#Had to show it off to everyone immediately

[ravn-87]

I spent 2 months getting to know a young man who works (and looooooves his job) with the Washington State mental health govt services and housing Dept as a case worker for the marginalized and homeless society and he's a wonderful personality to talk with.

The amount of perspective and insight this wise young man taught me about them I will never forget and the amount of compassion he truly felt towards them. I love what he taught me.

He told me "i went from going in wanting to save the world off of drugs, to realizing we can kill them if we do that, and now I see the why behind it and just want a roof over their heads. That's all that will make me happy."

Learning from the homeless and what's really happening with them is an extreme eye opener. He said they're the last people that need to be judged on this planet for how they cope for what they have to live with and some of them have no choice about the drug industry because their health cases are so medically extreme that the only form of medication that actually works are the drugs everyone looks down on them for, when it's not the high they're chasing, it's the mercy they bring from their health problems. It's the only real reprieve they can get, because RX's don't work.

After making good friends with a man from Brazil who is not homeless but lives in EXTREME unimaginable daily pain from a nerve disorder genetic defect he was born with who likewise has no choice but to rely on black-label narcotics to handle it, I believed him in everything he told me. He had soooo many stories from his Line of work.

As a person myself living with mentioned disorders that necessitates me immediate bathroom access on a whim, I appreciate ANYONE who fights for that accessibility.

And ANYONE who shows mercy and deep non judgemental compassion to the homeless.

Because at anytime, anyone of us can one day be one or both of the groups. Medical need and/or homeless.

Have mercy.

Live and help live. ❤️🌺🙏

Love local coffee shops. your “refugees are welcome here” sign goes really well with the one that says “bathrooms are for paying customers only”

[cherry-coffees]

Silk Ribbons and Captured Hearts

Caitlyn x girly girl!reader

cw: 2K words | no warnings, just Caitlyn and her lovely femme <3

-----------------

Caitlyn is infatuated with you.

Your relationship with Caitlyn is somewhere on the line between acquaintances and friends, running in the same high circles. Your family, much like the Kirammans, is respected and known within Piltover. You've met Caitlyn on many occasions: galas, banquets, other fancy events your parents had dragged you to. 

Most of your time spent together had come from conversing casually at events, or during council meetings whenever you both had been waiting for your parents to finish their work. You’re a few years younger than Caitlyn, so she had offered to help you with any work you had been doing at Piltover Academy. You were a good student as well, matching her intellect. Caitlyn, despite trying to focus on your homework, would find her gaze drawn to you. Watching your eyes light up whenever you talked about something you were interested in, a small, unconscious smile gracing your lips, had easily captivated her.

That was when you were both younger, though. Now, she can't help but take notice of the beautiful woman you had become. All short skirts and fitted tops, sundresses and carefully chosen accessories, you’re like a warm sunbeam that Caitlyn can’t draw her eyes away from. 

It all starts with Caitlyn going shopping in the main streets of Piltover, and she steps into a local boutique filled with cute clothes and handmade jewelry. It's not really her style, but her eyes catch on a stand filled with silk ribbon, and it reminds her of the ribbons you occasionally wear in your hair. And oh, you'd just look so pretty in that shade of purple and-

She leaves with three of them.

A few days later, you’re at a statue unveiling of some old general in Piltover’s army, and Caitlyn sees you again. And fuck you just look so pretty in your white maxi skirt and cropped tank that shows off just a hint of midriff, and Caitlyn can’t stop staring. She finally gets herself together, glancing down at the lavender silk ribbon in her hand. Should she give it to you now? Should she wait? What if you didn’t like it? Worse, what if you don’t like her even after figuring out she’s smitten with you?

Caitlyn immediately clams up, deciding it’s better to give it to you anonymously. She darts off to the area where everyone’s bags and coats are under the guise of finding something she had forgotten in her bag. Once there, she grabs a notepad from her own bag and writes a note:

I thought this would look lovely on you. 

Yours,

Anonymous 

After attaching it to the ribbon and quietly slipping back into the crowd, Caitlyn can’t really focus on the ceremony. She tries, she really does, but the sound of your casual laughter in conversation unwillingly draws her attention. She also tries not to eye you when you politely make conversation with Caitlyn’s own parents, but, well, she’s long since given up on that one. Maybe she’ll have better self-control in the future.

______

Any thoughts of self-control die the moment you step into the coffee shop where Caitlyn is sitting with Jayce. Because you’re just so beautiful, wearing some lavender sundress and sandals and holy shit is that-?

Caitlyn’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the silky lavender ribbon in your hair — the one she had bought for you — tied around two pigtails hold your hair half-up. She can’t tear her eyes away, even as you step up to order and smile brightly at the barista. So much so that Jayce turns around to see what she’s looking at before turning back to her with a puzzled expression. “Uh, Cait? You good?”

She snaps her jaw shut, nodding tightly. “Yeah,” she lets her eyes linger on you for a second longer. “Everything’s perfectly fine.”

Jayce glances in your direction once again before a knowing smile dawns on his face. “Oh,” he turns back to Caitlyn, eyes smug and teasing. “You like-"

“Shut up,” Caitlyn hisses, glaring deeply at him, half because she doesn’t want you to overhear this and half because she doesn’t want Jayce to have another thing to hold over her. 

Jayce just raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of tea as if waiting for her to explain.

Caitlyn just sighs, glancing down at her own pristine teacup. “I- how can I not?” She mumbles, glancing at you. “She’s, well…perfect.”

________

And because you just had to go and look so ridiculously, effortlessly, beyond gorgeous in the lavender ribbon, of course Caitlyn has to go and buy five other colors. Because who is Caitlyn if not willing to spend her seemingly endless amounts of money on the little things her love crush likes. A tiny part of her also preens at seeing you so happy to wear something she gave you, as if she’s subtly showing everyone that you’re hers. But she’d never admit to that, of course.

And every time she manages to slip you a ribbon, she leaves another tiny note.

These suit you so much, I thought it would be a shame not to have more.

I think this color will look so nice with your hair.

Please take these ribbons as my way of telling you how beautiful you are.

Your ribbon collection continues to build: baby pink, forest green, crimson red, the lightest grey that reminds you of clouds on a cozy winter morning. You smile every time you find a new one in your bag, keeping the notes safely tucked away in a small box in your closet. You read them from time to time, gently tracing a finger over the words as if you can feel the affection they convey. 

Experimentally, with all this ribbon, you don’t confine it to just your hair. You tie it around your ankle, thinking it looks cute (Caitlyn agrees, smiles way too long when she sees it on you in passing). Then, around your wrists: a pair of bows. And when you show up at her house to drop off something from your family to the Kirammans, Caitlyn’s eyes go wide when she catches sight of the ribbon carefully tied around your upper thigh — just peeking out from the short skirt you’re wearing. 

Holy fucking shit is all Caitlyn manages to register in her mind. She doesn’t pay attention to whatever you’re talking about with her mother. She just pays attention to the gift she gave you, a symbol of her, tied around your thigh. She’s highly tempted to step forward and grab the end of it, untying it just to replace it with her hand and squeeze-

Pull yourself together.

And she does, barely. Manages to mumble out a few weak words as you depart, missing the smug smile that graces your features as you turn to leave. Misses the way you turn a little faster than necessary so your skirt spins and she gets another view of the ribbon wrapped around your thigh. You leave, Cassandra goes on with her business, and all is normal again.

You’re a strong presence in Caitlyn’s dreams that night.

______

And then one day, there’s a knock on Caitlyn’s office door, and she calls an official-sounding “come in” only for you to enter. Caitlyn stands up a little too quickly, clearing her throat and straightening her uniform. She moves out from behind her desk to face you. “This is- uh- a surprise,” Caitlyn murmurs, eyes flitting to the navy blue ribbon laced through your high ponytail, your hair half up. She’s sure she hasn’t bought you a navy ribbon yet.

“My father sent me to ask if the gala for your mother’s birthday next week will still be in your ballroom?” You ask, shifting nervously. It’s a simple question, one that you don’t really need an answer to.

Luckily, Caitlyn is too distracted to notice. She just blinks, forcing her mouth to move. “Um, right. Yes, it’s going to be held there.”

You nod, your eyes locked with her piercing blue ones. “Okay. Yeah. Sorry for the interruption, I just happened to be nearby and he, uh, wanted to know.”

Even still, Caitlyn only half registers your weak excuse. Her eyes narrow at the ribbon. It’s different than the silky ones she’s bought you: thinner and less shiny. So, instead of formulating one of her usual, sensible responses to you, she can’t help but let her curiosity spill out. “Your ribbon.”

“My-" you touch your hair lightly. “My ribbon?”

“Where is it from?” She asks, flatly. For the past weeks, the only ribbon you've been wearing has been the ones she's been giving you. Was this an old one of yours? Did you buy it recently? Or is it from someone else? Something in her chest tightens at the last idea.

She’s not prepared for the smile you flash her. “Well” you sigh, tilting your head a little as if the answer is obvious. “I thought that since my anonymous gifter keeps buying me ribbon, I should have one in her color.”

…

Wait.

It takes a second of blank staring before Caitlyn’s jaw drops. “You-" she stumbles in her wording — an extremely rare occasion she’s been taught to avoid. But all her composure is lost with you.

“Me,” your smile holds a hint of satisfaction that Caitlyn kind of just wants to scream at. Or kiss off your face. Either one.

“You knew?!” Her tone is incredulous, like she’s been so secretive that she can’t conceive how you found out she was the one gifting you these ribbons. “How?!”

“First of all, I know your handwriting. Remember how you gave me corrections on my schoolwork when we were younger and our parents had council meetings?”

“I-" Caitlyn stutters, a hue of pink dusting her cheeks. 

“And second,” you continue, not quite done. “You haven’t been very subtle about it. You seem to forget something in your bag at every event we’re at together, and then the ribbon happens to appear in mine after you come back.”

Caitlyn’s quiet for a few moments. “Oh.”

You smile. "Yeah, oh."

Caitlyn's blue eyes meet your own, devoid of her usual composure to show her slight nerves. "So...?" her voice is almost anxious.

"So," you repeat, gently reaching up to touch the navy ribbon in your hair again. The one that perfectly matches her navy Enforcer's uniform she's wearing right now. "I wore this...for you."

Caitlyn takes a shaky breath, heart pounding. "Does that mean-?"

She's cut off by your soft lips against her own. Your kiss is gentle and chaste, just a peck, and she barely has enough time to process what's happening before you pull away. "I like you," you say, your smile turning shy.

Caitlyn blinks at you, dazed. She's normally always so in command, so in control of her every action — whether that's in her Enforcer duties or her sharpshooting competitions or just her life in general — but with you, all hope of control always seems to fade. 

She steps even closer to you, gently reaching out a hand to trail along your cheek. "I like you too," she murmurs, and this time, you fear you're the one that's losing your composure because her gaze looks so loving and tender that it makes your cheeks burn. 

And when Caitlyn kisses you again, deeper this time, you allow yourself to sigh against her lips. She kisses you as if you're something fragile, something to be treasured and cared for. And you know, in that moment, that she'll do anything for you.  That, if you asked for the moon, she'd personally find away to fly amongst the stars to take it for you. 

"Are you mine?" Caitlyn asks the second she pulls away with a gentle nip to your bottom lip that makes you shiver. 

"I always have been," you mumble, letting yourself bury your face in her shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks. 

And Caitlyn just smiles, her arms snaking around your waist to pull you against her chest. "That's all I could ever ask for, darling."

[crescenthistory]

carinaaa congratulations on 2k!!!🥹 could I pretty please request an 'argue' with 66 and 26 from list a and 8 from list c with our resident cassanova Remus Lupin <3

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 66 "half-finished crochet projects" and prompt 8 "i want to go home to my wife" with remus lupin

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: fem!reader, alcohol, drunk!remus, established relationship, idiots in love

wc: 902

There were many versions of Remus that you could fish out of various bottles of alcohol.

There was the philosopher you would find in a bottle of whiskey. There was the loud and outspoken boy you would find in a few shots of tequila. The limoncello giggler, the cocktail dancer, the vodka idiot.

Your all-time favourite, though, would selfishly always be wine drunk Remus – because there was nothing on his mind but you.

Wine drunk Remus was an enamoured Remus.

When Lily invited you all over for a relaxing wine night, you had been a bit giddier than perhaps normal and Remus just shook his head and smiled at you. After this many years together, he had to know what he was like when he had enough red wine, but he was kind enough to silently indulge you.

After spending 40 minutes in the kitchen, getting sidetracked by talking at length with Pandora about what type of incense was best for the various days of the week, you heard a slightly slurred voice that warmed your heart all too well.

“Where is dovey?” 

You lit up at the love smeared across every word he said, holding back a laugh at the petulant tone behind them that told you he was surely talking to James or Sirius – the only ones apart from you that he showed this side openly to. The lovestruck side. 

Everyone else saw it too, of course, but what Remus didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Pandora tapped the side of her nose knowingly. “I think somebody’s looking for you.”

Your laughter rumbled low in your chest as you handed her the bottle you had originally gone off to fetch together, kissing her cheek briefly in the passing. “I want to hear all about how the moonwater turns out!” you called over your shoulder as you exited the lovely kitchen, searching for your husband.

“She’s in the kitchen or something, Moons,” you heard James say in the same tone he often spoke to Harry in, sounding as if this was not his first time saying this. “She’ll be back soon.”

“I want to go home to my wife.”

You found Remus and James sitting on the plush chairs in the little seating area squeezed in between the living room and dining room – truly, Potter Manor was too large for their own good. Remus’ bottom lip was just slightly tutted out and you saw the mirth swirling in James’ eyes, skin wrinkling happily around them at the sight of his best friend having had one too many.

“Home to your wife? Am I not here, baby?” you asked, unable to hide the laughter coating your words. You came up from behind him to place your hand on his shoulder.

The speed at which Remus’ head seemed to whip around immediately made him dizzy, but his smile didn’t dim on account of it – on the contrary, it seemed to widen painfully as he took you in.

“Dove,” he breathed out happily, stretching his cracking limbs to pull you closer to where he was seated, pressing his face to your stomach. “You disappeared.” 

“I’m sorry lovely, I was just chatting away with Pandora and lost track of time. Didn’t know you were looking for me.”

You met James’ gaze, an unspoken understanding between your more sober selves as you let yourselves be thoroughly entertained by the sight before you. One of your hands held Remus closer as the other came up to card through his tousled hair, earning you an immediate sigh of contentment. 

“‘M always looking for you.” Remus buried his face further into you as he spoke with a decided slur.

Your body shook with laughter as you kept petting him carefully. “Did you want to go home? Perhaps it’s time to sleep a little.”

Remus propped his chin up on your stomach to stare up at you, eyebrows furrowed in question. His hands came up to cling to your hips, but you suspected it was partly a matter of balance. “Why would we sleep? We have so much to do.”

“Like what?” James was the one who spoke through a laugh this time and Remus seemed genuinely surprised he was still there.

“We have half-finished crochet projects to throw ourselves into!” Remus insisted. He looked back up at you, almost pouting again. “I wanted you to show me how to do the jasmine stitch again. I forgot. It’s so much easier to knit, but you make crochet seem so… beautiful.”

The way he trailed off at the end of his sentence made you think he forgot what he was going to say and concluded on beautiful simply because he was looking at you. It was ridiculous how content you were.

With kind fingers, you brushed over Remus’ cheek, heart warming as he nuzzled against your hand. “Okay, my love. We can crochet in bed together.”

James gave you a yeah sure look, flashing his teeth as he laughed, clearly not having any faith in Remus’ ability to stay awake for much longer. You rolled your eyes with a smile, despite being more than aware he was right.

“Come now,” you whispered to Remus, helping him up and out of his seat. “Let’s get you home to your wife.”

His responding grin told you that somewhere within him he knew he was being ridiculous – and that he was loving every second of it.

“Yes please."

[russo-woso]

Mine || UNC!Alessia Russo x reader

Request | Masterlist

Warning smut 18+, strap on, fingering, cunnilingus

Summary Alessia gets jealous when the captain of the football team flirts with you at a party

The dorm room was lively, the beat of the music surrounding you.

Everyone had at least one red cup in their hands which was ultimately filled with some kind of alcohol.

The room was stuffy, the air hot.

Your body was sweaty and hot, but despite it all, the smile on your face was no where near close to disappearing.

“There you are!” You cheered, spotting your girlfriend on the sofa in the corner of the room.

As you approached, Alessia pulled you onto her lap, her arms wrapping securely around your waist.

“Hi baby.” You smiled, the English girl kissing lightly at your exposed shoulders - the straps of your dress having slightly slipped down your shoulders.

“Your dress is too short.” Alessia mumbled, her wandering hands moving down to your thighs.

“Lessi…” you whined

“My girl, you look so gorgeous in the dress but I want to be the only one to see your—”

“—alessia!” You exclaimed, hitting her chest as you took the last sip of whatever was in your cup. “Come, let’s dance!”

“Babe… I’ll stay here and watch you. You can give me a personal show.” She suggested with a smirk

“Alessia, please.”

“Pretty girl, you know I don’t dance.”

“Fine.”

With a scowl, you turned in the opposite direction, getting lost in the crowd of college students.

“What’s with the frown?” You heard a voice say, the voice low and masculine.

“What do you want, James?” You asked, rolling your eyes as he stepped closer.

“Isn’t this weird? Every single time I come to a party, you’re also here. And every single time, we end up bumping into each other. I’d say it’s fate.” He said, that smug smile on his face.

James was the captain of the football team and with you being the lead of the cheer team, he assumed that you were meant to be together.

“James, every time this happens I tell you the same thing. I love Alessia, not you. Just get over me will you! Just leave me alone.” You told him, raising your voice slightly.

“Come on, babe, don’t be like that.” He smirked, resting a hand on your hips which you immediately tried to push off.

“She said to leave her alone.”

“And what are you going to do about it, Russo?” James spat back, his face full of disgust as he set eyes on Alessia.

Alessia’s jaw tightened as her face turned red with anger.

In one smooth action, her fist swung, hitting James’ face.

“We’re going.” Alessia said, grabbing your hand before turning towards the door.

“What the fuck, Russo!” James shouted, holding his nose which was almost certainly broken - the tip of it pointing in a complete opposite direction.

“Good luck playing tomorrow.” You smirked, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to play.

“Fuck you, Y/N.”

“You wish.”

—

The way back to Alessia’s dorm was quiet, a lingering tension between the two of you.

“Less, I didn’t want him to talk to me. I tried to get him to go away.” You said, eventually breaking the silence as you walked through the door.

“I know, baby girl. I just wish he could understand that you’re mine. Not his. You belong to me.” Alessia whispered the last few words, her lips inching closer and closer until there were millimetres between you two.

“I’m yours, lessi.”

Alessia leaned in, connecting your lips ravenously.

The brute force of the kiss was enough to push you against the wall.

You moaned as Alessia’s tongue grazed your top palette.

Her hands sat strongly against your waist, her nails digging into the dress that clung to your body.

Your mind was everywhere.

The whole situation with James, Alessia’s lips trailing down to your neck, the grip she had on you.

Your head span as you tried to focus on one thing.

The taste of beer on Alessia’s tongue was evident, but the taste of jealousy of was more evident.

You knew she was acting like this because she got jealous.

Alessia’s lips attacked your neck with purpose, her teeth digging into your skin before her tongue soothed the sting.

“Lessi…”

“Shh baby girl, let me show you that you belong to me.”

Your head fell back against the wall at her words - them clearly having an effect on you.

She reached for the hem of your dress, her fingers pulling at the fabric before pulling it above your head.

Her lips reattached themselves to your body, this time even lower.

“Jump.” Alessia muttered, catching you effortlessly as your legs wrapped round her waist.

She carried you to her bed, placing you down before crawling on top.

“God, you look so perfect beneath me.” She breathed out whilst her hand undid your bra.

Her tongue licked over your nipple - which hardened at the contact.

“Fuck, lessi.” You moaned, grabbing at the back of her neck.

“So beautiful.” She whispered, her thumbs sliding under the waistband of your panties.

“Less… please.”

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”

“I want you to fuck me, I want your tongue.” You told her, a smirk appearing on her face as she kissed at your inner thighs.

Slowly, she slid your panties down your legs, throwing them somewhere in the room - not caring where they land.

“Spread your legs for me, baby.” She said, you instantly obliging and spreading your legs wide for her. “Good girl.”

You whined at the compliment, Alessia smirking as you did.

“Such a pretty pussy. All mine.”

“All yours, lessi.”

She groaned at your comment, her tongue flattening against your pussy, pulling a moan from your mouth.

“He doesn’t get you like I do. He doesn’t get to taste you, he doesn’t get to touch you.” She mumbled against your pussy, sending vibrations rattling across your body.

Her tongue got to work, flicking at your clit before sucking harshly at it.

You bucked your hips into her mouth, pleasure coursing through your body.

“Fuck lessi - oh god - you’re making me feel so good.” You said in between moans, gripping at her hair.

Her hands gripped your thighs to stop you from moving.

“Stay still, pretty girl.” She warned, her thumbs rubbing absentmindedly over your thighs.

Alessia added more pressure onto your clit.

She was desperate to watch you cum - Watch you cum and know that it was her that had made you cum.

“I’m so close, lessi.”

“I know, love.” She rasped out, bringing her fingers to your dripping hole.

Her middle finger pushed into your entrance with ease.

She moved her finger in and out with the same purpose as she’d started with.

Adding a second finger, she decided to start sucking on your clit again.

Soon enough, she found your sweet spot, continuously hitting it with brute strength.

“Oh my god - ‘m gonna cum lessi. Oh fuck, alessia.”

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on my fingers.” The desperation in her voice was just as evident as it was in yours.

Your jaw dropped as you screamed her name, her fingers still pumping in and out of you to get you through your orgasm.

“Oh my god.” You muttered, your chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. “That was—”

“—I’m not done with you yet. You’re gonna take my dick like a good girl.” Alessia told you, grabbing the strap front her bedside table.

You’d recently started exploring within the bedroom with toys - the strap being by far your favourite for the both of you.

With expertise, she put the harness upon herself, the silicone in between her legs.

You blushed when you saw the strap on her - there was something about it that you found so unexplainably hot.

“Remember what we spoke about?” Alessia questioned as you nodded, your voice too shaky to speak.

“Words, baby girl.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Alessia started walking towards the bed again but instead walked towards her wardrobe.

“Put this on for me, love and get on your knees.” Alessia commanded, handing her football shirt to you.

Alessia loved seeing you in her clothes but even more her shirts with her name on your back.

You did as she said, her name now sat proudly on your back as you waited for her to fuck you into space.

“Fuck.” Alessia groaned, her hand now resting on your back whilst the other lined up the tip with your entrance.

You whined as she pushed the tip in, the stretch causing a light sting.

“A little bit more, gorgeous. Such a good girl taking my cock like this. You could never take anyone else’s dick, could you? Only mine.”

“Only yours, less.”

Your words triggered something in her mind and without a second thought she started pounding in and out you.

You grabbed at the duvet cover as she thrusted in and out.

You let out a cry when the strap hit that particular spot.

Your moans were muffled due to head being buried in the bed.

“You look so fucking perfect, baby girl. Being such a good girl for me.” Alessia praised, her hands gripping your hips as she pulled you back and forth onto her cock.

“Oh my god. Fuck — Less, please don’t stop, baby. You feel so fucking good. Please don’t stop.” You babbled as the strap repeatedly hit your sweet spot.

“I won’t, pretty girl.”

Alessia continued to pound into you, her hands now moving to massage your ass.

A loud smack was heard as a bright red male appeared on your ass and despite the pain, all you could think about was the pleasure.

“Less… I’m so fucking close. Please let me cum.”

“Tell me you’re mine and then you can cum.”

“I’m yours, lessi. I’m all yours.” You cried out as Alessia lifted her leg onto the bed, thrusting even harder into you.

“Cum for me, baby girl. Cum on my dick.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, your whole body shaking as you collapsed onto the bed.

Alessia rubbed your back as she guided you through your orgasm.

“Are you okay?” Alessia whispered in your ear as she leant down next to you.

“I’m perfect.” You smiled, pecking her lips. “I think you should get jealous more often.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, pretty girl?”

“I would.” You hummed in agreement, a tired smile across your face.

“Let’s get you showered and then we can cuddle, okay?”

“Shower with me?” You asked

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

[svetamillss]

omg I love your writing, can you do one with squid game characters seeing the several bruises on your body that you have been trying to hide pls?

Headcanons: their reaction to your bruises🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Se Mi x Reader(f)

Summary: you studied at the university. And often faced bullying. Many guys humiliated and beat you, which caused you to have bruises that you tried to hide.

A/N: Thank you very much for such a charming order! I hope you liked what I wrote!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

You didn't want to tell your girlfriend anything about it, because she had her own problems because of the transition to a girl. That's why you tried to hide all your bruises.

But you couldn't do it forever. After all, you sleep in ordinary pajamas, which opens your skin of your feet and hands well.

And because of this, the following situation occurred.

Ju was already lying in bed when you quickly came running and covered almost with a blanket, it worried her.

- Did something happen, baby? Why did you hide from me? - she asked, looking only at your head, which was looking out of the blanket.

- I'm just cold, don't worry.

- Hmm..but now the weather is hot..and you often started wearing warm clothes. Maybe you're sick??? Then don't cover yourself up so much!! - the girl said excitedly, removing the blanket from you, you tried to stop her, but nothing came out, she defeated you.

Pulling off the blanket, Hyun Ju noticed a lot of bruises on her arms and legs, her face turned pale sharply.

- Baby... Why do you have so many bruises??? - you had no choice but to confess everything.

After your story about being beaten at the university, Hyun Ju got very angry, preparing to deal with your abusers at such a late time, but you barely stopped her.

- No one will dare to touch my baby with a finger. Tomorrow I will go to your university and deal with everything. And I don't care if they look at me askause, I won't let them touch you.

Your favorite girl will definitely deal with your abusers, that there will be no wet place left from them.

Thanos (Su Bong)

In your opinion, the guy was not the one who would worry about the problems of others, even if something happened to loved ones.

That's why you decided not to tell him anything, but just put on clothes with long sleeves so that nothing could be seen.

But you didn't take into account the fact that Su Bong is quite observant and quickly notices changes, especially if they concern you.

You were going to go to the movies. You put on a long-sleeved sweater again, not paying attention to the fact that it was quite hot outside.

- Are you a fool? - he asked rudely, entering the room, seeing how you were dressed.

- What are you talking about?

- Have you seen the weather outside? Why the fuck are you dressed like in winter? Go change your clothes! - he was worried about you, although he showed it in a different way, you decided to take a chance and admit what was going on.

- I can't dress openly yet.

- Why else is that?

And you told him everything, from the beginning to the very end. His face changed with each new word, from neutral to more evil.

- WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU SILENT?! - he shouted, but you understood that he was not shouting at you, but because of the whole situation.

- I thought you wouldn't be interested..

- Fuck! You're completely crazy! How could you think that?! It makes me very angry! That's it! Tomorrow I will go and kill everyone who touched you. I'll do everything so well that they won't suit you anymore. If, of course, they stay alive.

You couldn't refuse him. Although, even if you refused, he would still do his own thing. After all, he loves you very much.

Se Mi

The girl worked very hard, so you didn't want to burden her with your problems.

But Se Mi was very attentive and therefore immediately noticed that you began to wear baggy clothes, although you usually wore more open clothes.

- Honey, have you decided to change your image? - she asked, laughing a little, when she saw you in a huge sweater.

- I just decided to experiment.

- When you lie, your ears turn red. - she said, after which you immediately covered your ears with your hands, realizing that she caught you.

The girl came close to you and said in a stern tone:

- Undress. I have to see what you're hiding from me. - you blushed from her words,but obeyed and showed all your bruises.

The girl gently stroked the places of your bruises, silent for a long time.

- Se Mi?

- Who did it? - you explained everything to her, she was angry, but tried not to show it to you.

- Don't hide it from me anymore. Tomorrow I'll deal with everything and everything will be fine.

Se Mi never throws words to the wind, she will help you cope with everything. She won't care that she's a girl and go deal with the guys, your safety is the main thing for her.

🩵🩵🩵

[bookshelf-dust]

relief

evan buckley x fem!reader

gif by @suledins

PSA IF YOU’RE A MINOR: GET THE FUCK OFF MY PORCH BEFORE I WHOOP YOUR ASS. THIS FIC IS STRICTLY 18+. I RESPECT YOUR BOUNDARIES, YOU RESPECT MINE.

word count: 6,568

warnings: nsfw 18+ only; swearing, inexperienced!reader, mentions of therapy/insecurities regarding inexperience, conversations about sex, heavy petting, fingering

synopsis: buck is a walking golden retriever. when he asks you out for the first time and begins to learn more about his arson-investigating coworker, it’s easy to say he puts that eagerness to use.

a/n: this is the very first smut fic i have EVER written (aside from some old old dirty nsfw headcanons). that being said, please bear with me, because this stuff is hard!! shoutout to all the wonderful writers who do this all the time because phew! 🤧 i am pretty happy with how this turned out, and i’m proud of myself for writing for a new character and trying something totally different from my norm! i had no plan of direction for this fic when i started it, but i hope the end result will resonate with some of you, and if it doesn’t, i still hope it gives you some good feelings and a little escape from this fuck ass world <33

————

Evan Buckley is a hellishly gorgeous man. Oftentimes, you have to remind yourself that he’s real—that he’s not some sort of mirage, a result of your constant sleep deprived state. He’s the kind of breathtaking that you find to be unfair.

You started working for the 118 as their house arson investigator three months ago. Captain Nash soothed every nerve you had going in, showing you to your quaint little office, introducing you to everyone else in the house. You’d definitely needed the comfort of that transition, but hadn’t expected your colleagues to be so welcoming. 

You were transferred as part of a greater Los Angeles initiative to create stronger communication and collaboration between the first responders and specialized investigators, as so much of their jobs go hand-in-hand. Although you’re pretty sure it’s only because the department heads get sick of answering follow-up questions about causes of fires—if people had insurance, if it was an accident or an attack, etc. 

So they split up you and the rest of your original team into varying firehouses so that there would always be an arson investigator on hand. And if there’s any foul play, then the police can be contacted quicker, as the investigator becomes a direct source to target those issues. You’d complain about all these silly loopholes if it weren’t for the fact that you’d gotten a pretty raise for your trouble. 

In truth, working with the 118 is the most useful you’ve felt in a long time. You know you’re good at your job, and you’d tell anyone who asked that you’ve done the work and you know that to be true. This opportunity has allowed you so much more field work than you could’ve imagined, which excites you. And there is the benefit of the eye-candy your coworker provides. 

Which is why, each time Buck approaches you, you have to blink a few times, press your nails into your palm, do something to ground yourself so that you might be able to carry on a conversation with him. Tonight though, he’s managed to sneak up on you, giving you no time to seem more like a sociable human being. 

“Hey, uh, you ever figure out the cause of that house fire from the other night?”

Buck is propped up against the door to your office, the air immediately responding to his presence, making everything feel lighter. 

You look up from your desk, huff out a breath to try and blow the hair away from your eyes. 

“Oh, hey, Buck. The house that the newlywed couple had just bought?”

Knowing him is enough to tell you that this particular fire would be the one to stick in his memory come week's end, the others being much too mundane for conversation.

Buck nods, a mischievous smirk appearing on his face. 

“Yeah, actually,” you say, encouraged to continue. “Turns out the couple started it without even realizing. They didn’t remember everything at first, but after going over there and questioning them some more, they finally pieced it together.”

Buck steps a little further into your office. You watch as he bends at the waist, hands coming to rest on one of the squishy chairs across from you. 

“How do you start a fire in your own house, and not notice?” he asks, that playful lilt to his voice reaching your ears. 

Your cheeks burn, a flush running through your body and turning you hot, head to toe. You tap your pen against your wrist. This isn’t usually the kind of information you’re excited to share with your coworkers—not that they wouldn’t be entertained by it. It’s that they’ll all be too entertained by it. 

“Well,” you cough, “turns out they were having a rather aggressive intimate moment and one thing led to another…” You trail off, hoping you won’t have to say it out loud. It was bad enough being in the room when they described their evening in detail, talking directly to one another like you really weren’t there.

Buck cocks his head at you, like a cat that’s just spotted a bug. “I don’t follow,” he says. His mouth quirks up the slightest bit at the corners. 

You inhale, mustering up enough courage to blurt it out before this becomes any more awkward than it has to be. 

“They were having sex in the kitchen and her ass bumped up against the stove top, turning on the burner. She’d grabbed onto a dish towel, for support or whatever, and when they moved it upstairs, she tossed the towel behind her and…”

“Neither of them noticed the fire because they were too caught up in the heat of the moment,” Buck finishes for you. 

You nod, sucking your teeth just slightly. “Yep. What’s worse is after spending an hour digging around and talking to them, the wife went ‘You know, now that you say all this, I do remember my bum feeling hotter than usual before we made it to the bed.’” You roll your eyes.

Buck drags his hands down his cheeks, straightening. There’s a smile on his face when he says, “Well, I guess they say love makes you do crazy things.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” you say, laughing a little tensely. You chance a bit of eye contact with him, realizing he’d already been staring at you for who knows how long. “Was there anything else you needed? Or just curious about the local arsonists?”

Buck chuckles, turning his face away from you momentarily. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to go out for drinks tonight.” 

You glance at the clock on the upper right hand corner of your computer monitor. It reads 5:43. “Is it a special occasion or something? I feel like no one’s really done that since Chimney had a kid.”

Buck says your name. A knot forms in your throat. “I didn’t mean with everybody. I meant just the two of us.”

You blink. “Why?” You blurt out, the one syllable making you stutter.

His brows knit together. “Uh, so we can get to know each other better? I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious that I like you.”

You’re pretty sure steam might be coming out of your ears. “Um, well, I don’t like to assume. I mean, you’re a pretty flirty guy, you know?”

He says your name again as he plants his hands on your desk. Your pen falls out of your grasp. You’re mesmerized as you watch him pick it up and place it in the cup over to your left.

“This is Buck 3.0, remember? I don’t just flirt with anyone. Besides, flirting usually comes to me, what with being a sight for sore eyes and whatnot.”

You snort: this cute little laugh that comes straight from the back of your throat that Buck has grown to love. 

Buck decides not to rile you up anymore. “So, drinks or no? I definitely won’t cry myself to sleep tonight if you say no.”

You facepalm. “Yeah, alright. Filling my bloodstream with alcohol might be exactly what I need right now.”

————

Two cosmos in, and you’re feeling a lot better. You’re grateful for having kept a pair of jeans and a relatively-okay-for-going-out top in your locker, allowing you to look somewhat presentable enough to be so near Buck for an entire evening.

So far it’s been pleasant, the both of you making small talk, you showing him pictures of your cat and him listening intently to all the antics said cat gets up to during the night. 

You’re chewing on a bacon covered cheese fry when Buck speaks. “What did you mean earlier, when you said you didn’t like to assume? Like, not assuming a guy would be into you?”

You nod, pausing with your hand in front of your mouth while you swallow. “That’s exactly what I meant. This isn’t something that happens often.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” Buck says, taking another swig from his beer. If he’s not careful, he’s going to spill it down his shirtfront. 

Your chest thumps with self-deprecation, the voices from the sides of your head—the ones that create that pressure behind your eyes—telling you this might be a great moment to talk shit about yourself. To air out all your faults to this man you probably don’t even deserve to be sitting across from. God knows he won’t be interested when he really gets to know you. 

You inhale.

You’ve been in therapy long enough to know the power of positive thinking. You know that everyone is on a different, unique timeline—that things happen for everyone at different points in their lives. 

But being inexperienced in all aspects of the romantic world is something you’ve carried shame for practically your entire adult life. Only you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let it consume you anymore. It’s your life, and you have the ability to change the way you think. That doesn’t mean your body doesn’t still react, though, doesn’t still flush with anger at how your life has gone thus far, like your veins don’t thrum as you think of all the vile comments you could say about yourself, the ways you could punish yourself for being the odd one out. 

That’s why being approached by Buck in such a blunt, upfront way was such a shock to your system. That just doesn’t, or rather, it hasn’t ever happened to you. 

And with Buck being who he is, it felt like even more of a fever dream. You almost wanted to spin around and tell them to cut the cameras, the lenses zooming in on your face—mockumentary style. 

“I’m not though,” you say. “Guys don’t usually come up to me and ask me out on a date, or ask me anything really.”

Buck is staring at you intently, and you almost wonder if you went too far by calling this a date. 

“Are you for real?”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t say it like that, but yeah. I guess there’s just something about me that’s not super alluring to most men? That’s why I was so surprised by you.”

He waves his hands around gently. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around that.”

You eat a few more cheese fries. “Why?”

He stutters for a few moments. “Because you’re just so…so perfect?” You snort, an air of sarcasm to it.  “Like, for one, you’re super hot. You’ve got this whole shy but totally badass vibe about you, and you’re passionate and great at what you do. I guess I just can’t fathom there not being a line of guys wanting to jump your bones if you’ll let them.”

You laugh. It makes Buck smile. 

“I appreciate that you think those things about me. For a long time, I thought that was pretty impossible. Guess when you go twenty four years without anyone actively pursuing you, you start to wonder.”

The table falls silent, and you finish your drink, thanking the waiter when he takes your empty glass, returning with a full cup of water for you.

“So, let me get this clear,” Buck says. Normally those words would freak you the fuck out, but you’re feeling a lot less tense now, less scared of talking about your situation. It’s not what you want, but it’s how it is. “No guy has ever asked you out. So you’ve never had a boyfriend? Never had a first kiss? Never had…sex? Or anything adjacent to it?”

“That’s right,” you say. “And the orgasms I’ve given myself don’t count towards the adjacent. So yeah, you’re right. It’s embarrassing, trust me, I know.”

Buck is still reeling from you saying the word orgasm out loud to him right now, not to mention the images flashing through his mind because of it. He pulls himself together. 

“It’s not embarrassing. Are you embarrassed by it?”

You clear your throat. “I’m certainly not happy about it. Honestly, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what it is that I’m missing that makes me so behind everyone else. And I’ve spent a lot of time being angry at myself. But it’s not like I can force those things to happen for me, you know?”

Buck gives you this look, and you know exactly what he’s going to say. A small grin makes an appearance on your face. 

“Well, I mean, you could,” Buck says. “But I can see why you haven’t. In my experience, just hooking up with someone to get off, or just say you’ve done something, kinda makes you feel like shit.”

You wrap your hands around your cool glass, running your fingers up and down through the condensation. 

“Unfortunately, I’m also a hopeless romantic. So I’ve thought about just hooking up with someone so that I’m not a virgin anymore, but that’s not what I want. I want a proper relationship and someone that cares about me and wants to be with me. Seems that’s a lot to ask for though.”

Buck reaches across the table and sets his hand on your wrist. “Hey, no, it’s not a lot to ask for. And it’s not bad to be a hopeless romantic! Honestly, I think there are more people like that than we know, but they do whatever to fit in. I am sorry that you’ve felt like this is something to be ashamed of. I can’t imagine how that feels. But I also think it means any relationship you’d have would be more successful because you’ve got your shit together already.”

That makes you laugh, just a little, and Buck is immediately thrilled, fully taking your hand in his. You don’t even have it in you to argue with him. For once, you just listen and try to see yourself through his eyes. 

“Well, I do appreciate you saying all of that, Buck. It’s only that I’ve been patient for so long, and I’m starting to think being wanted isn’t in the cards for me.”

Your gaze has dropped to the glossy table in front of you. You can see the reflections from the overhead televisions, from other patrons walking by, waiters carrying trays of drinks. Buck squeezes your hand in a way that makes you lock eyes with him. 

“So…what is it you think this is then?”

You blink. You have absolutely no response in your brain that would be the appropriate answer for this question.

“You asked me out for drinks.”

His grip on your hand moves up to your wrist, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his thumb press into your pulse. This is the most contact you’ve ever had with a man. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of his skin on yours, the feeling of his calloused palms, shockingly cool and free of sweat, much to the contrary of your own. Your heart begins to race when it finally catches up. Maybe it’s better that this is coming on so unexpectedly.

“And…” Buck says. 

You cough even though absolutely nothing is tickling your throat. “You said you wanted to get to know me better.”

If it’s possible, Buck’s smile gets bigger. “Because?”

“You said you liked me?”

“Atta girl!” He teases. A shock of heat shoots straight from your throat down to your low belly. You pray he can’t see it on your face. Luckily, he continues talking. “So, now that we’re clear on me having a thing for you, what would you like to do with that information?”

You take a quick sip of water, mouth suddenly dry. “Well, my immediate thought is that I should run away and hide because in my head, a potential relationship, or whatever, sounds great but right now? Right here with you touching my hand and looking at me? It sounds kind of terrifying.”

Buck starts with the reading again, sliding his thumb further up until it’s nestled in the center of your forearm. It makes you shiver and his eyes flash. 

“Sounds like we’ve gotta get you out of that head of yours and into the present.”

————

With therapy, you’ve gotten exponentially better at learning how to breathe, how to focus on what’s happening right now, so that you don’t spiral out of control just thinking about what might be happening in a few hours, days, weeks. Being more present is something you’ve learned. That is, in your daily life. But when you’re not used to interacting with men, these feelings are so strange, uncomfortable and scary. 

Your imagination can only take you so far, and you’re accustomed to those limitations. Not knowing what a kiss feels like, not knowing the feeling of anyone else’s touch but your own, not being able to properly picture what might happen to your mind and body when in physical contact with someone you want.

It’s both exciting—sitting here, in Buck’s Jeep, as he drives you home, imagining that those feelings might finally be attainable—and nerve wracking, because how does any of this really work?

Reading about relationships, hearing about your best friend’s escapades, watching a love scene on tv—it’s all different than really experiencing it. Truthfully, it feels like there’s a part of your brain focused on dissociating so that your heart doesn’t fall out of your ass or so that you don’t go into hiding before anything can happen.

By the time Buck pulls into your driveway, you’re feeling like hiding might be your safest bet.

He stops the car, turns off the engine. “Let me walk you to your door?”

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt with shaky hands. 

Buck follows you up the short sidewalk and up to your little front porch. You both pause under your outside lights, listening to the sound of crickets screeching from the shrubs. He puts his hands in his pockets and starts to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“So, uh, you were kinda quiet on the way here…did I freak you out earlier? Because if I didn’t, I didn’t mean—”

“No!” you blurt. “You didn’t freak me out, you made me hopeful, actually, I think I’m just afraid of all that romantic stuff because I’ve never done it before…”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, of course it’s a little nerve wracking, but wouldn’t it make you happy to experience those things? Like say, a hug, for starters?”

“Are you trying to hug me right now?” You deadpan, though excitement is thrumming through your veins, blocking out any hesitance. 

“Well, actually, I was hoping to kiss you, but warm up to it first, you know?” Buck says, a teasing lilt to his voice, a naughty smirk playing on his lips. You wish there was another word for it, but there’s not. 

You freeze. Your face has got to be on fire. You bring your hands to your cheeks, covering yourself from his view. 

Buck chuckles. Loosely, he circles your wrists. “Hey, don’t hide. What’s wrong?”

You’ve glued your hands to your face. “You’re making me sweat, Buckley.”

If at all possible, this makes him smile bigger, laugh harder, insanely pleased with himself. You hear the rustling of his coat as he leans down, leveling his lips with the shell of your ear. “Is that such a bad thing?” he whispers. 

You pull away quickly, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Not fair!” you joke. “But, I would like a hug…”

At your consent, he’s on you immediately. If you thought he was big just looking at him, having his body pressed to yours, in the most beautiful bear hug embrace you’ve ever experienced, he seems impossibly huge. It makes it feel like you’re the only person in the world. He’s so warm, so solid. His arms are around your back. He’d helped guide yours around his neck, but you’re so dazed that you hadn’t noticed. 

God, he’s so tall. You can feel the soft of his tummy, and you’re afraid that if you stay like this for too long you won’t ever be able to get through another day without craving the contact. His hair is surprisingly smooth where you feel it against your cheek. His form practically swallows you whole. Not to mention how nice he smells. You’ve never been able to understand those lines in your romance novels, talking about spice and man and ginger whatever. But now you do. He smells like vanilla shampoo and woody body wash. 

“This is so nice,” you mumble into the side of his neck, way before you can talk yourself out of it. You can feel Buck’s laugh against your chest. It feels amazing. It’s like an out of body experience. 

He pulls back just enough so that he can look at you, but he doesn’t remove his arms, only shifts so that his hands are gently grasping your waist. You’ve never felt this way before—like all your nerves are being sent into overdrive. You’re alive with the smallest of touches. 

“I genuinely can’t fathom how any man has ever looked at you and not wanted to make you theirs on the spot. I could scoop you up and keep you all to myself right now.”

This time you manage to maintain eye contact with him. You grin, biting the inside of your lip. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m feeling really brave right now so if you were serious about that kissing stuff, this might be the time to act.”

Buck tosses his head back, gleeful laughter filling the small space of your front porch. Even so, his hands move up to the sides of your neck, fingers warm against your skin. “You’re sure?” he asks, his thumb caressing your pulse. He feels a kick of cockiness knowing he’s done that to you. 

“I’m sure,” you say. Nod your head one firm time.

“Maybe your cheek first? As a warm up?”

You nod again. You’ve officially steeled yourself. Buck bends to meet you, tilting your head back just slightly so that he can reach you from a better angle. His hand cups the back of your neck as he presses his lips to your cheek. He’s so sure of himself, so passionate about this small thing, that it feels sensual. It puts you in a trance. His lips remain on your cheek for just a minute, the beginnings of stubble scratching at your skin. You have the urge to giggle like a frenzied teen.

“How was that?”

You bite your lip, hating the way you’re buzzing with adrenaline, filling with excitement at all these new sensations. But more so, you feel so special. So seen. You feel fuller than you ever have before at being treated so gently, being cherished and looked at like you’re this precious being. “I really, really liked it,” you tell him.

“Well, I’m glad.” He winks. “I did too.” He relishes in your little giggle. “How about a real one before we call it a night?”

You’re nodding again. “Yes. I would like that very much. I just want you to know that I might be really bad at it and I’m probably gonna embarrass myself and it’s probably going to be the worst, most awful kiss you’ve ever had and—”

Buck’s lips are on yours, successfully shutting you up. You squeak. 

In truth, it does feel pretty awkward for the first few seconds, buck Buck takes it in stride. Doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just takes what you’re giving him and guides you in a better direction. He tips your head back again, slotting his lips over yours and pressing himself to you. Your brain goes completely quiet. You can’t think or feel anything that isn’t Buck. This feeling spreads throughout your body, easing the ache in your chest, making you feel light on your toes.

Relief.

You admittedly have no idea what you’re doing but try your best to follow his lead, trying to kiss him back with as much passion as you’re feeling inside, tentatively threading your fingers through his hair, setting a hand on his chest. At one point, his tongue runs over your bottom lip and you shiver. Buck’s hand flies to the small of your back, keeping you grounded. You let it happen, curious as to how it might feel. You don’t have words. He licks into your mouth, and you giggle. It makes him smile and he separates from you long enough to enquire what’s got you laughing. 

“I just realized what people mean when a couple looks like they’re eating each other's faces. It’s really nice, actually. Not as gross as people make it out to be.”

Buck snorts. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, already scrambling to get his mouth back on yours. He doesn’t feel like teasing, letting you pull him down, letting you try and lead this one. You’re so gentle—trying to figure out the right way, the way that works for the both of you, to kiss him. He likes that you treat him so carefully.

When you finally end the kiss, you break the silence created by an intense few minutes of eye contact. “Was I bad? You can tell me, I know I was a little clumsy at the least.”

“Nah, not bad,” Buck says. “You’re a quick learner. I enjoyed it. Ten out of ten, would do it again.”

“Me too. Practice makes perfect, right?”

————

For the past few weeks, things with Buck have been going well. Since that first night out, he’s prioritized getting to know you better, spending time with you that doesn’t revolve around a nasty fire and the plethora of causes it may or may not have had. Time that doesn’t allow for any of your coworkers to pick and tease. 

Buck is starting to feel like one of your best friends. That was cemented the night he watched you play Resident Evil 7: Biohazard, enraptured by how quickly you were solving the puzzles and taking down those grimy basement monsters that, frankly, scared the shit out of him. You only told him that you’d played at least four times at the end of the evening. But hey, all your romance novels have told you that the best relationships are based on solid friendships. 

You’ve had the opportunity to kiss him more, some of it sweet and exploratory, you being courageous enough to ask Buck how he likes to be kissed, if he likes it when you tug his hair, if there’s anything you can change or do differently. He’ll only answer those questions if you do first, telling him what’s working and what you want more of. As useful as all of this communication is, it was tremendously embarrassing to share your intimate thoughts with him at first. 

Some of the kissing has gotten a bit heavier. The first time you sat in his lap ran through your mind constantly for days after, appearing in your dreams, day and night. You couldn’t get over the way he felt beneath you—solid, warm, so real. How he sounded when he kissed you, how his hands felt on your hips and the curve of your ass. How it had felt when he’d encouraged you to grind against him for the first time. You hadn’t meant to moan, but it was like relief had shot through you. Like your imagination was finally getting to take a break because now you were actually doing the things you imagined. You felt so alive, so powerful, feeling him get hard between your legs, hearing the strain in his voice as he encouraged you to keep moving until you finished. 

Tonight is the first night of your long weekend. Neither of you have shifts for the next few days, and you took it upon yourself to ask if he’d like to stay over, maybe get takeout and watch a movie or something. It hadn’t been meant as a request with the hope that it would turn into something more. Frankly, you’ve been feeling more shy since that moment you shared a few weeks ago. 

You hadn’t expected to watch a movie in your bed instead of on the couch, hadn’t expected to pause it halfway through because Buck’s stare was practically burning a hole through the side of your head and you had to figure out what was up. 

“You’re staring, Buck. Is something wrong?”

He’d laughed. It was unlike a laugh you’d heard from him before. It felt sensual. It felt laced with want. 

“Nah, nothing’s wrong. I just can’t get you out of my head.”

Your eyebrows had bunched together. “But…I’m right here. Shouldn’t that help?” That laugh again. 

“That’s not what I mean, sweetheart. I mean that I can’t stop thinking about fucking you with my fingers.”

And that’s how you’d ended up on your back, head pressed to your pillows, with Buck hovering over you. He’s kissing you, dragging his tongue over the sides of your neck and kissing a trail back right back up. His hand is resting on your collarbone, fingers tilting you up to him.

“How’s this feel?” he asks, voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“G-good,” you manage. “Really good.”

He pulls back, sitting back on his knees and setting his hands on your thighs. “Yeah? You’ve been squirming an awful lot.”

The heat radiating off of you, the way you cover your mouth with the back of your hand is enough of a response. Buck doesn’t say anything more, the both of you sitting in silence for a few minutes. He knows you want to say something. But he won’t force it out of you. He’ll wait until you use your words. 

“Buck?” Your voice is a whisper. He hums. You clear your throat, and he bites his lip to hide the pride racing through him at knowing he’s got you all flustered. “What you said before, about touching me? I want you to do it.”

“Yeah?” His smile is so gorgeous, so cocky, and if you weren’t so dazed with lust you might reach out and smack him. 

“Yeah,” you say. You give him your best, pleading eyes. That’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him that way, and Buck knows that he’s gonna give in any time you do from here on out. He leans back down, kissing you again. You take one of his hands and bring it between your legs, encouraging him to cup you. “You’ve been kissin’ me like that for so long…already feel pretty wound up.”

He nudges your nose with his, a smirk playing on his lips. He sets his palm down against you, over your shorts. The heel digs into your clit and he starts rubbing you, slow, but firm enough that you gasp. Your hips buck.

“Honestly,” he says, “I’d thought about teasing you, but I feel like you deserve this, after all that patient waiting you’ve done. Is that what you want?”

His middle finger presses over your hole. You’re so warm. He can feel how damp you’ve gotten, that you’ve started to soak through your panties. 

“Please,” you breathe. “Want you to touch me, so bad, Buck.” You brace your hands on his shoulders, feeling like all this pent up sexual energy is just begging to come out. You feel feral. 

“Okay, baby, okay. Let me get your shorts off, alright?” He taps your hip and you lift up, letting him slide them down your legs.

“Oh, um,” he pauses, a concerned look on his face. “I just wanted to tell you, I-I haven’t shaved or anything. I mean, I trimmed like a week ago, but, if that bothers you, I-” 

“Hey, no big deal,” Buck says. “Doesn’t matter to me. Not ever gonna stop me from making my girl feel good.”

My girl. 

That alone felt like an orgasm.

He pulls your panties down, and you feel heat rising to your face when he marvels at how they stick to you. But the second Buck lays eyes on your perfect little pussy, he’s the one feeling dazed. 

“How no one has ever touched you like this…” He licks a stripe up your inner thigh. “How no one has ever told you how much they fucking want you, never fallen on their knees for you…” He spreads your legs farther, shamelessly trying to memorize every detail of you. “Is beyond me.” 

Buck sets his middle and ring finger on the hood of your clit, starting to rub you in slow, agonizing circles. 

“Because I feel like I could devour you right now.” 

Your feet slide up the bedsheets, legs bending at the knee and allowing Buck to get more comfortable as he settles between them. Buck sets his chin on top of your knee. He’s watching his own hand and how it moves over you. His left hand is pushing up your t-shirt just a little so that he’s massaging the fat of your hip. For a moment he pictures holding onto said hips while he fucks you for the first time, imagines what sounds you might make, and he has to keep himself from letting out a moan.

Buck slides his fingers down to circle your hole, reveling in how soft your skin is, how warm and messy and perfect. He gathers some of your arousal on the tips of his fingers, dragging it up through your lips and over your clit. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallow hard, looking up at him. “Feels good. When you do t-that—jesus—the up and down? It’s so nice, but the circles, that’s what will get me to—” 

“That’s what’ll get you to come all over my fingers?” 

You moan. It’s high pitched and whiny, a sound you didn’t know you could make. You force the words out of your throat. “Yes.”

“You wanna take a finger now?” Buck kisses your knee. You’re pretty sure he’s sucked a hickey into the skin above it while you’ve been otherwise distracted. 

“Please, please, Buck, I need to know how it feels—fuck!”

Buck’s fingers are bigger than yours. Much bigger. The sight of him hovering above you, his eyes almost black, burning with desire for you, really does you in. He starts slow: a few soft thrusts of his finger rubbing your walls, exploring the inside of you. 

Then he curls his finger upwards. Your eyes roll back in your head and at the same time your body gives away how fucking turned on you are, how desperate you are for him—and it’s loud. 

You’re so wet that your pussy squelches. Something about that sound flips a switch in Buck, and you’re crying out as he adds a second finger, curling them both, clearly enjoying the filthy sounds you’re making. 

Buck pushes your knee down and away, settling completely beside you, propped up so he can see your face properly while he’s fingering you within an inch of your life. The way he’s looking at you tells you that he’s going to make you come soon. He’s making it a mission. He wants your orgasm as much as you do. He needs it.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. ‘M so glad you let me help out this time. I bet you’ve spent so many nights spread out on this bed, fucking yourself, doing all the work alone.”

Buck’s fingers are making you brainless. You feel blissful, so serene, so calm, so fucking good. He keeps curling his fingers, scissoring them every once in a while. You want to tell him that you can’t usually come just from this, that you need external stimulation. You grab onto his bicep. 

“Yeah, yeah, Buck—I have. You’re takin’ such good care of me.” He slows down his ministrations, letting you take a breather. Letting you gather your thoughts before he pushes you over the edge. You cup his cheek, pull him down for a kiss. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes. 

“Need you to play with my clit, B-Buckley. W-won’t come without it. I wanna come.”

You look down, suddenly entranced by the way Buck’s fingers are moving inside you. He follows your gaze, chuckling to himself. “You like to watch, pretty girl? Guess next time I’ll have to get you a mirror.”

Buck pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you whine. You shiver. You feel so empty. But all is forgotten when he puts the very same fingers that were just inside of you into his mouth. He maintains eye contact with you while he sucks them clean. You moan, despite the fact that he’s not touching you. It’s just so fucking sexy.

His hand returns to your drenched skin, fingers pressing firmly against your clit. 

“Where’s that spot, huh?” he asks. “Show me where it feels the best.” You guide him, a little to your left, that spot on the hood of your clit, not directly on it where the stimulation will be too much, but the spot that has you arching your back, quite possibly more revved up than you ever have been before. 

Buck is quick to begin soothing those precise little circles again, a look of determination on his face. For a moment, neither of you say anything. There’s only the sound of your breathing, the wet, filthy sound of him rubbing at your clit.

That telltale heat spreads its way through your low belly, through the tops of your thighs, through your pelvis, up your spine. It’s right there, you think. 

“Fuck, I’m—” The words are barely out of your mouth by the time your orgasm washes over you, making the room go fuzzy, shrouding you in pure, thoughtless bliss. He fucks you through it, rubbing you until you’re twitching, successfully overstimulated. 

You lay there, covered in a sheen of sweat, attempting to restore your breathing to a normal rhythm when he comes back with a damp cloth. You’d been able to tell him where they were, tell him you could clean yourself up, but he insisted. He wipes you off, gets you clean underwear and a fresh t-shirt. 

You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in your surroundings, taking in your own feelings about what you’ve just done. You feel so nice. So special. Confident in yourself and your body. 

You feel happy. Having this little piece of you cared for so well doesn’t make you whole. You didn’t need the experience to feel complete, or like it made you normal. But you do feel powerful. This was just the icing on top of the cake. Something of a treat. You wish you could think of another way to put it, but you feel like a badass woman. 

Buck’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He bumps your shoulder. 

“I was gonna ask if you enjoyed yourself, but…I mean, I did kind of see that you did.”

You laugh, taking his hand in both of yours. “I did, Buck. I’m glad I got to do that with you. It was perfect for me.”

He shoots you a wink. “Good. And I did wanna preface that I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to do all the other stuff.” He watches the way your eyes crinkle up as you smile. 

“I look forward to doing all that other stuff with you. But for now…wanna have a sleepover?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[themultifanshipper]

I don’t know if your down but I need more mark webber smut or jenson or even both I just can’t find anything for older divers except seb (don’t get me wrong I love them but fuck I need mark and jenson ones so bad ) also love your fics but the foursome one was next level

 After Danica got fired, Jenson hoped there would be no replacement. That he’d be paired up with one of his other SkySports colleagues. 

Instead, you showed up. All pretty eyes and bashful glances, and he didn’t know quite what to do with himself. 

(Yes that is an old pic of Jenson to which I added a beard, you're welcome)

Warnings: smut, age gap, masturbation, making a sex tape, multiple orgasms, Ted Kravitz being cringe at the end (but that’s why I love him don’t @ me), not proofread

Jenson knew you were always nervous around him. Understandable, given how much disdain he’d shown his previous colleague. 

You were incredibly sweet to him, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t immediately smitten with you. Very early on he decided to not get too close to you, for a number of reasons. You were young, definitely too young for him, and he didn’t want to come off as the creepy older colleague infatuated with the woman under his wing, so he kept a reasonable distance. 

It didn’t take you long to get used to the job. You were young, but you were incredibly mature. Never distracted, always asked pertinent questions in interviews, and in no time you felt right at home in front of the cameras. A true professional. 

Which was more than could be said for what went on inside Jenson’s mind every time he looked at you. He didn’t know how to act around you. He didn’t want to come on too strong or you might get the wrong idea, and he didn't want to scare you off.  

Unfortunately, that didn’t translate very well on camera, and just made him look like he didn’t like you at all. 

He admired you, in a way, being one of the youngest in the biz. He knew he stared at you way too much, but you didn’t seem to notice.

He was sure everyone else probably noticed, so he decided to stop staring, and instead tried to look as neutral as possible whenever he was around you. 

“She’s so much nicer than Danica, I don’t get why Jenson doesn’t seem to like her” 

People on twitter didn’t know how to react. 

“Why is Jenson looking at her like he wants to run her over with his car 😭” 

You would spend quite a lot of time reading tweets about you. Sue you, you wanted to see if you were well received by the fans, knowing full well how critical people could be. 

“If Jenson wants to quit his job I’ll gladly take his place if I can be next to her” 

And they were half reassuring, half mortifying. Because yes, they seemed to like you, and appreciate you replacing Danica, but you indeed started noticing how Jenson looked at you during interviews. 

You had no idea why he didn’t like you. You couldn’t remember doing anything to annoy him, and he sure as hell hadn’t said anything to you whenever you talked to him alone, so why did he look at you like he wanted to run you over? 

The actual problem, was that Jenson’s mind wandered. And it wandered into very dangerous territories. 

He knew it was wrong, and he knew he should stop it immediately, but something about having forbidden fantasies about his colleague was too exciting to stop. 

So when he was feeling particularly riled up, or bored, or whenever he was at home, really, he’d think about you. 

About your soft lips that he couldn’t help staring at. About your hands, your delicate fingers wrapped around the microphone while you held it up to whoever you were interviewing. 

He thought about those infuriating shirts you wore. They weren’t low cut, but they were tight. 

He thought about the time he’d been working out in the hotel gym at night, when you sauntered in, in nothing but a sports bra and tight shorts. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or spiteful of the hot Singaporean weather. 

“Oh hi, Jense!” you’d called out cheerfully. 

Jenson’s hips stuttered and he came all over his hand at the memory. Damn you and your tendency to give people affectionate nicknames. 

Sometimes, when he needed... material, he’d pull up your instagram. You had a few photos on there of you in tight dresses at events, and... some of you at the beach, wearing bathing suits with varying degrees of coverage.  

He never lasted long when he pulled those out. 

It never took long for the guilt to set in either, gnawing at him while he did his best to go about his business. He knew he had a problem, but he didn’t know what to do about it. 

He was in half a mind to quit his job, but even that idea failed him when he saw your sweet sweet face look sad when he’d mentioned his retirement. 

So months went by, and you got closer. One could even say you were friends. You got on well, and when you were alone the banter flowed naturally, despite the generational divide. You had the same sense of humour, often jokingly flirting at each other. He called you ‘young lady’, and you called him ‘old man’... and in a way it helped him stay on track, not get too absorbed into the chemistry he had with you.  

But the guilt still gnawed, and when the cameras rolled, he put the stick back up his ass and pretended you were nothing more than Danica’s replacement. 

Who the fuck decided it was a good idea to race in Vegas, in november? 

He felt like he was stuck in a loop. An endless cycle of guilt and pretty eyes and twitter comments. 

...

Whoever it was deserves to get their head bashed in, Jenson thought as he huddled against some tyre warmers. 

Evening sessions were a nightmare, and they just got colder as the days went on. The tyres may have been cold, but you and Jenson were freezing your proverbial nuts off while you waited for the drivers to get out of their cars after qualifying. 

The interviews were fine, but it was clear everyone was just desperate to get back to their hotels to warm themselves up.

Everyone except Jenson, it seemed. 

... 

You ran into him in the lobby of your hotel when you went down to ask for blankets. 

Apparently, the biting cold was fucking with the electricity, so the heating wasn’t great in some of the rooms. And the phones were dead, so you had to go to the lobby if you needed anything. 

It was around 2 AM, and Jenson was at the bar having what appeared to be a whiskey on the rocks. 

“Jense? What are you doing down here?”  

His eyes snapped to you immediately and he sighed. 

“Could ask you the same question, young lady.” he chided, and you rolled your eyes. 

“The heating’s not working properly so I’m going to ask for blankets” you took a seat on the bar stool next to him “What about you, old man?” 

He huffed out a laugh, taking in your polka dot pyjamas peeking out from the fluffy dressing-gown you had on. 

“The heating’s completely off in my room. And they’re out of fucking blankets.” 

Your face fell, the blankets had been your last hope. 

“Shit...” you eyed him as he took another sip. “That’s rough...” 

“Yup” he popped the ‘p’ dramatically, fingers wiping at the condensation on the side of his glass. 

“And your plan is... to stay here and drink until tomorrow?”  

He chuckled. “No, my plan is to drink as many of these bad boys as it takes to not feel the cold anymore, and by that point, I should be slightly happier about being here” 

He winked at you and downed the rest of his glass. You knew he wasn’t a fan of Vegas, and neither were you, so it had become a sort of inside joke. 

“That’s a terrible plan. It’s better to have company in the cold than drink it away on your own.”  

“So... what? Are you going to drink with me?” he chuckled “You going to give an old man some company?” he cringed at his choice of words, the whiskey must have already affected his judgement. 

You leaned in closer with a cheeky smile. “No... I’m inviting the old man up to my hotel room.”  

Jenson’s brain stalled as he stared at his empty glass. 

“I uhh...” he gulped “I’m not sure that’s a good idea” 

“Why not? I’m sure we can find some way to keep warm...” you muttered, sliding off your chair. 

This couldn’t be happening. Jenson tried to keep his cool while his mind went a million miles an hour. He was just imagining things. You were not flirting with him, it was the whiskey making him interpret your words as something else. You weren’t suggesting- 

“If we work together, I bet we’ll be sweating by the end of the night” you purred. 

‘Don’t do it Jenson’, his brain supplied, she’s only joking. She doesn’t want you in that way, you’re much too old for her! Don’t throw your career away over- 

“Besides, what’s the point of touching yourself to my instagram photos, when the real thing is waiting in the next room.” 

Your hand on his thigh made him jump slightly. He turned his head to look at you questionningly. 

“You’re not as slick as you think you are” you smiled, fingers brushing against his rapidly growing bulge. “Did you know that when you accidentally like a pic, then unlike it, it still sends me a notification?” 

Jenson gritted his teeth, but made no effort to move your hand. “Obviously not, no” 

“And did you know” you grinned, movements growing bolder as you rubbed him through his pants “that you’ve liked the same 4 posts about 50 times, and always at night?”  

Your body was pressed against his side, and he was basically throbbing under your touch as he tried to keep his composure. “And you seem to really like the ones of me in Bali...” 

He tried to choke out an excuse, but you cut him off. “I know you want me...” your faces were inches apart, he was panting against your lips as you teased him. “So come and get me” 

You retreated completely, turning on your heel to walk across the lobby. Your heart was beating through your chest at what you’d just done. 

You pressed the button for the elevator and waited with bated breath, not daring to turn around. 

It felt like an age before the doors finally opened, just as you suddenly felt his presence behind you. 

He undid your robe silently and slid a hand into your pyjama pants, and his breath hitched when his fingers came in contact with your wetness. 

He quickly pushed you inside, clicking the button to your floor before pressing you against the mirror.  

“Fucking hell... you’re soaked” 

“Jenson, please” you begged, and he didn’t hesitate to slip a finger inside you, curling it perfectly as you mewled under him. 

“Desperate little thing, aren't you?” he cooed, adding another finger. 

Your eyes rolled back, breath fogging up the mirror as the obscene sound of his slick fingers filled the small space. 

By the time the elevator got to your floor, you were trembling and gasping for air. 

You couldn’t keep your hands off each other all the way down the corridor, slamming each other against various walls and probably making a racket while you were at it, but neither of you gave a damn when it felt so good to be touched.

...

Clothes were thrown haphazardly all over the place, and he wasted no time spreading your legs to get a taste of you. 

Well, he got more than a taste. He buried his face between your thighs, not once coming up for air as his tongue dragged you to edge of a mind numbing orgasm. 

It wasn’t too long before you started to feel the burn of his beard insistently rubbing against your inner thighs as he ate you out with gusto, but his mouth felt so good sucking on your clit, you didn’t care, if anything, it made the sensations more intense. 

But he didn’t stop there, he kept going, sliding his fingers into you, that he curled expertly against your g-spot. 

His extra years of experience hadn't been wasted, you thought. After all, everyone knew what he was like back in the day... and he certainly knew his way around.

That’s how he got you to your second orgasm of the night, thighs clamping down around his head as your hips bucked against his skilled tongue and fingers. 

He crawled over you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, in which your could taste yourself, and feel your wetness cling to his face. The kiss quickly turned sloppy when your hand went down to stroke his cock, thumbing at the tip to spread his precum around. 

“This is definitely better than your holiday in Bali” he groaned and you giggled at the statement. 

He lined himself up with your dripping cunt, ready to slide in and make all his fantasies come true, when you suddenly had an idea. 

“Wait!” you gasped, pushing him away and looking around wildly. “Where’s your phone?”  

“What?” he panted. 

“Or mine, either will do” you spotted one of the two on the floor just next to you so you reached down and took it, turning the camera on. It was Jenson's.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asked, hands wandering across your thighs impatiently. 

“Giving you some new material” you propped it up on the nightstand and started recording. “Lie down” 

You shuffled around until he was laying on his back and you were straddling his hips, his tip poking at your entrance. 

“Ready, old man?” you smirked. 

He scoffed, swatting your hips. “Have some respect for your elders” 

You rolled your eyes playfully and sank down on him.  

Despite your earlier orgasms, it was quite a stretch. His girth was enough to get a punched-out groan from you as you took him all the way to the base. 

You steadied yourself on his chest and rode him slowly at first, getting used to the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, then set a faster pace, angling your hips to take him deeper. 

“That’s it... bounce on my cock, good girl” he moaned, rolling his hips in time with your thrusts. 

You looked like a goddess, towering over him, brows knit together in pleasure and he couldn’t believe this was real. He half assumed this was a whiskey induced wet dream. 

One of his hands came up to pinch your nipples, and you squealed at the rough treatment, but it only made you wetter as you picked up the pace of your hips. 

His thumb went to circle your clit lazily and you whined, biting your lip at the added intensity of his stimulation on your puffy oversensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Jenson” you gasped. You could feel yourself nearing another orgasm, and he felt you tightening around him, so he wrapped a hand around your neck to pull you down for another kiss, and took the opportunity to thrust up into you. 

You swore loudly, seeing stars as you came around him while he jackhammered his cock into you, chasing his own high.  

You pushed yourself back up, leaning over him to turn his phone off before looking down at his satisfied, dopey smile. 

He came inside you with a low growl, bouncing you on his cock a couple more times before releasing his grip on your hip and neck in favour of cupping your face and deepening the kiss. 

Your body slumped over his, and you reveled in the absolutely filthy kiss he was giving you while one of his hands travelled to your ass and gave it a harsh squeeze.

“You cold?” you asked, trailing a finger through the sweat on his heaving chest. 

“Nope” he panted, grinning at you. 

“Up for round two?” you smirked devilishly. 

“Definitely” he smiled “Give me a minute though, I’m not in my twenties anymore”  

You giggled, finger trailing lower, along the bumps of his toned abs.  

“I don’t know... I think you’re pretty fit for an old man” you teased. 

“Please don’t call me old man when my cock is inside you”

... 

“Helloooo”  

The cheery voice of Ted Kravitz interrupted your thoughts while you were having breakfast the next day. 

“Hey Ted!” you greeted  “What’s up?”  

“In my life... not much. How about you? How’s it going with Jenson? Found any common ground yet?”  

In the beginning, back when Jenson didn’t speak to you much, you’d struck up a friendship with Ted, and told him about your worries. 

“Not much... I still don’t think he likes me very much, to be honest” you sighed. 

“Not really. We don’t see each other much outside of the paddock.” 

“Really? Nothing more than that?”

He looked at you with a knowing smile. You decided to play stupid. 

He snorted. 

“Riiiight.... so it wasn’t you two that I saw stumbling through the hallway last night with your hands down each other’s pants... guess it must’ve been somebody else, it was pretty dark, I suppose.”  

He smirked, getting up and plucking a donut off your plate.

You were forced to watch him strut off, and almost run into Jenson in the doorway.

Jenson said hello, but Ted just cackled and walked away.

"What was that about?" Jenson asked you, noting your terrified expression as your eyes stayed glued to the door.

"I think we have a problem"

[darksigns-exe]

it's delicate - noah sebastian x f!reader

warnings: swearing, fingering (f receiving) oral sex (f receiving) protected intercourse

word count: 4k

note: a little continuation of this thing that i combined with a request from @somebodyels3 hope this comes close to what you had in mine <3

masterlist | taglist sign-up

The party around you buzzes. 

It’s the end of the year – New Year’s Eve – and everyone is here. The band's place is stuffed full of all of your friends. You’ve had a drink or two already, just to curb the bubbling anxiety that has settled in your belly. 

These things aren’t for you, but at the same time you like seeing everyone. You haven’t seen some of these people in ages, and really it is nice to see some familiar faces again. 

You’ve only seen Noah for a moment. 

Things between you have been interesting since the encounter. Noah has kept a little more distance and while it had stung at first, you’re somewhat glad that he had taken that step. Getting that close to him had ignited a few feelings you had been very happy to ignore so far. Having a little bit of forced distance between you had given you time to reevaluate how you feel. Unfortunately, you had always come back to the same conclusion. 

The things you feel for him are just a little bit more than friendship. 

You can’t tell where he stands on the matter, but there’s a small part of you that hopes that he feels somewhat similar. 

You’re ripped from your thoughts by the sounds of commotion in the kitchen. 

The source seems to be an animated discussion between Folio and someone you can’t immediately recognise. It distracts you enough for Noah to be able to sneak up on you. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, sidling up next to you. 

“What’s he up to?” he asks, trying to get a glimpse at whatever is happening. 

“I have no idea.” you reply. 

You can barely make out Folio, and you honestly have no idea of what they’re debating. All you can tell is that it clearly isn’t entirely serious. 

“You wanna head upstairs with me? I have something I’ve wanted to show you for a while.” 

If he hadn’t sounded so earnest and things between you hadn’t been so off you would have made a joke out of it. Instead, you quietly follow up to his room. 

You know that he’s been looking for a place of his own, but seeing boxes stacked in his room still takes you a little aback. 

“Did you find a place?” you ask, pushing past some of the boxes so that you can sit down on his bed. 

The room feels so much colder than it usually does. 

Something about this feels odd. 

“I did. That’s what I wanted to show you.” he pulls up a page on his computer, motioning for you to join him, “I know you’ve been having issues with your landlord so – there’s a spare room that could be yours if you want it.” 

You sit on his desk chair and start to scroll through the listing. 

The place is stunning. 

Central, but in an area that feels like an actual neighbourhood. The rooms are spacious, and flooded with light. The living room is gorgeous, the kitchen looks to be newly renovated too. You know that Noah has already put so much thought into this, and really it’s a tempting offer. Maybe you would be less hesitant if it hadn’t been for that encounter.

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course.” he gives you that pretty smile of his, “It’s just an offer. It’s closer to where you work, too, just in case that influences your decision-making process.” 

A small part of you wonders if that is part of why he settled on that apartment in particular. 

“While I have you up here, I think we should talk about something else.” Noah continues. 

You shoot him a questioning look, even though you already have a vague idea of what he wants to discuss. 

“When I came over to your place and you — got me off?” you give him a nod, prompting him to continue, “I didn’t want it to make things weird between us. And I think in trying to give you space, I made it weird. I’m sorry about that.”

“To be fair, I took a step back too.” you reply, “Let’s just forget about the whole thing.” 

Noah cocks his head to the side, “The whole thing? What if I don’t want to forget about it.” 

You swallow a breath. 

You can’t deny that you’ve been thinking about it a lot. The way he had looked up at you with tear stained eyes had seared itself into your brain. The visual of him thrust into your hand with nothing but pleasure had played on repeat in your mind. 

“I don't think that you want to forget about it either, hm?” Noah squats down in front of you, “I can’t stop thinking about how good you made me feel.”

He brings a hand to your knee, thumb gently caressing your bare skin. 

You force yourself to look at him. 

His eyes are so soft, and there’s nothing that tells you that he’d be upset if you’d ask him to stop this. He waits patiently for you to make your move, quietly watching you with a curious expression. 

You bring a hand to the side of his face. Noah leans into your touch, practically melting at the warmth of your palm.  

“What about everyone downstairs?”

“They’ll be busy for at least another hour. We have plenty of time. And if we miss the countdown, we’ll just say that I wasn’t feeling good, and you stayed with me.” 

He removes your hand from his cheek, and presses a kiss to the backs of your knuckles. 

He rises back up to full height, your hand still grasped in his. 

You let him pull you up from the chair. 

Noah mirrors your earlier motion and places a soft hand against your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?”

The words just won’t come to you. The nod you offer seems to be satisfactory to him, though. Noah moves in so slowly, giving you plenty of time to move out of the way. 

The first touch of his lips against yours is so soft and chaste. You hadn’t thought about what kissing him would feel like. But when you feel the gentle brush of his lips against yours, you never want to miss it again. His hand remains on your cheek, keeping you close to him. In return, your arms wrap around his middle. 

Noah’s free hand comes to rest at the small of your back, and you can feel him toying with the tie that keeps your dress together. 

When you finally part, your head spins with the lack of air. 

“Sit down for me, will you?” he says softly. 

His hands slowly drift away from you when you take a step back to sit on the edge of his bed. A moment later, Noah sinks to his knees in front of you. He moves to take off your shoes, placing them somewhere off to the side. 

“Nothing you don’t want will happen. You can stop this at any point.” he says quietly, “We’ll only go as far as you want.”

You try your best to focus on the soft brush of his fingers against your calf, instead of the bubbling anxiety in your belly. 

It’s always like this. 

You want this – him – but when it gets to it, the anxiety to do well overwhelms you. 

“Hey.” Noah gives a gentle squeeze to your thigh, “Everything okay? You’re looking a little lost.” 

The concern on his face is unlike anything you’ve seen from him. You know that he cares deeply for his people, you included, but this feels different. 

“Just a little nervous.” 

“Don’t have to be nervous, sweetheart. I promise I’ll take good care of you. This is not the first time you’re doing this, right?” 

You shake your head. 

Maybe not the first time, but your anxieties had limited your experience quite a bit. More than a few partners had headed home again without seeing any kind of action after you’d gotten too into your head to enjoy it. 

“Okay. Can I do something to make this better for you?”

You look down at him, finding only comfort and warmth in his eyes. 

“Can you tell me what you’re doing? I keep trying to anticipate what’ll happen and –” 

“Takes you right out of the mood, huh? Well, we can’t have that. I’ll tell you exactly what I’m doing. All you have to do is lie back and feel good. Sound good?” 

You give him a nod in return. 

“Has anyone ever eaten you out?” his voice is surprisingly calm considering the nature of his question. 

“Just once, but – it didn’t seem like he enjoyed it.” 

Noah scoffs, shaking his head. 

His voice turns so awfully soft when he finally speaks up again, “Will you let me show you how good it can be? For both parties?”

“Will you?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, “Do you want to stay like this or do you want to lie back?”

“Like this is okay.” 

“Good, if something feels off, let me know. No hesitation. I want this to be good for you.” another kiss to the inside of your thigh, a little higher this time, “Do you want to keep your dress on?”

“Is that okay?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with. If you want to keep it on, that’s okay. You wanna push up your hips for me?” 

You do as he asks, allowing him to take your panties off. He’s careful, slowly sliding them down your thighs. 

“Put on something cute before you came here, huh? Got all dressed up just for me.” he speaks more to himself than anyone else. 

His hands roam across your thighs, giving gentle pressure to make you part them. 

“Spread your legs a little, darling.” when you’ve made enough room for him, he continues, “I’m gonna touch you now, just with my fingers.” 

His fingers slowly trail up your thigh. His touch is feather-light, barely there. You hold your breath when he reaches your centre. The tips of his fingers brush through your folds, until they catch at your clit. You gasp when he circles his fingers across the bundle of nerves. 

“Don’t be shy, darling. Let me hear your pretty sounds.” 

He keeps up the slow, gentle touch for a good while. Occasionally, his fingers drift a little lower, swiping through your folds again. With every pass, his focus shifts towards your entrance. You try your best to focus on him, but it’s already so hard to keep your eyes open. 

Noah gives you another warning before he begins to tease the tip of one of his fingers into you. 

He takes his time working his finger into you. The slow, teasing touch makes you gasp out loud. And, as his finger sinks deeper into you, you let yourself fall back against the mattress. 

“There you go, baby. Does that feel good?” Noah asks softly.

You whine out a yes, but Noah doesn’t seem to be very happy with that. 

“Words.” He says then, sounding almost a little taunting. 

His fingers still, as he waits for your response, eyes fixed on your face so very expectantly. 

“Feels good. Feels so good.” you choke out. 

“That’s it. Gonna let me get a taste of your pretty little pussy?” 

“Y-yes.” 

He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, “Thank you.”

Noah removes his finger again and a moment later, you feel him trailing a barely there line of kisses up your thigh. And then you finally feel his lips pressing against your folds. 

At first, it’s a soft little kiss, but then you feel the tip of his tongue dragging through your folds. He moves so slowly, that you feel like you could stop him so easily if it becomes too much.  

You shift yourself upwards, in the attempt to get a glimpse at him. And when you look down, Noah meets your glance with the softest look. 

You feel him smile against you, before he pulls away just so. 

“Still feeling okay?” He asks. 

This time, your nod is enough for him. 

Noah quickly dives back between your thighs, burying his face there once again. He’s so careful with it. There’s something devotional about it. His attention is entirely on you and your pleasure. 

You bring a hand into his hair, remembering how he had shuddered last time. 

Noah lets out a sigh in response, but shows no sign of wanting to remove himself. In fact, you think that he sinks even deeper into you. You can just make out the flutter of his lashes against his cheeks as he continues his efforts. 

He gives a first experimental suck to your clit before he pulls away again. 

“Think you’ll be okay with my fingers inside?” 

“I want to try.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, “Just keep making those pretty sounds for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

He keeps his focus on you while he eases his pointer finger back into you. When you give him no sign of discomfort, he returns his lips to your core. 

Noah gives the softest little kitten licks to your clit, drawing whine after whine from you. As overwhelming as it feels, you just can’t tear your eyes away from him. 

Soon enough, he starts to work a second finger into you. The stretch of it makes you sigh, and the grip of your hand tightens in his hair. And in turn, you’re rewarded with a moan from Noah. 

The careful curl of his fingers, mixed with the steady licks he gives to your folds, drags you closer and closer towards your climax. 

“Noah.” you choke out, making him look up at you. 

“Getting close?” he asks, “You wanna cum for me? Let me hear how pretty you sound when you fall apart for me?”

You can only give him a desperate nod in reply. 

“That’s it baby. You’re so tight around my fingers. I bet you’d feel so good around my cock.” you don’t understand how he sounds so unaffected by all of this, when you feel as if you’re about to be torn apart, “Come on, let me feel you. You’re so close, aren’t you?” 

You’re right at the edge of it, but something is still holding you back. You let out a whine, hoping that it’s enough to tell him that you need more. 

“Aw need a little more, sweetheart? That needy little pussy just can’t get enough, hm?” 

He brings his thumb towards your clit. The slow circles he draws there, are enough to push you over the edge. You feel yourself clenching around his fingers, as you cry out in pleasure. You’re suddenly so very glad that the music playing downstairs is loud enough to disguise the sounds you’re making. 

Noah works you through your climax with practised ease. The gentle praise he showers you with only makes you feel dizzier. 

Eventually, his fingers slow until he stills entirely. 

“You did so good for me.” he says softly, “I’m gonna pull out my fingers, okay?”

You give him a nod. 

Your breath catches in your throat when he pulls his fingers from you. His fingers immediately dip between his lips. His eyes fall shut again, and he lets out a pleasured hum. 

“Noah?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

His eyes fly up to meet yours, “Hm?” 

“I want you.” “You just had me, sweetheart.” Noah says with a smirk.

“All of you.” 

“All of me?” the smirk fades into something you can quite identify. 

He rises up to his feet and for a moment, you think that he’ll turn around and leave. But instead, Noah leans down to you, placing a hand against your cheek. 

“I’m going to kiss you now. Is that okay?” 

Your heart is beating at a thousand miles a minute. Since the evening when you’d gotten him off, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. 

“Please, Noah.” 

His lips meet yours just a split second later. And before you know it, you find yourself on your back, with Noah hovering above you. 

You bring your hand into the hair at the back of his neck, to keep his lips on yours. 

One of his hands drifts up your thigh and under your dress. You feel his fingers digging into your waist. 

From your lips, Noah trails a line of kisses along your jaw and neck. You sigh when he sucks a pretty little mark into the skin of your neck. 

You try your best to tug his shirt out of his trousers, desperate to feel his skin beneath your fingers again. Noah seems to understand what you’re trying to do and quickly pulls his shirt off. He doesn’t return to you immediately, instead he moves to unbutton his trousers. You’re sure it’s just your imagination, but for a brief moment, you’re sure that his hands tremble just a little. He drops them onto his desk chair, together with his shirt, before he finally returns to you. 

You scoot back, making a little more space for him on the bed. Noah kneels between your parted thighs. You let your eyes wander across his mostly bare body. His chest heaves with quick breaths. You can’t deny the bubbling anxiety in your belly, either. 

Taking this step could change everything between you.  

You bring your hand to his waist, to guide him back to you. 

Noah meets you in another quick kiss, before he sits up again. 

“Can I take this off?” he asks, playing with the hem of your dress. 

As much as you want to seize up, you have to feel his hands on your body. And so you give him a nod. 

Noah helps you sit up, allowing him to take off your dress. You don’t care where it lands because as soon as your body is bared to you, his lips are back on your neck. His hands roam across your body, and now you’re actually able to feel the tremble of his hands. 

Noah kisses his way across your chest, grazing his teeth against your collar bones. You bring a hand between your bodies, pressing your palm against the bulge in his boxers. Noah’s forehead instantly drops to your shoulder. The groan he lets out makes you shiver. 

“Careful, baby.” he sounds so breathless already, “Don’t wanna finish before I’m inside you.” 

He shuffles out of his boxers, finally giving you a proper view of him. 

“Hurry up then.” You say, once again reaching out for him. 

Noah manages to catch your hand in his before you get a chance to catch him. 

“Don’t get impatient now. You’ve been so good until now.” 

He leans over to his night stand and pulls open the top drawer. Somehow you hadn’t thought about protection until now, but you’re glad that he did. 

“Better to be safe.” He notes as he tears open the package. 

Noah leans back over you, dipping down to steal a kiss from you. 

“Ready?”

You nod, bringing your hands to his waist. 

Noah remains focused on your face for a moment longer, before he looks down to where he’s working the head of his cock into you. 

The focused furrow in his brow makes you wonder if he’s struggling to keep himself composed. He takes his time with it, slowly working his length into you. 

Your hand remains on his waist, trying to steady both of you. 

“Oh—fuck.” His head drops against his chest, “You feel so fucking good.”

You wrap your arms around his body, gently coaxing him back down to you. Noah drapes himself across your body, burrowing his face against your neck. 

You feel his breath against your skin. He’s still for a long moment, his body heavy against yours. The weight of him eases your worries. He’s warm and comforting, skin so much softer than you had imagined. 

The skin of his back twitches when you move your hands. 

He begins a slow, steady rhythm. He rocks against you, barely moving away from you. But it’s enough for you. His lips return to the side of your neck, leaving what you assume will be a rather prominent mark. 

He sighs out your name, whispering it against your skin. 

With every thrust, he picks up a little bit more movement. Noah still doesn’t allow a lot of distance between you, but with the extra bit of leverage, he manages to hit all the right spots. 

You’re not sure how long you’ll last. 

The intensity of the moment is quickly dragging you towards your climax. Your belly already feels so taught. 

You can’t tell where his body ends and yours begins. 

Your name is a prayer on his breath. You’ve long given up on trying to form actual words. Between the moans and sighs that fall from your lips, you barely manage to utter his name. 

Your fingers dig into his back. Noah gasps against your skin. You swear that you feel teeth scraping against your bare shoulder. 

It’s a slow unravelling. 

Your climax hits you in slow waves, dragging you under like a current. Noah stills above you. You feel him release into the condom with a quiet gasp. His breath fans out against your skin. 

He stays where he is for a long moment. 

Noah’s back rises and falls beneath your palms. A part of you wants to keep him close like this forever, but you know that you’ll have to face the people downstairs at some point.

Eventually, he begins to pull away from you. Your hands stay on his body as long as possible. But once he has sat up completely, you’re practically forced to let go of him. 

“I’ll be right back with you, sweetheart.” 

He gives a barely there squeeze to your waist just before he gets off the bed. 

You don’t have time to feel shy about being entirely bare, as Noah quickly returns to you. You find yourself scooped up in his arms. Before you know it, he’s wrapped all around you again, this time with his chest pressed up against your back. 

There’s so much you want to say, but you just don’t know where to start. 

Noah’s arm snakes around your middle, somehow pulling you closer against him. You wrap your hand around his. 

He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“So about that room –” you say quietly, scared to disturb the mood.  

“It’s yours if you want it.” 

“Gonna make me sleep in the spare room, huh?” 

You hope that you haven’t read too much into all of this. Every little touch is still embedded in your mind. The way he had looked at you is burned into your brain. And in that moment, all you hope for is that you’re not the only one who feels like this. 

“Can you look at me?” he says and is voice is so unexpectedly soft then, “Please.” 

Noah eases his hold on you enough for you to turn around. 

His brow is furrowed so faintly, “Would you want me like that?” 

“Noah.” 

“Please – I need to know.”

Just like you had done at the beginning of the night, you place your hand against his cheek, “Of course I do.” 

The corners turn up into the faintest beginning of a smile, before he dips down for a kiss. 

“Does that mean that I can call you mine?” 

The barely there nervousness makes your chest ache a little. 

“Only if I can call you mine too.” 

He breaks into that pretty smile of his, “I think this might be the best start into a new year so far.” 

And really, you can’t disagree with him.

The party downstairs is long forgotten. The important thing is right here in front of you. And as selfish as it feels, you’re glad that you have him all to yourself in that moment because truth be told, this has been a long time coming. 

Eventually, you hear the fireworks, but neither of you moves even a muscle. You stay here, wrapped up in your own little moment, wholly entranced by each other. And for the first time, you realise that he’s been yours for a while, just like you’ve been his for just as long. 

All it took was a little nudge.

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

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@fadingangelwisp @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisisntablogspost @tintadecirco

@rumoured-whispers@cheyyyyr@mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 35. concert (half-written)

a/n: alt title: y/n having her y/n moment

you watch as everyone is admitted one by one from behind the door, peeking out so you don't cause too much ruckus. some find seats while others trade their ticket in for a beverage, and others chat amongst one another.

the beat against your chest gets more drastic as soon as the last pair are inside. you watch the two head to the upstairs seating before going back behind the door and taking a deep breath.

after a few minutes the chatter starts to settle down. everyone is comfy with their beverages and situated, which means it's time for the performance to start.

a staff member gets on stage and checks the microphone, then the guitar before she speaks toward the crowd, capturing their attention.

"hello everyone! good evening. the show will start soon, thank you for your compliance! enjoy!"

a wave of cheers and applaud roars throughout the cafe, overwhelming you just a bit. you still can't believe it, there's a whole crowd for you out there.

the staff member, jia, comes backstage and gives you a comforting smile. you've gotten to know her briefly and she's the sweetest person you know. she's supportive of your work and had been understanding as she helped you adjust and get to know the label, as well as their building.

"everything is ready." jia says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "are you?"

"y-yeah." you mumble. she pulls you in suddenly for a hug, rubbing your back softly.

"they'll love you, promise. fighting!" she cheers, putting a fist up.

you chuckle. "fighting!"

she pats you on the back once more before pushing you out there. you take a deep breath before stepping out, the murmuring simmering down and erupting into cheers. you smile as the lights around dim everywhere except the ones above you, emphasizing your moment.

you grab your electric guitar, putting the strap over so it can sit on your neck before you step closer to the microphone. you tap once, then twice, and finally a third time before speaking into it.

"hello?" you say quizically, unsure if you're unlucky enough to start your first show off with a mic that decides to cut off when it's your time to shine. "ah, it's working. hi everyone!"

there's another set of cheers, much louder than before, you might add.

"wow, oh my gosh, haha, you guys are so full of energy this is so cool." your nerves ease slightly and a giggle escapes when you hear someone calling you cute. "right. wow, this is so crazy—me being up here and all. thank you so much for being here. I'm beyond grateful for your support, and... honestly, I almost cried backstage before coming out here." that earns a ripple of laughter and a few heartfelt "awww's" from the audience.

someone shouts, "we love you!" and you can't help but laugh, the warmth of their support beginning to melt your anxiety.

"right. i'm starting off with my first song: i don’t wanna be okay without you. it originally was a small project that i uploaded on youtube after a very... eventful night." you start, strumming the first chords of the song. "i was so emotional so i sat down, sang, uploaded it, and fell asleep to push away what i felt. i woke up to a ton of notifications and my life changed significantly after that. this song will always be one of my favorites. okay, I'll stop talking now." you joke.

you strum again, the chords echoing through the room. you close your eyes for a moment, letting the familiarity of the song center you before you start singing. your voice is soft but steady, and as the melody builds, so does your confidence. people are swaying in their chairs, some mouthing the words. a group near the table holds up their phones to record, their faces flowing with excitement.

when the final note fades, the applause is immediate and enthusiastic. you're met with a wave of relief and pride that almost knocks you over. "thank you," you say into the mic, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. "wow, okay. this all just got really real. wow, thank you so much."

the crowd "awww's" at your words and really just you in general, making you giggle. and then you take a moment to sip some water, glancing around the room, soaking in the faces turned toward you.

"this next song is called letter—" you're interrupted briefly by cheers and claps. you smile widely before continuing, "I also wrote this after going through, well, a lot. but this was a little later down the line." you admit nervously, fiddling with the mic stand. "it's kind of surreal to be here now. I've already said this, but things have flipped so much then. everything in my life has just been great and I'm just beyond grateful." you pause, feeling a teasing grin spread across your face. "these first two songs—and not the last—are kind of inspired by someone who, uh, did me dirty. that's all I can say. as much as I hate them, I'm not that petty.”

the crowd bursts into laughter and a few cheers. "spill!" someone shouts, making you laugh even harder.

"i don't know," you reply cheekily, "i think the songs say a good amount of it all."

letter has a slower, more brooding start, and as you sing, the room quiets down to let your voice take over. the raw emotion of the song seems to resonate with the crowd, and for a moment, it feels like it's just you, your guitar, and the song.

as the song ends, you're met with another round of applause, louder this time, and a few whistles that make your face flush. "thank you so much," you say, your voice more confident now. "okay, now that I've gotten through those two, let's have some fun."

the next part of your set transitions into covers, and the energy in the room shifts. "alright," you say with a grin, "I had some songs I wanted to cover, so I hope you all will enjoy. I've covered some of these before and a lot of people seemed to like it."

the room comes alive with the first notes, immediately catching on to the melody. best part by daniel caesar is recognizable two notes in, so the cheers and expressions of surprise that follow make you giggle.

people start singing along softly and it suddenly feels less like a concert in the best way possible. you, your fans, and the thing you love most: music. the harmony fills the cafe and so do flashlights on phones that sway from side to side. it really feels like you're sharing the moment with everyone and not just performing.

you keep the energy mellow with i fall in love too easily by chet baker, letting the soft jazz tones melt into the warm air. then, you pick up the pace slightly with easy by mac ayres and isn’t she lovely by stevie wonder. the audience sways to the rhythm, some people tapping their feet against the floor. every now and then, you catch someone's eye in the crowd and share a quick smile, feeling the connection deepen.

the cafe feels like a living room with how relaxed and carefree everyone is. it's like all the worries from outside have been left at the door and you're all just basking in the music. you laugh as the crowd sings along to the chorus’s, their voices blending with yours in a way that feels effortless and beautiful.

between songs, you chat casually with the audience. "you all sound amazing, by the way." you say, and the room bursts into cheers again. "seriously, I mean, maybe I should get off stage and let one of you sub in, that alright?" you ask, earning a wave of laughs.

it's comforting and refreshing to see how much fun everyone is having, and it fuels your energy as you get ready to finish the last cover you planned out. you take another sip of water and glance at the clock on the back wall, not ready for the night to end just yet.

"right, okay. i had two songs planned, which are both originals. I've posted one on youtube, but the other has been hiding in my notes app and voice memos for maybe a month now." you say, strumming a chord. "we'll start off with evergreen." and as soon as you say it there's a few cheers. you grin, strumming the next chord. "this is also heavily inspired by the same person I mentioned earlier. don't let someone make you feel worthless, not when you're worth so much." you add, earning a few chuckles and sympathetic looks from the crowd.

you pause, letting the melody settle over the room before you start singing. the reaction is instant—murmurs of recognition ripple through the audience, and a few people shout out excitedly.

your voice is steady, but there's a rawness in it that makes the words hit differently in this live setting as if the crowd knows the reason for making this song.

the song flows without effort, but as you reach the chorus, a wave of emotion washes over you. this isn't just a song anymore; it's a shared moment, one that feels like you're peeling back layers of yourself for everyone to see. the crowd sways, a few people even holding up their phones to capture the performance. by the time you finish, the applause is deafening, and you can't help but grin bashfully under all the attention.

"thank you," you say, voice wavering just a bit. "that song means a lot to me, so hearing you all react like that... it's everything." you take a deep breath, fingers brushing nervously over the strings of your guitar. "now, this next one... I've never played it live before. it's called clementine, and, uh, I guess you could say it's still learning how to walk, haha. it's also a piece of my heart, and I want you all to hear it first before it gets released... well, who knows when. "

the room falls into a heavy silence as you start to strum—it almost feels sacred. you start softly, the notes delicate and deliberate, and your voice follows, carrying the weight of the lyrics. as the song is sung, you can feel the emotion in the room shifting—some people are wiping at their eyes while others are just watching you with complete captivating spread on their features.

by the time you reach the final verse, your own voice falters slightly, thick with emotion. you close your eyes, letting the last few notes linger in the air before they fade into the quiet. for a moment, the room stays still, as if everyone is holding their breath, and then the applause erupts. it's not just loud—it's heartfelt, full of appreciation and love that makes your chest tighten.

you set your guitar down carefully, bringing the mic closer. "wow," you breathe out, breath shaky as tears prick at your eyes. "I don't want this to end. this night has been... it's been everything I hoped for and more." you pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "but I promise this is just the beginning, thanks to my label wavy. there will be a next time, and it's going to be even better and bigger."

the crowd cheers, and you can't stop yourself from laughing softly. "oh, and one last thing before I go," you add, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I'm working on something special! a debut album! a few songs including the two I have just performed."

the reaction is instant—a wave of excited chatter and applause that makes you smile wider, your heart full and light.

" i wasn't gonna say anything but... well, you've seen my twitter. i can't keep secrets, can I?" even through the overwhelming emotion, everyone laughs including you. "thank you so, so much," you say, waving eagerly as the lights dim. "you've made tonight unforgettable. I'll see you all soon!"

as you exit, the applause follows you, the sound echoing in your ears like a promise. you can't stop smiling even as you step backstage, letting the emotions of the night finally catch up to you. this moment, you know, is one you'll carry on for the rest of your life.

—

as you pack your guitar and change into something comfier—a hoodie and sweatpants—jia knocks on the door. you fix your hair before yelling, "come in!"

the door opens and she steps inside, watching you set your guitar case on the table.

"did you need something? i'm almost ready, I just needed to fix myself up." you say to her.

she shakes her head, smiling almost mischievously. "it's alright, I'll help you with your things. there's a surprise out in the cafe, along with a beverage that the owner made. you might want to check it out."

"aw, the owner didn't have to. oh, and what surprise?"

"you'll see." jia says, tugging at your arm and pushing you out. "you've got your personal items and everything, we'll take care of the rest. have a good night y/n."

"thanks?" you chuckle, stepping out.

you head out and see a few employees wiping the tables down. thankfully, your fans weren't messy at all. they cleaned up after themselves and threw their cups away without asking. you really are lucky.

there's a hot chocolate waiting by the barista area with a beautiful heart design. you take a picture before reading the note beside it:

"congratulations! we are honored to have you here as our musical guest. we hope to have you here again soon :)

—gomdori cafe <3"

you smile at the little note, folding it neatly and placing it in your pocket before you feel a tap on your shoulder. when you turn around, your eyes widen immediately.

yunjin and hanni are standing there with big smiles gracing their faces, amusement flooding their features as your reaction deepens.

"nice performance!" yunjin beams before you tackle her into a hug, nearly cutting off her air supply.

"what the fuck are you doing here? i thought you were busy?" you say into her neck.

"even if i were, i'd drop anything to watch my best friends first concert. that was wonderful." yunjin mumbles, tightening her embrace.

"you're insane." you scoff, pulling away and pushing her shoulder teasingly. “is this what you were fucking posting about? oh my god, i should’ve known.”

then, you turn to hanni. just seeing her makes your heart swell. she's grinning still from the interaction between yunjin, then widening her eyes as you pull her in for a hug as well. it's sudden but just right.

hanni is a little smaller, so you kind of engulf her in your arms. but you're warm, smell good, and really cute, so she hugs you back with the same force. yunjin watches you two with a smirk, noticing the undertones of the moment.

"surprise." she says sweetly.

"i can't believe you came too." you sshifting your weight on both feet as you hug her. "thank you."

hanni pulls away and smiles, looking into your eyes and making you blush.

"i wouldn't miss this, i'm your biggest fan." she jokes.

yunjin laughs, shaking her head. "this was hanni's idea, actually."

"really?" you ask.

"yup. she texted me when you made the announcement. we both wanted to surprise you."

you sigh, shaking your head. "you guys are terrible. were you here the whole time?"

hanni nods. "mhm. heard all of your awkward reactions too."

"oh shut up." you groan.

"it was cute though." hanni says quieter than before, rolling her eyes at you. “and you did great, so don’t worry.”

yunjin catches the spark between you immediately, raising her brows at the sight but not commenting.

the three of you then head out, yunjin and hanni congratulate and compliment you (though not without teasing), and you are left the happiest you've ever been. this was definitely a night to remember: you, your fans, the music, and two of the people you care about.

a/n (2): a bit iffy about how this was written + the pacing but I hope u guys liked it, let me know...!

masterlist ; previous - next

taglist ! @namojoon @ly-gushka @layonaiguess @artrizzler19 @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @nwjnsloona @saysirhc @nimnia @somedaydream @trovao-penguins @modanisgf @c-yerim @starstruckgoateepuppy @tzuyusdoughnut @kaypanaq @peranoo @haerinkisser @electronicluminarycoffee @yoohtonyy @secretcessy @keiji-jin @awkwardtoafault @syronns @linnnsworld @inybits @ynwrites

[cupidbedsy]

Hi Love, can I request roses 🌹🌹🌹 with the prompt “You don’t have to be so brave when you’re with me.” Jack or Quinn Hughes… your choice because they both give warm comforting vibes. Thank you!

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked restless rose 🌹 !

warnings: feelings of having to be perfect, being a burden,

word count: 1k

florist cupid: whoops, this like just hit the 1k mark so it's okay, shhh. if you're wondering how i picked, i spun a wheel. that's actually how i make most of my decisions. anyway, thank you for requesting lovely ! also for reference, this is the key holder thingy that i was referencing .

being one of many children in your family, you were used to pushing your emotions off to make sure your siblings got the attention they needed.

it happened through various stages of your life; when you were younger, running home to show your mom you got 100% on your math test just to see her consoling your older brother who just got broken up with, or when you were in middle school and who you thought was your best friend yelled your crush's name in front of the whole cafeteria and came home with fat tears streaking down your face to see everyone praising your older sister for getting into college.

you loved your siblings with every bit of your heart, so much so you were willing to put off your happiness for them, wanting to be brave so they could be vulnerable. and that little habit of yours had wedged itself into your relationship with quinn.

quinn who was attuned to your every move and every feeling, quinn who could make you happy just by brushing his fingers against your cheek, quinn who made you breakfast in the morning before he went off to practice.

he had enough weight on himself as it was, leading the team through an injury, trying to stay positive after loss after loss, and staying up late just to get up early. you didn't need to burden him with your minor worries.

after a long day of being criticized, work piling up higher than your head, and barely having time to eat a decent lunch, you just wanted to go home and curl up in your bed and eat a whole pizza with your cuddly, handsome, boyfriend.

you stopped at the door, said pizza clutched in your hands, purse hanging off your shoulder. your feet ached as you stood but you needed to compose yourself, fix your face so it didn't look like you just spent 8 straight hours in hell.

once you plastered on your more than fake smile and mentally prepared yourself for telling quinn your day was long but nothing you couldn't handle, you opened the door and stepped into your shared apartment.

you kicked your shoes off almost immediately, dropping your bag and your keys onto the counter before delicately placing the pizza next to it.

your eyes scanned your surroundings and frowned when quinn was nowhere to be found.

"quinn?"

there was no reply and you looked over at the small key holder the two of you had purchased when you moved in together, the carl keychain noticeably missing meaning he was out of the house.

looking back at the pizza, you sighed, it didn't even seem appetizing anymore. so you walked to your room, changing out of your work clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and your favorite hoodie of quinn's.

you settled onto the couch, bringing the multiple blankets you had into your lap as you navigated to the disney+ app to watch your favorite movie.

just as you were about to hit play, the door opened and in walked quinn with a pizza in his hands. you gaped at him, watching as he placed his keys back on the wall and kicked his shoes off like you had done earlier.

his eyes met yours and grinned, "hi baby."

you stood up, walking over to him, "hi. you bought a pizza?"

"figured you would want it after work, but-" he looked to the side at the pizza you had already gotten, "it seems like you had the same thought as me."

"great minds think alike i suppose."

"hmm, that they do." he kissed you softly, placing his free hand on your hip, bringing you closer to him.

you opted to wrap your pizza up and put it in the fridge since it was colder than his, letting him bring his to coffee table.

"watching our movie without me?"

"just wanted to watch something." you shrugged it off but quinn could detect the slightest bit of sadness in your tone.

it wasn't like you only watched up when you were sad or missing quinn, but it was weird that you hadn't even told him you were planning on watching it.

when you came back, sitting next to him on the couch, he asked, not wanting to spend another minute seeing you upset, "what's wrong?"

"nothing." the lie fell from your lips with ease causing him to furrow his eyebrows and frown.

"sweetheart, i know when something's wrong." curse him and his stupid all-knowing superpower. "talk to me."

"long day at work."

"and?"

"and that's it. was a long day, lots of work to get done, had to sit through a couple meetings, talked to my boss too, she said-"

you froze as he pulled you onto his lap, looking down at him with wide eyes, "what're you doing?"

"something's going on in that beautiful head of yours and i'm trying to figure it out."

"i'm serious, quinny. i'm fine."

"you're not. please, talk to me, that's what i'm here for."

so you did, you rambled about your frustrating day in extreme detail, finally letting the anger and annoyance out of you. and when you were done, he didn't say a word, just held you close and traced his fingers up and down your back in a soothing matter.

"why didn't you want to tell me?" he asked softly.

you shrugged, "i dunno, just always done that."

"done what?"

"kept things to myself. wanting everyone else to feel how they felt so i stayed to the side, keeping it all in."

"sweetheart... you don't have to be so brave when you're with me. i never want you to have to feel like you're feelings aren't important to me. i just want you to be happy."

you couldn't help the tears that welled in your eyes as he spoke, hanging onto every word he said like an emotional lifeline. he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, "i want to hear about every part of your day, want to know how you're feeling at every moment, want to see every part of you that makes you you."

you buried your head into his shoulder, too overwhelmed by what he was saying. thankfully, he didn't say anything more, just kept you close, protecting you from anything that could harm you.

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

[mlthree]

poc!tf141!reader x simon riley

author’s note: a lovely reader linked me the series that this fic was inspired by after i couldn't find it!! it's "if i can't, no one can" (specifically the "say the word" chapter) by the amazingly talented @hahaifolded; it's also a poc!reader fic and it's about about all the boys falling for the newest recruit and the chaos that ensues, i loved it and can't wait for the next installation. you guys should go check it out!! cw: descriptions of fighting, punching, blood, etc

you'd always loved training the recruits. for the most part, they were excited to be here. there were always a few you had to put in their place, but even that was enjoyable.

until one day, one of them decided to go too far.

you, kyle, and johnny had been tasked with showing the new recruits around, orientation and all that. simon had tagged along after you and soap had begged him to, and he’d finally caved when kyle had mentioned he might get the chance to scare the shit out of some recruits.

so halfway through orientation all of you ended up in the gym, and you had been having the time of your life — there had been more than average both women and recruits of color in this batch, and you had been busy talking to one of the girls when some privileged son of a bitch decided to poke his nose where it didn’t belong.

“c’mon sweetheart, save some conversation for the rest of us too, no?” you stop talking about to turn your head and take a mental inventory of the recruit who thinks he can talk like that. simon is the only one to notice and he does so immediately, but doesn't step in.

“what makes you think i’d want to talk to a recruit with an attitude like yours?” the chatter around you dies down as some people glance toward the two of you now, sensing that something’s about to go down. “do you really want to fuck with me, recruit? you’re not even a few days old. fresh meat.”

“always so fiesty.” your blood boils at the sentence. everyone’s watching now. the gym is silent. why isn’t this kid shutting up?

“always so cocky,” you counter, trying to keep a level head. you weren't one of his fellow recruits, you were a sergeant.

“me? oh come on, we all know why you’re here.” there is no way this fucker has the audacity to say what you know he’s about to say. “you check off all the boxes for being the diversity pick. everyone can see it.” there are a few mutters of agreement from around the room, as well as some scattered gasps.

“recruit, what business do you think you have talkin’ to ‘er like that?” soap butts in, standing in front of you to put some distance between you and the kid. you stand still for a second to think, knowing all eyes were on you. 

“what’s your name, recruit?” you ask, sidestepping johnny.

“cole.”

“say it correctly, recruit!” soap barks at him.

“cole reed, ma’am,” he says rather unenthusiastically. you look him up and down. anyone who knows you could tell you had a plan brewing. 

he was built. 

but you could take him. no sweat.

“reed. gloves on. me and you, in the ring, now.” the room erupts with chatter, and before you can turn to get your training gloves, soap stops you.

“whaddya you think you’re doing, bonnie?” he asks quietly, not trying to give the recruits the impression that he’s doubting you — he’s not. he’s just worried. “you really think this is a good idea? we could jus’ send him to price, get him outta here and transferred to some shitty, low level base—”

“i think this is a great idea,” is all you reply before heading over to your duffel on the side of the gym and picking out your maroon training gloves. your heart is hammering. you know you can take this kid out, easy, it’s just that—

you feel ghost creep up behind you, but you choose to ignore him. he walks over to your side, watching your slightly shaking hands put on your gloves. you silently curse yourself. simon is observant. he’ll notice.

“if you want, i can snap that guy’s neck real quick.” you don’t reply, trying to steady your breathing. he scans you for a second, then opts to help you put your gloves on, watching you closely. some whoops erupt from the other side of the gym by the ring, and you turn your head to see the recruit, cole or whatever his face was, with his stupid fucking friends, motioning you over. “wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. probably be the highlight of my week.”

you crack a smile, but shake your head. “i got this.” you just can’t steady your fucking breathing. 

“i know ya’ do. jus’ a bit worried.” kyle’s made his way over to you and simon, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“you got this. we’ll be on standby if things go awry.” both you and simon turn to look at him, who realizes what he wanted to say came out wrong. “i’m just sayin’ if you need help—“ simon’s glare makes him switch his words once again “i mean, we have your back. that’s all,” he finishes, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“thanks, gaz.” you turn around once more to see soap now screaming at the recruits about something, probably about how you were gonna fuck their favorite boy up or something. that’s enough to put a smile on your face, enough to give you that little bit of confidence you needed to stroll over to the ring. 

johnny puts both of his hands on your shoulders. “listen, bonnie. that dude tries anything crazy, i’ll fuck him up. and have him on toilet scrubbing for half a year.” you can’t help but giggle at johnny’s loyalty — it really was his most endearing quality. you take a deep breath.

“thanks, soap. but i got this. don’t you worry your pretty little head.” you mess up his mohawk, your reassurance seeming to ease his anxiety a bit. dipping under the ropes, you try to stay unaware of all the eyes that were on you two, sizing up your opponent. he’s got this shitfaced grin on his face that you can’t wait to wipe off.

he goes for your head for his first punch. typical, you think to yourself, blocking it, but you’re so in your head that you fail to block the second one that goes straight for your stomach. shit. get it together.

“how long did you say you’ve been here? and somehow you already let a recruit fake you out,” he tries to egg you into going at him, but not yet. not yet.

“is all you do talk?” you have a lot more success into baiting him into a move, and he goes for both of your sides, repeatedly, not stopping even as you backpedal and only stepping back once you counterpunch. jesus christ. this kid was murderous.

“is all you do fuck your supervisors? can’t think of another way you got here.” you can hear johnny’s bewildered what did he say? and can almost hear what simon is thinking in his head, the ways he could kill him, probably.

“you mad you can’t?” you ask in the most genuine voice possible. he mimics you like a child, swinging a hook your head but stepping backward at the last second, effectively dodging your block and catching your face instead.

“do you even know how to fight?”

“no,” you pout, running your tongue along the inside of your mouth, tasting the blood.

“clearly.” he gets bold and manages a kidney punch which, even though you try, you can’t block because it caught you so badly off guard.

another punch to the head that you block, but then a punch to the side of your head and then the other side of your head and another—

“what in the bloody fuck is she doing?” kyle mutters to simon, watching the beatdown. simon doesn't give a response. he knew you had it under control, but each time cole successfully got a punch in, he winced. he’s not happy with you for your strategy — you could’ve easily slipped around him and knocked him out, your ability to be quick and agile being something that you topped the rest of the team in. but simon knew that simply wouldn’t do for you.

soap figures it out before gaz does. “oh my god. she’s gonna fuckin’ kill him, isn’t she?” simon didn’t say a word. he just watched, eyes fixed on you. 

it was all part of your plan. you would take a few punches in exchange for learning his fighting style, and then he’d say bye bye to his dignity and the respect of his classmates for probably the entire time he decided to stay at this base. which, if simon had taught you hand-to-hand well enough, wouldn’t be long.

cole throws a punch to your midriff that gets you doubled over, torso still weak from the blow to your back and head pounding from the countless you couldn’t block. simon has to restrain both himself and throw a hand over gaz’s chest to keep him from stepping in.

you have this under control, simon thinks. you have to.

and as if on cue, you sidestep cole’s next punch, much to the awe of the crowd. you dodge the next one. and then block and pow — a sucker punch that sends him staggering back into the ropes. that one definitely broke his nose. nice. the recruits gasp, but your team has a different reaction — simon smirks under his mask, gaz’s jaw drops, and soap looks like he could start cheering right this instant.

cole jeers, coming back at you. you easily step to the side and stick out a leg out to trip him, letting him fall nearly flat on his face. a smile crosses your face as you tut at him, the metallic taste inside your mouth becoming ever so prominent. there are a few scattered laughs throughout the crowd. 

he hastily gets up and starts bouncing in true sparring fashion — that’s not gonna save him now — cautiously coming near once again. you’re banking on him trying your head, and you’re right. you duck down, hitting him with one to the stomach, then the chest, then the neck as the crowd gasps. he doubles over, hands at his neck, coughing up a bit of blood on the floor at which he incredulously looks at. you watch him closely, ushering him to take another shot at you. 

“do you even know how to fight?” you repeat his words from earlier, and you see a flicker of fear on his face. got him.

“i’m textin’ price.” johnny waits for simon to stop him but simon doesn’t, attention unwavering from the match taking place.

you checkhook him, hard, as he goes at you again, and you can imagine just how psycho you look with your grin. “no words, recruit? you tired? you done?”

he runs at you again — did this kid never learn from his mistakes? — and tries a jab which you dodge with ease, hitting the side of his head with a crossjab. he grabs his head — he clearly underestimated how hard girls hit. 

you know you need to end this before you kill him, since the kid himself didn’t know when to stop. you give him a second last punch to the ribs, and the moment his arms fly down there, you finish the entire fiasco with a punch to the back of his head as your final move. he lands on the ground and you finally let your shoulders slump, noticing how heavy your breathing is. the crowd of recruits is silent until a few of them start whooping, then comes the cheering, then comes the clapping. your ears are ringing and the commotion catches you off guard, completely having forgotten the nearly 100 people watching. your eyes land on your team: simon’s arms crossed and eyes looking up at you, almost as if he was proud, kyle’s admiring nod, and soap’s grin that he was desperately trying to hide. you turn back to the bloodied recruit in front of you.

“who do you think's the diversity pick now?” you spit out, wiping the blood from your mouth. crouching down, you make eye contact with him. “huh, white boy? got anything to say?” he was conscious, but you get nothing. getting back up, realizing just how dizzy you are, taking a step back while the floodlights blur. the sight of him curled up on the floor gives you mental satisfaction, but your body is on fire. you hadn’t realized the force behind his punches because of all the adrenaline, and the pain was starting to hit you. 

johnny and gaz quickly scramble around the ropes lead you out of the ring, and you’re leaning more of your weight on them than you’d like to. they can tell. 

almost at the locker rooms, you take a look back and see simon crouched down by cole, seemingly saying something to him before getting up. price was standing right behind him. fuck, price was here too now.

once kyle and soap get you into the locker room you immediately rush to the sink, coughing up the blood that had pooled in your mouth while gripping onto the porcelain, knuckles white. you look up at your own reflection and borderline flinch, your physical state accurately reflecting the amount of pain you felt. a black eye, bloody nose, and already developing bruises littering your torso. to top it all off, blood, everywhere.

jesus fucking christ. that kid do crossfit or something?

the door opens and johnny immediately stands in front of you defensively, but it’s just simon and price who turn the corner. you can feel the anger radiating off of simon, eyes grazing over every inch of you as he takes inventory of your state. your captain does the same, but moreso in disbelief.

“fawn, are you okay?” kyle calls you by the callsign the team had adoringly given you, making your eyes start to well up with tears.

“i’m fine,” your voice cracks, and all kyle does is walk over to you and give you a gentle hug as tears start to roll down your face. he knows what you’re feeling right now all too well. “it's okay. i'm okay,” you choke out, feeling weaker than ever now that price, your captain, was seeing you in this state.

“no, you’re not. that was fourteen punches you took.” thanks a lot for counting, si.

“with full force,” gaz adds, and you really want to shoot him a glare.

“and training gloves. those things do a number on ya’.” you do shoot soap a glare, instantly shutting him up.

“what were you thinking?” there’s a hint of pleading in simon’s voice, and you wonder if the others caught it too. 

you don’t have the heart to meet eyes with si, knowing one look would send you straight bawling. all you wanted to do was curl up into him and have him trace meaningless symbols on your skin, dating or not be damned. you were tired of being so masculine, of pretending like you were some eternally infallible soldier that could take everything thrown at her without so much as a peep. nobody could blame you for needing his arms wrapped around you, tight, not even yourself.

and that was saying something.

“y/n, what happened?” price asks cautiously, walking over and helping johnny sit you down on the bench. you don’t even know what to say, shaking your head.

“this stupid bampot,” you giggle at soap’s scottishness coming out in full force, immediately regretting it and wincing, “started spewing all this shit about her, being racist and sexist and whatnot, and then she said they should fight. and smarty here made him think he had the upper hand so she could figure out his next moves. oh, and then she beat his ass.” i mean, he explained that pretty concisely. price rakes a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to handle this.

“are you mad at me?” you ask genuinely, unsure if you’d crossed the line. again, you were a sergeant. that kid was a recruit. his brows furrow.

“sweetheart—” he crouches down next to you, putting a consoling hand on your thigh. “not even a little bit. mad at him? not even, i’m furious. that bloke got what was coming to him and i couldn’t have thought of a better person to dish it out.” his words do wonders to ease your tension. “i’m going to go take care of this. you boys got her?” the rest of the team nods. “good men. i’ll check on you in a bit.” he stands up and leaves, but not before bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head, a tender gesture that makes you start crying again.

“thanks, cap,” is all you can manage, voice still shaky.

the boys proceed to gently dab the blood off of you with wet towels while you try to put your mind over matter, but the pain is too much. johnny and kyle just keep apologizing over and over, and simon even mirrors your winces when someplace he touches stings. eventually they get most of it and all that’s left is the dull pain of open skin and your bruises that were getting worse by the minute.

luckily,  your team’s barracks aren't a far walk from the gym. you refuse to hold onto anyone for support, fearing anyone who saw would realize how badly you got banged up and word would spread. so simon’s hands hover at the ready to catch you as you’re walking while he shoots death glares at a few base personnel who do a double take when they see your state. 

kyle punches in the code to your room—nothing abnormal, all of you knew each other’s codes (price being the exception, but simon had somehow gotten his hands on the captain’s code too, a story for another time)—and the boys help you inside, sitting you down on your bed.

“you need anything, bonnie?”

“no, thank you, soap. you guys have done more than enough.”

“don't start that. do you want us here with you?” gaz asks, and you shake your head. the boys nod, starting towards the door, but you grab simon’s hand before he can make it too far. he understands, crouching down in front of you, keeping your hand in his. kyle and johnny exit, and you two sit in a comfortable silence for a while.

“think we should take you up to the medic,” simon breaks the silence, inspecting your wounds. you didn’t mean to get this banged up, but hey, you were way better off than that cole kid was.

“i don’t need to go to the goddamn medic, simon. story’s already gonna spread like wildfire on base.” the corners of your mouth quirk up a bit thinking about it, and simon shakes his head.

“you don’t have to prove yourself to everyone, ya’ know.”

“that’s not what i did. i fucked him up.” your clarification elicits a low chuckle from simon’s chest, and you smile proudly in response.

“jus’ sayin’. don’t want it to catch up to you one day.” you tilt your head, and he makes it a point to not look up at you, instead, running his fingers over the bruises on your midriff, still crouched down in front of you.

“and that means?” simon sighs, knowing you weren’t going to let this go without an answer.

“you can’t always win.”

“you do,” you point out. you can see him open his mouth and then close it from under the balaclava, trying to figure out what to say. “this was important, simon. this was a battle i had to pick.”

“i know, i know,” he backtracks. “‘s just...” you lower your head, trying to catch his eyes.

“c’mon, si,” you speak softly. “you know you can say anything.” a beat of silence.

“i worry about you.” because you’re a woman of color in the army is what he doesn’t say — you being on the team had showed him the brutal reality of what you’ve had to go through your entire life, and all it managed to do was make him more angry on your behalf. it just didn't make sense to him. you were more capable than most of the fuckers here, so why did you have to be treated so differently?

“sounds like you’re my boyfriend,” you tease him, and he looks up at you with those stupid puppy dog eyes of his that could get you to do whatever he wanted. “...i can handle myself, si,” you reassure him quietly, trying not to make any sudden moves, almost as though you were trying not to scare a cat. 

“i know you can. just don’t want you to have to, ya’ know?” you bite the inside of your cheek, making the decision to gently cup the side of his face. he almost immediately leans into your touch, just ever so slightly. you want to kiss him. you really do. you don’t know what’s stopping you two from going at it on your bed right here right now, to be completely honest.

“what are we doing, si?” you whisper, trying not to let him hear the tremble in your voice. you blame the hits to your head for what you were asking him, but you couldn’t do it anymore. it wasn’t normal. the lingering touches, the heavy stares, the way he talked about you, talked to you, like you were his girlfriend. it was all too much. you needed an answer. you either needed him to push you away and break your heart or you needed his lips on yours, now. “what is this?”

he doesn’t reply, and all you want to do is start screaming at him.

“what are we doing, simon?” you repeat yourself, heart probably beating faster than it was in that ring. you begin to wonder if the stress would reopen your wounds. “please. i can’t keep doing this anymore.” he doesn’t say anything but he moves his hands from you, and you swear that’s the end of it—

until he flips up his balaclava, shifting to his knees and gently grabbing your chin to press a kiss against your lips. you freeze for a few seconds, unable to understand what just happened which he mistakenly takes as a sign to pull away. you quickly remedy your mistake by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and actually kissing him this time, feeling everything — from the contour of his lips that you’ve never seen to the softness of his hair when you wrap your arm around his neck to pull him in closer to the small whimper he lets out when you rub your thumb against his chest — stop, stop, you’re getting lightheaded. you pull away, blinking from the sudden dizziness, body still considerably weak from everything that just went down a mere 20 minutes ago.

“woah, okay, slow down,” you can hear the amusement in his voice as gets up and sits down next to you, lying you both down on your bed so it’s a more even eye level.

“we’ve been going slow for months,” you reply annoyedly, and you can see him smile, for the first time ever, you see him actually smile, because his mask is flipped up. you slowly move your hand to rest on the side of his face, thumb caressing his cheek.

“like what ya’ see?” he asks with a grin that you can see. you still can't get over the fact that you can see simon riley's smile.

“no. hate it,” you murmur, eyes still transfixed on his lips.

“mhm.”

“shh,” you use as an excuse to put your finger to his lips. “i'm busy staring at the most gorgeous man i've seen. you're ruining it.” he smiles. you wanted your kids to have that smile.

“whatever you say, dovie.”

“that’s new.”

“it’s out of pity. that kid kinda really fucked you up, ya’ know.” you give his chest a light punch, and for the first time ever, you hear simon riley’s laugh without the muffle of his mask. “want me to take it off?” he asks.

“are you trying to finish me off after what's happened already?” you ask, only half serious. “i want you to take it off when you want to take it off.”

you don't know it, but he'll reference that last sentence in your vows.

“but... i have a question.” he nods for you to continue. “were you really counting how many times i got hit?”

“yeah, i was. fucker got lucky,” he sighs.

“why?”

“fifteen was when i was gonna get in there and snap his neck.”

⁀➷ more

₊˚⊹♡ taglist: @ghostlythots @redartifex @pricesprettyprincesss @negomisan @smutty-littleslut @thatgurlyoudunn0 @diseasedclitoris

[hannieehaee]

so happy to see requests are back!!! i love your writing so much!!! if you don't mind, my request is svt's reaction to reader having a chronic illness (ex. asthma)????

their s/o having a chronic illness

content: chronic illness, established relationship, no mention of an illness in specific, fluff, etc.

wc: 901

a/n: i don't have a chronic illness so i kept this kind of ambiguous, i hope you enjoy!!

masterlist

seungcheol -

he's such a caretaker at heart, he'll always be willing to do everything in his power to support your lifestyle in order to accommodate to your chronic illness. nothing is too much in his eyes, so if you need any special modifications to your home, your transport, or your life in general, he's there making sure it's done.

jeonghan -

as per usual, he'll baby you. no matter what it is, if you were struggling a little extra that day, his first instinct would be to baby you and coo and comfort you. he's got natural motherly instincts with everyone he loves, and you'd be the biggest receiver of this treatment. he'd help you in every possible way.

joshua -

as the very responsible and put together person he is, his mere presence would offer you comfort. he'd always have whatever you need at hand, always checking in on you if he happened to be away. if you were having a specially difficult way due to your chronic illness, he'd take the day off if possible (or leave work early) in order to be there for you with all your favorite things to at least try and take your mind off it and relax a bit.

jun -

would never want to make you feel out of place or singled out due to your chronic illness, so he'd make it a point to check with you to see what you were most comfortable with and what you'd need from him when your chronic illness acted up or when you just felt like you needed a little extra help. cutie's got the most empathetic heart ever so he'd always make you feel at ease.

soonyoung -

he'd be so interested in learning everything you have to tell him about your chronic illness, wanting to be an anchor for you and understanding of what you may need from him. sometimes he forgets you may have some limitations in certain areas, in which cases he'd immediately backtrack and come up with an alternative, never wanting to make you feel out of place and always wanting to include you in everything he does.

wonwoo -

makes your chronic illness just a part of your daily life, not highlighting it in any way that might make you feel bad or uncomfortable, but assimilating to any of your needs in a way so natural it feels like the norm. he gives me vibes of a caretaker, which would specially show itself on the days you were feeling down or your chronic illness was acting up. he'd be completely empathetic to your feelings, always hearing you out and taking care of you.

jihoon -

not gonna lie he probably stresses over you sometimes. he just stresses easily and he'd already feel bad for leaving you for extended periods of time, he'd have to be calling you every day to make sure you had a good day that day and to check if you needed anything from him. he makes any accommodation necessary in his studio so you feel comfortable spending long periods of time there, happy to have you close and comfortable.

seokmin -

i think he'd be very into taking care of his partner regardless of anything, so when it came to your chronic illness, he'd make sure he knew all there was to know in order to take some stuff off your plate whenever necessary. makes sure you always have whatever you need at hand and coo's at you if you ever need help from him with anything.

mingyu -

it'd pain him in a very personal and intimate way any time your chronic condition acted up. he'd literally drop everything to tend to you, making sure you had anything you needed and not caring about any of his surroundings. his focus would just be fully on you.

minghao -

he knows that home-made remedies arent always the answer, but he'd still offer you massages, mediation, special teas and ointments that his mother would make him as a child, etc in order to try and give you some relaxation on days where your chronic illness acted up. he'd provide you with a safe space and lend a sympathetic ear whenever you just couldn't deal with it all.

seungkwan -

he's always prepared in case of emergencies. anything you usually carry with you or need for your chronic illness, he has a set of his own that he carries around with him as back-up. he'd be the best bf when it came to making sure you were taken care of!!

vernon -

he'd make it as big of a deal as you'd want it to be. if you wanted to be lowkey about it and not put too much emphasis on your chronic illness, he'd still worry about you, but he'd act accordingly. however, if you were okay with him expressing his worries and taking care of you, he'd have peace of mind knowing he can at least try to help.

chan -

he lives to serve you (real). if you carry around an inhaler, he'd make sure he had one he carried with him too and maybe even another one at his place. if you had chronic pain, he'd have special furniture at home to accommodate to that, if you had any condition that required medicine-taking, he'd keep a schedule for it, calling you if he was away to make sure you were keeping up with it.

[confused-reading-ink-rat]

Wicked AU where there is a mark of your soulmate on your skin, and it becomes an outline when they die. 

It was one of the most exciting days in Shiz University. It was the day that marks would appear on your skin, and you'd finally meet your roommate. 

The air was charged with tension, people dolling themselves for the possibility of meeting their soulmates, couples breaking up left and right, or exchanging vows, sometimes even simultaneously. It was complete social chaos. Some opportunist students were even selling snake oil cures to make the marks appear faster. Shiz really does make the dull think sharp, even if it’s for quick coin.

Galinda heard that a select few somewhat worked. But she didn't trust the rumors, especially on a day like this? She had to admit she was tempted, but her reputation had to be preserved.

Ah, Galinda Upland. She tucked a stray golden curl behind her ear and smiled at her audience, giving them their favourite show, her. 

She strode through the halls with exercised confidence radiating off her effortlessly, with Pfanne and ShenShen flanking her from behind. In truth, she was a nervous wreck inside. Her bones rattled uncontrollably inside her body, as if they'd rather crawl out from beyond the flesh and form a xylophone than deal with every what-if her half-functioning brain was churning out in her head. 

Oh, but she was perfectly fine. 

Perfectly, absolutely fine. 

(Meanwhile...)

Elphaba Thropp was tired, was soulmates the only thing on everyone's mind today? Well, the professors also extended the deadline for most of their assignments, so she couldn't really blame them when even the school encouraged them. It was the day, after all, it appeared she was the only one who didn't care for it. She avoided the crowds of students with ease, as they already gave her a wide berth. It wasn't difficult to get away from everyone when they were also trying to get away from you. 

She wasn't sharing the tense and hopeful feelings the rest of the student body was drowning in. No, she had long given up on a soulmate, believing herself to be part of the small percentage of Oz that didn't have one. It was much easier that way. Much better than holding out hope that maybe, someone out there would see beyond the green. 

She shook her head, freeing herself from the thought. She just needed to get away today, right now everyone's too busy fussing over themselves to taunt her, Oz knows how long that would last. She rounds a corner, and of course, the Universe decides that then. She just had to see Galinda Upland today. Had to see her skipping along the halls without a care in the world, bragging about how she's so confident that she'd meet her soulmate today and they'd accept her immediately, rambling on about how happy she'd be when they meet. Elphaba can't help but roll her eyes at the delusions, no one fell for someone that fast, but this was Galinda Upland. She did her best to ignore the blonde, moving on. She had better things to worry about anyways. 

She didn't, but she wasn't about to admit that to herself. 

She strolled past her as well and straight ahead, hoping to hide herself and get lost in the nooks and crannies of Shiz University before everyone realizes she's gone. They won't. No one ever comes looking for her anyways. 

Maybe to hide from herself too, and the ache of possibly having no one in her life that would want her.

Galinda paced in her shared dorm room, as she had been for the past hour already. She had assured Pfanne, ShenShen and the whole student body that her soulmate mark was just taking its sweet time to get to her, time makes the heart grow fonder after all. She wasn't sure if that was meant to ease everyone's concern or her own. It should be here by now. 

She stared at her reflection in her vanity, daring it to change something, anything. But still, nothing. No mark on her skin, no colorful reminder, none. She jumped out of her seat in frustration, muttering curses as she threw herself onto bed. 

Maybe she was a late bloomer, she had to be. Oh, yes that'd be horrendible but there was no way she had no soulmate! What would everyone think?! Oh how miserable she would be! Well not really, there were plenty of eligible soulmate-less bachelors all over Oz vying for her hand. Maybe she could form an artificial bond, oh Oz, that was desperate, but everyone needs a back-up plan— 

Galinda froze, feeling the skin just below her ear start to tingle. She hurriedly sat herself in front of her mirror, eagerly staring at her reflection, waiting for the colors to mark her body. 

As the door opened and her roommate invited herself inside, Galinda stared in disbelief. 

A simple green poppy with heart-shaped petals. 

Then, Galinda spoke in a soft tone she didn't know she could say with the name she had laced with malice so many times slipped out of her lips. 

"Elphaba.”

[spideyson-stuff]

We talk a lot about Tony being a dad, but about Pepper being a mom?...

Peter, for some reason unknown to the human set, is AMAZING at Pepper's job, managing social networks, managing employees and creating new brands to leverage everyone's work.

Tony honestly regrets showing Peter Pepper's CEO job because now Pepper is basically stealing his protégé in broad daylight

Pepper is really impressed with how Peter fits into her schedule, he knows how to manage things in an incredible way, as long as he doesn't have to appear in public to do it, spoiler alert, he has social anxiety and can't speak in public

Peter literally created a clothing brand, a book series and manages the official SI and Avengers accounts simultaneously with his personal and Spider-Man life, obviously he did all this by creating a different fake name for each separate thing because he would rather die than let his colleagues know that he wrote the most famous romcom of the last decade, and ALSO is the designer of the new Strak clothing collection

Pepper had never been more proud of anyone in her life until one day she walked into Peter's personal lab (because now he simply NEEDED one to manage all of his new works) and sees Peter curled up on the floor crying with several papers around him

Pepper IMMEDIATELY drops her briefcase and goes to him to ask what happened, then Peter starts talking in a jumble about how he's a failure and the new book of his series is shit and no one will read it and the new designs for his new clothing collection are horrible and if someone sees this they will consider it a crime for fashion, and the SI and Avengers accounts are collapsing due to the amount of messages and tags they are receiving

Pepper notices that the papers around him are drawings of clothes and pages from his book, and she hugs him tightly, Peter manages to say nothing and just hugs her back crying while she calms him down saying that nothing he did was horrible, wow it's not even close to bad!

The new book looks captivating and the clothes are warmongering, Peter is definitely the kind of designer who loves women because the dresses are gorgeous.

Then Peter falls asleep in her arms and Pepper cancels all her plans for the day to be with Peter

Important Guy in Charge: But- Miss. Potts! you have important things today!

Pepper: Nothing is more important than my son's health, besides, Peter and I TOGETHER already done enough work to take 2 months off, you guys can manage things on your own for 1 day

[possibilistfanfiction]

i know you're working on it so no rush at all but i will love to read some poor unsuspecting queer person having a giant crush on cait only to be met with handsome vi, thank you!!

[rip to this queer person just trying to flirt, who wouldn't be a little overwhelmed by cait lol. a counterpart to this silly guy. on ao3.]

//

you show up early because you’re nervous; you remind yourself that you’re an impressive, competent person, a badass attorney, a great uncle, a thoughtful friend — you can do this. it helps, immediately, when there are a few other people early too, milling around the trunk of an suv, laughing and dividing gear between themselves into their packs. you don’t have any real gear yet, beyond a pair of beginner shoes and a chalk bag, mostly because you have no idea if you’ll like this hobby or not, but you’d seen one of your acquaintances post the flyer for the event in their stories, and it was free, and this year you’re pushing yourself to get outside more, to try new things, to be brave. 

you take a deep breath and then turn your car off and grab your backpack from the passenger seat. when you start to walk over to the group, a little cold in the morning and grateful you had decided to layer warmly, you breathe a little easier because they all look toward you and smile.

‘hi,’ one of them says, and she’s — unfortunately for you, but also very fortunately — kind of devastatingly beautiful: she’s tall, with sleek dark hair and bright blue eyes and a horribly charming gap in her teeth when she smiles in greeting, dressed in what you can tell are nice climbing clothes, even if you don’t know a whole lot about the sport. ‘i’m caitlyn. you’re here for the queer crush climbing clinic?’

she has an accent, clipped and proper, god help you. you get it together, though. ‘yeah. yes. i’m alé.’ you offer a hand to shake, way too formal for the situation, but she accepts it without any fuss.

‘wonderful,’ she says. ‘i can’t quite remember what gear everyone needed, but i know i packed it according to the spreadsheet. jayce —‘ she points at a handsome man with broad shoulders and a friendly grin — ‘should be able to get you fitted for a harness and a helmet if you need.’ 

you nod and jayce motions you over to the trunk, very neatly organized, and walks you through the basics of how a harness should fit, and how adjustable their new helmets are. you fight down a wave of nausea when he asks if you’d like a men’s or women’s harness, but then he just tells you that one might fit a little more comfortably than the other, and it’s up to you because there’s no significant differences overall. still, when the men’s harness feels just fine and jayce deems it to be a perfect, safe fit, you breathe a sigh of relief, and he gives you a high five. ‘i love the color of that one,’ he says, and then grabs a helmet to hand to you. ‘cait got all of these new last week; we’re really excited,’ he tells you, like it’s totally normal to just buy fifteen climbing helmets, but whatever. a queer climbing collective that has a gear library and hosts beginner outdoor clinics is definitely not something you’re going to complain about. 

you get your harness back in the bag and shoved into your backpack, and the helmet clipped to the outside, like jayce had suggested; you’re worried you’re going to have to wait awkwardly, because you kind of got here way before any of the climbers were supposed to show up, but no one seems bothered.

‘we’re going to go rig the routes,’ caitlyn says, and you can feel yourself blush just being around her. ‘jayce is going to hang out here to wait for other climbers, and then they’ll do the approach together, so you’re totally welcome to just wait here. but if you want, you can come with us while we set everything up; could be fun to see, if you’re interested.’

you — thank god — refrain from making a joke about how you’d probably follow her off a cliff, and instead nod totally normally. ‘that would be really cool. thanks.’

‘of course,’ she says, and then hands you a climbing rope with a wink that makes you, kind of just a little, want to die. ‘carry this over your shoulders if you think you can?’

you stand up straighter. ‘i definitely can.’

one of the other people waiting rolls her eyes with a little scoff, but she takes off out of the parking lot. ‘let’s go,’ she says, annoyed. ‘i wanna climb before i belay for seven million hours.’

caitlyn rolls her eyes fondly. ‘ignore her; she’s just grumpy her pack is so heavy.’

‘yeah, yeah,’ she says, then turns toward you. ‘anyway, i’m jinx.’ she points to the third member of their trio, who seems quite peaceful for this early in the morning and that full a pack. ‘this is ekko.’

he waves and takes off down the trail confidently, surefooted and relaxed. jinx follows, and caitlyn makes sure to stay close behind you. she’s quiet, probably to let you focus on the trail, which requires you, closer to where you assume you’ll be climbing, to scramble around on some rocks, using your hands. you’re a little embarrassed, because jinx and ekko hadn’t had to, but caitlyn compliments you as you approach an intimidatingly tall rock face, and you chance a look at her, cheeks slightly pink from the hike, eyes bright. 

your voice comes out a little hoarse when you say, ‘thanks,’ but she doesn’t mention it.

/

jinx and caitlyn get all set up to climb, including a little squabble about whether or not jinx actually needs a helmet which ends in her admitting a very dramatic defeat and putting one covered in stickers on while she grumbles, and ekko kicks back near you after he’s laid out some ropes and other gear. he explains that they’re going to sport, or lead, climb the routes, putting what are called quickdraws — he shows you one — in bolts that are already in the wall, and then set top rope anchors for everyone else to climb: on top rope, he says, there’s really no way anyone will fall, and, ‘cait is great at setting anchors; she knows, like, every safety thing ever invented, i’m pretty sure.’ he glances over at jinx starting to climb, already zipping up the wall, and smiles something tinged with a lot of fond devotion. ‘jinx, not so much, but she’ll be really safe for this clinic, at least. and cait will check everything anyway.’

it’s kind of amazing, to watch them do something that you know will be really hard for you, and have it look so easy. ekko explains what cait’s doing on belay that’s great technique in case jinx falls — ‘this is an easy route for her, but you never know’ — and you’re drawn by caitlyn’s careful hands, the rhythm she has feeding and taking slack with jinx as she clips into each bolt that speaks to hours and hours of doing this together. it’s not hard to tell that ekko and jinx are kind of in love, or whatever, but cait isn’t here with anyone who seems like a partner, so you still have some hope. you haven’t dated much since you transitioned, and it’s time to get back out there, according to all of your friends and your therapist, at least.

jinx finishes whatever she’s doing at the top of the route, and then cait lowers her smoothly while jinx takes each quickdraw off the rope and out of the wall. they give each other a little fist bump when she gets down, smiling happily, at ease and in their element. 

‘ekko,’ jinx calls, untying her knot and then hopping out of her climbing shoes with a grimace, not caring that she’s barefoot on the cold ground, ‘wanna belay cait on the 5.10a?’

he gives a lazy salute and gets up with a kind smile, dusts his pants off and leaves his warm jacket on the rock next to you, and walks over to caitlyn. they go over some safety checks, you surmise, and jinx sits next to you after she shrugs into ekko’s coat over her long sleeve t-shirt with a happy little sigh, and then rummages around in her bag and pulls out a to-go mug and some chips. ‘breakfast of champions,’ she says, grinning and offering you the bag, licking some fake cheese dust from her fingers, which also have some chalk residue still on them. 

you politely decline and think about all the possible conversation topics you could start, but then caitlyn begins to climb and you’re entranced: she looks like she’s dancing, easily crossing her feet sometimes, smoothly resting, putting quickdraws in, clipping in the rope, and then continuing on without any pauses, one fluid, precise motion, over and over. 

jinx notices and rolls her eyes, but there’s no malice in it. ‘she’s pretty good. but don’t ever tell her i told you that.’

you laugh, a little more in the world with it. ‘secret’s safe with me.’

‘it helps to be, like, a million feet tall with the longest legs on the planet,’ jinx points around another mouthful of chips and washes them down with a swig of coffee as as caitlyn easily navigates a far reach. ‘at least on routes like this.’

all you can do is nod, breathless, as caitlyn reaches the top, not even breathing hard, and then sets up another anchor. ekko lowers her after she calls out that she’s done, and he gives her a high-five, easy and familiar. they wave jinx over and she gets ready to belay ekko on the third route while caitlyn walks off back toward the parking lot, telling them that she’s going to go help jayce with the rest of the gear library and helping lead the approach for the rest of the group who’s arrived by now. you watch her walk away, her climbing pants just tight enough to give you an idea of what might be under them: god fucking bless.

/

it’s easy, once other people arrive, to feel like you’re all in it together: you do an ice breaker with your names and pronouns, how much climbing experience you have — you’re relieved to learn that most people have little to none, just like you — and what flavor of ice cream you’d be. there are so many trans and non-binary people, and a lot of people of color, and you can tell that, even if the climbing itself might be a little scary, it’s a good space to be in: you’re already grateful for it. then caitlyn goes through a bunch of the basics: a figure 8 knot, the way they rigged top rope anchors, how the belay device, called a grigri, works, and what grade each route is, from easiest to most challenging, so that everyone has a good understanding and feels as safe as possible. it’s thoughtful, and organized, and kind, and it only makes your giant crush even worse. you sit with a few people, too intimidated to go first once everyone actually gets to start trying it out.

after a few people go, though, the route caitlyn is belaying is open, and you decide that you can fucking do it: you’re brave and you’re strong and she grins when you walk over, your climbing shoes already hurting your feet and your heart beating hard.

things are fine, totally cool and you’re so chill and normal, but then you struggle tying the knot. 

‘do you mind if i help?’ she asks, and you shake your head, gesture for her to go for it. suddenly you’re hit with her perfume and her shiny her hair is, how close her face is, her thing, dextrous fingers very, very close to your body as she explains each step and guides the rope through the loops properly. you have to clear your throat when she finishes, which is mortifying, but she just smiles and shows you that her grigri is locked and loaded properly. ‘you can start whenever you feel comfortable,’ she says. ‘i’ll keep it tight, so that you’ll be super safe.’

you will your brain to ignore i’ll keep it tight and instead struggle, so hard, even at the beginning of the route. it’s a little embarrassing, especially since this is the easiest route, one jinx had climbed in, like, a minute, doing a ton more than you, but then caitlyn shouts some encouragement, and helps you with some suggestions when you get stuck, unsure what to do at a certain point in the route. you make it almost all the way to the top anchor before you get a little freaked out and ask to be lowered down. caitlyn smiles so genuinely — her tooth gap on display again — and the sun hits her face just right, and it’s kind of like the proudest moment in your life.

‘great job, alé,’ she compliments, and you thank her, your voice as steady as you can will it to be. 

/

eventually, caitlyn gets to take a break and, just your luck, sits in a camp chair jayce had set up right next to you. she stretches her feet out, legs crossed elegantly, and rifles through jinx’s gigantic backpack which is, apparently, full of snacks, before pulling out some trailmix and offering you some. you take a handful and thank her.

‘how are you enjoying the day so far?’ she asks, and you can tell she’s genuinely invested. 

‘it’s really awesome,’ you answer honestly. ‘i’m trying to spend more time outdoors and move my body more, so this is super cool. climbing always seemed like such a hard thing to get into.’

she frowns in understanding. ‘it can be. that’s why i started this collective, with jayce, a few years ago. taking out the cost of gear and having experienced climbers volunteer has, at least as far as i can tell, helped a lot of people get into it.’

‘well, i for one can definitely say that i want to keep learning more.’

she perks up, pleased. ‘we host meetups at some gyms, too. if you ever need a free guest pass, you can dm us on the account and we can get you set up. gym climbing is a lot less stuff, at least. and no hike there.’

she laughs at her own joke, and you’re glad you’re sitting down because you’re a little weak at the knees from it all: the lilt of her accent and the tune of her laugh and her perfect skin, the way her practical fleece stretches across her chest and then, when she takes it off, the set of her shoulders and arms, dainty but so strong at the same time. you force yourself to ask questions about her life — she’s a doctor and she works in public health, which makes her a good person, let alone a hot person — and she seems honestly invested when you tell her about your legal work on tenants rights. it’s not a first date, obviously, but you kind of maybe think it might feel a little like one. it’s easy to enjoy her company, but then jinx calls to you and asks if you’d like to climb again, and it would be silly if you didn’t, especially after caitlyn pats your shoulder encouragingly. you make it to the top of this one, and you hear jinx and caitlyn cheering you on, and the weather has warmed up in the sun. 

/

things are going great until they’re really not. it’s not that anything happens, really, at least nothing scary or bad, but you’d talked on and off for hours with caitlyn and you were working up the courage to ask if she maybe wanted to grab a late lunch after this, since it seems like the group is kind of winding down. but then a new person shows up, an adorable, blocky-headed pitbull training behind her closely, his mouth open in the best puppy smile. she’s seemingly a little harried but with gives a big, genuine smile when jinx grins and shoots a finger gun in her direction. ekko calls out a hello from where he’s belaying, and jayce sighs in relief.

‘vi!’ he says, and the new person sets her pack down and waves. ‘thank god. cait says you’re gonna clean everything?’

’sure am. i really am sorry i couldn’t be here for the whole morning.’

he waves the thought off. ‘i’m just glad you could make it, even though you didn’t have to come after a shift, you know.’

vi shrugs, then stretches her arms over her head. her shirt rides up a little, and you see abs and a trail of hair up toward her belly button, and you’re just kind of sitting in admiration until it all comes crashing down. caitlyn finishes lowering a climber and then gets off belay and walks — or, more aptly, saunters — over to vi, who grins like she’s watching the sun rise after the longest winter night. 

‘hello, darling,’ caitlyn says, and then leans in to kiss vi quickly. your heart sinks as vi gently touches caitlyn’s waist, at the hip just over her harness. 

‘hey,’ she says, her voice a little rough around the edges. ‘sorry i’m late. how’s the day gone?’

‘splendidly, i think,’ caitlyn says, happy and at ease. ‘and don’t apologize, i told you that you didn’t have to come at all.’

‘yeah, but i wanted to.’

‘well,’ caitlyn says softly, ‘i’m glad you’re here.’

you sigh in disappointment, a little stormy, before jinx plops down next to you with a laugh; it might be even more mortifying that someone had noticed how down bad you were. ‘don’t worry,’ she says, ‘cait is annoying as fuck, actually. vi is my sister, so i’ve had to put up with this shit for years.’ the dog wanders over to her happily, putting his big, dirty paws on her chest while she laughs and lets him kiss her face and greets him with nonsense baby talk he seems to love. it soothes things a little, when he snuffles at your leg and looks at you with his big eyes, asking for a scratch behind the ears. ‘this is their dog, atlas.’

it’s an alright consolation, you guess, to have had a beautiful day outside with cool new friends and what you think could become a great new hobby, and to get to hang out with the friendliest dog you’ve ever met; it’s not the worst, you’ll admit, to watch vi, who takes her shirt off to reveal scars across her chest and scattered around her stomach, and then a muscular back and arms covered in gorgeous tattoos, climb the routes easily to, as jinx tells you, clean the anchors, when everyone declares themselves too tired to climb any longer. 

you all pack out and get back to the parking lot soon after, the hike back feeling easy after you’d done so much; vi loads some gear into a cool vintage bronco, letting atlas hop into the back seat before helping caitlyn finish loading everything into her subaru. ‘see you at home?’ she asks.

caitlyn brushes back vi’s short, messy hair from her forehead for a moment, tender, and vi sinks into the touch. ‘drive safe.’

vi backs up and then salutes with a grin. ‘always do.’

caitlyn rolls her eyes and waves to vi, then waves to you too as you head off to your car. you got a few people’s numbers, so that you can try out the gyms they climb at and maybe go to a few meetups together: you tried something new, and you were brave, just like you’d set out to be. 

[mourningstars]

broom - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 747

Gryffindor parties are loud. Regulus almost instantly regrets stepping into the abandoned dungeon classroom turned party spot, his eardrums cringing into themselves. The lighting is low with dozens of candles charmed to float near the ceiling like a perverted version of the Great Hall. Someone, most likely Sirius, has charmed a stereo to hover right above the middle of the room above a large throng of people dancing to a throbbing volume of muggle music. He debates just turning around as quickly as he can, but the next second Barty comes up behind him, blocking his exit with only a few inches between them.

“No running, they’ll all see,” Barty murmurs into his ear, his breath smelling like the fire whiskey they’d all shared back in the dorms before heading over. He brushes past before Regulus can react, dragging Evan with him, their hands intertwined. They disappear into the crowd before Regulus can decide if it’s worth a public stinging hex for leaning in so close to him.

Regulus takes a deep breath through his nose before striding in after them.

There’s faint smoke lingering near the back of the room and Regulus spots a few seventh-year Ravenclaws sharing a couple of cigarettes as they perch on old wooden desks shoved against the furthest wall. Without a second thought, he’s changed directions, wandering over and wondering how quickly he can bum one off them if they recognize he’s a friend of Barty’s. The room is packed, almost everyone around him writhing to the music, the tangy scent of sweat mixed with a mass of perfumes and food despite the early hour. Regulus can feel a headache forming behind his eyes.

As he’s almost escaped the densest part of the crowd near the back of the room, trying not to obviously cringe away from every limb that accidentally grazes him, Regulus slams right into what feels like a wall of muscle. He almost immediately forgets his craving for a smoke and the bodies that still swarm around him.

“Woah, sorry mate-” James Potter wraps his hands around Regulus’ biceps to steady him with a friendly smile before he freezes, “Reg?”

“Hello, Potter,” Regulus has to tip his head back a bit to look up at James, and Merlin he can’t believe he forgot about that height difference since they’d last seen each other. He tries to scowl, but the older boy just grins at his greeting, a dimple forming on his left cheek.

Regulus feels James’ chest brush his with the next breath he takes. Oh. They are standing very close. Regulus can smell eucalyptus, cigarette smoke, and a hint of broom polish coming from the other and has to resist the very embarrassing urge to just lean into James and inhale where his throat meets his chest.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show,” James continues holding onto Regulus’ arms and he’s not sure if he’s imagining the other boy’s grip get firmer, like letting go isn’t even on his mind. Suddenly he feels brave and maybe not as sober as he’d thought.

“I had to show up and congratulate you and Sirius on your win against Hufflepuff. It seemed only right since we’ll be winning this next match with you next weekend,” Regulus tilted his head to the side and let his lips curl up into one of his smirks, “Maybe I’ll invite you to our party after the win. I think you’d like to see how a Slytherin celebrates.”

He gets the reaction he’s hoping for when James turns just a little red under his soft brown skin and his eyes dip down to look at Regulus’ lips before looking up again, eyes wide behind black wire frame glasses. He would look almost comical if Regulus didn't already find the response so unfortunately endearing.

After a few more moments of eye contact, Regulus decides to take pity on the boy in front of him, “I’d like a drink, Potter.”

“Right,” James replies almost immediately, but he doesn't move an inch and his hands don't drop from Regulus’ body.

“Right…” He tries his best to keep the fond tone out of his voice because really, Regulus should not be so content with another’s hands on him. Especially for this long.

It takes a pointed look at one of his arms and a raised eyebrow for James to finally drop his hands- His large hands- with an unintelligible stutter.

Regulus barely holds back a smile, “Lead the way.”