#I just had to turn it off at that point and take a break

[pellucid-constellations]

Knowing You

Azriel was intimidating, scary—a menacing presence in almost every setting. But not to you. Never to you.

Tattoo Artist!Azriel x Elementary School Teacher!Reader (1k words, modern au)

~~

“Why’s your boyfriend all…pissed off?” 

“Huh?” You spun your head around, finding Azriel towering over everyone else in the room, a scowl seemingly permanent on his face. His eyes narrowed from time to time, taking in the crowd and its unwillingness to calm. He remained plastered to the back wall. 

“Oh,” you laughed, turning back to your friend with your fingertips drumming against your jaw. “He’s not pissed. That’s just his face.” 

Your friend’s brows jumped up to her hairline. “He always looks like that?” 

“He doesn’t look that angry.”

“Absolutely no one is approaching him. This is a party. He looks about ready to pummel that tiny guy next to him.” 

“He’s just a little intimidating,” you reasoned. “And—hey, look!” you pointed over your shoulder. “He smiled a little, see?” 

She scoffed, sipping her beer. “I don’t get it. You’re all… well, you. And he’s all dark and mysterious and—honestly kinda scary.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip and turned further to inspect the man you had been in a relationship with for the better half a year. Was he scary? You certainly didn’t think so. Maybe a little at first. Maybe when you walked into that tattoo shop with your friend and his dark gaze almost burned a hole in your head. But not now. Never now. 

“You don’t really get him, that’s all.”

“And you do? He’s got a whole thing going on that you shouldn’t be tied up in,” your friend urged, but this was hardly the time for long, important conversations. You were tipsy and the music was too loud and, to be honest, you’d heard it all before already. Nothing was going to change your mind about Azriel. 

“Are you even listening, y/n? You’re polar opposites. And you said that he smiles but I have still yet to see one since—oh.” 

Azriel spotted you then—his goal from the moment he walked into this overly crowded house. He hadn’t been pissed. He’d been looking for you. 

And it was clear that he spotted you, because the second he did a wide grin split up his perfect face. It simmered a bit when he realized your friend was observing the scene, but a quirk of his mouth still remained. He started his path to you then, weaving in and out of the inebriated crowd. 

He touched you the moment he could, his hand meeting the small of your back as you sat on the creaky kitchen stool. His lips pressed against your temple and a murmured greeting was lost in your hair. He was lost in the bubble he created each time he had you in his grasp, your bright eyes and adoring smile rendering him unmoveable, but then your friend subtly cleared her throat and Azriel looked away. 

“Hello, Amber,” Azriel greeted, keeping your body slotted into the crook of his arm. “Having fun?” 

She blinked at him. He really was intimidating, especially up close. Even with the heightened bar stools, he was a good head over where the two of you sat. 

“Um, yes, thank you.” 

“And the summer break?” he questioned. He had started to rub circles into your spine. 

Amber stuttered again, thoughts lost in her head before replying, “It was good. I’m sorry—how do you know my name?” 

“Y/n’s mentioned you. I’ve seen your Instagram, too. Connected the dots.” 

“Right,” Amber nodded, her eyes trailing down the vast array of tattoos that wound up from the neck of Azriel’s shirt. 

Azriel then looked back down to you. His voice was low, almost too low for the pounding music, but he made up for that by pressing up closer to you. “Are you ready to go, sweetheart?” 

You giggled at the feel of his breath at your ear, pushing him away slightly in a haze. He only shook his head and smiled at the space you’d created. 

“Trying to flirt with me in public? Azriel, you are scandalous.” 

He only breathed out a laugh, gaze bouncing between your glossy eyes. Once you stopped giggling enough to meet his stare, his expression softened. “You told me to pick you up at eleven. You have a lesson plan, pretty girl.”

You gasped, slapping a hand against Azriel's chest that didn’t even have him flinching. You whipped your head over to Amber—who was staring at the two of you in confused amusement —and hurriedly offered, “I have to go! Third grade!” 

In his efforts to capture your attention, Azriel had woven both of his arms around you to meet at your lower back, a hold that you now shot out of. You wobbled as you pressed out of the stool and grabbed Azriel’s leather sleeve. An unnecessary gesture; anyone at this party could see that the man would follow you anywhere. 

“I didn’t prep the multiplication tables,” you rambled, words slurring together. 

“You did. I helped you with the formatting on the iPad.” 

“I let you touch my iPad?” you gasped. 

“No, sweetheart. It was mine.” 

“Your work one?” 

Azriel only continued to guide you out of the party, you none the wiser to the dirty looks he was shooting everyone too drunk to get out of the way. 

“Let’s get back to your apartment, okay? Then we can deal with the iPad.” 

You giggled, springing off the threshold to the front door and giving Azriel a heart attack. “Okay!” 

[anigym6]

While so much here covers actual history and is definitely worth the read, I want to emphasis one point in particular..

Imagining and/writing a scene, no matter what it involves, does not equal reality. Fantasy does not equal reality.

This is actually something I've had to confront in my own therapy recently. I was wrecked with guilt and shame over the things that turn me on, confused by content that I've read and listened to that is morally disgusting and fucked up if it happened in real life, and actually doesn't speak to my values whatsoever. I didn't understand WHY I found what I found titillating, and was going crazy over it.

My therapist cut through all my anxiety and worry and disgust in one session by breaking it down like so...

"You read stories and play games about about heroes fighting big evil monsters right? Do you sometimes imagine yourself in those scenes?"

"Yes, I mean there's a power fantasy there..."

"Would you actually want to wage a war against dark dragons and whatnot?"

"WHAT? NO! That's...."

"So why is it any different when it comes to your sexual fantasies? Fantasy does not equal reality."

And y'all... Y'ALL. This exchange shifted everything for me.

Just cause I usually over-level my video game characters and enjoy one shoting enemies on the field... does NOT mean I am a heartless murder just waiting to go on a killing spree.

Just cause I write my own OCs going through horrendous, dangerous trials, in epic fights against ancient evil... does NOT mean I want to experience anything like war and death and mortal combat.

Just cause I fantasized about a ton of immoral sexual scenarios and get off to them... does NOT mean I want them to happen to me in real life.

Reading, writing, playing... it's all fiction. It's all fantasy. It's literally the safest place you can explore messed up and morally questionable content without causing actual physical harm.

Sam and Dean having sex in a fic is not real, and it does NOT mean the author endorses incest. Kawakami coping a feel on Joker in a fanart is not real, and it does NOT mean the artist thinks teachers should be allowed to fuck their students. Midna collaring Wolf!Link in a fan video is not real, and it does NOT mean the editor is into slavery or bestiality or whatever else snap judgement you could think of.

You may dislike, despise, or be triggered by stuff like the examples I gave... but. it. is. all. fiction. You don't like it? Avoid it. Filter it. AO3 has fantastic search options to not show fics based on tags YOU tell it to not show. Take control and accountability of your own online content consumption, as the rest of us will do for ourselves.

Policing immoral acts in fantasy will not prevent nor stop immoral acts in reality, so hang up the fake badge for all of us and yourself. You are waging the wrong war in the wrong plane of existence.

Fantasy does not equal reality.

i didnt realise ao3 was started in response to lj deleting account relating to p//edophi|ia and they explicitly support the posting of such works yikes

[reddtulips]

something something ghoap staying at johnny’s family farm that’s less than two hours away from glasgow.

they barely reach the damn place because simon insists on driving and takes a wrong exit on the highway and johnny has to piss a hundred times during the drive.

the air is crisp and cold and frosts the tips of their noses and simon forces indifference when johnny’s fingers brush simon’s to hold the duffel bag so he can close the trunk of the car.

johnny knocks on the front door and his mother rips it open, hugging his son and without a second to think, hugs simon as well and ushers them inside.

johnny’s father is a simple man and gives simon a firm handshake and a pat on his back and shows him the dining room, a feast set on the table and every salad under the sun overflowing in hand painted bowls that johnny’s mother made when she did pottery ten years ago.

johnny’s sisters are there, his niece and nephews as well, all children and simon sweats thinking how in the hell he is supposed to talk to them. are the boys at the appropriate age to know about guns and knives? or do they look at encyclopedias of greek mythology and dinosaurs? does the niece like barbie and dress up? or is she one of those girls that like to collect bugs and draw hopscotch on the pavement with colorful chalk and wipe the excess from her fingers onto her pants?

they watch him with eager eyes and giggles smothered behind tiny hands, and watch in awe when he lifts his balaclava to expose his mouth so he can eat.

johnny does the talking at the table and simon can’t understand a fucking word he’s saying because he’s gone full scottish with his family, only hums and nods occasionally. he wolfs down every piece of food, the human trashcan that he is (and because he doesn’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal), and nearly combusts for a second time that day as johnny’s mam places a plate with a thick slice of apple pie in front of him, vanilla ice cream melting over it and puts a hand on his shoulder, “johnny told me ye have a sweet tooth, so i made it especially for ye.”

simon who does silent breathing exercises so he doesn’t cry because he misses this so fucking much. to sit down with a family and enjoy a meal together with loved ones and not fight, nor scream nor yell nor cry nor throw food nor break plates and it’s just laughter upon laughter upon claps on the shoulders and clutching at arms and pulling each other into side hugs and light jabs that mean nothing and don’t break into full blown fights and simon thinks he’s going to vomit.

simon who gets to see johnny’s childhood bedroom. it’s decorated in superhero posters and hanging medals and trophies from gymnastics and competitive shooting competitions. johnny turns sheepish when simon points them out, teases him and likes and fears the swirl of warmth in his chest when johnny’s ears and neck turn red. he’s told “still a better shot than you,” and if johnny were anyone else, he’s be given toilet cleaning duties for the next three months.

simon who wants to pull out and empty every drawer, check every nook and cranny and learn and suck in every single piece of information and story there is about johnny and what — there’s pictures of you as a kid? with a mohawk? fuck off, soap, lemme see.

johnny opens the left door of his wardrobe and it’s covered in baby pictures of him and his family and simon’s chest tightens but he doesn’t break his gaze. Lo and behold, Johnny points out a picture on top and holy shit, it’s him holding a fat, orange cat the size of half his body and he’s sporting a long mohawk. His cheeks are stained with tears but there’s a forced grin on his face and blood on his chin. johnny explains it was his 7th birthday, he fell off a swing, hit his chin and his mam still wanted a photo. the cat’s named ‘fergus’ and he’s still alive and has lost most of the weight. he explains more photos but simon’s eyes keep coming back to the first one and he just wants to lean down and leave a gentle kiss on the scar covering johnny’s chin.

the kids don’t leave simon alone, as much as uncle johnny protests and tells them to get tae and let ‘em rest, he’s been drivin’ all mornin’ but watches them from the kitchen with a soft smile as simon walks around with the kids hanging and clutching at his strong arms like they’re monkeys and simon can’t get enough of their giggles and ooh’s and ahh’s when he tells them heroic and child-friendly war stories about their uncle. he also tells them that he sucks ass at taking orders and sharing his MREs and that they should listen to their parents and respect their elders and share with each other. johnny smothers a grin behind his hand as simon uses his lieutenant’s voice when speaking to the kids about these things.

johnny steals simon away then, “gotta show ‘em the horses”, and simon keeps his distance and doesn’t dare get up on one of them. the cockiest, “scared, Lt.?” with a shit-eating grin from johnny makes him grab the reigns and climb on. johnny leads the horse down the field and they fall into a comfortable silence. simon can’t get enough of the peace and quiet and chirping of birds and gentle yet chilly breeze on his hands and johnny is suddenly coming to a halt.

simon looks down at his sergeant, and his cheeks are flushed red and there’s determination and well-masked hesitation in his blue eyes and before simon knows it, he’s being pulled down by the sleeve of his jacket and johnny is cupping the sides of his face and pressing a gentle kiss over the material of simon’s mask. it’s innocent, quick, almost like it doesn’t even happen and isn’t registered. but their gazes meet when they part and it’s over for both of them because simon is fervently pushing his mask up and cupping johnny’s cheeks and they’re both leaning forward again and pressing kiss upon kiss upon kiss on each other’s lips and simon finally thinks,

i’ve found it. i’ve found home.

[sc0tters]

Loved You Forever | Luke Hughes

summary: four times you and luke knew you both wanted more, the one time a move was made, and the one time you both actually remembered it.

request: yes/no

warnings: underaged drinking (if you're american), minimal swearing.

word count: 6.16k

authors note: happy February loves! I realised that this might have been a better valentines day piece but too late? I am actually in love with this piece though and it was seriosuly so much fun to do another 5+1 thing and I'm pretty sure that this is my first proper attempt at it. I am nothing but a slut for best friends to lovers with Luke! After the loss tonight I think we all deserved something sweet so I also think this might be one of my first attempts at tooth rooting of sweet?

Luke had been in your life for as long as you could have remembered. 

The two of you met during a day at the park, you had been desperate to be on the seesaw but as your siblings got caught up with Jack and Quinn it left you alone, sat on the one side all by yourself “can I join?” Luke asked pointing at the seat that was in the air. 

A grin spread across your face “you wanna sit with me?” You asked almost not believing him “yeah you seem sad.” It seemed that it was all it took for your friendship to be formed. 

Hours were spend on that seesaw over the autumn months as you got to know him. You were no longer the sad lonely girl to him, now you were the fun and chatty one who had a dog. 

𝟏

You had been a bundle of nerves the entire week. 

In the week leading up to prom your dress was in need of alterations and your date had decided that going with the captain of the cheer team was far better suited to his taste than you. Your curling iron had also decided the morning of prom that it was going to stop working.

So while you felt like the world was against you, Luke decided to step him. He had gotten Ellen to drop off a brand new one courtesy of him of course, with a note saying that he couldn’t want to see you that night. 

The moment that he learnt about you no longer having a date he changed his own plans, well first he actually did a happy dance because now you were single which he appreciated. But then he told the hockey boys that he was breaking from the pact of going as a group. At first they all gave him stick, but when they learnt it was for you they understood. 

Because even if you were totally off limits and so clearly Luke’s girl, they all had eyes as a hormonal teen boy. And you were a total package. 

So that was how Luke ended up on what was a date but didn’t feel like it because he felt like your second choice, even if he had never been the one to ask you in the first place. Gosh he had seen all of the cringey proposals online but he knew you would have loved one of those. Something to laugh about afterwards that could be cherished as a memory forever.

Jim placed his hand on Luke’s shoulder pulling him out of this thoughts “you okay bud?” He asked cocking his head as he furrowed his eyebrows “I’m good.” Luke nodded “just worried about the time.” It was a lie but it was enough to take the attention off of him and his thoughts.

Your mom looked at her watch “y/n are you coming down anytime soon!” She called up the stairs fearing that you’d end up late and miss the limo that your friends had arranged after pictures. 

You turned down your music as you rolled your eyes. In your opinion you weren’t late, just pulling everything out of your drawers because you couldn’t find the perfect earrings to go with your dress “yeah, yeah I’ll be down there!” You yelled back focusing on what you were doing. 

Luke stood between his parents and yours “sorry about her.” Your mom apologised as she softly shook her head, knowing that this was how you were “it’s okay I mean she’s.” Luke was lucky he was cut off because it meant that he didn’t have to come up with an end to his statement. 

“I’m ready!” Your words traveled down to the group causing all of their heads to turn to your bedroom door. You were right by the top of the staircase so there wasn’t much of a walk for you before your dress was revealed in all its glory “wow.” Luke thought he had said it softly enough for nobody to hear. But the smile on Jim’s face said it all, he knew his son was in love as he watched you twirl all excited for him to finally see the dress.

The red dress hugged every part of your body that you wanted it to. And now with the alterations your slit showed the right amount of leg, it was enough to look hot but not enough to the point where the dress wouldn’t have been appropriate for a high school prom.

Luke felt his throat grow dry seeing you at the top of the stairs, with a smile painted on your face. You looked gorgeous, in every sense of the word as you radiated this glow that encapsulated your body. 

His hands grew sweaty, gripping at your corsages packaging. Watching you walk down the stairs, the sounds of your mom in awe with your dad taking pictures turned to background noise. Luke couldn’t understand how you were panicking about your hairstyle to him at lunch all week, because it seemed like it was made for you. 

You stopped on the final step holding your hand out to Luke, enjoying the moment of him in his navy blue suit. It was easy to see that he had just had his hair cut, but you weren’t going to make a comment about it as you appreciated the effort. 

Sure you wouldn’t have cared if Luke showed up in jeans and his crocs, but he knew how important the night was to you so he made it important to him. His hand was soft against yours as he helped you down the final step “you look-” he cut himself off, opting to take the chance to bask in your beauty once more. 

It made you rub your lips together nodding in agreement “you too.” The sight made Ellen place her hand on her heart. Her youngest son here stood tall and all cleaned up, in front of the girl that his parents wished he’d date. 

Luke let out a soft gasp remembering that he was still holding your corsage “this is yours.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, hoping you’d like it “it’s so pretty Lukey.” You held the plastic container in your hands pulling out the pink arrangement. 

You handed it back to him “put it on f’me will ya?” You asked watching him nod “sure.” He obliged your request seeing how pretty it looked with your manicured nails. 

Your eyes shone looking at it “it’s perfect.” You confessed leaning up to kiss his cheeks “thanks, Lukey.” You gave his arms a squeeze before you settled back in front of him. 

He prayed his cheeks didn’t betray him as they felt warm “anytime.” Luke honestly would have done anything to bring that smile out and for you to kiss his cheeks again. Even as he hoped he’d be lucky to kiss you properly one day, he prayed that this wasn’t the last time he’d get to feel one of your kisses. 

𝟐

Your high school graduation was not what you expected it to be. Sure you expected to be a little emotional leaving the place that had helped shape you into the person you were set to become. It was the place where Luke cemented his life long place as your best friend. 

You held your diploma in your hand as you searched through the crowd for him “y/n!” Luke cheered causing you to whip around. 

His smile matched yours as you let out a squeal before you ran into his arms. You almost knocked him over as you laughed “someone’s excited ‘eh?” He let out a soft laugh settling you back on your feet. 

He had spent a portion of his afternoon wishing he told you how pretty you looked “I mean how can I not be we have like properly graduated.” If you looked back at the memory now you would have laughed, you felt so prepared for the big world when in actuality you were still so young with so much more growing to do. 

Luke smiled “I mean we always knew you were going to.” Brains had always been your thing, much more than Lukes at least.

You looked at the athletics band around his shoulders “and you got this.” You toyed with the ends of it in your hands “I think we both should be proud today.” You had succeeded in your own fields, reminding each other why you did so well as friends because you were so different.

Luke could see that something else was on your mind “what is it?” He asked, seeing that there was a glimmer of excitement like you were trying to hold back a bomb of importance. You felt like a child who had been trying their best to hold off on telling the secret they promised their parents that they would keep to themselves. 

You pulled the grad cap off of your head as you took in a deep breath “remember how I told you that I wasn’t sure where I was going because of those scholarship applications?” You were the more academically inclined out of the two of you, to the extent that you did have a good chance to get some scholarships. 

This was why you hadn’t decided where exactly you were going, so Luke hadn’t been told of any of the places that had accepted you. This was the first and last time that you were ever going to be holding a secret from him, the last few weeks felt like your very own definition of torture “so you remember how we applied to some of the same schools?” You asked, reminding him that three schools appeared on both of your lists. 

He nodded, raising his eyebrows and urging you to continue, “well one of those schools was UMich, and I got in.” Luke let out a gasp, knowing exactly where this conversation was about to go “yes?” He urged you to carry on so he didn’t celebrate prematurely. 

You rubbed your lips together “well how do you feel about getting an apartment roomie?” It had been a conversation since you were both eight years old, if you went to uni together, then you were going to be roommates to some degree. 

Luke finally allowed himself to cheer as he pulled you into a hug. He spun you around as he let himself celebrate the news “I can’t believe that we are staying together.” He was honestly in shock as he finally placed you back on the ground. 

In the distance stood your mom and Ellen, who watched the interaction unfold in front of them “I wonder if this is what they need to take a step forward.” Everyone but the two of you knew about the undeniable feelings between you both. They knew it was asking for a lot, though, because you two had been around each other for so long that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be and maybe that was okay. 

Ellen smiled as she watched Luke grab your hand before he pulled you into a group of people “I think that maybe they are only going to be friends.” She let out a sigh as the words left her lips. Boy did she hope that the two of you proved her wrong.

𝟑

Luke had yet to come down from the high that was being drafted to the same team as Jack. He was absolutely ecstatic and having you there too was the perfect moment for him. His family had all come along and they mixed with his friends, every one of his supporters were in that room. 

He almost got emotional when he thought about it because none of you had to come, not to the bar afterwards and not to the draft itself either. But when his name was called by the New Jersey Devils Luke just remembered pulling you into this hug as Jack hit his back in excitement.

You were his absolute best friend and world so it was never a surprise that Luke hugged you first but still fans had been going on about how Luke basically blanked his future teammate at first. People who followed Luke’s days at Michigan knew who you were, if someone listened to Luke talk for long enough you were brought up in a conversation. And it wasn’t that it was weird for him but it was because you did everything with him so away from the ice, you were attached to every memory.

But for the people who hadn’t paid attention, you were the mystery girlfriend in their eyes. So you were also now the new target of everyone’s Instagram searches. Their comments to you saying they wished they were Luke’s girlfriend made you laugh, because you felt the same way. His name had been circled with hearts in the corners of your notebook pages. They were left in the math and English books because you knew that was where Luke would never have looked.

Luke would never have admitted it aloud but he knew whenever you weren’t in a room. The sound of your laugh burning at his ears, how you seemed to radiate this sense of light and warmth that could be felt through the room. He had been caught up in a conversation with his parents friends when he had lost that feeling. 

It was clear to them that Luke had his mind somewhere else, or well they knew it was with someone else so they let him go. You were nowhere to be seen as his eyes scanned the crowded bar “she’s out front I think Lukey!” Jack slurred his words clearly drunk but still knowing all too predictable his younger brother was. 

Luke felt his cheeks grow warm as his eyes went wide “relax dude, just go to her.” Jack laughed as he rolled his eyes, not caring about it before he went off again. 

He tried to make it subtle to anyone who watched but Luke headed straight for the door where he of course found you. You were still in his devils cap as he put it on you when he finished his media interviews. An awful attempt at a joke was made when he said that you could be a player now too.

It looked so good on you as he smiled “there you are.” It was like a weight off of his shoulders when he found you. 

You were in your own little world before you looked at him “shouldn’t you be inside?” You asked as you cocked your head “this is a party for you after all.” Luke rolled his eyes, turning the cap around so that he could see your face not covered by the lid of the cap. 

He leaned against the wall next to you “I wanted to be with you though.” You blushed at the words, your hand reached for his “I just wanted a bit of air is all.” You explained putting his mind at ease as he had worried that you were overwhelmed. 

You licked your lips “I’m proud of you tonight.” The confession made his ears ring as his head felt fuzzy “all I did was get drafted.” Luke always was one to downplay his achievements, but you never let him succeed.

A laugh escaped from you lips “Lukey you were drafted fourth and to your brothers team.” You reminded him in a duh tone “you’re actually gonna be an NHL player now.” It had been his dream for as long as he could speak, from the moment you turned seven it even had a space on your vision board cementing itself in the right hand corner. That’s how much you knew he was getting into the big leagues.

Luke looked up at the night sky before he let out a sigh “god everything is going to change isn’t it?” He chewed at the inside of his cheek feeling your eyes piercing into his soul.

The words echoed in your ears as you pushed off of the wall before you stood in front of him. Things didn’t need to change, in fact you didn’t want them to. 

You smiled as you held your pinky out to him “what is this?” He asked mimicking your movements “a promise that I will always be with you.” Your voice was sweet as you nodded. 

Luke knew he was wrong but part of him thought about how beautiful you looked in the light, how kissable your lips looked too “forever and ever?” Luke cocked his head letting a grin spread across his lips. 

Your heart throbbed at the thought, you wanted Luke around for all that time and more “forever and ever.” You agreed locking your pinky into his before you both kissed your thumbs. 

The gesture seemed small but it was something that you both could agree on. For you and Luke, it meant that the promise was written in the stars as if you had written it on sand. With every passing wave that came in with the tide, the message still stood. 

𝟒

Luke hated the fact that he was leaving soon. He knew that his time with you at university was always going to have an expiration date, but he never thought it was going to come so soon. 

You two spent all of your life together, often moving within six months of the other. So now if he really was leaving you then it felt like this was the last time. 

Your paths had always been one of the same, with both of you never straying far away from the other. Luke had gotten so used to you being around that the only person who he was worried about leaving was you. 

Life had always been the y/n and Luke party that he didn’t know how you were going to react if he left you “what’s going on in that mind of yours?” You asked finding him sat by himself. 

He smiled seeing you stumble in his direction “I am just thinking.” He confessed watching you sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

A giggle escaped from your lips “ain’t that dangerous.” Those words made him scoff as his eyebrows furrowed. 

You seemed so care free in that moment, it made him envy you. How did it all seem so easy for you as he felt like his head was barely above water, drowning with worry “I am kidding.” You rubbed his cheek against your thumb “what are you thinking about?” You asked urging him to let you into his thoughts. 

Your hand squeezed his cheek reminding him that you were there for him “what if I don’t make the right call going.” Luke felt that a weight was lifted off of his shoulders letting that confession slip “I think that the universe is going to put you in the best position for you long term.” You truly believed that everything happened for a reason, so if the agent did come and ask Luke to join the devils like you knew they would, then it was the right thing for him.

It seemed that you always knew what to say to him “and what do you think I should do-” Luke hugged you not taking a chance to let him finish “you are going.” You stopped him from trying to hug you. 

He raised his eyebrows “I am?” Your tone made him think you were going to be forcing him onto that plane if you had to. 

Luke ran his fingers through your hair “y’know I’m happy that you’re going.” Your confession made him furrow his eyebrows “you are?” He cocked his head as he had of course told you all about the possibility of being signed the moment he learnt the agents were coming to Florida. 

You nodded sending him a smile “I mean this had been your dream like forever and Jack will be happy to have you there.” Your explanation calmed his heart, practically brushing the worries from his mind “and how do you feel about it?” The two of you were feeling a little more open tonight as you had a bit too much vodka sprite in your system to think clearly. 

A sigh escaped your lips “honestly I’m gonna miss you.” It was the first time you actually admitted that “but it makes me so happy that you get to live out your dream.” Your hand ran along his shoulder. 

A smile formed on his face “I love you.” He blurted out unaware of the ramifications it could have had “I love you too.” You mumbled kissing his cheek. 

Luke frowned knowing that you didn’t acknowledge what he meant, he was in love with you. 

𝟓

Christmas with the Hughes family was something that you had always loved. It seemed to be a family tradition for you too as you always seemed to crack a nod to the event. 

Selfishly you loved that it was in Michigan, the short drive from campus meant that it was where you spent the first half of your Christmas break. Your parents came down to them and then brought you back home afterwards and it was the perfect little routine. 

This Christmas felt particularly refreshing as you had missed Luke, it was the first Christmas since he made the move to New Jersey and it meant that you two were forced to pack everything into the days he had off. Years of perfectly crafted Christmas traditions forced into three days that you usually put into two weeks. 

The days felt jam packed not that you or Luke cared, the only time you weren’t with each other was when you went to the bathroom. Nights he had home were spent talking to you until the sun played peek a boo in the curtains. 

Christmas night was by far your favourite highlight though, matching sweaters with Luke and eating so much that you were in a food coma. But this year something felt different, you couldn’t put your finger on it and part of you didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

You were never one to push out of your comforts and you just assumed that Luke would share the details of his life if he wanted to “will you excuse me for just a sec?” You asked cutting off one of Quinn’s old friends as you saw Luke heading up the stairs. 

The boy shot you a smile and motioned to you to go. Nobody ever needed to look hard into the relationship, you looked at Luke like he was the man who made the moon and the stars that sprinkled around the universe. It may not have been the case but he was the light of your universe and the stars of your eyes. 

Jack and Quinn couldn’t help but watch, softly elbowing each other as they knew it was only you and Luke up there “think they’re finally gonna do it?” Jack asked sipping at the eggnog from his cup. 

Quinn pursed his lips together “I think it’s been a little too long for that.” The captain craved to be proven wrong, this was probably the first and the last time he touch of that really.

You saw Luke on his phone “hey,” your voice was soft wanting to check up on him “oh hi.” Luke smiled turning around to see you. 

His phone got tucked into his back pocket “thought you were going to still be downstairs.” He added, having had watched you talk away with that boy most of the recent hour. 

But you shook your head “I wanted to check on up on you.” The act was something meant to be innocent, like it always was. Because you cared for him, this was the what you were meant to do, and what you had always done.

It made him smile “look if you want a quiet day tom-” you were almost immediately cut off “I actually just want to spend time with you alone.” Luke explained making your heart feel so full. 

You loved the way that he had with words even if you envied him, it made it so much easier falling in love with him “so you wanna stay up here for a bit?” The request made you nod, taking his hand with a squeeze as the two of you took the three step walk to his room.

His door opened letting the mistletoe drop from the frame that was only seen when the lights turned on, causing your eyes to go wide “shit.” Luke grumbled as it sat between the two of you. It was like a sign from the universe, begging for one of you to put it out of its misery. 

The mistletoe stood above the two of you, shining like it was sent from the gods to put you both out of your misery “we don’t have to.” Luke felt his jaw go slack, not wanting to make you uncomfortable as you stared up at the leaf fixture “Jack thought it was funny to put it there.” He added remembering how he was actually planning on removing it the night before. 

Oh how different that night would have turned out if he had. 

A dry laugh left your lips “who are we to go against an age old tradition?” You asked letting your eyes lock onto his “are you sure?” Luke studied how plump your lips were and god he just wanted to kiss them. 

You ran your fingers over the knitted fabric that was your Christmas sweater “I feel like I should be asking you that?” You shot back slightly raising your eyebrows as you felt that he was trying to tell you something in a softer way. 

Oh god no, he thought to himself shaking his head “I do wanna kiss you!” The panic escaped in his voice, doing little to help his nerves as his heart and mouth betrayed his brain “but only if you want to kiss me too.” The boy straightened his shirt with a cough attempting to block the embarrassment that  came over his cheeks. 

You smiled with a nod “I wanna kiss you Lukey.” Your head buzzed as you drunk one too many vodka cranberries that night.

His hand cupped your cheek as he nodded “and we agree that this won’t make anything awkward right?” His words made you roll your eyes. Sure you knew he was being cautious and you should have appreciated how much he cared for your feelings, but god you just wanted to kiss him.

So that’s what you did, you wrapped your arms around his neck so that you could bring him down to you. The move took the boy by surprise as he steadied himself placing his other hand on your hip. His lips were rough against yours, reminding you that you needed to buy him a chapstick he’d actually like. 

Luke always knew that your lips were going to taste good, but he never could have predicted that you could have taste that sweet. It caused this buzzing sense in his head that only stopped when you pulled away just as the sound of footsteps came from the stairs “oh good mom you found it!” Quinn called out going back downstairs. 

You drank in the sight of Luke, your lip gloss shone on his lips as he fiddled with his hair “I guess we should go back down?” Luke asked with a shrug as you nodded “maybe just-” you brought your thumb to his lip. Brushing your finger against his lip to collect the product from his lips “there.” You took a step back with a smile seeing that there was now no evidence of the fact that you had kissed him. 

The only issue with this kiss was that neither one of you would remember it. Well you both it, but because it was what you had longed for, it felt like a dream. And with the fear of rejection creeping up your neck like an uncontrollable rash, it was best to keep it all to yourselves. 

Because after all how does one ask someone if they really did kiss last night?

+𝟏

The crackling noises of the burning wood echoed in your ears as you stared at the campfire “you should talk to her.” Quinn’s voice was soft, somehow still startling Luke who stood by the cooler. 

His hand gripped at the new beer can “why would I do that?” Luke asked, adjusting his gaze to make out that he wasn’t looking at you “are we seriously going to do this again?” Quinn couldn’t help but let out a laugh. 

He had spent what felt like Luke’s whole life watching the both of you dance around your feelings. Luke’s lips turned upright into a smile at the sound of your laughter, which made his heart bloom with joy, but that was short-lived when he saw Jack being the cause of what you found so funny. 

Luke’s lips were quickly forced into a thin line as his hand tightened around his drink “Luke, Jack is the last guy that she would ever go for.” Quinn reminded his brother, placing his hand on his taller brothers back. 

It made the Devils player furrow his eyebrows “you don’t know that.” Everyone in fact knew that, Jack was the kind of man that you would have ended up killing if you had to live with him for the rest of your life. Hell even Luke knew it, but he was willing to forget about the logic. He never seemed ready to acknowledge that there was a chance you could like him back.

A whine escaped your lips “y’know lying is just mean right?” You sunk back into your chair “yeah well I ain’t lying.” Jack shot back rolling his eyes. 

You clearly didn’t believe the boy as your arms crossed “fine look at them right now and if he isn’t then I will shut up.” Jack clasped his hands together as if a lightbulb had turned on above him. You sighed sending him a nod as you turned your body back to the porch, allowing your eyes to scan the area for Luke. The boy cut himself off in the conversation with Quinn when your eyes locked with his “this means nothing.” You mumbled still in denial. 

It honestly should have been so obvious to you both, I mean everyone around you both noticed but the two of you.

The night carried on with you trying to ignore Jacks comments as Luke did the same. Cole let out a yawn as he blinked “I think it is time for bed.” He announced placing his hands in his thighs as he got up watching a few of the guys agree with him.

As the last two besides for you and Luke, Quinn patted Jacks shoulders “why don’t we head up to bed too?” He asked, barely giving his younger brother a chance to say no. Jack was pulled up as he sent you both a salute “don’t stay up too la-” his tease was cut off when Quinn slapped his hand over Jacks mouth. 

Luke watched Quinn and Jack walk back into the house before he turned back to see you smiling at him “what?” Luke asked pushing his curls out of his eyes. 

He worried that he had something on his face “why don’t you come sit with me?” You offered, patting the camping chair next to you. It felt weird having him sat on what felt like the other side of the fire, he was way too far away from you for your own liking “do I have to?” Luke let out this dramatic sigh letting you know he was messing with you as he got up. 

It was nice just being alone with him away from just your bedroom. Since he moved to New Jersey you really did appreciate the one on one time that you got with him “I’m glad you came this year.” Luke confessed finally taking his place in the chair next to you. 

You rested your head against the back of your chair “I’ll always come for you.” Your hand reached for his wanting to reassure him “unfortunately for you the return policy on this friendship is long expired so you’re like really stuck with me.” You spoke in a serious tone that made him laugh. 

Luke squeezed your hand “darn I was just figuring out how to write my reason for returning ya.” You reached out to hit him “and what was that going to be?” You cocked your head running your tongue along your teeth as you smirked. 

He felt his heart pound sitting closer to you “don’t think it makes a lot of sense yet.” Luke shook his head, not having an actual answer for you. 

The crackle of the fire served as the perfect background noise “well you’ve got to speak now or else you might really be stuck with me.” You pointed out sticking your tongue out at him making the boy grin as he shook his head. 

Truthfully he was never going to return you, hell it was going to have to be you returning him if anything. Even then he was not going to leave you without a fight to stay.

Luke ran his fingers along your jaw “I think coming to Jersey would be good for you.” He knew it was one of your options for what you’d do after you graduated “oh god are we gonna be those friends who end up living next to each other and raise their kids together?” You laughed opting to cover the nerves that coarsed through your veins. 

It made the boy shake his head “can I tell you something?” He asked sucking at his teeth “you know you can tell me anything.” You nodded ignoring how close your face was to his. 

Luke could hear Jack and Quinn in his mind screaming at him to finally stop being such a baby and just tell you how he felt “and it can’t change our friendship.” You now grew worried at words “you’re scaring me.” That was also what Luke didn’t want. 

So before he dug himself into a hole he just decided to jump off of the decision cliff he was on “I like you.” The words escaped from his lips “so when you talk about us living next to each other with our families it’s not nice.” He shook his head watching you listen.

But he didn’t stop there “and it kills me that you don’t feel the same-””you think I don’t like you?” You asked letting out a laugh as he nodded. 

You threw your head back shaking your head “oh god Luke I’m mad about you.” The words were meant to be innocent but they lit a fire under his ass “but then why do you talk about us raising separate families together?” Luke scoffed almost thinking that this was a dream and you were joking. 

But still it was your turn to explain to him “I thought that it was all I’d get.” You shrugged feeling your cheeks grow warm. 

Under the moonlight as the fire illuminated your face, you looked beautiful “can I kiss you?” The question was something you had wanted to hear for such a long time now “yeah.” You nodded with a grin dropping your head as he cupped your cheek so that you could kiss him. 

The kiss had you swearing that fireworks should have been going off around you guys. The boy was sweet letting the taste of whatever lipgloss you wore make him feel drunk. Was it vanilla? Or maybe even cherry? Well he didn’t really care, it taste good and he was getting to kiss you.

Jack and Quinn stood in the kitchen watching with smiles on their faces “who would have thought that it would take them this long to finally get together?” He laughed shaking his head “I am just glad that we don’t have to put up with another summer of these two and their puppy dog glances.” Quinn shuddered at the thought, mentally cringing at the idea of having to listen to Luke psych himself out of telling you how he felt. 

But what both boys forgot, was that when you have been in love with someone for so long, when you finally get them you enjoy it “oh god.” Jack slapped his hand over his mouth watching Luke pull you onto his lap. 

His hands cupped your ass, deepening the kiss as you were addictive to Luke “and just like that it got weird.” Quinn announced listening to Jack agree as they shut the blind of the kitchen window, opting to finally give you both some privacy. 

[radiance1]

"Are you sure you need no guards? I can lend you a quarter -no half- of my army."

"By the Zone no! I don't need it! You're acting like I'm going to war!"

"Well, love is a battle-"

"Stop! Stopit!" Danny hurriedly said, head falling into his hands. "It's just a date, dad! A date! With a human! Nothing more, nothing less! I don't need to show up like I'm going to war, that send the wrong message!"

"It is a show of strength!" Pariah Dark argued, embers burning at the tips of his hair with a -literal- fire in his eyes. He clenched his fist. "You will be able to show your future spouse that you have more than enough to protect them, and more than enough to win a war!"

"You tried to invade their world a while ago!" Danny pointed out, briefly taking the king aback. "I don't want them to think we're back for round 2!"

"Fear is-" The Ghost King was cut off, words choking down into his throat as a hand caressed his shoulder.

"My dear king, I know you are truly enthusiastic about our ling's spouse to be, and making a good impression." The Master of Time chuckled, bringing his head down level with Pariah's own. "But, perhaps, it would be best for the boy to take a more 'human' approach to things, unbound by the concept of war."

"Yes! Finally!" Danny threw his hands up as pariah Dark deflated. "Thank you! Now if that's all, I have to go!" He turned, willing a portal through the fabric of space before pausing, then turned back. "Does my hair look okay? My outfit isn't to gaudy right?"

"Yes, and yes." Clockwork said evenly and Danny nodded, before hurrying through the portal. "Ah, young love." He sighed out, before chuckling. "Now now, be not sad my dear king, don't you remember just how... Enthusiastic you were to claim my affection."

Pariah Dark's hair burst into a raging inferno.

------

"Sorry I'm late!" Danny said as he flew through the portal, coming to a quick stop mid-air before he flew past his date and took his seat. He let out a sigh. "Had to stop my dad from trying to lend me half of his army and stop a possible war from breaking out again, you know the works."

"Oh, uhhhhh." Billy Batson blinked slowly, a light blush on his face before he shook his head. "Yea! Totally!" He said, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

Danny chuckled, placing an elbow on the table and resting his head in his hand with a grin. "Well, ain't you just a sight for the eyes. Got all dressed up for me, huh?"

"Yea!" Billy agreed, a beaming smile on his face. "I've never been on a date before, so I had to ask around for help, y'know? And you look good too!"

This time, it was Danny's turn to blush as he shifted his gaze away from the incarnation of the sun in front of him.

[passmethatcokezero]

hot and bothered... (18+ // woozi!friends with benefits au)

jihoon x fem!reader 2.7k words warnings: smut. minors dni! bff!woozi is hot and bothered at work so bff!you came to the rescue, dry humping, blowjob, needy jihoon cos why not, made so quick cos I was missing him and he has been living in my mind rent free since the day i saw him on the carts ( i wasnt same since then and thoughts have been thunk so here's a fraction of those thoughts ), just a short one, but thinking of making a part two continuation. enjoy!

“You alright?” The silence breaks, as the words from your mouth betrayed yourself. You didn’t really want to speak first, although you did feel the air has now gotten a little lighter compared earlier.

It was Seungkwan’s stupid plan; the guys had been sick of staying up all night after hours of practice for a few days now just to please their dear producer. No one can seem to thaw him, moreso pinpoint where the tension is rooted from. Obviously, it was self-inflicted pressure. Jihoon can’t understand why nobody seems to meet his expectations lately and it got bad to the point of Seokmin blaming himself for what seemed like delays but aren’t as they still got plenty of time before the next comeback. Seungkwan, hurt, seeing his talented friend’s self-esteem chase tears down his cheeks, stepped up by calling you over because “maybe you can do something about your best friend,” as he said.

Jihoon sighed as he slumps his body deep in his chair. You’ve made your presence known since earlier when Soonyoung was trying to ease the tension but you kept your mouth shut or else Jihoon might explode knowing you’re just going to take the poor boy’s side who was even more in tears brought therein by your comforting strokes on his arm. “You came here for what exactly?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed at his words. “Seungkwan called me. For some reason I thought I was coming for a celebration and yet…”

Silence takes over once again. The boys had long been gone since Bumzu initiated that everyone should take a breather first, and secretly asking you to stay and maybe help clear up your friend’s mind. “I don’t even know why the boys kept on doing this, okay? Suddenly all the pressure’s on me whenever you’re acting up.”

You did not want to say it, but it had been a long day at work and hearing his snarky voice ticked you in a bad way.

“I am just tired.” Jihoon says almost immediately, as if not wanting you to say anything more. He massaged his temples and continued, “...tired as fuck.”

“But that does not excuse that kind of attitude!” you stood from the couch, rising with the tension inside the room. “You’re being too hard on the boys and yourself. Again.” You cursed under your breath, realizing the cringy tone that just left your mouth. The last time the same exact nagging tone came out, Jihoon’s anxiety was having a field day in his brain just like earlier, and you did not expect what happened after.

And then it came to you. Soon you were flooded with flashbacks from what happened that night: Jihoon aggressively pinning you by the door, meaning to actually open it and let you out, when all of a sudden you pulled him into an embrace in an attempt to calm him down, crashing your lips to his after a long eye-fucking, breath kissing when you caught him off guard, blushing from the sudden warmth. Not long after he responded, kissing you hard as if you were not just shedding tears arguing with him over his sharp words when you were just asking him to simply breathe during a heated exchange with Soonyoung over the phone. The kiss went wild yet slowly turned comfortable as he kept on apologizing, feeling your hot tears meet his burning red cheeks. You figured he needed it that time, like a de-stressor of some sorts, and so you let his mouth conquer yours as a way to help.

That kiss went longer than what friends could actually share. But if it's the only way to keep your friend sane that moment, you suppose you can let him use you as long as he is not going to be weird about it right after. Which he did, or so you thought.

Because that day never left his mind. He was not sure why you let him kiss you like that that night, nor why you did not even bother to ask about it days, weeks after. A bit hurt that it seemed like a casual thing for you, but for him it meant healing, washing away the anxiety clouding his thinking. That moment stayed on his mind unhealthily long, almost turned into songs he would never write and let you hear, even causing him to get wet dreams for quite a while. But of course, no one could know. Not about the kiss. Not even his budding feelings towards his best friend.

“Jihoon-ah…” you exhaled, turning his swivel to face you. “I can help, Just… tell me how..”

Both of you had the same thing in mind, he needed you just like that night. But why does he find it hard to admit it? 

The guy blushed in pink, avoiding your eyes at all cost, acting as if in deep-thought. “I…”

“Look at me,” he obeys in a second, but his eyes can't help but fall into your lips inches away from him. “Do you want…. my help?”

He nods subtly as an answer, but you can’t just accept that. You needed him firm, an answer to also clear your doubts about the way his eyes are glued to your lips, his ears blushed to the reddest of red, and the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down when you leaned in closer: is he nervous because he’s uncomfortable? or was he nervous because you suddenly make him be?

“Yeah…” his breath hitches, the side of your lips upturns.

“Then say it—”

“I need you,” he reveals his innermost desire as he scrambles to his feet and catches your lips like he has been waiting for it for centuries.

Just like the first time, the kiss deepens instantly as you two found a comfortable position on the couch, you settling on his lap, arms around his shoulders. You two couldn't even care less if the door had been left unlocked when the people had left. It’s just your mouth sharing warmth with his; tongues dancing together in harmony. Just like the first time, he was craving for more, and he was able to relay that message when his teeth grazed at your lower lip, causing a moan to escape your lungs. He too groaned and by then you realized he is now rock hard underneath your heat, his thin shorts revealing himself to your clothed mound. 

“Fuck…” you did not expect yourself to be so turned on knowing you made your best friend erect just like that. All you did was wet kissing and well, maybe sitting right above his cock was what it all took.

You arched your back when you felt him squirm underneath you. He was definitely trying to move and find his rhythm, you thought, so you matched with his and rolled your hips against his erection.

“Damn….” he moaned so deeply with his hoarse voice. The friction between your clothed pussy and his bulge was enough to send you dripping to your core. Not even him, the most rational person you knew, can think straight at a moment like this: does he want to kiss your neck or pull you for another tongue wrestling? Does he want to tear all the annoying garments away from you? Does he want to set his cock free and let you sit on it, ride it if it’s too tempting for you? There’s one thing he knows though, he does not want to stop humping for now. The kind of pleasure the friction is giving him, plus the fact that he was doing such an erotic activity with not just any person but his best friend he had been fantasizing about lately was enough to send him nuts. He cannot even fathom what would happen if this escalates to something more, just having your warmth and your equally heightened libido had his focus on the now.

“You’re so hard, Jihoon.”

It felt so good and ego-boosting at the same time. Is he having a good time as well? He seems to like it as much as you do. His erection and hip movements to meet yours say it all: he wants you so bad and you feel proud someone actually desires you that much. When even was the last time you got laid? Was it a very long time ago? You aren’t sexually active yourself, and surprisingly, you’ve never been in a serious relationship as well. Maybe it wasn’t your priority, but having this heated session with your friend, you realized, you also craved to be touched, and be wanted. You wanted to be kissed deeply and ravenously, to be held possessively, and to be wanted as hungrily as how Jihoon was making you feel. Exactly as how Jihoon is obsessing for all that you are right now.

“Touch me. Please, Jihoon…” 

The dry humping must have had a drug, you thought. How come having all these annoying barriers on your skin makes all these way hotter than you thought it could be? Especially when Jihoon’s feisty hands made their way from your waist to the insides of your shirt while his sloppy kisses made their way to your neck. His cold hands cupping your breasts send electricity to your spine, causing you to moan out his name as dirty and needy as possible. Who could blame you, he was making you feel so good. His hands that created masterpieces are now invading your privacy, so sweetly yet so heavy with emotions. It was as if he was milking out lyrics to an explicit love song out of you, to match the melodies coming out of your lungs that harmonize with his.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?” he managed to say between breaths, as he enjoys playing with your now slightly free breasts that had slipped out of your bra. He is still a boy, you found that out long time ago, when you’ve caught him subtly staring at your chest during that one listening party night you were his plus one at a bar hosted by a producer friend and you just had to wear something skimpy and rather revealing, something to match the R&B vibe of the album. He did catch himself as well staring that time, and proceeded to lend you his suit because “the bartender was having the time of his life flirting with you," - went his alibi.

“Yeah? That’s why you wanted me so bad huh?—oh shit!” you moaned out loud when his hold on you became heavier, pushing you down to his hardened cock as if there were anymore spaces left in between.

Mouths agape, together you humped against each other's heat, only moans were resonating inside his studio alongside a minute sound of the friction cause by the fabrics.

“Fuck I think gonna cum, fuck,” Jihoon cursed, while his eyes were shut and his teeth gritted to concentration. “Fuck,” he humps against you harder as curses kept on rolling from his tongue, while your hips rolled faster to meet his tempo, moans pitched higher and higher. You were also close, and suddenly you were reminded this isn’t about you. You were helping your friend. And you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Wai-wha—what are you doing?” his voice sounded annoyed but you know better than to answer him. Legs folding on the floor as you positioned yourself in between his, not wasting time in pulling twice the constraints that were his shorts and underwear. His cock sprung healthily, all pink and angry, veins bulging out as if wanted to be traced by your tongue.

He hissed out of breath, confused if he wanted to surrender on the couch or look at you in a position he had only dreamt of once. 

No words need exchanging as you started sucking him off right there, mixing his precum with saliva, coating him down until your mouth can take. He had praises for you behind his teeth but all he could let out were needy guttural moans that translated how good you were making him feel anyway. You let his moans and the sight of him all sweaty and consumed fuck your system as the pool in your south continued to dampen your undies, the insides of your thighs getting ticklish, missing the attention it has gotten from him. Oh how badly you wanted him to fuck you right then and there, how badly you want him bucking his hips and drilling you so deep, how badly you wanted this thick cock of his inside you, stretching you oh so painfully yet so pleasurable.

“fuck… cant… anymore…” his shaky words were almost inaudible from all the dirty noises he was making, sounding even more gibberish while his body moved erratically to fuck your mouth, hands glued to your head to try to get his momentum, which did not take long as strings of cum exploded inside your mouth. You were quick to swallow, but most of his loads were still overflowing, racing down to your chin straight to your neck. It was one heck of a view, he thinks, as his chest heaves chasing his breath while appreciating a bit of the scene: his softening cock popping out of your mouth, before almost passing out.

“that was… really good.” it was probably an understatement to the euphoric climax he just had; his mind was still hazy from the release so he cannot find the correct words to tell you. But you were fine, the moans already sounded like praises to you. “That feels much better than I do with my own.”

“Of course it would,” you gave him a peck on the corner of his lips, and then dusting off the wrinkles on your clothes and adjusting your bra. “Takes two to tango.”

Confusion was then plastered on his face when you began fixing your hair and proceeding to face your back to grab your bag you left by the table. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving?”

“Who said you are?”

Somewhere in the room, his phone rings which he attentively checks. The name wasn’t supposed to annoy the hell out of him, but right now it almost spelled like a curse to him.

“You’re not leaving, please.” he grabs your hand as he takes the call from Bumzu. He knows you did not have your release, and he doesn’t want you carrying all that unreleased tension inside you when he himself had the best one tonight. 

You heard the other line asking how he was feeling now and that he had left something inside the studio and if it’s okay to go and get it. Jihoon agrees, not without a defeated sigh and a click of his tongue only you can hear.

“You know the passcode right? I think I’ll take my leave tonight, I don’t think I can wring anything out of my mind at this rate.”

You looked at him while shaking your head as a smirk forms on your mouth, furrowing your eyebrows at him as if asking him what he was saying.

“Sure, actually we’ve been meaning to tell you that.” Bumzu seconds him, and asks about you right after. You heard him say Seokmin and Seungkwan had been asking if you weren’t busy and maybe hangout for a while as a way to thank you from earlier. Both guys had always been the sweetest among the bunch and although it was only out of courtesy, Jihoon can’t help but fume in jealousy, making himself lie to keep you in his (and ONLY HIS) sight for a while.

“She just left, I think she said she’s going for an early appointment tomorrow,” and ends the call soon when Bumzu bids his farewell and hopes of him getting well.

“I didn’t know you can lie to your brothers,”

“For an emergency yeah,” he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, and now he was already leading you out of his studio to the elevator.

“You could just say you’re sending me home, that would sound a lot better,”

And then what, you finding out about how the guys had been teasing him about you since day one? Of course, he won’t let that happen. Not until he finds the time to finally be honest with himself and to you.

“So… my place or yours?”

-

stay tuned for part two for the hoo-haa ;)

[liahaslosthermind]

𝑬𝒍𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒏

Summary: The 4 times the Night Court’s Shadowsinger mentioned… someone, and the first time his family got the promise of an answer. 

Content: Angst, with the promise of future fluff

Warnings: Angst, I like making Azriel sad sorry, I also take the ‘mate talk’ in the Azriel/Nesta/Bryce bonus chapter and rewrite it to fit this story. I also haven’t read CC yet so apologies if Bryce is OOC Azriel x OC [not introduced in this part]

*Slight spoilers for the Azriel/Nesta/Bryce bonus chapter

Bryce turned to the fae female next to her, “You have a mate, don’t you?” Nesta simply nodded in response, a slight smile forming on her face, followed by a deep blush. “Do you?” The red head directed at Azriel.

Nesta’s stomach dropped. She knew it was a sore subject for the Shadowsinger. What with everyone else in his family being mated except for him-

“I do.” He said, a trace of apprehension in his voice. Nesta’s head snapped to face him so quickly that her vision spun for a moment, causing her to stumble.

Regaining her footing, she barked out, “Azriel? What the fuck do you mean?”

The trio stopped walking for a moment, tension settling over the once calm night air. She gave him a demanding, and slightly betrayed, look. Even though his eyes met hers, Azriel kept quiet. Bryce simply looked between the two, face wrinkling in the awkwardness of the moment.

“Ah. A sore subject, I guess?” Bryce laughed, or tried to, it only came out forced and uncomfortable. 

“Who, Az? How come I had no idea? Does anyone know?” There wasn’t anger in her voice, just hurt. 

He had to bite back his usual replies, the ones he gave to his family when they tried to ask questions or bring up the topic without him bringing it up first. Not that he ever did. 

“She’s-” he swallowed. Cauldron, when would he finally be able to talk about her without wishing the world would swallow him whole? “It’s not something I want to discuss right now, especially with present company.” He sent a pointed look at Bryce. He couldn’t hide the misery in his tone this time though as he took a deep breath and continued, “I will tell you about her, Nes. One day. I’d just rather do it on my own terms. On my own time.” Nesta opened her mouth, seconds away from arguing, when he put a hand on her shoulder, “Please.” he begged, softly. 

The glimmer of silver in his eyes caught her off guard, gave her such a knee jerk reaction of protectiveness that she gave him a crushing hug. It was strange, this feeling. Azriel, the broody, closed off, terrifying, annoyingly perceptive, kind, and unbelievably loving friend she never knew she needed had just revealed a part of himself she could tell he kept locked away for good reason. The thought that even the mention of his mate could bring him to tears made her heart break in a way she thought impossible after all she had been through. 

She took a deep breath as she pulled away, “When you’re ready,” she agreed.

He smiled back at her, while it was genuine, one of the few he reserved for his family, there was still insurmountable pain in his eyes. 

Nesta turned back to Bryce, “Can you play more of your music? Just none of that screaming one.” She asked, shaking her head at the memory of the Death Metal genre she hadn’t liked when the redhead had played it for them. 

She smiled softly as she felt Azriel squeeze her hand in a silent Thank you before he let go. 

The High Lord sat, feet propped up on his desk. “When do you head out for Rosehall?” He asked.

Azriel, standing by the window to the right of his brother, answered, “The morning after Solstice.” Rhysand grimaced when he heard the mask of indifference his Spy Master had in his voice. “I still need to pick up a gift before I go.”

Rhys took it for the invitation it was. “Would you buy her something from me? On my account this time.” He tried to put on his commanding-High-Lord voice as he said it, but he knew very well that Azriel wouldn’t listen to the last part of his request even as his brother smiled in agreement as he walked out of the room, sending an inclination of goodbye to his High Lady in the chair across from her mate. 

“Rosehall? What female is he visiting the day after Solstice?” Feyre spoke into her mate’s mind. 

Despite Rhys’ usual inability to keep anything from his mate, he couldn't bring himself to explain, couldn’t bring himself to cross the very clear lines his brother had set all those years ago. 

“It's not my story to tell. And don’t ask someone else, if any of them know, they also won’t talk.” 

Certainly not the answer she had expected, as was evident by the look on Feyre’s face.

“And if I ask Azriel?” she inquired.

“It will just bring up things he isn't ready to share. He will come to you- come to us- some day.” ‘One day’ Azriel had promised his family long ago, long before their family had been as big as it was now. “I just pray it's under better circumstances.” 

Feyre froze, feeling the weight of mixed negative emotions flowing down from her mate’s side of the bond. For once, she was even more confused after asking Rhysand for more information. 

“Well, I believe we’ve reached the threshold of faked amiability before one of us attacks the other. We should quit while we’re ahead.” Eris said as he stood up from his chair, starting to grab his papers without so much as a glance to his reluctant hosts. Even years after their alliance was set in stone with the agreement from the Night Court to back Eris’ claim to his father’s throne, even after fighting beside them in war, these faked niceties could only go on for so long before the claws came out. 

No one in the Night Court’s Inner circle could say there was anything but relief to see the Autumn Court’s High Lord walk away. But before they could let out a breath of relief, Eris stopped and turned to the Shadowsinger. 

“I have received word that your… gift has been finished. I will send someone to get it to you within the week.” 

Azriel’s head quickly snapped to Eris, “And they were able to meet all my requests?” He asked, not caring that everyone else in the room watched the interaction with fierce intrigue. 

The eldest living Vanserra boy scoffed, “I assured you they’d be able to.” Azriel let out a relieved breath at that. While he’d known Eris’ court capable of such a thing, it wasn’t much more difficult than lesser magics, but hearing it confirmed ignited hope he didn’t know he still carried.

“Thank you. She’ll love it.” The Spy Master replied earnestly, much to Eris’, as well as the rest of the Inner Circle’s, shock. 

The red haired fae simply schooled his features and nodded in response before winnowing away. 

Despite the heaviness all the secrets and questions caused, everyone remained silent as they watched Azriel slip out of the room. 

The dining room had been filled with loud chatter for the weekly family dinner. Love filled teasing and relentless jokes put everyone in a good mood. Nothing felt better to the Night Court’s Inner Circle than being all together. Unfortunately, it had to come to an end. 

“I’ll be leaving for a few days.” Azriel told Rhysand, who was sitting to his left at the head of the table. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He quickly added. 

“I thought you were leaving the day after?” 

“I was, but the package I had been waiting on came, and I’d like to deliver it as soon as possible. I’ll drop your gift off too.” With that, Azriel got up, nodding a quick goodbye to his family, before disappearing into his shadows.

It wasn’t a request to have a few days off. He hadn’t asked if his High Lord could spare not having his Spymaster for a little. He didn’t even wait for any sort of goodbye from the rest of his family. He just left, the house sending his place setting away to be cleaned, as if he had never been there in the first place. 

Once again, everyone had questions, concerns, for their friend. But no one spoke up, as per usual. 

Until the one fae in the room with truly no information in the matter grew concerned enough with everyone’s immediate change in attitudes. 

“Where is he going?” Elain asked, looking between her friends and family. 

She saw on everyone's faces, in their eyes that refused to meet hers, that no one would tell her. Till she sent a look, full of concerned innocence, to Cassian. 

“Rosehall” He blurted out. “Or at least, I assume that's where he is going.” The last part was directed towards his older brother. 

“Where is this Rosehall?” Feyre asked, feeling he invitation Elain’s question had opened into the untouchable subject. 

The High Lady, like her second oldest sister, sent a look to Rhys, knowing he'd break for her under an embarrassingly small amount of pressure. 

“None of us know,” he gave in, “He goes at seemingly random intervals. Sometimes he’s there, often, for months. Then he will go quite a while without any visits.”

“Is it his mate? Is that who he is seeing?” Nesta inquires. 

The word seems to suck all the air out of the room. His mate. Azriel’s mate. Their brother’s mate.

Nesta’s stomach drops at the looks she receives from Cassian and Rhysand. 

They didn’t know. 

As she opens her mouth to speak, she’s cut off by a palm smacking the table.

“Enough! You all know damn well this isn’t what he would want. The only reason you all seem so comfortable talking about it is because he's gone, too preoccupied to leave a shadow behind.” Mor argues. “He has asked one thing of us in the 500 years he has been by our side, to let him- let them- be.”

With that, she winnowed out of the room, leaving a suffocating mix of guilt, confusion, and concern behind. 

Everyone could feel his presence the second he got back to the house. The light and happy Solstice air seemed to vanish in an instant. The shadows suddenly alive and wreathing. 

Rhys and Cassian had gotten up to check on their brother. While he had said he’d be gone till Solstice, they had assumed he would be there the full day to celebrate with everyone. But he had missed celebrations, for both Solstice and Feyre’s birthday, had missed dinner, and had sent no indication that he was even alive. His mental walls had been as fortified as ever, not letting Rhysand nor Feyre in the numerous times they had tried to check in. 

Their walk over to their brother’s room became a run, followed by the rest of the family, as they heard a loud crash. 

The room was dark, but they could make out the faint outline of the broken mirror and Shadowsinger standing in front of it, holding his hand as blood seemed to drip from a wound. In the dark, the sight was unsettling, but in the light, it was far worse. 

Cassian moved quickly, leaving Rhysand and the rest of the Inner Circle by the door in stunned silence. 

“Woah-” Cassian said as he lifted Azriel’s hand, causing his brother to pull back in startled shock. He hadn’t known they were coming. Hadn’t sensed their presence even then they were right in front of him.

“It’s okay, Az. But we need to clean out the wound. Make sure there aren't any shards in-” The general stopped as he looked at the Spymaster, seeing the tears streaming down his usually stone cold face. 

All he could do was help him sit down as Mor, seemingly better equipped to handle the situation, came over to kneel in front of her long time friend. 

“Az?” She took his uninjured hand in hers, her other hand going to his face to wipe away the tears. “Come on, maybe you shoul-”

“She’s gotten worse.” He admitted, his voice noticeably wobbling, “So much worse, Mor.” 

Mor quickly looked at everyone else, seeing the shock, the empathy, and worse of all, the pity. She knew more than the others, not the full story, not even close, but enough to know that their reactions were part of why he kept all of it a secret. He couldn’t handle their emotions on top of his.

By the time she looked back, she saw that Azriel had noticed it too. She could see him shrinking back into himself, trying to hide everything. 

She couldn’t let it happen again. 

“Let me in, Azriel. Don’t pretend, don’t go through 200 more years of this.” She pleaded. Luckily, this seemed to pull him back out. “Let us all in, please?”

“I can’t- I don’t want pity.” He admitted.

Rhysand spoke up this time. “Is that what you think this is? Just pity? Az, come on. We all love you, we want you to be happy. But we don’t want fake happiness. Seeing you like this makes us all upset, because we love you. Please, let us prove it. Let us in.” Rhysand begged. 

Azriel gave them all a onceover, emotion showing so clearly in his face, in his eyes, that no one seemed to be able to breathe. 

He took a deep breath before speaking up, “Tomorrow. I’ll explain- show you all, tomorrow. For now, I’d just like to celebrate Solstice, and your birthday, Feyre, with my family.” 

The air lightened up a little bit at the promise. Tomorrow, they’d all face what Azriel had been dealing with alone for 200 years. But tonight, they would all celebrate Solstice, the return of light and promise of a brighter future, as a family. 

[lucifermonsii]

Barrage x M!Reader

err sub reader n dom barrage hehehe (this man needs more fic.) Reader accidentally drinks Barrage's "milk"

It was a nice day, or so you thought. After a long day of training you've grown tired and exhausted, wanting nothing more but just to go grab a glass of water— or basically any type of liquid at this point. Eventually after some reps at a pull bar in the training room you've decided to head to your little office that had a mini fridge which you've kept tucked beneath a book shelve, it was cute and convenient. To be honest every high ranked officer had a pretty nice office, and lucky for you you've just been promoted to a chief warrant officer. Talk about the perks. Upon your arrival you're met with a familiar face who seems to be sitting on your couch with his feet on your coffee table, Barrage. Typical. Sometimes you'd wish you didn't give him the keys to your office. But what could you do? He was your best friend after all. The masked man stared at you through his shades, holding a monster can in one hand as he sits there. "The fuck are you doing in my office-" You scoffed at him before closing the office door behind you, shaking your head before you headed over to your mini fridge and crouched down to see what was left behind after Barrage's looting session. A singular glass of white liquid substance— to what you assumed was milk. What was that doing in your mini fridge? "Eh, why not? I'm tired of training rookies all day.." He murmurs before taking a sip of the carbonated beverage though the fabric of his balaclava as he glances over at you through his dark shades, although you couldn't really see his eyes you could feel his gaze upon you. The very gaze you've grown used to over the years. Your eyes lingers on the glass of milk for a moment too long, contemplating whether it was one of Barrage's trick or just a drink he kept for you. You've known this man long enough to know he isn't one to trust. Knowing his usual cheeky antics and tricks. "Barrage, why's there a glass of milk in my fridge?" You asked as you look over at him, now standing properly with the glass of milk in your hand as you waited for his answer. His gaze lingers on yours for a while before he answers. "Hm? Saved it for you, know you'd get thirsty.." Was all he said before looking forward and finishing off his beverage with a swig and placing the empty aluminum can on the coffee table before getting up and stretching, groaning in the process before his arms fell back to his sides. "Alright then.." You said slowly, gently swirling the glass in your hand as the white substance swirls in the glass slowly. It was unusually thick and a bit transparent for a milk, but what else can you drink after he finished your whole stock? So without a second thought you began to drink it. "I wasn't done talking." He says as he heads over to you, seeing as you've already chugged the whole glass and wiped off the access on your lips using your hands. "What is it..? The fuck did you do." You replied sternly as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, face slightly grimacing at the slightly thick liquid you had just swallowed down your throat. Turning around to look at him face to face. You weren't short no, in fact both of you are the same height— Is what you say knowing that he's just an inch taller. "It's not just any milk— its my milk." The male grins smugly before breaking into laughter, clutching his stomach as strings of giggles and snickers left his mouth uncontrollably. You on the other hand was absolutely disgusted. Eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as you stared at him, baffled and straight up speechless before your eyes glanced back at the now empty glass of semen in your hand. "BARRAGE WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" You shouted at him, face flushed with embarrassment as your mind came to realize what you had done— Coughing, trying to get the liquid out of your throat was no use now since it had been fully digested. ⋆⭒˚.⋆ "you're so fucking disgusting.."

You hissed at him, pink tinted your cheeks as you kept a firm tone and your guards up— although you knew the whole experience had you aroused, the damn pervert you call your best friend made you drink his semen? God damn you were a sick person for enjoying it.. "your flushed face tells me other wise.." Was all he mused before letting go of your jaw to dip his thumb into the corner of your mouth, smearing the thick white liquid from your mouth to the corner of your lips. Grinning to see that you still had some of it inside to indulge in the salty taste. "hm, who's the pervert now?" he says before wiping it off on your cheek and lifted his balaclava just above his nose to give you a kiss. Dragging the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip to gain entrance, to which you eagerly complied. Gaze hazed as he hums into the kiss, pushing you further against the wall as one of his hands found their way beneath the fabric of your shirt, his rough, calloused fingers drags their way along your toned— muscular physique as they found their way to the dip of your hip, keeping a grip there as his other hand made it's way to grip the side of your chest— slightly squeezing onto the soft, firm flesh before pulling away from the kiss. Staring down at you through half lidded eyes through his dark shades. "fuck you." You grumbled back to him as you gripped onto his waist, pulling him further more against your body as you kissed him again. This time a bit more gentle than before. Tongues intertwined with one another as both of his hands slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt and slide your shirt up until it reached above your chest, exposing your tone torso to him as his thumbs were on your pecs— flicking over your nipples as his other hand went to grab the side of your waist, his whole arm around it as he deepens the kiss further. Grinding against you with no shame while your hands held him by his back. "now, be a good boy and turn around for me yeah sweetheart?" he whispered ever so sweetly into your ear as he pulled away from the kiss. God damn it. ⋆⭒˚.⋆ slow lewd claps of skin slapping against skin fills your office as he had your legs parted, pants long pooling at your ankles as his grith slowly pushes in and out of your tight heat with ease. Soft, hushed grunt and whimpers escapes your lips as he pries your thighs further apart while he had you pushed against the wall. One hand on the front of your thigh that meets the groin and the muscle as his other hand cupped one of your pecs— squeezing it every so often to have you hushed. "you're doin' so good baby.. all for me hm?" he muses against your neck, his warm breath fanning over it with every grunt and sigh escapes his lips while he fucked you ever so gently. Feeling his member stretch you out as the tip grazes your sweet spot with each thrust, your own cock standing hard and erect helplessly as the leaking tip stains the wallpaper walls of your own office. "god damn you're so tight.. squeezing around my cock like there's no tomorrow huh? don't be greedy now, we have all night.." (i reached the words limit)

[gf2bellamy]

Saw that you're still taking requests so I wanted to ask if you could write something with bau!reader and s4!spencer reid so she has a crush on him but he's kinda oblivious to it so he tries to help set her up with Morgan kinda like he did in that one delete scene from season 2 about him and emily but then he realizes he likes her after she goes on a date with Morgan so he has to sabotage all the wingmanning he’s done and they end up together 😭

date — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of rats? a/n: thank you so much for your request !! <3 i actually had to look that scene up and omg ?? i wish they didn't delete it. its so funny and cute 😭 i hope you like this !! <33

You leaned casually against Derek’s desk, barely perched on the edge, the hard surface pressing into the back of your thighs. He sat comfortably in his chair, his usual charming grin firmly in place as he listened to you argue with him.

"Paris isn't that nice," you said with an exaggerated eye roll, your voice playful. "It's not as romantic as everyone says."

Derek raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable. "Are you serious? It's literally called the 'City of Love,' sweetheart. Who wouldn't want to go there?"

You leaned in slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips. "Have you even heard about the rats?" Your eyebrow lifted in challenge, daring him to argue.

Derek chuckled, completely unfazed. "Rats? It’s a big city, babe. There are always rats. Doesn't change the fact that it's beautiful."

You snorted, crossing your arms as you pushed off his desk. "Yeah? You won’t be saying that when you're on a date and one runs up your leg." With a satisfied smile, you turned on your heel and walked back to your desk.

Spencer, seated nearby, glanced up just in time to catch the smile Derek threw your way. His fingers stilled on the page of the book he was flipping through,his eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Meanwhile, you stood beside your desk, staring at your empty coffee mug as a yawn escaped your lips. Rubbing your eyes, you stretched, feeling the slight ache in your muscles.

"Anyone want coffee?" you called out, glancing around at the three remaining people in the room.

Emily, still focused on her computer, glanced up briefly. “I’ll take one,” she said, offering you a small but warm smile.

The two men, however, were preoccupied with their own work. Derek didn’t even look up as he shook his head. “No thanks, sweetheart.”

Spencer, his eyes scanning over a case file, simply replied, “I’m good, thanks.”

You nodded, mentally noting their responses before turning on your heel and making your way toward the break room. The soft click of your shoes faded as you disappeared down the hall.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Spencer hesitated for a moment before shifting slightly in his chair, his gaze flicking toward Derek.

Derek, still absorbed in his files, felt the stare before he even looked up. With a smirk, he raised an eyebrow. “You got something to say, Reid, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

Spencer twirled his pen between his fingers, his expression unreadable as he carefully chose his words. "You smile a lot when you’re talking to her."

Derek’s grin faltered—just for a fraction of a second—before he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.

Emily, who had been absorbed in her work just moments ago, was now fully tuned into the conversation, grinning as she watched Derek’s eyebrows furrow at Spencer.

“So…?” Derek challenged, tilting his head slightly. "Are you saying I’m interested in her?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it—like he was daring Spencer to say it outright.

Spencer merely shrugged, his expression unreadable. "She was sitting at your desk. Which she does a lot," he pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact. "She also teases you more than anyone else. And when you talk to her, you lean in. You laugh more. Your body language is open, relaxed." He paused, adjusting his grip on the pen. "Statistically speaking, those are common indicators of attraction."

Derek let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his jaw. "Damn, Dr.Reid. You been profiling me?"

Spencer blinked. "You profile me all the time," he countered without missing a beat.

Emily snickered under her breath, clearly enjoying the exchange. "He’s got a point," she teased, smirking at Derek.

Derek exhaled dramatically, throwing his hands up. "She’s funny, she’s smart, and yeah, she’s easy on the eyes. ," he admitted. "But that doesn’t mean anything." he added slowly.

Spencer tapped his pen against his desk before speaking. "You should ask her out on a date."

Derek raised his eyebrows, caught completely off guard. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wait, hold up—you are not seriously giving me dating advice right now." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

Spencer merely shrugged, unfazed. "Why not?"

Derek scoffed. "Because you don’t date. You read about dating. That’s not the same thing." He gestured toward him. "I mean, I respect you, kid, but unless you’ve been secretly taking girls out and I just didn’t notice, I don’t know if you’re the best wingman for this conversation."

Spencer’s lips twitched like he might argue, but instead, he just tilted his head slightly, studying Derek. "That doesn’t mean I don’t understand attraction," he countered.

Derek shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable."

Spencer, ignoring him, continued, "So why haven’t you asked her out?"

Derek exhaled, drumming his fingers against his desk. "I don’t know, man. She’s not just some girl you take out for drinks and flirt with at the bar. She’s…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "She’s got depth. She’s got layers. And I don’t think she sees me as anything more than just… a friend."

Spencer considered that, his grip on his pen tightening slightly. "I think you underestimate yourself."

Before Derek could respond, Emily, who had been watching the exchange, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Wow, would you just go ask her out already?" She rolled her eyes. "I mean, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?"

Derek glanced at Spencer, who for once, didn’t have anything to add.

For the first time in a long time, Derek Morgan was actually thinking about it.

Before either of them could say anything else, the bullpen doors swung open, and you walked back in, two coffee cups in hand. Almost instantly, the air in the room shifted. Papers rustled, chairs creaked, and suddenly, both men were very focused on their work. Emily hid her smirk behind her coffee as you approached, handing her the second cup. 

You glanced between them, your brow furrowing slightly. It was too quiet. You settled into your chair and got back to work, unaware of the two pairs of eyes that flickered toward you in quiet contemplation. 

Derek tapped his pen against his desk, stealing glances at you every so often, as if weighing something in his mind. 

Spencer, on the other hand, didn’t look away as quickly. His fingers hovered over the pages of his case file, but he wasn’t reading anymore. Instead, he was studying the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your brows knitted together in concentration, the way you absentmindedly chewed on your lip while reviewing something on your screen. 

Emily, watching all of this unfold, took another sip of her coffee and shook her head. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath. 

Neither of them heard her.  

Two hours later, the team began packing up, the bullpen emptying as everyone prepared to head home. You stepped into the elevator, the long day weighing on you, and let out a sigh as you walked toward your car in the dimly lit parking lot. 

Just as you reached for your keys, a voice called out behind you. 

"Hey, I need to ask you something." 

You turned to see Derek approaching. Leaning against your car, you suppressed a yawn, giving him a small, tired smile. "Hurry up, or I’ll fall asleep right here," you teased, rubbing your eyes. 

Derek chuckled, but there was something different about his expression—something more serious beneath the usual charm. He hesitated for only a second before finally saying, "How about dinner? Just you and me." 

For a moment, you just stared at him, surprised. You hadn’t expected this—not from Derek. Sure, he flirted with you, but he flirted with everyone. This was unexpected. 

Your instinct was to hesitate, to sort through the sudden rush of emotions that flooded your mind. But before you could respond, movement near the entrance of the building caught your attention. 

Spencer. 

He stepped outside, his bag slung over his shoulder. His gaze landed on you, and for a brief second, the two of you locked eyes. His expression was unreadable at first, but then—softly, almost hesitantly—he smiled. 

And then he kept walking. 

You felt your stomach twist. 

Spencer. He was the one who had been lingering in your thoughts, the one whose voice you found yourself seeking out, the one who made your heart race in ways you didn’t fully understand. But despite everything, nothing had ever happened. 

Maybe nothing ever would. 

Maybe Derek was right there, right now, offering you something tangible. 

So before you could overthink it, you looked back at Derek, forcing a small smile. "Sure," you said. 

Derek’s grin widened, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility that you might actually say yes. "Alright, then. Tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow," you confirmed, even as your eyes flickered, just for a second, toward Spencer’s retreating figure. 

Two days later, you rushed through the doors of the BAU, the cool morning air still clinging to your skin as you made your way toward the elevators. A warm coffee sat snug in your hands. 

As you stood waiting, you heard footsteps—familiar ones. Ones you could recognize anywhere. 

"Good morning," Spencer’s voice came softly beside you. 

You turned to see him standing there, clutching the strap of his bag, his own coffee in hand. 

"Morning, Spencer," you said, offering him a small smile. 

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the building waking up around you. Then, Spencer shifted slightly, glancing at you. 

"How was your day yesterday?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. 

You were a profiler. You knew exactly what he was really asking. 

"Derek told you about the date," you said simply, watching him carefully. 

Spencer’s lips quirked up in a small, slightly embarrassed smile, his gaze flickering to the elevator doors just as they slid open.

He didn’t deny it. 

You stepped inside together. You exhaled softly, pressing the button for your floor before finally answering. 

"It was nice," you said, keeping your tone light. 

It wasn’t a lie. Derek had been charming, attentive, and easy to talk to. The evening had been pleasant. But that was all it was. Nice. 

You and Derek had come to the same conclusion: you were better off as friends. 

The entire date had felt more like two friends hanging out than anything remotely romantic. Somewhere around the halfway mark, you'd both silently agreed on it. And after that, the night had been easy—filled with laughter and inside jokes, but nothing more. 

You were relieved, honestly. Because deep down, you knew your heart had never really been in it. 

Not when it still raced just from standing next to Spencer. 

"That's good," Spencer said, nodding slightly. His smile was soft, polite—maybe even a little forced—but you didn't let yourself dwell on it. 

The elevator doors slid open, and as you stepped forward, you felt his eyes linger on you for just a second longer than necessary before he followed behind. 

The bullpen was already alive with the usual morning energy—phones ringing and papers shuffling. Derek glanced up from his desk, catching your eye. He gave you a knowing grin, one that said, We’re good, right? 

You returned it with an easy smile. Yeah, we’re good. 

Emily flicked her gaze between you and Spencer as you both walked in. She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, instead sipping her coffee with an amused smirk. 

You were having a normal, uneventful day at work. But the man sitting across from you? He was having anything but. 

Spencer’s mind hadn’t been able to settle since that brief moment in the elevator. The words you had said—simple, casual—had been looping in his head on an endless repeat. 

"It was nice." 

That was all. No excitement, no details, no hint of anything deeper. 

But what did that mean? Were you and Derek together now? Had he taken you to some dimly lit restaurant with expensive food and soft music? Had he-

Spencer clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop spiraling. He knew where this was leading.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. But it was impossible not to. The truth was starting to settle like a heavy weight in his chest, and as much as he tried to shove it down, it refused to stay buried.

He wanted to be the one in Derek’s position. 

And as he sat there, gripping his pen a little too tightly, he realized just how badly he wanted that. 

His eyes flickered up, drawn to the sound of your laugh—light, effortless, the kind of sound he could pick out in a crowded room. You were standing next to Derek’s desk, handing him a file as you chuckled at something he’d said. Derek grinned, throwing a comment back at you, easy as always. 

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat dry. His stomach twisted with an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to—not until now. He had read about this before, studied it in textbooks and papers, knowing the psychology behind it, the theories that tried to explain why emotions sometimes crept up on you when you least expected them. Why your heart could flip at the smallest touch, or your mind could spiral at the thought of someone you cared about turning their attention to someone else.

He could list a dozen different theories—explain this away with biology, with brain chemistry. He could tell himself that this was just a byproduct of human connection.

But none of that mattered. Because no amount of rationalizing, no number of facts, no cold, clinical analysis of his brain could change the truth.

This wasn’t just some passing feeling.

He was jealous.

And the realization hit him like a freight train. Because the truth was, he wasn’t just jealous.

Spencer Reid was in love with you.

And now? 

Now it seemed like it was too late to do anything. 

Because as much as he wanted to be the one taking you on dates and laughing with you the next day, he wasn’t. 

Derek was. 

And Spencer had no one to blame for that but himself. 

You, meanwhile, were oblivious to his internal struggle. Your caffeine addiction had long since become a well-known part of your routine. Without even thinking, you moved toward the break room, your body acting on autopilot as you reached for another cup of coffee—was it your third or fourth today? You couldn’t even keep track anymore.

Spencer, still seated at his desk, saw his moment.

He grabbed his own mug and, without thinking too much about it, followed you. 

As he stepped inside the break room, he saw you standing at the coffee machine, waiting for the dark liquid to fill your cup. 

"Work is killing me," you muttered, not even turning around as you sensed his presence. 

Spencer let out a small breath of amusement. "I can help you if you want," he offered, setting his mug down on the counter beside you. 

You finally glanced up at him, your lips curling into a soft smile. "No, that’s fine, Spencer. But thank you." 

You turned back to your coffee, but you weren’t as focused on it as you pretended to be. Your heart was doing that stupid thing again — pounding a little too fast, your pulse betraying you. 

You didn’t know that his was doing the same. 

Spencer watched as you took a small step back, your hands wrapped around your coffee mug, while he moved forward to place his own under the machine. The steady drip of coffee filled the silence between you. 

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled from his lips. 

“Did Derek take you to that restaurant on Osborn Street ?” 

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Yeah, he did,” you said slowly, tilting your head as you studied him. “Why?” 

The moment the question left your mouth, Spencer felt warmth creeping up his neck. Embarrassment? Frustration? He wasn’t sure. 

He clenched his jaw slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as another sentence—one he barely had time to think through—slipped past his lips. 

“He usually takes his dates there.” As soon as he said it, he bit his tongue, regretting it instantly. 

Why would he say that? 

It sounded… wrong. Like he was implying you were just another name on a list for Derek. And if you were dating, wouldn’t that make you upset? Shouldn’t he be worried that you’d storm off and confront Derek about it? 

But then another thought crept in—one that he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge. 

Would it really be such a bad thing if you did get mad at Derek? 

While Spencer spiraled through a hundred different scenarios in his head, you were left staring at him, your coffee now sitting untouched on the counter. 

Mouth slightly agape, you processed what he had just said. 

You weren’t mad. Not at all. 

You just hadn’t expected Spencer Reid—the careful, logical, always-thinks-before-he-speaks Spencer—to say something so… passive-aggressive. 

The grin that was forming on your face was hard to suppress, but you were failing miserably. The little twitch at the corners of your lips was telling on you. 

Spencer wasn’t looking at you to notice it. Instead, he was focused on his mug, holding it in his hands like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. 

"Spencer," you said, your voice a little lighter as you tilted your head at him. 

Spencer glanced at you from the side, his expression a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I—" 

But you cut him off, giving him a soft smile. "Me and Derek are just friends," you said. 

Spencer froze, his head whipping toward you so fast that you actually flinched, worried he might give himself whiplash. "What? But you went on a date—" His voice trailed off, his confusion evident. 

"Yeah," you said with a casual shrug, "and we decided we were better off as friends." 

As the words left your mouth, a surge of hope filled your chest. Hope that maybe, just maybe, Spencer's earlier remark had been born from jealousy.

Because it sure seemed like it. 

Spencer’s lips quirked upward, a soft but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Oh, I’m sorry," he said, but there was no real apology in his tone. It was teasing, lighthearted—almost as if he had been waiting for you to say those words. 

You couldn’t help it. A grin spread across your face, matching his. 

"Yeah, sure you are," you replied, picking up your own coffee mug and taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the drink seep through your hands. 

Spencer mirrored you, lifting his mug to his lips, though his eyes stayed on you a little longer than necessary.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you as you set your coffee down, his eyes searching yours for a hint of what you were thinking. 

And then, without even thinking, his words tumbled out. “You know,” he began, his voice quieter this time, "I wasn’t asking about Derek because I was just curious." 

You glanced at him, feeling the beat of your heart quicken. Was he about to say what you thought he was? 

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly flustered, his eyes not meeting yours now. “I mean, I—uh—just wanted to know because…” He trailed off, swallowing, his words uncertain but his intentions clear. 

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, your voice teasing but gentle. "Because…?" You waited, your breath caught in your throat as you watched him, waiting for him to finish his thought. 

Spencer took a deep breath. “I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I’m around you, I just—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. “You make everything feel different. I’ve never really felt this way before, not like this." He laughed nervously. "And I know this probably sounds insane, but I think I might like you. A lot." 

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and for a moment, you were speechless.You took a step closer, your hand gently resting on the counter between you two. “Spencer,” you said softly, your voice warm. "I think I like you too. A lot." 

His face broke into a relieved smile.“So, uh, does this mean…?” He hesitated, but there was a glimmer of hope in his expression. 

You smiled at him, your eyes glinting with something playful and genuine. “I think it means you owe me a real date,” you teased, your heart pounding in your chest. 

Spencer blinked, his eyes widening slightly before a soft, almost bashful grin spread across his face. “A… date?” he echoed, as though he were processing the word for the first time, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Uh, I mean… yeah. I can, um, I can do that.” He shifted his weight nervously, stepping closer with a gentle hesitation. “Maybe...maybe dinner this weekend? If that’s okay?”

You nodded, your excitement rising with each word he said. “That sounds perfect.”

[lanf1an]

DREAMS lando norris pt.2 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.1 wordcount: 1248

The Louis Vuitton event was everything it was supposed to be—elegant, high-profile, filled with models, designers, and A-list athletes. You had been to fashion events before, but this was different. The merging of fashion and motorsport brought a unique energy, an almost surreal overlap of two worlds you hadn’t expected to be a part of at the same time.

You kept yourself busy, moving between conversations with your colleagues at Louis Vuitton, small talk, strategic networking, and answering questions about the collection. Lando had been doing his own thing—flashing smiles for the cameras, entertaining sponsors, talking to reporters, and a rotation of beautiful women.

You didn’t interact much throughout the night. Still, you were aware of him, it was impossible not to be in the suit you styled him in. You knew you had done a good job.

Until you heard your name.

The interviewer was smiling, microphone angled toward Lando as cameras recorded. 

"Yeah, the partnership with Louis Vuitton is great. But not only that, this outfit is styled by my sister’s best friend, which makes it extra special," Lando said smoothly, the perfect PR-trained answer. "Means a lot to me to be working together—first at Quadrant and now here at Louis Vuitton."

You stilled.

It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it. Like it was some full-circle, sentimental thing. Like he had ever said something like that to you before. As if you had actually personally worked together at Quadrant. It annoyed you, making your professional work sound like something personal and intimate, reserved for him, as if you hadn’t styled some of the other drivers with the same attention.

You turned away, ignoring the weird mix of irritation and something heavier sitting in your chest. You weren’t going to let it get to you.

And you hadn’t planned on saying anything.

But when the event was wrapping up and you were back at the hotel, by some cruel twist of fate, you ended up in the elevator together. Just the two of you, the hum of the lift filling the silence as the doors slid shut.

Lando leaned back against the mirrored wall, hands in his pockets, looking unbothered as ever. You had to say something. 

"What was that all about?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about?"

You gave him a look. "That perfect little PR answer."

He smirked slightly. "Thought you’d appreciate the shoutout."

You folded your arms, unimpressed. "You’ve never said anything like that to me before."

"Didn’t know you wanted me to, the media has given you enough attention." he shot back, tilting his head.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "Right, cause that’s all I care about."

Lando turned, arms folding over his chest. "What’s the problem? It was a nice answer."

"That’s not the point."

"Then what is?"

You didn’t have an immediate response, which only made his smirk widen.

The elevator doors slid open, and before you could walk out, his voice stopped you.

"Anyway," he drawled, walking towards the door. "Thanks for the nice outfit, it was great, should’ve asked you to style me sooner.’’ he stretched his arms above his head, yawning.  ‘’Can’t wait to take it off though. Looking good is exhausting, sweet dreams stylist" 

You rolled your eyes without a response, walking to your room annoyed that it had gotten to you.

-

The second night of the Louis Vuitton x F1 launch was in full swing, luxury and motorsport merging under glittering lights. You kept to your side of the event, mingling with the LV team and ensuring the drivers looked sharp.

You barely interacted with Lando after yesterday, just the occasional glance across the room to admire the suit you had picked out for him tonight.

Then, as if sensing your thoughts, your phone buzzed.

Lando: Where are you?

You frowned, typing back.

You: At the event, obviously.

Lando: Need you. Now.

Your heartbeat kicked up. You glanced around, trying to spot him, but he wasn’t in sight.

You: What? Why?

No response.

Then another buzz.

Lando: Toilets. Back hallway. Please.

Your stomach twisted. Without thinking too much, you slipped away from the crowd, making your way toward the hallway. You pushed open the door to the private restroom area, and there he was—leaning against the sink, looking both frustrated and amused.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, shutting the door behind you.

Lando exhaled sharply, tugging at the waistband of his pants. “Zipper broke.”

You stared at him. ���Are you serious?”

“No, I’m making it up for fun,” he deadpanned. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Your eyes narrowed, stepping closer. “A Louis Vuitton zipper doesn’t just break.”

Lando hesitated. Just for a second.

It was quick, but you caught it. And suddenly, the situation felt… off.

You crossed your arms. “What exactly were you doing before this broke?”

Lando’s expression didn’t change, but you knew him well enough to catch the shift—the slight smirk, the too-casual way he leaned back.

“Are you implying something?” he asked, voice teasing.

You raised a brow. “I don’t know. Am I?”

His grin widened, but he didn’t answer.

Your stomach twisted, an irrational frustration bubbling up. Why did you care? It wasn’t your business what—or who—he was doing before this event. But the thought of him slipping away with someone, being careless enough to mess up his suit right before stepping out onto the carpet, annoyed you more than it should have.

“Forget it,” you muttered, stepping closer. “Just—hold still.”

Lando’s smirk lingered, but he obeyed, shifting just enough to give you better access.

You knelt down, fingers adjusting the fabric quickly. The problem itself wasn’t as bad as he made it sound—it was a minor snag, nothing you couldn’t handle. But the proximity was dangerous. Your fingers moved with careful precision, but it was impossible not to graze the warm skin beneath the waistband. You could feel the way Lando barely shifted, his breath steady but controlled, like he was making an effort not to react.

“Not bad at this, are you?” Lando murmured, voice lower than before.

You didn’t respond. You just focused, ignoring the way his muscles tensed when your fingers brushed against him.

Finally, with one last tug, you straightened. “There. Fixed.” 

Lando glanced down, then back up at you. Neither of you moved.

The air shifted.

And then, before you could think too hard about it, he leaned in.

His lips met yours, firm and insistent. It was messy, rushed, like neither of you had planned for this but couldn’t stop it either. You barely had time to react before you were kissing him back. His hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you into him like he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on.

Then, as suddenly as it started, you pulled back.

Breathless.

Lando exhaled, eyes flickering over your face, searching. “Well,” he murmured. “That’s one way to handle a wardrobe malfunction.”

You stared at him, your own breath unsteady.

What the hell just happened?

WN: Hope you guys like it! Let me know!

tl: @freyathehuntress

[autistic-zukoao3]

IT'S MY TIME TO SHINE

My hometown used to be called Hog Heaven because well, it was heaven for hogs. There used to be a lot of prairie land that wild boars would live in. We had thousands of wild hogs. Fast forward ~100 years and now there are a lot more human and hog interactions due to housing being built farther and farther.

When I was a kid, everyone knew you stayed the fuck out of fields because that's where the hogs lived. At least, everyone local knew this. It was such common knowledge that nobody thought to make sure adults knew this.

I went to a day camp near one of the hog fields, but far enough away that we didn't have to worry about them. We could go outside and play without worry. It was, in terms of closeness to hogs, a perfect place for that building to be located. Employed at this day camp were, primarily, college students. Most of them either walked or biked to work. Now, remember earlier how I said the idea of warning adults about the hogs and their fields didn't really cross anyone's mind? Yeah.

Enter the scene, worker "Drew" (changing his name for anonymity). Drew was everyone's favourite at the camp since he was the nicest and most likely to play. Well, I shouldn't say everyone's favourite. Some kids were down bad for another worker.

Anyway.

So on this particular day, Drew decided that he wanted to take a shortcut to the building. A shortcut through... *tense silence* *tense silence* *tense silence* the field.

The Field had grass(?) that was roughly 6 feet tall. Picture a lion in a savanna, you know? That type of vibe. You couldn't really see for shit in the grass. The ground was also very uneven and full of gopher holes among other various rodent dens. The dirt was pretty loose too, a thick coating of top soil. The few times I walked through it (at that time the hogs had been forced out though) I had a very hard time walking without tripping every other step. So, that was the terrain that Drew put himself in.

Just like most of the others, Drew was a college student from out of state. (Apparently lived in Italy for a bit as a kid and fended off some robbers with a light saber once, but that's not relevant.) Being nonlocal, Drew was completely unaware of our hogs, and thought a shortcut through the field would be a great adventure.

He was wrong.

Drew reported that everything was fine at first. He was struggling a bit with all the holes, but that wasn't a big issue. Minutes passed as Drew stumbled along, careful to not step in any gopher homes. The birds chirped and the grass rustled softly in the summer breeze.

And then he heard it.

Loud, angry snorts. Then, the sound of something digging into dirt, like a bull preparing to charge. Drew was not about to fuck around and find out. He began to jog, only to hear the sound of thundering cloven feet behind him. Drew breaks into a dead sprint, adrenaline and instinct taking over as he deftly avoids holes, and keeps himself balanced on the loose silt underfoot. His heart hammers in his chest as whatever is giving chase lets out an ungodly, squealing scream. Drew runs ever faster, monkey brain having fully taken over at this point. Finally, he can just make out the street ahead, peeking through the breaks in the grass. Salvation is blessedly within sight. With a final pump of pure adrenaline, Drew breaks through the grass and into the road, not stopping until he reaches the other side. Once he does, he turns around to see a massive boar huffing at the edge of the grass, proud tusks on display.

Drew did not take the shortcut again.

Also he was very sweaty upon his arrival, and I've never seen a man look so haunted yet so full of energy.

not only are wild boars dangerous but farmers still keep having fatal and almost fatal encounters with domestic piggies. I’m a pig enthusiast. nobody really thinks about how dangerous they are. they have a reputation for eating human bodies for a reason. 700 pound incredibly stubborn and smart omnivorous animals with remarkably sharp teeth. usually they’re friends but when they’re foes, they’re terrible foes.

[ephie-om]

Mammon's Lesson on Humans

Mammon grinned, the adrenaline pumping through his veins heightening every sense, and the moonlight from the window was bright enough for him to see every bit of the house. It was so easy. How could he not take the opportunity? In the room so close to his, a little human slept, with their little human possessions. They were all going to be his eventually. But he needed something tonight, a little piece. It still smelled of them, their human stench a reminder of who it was stolen from.

Was that a thump from their room? Were they awake? He could almost laugh. Normally he wouldn’t want to get caught in the act, but the human had all the odds against them. Nobody they could call for help. They were a lamb in a house full of wolves, put there by the prince of wolves in the name of “peace” and “unity”. What could they possibly do? 

Their door creaked open. They stepped out, rubbing their eyes. Human eyes were terrible in the darkness, and he wondered if they could even see him, standing right there. A few beats passed, and their eyes must have adjusted, because their gaze swiveled straight towards him. “Mammon,” they said, their voice low. “Did you take my plushie?” 

He did laugh then, though quietly. The soft pink bunny dangled from his clawed hand, sharp points threatening to pierce the fabric. “Yeah. Yeah, I did take your little bunny.” 

“Give it back.” His smile dropped. A simple human, demanding something from him? 

“Over my dead body,” he snapped, and started to move. 

He ran down the stairs, using his wings to lighten his steps. The human went after him, but they were no match for his supernatural speed. He was out the front door in mere seconds, leaving them in the dust. He flew high into the sky, the moon drenching the plushie in pale light, making it look almost white. He admired his prize, turning it this way and that. What was it that the humans said? Like taking candy from a baby.

His superior demon eyesight caught the front door of the House of Lamentation opening again, and there they were, having swapped out their pajamas for sweatpants and a hoodie and adjusting their shoes. Did they really mean to go after him? What a pain. Their eyes caught him hovering silhouetted against the moon, and they started to run. He just chuckled and flew away. 

He drifted this way and that, leading them into the woods. He flew lazily, and laughed to himself at how slow they were. There was no way they were going to be able to catch up to him. He weaved in and out of trees, slowing down just enough to let them see him with their bunny clutched in hand, then put on a burst of speed to take him away again. 

After the fifth time, his lungs were starting to ache. They were just a human. They had to be slowing down, right? He turned his head back and caught sight of them, much too close for his comfort. He sped away again, but slower than before. His wing joints hurt, not designed for long-term use. But behind him was the human, still running. He could hear their breath behind him, smell the sweat. And yet they weren’t slowing down. 

Just a small break, he thought. Just a moment to breathe and rest his wings, then he would be off again. He landed near the base of a tree, tucking himself behind the trunk so he wouldn’t be seen. Maybe they would get lost and go a different direction. He clamped the plushie tightly in his arms just in case.

Unfortunately for Mammon, the human’s breathing reached his ears much sooner than he expected. He stretched out his wings, ready to fly again, took off, and dropped onto the ground. Shit. He tried again, only to get a few feet further and hit the ground again, plowing up fallen leaves. Now the stupid bunny was dirty and it smelled like a human.

Their footfalls got closer and closer, and Mammon accepted his fate. Even if they caught him, he could hang onto the bunny. There was no way they could be strong enough to take it from him. He stayed on the ground, facing away from their steps. 

They came up to him only a few moments later, breathing hard. “Give it back,” they repeated, panting. Mammon laid there stubbornly. “Mammon. Let go.” They tugged on one of the ears experimentally, but his grip was rock-solid. 

He growled. “No. I stole it from ya and now it’s mine.” His eyes gleamed yellow on the word ‘mine’, but the human wasn’t impressed. They gave it another fruitless tug, scared to pull too hard. “You’ll rip it in half if ya keep going. Guess you’ll just have to let me have it.” Their hand dropped away and he glanced up, thinking the battle won.

Instead, he was greeted with a close-up view of the human’s face as their glare pinned him in place. “Let me put this a different way. If you steal my bunny, damage my bunny, sell my bunny, I will hunt you down. I’m a stupid human with no magic and no brain, and I will run after you for a hundred years if that’s what it takes. Do you really want to keep doing this for the rest of my life?”

Mammon wouldn’t call himself a scaredy-cat; no, he would call himself one of the bravest demons in the Devildom. But he would also reason that the bravest demons in the Devildom would make the smart choice and let a little pink bunny go. They tugged it from his grip and secured it in their arms, brushing off leaves and frowning at the smudges of dirt marring its fur. They walked away without another word, slowly, like they had all the time in the world. Mammon was left in the dirt, heart thumping.

A few weeks later, Satan is sharing fun facts with the common room like usual. This time he has a book on humans, one of the many he read in preparation for the exchange program, but he’s deemed it necessary to share pertinent pieces with his brothers due to their abysmal lack of knowledge. “Humans’ bones can break and heal themselves in a matter of weeks,” he drones, and Mammon wonders how long he has to pretend to listen before Satan will let him go. “Oh, this one’s interesting. Humans rose to the top of their food chain as predators despite not having naturally evolved defenses. They’re something called an ‘endurance predator’, meaning they would chase their prey until it got tired, then finish it off and eat it.” Mammon swallows hard. His eyes wander to the human playing a game on their phone in a chair near the fireplace, and he scoots an inch further away. Just enough to give himself a head start.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: The Yapper, The Listener

Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader

Fandom: UConn's women's basketball

Rating: Fluff | First-Person POV

Summary: kk has always been the yapper, til you

Word Count: 1.4k

If you had told me a year ago that I’d somehow out-yap KK Arnold, I would’ve laughed in your face. I mean, KK? The loudest, chattiest, most relentless talker on and off the court? The same KK who could trash talk you into a bad game without even breaking a sweat? Yeah, right.

But here I was, sitting across from her at our usual booth in the student union, rambling about the absolute disrespect I’d endured in my morning class while she sipped her smoothie, nodding along like I was delivering the most important speech of the century.

“And then, tell me why this man had the audacity to mark my paper down a whole five points just because I ‘lacked conciseness’—KK, can you believe that? Lack conciseness? Babe, I am a storyteller. I paint pictures with my words.”

KK hummed, swirling her straw around her cup. “Mhm. Can’t rush the art.”

“That’s what I’m saying! He just doesn’t get my vision!” I huffed, leaning back against the cushioned booth. “Anyway, that ruined my whole morning. I had to go get an iced coffee just to recover, and then—”

I paused, narrowing my eyes at her. “Wait a minute. You’re way too quiet. What’s going on? You’re supposed to be my hype man in situations like this. Where’s the outrage? The energy? The unnecessary side commentary?”

KK smirked, resting her chin in her palm. “I mean… I figured you had it covered, mamas.”

I squinted. “What does that mean?”

She reached across the table, tapping my lips with her thumb. “It means you yap more than me now.”

I gasped, clutching my chest like she’d personally offended me. “That’s crazy. That’s actually insane.”

KK just laughed, settling back in her seat. “I used to think nobody could out-talk me, but you? You be talkin’.”

“Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, you act like you don’t love hearing me talk.”

She shrugged, lips twitching. “I do. That’s why I let you.”

That made me pause. My mind ran back to how things had shifted. When we first started dating, KK and I had been on the same level when it came to running our mouths. We’d banter back and forth for hours, seeing who could get the last word in (spoiler: it was usually me). But somewhere along the way, she’d settled into this… listening role.

Not because she had nothing to say—KK always had something to say—but because she liked hearing me talk.

I felt my face heat up at the realization. “Wait… have I just been yapping at you nonstop for months and you let me?”

KK grinned. “Mhm. And I don’t even mind.”

I stared at her. “I feel like I should be embarrassed. But I’m not.”

She reached for my hand, playing with my fingers. “Don’t be. I like it.”

And just like that, I melted.

Basketball practice had ended an hour ago, but I was still sitting on the sideline, waiting for KK to finish getting shots up.

Correction: commentating while waiting.

“There she goes, folks, lining up for the free throw—she dribbles once, twice—oh, she hesitates. The tension in the air is thick. Will she make it? Will she fold under the pressure? The crowd holds its breath—”

The ball swished through the net effortlessly.

KK turned to me with an unimpressed look. “You doubting me, mamas? That’s crazy.”

I grinned. “Never that, baby. Just setting the scene.”

She jogged over, resting her hands on her hips. “You ever thought about a career in commentary? You already talk enough for the both of us.”

I gasped dramatically. “So you admit I took your spot as the biggest yapper?”

KK shrugged, tapping my knee. “Go ‘head and take the title, baby. I like hearing you talk. You keep me entertained.”

I tilted my head at her, softening. “You really mean that?”

KK rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness there. “Yeah. Your voice is my favorite.”

Damn. How did she always make me feel like the luckiest person alive?

Later that night, we were curled up in my dorm, KK stretched out on my bed while I laid half on top of her, tracing patterns on her arm.

“I’m just saying, if you’re gonna sit there all quiet while I talk, I feel like you owe me commentary of some kind.”

KK raised a brow. “What kind of commentary?”

I huffed. “I dunno. Like little affirmations. ‘Mhm, that’s crazy’ isn’t gonna cut it all the time.”

She laughed. “Oh, so now you need me to hype you up while you talk? You getting greedy, mamas.”

I pouted, looking up at her. “I just like hearing your voice too.”

KK smirked before leaning down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Okay. Next time you go on a rant, I’ll gas you up properly.”

I smiled, satisfied. “Good. Because I’ve been holding in a rant about how the dining hall got rid of my favorite cereal and I need you fully engaged.”

KK chuckled, wrapping her arms around me tighter. “I’m all ears, baby.”

And just like that, I went right back to talking, knowing she’d listen to every word.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 28- 'Safe Now' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 12.9 k

The house party had fallen into complete and utter chaos. Jess stood off to the side watching it all unfold with Megan beside her. She rolled her eyes looking on as you sobbed into Trent, his hands bloodied, Jack attentively speaking with the police, Josh licking his wounds as he got escorted out of the house, Noah consoling a terrified Layla, Devon still on the phone. Out of the corner of her eye Megan caught the reaction. 

“Jess, what the fuck…”  Megan asked, confused why her best friend just rolled her eyes looking at you bruised and battered. 

“They all protect her like she’s five years old.” Jess quipped very clearly disinterested in your wellbeing. 

“Jess, they protect her like someone has hurt her… Like someone has abused her.” Megan corrected her, annoyance and anger evident in her voice, and empathy for you in her eyes. 

“Abuse? Please.” Jess scoffed with a shake of her head. “Whatever, it used to happen to her all the time and no one said shit before this whole "relationship." Before T decided she was something she’s not.” Jess complained, taking another jab at you all whilst revealing she’d known about the way Josh had treated you.

“Sorry?” Megan looked at her gobsmacked. 

“Oh Meg, come on. You didn’t see the way Josh would throw her around?”  Jess snickered with a devious grin watching your body shake in Trent’s hold. Meanwhile, Megan’s voice cracked as she turned to Jess. The realization of everything that had been going on hit her like a ton of bricks. 

“Jess, you knew about the way he treated her? The abuse?” Her voice was strained, a mixture of hurt and disbelief. “What the fuck?…. You don’t have to like her, that’d beside the point… Y/N aside, knowing that’s going on and not saying anything is fucked up” Megan yelped feeling betrayed by her best friend. Jess rolled her eyes again, as if she had no remorse for the situation unfolding around her. 

“Is it?” she sneered, the venom in her voice unmistakable. “Because some people… I don't know, kind of deserve it, don’t they?” Jess explained her rationale, clearly believing it. Megan’s face twisted in disgust, clearly disagreeing. 

“Fuck you! You knew about this, you bitch” Layla interjected, after overhearing, shoving Jess. Jess’s back hit the marble bar top behind her. 

“Ow, you cunt. Fucking psycho, that hurt!” Jess yelped. The tension in the air was thick, and the atmosphere felt like it was on the edge of shattering. Layla, who had been at the center of the emotional whirlwind all night, couldn’t hold it in anymore. Thankfully someone else was going to intervene to prevent another fight breaking out. 

“Aye! Aye! Aye! C’mere,” Noah yelled, trying to prevent another explosion between Layla and Jess, dragging Layla back into him, leaving Jess standing a few paces away, looking frustrated and defensive, and inappropriately strangely offended. Jess’s smirk had faltered, but the bitterness in her gaze hadn’t gone anywhere. Layla collapsed into Noah’s arms, her sobs racking her body. He held her tightly, trying to offer comfort despite the mess of emotions swirling around them.

“Jess, I can’t… I can’t be friends with someone like that… I… I… can’t be your friend anymore.” Megan’s words were quiet, but they rang with finality.  Her jaw was slack, just in utter shock. She took a step back, as if the physical distance could help her emotionally detach from the girl she once thought she knew. “This is too much. You’ve done too much.” Then Jess’s smirk faltered for just a moment, her defenses cracking as she realized Megan wasn’t backing down, in fact, she was backing out. 

“You don’t understand, Meg. You don’t get it.” Jess babbled trying to buy time to come up with an excuse that’d salvage a friendship.

“No,” Megan said, shaking her head, her voice firm. “I get it, Jess. You let someone suffer. You let a man hurt a woman. You willingly let that happen…” Her voice wavered slightly but grew stronger with every word. “And you know what? I’m done.” She wiped a tear from her cheek, turning away from Jess. Layla’s sobs grew more desperate hearing them, the reality of your situation reduced down to ‘a man hurting a woman,’ it didn’t feel like enough. Noah could feel the weight of her emotions in his own chest. 

“I gotcha,” He whispered softly, gently rocking Layla back and forth as she clung to him, her hands gripping his shirt tightly. 

When Devon awkwardly came back, he took a deep breath and moved closer to them, trying to assess the situation. He tensed up when he saw Noah consoling Layla, his mind racing with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure how to react. He didn’t want to intrude, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that Layla was falling apart right in front of him and comforted by someone else.

“Layla… we should probably head out,” Devon suggested gently, his voice barely above a whisper. His words were careful, trying not to add any more weight to an already fragile situation but trying to take back something he thought he wanted. Noah’s hold on Layla loosened slightly, giving her the opportunity to go freely but she clung to him even harder, her grip tightening as if she feared losing him, or worse, losing herself in the storm of everything that had happened.

“I… I can’t. I’m sorry, no,” Layla whimpered, her voice broken and raw. The words were barely audible, but they hit both Noah and Devon hard. Noah hesitated, his heart aching for her. He looked down at her, unsure of what else to say or do. Devon stood silently, exchanging sympathetic glances with Noah. He knew Layla was in a fragile state, and he didn’t want to push her. His own discomfort was palpable, but he tried to mask it.

“It’s cool, bro. As long as she’s good,” Devon said quietly to Noah, his voice steady but laced with concern. His attempt to brush off the awkwardness was clear, but it didn’t quite work. He didn’t want to make a bigger deal of it than it already was. Layla and his potential romance really wasn’t the concern tonight, especially not to Layla. Devon was trying not to take it personally. Noah nodded, still unsure of the best course of action. He wasn’t sure what was driving Layla’s need to cling to him, whether it was the trauma of the night, the need for comfort, or something else entirely. He figured it was just that she needed to be with someone she trusted, someone who understood her, even if he didn’t fully understand her emotions at the moment and why he was the one she wanted. He could feel the weight of the night pressing down on both of them, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed between them all. They stood there for a long moment, in an uncomfortable silence. Devon didn’t object. He just nodded, stepping back and allowing Noah the space to comfort Layla. They all felt the gravity of the situation, but for now, the most important thing was making sure everyone was okay, and doing whatever that took.

The room felt suffocating, like everything that had just transpired had pressed the air out of the space. Jack was still speaking with police officers, as you clung to Trent on the ground. You looked almost unrecognizable, your eyes swollen shut from tears, bruising beginning to purple from Josh’s hands on you, your top ripped, Trent’s hands holding you, but simultaneously leaving behind a soft trace of soft still coming from his knuckles. All of it was amplified by Layla’s sobs echoing softly in Noah’s ears, and he could feel the tremble in her body as she clung to him. It wasn’t just the weight of the night; it was everything coming to the surface—her frustration, fear, the weight of everything she had witnessed, everything she felt for you. She was unraveling, and he couldn’t look away. Noah’s arms held her gently, but his mind was a blur. He wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t been expecting this, hadn’t prepared himself for the emotional gravity of the situation. He’d never expected things to come to this. Come to something so serious. He had always been the lighthearted one, keeping things in check, but now? He was standing at a crossroads. He was hurting for you and Trent, and Jack, now Layla needed him... and what if he might've needed her too.

“Noah…” Her soft, desperate voice broke through his thoughts. He leaned in, trying to find some calmness to anchor the situation. 

“Hmm? You want me to get you back home or you to Jack and Y/N’s?” Noah offered sweetly, brushing past his own emotion. But she shook her head, and Noah felt a slight chill. There was something more here. Something deeper than just the chaos of the night. His gaze softened as he tried to make sense of it. “Devon’s?” he asked quietly, his mind grasping for a logical answer. But the tension in Layla’s body told him she wasn’t thinking logically right now. “Just gotta get his address for me. Just wherever you want, alright Lay?” He whispered. She was overwhelmed. She needed something, someone, to ground her. He wasn’t sure where that was going to be, but he wanted to help.

“Yours,” Layla whimpered.  Noah’s body stiffened holding her, something shifted in him. He froze, his entire body stiffening, his heart thudding louder in his chest. Her words were soft, vulnerable, and they hit him in a way he didn’t expect.

“Ah… Lays,” he stammered, not sure if that was a good idea but she was already pressing into him more, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Please,” she begged, and Noah could hear the rawness of her plea, her quivering lip breaking through the last of her control. In that moment, Noah knew he couldn’t turn her away. Despite the confusion, the weight of his own feelings, and the uncertainty of what this might lead to, he couldn’t let her go.  Noah hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of Layla’s distress. He had never seen her this vulnerable, and it weighed heavily on him. He’d known her for years, but tonight, everything felt different. As she sobbed against him, his protective instincts kicked in, but at the same time, the tension in the air made him question his decision. He knew that taking her to his place would complicate things further, but her pleading eyes made him relent.

“Yeah, alright,” he murmured, squeezing her tighter, his voice thick with emotion he hadn’t anticipated. He wanted to say more, to ask questions, to try and make sense of what was happening, but he didn’t. He accepted trying to do anything to deescalate tonight, although in his right mind this felt like opening a can of worms.  Tonight wasn’t about figuring it out. It was about being there for her, letting her lean on him when everything was falling apart around them. He didn’t want to overthink it, even though he knew this was going to lead them down a path they hadn’t expected. But for now, in the quiet of this moment, he just held Layla. And that was enough. Layla’s sobs slowly softened, and she nodded weakly against his chest. She wasn’t looking for an answer from him. She just needed to feel safe, needed something familiar. Noah pulled back slightly, brushing his hand through her hair and wiping away the stray tears that had fallen down her cheeks. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for them, for his relationship with Layla, if there was one. He had never imagined he’d be the one comforting her like this, not in this context.

“I’m here, Lays,” he whispered, his voice soft. “I’m not going anywhere.” His mind was racing with questions he wasn’t sure he had answers to. Noah’s thoughts kept drifting between the night’s chaos and the way Layla clung to him like a lifeline. He wasn’t sure if he was the right person to help her through this, but he wasn’t about to leave her alone. He gently guided her out of the room, trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to bring any more attention to themselves. The night had already spiraled out of control, and Noah wasn’t sure what the next steps would be. But for now, all that mattered was making sure Layla was okay. That was all he could focus on.

The party, which had already turned into an emotional minefield, was officially a wreck. People were starting to trickle out, some of the boys from the group still standing in stunned silence, unsure of how to react. The only thing that seemed certain was the mess of relationships, friendships, and trust that had been irreparably shattered. But as the last echoes of chaos subsided, Trent was there, by your side, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. And though things felt broken, in that moment, at least you weren’t alone.

When Noah and Layla arrived to his place, he flicked on the lights, his voice light but cautious. “Alright, home sweet home.” He muttered, scratching the back of his head as he stepped aside to let Layla in first.  Layla, still shaken by the evening, wasn’t really in the present moment but she was taken aback by the organization of it all. She’d been over before, she thought she had at least, but there were always boys there, beers everywhere, balls being kicked around, the tv on. But right now, it was so clean. She anticipated a space full of clutter, leftover takeout, and the remnants of last night’s entertainment. But as she walked further inside, her brows furrowed slightly in surprise. It was immaculate. The living room was tidy, pillows arranged perfectly on the sofa, no stray bottles or misplaced shoes in sight. Even the air smelled fresh, clean. She blinked. Noah caught her staring, a bashful chuckle escaping him.  “Okay, so…” he exhaled, shifting on his feet. “I don’t really have much… stuff for when a girl comes over.” He earnestly admitted. Layla’s lips twitched at his awkwardness mostly because it was so uncharacteristic but before she could say anything, he rushed to clarify, waving a hand. It wasn't like Noah wasn't hooking up with people ever. It was more of a preferred way of living. He wasn't exactly keeping extra towels around just for them. “Nah, fuck off. That’s not—what I mean is, I don’t like extra stuff. I just—I like my things neat and tidy.” Layla let out a soft giggle, stepping further into the him. 

“I can tell.” She teased, her eyes scanning the space as they made their way upstairs. His bedroom was just as pristine, the bed perfectly made, not a thing out of place. She glanced at him, tilting her head. “This is… not what I expected.” She giggled. Noah scoffed, smirking as he leaned against the doorway. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Thought I was a mess, didn’t ya?” He teased with a smirk. It was a soft remnant of normalcy but at the same time, it was a reminder of how incredibly abnormal the night had been. 

“I mean… a little.”  Layla shrugged, grinning. He rolled his eyes dramatically before nodding toward the bed. 

“Alright, you take my room, I’ll grab the couch. Good?” He instructed her. There was an elephant in the room but they were both going to ignore it best they could.

“Are you sure?” Layla hesitated. Noah dug through a dresser drawer finding a shirt. He turned with a smile and tossed it to Layla. 

“Beauty sleep and all that, you know? Look at me—” he gestured to himself with a smirk. “I could use a night on the couch, it’s starting to get unfair.” He cheekily laughed.

“You’re so obnoxious.”   Layla let out a giggle, shaking her head with a smitten smile, grabbing the shirt.

“Some call it endearing.” He shot back effortlessly. Layla bit her lip, shaking her head fondly before meeting his gaze. 

“Count me as some.” She murmured. Noah’s smirk softened, something unreadable flashing across his expression for a brief moment before he gave her a small nod. Noah ran a tired hand down his face, exhaling as he moved around the room, the weight of the night still heavy on his shoulders.

After teeth were brushed, and lights beginning to turn off, Layla lay tucked into his bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, watching him through tired eyes as he grabbed his glasses from his nightstand. He looked exhausted—worn from everything that had happened.

“Alright, get some rest, Lay.” He cooed.  She exhaled, exhaustion finally hitting her as she settled into the bed.  She glanced down at the oversized t-shirt she was wearing, the fabric soft and smelling like him. Guilt tugged at her chest as she watched him stretch his shoulders, rubbing at the tension in his neck. She hated the thought of him sleeping on the couch when there was enough space for both of them.

“Noah… you can stay.” Layla murmured, voice soft in the quiet of the room. It was olive branch, but simultaneously a devil's offer. Noah stilled, his hands dropping to his sides as his gaze met hers. 

“Yeah? You sure?” His voice was hesitant, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. But internally he was biting at the bit. Layla simply nodded, shifting onto her side in silent invitation. He hesitated for a moment longer before sighing and switching off another light, then crossed the room to the bed. As he crawled in, he kept a safe distance, lying on his back, one arm draped over his stomach. The space between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt natural, unspoken trust settling between them. For a long moment, they just stared at each other in the dim light filtering through the curtains. It wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt grounding. Then, Layla’s voice broke the silence. 

“You always take care of everyone, Noah. Who takes care of you?” She asked. Noah’s breath hitched slightly, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t have an immediate answer. Nothing quick witted came to mind. The question hit somewhere deep, somewhere he didn’t often acknowledge. Being the middle child in a big family, he’d always been the peacekeeper, the one who looked out for everyone else. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Ah, I’m a big boy, Lay. I’ll be alright.” He attempted to brush it off, forcing a small smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Layla exhaled softly, her voice laced with something that sounded a lot like understanding.

“Yeah… but we all appreciate it. I appreciate it.” She whispered. Noah didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling, something warm settling in his chest at her words. She meant them. He could feel it. Layla shifted, rolling onto her side, facing away from him. Noah turned his head slightly, watching the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders before letting out a slow breath,

“Will be alright.” Noah leaned over and kissed her hair. A gesture that innately he hadn’t had thought twice about but it was loaded now, they were in bed. Noah's lips had barely grazed the back of her head before his brain short-circuited. Shit. Shit. Shit. He cursed himself instantly, eyes snapping shut as if he could undo the moment. Layla stiffened, the silence stretching for what felt like eternity. "... sorry Lay... I...." His voice was rough, hesitant, already preparing to get pied off and laughed at. Layla didn't turn to look at him, but her voice was soft, almost shy when she spoke.

"You're really sweet, Noah." She told him gently. His heart pounded. He should've left it at that— should've rolled away, thrown himself off the bed, maybe out the window. Instead, she spoke again, quiet and unsure. "Noah... do you... do you like a cuddle?" He exhaled, relief washing over him but it was laced with trepidation.

"Yeah, 'course." He told her. Layla didn't move. She just lay there, waiting, as if silently asking him to do something about it. Noah swallowed hard. "Would a cuddle make you feel any better tonight?" His voice was softer now, more careful. She nodded over her shoulder. Noah was fucked-and he knew it the second she arched her back, just enough for him to pull her against him properly. His hands slid around her waist pulling her into him, unintentionally dragging up the oversized t-shirt she was wearing, his shirt. He hadn't meant to, but Layla didn't stop him. "Better?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper. Layla hummed in response, melting into his touch. Letting his hands begin to wander-skimming her thighs, the dip of her waist, the curve of her ass.

And then he heard the most perfect thing he’d ever heard in his life, Layla whined. Noah nearly lost it, his mind went bank. "Yeah, you're good." He murmured, lips ghosting over the back of her neck. Every muscle in his body was tense, but his touch remained slow, careful. "Just wanna make sure you're good." He whsipered. Layla barely managed a breathy response. 

"Yeah, I'm good." She whined. But then she moved. Intentionally. Grinding her ass back against him, slow and deliberate. Noah clenched his jaw. He was fighting demons. The way her body fit against his, the heat of her pressing back on his already rock-hard dick, the way she whimpered so softly, he thought he might die right there.

"Good girl." He spoke and Layla was very much so in the same boat as him. She swore she blacked out for a second. This was Noah-silly, goofy, Noah. The same one who gave her shit for everything, made every joke on the table. And yet, right now, he was none of those things. He was careful, but firm. Gentle, but commanding. His hands weren't just holding her anymore-they were learning her. Her pussy was throbbing, desperate for something, anything. She barely recognized the noises leaving her lips, soft little whimpers that only spurred Noah on. Meanwhile, Noah was struggling. Every instinct in him wanted to flip her over, push her thighs apart, wreck her. But he didn't. He held himself back, settling for pressing his mouth against her skin, letting his fingers roam just enough to drive her crazy. He didn't know what the fuck was happening between them, but he knew one thing— Layla was ruining him.

When you all stepped back into your house, the silence was oppressive, almost deafening. It wasn’t the comforting kind of quiet that accompanied safety—it was heavy, suffocating, and filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. Trent carried you in, his strong arms holding you as securely as he could. Your face stayed buried in the nape of his neck, where it had been for what felt like hours. He didn’t mind. He’d have carried you forever if it meant you didn’t have to feel the weight of the world pressing down on you. The house was dark, every shadow stretching out like a reminder of the emptiness you felt inside. Even with Trent’s steady heartbeat against your cheek and Jack’s concerned presence lingering nearby, the void within you consumed everything. Trent shifted slightly, his voice low and soft, like he was afraid to disturb whatever fragile piece of you was holding on. 

“I’m gonna take her upstairs,” he whispered to Jack. Jack nodded quickly, his own voice equally hushed. 

“Yeah, course.” He stepped closer, his gaze darting to you, searching for any sign of recognition, of acknowledgment. “Y/N…” he whispered, crouching slightly to meet your height in Trent’s arms. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? We’re here, and you’re safe.” His voice was gentle, his tone pleading for some sort of response, some proof that you were still there with them. Jack leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as if the gesture alone could transfer his strength to you. But you didn’t respond. You didn’t flinch or pull away. You didn’t nod or hum. You remained still, silent, completely withdrawn. Trent adjusted his hold on you, his grip firm yet tender as he carried you up the stairs. Jack watched after the two of you, his heart heavy, wishing he could take the pain from you, share the burden somehow.

Upstairs, Trent moved slowly, as though every step might break the fragile stillness surrounding you. He pressed another soft kiss to your temple as he reached the bedroom.

 “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now.” He whispered opening the door. But even those words, the ones you always believed when they came from him, couldn’t reach you—not yet. You stayed curled into him, as small as you could make yourself, lost in the dark and quiet, hoping for the light to find you again. “Alright, let’s get you to bed, baby,” Trent murmured softly, his voice calm despite the storm of emotions raging inside him. His hand throbbed, his knuckles bruised and aching, and his face still stung from the earlier confrontation, but none of it mattered—not when he looked at you. His heart clenched at the sight of your fragile state, your tear-streaked face buried in his neck, your body trembling against his. He carried you further into the room like you weighed nothing, your trust in him the only thing grounding him in the moment. Carefully, he lowered you onto the bed, but the moment your body hit the mattress, the dam inside you broke. A guttural sob tore from your throat, and tears began streaming down your face all over again. You reached out for him desperately, your fingers clutching at his shirt, clinging to him as though you were afraid he might disappear. “Hey, hey, I’m here,” Trent whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he settled down on the bed beside you. He reached for your hands, holding them firmly but gently, as if anchoring you to him. His eyes scanned your face, taking in every inch of your pain, his own heart fracturing under the weight of it. “You don’t want me to let go?” You shook your head frantically, burying your face into his chest as your cries grew louder. 

“No, T,” you choked out between sobs, your voice small and broken.

“Okay, okay,” Trent murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, cradling you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever, baby. I promise. I’ve got you.” For a while, he just held you, letting you cry against him as his hands rubbed soothing circles over your back. Every now and then, he pressed soft kisses to the top of your head, whispering reassurances into your hair. “You’re safe now, baby. It’s over. I’m here.” Eventually, when your sobs began to quiet, Trent gently pulled back to look at you. His fingers came up to brush away the tears from your cheeks, his touch so soft it felt like a whisper against your skin. “Can I get you into some different clothes, pretty girl?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a murmur. “Might make you feel a little better. Little comfier, cozier.” He tried to smile but it was hard. You didn’t respond, only whimpered quietly as your body trembled in his arms. Trent let out a shaky breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I know, I know,” he said gently, his tone soothing as his fingers stroked your hair. “C’mon, I’ll help you. I’ve got you, baby.” Moving carefully, as if you might shatter under his touch, Trent began peeling your clothes off. His heart sank as he saw the bruises littering your skin, the harsh marks standing out like cruel reminders of the nightmare you’d just endured. When his eyes landed on the cut near your collarbone—where Josh had torn your necklace off—his breath caught in his throat. He turned his head away for a moment, his jaw clenching as tears filled his eyes. He blinked them back quickly, swallowing down the anger and guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. You didn’t need his pain right now. You needed his strength. “Do you want to shower, baby? Or is that too much right now?” he asked gently, his voice thick with emotion. 

“No, T… I just want you.” You shook your head quickly, your voice breaking as you whispered. The sheer vulnerability in your voice broke him. 

“Alright, alright. I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” Trent said softly, his hands trembling slightly as he grabbed one of his oversized shirts. He slipped it over your head carefully, the familiar scent of him surrounding you like a protective cocoon. Once you were covered, Trent quickly peeled off his own clothes, leaving himself in just his boxers. He pulled down the sheets and climbed into bed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. He tucked the blanket around both of you, his strong arms wrapping around you as he held you close to his chest. Your head rested against his shoulder, your body curled into his as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, his touch slow and soothing as he whispered to you.

“I’ve got you,” Trent murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. You’re safe now, yeah? I promise you, you’re safe.” Your breathing eventually began to even out, though your body still trembled slightly against him. He held you tighter, his hand moving in slow circles over your back. “Not letting go, baby,” he whispered again, his lips brushing against your temple. “Not tonight, not ever.” You nestled against Trent’s chest, your head tucked under his chin as his arms wrapped around you protectively. His steady heartbeat echoed in your ear, grounding you amidst the swirling chaos of your mind. The warmth of his body and the way he held you felt like a lifeline, tethering you to safety when everything else felt broken. “I love you,” Trent whispered, his voice soft and trembling with emotion. “I love you more than anything in the world. You’re everything to me, baby.” His words washed over you like a balm, soothing yet bittersweet. Your heart ached, a deep, raw pain that mirrored the soreness in your body, but Trent’s voice kept pulling you back, reminding you that you weren’t alone in this. And then, as if trying to fill the empty, aching spaces inside you, Trent began listing every reason why he loved you.

“I love because of everything that you are, pretty girl. You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair between words. “You’re so sweet, nicest girl I know, you care so much about everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. I love how smart you are, how funny you are. I love how you light up a room without even trying.” His voice cracked slightly, but he kept going, his hand rubbing slow, gentle circles on your back. “I love the way you laugh, the way you smile at me like I’m the only person in the world. I love to make you smile, baby. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I used to come over and just pray you’d be home, just so I could sit next to you, make you happy, keep you happy.” Trent ached recalling how you two grown up together and all he wanted was to keep you happy and yet here you were crumbling in his arms. You cried harder listening to him but he kept going. You needed to know. “I love how you’re always there for people, even when it’s hard. And I love how you let me be there for you, like now. I love you, baby, more than I’ll ever be able to say.” You listened in silence, tears streaming down your face as you burrowed closer into his chest. His words carried so much love, so much tenderness, it was almost unbearable. You cried harder, the weight of everything crashing down all at once. “I’ve got you,” Trent murmured, his voice steady even as his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him. “Always.” His lips found your hair, pressing soft, lingering kisses there as he held you tighter, yet with so much care it felt as if he thought you might break. His hands never stopped moving, tracing slow, comforting patterns across your back. Eventually, your sobs began to quiet, exhaustion overtaking you as Trent’s warmth and gentle reassurances lulled you into sleep. Your breathing evened out, your body going limp in his arms as you finally found some semblance of peace. Trent stayed still for a moment, his chest rising and falling steadily as he looked down at you. Your tear-streaked cheeks glistened in the faint light, your lips slightly parted, your face still etched with the pain you carried even in sleep. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. Tears filled Trent’s eyes, spilling over as he shut them tightly, his chest heaving with quiet, shaky breaths. He pressed another kiss to your hair, the salt of his tears mingling with your scent.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he held you closer. “I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry, baby.” He cried silently, his tears dampening your hair as he stroked your back, his thumb brushing over a small bruise on your arm. The sight of your battered body and the weight of your pain tore at his heart, and all he could do was hold you, hoping his presence would be enough to start piecing you back together. “I’ll fix this,” he murmured softly, his voice a quiet vow. “I don’t know how, but I’ll fix this. I’ll keep you safe. Always.” Trent stayed awake for hours, his tears eventually drying as he held you close. Every now and then, he’d press another kiss to your hair, his lips lingering as if he could somehow pour all his love and apologies into you through that simple touch.And as the night stretched on, Trent whispered one final promise into the quiet room: “I’ll never let you hurt like this again. I swear, baby. Never again.”

It was late into the morning, it was actually leaning into the afternoon when Jack knocked gently on your bedroom door.  Trent barely heard it. Jack opened the door seeing that he heard no sound on the other side. Jack stepped into the doorway, his face etched with concern as he took in the sight before him. The room was dim, the curtains still drawn, letting in only a sliver of the afternoon light. You were completely draped over Trent, your body molded to his like you couldn't bear even the smallest distance. Trent was awake, but his entire focus was on you-his hands never stopping their slow, soothing strokes along your back, his lips pressing gentle kisses into your hair every so often, murmuring soft ‘I love yous’ like a prayer. 

“Yo.” Jack whispered quietly, nodding to grab Trent's attention off you, if only for a moment. Trent glanced over, his tired eyes meeting Jack's as he reached out a hand, silently dapping his mate up. It was a simple greeting, but there was a quiet understanding between them-Jack was checking in, making sure Trent was alright too. But the moment Trent's hand left you, you stirred, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you instinctively sought out his touch again. Your body shifted on top of him, nuzzling into his chest, your arms tightening around him as if to pull him back. Trent immediately brought his hand back to you, rubbing slow circles into your back again.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm here," Trent whispered, his voice impossibly soft, his lips brushing your forehead. Jack watched, something deep in his chest aching at the sight. He had never seen you so vulnerable before, so completely dependent on someone else's presence just to feel safe. And he had never seen Trent like this either-his usual confidence stripped away, his entire being consumed by the need to comfort you, to protect you.

"She get any sleep last night?" Jack looked at you, keeping his voice low. Trent nodded, but his eyes were still full of exhaustion. Trent let out a slow breath, looking down at you. Even in sleep, you still looked troubled, your brow slightly furrowed, your grip on him impossibly tight. He hated it-hated that you were hurting like this, hated that he couldn't take it all away.

"Yeah... cried herself to sleep, but she's been in and out for a while now." His hand never stopped moving on your back, keeping you tethered to the safety of his touch. "She's not let go of me once, though." Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

"I figured. Just wanted to check on you both." He hesitated before adding, "When she wakes up, I'lI make sure there's food, yeah? She'll need it." Trent nodded, a silent thank you passing between them.  The room stayed dimly lit, the curtains still drawn, keeping the world outside at bay. The only sound was your steady breathing, though even in sleep, your body remained curled into Trent’s, as if afraid to let go. His hands never stopped moving, rubbing slow circles along your back, grounding you in whatever way he could. His own body ached—his swollen hand throbbed, his face bruised and sore—but none of it mattered compared to the way you clung to him. “Brought you some ice too…” Jack held up an ice pack Trent hadn't noticed was in his hand.

“Thanks, bro. Probably a little late now… swollen already.” Trent exhaled, a tired chuckle escaping his lips as he nodded down at his bruised hand on your back. Jack shrugged, setting it down on the nightstand.

“Yeah, well, if you want it, it’s here.” He hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering down to where you lay on Trent’s chest, his arms locked protectively around you. His voice dropped even lower. “How’s she been, seriously?” He asked, looking for more. Trent sighed, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder absentmindedly. 

“The same as,” he admitted, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Obviously rattled, but she’s just been sleeping… if she wakes up, she cries for a bit and then back to sleep.” Jack gave a sad, knowing nod, his brows furrowing as he reached out, gently brushing a piece of hair from your face. You barely stirred, just nestled deeper into Trent, as if even in your sleep, you knew where you were safest. Trent’s voice softened even more, his grip tightening around you instinctively. “If I take my hands off her, asleep or not, she freaks out, so…” Jack inhaled sharply, shaking his head. 

“Jesus.” His voice was barely above a whisper, a mix of anger and sorrow laced in the single word. Trent’s jaw tensed, his gaze fixed on you. 

“I don’t even know, mate… this is…” But his sentence trailed off into nothing, because there weren’t words for it. Jack sat on the edge of the bed, watching his sister— someone he used to think of a strong—curled up like a wounded animal, looking anything but. 

“It’s awful,” he admitted. “But she trusts you. She just feels safer with you after last night. She always has.” Trent swallowed hard, nodding. 

“It was fucking awful, but she should trust me. I love her. I tried to protect her, mate.” Trent tried to explain. Jack met his eyes, nodding with quiet conviction. 

“I know, mate. You did.” Jack confirmed sincerely. Silence settled between them again, thick and heavy. Trent shifted slightly beneath you, hesitating before lowering his voice, not wanting to wake you, as if an inch more of space between you would make it so you couldn’t hear, what he was going to ask.

“Any word on…” He didn’t say the name, he didn’t even need to say Josh’s name. He didn’t have to. Jack already knew. Jack’s jaw clenched.

“Said charging him with assault and extortion.” Jack explained. Trent’s brows shot up in surprise. 

“Really?” He said low but surprised. He had expected Josh to walk away unscathed, like he always did. The fact that something was actually sticking this time? It stunned him. Jack nodded. 

“Yeah, I mean, obviously the physical evidence on her from what he did that night was obvious to them, he had her under his fingertips." Jack swallowed and Tfrent winced. It was just as brutal to hear as it was to say. "And all the other times—she had photos of, so I grabbed those. And then Ty got all the video stuff sorted. So.” He shrugged, like it was nothing, but Trent knew how much effort it must’ve taken to pull all of that together over just last night. Trent let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Wow…” His arms subconsciously tightened around you, like holding you closer could erase all the damage that had been done.

“Yeah…” Jack exhaled, rubbing his face before standing up. “It’s good though, mate." Trent nodded. "Need anything?” He asked. Trent shook his head.

“Nah. Just gonna chill for a bit. See what she feels up to later. Sorry. Hope that’s—” Jack cut him off with a look.

 “Bro, it’s cool.” He said but then paused. His voice softened as he looked at you again. “Thanks for being there for her.” Trent glanced down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

“There was never a choice, mate. She’s everything to me.” Trent let out a deep breath, adjusting his grip on you as you stirred slightly in your sleep. His hands, despite their own aches, instinctively resumed their slow, comforting strokes along your back. Jack stood beside the bed, watching the two of you with a mixture of sadness and quiet admiration. “But Jack…” Trent spoke, causing Jack to pause. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” Trent murmured after a moment, shaking his head. “There was no world where I wasn’t going to be there for her.” His voice was firm, unwavering. Jack nodded, rubbing a hand over his jaw, his expression unreadable. 

“I know,” he said simply. “But still.” A beat of silence passed between them, heavy with the weight of the last twenty-four hours. Trent glanced at the ice pack on the nightstand, then at his swollen hand, but he made no move to take it. His priorities were elsewhere. Jack noticed. 

“You should at least put that on for a bit,” he said, nodding toward it. Trent let out a small, humorless chuckle. 

“Hurts like hell, but it’s nothing compared to…” His voice trailed off as he looked down at you, his chest tightening. Jack sighed. 

“Yeah, I get it.” He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “She’ll be okay, you know.” Trent swallowed hard, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on your back. 

“I hope so,” he whispered, almost like he was afraid to say it too loudly. Like the thought of you not being okay was too much to bear. Jack looked at him, really looked at him. 

“She will be,” he reassured. “She’s got you.” Trent met Jack’s gaze, something unspoken passing between them—an understanding, a shared promise. Jack had done everything he could to ensure Josh faced the consequences. And now, it felt like it was Trent’s turn to do what he did best—love you, protect you, make sure you never had to feel that kind of fear again. Jack gave Trent’s shoulder a firm squeeze before stepping back. 

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” he said before slipping out of the room, leaving the two of you in the quiet sanctuary of each other. Trent exhaled slowly, shifting just enough to press a lingering kiss to your forehead as he tightened his arms around you.

The cinema room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the screen in front of you. Trent had managed to convince you to leave the bed, but not much had changed—you were still draped over him, wrapped up in his arms like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. His fingers traced soft, absentminded circles on your back, his lips occasionally pressing against your hair. Then, a quiet voice broke through the silence.

“Hii…” Layla’s whisper sang through the room as she stepped in, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace. She approached with a soft smile, her eyes scanning the way you clung to Trent, how his arms cradled you protectively. She sat down next to you both, reaching out with gentle hands. “Can I have a cuddle too?” she asked, her tone light but full of love. She squeezed your arm gently, and Trent kissed your hair, nudging you ever so slightly, encouraging you to shift toward your best friend. Reluctantly, you lifted your head, sitting up on Trent’s lap and Layla pulled you into her arms, her warmth wrapping around you. You sniffled, your body weak against hers. “Oh babe…” Layla whined, holding you tighter. She hated this—hated how fragile you felt, hated that she could feel the weight of what had happened in your trembling frame.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t even know why you were apologizing, but the embarrassment, the shame, it all sat heavy on your chest. Layla sighed softly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she kissed your cheek. She hated that she could feel not only how broken you were emotionally but physically too in her arms. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, yeah?” Her words were firm, but her touch was impossibly gentle. She let you go, letting you settle back down against Trent, his arms immediately reclaiming you, holding you just as tightly as before. Layla wiped her eyes quickly, trying to keep things light.  “Okay, be honest though… better cuddle—me or T?” She sniffled through a teasing smile, nudging your side playfully. You tried—really tried—to laugh, but it wouldn’t come. It felt stuck, like everything else inside you. The pain was still too raw. Trent glanced down at you before looking at Layla, smirking, appreciating her efforts. 

“I might edge you out, you know, Lays.” His voice was soft, teasing but careful. He reached out and gave Layla’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, making sure you didn’t feel like you had to answer.

“Maybe… I am her best friend though.” Layla shot back with a giggle, wiping at her nose. Then she leaned down toward you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “But you’ve got your dream boy now, hmm?” And there, then in that moment, your best friend joking around with your boyfriend, Trent holding you, keeping you safe, Layla kissing you reassuring you, you let out a real giggle, something light bubbled up inside you. Soft, quiet, but real. It was there. Trent felt it more than heard it, the way your body shook ever so slightly with the sound. His chest tightened with relief, his heart aching in the best way. Layla’s eyes softened, glistening with emotion. Trent held you even closer, burying a kiss into your hair. 

“Yeah, you’ve got me. Love my pretty girl so much.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but you felt every word settle deep in your bones. His arms squeezed you, grounding you in the only truth that mattered right now—he was here, Layla was here, and you were safe.

Jack dropped down into one of the seats with a dramatic sigh, stretching his legs out as if he’d been carrying the weight of the world and he might as well have been. 

“I don’t know, Lays, you might get boxed out like me and Noah. Trenty says they’re best friends.” He tossed the words out with a smirk, arms folding across his chest as he gave a pointed glance in your direction. Layla gasped, her mouth falling open in mock offense. 

“Excuse me? And here I was thinking I was special.” She placed a hand over her chest, shaking her head like she’d just been personally betrayed. You could only let out another quiet giggle, hiding your face deeper into Trent’s chest, a small, shy smile pulling at your lips. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear—it was the only thing keeping you grounded. You felt his arms tighten around you slightly, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Yeah, best friend… love of my life too, hmm?” Trent hummed, his lips grazing your temple before trailing down to your neck in soft, playful kisses. His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper in it, something so undeniably him—warm, sure, and full of a love so consuming you almost felt overwhelmed by it. You nodded against him, your arms slipping under his to hold him tighter, fingers gripping at the fabric of his shirt like you never wanted to let go. It had been such a hard few days, but in his arms, even with the ache in your chest, you felt safe. Slowly, you lifted your head, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, letting it linger for a moment longer than necessary. When you pulled away, you turned toward Layla, stretching your hand out. She took it instantly, her fingers wrapping around yours in a firm but comforting squeeze.

“I can share,” you murmured softly, eyes filled with the quiet affection that only Layla could truly understand. She softened immediately, squeezing your hand back a few times in silent reassurance. 

“You’re very loveable, babe. Hard to resist.” She giggled. Trent kissed the top of your head again, holding you closer. Layla smirked, shooting a look at Jack before grinning. “Guess Jacky boy will be an okay sub then.” Jack scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Okay sub? Wow, alright then.” He laughed, flicking his gaze between the three of you. “Fine, I’ll take ya.” Without warning, he threw an arm around Layla in a rough, brotherly way, yanking her into his side like an annoying sibling. “Let them be gross together. We’ll survive.” He quipped. Layla groaned dramatically, struggling in his grasp. 

“Oh my God, Jack—you’re crushing me! Get off!” She struggled in his strong arms. Jack only laughed, keeping his grip tight, making it impossible for her to wriggle away. You lips uncontrolled pulled into a soft smile. As ridiculous as they were, these were your people.

“Nah, you said I was a fucking sub. If you’re bringing me in, this is what you get.” He smirked. Trent chuckled, shaking his head as he looked down at you, his grip never loosening. 

“They’re just jealous, baby.” He whispered against your hair, his voice full of playful amusement. You giggled softly, the sound barely audible, but real. It was small, but it was something. And for the first time in days, something inside you felt just a little bit lighter.

The room had been filled with an easy warmth, the kind that only came from the presence of the people who loved you most. Trent’s arms remained securely around you as you laid curled into his chest, his steady heartbeat your grounding rhythm. Jack and Layla sat close by, still exchanging playful jabs, the remnants of your soft laughter lingering in the air. For a brief moment, things almost felt… normal. Almost. But then as Jack was flicking through channels on the tv, he paused on a one, a news update cut through the soft atmosphere like a blade.

“It seems the ruckus of the Liverpool-Manchester United match this season has carried off the pitch and into an exclusive neighborhood of Hale last night. A disturbance call made to a Cheshire luxury home early Sunday ended with one arrest being made, Manchester United’s left winger, Josh Ellington…”

Your body instinctively tensed the moment you heard his name, your breath catching in your throat. Trent felt it immediately. His grip on you tightened, his large hands running soothingly up and down your back, his lips pressing a silent kiss against your hair as if to say, I’ve got you. You’re safe. He can’t touch you anymore. But it didn’t stop the ice-cold shiver that ran down your spine. Jack and Layla had gone completely still, their playful banter vanishing as quickly as it had come. The room, which had been filled with lighthearted teasing just seconds ago, now felt unbearably heavy, like the air had been sucked from it entirely.

“Police reported to a house party after receiving a call about the disturbance. It’s been understood that there were multiple footballers from both clubs in attendance. There is widespread speculation that a row kicked off between the rival clubs’ players…”

The words felt distant, like you were hearing them from underwater. You knew what had happened. You had lived what had happened. This wasn’t speculation to you—it was real. The bruises on your skin, the lingering ache in your ribs, the shattered feeling deep in your chest… all of it was evidence of that night. Josh had been arrested. That should’ve meant relief, right? But all you felt was a deep, aching sadness. Because even though he was behind bars, you were still here, curled into Trent’s arms like a wounded bird, your body still bearing the marks of what he had done. Jack let out a sharp exhale, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he shook his head. 

“Fucking dickhead.” His voice was tight, filled with barely restrained anger. Layla swallowed hard, her gaze flickering to you immediately, her hand reaching out, rubbing your arm in silent comfort. Trent stayed quiet, his chest rising and falling beneath you in deep, controlled breaths. You knew him well enough to know what that meant—he was pissed, trying his hardest to keep himself calm for you. His fingers brushed the side of your arm, tracing slow, deliberate circles over your skin, his way of reminding you he was here. You took in a shaky breath, pressing your face further into his chest, as if you could disappear into him entirely. His warmth, his strength, his love—it was the only thing keeping you from unraveling completely.

“Fuck ‘em honest. He can’t hurt you anymore, baby.” Trent murmured so quietly only you could hear it, his voice thick with emotion. “Never again.” And even though the sadness still clung to you like a second skin, you believed him. Because as long as you were in his arms, as long as he held you this tightly, you knew you were safe.

A while later, Jack strolled into the kitchen, rubbing his face tiredly as he made his way to the fridge. Layla was already there, quietly making tea for you. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched as she moved around, carefully pouring the hot water into a mug.

“I'm glad you came over, Lays. She hadn’t been talking much, so this has been good,” Jack finally said, stepping up beside her. His voice was gentle, as if he knew she was holding onto something fragile. Layla turned her head slightly, and Jack caught the way her eyes filled with tears. She blinked quickly, as if willing them away, but they were there—threatening to spill over.

“I needed to see her, Jack,” she murmured. “That was so scary.” Layla admitted. Jack sighed, leaning back against the counter. 

“Yeah, was a lot.” He ran a hand over his jaw before glancing at her again. “You okay?” He asked. Layla hesitated before exhaling, stirring the tea absently. 

“Yeah… I just…” She trailed off for a moment, her voice quiet. “Honestly, I never knew it was so bad. And even then, I didn’t think anything like that would happen.” She earnestly told him. Jack nodded slowly, his expression darkening. 

“Neither. I can’t wrap my head around it.” He shifted, standing up straighter as he reached for two more mugs. “I’m sorry we didn’t check on you last night, though.” He set them down beside her, his voice laced with sincerity. Layla glanced at him with a small, appreciative smile. 

“Jack, there was a lot going on,” she reassured him, her tone understanding. She turned back to the tea, adding sugar and a splash of milk. “I was fine. Noah took care of me.” Jack stilled. His eyebrows shot up as a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Did he?” He smugly responded too fast. Layla hummed in response, not picking up on his inflection, oblivious at first. 

“Yeah?” She turned toward him just as the tea bags steeped. Jack didn’t say anything at first—just gave her a look. Layla blinked. Then it hit her. “Oh my days—No! Jack! Stop!” She yelped, half-groaning, half-laughing as she shoved his arm. The smile on her face betrayed her, though. No was not the time for Layla to spill anything. Jack held his hands up in mock innocence, grinning. 

“I’ve said absolutely nothing here, Lays. You’re the one reading into things…” He let the sentence hang, watching her squirm, “Unless…” His smirk deepened. “Is there something I should be reading into?” Layla gasped dramatically, pointing at the door. 

“No. No. Just go away. We can’t be best friends anymore. This won’t work. I need Y/N back from T” She teased. Jack cackled, reaching for his drink. 

“Yeah, yeah, keep deflecting.” He joked. Layla rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck said more than words ever could.

“You alright?” Megan’s soft voice rang through the entryway as Jack let her inside, her arms full of bags. Her presence another addition to the arsenal of people supporting you. Not asked, but offering.

“Yeah, we’re alright,” Jack murmured, his eyes softening the moment he saw her. He reached for her, pulling her into a warm embrace. “You look beautiful, my Meg.” His voice was low, affectionate, as he pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. Megan sighed into the moment before pulling back with a small smile. 

“Brought her some things.” She held up one of the bags and a bouquet of delicate flowers. “Just gonna put these in her room. Don’t need to make a big deal out of it or anything. But I also brought some food and all sorts of things.” She let out a quiet giggle, trying to lighten the air. Jack, however, didn’t let her slip away just yet. His lips unconsciously pouted, his heart swelling at her thoughtfulness. He pulled her into another embrace, tighter this time, his chin resting on the top of her head.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Just chilling today, but I’m glad you’re here.” He took the bags from her, one hand still clasping hers as he kissed her temple. They began walking further into the house, but before they could step fully into the living room, Megan hesitated. Her fingers curled around his, pulling him back gently. Jack turned to her with a questioning look, but her gaze was cast downward. He felt the tension in her shoulders before she even spoke.

“Jack… I… I’m so sorry,” Megan whispered, her voice unsteady.  “I feel so at fault.” Jack’s brows furrowed. 

“Meg…” His voice was careful. “This is no one but Josh’s fault.” Jack explained.  

“I know… I know.” She exhaled shakily, wringing her hands together. “But it’s also…” She hesitated, her throat tightening, as if saying the name would make it more real. “Jess's” The name came out barely above a breath. “I’m sorry.” Jack’s jaw clenched at the mention of her. The weight of it all was still settling, but Megan’s guilt? He wouldn’t have that.

“Hey, my Meg…” His voice softened, and he stepped closer, cupping her cheek so she would look at him. “You’re not her, are ya?” Megan shook her head quickly, a quiet sniffle escaping her lips. Jack brushed his thumb over her cheek, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers for a moment. “Then don’t take this on. Not for a second.” His voice was gentle but firm, the conviction in his words wrapping around her like a safety net. Megan let out a shaky breath, nodding slightly. Jack pressed another kiss to her temple, lingering there for just a second longer. “You’re good, Meg. And you’re here. That’s what matters.”

They walked into the kitchen together, Megan placing the flowers down carefully before slowly unpacking the bags she had brought. The rustle of paper and plastic filled the quiet space as she moved around the kitchen island with ease, knowing exactly where everything belonged. Jack, perched on a stool, watched her with a lazy smile, his chin resting in his palm. Without looking up admist her swift movements, Megan reached out and pinched his side.

“Aye!” Jack yelped, jolting upright with a cheeky grin. Megan giggled, her eyes twinkling as she opened a bag of Percy Pigs she’d brought over, popping one into her mouth before turning to him with another between her fingers. She stepped closer, pushing it toward his lips. Jack caught her wrist gently, holding it still. Instead of just taking the sweet, he pulled her hand closer, slipping the gummy into his mouth while keeping his eyes locked on hers. And before she could react, he kissed her fingers softly. Megan let out a breathy giggle, her cheeks heating under his touch. Jack smirked at her, but the lightheartedness of the moment only distracted him for a second. If he was honest with himself, there was a part of him that was scared—scared of letting another woman into his life, one that wasn’t you or, more frankly, your mum. He had spent so long keeping people at a distance, afraid of the hurt that came when they left. A linger aftereffect of the pain of loosing your mum. He knew you wouldn’t leave. But seeing you hurt, seeing what Josh had done to you, had shaken him more than he ever thought possible. And right now, watching Megan show up—not just for you, but for him—when he never even asked, terrified him. Yet, it also meant everything.

"Meg?" Jack's voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. She turned back to him, and he reached out, gently pulling her between his legs as he sat on the stool. His hands found her waist instinctively, his thumbs grazing her sides in slow, soothing strokes.

"You okay?" she asked, offering him a sad smile. Jack exhaled, his fingers flexing slightly against her hips. 

"I just... you know I care about you." Megan nodded without hesitation. "And you know I love you." His voice was steady, but there was something deeper behind it— something vulnerable. Megan swallowed, her breath catching in her throat. He had told her before, but it had been in fleeting moments, in passing, when emotions were high. She had never been fully sure if he meant it in the quiet, in the stillness. 

"And you're sure about that?" she whispered. Jack didn't even blink. 

"More sure than l've ever been about anything." He rescinded immediately. Megan's lips parted slightly, her heart thudding in her chest. "It's been a little mad lately," Jack continued, his thumbs still running absentminded circles against her, grounding himself in the feeling of her beneath his hands. "And I just wanted you to know I want you." He paused, searching her eyes. "And I'd want you to maybe be my girlfriend when it's mad and..." His voice softened, "even when it's not."

"Jack..." Megan whimpered, emotion pooling in her chest, threatening to spill over. Her hands ran over his chest, feeling the warmth of him beneath her palms. "I can be yours, always. Mad or not." She giggled nervously, biting her lip. Jack smiled, but there was something cautious behind it. He tilted his head slightly, exhaling before murmuring, 

"It's just... once you're here, you're here for me, you know?" The weight of what he was saying lingered between them. His fear of being left coming in with a force.  She hummed in understanding, her fingers curling into his hoodie. 

"Okay," she said simply, her voice steady. "And I'm here." Jack closed his eyes for a moment, like he was letting it sink in. 

"Thank you for understanding." He whispered.  Megan smiled up at him. 

"So... am I your girlfriend, Jacky?" she teased, her voice light but full of meaning. Jack huffed out a bashful laugh, rolling his head to the side for a second before standing up, wrapping her in his arms, and pulling her against his chest. He hummed, swaying her back and forth in his embrace, his lips pressing into her hair.

"Yeah," he whispered with a happy chuckle. "My Meg."

In the days following, Trent’s arms wrapped snugly around your waist as he stood behind you, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. His warm brown eyes met yours in the mirror, filled with soft adoration.

“What do you think about getting out with me today, baby?” Trent asked sweetly, his voice low and coaxing.

“Out?” You pouted, barely entertaining the idea. The comfort of being wrapped up with him felt too good to leave behind.

“Pleaase.” He grinned, pressing soft, rapid kisses along your cheek, one after the other, until you finally gave in with a quiet giggle. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he murmured against your skin. “For me? Please let me take the most beautiful girl in the world to go get some…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering back to yours in the mirror, waiting for you to fill in the blank. 

“Coffee?” You sighed playfully before mumbling. Trent nodded immediately, kissing your cheek again. 

“Yeah, baby. Whatever you want.” He told you. You hesitated for a moment.

“Can I shower first?” You asked softly. A small, sad smile tugged at your lips. Trent’s smirk was slow and teasing as he met your gaze in the reflection. 

“Can I…?” His tone was full of mischief, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. You giggled, nodding as he pulled you back against his chest, wrapping his arms tighter around you. His lips brushed your neck, lingering with playful kisses. “C’mere, baby,” he murmured, making it clear that, coffee or not, he had no intention of letting you go just yet.

The steam curled around you both as Trent guided you gently into the ensuite, his hands never leaving your skin. He undressed you slowly, his fingertips trailing over every inch of you as if he were handling something delicate, something sacred. The soft hum of the shower filled the air as he turned on the water, and the moment the warmth hit your skin, it felt like the weight of the past few days was being washed away. The hot water cascaded down your bodies, you found yourself drawn to him, your hands reaching out to trace the contours of his golden skin. Trent's muscular frame glistened with moisture, his tanned skin a stark contrast to the tiles surrounding you. You couldn't resist him; your fingers itched to explore every inch of his body. Trent pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a beat before his kisses trailed down your temple, along your jaw, and finally to your neck. His touch was tender, reverent, but even still, you could feel the tension in his body, the restraint he was forcing himself to hold. Your hands moved over him, tracing the planes of his skin, desperate to pull him closer. He shivered under your touch, his body responding instinctively even as his mind told him to slow down. You pressed yourself into him, tilting your head to kiss his neck, your hands gripping at his back, his shoulders, his waist—anywhere you could reach. You needed to feel him, to remind yourself that you were safe, wanted, that you were his, that he was yours. Trent let out a breath, hesitating for just a moment before his hands found your waist, holding you gently but firmly. 

"Nah, baby, please," he murmured against your ear, kissing just behind it. His voice was hoarse, filled with longing, but there was something else there too-concern. "Maybe let's slow down, yeah?" But you didn't want slow. You wanted to feel. You wanted to drown in him. Leaning forward, you grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your lips sought his neck, kissing and sucking gently, leaving a trail of wetness on his warm skin. He tasted like the essence of desire, and you craved more. Your hands roamed over his broad back, feeling his muscles beneath your fingertips.

"T, I need you," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need. "I just want to feel how much you love me again." you whispered, your voice desperate as you began to sink to your knees in front of him.

"Nah, nah, stop, baby," Trent's voice was firm as his hands cupped your face, guiding you back up. His deep brown eyes searched yours, his thumbs stroking gently over your wet cheeks. You tried your hardest to not be offended but he spoke again before your thoughts could spiral that far. "You promise you want to feel how much I love you... like this?" His voice was thick, serious, grounding. Your breath caught, and you nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. The heat between you was unmistakable, and the ache in your core had nothing to do with the warm water cascading around you. Trent exhaled slowly, letting his hands glide down your back, feeling the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. "Alright," he murmured, his touch sending a shiver through you. "But you know this is because I love who you are, yeah?" His voice was low, a whisper meant just for you.

"Yeah," you whined, your hands grasping at him, needing him closer, needing him to erase everything but this moment. And then, finally, Trent gave in, pulling you into him like you were the only thing keeping him upright.  You felt your heart beat harder hearing him. You gasped, silently, your voice breathless. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat of Trent's body as he pressed you against the cool tile. His hands roamed your body with purpose, his lips leaving a slow, lingering trail of kisses down your neck. 

"Cause I love you," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "And I love this body. I love everything inside of it." His words were spoken like a vow, his hands moved to greedily palm your ass, pulling you closer into him. 

"And you like my ass too?" you teased, relishing in the feeling of his hands of you, tilting your head back as his lips grazed over your collarbone. Trent pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, his grin lazy and full of adoration. 

"Absolutely. Like nothing else. Love every inch of you." You let out a breathy laugh between the pleasure, feeling light despite the intensity between you.  Before you could respond, he bent slightly, his strong arms scooping you up effortlessly, hands gripping under your thighs as he pressed you against the cold tiled wall more. Your breath hitched, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your body instinctively molded into his– The contrast of the cold surface against your heated skin sent shivers down your spine. Trent's lips found your neck, his kisses hot and demanding. His hands roamed over your tits, squeezing and kneading, making you arch into his touch. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his voice filled with admiration. "Every fucking inch of you." Your core clenched at his words, the pleasure intensifying with each caress. Trent's fingers found your wetness, stroking and teasing, making you gasp and squirm against him. He was smooth, moving to stroke his cock some before aligning it with your core. Then, with one swift thrust, he filled you completely, his cock sliding deep within your hot, wet core. You cried out, the sensation overwhelming as he stretched and filled you. Trent's hands gripped your thighs again, holding you steady as he began to move, his hips snapping forward with each powerful thrust.

"I love you, T," you whimpered, your voice breathless. His movements were slow at first, deliberate, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, 'I love you,' 'I love you,' like a prayer against your lips. Every thrust, every touch, was filled with something deeper than just desire. It was devotion, a need to remind you how much he worshipped you, how much he needed you just as much as you needed him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and wet for me." You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he pounded into you. The water continued to rain down, mixing with your sweat, making your bodies slick and glistening. Trent's eyes never left yours, holding you captive in an intense gaze as he fucked you with abandon. His love for you was evident in every stroke, every touch, and every kiss.

"You're everything l've ever wanted," you whined, voice breaking as the emotions overwhelmed you. The pleasure built alongside the flood of emotions, your chest heaving as you clung to him. Trent's grip on you tightened, adjusting one hand holding your thigh securely around his waist so the other could slid up, cupping your jaw, tilting your face, making your eyes met his. Your eyes had filled with tears. 

"I'm here with you. Tell me you're here with me, baby," he rasped, his own voice thick with emotion, his dark eyes searching yours.  You nodded, unable to speak, your emotions raw and exposed. He held your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes, the deep brown pools reflecting the love and desire you felt. "You know I’m here?" he asked, his voice filled with concern and adoration. You managed a weak nod again, unable to find the words to express the depth of your feelings. Trent understood, his eyes softening as he held you close. "YN," he called your name, his voice filled with emotion. He held you tightly, his strong arms supporting your weight. Your heart was pounding, and you could feel the tears stinging your eyes. It was an overwhelming mix of emotions—love, passion, and a deep connection that left you breathless. Trent's lips found yours, kissing you softly, gently wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. "I'm here, baby," he whispered against your mouth. "I'm right here with you." The intensity was too much. The way he was looking at you like you were his entire world, the way he was holding you like you were something to be cherished-it broke something open inside you. Tears streamed down your cheeks causing Trent to still, concern flickering across his face. 

"No, baby. Please. Don't stop," you gasped, voice trembling. "I need you." His brows furrowed for just a second before he nodded, his hold on you tightening like he wanted to fuse you to him.

"Okay," he murmured, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your wet cheek. "You've got me." Then he moved again, slow and deep, his forehead pressing against yours, groaning into your skin as he gave himself to you completely. And in that moment, it wasn't just about making love-it was about healing, about holding onto each other in a way that nothing else in the world could touch. As the water continued to wash over you, you realized that this moment was more than just physical pleasure. It was a testament to the powerful bond you had with him. Trent's love for you was evident in every touch, every kiss, and every whispered word. And in that steamy shower, with his strong arms holding you, you knew that you had found something special, something that went beyond mere physical attraction. And so he drove into you again, hitting all the right spots, your climax building. Your body trembled, and your breath came in short gasps. Trent's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice hoarse. "Let me feel you cum for me. Look so beautiful when you cum f'me." His words were like a trigger, sending you over the edge. You cried out his name as your orgasm washed over you in waves of pleasure. Your inner walls clenched around his shaft, milking him as your body shook. Trent's own release followed, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep within you. 

The steam curled around you both, the water cascading down your entwined bodies as you remained wrapped in each other's arms. The remnants of passion, of pain, of everything that had come before, swirled down the drain, disappearing as if they had never existed. It felt baptismal in a way-not in religion, but in renewal. The past, the bruises, the weight of men like Josh, washed away, leaving behind something untouched, something whole. And that something was Trent. It was you, with him. Trent held you close, his breath warm against your temple, his hands steady and grounding against your back. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just existing in the aftermath, feeling each other's hearts still pounding in sync.

When he finally moved, it was with a gentleness that sent another kind of shiver through you. His strong arms lowered you carefully onto the cool tiles, his hands never leaving your waist, like he was afraid you might slip away from him. His eyes roamed your body, lingering over your damp, glistening skin. His gaze caught on the bruises, the faint scrape marring your décolletage, the reminder of Josh's cruel grip, of the necklace he had torn away. The sight of it made something flicker in Trent's expression-an ache, a silent fury, a desperation to undo what had already been done. Without a word, he dropped his head, his face level with the tender marks. He didn't say anything, but you felt everything in the way he pressed his lips to the bruises, the scrape, the places that hurt. His kisses were reverent, delicate, as though his lips could will the pain away, as though he could rewrite the past with every press of his mouth. He nuzzled his face against your skin, his breath shaky, his hands gripping your hips like he needed to hold onto you just as much as you needed to be held. He took a deep breath, attempting to reign in his own emotions.

"I hate that he hurt you," he murmured, voice thick with something unspoken. "Hate that I wasn't there to stop it." Your fingers slid into his wet curls, tugging gently, grounding him. 

"You came though.” You whispered ,feeling a lump form in your throat making it hard to speak. “And you're here now," you sniffled, feeling the tears come back with force again. He exhaled against your skin, pressing one last lingering kiss over your heart before looking up at you. His eyes were warm, filled with devotion, and something deeper-something unshakable.

"Yeah," he whispered, gripping you tighter. "And I'm never letting go."

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 29 xx

[magicalmutants]

I’m All Run and You’re All Fight

Two years

You knew what day it was as you lay awake in bed. You knew it was the middle of the night, that if you turned and looked at the clock, it would say 3:45am. Wide awake thinking about him. You wonder if he thinks of you too.

It had been two years since you had been roused from a fitful sleep to be told that your world was fissuring into something broken and ugly. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to block out the memory.

“He’s gone. Wiped out the whole village. He’s not coming back.”

You sit upright as you hold your head in your hands. Trying to shove those memories back into the little box you contain them in somewhere in the back of your mind. Somewhere where they couldn’t hurt you. Breathing shakily, you reach into your nightstand and pull out the pack of cigarettes and lighter you keep there and climb out of bed to pad softly over to your window.

You hold the cigarette between your lips as you light it, the harsh taste of burning tobacco filling your mouth. You wrinkle your nose, always forgetting how much you despised this brand. But menthols taste like kisses and summer and a life you’re desperate to forget. These will have to do.

“Here, since you’re so desperate to follow Shoko to an early grave. Try one of these, they kinda taste a little better,”

“You smoke them too! Besides what if I like these ones?”

“You don’t. You always pull a face.”

So much of who you are is an amalgamation of everyone you’ve ever loved. The way you take your coffee because that’s just the kind that Shoko brought for you when you were exhausted from studying. The way you still cut your hair the way that celebrity you idolized when you were a teenager used to cut hers.

But so much of you had been shaped by him. His ghost always floats in the corner of your eye, just out of reach. You’ve buried him, feeding the corpse that you stuffed full of memories to the night inside your heart. A cold place. A dark one. A dead one. And still he persists, still he lingers in the shadowy reaches of your sense of self. The parts that are jagged and bleeding from how hard you’ve tried to sever them off. They say the body holds memories that the brain forgets, and if you could peel back your skin and go bleeding, raw and bloodied into the world, vile and unrecognizable, you think you would. You would forget yourself and become something entirely different; something entirely separate from him. Could you still be yourself if you replaced every single part of your soul that he had touched? At what point was the ship of Theseus no longer the Argo when every part of it had been replaced?

_____________

Suguru loved watching you when you were like this. Pretty frown on your face as you tried to block out the memories he knew were trying to break through the prison where you had confined them. Here is where you were different: he let them wash over him, relishing in the pain they caused him. He loved the way it felt to miss you. The chest-splitting feeling that made it hard to breathe and brought that lump to his throat that he sometimes hoped would suffocate him. The nausea at the feeling of some cavernous, gaping hole in his soul, somewhere where his heart would be. The anxiety that he felt, knowing he could never fill it. His torment and your pain were the thorns that decorated the crown on his head. The halo that left him scratched and bloody.

He watched as you swore, he could almost hear the whisper of your voice on the wind as you put out the half smoked cigarette and threw it out the window before slamming your fist into the frame.

There you were.

His violent girl.

Suguru had always been in awe of how easily violence came to you, and how hard you tried to hide it under your soft spoken words and tender smiles.

He remembered the first mission you had ever gone on together in your first year, teeth bared in a snarl as blood dripped out of your nose.

He remembered the moment he noticed the flash in your eyes as the corner of your lips ticked upwards into something that looked more like a smirk.

He remembered how divine you looked as blood and gore flew around you, the air seeming to crackle as you danced at the epicenter of a terrible storm of death and cursed energy. Goddess of rage and terror. Goddess of beauty, because after all, how could you know beauty without knowing terror?

And he remembered how suddenly you stopped. How your eyes softened and you asked if he was okay. How you had sounded almost bashful.

“Where have you been hiding that?”

“Don’t be stupid,”

“Why are you embarrassed? You were beautiful,”

Maybe you were destined to be a perfect paradox. Suguru walked a path of violence, forcing step after step, knowing each one made the rot inside him fester a little more. You tried to bury violence deep inside you to quell the rage that had threatened to consume you all your life, burning up your insides and begging to be let out.

Two sides of the same coin, two people with the same curse, wasn’t it Shakespeare who said these violent delights had violent ends?

Your head snapped up and Suguru felt the blood freeze in his veins as your eyes seemed to lock directly onto him.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t think of you,”

“I do. I think of you every minute of every day,”

“Is that supposed to make me feel something?”

“You might not understand, but I’m doing this for you. I’m saving us, all of us,”

“Ha. And when you’re done saving everyone, and all you’re left with is whatever stares back at you from the mirror, Suguru, who will save you then?”

He remembered the torment in your eyes as the violence you spent your life concealing threatened to burst forth, he caught some of it in the harsh sound of your laugh as you spat venom at him.

He still didn’t have an answer for you. When all was said and done, and his hands were covered in blood that he could never wash off, and the decay that putrefied his insides befouled the rest of his body, and all he was left with were the words of his mother and the cold look in your eyes, what would he do then? Saviors had always suffered their torments, but he was no saint. The devil walked by his shoulder and forced his mouth open every time he consumed another curse and guided his fist every time his knuckles split against another face.

Crack.

You had closed your window and gone back inside. Suguru took a deep breath and tried to mask his disappointment with smugness. You still loved him, of that he was sure. So he would come back next year to make sure, and perhaps one day you wouldn’t slam the window closed when you sensed his cursed energy. Perhaps one day you would confront him. Perhaps one day you would finally let loose the fire of the rage that you had always used to cleanse foul things. Perhaps one day he would be worthy of being purified by it. Suguru had once dreamed of getting down on his knees and asking for a life with you. Would it not be so much sweeter to die at the feet of the only person who had seen flowers grow where he saw only rot?

A/N: concepts of this have been floating around my drafts ever since I screamed with @gothsuguru about Ethel Cain (ty for matching my freak Kairo <3) and tonight I finally had the time to finish it ! A very late happy new year to you all, my loves, I hope you’re looking after yourselves <3

[moonpjs]

pairing. nerd!haechan x fem!reader | cw. smut, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms

a/n: thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, i hope you like it <3 the request can be found here!

Pussy drunk Haechan just can’t get enough of how you taste ever since the first time he was between your thighs. Always bringing up how you taste better and better each time, never wanting to get bored of it.

After inviting him around to your dorm, initially to help you study for an exam, things took a turn in a way that both of you had hoped for. You remembered more about what makes Haechan tick than anything about the topic you were about to be tested on.

And since then he’s been so entranced by your pussy. He feels like he could be there 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. He can forget about everything and focus all his attention on you and what felt like a blessing between your legs.

Once again, you and Haechan found yourselves in your dorm after your shared class. You both lay on your bed with his arms wrapped around your thighs, pulling you closer nearly every second as he practically made out with your pussy.

You squirmed beneath him, sweet moans slipping through your parted lips, feeling his warm tongue circle over your clit. Occasionally sucking on the bundle of nerves.

His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose every few minutes, having to push them back up every time. Only keeping them on so he could see the pleasure on your face perfectly, taking pride in how he’s making you feel.

“Fuck, you taste so good baby” he whined into your pussy.

You had already cum once, but you know Haechan’s not quite finished at that point. Never hesitating to get at least one more orgasm out of you, only stopping if you tell him to.

A hand found its way to tug on his hair, pushing him onto you, eliciting lengthy whines out of him every time your grip tightened.

The feeling shot straight down to his cock, causing his hips to grind against the bed, trying to find some sort of friction through his shorts. His moans vibrated against your heat, creating a new sensation for you.

You loved the sounds he made, making your core dripping every time you hear them.

The grip on your thighs became stronger as you noticed him rubbing himself onto the sheets.

The view of Haechan at that moment turned you on even more, loving how desperate he was getting, making your back arch and brows knit together.

Haechan continued to lap at your cunt like he was a starved man. Like it was a necessity to live. Never giving either of you a break. Especially when you’d cum for the second time, eyes screwing shut.

Your moans grew more beautiful and lewd at the same time. Your clit felt so sensitive as he licked you clean, not wasting anything.

You’d think he was tired by now, having been at it for about 30 minutes. His forehead showed a sheen behind his locks. But other than that, there was no indication that he was going to stop any time soon.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the loss of contact from his tongue.

Your eyes slowly opened. He raised his head from where he nestled in between your legs, looking up at you. Your hand dropped from his hair to cup his right cheek.

Even after having cum twice and your pussy feeling overstimulated, the way Haechan looked gave you butterflies. He made you shudder and bite your lip. Suddenly not wanting this to be over.

His eyes gazed at you with desire while his lips were plump and covered in your slick. He looked so good, you just wanted to devour him right then and there.

He panted, licking your juices off his lips. He planted wet kisses along the soft skin of your left thigh and then the other before looking up at you again.

“Can you give me one more, baby please?”