his head.

“I’d do it again,” he said quietly, making you lift your head. “In a heartbeat. I’m really sorry you had to see that, darlin’, but I… just know I’d never hurt you. And if I can help it, no one else will either.”

“Hey.” Your knuckles brushed his cheek and you looked at him with sad eyes. “You don’t need to explain yourself. I know you did it to protect me.”

“I wanted them to suffer,” he continued as if you didn’t say anything, but at the same time he soaked in the feeling of your soft touch on his face. “I don’t know how much you saw–”

“Joel.” You sat up with a wince after interrupting him, and your gaze turned sharp. “Why are you telling me this?”

Even though the bloody, battered mess that he made of the blond man seemed to push itself into Joel’s field of vision, he refused to look away from you.

“‘Cause you need to know. I feel like I’d be lyin’ to you if I didn’t explain that it wasn’t an accident or a one-time thing,” he answered, his eyes flickering from your neck to your face, and down to his own stained hands. “Couldn’t think of anythin’ else after I saw you like that, on the ground and…”

“Listen to me.” You took his head firmly in your hands and your gaze was unwavering – like you wanted to make sure that your every word will reach the depths of his soul. “I’ll say it again: you don’t need to explain. I get why you did that. And don’t even think you’re gonna drive me away because of that.”

You knew him too well. Sometimes it was slightly annoying, sometimes even scary.

This time, however, it felt reassuring.

You looked to the side where the body of his last victim lay, and Joel grimaced, gently touching the edge of your jaw and tilting it back to him. “Don’t look,” he whispered, realizing with surprise, as well as a horrible lump in his throat, that he felt almost ashamed.

Your bright eyes met his again and he briefly wondered if your gaze always was so scrutinizing.

“I’m not scared of you,” you said sternly, like always knowing what was going on in his head. “I'm not, so stop thinking that.” You shook him by the arm a little and when he didn’t answer, the corner of your lips tugged upwards in a teasing manner. “I’ve seen you multiple times in the morning. I know you’re secretly a big softie.”

Joel really didn’t deserve this kind of kindness and understanding from you. That didn’t stop him from craving it, though.

He didn't say anything – just leaned in and kissed your cheek tenderly, lingering there for a moment but paying attention not to brush your nose. You exhaled and closed your eyes, your eyelashes tickling his skin, and he decided not to drag this conversation on any longer.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart. I’ll help you up.”

He stood up and held out his hand. It was rough and covered in blood, but even after you saw what he did to those men and heard their screams, you didn’t hesitate to take it.

“Joel,” you said gravely after standing up. There was no trace of your previous smile on your face. “If you were the one in danger, I’d do the same thing.”

You were looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer, and after a couple of seconds he nodded slightly. Apparently it was good enough for you, because you just squeezed his hand and tugged him after you and out of the room.

Joel didn’t know if he believed you.

But your words made him feel calmer and cleared his clouded mind nonetheless.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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barcaatthemoon · 22 days ago

Text

big mouth || diana taurasi x reader ||

It takes a while for you and Diana to start getting along.

Your senior season had felt absolutely surreal. It had taken a long time to get your team looking as good as it had. You felt pretty lucky to be playing the best basketball of your life without too much outside attention. You had garnered your fair share of fans, but the pressure didn't ever really reach Caitlin Clark or Paige Bueckers levels. To top all of it all, you had went very high in the draft to the Phoenix Mercury, a team full of players you knew would make you better at the end of the day.

For the most part, Phoenix gave you a warm welcome. You found a few quick friends, but with that, you also seemed to aggrevate one of the veterans. You had no idea how or why, but Diana Taurasi couldn't seem to stand you. That one had hurt you the most because she had been the player you were most looking forward to learning from.

And in a way, you did learn something from every unnecessary hit she gave you during practice. You learned from the icy glares and dismissiveness every single time you spoke. Natasha and BG tried to distract you from Diana, claiming that they had no idea why the woman was acting like that with you. However, you after the first few weeks, you gave up on trying to impress her. If she wanted to act like a bitch and play that game, you could too.

"Damn, I didn't know our rook was a brick wall in her spare time!" Natasha laughed as BG leaned down to help Diana up. She had run in for a simple shot with only you in the way, someone who she had plowed through every single practice since you arrived. Diana thought it should have been an easy shot, but you stood your ground, and surprised everybody with your strength.

"I figured that I wouldn't get any playing time if I tried being nice all the time," you said, shooting Diana a pointed look.

"Well, you'll fucking foul out playing like that. Learn some goddamn self control." You scoffed and rolled your eyes, not about to take advice like that from Diana of all people. You had never seen a player be so physical before, especially with you on the court.

"I'm sure you know a lot about that," you grumbled.

"Hey big mouth, say that shit louder, I dare you!" Diana yelled. You turned, ready to get in her face, but someone stopped you. You weren't sure who it was pulling you back, but you quickly found yourself sitting on the bench with a water bottle surrounded by a few of your teammates. "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with some of these rookies."

"Calm down, she's just giving back what you've been dishing out for weeks," BG reminded Diana. You weren't sure what they were saying, but you knew that they were talking about you. Diana didn't seem to like whatever was being said because she just stormed off after that.

"What a fucking baby," you muttered under your breath.

"Watch it, there's only so much looking for you that we can all do before it starts dividing the team," Natasha warned you. You sighed as you leaned back in your seat. "Man, that was kind of funny though. Big mouth, haha."

"Tash, out of the two of us, that's a much more fitting nickname for you." Natasha glared at you, but didn't make any attempt to refute your statement.

"Well, it's yours now rook!"

…

Much to your dismay, Diana's nickname for you seemed to stick. If not with the other players, than with the woman herself. You had no idea what you had ever really done to Diana aside from the one day in practice whenever you'd knocked her on her ass. However, her problem with you seemed to be from straight out of the gate. She had to be jealous of you, but you had no idea why she would be in the first place.

Still, you took the knowledge of making Diana Taurasi jealous to heart. You were cockier than before, and as your hatred towards each other grew, the more confident you did as well. Your confidence was shining bright both on and off the courts. You found yourself playing as a consistent sub in games, and rarely spent a night alone after them.

Tonight, you had decided to join your teammates at a club for a celebratory night out. It was always perfect, Diana generally opting to go home for the night. Unfortunately for you, tonight wasn't one of those nights. You had heard rumors of a breakup, but you tended to tune anything out you weren't hearing from the person it was about themselves. Even if you didn't like Diana, you weren't going to feel into the rumor mill.

"Watch, her dumbass is gonna go broke trying to impress all those girls," Diana huffed. Natasha and BG shared a glance before they turned to Diana. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"She's not buying them drinks or anything," BG said. Diana's face changed a little, and Natasha busted out laughing. "What's so funny?"

"Look at her, do you think she's buying her own drinks? Nah, those girls are all over big mouth," Natasha said. "Now that you're single again, maybe you should hit her up. Grovel a little and she'll probably help you."

"Absolutely not, and why would I ever want to hook up with big mouth? She's disrespectful as hell, and I don't even fuck with her like that."

"That wasn't what we meant," BG muttered. She glanced over Diana's shoulder at Natasha, both women having had a similar conversation with you around a week ago.

…

With the way that your team had been playing, the playoffs were a bit of a pipe dream. Still, you kept your head down and worked towards it. For a moment, you thought that you had sealed the Mercury with that coveted last spot. And with a single three point shot, all of that was washed right down the drain.

You had been waiting to board your flight back to Phoenix when it happened. A few of your teammates were resting, but the majority of you were keeping up with the other games going on. You had holed yourself up in the corner away from everybody else. They had too much energy for you to handle, especially with how hard you'd been pushing yourself.

"Come on, it's almost time for us to board." Nobody had come near you since the final whistle had blown. Phoenix had barely scraped by with a win, but the team you needed to lose hadn't. Everybody knew how much you had been working for a playoff spot, to get just a few minutes even. And that was why none of them had approached you, none of them except for Diana.

"I'm fine right here for now," you grumbled. Diana sighed as she crouched down to sit with you.

"Fucking kids and sitting on the floor," Diana complained as she got situated. You bit back a grin as you watched her. You hated to admit it, but you found Diana more and more amusing as time went on. It was almost like you had started liking her, not that you'd ever say anything to the older woman. "You're disappointed, and I get that because I am too. Even if I play next season, I'm approaching benchwarming age. Fuck it, I might be better off as a coach at this point. You only ever get one first and last season, and it looks like we're both shit out of luck on this one big mouth."

"Is this your idea of a pep talk?" you asked her. Diana let out a dry laugh as she shook her head. "Then are you rubbing it in?"

"I am suffering alongside you, big mouth. I am being the teammate that I should have been all season and checking in on you. Before I go, I want you to know that you didn't do anything. Truthfully, it's been rough, and so I am very sorry about how I've treated you," Diana apologized. For a moment, you thought that you were dreaming, but it was quickly over as the intercom announced that your plane was ready to board. "Come on, let's go. They aren't gonna wait all night for your slow ass."

"That's rich coming from you. I've seen you try and sprint," you teased. The two of you still managed to maintain your banter, but the bite behind it was nearly completely gone.

Diana laughed as she led you to where you needed to go. You expected Natasha to steal the seat next to you, but instead, you found yourself sitting next to Diana. Neither of you said anything, both opting to listen to music instead.

Truthfully, it was an accident. You weren't sure how quickly you had dozed off, but when you woke up, you were laying against Diana. She didn't seem to mind, despite being wide awake when you started to come to. The team didn't seem bothered by any of it, which you knew meant Diana had said something. She'd deny it when you questioned her about it later, but a part of you knew the truth. You just decided to sit on it for the next couple of weeks until the playoffs were finished.

"I thought you'd be at the club," Diana said as she watched you shook basket after basket. While everybody was off starting their vacations or celebrating the end of the season, you were in the practice facility training. "I mean, isn't that your thing, big mouth?"

"Not really, no. It's loud and cramped, oh, and I want to win next season. Losing sucks, and I'm not gonna do it again," you told her. Diana smirked as she placed her hand on your shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"My house feels a bit lonely. This place is comforting. I was hoping to be alone, but I guess there are worse teammates to have come across," Diana explained. There was a teasing lilt to her voice, something light and easy. "You should be out there having fun. Burning yourself out won't help anybody."

"I will relax, I promise, but right now I'm busy," you said. Diana sighed as she stepped back to let you make your shots. She watched you sink shot after shot before she interrupted you again. This time, all she did was clear her throat, causing you to whip around and glare at her. "What do you want?"

"Come back to my house with me. I don't want to spend my night alone, and you need to de-stress. You've been so tightly wound since that game, and baby, we did everything right. Sometimes, things don't go your way, and you gotta find a good way to deal with it," Diana said. You bit your lip as you glanced back at her.

"Do you make a habit of hitting on your teammates?" you asked her.

"Only when they can give as good as they get. I need a woman who's gonna call me on my shit, and you've done that. This doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to. It can be a night and we never talk about it again. Besides, it's not like I'm coming back next season."

"Oh please, we both know that you're gonna be bothering the shit out of all of us even after you retire. But, um, but it kind of sounds nice to get out of this place for a while." You couldn't believe it, but you found yourself walking out of the practice facility with Diana. All of it felt surreal, and it wasn't until Diana was kissing you later that any of it sank in.

#diana taurasi imagine #diana taurasi x reader #wbb fanfics #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #wnba imagine #wnba fanfics #wnba x reader

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astrophileous · 1 year ago

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The Monday Pursuit

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: The three times Derek tries to find out your name, and the one time he finally gets it. Or, the story of four different Mondays that Derek spends on the pursuit of your name.

Warning(s): shy!reader, cursing, public confrontation (verbal and physical) with a douchebag, verbal and physical threats, talks of killing someone, name-calling, protective derek, a bit of damsel in distress situation, and that's it really. this is just tooth-rotting fluff 💞

Word Count: 4300-ish

Author's Note: I FINALLY POSTED A DEREK ONE SHOT! YAY! I was toying around with the idea of making this a series of connected one shots, each one focusing on the significance of a particular day (tuesday, wednesday, thursday, etc) in the progress of your relationship. does that sound like something you guys would be interested in? tell me what you think! plsss!!! don't forget to leave a LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek noticed you on a Monday.

He couldn't count how many times his eyes had swept over you absentmindedly in the past few weeks. None of them ever lasted long enough for him to linger around, but somehow, this particular Monday was different.

It was different because the moment Derek's gaze drifted towards the direction where he would usually find you, he finally noticed that you were gone.

It was ironic in a way, how he only noticed you in the wake of your absence. But somewhere in the ruckus that his favorite coffee shop would whirl into every morning, Derek had begun associating the table in the corner of that place with you.

Even then, when someone else was occupying the seat at the end of his long stare, Derek could picture the scene in his head: your laptop on the table, a cup of steaming hot coffee in your hand, and a serious but adorable crease on the center of your forehead. Those three things stood out from the rest. Perhaps if he had the same eidietic ability as Spender Reid, Derek could list more details about your habits and person. Nonetheless, somewhere in his subsconscious, Derek's memories must have deemed you important enough to keep, and that was all it took for him to wonder what about you was so goddamn special.

His fog of reverie was soon broken by an interrupting voice, "She's out of town."

Derek turned his head to see one of the barristas giving him a sly smile. "Excuse me?"

"The writer. She's out of town."

"Writer?" Derek didn't know that. "She's a writer?"

"On the side. She's in grad school," the barrista said. "She has two books out and another one pending publication. She's in New York right now for a book signing."

The word impressive promptly filled Derek's mind, and judging by the barrista's expression, it seemed that the word had translated unmistakably on his face, too.

"You know, you shouldn't give out someone's information to random people like that," Derek warned.

"I don't usually, but I thought, since you're FBI..."

The surprise in Derek's eyes couldn't be more palpable. "How'd you know?"

"Dude, you've been around a while." The barrista shrugged. "Besides, I don't think she would mind."

Derek frowned.

"She likes you," the barrista revealed once they saw the confusion settling on Derek's face.

"What?"

"She's got a bad crush on you, didn't you know?"

"Uh, no?"

"Huh." The barrista put down the cup containing Derek's order on the counter. "I thought you knew. She was so obvious. I mean, I'm not sure how she hasn't burned through the back of your skull with how hard she always stares."

Flabbergasted couldn't even begin to describe what Derek was feeling. His curious eyes flicked momentarily towards your table before he addressed the barrista again, "She's a friend of yours?"

"Hell yeah, she is." The barrista smiled. "That's why I know she's got it bad for you."

Being admired wasn't exactly something new for Derek, so he struggled to comprehend why the thought of you crushing on him had triggered a wave of heat to travel up and down his body.

"What's her name?" Derek asked, trying to sound casual and nonchalant as he picked up his cup of coffee.

The barrista grinned smugly. "I thought you told me not to give someone's information to a random person like that?"

With that said, the barrista went to attend to another customer, leaving Derek to curse over his excellent ability to dig up his own hole.

You were back in town the following week.

When Derek walked into the coffee shop the next Monday, he immediately found you huddled up in your usual seat. For one split second, Derek saw you looking up from your laptop, your eyes locking with his from across the room. But before he could offer a smile, you averted your gaze as if you couldn't wait to get away from him.

That thought didn't conjure well in Derek's mind.

Derek proceeded to give his usual order and waited by the counter. However, when he saw a plate of blueberry muffin being placed next to his cup to go, Derek glimpsed up in confusion at the awaiting smirk on your friend's--the barrista's--face.

"I didn't order this."

"No, you didn't. But do you know whose favorite dessert it is?"

Derek casted a glance towards your direction.

"Exactly." The barrista grinned wider. "Now, go. It's on the house."

The loud drumming inside Derek's chest should have been laughable.

He was never like this. Derek was always self-assured, especially when it came to flirting and courting, so there really was no reason for him to be feeling like this. But something about you had spiked the rhytmic beating in his chest, and Derek didn't like being out of his element when there was a pretty girl at stake.

Thus, with an ease born out of years of practice, Derek worked to turn on his good ol' charm. The same one that dripped from his footsteps as he sauntered over your table with his coffee in one hand and one special plate of blueberry muffin in the other.

Deer caught in headlights; that was exactly the perfect description to visualize how you looked when Derek finally placed the muffin on the table. The man smirked triumphantly at the knowledge that he affected you just as much as you affected him.

"Hey," Derek greeted almost complacently. "I heard this is your favorite."

"What? I don't.... how did you..."

You stopped speaking altogether, sending a grimace to the direction of the counter--where your friend was working--when you deduced what could probably have transpired

"I missed you last week," Derek added.

If you were abashed before, then you must have been mortified when those words slipped out of Derek's lips. You looked up at him with a gaping mouth, and Derek would have laughed at how precious you looked if he didn't have compassion for your poor nerves.

"I was out of town," you eventually managed to say.

"I heard. A writer, right? You had a book signing." Derek smiled. "That's impressive. Anything of yours I might know?"

Your face contorted after hearing his question. "I doubt it. I'm not big at all."

"I don't know. Book signing in New York? Sounds pretty big to me."

"Not as much as you would expect, to be honest."

Derek didn't know why, but he despised the sound of you downplaying your own accomplishments as if they weren't worthy of being praised. He swore he would assist in changing that tendency if given the chance.

"My name is Derek. Derek Morgan."

"I know."

Derek raised a curious eyebrow.

You cowered shyly when you realized what you had admitted. "I heard you mention it a while ago, when you were ordering."

"And you remember?"

Your bashful expression nearly compelled Derek to cheer out loud.

"Do you need something?" you finally asked, not at all mean or bitter, more timid than anything else.

"Yes. I was wondering if I could ask for your name."

"My name?

Derek nodded. "Well, you see, I wanted to ask for your number, but I figured since I still don't have your name yet, then maybe I should get around to it first."

You bit your bottom lip, seemingly in deep thought as you assessed Derek with soft eyes.

"My name is--"

Just as the answer was dangling on the tip of your tongue, Derek's phone suddenly started to ring. He internally cursed his life for its partiality to bad timings, holding up an apologetic finger as he accepted the call without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beefcake, where are you?" Penelope Garcia asked from the other end of the line. "Hotch just told everyone to be up and running in 30."

"What? I thought the briefing starts in 30."

"He's debriefing on the plane. Another body just turned up."

"Shit. Shit. Okay, fine, I'll be there."

Derek ended the call in the next second, panic clouding his mind to the point that he failed to realize he didn't bid his usual farewell to his favorite tech analyst. In front of him, you were staring with a pair of expectant eyes that made Derek wish he could stop time to spend it by your side. Alas, such power only existed in fantasy, and Derek--frankly--didn't have enough time at hand to pay grievance over that fact.

"I'm sorry."

Your face fell at Derek's apology, even if slightly.

"God, this sucks. I wish I could stay. I haven't even--"

"Derek, it's okay," you cut him off. "Just go."

"But you didn't--"

"Derek." Your hand on the table slid forward, as though wanting to reach out to him but stopped shortly before you did. "I'm always here."

It was such a simple statement. Three small words that carried hardly any weight on their own whatsoever. But strung together, Derek knew exactly what you meant, the real meaning behind the sentence you chose to say.

You can go. It's okay. We'll continue this some other time.

Reeling from your generous understanding, Derek rushed a goodbye before sprinting towards the door. But just as he was about to touch its handle, he span around for one last look, calling out a sentence that he had pocketed safely as a promise.

"I'll see you soon."

Since Derek's last encounter with you at the coffee shop, the BAU had been thrown from one case to another in the span of two weeks, during which Derek seemed to struggle eliminating the thought of you from the depth of his mind.

When a new Monday rolled around, Derek found himself whistling to a favorite tune as he took the morning route towards the coffee shop. The day was a gloomy one, gray and cloudy with a high chance of rain, contrasting entirely with the sunshine inside Derek's chest. In a few minutes, he would finally see you again, and Derek couldn't wait to woo you into agreeing on a date with him as his palm pressed on the door of the coffee shop.

Unfortunately, Derek's movements ceased the moment he stepped into the familiar establishment.

The atmosphere in the coffee shop struck no resemblance to what Derek had associated with the place: warm, safe, and welcoming. Instead, the taste of tension was hot on his tongue, sizzling under the thick silence that had rendered the entire room into a standstill.

In the middle of it all, just a few paces from where the front door stood, Derek had found you.

You were standing with your head down, which wasn't a strange sight considering that you often did that to avoid unwanted attention. But Derek never saw your lips quiver that way before, nor did he ever see your eyes blown so out of proportion in a telltale sign of fright.

Upon a further inspection of the room, Derek realized that he wasn't the only one whose eyes were trained on you. Every patron in the shop, including every worker behind the counter, was staring openly in your direction as well. He was a milisecond away from taking another step when the man in front of you started to scream out of the blue.

"Why aren't you saying anything? Are you fucking stupid?!"

The malicious words didn't sit well with the vituous bone in Derek's body. But it was seeing you flinch from the verbal onslaught that finally made Derek dash forward, putting himself as a shield between you and the insolent stranger.

"That's enough," Derek said as he tugged you behind his back.

The stranger looked up at Derek with an ugly scowl on his face. "Who the hell are you?!"

"If you have a problem, let's take this outsi--"

"I don't have a problem with you, dickhead. I have a problem with her!" Derek extended to his full height instinctively, trying to hide you from the brazen man. "Now, move. This is none of your fucking business!"

"It became my business the second you chose to disrupt everyone's morning," Derek countered. "Why don't you tell me what's going on here?"

"Why don't you ask your bitch, huh? She fucking started all of this."

"Fucking bastard."

Red clouded Derek's vision when he clenched the man's collar in his hand. All around him, the crowd erupted in a chorus of gasps. Satisfaction filled Derek's chest when he glimpsed the hint of fear in the man's eyes.

"I dare you to say one more word about her," Derek seethed. "I dare you."

"Derek." He felt your fingers then, twisting around a portion of his shirt, pulling desperately until Derek loosened his grip on the other man. "Please."

The douchebag stumbled dramatically when Derek finally discarded him to the side.

Derek span around, looking directly into your eyes for the first time that morning. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Instead of answering his question, you pushed past a frowning Derek, addressing the horrible man whose face was now crimson; either from rage or embarrassment, Derek didn't know. He didn't care.

"I'm sorry, sir." Your voice vibrated in the air. It wavered with a clear sign of tears. "I didn't... I wasn't thinking. I've caused you trouble. I'm sorry. And I apologize to everyone for ruining your day."

With that, you turned around and picked up your belongings that were scattered on the floor before dashing straight out of the door. Derek stared at your back until it disappeared from view.

"You better tell me what the fuck happened here," Derek fumed towards the man.

"You heard her. She fucked up, that's what happened."

"That's not true." A new voice arose. Derek turned his head to see your barrista friend standing behind the counter, their eyes flaming with anger.

"The poor girl spilled her coffee," another voice interjected. It belonged to an old lady who was standing at the very front of the line. "She didn't mean to, but it got all over his things. Then he just started screaming all kinds of stuff to her."

Derek closed his eyes before reopening them again, shooting daggers towards the man. "You're pulling this crap over a spilled fucking coffee?!"

The other man began to stutter. "She ruined important documents!"

"It wasn't even her fault," the barrista added. "He was too busy being on his phone to watch where he was going."

That last piece of information was the last straw for Derek.

He used his forearm to push the douchebag by the throat, slamming his back against the wall until the man gasped for air.

"You will never step foot in here again, do you hear me?" Derek pressed his elbow deeper into the man, stopping only when he started to nod frantically. "You don't come near this place, ever again. But most importantly, you don't come near her. I'm gonna fucking kill you if you do."

Derek let him go afterwards, ignoring the series of coughs that the man had fallen into while he marched towards the door.

"Don't even think for a minute that I'm gonna let this go!" the man shouted just as Derek was about to exit the coffee shop. "I'll be notifying the authorities about what happened here today. You'll see!"

The scoff Derek let out couldn't be more condescending. "Yeah, you do that. And when you do, tell them--" Derek reached into his pocket, pulling out his credentials before flashing it towards the man, "--the name's Agent Derek Morgan. FBI."

He slammed the door behind him.

Once outside, Derek's eyes darted around to find any trace of you in the midst of the morning rush hour. Eventually, he spotted the back of your head, walking away about a few feet ahead of him. Derek broke into a sprint almost immediately, squeezing himself in between the ocean of people, trying to catch up with you before realizing that he most like wouldn't be able to.

Just as he watched you turning a corner, Derek mourned the fact that he couldn't call out to you because he still didn't know your name.

It was the second Monday that Derek didn't see you anywhere in, or near, the coffee shop.

In total, it had been two whole weeks without you showing your face at the place, not even once. Your barrista friend was as clueless about your whereabouts as Derek was. He even had started coming into the shop at odd hours during the day, or whenever his schedule would allow him to, sometimes lingering for a few minutes in the morning just in case he would catch you walking through those doors.

You never did.

In a moment fueled by something akin to desperation, Derek found himself marching towards the office of Penelope Garcia. If there was anyone who could find you--who you were, where you were, and everything else about you--it was going to be the team's tech genius.

The tech analyst wasn't in the room when Derek entered, and as he found himself standing there--alone in the silence--Derek was confronted by how ridiculous he was being.

He couldn't understand why he was acting like this. Why the thought of never seeing you again managed to lure him into considering a breach of privacy. Derek had barely even talked to you, yet whatever brief interaction the two of you had so far was enough to affect him in ways that shouldn't be possible.

Derek decided to turn around and vacant the room before anyone could catch him lingering there like an idiot, but his steps fell short when he saw Penelope standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here, Sugar?" Penelope questioned, her eyes squinting into a suspicion-filled look.

"Looking for you, of course," Derek lied.

"Derek Morgan, I didn't spend years working with the best profilers in the country to not be able to tell when someone is lying." Penelope walked towards her chair, making sure that she was settled comfortably before swiveling around to face Derek again. "Talk to me."

"Babygirl, there's nothing to talk about."

"Oh my God. It's about a girl."

How the fuck does she do that?

"Derek, you tell me right now every single thing about this lovely creature who has captured your heart, and I meant every single thing. What's her name? What does she do? Where did you guys meet? You guys are official, right? Because if not, then--"

"Okay, Blondie, pump your brakes," Derek interfered before Penelope could vomit the entire content of the Oxford dictionary. "There's no girl."

Penelope frowned. "There isn't?"

"No."

"But you want it to be?"

Derek couldn't give her an answer.

"Mister, you tell me what's going on right now, and don't leave out any details."

So, that was exactly what Derek ended up doing.

He told Penelope about you; about the little snippets of yourself that had infiltrated Derek's subsconscious without him even realizing it, about your first proper interraction where your smile looked more appetizing than the blueberry muffin he had put on the table, and about the incident that marked his last ever encounter with you.

By the time he wrapped the story up, Penelope's face was a heap of reactions.

"You know," the tech analyst finally said, "I can probably find her for you."

"I told you I don't want that, Sweetness."

"But why?!" Penelope nearly whined. "You like her, and her friend said she obviously likes you, too. What if you never see her again? Are you seriously just going to let your story end in what ifs?"

"Of course, I don't want that. But this is not how I want our story to start, too, if there is even gonna be one." Derek gripped Penelope's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "Thanks for the offer, Babygirl, but maybe it just wasn't meant to be."

For the rest of that day, Derek threw himself into work in order to keep his head preoccupied with something else other than the images of you.

In a few hours, he had successfully completed all of the pending case reports that were piling on his desk. A quick glance at the clock told Derek that he still had another three hours before he was supposed to go home. Sighing, Derek got up from his desk and walked towards the pantry.

"It's been four hours," Derek heard Emily say as soon as he walked towards the kitchenette. "What are they doing there?"

"She could be a reporter. Maybe she's interviewing him," Spencer theorized.

"Who's interviewing who?" Derek asked.

He headed for the coffee maker only to realize that there was no coffee left. Derek cursed under his breath before he went to make a fresh batch.

"Rossi has a guest, and they've been in his office for four hours," Spencer explained.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Really? I didn't see anyone."

"She came in during lunch."

"Huh. A woman?"

Spencer nodded.

"Potential lover?" Derek asked again.

"I don't think so. She's young."

"Unless, he's that kind of guy." Emily smirked.

Spencer frowned. "What kind of guy?"

"I don't think Rossi's like that." Derek chuckled.

"Who is she, then?" Emily questioned.

"Is no one going to tell me what kind of guy Rossi is?" Spencer suddenly said.

"A student, perhaps? A fan? Who knows?" Derek shrugged. "Or maybe you were right. She's here to interview him."

"Oh! Here they come!" Emily exclaimed a few minutes later.

Derek turned to steal a glance at the guest that had captured his fellow teammates' interest. But just as he was about to catch a glimpse of her, Derek suddenly spilled hot coffee everywhere, flooding nearly half the counter until some of it dripped down the cabinets as well.

"Shit." Derek stared at the mess he had made in annoyance. "Fuck me."

"She's really pretty, though," Emily pointed out--no doubt about Rossi's guest--earning an agreeing hum from Spencer.

After he had cleaned up the spilled coffee, Derek ambled back towards the direction of his desk. As he was passing the glass doors to the bullpen, however, Derek saw Rossi standing in front of the elevator, waving towards the person who had just walked inside of it.

Someone who--as Derek realized with a particularly loud thump in his chest--turned out to be you.

Derek was barely able to place the steaming cup of coffee on a random desk before he made a run for the elevator. But just as he reached Rossi's side, the elevator's doors had closed, making you vanish once more from Derek's sight.

"Shit," Derek muttered. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

Beside him, Rossi was staring in open confusion. "Morgan?"

Derek finally turned towards the older man. "The girl who was in the elevator. Who is she?"

Rossi's forehead creased. "Why?"

"Do you know her?"

"She's a fellow crime writer. She was here for a consultation," Rossi answered. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Her name. What's her name?"

"What the hell is going on, Morgan?"

"Rossi, come on, man," Derek sounded desperate, but he didn't care. "I just need her name."

Derek barely succeeded in mumbling a quick thank you to Rossi for giving him your name before he rushed straight to the emergency stairs. The entire run down to the lobby was a blur in Derek's eyes. The only focus in his mind was about getting to you.

Once he was outside of the headquarters building, Derek saw you walking a few paces ahead of him in the direction of the parking lot. He shouted your name with all of his might, seeing you stop and turn your body around from the distance, and soon enough, he had managed to close it in a matter of seconds.

Derek was a mess of panting breaths and drumming heartbeats when he finally stood in front of you. The look you gave him spoke of surprise and bewilderment, and Derek relished in the feeling of being at the receiving end of your lovely gaze.

"Derek? What? What are you--"

"I work with Rossi," Derek stated simply.

Your eyebrows escalated in surprise. "You do?"

"Yeah. I saw you earlier with him," Derek continued. "I haven't seen you in awhile."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Derek allowed his eyes to roam over your entire person, from the top of your head to the tip your toes. There was no malice in his stare as he did, just appreciation, and maybe a little bit of longing from not having seen you in such a long time.

"I haven't been to the coffee shop again. Not after--" you swallowed the lump in your throat. "I was embarrassed. I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart."

"You got dragged into my mess. I owe you an apology."

"You owe me nothing. Okay? What happened wasn't your fault. That man was just an asshole," Derek told you truthfully. "You don't have to be worried about him anymore. He's never coming back."

His last statement caused you to lift your head up so fast, Derek was scared you were going to have a whiplash.

"Nothing happened, sweetheart," he elaborated once he saw the panic in your eyes. "I just made sure to let him know that he wasn't welcome there anymore."

The breath you let out sounded eerily similar with relief.

"Thank you, Derek. For everything," you offered shyly. "Please tell me if there's anything I could do to make it up to you."

That last sentence you uttered prompted a wide grin across Derek's face. "Actually, there may be something."

Derek took a step closer towards you then, noting the way your shoulders tensed up from his proximity. His own senses were overcome by everything about you; from the slight parting of your lips, the steady rise and fall of your chest that seemed to be growing more rapid in Derek's presence, and to the sweet plus addictive smell of your perfume.

Taking his own deep breath, Derek forced the words--the same ones that he had been keeping deep inside of him--to tumble freely into the air.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 8 months ago

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#399

“Oh man, Fuck!... Oh sorry you had to hear that call. Didn’t mean to interrupt you enjoying your brew. It’s just that my girlfriend makes me so fucking pissed off…. Get this, she knows I work 14 days straight busting my ass on that drilling rig. I am about to head home for four days of rest. That’s a 7-hour drive, each way. So she tells me that her sister and mother are in town staying with us. My days of relaxing are shot to shit. And worse yet there’s no way I’m getting her pussy. I probably won’t even get head. Ain’t that shit?...

“Oh sorry. I forget that I’m not with a dozen or so other roughnecks out in the field. All they talk about is pussy. Most of them don’t have a girlfriend, let alone a wife. Hearing them go on and on about fucking and getting a blow job, I forget that other people might talk about something else.

“My god, I just wanted to get home and kick back with a beer and get some head. You know the kind of blowjob that goes on for an hour and it relaxes your entire body. That doesn’t even include blowing your wad. You know what I’m talking about?

“Oh there I go again. Sorry if I’m telling too much.... I do that when I start drinking. Do you care if I talk about getting blown?... Good. Thought so. What man doesn’t want head at the end of weeks of working damned hard?

“…Here’s to blowjobs! Cheers!

“Hey Frank! Get my friend here another beer…. Nah! Put your money away. I got this.

“So your car broke down?... We are one of two taverns for twenty miles. The other is by the interstate one mile away. At this time of day it’s quite deserted. We typically only get locals in here. That is, unless you are having work done at Mike Larson’s garage. There’s not that much out here, just the garage, Frank’s tavern, the lodge, and the oilfield’s main office over there across the creek. Was I right? Is it your car?

“…That was not a happy nod. So, you’re here for tonight… Oh wait, the garage is closed for the weekend. You are here until Monday? …Again, that nod tells me everything. Well to make matters worse, there are no available women for at least 50 or 60 miles. This is what this hellhole has to offer.

“I don’t know about you but it looks like it’s going to be an evening of pounding the pud. And when I get done, I’ll use my other hand to make it feel like I’m getting a handjob from someone else.

“Goddamn my girlfriend fucked this all up. I only had this weekend off, before I have to report back here to start filling in for a bud on Wednesday. She thought that I would want to spend time with her fucking family. Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with her.

“You have a wife or girlfriend?...

“…Huh! Well, sometimes I wish I was like you, single. But sometimes I really need to get my balls drained. She gives great head though. She’s the only girlfriend I had who can take my head in her throat. I have a big schlong, and every woman I dated complained about its size. It takes her a long time to throat me. Most of the time I get frustrated, and I wind up grabbing her head and fucking her mouth. Eventually it ends in her throat. She has never taken me down to the root.

“But I really have to be buzzed to get into skull fucking the bitch. The part she really hates is me dick slapping her. As I said, I have a gigantic dick. Smacking her upside her head with my cock usually throws her off balance. So does a face slap with my hand.

“When I get in the zone, I am all kinds of aggressive. I am only after one thing, to bust my nut. If that means roughing up the bitch, then she’s going to get roughed up. If I’m drunk enough, I’ll not only fuck her cunt, but she’ll take me in her ass.

“Right now, if she were here, I would be fucking her in every position in every hole. I wouldn’t care if she was enjoying it. I’m so fucking horny. I would use any woman right now. I can’t have a weekend of jerking off. Hell, if there was a faggot, I would use him the same way.

“And it’s a good thing that I have a faggot sitting not ten feet away from me, paying attention to every word I say, licking his lips every time I mention blowjobs, and responding with awkward silence when I asked if he had a bitch back home. No straight man acts this way.

“I would ask you if you are a cock sucking faggot, but we both know the answer. Don’t we? So this is what is going to happen. I’m going to walk over there, to the men’s toilet. You want my fat hog in your faggot throat, you follow me in. Don’t say a word. Get on your faggot knees and open your faggot mouth.

“I’ll give you until I drain my piss. If you don’t come in at that time, then you better be out of here and hide in your room at the lodge.

“I really got to piss, so you don’t have much time….

“…Well fuck. I would have thought you would have taken some time to think about it. But OK.

“I really have to piss. While I do that get in the stall and on your knees. Be ready for me. I swear, the beers just pour right through me. Oh, this feels good—

“What the fuck? I’m not done pissing…. Oh? So, you are one of those kinds of faggots. Nasty piss drinking faggot! Oh fuck, your mouth feels good. You are definitely getting a reaction out of my hog. That’s it for my piss for now.

“Faggot, see how big it is? You think you can take it?

“Jesus fuck! Right to the root with no problem! Holy shit. You faggots know what you are doing. Oh man. This is… fuck! Oh my god!

“Bob up and down. Go head-to-root-to-head-to-root. Fuck! This is the blowjob I have been looking for all my life. Lucky me I found me a faggot with car problems.

“Pull off. I said, ‘Pull off!’ Look up at me. Hold still….

“…What? Nothing? I just gave you one of the hardest bitch slaps I have ever given and you just take it…. Wait, what did you just say? Did you just thank me… for bitch slapping you?

“Get up. Get your faggot-ty ass up. Let’s go. Move!

“We are going to my room at the lodge. You are going to spend your night with me.

“Pay Frank your tab and leave a good tip. Meet me outside… A fifty? You know what a good tip is, that or you didn’t care to wait for him to give you change.

“OK faggot. I have never used a fag before. But damn, that one minute in the toilet told me I have been missing out.

“Over here. I’m the last room. The lodge is free for us roughnecks. The company pays for our housing. My room is at the end. It’s a glorified motel room. I have tons of beer. You won’t get any, at least not without it going through me first. Never did that before, but fuck I liked it.

“I plan on being here for four days. You are going to spend your time with me and my cock down your throat. You probably take it up your ass. I will definitely try that out.

“Now listen up. I have no interest in you or your dick. I ain’t sucking you or getting fucked by you. You try anything like that, and I will beat the shit out of you. Understand me?... Understand me faggot?

“And keep up the ‘Yes Sir!’ I like the sound of that. Here we are. Faggot this is all new for me. But I will tell you this, I am liking what has been done so far. I’m so ready to do this. My cock has not lost it’s hard on. I may never go back. Faggot get inside and strip!”

712 notes · View notes

nnight-dances · 1 year ago

Text

ADORABLY, YOURS.

pairings: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader, feat. choi seungcheol tropes: love triangle, friends to lovers (jeonghan x you), strangers to friends to fwb to friends (seungcheol x you), kinda slowburn, one-sided love (or is it?), pining, slight age gap (2-3 years) etc. genres: fluff, angst, jealousy, sexual content (no explicit smut content but references to it) with vulgar language, cafe!au, non-idol!au, college!au. word count: 12k (I am sorry about this.) what to expect: You’ve liked Jeonghan since you met him through your best friend, Wonwoo. But little by little every day you’re convinced he knows you like him and his non-action can only mean your feelings are not mutual. Then, you run into Seungcheol, a childhood best friend of Jeonghan’s, who instantly develops a soft spot for you. The resulting love triangle that wreaks havoc on your emotions might as well end being the answer to your problems. Bittersweet like coffee but decisive as a caffeine rush, this is the story of how you beat all odds to be with Yoon Jeonghan. warnings slash author’s note: I warn you beforehand: the logistics of this love triangle are a bit morally ambiguous, i.e. I can’t tell if I used Seungcheol purely as a plot-point or not. I probably did. But in my defense, I think all love triangles are inherently a little bit evil and cruel. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this admittedly self-indulgent mammoth of a fic. I had a headache the whole three days I was writing it. I love Jeonghan and I promise there will be a make-up fic for Seungcheol, because I’m biased but not corrupt. As always, this isn't proofread but I will get to that in the next few days! All right, that’s all. Love you, friends and foes!

It’s one of those days. You can’t help yawn after yawn and no amount of caffeine is washing the throbbing in your head away. To make things worse, you’ve managed to sleep with a spine posture worse than even your worst days which means your back hurts from standing at the register all day. But the day is far from over as a glance at the clock informs you; your cafe shift has a good three hours remaining.

And whenever you’re hoping to take a break on the uncomfortable chair propped in a corner near the register, the door to the cafe will jingle with the presence of a new customer. At least your co-worker for the day, Joshua, is also a friend so you can talk his ear off about the various ways in which you might escape the prison of existence.

Just as you’re going into detail about how you wouldn’t mind dissipating into air, the glass door swings open and in comes a tall man clad in a suit, the heels of his dress shoes clanking against the floor of the coffee shop. You reign in the surprised look that threatens to overtake your face – because goddamn, the man is gorgeous – as you greet him, “Good morning! Welcome to Moon Coffee!”

“Good afternoon to you, too,” the man corrects you with a dimpled smile. You wince at your mistake and nod, “Right, sorry about that. What can I get started for you?” You force a smile that you hope is friendly enough onto your face, gesturing to the large menu boards above you, “Please, take your time.”

As the man busies his eyes with the plentiful options displayed on the boards, you busy yourself with questioning what a fancy ass man like him was doing at the campus coffee shop. His hair was long, brown ends curling around his neck and as he ran a hand through it, deep in thought, you could essentially smell how rich he was.

“The hazelnut mocha sounds like it’s good but also really sweet,” he comments, looking at you for a second opinion.

“Right, it’s one of our best-sellers! And it is on the sweeter side because of the chocolate in it, but you could balance it out with a double-shot?” you suggest and then, “Otherwise, our classic mochas are not as sweet.”

The man nods with a slight smile, “Hmm, I like the sound of the first option. I’ll have that, please.”

“Is that an iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot for you?” you ask with a smile. When he nods, you punch in his order, “Can I get a name for the drink?”

“Seungcheol.”

“All right, thank you very much. That’ll take just a few minutes. You’re welcome to take a seat and wait.” He nods as he walks to one of the tables next to the window.

Joshua’s already getting to work with Seungcheol’s drink and you take a moment to rest your back against the counter, throwing a glance or two at the new (and gorgeous) face in town. But thankfully for this rich stranger, today is the day you don’t have the energy to go down a rabbit hole trying to find an explanation for his presence. Instead you wave him a good day as he leaves with a satisfied smile on his face and an iced mocha in his hand.

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.

A week later has you eating your words. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Thursday afternoons are the busiest times of your shift at Moon Coffee. Most students were either rushing to down caffeine to finish some daunting assignment due at the end of the week or otherwise, others would be early in celebrating the fast-approaching weekend. The first kind you can deal with: they’re easy to relate to and they don’t really care if your customer service is the bare minimum from how tired you are.

But the second kind? You wish you could be granted with some kind of powers that would take away any more weekends from the rest of their lives. If the way they strolled in grinning and took their time with the menu didn’t have you fuming, their inane but obnoxious questions about your life would have you at the edge of your temper every week. You were only thankful you didn’t have to work the Friday crowds or you’d actually be declared a public threat.

But today, unfortunately for you, Jeonghan’s decided to make a visit to the cafe and if the fact that he’s not even a student anymore wasn’t enough, he was celebrating his birthday week. Which meant he was even worse than in exhibiting his usual infuriating customer behavior. But annoying customer or not, Jeonghan was also the guy you’ve harbored feelings for since two years ago now.

So when he strolls up to the counter with Seungcheol, the polite rich man from last week, by his side, you have more than one reason to stare at them dumbfounded.

“Oh, hey, it’s you!” Seungcheol starts, eyes trailing to the name on your tag, “Y/N!”

Jeonghan shoots you a confused look and then elbows Seunghceol, “Don’t even pretend that you know her. I totally caught you looking at her name tag. Have a little shame, Cheol.”

You clear your throat, “Um, good afternoon and welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” You punctuate the question with a smile that you hope screams please order fast and get out of here!

But Jeonghan evidently has long missed the memo when he pokes Seungcheol again, “You know sometimes I come here just so I can see Y/N smiling. She never smiles off the clock. It’s truly devastating.”

Seungcheol looks amused, “Is that so? I mean, fair enough. With a smile like that, you ought to be paid to show it.”

You cough into your palm, caught off-guard but quick to conceal the shy grin that’s crept up your face. You pray that the heat in your neck doesn’t climb up to show on your face. “Will you be ordering the same as last week? Iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot?”

Seungcheol’s face lights up a little at your recognition but Jeonghan’s quickly butting in with an affronted expression, “Oh, so you recognize this man who’s been here once, but not your close friend of a long long time? Do you even know how much money I’ve spent on the seasonal lattes here?”

You sport a sly smile, “Right, thank you for enjoying our seasonal menu of beverages. We hope you continue to love the upcoming drinks. Feel free to leave any feedback or suggestions here!” You hand him a brand-new index card and gesture at a drop-box next to your monitor.

Seungcheol cackles at the defeated look on Jeonghan’s face and grins as he says, “You know what, I think I’ll get the same mocha again, Y/N. It did wonders for my mood.” You find yourself grinning almost immediately, tapping in his order with a hum.

“And for you?”

“...”

You know Jeonghan’s scheming something but you can’t afford to let him play out whatever sick mind games he’s planned out at your workplace so you’re quick to appease him, “If I might, I suggest you go for the salted caramel brownie latte. It’s perfect for this weather and it tastes suspiciously like birthday cake.”

Jeonghan can’t help a smile at your words, rolling his eyes a little, “Fine. That does sound tempting. I’ll have one of those, but only if I get a personalized note from you wishing me a very very happy birthday.”

You contain a scoff, “Of course.” You nod, “Thankfully for the line behind you, I already have your names down. Please step aside while we prepare your drinks. Thank you.”

–

“She’s hilarious,” chuckles Seungcheol, bumping shoulders with Jeonghan as they settle into his car. “Didn’t think I would witness Yoon Jeonghan’s downfall in a random college cafe.”

Jeonghan scoffs, “I think you’re too happy about this. Plus, my downfall started a long time ago when I stopped cheating in board games.” He takes a sip of his latte, “Fuck, this does taste like cake. What the fuck?”

Despite his words, Jeonghan smiles when he sees the note you promised him:

jeonghan – happy birthday week, u weird old man! please invite me to ur birthday party so i can give u the best gift of ur life and maybe also stick ur head in cake :) lots of love, y/n.

“She’s in her senior year, you said?”

Jeonghan looks up with a nod, “Yeah, I met her through Wonwoo, back when we shared a class in college. And then when I graduated and settled here, I’d invite them to get-togethers because I know how miserable the nightlife on this campus is.”

“Wow, look at you, such an admirable role model,” Seungcheol jokes, “And Wonwoo? Was he the glasses guy who you FaceTimed this morning? He seemed… cool, I guess.”

Jeonghan shrugs with a shoulder, “He’s a piece of work, alright. But that explains why he and Y/N are inseparable. Anyway, you’ll meet the rest of the crew later tonight. Thursday night is board game night.”

‘Board Game Night’ was a very, very loose term for the weekly gathering at Jeonghan’s place – it was a mix of Jeonghan’s friends, namely Dokyeom and Woozi, from work doing karaoke, his tired college friends (aka your friend group) lounging around on their phones, and maybe a group of two to three actually playing board games.

Tonight is slightly different, though, because the alcohol that Jeonghan otherwise wisely guards most weeks has made its presence known to everyone, the fancy bar table propped in a corner of his living room finally finding meaning.

You make it to his place, around thirty minutes past the usual starting time, exhausted from another soul-sucking shift at your job. You’d planned to sit on Jeonghan’s couch and binge-watch some mindless TV show but you’re thrown off when a reddened Seungcheol answers the door.

“Y/N! You’re late,” he exclaims. His speech is normal, thankfully but as you step in to take in the rest of the people, you look back at Seungcheol, eyes doubtful.

“I did not know my night was going to involve babysitting a bunch of drunk old men,” you mutter, not quite meaning for Seungcheol to catch your words. But he does and chuckles, hand at your elbow as he steers you to the bar.

“C’mon, you don’t have to babysit anyone. I’ve got it under control. Now, let me pour you a drink. What can I get for you?”

You watch the tall man with a skeptical smile, a little flustered because he’s standing close enough that you can feel him hard bicep against you and a little bit amused because well, this was new. It’d been a while since you’d been flustered around a man other than Yoon Jeonghan.

“Oh, so you’re making me a drink now?” you ask, “How did you even convince Jeonghan to let out the alcohol? You must have some special powers over him for this to happen.”

Before Seungcheol can supply a reason, Jeonghan appears behind the bar counter, smirking, “Ha! You think I’d let this coward dictate my actions? Nope, this was completely my decision. I couldn’t let the week of my birthday be dry! That’d be such a shame.”

“You’re funny, Han,” you mumble, turning to him with a quirked brow, “How many drinks are you down?”

He waves your concern away, “Shut up. I’m older than you, I don’t need you fussing after me. Now, get yourself a drink before I get mad.”

You raise your hands in surrender, “Sure, wouldn’t want the birthday boy to be made at me.”

“So what will it be? Do you want a beer? Or maybe a good old rum and coke?” Seungcheol offers, eyes already searching for the ingredients.

You narrow your eyes at him, “I think I’ll have a Scotch and Soda, please.”

A few hours later finds you sprawled on Jeonghan’s couch, nevermind the alcohol in your system and the ruckus your friends were creating. You had engaged with their antics for an hour: playing stupid drinking games (only to get drunker by the minute because you suck at games) and retiring early.

Jun starts to complain when you announce that you’re giving up, mainly because he’d be the next target of the crowd, but Jeonghan firmly leads you to the couch.

“You okay?” he asks you, warm fingers steadying you by the neck. Your world spins as he becomes the focus, ironically enough. You nod as you welcome the soft couch underneath your unsteady body, “Hmm. I’m just bummed out that you didn’t help me out by cheating.”

He laughs and the sound unsettles you with its vibrations. “I told you I don’t cheat anymore, silly. Also, I’m pretty sure you’d have lost even if I did pull out some master cheating moves.” You gasp, weakly pushing him away, “Whatever, man, I don’t need your attitude.”

If Jeonghan’s started to genuinely get worried about you, it only gets worse when you cough into your elbow, groaning as you pull away. His hands find your neck again. You hate his touch because you lean into it so naturally, your eyes following him just like he wants. You hate the warm feeling you feel when he feels your forehead with a concerned frown. You hate how you’re practically burning at his touch because he’s a breath away and your fingers twitch in your lap from wanting to touch his hair.

But soft like the strands that tickle your ear, Jeonghan whispers, “God, you’re burning up. Maybe you did drink too much. Fuck, let me bring you some water and then, let’s get you to sleep.”

You protest his lamely sensible plan of action but he isn’t listening as he departs, leaving you feeling cold. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate, trying to keep an eye on Jeonghan when another tall figure encroaches your field of vision.

“Y/N?” Seungcheol calls out and for a moment, you’re unresponsive, eyes fixated on something beyond him but then you perk up in recognition, pouting as you beckon him to the couch.

“You–!” you point at him with a squint, head working hard to recall his name, “Um, um, Cheol?”

Seungcheol smiles at the nickname, taking a seat next to you, leaving some space but extending an arm behind you because of how you’re dangerously swinging. “Right, that is me. How are you feeling? Not too nauseous I hope?”

You shake your head, “”M fine. But tell that to Han because that weasel’s trying to make me sober up and sleep.” You breathe out a little angrily and then when the world swims around you, you lean your head against the back of the couch– that is currently occupied by Seuncheol’s arm.

He jumps a little at the unexpected contact but steadies himself when he sees your closed eyes, your skin hot against his forearm. “Now, why would he do that? You literally just got drunk,” he tells you, trying to keep you engaged in the conversation, lest you should pass out.

“Right?” you exclaim, opening your eyes, head still against his arm, “It’s like he’s never had fun in his life. For how much he likes to tease people, he sure is a killjoy.”

“Ha, I’m surprised you know him so well, honestly. People usually just take him at face value and think he’s a devilish troublemaker. But god knows how mature Jeonghan is. It makes me mad sometimes.”

You giggle and Seungcheol’s stomach swims at how he can feel the sweet sound in his veins, like literally. “You get me, dude. How long have you known him?”

“Um, like, nearly ten years now? I don’t know, I kinda lost count at some point.”

“Wow, that’s a long time. I’ve known him for like two years?” you hum. “Yeah, he told me.”

You quirk a brow at that, lifting your head up in amusement. “You two been talking about me? What did he say? That I’m Wonwoo’s evil twin?”

“Hmm, yeah, something along the lines of that.”

Jeonghan’s back by your side, suddenly, his strong grip straightening you up and holding up a glass of water. His expression is stoic as hell for a board game night and you don’t know if you feel scolded or cared for. It’s always hard to tell with him.

You stare at him blankly, not drinking the water like he wants you to. Instead you turn to Seungcheol, “I don’t want to.”

Your plea is unreasonable, you and Seungcheol both know, and he can practically feel Jeonghan’s glare when you ask Seungcheol, “Cheol, can you tell him I’m not dying? I don’t need to be babied.”

“Yeah, you do,” Jeonghan says, touching the cold glass against your skin. You jump a little with a soft unfair! and Seungcheol sighs, “Hannie, let her be. I don’t think she wants to go to sleep yet.”

“Thank you! At least someone has ears ‘round here!”

Jeonghan shoots his best friend an unreadable look, still firm, “Well, she needs to drink water either way. Unless someone wants the worst hangover of their life the next morning.” This time, his unoccupied hand finds the back of your head, settling into the stray strands of your hair there. “Please, just drink this.”

You find yourself giving in, lips opening up to the glass and you swallow a few gulps of water, the cold liquid soothing your insides. Before you know it, the glass is empty. He holds it up in front of you, “See? That felt nice, didn’t it?”

There it is, again. The playful glint in his eye and the sly tone of his voice. You ignore the burning tips of your ears and give him a half-nod, throwing yourself against the couch again with a relieved sigh. “Thanks, old man! What would I do without you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes as he stands up, “Ever so grateful, Y/N.”

“Y’know, Cheol and I were in the middle of a very mind-opening discussion about you.”

“Me?” his interest is piqued and he glances at Seungcheol, who he jostles lightly, “What’ve you been, shit-talking me?”

Seungcheol laughs as he throws the man off, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Anyway, if you want to go back to your game, I have a lot of anecdotes to share with Y/N. It’s our bonding time.”

And bond, you do. You spend the rest of the night talking to Seungcheol on Jeonghan’s couch, the owner of the place long forgotten as you go on to talk about everything else: college experiences, Seungcheol’s job (“So how rich are you exactly?” you grill him), and life interests.

“I can’t believe you like college so much! I hated it a lot back in my time.”

You snort, “You sound really old for someone who graduated two years ago. But I mean, each to their own. I prefer the comfort of the bubble here, you know. No real responsibility most of the time and you’re allowed to make some mistakes now and then. The real world? That’s like hell. I don’t think I’m ever going to feel like an adequate adult ever. Like, tax fraud is real, you know? And I never know which law I’m going to break? Don’t even get me started about the living situation.”

Seungcheol laughs throughout your troubled rant, “No, I get it. But don’t you feel excited about the independence you get to have? The freedom? And plus, if you get lucky with your job, working is actually very fulfilling.”

“Ugh,” you throw your head against the back of the couch again, “I don’t think I’ll ever feel fulfilled. Like ever. I feel too immature to be anything but a college student.”

He frowns on hearing that, confused because he’d never imagined of spending a whole night talking his heart out to a college student. But it happened because it was you, with your quick-witted responses and thoughtful questions. So, he’s fast to counter, “That’s not true–”

But his defense is cut short when Wonwoo approaches you, tapping at your shoulder with a smile. “Hey, you wanna head back?” You look up and are shocked to find the living room nearly emptied of its earlier occupants. When did everyone leave? “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your room. It’s getting late,” Wonwoo continues.

“Oh, damn, I didn’t even realize,” Seungcheol mutters, looking down at the watch on his wrist. “You guys sure you want to head back this late? You could just crash here. I would offer to drive but I drank.”

Wonwoo’s eyes trail to you, leaving the decision up to you. You mull it over, “I don’t know if Han’s gonna want a bunch of wasted kids at his place?”

As if you’d summoned him, Jeonghan appears beside Seungcheol with a yawn, “What’s this about me? Why’re you guys still up? Come on, let me show you to the empty rooms and please go to sleep before I have to use force.”

Wonwoo laughs, “He didn’t even leave us a choice,” and you watch as Jeonghan turns around, expecting you to follow him.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you turn to your best friend, “Please tell me you don’t still try to suffocate other people in their sleep?”

The boy contains a grin, “I don’t know. It depends on how annoying the person I’m with is.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor, asshole.”

–

Seungcheol has a problem.

He likes to think of himself as a reasonable adult, with the ability to make logical choices and admitting to his flaws here and there. But had he been reasonable enough, he wouldn’t be this hung up over someone he met twice over the course of two weeks. It’s ridiculous: the way his heartbeat’s racing when you tread down to breakfast the morning after the board game night turned bonding time.

He’s smiling his way through an excited “good morning!” before he can collect himself. You look tired, albeit a little bit lesser than usual, and your hair’s down in something of a mess. Seungcheol vaguely recognizes the faded gray tee you’re wearing, probably a donation of Jeonghan’s. “Morning,” you mumble to the breakfast table, everyone present now that you’re here.

Wonwoo snickers, “You look like shit, dude.” You glare at him as you’re reaching out for a fork, “Thanks, Wonwoo, I see that you’re as sweet as ever.”

Jeonghan lightly slaps Wonwoo’s arm, “Be nice to her. Who knows what a hungover Y/N might do?”

You turn to Jeonghan, finally eating the piece of watermelon that you’d been reaching for, “I’m flattered you’re concerned but I’ll have you know I’m not hungover.”

“That’s impressive,” Seungcheol chimes in and you smile at him, “See, I can’t believe this man I met last week understands me better than my best friend and my other friend.”

“Your other friend? That’s what I am to you???” Jeonghan gasps, hand clutching his chest dramatically and Seungcheol laughs louder than he ought to, but he can barely help it, he’s all giddy. All it took was a half-compliment from you.

So yeah, easy to say, Seungcheol has a problem and it has something to do with the way you lean into him when you ask him to pass a slice of toast.

Luckily for Seungcheol, you also have a problem, and it occurs when you declare you need to head back, hoping that they’d let you go alone but Jeonghan’s standing up instantly with a nod. You have a problem with the way he’s unbothered with his behavior, easily saying, “I’ll walk you,” as if your best friend of years wasn’t sitting right there.

You look to Wonwoo, hoping he’d feel the heat of your expression but he simply stretches his limbs out with a groan, “Think I’ll go take a nap before I leave.”

“Don’t you have a class at 12?” you nudge him subtly, trying to ignore Jeonghan as he stands at the table, fingers tapping at the chair that he’s behind.

“Eh, I’m ahead of the syllabus in the class and attendance is a joke.”

You sigh in defeat and meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he lifts his lips into a smile.

And the smile only leaves his lips once you’ve stepped out, clad in your clothes from last night again, groaning when the morning sunlight hits your eyes. “Ugh is right,” he mumbles beside you as he starts walking.

You catch up to him, hands stuffed down your pockets, and he asks, “You have class?”

“Not really. But I do have an upcoming paper I want to finish over the weekend so I don’t perish next week.”

Jeonghan chuckles as he glances at you, “Wow, you’re still this hard-working, huh? I thought your lifestyle would’ve worn you out by now.”

“You’re one to talk about detrimental lifestyles, Han,” you scoff, “Just because you hang out with us once a week doesn’t mean we don’t know you’re overworking yourself for the rest of it.”

He’s silent for a beat and then he exhales, “Huh. I don’t know. Feels like I have the other kids fooled. It’s always you, with your smart little head and truth bombs.”

You laugh, hitting his side with your shoulder, “I’m serious, Han. Take it slow, won’t you? You’re going to end up burning yourself out to death by the time you’re 30. And then whos’ going to host board game nights?”

Jeonghan laughs and he turns to look at you, walking pace slowing down as he trains his eyes on you. You raise your brows in confusion, a slight smile playing on your lips as you try to guess what he’s thinking this time.

“You and Cheol have been getting along really well, huh?”

You’re thrown off guard, not having imagined this to be his next words. You shrug. “Yeah, he’s really easy to talk to, especially given his… I don’t know, social status?”

“Social status?”

You cough in embarrassment over your words. What were you saying? “Don’t know. It’s just nice to meet someone whose hopes and dreams aren’t being crushed by student debt.”

Jeonghan’s silent again and now it’s your turn to frown because you’re wondering if you said the wrong thing. God, does he think you’re creepy for liking his childhood friend? Fucking hell.

“I’m glad,” he says but you can sense a strain in his voice, “I was worried he’d get bored to death when he came to visit me.”

“Ah, well. How long is he around?”

“He took a month off, I think? But he’s got it easy with his flexible hours, so really, it’s up to him when to leave.”

You nod a little, “Cool.” You exhale in relief, a little bit reassured now that Jeonghan was back to talking like his usual self. You’ve finally reached the steps to your dorm by the time the conversation fades away and he waves at you, “Better be on time tomorrow for my party. And don’t forget to bring the best gift of my life.”

You groan when he quotes your note on his coffee from a day ago, shrugging as you turn around to run up to your room and melt into your pillow. But you’ve made it to two steps up when he calls out for you again. You swerve around to face him with a questioning glance.

“Y/N, remember you can come to this old man if you ever need anything, okay? I’m here for you, always.”

??????????

–

Okay, let’s rewind a little.

You’ve known Jeonghan for two years now, enough time to fall for him. You argue it was inevitable because all your life, you’d only been disappointed in your love interests, who would either ghost you in the talking stage itself or break up a few months into the relationship. One time it was because you were too busy with your studies and the third and final time because well, you were apparently too aloof. Not loving enough.

Which is why when Jeonghan came into the picture, you found yourself changing ever so slightly. Not to say you weren’t still a little bit wary of people and took your time opening up, but you met a lot of friends through him and he taught you that trust and attention goes a long way in relationships. If only you could apply this newfound knowledge to new relationships.

You’d tried: Wonwoo had set you up with a friend from class, Mingyu, and while you’d been able to sit through the first date, by the end of the night, it was clear that both of you were more interested in sex. Which was fine. But then there was the guy who was a regular at your cafe who had given you his number and you’d ended up wondering why you were with him in the bathroom, staring at a text from Jeonghan.

So you were down pretty bad for him. And as Wonwoo had voiced multiple times before, the next move to make was to actually tell the man that you’d been suffering in your feelings for him. But every time the topic came around, you had only one answer prepared: he already knows. Or so you’re convinced.

You had good reason to think so. Once, the group of you had been playing an online game that involved picking red flags for other people’s ideal types and when it was time for others to pick some for you, all hell had broken loose. “I bet she likes bad guys who are emotionally unavailable,” Jun had said, quick to drag the flag that said emotional constipation on it. You had defended yourself quickly, “UH? No thanks, men with no emotional intelligence are a hard pass for me. I don’t want to feed into some idiot’s Oedipus complex just because I’m the mom friend.”

“The mom friend?” Wonwoo had questioned, “Please, Y/N, if anything, you’re the dead friend with a severe case of RBF. Jeonghan’s the mom friend.”

Jeonghan’s shrug had been followed by a hysterical Joshua going, “Wouldn’t that mean Y/N’s ideal type is Jeonghan? I mean, it makes a lot of sense, he’s mature and emotionally intelligent.”

You’d choked over your next words, cheeks burning, “No, that’s stupid. Don’t be weird.”

Yeah, very weak defense.

When Wonwoo brought up the fact that you’d refuted Joshua’s claims and that probably led Jeonghan to believe you weren’t into him, you simply told him to remind himself of what happened next. Dokyeom had laughed, “But you definitely go for older men? I can’t imagine any guy in college being too smart like that.”

You’d agreed in the end, his logic being pretty solid. You had also noticed the way Jeonghan excused himself to the kitchen with a lame excuse about bringing more snacks when there was an array of unopened chips still lying around.

“Okay, so that’s one example, from like two months ago,” Wonwoo argues as you roll around in bed to avoid his glare, “Do you really think he remembers that incident so well?”

“Two months ago was not that long ago. And it wasn’t just this once. I’m a mess around Jeonghan.”

“You’re a mess period,” Wonwoo casually declares and when you sit up with an unhinged jaw, he laughs, “No offense.”

“Whatever. I hate you. And I hate Jeonghan. I should just skip his birthday party or I’m just gonna make things worse for myself.”

“Right. And what about the Lego set you spent half your life savings on?”

You pause, heart skipping a beat when you remember the gift sitting on your desk, wrapped securely and the purchase of which you could only justify with the words: Yoon Jeonghan.

“God, I must be insane. Why did I even buy that for him? He’s gonna think I’m genuinely weird. Does he even want gifts? He’s turning 25 for god’s sake.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond so you can hear yourself and eventually, you do. Jeonghan himself had told you to be on time to his party with the gift alongside. You’re going to cry.

“You really think I should tell him?” you ask quietly.

Your best friend nods eagerly, patting your arm through the mess of your bedsheets, “Please. It’s high time. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Weird promise to make, but fine. I’ll do it.”

–

The weight of your promise settles into your veins when you’ve arrived at Jeonghan’s place, self-consciously straightening out non-existent wrinkles in your dress when he comes over to greet you and Wonwoo. It doesn’t leave when he grins at you, wider than usual, and it definitely only gets worse when he accepts your gift with a low whisper that he’ll be sure to open yours first.

You’re thankful for Seungcheol when he shows up next to you, dimples out as he compliments you in your dress and you return it with a shy smile. Half because you need a distraction and more because Seungcheol’s presence is calming, you follow him to the bar.

“How’s your night going so far?”

“It could be better,” you mumble, eyes searching for Jeonghan and settling when he doesn’t seem to be anywhere close, “A little bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” he asks you, sliding you a drink and you smile as you take a sip: Scotch and Soda.

“Hmm, it’s nothing honestly. A lot of work piling up as we speak,” you joke. Seungcheol’s frown melts away, “Ah, of course. Senior year must be crazy.”

The night picks it pace up thereon, with your nerves finding some peace in the buzz from alcohol and your cheeks only hurting the longer you talk to Seungcheol.There’s some dancing of course, here and there, but you find yourself avoiding Jeonghan actively, retracting from the floor whenever he’s close.

It helps that Seungcheol stays close so that you have an excuse to appear occupied and somewhere along in the night, you tell the man with a smile, “You’re really charming, you know, Cheol?”

He breaks out into that giggle of his, “You think so? I haven’t even pulled out all the stops yet?”

“Really?” you find yourself stepping closer, encouraged by how quickly his hands are at your waist, “What haven’t you done yet?”

A breathy hum leaves his lips at your provoking and you’re close enough to brush lips against Seungcheol when suddenly, you’re being pulled away. For a moment, you let out an annoyed groan, certain that the iron hold on your bicep is Wonwoo being stubborn again. So when you tilt your head and catch sight of Jeonghan’s black hair falling into his eyes, a glare in place, all words leave your system.

You’re aware he’s dragging you away and also that Seungcheol’s following, reaching for your hand with words leaving his mouth, but you can’t make anything out. The blood’s in your ears and your heart is in your throat. You can feel Jeonghan saying something at Seungcheol, who glances at you in doubt, and leaves.

By the time you've calmed down, you find yourself in Jeonghan’s room, door half closed.

“Jeonghan?” you question a little weakly as he finally lets go of your arm and sits on the bed, his head in his hands. Is he okay? you wonder, standing helplessly near the door. You call out his name again, “Han? Are you okay?”

You step closer to him but stop when he looks up, startled by the lack of humor in his expression. “What were you doing back there?”

“Um, talking to Cheol.”

“Talking?”

“Are you annoyed at me, right now? Or jealous? I can’t tell.”

Jeonghan goes silent again, gaze dropping to his feet. You’re feeling annoyed by the minute.

“You’re acting like an idiot, Y/N. You don’t know Seungcheol. And you’re drunk.”

There it was: that strict tone of his, that always left you feeling conflicted and hurt. Today you actually tell him about it, “I’m not a kid, Jeonghan, I know what I’m doing.”

He looks up at you when you say that, eyes wide. “I never said that. I’m just saying that you should be more careful.”

“I am being careful,” you retort, a hostile edge to your voice, “I don’t know why you do this.”

“I thought you liked me.”

The words stun you into silence and your ears ring as you freeze. Your eyes don’t leave Jeonghan’s form though, watching him, waiting for him to disappear into nothingness as if this was just a dream. How you wish it was.

But Jeonghan’s on his feet when he notices the horrified look on his face and it’s only when he starts to come closer that you reach for the door.

“No, Y/N, please let’s talk about it–” he grabs hold of you and you feel your vision go blurry with tears, your back hitting the wall when Jeonghan shuts the door behind you.

“I knew it,” you mumble out through tears, “You knew about my feelings?”

Jeonghan’s eyes find yours in the dim lighting of his bedroom and you shiver when his hand tightens around your wrist, “I’ve known for a while. But then you went around flirting with Cheol like it was nobody’s business and I…” he trails off, “I was jealous. And confused.”

You force yourself to breathe out, heart going wild in your chest because of course, Jeonghan’s not addressing the elephant in the room. “Well, I was going to confess to you today and get it out of the way. But there’s no need anymore, I guess?” You cringe at the way you can hear the quiver in your own voice, “Just let me go now?”

“Why?” he asks, “You haven’t even asked me if I like you back?”

You scoff, “God, Jeonghan, you make it sound like we’re in high school or something, all this ‘liking’ talk.” You try to sound stable, only to be contradicted by the tears that leave your eyes, “And I figured you didn’t return my feelings. Or you would’ve done something about it.”

There’s a pause then. A shift. Jeonghan’s grip on you loosens ever so lightly and you fear you’ve understood him too well. For once, you wish you weren’t right.

“You’re right,” Jeonghan breathes out as if on cue, but his grip is still unyielding to your dismay, “Well, I thought I didn’t like you. I mean, you’re really pretty and funny and being around doesn’t tire me out like it does with others, but… I just liked you as a friend.”

Your heart’s shriveling up at his words with uncertainty because he might be talking about your love for him being one-sided but it is also in the past tense… right?

“What are you trying to say, Jeonghan?”

He flinches, “Um, I’m sorry. I just– I’m so confused about my feelings, right now. God, I thought I was more mature than this.”

You can’t help the disdainful laugh that leaves your lips as you push him away, brushing your tears away with the back of your hand. “Look, Jeonghan, I’m sorry I don’t have the time to sit down and help you untangle your feelings… about me. It really hurts to hear you go on about this, honestly. I think I’m just going to leave. Happy birthday, I hope you like your gift.”

–

The night outside is much more welcoming to you now, your shoulders more relaxed than ever now that your stupid crush on Jeonghan’s out in the open for him. You hadn’t expected it to go down like this but well, at least you were right about him already knowing, you know?

Lighter than before, the drinks you’d chugged before to gather courage catch up to you in the moment when you nearly run into a pole on the street. You would have run into it if Seungcheol hadn’t swerved you out the way with a, “Look out!”

“Fuck,” you mumble when you’re steady on your feet, Seungcheol’s hand firm around yours, “Sorry. I was in my head.”

“I know you were but you gotta watch where you’re going, kid,” he scolds, “I don’t want to have to carry your unconscious body to your room.”

You roll your eyes, “What is it with everyone and calling me a kid tonight? So much for keeping up a track record for being reliable and responsible.”

“It’s not that you’re not those things, Y/N,” Seungcheol says, hand still on yours reassuringly, “It’s just that sometimes you’re… dense. And maybe even something of an idiot.”

“Ah! Excuse me!” you protest, “I am not an idiot. Say that to my grades.”

“An idiot as in someone who doesn’t see what’s right in front of them.”

That shuts you for good, then, and you stop walking with a sigh. “I don’t even know about that, anymore.”

Seungcheol watches as you slow down, tears behind your eyes and his heart hurts for you, thanks to his problem. When he’d found you storming out of Jeonghan’s room with fists wiping your tears away, he’d wrapped an arm around you immediately, listening as you quietly told him you needed to leave. He’d offered to walk you home and you’d watched him for a moment before nodding.

“Why are you doing this, Cheol? Shouldn’t you be back there, comforting Jeonghan?”

“See, there it is. The idiot side of you.”

You go silent again, looking down at the hand that was clutched in his a few moments ago.

“...you like me?”

“Bingo. Plus, I don’t think Jeonghan wants to hear from me tonight. Not after I almost kissed you in front of him.”

You let out a surprised sound, hand flying to your mouth when you recall the near-kiss, ears turning impossibly pink under the streetlights. “Fuck, I forgot that happened. I’m sorry? Or you’re welcome?”

“Nah, I can’t thank you till we actually seal the deal,” Seungcheol teases, stepping closer to you and dramatically ducking his head as if going in for a kiss. You push his shoulder away, “Fuck you, Seungcheol.”

“I mean, sure, if you want to!”

“Ugh!” you start walking with a pout on your face, “I hate the guts of the men in this place!”

“That’s not what your face said thirty minutes ago at the bar!”

“Go away, Cheol, or I’m reporting you to the campus authorities.”

“Aww, you called me Cheol even when we’re fighting. Aren’t you the sweetest?”

–

When Monday rolls around, you think you’ve got a good hold on your head this time, especially after a few grueling hours at your shift at the cafe. That is until you spot Jeonghan walking in, hair tied back in a half-ponytail and hands crossed across his white cardigan. The sight of him sends you into a frenzy and you debate your options as being between: ducking behind the counter and switching positions with Joshua, or otherwise, manning up and facing the aftermath of your actions.

You glance at Joshua’s back, his hands busy cleaning the espresso equipment and before you have a minute to ask him to switch, Jeonghan’s at the counter (where’s a line of customers when you need it?), calling you out. “Hey, Y/N, do you think we could talk for a minute?”

You look at him blankly, not expecting him to take the direct route after everything. But you malfunction a little and cut his advances off, “Welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” you ask loudly and then add in a softer voice, “Conversation with me is not on the menu.”

“Hm?” Jeonghan looks devastated at your cold response but his eyes search the menu board frantically anyway, “Uh, I guess I could get just an iced americano, then, please?”

You note that down with a half-smile, and almost go on to ask for a name for the order but decide against it, not wanting to stretch your pettiness limit for the day. “Alright, thank you for your order! Please feel free to take a seat while you wait.”

You relax when he nods with a hesitant smile and takes a seat, close to the window but close enough to the counter to hear his name being called out. You feel the pit in your stomach burn a little at how deflated his shoulders are and you wonder if you ought to drop the act; you’d been into the man for two years now. Right?

But before you can pursue this heart-wrenching line of thought, you’re distracted by the sound of the door opening and– great, it’s Seungcheol. By the surprised look he shoots Jeonghan’s sat figure, they hadn’t planned this… ambush, but you reign in your usual cordiality anyway as Seungcheol approaches you.

“Hey there, morning. How’ve you been?”

What did you have to do to have one customer who came in here for coffee?

“Good afternoon,” you correct him, pleased at the reversal of your first meeting with Seungcheol, who chuckles a little. “Welcome, what can we get you today?”

He pauses, casting a glance to Jeonghan over his shoulder, whose attention is on this interaction, legs crossed and brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, didn’t know he was in here. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“What are you apologizing for?” The question slips before you can remember to be professional and also, a little bit quieter because almost certain that Jeonghan’s heard you by the way he averts his eyes. “Um, I mean, sorry. I can recommend you a drink for the day or do you want to get your usual?”

Seungcheol mulls it over, “Hm, I’m fine with anything you choose for me.”

You pause before punching in the order for a hazelnut mocha, without a double-shot this time. He can deal with the sweetness for a day, you reckon. You glance at Joshua who’s still cleaning up before getting started on the orders because well, it’s a slow day. Or it’s supposed to be.

As you thank Seungcheol for his order and he’s about to step aside to wait, you add in a quick, “And next time, if you want to check up on me, do it when I’m not working.” He does nothing to hide the grin of acknowledgment that takes over his face, a sight that only darkens the storm known as Yoon Jeonghan brewing in the cafe.

You walk over to Joshua, “Dude! Hurry up, we have customers waiting.”

He turns to you slowly, wiping his hands off ever so slowly, even the smile on his face slow. “Don’t worry, it’s just Jeonghan. We know these guys. We can take our time.”

You narrow your eyes at him, wondering if Jeonghan put him up to this act, but don’t question it because even that would be admitting defeat. “Whatever. I’ll make the drinks if you’re going to be annoying. Where’s the syrup for the mocha again?”

Joshua slaps the hand that you’re using to reach for the syrup with a firm, “Uh-uh! Hands off, young lady. That hazelnut mocha is all mine to make. You can work on the iced americano if you really want to help out.”

You groan, throwing your hands up, “So you were slowing things down on purpose, you little bitch.”

“Hello? Please be mindful of the language you use around here. I can report you–”

“Yes, yes, of course, I will just shut up and make that americano so I don’t have to listen to your voice again.”

A few minutes later, you’re scribbling Jeonghan’s name onto the cup, proud with the quick work you’ve made of the drink and also thankful nobody was coming in right now. “Han–” you stop yourself just as the nickname slips your tongue, flinching when you remember you’re supposed to be acting stuck up right now.

You turn, hoping that Jeonghan hadn’t heard you but nevermind that because he’s at your side, quicker than he ought to be really (any other scenario, he would be declaring all kinds of knee problems), that sly grin plastered on his face.

“Hi there,” he greets you, “Called for me, did you?”

“...I did. An iced americano for Jeonghan.” You try hard to make your sentences brief but Jeonghan’s chuckling as he takes the drink from you– using both his hands so that you’re brushing against his. Classic middle school boy behavior.

If anything, this ordeal was making you question if the man was as mature as you’d believed. Either way, he thanks you with a smile and leaves promptly, leaving a very affronted Seungcheol in his wake. “Hey, I thought you said you were gonna wait for me!” he calls out after Jeonghan, who doesn’t respond as he slides out.

“A hazelnut mocha for Seung…Cheol?”

You glare at Joshua who frowns at the name as that was the first he’d heard of it, and the guy just shrugs as he puts the drink down. “Sorry about that. Joshua’s feeling rebellious this afternoon,” you tell a frowny Seungcheol (you are a minute away from admitting how cute he is when he’s upset), “Anyway, here’s your drink, Seungcheol. Have a good day!”

“Cheol!�� you call out when you spot the brown head of hair outside the cafe when your shift ends. He’d texted you a while after he’d walked off with his drink in hand, pouting because you insisted on calling him Seungcheol.

meet me after your shift? his text reads.

do u even know when my shift ends dude

no and thats why im asking u. when does your shift end?

… u are insufferable.

insufferable enough to fall 4 u i guess

when are u going to stop holding your feelings for me over my head?

when you do something about them.

meet me at 6 outside the cafe.

Yeah, so you wouldn’t say you’re being your wisest self right now. To begin with, you should probably seek out Jeonghan and find closure of some sort. But something tells you to wait on him, wait till he’s ready to seek you out (no, coming up to you during your work shift did not count). Instead, you choose to pursue the… spark that you have with Seungcheol, his feelings for you aside. The night after Jeonghan’s party he’d made it clear that he didn’t really want anything serious, just to get to know you more while you were still around.

A little fooling around never hurt anyone, right?

So when Seungcheol whines out, “Oh, so I’m back to being Cheol now, huh?” you finally let out the laugh that you’d held back at work at his antics.

“Nobody ever told me you were such a pouty baby,” you tell him, eyes shameless trained on his pink lips.

“I don’t pout for anyone, baby,” Seungcheol shoots back, hand on your back as he leads you somewhere. You look at him in question. “What? We’re getting dinner.”

“I was not aware,” you reply, “But all right. Let’s do it.”

Dinner is comfortable. Which is more than you ask for on a date these days.

“Your dates have really been that bad, huh?” Seungcheol asks you. You shake your head, fork scraping some tiramisu onto it, “You can’t even imagine it, Cheol, it’s hell out there. I’m lucky if the guy pays for the dinner so I don’t have to work an extra shift to make up for it.”

He laughs and you savor the sight, because hanging out with this often hadn’t meant you had become indifferent to his looks. If anything, it was the other way around.

“Thanks for dinner,” you tell him later as he sneaks his hand into yours. You allow yourself to feel guilty for indulging him like this but then he squeezes your hand, “Anything for you, m’lady.”

Later that night, you invite him to your room. “It’s not much,” you add to the invitation, “But you know, I do happen to have some wine in my fridge that Wonwoo forgot to pick up. And my bed’s pretty cozy to watch movies in.”

Seungcheol is breathless by the time you’re in your room, not only because of the trek up the stairs but also the fact that you’d held his hand in yours the whole way up. “Wow, it sure is cold in here,” he comments as you turn the lights. It is the textbook college room, albeit a little bigger since you’re in a single.

You cough, “Um, sorry about that. Let me turn on the heater. And you can sit on my bed…” you pause when you remember the mess you’d left on your mattress this morning, in a hurry to make it to your shift but nevertheless, insistent on putting together a fit.

You sweep up the pile of discarded clothes from your bed and onto an already burdened chair, making a show out of it. You dust your hands off with a smile at Seungcheol who’s been watching with a hand on his hip. “Change your mind about me yet?” you question, teasingly.

He rolls his eyes as he walks closer to you, effectively bumping you onto your bed, the new angle forcing you to look up at him. He kneels in front of you, his smile turning loving as he takes your face into his hands. “Not a chance,” and then he leans in until his warm lips are on yours, the heater whirring irrelevant now that heat’s rushing up to your temples instantly.

You taste him and then pull away, “Mhm. Not so fast, you sly little man. I promised you wine and a movie in my bed. And I,” you say as you crouch in front of your fridge, “am a woman of my word.” You shake the cold bottle of red wine at him and he grins.

An hour later, you’re curled around Seungcheol, glasses of wine long consumed and movie long forgotten in favor of cuddling. You stare at him and then when he smiles shyly, you finger one of his dimples, “Hey. You sure you’re not serious about me? Because I’m…” you hate the way you trail off, the very thought of Jeonghan derailing any sense of coherence you’ve ever had.

“I know,” Seungcheol’s hand comes to your wrist, “I knew I didn’t stand a chance against Jeonghan since I saw you guys fight at the cafe that day. You look at him like he has all the answers.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you brush off, not completely refuting him. “But if you knew, why’d you stick around and… I don’t know, flirt with me?”

Seungcheol laughs into your neck, “Call it a bad habit of mine.” His hands play with your hair now, brushing it away from your face, “I see a pretty girl and I have to charm her.”

You drop your head into his chest with a groan, “Stop! You sound so creepy. Like a predator.”

“Hey!” he protests, his chuckles vibrating through you, “You’re the one who called me charming the other day!”

“Hmm. I guess I did.”

His hands slowly pry you away from his chest and to his face, lips pressing against yours. You smile a little and then open up for him, shifting until you’re situated on top of him. You close your eyes, surrendering yourself to the kiss and – “Shit, you’re a good kisser.” The man underneath you moves you closer with a pleased smirk, voice smug when his lips trail down your neck, “That’s not the only thing I’m good at.”

–

“Sex with older men really is different, huh?”

You gasp at Wonwoo’s vulgar words, slapping his arm mercilessly making him jump away from you. “Dude! Mind keeping it down? We’re in the library, not your mom’s house.”

“Ha! Jokes on you, I wouldn’t be making dirty jokes in my mom’s house because Jeonghan is my mom away from home and he would really kick my ass if he heard me talk about you and Seungchel fucking–”

Another slap on the arm and Wonwoo shuts up, groaning in pain. You grimace when you notice a few heads turning your way at the commotion, and bow in apology. When they’re looking away, you glower at Wonwoo, “Seriously, man, what are you up to? Drop the horny teenager act for once so we can focus on the problem at hand.”

“Judging from the tone of your voice, I’m guessing that you’re not talking about the problem of calculus in front of us, but rather, the problem of… life?”

You stare at Wonwoo blankly, “I’m so glad you find this entertaining.” As you’re about to continue giving him a piece of your mind, your phone buzzes, cutting you off much to Wonwoo’s relief, who sneaks a look over your shoulder anyway.

cheol: rate last night on a scale of ‘okay’ to ‘let's meet up again tonight’?

You scoff at the audacity and Wonwoo’s already clinging onto this new piece of evidence. “Oh, so what was that about this being a one-time thing? Next thing I know you’re moving in with him when you graduate.”

You slam your phone face down, “Listen, I know you think this is a joke but it’s not. I’m not going to sleep with Cheol again because that’s obviously the right thing to do. But as for Jeonghan, well, it’s been radio silence from him all week.”

“And since when have you let Jeonghan take the lead on your relationship with him? You know he’s a working man so I’m not surprised he’s not texting you at noon on a Wednesday.”

You glare at Wonwoo, “Seungcheol is also very much a working man? I don’t see your point. And also, I don’t know when this became a competition between the two?”

“Since you confessed to one and then slept with the other?”

You exhale heavily, unable to shoot him down because he was at least a little bit correct. Instead you heave your head into your arms. “Maybe I should just fake my death and move away.”

“You’ll give up your dreams of graduation over a stupid love triangle, consisting purely of men?”

“Shit. You’re right. That’s not happening,” you look up, “Jeon Wonwoo, what would I do if you weren’t by my side bringing me to my senses? You’re the best friend I ever had.”

“Actually, your use of ‘friend’ is very offensive to me,” he complains, fisting his palm dramatically, “I consider myself one of the girls. Or even better, your guardian. Refer to me as Your Highness exclusively or I will not listen.”

You stand up with a screech of your chair, “Okay, that was the last of your reasonable thinking. I’m going to go to my shift and work until I can no longer think or pine.”

“Great plan, young one!”

“Touch grass while I’m gone and you might have hope yet.”

–

“Look, I really don’t think we should be doing this anymore.”

Seungcheol laughs, eyes searching your face for signs of humor. You flash him a grimace of seriousness and doom. He deflates. “I saw this coming. Should’ve known you would only ever ask me out to a fancy restaurant for dinner to break up with me.”

You flick his forehead, “Break up? Don’t call it that. It gives people the wrong idea.”

“Interesting, Y/N L/N admits to caring about whether or not people get the wrong idea about us. Very interesting,” he comments, not at all sneaky with the way his arm snakes around you, “Anyway, you want me to pay for dinner and what, drag my sorry ass back to Jeonghan’s place?”

You stiffen at the mention of Jeonghan and then sigh, the following conversation almost inevitable given your current situation. “So speaking of Jeonghan, has he been talking?”

“Um, yeah, he sure has been opening his mouth and saying words.”

“Fuck you, I meant as in, about me? Has he said anything?”

“Not in specific. Although he did inquire if I had slept over at your place two nights ago and when I said yes, he threw a slice of half-eaten apple in my face. Since then whenever I see him, I duck.”

“That’s very funny.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure to tell him how hopelessly in love with him you are–”

“That was not needed.”

“–And how you accidentally moaned his name on my cock.”

You glare at him, “What about those statements made you think they were okay to voice out loud, not only once but twice?”

As Seungcheol comes up with a witty defense for his lapse in judgment, your phone buzzes next to your thigh and the name that pops up has you zoning everything out instantly.

han: hey, can we talk?

You look away from the screen and breathe out, “And that makes two of us dragging our sorry asses to Jeonghan’s place.”

When you knock on his door, the last thing you expect to see is a red-eyed, very sniffly Jeonghan. Heck, you hadn’t ever even come close to imagining the heartbroken look on Jeonghan’s face, his eyes downcast when you visibly look taken aback at his state.

“Han?”

“Hey,” his voice is hoarse and good lord, you can’t stand this. “Let’s sit in the living room. I was going to go grab some water anyway.”

You follow him speechlessly, watching the way his hands disappear into the sleeves of the black sweatshirt that hangs loose around his frame. You keep watching when he reappears, and it’s when he sits down quietly, fingers whitening around the glass of iced water in hands that you lose it.

“Talk to me, Han. Are you okay?” you breathe deeply to contain the multitude of concerned questions that threaten to leave your system. For one, you didn't know how to interpret the crestfallen expression he held up when he met your eyes. While someone like Wonwoo (aka a naive little kid) would argue that the only reasonable explanation for it would be that he was devastated that you’d been avoiding him the past week. But knowing what you did about him, you couldn’t let go of the possibility that he was just mourning the impending loss of a friend, i.e. you, when he breaks it to you that he doesn’t like you back.

Jeonghan senses you’re in your head when you’ve been staring at him for a moment too long, mouth agape, so he moves closer, taking the water out of your hands and placing it next to his emptied glass.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Fuck. An apology?

You stammer, “S-Sorry? Why?”

“I’m sorry I called you an idiot the other day. You’re the farthest thing from an idiot– and you’re definitely not a kid. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. I just… I’ve been thinking about us, and I realized that somewhere along the way, I became really over-protective of you. I started treating you like you were fragile or something, and I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m listening,” you tell him, frown letting up now that he’s finally speaking up.

“And I’m sorry for being a cowardly little bitch about my feelings for you,” he mumbles, eyes dropping to your lap where your fingers play with the fabric of your shirt uneasily. He stops your fiddling, his hands coming to envelope both of yours. “I’m the idiot for thinking I could be anything other than in love with you.”

“Huh,” you exhale again, biting your lip to hold the smile that threatens to spill.

“And finally, I’m sorry for not doing anything about it when I knew your feelings were mutual. As you know, I’m getting old and–”

You stop any further stupidity from leaving his lips by – you guessed it – by pressing your lips against them. He lets out a surprised gasp and your smile finally turns into a giggle when his hands tighten around yours in your lap.

You pull away, only to detach your hands so you can bury them in his hair instead and Jeonghan smiles at you, his eyes crescents as they watch you lovingly and you think: the pain was worth it.

Jeonghan’s smile widens when he feels you thumb at his skin, tenderly tracing his eye-bags.

“You look terrible, Han, I’m sorry,” you mutter, kissing his cheeks and then his forehead. He’s already mellowing under your hold and he hums, low, “You should be. I went to hell and back when Seungcheol announced he slept with you. I mean, what were you thinking?”

You break, guiltily looking away. “That was not my smartest moment but I was also very distraught about my relationship with a certain someone who wouldn’t contact me outside of my working hours.”

“You and your stubborn need to remain professional. Y/N, it’s a campus cafe, I don’t think anyone’s going to care if you break your act once in a while. I don’t know, if I don’t get a kiss the next time I visit you– I might just rethink this.”

You scoff in disbelief, “You’re a real pain in the ass, Jeonghan. Maybe I’ll just go back to my room and cry myself to sleep.” But as soon as you make moves to stand up, Jeonghan’s bringing you back to sit, taking the chance to pull you closer into a hug. “You will do no such thing.”

You freeze when you feel his nose settle into your shoulder, warm breaths relaxing when your hands reclaim their place in his hair. “I love you, Y/N.”

A beat passes and with a kiss to his head, you return, “I probably love you more, old man.”

“If we’re going to date, that nickname has got to go!”

“What? You’re the one who was complaining about your knee problems last week. It’s fine, I can add this relationship to my list of community service activities.”

Jeonghan pulls away, standing up abruptly and jerking you upward as well. Your smile falters but then, he’s steering you to his bedroom, throwing the door shut with a grunt. You side-eye him, “What’s up–” He cuts you off, lips hot against yours.

A few minutes later, when his tongue finally lets up, he mutters, “I just remembered that you kissed Seungcheol with this mouth. I’ve gotta do everything I can to erase that memory.”

“I can’t tell if you want me to forget… or yourself.”

“Shh, I bet he couldn’t even– Wait, why aren’t you wearing a bra? Don’t tell me you were–!”

“You sure love asking questions, old man,” you whine and before Jeonghan can question you further, you take ahold of his hand, sliding it over your stomach and down the waistband of your jeans, the space tight and hot but not as hot as the groan Jeonghan lets out when he feels you. “Holy fuck, you’re wet.”

You grin when he falls to his knees, your jeans unbuttoned and pulled down in next to no time. “There’s more where that came from,” you mumble before he’s between your thighs, ripping out scream after scream from your throat.

–

Genuinely and honestly, if you’d foreseen waking up in Jeonghan’s bed, his hair a mess from last night but face comfortably snuggled in your arm– you would’ve been less mean to Wonwoo. Because it turns out that his voice (of reason? or of deviance? you would never figure it out) in your head had been right: Jeonghan did return your feelings all those times you thought he might.

He tells you all about it when you’ve collapsed later that night, replacing the curses on your lips with dampness in your eyes because of how vulnerable he is, pouring his heart out to you like this.

Propped up on an elbow, he played with your hand, “I remember when you first came over with Wonwoo. I thought I’d met myself, but younger and prettier and sillier.”

“I hate it when you combine insults with compliments so I can’t attack you.”

“I learnt that from you, silly,” he kisses your nose but continues, “But honestly, the more we talked, the more I realized how different you are from me. I mean, sure, are you tired out of your mind half the time like me? Yeah. But you were so observant and so keen on getting to know people. It’s hard to come across people who are invested in friendships for more than just small talk and someone to have meals with.”

But just as he’s getting deep on you, he adds, “Plus, you smell a whole lot better than anyone else. I’d go crazy sitting next to you, especially because you just love to throw yourself at people in laughter.”

“Not that I’m complaining–” he stops your protests quickly, “I swear my heart would skip a beat everytime you laughed at something I said. And then the time we were talking about ideal types and you got all flustered over everyone teasing you about me? Dude, I had to run to the kitchen before I could do something rash. Like kissing you in front of everyone. Or worse, bride-style carrying you into my room so I could enjoy the adorably lovesick look on your face.”

You groan into his pillow, “Stooop. This is just embarrassing for me. It’s not like I was trying to be obvious.”

“I know, baby,” he coos, gentle hands prying you away from the pillow, “But you know, you have the same look on your face right now.” He laughs, kissing the pout off your lips with a sweet, “For what it’s worth, I was yours for a long time. Just took a minute for me to realize it.”

You huff but smile despite it and pull him closer, “I’m glad. Now hold me to sleep or I’m gonna be sad.”

Another laugh reverberates through the two of you when he slides down, pulling the sheets closer over you, and pats your back as you settle into him with a satisfied sigh. “Sleep well, my love.”

–

“And when I’m gone, please don’t stop eating breakfast in the morning. I know you think that it’s consequential to your life completely,” Seungcheol pauses for dramatic effect, “but it’s important. It could be the difference between living 20 less years or 50 more.”

“How scientifically true is that?” you mumble to Jeonghan under your breath, who being the devious little brat he is voices your concern, earning you a look from Seungcheol.

“Whatever, I knew my words were undervalued in this household ever since you guys started dating and refused to keep it down at night. Like, it’s not that hard, right?”

You punch Jeonghan’s arm to both keep him from telling the dick joke he’s about to say and also, to show Seungcheol that you wanted no part in this. “I told this guy to keep you in mind but that just made him mad which in turn led to… screaming. Sorry.”

Seungcheol sighs as he glances at his watch, “Okay, okay. I have to get going now so bring in whatever last-minute reconciliations you two have for me.”

Jeonghan steps forward and hugs the man, surprising both the latter and you. But you watch with a pleased smile playing on your lips, relieved that their friendship still seemed to go strong, bumps and all. When it’s your turn to hug Seungcheol, you scoff at the hesitant look he casts at your boyfriend and wrap your arms around his middle.

“Thanks for everything, Cheol. Keep in touch. And do something about this second-lead syndrome of yours. I better catch you in a happily stable relationship of your own next time around.”

Seungcheol chuckles quietly, waiting for you to pull away to say, “If that’s an order from the main female lead, then I guess I have no choice, do I? Unless,” his eyes mischievously stray to Jeonghan who already knows what’s coming next, “the male lead fucks up and leaves a certain pretty girl single, huh?”

You don’t have time to decipher if that’s a threat wrapped up in a punchline because Jeonghan’s arm’s around your shoulder, moving you away and besides you, he says, “You’ll be waiting all your life if you wait on me to fuck this up. Bye, Cheol, I can see that your Uber just pulled up.”

“Ha! Good one. Alright, this is goodbye for now. See y’all on my feed. Or it might be better if I don’t. Anyway, bye and don’t kill anyone.”

With Seungcheol gone, you look up at Jeonghan with a smug smirk, “Oh, so you plan on sticking around with me forever? That’s a long time, you know.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, his eyes twinkling, “Please, if I had the patience to watch you hug Seungcheol right in front of my eyes, being with you forever will be a breeze in the park. So yes, I plan to stick to you forever, like superglue.”

“Gross, you couldn’t say something romantic like candy or syrup?”

“Sorry, babe, but I was just distracted by how all mine you are that I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Never mind, I think it’s worse when you’re all cheesy. Go back to being gross?”

“I love you. Now, come here so I can kiss every single surface of your face. And then we can go on a walk and tell everyone who told me to give up to suck it.”

You lose balance when the laughter finally escapes your mouth but thankfully, Jeonghan’s arms are around you, promising and playful when you meet his eyes. “Ugh, whatever. I love you. So I guess we can do all the weird annoying stuff you want to do for now.”

Despite your banter though, the two of you are so happy together that you’re shocked by the picture of you with Jeonghan that Wonwoo Airdrops, after your walk. You have the dopiest smile on your face and Jeonghan’s looking at you with a cheesy grin. You hate to admit it but you do look like an “old married couple” like Wonwoo’s text teases. But for once, you give in, snuggling closer to Jeonghan’s body because well, yeah, you did plan to stick to him. Like superglue.

–

#once again apologizing #jeonghan x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt fluff #svt angst #svt x reader #yoon jeonghan #choi seungcheol #seventeen smut #jeonghan angst #seungcheol angst

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topazadine · 3 months ago

Text

Remembering Perspective When Writing Descriptions

Just a short pet peeve of mine, inspired by a shower thought, where I remembered the most terrifying description I'd ever read.

It wasn't bad, or even horror. It was well written.

However. The POV character described his *sister* in a way akin to this (my recreation, not the actual text):

Braden met his sister at the gate. They'd been apart for several years, and in that time, she had truly become a woman. Her curves had filled out, and her red silk dressed strained across her tight figure. Her long black curly hair shone in the late evening light, while her blue eyes watched him intently.

No, this wasn't a brocon thing. The (male) writer was just horny for his female character and ... kinda forgot that his MC, her brother, would not feel the same way.

Now, of course siblings growing up together are going to notice the other one maturing, but it's not going to be ... that. This is how I describe 17-year-old Uileac looking at his little sister, 13-year-old Cerie, in 9 Years Yearning:

She'd shot up in height this past year - almost as tall as him, to his dismay. Whatever they were feeding her in the meronym was quite good for her metabolism, as she'd put on a bit of healthy weight. Her cheeks were losing their baby roundness, and the autumnal light accentuated the sharp intelligence behind her green eyes.

In this description, you can feel Uileac's paternal attitude toward his little sister. "Oh, she's put on a bit of weight and isn't a total twig anymore! I'm glad they're feeding her well. Her face looks more adult. Fuck, she's almost as tall as me now ... I wish I weren't so goddamn short ...."

This is a much more normal way for siblings to talk about each other, if a bit more "dad mode" than the typical older brother.

Siblings who grew up together are not going to say "holy shit I can really tell my sister has become a woman, wow her dress is tight over her curves." If my brother had said that about me while we were kids, I'd throw up and dump a pot of soup over his head.

This kind of thing is generally accidental and has to do with how *you* feel about a character. But the thing is that even the sexiest femme fatale is just going to be Jennifer, The Stupid Annoying Sister, to their sibling. Our brains are literally wired not to see our siblings as sexy if we grew up with them.

There are many other ways that you must take perspective into consideration when writing descriptions. Here are just a few of them.

Sexual attraction/orientation

You're going to focus on different things if you're sexually attracted to someone; namely, you'll focus in on things like breasts, legs, abs, etc. You'll also likely devote more attention to describing people of your particular sexual orientation than you would one that you are not attracted to, and you will focus on different things.

This is part of why we hate "men writing women:" they describe every woman as if they want to fuck them. (See the first example.) It has to do with the places that their gazes naturally linger on any woman, which is what they consider important and what they focus on.

But the thing that they miss is that just because we are sexually attracted to a specific gender does not mean we would want to bang anyone of that gender. I am a lesbian, but the way I would describe my mom or my therapist is vastly different than how I would describe a woman I am actually attracted to.

Romantic interests should get a more sexualized gaze; not exploitative, just more in-depth, and with more focus on their figure, specific details, etc. Everyone else should get a more basic look at eyes, hair color, height, build, and so on.

Feelings about a particular person

You're going to be more forgiving and complimentary toward someone you care about than someone you hate. Things that would be charming on a friend will be downright annoying on that one asshole at work who always throws projects to you at 5pm on a Friday.

A lover's thick eyebrows might be called "dashing" or "strong," while on an enemy, they'd be "overbearing" and "harsh." Your bestie's lisp is cute, while it seems babyish on your school rival. Your dad's meandering sentences give him a sense of harmless musing, but they make someone else look like an idiot.

If you have a character that is prejudiced toward a given group, they are always going to describe that group more harshly than they would a favored group. If they don't like authority figures, a police officer leaning toward them will seem menacing, when they wouldn't even notice it otherwise.

It can be very fun to give two characters similar traits but describe them differently based on the POV character's perspective of them. Readers might not even realize that it's the exact same physical feature!

Previous experiences at a given place

When describing settings, we're going to give more attention to somewhere we care about, like our home. I imagine you can tell me about every chip in the paint in your bedroom, or that one weird stain in the floorboard that you've tried everything to fix. Many times, this is a good time to add depth to the character's backstory by briefly mentioning previous occurrences there.

Would you notice any of those things about a place you're visiting for the first time? Probably not. You'll give a more global attention to the scene and provide impressions, not specifics.

Depending on how nervous or adventurous you are, you'll look for similarities or differences to things that you're accustomed to. You might compare it to other places you have been, trying to get a frame of reference.

If you're on a vacation and were really looking forward to coming to this specific spot, you will likely hone in on exactly what you came to see, whether that's the scene from a particular hilltop or a cafe, and this will get the most description.

Current Mood

Descriptions change with a character's mood, even if they've been in that place a millions times. People just notice different things depending on their mood; if they're happy, they'll look for things that support that mood, while if they're upset, they're pointing out the negatives.

For example, consider someone walking into a court room when they are on trial versus when they are there as a simple court reporter. The person on trial is probably going to be glancing longingly at the door, picking out the angry faces of observers (or assuming the observers are angry), focusing attention on the security guards, staring at the plaintiff with hate in their eyes.

The court reporter will likely pick out anyone they know in the room before looking at anything else. Then, they'll check out the defendant and plaintiff with idle curiosity. Since they are more familiar with the room, they'll gloss over the boring details that they have already seen a million times, giving them only a cursory once-over to see if anything has changed.

Current Need

Your character's objectives need to taken into consideration as well. As an example, remember the last time that you really needed to pee while you were out. Were you slowly and casually admiring the scenery? No! You were hunting for the bathroom. If literally anything registered for you, it was anything that looked vaguely bathroom-sign-shaped. Everything around that bathroom sign, and on your path toward the bathroom, got more attention and description to you than anything else.

Your character's interests

When describing a scene, you don't need to take time and define every single little thing in a character's path. It's annoying and overwhelming. You need to give us a basic overview (it's a forest, it's a grocery store, it's an abbatoir) and then hone in on the specific details that your character finds interesting in order to fill out the entire scene.

We, as people, focus on things we care about, things that we feel are relevant to us. Different people will notice completely different things when they walk into the same room. An animal trainer will appreciate a big pet bed and an ergonomic food bowl. An artist will admire the artwork on the walls. A computer nerd is going to roll their eyes at the scuffed-up Mac laptop.

This doesn't mean that you can't describe other things, too; it just means that your character's attention is going to be drawn to stuff that they, in particular, like or dislike.

Things like where a character's gaze lands, how they describe things, and how much detail they give to any particular element are an important part of secondary characterization: how we get to know a character beyond what they do or tell us. It helps to create a fuller picture of their relationships, their interests, and their thought process, and it deserves just as much attention as actions and dialogue.

If you enjoyed reading this, perhaps you'll consider purchasing my book, 9 Years Yearning. No weird sibling vibes I prommie

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morning-star-joy · 8 months ago

Note

Do you ever plan on writing maybe a little pregnancy one shot for our ASHWAH babies? 🥺🫶🏽

So I did actually write a little something playing with the idea last year, but it got buried in my docs and I forgot about it until now! Not an actual pregnancy, but just a short drabble of Joel thinking about it. Here it is!

give you my wild, give you a child

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: Joel imagines another kind of life.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI Mentions of previous smut. Joel is a breeding kink legend. Thoughts of pregnancy and body changes through pregnancy. Pregnancy kink.

Wordcount: 1k

A/N: Just a gentle reminder that ASHWAH pregnancy is not canon! It's just an AU exploration, and you do not have to consider it their ending if you don't want it to be. Any direct sequel won't have it <3

Important: Please read this post before engaging with any of my fics. How you can help Palestine.

Joel was trying hard not to think about it.

He had been trying so very hard not to think about it for months now.

But she was making that an extremely difficult task.

Especially with the way she was holding Hope right now, balancing Tommy’s one-year-old daughter on her knees, gently bouncing her up and down with a bright smile at the baby’s giggles that filled the air.

It was one of the many times the two had taken up babysitting their goddaughter, while Tommy and Maria got some much needed rest. But each time Hope was in their house—because that’s what it was now, their house, as she had hardly left it since that night in front of the fireplace when they had finally given into each other—Joel felt an ache in his chest.

That ache slowly grew into an unfamiliar longing, one that only deepened whenever the baby was balanced on her hip as she talked to the child, or rocked her to sleep in her arms.

Joel wasn’t an idiot. He knew how impractical it was, even with how happy they all were to have Hope in their lives.

He knew it wasn’t even something that she really wanted, or at least not the last time they had actually talked about it.

God, no, had been the words she sputtered when he had off-handedly asked her about it in Hope’s nursery a year before, long before they had fallen for each other as fully, as completely as they did.

But he knew how much their goddaughter meant to her, how much her natural instinct of a protector kicked in around the baby, much like his own.

And then there was that one night, when she had worn that lace that he still dreamed about, a memory that possessed his mind whenever they were apart. The way it laid against her skin, sticking to her cunt with her own release when she rode his thigh with a desperation that only became needier when he slipped his cock inside her, and words he’d never forget fell from her lips.

You’d like to put your baby in me, hm?

He’d nearly lost his goddamn mind when she said it, fucking into her with abandon, filthy words he’d never even dreamed of uttering to her streaming from his lips.

And she fucking loved it, begged for it, that pussy that he worshipped squeezing his cock tighter than he’d ever felt as she came from the promises he made of filling her up until it took.

So maybe…

No, Joel thought firmly, trying to cut off that line of thought before his mind could wander down it again, like it had every time they’d taken care of his brother’s child the past few months. He had to stop his brain from concocting an image that was far too sweet, too innocent and idealistic to ever be true.

But as she lifted Hope into the air, grinning up at the baby with a softness on her face he never saw with anybody else—he wondered.

He wondered how she would look with another child in her arms, a precious life made up of both of theirs. Maybe one with his strong nose, and her sharp eyes. Or his stern brow, and her striking hair.

Her hair that he so loved to admire night after night, along with every inch of her, his hands gently running over the body that had become a home to him, while she drifted off to sleep under his familiar touch.

As his fingers skimmed across her chest and down to her stomach some nights, Joel imagined if by some bizarre twist of fate, after one of their heated moments of passion where they got carried away in him filling her up, that it did take.

He pictured the swell of her breasts as she lay naked in their bed; soft, tantalizing flesh that would only grow fuller. The same way her whole body would slowly change, her stomach rounder because of him, as she—

“Joel?”

Blinking rapidly, he was pulled sharply from his silly daydreams, shaking his head to bring himself back to the present and focus on the love of his life as she stood in front of him.

Her eyebrow was arched as she looked over him with a question in those piercing eyes. Hope was balanced on her hip, the baby’s fingers gripping onto her hair, and Joel’s breath caught in his throat. He keenly felt that ache of longing again as she gently removed the small, chubby fingers from her hair and held out the baby to him.

“Can you hold her for a bit?” she asked, and Joel accepted Hope into his arms without question, even though in the back of his mind he kept picturing how it would feel to pass that child from his imagination, the one with some unique mix of their features, between them. “Gotta pee.”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, mumbling an affirmative, “No problem.”

Still, she watched him for a moment longer, glancing over his face before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Your mind’s a mile away today,” she mumbled, pulling back to move away, but not before Joel could wrap his free arm around her waist. He brought her back in for a proper kiss, no matter how quick the peck on the lips was so she could run to the bathroom.

“My bad,” he said quietly, avoiding her gaze to look down at Hope, even as he felt the familiar intensity of being analyzed by his woman before she moved away.

“Let me see inside your head later,” she called over her shoulder, her voice only half-teasing as she moved towards the bathroom. “I wanna see what has my man so far from planet earth.”

Joel stiffened, holding his breath until he heard the bathroom door close, and only then did he exhale sharply, lifting one hand from where he had brought Hope securely against his chest to rub his thumb and forefinger across his eyes.

Fuck.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller drabble #joel x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #a stranger's heart series #cw pregnancy

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annwrites · 4 months ago

Text

⸻ you came back.

· pairing: harvey specter x ex-employee!reader · type: one-shot · summary: after disappearing from new york & harvey's life for a year, he discovers that you've suddenly returned during a chance-meeting at a bookstore where you now work. desperate to right his past wrongs, he agrees to have dinner with you in your apartment. & then the truth reveals itself & his heart is shattered all over again. · tags: mentions of rape. · word count: 9,104

"Excuse me, miss. Would you mind helping me? There's a biography I—"

You slowly turn.

You know that voice. Used to hear it every day.

You'd wondered once—when you could no longer recall the sound of it—if you would still recognize it if you ever ran into him again.

Even if you'd never intended to.

You should've known better.

He stares at you with wide eyes. Into your own, which he thought he'd never look into again. Would never see his reflection in those blooming irises again. Would never see himself as you do again.

And yet here you are, right in front of him, gazing up at him as if...as if you'd never even left.

"You came back," he whispers in disbelief.

You hold the novel you'd been ready to slide onto a high shelf tightly to your chest, your heart running away from you.

"Yes."

His hand rises from his side, hovering near your cheek. And then he cups it in his palm. "You're here."

You swallow nervously, unsure how to even respond. So you don't. "You were looking for a book?"

His brows furrow, hand dropping away. "That's it? You...you disappear for a goddamn year—more than—and that's all I get? No—no explanation, or—"

His voice is raised now, that vein near his temple throbbing in irritation.

"Please lower your voice. I'm at work."

He's left speechless then. He takes a step closer.

You lean your head back, looking up at him.

For how long?"

Your brows furrow. "What?"

"How long have you been back in New York?" He asks through gritted teeth.

You tuck a loose curl behind your ear. "About a month."

He stumbles back, laughing without humor, running his hand down his jaw as he nods. "A month. You've been in the city for a month and not once did you—" He shakes his head.

His eyes find their way back to you. "Do you have any idea the hell I went through after you just disappeared in the middle of the night? That next morning you don't show up to work, so I call. Your phone is disconnected. Email was defunct. After work I go to your apartment, only to find it empty, with not so much as a forwarding address left behind. I—" He stops, fuming, shoulders steadily rising and falling as he stares you down.

"I began to think...I actually wondered at one point if you were dead. No one had heard from you. You just dropped off the face of the goddamn Earth. Where the hell did you even go?"

"Alaska."

His jaw falls open slightly, his eyes searching your own, sure that you can't be serious.

"Alaska," he repeats back to you.

You nod gently.

"We have a fight, so you move across the country. What—did...did you seriously drive that entire way?"

It had nothing to do with the fight. It was due to a reason that was so much worse. You wish it had been due to that instead.

How many times had you blamed yourself? Told yourself that if you'd just never bothered asking him, after all those nights together, with him buried inside of you, 'what are we', then it never would've happened.

But you know now that it's no one's fault except one person's. But that individual is neither you nor him. Even if you'd believed so heavily at one time otherwise.

"Yes."

"Why the hell would you do something like that?"

"It gave me time to think."

He takes a step closer. "Why the hell are you being so short with me?"

You turn back around, finally putting the novel you'd been holding away, picking up another from your book cart, ignoring your shaking hands. "I have to get back to work now."

He stands there, continuing to stare at you.

How did you get here? The two of you? He used to...he used to know everything about you. Used to know every inch of you. Whether in the king-sized bed in his apartment, on a marble countertop, or his office desk—he did.

You still smell like warm cinnamon, though. That much has remained the same, at least.

Even if everything else is different now.

"You came back to work at a bookstore. Do they even have benefits?"

Why wouldn't you have came back to him instead?

"I have no interest in returning to office work and answering to lawyers again. I'm a different person now. I want different things."

"You mean you had no interest in returning to me."

You sigh, turning around, grabbing your cart and pushing past him. "I'm not interested in arguing, Harvey."

His heart jumps at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue.

Like when yours used to roll off of his between your soft thighs. Late at night. The city glittering outside those large glass windows as he held you close, tasting you while you cried out for him in pleasure.

He quickly grabs your elbow, turning you back to him. "I deserve an explanation."

You wrap your arms around yourself. "Do you truly need one?"

He looks at you incredulously. "How can you even ask that?"

You glance out the window, watching for a moment as people mill past, one entering the store—a small bell ringing up front to signal their arrival, welcoming them—and then drag your eyes back to the man in front of you.

"Tonight, then. Once everyone else has left the office."

"You can't tell me now?" He asks, arms flying out from his side in exasperation, hands then settling on his hips.

"You want an explanation, that's my stipulation for giving it."

His eyes flit between both of yours before he finally gives a small, terse nod. "Fine."

Harvey leans back in his seat, hands clasped in his lap—his jacket and tie forgotten atop his desk—as he waits patiently for you to explain yourself. To finally answer the mystery that is your whereabouts for the last year.

You study him for a moment, wondering how to even begin.

Going over this potential conversation for hours in your head after seeing him at the bookstore had been no help, as it now turns out.

You look out the window, at the neighboring skyscrapers, lights slowly turning off as people finally head home for the evening to their loved ones.

And then you look back to Harvey. "I need you to understand that what happened to me isn't your fault anymore than it is mine. That I'm okay now. It took a long time for me to be, but I am."

He just looks at you with knitted brows, wondering where this is going as he rests a bent elbow atop an arm of the chair, finger resting over his lips, thumb gripping his chin, while he remains silent.

"The night we fought...after you—" You want desperately to word this in a non-blaming way. "After you went home, I did, too. It was late, and there were no taxis around. So I told myself just to walk until I spotted one."

You swallow thickly, looking down to your hands. Even now they still tremble slightly. You hate him for still having such a hold over you.

"He came out of nowhere. I didn't see him. He grabbed me, drug me into an alley. He had a knife. Told me what would happen if I screamed. So I stayed quiet."

Everything is so silent you could hear a pin drop.

"He raped me."

Harvey's chin trembles.

"Twice. I just...let him. I was terrified. All I could think the entire time that he was inside of me was...this is how I'm going to die. Everything I ever wanted—meant to do—it's lost to me now. I'll die in this alley with this man's...him leaking out of me. And I'll be the girl on the news who was raped and murdered next to a dumpster. That's how I'll be remembered. That will have been the summation of my life: what he did to me."

You pull nervously at your fingers. "After he was finished, he left me lying there. Once I finally got myself home I wasn't—I wasn't thinking clearly. I took a shower, I threw up, I didn't sleep. First thing in the morning, I called a moving company. Told them I wanted movers to come in, box up all my things, and that i was going to Alaska. I'd always dreamt of seeing it. So I went."

You look at him again, your stomach sinking when you see the tears shimmering in his eyes, the wobbling of his lips.

"Now you know."

He rises suddenly. "I'm going to be sick."

He rushes out the glass door of his office and you give him a moment before following after him into the men's restroom.

You find him leaning over a sink, splashing cold water onto his face as he cries.

"Harvey," you say softly.

He quickly picks up a handful of folded paper towels and wipes his face dry before looking at you.

"Sweetheart, I—" His face crumples. "I'm so fucking sorry. This is all my goddamn fault."

You had wanted so dearly to avoid this. You knew he would put all of the blame upon himself.

He comes toward you, taking you into his arms, holding you to his chest as he cups the back of your head, his body shaking as he sobs into your hair.

"I'm so sorry."

You slide your hands up his back, quietly shooshing him. "It's no one's but his. I don't blame you. It's okay."

"It's not okay. I should've driven you home that night. Instead, I left here angry. Told you to find your own way home. When all you did was—was ask me what we were."

He begins to cry harder.

You remain quiet.

Finally, he pulls away slightly, pressing his forehead to yours, his hands resting against the small of your back. "You never told the police?"

"Like I said, I wasn't thinking clearly. I just...all I could think about was leaving. Going to Alaska. Nothing else mattered to me at that time but getting there."

He firmly presses his lips to your forehead, tears slipping from his eyes. "I want you to know I thought about you every day. That I missed you. That you were—you'd always been more to me than just sex. Losing you—this—is one of the greatest regrets of my life. One of my biggest mistakes. So many times I wished I had just told you how I felt. Had apologized for the shit I said that night instead of just leaving."

His eyes flutter closed. "Can you ever forgive me?"

He knows that even if you do, he never will. He deserves to live with this. All those panic attacks that'd overtaken him in your absence...he had deserved them and so much worse. He should've had a fucking heart attack instead. Maybe then he would've gotten his penance.

"There's nothing to forgive."

He knows he'll never agree.

“Hi.”

Your eyes close for just a moment as you take a deep breath before opening them again and turning around.

Harvey gives you a soft smile.

“I’m on lunch right now,” he states with a shrug, stepping closer.

“Oh.”

He keeps his shaking hands in his pockets as he continues.

“I wanted—” he pauses.

There’s no not-obvious way to word this.

He starts again. “I imagine the answer is yes, but I’m asking anyway: do you have a car yet?”

You nod. “I do. I bought it in Alaska. It’s not a Rolls Royce, but it gets me around.”

You smile. “I’m happy with it.”

Wanting to purchase you one now would’ve still been too little too late, he thinks.

He finally jumps into the deep end. “I’d like to take over paying for your rent.”

Your eyes flit between his, your stomach sinking as you just then notice the dark circles beneath them. “You look exhausted.”

You reach up, cupping his cheek and his eyes fluttered closed at your gentle touch that he’s missed so much.

“Did you…you didn’t sleep last night, did you?”

His eyes slowly open. “Work. New client. It’s a big case.”

You know he’s lying, but don’t push it.

“Thank you for the offer, but I can pay my own rent, Harvey.”

“Utilities, then.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “You don’t need to do this. I told you that you didn’t need to blame yourself. That I didn’t. You don’t have any reason to feel guilty.”

He glances away for a moment, thinking, shaking his head slightly before he returns to looking at you. “You can tell yourself—tell me—all you want that it’s not my fault, but it is. All of it. All it would’ve taken was one car ride and this would’ve been avoided. But just like always, I was being selfish. Thinking of one person. And I cost you everything because of it.”

He steps closer to you, removing his trembling hand from his pocket, clasping it around your upper arm gently. “Let me take you to dinner, then. Something. Please. I’m begging you.”

I have to do something. I’m drowning and you’re my only source of air. I’m so sorry.

Please.

Your lips slowly turn upwards into a small smile. “How about I make you dinner instead?”

His brows furrow. “I should be the one doing that for you.”

You shake your head. “You owe me nothing. You want to do something for me? Then let me do this.”

You’d always been this way. It was one of the reasons losing you had hit him so incredibly hard. You didn’t use him. Not for money or fine things. You didn’t care that he lived in an expensive high-rise apartment. Didn’t lust after his fancy suits. Didn’t care about his proud title of being the best closer in the city.

You just wanted his attention and time. You wanted him—saw him. Or, at least, had.

Finally, he nods. “If that’s really what you want.”

“It is.”

You stick a few beaded bookmarks into their display case, then a pack of fruit-shaped erasers next to them and Harvey just watches you all the while.

Somehow being here suits you. Surrounded by books and trinkets, soft jazz music playing overhead as people mingle silently about the shelves.

Working for someone like him was never going to be where you belonged. You had a heart that was far too honest and good and pure for a law firm—whether you were only serving as an office assistant or not—and loving.

He misses when it had once loved him.

But he’d chosen to throw that all away. And for what? ‘Freedom’? Freedom from what? To do what?

Continue having meaningless one-night stands with shallow women he barely even saw the faces of? Not that he had wanted to. Because the second he did—his erection was lost, along with the fantasy. They weren’t the girl he desperately needed them to be. They couldn’t fill the massive, gaping hole in his chest that your absence had left behind.

So he’d stopped.

Ten months it had been since he’d last been inside a woman. Ten months since he’d so much as wanted to be.

But standing next to you now… Looking you over, your soft curled hair, the satin bow you have tied at the back, your brown dress and tights with a pair of boots—you never had bothered with stilettos or heels in general—and smelling the sweet scent of cinnamon that clings to you—buying you a bottle of Chanel had just been a waste of money that one time, he now knew—he feels his body coming alive again.

And it’s such an incredible sensation after going without it so long. Without you.

Not that he has you back.

He’s unsure that he ever will. In any sense. But if there’s even a minuscule chance… He will do quite literally whatever it takes to win you back. Anything.

Losing you again just might kill him the next time. He’d been surprised more than once that his panic attacks hadn’t landed him in the hospital when he was gasping for breath as his heart squeezed with agonizing pain in his chest every time he looked at your empty desk. Every time he redialed a number that no longer existed, only to be greeted by that empty, robotic voice apologizing that you couldn’t be reached. He’d sent numerous emails to an address that only ever bounced back. But who else did he have to talk to with you being gone?

No one.

He had no one. And he’d made it that way.

All his fault.

Finally, he speaks. “Can I get your address? I doubt you’re at the same apartment as before, but—”

You turn around, finishing up with the mini-notebooks you’d just been seeing to putting away. “I’m not.”

He pulls out his phone and glances up to you, ready to begin typing, taking this in stride as a good first step at repairing what he’s broken.

You swipe the tomatoes you’d just finished dicing up on your cutting board into the pot atop your stove, glancing back to your tablet on the countertop.

“I can smell it from here. Hardly seems fair that you’re making one of my favorites for another man.”

You smile widely, shaking your head as you start on the green bell pepper next. “You say that about everything I make.”

He grins. “Because you’re such a good cook, baby.”

You stare at him for a moment. “One of us has to be.”

He points his finger toward the webcam. “Hey, I can make a really great bowl of microwavable ramen, as you well know.”

“Is that what you’re surviving off of out there?”

He shakes his head. “No. Crabs—sushi.”

“Oh yeah?” Your lip twitches. “Diving in to catch dinner between shifts for the rest of the crew?”

He studies you for a moment, his own lip twitching as well. “You know how I like it raw, baby.”

You burst into a fit of laughter then.

He smiles warmly, wishing desperately he was there to touch you—kiss you. “It’s so good to hear that. I’ve missed it. You have no idea how much I miss you.”

Your laughs slowly cease, your heart aching. “I do.”

You look back down to the pepper, cutting it into small pieces. “It’s been…difficult. Sleeping at night. Without you here to…to hold me.”

Your eyes flit back to the screen.

He doesn’t hesitate to ask it. “Do you need to come back?”

Your brows furrow. “I just got here—”

“Doesn’t matter. If you need to come back to Alaska, then you do what you did before: you get movers in there tomorrow morning and we get them to drive it all back. I’ll get you on a plane first thing so you can come home.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “It’s not about that. It’s just being apart from you. Which I still would be, even if I jumped on a plane—while living in darkness for the next month all alone—I can’t do that without you. Having you there was the only thing that got me through it last time.”

He nods. “I know. I just had to ask.”

You finish up with the pepper, adding it in next.

“I think it’s just that when I first got here—between settling in and finding a job—I was keeping myself busy. Now I have more time to think. Dwell…”

“On him?”

You glance to the screen, wondering which one he’s referring to. So you simply ask. “Which one do you mean?”

“Either. Both.”

“I know I’ll never see my rapist again. Or, rather, if I walked by him on the street, I obviously wouldn’t recognize him. It’s in the past now. I worked past it in therapy. You know how much I liked going to group,” you say with a shrug, and he nods with a smile.

He’d been grateful to the people you met there for helping pull you back from the edge. Liked that you enjoyed going and talking to and confiding in them so much.

You continue. “As for Harvey…I just hate that he’s going to have to live with it now. Like me. That all the time it took for me to no longer blame myself—he’s at that starting line.”

Charlies thinks how best for a moment to word it, but there’s really no other way to. “It’s not your job to absolve him of his guilt.”

You glance to him, mentally raising a brow at his tone. There was only one of you who had moved past heaping blame upon him.

“He couldn’t have known.”

He sighs, about to have a conversation the two of you have repeated time and again. “No, but he allowed a young woman to walk home alone late at night in New York. I don’t give a shit how angry he was—not that you asking for someone to love you back is something I can ever imagine being angry at you for. Nothing excuses it.”

He stops talking then, knowing he could go further—has in the past. To just throw you away like that… He can’t fathom it. Not now. Not with you being his entire life. But he’s never been the kind of man to take good things for granted, either.

“I could’ve gotten on my office phone and just called a cab instead of hoping to spot one from the street.”

He rests his arms atop the desk he’s seated at, softening.

“It’s one person’s fault,” he reminds you.

Even if he’ll always resent Harvey, even minimally—doesn’t matter that he has no idea what he so much as looks like—he will. Because he had hurt the girl he loves in such a terrible way.

You nod, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “I know.”

You sigh, grinning. “So, about your famous ramen—”

There’s a knock at the door then and you turn your head in that direction.

“He there?” Charlie asks.

You set your knife down, turning back to him. “Well, it’s either him or my boyfriend.”

“That’s it, I’m getting on a plane,” he replies with a playful smile.

You giggle.

“Alright, I’ll let you go. I need to soon myself anyway.”

You nod, ignoring the tears that sting your eyes as you force a smile. “Be careful. And…make sure you’re eating enough. And staying warm. And—”

“I am, baby. I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Because you don’t worry about me?”

He shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Another knock.

You sigh.

“I love you, sweetheart. Let me know how it goes tomorrow.”

“I will. I love you, too. More than anything.”

“Bye, baby.”

“Bye.”

Once he’s ended the video chat, you stare at your reflection in the black screen and your face crumples as you wrap your arms around yourself. You wonder if he ever does the same—falls apart for even just a moment after being forced to say goodbye yet again. Doing it dozens of times still has yet to make it any easier.

Finally, you take a deep breath, gathering yourself, and head for the front door.

“I brought wine. Hope that’s okay,” Harvey says, handing you the bottle.

You take it from him with a smile and a nod. “It is. Thank you. You really didn’t need to, though.”

You head back in the direction of the kitchen, retrieving a corkscrew from a drawer, and hand it to him.

“Would you mind? I need to stir the pasta.”

He shakes his head, taking it from you—his fingers brushing against yours—watching as you turn back toward the stove, doing a brief taste-test.

Once he’s opened the bottle, you nod toward the cabinet next to him. “Wine glasses are in there.”

He retrieves two, handing you one once he’s filled it enough for a sample.

“Tell me what you think.”

You take a small sip, nodding. “It’s good. I’m just glad it’s not white.”

He grins, leaning back against the counter, crossing his arms. “Yeah, well, I got a kick out of the look on your face the night I bought a five thousand dollar bottle of it to try and impress you, if nothing else.”

You add in a bit of Italian seasoning, placing the small bottle back on the spice rack. “I was just as happy to have a glass of ice water.”

He stares at the back of your beautiful head of hair with a soft smile. “I know.”

Harvey takes a chance to take a look around your apartment then, stepping into the living room that’s just behind the counter he’d been previously leaned back against.

It’s small, but cozy.

Warm.

Homey.

Like you.

To his right is the front door he’d just come through, directly in front of him your couch, a coffee table in front of it, a small entertainment center with a flat screen standing atop it pushed against the wall, bookshelves on either side of it.

Behind the couch are more shelves with floor-length windows in-between. Beside the entertainment center is the bathroom and beside it, your presumable bedroom.

Blankets, pillows, books, candles, plants, and adorable knick-knacks are very-much in abundance. Along with rugs here and there—paintings, and a quilt hanging on the wall that has patches of warm, neutral colors sewn together.

“You get this in Alaska?” He calls from the living room, taking a sip of his wine.

“Hm?”

“The quilt by your front door.”

“Oh! Yes, I did. There was a craft fair in town. I entered into a raffle for it and I won.”

You’d wanted it so badly that Charlie had joked that if you didn’t win it, he’d mug the person who did just to get it for you.

Harvey smirks. A craft fair. Sounds like you.

He returns to the kitchen then, admiring your small herb planters resting on the windowsill in front of the sink.

And then he studies the various magnets stuck to your fridge. One being that of the Empire State Building, which makes him smile.

And then his brows furrow, a cold feeling overtaking him as he slips a photo free from a magnet of the state of Alaska that holds it in-place.

A man with a short beard and short, messy blonde hair smiles at the camera—your arms wrapped around his neck as you place a firm kiss to his cheek—snow-capped mountains in the background, the sun shining in the distance.

“Who—who is this?” He asks, glancing to you.

You turn off the burner on the stove, glancing to him, then the photo he grips between his fingers. “Oh, that’s Charlie. My fiance.”

His heart squeezes painfully, and he suddenly feels lightheaded.

“You’re getting married?” He asks with a tone of disbelief.

You keep your back turned to him as you retrieves plates from the cabinet. “In a little over a month, when I go back to Alaska.”

He stumbles back, dropping the picture. He coughs, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, struggling to breathe.

He had thought he was past these.

The world begins to move in slow motion, his body feeling disconnected from his mind—heart jumping and beating unevenly in his chest. His hands begin to tremble as his throat tightens and constricts.

He rushes toward the bathroom, ignoring as you call for him in concern as he slams the door behind him, doubling over the sink before his legs give out and he falls to the floor—knocking something over.

“Harvey!” you call from outside the bathroom with a panicked tone.

You knock a few times in rapid succession while he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to count backwards from ten—desperate to breathe.

You finally open the door and your eyes widen in fear at the sight of him doubled over, a hand clutching his chest as he takes in wheezing breaths.

You drop to your knees in front of him, taking his face firmly between your hands as your eyes flit between his—wide and frightened. “What do I—oh God, should—do I need to call an ambulance? Are—are you having a heart attack?!”

He swiftly takes one of your hands in his, squeezing hard. “Panic—”

You shake your head, desperate to understand. “Are—a panic attack?”

He nods repeatedly.

You seat yourself next to him. “What do I do? Are you supposed to take something for it? Is it in your pocket? I don’t—”

He suddenly wraps his arms around you then, pulling you toward him, burying his face between your breasts, closing his eyes as he begins trying to count again while he breathes in your comforting scent.

You suddenly quiet, reaching up and wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders while you run the fingers of your other shaking hand through his hair.

You have half-a-mind to start singing him a nursery rhyme, having no idea what else to do—desperate to help—but eventually decide against it.

Finally, his breathing steadies, his body loosens, and he’s left feeling utterly drained as his heart returns to a normal rhythm at last.

He doesn’t let go of you, however.

“You’re leaving,” he mumbles, cheek resting against the plane between your soft breasts while he listens to your heart for comfort.

You caress his head in your hands. “In a month, yes.”

He tightens his arms around your body. As if holding you now will prevent you from leaving again later.

“Why come back in the first place just to leave again? And so soon? Especially if you have…him there waiting for you?”

“Did you know it’s essentially night in Alaska for two months? Every year?”

He shrugs. “I think I heard that once.”

He closes his eyes.

“The only thing that got me through that darkness last time was Charlie. I think I would’ve had an easier time about it if—” You stop.

“If you hadn’t been running from what happened to you here,” he finishes.

You swallow, nodding. “He’s working on an off-shore oil rig right now. I just…the thought of going through those two months all alone—sixty days—I couldn’t. So we talked about it. I know New York is a long ways away. But I came here for two reasons. One, it’s familiar. So there was comfort there. Two, to face my fears. Which was—is—simultaneously uncomfortable, but…it’s something I needed to do for myself.”

“So what are you going to do when you go back and in another ten months it gets dark again?”

“Once I get back, we get married, and then we’re moving out west. To Wyoming. And then we’ll start our new life together.”

He feels his heart stutter again.

“I thought—” He stops, opening his eyes again, ignoring the tears that cause them to sting. “I thought you’d come back for good.”

He pulls back, looking at you. “I guess that’s why you didn’t try to reach out to me. That, and the fact that I only serve as a reminder.”

You shake your head, taking his face between your hands. “You’re not.”

“Then explain it to me. Because had I not walked into that bookstore I never would’ve known. Would I?”

You release him then, settling your hands in your lap, crossing your legs. “You’d made it clear that last night that we were done. So I moved on. I saw no reason to try and get back in touch with you.”

He leans back against the tub.

“Did you not—” He stops, sighing, not wanting to make it about himself. “Somewhere along the way, you didn’t wonder what you suddenly up and disappearing would’ve left me to think?”

He looks at you then, watching as you stare down at your hands, fidgeting with your engagement ring that he’d failed to bother with noticing before.

Entitled.

That’s what he was for thinking you couldn’t have possibly moved on. For thinking that you still belonged, somehow, to him within your heart.

You shrug. “Honestly? I figured you would’ve gotten past it fairly quickly. Even at that, that you’d have my position filled before the end of the week.”

He turns toward you, resting an arm on the edge of the tub, shaking his head. “That’s how little you thought you meant to me?”

Your eyes meet his then. “Isn’t that what you said?”

He shuts his mouth, his eyes filling with sadness for you. For the destruction he wrought.

How many times has he claimed that he doesn’t get attached, when he knows otherwise? But it’s only when the other person dares ask for more that he finally lashes out. As if he’s not guilty of wanting it, too.

He’s just too much of a coward to allow himself to have it.

And now? Now it has lost him everything.

Again.

He slumps back.

“I don’t…remember you having panic attacks before,” you say quietly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “They started after you left.”

Your heart sinks. “Oh.”

He crosses his arms. “They got pretty bad. I was having them every day. Sometimes multiple times just in one. The day I collapsed in front of a client was the day I knew I had to finally get help. That they weren’t going away on their own.”

He could still remember it.

He’d been in a conference room, meeting with them, and a girl had walked past—from the back she had resembled you so closely—so he’d froze as he stared, mouth still hanging open from being mid-sentence. From her hair, to the way she was dressed—she’d even had the right build. And then she’d turned around to speak to someone and he’d seen her face.

And his body had gone cold all over, and then his knees gave out.

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”

He smirks, wryly. “My therapist tells me I have abandonment issues, apparently.”

Your face crumples. “I didn’t intend for my leaving to… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, Harvey.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing,” he says, settling one of his hands over yours.

“I’ll stop as soon as you do,” you say with a small smile.

He doesn’t return your humor.

You sigh then. “Would you still like to have dinner?”

His eyes flit to the doorway. “If I’m being honest, I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

He twines his fingers between yours.

You clear your throat awkwardly. “I could send you home with some tupperware?”

His head jerks back to you. “You want me to leave?”

Your brows furrow and you begin shaking your head. “No, of course not. I just meant when you are ready to go.”

There’s a beat of silence before he finally stands.

He offers you his hand. “I should at least try it, since you went through all the trouble to cook for me.”

The two of you remained fairly silent through dinner.

Harvey had eaten slowly, but he’d cleaned his plate, which had pleased you to see.

You’d told him about how beautiful Alaska is, and about some of the odd jobs you did there—waitressing, assisting at a small library, cleaning at a local rec center. And he’d told you about some of his recent cases.

It became quickly apparent that the two of you weren’t sure how to talk anymore. Not unless it was about the elephant—rather, elephants—in the room.

Harvey was chomping at the bit to discuss Charlie, but the thought of willingly asking about him—the man who had taken you from him…he’d refused.

So, he’d instead stared at you every chance he got—trying his utmost not to make it glaringly obvious, but being near you again made it near-impossible not to.

He smiled softly as you gushed about the serene nature of Alaska—the mountains, snow, and rivers, the animals and lakes. The small-town people, and how much you enjoyed the jobs you did and the small house you’d rented.

And then you’d brought up group therapy. And how much it had meant to you—helped you. How Charlie had been the one to encourage you to try it. And you were beyond thankful that he had.

Harvey had smiled and told you that he was happy for you—about all of it. But it only served as further proof of the things that still meant the most to you—not being material ones, that is.

He’d been so ignorant to think that money was ever going to be the thing which would make and keep you happy.

Even if that fact had only served to make him fall even harder for you as time went on. But it’d also made being with you all the more difficult—at times, at least. At other instances, it made it as easy as breathing.

In any other relationship, pleasing a woman was a simple task to accomplish by gifting her a box from Tiffany or a shopping bag from Saks—dinner and drinks at a high-end restaurant.

But every time he presented you with a bracelet of sterling silver, or a Swiss watch, or a new dress from Dolce and Gabbana, you’d give him a smile and a polite ‘thank you’, but the look in your eyes always said the same thing: What do I do with this? It’s not what I’m here for—you are; I want you. Can’t you see it yet?

You didn’t want a brand new diamond necklace. You preferred an antique locket—preferably with the photos still inside—from a flea market. You didn’t want skimpy lingerie that cost a few hundred dollars—a warm sweater from Target was enough to please you. You didn’t want thousand dollar dinners at bougie restaurants. You preferred Chinese takeout and a movie playing in the background as you curled into his side on the couch. You didn’t care about being driven around town in sports cars. You enjoyed walks in the park, with your arm wrapped around his, while you sprinkled seed for the birds and watched families playing with their children.

“Did you keep any of it?” He finally asks.

He wouldn’t blame you if you had set it all ablaze with a bottle of lighter fluid instead.

“Hm?”

“All the gifts I bought you.”

You set your fork down, settling your hands in your lap, looking down nervously.

Your body language alone serves as his answer.

“I donated it, actually.”

He doesn’t hate you for it. He’s not even surprised by it. You having a charitable heart wasn’t a new development.

He’d tried taking you shopping once uptown, and after showing you a three-thousand dollar dress he’d wished to see you try on, along with a pair of Jimmy Choos, you’d looked at the price tags and then at him—your smile quickly fading.

You’d merely asked him, as you placed it all back, for him to use that money to make a difference instead. So, the next morning, he’d called you into his office and made you watch as he wrote a check for the same amount to a local homeless shelter.

His heart had melted as he watched you fight back tears at the gesture.

He’d done it for you. Just to make you happy.

He hates the look of guilt on your face at your answer. So he decides to lighten the mood. “Even the lingerie?”

You grin and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“I did keep one thing.”

He raises a brow.

You stand, padding over to your record player and you retrieve an album and return to the table.

He smiles, nodding as he looks it over. His first gift to you.

“The thing you kept was the one thing I didn’t buy.”

He hands it back to you, but his grip stays strong as you go to grab it.

Your eyes meet his.

“Do you remember the night I gave it to you?”

You nod.

He stands, releasing it, and you quickly hug it to your chest.

“Do you want to do it again?” He asks, one hand sliding into his pocket, the other cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing against the apple of it.

You take a small step back, shaking your head—knowing that one thing had led to another that evening, and that you’ll never go down that road again.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

A beat of silence, and then he asks the question that's been gnawing at him all through dinner. "Does he know about us? What we had? Does he know I'm here right now?"

You nod, heading toward the kitchen. "We have no secrets between us. Honesty is something we both cherish and something we both agreed upon early-on. That we would tell each other everything. No matter how uncomfortable it may be. Being able to bare our souls to one another... We don't see a reason in being together if we can't."

He wonders what kind of man would allow you to be alone with someone like him after all he's done. All the pain he's caused. But even more than that: after the sort of relationship that'd carried on between the two of you before.

A better one, perhaps. One that doesn't make you promise that you belong only to him while he refuses to give you the same in return.

A man that trusts you wholly.

Harvey leans back against the counter to the right of you, watching as you finish with loading the dishwasher, wiping down the sink.

His heart pounds rapidly in his chest—so hard it hurts, his mouth dry, and stomach twisting with anxiety.

He shouldn’t say it. Shouldn’t even be thinking it.

There’s a lot he shouldn’t have.

He should be a better man than this, but he’d made a promise to himself, and he was nothing if not a man of his word.

“I want you to leave him and come back to me.”

Your spine stiffens.

Meanwhile, he ignores it and goes full-steam head.

“Marry me. We’ll go to the courthouse first thing in the morning—as soon as they open—and become husband and wife. I’ll buy you any diamond ring you like. I’ll throw you as big a wedding as you like. I’ll get you a brand new car—fresh off the lot. I’ll buy you any house you want—fully furnished—in any neighborhood you want. And if you want your job back at the firm, I’ll make it happen. With a raise. Better benefits. Whatever you wish. Just tell me, and I’ll do it. You won’t have to worry about another thing ever again if you just say yes. I’ll take care of you.”

He grows silent then, his underarms sweating, his body practically vibrating from nerves.

And then you reply quietly, and simply. “No.”

He refuses to accept that as your final answer.

“I know this seems sudden. But I made a promise to myself that if you ever came back I would fight like hell to keep you. To fix what I’d broken. I wouldn’t just let you go again without giving it everything I could to win you back.”

He steps over to you then, turning you around, cupping one side of your face in his hand while the other slides around your waist to hold you close. “I lost you once. I don’t intend to do it again. Next time…next time it might just finally kill me. I can’t live without you. I know that now. I learned from my mistakes. Just—come back to me. Please.”

“Charlie is my home,” you say quietly, tears shimmering in your eyes.

His own flit between yours. “Is he willing to give you everything I just offered? Can he give you the kind of life that I can?”

You press your hands to his chest, but he refuses to loosen his hold.

“He’s not buying me a house, Harvey. He’s going to build us one—our dream home. He isn’t purchasing me some flashy diamond ring. He’s giving me his mother’s. And he’s not trying to bribe me back into a relationship with the offer of an empty, unfulfilling job. He’s going to provide me a life where I can stay home and care for our children while he takes care of the rest. And his proposal wasn’t an attempt at rectifying some mistake of previously taking me for granted. He proposed because he knew early-on that he couldn’t imagine going back to living a life without me in it.”

He swallows thickly, his throat bobbing.

“After all this time you still don’t see me. Don’t understand me.”

He shakes his head, his eyes searching your own, wanting elaboration.

“You still think that money will solve all of your problems when that was never what I cared about. Harvey, you had me. I gave you my heart, but you threw it away, because all you wanted me for was my body. It took me driving over four thousand miles away to see things clearly. But I finally did. You treated me like some…some call girl—some prostitute—instead of with respect. You made me feel disposable. But I put up with it because I thought if I held on tight enough, and for long enough, you’d eventually love me back. Even now you’re willing to ruin another man’s life, so long as it gets you what you want. It has nothing to do with me.”

“That is bullshit,” he spits. “It has everything to do with you and you know it. You really think I’d ever make these kinds of offers to another woman? You’re what I want. Baby,” he leans in closer to you. “I’m sorry, alright?”

Tears fill his eyes. “I’m sorry for what I did. That I broke your heart. That I destroyed your life. But mine was left in shambles, too, the day you left. I can’t take losing you twice.”

You shake your head. “You don’t get to try and guilt-trip me into a marriage with someone I don’t want to be with anymore.”

He flinches.

“The truth is that you and I would’ve never worked out in the long run. We want different things. We’re too different. Charlie doesn’t buy what other men make. He does it himself with his own two hands. He’s not materialistic. He’s sentimental like me—he finds joy in the little things and the quiet moments. And he’s not ashamed to let other people in—to be vulnerable. If he had been…”

You sniffle. “I don’t know if I’d even be alive right now if it weren’t for him. He came into my life when I desperately needed someone and I fell for him instantly, despite being terrified. Of everything. He saw me. And I tried to pull away. I can’t tell you how many times I did. But he knew why. And he refused to go. He held on tight with everything he had because he knew from the first day he set eyes on me that…that I was what he wanted. Who. That we’re meant to be together.”

Harvey’s chin wobbles as he rapidly grasps for something—anything—to say to still turn this around.

He stares down at you. “Tell me you don’t feel anything for me, then. That you don’t still love me.”

You grow quiet for a moment, a tear slipping down your cheek, which he gently brushes away with the pad of his thumb.

“A part of me may always love you, Harvey. But I’m not in love with you. Not anymore.”

His brows furrow. “What’s the goddamn difference?”

“Loving you means hoping that you find what I have. Being in love with you, means hoping it’s with me. And I don’t.”

He lets out a small sob, his heart breaking in two.

“Charlie is my home” you repeat. “I don’t…expect you to understand what that feels like—”

“I know exactly what it feels like,” he says, cutting you short. “Now imagine losing that suddenly and without warning. What kind of hell do you think that would put you through?”

“I didn’t make that decision. You chose to let go. I offered you my love on a silver platter and you threw it back in my face. But in the end I’m glad you did. Even after what happened to me… I never believed before that everything happens for a reason like so many say. I just saw life as a series of random choices we’re all forced to make every day. There’s no rhyme or reason to any of it. It’s just the way things are. But when I met him that changed. We were meant to find each other.”

Finally he says the only thing he has left to try and pull you back.

“But I love you.”

Your lip trembles. “I love him. With everything I have. My heart, my mind, my body, my soul. I gave him everything I can because I want him to have it. Because I trust him to hold those things in the palms of his hands. Because with him, they all have value. With him I feel like I do. I never felt that with you. With you I just…settled.”

The two of you stand there, staring at one another, him wracking his mind with something else to offer.

“I’ll move to Wyoming and open my own firm, then.”

You glance away, shaking your head.

“I’ll…I’ll build you a house. I’ll figure out how. And you can be a housewife if that’s really what you want—”

You pull away from him. “Stop.”

“I can’t. I let go once and it destroyed both of us. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Your wants are not the only things that matter.”

He grows angry. But not with you. Himself.

He knows it’s over and done. Has been since that last night.

He hurt you. In such an unimaginable way. He wants you to repay it.

“You really think some rough neck that works on an oil rig is a better man than me?”

Your eyes fill with loathing then. You he can talk about. Charlie? No. That you won’t allow.

“So he has rough hands. As if that means anything—”

“It means everything to me.”

“He won’t be enough for you. You’ll get bored with playing Little House. And when you do—”

“Stop.”

“When you do—”

“I said stop it, Harvey. I know what you’re doing.”

He shuts his mouth.

Your anger quickly melts away into heartbreak. For him.

“We can’t do this to each other again. We can’t let our last words to each other be in anger. Twice. Haven’t you learned yet? Don’t you get tired of it? Punishing yourself?”

He looks away, crossing his arms, finally breaking as he begins to cry. “I fucking destroyed your life.”

His shoulders begin to shake as he sobs.

You come toward him, wrapping your arms around him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pulling you into him.

“I’m so goddamn sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

You choke back a sob. “Shh. It’s not your fault. I forgive you. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to live without you.”

“I know.”

“Please come back to me, I’ll do anything you say. I can fix it.”

The lump in your throat grows so large that you can’t form words over it, so you instead begin to cry with him.

Once you’ve both begun to quiet and calm, you break the silence. “You won’t feel like this forever, Harvey. I promise.”

You pull back just enough to take his face between your hands. “I thought I’d never make it out of that dark tunnel that swallowed me whole. But one day I found a glimmer of light at the end and I fought with everything I had to hold onto it. The pain of what happened to me will always be with me, but one day it was just…easier to bear. Especially when I found someone willing—wanting—to help me carry it.”

You press a kiss to his forehead. “One day you will find her: the woman you’re meant to be with. You just have to give yourself permission to be happy. Give her permission to make you as much. And you cherish what you build together.”

“What if I already did?” He asks, tears slipping down his cheeks.

You smile. “Sweetheart, we would’ve eventually made each other miserable. Because one of us would’ve had to settle so the other could get the life they wanted. I hate the city and you would’ve hated the country. I hate the idea of dedicating my life to a career, while yours is your life. You like flashy, expensive things, while I prefer second-hand finds that I can give another life to. You may’ve loved me, but you would’ve hated the life we had and vice-versa.”

He pulls you close to him again, cupping the back of your head. “I love you so much.”

More tears begin to slip down your cheeks. Nothing you say is going to—

“And it’s because I love you that I know I have to let you go. For your sake this time instead of mine.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You feel like home to me. But that’s the thing about home—is that it’s just that: a feeling. And in time…maybe I can find it again.”

You nod, smiling. “I think I might know a good place to start when you’re ready.”

You lean back, gently running your fingertips through the short, soft hairs just above his ear. “She knows everything about you. And she’s been waiting all this time. Get Donna back as your secretary. Tell her how much she means to you, and go from there. Don’t let her slip through your fingers again, or you’ll never forgive yourself. She’s the one, Harvey. I know it. Just like he is for me. You don’t even have to go looking, because she’s already right there in front of you. It’s not too late.”

His eyes study yours for just a moment, and then he nods.

“Thank you,” he starts. “For giving me a chance to do it right this time.”

“I think it’s part of why I came back. I just didn’t realize it until now. Being able to say goodbye the right way. Not with anger or heated words. I think this closure is something we both needed.”

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours, and you let him.

He kisses you.

And you kiss him back.

And then he whispers goodbye.

As do you.

And then he leaves.

And it’s with peace in his heart, which beats steadily in his chest.

#fic: suits (harvey specter x reader)#harvey specter x y/n #harvey specter x you #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter imagine #suits x reader

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mvth3r · 9 months ago

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daryl really likes your nail polish.

warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut under the cut!

cw: outdoor sex, sexual thoughts, jerking off

wc: 1534

daryl isn’t sure how he missed it.

he’d seen you just this morning after breakfast. you had asked him if he had time later for another lesson with the bow and he’d said yes before he could think himself out of it. it wasn’t like he ever told you no anyway, not unless it was really necessary and sometimes not even then.

the two of you had trekked through the woods outside the fence until you reached a clearing where daryl had left a couple of makeshift targets on the trees from your last lesson. you weren't very far, still in view of the watchtower, but the walkers didn’t tend to stray this way anyway.

you’d filled the silence with soft chatter, talking about the drama in block d and who was dating who and who was mad about it.

how drama could drum up in the apocalypse, daryl didn’t know, but he responded enough to keep you going, relishing in your pretty voice and attention.

he’d long since come to terms with his feelings towards you. he didn't have much choice with the way his eyes never seemed to stray far if you were in the room, and the fact that he returned from every run, even when shit got dicey, with something especially for you, whether you’d made a request or not.

bottom line, daryl paid attention to you, so he was confused as to how he’d missed this.

you hefted the crossbow up onto your shoulder like daryl taught you, adjusting your grip and looking down the sight.

your fingers, where they rested lightly on the trigger, were painted ruby red.

the light of the midday sun shone off the polish, and daryl stared, transfixed.

he’d never seen your nails painted, obviously because you were in the middle of a goddamn apocalypse. where did you even find nail polish? better yet, who brought it back for you? you hadn’t been on a run in a couple of weeks, and definitely not somewhere for you to grab polish.

daryl was so lost in thought that he missed your first shot, looking up instead at the sound of the arrow sinking into the tree.

“gettin’ better, girl,” he said, turning away from you to squint at the target.

you frowned, eyeing it as well, “i missed the target.”

daryl scoffed, “last time you missed the tree. ain’t gon’ be perfect overnight.”

you huffed a laugh and bent down to load another arrow. daryl watched the strain in your hands and face as you pulled the string back. you struggled with it every time, but he wouldn’t offer his help if you didn’t ask, he knew you better than that. he stare drifted to your hands again. you were pulling a lot of weight, and the veins in your hands were responding to it, swelling under the skin. it wasn’t a foreign image, but with your nails painted red, it was different. the contrast was erotic.

all at once, daryl’s thoughts changed.

he thought about your hands on him, his face, grasping his stubbled jaw and pulling him to meet your lips.

he thought about you on top of him, straddling his waist, your nails raking down his chest.

your fingers threading through his hair and urging him further into you while he licked up your messy cunt.

your hand covering your own mouth to muffle your cries as he thrust into you, your nails looking more black than red in the darkness of the cell.

your hand wrapping around his hard cock and tugging, the red of your nails contrasting the firmness of your grip—

you stood, having successfully loaded the arrow, and daryl stared as a bead of sweat slipped down your neck and under the collar of your shirt. he wanted to trace it with his fingers, with his tongue.

you met his gaze with a small grin, either oblivious or purposefully ignoring the hunger in his gaze. he was grateful either way, “the string’s fuckin’ heavy.”

“mhm,” daryl grunted in agreement, watching as you raised the crossbow once again. his eyes tracked your fingers where they settled once again on the trigger. he bit back a groan when his cock twitched in response.

your next shot was better, but still didn’t hit the bull’s eye. it was inside the target circle, at least, and your eyes lit up. you pointed across the field and daryl followed you as if he hadn’t been looking.

“that’s good,” he said, staring more at the way the sun bounced off your nails more than the target. he didn’t care about that anymore, he wanted your hands grasping the base of his cock while you swallowed down the rest of him, “real good, girl.”

“thanks.” you chuckled, looking over at him and finally taking notice of his lack of attention, “what is it?”

you followed his gaze to your hands.

daryl glanced up at your eyes and back at your hands, “never seen your nails done.”

“oh!” your smile was sunny when you held up your hand for him to see, flipping it back and forth, “beth did them. maggie brought a bottle back for her the other day.”

“mm,” he grunted, still eyeing your hand, “‘s nice.”

“well thank you. the polish’ll probably chip off fast, but that’s alright,” you extended your other arm, holding the crossbow out to him, “you can have this back, my arms are killing me. want me to get the arrows?”

daryl grabbed the bow from your fingers, the fingers he wanted pressing on his tongue. he shook his head.

“i’ll grab ‘em, you head on back. i’ma go hunt, see if i can’t catch somethin’ ‘fore i lose the light,” he muttered, voice strained.

he angled his body away from you, hoping you couldn’t see where he was hard, straining in his pants over some fucking nail polish. he felt like a teenager, popping boners over a little exposed skin and a pretty smile.

you nodded and stooped to grab your bag before heading back the way you came, tossing a, “alright then, see you later!” over your shoulder.

daryl watched you go, crossbow gripped loosely in his hand before turning and stalking off in the opposite direction. he yanked the arrows out of the tree and kept on, walking until he was beyond the watchtower’s view and then some.

satisfied with the distance, he planted himself against a tree and, finding the area clear, he let the crossbow drop carefully to the ground, still within arm's reach. his fingers went immediately to his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper.

it wasn't the first time he had sought a little relief in the woods and it damn sure wouldn't be the last. he pulled himself out of the confines of his jeans with a hissed "fuck", so sensitive that the action made his head knock back again the tree with a muted thunk.

daryl wrapped a hand around his overheated flesh, groaning immediately and louder than he would have liked. he gave his cock a long stroke, pausing only to slide a thumb through the precum spilling out of the tip and smearing it around.

unbidden thoughts of you flooded his mind again.

your fingers undoing the clasp on your bra and sliding it off, exposing your bare chest to him.

your fingers spreading the lips of your pussy for him to see, both a tease and an invitation.

your desperate form, hands scrabbling at his shoulders as you rode out your orgasm.

daryl's strokes sped up, losing rhythm as he practically humped into his hand. he bit harshly at his lip to keep from making any noise, but they slipped out anyway, little whimpers and huffs escaping his mouth.

you swiping your fingers through the mess he had made of your pussy and raising them to your lips for a taste.

daryl's back arched off the tree when he came, spilling white all over his knuckles and onto the forest floor. his chest heaved as he came down, the aftershocks making his stomach tense and eyes flutter shut.

righting himself, he pulled his rag from his back pocket to clean up. finally tucked away and decent, daryl allowed himself a moment to lean heavily against the tree behind him.

his feelings for you had been manageable before, but this? this was something else entirely. he was fucked. he didn't even know how he was supposed to look you in the eye after this, but he couldn't avoid you either. that would be worse.

daryl's thoughtful silence was shattered by the crack of a twig near him and he whipped around, knife pulled from the sheath at his waist. he scanned the forest, seeing nothing, not even a walker.

he huffed, figuring that it was probably just a critter. grabbing his crossbow from the ground, daryl headed off deeper into the woods. he couldn't turn back up to the prison empty handed after all.

however, unbeknownst to daryl, you stood a few feet away, concealed behind a tree.

you'd followed him, heard him.. watched him. after picking up on his mood in the clearing you'd intended to ask him straight up how he felt about you, but you had your answer now.

your face flushed as you felt yourself dripping into your underwear. you turned on your heel to head back to the prison, taking care to keep your steps light lest daryl still be within earshot.

you'll ask him tomorrow.

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd imagine #fem reader #daryl dixon imagine

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pin-k-ink · 2 months ago

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COVET ⋆✦⋆ grimmjow jaegerjaquez ft. nnoitra gilga

synopsis ➸ grimmjow’s been secretly in love with you for ages. when you show up upset after a rough night with your new boyfriend, he’s ready to prove that not all affection has to hurt

tags ➸ friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, dub-con (from nnoitra… kinda), degradation (also from nnoitra), he is mean, dirty talk, asphyxiation, cheating(?), choking, mentions of bruises, body worship, pet names, nipple play, teasing, unprotected sex, praise kink, begging

wc ➸ 6.4k

Grimmjow tried his best to keep his expression neutral as you twisted this way and that in front of the vanity mirror, fussing with your hair. But it was getting harder by the second to mask the muscle twitching in his jaw or the way his fingers dug restlessly into the mattress beneath him.

You looked goddamn incredible as always - face flushed with excitement, those big eyes shining, glossy lips parted slightly as you scrutinized your reflection. The sight of you so dolled up and radiating pure joy over some asshole coming to sweep you off your feet again made Grimmjow's chest constrict painfully.

He hated it. Hated watching you put so much effort into chasing after these douchebags who couldn't possibly appreciate you properly. Not like he—

No. Grimmjow cut that dangerous line of thought off before it could fester into something uglier. You were his best friend, his whole world, and he refused to become that cliché "nice guy" who secretly resented you over unrequited feelings. Better to suffer in silence than risk poisoning what you had with bitter jealousy.

Still...the thought of Nnoitra's wandering hands all over you, his smug grin as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, made Grimmjow's stomach churn acidically. That prick didn't deserve to even look at someone as radiant and full of life as you, let alone take you out and try to charm his way past your clothes later.

"You about ready yet?" he found himself rumbling, partly to distract from his darkening thoughts. "Or did you wanna powerbomb your hair with a few more hours of fussing before your date rolls around?"

You shot him an exasperated look over one shoulder, rolling those big expressive eyes in his direction. "I want to look nice, okay? Is that a crime now in the kingdom of Grimm?"

He snorted at that, trying for an indifferent shrug and missing by a mile as you continued fidgeting with your appearance. Goddammit, you were so fucking beautiful when you got like this - all adorably insecure and earnest in your desires without realizing how breathtaking you looked already.

How many times had Grimmjow stood frozen on that same damn mattress over the years, watching as you attempted painstaking ritual after ritual in pursuit of some unattainable standard of perfection? Each time you'd twist and fuss, utterly oblivious to how every tiny adjustment made his mouth go dry and insides twist with the effort of staying silent.

Of course, you had no idea just how devastating your presence and effortless allure was to him these days. No clue that your best friend had been fighting an increasingly losing battle to keep things platonic despite the fact that you made his heart race and palms sweat like some lovestruck idiot.

"Hope this douche at least remembers to open doors and pull out chairs for you tonight," Grimmjow heard himself muttering, unable to help firing off another sardonic aside in hopes of grounding himself. "God forbid you have to waste breath reminding him how to be a basic respectful dipshit after so many dates."

You paused in the middle of smoothing an errant strand of silky hair, brow creasing in that adorable little wrinkle he loved so much. For a brief, dizzying moment Grimmjow wondered if you'd somehow developed telepathy and sussed out the bitter envy churning through his gut.

Then your bemused voice cut through the stifling tension knotting his shoulders as you replied:

"Someone sounds awfully salty for a guy who swore up and down he wasn't gonna give me any grief over Nnoitra."

Grimmjow winced inwardly at the piercing insight, tamping down the instinctive urge to look properly chastened. Sure, he'd promised to stay out of your dating choices this time around - go so far as supporting you even - but how the hell could he when you kept bringing home these undeserving pricks one after another?!

A bitter chuckle nearly escaped his chest at the thought. Like he had any room to judge your romantic entanglements when he was the biggest philandering asshole of all. Always leaving a trail of broken hearts and bruised egos in his wake wherever he went because none of those casual flings could ever truly satisfy the deep, gnawing ache in his core.

At the end of every sweaty, tangled night spent chasing fleeting pleasures, Grimmjow inevitably found his lust-hazed vision seeking out some glimmer of your essence reflected in whichever warm body writhed and gasped beneath his ravenous attentions. Maybe it was the way their hair splayed across the pillows in thick waves, so reminiscent of when you lounged about lazily on weekends snuggled up watching dumb movies. Or perhaps the smattering of freckles dotting their shoulder blades reminded him of the sun-kissed constellations spanning your back and shoulders from summers spent outside together.

No matter how petty or delusional it felt each time he found himself pathetically projecting pieces of you onto another nameless conquest, Grimmjow couldn't seem to stop himself from instinctively searching for those fleeting echoes. Because in those hoarded fragments, as superficial and masochistic as they may have been, he could almost pretend his restless, traitorous heart was finally sated for once.

Almost convince himself that the plush curves and silken skin bared so wantonly beneath him belonged to the one woman who simultaneously gave his life meaning while robbing him of all peace entirely.

Once or twice he'd even slipped so deeply into those maddening delusions that your name had spilled from his lips in a shuddering groan against heated flesh. Only to be jolted brutally back to harsh reality by the stricken revulsion twisting their expressions - punctuated by the harsh sting of an open palm leaving his cheek smarting in shameful reprisal.

So yeah...maybe Grimmjow had zero ground for casting aspersions on your romantic choices when he'd sunken to such utterly pathetic lows in his own debased pursuit of any scrap or temporary solace available. All because doing the right thing and simply letting you go to find happiness felt more agonizing than sacrificing what little soul and dignity he had left clutching at pale imitations.

Before he could wrangle the impulse into some sardonic retort designed to deflect, your thoughtful gaze shifted back to drinking in his sprawled form with that same unconscious appreciation. Grimmjow instinctively straightened under the intensity of your stare, electricity prickling down his nape and shoulders at the weight behind those warm, guileless eyes...

Then you beamed at him - just a soft, radiant smile that lit up your whole face - and Grimmjow felt his heart stutter in his chest all over again like it did every damn time you looked at him like that. Like he was the only person in the world who mattered in that suspended breath.

"You know you'll always be my best friend, right Grimm?" you said simply, voice brimming with sincere affection that robbed him of air entirely.

He blinked dumbly, mesmerized by the ethereal glow of pure sunshine radiating from your expression as you regarded him with that same open, vulnerable adoration he'd never quite grown accustomed to after all these years. Grimmjow felt himself leaning towards your orbit helplessly despite his best intentions, like a man dying of thirst finally stumbling upon an oasis after ages adrift.

"No matter who comes and goes, you're the one constant I can count on," you continued softly, ducking your chin a little with a tiny self-conscious tuck of hair behind your ear. "My truest partner in everything, y'know?"

Grimmjow's throat bobbed convulsively as he fought to swallow past the lump swelling there. God, how did you always manage to disarm him so completely with just a few hushed syllables and those big, earnest eyes of yours? He opened his mouth, desperate to return the sentiment somehow though any actual words failed him utterly in the wake of your sincerity bowling him over once more.

Then your smile widened into that brilliant, achingly familiar grin he'd somehow fallen deeper in love with every year you two spent practically glued at the hip. You rose from the vanity in one graceful, effortless movement and drifted over to plop down on the mattress beside him - movements radiating that wholesome, utterly pure aura of joy he cherished like a sacred flame amidst the world's cruelties.

Before Grimmjow could properly recalibrate his restraints, you leaned over to loop one slender arm around his shoulders and press the gentlest kiss against his cheek in a sweet, platonic embrace. His entire body went rigid, every muscle taut as his jaw clenched to stifle the growl threatening to rumble free as the ghost of your warm breath and plush lips seared themselves into his senses.

"Love you to the moon and back, you big grump," you whispered against the heated line of his jaw, completely oblivious to the smoldering inferno blazing behind his hooded stare now. "Even when you're being a stubborn jerk about me dating again."

The urge to turn and capture those honeyed words straight from your glistening mouth in a soulfire of a kiss nearly overpowered Grimmjow's faculties entirely. He could already envision the rapturous slide of claiming your velvet lips and sipping down those blissful sighs escaping around each searing caress.

Only the sudden, jarring chime of your phone vibrating across the nightstand jolted him back from that delirious precipice at last. You pulled away with a start, glancing towards the caller ID in clear dismay at the intrusion.

Then your expression shifted, lips curving into a bright, anticipatory grin as you registered who the incoming call was from. "Oh! That must be Nnoitra letting me know he's here!"

You bounced up from the mattress with a renewed burst of youthful energy, all but vibrating with poorly contained excitement. Grimmjow watched through his lashes as you hurried back over to the vanity, straightening your outfit and running deft fingers through your hair one final time.

"Don't wait up, okay?" you tossed over your shoulder with a wink that twisted the blade in his heart effortlessly. "Could be a late one depending how charming Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome is feeling tonight!"

A hollow chuckle punched past Grimmjow's defenses before he could bite it back. "When isn't that jackass on his A-game trying to sweep you off your feet?" he rasped out with far more bitterness than he'd intended.

You simply giggled at his sarcasm, utterly missing the jagged undercurrent fueling it as you whirled back towards him with that megawatt smile of yours.

"You know me, sucker for a pretty face and silver tongue, Grimm," you sighed dramatically, hands fluttering up to cradle your radiant features. "Just pray one day I learn some taste to go with this weak willpower!"

With that final teasing remark, you strode over and pressed another sweet, painfully chaste peck against his cheek that nearly unmade Grimmjow entirely.

"Love you, grump!" you murmured, breath fanning over his already flushed skin in deliciously intimate waves. "Don't wait up, but do lock up behind me if I'm not back before morning? You're the best, bye!"

Before he could unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, you bounded from the bedroom and out through the front hall in a whirlwind of perfumed vibrancy. Grimmjow remained upright on your bed, back rigid and fists clenched against his thighs so hard the knuckles strained white as bleached bone. The thunderous cadence of blood roared in his ears until finally...the front door clicked shut behind your whirlwind exit.

Then, and only then, did Grimmjow allow his forehead to sag forward into his upturned palms with a groan torn from the deepest hollows of his soul.

"Fuck..." he rasped out around the bitter ashes of loss coating his tongue once more. "Love you too...so goddamn much it hurts just to keep breathing without you here..."

He stayed that way for several suspended eternities until the furious pounding of his pulse ebbed enough for higher cognitive functions to trickle back hazily. But even as Grimmjow finally slumped backwards onto the rumpled bedding you'd occupied so recently, consuming your lingering warmth and scent like a dying man's oxygen, he knew the desolate ache hollowing out his core would persist until your inevitable return once more.

Just like it always did whenever you drifted from his side to chase empty dreams with these superficial pricks unworthy of so much as basking in your radiant light. But Grimmjow would stay, would continue craving and pining after you in aching silence rather than risk shattering your bond entirely.

Better to watch you pursue wholehearted fulfillment despite the endless, gnawing torment scoring fresh wounds into his battered soul with each breathless farewell. At least this way...he could still bask in your light and cherish the scraps of intimacy you allowed him rather than lose you completely to the howling void.

So he waited...and endured...and loved you with every faltering fragment of his shattered being until the next rapturous reunion finally granted him fleeting solace in your orbit once more.

The ride back to Nnoitra's place passed in a heated blur of wandering hands and heated make-out sessions whenever they hit a red light. You thrilled at the shiver of delicious anticipation lacing through your veins as his calloused palms roamed over your exposed thighs and up under your skirt teasingly.

A giddy thrill raced through your veins as Nnoitra's car pulled up to his place - a sleek, luxurious apartment building that practically oozed opulence. You'd had such an incredible night together filled with romantic candlelight, sumptuous food, and that dark undercurrent of heated tension you lived for.

Things were still relatively new between you both, having only progressed to intense bouts of heavy petting and dry-humping in the backseat of Nnoitra's car after dates so far. But tonight, after weeks of building tension, you sensed a shift in his usual aggressive yet restrained approach to pursuing you physically.

All the subtle hints radiated off him in smoldering waves from the moment he opened your door and pulled you flush against his powerful frame. The ravenous way his mouth never left your skin for longer than a few scorching inhales. How those large, rough fingers dug into the supple flesh of your hips and ass with undisguised possessiveness.

"Fuck you look so goddamn gorgeous tonight, babydoll," Nnoitra growled against the fevered hollow of your throat between molten kisses. "Been drivin' me crazy thinkin' about strippin' you outta that little number all evening..."

You shivered at his words, the blatant masculine lust saturating them sending heat zinging through your core deliciously. As he guided you backwards into his apartment with that same single-minded focus, you couldn't quite stifle the giddy thrill of anticipation mounting higher still.

This was it - the moment you'd been breathlessly awaiting ever since your first flirtatious exchange with Nnoitra and the undeniable spark of chemistry igniting between you. The night everything finally reached its crescendo and you both surrendered to the ravenous passion simmering for weeks on end. You were practically vibrating with pent-up need and arousal by the time the backs of your thighs hit the mattress and sent you toppling backwards into the rumpled bedding.

Nnoitra loomed above you like a conquering force of nature given human form - eyes glittering with unveiled hunger and those full lips curled in a predatory smirk you couldn't tear your stare away from despite your thundering pulse.

"Ready for the main event, princess?" he rumbled out in a tone dripping with dark promise that made your thighs clench involuntarily.

"God yes..." you breathed out in a throaty rasp, hands already tugging at the collar of his fitted shirt impatiently. "You have no idea how bad I've wanted—"

But the rest of your breathy declaration trailed off in a choked gasp as Nnoitra abruptly seized both your wrists in a bruising grip and pinned them over your head in one forceful sweeping motion. You struggled on instinct for one heart-pounding second before registering the white-hot heat of pure, undisguised possession blazing in his heavy-lidded stare.

"Not tonight you don't," he hissed out in a tone laced with something that set off warning bells in your hind-brain instantly. "Tonight that greedy fucking mouth and the rest of your hot little body are mine to do with as I please..."

You frowned, opening your mouth to protest the hostile phrasing dancing along your instinctive aversion, only for Nnoitra to silence you roughly with a bruising crush of his demanding lips. His free hand wasted no time delving between your trembling forms, shoving past your flimsy panties and underwear to grip your sex in a vicious squeeze that punched the breath from your lungs in a strangled keen.

"That's right, slut," he growled against your parted, gasping mouth as rough fingertips parted your folds with uncompromising insistence. "Make all the sweet little noises you want while I get that worthless pussy nice and sloppy for what's coming..."

The cruel, dehumanizing words landed like a physical blow, igniting a fresh blaze of panicked adrenaline that made you thrash against his restraining bulk in a desperate bid for space. But Nnoitra only chuckled darkly in evident relish, baring down with his full, unyielding weight in wordless reprimand while his calloused knuckles continued their ruthless ministrations between your thighs...

You barely registered the salt tracks of tears streaming down your face as you slowly extricated your quivering form out from beneath Nnoitra's dead weight on the mattress. You slid free of the tangled sheets and quickly pried open the drawer beside the bed to yank on the first clothes you could find despite your raw, aching skin howling in protest.

Hot tears stung your eyes as you allowed Nnoitra's parting sneers and contemptuous dismissal to rattle around your numb psyche. Stupid slut...pathetic cocktease with no follow-through...wasted his goddamn time like every other desperate whore...

Your entire body thrummed with secondhand humiliation and regret. How could you have been so blind, so utterly naive to think this vulgar, domineering man might harbor even the slightest consideration or care for your boundaries?

No...you knew better, deep down. Perhaps not the full, ugly extent of Nnoitra's penchant for degradation and savagery, but enough to sense the ugliness lurking beneath his veneers all the same. All this time you'd simply chosen willful blindness in hopes some idealized version of him might take root if only you persisted hard enough.

Only once you were fully redressed and upright again - legs trembling violently yet somehow still holding your weight - did you chance a furtive look back over your shoulder at the sprawled silhouette of your boyfriend.

He was utterly unconscious in the aftermath of his merciless savagery, the slow rise and fall of his chest barely perceptible in the dim light creeping through the blinds. You couldn't discern if the wet trails bisecting his sculpted features had been your tears or his own sweat dripping down, nor did you particularly care at this point. All that remained was the hollow ache throbbing through every inch of your ravaged body and psyche pulsing in a dull cadence.

"Shouldn't have pushed me so hard, you cheap-ass cumslut," Nnoitra's mumbled slur reached you from the darkness, chilling you anew. "Now look...totally fucking blew my load and wasted it because your needy ass couldn't relax and take your medicine like a good girl..."

Any further cruel taunts dissolved into thick, whistling snores as he succumbed to the heavy pull of slumber anew. You simply stood there amid the settling ashes of your last remaining illusions and shattered boundaries, struggling to cling to the final fraying threads holding you together at all.

Then Grimmjow's face swam into focus behind your eyelids - that rakish grin and those penetratingly sincere azure irises that shimmered with so much fierce loyalty and adoration whenever he beheld you. It was like a lighthouse piercing through the fog of your unraveling despair and guiding you back towards salvation at last.

Without further hesitation, you turned on your heel and fled from the blood-tinged battlefield of Nnoitra's apartment with the few remaining dignity-preserving scraps you had energy to salvage. Away from the desolate, mocking silence now suffocating the eerie stillness in your wake.

Grimmjow barely registered the muted drone of the TV flickering before him, gaze glazed and thoughts adrift as he idly channel surfed. Some old movie rerun flickered across the screen but he couldn't muster enough focus to follow the plot if his life depended on it. His mind was too preoccupied wondering just what fresh hell you might be enduring at that very moment with Nnoitra...

The sudden jarring trill of the doorbell made him jolt upright, frown creasing his features as he glanced towards the entryway in confusion. Grimmjow definitely wasn't expecting company this late. Unless...

His pulse kicked up a traitor's cadence as he rose and padded towards the front door, something like grim anticipation weighing in his gut. Sure enough, one sweeping glance through the peephole revealed your familiar silhouette hunched on the front steps in the dim glow of the porch light.

Steeling himself for whatever emotional turbulence awaited, Grimmjow undid the locks and tugged the door open carefully. The sight that greeted him stole what little breath remained, bitter resignation curdling through his veins like acid.

"Hey Grimm..." you rasped out in a voice utterly devoid of your usual sunshine and warmth.

Then you lifted your bowed head just enough to reveal the fresh bruising purpling along your throat, the swollen split in your lower lip, and more incriminating evidence scattered across your ravaged features...and something inside Grimmjow simply cracked irreparably.

"[Y/N]..." he croaked out numbly, body moving on horrified instinct to surge forward and gather your trembling form against his chest in a crushing embrace. "What did that son of a bitch do to you..."

At his impassioned whisper, the dam finally broke and you dissolved into wretched, hiccuping sobs against his heaving chest. Grimmjow could only clutch you tighter, teeth grinding in sheer impotent fury as the warm trails of your anguish streaked over his skin in scorching brands far worse than any physical wound.

That worthless pile of shit Nnoitra had HURT you - harmed you in ways that made Grimmjow's most merciless nightmares seem trite by comparison. His eyes squeezed shut as you continued keening into the hollow of his throat wordlessly, entire frame practically vibrating with the force of your raw devastation laid finally bare.

Grimmjow had witnessed you mourn other breakups over the years, yes. But never in such undiluted, soul-searing fashion as this. It was as if the very essence of your brilliant spark - that endless fount of effortless joy and resilience he'd cherished for so long - had finally been scoured out through unimaginable torment until only the bitter, haunted ashes remained in its wake.

A snarl began building in his chest, low and guttural until it threatened to burst free in an incandescent blaze. Every simmering thread of restraint Grimmjow had worn like shackles holding back the urges to simply seize and ravage you as he so desperately craved came apart like smoke dissolving on the wind. The need to find Nnoitra and utterly annihilate him down to his very core suddenly blazed with the intensity of a dying star finally going supernova in one apocalyptic conflagration.

But just as Grimmjow began turning towards hunting his prey down no matter the consequences, your quavering rasp reached his ears and paralyzed him in his tracks.

"Don't..." you whispered in a broken cadence against his thundering pulse, hands feebly clutching his shirt with the last vapors of strength. "Please Grimm...I just want to be done...to stop hurting for a while and just...rest here with you..."

And just like that, all the smoldering bloodlust and wrath simply evaporated, leaving Grimmjow feeling utterly deflated as he turned back to gather you closer. You wound enfeebled arms around his midsection, clinging to his hulking frame with unconcealed desperation as he simply swayed in place, murmuring wordless reassurance against your disheveled hair.

How many times had he wished to declare his love in that heated silence, to reveal the aching depths of devotion roiling in his chest for years? Too many to ever recount as the seconds stretched into eternities under the leaden weight of your private anguish exsanguinating against him...

But somehow, in that suspended purgatory, Grimmjow also felt the stirrings of hope threatening to bloom impossibly through the bitter soil of his longstanding resignation. As if your hollowed vulnerability offered an oasis out of the howling void you'd both been trapped in since the beginning...

He pulled back just enough for your bleary, bloodshot eyes to find his, one hand tenderly cupping the curve of your jaw where the first telltale bruise blossomed. Grimmjow studied your ravaged features with something approaching reverence despite the wounds etched there.

To think your radiance had finally broken and started to cool towards ashen despondence...the reality sliced deeper than any physical torment. Yet also revealed an untold strength residing in those battered depths that threatened to rob Grimmjow of his composure entirely in a different way. He thumbed over your split lower lip with trembling care, utterly transfixed by every hitched breath shuddering through your lungs.

Unable to resist the swirling undertow any longer, Grimmjow surged forward and captured your parted lips in a searing, infinitely tender glide. The contact was barely there at first - a mere whisper of reverence and restrained longing scorching his senses. But then you whimpered softly against his mouth, and like a drowning man gulping life-giving air, Grimmjow deepened the kiss with a rumbling groan.

You both seemed frozen for one suspended eternity, bodies locked in a molten clinch as his tongue traced the plush seam of your lips in unspoken entreaty. When you finally parted them with a shuddering sigh, Grimmjow felt something primal and ravenous unfurl in his gut with blinding intensity.

He cradled the nape of your neck with infinite care, angling your faces impossibly closer as his tongue delved past your lips to explore every slick, velvet crevice with aching leisure. Each sweep of his velvet muscle elicited the most blissful, broken little sounds punching free from your core that stoked the banked embers in Grimmjow's own into an insatiable blaze.

"Sweet girl..." he murmured against your swollen mouth between heated, indulgent kisses. "Let me take care of you properly this time..."

You keened softly in response, hands scrabbling up the firm musculature of his back and shoulders as if seeking purchase against the tidal wave of sensation threatening to bowl you both under entirely. Grimmjow could only growl in dark approval, trailing open-mouthed worship down the slender column of your throat while gathering you against his powerful frame.

With a leonine heave, he surged to his feet and carried you through the living room without breaking his sensual cadence. Your thighs parted instinctively to bracket his hips like a lifeline, shaky gasps ghosting over his fevered skin with each lush undulation of your tangled forms.

"That's it..." Grimmjow husked out in a rumbling purr laced with sinful promise. "Stay right here with me, let me show you how good it feels to be handled right..."

By the time he lowered you reverently onto the rumpled sheets and covered your pliant body with his own, the weight of unrequited yearning and hunger etched in every etched ridge and hollow had reached a fever pitch. Yet despite the unmistakable claiming energy thrumming through each vein and sinew, Grimmjow retained an unhurried, almost meditative pace as he worked to rid you of your clothes.

Hands roamed and mapped every lush curve and quivering hollow, thumbs skating over feverish skin with aching tenderness even as he blazed a path of devouring kisses along the slopes of your breasts. You arched into him helplessly, lost to the sublime rapture of touch and being so thoroughly adored by someone who saw your radiant essence unveiled before anything else.

Your legs fell open wider as Grimmjow settled firmly between your splayed thighs, the firm swell of his cock straining his boxers against your molten core. Your hips canted upwards to grind against the welcome friction, hands scrabbling up and down the flexing contours of his muscled torso with unrestrained wantonness.

"God, so fucking perfect for me, babygirl," Grimmjow groaned against the valley between your breasts, one hand delving lower to cup your soaked sex and thumb your swollen clit. "Never gonna let anyone mistreat you or take this precious pussy for granted again, sweetheart..."

Then his face dipped lower still, and all coherent thought fled your mind as his full, pouty lips closed over one aching nipple and began suckling in earnest. You whimpered and squirmed beneath him, the wet heat of his mouth and teasing scrape of his teeth driving you wild.

Grimmjow merely growled around the pert, glistening bud and switched to its neglected twin, alternating between long, slow laps and gentle nips. His calloused fingers continued their torturous dance around your dripping slit, sliding over your folds and circling your swollen clit in unhurried, dizzying spirals.

The air grew thick with your combined panting breaths and the sinful, slick sounds of his relentless ministrations. All the while, the insistent throb of his rigid shaft grinding against you in steady rhythm built the pressure of unbridled need higher and higher still until you were sure you'd be swallowed by the rising tide entirely.

"Please...Grimmjow, please I can't take it anymore!" you sobbed, hands fisting in his tousled cerulean locks and yanking. "I need you inside me, want you to fuck me and make it better, please..."

At your breathless, broken entreaty, Grimmjow's head reared up from your flushed chest with an almost feral snarl. The blistering heat radiating from his piercing cerulean gaze was enough to scald you to the bone, igniting the molten embers simmering through your veins anew.

"Fuck, I want to, baby…so goddamn much," he bit out, teeth gritted as he loomed over you with one forearm braced on the headboard. "But you've had enough rough treatment for a lifetime. Gonna be real sweet and thorough when I make you mine at last, gorgeous."

He dipped his head low and sealed his mouth over yours in another soul-searing kiss, tongues tangling and breath mingling. You felt the blunt, silky head of his cock nudging your drenched folds aside and gliding through your folds to graze your sensitive bundle of nerves. Then the fat, velvety tip began prodding at your entrance, and you were certain the delicious pressure might very well undo you before you'd even felt him sink fully inside you.

"Gonna take it real slow, babygirl, so just breathe for me, yeah?" he husked against your parted lips.

Grimmjow punctuated his gravelly command with a shallow roll of his hips, the thick, bulbous crown stretching your tender walls with agonizing tenderness. Your inner muscles clenched instinctively, the initial burn of intrusion giving way to the delicious fullness that promised so much more to come.

"Yes, fuck yes Grimmjow, keep going, don't stop..."

The raw, pleading notes of your voice only served to spur him on, and he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder with a hoarse curse. The powerful flex and coil of his sinewy form above you as he sank deeper inside you inch by aching inch was an utter thing of beauty.

Every twitch and clench of your walls drew out a different sound from his lips - a ragged gasp or breathy groan, or something more akin to a guttural snarl. The overwhelming intensity was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, and yet felt like the culmination of all the shared yearning and desire built up for so long.

When the rigid girth finally bottomed out, your legs hooked instinctively around his waist and you let out a keening cry, overwhelmed by the delicious pressure throbbing within. Grimmjow merely let out a shudder exhale, lips brushing your sweat-slicked brow and jaw.

"Fuck, you feel like pure heaven around my cock, princess," he groaned, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as his hips began a slow, deep thrust. "So goddamn good, never wanna leave this sweet pussy now that I've had a taste..."

His words sent a fresh thrill zipping down your spine, and your back arched up to meet the sinuous roll of his body in a languid counterpoint. Your fingers carded through the coarse azure strands tumbling around his handsome features, the sheer intensity of his adoring gaze searing into your soul and sending shivers through your writhing frame.

Grimmjow pressed impassioned kisses along the line of your jaw and collarbone, all the while murmuring soft words of praise and endearment. His tempo was a measured, unhurried glide that kept building the pressure within you to an excruciating fever pitch.

The heady friction of his velvet length massaging your inner walls in the most sinful way soon had you babbling incoherently. His name fell from your lips in broken, reverent litany as if invoking a sacred prayer - the only truth that mattered in that moment.

"H-Harder, Grimm...please..." you gasped, the coil in your belly drawing tighter and tighter with each exquisite slide.

"Uh-uh, babygirl, not this time," he rumbled back, one hand skimming over the smooth plane of your torso to cradle the crest of your hip with unflinching tenderness. "Wanna show you how good it feels when someone loves you like they're meant to..."

With those gravelly words, Grimmjow's pace slowed further still until each thrust was a languid, almost agonizing pull out followed by a torturous press in. His lips closed over yours in a drugging kiss, tongues gliding in unhurried, sinful caresses that only stoked the inferno of your mutual desire into an inextinguishable conflagration.

You keened helplessly, utterly at his mercy in the best possible way. With his strong, broad body braced above you and his unyielding cock filling you completely, the rest of the world fell away to insignificance. It was as if you'd finally found the home and shelter you'd sought so desperately in that shared, silent space - in the warmth of his arms and the searing heat of his touch.

Grimmjow broke the kiss suddenly, a deep shudder coursing through his powerful frame as he buried his face in the hollow of your throat with a ragged, drawn-out groan. You could feel the telltale flutter of his swollen member against your tender inner walls and knew his own release was near.

"Fuck, I-I'm close, sweet girl..."

His strained voice seemed to drag you out of the haze of ecstasy you'd been swept away on, and the sight of him above you nearly undid you completely.

His cerulean locks tumbled around his fevered expression in disheveled tendrils, eyes blazing with pure adoration and devotion and the strain of unyielding restraint holding back his climax. His arms quivered on either side of you, muscles rippling and bunching as he fought to maintain his torturous pace and draw out the bliss for just a little longer.

You wound your legs tighter around his lean waist, angling your hips up and letting out a high, breathless gasp as he sank impossibly deeper inside you. Grimmjow cursed darkly, teeth grazing the column of your throat and hands fisting the sheets until his knuckles blanched.

"I-I love you, [Y/N]...fuck, I love you so much," he groaned, voice cracking at the end and betraying the depth of his emotion. "Please say it back, let me hear it at least once, please..."

Your heart stuttered at his impassioned, whispered plea. The raw, naked longing etched on his features threatened to overwhelm you entirely. But in the end, there was no doubt left in your mind about what you needed to do, and no fear at the idea of exposing the tender, fragile parts of yourself in turn.

"I love you too, Grimmjow," you whispered back, hands reaching up to tenderly cup his cheeks and bring his feverish, desperate gaze back to yours. "You're the only one I've ever loved like this, and the only one I want, I promise."

And just like that, the leonine man above you seemed to collapse with a shuddering exhale, burying his face in the valley between your breasts as his powerful body went taut as a bowstring. A few more deep, hard thrusts and the pressure within you snapped, sending you both hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

Your back arched off the mattress, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling open on a choked sob as the first waves of pleasure crashed through your frame. Grimmjow's answering snarl and ragged exhale signaled his own release, the molten heat of his essence flooding your core and filling every inch of your quivering channel with his seed.

He continued rocking into you as you both rode out the last echoes of release, hips twitching and muscles shuddering with the aftershocks. Your legs fell bonelessly to the bed, thighs quivering and chest heaving as he rolled off you at last, his spent cock slipping free from your quivering sex with a lewd squelch.

He gathered you against him, one powerful arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against his firm, sinewy torso. The other stroked and smoothed over the sweat-slicked strands of hair clinging to your temples and forehead, fingers trailing tenderly over your features and pressing a reverent kiss to your parted lips.

"[Y/N]...my precious girl, don't know how I'll ever let you go," Grimmjow mumbled against your temple, nuzzling his cheek against the crown of your head. "You deserve so much better than what I have to offer, but I'm still not letting you leave. Never."

A fresh swell of emotion threatened to break loose, but this time, it was not borne of heartache or despair. You turned your face up to his, pressing a chaste kiss to his sculpted jaw and reveling in the possessive squeeze of his arms around you.

"Then I'm not going anywhere, Grimmjow."

He let out a satisfied rumble and nosed along the slope of your throat and jaw, pressing lazy kisses wherever he could reach. The soothing motion lulled you into a pleasant, boneless haze, the rhythmic rise and fall of his broad chest lulling you deeper into the depths of slumber.

The last thing you heard before slipping away was the soft, reverent whisper breathed against the crown of your head.

"Love you, [Y/N]...more than I ever thought was possible."

#bleach #bleach x reader #bleach smut #bleach x reader smut #bleach x you #grimmjow x reader smut #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow smut #troupe master grimm

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