#I will fall into a spiral for any question

[rjthirsty]

Bound Forever

Gilbert/Reader Roderic/Reader

Words: 2k

CW: Major Character Death. Angst. Tragedy. Grief. Smut. Route Spoilers.

A/N: @scummy-writes did a piece on Gilbert dying called Normalcy Bias that inspired this piece. We've spoken at length about our Gil headcanons, and I admire her as a writer, so I wanted to give myself a chance to mimic the depth of emotion I read in her works. I'm honestly hoping to cause some tears with this.

Gilbert had disappeared again.

It was always terrifying when he vanished, because you knew the only reason he had for leaving without saying a word - he was unwell. Like a wounded or sick animal, Gil removed himself from the palace to find a place he could rest until either he felt better or he perished. Thankfully he had always returned, but you still hated every time he left, feeling helpless and worried sick that you might not see him again.

Walter knew before you did. He always knew when Gil left, but he wasn't allowed to say anything. That, in itself, was a giveaway on why you couldn't find your husband. Just looking at Walter these days answered the question for you since you had danced this routine enough times to know when Gil had told him to keep things from you. Today, Walter refused to make eye contact with you when you visited his office in the medical ward, pretending like he didn't see you enter. You didn't even need to ask. That was enough.

Roderic knew, though he didn't know where Gil ran off to, or even if it was the same location each time. Walter was likely the only one who truly knew where Gil was. Roderic was painfully aware whenever Gilbert disappeared, scared that his master - his friend - would never return. Since you became a part of their lives, Roderic would stay with you on those long days that Gil vanished and the two of you would hold hands and try to keep each other's minds off the possibility. Neither of you wanted to voice that possibility.

As night fell, the black castle felt darker and more hollow without Gilbert's presence. Alone in your shared room, you restlessly waited for your husband's return. Some absences would span a few days, some only a few hours. Today turned to tomorrow, and a sleepless night passed you by with still no word from him.

Another day with Roderic for company. Another attempt to keep your thoughts from spiraling to the worst case. Perhaps baking would help. Gil could return to an abundance of sweets and maybe, just maybe he'll understand how hard it is for you when he goes off like this.

Another dusk leaving you alone with your fears for company in your shared room. Another sleepless night. Another morning that looks more gray than the previous. Three days was the longest he had ever spent away. It had only been two. There was still hope he would return, though that hope was a candle in the fury of a storm right now, barely keeping lit.

“You need to sleep.” Walter scolded.

“I want to see him as soon as he comes home.” It was a silly reason to keep yourself from sleeping, but even if you attempted to rest, you'd be haunted by the thought of him dying somewhere alone. He was alone right now. Alone and sick.

“I'll wake you when he gets back.” Roderic offered.

You're tired. A short rest would be good for you, but… “I'm scared.”

The tears start falling as you hug yourself. Walter looks away, cursing Gilbert for putting you through this. Roderic watches you, unable to offer any assurances. He's scared, too.

Laying on the large bed you share with your husband, it feels so cold and empty. The sunshine doesn't touch here even with the curtains opened. Your pillow is wet from your tears. You can't seem to quell them.

“I'll be right outside,” Roderic promises.

What good would that do? You're still alone in this large room. Exhaustion weighs your eyelids down until you fall into darkness.

You wake into darkness. The large windows are filled with the night sky. The room has no candles nor lamps lit. A shadow stands near the bed, far enough that his presence is hidden but the dull, midnight light from the sky beyond the windows outlines his form. His black hair shines like obsidian and you draw in a sharp breath.

“Gil?” You whisper his name, fearful that the slightest noise would wake you from this dream and he would fade away like an apparition.

He doesn't answer. He's not really there. Again tears well in your eyes and stream down your cheeks.

“Don't cry, Little Rabbit.” He steps towards the bed, out of the shadows. “Did you miss me that much?”

His red eye gleams from the starlight. His smile is perfectly placed. Now that he's closer you can see the layers he's wearing, still in his cloak, he must have just arrived. You glance towards the door, wondering why Roderic didn't wake you. The closed door gives no answers, though it is clearly late so perhaps he went to bed.

Throwing the blankets off, you jump out of bed and run to your love. You throw your arms around him and nuzzle into his chest and the tears come faster. “Yes, I missed you that much!”

Shakily drawing in breaths between your outpouring of feelings and the sobs you try to swallow down, you continue as you cling to him. “Everytime you leave like that I don't know if I'm ever going to see you again! It's been three days! I thought the worst and I couldn't sleep and you can't keep doing this to me!”

Slowly, Gil's arms wrap and you. Gently, he rubs circles on your back to soothe you. He leans down to softly drop a warm kiss to your forehead. He has no words to comfort you. He makes no promises. He never does.

“That was the last time.”

Except, this time he does.

He's warm in your arms.

You draw back as the horrible realization hits you. Looking up into his single red eye that holds more emotions than Gil ever expressed, you take a step backwards. Shaking your head as if it would do any good to convince yourself this wasn't happening, you back up another step.

“No no no. No. Please. No!” A third step has you stumbling into the bed, falling onto it. You can't even feel your legs anymore.

The man posing as Gilbert slowly came closer. The man who hadn't woke you on your husband's return, because he had never returned. Roderic delicately cups your jaw. Warm hands. He wipes your tears, even as new ones fall. Warm fingers. He speaks in such a sweet voice. A voice you love. “It's alright, Little Rabbit. You won't have to miss me ever again.”

Grief so deep you never thought possible drowns your heart and sobs wrack you. Warm lips kiss your eyes as your pain pours out.

Somehow he was on the bed next to you and you fall against his shoulder. Warm arms hold you close.

He murmurs words of affection and hushes soothing encouragement. And when your sobs finally die down to hiccups and gasps and shuddering breaths, you find a handkerchief already in hand to help clean your face. He guides you through the movements you are too numb to manage on your own.

His lips touch the corner of your mouth. Dazed, you turn towards him and your husband's face looks so forlorn. Fingers touch below your chin, lifting it for lips once again to touch yours. So soft. A slow blink from you and you find your voice.

“Roderic–”

“Gil.” He corrects, and the offer is so tempting.

You knew this was always the plan. You hoped it would be a long time from now, and you had pushed it from your mind. But the time has come and now… it would be so easy to close your eyes and pretend it was all a bad dream.

“Gil.” You repeat, your eyelids falling close.

“That's right, Little Rabbit.”

It's his voice that gusts across your lips. 

A nibble on your bottom lip and a longing sigh rises from your throat. It's his teeth that catches you, so familiar in pain and pleasure.

His tongue touches yours and you can almost believe that he's still there with you. Your mouths move together, chasing the memory of the man you love through clumsy movements that aren't quite right.

It hurts so much. Your chest aches and head throbs and you just want to forget. 

Fingers find clasps, and pull ties, and brush clothing from both of your bodies. Were they yours or his? Does it matter?

Teeth sink into flesh and tongue soothes the pain and your body responds to the training you've endured to appreciate the way his love feels on you. Marks blossom on your skin from his mouth that burns too hot.

Your eyes burn, tears forming between eyelids squeezed tight.

Your chest burns, bleeding out from the inside.

Your groin burns, desire whispering sweetly that if you just let go it'll be alright.

Think of him.

Think of him.

It hurts so, so much.

Your fingers tangle in his hair. His fingers push inside of you. You cry out his name as he rubs along your inner walls, exploring you for the first time, finding the places that cause you to buck into his hand and whimper and moan.

He learns quickly. He has always known.

New overlaps with old as your husband touches on memories from times before. Building that sweet ache in the pit of your belly. Causing your cunt to throb and drip making lewd sounds that your lusty moans overshadow.

You're on your back and he's over you. When did you lie down? He pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper in frustration. You were so close to covering the hurt in your heart with the pleasure of climax and he snatched it away.

He's gone.

A single sob breaks between your gasping breaths. Tears brim again between your closed eyelids. They fall hot, so hot down the sides of your face. You're empty. Alone.

His cock touches your wet folds and you crack your eyes to see your lover with damp lashes. He looks away and buries his face in your neck as he buries his cock inside of you. Your back arches and thighs cling to his hips, as he clings to you with strong arms and roaming hands.

He pumps into you and you can't help but rock with him to squeeze and drag and churn his dick inside of you. Fingers digging into his back. Nails biting skin. He gasps and whimpers and moans near your ear. You love to hear him. His teeth dig into you. It hurts so good.

You're not alone. Your voice grows louder. He's relentless. Pounding your sex and knocking every moan out of you. Biting you again, and again, and again. Your cunt clenching tight as the pressure in your pelvis reaches a tipping point.

His thrusts turn too eager. His rhythm lopes out of pace. But you're so, so close! Please! Just– “Ah! Gil!” His hot hands grip your hips and he slams into you finding his rhythm again and he moans and heat and orgasm and shivers and spasms snap through you.

Your thoughts go blank, flooded with relief from the throbbing from before. Euphoria washes over you, wave after wave as your cunt continues to clench sending another crashing over you, then another. Gil slowed down his pumping to ride out the squeezing milking his cock. And just as you finally thought you were coming to the end of your climax, Gil thrusts deeper, his pelvis flush against yours, trying to push further still as he spills his seed into you.

You gasp. He breathes heavily on top of you. You hold him pressed against you– too hot. So hot. He's stifling. He clings to you. He needs you to smother his own pain. Pain you understand because the both of you share it. Pain neither of you can ever talk about.

He's gone. The two of you are together but his absence in this room you share with your husband is felt, as if there was a void that could never be filled. You hold each other, your hearts bleeding for the same person. Silent tears will be shed and it hurts. So. So. Much.

[dunmeshistash]

why is senshi so hot?

Hotness is subjective so probably because of your personal concept of what hot is which might or might not be influenced by current trends

Also he's just a cutie

[eclaire-went-bam]

hey, what happened to the left believing in second chances? what happened to the belief that if somebody's tangibly doing better, they deserve that chance? you guys realise how common problematic beliefs were when the internet was younger? like, when gamergate was a thing? not that long ago? you guys realise most people on the internet are not from the same moral background as you? you guys realise keeping people out who have changed their beliefs, is only going to discourage more people from doing better? are you guys crazy? why are y'all bringing moral purity into this? it's a powerful thing to recognise things you've been taught were wrong & to then move away from it, especially when you're in a community around it either irl or online. being in a community is such a powerful force in most people's lives. not everyone had the perfect background & not everyone had access to being as educated on social issues as you did. it's fine to personally not forgive someone's problematic history & not interact with them, but to actively exclude them from the cause? get off your high horse, you're harming the movement by gatekeeping it to those with a perfect moral background.

[freepassbound]

The centre cannot hold.

[pepprs]

um… bad jew moment 💃🏻

[reidrum]

I can't stop thinking munch!spencer x reader who's insecure about having thick thighs (it's me, I'm reader)

take a seat | s.r

hi thank u for requesting!! i tried to be ambiguous about reader’s size but if it doesn’t come across that way lemme know and ill fix it!!!

wc: 1.7k

cw: 18+ smut minors dni, afab reader, face sitting, munch!spencer my beloved, insecure!reader who i took to be a little self indulgent sorry, fluff, hurt comfort but no hurt lol

this is also not proofread sorry

_______________________________________________

the thing about spencer is if you have any fear or qualm about anything, his main verbal form of comfort is information. and it’s not a bad thing, not at all. finding comfort in the facts is what spencer hopes to achieve when he spews his tidbits. it’s just, sometimes it’ll do more harm than good, or even worse, do nothing at all.

that’s where you’re at right now, sitting in spencer’s room with your legs tucked under you while he sits up at the head of the bed. the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone, tie strewn somewhere in the room. you’re still fully clothed albeit in a loose t shirt and some panties. the want in his eyes is undeniable, his question still lingering in the air.

you weren’t exactly the most confident person, but was anyone really? did people really wake up in the morning, look at themselves in the mirror and say, ‘wow, i look beautiful today.”? tell themselves they’re going to have a good day because they said so?

so when you’d spent your whole life living in the shadows trying to blend in and just do your job, one day an ever observant spencer reid saw you struggling to carry your coffee and your bag into the bullpen and came to your rescue before it could spill all over you. you were a mumbling mess, uttering thank you’s and i’m so sorrys and i’ll be more careful next time. but his gaze on you was unwavering, even in the face of your uneasiness, and firmly but softly told you nothing was wrong, and suggested that maybe you and him should get coffee before work to avoid this rush next time.

falling in love with him was too easy after that.

spencer never failed to make you feel cherished, loved, safe, always going above and beyond to care for your needs and wants. the trust you had in him was immense and you knew he would never steer you astray.

so sitting in front of him on his bed while he adorns a small smirk asking, no telling, you to sit on his face, made you falter a bit.

“you want me, to sit on your face?”

he nods, “yeah.”

any thought you’ve ever had vanishes from your brain, “b—but, won’t it be uncomfortable? for you?”

“not at all.”

seeing spencer be surprisingly calm about this is having the opposite effect on you, creating the unsettlement in your gut. like he’s been thinking about this for while, has wanted you at his mercy in a way you haven’t experienced before, has thought through all the facts and possibilities and ruled with absolute certainty that this was what he wanted, needed. and right now your body is betraying your mind as the heat pools between your legs.

but that brain of yours, a blessing with its vast knowledge but a curse at how easily a single thought can send you into a deep spiral, is working overtime to convince you that this isn’t really what he wants.

he can see the cogs working overtime and scoots closer to you and places a comforting hand on your thigh to rub soothing shapes with his thumb, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“nothing i-“ you stop before you can get too deep.

his eyes look at you expectantly, luring you to continue.

“what if i hurt you?”

“that is literally impossible.”

“what if i suffocate you?”

“then that would be a great way to go out.” he chuckles.

you lightly slap his leg, “stop that.”

he gestures you closer to sit curled into his side, a comforting arm smoothing you up and down. “if you really don’t want to do it that’s okay i don’t want to push you, just want you to feel good s’all.”

you ponder for a minute, “…you would tell me if it’s too much right?”

“i would,” he nods, “but i won’t need to.”

he squeezes your hand in reassurance, and you remember that spencer reid would never lie to you.

which is why you say, “okay.”

his eyes light up like a carnival, “yeah?”

you take a deep breath, “yeah.”

“come here,” cupping your cheek to bring in and kiss you.

it starts off slow, deliberate. like he wants you to know how much he appreciates you placing your trust in his possession, and how gently and carefully he’s going to take care of it.

you hike a leg over his lap to straddle him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his lips mark you like a road map. he moves down your jaw and uses his nose to nudge your neck away, giving him better access to litter the skin with love bites.

the moans spilling from your mouth spur him on, he starts subconsciously bucking his hips up causing you to grow restless for more.

he senses this and motions for you to lift up on your knees above him so he can slide his body down flat between your legs. the warm palms of his hands rest where your thighs meet the swell of your ass.

you look down at the sight of him laid out for you, and catch his shit eating grin staring back. the dichotomy this position gives you with a sense of power to be over him like this but the vulnerability at feeling so exposed caused a swirl of emotions for you.

“hey,” he squeezes his palms laid on your ass, “if this is a lot, that’s okay.”

“no, no.i think i want this. i’m just scared.” you softly admit.

“nothing to be scared of, angel. it’s not like i haven’t eaten you out before, it’s just a different position,” his hands move closer to your core, “let me make you feel good, please.”

you stare into his eyes once more, being met with nothing but trust and lust for you. with a deep breath, you nod your head.

he smirks again, “alright sweetheart, take a seat.”

you slowly inch your body up his own, hearing him outwardly groan as your cunt came into his line of sight.

“jesus fuck, you have the prettiest pussy.”

you preen at his words once you’ve reached the position, and you hover in hesitation. he wraps his arms under and around your legs and gently pulls you down.

and he attacks you like a man starved. his tongue licking a full stripe up your cunt, letting it swirl around your clit. the feeling is so intense in this position you have to lean forward and brace yourself on the headboard.

with a gasp you whine out his name, “oh my god, fuck.” he continues to use his tongue to barrel you towards your peak, knowing exactly where to touch and lick to rile you up.

he can tell you’re still holding back, feeling the tense muscles in your upper thighs harden under his touch. with a sharp tug he pulls you to be seated fully on his face, and he lets out a deep groan that vibrates through your whole body.

you’re fully at his mercy now, held down by his large hands and his mouth working so hard to make you see stars. the pleasure is overtaking all of your senses, when you look down to meet his eyes they’re staring right back at you, reveling in your ecstasy. a languished moan leaves you as you tangle your hands in his hair and pull.

he laps up your arousal with urgency, tongue moving in such a delicate and intricate way you would think he’s writing a love letter with it.

the coil in your gut starts to tighten and you can feel your peak coming fast, “spence…” you whine.

he hums in response, silently acknowledging what you mean. one more slow lick up and down your slit was all it took to push you overboard. the endorphins rush over you like a tsunami as you try to ride out the wave of your orgasm.

spencer doesn’t stop his motions and continues to work your overly sensitive clit, gripping your legs tighter to him as he prevents you from escaping.

“shit, oh god baby, you need to st—stop.” you brokenly moan out. you tug on his hair hard as you try to release his grip on you, and after a few minutes he takes pity and lets you go.

you let out a big and tired sigh as you flop to the side of him, one leg still draped over him as you’re both panting heavily, attempting to come down from the heat of the moment.

he smoothes out the leg over him with his hand and turns to face you, face plastered with a stupid grin and glistening with you.

“see? that wasn’t so bad.”

you scoff breathlessly, “i think maybe you’re trying to kill me.”

“maybe,” he laughs, “ but you liked it right?”

you nod bashfully, “did you…like it?”

his eyes widen, “are you kidding? you looked so hot it drove me insane. you’re always so beautiful but having you like that…i like making you feel good, it makes me feel really good, and that is a win-win.”

you smile at him and move closer to fit under his arm and into his side, your hand resting on his chest. he tightens his arm around you and whisper, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you say through hooded eyes. your hand starts trailing lower, “must have been really good for you seeing how painful this looks.” you softly say, gesturing to the aching bulge in his boxers, the dark patch stained by precum.

his breath hitches as you inch closer, “baby, no it’s okay. you don’t have to do th—“ the sentence gets cut off when your hand gives him a tentative squeeze.

“i don’t have to, but i want to. i should thank you somehow for making me feel so good,” your voice dropping an octave in lust, “will you let me show my thanks, honey?”

you stare at him with the sultriest doe eyes he’s ever seen, and he’s thoroughly convinced in that moment that you are, in fact, trying to kill him.

still a great way to go out, he thinks.

[goodbird1]

My firecracker

Alastor x fem reader

Word count: 634

Summary: Charlie learns about Alastor wife.

Warnings: mention of death and murder (please tell me if I miss any)

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Alastor stood on a balcony overlooking the city. The hotel was celebrating for some reason or another he didn't particularly care. Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out a locket. Unclasping it reveals an image of a woman.

“I thought doing this would make me feel better in some way, or at least dull the pain for the time being” Alastor began, looking down at the locket. “It was foolish of me to think that would happen. It's happening all over again, and I don't think I have a chance to see you again.”

Tears started swelling in his eyes. Quickly pulling out a handkerchief and wiping them away.

“You know I always took you as someone who likes entertainment and parties are pretty entertaining” Charlie said coming out on the balcony.

“Oh I'm just getting some fresh air, it's far too stuffy in there” Alastor replied, shoving the locket back in his coat. Not before Charlie notices.

“What's that?” Charlie said, reaching out.

Instinctively Alastor slapped Charlie's hand away, holding the locket even closer now. Towering over her with a cruel look on his face, he saw the fear in her eyes. Normally he'd relish in it but this was no sight he wanted to see on charlie. Signing he pulled out the locket again shifting it through his fingers.

“My apologies dear,” he said, turning back to the city. “I didn't mean to snap, it's a locket with my wife's photo in it, it's the only thing I have left of her.”

“You never told me you were married,” Charlie said, coming to Alastor's side.

“I don't much like to talk about it” Alastor signed.

“Can I ask, what was she like?” Charlie questioned.

“Oh she was wonderful” He began. “She was a firecracker, always 3 steps ahead of everyone. Beat you in any game and once you thought you had the upper hand she'd pull the rug right out from your feet. She was kind and considerate, and believed in second chances. She'd taught me that. And oh she could sing like an angel. I would play the piano, she would sing and the world would fade away.”

“She sounds amazing, you know maybe if you redeem yourself you can see her again in heaven!”

“Haha oh darling, anybody worth knowing comes down here!” Alastor said between laughs. “She would always tell me she would rather burn in hell with me than sit alone in heaven. Did you know that our fathers decided to put us together to ‘contain our unnatural behavior’? And she came up with a plan to kill both our families and then burn the evidence! Oh it was then I knew she was the one.”

Memories started flooding back when they were both alive and then both died. But this time they didn't hurt so much now.

“What happened to her?” Charlie asked, bring Alastor back to reality.

“The first or the second time?” Alastor joked trying not to spiral.

“Both?” She whispered hesitantly.

“The first time she was in a tree, mistaken for a bird and shot down the fall was what killed her. The second time…” Alastor choked clutching the locket for dear life. Clearing his voice he started again. “Well you don't make it as far as I have without making a few enemies. They sent her back in pieces.”

“That's awful!” Charlie exclaimed.

“No need to worry they won't hurt anyone now.” Signing, he stepped away from the edge. “Come on dear, let's join the party.”

“Hey Al, can I ask one more thing?”

“And what would that be?”

“Do you think she would have liked the hotel?”

Turning fully around to face Charlie. A kind smile across his face with a hand reaching out for her.“Oh she would love it.”

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[say-al0e]

Cling

Rating: M | This is smut! Minors, DNI! No one under 18!

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much. Warnings: Unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), blink and you'll miss it angst. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader Words: 5.5k

Though the sun had long disappeared, dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and reds hours ago, the scent of artificial coconut and chlorine lingered as you lounged beside the Harrington pool.

The kids disappeared with Eddie the moment the sky tinted pink, off to finish a campaign they spent much of the day discussing, and Robin followed soon after with a weak excuse designed to hide her true destination of Vicky’s house - despite the fact that you all knew.

That left you and Steve, always the last two standing.

Steve stretched out on a lounge chair to your left - sunglasses resting atop his head, t-shirt forgotten somewhere in the backyard, garishly patterned swim trunks resting low on his hips. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling evenly, though you knew he was far from sleep.

Regardless, you took the chance to study him in the rare moment of silence.

The apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were tinted pink, not burned enough to cause concern but clearly effected by his time in the sun. His hair was wild and beginning to curl, free of gel and still a little damp from his last dip in the pool. The weeks of swimming, back in the pool where he spent so much time growing up, had toned his arms - his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs - and you could see the result of his resumed habits so clearly.

A swath of hair covered his chest, tapered into a faint line that disappeared into the band of his trunks, and you were struck by just how many times you’d been here - sitting to his right, smelling of chlorine and coconut. Over a decade of friendship, more than half your life, and you’d witnessed Steve go from a lanky boy to a confident twenty-something. 

Moments like this reminded you of why your best friend was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Hawkins and why, somewhere along the line, you joined the long list of those desperate for him to give you the time of day.

Only, you were lucky enough to be one of the few that had Steve’s full attention. There was little question that he knew everything - nearly everything, not this, never this - there was to know about you. Even less of a question that you would be sharing his bed later on, though not in the way you’d secretly started to want.

“Quit starin’ at me, creep.” Steve’s voice came then, before you could begin to spiral and question whether you could handle another night of sleeping beside him - wrapped in his embrace, his sheets, his scent - and you hummed.

“Just seeing if I need to get the aloe,” you teased, hoping it sounded as light as you meant it. “Should’ve listened to me, when I told you to put on sunscreen.”

Steve laughed. “You mean I should’ve sat still while you attacked me with it. I would’ve, if you’d given me some warning. Not nice to just start mauling a guy.”

“I know you dream about me mauling you.” The deflection was easy, reflexive, and accompanied by a laugh that rang a touch hollow in your own ears but Steve huffed, good-natured, anyway.

“Hm. Think that’s the other way around.” He cracked open an eye, then, and turned his head to glance at you while you reached for his half-empty beer in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Please,” you scoffed, though it was weaker than you intended. “I can’t get you to stop touching me.”

Despite his upbringing - or, really, because of it - Steve sought physical affection in those closest to him. It was true that he hadn’t stopped touching you over the course of your friendship, hugs and holding hands and cuddling on the couch. There was never any hesitation, never any awkward shuffling or adjusting. It was as natural as breathing, comfortable, and lately, you savored every brush of his skin against yours.

Still, Steve waved a dismissive hand and reached for the pack of cigarettes he discarded on the table after the kids left. “Sure.” He lit one, fixed you with a teasing grin as he took a drag. “Easy for you to say when you’re the clingiest person I know.”

The observation was not unkind. If anything, it was soft - fond. It was a joke he’d made before, once or twice, but the label ‘clingy’ struck a nerve that he likely had no idea even existed. One that hadn’t existed until recently.

There was a conversation that you weren’t supposed to hear. It was Eddie, asking the kids if he had a chance - whether you and Steve were, you know, a thing - and their varying responses. He only asked because of how close you were, he explained, how often Steve had an arm around you or you clasped his hand in yours.

Someone, you didn’t catch who because the words rang harsh in your ears, dismissed his concerns with the dreaded refusal, “Just friends.” Though another followed it with, “I’d be annoyed if I were Steve. She’s always all over him and they’re not even dating. So clingy.”

Eddie laughed, as did the others, and you waited just beyond the door for a few moments to pretend that you hadn’t heard.

After, you tried to distance yourself, if only a little, without arousing Steve’s suspicions. Despite being called clueless, unobservant or even stupid, despite his difficulty connecting the dots, there was little about you that escaped his notice. It was difficult to create space when none had existed since you were children and, clearly, you hadn’t done a very good job, anyway.

“Yeah, well, I’ll unstick myself from your side.” You intended the quip to be teasing, a joke that earned you a laugh or a soft swat as you passed him by, but it came out wrong. The words were acidic, tasted bitter in the back of your throat as they rolled off your tongue, and you could see him wince from the sting of them as you stood from your chair. “I’m gonna go shower,” you deflected, unable to look at him. “Chlorine’s burning my eyes.”

Steve sat upright as you gathered your towel and discarded clothes, your empty soda can and the tube of tropical sunscreen. He stubbed out his cigarette and reached out, hand searching for yours and coming up empty for the first time in a long time.

“Wait,” he urged, rising to his feet as you busied yourself with removing any trace of your presence from the immediate vicinity. “Did I… what did I say? Whatever it was, I didn’t -“ His brows furrowed as he lifted the hand you avoided and carded it through his hair, sighing when you winced at the sound of his sunglasses clattering to the ground.

“You didn’t - it’s nothing.” Steve tipped his head, an attempt to catch your eye as you blinked back the stinging sensation - chlorine, really, and overwhelmed, traitorous tears. “Just tired.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his face. He wore a concerned frown, warm eyes raking over your form as he recounted the last few moments, before he winced. “Oh. Shit. Hey, you know I’m joking,” he insisted, taking a half-step closer. And when you took a full step back, he frozen, uncertain - unused to the distance. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I love it when you’re close to me. It’s nice. I’m not - that was a shitty thing to say.”

“It’s okay.” You waved him off, a dismissive hand held aloft for a moment before dropping to hold your towel close to your chest, and hoped he believed the crack in your voice was from the yelling you’d done earlier in the day. “It’s true, ’s’what everyone thinks, anyway.”

“What?” He looked confused, frown deepening as he tried again. He took a cautious step to close some of the distance and lifted a hand to reach out for you before thinking better of it. His hand fell to his side and you clutched the material in your arms tight to your chest to keep from reaching out yourself. “No one thinks that.”

“They do,” you confessed, finally lifting your head to meet his gaze as you forced a laugh. “They think it’s weird and sad and annoying that I’m, like, all over you. They think I’m, like, obsessed or something.” The admission was uttered casually, as easily as you could manage when your heart felt as if it might beat out of your chest, and Steve took another tentative step forward.

“Who said that?”

Though it was phrased as a question, it came out a demand. His expression shifted, flickered from soft concern to annoyance - not at you, very rarely at you - as he waited.

“I overheard the kids joking about it,” you told him with a sigh. “And back when you were dating Nancy, Tommy and Carol said something. So did Billy. It didn’t bother me then ‘cause Tommy and Carol and Billy were morons, but now, well… Maybe they were right. I - I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so… attached.”

Steve stepped closer then, insistent despite your feeble attempt to keep the distance, and reached out for you. One warm, large hand fell to your waist, fingers finding bare skin still warm from the sun while the other cupped your cheek. He was patient, soft, as he encouraged you to meet his eyes once more.

“They were total morons. I’m honestly surprised they paid enough attention to someone else to notice,” he huffed, rolling his eyes at the memory of your former friends. “And the kids, they’re just kids. They don’t - don’t listen to them, alright. I don’t think you’re clingy or annoying or sad or anything else. I think you’re my best friend and I like being close to you.”

Though it brought you comfort to hear how adamantly he denied thinking you were clingy - how adamantly he denied finding your constant presence annoying - the reminder that he only saw you as a friend did little to ease the roiling in the pit of your stomach. 

A fresh wave of traitorous tears stung at the backs of your eyes and you did your best to blink them away as you nodded. “Yeah,” you nodded, acknowledging him with a watery half-smile. “Okay.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he asserted, dipping his head to search your face for the answer to a question he had yet to ask. “I want you close to me, like, all the time. Robin laughs at me but I don’t really know what to do when you’re not there. I like it when you hold my hand or sit on my lap. It… it makes me feel like you want me with you as much as I want to be with you.”

Though the lump in your throat persisted, though the tears still threatened to fall, you immediately reassured him. “Of course I want you to be with me. I love spending time with you.” You sighed, allowing yourself to melt into Steve’s touch. “It’s always been us.”

“Always has been, always will be,” he confirmed, smile soft but still a touch concerned. He hesitated for a moment, seeming to weigh his words for the first time in a long time, before he settled on asking, “What’s up, babe? Why’d it bother you so much?”

“It’s stupid.”

Immediately, Steve shook his head. He refused to allow you to wave it off, to dismiss the tease that clearly hurt your feelings, as his thumb stroked your cheek. “It’s not, not if it’s bothering you.”

“I just…” You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you attempted to gather your thoughts. Though Steve’s closeness would’ve brought you comfort under ordinary circumstances, it made it difficult for you to concentrate as your heart began to beat a touch too fast. “Just been thinking,” you finally began, choosing your words carefully. “It was fine when we were kids but, I mean, we’re adults now. What happens when one of your dates pays off and you find someone to fall in love with? Don’t think she’ll be too happy with, you know, this. It’s not like we can cuddle on the couch or have sleepovers for the rest of our lives.”

Steve remained quiet for a long moment - a silence that stretched on forever, thick and suffocating - and you swallowed the emotion clumping in the back of your throat before opening your eyes. You were met with his warm gaze, soft brown eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite read as he took a half-step closer.

“What if… I mean, we could.” Two words, and you felt frozen in uncertainty. Everything around you, everything outside of Steve, ceased to exist. You could feel your heart thudding heavily in your chest, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for him to elaborate. “The dates,” he began, now looking as nervous as you felt, “none of them have felt right. They don’t feel like this, like us. They don’t make me feel like you do.”

For months, you’d dreamt that Steve felt the same way. You imagined that somewhere, beneath the fond smiles and teasing jabs lingered the same nerves, the same butterflies, the same all-encompassing love. You imagined that his head was full of the same ‘what-if’s’ as you shared his bed, the same hope that you’d share the same bed for the rest of your life. You dreamt that he would one day confess his love and end your hopeless attempt at getting over him.

But now that it seemed within your grasp, so close you could practically feel his heart beating just as erratically as your own, it felt too good to be true.

“What does that mean?”

The question came as a whisper, afraid that if you spoke too loud you might break whatever spell had been cast over the backyard, but Steve heard it clearly. He met it with a half-smile as the hand on your hip began to trace nonsensical patterns across your skin - a nervous habit that made you feel as if your skin was on fire.

“Means that I want to keep holding your hand and having sleepovers,” he elaborated, voice soft in the still of the night. “Means that I… I don’t want to keep going on dates with anyone but you. Every time I think about the future, it changes - what I’m doing, where I live. But you’re always there and that’s all I want. I’ve been trying to pretend like I’m not in love with you but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Steve’s confession rang in your ears, crashed over you like a tidal wave, and left you unable to speak - unable to breathe. He waited, patient, understanding, as your racing thoughts scrambled in search of something coherent. But when you failed to gather anything resembling a complete sentence, you decided to allow your actions to speak for you.

In the way that you’d started to imagine as you drifted off to sleep, you dropped the items in your arms and lifted your hands to tangle in his hair to pull him in close. He smelled of summer - cigarettes, cheap beer, artificial coconut and chlorine - and something so unerringly Steve that you suddenly couldn’t imagine being this close to anyone else.

The hand on your cheek was encouraging, soft and warm as he tipped your chin, and you gave in to the urge you’d been fighting. With one step, you pressed yourself close - your chest meeting his, the warmth of his bare skin setting your nerve endings alight - and pressed your mouth to his.

Despite your expectations, there were no fireworks, no sparks or heavenly choirs, but there was an instant sense of comfort. Kissing Steve felt like coming home, warm and easy, as if you’d done it a thousand times before. 

There was no awkward shuffling, no tentative brushes of uncertain lips. Instead, you moved together seamlessly. His body slotted against yours perfectly, fit exactly as if you belonged there - together, intertwined. His lips were soft, as plush as you’d imagined, and his skin was so warm that you wondered if you would be branded with his touch before the night was over.

Though your fantasies varied - desperate kisses, eager to make up for lost time; filthy ones, a mess of lips and tongues and teeth, as you swapped spit and stumbled down a dark hallway toward his bedroom; soft kisses, designed to convey years of unspoken feelings - this kiss destroyed them all.

It was soft, slow and eager as you sought to become acquainted with the taste of one another, and laced with the underlying promise of a beautiful future.

Steve’s touch was eager, unrestrained and achingly familiar, as he held you close and swallowed the soft noises you made. Every breathless gasp and quiet sigh of pleasure, was met with a hum of his own as he slipped the hand on your cheek to the back of your neck.

Neither of you wanted the kiss to end, content to breathe in one another until your lungs collapsed, but the lack of oxygen and the reality of the situation had you feeling dizzy enough to break away. But as close as you’d always been, Steve kept you pressed tight to his body and rested his forehead against yours.

“Taking that to mean you’re in love with me, too,” he teased, breathless as he searched your face for any sign of regret, of hesitance. When he found none, he smiled - bright, happy, easy. “Totally not cool of me to admit, but I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“You’ve never been cool, Stevie,” you returned, giggling as he pinched your side.

“Was gonna be nice,” he huffed, pretending to be put out though his grin never faltered as he shifted his head, brushed his nose against yours. “Tell you how pretty I think you are, how I want to spend the rest of my life with you; all that mushy stuff. But since you wanna be mean…”

Before you could blink, giggle out a teasing apology for your perceived slight, Steve’s arms fell to your waist. He held you close, lifted easily, and carried you the few steps to the edge of the pool. The moment you realized his intentions, the moment you opened your mouth to squeal out a plea for him to stop, Steve stepped over the edge and plunged you both into the water.

Even as you fell, sinking into the deep end, Steve kept you close. He hauled you both back up above the water, laughing as you huffed - thankfully used to this, almost expecting it as he attempted it every year.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grinned, dark hair dripping into his eyes as he guided you both into a more manageable depth and encouraged you to wrap your legs around his waist. “All this could’ve been avoided if you’d just been nice to me,” he reasoned.

“I’m always nice to you, Stevie.” You weren’t - your friendship was an equal mixture of soft encouragement, soft words and even softer touches, and teasing jabs - but Steve hummed, just the same. “But I can be even nicer.”

“Know what would be really nice?” When you hummed, Steve returned a hand to cup your cheek - tipping your head to meet your eyes, only a hint of insecurity swirling amongst the warm, soft brown. “Telling me I’m not getting all this wrong. I… I know I don’t always get it,” he acknowledged, swallowing thickly, “but I… I get this, right?”

“Oh, Steve. The reason I got so freaked out about the clingy thing,” you began, lifting your hands to brush the damp hair from his forehead, “was because I was afraid you’d see it, how in love I am. I… I’ve been in love with you for a while. You’re it for me, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, then, relieved - elated, clearly brimming with joy at the revelation - and leaned forward to close the gap. The press of his mouth to yours was eager, firm, and relieved some of the ache in your chest, the fear that this was something you’d dreamt up, too good to be true. He crowded you against the wall, body caging you in as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you sighed as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Though the pool water was cool, the press of Steve’s body against yours had you melting. He always ran warm, left you blistering in the wake of his hands exploring your skin, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest as his fingers mapped the slivers of skin he’d only held through fabric.

“Babe,” he breathed, mouth barely parted from yours as you shifted your hips, “don’t wanna do this in the pool. Not the first time. Let me take you inside.”

The urgency in his tone drew a soft moan from you, eager to feel his touch and touch him in return. “Please. Waited so long, don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Desperation, eager and hurried, that had lingered beneath the surface of the entire encounter - a desire to give in, finally, after waiting for so long - showed clearly as you both rushed out of the pool. Steve remained close to you, one hand on your hip even as you both roughly toweled off, and ushered you into the house.

The Harrington house was as familiar to you as your own. It was a space you could navigate with your eyes closed, under the worst circumstances, and you were grateful for the knowledge as you and Steve rushed up the stairs to his bedroom without pause.

As many times as you’d stepped foot in Steve’s room, as many nights as you’d spent wrapped in his sheets, there was an understandable difference in this moment. The tension was palpable and, despite how eager you both were, you both faltered for a moment as the door clicked shut behind you.

“This… we don’t have to do anything,” he began, stepping close, his palm warm against your waist. “We can just shower, maybe watch a movie or something before bed.”

Again, rather than fumbling for a coherent sentence - attempting to make sense of the thoughts that remained scrambled in your brain - you reached out for him. Steve sighed as your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, eyes blazing with a heat that made your head spin, and you almost hated to lose the sight of his parted lips and lust blown eyes as your mouth pressed to his.

Steve’s hands began to wander, fingers mapping your skin in a desperate bid to commit it all to memory, as he walked you backwards. The plush of his bed hit the back of your knees, duvet soft, and he followed you down easily. With a knee pressed into the mattress beside your hip, a hand beside your head, Steve hovered above you, mouth never leaving yours.

While his fingers traced the skin of your stomach, your hips, your shoulders, your thighs, you brought your own to his chest. You raked your nails over his exposed skin, committing the warmth of him to memory, as he broke the kiss to lavish your neck with attention.

As he nosed at your jaw, lips pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, his hand fell to your breast, eagerly cupping the soft flesh over the damp material of your swimsuit.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed, reverence lacing his tone as his hand flexed. “So warm, so soft. Smell nice.”

“It’s the sunscreen,” you gasped, words pitching higher as his lips latched onto the spot just beneath your ear. “You should try it.”

“Mm. You can put some on me tomorrow,” he offered, tongue darting out to soothe spot he’d nipped.

The promise was laced with an eager desire that had your hands wandering, nails raking over the trail of hair dipping into the band of his trunks, and you could feel the contraction of his stomach as he inhaled sharply. You knew that you tasted of chlorine and chemicals, of summer, but Steve didn’t seem to mind as he continued pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

Eagerly, he began to dip lower, his lips exploring your heated skin and leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Every touch was electric, sent a shockwave through your system and left your chest aching with a warmth that you hoped would never cool. You could feel the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach, gathering slick between your thighs, as Steve nipped at the skin of your chest.

Skilled hands made quick work of the fabric covering your chest, easily ridding you of the damp suit without lifting his head from your skin, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as Steve began to make his way down. He nipped at the delicate skin of your chest, stubble scraping your skin in the most delicious way as he shifted to free his hands.

As Steve’s hands shifted, cupped your breasts and hummed, your own hand dipped beneath the band of his trunks. Your fingers brushed the warm skin, reveling in the stuttering breath Steve released, even as his own hands began to trail downward.

“Always pretty,” he complimented, voice rough as he began to follow the path blazed by his hands, pressing kisses down your chest and stomach.  “But this,” he hummed, grinning when you whined as he moved out of reach, “too fuckin’ pretty. Not fair.”

“You’re one to talk.” It was breathless, a gasp that escaped as his lips latched onto a patch of skin near your hip, and Steve grinned. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie. ’S’distracting.”

Steve continued to sink lower, mouth blazing a devastating path across your skin, as his hands fell to the plush of your thighs. He spread them easily, settled between them, and glanced up at you from near the foot of his bed with a devilish smirk that reminded you of the days of King Steve - handsome, flirty, charming.

“How’ve we never done this before?” His hands drifted closer to your aching cunt, so close to where you desperately wanted him yet so far away as his mouth pressed to your inner thigh. “Wanna spend the rest of my life here.”

“Haven’t even got my bathing suit off,” you teased, though it was weak - wrecked, already so entirely destroyed for him. But Steve took it as a challenge.

Almost immediately, Steve’s hands slipped beneath the band of your bottoms and tugged, easily working the damp fabric down your thighs. The moment they were gone, tossed across the room to be found later, he settled back between them and grinned.

Before you could tease, make a joke about him being eager, Steve’s hands shifted exactly where you wanted them. Warm fingers swiped at your slick folds, gathered the evidence of your arousal easily, before they lifted to his waiting mouth. Your lungs constricted and breathing felt impossible as you watched him lap at the slick, an exaggerated moan leaving his lips as he pulled them free with a wink.

“Knew you’d taste amazing,” he complimented, dipping his head to nip at your inner thigh.

Steve nosed at the juncture of your thigh as his fingers returned to your folds and you could feel his triumphant grin when you gasped as his thumb found your clit. But he didn’t allow you time to speak as he dipped his head and licked a stripe along your slit.

Large hands found your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin to keep you spread open as he lapped at you. There was no tentative tasting, no hesitant swipe of his tongue; Steve ate you like a man starved.

Those plush lips wrapped around your clit, eagerly tasting all you had to give, as his fingers returned to your puffy folds. He swiped them through your slick, gathered it on his fingers, before pressing them into you and working to open you up. 

“You’re,” a gasp interrupted you, stole your breathe as Steve glanced up at you from between your thighs - his shoulders keeping you spread open, hair caught between your fingers. “Fuck, Stevie, you’re good at that.”

Steve preened under the praise, lashes fluttering at that and the combination of your fingers yanking at his hair, as his fingers - longer, thicker than yours; easily pressing into the spaces you could never quite reach - sank deeper into you. 

As desperate as you were to feel him, to have him push you over the edge, this wasn’t the way you wanted to go. You wanted to feel him, to feel his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips met yours, and you told him as much as you tugged at his hair.

“Wanna feel you, Stevie, please,” you begged, stomach tight and chest aching as you desperately sought to catch your breath. 

“Fuck.” Steve’s forehead pressed to your thigh, warm breath fanning over your sticky skin. “Wanted to hear you say that forever,” he admitted, eagerly clambering up to shove his trunks down his hips.

As Steve shoved his swim trunks down, you tipped your head - eager to see if the rumors were true. And just as you’d heard, Steve was larger than you ever could’ve imagined. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with, bigger than anything you’d seen, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out to touch him.

The tip was an angry red, dripping precum, and Steve swore as your thumb brushed at the pearly bead. “Fuck, you’re so big,” you whined, wondering how he would fit - eagerly anticipating the stretch of him.

“Can’t say shit like that,” he huffed, laughing - pink cheeks blazing, embarrassed and secretly pleased at the attention - as he settled above you. “Ego’s already too big,” he teased.

“Not the only thing,” you returned, grinning when he laughed, fingers dipping between your thighs. “Fuck me, Stevie, please.”

“Anything you want,” he promised, hand wrapping around the base of his cock and guiding it to your puffy folds. He dragged the head through the slick, both of you moaning at the contact, before he notched the head at your entrance and pressed forward.

The stretch of him was delicious, too much and not enough all at once, and you swore you could feel him in the back of your throat as he sank into you. He went slow, careful, eager not to hurt you, but with every inch he sank forward, you were desperate to feel him fully.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Steve was pressed fully into you. It was overwhelming, being so impossibly close to him - completely intertwined, bodies as one - and all you could do was pull him into a searing kiss.

The kiss was a mess, a clash of tongue and teeth, uncoordinated but so satisfying as his hand gripped your hip. You could feel him surrounding you, all-encompassing, and you never wanted the moment to end.

Even as his hips began to snap, his rhythm steady, deep, you struggled to catch your breath - to care about anything other than the warmth of his skin against yours, the scent of him, the weight of him over you. The only thing you could say was his name, repeated like a prayer as his thumb found your clit and his lips remained just inches from your own.

Steve was all that existed, all that had ever existed, and suddenly the future was bright. There was hope, an eager desire to spend the rest of your life here - in this moment, with Steve pressed close - and you couldn’t help but whimper out a desperate, “I love you,” as you felt yourself barreling toward the edge.

The words were returned in a reverent chant, equally desperate, as you felt his hips begin to stutter. You were both nearly there, just a few presses of his hips - another swipe of his thumb, another press of his mouth to your heated skin - and you were careening over the edge with Steve following shortly after.

Warmth flooded your veins, his spend filling you so completely, and his lips sought yours despite your shared inability to regain your breath. It didn’t matter, not when all that existed was this moment, and you didn’t care that Steve’s weight had fallen to press you deeper into the mattress.

For a few long moments, you both lay there - gasping, fighting to catch your breath and return to the moment at hand - before Steve pulled away just enough to settle at your side. There was no distance left between you, slick skin pressed together, and you would’ve been content to lie there forever.

Steve, it seemed, felt the same as he settled into the pillow and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Though the afternoon began with a fear that Steve would see you as clingy, that he would never love you in the way you loved him, you were ending the night in the only place you wanted to be; clinging to your boyfriend, sated and happy and looking forward to the future for the first time in a long time.

______________________________________________________

Author's Note: This was inspired by a sunscreen, believe it or not. Don't know how we got here but it was a fun journey.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff​, @valthevalkyrie-main​, @crying-caro​, @inglourious-imagines​

[greynatomy]

rivals?

alexia putellas x messi!reader

request here

with all the alexia angst being posted (my fault), here’s some fluff

———

In the world of professional football, rivalry between two players are always one that many fans are eager to watch.

In the men’s world of football, there was Messi and Ronaldo.

In the women’s, Messi and Putellas. Two of the most sought after female footballers of this time.

You and Alexia were known as fierce rivals on the field when competing for your country. You for Argentina, Alexia for Spain. Both of your competitiveness fueling debates among fans. Little did everyone know, behind the scenes, you both shared a secret that could rival the on-field intensity.

Away from the spotlight, you and Alexia were much more than rivals and teammates — you were married.

Your love story began when you’d transferred from playing in the Women’s Super League to Barça. From the first time she’d laid her eyes on you, there was an instant connection. At first she didn’t know how to feel about your transfer, only having played against you for the national team, where the rivalry grew and grew, but as you both played for Barça, the understanding and pressure you both experience helped you grow closer.

Late-night rendezvous, secret getaways, and coded messages allowed you to maintain your privacy. It was difficult to keep everything a secret, something you’ve both agreed on. Time moved quickly from the first time she’d seen you in a Barça kit to now, six years later.

You’re both cuddled up on the couch, watching a replay of the match you’ve just played, pointing out the things you and the team could have done better, when you heard some whining on the baby monitor searched up on the coffee table.

With a kiss to your head, Alexia got up to see what the fuss was all about. You watched on through the monitor, seeing how your wife delicately held and talked to your two year old, making you fall in love with her all over again.

“See look there’s Mami.” Alexia points you out, walking in with Rosa in her arms.

“Mami.” Rosa mumbles, arms reaching out for you, cuddling into your body once in your hold.

“How was your nap, bebé?”

All you got was a whine. Alexia cuddles back into your side as Rosa falls back into a slumber.

“I’ve been thinking.” Alexia starts.

“Uh oh. Mamá has been thinking.” You tease, earning you a playful shove.

“Seriously. Rosa turned two a bit ago and I want to be able to show her what her Mami and Mamá do or work. The environment which all the fans.”

Alexia starts to ramble. Saving her from spiraling, you place a hand over her mouth stopping her words.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

With a bright smile on her face, Alexia pulls you in a passionate kiss, careful to not wake your daughter up.

Three weeks later, Spain has a friendly match against Argentina. Everyone played hard no matter that it was only a friendly, the match ending in a draw.

As far as the public knew, you and Alexia were still rivals, enemies, or any other term they use, so whenever they see you conversing after matches, fans and media freak out, like right now.

What the fans didn’t expect was a small child running into your arms with laughter. Standing up with Rosa in your arms, Alexia wraps her arms around both of you, kisses being placed on her cheeks by both of her moms.

To say the fans and media were exploding was an understatement.

“Alexia, they need you for media.”

Alexia settles herself at the table in front of all the press, waiting for the questions to come.

“Hola, Alexia. Great game today.”

“Thank you.”

After a couple of questions about the match, a little kid is seen throwing themselves onto Alexia.

“Mamá!”

A second person is seen chasing after the child.

“Sorry, sorry. She’s gotten fast.”

You run in, trying to grab Rosa from your wife, who is wriggling to make her harder to hold.

“You can leave her here.”

“You sure?”

She nods so you give them both a kiss on the head and walk out the room.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who do we have here? If you don’t mind us asking.”

“Bebé can you tell them your name?”

“Soy Rosa Putellas.”

The room let out a collective ‘aww’.

“So-so she’s your daughter?” A reporter stutters, stunned by the little girl.

“Yes.”

“And Messi’s?”

“Yes.”

The room full reporters burst, questions being asked over the others. Alexia just stands up, walking out of the room.

“I think you broke them.” Is the first thing you say when she walks into the locker room.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Makes it fun.”

[loserboysandlithium]

Let’s Play Pretend: ex boyfriend Eddie one shot

Minors dni, angst, I haven’t done any angst in a while so I’m sorry if this is shit 😂 I needed a good practice run and hopefully someone will enjoy it 🖤🖤🖤

*******

Okay, I can do this. Just breathe.

Thanksgiving. Your mom expected Eddie to be there. He’s been there by your side for the past three years. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her about the breakup. It was too hard. You still couldn’t truly wrap your head around it. How did we end up here?

Eddie pulls uncomfortably at the collar of his sweater, borrowed from the one and only Steve Harrington, as you both stand at the door of your mom’s house.

“You didn’t have to wear that.. she knows you Eddie.” you speak for the first time since he picked you up.

“Just wanted to look nice, ya know? Not like the asshole who broke your heart…” Eddie’s voice trails off as his gaze falls to his feet. His big black combat boots a stark contrast to his cream colored sweater. How does he manage to pull even this off?

“We said we weren’t gonna talk about it, Eddie. You promis-”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I’m sorry. I just- this is weird okay?” he mumbles.

He’d agreed, semi reluctantly, to play pretend for one night. Put on a happy face for your mom. Just one night. One dinner. Surely you could make it through, right?

You hear footsteps behind the door and take a deep breath as you reach over, sliding your hand into Eddie’s. The simple gesture making your heart ache. His calloused fingers, the chill of his rings, so familiar to you once. You hear the top lock click just as Eddie’s brown eyes meet yours.

He gives you a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ready, pumpkin?” he whispers, his old nickname for you suddenly sending you into a spiral. Fuck, pull it together. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

The door swings open, revealing your mother and you smile big, probably too big in an attempt to hide your true emotions. Your mind is swirling, flashbacks of you and Eddie filling your thoughts as you try to push them away.

“Are y’all ready to eat?” Your mother’s sweet southern accent easing your racing thoughts just a bit. You nod, releasing Eddie’s hand to embrace your mother.

“I know my boy is ready, and I made your favorite.” your mom smiles warmly as she takes Eddie in her arms next. You watch as he hugs her, squeezing tight. He’s always loved your mom. Always felt right at home. Soaking up the attention she gave him every time he was over.

“Thanks, Ma.” he answers softly, clinging just a little tighter than usual before pulling away. His eyes look glossy. Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

He swallows hard, glancing your way once more before he excuses himself to the bathroom, the tear falling down his cheek only spotted by you.

Your mom ushers you into the kitchen as you begin to grab the dishes, carrying them to the large wooden table in the dining room. She’s rambling as usual, “I’ve missed you, baby.” “How are things?” “Eddie looks handsome as ever.” “Is that Steven’s sweater?” “Anything new?” Her last question hits hard as she wiggles her ring finger playfully.

You give her a small smile and a fake giggle as you shake your head no. “Mom, stop.” you groan.

“It’s gonna happen, baby. I just know it.” she reassures, leaning down to kiss your cheek. There was a time where that was all you wanted. You thought about it constantly. What ring would he get? How would he propose? The fantasies had run rampant in your mind. He was the one. He was supposed to be the one.

“Everything looks incredible.” Eddie’s voice appears suddenly from behind you shaking you from your thoughts. Then you feel his touch. His hand resting on your lower back as he pulls you into him slightly.

It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend.

He’s so close. You can smell his cheap cologne mixed with cigarettes and weed. Your favorite combo. You allow yourself to lean in a little closer, your eyes shutting softly as you brush against his chest.

His heart is fucking pounding.

The oven beeps and your mom claps her hands excitedly as she announces that the turkey is done. She disappears into the kitchen, leaving you and Eddie alone for the first time since you’ve arrived.

“You doing okay?” he whispers, gently titling your head to look up at him.

No.

“M’ fine.” you reply instead. You can’t look away. His eyes drawing you in as always. His pretty lips. His brow furrowed slightly. He’s so fucking close.

“I’m not, if it makes you feel any better.” he says bluntly, his eyes still on yours.

“Eddie..”

“Okay kiddos. Time to eat.” your mom sings, placing the small turkey on the table as you all take your seats.

****

You spend the night playing along. Eddie making his usual jokes, your mom smiling and laughing, talking about memories of the past few years. Eddie’s hand rests on your thigh under the table, making your body tingle.

“God, I remember that.” Eddie chuckles, his genuine laugh something you haven’t heard in so long. Now when you talk, it’s always a fight. Screaming and crying. Or just another hate fuck. But it was never just that. And you both knew it.

You look over at his pretty smile, his eyes look light, his body relaxed. Everything felt almost normal again. But it isn’t real. None of it is real anymore.

After dinner, you hug your mom goodbye. Eddie kissing her cheek softly as he promises to see her soon.

Then you’re in his van. The light atmosphere fading back into your bleak reality as he drives you home. He tries to make small talk. Even tries to keep the earlier conversations going. Memories of your good times. They were the best times. But you have to stay strong.

He pulls into your drive, shutting of the van, landing you in a uncomfortable silence. “I should go.” you say quickly before he takes you off guard, leaning down to kiss you. You shove him off, doing your best to control your emotions.

“I just thought maybe we could..”

“I can’t, Eddie. Not tonight. I’m sorry.” you mumble, grabbing your bag from the floorboard of his van.

“Yeah.. yeah okay. Only when you want some dick, right?” he grumbles, his response making all of your feelings from the night explode out of you.

“Did tonight mean nothing to you? Did you not feel it? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“Of course I fucking felt it! My heart feels like it’s being ripped in two. Do you think that was fun for me? Playing pretend? A happy fucking family? I miss you. I miss us. You know that!” Eddie shouts, running his fingers through his dark curls.

“That isn’t fair.” you grit your teeth, begging for the tears to stay in place but it’s too late. They stream down your face in little rivers, blurring your vision as you try to compose yourself but it’s no use.

“I know I fucked up…” he starts and you just shake your head.

“I can’t do this Eddie. Please don’t do this.” you beg, your heart already shattering into a thousand pieces.

His firm hands cup your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. Those pretty eyes. His face matches yours, heartbroken, tears falling onto his chest, silently begging you to give in. To take him back. To forgive and forget.

You close the gap in between you, pressing your lips to his, tasting the salt from his tears as you kiss him gently.

He was supposed to be the one.

You pull back, resting your forehead against his for just a moment before wiping your tears.

“I can’t, Eddie. I’m sorry.”

[dreammfyre]

dragon rider ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the only daughter between Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and Sir Harwin Strong. The war for the throne had begun and they had to be alert to any attack from King's Landing and the greens, which is why the queen ordered to send Joffrey, Aegon and Viserys to the Arryn Valley under the responsibility of Rhaena Targaryen. You and your older brother, the prince Jacaerys Velaryon are saddened, finding comfort in each other.

WARNINGS. +18 Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!oc. Targaryen incest (brother and sister) virgin!reader. +4000 words.

Jacaerys Velaryon had locked himself in his chambers after saying goodbye to his younger brothers, Joffrey, little Aegon and Viserys had gone to the Valley of Arryn under the tutelage of lady Rhaena Targaryen to keep them safe from the dangers of war by order of the queen Rhaenyra. Sadness consumed him and after embracing them for the last time before they go, he disappeared into the corridors of the castle, he needed to be alone for a while, nor did he seek to hide in the most hidden corner of the castle so he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling for a long time. Not even a night had passed and he missed them so hard, but he had to convince himself that even if the decision was painful, it was the best thing they could do to ensure the safety of the children.

How much more would they have to sacrifice?

Before falling back into another spiral of guilt and remorse, the door rang twice. He remained silent in the hope that whoever was on the other side would be convinced of his absence, but persisted.

"I will not attend to anyone!" he shouted angrily, an explicit order that anyone would have understood and much more importantly, obeyed. Once again the noise of the door got him riled up, annoyed he quickly got up almost running to the door, opened it ready to yell at anyone who had dared to disobey, but to his surprise he found the figure of his sister on the other side.

"Jace, you're here." You sounded relieved.

The prince leaned against the door frame watching you impatiently to enjoy the quiet solitude again.

"Yes, are you okay?" he asked unwilling to make conversation, but he wasn't going to take it out on you, you were his sister and had an obligation to take care of you.

You fiddled with your hands anxiously, not wanting to disturb your brother, nervous about the question you were about to ask. "May... I come in?"

Your brother frowned in confusion and concern then looked both sides of the hallway making sure no one was watching to avoid malicious rumors. It was frowned upon for a princess to sneak into her betrothed brother's chambers.

"Sure, come in."

You did the same as he did -tried to avoid being seen by foreign eyes, avoiding any kind of rumor- and entered quickly before being discovered.

"Are you busy?"

"No." He replied closing the door. Seeing you in his chambers was strange, it had been a long time since you had knocked on his door, couldn't even remember the last time. "Is something wrong, sister?"

It was hard for you to speak because you were so sad about the unexpected departure of your brothers and Jacaerys was the only person on the island who could understand that feeling. You were always the most sensitive of all Rhaenyra's children, tried to understand what was best, but you were going to miss reading stories to your broyher Joffrey, playing with little Aegon and Viserys who were beginning to say their first words, you visited them every day and said good night. Now, they were gone, the worst part was the feeling that tightened your chest, a horrible feeling that you would never see them again.

"I miss them... so much." You whispered looking down at your hands, twirling the gold ring on your finger. You took a deep breath to keep from shedding more tears. "I don't want to tell our mother, she has enough to carry."

Jacaerys felt a lump in his throat burn when he noticed you sad, you always had a kind smile that highlighted your natural beauty, but now and before him you looked dull, your appearance was enough reflection of your low mood, your eyes of a slight red color gave away that were crying not long ago. Jace took your hands between his, caressing your knuckles trying to comfort you with the physical contact, you closed your eyes letting a couple of tears escape that fell like waterfalls down your soft pink cheeks. Your brother hugged you immediately, his closeness did you good, Jacaerys always made you feel safe in your worst moments and this was no exception.

"It's for the best, sister. They have to be safe and unfortunately that far away from us." Though his words were more to himself than to you. "This will be over soon…I promise." He broke away only to look into your eyes and wipe your face himself with the gentleness you deserved to be treated with. Your gaze shone in admiration of Jacaerys' beauty, he looked so concerned for you that he had forgotten his own pain to heal yours. "Don't cry more, please." He begged.

Jace's hand on your cheek was gentle but firm.

"Did you realize that now it's just us left?" you whispered as a heart-breaking reality check. Your brother's face turned to absolute sadness, he had no encouraging words that even he couldn't believe. Jacaerys rested his forehead with yours closing his eyes feeling your scent, you were right, unfortunately you were only the only children of Queen Rhaenyra on the island.

Jacaerys' breath against your face felt so warm, he had his eyes closed in a quiet silence, it was just the two of you. Your brother sighed heavily, looked so peaceful, you had never seen him like that, almost vulnerable. Your hand went hesitantly to his face, caressing his skin with your fingers slowly, the prince didn't complain, he only felt a shiver in his body when you brushed his cheek very gently. Jace swallowed saliva with difficulty, trying to control his deepest and most forbidden impulse.

Impulsive, your other hand went to his curly hair, Jace still had his eyes closed because if he opened them he was going to give in to the temptation of your closeness. The truth is that you weren't thinking straight, for years your brother had been provoking things in you that you couldn't explain and other mens never, maybe it was the intense way he looked at you, how much he protected you or how inexplicably good you felt with him. That was one of the reasons why you decided to decline the request of your mother who had offered you to travel to the Arryn Valley to take care of your brothers and not suffer their remoteness, but you had to refuse because the real torture was going to be to leave Jacaerys in Dragonstone.

"Si-sister…" murmured the heir squeezing your wrist. "Don't do this to me."

Fuck. Your cheeks turned red realizing what was really happening. You took a step back to take distance almost falling over from your clumsy steps.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have to. I… I have to go." You apologized in agitation, unable to look your brother in the face because the shame that invaded your body after confusing you. You were a correct princess, daughter of the rightful queen, her blood, you couldn't jeopardize your reputation for an impulse you had managed to keep for years, much less an engaged prince. "Yes, I have to go."

Ashamed of your actions you walked towards the door dragging your long red dress, tearing yourself away from hell. You needed to get out of there before the situation with your own brother led you to make mistakes you might regret. You opened the door without waiting for a goodbye from him imagining that he must be paralyzed without understanding what had happened, however, Jacaerys closed the door preventing you from leaving.

"Don't go... please." His voice sounded more like a command than an invitation. You looked up meeting his dark eyes on you, you glued your back to the wooden door unable to take any more steps back. "And I don't want you to apologize."

Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it inside, Jacaerys carefully analyzing you.

"Jace, I…"

"You can do it." He interrupted needing you more than as a sister.

"It's not right." You tried to convince yourself, your eyes fixed on his parted lips waiting for you. "It's... stupid."

You were the most correct princess who had set foot on the island and that Westeros had seen grow, blameless in her actions and pure for what the knights fought for your attention. But your attention was on the heir, it was always with him.

Jacaerys knew perfectly you were never going to dare take the first step too guilty to live with regret, you were too attached to the rules to break them. So he took your waist breaking the minimal distance between you in a delicate and fragile kiss, a groping touch where his lips touched yours for the first time in a slow rhythm. The prince took your chin with his fingers holding it, he opened his eyes noticing your pink cheeks lit up and your lips moistened.

"Open your mouth." He whispered softly over your lips. You frowned in confusion, but Jace would never do anything bad to you, you trusted him to question it. "You're going to like it."

Jacaerys kissed you again, this time you listened fearing to do it wrong separating your lips a little more feeling his tongue entering your mouth invading your space, exploring and tasting you for the first time so hard that you clung to his shoulders. Jacaerys pressed you with his body against the door, you moved your tongue brushing it against his, had never experienced anything so incredible.

"Let me touch you, sister." He begged against your lips, running his hands down your dress, being the restraint he needed.

"Do it." Amidst the kisses and caresses you were spiraling into madness losing your princess modesty. Jacaerys had you cornered, he pulled your dress up just enough to slip his cold hand underneath, lifting your leg to the height of his hip, squeezing your skin if I understand your softness snatching a sigh from you. The prince's mouth left your lips and went down your neck, leaving traces of burning kisses, kissing your collarbones lost in the moment.

To both your brother and the people you were like a flower, the most delicate, the one Jacaerys always loved, you were his only sister and he had cared for you every day of his life repressing his deepest feelings. But always a dark seed was planted in his mind, he tried to make it disappear, but it clung to him growing, the desire for you.

"You're perfect." Murmured against your skin, intoxicated by your scent and your little moans. He pressed his body against yours in the perfect way for his erection to press against your center.

"Holy crap."

Those words on your lips sounded very wrong, but exciting to Jacaerys.

Just to fuck you he repeated it again, this time deeper, making your body tremble feeling it against you, he also couldn't help moaning against your skin when he pressed his hips against your legs open for him. He reached for your other leg taking you in his arms, started walking in the direction of his perfectly laid bed, you kept kissing him with euphoria, addicted to the sensation between your legs that he unleashed by touching you. Your thighs squeezed his body imprisoning him, one of your shoes had fallen somewhere on the way to the bed. Your brother sat with you on his lap, put one knee on each side of him, lying on his tense body.

"I can't take you, sister." He said caressing your waist, his labored breathing making it difficult to speak so neatly. "I can't do that to you."

You kissed his neck hungry for pleasure, ignoring his words full of reason. "I want you, Jace, you have to do it, not another."

Jacaerys closed his eyes clenching his fists over your dress as the prince heard you so needy, he was trying to push you away being useless, your kisses following a meaningless path.

"You are my downfall." He confessed enjoying your lips claiming his skin. He hugged you tightly around the waist, preventing you from pulling away too far.

"I think I like the sound of it." You responded with your lips millimeters from his, the heat of his breath on your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

And, fuck, it felt better than it sounded.

Jacaerys leaned into you and his lips finally met yours in a deep and passionate kiss. His hands on your back pulling tight against him as he deepened the contact and his tongue sought to enter your mouth again. You opened your mouth for him like the first time, he felt you lose control as you complied with his command.

"We can do it... another way." Jacaerys said breaking the kiss. He watched you for an eternal moment, your face flushed, your dark eyes with dilated pupils, your swollen mouth ajar desperate to keep quenching your thirst for him. Jace touched your face arranging a lock of crossed hair, your skin was burning, imagining his was similar. The heir was dying to make you his at that moment, had waited too long, but he couldn't disrespect his only sister like that. He felt walked into the abyss playing with your virtue and maidenhood wanting to take it knowing it wasn't right.

"What?" you asked with furrowed brows.

"Do you trust me?"

"T-tell me what you want me to do."

Did you want to kill him by hesitating like that? Jacaerys questioned, if only you had any idea of the effect you have on him, that he would give you anything to have you around.

"I want you to stay exactly here…" His hands found your hips underneath your dress, holding you tightly on bare skin, anchoring you to him like two pieces fitting together perfectly. You were comfortable in that position where you could feel a hard nub pressing against your sensitive center, Jacaerys moved your hips over his body slowly re-activating the sensation between your legs that ran up your body like a shiver. "Do it."

His imperative tone made you feel pressured to live up to expectations, wanted to make him feel the same way you were experiencing.

With your knees sinking onto the mattress you moved back and forth carefully feeling his length, never took your eyes off him at any moment too attentive to his reactions, the prince let out a deep sigh as your folds brushed against his throbbing erection for you. Jacaerys felt a surge of desire as you began to move over him gaining more confidence, the slow deliberate friction sent shivers down his spine. His hands on your waist held you steady not letting you go anywhere because that was your place, he encouraged your movements guiding you against him, his breath hitching in his throat as he watched you with burning eyes.

"It feels... good." You said with heavy breathing. You didn't understand the reason, but you couldn't complain, the rubbing between your legs against him wasn't something imagined possible.

"Gods, you have no idea." The prince murmured hoarsely and strained from the effort to contain his growing need to penetrate you if kept speaking in that dulcet tone of voice.

You were so wet that the fabric of Jacaerys' pants was immediately stained by you, you were so ready for him, but Jace was clear with his condition not to take your innocence. You leaned on his shoulders swaying faster rubbing your cunt against his member trapped in his clothing, a torturous but necessary barrier. With you on his lap the prince unraveled the simple ribbon on your back by simply pulling one end of a silk bow, taking the audacity to pull it down just enough to leave your breasts uncovered as you continued to sway your hips increasing the pace guiding by desire.

"I... I c-can't, Jace." You groaned clinging to his shoulder in desperation, your legs were starting to tire but it was the feeling taking over your body that wouldn't let you think straight, unaware of yourself. "Jace-" asked him for help sure he knew what to do.

"Like this… just… a little more." Gasped watching you so perfect on top of him, he wasn't going to be able to get you out of his mind nor did he know how many sluts he was going to need to satiate his desperate need to fuck you. He squeezed your ass leaving marks on your skin, your round breasts moving to your rhythm made him want to take them in his mouth once and for all, he looked at you one last time, the rubbing on his member only made him desperate, brought his mouth close to one of your breasts sucking just out of desire to see your reaction. You were fucking delicious.

"Jacaerys!" You called out to him, closing your eyes tightly. The warm sensation of his tongue circling your nipple made you move faster, claiming him for his foul play.

The correct prince heir could barely form a coherent thought as you spoke when you rode him like the wildest of the dragons, the sound of your broken voice sending another wave of desire through his tortured body.

"Just-a little more... Stay like this." He begged desperately for your mercy. His hands gripped your hips more firmly, guiding you against him, the friction between you was wet and delicious at the same time with a forbidden touch that only made it better. Your folds fit perfectly with his member, spanning his entire hard length, you opened your eyes for a moment finding your brother with his jaw tense and his head back as if instead of enjoying it he was suffering from his desires. For a second, you questioned where Jacaerys had learned to do these things, how long he had kept himself under the mantle of the right prince devoted to duty.

"Like this?" you asked innocently. The prince moaned at your question as the only way to communicate, he was ecstatic under your legs, grip on your hips tightened burying his fingers leaving marks. This time, the innocent tone of voice didn't fool him for a second, he could see the same spark of mischief and desire in your eyes.

You could ride him as many times as you wanted and he would find it insufficient, it was just a way of not feeling so guilty about what you were doing. He was so needy especially for you that he was about to give in to his orgasm just at the thought of pulling down his pants releasing his desire by sliding into your tight interior.

Jacaerys felt himself losing control, right now he didn't care at all if the door opened right now and he was found taking immoral pleasure in you. The feel of your body against his was something he had only fantasized about, the way you rode him letting out gasps at every movement, it was driving crazy. His hands roamed your body as if this was the last time, caressing it gently and squeezing it possessively, his breath hitching against your skin was the sign that he was about to come.

"You feel so good, love. So fucking good…" He murmured almost angrily, in a voice charged with desire you'd never heard coming out of him before, now his hips moved involuntarily in time with your movements. Couldn't get enough of you, he wanted you.

"I can... feel you." You said resting your forehead on Jace's who kept his eyes closed holding his release from giving you the pleasure you deserved. The truth of your statement was hard to ignore, the reaction of his body to you was undeniable. You could feel him very hard beneath you.

"Yes… you can feel me, sister…. I can't take it… not when you're like this…"

"But I want to feel you." Your request was only adrenaline for Jacaerys who obedient to your wishes lifted his lap with you on top so hard you had to stop to take it in, you felt his member harder than ever trying to enter being stopped by the fabric, this time you moaned differently, it was a different adrenaline. You squeezed your legs tighter taking in the sensation. "More."

"I'll give you anything you want… just… please…" he gasped with difficulty. "Don't stop."

You had become his most precious and wrong object of pleasure. Your brother let out another strangled moan, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his hands on your hips gripping tightly as he held on to the tide of pleasure that threatened to consume him. It was the first time Jacaerys had ever cared about female pleasure, specifically yours, wanting to give you the best with what little he had to offer at that moment.

"Oh, Jacaerys!" You exclaimed in a high pitched tone squeezing his shoulder, legs shaking moving fast on top of him so much it burned, Jacaerys lifting his hips in response only dragged you to orgasm, the friction of your body on him was driving him mad making question the fragility of his morals at the thought of taking you as his right there and then and stop fucking himself. Desperately knowing that at some point it was going to end, you sought his mouth to kiss him, however, both of you moaned echoing in your mouths waiting for the other to give in to let you go together. Jacaerys bit your lower lip trapping it between his teeth forcing you to stay close, he wanted to look into your eyes as you fell into sin, your hot skin was red from the effort and the rising pleasure rising from between your legs until a string of higher and higher pitched cries escaped your mouth as you reached the peak of pleasure, your body stopped moving over the prince falling in surrender and exhaustion. Jace let out a deep moan as he watched you reach orgasm feeling his crotch wet but satisfied.

You lay silently on top of him resting on his body, Jacaerys lifted your dress covering your nakedness. Your breathing needed regulating as you felt short of breath and heavy, the heir merely admired you, kissing your neck like a treasure that would soon dissolve from his hands.

"We have to report to the Council." You whispered, delighting in your brother's lips with the same guilt as at first time. "Our absence will arouse suspicion."

"I know… just one more minute." His arms still held you tightly against him, not wanting to let go just yet. He closed his eyes as you rested your cheek against his shoulder, inhaling deeply to take in your natural scent. "I cannot present myself in these conditions."

You laughed under your breath. The moment of calm disappeared when the door to Jacaerys' chambers rang another time. They didn't catch a glance as you immediately stood up and fixed your dress, your hands trembling as you tried to tie the damn knot but your fingers were so clumsy that Jace had to help you.

"One moment, please!" the prince shouted, fixing the messy hair he had been stroking for the last few minutes. The door rattled again, making them both desperate making the adrenaline rush through their blood again. "Just a moment!" Jacaerys repeated so angrily that even you were startled, he grabbed your hand pulling you with him to the door asking you to stand behind it. Your body trembled with fear, what if it was the queen seeking her heir and entering the chambers? They were a mess, their clothes gave them away, even the bed showed their sins. Jace approached your face as slowly as the soft whisper came from his mouth. "You have to be quiet, do you understand?" You nodded immediately, he couldn't resist leaving one last kiss taking advantage of the closeness.

He opened the door to find lady Baela Targaryen, his betrothed.

"Are you well?" She asked with genuine concern for Jacaerys. When you heard his voice, you had to cover your mouth with one hand to keep from saying anything.

"I feel... better, thank you."

The silence that fell was so uncomfortable you'd rather faint than have to endure it. Seconds which guilt took hold of your body.

"Are you coming to the Stone Table?"

"Sure… I just need a second." Her answer sounded so matter-of-fact that Baela nodded, but deep down she felt that something didn't sit right with Jacaerys. "I'll introduce myself in a moment."

"Have you seen your sister? I'm worried about her state of mind after her brothers left."

You closed your eyes praying to the gods to get you out of that horrible situation once and for all. Jacaerys had to lie in a way he was going to feel guilty about for the rest of his life. He shook his shoulders appearing carefree and confident.

"Did you look in the sky? She must be with her dragon, I assure you, my sister is a very good rider."

[headlinerkwan]

something new - j.ww

pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: university!au, e2l, academic rivals to lovers, featuring svt as your friend group, angst, fluff, suggestive - MDNI!!

summary: you and wonwoo have been rivals since the first day you met, everything he did irritated you to no end, and yet, you couldn't escape him and, at a certain point, maybe you didn't want to.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, no one knows how to communicate lol, kissing, suggestive

wc: 5.7k

a/n: wonwoo academic rival bc i love him being all nerdy n shit. i really enjoyed writing this so let me know what you think + if you have any requests for some new fics!! ฅ ฅ

You stare down at your paper, illegible and scattered with doodles and a sharp exhale falls from your lips. Tapping your pen against the table, you wonder how the hell you’re going to pass this surprise exam - a surprise for you at least, apparently telling you must have slipped everyone else’s mind. Someone taps your shoulder lightly, bringing you out of your spiral. You turn to meet the eyes of the stranger sat beside you, his jet black hair is pushed roughly out of his face, allowing you to see his soft dark eyes peer down at you. 

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, clueless as to why he would be trying to get your attention in the middle of an exam. He mouths the word ‘pen’ in response, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes looking at you with pure desperation.  Looking at his desk, you notice the pen next to his hand is broken. You turn away briefly and watch as he lets out a breath of relief and adorns a grateful smile once you appear with a spare pen for him to use. 

It seems like the bell rings almost immediately once you return your focus to your exam paper - shit. Now you’re definitely not passing. The bell sounds vaguely familiar as it continues to ricochet through you, you rack your brain trying to remember where you’ve heard the sound before… oh, it’s your alarm clock. Oh! It’s your alarm clock! 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Your eyes snap open as you sit up in bed to turn off the irritating tune that your clock had been emitting for god knows how long. It was the first day of the semester, of course you had woken up twenty minutes behind schedule after a cliche ‘first-day-of-school’ dream, what else could you expect?

Arriving at your first class of the day, you find your friend Seungkwan sat strategically in the corner of the semester hall - just far away enough to avoid the risk of being called upon by the professor. You take a seat next to Seungkwan and listen as he begins to rant about his commute. You and Seungkwan have been friends since Freshman year after getting paired up for a group project. Originally, you were fearful that you wouldn’t get along, on the surface you were like chalk and cheese, but you find now that Seungkwan balances you out just right. His bold extrovertism has pushed you to be a little less timid, to actually live and, you like to think that you’ve mellowed him about a bit too.  You wouldn’t mind listening to Seungkwan talk and joke around all day, that’s when he’s happiest so, naturally, you are too. 

Your conversation with Seungkwan comes to stop as both of your attention gets drawn to a loud racket growing a few rows behind you. You follow the noise to find loveable class clowns Soonyoung, Mingyu, and Seokmin. 

“Ah, it's just Soonyoung, so anyways…” Seungkwan turns back to his laptop and continues expressing his somewhat irrational love of drive-thrus . You, however, are still watching your classmates, unable to tear your eyes away from one of them, his dark slightly nerdy features captivating you. 

“Kwan,” you murmur, “Who’s the guy next to Seokmin?”

Seungkwan hums, satisfied, “I was waiting for you to say something, always so nosy.”

You huff gently, knowing well enough that there’s no point in arguing with him, “So?””

“Jeon Wonwoo. Just transferred for his last year I guess.”

“Huh weird, I could've sworn I’ve seen him before.”

Your friend scoffs jokingly,  “In your dreams bro.” 

You sigh again, resting your head on the desk sulkily.  ‘In your dreams’, Seungkwan’s words echo. Wait… Is he… your head whips around to glance at the mysterious man again. No fucking way… Jeon Wonwoo is literally the guy from your dreams. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

If you had known back then how much you would grow to dislike Wonwoo, you never would have commented on his good looks that first day but, you guess you can’t really blame yourself for not knowing how much of a dick he was. Since you had met, you had tried, maybe too hard, to figure out what you had done to make him treat you the way that he did. Over the weeks you have watched him form bonds with everyone in your class - especially your friends, and you saw how his smile fell and laughter stopped as soon as you made your presence known. It was if you had physically attacked him, the way that his eyes immediately dropped to the floor once you came into view. The thing that annoyed you the most about Jeon Wonwoo though, more than the unexplained icing out, was his brain. 

You don’t like to brag but you pride yourself on your intelligence, especially in academia. You had worked hard to reach the place you were in now, throwing away your teenage years in favor of ensuring a happy and successful future for yourself. Because of this, you work hard to make sure you’re at the top of the list whenever your exam results are released - improving upon yourself and being the best of the best,  that’s what you strive for. So of course, it came as an infuriating shock when Wonwoo knocked you out of the top spot, that smug look on his face and the glimmer in his eyes as he walked past  you that day was something you couldn’t get out of your head. No matter how hard you tried, day and night, the only thing on your mind was Wonwoo and how to beat him.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Ok, what can you tell me about Wonwoo?” you are sitting in your campus cafe, your best friend Seungkwan sits across from you as you mindlessly stir your coffee. 

“Why do you always assume I have information on everyone?”

“Because you always do, my favorite gossip.” you reply, buttering him up in hope he’ll give you something, anything. 

“What’s your business with him anyways? Oh…” he gasps “you have a little campus crush don’t you?  That’s why you’re so off around him.” 

“Don’t go spreading false information, Boo Seungkwan, he’s the one who gets cold and quiet when I’m around. Besides, no sleeping with the enemy.”

“He’s the enemy now? Hot.” 

You scoff gently at his comment, rolling your eyes “Just tell me what you know”,  you say laughing. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

As time goes on, nothing much changes between you and Wonwoo. He becomes a fixture within your friendship group with the boys taking him under their wing and as he begins to pop up in more areas of your life, you learn more about him. You learn about his love for video games and cats, you learn he’s a great listener but can speak for the country when he’s passionate about something. You learn he’s funny and even smarter than you thought. It’s annoying that you could imagine actually being friends with him if he was just nice, you admit you might be able to understand the crowd of girls that follow him around aimlessly if he wasn’t such an asshole. Because, despite him joining your friendship group and you - unwillingly - spending more time around him, he still acted so coldly towards you, no matter how nice you were to him, he never faltered. 

“Split into groups of six, no more, no less and create a presentation applying your chosen theorem to the 21st century.” your professor orders. Immediately the students around you begin to migrate around the room, collecting friends for the group project. You turn to your left to find that Seungkwan is already clambering over the seats behind you to reach Seokmin, Mingyu, Soonyoung and Wonwoo - all four of them cheering on his show of athleticism. 

“Quickly guys! Come on!” the professor calls out from the front of the class. You look around to realise that you’ve waited a bit too long to choose a group for yourself. That’s when you hear your name being called and turn to find Mingyu reaching his hand out to you with that cheesy grin you just couldn’t say no to. 

“We need the class nerd on our team, c’mon!” Soonyoung calls out to you from above.

“We already have Wonwoo though?” Seungkwan remarks with a mischievous smirk. You quickly shoot him a stern, irritated look as his smile is broken by Seokmin elbowing him in the ribs for a reason you can’t quite figure out. 

A few days later, you and your friends (and Wonwoo) decide to meet at the library to brainstorm for your project. You arrive first with Seokmin and Mingyu and find a table just big enough for the six of you. Soonyoung trails along not long after and the four of you play some quiet games whilst waiting for Seungkwan and Wonwoo to arrive. You note that one of the two empty seats is positioned directly across for you whilst the other is out of view. The solution is clear, Seungkwan will sit across from you, at least then you’ll be able to focus on the assignment. 

Once the pair arrive, you attempt to signal to Kwan, strong eye contact asking him to take the chair opposite you. 

“Won, which seat do you want?” He asks the other boy, and you can’t hold back the sigh that escapes as your plan crumbles before you

“I’ll take this one, the lighting’s better.” Wonwoo replies, making brief eye contact with you before pulling out the chair with a shy smirk on his face. 

…what was that about? And when did he get so cocky? 

Soonyoung clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence that suddenly fell over the group and you thank God that he’s here to take the attention off of your exchange with Wonwoo and prompt you to actually start working on the project. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Soon enough, you find yourself in a quiet bar across town on a Thursday night. Following your friends’ advice you decide to accept your coworker’s invitation to grab drinks. You tell yourself why not? He’s nice enough, attractive and funny, sometimes anyways. Plus you haven’t got much else going on in the love department - no harm, no foul. 

After half an hour or so of pleasant small talk, you leave the booth and head towards the bar to order another drink. As you trudge across the sticky floor you are stopped in your tracks as a man steps in front of you, blocking you from reaching your destination. 

“Excuse me,” you begin, attempting to manoeuvre around him.

“You shouldn’t be with him.” the man says. 

“Excuse me?” you repeat, this time in disbelief. 

“You heard me.” he says, quieter this time. You lift your head to get a proper look at the stranger’s face.

“Of course you’re here.” you scoff. You push past him, shaking your head as you reach the bar. He follows, not giving up. 

“You don’t suit each other.” 

You laugh, God, he’s so infuriating, who does he think he is?

“Oh please, Wonwoo, like you know the slightest thing about me.”

“Actually I-”

Just then your ‘date’ appears, “Is everything ok?” He asks with a slightly concerned look. 

“Yeah! Just a… classmate.” A false happiness lines your voice.

 “Come on, let's head back to the table.” you say, turning your back on Wonwoo who watches on with a solemn expression.

﹒˚ ��� ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Not long after that, you find yourself at the library with your friends almost every day, grinding to get your project completed. You and Wonwoo haven’t spoken about the night at the bar, not that he speaks to you usually anyways. Instead though, you begin to catch him looking at you more and more often, his gaze burning into you, making you heat up and, most importantly distracting you from your work. 

“What’s going on with you and Wonwoo then?” Seungkwan asks one day whilst you do a snack run for the rest of the group.

“What?” you reply, stopping where you are, astonished. 

“Just saying, he can’t keep his eyes off of you.” 

“He’s trying to sabotage me or something.” 

“...Why would he do that? Y’know we’re graded as a group right?” He says, baffled. 

“Whatever.” you reply, turning into the next aisle, fed up of even thinking about Wonwoo, never mind talking about the man. 

Returning to your friends, they circle you like vultures, picking out they’re snacks. It’s a chaotic free for all and you’re left with a candy bar and some chips. Wonwoo stands patiently whilst the others rob you blind so, once the others return to their seats you approach him quietly, avoiding eye contact and place the chips in front of him. He mutters a small “thank you” and smiles gratefully, watching again as you return to your work. Now he’s just being weird, you think to yourself. You can’t help but be curious about what he’s plotting. 

At the end of the study session, the boys decide to head to the bar to reward themselves. 

“Y/N, you coming?” Mingyu asks.

“I’m good, thanks though!” you reply with a soft smile, finding a quiet night watching Netflix to be a bit more appealing today. 

Your friends leave before you, saying goodbye whilst you pack up your stuff. As you shove your laptop into your bag, you can feel someone’s eyes on you and your face begins to heat up at your suspicion. 

“Wonwoo! Hurry up!” you hear Soonyoung whine. 

“Right, sorry.” 

You look up just quick enough to catch him turning away from you and running to meet with the rest of the group. 

Huh, weird. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

That weekend, your phone buzzes with a string of texts from Mingyu.

Mingyu: Wanna come over and play video games?

Mingyu: (Say yes)

Mingyu: Pleaseee, I’m so bored :) 

You’ve worked fucking hard recently and couldn’t think of a better way to end the week than by playing nostalgic video games with one of your closest friends

Y/N: Don't even WORRY, I’m omw

You respond quickly, pulling a bleach-stained hoodie on and heading for the door. 

You’re sat on the floor next to Mingyu in front of his TV. The room is dead silent, spare some trash talk from the both of you as you channel all of your focus on Mario Kart. As a result, neither of you notice Wonwoo coming in to watch your fierce competition. 

You swear you see your life flash before your eyes when he, watching the screen intently, mumbles “Be careful. Blue shell coming your way.”

His sudden words do nothing but scare the living shit out of you and make you crash into a wall. 

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, heart beating rapidly after his jumpscare, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He looks at you blankly, taken aback by your overreaction, “Oh…uh… I live here.” 

You turn to Mingyu who confirms with his lips pressed together in an awkward smile. 

“Oh. Sorry. You just scared me a bit, my bad.” 

He chuckles quietly in response before walking over to the kitchen and leaving the two of you to finish your race (which you still win, despite Wonwoo’s meddling.) A handful of races later, Mingyu’s phone buzzes, ushering him to go and collect the takeout you had ordered. Standing up, he grabs his jacket and keys but doesn’t dare leave before messing with you more than he already has. 

“Wonwoo?” He calls with a mischievous grin, “Come play instead of me whilst I go get the food!” 

Wonwoo hums a response as he moves to sit down next to you whilst you shoot death glares at your friend, who simply mouths ‘be nice’ before slamming the door behind him. 

He picks up Mingyu’s controller and hovers over ‘Wario’s Gold Mine’. 

“What are you doing?”

He looks at you, confused “Uh… choosing the best map?”

You laugh, “No no, my poor Wonwoo. This is the best map.” You take the remote from him and select ‘Koopa Cape’. 

“Ooh, you’re so wrong.” he replies playfully.

“I’m never wrong.”

“That’s true.” 

You catch yourself smiling as the race starts. Maybe you are wrong, maybe he’s not so bad. 

“Oh my god, hit me with a shell again, I swear to god Jeon Wonwoo.” you exclaim as he surpasses you for the fourth time. He laughs, nudging you gently.

“I didn’t know you were such a sore loser.” 

You look at him, forgetting about the game, “You don't know anything about me.” you say, under your breath. He turns to you, concerned.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” 

Turning back to the screen, you find that Wonwoo has stolen first place from you - again. 

“Fuck.” you mutter, refocusing on the race, watching as a proud smile creeps onto Wonwoo’s face. 

“Wow, Y/N actually lost for once!” Mingyu declares as he returns with the food, “I guess we finally found your match.” 

“Shut up.” you bark back, rolling your eyes and leaning back against the couch. Wonwoo mutters a ‘good game’ before standing up with a smirk and leaving the room. You scoff at his slight obnoxiousness whilst Mingyu sits down beside you and begins unpacking the food. 

“Are you gonna stop sulking and go get some plates?”

“Ugh fineee” you reply jokingly before getting up. 

You’re completely lost in the kitchen, opening every cupboard in sight hoping to find some plates and cutlery.

“You good?” a voice calls from behind you. You look up to find Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, slightly baffled by your snooping. 

“Uh…plates?”

“Ah,” he says walking towards you, you step back until you’re caught by the kitchen counter. “Just up here.” he continues, reaching behind you to grab the plates. 

He’s so close that, for the first time, you can smell his woody cologne strongly. Your heart speeds up as he places the plates down on the counter behind you, his hands resting on either side, trapping you. 

You look up at him, breathless, as he scans your face. You’re silent, drinking him in, your hands fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. He lifts his hand, brushing your hair behind your ear. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers against your lips. 

You can only bring yourself to nod in complete disbelief at the sudden shift between the two of you, the magnetism drawing you together. He moves in closer to you, so close you can feel his eyelashes as they flutter against your skin and his breathing grows slightly heavier. 

“Y/N, did you find them?” Mingyu calls from the other room. You’ve never moved away from a person so fast, separating yourself from Wonwoo immediately. You clear your throat, maintaining eye contact with Wonwoo, still flustered. 

“Yep sorry! Just grabbing a drink.” Thinking fast, Wonwoo hands you a can of coke.

“Can you grab me one too?” Mingyu shouts. 

You both laugh quietly as he hands you another. You nod and smile, leaving him in the kitchen and heading back to your food.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

It’s a week before you see him again, your group's last meeting before the final presentation, a chance for you to go over the final details. The meeting is generally uneventful, everyone finally focused on the task at hand. 

“I think if we switch the parts about culture and equity then it would flow better.” Wonwoo suggests.

“Hmm, I agree” you reply nonchalantly because, on this rare occasion, you actually do. 

“What the fuck was that?” Seungkwan whispers to you.

“What?”

“You never agree with him.”

“He made a good point.” you shrug, brushing off your friend’s interrogation. Looking up you catch Wonwoo smiling at you, giggling under his breath like a teenager. You have to stifle the smile that begins creeping onto your face as you watch him. 

“And that is why we believe that absurdism is an essential mindset to have in order to thrive in the modern day.” Seokmin argues, concluding your group project, finally. The six of you share reassuring nods and smiles, you’ve done your best and you’re happy with it, the rest is out of your hands.

As you exit the assessment room, Soonyoung pipes up, “Drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks?” He chants pointing at each of you as he does, the group mumbles a variety of agreements. 

“Y/N?” Mingyu asks.

“Come on, it’ll be fun, try something new.” Seungkwan whispers. 

You look at your friends smiling eagerly as they wait for your response, with an exhale and a nod, you give in, “drinks.”

At the bar, you crowd a small table, each with a drink in hand, talking and laughing about whatever comes to mind. You play games, sharing embarrassing childhood stories and weird facts you never would’ve learnt anywhere else. You are having fun, smiling, peaceful but, something’s off. You can feel it. He’s been quiet all night, barely even looked at you. It was annoying. It was annoying that it annoyed you, a few weeks ago this would have been normal behavior but now, it was different, it upset you, made you feel like you’d done something wrong, made you feel… unwanted. 

Being truthful, you weren’t really feeling it tonight. If you had it your way you’d be on your couch right now watching a film. You weren’t gonna go, not until you saw his cheesy grin amongst your friends’, so sweet you could melt. He was the reason you went out tonight. Him, and Seungkwan’s words, you should try something new. You had never felt so overwhelmed by your own feelings, one minute you felt nothing short of hatred for Wonwoo and the next… your heart is fluttering every time your eyes meet. 

During your daze, Wonwoo gets up to buy another round for the group, the sound of his chair moving snaps your focus back to the table but he’s already disappeared. You excuse yourself to the restroom, taking the chance to talk to Wonwoo whilst everyone else is distracted. Standing beside him, his eyes are fixed on his phone, reading some kind of article. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him, nervous for his answer - you’re not sure what you’ll do either way. He looks up at you, soft dark eyes taking you in. He stands with an unreadable expression for what feels like forever before he finally opens his mouth to reply and then-

“Wonwoo! Come here quickly, settle this bet for us!” Sometimes, you really hate Soonyoung. 

He shoots you an apologetic look and then, he’s gone, just like that. All the courage you had built up, wasted on an unanswered question. Fuck this. You grab your jacket, shooting Seungkwan a ‘don’t worry I’ll text you later’ look and head for the door. You’re exhausted, tired of it all, you just want to be in your own bed. 

As you walk down the quiet streets, you hear another pair of footsteps catching up to you. 

“Are you okay?” 

You look at him. You’re irritable and know that you’re probably not going to say the right thing but what the hell. 

“So you’re allowed to ask but I’m not?”

“No, that’s not- I… I’m sorry, I never know how to act around you, I never know what to say, I’m always doing the wrong thing but I-”

“Wonwoo.” you interject, “I can’t do this right now. Just… just go back to the bar.”

He doesn't respond, a silent understanding. He doesn’t leave either. He walks alongside you the whole way home, giving you quiet to think, offering you a comforting smile whenever your eyes meet. It breaks your heart just as much as it warms it, that he, despite your outburst, stays by your side when you need someone.

Even if you try to push him away, somehow he knows, he knows that you want him there. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

With the group project over, you don’t see him as often as before, hardly ever when you’re alone. You decide to put him out of your mind for a while, to focus on work and the rest of your assignments. Wonwoo, though, seems to have a habit of sabotaging your plans. 

It started off with simpler things, turning up at your work just to place a complicated order, smirking as he watches you struggle with it. Then on exam week, a bag of your favorite snacks appears at your door. On a random Wednesday, he orders a pizza to your apartment. On your birthday, a small cake. And, there’s not a week that goes by where he fails to visit the cafe, you’ve grown to look forward to his bizarre orders and playful teasing. 

Once the professor announces the end of the lecture, you grab your laptop and walk towards the door where you’re met with a familiar face. 

“Ah, the coffee fairy, what can I do for you today?” you greet him, playfully. 

“Can we talk? I’ll walk you home.” he asks, his voice laced with anxiety.

“Okay…” you nod, curious as to why he’s acting this way. 

Walking through campus, he clears his throat, “So…” he trails off.

“So?”

“So I don’t really know how to say this. I mean, maybe you already know but I mean… I’m sorry, I’m sorry if I upset you, or hurt you, or made you angry. If you hate me, that’s okay I just-” 

“I don’t hate you Wonwoo. Not anymore, anyways.” 

He chuckles softly, “Well, I just want you to know that I don’t plan on giving up I… I think this is it for me,”

“It?” 

“You. I think you’re it for me. I think it was over for me the moment I saw you.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “And I’m sorry about everything. Around you, I just, I forget how to act, I can’t think. It’s all just… you.”

As he speaks, your face begins to heat up under his gaze, a smile appearing on your face as you take his hand in yours hesitantly, squeezing it gently. Suddenly, he stops speaking, pausing to think.

“Wait… what do you mean you don’t hate me anymore?” You can only laugh at his question as he pulls you closer to him. 

The walk back to your apartment is nice, peaceful even, like this is where you’re meant to be. You turn towards him to say goodbye and thank him for walking so far out of his way. He can’t hide his shyness as he says goodbye, stammering slightly with rosy cheeks. You look at him, hoping for more, but his eyes are fixed to the floor as he blushes. You laugh quietly, finding him incredibly endearing before turning away to enter your apartment. 

Suddenly, you feel his hand reach for your arm, “wait.” he says, spinning you back to him. 

The action happens so quickly, you’re basically pressed up against him, one of your hands finding his bicep to balance yourself. You look up at him, it’s clear that he’s still nervous but he’s doing his best to play it cool, his hand rests on your lower back as he pulls you even closer. The way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he’s ever known, sends the color to your cheeks and you can feel your heart beating faster by the second. 

His other hand finds your jaw as he leans his face closer to yours, his breath tickling your lips. His soft, puppy dog eyes search yours for consent, and just like in Mingyu’s kitchen, you can muster up nothing but a nod, your breathing getting shallower with anticipation, hunger. 

His lips delicately brush yours, cautious and timid. You kiss him back warmly, he tastes like peppermint and cola, both new and familiar at the same time. He leans into you more, growing more confident as you part your lips, letting him explore you further. You fall into a perfect rhythm with butterflies fluttering throughout you and your grip on the other becoming firmer.

Remembering that you need to breathe, you break away from each other slowly. He rests his forehead against yours, sharing your breathless giggles and smiles of relief. 

“Jeon Wonwoo.” you whisper, still in a daze.

“Hmm?” he hums happily.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Only pretty sure?” he jokes, feigning upset.

“100% sure.” you correct yourself with a happy grin.

“Good.” he says, pecking you softly and then pressing another kiss against your cheek. “I almost went insane waiting for you to realize.”

“Realize what?” 

He pulls you into a warm, strong hug, resting his head on your shoulder before whispering “That it was always you and me.”

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“What’s going on with Wonwoo?” Seungkwan asks on your way to class two days later.

“What do you mean?” 

“Something’s different… he’s brighter.”

“Why would I know anything about it, none of my business” you state, biting your lip to hide your knowing smile. 

“Oh come on, don’t act like you haven’t noticed!”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bro, he didn’t stop smiling the entire time he was there, it was weird. He even spoke differently, lighter.” 

You hum a manufactured surprised response as your friend continues. 

“Maybe he met someone, he always talks about that person he’s liked since he moved here, maybe he finally made a move - i hope so I don’t know how much more of his schoolboy pining I can take.” 

Your gaze is glued to the floor as you listen, knowing that you were the reason for all his changes and that he was the reason for all of yours. That he made the world seem new, brighter, happier. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Are you okay? We haven’t talked in a few days.” Wonwoo says over the phone.

“I’m sorry, it’s just my thesis, I feel like I’m never gonna leave this apartment again.”

“That’s okay! I get it,” he reassures you, “talk to me about it.”

He listens intently as you babble about your thesis, humming along, asking questions and offering advice. Whilst you explain the block that you’re facing currently, there’s a knock at the door. Getting up from your laptop to answer it, you continue, “And now, I’m not sure where to go next.”

“With me.”

“Huh?” 

Opening the door, he’s stood in front of you. His dark hair falling perfectly, as he runs his fingers through it, still holding his phone to his ear with a sweet smile and pride in his eyes. 

Hanging up the phone, he clarifies, “take a break, let’s go for dinner.” 

And how could you deny such a pretty face? 

Walking the streets, he speaks passionately as he shows you his favorite spots around the city and you find yourself just happy to be here with him, to witness his excitement with a cheesy grin that you reserve for only a few people in your life. 

“You’re quite the sweet talker, Jeon Wonwoo.” you say, giggling. 

“Of course,” he responds proudly, “How else would I get to have you by my side?” With that he pulls you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you, swaying playfully from side-to-side and holding you as if you’re all he needs with him right now. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

The elevator dings as the two of you stumble inside, your arms resting on his shoulders. Looking at him with adoration as he turns you gently, reaching his hand out to clumsily press the elevator buttons behind you. You giggle between kisses as you find your balance, clinging onto each other. You hardly notice when the elevator rings again outside your apartment, too busy with your hands tangled in his hair and his palms running across your sides in painstaking seduction. 

Then he’s guiding you out of the elevator, hands still firm on your hips and not daring to break away from you for even a second. He slips his hand into yours, taking your keys and mindlessly fumbles to unlock the door.

It takes mere seconds once the door opens for him to slam it shut and have you trapped against the wall, he moves against you sloppily, licking into you with pure hunger and adoration, a tsunami of lust as his groans echo throughout your body. 

“Fuck. If you’d just spoken to me on that first day, I would’ve made you mine then and there.” he whispers against your skin, trailing electric kisses down your jaw towards your collarbone. 

You laugh in shock, lifting his lips back up towards yours, his cold hands sneaking underneath your shirt as you kiss him back feverishly. “Me? No, you were the one who ignored me.” 

“Hmm” he responds breathlessly, turning you around and leading you to your bedroom. Drawn together like magnets, you both stumble across the room, hands and lips battling for the next sweet taste, the next wanting touch. 

“Look how far…” his lips find yours again, “just a bit…” and again, “of communication can go” you finally manage to moan out. 

“Are you gonna stop talking and be mine now or…?” he whines as you drag against his lips. 

You giggle softly as he lifts your arms to rest around his shoulders, pulling you in by the waist before his soft mouth is reunited with yours.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

You could never have imagined that you would come to find a safe space in Wonwoo. That you would eventually know him better than yourself. That the man you loathed, competed against, fought, would be yours. The man whose presence bothered you would soon be the one to hold your hand through good news and bad. That his happiness was your happiness, his sadness, his pride, his love. 

You never could have imagined that he would be the one waking you up on Sunday mornings with sweet kisses on your collarbone. That, at night you would be drawing idle patterns on his chest. That even after waking up from your dreams, he’d still be there holding you. That his touch was the only thing you craved, his kisses your favorite greeting, his voice your favorite song. His gaze and gooey brown eyes which used to irritate you to no end, would soon become your lighthouse in the storm.  You never could have imagined that you would love Jeon Wonwoo.

taglist: @peachytokki @aidanjoon @mykpopficblog @cheeseburgerjuseyo

[iconchae]

HOLD MY GAZE ➽ P.JS/JAY | 18+

pairings: non idol au! boyfriend jay × fem! reader

synopsis: jay challenges you to a game where the first one to break eye contact has to grant the other's wish. but the game ends up turning into a love making session.

genre: fluff and smut

warnings: smut so mdni, established relationships, making out, contains cuss words, nsfw, kisses, protected sex, not proofread so i'm sorry if there are any mistakes, gentle dom!, pet names, teasing, boob play, everything is consensual! lmk if i missed anything.

word count: 4.57k

a/n: i’m still learning to make smuts so just a little reminder that what you read below might not be perfect. (requests are open)

You flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, eyes glued to Jay as he sat at his desk, fingers flying over his laptop keyboard.

The blue light from the screen cast a faint glow on his face, highlighting his furrowed brows as he focused on work. It felt like he’d been at it for hours, and the room was filled with the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clicking of keys.

“Baby!” you whined, your voice cutting through the quiet like a plea. You hugged your knees to your chest, the soft fabric of your pajamas brushing against your skin, hoping he’d finally tear his gaze away from the screen and give you a moment of his attention.

Jay responded with a distracted hum, barely glancing up, his eyes still locked on his laptop. You watched him intently, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the subtle movement of his lips as he muttered something to himself while working.

It was adorable, really, but you couldn't help the pang of loneliness that washed over you. It was as if he was a thousand miles away, even though he was sitting right there.

Your thoughts began to spiral — why couldn’t he just look at you? Was he getting tired of you? You were in a live-in relationship for almost four years, but lately, you felt like a ghost in your own home.

“Am I ugly?” you blurted out, your voice breaking slightly. The question hung in the air, heavy and unexpected, pulling Jay out of his work-induced trance.

Jay’s hands paused mid-type, the rhythm of his fingers on the keyboard suddenly halting. He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto your pouting face.

Your lips quivered as you tried to keep it together, and the vulnerability in your gaze tugged at his heart. He didn’t even bother saving his work; the laptop was pushed aside, almost forgotten, as he shifted his full attention to you.

He moved closer, his knees brushing against yours as he reached out, his fingers gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin in slow, soothing strokes, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

Jay’s eyes searched yours, a soft frown tugging at his lips as he tried to make sense of your sudden insecurity. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern. “Why would you think that?”

You shrugged, your gaze falling to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Because…” you started, your voice cracking with the weight of unspoken feelings.

“You’re always busy, Jay. I miss you, even when you’re right here.” You bit your lip, feeling a surge of sadness flood your chest. The silence between you was filled with unsaid words and lingering doubts.

Jay’s face softened, a mix of regret and tenderness washing over him. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch light and careful, as if you were made of glass.

“That’s not true,” he whispered, his voice earnest and filled with a gentle conviction. “You’re the prettiest girl in the entire world to me.”

You scoffed softly, rolling your eyes as you pushed his hand away, turning your face from him. “Liar,” you muttered, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

Your shoulders tensed, a stubborn wall going up, even though your heart ached for the reassurance he was trying to give.

Jay sighed, the sound low and resigned, yet there was a glimmer of determination in his eyes. He knew he had been caught up in work, and the realization stung.

Without another word, he reached out, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. Your back pressed against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your shoulder blades as he rested his chin on top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin. “I’ll do better. I promise.” He squeezed you a little tighter, hoping that his embrace would say what words couldn’t — that he loved you, that he saw you, and that you were far from forgotten.

Jay’s arms gently pulled you closer, shifting you on the couch so that you faced him, his warm hands resting on your waist.

As he turned you, the faint creak of the couch filled the space, the only sound breaking the quiet between you. You found yourself staring directly into his eyes, their depth pulling you in, the sincerity there clear and undeniable.

“I love you, you know that,” he whispered, his voice soft and low, like a secret meant just for you. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering as if trying to transfer all his unspoken affection through that single touch.

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of frustration, your thoughts still clouded with doubt. “You love your work more,” you muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. You shifted slightly, your hands fidgeting in your lap as your eyes darted away, avoiding his gaze.

Jay sighed, his expression softening, a quiet acknowledgment that you were right, at least in part. “I might give it more time,” he admitted, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek, his touch feather-light, “but that doesn’t mean I love it more.”

You rolled your eyes, still unconvinced, and the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at your lips. “Whatever you say,” you replied, the tension between you lingering like an unspoken promise. The room seemed to close in, the silence stretching, filled only with the sound of your mingled breaths.

Then, Jay’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he tried to lighten the mood. His lips curled into a playful smile, his fingers tracing small, absentminded circles on your hip. “Let’s play a game,” he proposed, his voice taking on a teasing edge. “We hold each other's gaze. Whoever looks away or blinks first has to fulfill the winner’s request.”

You narrowed your eyes, assessing his challenge. There was that familiar spark of competitiveness between you, one that always kept things interesting. “Well… okay,” you agreed, the corner of your mouth lifting in a slight grin as you squared your shoulders, determined to win.

And so, the two of you locked eyes. It started slow, steady, a silent battle of wills. You felt your heartbeat quicken, a light flutter in your chest as the intensity between you grew. You were confident; after all, you had a prize in mind—a quiet evening wrapped in his arms, sharing stories and gentle kisses.

But Jay had other plans. He watched you with an unwavering focus, his gaze filled with a mix of tenderness and something darker, a lingering heat that sent a shiver down your spine.

The seconds ticked by, the playful contest turning into something far more intimate. Each moment stretched longer than the last, the tension building, your breaths growing shallow.

After what felt like an eternity, your eyes started to itch, the sting of fatigue creeping in. You blinked. A quiet, involuntary action, but it sealed your defeat.

You groaned softly, the sound barely escaping your lips, a frustrated exhale of “no way I lost.” Jay’s expression softened into concern as he noticed the brief discomfort, his thumb brushing lightly across your brow.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, voice laced with genuine worry, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, his eyes scanning your face to make sure the itch was nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience.

You nodded, the faint irritation already forgotten, replaced by the renewed sense of playful anticipation. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, the warmth lingering like a promise before his voice dropped lower, a whisper that sent a rush of heat through you. “Now you’d grant my wish, right?”

You swallowed, your heart pounding against your ribs. The playful tone in his voice was unmistakable, but there was an underlying seriousness that made your skin tingle. “I guess?” you replied with a nervous laugh, your cheeks flushing as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Haha…”

Jay’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to a murmur that made your breath hitch. “You’re on birth control, right?” he asked, the question so quietly spoken that it felt like he was guarding the moment, keeping it private and sacred between the two of you.

Your breath caught, your eyes widening slightly at the sudden shift. Your mind raced, and your face warmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I—” you stammered, every coherent thought fleeing from your mind as his proximity sent your senses into overdrive.

Finally, you nodded, biting your lip, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up your neck.

“Perfect.” His smile turned into something more wicked, more daring, and before you could react, he scooped you up in a swift, effortless motion.

Your legs dangled as he cradled you in his arms, bridal style, his grip secure and firm. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers brushing against the back of his hair as you gazed up at him, caught in the storm of his gaze.

Jay’s eyes never left yours, and in that moment, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, bound by a shared breath and a promise of what was to come.

The look he gave you was intense, filled with all the things he couldn’t quite say, and you felt your heart race, a thrilling mix of excitement and anticipation coursing through you.

Jay’s footsteps were soft but deliberate as he carried you into the dimly lit bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind him, the gentle thud of it closing barely audible over the faint hum of the night.

He maneuvered through the room with practiced ease, his body warm against yours, his arms cradling you securely.

His eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, found the light switch and flicked it off with his foot. The room plunged into a comforting obscurity, a setting you both cherished for these intimate moments.

The darkness wrapped around you like a soft, velvety cloak, heightening your senses and the anticipation between you.

Jay lowered you onto the bed with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment. The mattress gave a quiet creak as you settled onto it, the softness beneath you a stark contrast to the hard warmth of his body.

He hovered above you, his breath warm on your skin as his fingers brushed gently against your cheek. His touch was feather-light, a mere whisper of sensation that made your skin tingle.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, the tenderness in his touch making your heart flutter. His lips then trailed a path down to your cheek, his kiss lingering, savoring the closeness.

As he finally reached your lips, his kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate. The kiss was both a promise and a claim, a melding of lips and emotions that spoke volumes.

His bottom lip was between yours, a playful yet fervent tug that made you gasp softly into his mouth. Jay’s moan was a low, vibrating rumble that resonated against your lips, an involuntary sound of pleasure that made your pulse quicken.

Your fingers moved deftly to his shirt, unbuttoning it one by one. Each button released a new expanse of his toned torso, your touch light and exploratory. You could feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, each brush of your hand eliciting a shiver of excitement from him.

As you caressed his chest, your fingers traced the ridges and planes of his muscles, making him moan softly into your mouth.

Jay’s hands, equally eager, moved with purpose as he fumbled with the buttons of your pajama top. The fabric parted with ease under his touch, and as his hands slipped beneath the material, he continued to kiss you fervently.

His tongue flicked out to taste and explore, the rhythm of his kisses matching the pulse of desire coursing through both of you.

The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the electric charge of anticipation. Each kiss, each touch was a testament to the depth of your connection, a silent conversation of longing and love.

As he slowly removed the last barrier between your skin and his, the room seemed to dissolve into the dark cocoon of your shared intimacy, where every touch was amplified and every kiss lingered just a moment longer.

Jay’s eyes were tender as they met yours, glistening with a mix of regret and vulnerability. “I’m sorry for not giving you the time you deserve,” he murmured softly, his voice almost breaking as he pressed gentle, lingering kisses to your cheeks.

Each touch of his lips was a silent apology, a promise of more to come.You tilted your head slightly, letting his warmth envelop you. “You had your reasons,” you whispered, your voice a soft, soothing murmur.

His head dipped into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. The kisses there were delicate at first but soon grew more intense, transforming into soft, consuming suckles that left trails of heat in their wake.

The sensation of his lips on your neck caused a shiver to run through you. “Mmm…” you moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as the pleasure built.

Each hickey he left was a mark of his devotion, a physical testament to the depth of his feelings.

His body was warm and firm against yours, a comforting weight that made you feel both cherished and desired. His hands roamed over your body with a gentle reverence, caressing and exploring with an unspoken tenderness.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice laden with sincerity and emotion.

“I love you too,” you responded, your words a breathy echo of his sentiments.

Jay's gaze was soft yet intense as he supported himself on his elbows, his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers traced the edges of your lacy bra with deliberate slowness, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

He started undressing you, each movement fluid and filled with a loving reverence. "You're so pretty," he whispered, his voice a tender caress that made your heart flutter.

His eyes sparkled with admiration and affection as he tossed aside your lacy pink bra, a piece he clearly adored.

His hands then glided to your breasts, his touch light and teasing as he caressed the valley between your breasts.

The gentle, teasing strokes of his fingers sent shivers of both excitement and frustration through you. "Jay!" you whined, your voice a blend of plea and exasperation.

The teasing was almost too much, making you squirm beneath him, yearning for more immediate affection. His touch was electrifying, a tantalizing promise of the passion that was to come.

Jay's expression remained teasingly oblivious as he whispered, “Hmm?” His voice was laced with a playful innocence that belied the clear arousal you both felt.

Even through the layers of fabric, you could feel the hardness of his desire pressing against you, a heated reminder of his own longing.

“Please…” you whined, raising your hips instinctively, seeking the friction that would alleviate the burning need within you. Your movements were both desperate and eager, a silent plea for more.

“Patience,” Jay replied with a teasing smirk, his voice smooth and full of mischief.

He rubbed his hardness against you through the fabric of his pants and your panties, his movements slow and deliberate, designed to keep you on the edge of pleasure.

“I want you so bad,” you whispered, your gaze locked with his. The intensity of your eyes mirrored the intensity of your need, each word dripping with desire and longing.

As Jay’s mouth descended upon your nipple, a moan escaped your lips, and your head fell back in sheer pleasure.

His warmth enveloped you, and the sensation of his mouth on your sensitive skin sent waves of ecstasy through you.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling with a delicious precision that had you gasping and arching against him.

“Baby…” Jay moaned around your nipple, the sound vibrating through you. His breath was hot and heavy, mingling with the sensation of his tongue as it lavished attention on your hardened peak.

His grinding movements against you through the layers of clothing only heightened your arousal, creating a delicious friction that intensified every touch.

His free hand was equally attentive, moving to caress and knead your other breast with a tender, almost reverent touch. His thumb rubbed gently against your other nipple, creating a perfect rhythm that matched the soft, soothing pressure of his caresses.

“So pretty, just like I remembered,” Jay murmured, his voice muffled slightly as he continued to suckle on your nipple.

There was a nostalgic softness in his tone, a reminder of the deep connection and affection he felt. The intimacy of the moment was laced with a sense of longing and cherished memories.

“It’s been so long…” you breathed heavily, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and emotion. The truth of your words hung between you, a stark reminder of the time that had passed without this kind of closeness.

Weeks, maybe months without the physical intimacy you both craved had left a palpable void, now being filled with the intensity of your current encounter.

Jay’s breath came out in a deep sigh, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken words between you. He left your nipple with a wet pop, his gaze soft and affectionate as he looked up at you.

A tender kiss on your forehead accompanied his whispered “mine,” his voice imbued with both possessiveness and tenderness.

His lips then traveled down to your neck, suckling with a renewed intensity that made your breath hitch.

His hands were swift and purposeful as he discarded your panties, the fabric pulling away with a teasing strip of arousal, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. The sudden rush of cool air against your heated skin elicited a shiver of anticipation.

Jay’s movements were fluid and urgent as he removed his pants, followed quickly by his boxers. The sight of his length straining against the fabric of his boxers was a clear testament to his own arousal.

He tossed his boxers aside with equal haste, and both of you were finally bare, the last remnants of clothing discarded.

In a shared moment of urgency and intimacy, you took the initiative to remove his shirt, throwing it aside so that nothing now lay between your naked bodies. The raw, unfiltered connection between you was palpable.

“Jay…” you moaned, your voice filled with longing as you felt him protest against your call.

His fingers were already tracing a path down to your pussy, gathering your arousal with a slow, deliberate touch. His whispered words—“you’re so ready for me”—sent a shiver of pleasure through you.

“Mm…” you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as he began to rub slow circles on your clit. The sensation was a mixture of tantalizing friction and electrifying warmth.

“Does that feel good?” Jay asked softly, his voice a seductive murmur as he pushed a finger inside you. The intrusion was met with a surprised gasp as his finger curved and stroked within you, moving slowly in and out.

“Ahhh…” The gasp escaped your lips, your body arching towards him as his finger explored with a measured rhythm. Each movement, each curve of his finger sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but moan his name, completely lost in the intensity of the moment.

Jay’s fingers worked their magic inside you, the friction building with every deliberate stroke. The sound of your moans filled the room, mingling with the soft rustling of the bed sheets.

Your hips moved in sync with his fingers, aching with need as they sought more contact, more of him. “JAY!” you gasped sharply when he added a second finger, stretching you further in preparation for his thick cock.

The sensation of him filling you was almost too much to bear, sending jolts of pleasure through your core. His fingers curled and stroked, expertly hitting all the right spots.

His lips were firmly pressed against your neck, suckling with an insistent rhythm that matched the pace of his fingers. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, each breath mingling with the sounds of your shared pleasure.

The contrast between the gentle kiss and the intensity of his touch created a dizzying mix of sensations. Jay’s eyes were dark with desire as he looked at you, his face flushed with the effort of keeping his composure.

His other hand gripped your hip, guiding your movements as he continued to work his fingers inside you, the rhythm steady and relentless. “Are you ready for me?” he whispered, his voice rough with need as he withdrew his fingers slowly, savoring the lingering warmth of your body.

You gasped out a desperate, “I’m ready...” Your hips lifted to signal him, the urgency clear in your movements.

Jay didn’t need any further encouragement. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue taking dominance. The sensation of his tip rubbing against you made you shiver, your moans mingling with his as he worked to ensure you were sufficiently wet.

With a deliberate, slow motion, he began to enter you, inch by inch. The fullness was almost overwhelming, and you gasped, your hands gripping his back as he filled you.

“Oh my god, babe,” you moaned, the sensation both intense and exhilarating.

Jay’s response was soothing, a soft kiss on your forehead as he buried his face in your neck. His hands kept your legs firmly around his waist, guiding you closer, deeper.

“It’s fine,” he whispered, his voice a comforting rumble against your skin. He continued to move, each thrust stretching and filling you completely.

“So tight, so warm,” he murmured, his breath mingling with your gasps. His voice was deep, filled with a mix of awe and pleasure as he began to find his rhythm.

“You’re so big...” you managed to say, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you adjusted to him. Despite the familiarity, the sensation was almost overwhelming.

“You like it?” he teased softly, his thrusts slow and deliberate. His other hand moved to your clit, rubbing in small, stimulating circles to keep you on edge.

“Jay,” you moaned, your eyes glistening with tears of pleasure. His length felt incredible, stretching you in ways that left you breathless.

“Mmm...” he responded with a groan, brushing a tear from your cheek as he continued to thrust. His movements were a mix of tenderness and passion, each stroke perfectly measured.

“So good,” you murmured, your voice muffled by your moans. The intensity of the moment, combined with the rhythm of his thrusts, made you feel like you had rediscovered him after the long days apart.

Jay’s pace increased gradually, his thrusts becoming more fervent as he responded to your every whimper and gasp. His fingers continued their steady pressure on your clit, amplifying the pleasure as he drove deeper.

“Feel so good,” you repeated, your voice trembling with the sheer intensity of your emotions. The physical connection between you both was a powerful reminder of how much you had missed each other.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure—moans, gasps, and the rhythmic thud of the bed. The pleasure you felt was heightened by the emotional connection, making every touch and every thrust feel profoundly intimate.

As Jay continued to move inside you, you clung to him, feeling a mix of relief and ecstasy. This moment was everything you had been craving, a reconnection that was both physically and emotionally satisfying.

Jay's thrusts grew faster and more erratic, his rhythm becoming frantic as he chased his release. The familiar knot in your stomach tightened, an intense pressure building with each powerful stroke.

“JAY!” you moaned, your voice breaking as his pace quickened. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to hold back the impending climax.

“Wait for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with desperation. His hands roamed to your breasts, squeezing them with a gentle firmness. He rubbed your nipples with a deliberate, teasing touch, driving you closer to the edge.

“Oh god, oh god,” you whined, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The intensity of his movements and the sensations coursing through you made it difficult to hold back.

“YOU’RE SO FUCKING HOT,” Jay groaned, his voice thick with arousal. He was determined to prolong the moment, savoring every second of the connection between you.

The room was filled with the rustle of sheets and the sound of skin against skin, a symphony of your shared pleasure. Jay’s relentless pace and the raw intensity of the moment made it almost impossible to focus on anything but the ecstasy that engulfed you.

“Come for me, baby...” Jay whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His words were a gentle nudge, encouraging you to let go as he held his own release in check.

“JAY I’M—” you screamed out his name, the sensation of his cock inside you reaching a peak. The explosion of pleasure hit you like a tidal wave, and you milked his cock with your climax, sending him over the edge as well.

“Fuck,” Jay swore, his voice a mix of awe and satisfaction. The tight, pulsing sensation of your orgasm made him come undone, and you could feel his hot seed filling you up.

His body collapsed on top of you, the weight a comforting presence as the aftershocks of your orgasms faded.

You both lay there for a moment, entangled and spent. Jay slowly pulled out, the wet, lewd pop of his withdrawal making you feel a sudden emptiness now that he was no longer inside you. His arms wrapped around you as he shifted so that you were on top of him, his body warm and comforting against yours.

“Was that good?” he asked softly, his voice tender and filled with affection. He held you close, his hands gently stroking your back as you rested on his chest.

“Mm... I think I forgive you for neglecting me the past few days,” you murmured, your tone heavy with exhaustion and contentment. Your eyelids grew heavy, the warmth of his body making you feel safe and cherished.

Jay’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “I promise not to do that ever again,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincere regret and love. He held you close, his embrace a silent promise to make time for you and cherish every moment together.

As you both settled into the quiet of the room, the intimacy of the moment lingered. The soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional rustle of the sheets created a peaceful backdrop to your contentment. Jay’s arms were a steady, reassuring presence, and you snuggled into him, feeling a deep sense of connection and love.

The world outside seemed distant and unimportant as you lay together, the bonds of your relationship reaffirmed in the gentle, afterglow of your shared passion.

[luludeluluramblings]

Bruce Wayne's Obsession with Smalltown!Reader - Revised

A/N: I honestly have no idea where this came from. I just wanted to revise it and then I spiraled. I'm just trying to keep the creative juices flowing and attempted to add dialogue. Next thing I know, I wrote this. Maybe it's the on coming fall? Fall is my time of year. Still might make some more revisions to this and other's. Especially if I keep putting off the main story.

A/N: Consider this a test of me adding more lore to Reader. It'll help Smalltown make sense when we get there in the next two parts. Or, at least I hope it will.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Link to Original

Yandere Type: Platonic Father

Reader’s Momma is Adeline

Reader’s step-father, Daddy, is Samuel

Bruce was obsessed with Reader as soon as he saw the little bitty picture of them in that tiny hospital crib. And, for a while, that single picture was all he had of them. 

Imagine the surprise he felt to come back for a six month long mission off planet to find out that the brief relationship he had with a woman from outside of Gotham had produced something. 

He’ll admit, he hadn’t been that careful with Adeline. She was a gorgeous and charming woman, with just a hint of a wild side. She had been just a bit too sweet for his taste. Sweet enough he wasn’t too concerned about any lasting consequences. She had been quite understanding when he had ended things. Perhaps a bit too understanding. 

He had to find out through court papers that sweet Adeline had actually been more his type than he expected. Bruce didn’t expect her to even have a bitter side. But, apparently, she could be petty and spiteful, and had some damn good lawyers. 

Bruce hadn’t expected to get Adeline pregnant. He understands how it happened, and he made sure to lecture both Jason and Dick about being cautious after the whole ordeal, but he hadn’t expected it. And, he most certainly hadn’t expected Adeline to keep the whole thing under wraps before filing for full custody with no child support or visitation. 

To say Bruce was pissed was an understatement. The Wayne lawyers had dropped the ball on this matter, and subsequently been fired. They had wrongly assumed this was some revenge publicity stunt, and that Reader probably wasn’t his. 

But, he saw that little picture. That sweet face laying in the hospital cradle. Those were his mother’s eyes on that little baby. His mother’s eyes. 

Of course, Bruce tried to do damage control. Claiming he hadn’t known about the court date (which was true). But, Adeline had some damn good lawyers and had made sure to do all the court procedures out of state and out of his circle of influence. 

He did manage to get one thing. The DNA test. Not because he doubted that Reader wasn’t his. But, so Adeline couldn’t win completely. She could remarry. She could leave the birth certificate blank. She could fill their child’s head with lies about him. But, that child was his. His baby. 

Naturally, the results came back with absolute certainty. Reader was his. And, he had to fight himself to not drag Adeline back to court. 

Hell, he had debated on proposing to her. Forcing her to marry him. He was willing. Adeline was sweet and gentle, and this side of her, despite how much it was pissing him off, was quite attractive. The pettiness, the cunning, the protectiveness, weren’t exactly turn offs for him. 

Luckily, Alfred had pointed out to him that he was being irrational. Sure, it wouldn’t have been the worst idea he had, but Bruce wasn’t going to give up being Batman. Not at this time. Not yet. 

Would he really be able to handle a newborn and a pissed off wife on top of Gotham’s crime? What if something happened to them in Gotham? What if history repeats itself once more? 

Reasonable and both unreasonable questions. 

That being stated, Bruce concluded it would be best to let Reader grow up outside of Gotham. He couldn’t give up being Batman for them, but he could at least let them grow up without Gotham’s smog sinking into their bones and marrow. 

Not to say Bruce didn’t just let Reader linger in the back of his mind as a spare thought. He thought about them often. But, he was always careful. 

His enemies grew bolder and more numerous every year. 

Bruce had resigned himself to one day a year to dedicate all his time to checking on Reader. One day where he would hack anything and everything for information about his child. Adeline’s phone and social media for pictures of Reader. Milestone updates for Reader’s pediatrician. Preschool footage to see his child toddle around and make friends. Researching those friends and their parents to make sure his child was safe. One single day a year.

He nearly lost it when he found out Adeline had met another man and introduced him to Reader. It enraged him further to see the wedding pictures. To see this man holding his child in his arms with such a loving smile and pressing a kiss to their cheek while holding Adeline in his arms. 

He had done background check after background check into this man, Samuel. As much as Batman and Bruce Wayne could without arousing suspicion. 

And, he was clean. A good ol’ boy. Focused on family and minding his business. And, he was good at business.

Samuel owned a massive regional construction company. Not as wealthy nor diverse as Wayne Enterprises, but stable and steady. He had a secure income, not a negative thing written about him ever. In fact, if Bruce had met the man under different circumstances he probably would appreciate Samuel’s practicality. 

But, his first introduction to this man was from watching a video that Adeline had filmed of Reader having a birthday party. Of Reader making a wish, blowing out the candles on their birthday cake. 

“What did you wish for, baby?” He could hear Adeline’s voice in his mind. A warm loving voice that was the prelude to his heartbreaking. 

“I wanna little brother!” Bruce watches as a sweet grin forms on a frosting covered face, every time. He’s watched this video over and over. Memorizing the words. Memorizing the smile. Memorizing the sprinkles on the half eaten cake.

“Oh? What if you get a little sister?” 

“Nah, it’ll be a brother. I know it.”

“And, how do you know it, sweetpea?”

“Cause last year I wished for a Daddy and now I got one.” 

Those words are what breaks Bruce every time. Every single time. 

It should have been him being called that.

That was his child. That was his baby. He loves them. He’s done so much to keep his distance. To keep them safe. 

Now, he’s resigned to watch as another man treasures his most precious thing. Probably the only innocent thing that will ever come from his existence. 

Alfred had a hard time convincing him that this was for the best. That he needed to let it go. 

Until now, he had accepted that it was necessary. Gotham needs Batman. For a moment he was ready to give it up.

But, then Jason died. (Temporarily.) Something broke when that happened. Bruce realized if Gotham could take Jason, it would’ve taken Reader, too. 

So, even though he hates it. Even though he is so bitterly jealous of Samuel, living a peaceful life with his child. Even though he would do almost anything to hear his child call him Daddy. He keeps being Batman. 

He has to at this point. Gotham took his family, and he won’t let it take anymore. Not ever again.

[xianyoon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐤𝐞 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

wriothesley x gn!reader. pure fluff & comfort, wriothesley is insecure and has trust issues, the fortress is written to be a much worse place than what genshin has written it to be. reader is his comfort and all, ok? & reader is a social worker bc that's what i'm studying hehhee ノ very much based on my own interpretation of wriothesley's vulnerabilities. ノ wc 2.1k.

there is a title reserved only for the one who breaks through the plexiglass exterior of the duke –his sweetheart, his darling dove, his all. how does this title come about, however?

perhaps we start at the beginning ; the beginning, the dusty secrets held dearly that were only shown through shared glances and lingering touches on each other’s office doors. being the fortress’ ( or rather, wriothesley’s ) resource broker was no easy job ; you know nothing yet hear everything, from vague gestures to whatever outrageous plans soon-to-be ex-convicts wanted their future lives to be on the topside, to crying fathers realising that their daughters had grown up without them.

it was a tiresome job, you agree. tiresome, fulfilling, but still tiresome ; the days seemed to pass slowly, a never-ending spiral of complaints and insecurities. sometimes, it was even unpleasant.

incredibly unpleasant, that is –– until the one day where joy seemed to seep into work more, looks of disdain directed towards paperwork now looking somewhat spirited.

you found yourself falling in love with no one else but the duke.

the duke of meropide; his Grace, a low-profile man, yet someone who holds one of the highest titles in fontaine. chatter grows amongst a lack of knowledge. some say he killed people for his title – a bloodthirsty assassin, willing to do anything to get his hands on the tiniest modicum of power. some say he is a man haunted by his past ; a lying cheater, a thief, a kidnapper ; any infamous name that holds him at his knees, begging for a second chance.

perhaps he is the king of the criminals, the ringleader, whose heinous crimes have even gotten past the esteemed iudex of fontaine. most folks of the upper city do not like wriothesley ; you know that.

so how, despite everything – including your status as practically a saint, your amiable connections with people above, your line of work – how did you ever fall for the duke?

1) the duke is kind.

he is kind, he is trustworthy, he is lovable. the last sentiment bears witness the hard truths of his work – years of building a mask for himself has taught the public that he is a wicked man. short with children, dismissive of others – all untrue, whispered rumours that grow from untimely coincidences.

people typically never stick around long enough to learn the truth – they never do. late nights of his restless tossing and turning; mimicking his chest rising and falling to trick himself into sleeping, finally at peace – has reminded you that despite his seemingly unbreakable armour, wriothesley is still someone who gets hurt –human.

perhaps that is one reason he is so enamoured with you. your constant reminding to him that he is still human is something he adores. you humanise him. he is kind, he is trustworthy, he is lovable.

“do you need my help?”

you want to say no, you’ve got this, thank you – but you see him standing by the wooden doorframe, hands practically itching to get something for you.

there is something so perfectly innocent about his question; so filled with longing – it is only then, golden rays of sunlight filtering through the waters, gently touching everything in its path with evening glow – you realise that perhaps all the duke wants is to feel needed.

“i do, actually. how is your timing always impeccable?” you break into a smile, and suddenly the room feels a smidge lighter, his hopeful anticipation transformed into eager helpfulness.

he is lovable and he is needed. he is kind.

2) the duke is protective.

there is no doubt in that sentiment – you say it with your chest, looking at his steady gaze. wriothesley is especially protective of you in the fortress; your self-proclaimed personal bodyguard, accompanying you from waiting loyally by the topside entrance and waiting for you to sit comfortably in your office seat before casting one last gaze to make sure you’re safe.

“are you sure you’re comfortable? i’m happy to have an assistant fetch you more pillows-”

“thank you, but i’m oka-.” your voice is muffled beneath the mound of hand-stitched pillows he deposited.

“the pillows aren’t that nice, but they’re really all we have, perhaps i shall send a request for neuvillette to grant us extra allowance-”

“wriothesley.”

he looks up from his ramble.

“thank you. i appreciate it. i’m quite alright– this is more than enough for me. thank you for your hospitality.”

you share a brief moment of understanding, eyes meeting, corners of lips upturning for a second– 

“the pleasure is all mine. i’ll leave you to your work, then.” you see a hint of an exhaustedly contented smile on his face before the door is closed.

there is no doubt that wriothesley is protective over you. you’re a diamond in the murky waters of the meropide – you are an outsider, a foreigner; a face not yet haunted by the depths of the fortress. you are fresh. sultry men and covetous women fix their gaze on you as you walk past with your case notes, guileful eyes boring into the back of your head. like a pack of wolves waiting to lead their lamb to slaughter.

“an efficient lot, hm? all done with your tasks for the day? perhaps i should ask sigewinne to cook more mystery lunchboxes.”

his voice breaks through the anticipatory silence, a siren that sends even the bravest of wolves scrambling for shelter.

“r-right away, sire!”

even the bravest of wolves never fail to stammer at the duke’s feet.

3) the duke loves you.

if there is one thing that should not be doubted – 

it is his love for you,

and your love for him.

wriothesley thinks that he is subtle; that he is, to the unsuspecting and unobservant. most do not care to notice how he starts smiling a tad more, or how he locks eyes with you every time you walk pass, or how he utters a prayer to any deity listening to protect you in the fortress. there is only so much wriothesley, the man, can do.

you make him human. in your presence, he is not the duke of meropide nor the god that reigns over the fortress – he is wriothesley. he is broken and he is hurt and he is rough around the edges not because he wants to. he laughs and he cries and he remembers how he used to clasp his hands together, hoping that one day, they’d be yours instead.

wriothesley holds a fear as tightly as it grips him – perhaps if he strangles it to death, he will never be plagued by the anxiety that one day, you will unpack him in full and the clothes will be stored away and all that’s left is a miserable box – a shell of who he used to be. when the sunlight spills through the trees, and the morning fog starts to clear, will you like what you see?

it is obvious when this fear takes him by the hand and threatens to choke him. he becomes withdrawn, tired, bland, even – he is so beside himself with the worry that he has no ounce of strength for a facade anymore. the curtain falls, and the performer you see onstage is the ghost of his typically suave demeanour. once-organic jokes feel forced and his smile is haunting– still a weary beautiful, but hauntingly so.

“please, i beg of you, tell me what’s wrong.”

“it’s nothing.”

“it’s not nothing.”

“it is nothing you should be concerned with, i promise. you have more important matters to attend to than this.” he looks back down at his paperwork, burying and sinking into his armchair, gaze refusing to meet your waiting one.

“you are an important matter that i wish to attend to. please, wriothesley. i can’t make it better if i don’t know what’s wrong.” you plead.

“it is,” he grits his teeth – lying through his teeth, if you will.

“it is nothing. i assure you that. i am perfectly fine.”

you sigh hearing that. the duke, stubborn as always.

“you forget that it is my very job to point out discrepancies between my clients’ behaviour and their words.”

he looks at you – his expression hard to read. it isn’t one that is unkind, nor mocking, but he is not quite taking himself apart bone by bone to lay in front of you either. frankly, he is just. . . curious.

“i don’t understand you at all. i am not your client. in fact, it’s quite the opposite – i am your boss, yet you insist on treating me like some . . . something to be unearthed, dissected. does that bring you joy? am i a mere specimen, just waiting to–” he sets his fountain pen down midway, staring at his now-cold english breakfast tea. the intricate flavours would have mulled by now; it is nothing but a pathetic, lukewarm flavoured water. “are you just waiting for–”

“what part of ‘ i care for you ‘ do you not understand?”

for the first time in a long time, wriothesley shuts up.

“from the second i walked through the doors of the meropide, blindfolded because i wasn’t allowed to know where the entrance was on the first day– you have been nothing but kind to me, wriothesley. you are patient and generous, you give me more than i can ever ask for. why is it so hard for you to believe that i have come to care for you as well?”

wriothesley doesn’t speak.

“i love you, wriothesley,” you whisper.

“and i am sorry that it has taken me long enough to say it because apparently it is not clear to you why i care for you so. i adore you, your grace, i beg you to believe me when i say i wish to see you nothing but loved.”

it is only until a few days after that he gathers the words – and the courage – to speak again.

i’m sorry,

the letter reads. he isn’t quite ready to talk in person yet.

please meet me in my office at 2200 hours.

– w.

you arrive at his office, bleary-eyed after a long day of consultations and sorting through the tireless stacks of mail that find itself on your office desk.

“wriothesley?”

he falls.

“i’m sorry. please– i love you as well. i am sorry that i didn’t– no, couldn’t trust you, when you had shown me nothing but the reason why i could. i beg you to believe me, my worries has nothing to do with your lack of efforts. from the start you have been the very subject of my desires–”

“wriothesley.” you hold his face gently, fingers lightly grazing his flushed cheeks.

“it’s alright. i love you.”

he buries his head into where your clavicle lies, breathing heavy sighs of relief.

“i’m sorry.”

“you have nothing to apologise for, i promise.” you move to sit on his office couch, holding him close – you find yourself pressing a gentle kiss to his bicep, your head leaning against his shoulder. the couch dips with his shift in weight, and he rests his head against yours.

“please don’t promise me that. i know i have done wrong.”

“my love,” you experiment with the new title – it rolls right off your tongue. it feels right.

“you are human. it is okay.”

“i’m sorry.”

“all is forgiven.”

4) the duke knows he is loved.

weeks pass since the emotional disclosure between you and the duke – a shared understanding to love quietly in public but loudly when it was just the two of you. lingering touches, a shared smile hidden behind stacked of the fortress’ paperwork, a gentle nod of acknowledgement in passing –your love is quiet but it is as real as it can be.

“welcome home, my love.” you smile, nuzzling your face into his collarbone – he is fresh from the meropide, there is a slight undeniable stench, but his cologne covers most of it and enraptures you in his scent.

“aren’t you exhausted? i saw the client you were dealing with today.”

“i am. but i’m alright.”

“are you sure?”

“positive, dear. thank you for asking.” you tiptoe to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, landing with a slight bounce in your step.

“you look happier today. did something happen?” wriothesley smiles, setting his bag down.

“nothing, really. just . . . reminiscing, i believe. how utterly i’ve fallen for this sweet, sweet darling of a man.”

he barks out a laugh at that, a soft smile finally reaching the corners of his eyes.

“you’re about to make this sweet, sweet darling of a man start weeping if you keep saying these sentimental things.”

you shove him off you and pinch his side.

“go get changed! dinner is almost here.”

“ow- ow! okay!”

how ever did you fall for the duke? truth be told, you thought it was rather simple. it’s not like it was hard to do so.

thank you for reading !! this one took a lot out of me, so if you enjoyed this, a reblog with tags + a comment goes a long way !!! hehehe

[tritoch]

i have seen people be like "if you think what the dawntrail protagonists do in zone six is valid you have to conceded emet's approach/perspective was valid, what you do is basically what he does" and it's like...nah. it's obviously intentionally very similar ("it's like poetry, it rhymes") but there's some key differences:

emet is disgusted by sundered life, which he sees as inhuman, and longs to return to the unrecoverable past. so he does seven(ish) planet-wide genocides. the endless aren't new life, their ability to grow and learn is specifically in question (at the very least they are fundamentally incapable of taking in new sensory experience of certain forms), they're shades from the unrecoverable past, and you are destroying them in favor of those still alive.

also, we aren't disgusted by them nor do we think anything is fundamentally justified if done to them (everyone pretty much no-sells cahciua "we aren't alive so it doesn't matter if you kill us :)," in fact). we don't have like 12,000 years and the most advanced magic known to anyone alive. we are forced by serious exigency to destroy them due to a political impasse with their leadership's policy re: resource extraction. this tonal difference is in fact extremely important.

the endless themselves seem pretty ambivalent about the whole deal. they're bored or they're wary of the way their world keeps shrinking, and it's very explicitly neither a functioning society by any recognizable human terms nor a paradise.

related to the above, basically every named endless turns to the person most relevant to them (cahciua to erenville, krile's parents to her, namikka to wuk lamat, otis to you) and is like, huh, i really appreciate having this moment of grace at the end of my journey to see that it was all worthwhile and to resolve my lasting regrets, but i understand what you're here to do and yeah, it's probably time for us to go. (does the writing put a finger on the scale by doing this? sure, but the writers also designed and built the scales and everything they're weighing on them, so i find it hard to discredit any one aspect for being the writers' invention.)

finally uh no one in the party has kids with the endless or lives a full human lifetime as one of them lol.

it's important to remember that emet was definitely at least somewhat lying about not seeing the sundered as real people. the fact that he has "lived a thousand thousand of your lives . . . broken bread with you, fought with you, grown ill, grown old, sired children and yes, welcomed death’s sweet embrace" makes everything he did soooooo much crazier than what you do. if i managed to convince an endless to fall in love with me and i had a kid with them and i loved that kid so much that their death threw me into a permanent grief spiral then like. yeah i guess i would have to be like "well hats off to emet, folks." but luckily the game doesn't make you do that.

even if you insist everyone in living memory was a full living person that we killed, you're still weighing like a city of people versus 7+ planet-wide mass murders. you do not under any circumstances got to hand it to him.

living memory absolutely is evocative of everything that happens in shadowbringers. but rather than placing us in emet's shoes, it forces us to relive what we already did, to really fully face up to what we have done by promising to remember emet's culture after destroying any chance of its return. after two games going hard on the hope part of the game's central theme of hope arising from grief, now we're doing grief. we are forced to see the past of our memories not as a cold, ghostly art deco cubus-plagued socratic method hellscape but as the most beautiful technicolor theme park where everyone's happy and no one's sad and there's parades every day and your parents are alive and they love you so much. and then the game's conclusion is, yeah, you were still right to let go. in fact, you were and are morally obliged to let go. the living were and are worth more than the dead. our grief in letting go of them may be immense and turns our world to bleak nothingness for a time, and that is important to recognize, but at the end of the day our most pressing duty is to those we can yet save, not those we have lost.