#I’ll tag some of you guys hope you don’t mind <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[jenrubyjane]

hello besties 🫶🏻 !!!

i have decided to start a tracking tag so i don't miss all your amazing content #tuserflora you can tag me in anything kpop related.

girl group content will be posted on my main @shinez , and boy group content on @leeseokmn ! (Idk if and when I’ll be posting original content there, but we shall see !)

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Sub!armin x reader collegeau

(PLEASE BABES IM BEGGNG YOUUUU🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾)

For Free

Tags: Sub!Armin x Fem!Reader, college!au, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, virgin!armin, overstimulation, light choking, vaginal sex, face riding, a small side of eremika,

Synopsis: Virgin!Armin doesn’t know how to get his dick wet :)

An: I’d love to start writing more for AOT if anyone else has any reqs they wanna see me flesh out <3 I don’t write sub men that often, so I hope this was satisfactory. Also, can we be so fr rn? Men who are nerdy and have nerdy interests are sooooo 🤭

"So, as I was saying. The artic also produces icebergs, so hypothetically speaking, if we could cut down on pollution and light pollution, we could have a slim shot of repairing-"

"Armin, I am begging you. Please shut the fuck up and eat your food." Eren annoyingly snaps at him while rolling his eyes. He was currently stabbing at his portion of chicken aggressively with his fork.

"I was listening to him. Don't be an ass." You retort while elbowing Eren in his side. Your eyes then fixate back on Armin. "You're saying that we potentially could repair the artic to an extent?" You prompt for him to go on his little tangent about the artic and ocean.

If someone asked you why you were so interested, you'd make up some lie about how you're writing a paper on the effects of pollution and global warming. In reality, you actually just loved listening to your cute blonde friend spill his heart out about his hyper fixations.

Your eyes glass over as Armin goes back to explaining to you the intricacies of the environment and global warming. Your mind wanders to how he’d look if you just got on your knees for him and gave him the best head of his life. You could almost bet that he’d be the type to whimper.

“You need to get laid like it’s detrimental at this point.” Eren grumbles while shaking his head. “You quite literally are putting off an energy that scares away the hoes.”

“And what hoes are you trying to attract?” Mikasa asks as she finally settles in next to Eren. She was running late to lunch after helping Historia out carrying somethings to the teacher’s lounge.

“None-! But if I were, Armin would scare them away.” Eren replies, and you notice how his hand snaked underneath the table towards Mikasa’s thigh.

“Stop being such an ass. He’s just passionate about something. No one treated you like shit when you went through your little skating phase.” You speak up once again, getting real sick of Eren’s pissy attitude.

“It’s okay, yn. We can talk about this later.” Armin finally speaks up, giving you a small defeated smile that crushes your soul. Underneath the table, you gently bump your foot against his foot.

His face doesn’t show it, but his heart flutters in his chest as he bumps his foot back against yours. It’s such a small act of affection, but it’s your guy’s way of just checking in with each other. Essentially, it was a way to silently say, “I’m here for you.”

“Armin, you’re still a virgin, aren’t you?” Eren asks as he takes an aggressive bite from his food.

Your foot ever so gently slides up Armin’s leg, making his breath hitch in his throat. His face flushes a bright red as he avoids everyone’s gaze.

“I don’t know why that matters.” He mutters quietly, not liking where Eren was going with this.

“I’m taking that as a yes then.” Eren continues. “Any reason in particular why you haven’t slept with anyone yet?”

Your eyes focus on Armin’s face as you’re curious as well. Armin isn’t ugly. He’s sweet, smart, and incredibly patient. Girls have approached him in the past, but he always just opts to keep them at arms length.

“I just..” Your foot gently presses into his inner thigh, seeing how far he’d let you take this. Armin immediately coughs as if trying to hide his reaction to your blatant flirting. “… haven’t found the right one.. I guess.”

“The right one? Armin, you need to just get it out of the way. I’ll literally pay someone to sleep with you.” Eren half-laughs, which means he’s probably only half-joking.

“That’s prostitution, Eren, and it’s illegal.” Armin replies with a small frown, not liking that his best friend is quite literally offering to pay for his virginity to be taken.

“I’d do it for free.” You casually offer with a small shrug. Armin’s eyes go wide as he stares at you from across the table, and Eren chokes on his soda. Mikasa just has a calm smile on her face as she watches this all go down.

“Of course you would. You’re practically riding his dick all the time anyways.” Eren retorts after he gains his composure back.

“Yep, you’re right. Now, I’m going to go do it for real too.” You respond as you stand from your chair. Your hand reaches over and grabs Armin’s hand before leading him out of the mess hall.

His hand is trembling in yours, and he can’t find the words to say right now. His heart is beating so loudly that he almost can’t hear. The only thing on his mind was that you’re finally noticing him.

Armin turned down the girls who tried to flirt with him because he has his eyes set on you. He’s had the fattest crush on you since you met their little friend group in college.

Not knowing how to handle his feelings, he had once confided in Eren and Mikasa. Both of them said it was stupid obvious that you liked him back, but he refused to believe it. How could a girl as pretty and confident as you like him??

You let out an exasperated sigh as you shut your dorm door behind you, locking it so no one else can bother you too. Armin’s entire face is red, and he’s fumbling with his fingers.

“You don’t have to be so nervous. You know I was kidding, right?” You softly laugh at him while taking your shoes off. You then crawl up onto your bed and settle down. “I just was tired of listening to Eren, and I figured you needed a break too…”

Armin can’t help the way his demeanor subtly drops. He feels so naive for thinking you were actually going to take his virginity. You probably detested the thought of doing so- He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly before he also sits down on your bed.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” He mumbles quietly, and he keeps his gaze away from you.

You quickly pick up on his change in attitude. He almost seems… disappointed? Your eyes lock for a moment, and you observe his pretty blue eyes looking back into yours. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he's giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Don't tell me you're disappointed." You lightly joke, lips curling into a smile as you gently nudge him.

Armin lets out a soft exhale of amusement, and he clams up for a moment. "Well.. I.. can't say that I wasn't a little bit excited." He admits sheepishly.

"Excited for me to take your virginity?" You prompt, shifting your position on your bed to where you and Armin's faces are a few inches apart. "I didn't think you really cared about that sort of thing."

"Sex?" Armin asks while his eyebrows pinch together slightly. He's giving a small cute pout. "I know it's hard to believe, but I am still a guy.."

"Oh? Is this when you give me the spill about having urges and desires too?" You tease him, and he's slowly leaning back against your pillows. Your body carefully shifts on top of his.

His heart is hammering through his chest - his nervousness and excitement making him feel like he's going to explode. He just hoped you didn't notice how painfully hard he was already. He had been subtly concealing a boner since you offered to take his virginity.

"Is that what you want to hear?" He asks as he gazes up at you. At this point you're straddling his waist. Your hands are pressed to his chest.

"You know... yeah, tell me what urges and desires the infamous nerdy Armin Arlert has." You raise an eyebrow at him with a lopsided grin, excited to hear about what fantasies he conjures up in that cute head of his.

"Well... I think a lot about you..."

"Yeah..? What about me?" Your hands slowly rub up and down his chest, and you can feel his hard on pressing desperately against your thigh.

"J-just about..." He's stuttering now, and his face is flushing a deep red as you're not giving him must leeway to escape this. "Your lips... how soft they'd feel."

"You think about kissing me?" Your hips shift ever so subtly, causing a small gasp from Armin.

"Amongst other things..." He breathes out, but he's given no chance to gather himself before you take his wrists and pin them to the sides of his head.

You lean down over him, hovering your lips right over his. "If you want it... take it." You whisper softly, your breath ghosting over his lips, causing him to shiver.

A small whimper escapes him before he leans up, and he captures your lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. You ease up on his lap, allowing for him to control the kiss for a moment.

He kisses you needily - so desperate to feel more, but he isn't quite sure on how to initiate that. Your lips are as soft as he imagined, and you taste like strawberry poundcake. He's already so addicted. It was his first kiss, and you were already rotting him from the inside out.

Your hands release his wrists, and you cup his jaw instead, taking control of the kiss. Your teeth tease his bottom lip, showing him exactly how to achieve what he wants. Your tongues clash together, and his hands find your hips. His thumbs rub into your hip bones, loving the feeling of you in his lap.

After a while, you finally part from him. A small thin string of saliva connects you two as you're both panting, trying to recover from the steamy kiss.

"What else is do you want?" You whisper softly, intending to give this man whatever he so asks for.

"I- I want..." His voice is breathy, overcome with intense lust as he lifts his hips up, hoping you'll get the memo.

"Sayy it." You taunt with an evil smile.

"Please- I... I want you to use me." He whines, and he tilts his head back slightly as his bulge grinds so nicely against your core.

Your hips begin to roll, adding on to the fiction for both of you. You can tell through his pants that Armin isn't exactly small like most people would believe him to be since he's not exactly tall.

"Mmmnph~" His breathing is labored as he feels his tip already making a mess in his boxers. He quickly grabs your hips and stills them before he can make a real mess.

"What is it-? Did I do something wrong?" You ask in a concerned tone before you realize just how red his face his. He looks so disheveled already. His blonde hair was a mess upon his head.

"N-no... it was really good." He admits quietly. "Too good... I didn't want to..." His voice trails off, and he looks away from you with an embarrassed look.

"Oh.. I see.." You reply with a small grin, finding it cute how worked up he gets. You slowly ease your pants and panties down your legs, and you toss them onto the ground.

“Do you ever watch porn while thinking about these things?” You ask, going back to his fantasies.

“Mmm.. sometimes, but the mental image is enough most times.” His eyes glance down towards your thighs and lower half. “Some… sometimes I imagine you riding my face…”

“Oh?” You prompt with a small smile. “Do you want me to sit on your face?”

Armin nods his head quickly, and he scoots his body down lower, already prepping for you to take your rightful seat on his tongue. He’s nervous about eating you out for the first time, but he’s nearly drooling at the thought of you putting your weight down on his head. He wonders just how sweet you’ll taste.

“Is that a yes?”

“Please..” He asks so sweetly. You have to reward him.

You crawl up to where his head is laid back against your mattress, placing your legs on either side of his face, and your fingers comb through his messy blonde hair. He looks up at you through his eyelashes with a truly pitiful gaze.

“Tap my thigh three times if you can’t breathe, okay sweet boy?” You ask to make sure he understands. He nods his head without a second thought before leaning up to press a kiss against your cunt.

Eren had talked about eating Mikasa out before to Armin… despite Armin’s many, many attempts to make him shut up. Eren would tell Armin that he wouldn’t stop until she was a shaky mess on top of him. That was Armin’s goal. He wanted to feel your thighs tremble from his tongue.

“Good boy…” You purr as you slowly lower yourself onto his mouth. Armin immediately seems to just know what to do as if it was pure instincts coursing through him.

He starts off slow, pressing gentle kisses against your cunt before he starts to lap at you. A hum fleas him as he savors the taste of you. Just as sweet as he imagined.

With his tongue, he finds the small button of nerves at the top of your cunt. He immediately knows what it is by the way your body jolts upwards a bit, and a small whine falls from your lips.

He reaches up, and he pulls a bit more down onto his tongue. He doesn’t like how you’re hovering — as if you’re scared to hurt him. He wants to feel you sit - not hover.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You murmur quietly to him, which only makes him more determined to make you sit.

“You’re not going to hurt me. Please, I want you to sit.” He pulls your hips again. “Use me.” He whines as he starts to gently suckle on your clit, making you jolt again.

His hands massage the flesh of your ass, and he starts to force your hips to rock back and forth while he flattens his tongue against your slippery folds.

You taste so fucking divine. Armin’s completely lost in your essence. His eyes are fluttered shut as he’s licking, kissing, suckling every thing you’ll allow him to.

Your hand is entangled in his pretty blonde hair as your hips are rolling back and forth. His nose bumps against your swollen clit, making you clench around nothing. You’ve never experienced head like this — not when most men make it sound like a chore. Armin sees it as a blessing.

The sounds in the room sound like they’re straight from a porno as your cunt sounds so sticky and drenched. Armin’s making soft hums and whines as he’s eating you like a starved man. Your moans fill the room — not caring if anyone could hear you next door.

“Just like that.. f-fuck.. gonna make me finish.” You pant, unable to even think straight while he’s plunging is tongue in and out of you.

Armin flutters his eyes open to look up at you. You’re so fucking pretty. How did he get so lucky? The way you’re completely coming undone on top of him has him literally trying to hump the air. His neglected cock sits flush against his tummy, leaking clear pre-cum all over himself and his clothes.

“Armin-!” You cry his name as you clench around air. More juices seep from your weeping hole, and he’s quick to clean you up with his tongue.

Your breath staggers as you come down from your orgasm. Of all people, Armin Arlert was the first to make you finish off head.

He’s not done though. Your thighs haven’t trembled yet. His hands grip around you, forcing you to keep gyrating on his tongue. He’s getting absolutely nasty with it, desperate to make you spent.

“O-oh god- wait, Armin— I f-finished.” You try to tell him, thinking he didn’t catch on, but he doesn’t relent.

His eyes almost have a smoldering gaze as he looks up at you with his mouth occupied with your cunt. His hands are kneading at the fat of your ass before he drags one finger towards your entrance.

“H-hold on. Wait- I-“ You’re nervously babbling, already feeling overstimulated. So when he slips his digit deep into your sopping wet cunt, and he curls it juuust right… you’re a shaking mess on top of him.

He smiles against your core, knowing now that he can stop. He slips his finger out, and he pressed a saccharine kiss to your pussy before tapping on your thigh.

Your body is trembling as you slowly lean up from his face, and you’re trying to stabilize your breath.

Armin just looks up at you, waiting for feedback on his little performance.

“You did such a good job. Good boy.” You praise before pressing light kisses along his cheeks. You can feel the way his face heats up when you praise him like that.

You finally press a kiss to his lips after a few moments, tasting yourself on his tongue. Armin lifts his hips up again, reminding you that he’s so painfully pent up. He’s aching for release.

Your hands find the waistband of his jeans, and you carefully unbutton them while continuing to intertwine your lips with his. He whines when you part from the kiss.

Once his jeans and boxers are off, you finally get to admire his pretty cock slapped against his tummy. His tip was coated in sweltering pre-cum. Just to tease him, you scoot down and give his tip a small kitten lick, tasting the sweet and salty taste of his arousal.

“Mmph- yn-“ Your name sounds like a plea when he whines it. His cock immediately flexes underneath your tongue. You giggle and give him another small kitten lick. “Ah~ please…”

“Please what?” You ask, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Need to b-be inside you.. please miss.” He whines so shamelessly, abandoning all his previous embarrassment. He can’t afford to be shy when he’s craving the feeling of your gummy walls tightening around him.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You scoot your hips back up, and you grind against him a few times, getting his cock nice and coated in your slick.

Armin’s practically fisting at the bedsheets. Feeling your bare pussy rubbing against him was soooo much better than when you were still clothed.

“Miss..” He whimpers softly as his hips flutter upwards to rub against you in an act of desperation. “Miss, can you… take your shirt off please..?”

You gaze at him puzzled for a moment. It was an odd time to make that sort of request, but who were you to deny such a needy plea?

Your hands pull your shirt above your head, and you toss it off the side of your bed. Your hips go back to rocking against him as his tip is kissing strings of pre-cum to your clit.

He admires the way your black lacy bra sits flush against your skin. It only solidifies in his mind just how out of his league you are. He’ll never be able to comprehend just why you’re deciding to give him a chance.

“M-may I..?” He asks as his hands reach for the backside of your bra. As much as he loves the way the fabric cups your breasts so beautifully, he’s after something else.

“Go ahead, baby.” You answer him, and he’s quick to unhook your bra as if he had practiced before.

Eren definitely taught him how, but you don’t need to know that!

Armin watches with wide, excited eyes are your breasts bounce from the confines of your bra. His hand gently kneads on one, loving how your soft pillowy flesh filled his hand.

His eyes gaze upward at you as he leans in and captures your nipple into his mouth. His mouth feels attentive as he carefully swirls his tongue around the pebble, and he gently sucks on it while his eyes fall shut.

Maybe he’s died. This must be what heaven feels like. The only thing that’ll make this better is if..

One of your hands entangle in his hair, and the other hand reaches behind you. Your fingers wrap around his length before guiding him inside you.

Armin immediately moans pitifully around your mound. He has to detach from you to focus all his attention on not busting inside you immediately like the pathetic virgin he is.

“Are you alright, baby?” You ask him with a devious grin. If you weren’t focused on teasing him so much, you’d probably be as much of a mess as he is.

“S-so tight.. fuck yn- I can’t-!” He’s nearly crying as you sink yourself down on top of him, until he’s buried to the hilt.

You try to lift your hips up, but Armin’s hands wrap around your hips, and he forces you right back down onto his lap. “N-not yet. Please miss-“ You’re honestly taken aback by how strong he is. Even though he doesn’t look it, he could overpower you if he wanted. “D-don’t wanna come yet.”

“So sensitive.” You purr as you lean down towards him. Your hand cups his cheek, and you stroke his face with your thumb. “I thought you wanted to be used, baby.”

“I do.. I just… don’t want to leave you unsatisfied.”

“Oh, what a gentleman.” You laugh softly before pressing a kiss to his nose. “Well, if you finish and I’m not done yet, I’ll just keep going. I’ll use you again and again until I’m spent.”

His cock literally twitches inside of you from your words, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. He feels nervous yet so damn excited. His legs are literally flinching from his nerves.

His hand loosen up, and you get to work, riding him like you two wouldn’t see each other tomorrow.

You’re just so fucking wet and tight. Armin knows there’s no way he’s going to last long, not when you feel like paradise between your legs.

Within the minute, Armin is emptying himself deep inside you. “G-gods! Fuck, miss… ‘m sorry.” You give him an understanding smile, and you help ride out his orgasm. “‘m sorry.” He whimpers again before he takes your nipple back into his mouth, showing you just how sorry he is.

He’s a sorry man who can’t get enough of your delicious cunt milking him until you’re done for.

His cum seeps out and coats his cock as you continue to bounce yourself up and down. Armin’s a complete whiny mess as he’s trying to cope with how completely sensitive his cock is.

“Ah~ fuck miss… mmmph~ sooo good.” He’s completely babbling praises to your sopping wet cunt.

“You… ngh.. like being used like this?” You ask, and your hand lightly wraps around his neck, testing the waters. You don’t squeeze at all, just showing that you could if you wanted to.

“I love it.. wanna be yours, miss. Please, make me yours.” He pleas. You’re completely enamored with how much of a mess he is. He’s truly begging to be yours.

“Mine.” You mumble as you feel your stomach beginning to coil. With each rock of your hips, you’re growing closer and closer.

Unlatching your hand from his neck, you lean in and suck love bites into his neck, laying your claim on him.

Armin doesn’t ever cuss, but he has a complete sailor’s mouth when he’s balls deep inside you. “F-fuck.. miss-! cumming!” He warns before his cock is shooting into you once again.

His legs are shaking beneath you as his orgasm washes over him completely once again. His cock is weakly twitching inside you, so terribly sensitive that it almost hurts.

“Wan’ me to finish on you?” You whisper into his ear while your hips are desperately moving up and down. Your poor bed is creaking with each movement, and Armin’s just barely hanging onto his sanity by a thread.

“P-please… please cum on me.. wan’ to feel you.” His voice is a mere whimper, and he carefully reaches between your two. His thumb presses against your clit before he rubs in slow circles.

“Fuck— just like that.. goood boy..” You can’t even find your breath as you’re chasing after your high.

Your entire body gyrates on top of him once your orgasm finally crashes over you. Your vision is nearly doubled from how hard you finish on top of him.

A whiny groan leaves Armin’s lips as he feels you clenching around him. His body is so hyper sensitive. He feels like a million little lightning bolts are striking him all over. His skin feels like electricity against yours.

You take a moment to catch your breath finally as you stay on his lap. Both of you are completely disheveled together.

“Did I… do good?” He quietly asks you, hoping that it was as good for you as it was for him.

“Did soooo good.” You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

He smiles softly, and he leans into your touch. “Can we get cleaned up now..? I had a thought provoking epiphany while I was coming inside you about how we could help the atmosphere.”

Oh, to be loved by a nerdy man.

[forcaleb]

bound by shadows — caleb

warnings — yandere caleb, written before i read the main story and his myth, saw some quotes on other apps, slight angst, no fluff

notes — knock knock its user raffswife here my old account is broken for some reason lets hope its not the same here </3 tags: @aomiiine

caleb doesn’t understand why you’re so afraid of him.

he’s keeping you safe from people who want to hurt you, from those who would use you for the aether core inside your body. his house is the safest place in skyhaven — no one can reach you here, not without caleb’s permission, at least.

so why are you cowering on your bed, looking at him with those fearful eyes? why are you leaning away from his touch? he wants to take care of you, not hurt you.

“caleb… please let me go,” you beg for the tenth time today, refusing to take the food he’s given you. “i promise i’ll come back when my mission is done- just… please let me go outside.”

“can’t do that, princess,” caleb murmurs quietly. “you know how much i hate it when you go out by yourself. besides, didn’t i tell you how dangerous it is right now? people are coming after you, pipsqueak.”

pipsqueak. the nickname you used to love as a little girl now sends shivers down your spine. you hate it when caleb gets like this — possessive and obsessed with you. sure, having him around keeps the weird guys away, but that doesn’t mean you’re okay with him stopping you from going out and meeting your friends.

he gets ridiculously jealous. the first time he saw you hanging out with a male coworker — who, mind you, has a girlfriend (now fiancée) — he wouldn’t let it go for weeks.

it doesn’t make sense. what happened to the sweet boy you’ve known since you were five? the boy who used to cook your favorite meals when you returned from missions? the boy who promised he’d do anything to make you happy?

“caleb, i don’t want to be locked up in here forever!” you exclaim, pulling at his uniform, desperation laced in your tone. “i have a life outside of this. i-i want to be able to work, have fun, and live my normal life again. i don’t need you to-”

“you don’t need me? is that what you think?” caleb grabs your wrist, pulling it away from his uniform. “tell me. what do you need? we can go back to linkon if that’s what you want. if you want to return to our past, we’ll rebuild our old house and move in together.” his grip on your wrist tightens. “and if one house isn’t enough, i’ll build you a whole maze. i’ll decorate it with everything you could ever want,” he says, bringing a hand to your face and gently cupping your left cheek. “it will be the most beautiful, stunning garden you’ve ever seen.”

“caleb, you can’t just-”

“no one will ever find you again. i’ll protect you forever,” caleb cuts you off, his eyes showing no room for argument. you don’t even know what to say. caleb is terrifying when he (or the toring chip) acts like this. it doesn’t matter if he insists he’s the same old caleb from your childhood — he just doesn’t feel like your caleb anymore.

“caleb…” you whisper, tears spilling down your cheeks. you don’t know what else to say. it’s too overwhelming when he becomes like this. his touch, words, basically everything about him is suffocating.

“shh,” caleb says, gently wiping the tears from your eyes. “don’t cry, pipsqueak. you know i hate it when i see you cry.” he smiles softly as your tears begin to dry. “i promise you, once everyone who wants to hurt you or use you for your aether core disappears, you’ll finally be safe.”

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[natalicss]

Like We Were In Paris II

kwon ji-yong x american pop star!reader

part one

summary: you and ji-yong have been dating for a couple years, and you’ve kept under the radar this entire time. after the gala de pièces juanes, you two attend the chanel spring-summer 2025 haute contour show. however, the two of you are starting to get tired of keeping your relationship a secret.

warnings: not proofread AT ALL! i’m way too lazy for that, sorry. celeb!reader, implied age gap (reader is mid-twenties), lots of fluff, lil bit of angst, use of y/n, i still don’t know how to use this app i feel like an elderly man using a cell phone.

word count: 4.9K

nat’s notes: hey y’all! i came back for part two AS PROMISED! this was actually very hard for me to write as i kept changing my mind about how i wanted this to go. so im sorry in advance if its not all that great LMAO. i do wanna write a lil more about american pop star reader & jiyong, maybe i’ll do some sort of head canons about them, or some stuff about their relationship early on. i’m not sure. i also tagged the people who asked to be & i will try to keep tagging people in the future (if they wanna be). anywhore, i hope that you guys enjoy this, if you don’t…sorry<3 toodles!

tag list: @infinetlyforgotten @petersasteria

After the successful Gala Des Pièces Jaunes event, you had spent the next couple days in dressing rooms. You had been invited to Chanel’s Spring-Summer 2025 Haute Couture Show. You said yes, of course, having an affinity for fashion, and never turning down the chance to be near your long-term boyfriend. You and Ji-yong had been to a couple of the same fashion shows before. It was always easy to slip by with nobody noticing your connection. Oftentimes, you two were not seated remotely near each other and are far too busy with the peers around you to sneak away. 

But this last week felt particularly more difficult. Unlike in America or South Korea, where you knew the paparazzi and knew very well how to remain under the radar, the Paris press was more complicated. You and Ji-yong had to weave your way around in more secrecy than ever. Every method you could imagine. Some instances, the two of you would sneak through a back door and slide into cars to avoid the cameras. Other instances, the two of you would make separate nonchalant appearances. Ji-yong would leave the hotel first, shy and polite as he waved and greeted the people around him as he’d slip into a car and drive off to his next location. You, wearing designer clothes and sunglasses as you walked out with a big smile and a more confident approach. You’d get in your own car, sliding into the back with your security with a huff. Within moments, you’d open your phone to shoot a text to your lover. 

Y/N

i didnt get to say it before you left, but you look handsome today<3

You knew it’d only be a moment before he responded. 

Ji<3

Thank you, Aein, you look beautiful!

You and Ji-yong hated that you couldn’t spend this Paris trip together more. After all, you two had all of the same events, same meetings, same friends to visit, and yet you couldn’t be by his side at any of it, not in public. Part of you didn’t mind, used to the routine, but part of you was starting to grow tired. It wasn’t like two years ago, when you first started dating. At that time, Ji-yong was still on hiatus, you were working on your fourth album, and everything had to be a secret. Secret vacations, secret visits, secret dinner dates where the two of you wore silly disguises. You were good sports, making a game out of it and playing ridiculous characters to see who cracked first. But that was two years ago. He was back in the spotlight again, you had released your fifth album a few weeks ago, he was releasing his own work. You two were confident in your relationship, everyone was. What was holding you back?

There was no black and white answer. On one hand, now was the perfect time to announce to the world that their rumors of you dating a random Hollywood actor were all false. On the other hand, were you so willing to give up that last piece of privacy you did have? You weren’t worried about the hate on either side, despite knowing how fans often get if they don’t approve of their favorite celebrities' relationship. 

You had been in a public relationship way before Ji-yong. It was years ago, back when you were still new to the world of fame and glamour. Every corner you turned, the cameras flashing, the wave of hate you’d received, the amount of gossip around every song you released being about them or not, their interviews for their movies always being about you. Your careers had been forced to blend due to the way people reacted. The world had taken your last relationship by storm and had seemingly strangled it with their love and adoration. The lack of privacy, individuality, and respect for the two of you had been what led to you and your last partners split. It took the two of you years before the media finally stopped associating everything either of you did together. So, understandably, part of you was worried about that happening again.

You thought about all of this as you and Ji-yong were getting ready for the day. You both had things to attend to, tomorrow being the fashion show. One last fitting, one last meeting with your teams. You were styling your hair as Ji-yong had finished getting dressed, the agreement for him to leave the hotel first still agreed on. He looked at you, and you could see the way his eyes softened as he observed your eyes. He knew everything about you, down to the way your face looked when you were deep in thought, perhaps about to drown yourself with your ability to overthink.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, speaking in Korean first as he approached. You didn’t say anything, busy running your fingers through your hair as he quietly stepped next to you. He met your eyes in the mirror, his lips curling. “There she is.” You blushed at his words, putting your hands down as you finally turned your body to face him. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” He asks, reaching up to adjust your hair framing your face.

You didn’t know where to start. You and Ji-yong had talked about this a million times before. You two had always agreed to keep things the way they are. You weren’t sure if he was ready to change that. As he watched you get lost in your thoughts again, he tilted his head to meet your gaze. Your eyes were glossy, not all there as you already started mapping out every way the conversation could go, preparing yourself for every out come.

“Jagiya, you’re worrying me,” 

You blink. It takes you a second to come back to the present, taking a deep breath as you try to explain the heavy complicated feelings in your heart. “I’ve been thinking, through this whole trip,” You subconsciously reach for his hands, looking for comfort and something to anchor you down. He lets you, his thumb running along your skin in soothing patterns. “I don’t know how much longer I want to keep us a secret.” You blurt, staring at your connected hands rather than his eyes. You were too worried about what you might find. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then another. Your heart twists in anxiety, but you don’t dare to look up. Ji-yong’s breathing changes, only the slightest bit, but you notice. He stops his thumb from tracing its delicate patterns, instead letting it tap against your skin. You feel guilty. You both had so much to do today, this conversation could have waited til tonight, after the show tomorrow, or at just about any other time. You weren’t sure, but you knew this wasn’t it.

Ji-yong adjusts his posture, pulling one hand away from yours, only to bring it to your face. With the gentlest touch, he lifts your head so you finally see his eyes. They’re not angry, or frustrated, or even remotely annoyed. Instead, they’re as soft and warm as they’d always been, making your heart flutter the slightest bit. To be honest, Ji-yong had thought about this too. He’d admitted before that going public worried him. He was a celebrity, and that immediately brings its own multitudes of hardships. He knew that he’d keep any and all relationships a secret, unless the person he was with said otherwise. You had come into his life, unexpectedly, and changed his entire world in the best ways he could imagine. And here you were, the person he knew was the love of his life, staring back at him with sadness because of that very sentiment. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been feeling it too. He wanted to hold your hand down the streets of Paris, the two of you pointing out different things you loved about it, sharing kisses under streetlights. That night at the Gala, he had wanted to kiss you as soon as he was off the stage. And when you were finished performing? He wanted to part the crowd and sweep you into his arms, like he did at your own tours. But he’d been worried, worried about what people might say to you or about you. He knew how harsh they got. He knew you could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to put you in that position unless you were ready.

His hand, which caresses your face with a certain level of sincerity you only ever felt from him, was soft and moved gently. He smiled, a soft gentle one that made you feel more at ease as you realized he wasn’t mad at you in any way. “It hasn’t been easy, has it?” He asks you, raising a brow. You only shake your head, lips pursed into a line. He studies your features like you’re a work of art (cause you are). “I miss every second I’m not with you. All I can think about is where you might be. If you’re smiling. If you’re anxious. If you’re laughing. If you’re thinking about me, too.” He leans in close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And then you text me, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to be with you, and how mad I am that you’re not next to me.” You nod in understanding. You’d always felt that way about him, to the point it made your heart clench.

“I love you,”

“I love you more.”

You’re blushing wildly as he kisses your lips softly. Your feelings for him being translated into simple intimate touches. You’d never experienced something like Ji-yong before. You never wanted to let that go.

When he pulls away, he’s reaching for your jacket hanging off the back of a chair. You smile at him, memorizing his face like you’d done a million times before. You slide your arms into the jacket, letting your boyfriend adjust your outfit slightly. He focuses on your hair, bringing it out form under it and framing your face. Everytime his fingers brush your skin it leaves faint tingles in their wake.

“Why don’t we talk to everyone when we get home?” He suggests, looking back at you. Your eyes widen. You search his expression. “If you’re positive, then I’m with you.” 

You smiled wide. You couldn’t help it. “I’ve never been so sure of anything.” Your arms wrap around his neck, and he laughs softly as you start to kiss all over his face. “I want nothing more than to scream about how I’m dating G-Dragon.” He rolls his eyes playfully, still not used to you using his stage name after all this time. 

The rest of your days went smoothly. Both of you finishing up with your work, having dinner with friends, coming back to the hotel room to spend every possible moment together. Soft laughter as you each told stories from your pasts (many you’ve already told), legs tangled together under the sheets of your bed. Small intimate touches. Fingers tracing shapes on skin. Gentle kisses. Messy hair. If possible, your eyes were certainly heart shaped every moment you looked at him.

It was hard to hide it, even now, as you sit at the Chanel show. Both of you had arrived at different times, wearing extravagant outfits. You could feel his eyes on you as you posed for the cameras. He tried to keep his composure when he knew you were near by as he did interviews. Luckily for both of you, you’ve had years of practice. You held your head high with confidence, switching your energy from your usual softer self to the person you were on stage. America’s pop star. America’s princess. The way you posed yourself elegantly, batting your full lashes and gave your most sultry looks. How was Ji-yong supposed to not look? You were sitting in your seat, looking down at your phone as a text popped up.

Ji<3

You’re the most beautiful one here

You looked across the runway, your heart skipping a beat. He was already looking at you, a knowing shy smile on his face as he kept his phone in his hand. You smiled back at him, looking back at your phone.

Y/N

Says you<3 I love you

You put your phone in your lap, looking around some more. You felt lucky you had been to so many events, most of these people you already knew one way or another. It made small talk with the people next to you flow easily. Every now and again, you’d sneak a glance at your boyfriend, who was always staring at you like you were the show itself. It was hard to hide your blushed face, keep your voice from pitching when you talked to the other celebrities, and nearly impossible not to stare right back at him.

The show itself seemed to pass by with ease. You watched thoughtfully at every piece, making mental notes of things you particularly liked and wanted to mention to your assistant later. You’d lean over to your new friend of the night, whispering about different pieces and sharing your thoughts. You could see Ji-yong completely focused on the show, his eyes studying every model with intrigue. It was clear every piece that came out was being calculated into various looks. If he thought of something that worked, he’d raise his phone and take a quick photo. You smiled every time, excited to hear what he was thinking of later.

As the show came to an end, you were talking with your team as you felt someone graze past you. You looked up to see your familiar boyfriend, smiling at you fondly. You knew there were cameras everywhere, one minor slip leading to a whirlwind of chaos and news articles. The anxiety in your chest felt tight, but you kept your cool, straightening your posture and giving him a smile.

Ji-yong looked around, as if silently piecing together something. You followed his gaze, trying to see exactly what he was looking at. To you, there was nothing particularly interesting one way or another. Some fellow stars were talking, being interviewed, or just admiring the scene. Photographers were taking photos of guests, journalists asking people various questions. To you, it looked like every other fashion show even you’d been to. To Ji-yong, it looked like an opportunity. 

There were no words shared. His hand clasped around yours, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his. You blinked in surprise, looking ahead as Ji-yong started pulling you through the sea of people. You were wide-eyed as you looked around. Your teams hadn’t noticed you disappearing, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. But Ji-yong moved with purpose, walking through like this wasn’t strange or something other people should take a second glance at. You tried to mimic his confidence, but the butterflies in your stomach refused to simmer down.

In a quiet corner away from the cameras and the wandering eyes, Ji-yong finally came to a stop. You looked at him with a surprised expression. Your lipstick-painted lips parted slightly as you watched him look at you. He adjusted the tie around his neck, something he’d been doing the entire day. You looked behind you, worried who was watching, but a hand wrapping around your waist caught your attention.

His lips pressed against yours. Soft, passionate, and urgent. You squeaked in surprised against him, your hands landing on his chest as he pulled you further into the corner. Hidden away from your peers, from your teams, and from the layers of paparazzi. Your hands clutched tighter onto his jacket. His hands, which traced your body slowly, slowly lifted to grab your face with the most gentle touch. As he pulled away, you could only blink at him with big doe eyes.

“I couldn’t stand there and act like you weren’t the most beautiful thing here.” He whispers. 

The words caused your heart to do flips against your ribcage. His touch seemingly brought you back to earth, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. “Says you, Monsieur G-Dragon,” You tease as you run your hands over the jacket again. This time, he’s the one trying to hide the way his cheeks blush. You looked at the bow tie with the flower on it, tilting your head as you reached up, slowly maneuvering the flower off. He looks down, blinking at it as you hold the flower in your hand, “Is that better?”

He reaches up, adjusting the tie again, and smiling softly. “Yes. Thank you.” He says finally. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual” You sigh dramatically, shrugging your shoulders. Ji-yong chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Got whisked away by a hot guy, can’t complain.”

Ji-yong raises a brow in amusement. “Is that what happened?” He asks. You look around. “What else would you call this?”

He steps closer, looking up in thought as he lets his arms wrap around your waist. His lips in a line as he tilts his head slightly. He narrows his eyes at you playfully. He didn’t have an answer. He rather liked the idea of whisking you away from the public eye. He did it often, though usually it was more hidden than this. You leaned into his touch, a natural instinct. The rest of the world seemed to drift away, even in moments like this. Only you and Ji-yong existed. Life was better with him. He knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how to make you laugh, how to calm your nerves, how to soothe your cries. He knew your favorite snacks, your order at your favorite coffee shop, and your favorite movies. The same could be said for you. You knew how to quiet his overwhelming thoughts, how to make him smile in stressful moments. You knew his favorite songs to play in the car. His favorite jewelry pieces to wear. You had his tells of when he was anxious or upset burned into your brain. And when one of you were around the other, everybody else melted into the background. Your love trumping anything else.

“We should probably get back out there,” You whisper. He hums in agreement, but neither of you make any move to leave. You lean closer into him, your head resting on his chest as his chin rested on top of your head. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the two of you were together again; a few hours at most. Lately, those hours felt like decades.

Ji-yong gave you another squeeze. “You go out first, jagiya,” He whispers. You pull away from his embrace, staring up at him. The way your glossy eyes sparkled up at him. It was like he could see every ounce of love for him you had, pouring out of you. He framed your face in his hands, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” You whispered against his lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from his touch, looking back at him again as you walked away. He only smiled softly. Your heart yearned to stay in that corner with him forever, until your managers found you and ripped the two of you apart. You chewed the inside of your cheek, turning away from him completely as you looked for any sign of your team.

In the dark of your hotel room, you and Ji-yong were a tangled mess of bedsheets and limbs. The rest of the event blew by, you making some lame excuse to your team that you had gone to the bathroom, and Ji-yong telling his team that he was looking at some of the pieces again. You ended up having a romantic dinner together, talking about the event and the people you ran into. A quiet night with glasses of champagne and flirtatious glances.

But now, as the two of you were sleeping peacefully in your quiet room, your phones began to buzz. A violent series of notifications flooding both of your phones. You begin to stir first, rolling over slowly, pulling Ji-yongs arms off of you as you reached for your cellphone. A series of calls, texts, emails, all from your manager, publicist, assistant, even friends of yours. You blinked a few times, your eyes squinting at the bright screen as you opened up a text from your closest friend. A news article.

Unexpected Couple! Musician Y/N L/N Seen With K-Pop Idol G-Dragon at Chanel Fashion Show

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach. No, no, no. You had been so careful for so long. You scroll, your breath escaping you as you look at a photo of you and Ji-yong. His hands on your face, his lips on yours. Another photo of you looking up at him like he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen (he was, to be fair). For a moment, you just stared blankly. Your thoughts struggle to catch up as your body seems to react for you. Nausea came over you. The room suddenly felt too small. The words on the screen burned into your eyes.

You looked at the top of your phone, seeing another phone call from your manager coming in. You ignore it, reaching over to your boyfriend and shaking him. “Ji?” You whisper. When he doesn’t immediately respond, your eyes begin to water. The anxiety, the fear, the stress catching up to you. It crawls up your spine like some sort of ugly clawed fingers reaching for your throat. You shake him again, a little more harsh as you croak. “Ji-yong.”

His eyes shot open. He flinches awake, looking around the room in a momentary panic before looking at you. First, he relaxes, realizing it’s just you. Then, his tired eyes take in yours. The tears threatening to spill over, your shaking frame, your heavy breathing. He sits up now, looking you over in concern. “Aein…? What’s wrong?” As he wakes up, he hears his phone. He turns to look at it, but the whimper from your lips stops him. Slowly, you hand your phone over. Ji-yong looks at you in confusion, but takes it and looks down.

Oh. 

Oh.

What was once a comforting silence now felt cold. The incessant vibrations of his phone on the nightstand made your ears ring. You crawled out of bed, wearing one of Ji-yong’s shirts as pajamas. You paced the carpeted floor, running your hands through your hair. Ji-yong remained silent. He read the article. Then he reread it. Then he read it again. He looked at the photos over and over. The title. The numerous texts you were getting. For a moment, he didn’t know how to react. He sat in the bed, dumbstruck. 

On one hand, part of him wanted to be relieved. The secret was out, and there was no reason to hide his love for you anymore. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be on your terms. Organized by your teams. Some staged paparazzi sighting, or maybe a hard launch on your social medias. He wasn’t sure. The two of you never discussed it that far. Now there was no choice. All because he’d dragged you into his embrace in secret. A selfish moment, now on the cover of multiple articles.

Slowly, he put your phone down, putting it on silent before reaching for his own. He winced at the number of texts he was getting, reaching triple digits. He even saw texts from Taeyang and Daesung, two of the few people who knew about your relationship. But he didn’t answer anyone, turning his own phone off so he could set his attention on your pacing figure. “Jagiya,” He pulls himself out of bed, approaching you with soft eyes. You keep pacing, shaking your head as you try to sort your racing thoughts. “Jagiya, look at me,” He reaches for your hands, pulling you to face him completely. His heart ached as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your eyes wide with fear and worry. You wanted to go public. But not like this. You’d done so well at keeping your life private, and now it felt like it had been stripped away from you before you could even do it yourself. “I’m so sorry,” 

His words caught you off guard. There’s a heartbeat of silence as you look at him. Your brows crinkle together as you look at him. His sad, anxious expression as he guiltily looks away. “What?” You whisper, a moment of clarity through your emotional storm.

Ji-yong swallows, looking around the room as he holds your hands tightly. Your touch being the only thing grounding him to this moment. “If we hadn’t, if I hadn’t pulled you away, they wouldn’t have seen anything.” He explains. Your eyes dance over his face as you let what he’s saying register. You shake your head. “Ji,” You coo, reaching forward to push his mint hair out of his face. He looks at you, eyes sad and guilty. “It’s not your fault. We knew that there was a risk. Since day one.” You remind him. You were right. Since you started dating two years ago, there was always the possibility the media would find out about the two of you. Both of you are major stars, with public lives (to some degree). “I just, I can’t believe it got leaked at a Chanel show.”

Ji-yong is quiet for a moment, looking over at you. “The photos are cute.” He says. You look at him in surprise. You think about the photos, how oddly scenic they were, how the photographer had captured a genuinely sweet and beautiful moment. You couldn’t help but laugh, wiping at your tears. Ji-yong cracks a smile, though the worry in his eyes still evident. Not worried for himself, no, but worry for you.

“Our managers are going to kill us.” You say, your voice weak from crying and still being tired. Ji-yong nods his head. “What are we going to do?”

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “What do you want to do?” He asks you. Naturally, the two of you drift towards each other. Your arms wrap around each others frames, Your face tucked into his neck as you close your eyes. His grip on you tight, still gentle, and protective. His fingers rake through your hair as he waits. No rush for you to answer. No rush to figure out the rest of the world. He lets you simmer in his touch, your mind still racing. 

You clutch onto him, not moving away from him as you start to talk. “I want you. That’s it. I want to be able to be with you. I’m not ashamed of being with you, Ji. I’m proud. So proud of you, being with you. I love you.” You feel his arms tighten around you. Slowly, you lift your head and look into his eyes. Now, they were glassy. 

Ji-yong blinks away the pending tears as he sniffles. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N,” He whispers, reaching up to push your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch. “I will never be afraid to say that.” 

You lean closer, kissing him softly. Your heart still pounding against your chest, your mind still a storm of fear and worry for what wrath you’d face from the media, but it didn’t matter. Not in the long run. You had Ji-yong. You loved Ji-yong more than you could ever explain to him or anyone else. And you knew that the two of you would figure it out together. You’d figure out everything together.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, looking at your phones on the bed. This was it. No more secret rendezvous. No more sneaking around. No more lying in interviews about your relationship status. Everybody knows now. There was no hiding from it now.

You smile at him, your eyes sparkling in the way he loved. You nod your head. “I’m ready,” You assure him.

And by the time the two of you would be leaving Paris, on your way back to Seoul, the entire world knew the secret you’d been keeping to yourselves. And in the early morning as you rushed out of your hotel with your security guards, you two didn’t hide from the paparazzi. Ji-yong walked with you, hand-in-hand, as you walked towards your car. The shouts of fans and cameras catch your attention. You smile and wave, blushing wildly as you realize this was real. 

Ji-yong stands up straighter, his hand tightening in yours as he pulls you close. His hand releases yours, only to wrap around your waist tightly as he leads you forward. Ji-yong opens the door for you, despite the security guard reaching for it. Fans scream in awe, and you lean over quickly to press a kiss on his cheek. A weight you didn’t know was there, suddenly lifted. You beamed as Ji-yong slid into the seat next to you. His expression matched yours. Filled with love, excitement, a certain fondness and admiration. “Au revoir, Paris,” Ji-yong muttered as the car started to move. You giggled, leaning into him as you looked around the streets.

“Taeyang and Daesung will never let us hear the end of this.” You muttered, playing with Ji-yong's fingers absentmindedly. A gentle groan comes from Ji-yong, causing you to laugh again. An infinite amount of teasing and playful jokes awaited the two of you back home. Along with a million questions from friends, coworkers, the media, and who knows who else. But you were okay with that. It hadn’t been completely on your terms, but it was yours. Ji-yong was yours.

And if nothing else, it made your stories about Paris far more entertaining.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Your Teddy ~ Theodore Nott x f!reader (PART 3 & END)

Requested: No

Pairing: Theodore Nott x f!reader (+ SPOILER x f!reader - secret and non-reciprocal.)

Summary: y/n gets adjusted at her new life with Theo's help.

Word count: 6.2K

Warnings: swearing, English is not my first language

A/N: Thank God one of my classes on Wednesday was online and the other was cancelled otherwise I don't know when I could have written it lmaooo. ANYWAY. Thank you guys so much for +270 followers, love y'all!! Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @veryberryjelly @revesephemeres @mgchaser @nojamsonmytoast @cometmultiverse

PART TWO

“Darling?” your mother calls from downstairs. “Dinner is ready!”

Putting your book away, you rose from your bed and let out a silent sigh. The day after your conversation with Theo, your parents insisted you get home to rest, and, while you didn’t want to leave Hogwarts, they seemed to want you with them so bad that you had reluctantly accepted. You had now been home for over two weeks, two weeks spent reading books to learn some things and reading letters from Pansy and Theo. While Pansy’s letters were enjoyable and kept you updated on classes and the current gossip at school, you had to admit you awaited for Theo’s letters the most. He wrote to you about his daily life, sometimes making you laugh with a joke or when he told you about what funny thing one of his friends had done or said, and always ended the letter with the same sentence: I miss you. Those words shouldn’t make you feel the way they did, but they did; and you shouldn’t be missing Theo that much, but you were. 

From the moment you saw him, Theo had captivated your mind. You didn’t know if it was the way he had hugged you when he stormed in the hospital wing, the way he looked at you with those blue eyes of his, or just him, but ever since you had seen him in the hospital wing, you had a hard time not thinking about him. When you had realised what having lost all your memory meant, you were scared some people would lie to you or pretend to be someone they weren’t, but for some reason you knew Theo hadn’t lied. You had felt incredibly guilty when you saw how hurt he was when he learnt you didn’t know who he was - and still felt that way. But now, you also wanted to get to know him, and to spend time with him. There was something about him that just drew you towards him. It was partly physical, because, well, he was gorgeous, but also in his personality, how soft his voice was when he was talking to you, how patient and understanding he was, and how he made you feel safe without even trying. And now, after three weeks of only writing to each other, you couldn’t wait to see him again - but never dared to say it. I’ll try to tell him I miss him in my next letter.  

Leaving your room, you went downstairs to find your parents around the table, your mother bringing dinner to the table and your father finishing to set the table. They immediately smiled at you, and you smiled back. Your parents had been nothing but kind and understanding during your stay, but they constantly tried to make you remember things, so much so that you started to feel a bit overwhelmed after a while - which was another reason you couldn’t wait to go back to Hogwarts. 

“Got some rest, darling?” your father asked, sitting on the other side of the table.

“I hope you don’t overwork yourself, sweetie,” your mother continued. “You’re here to get rest and recover.” 

“I’m fine,” you assured them with a smile, sitting down.

“Are you sure, darling? I have to say, you look a bit tired.”

Your mother was right, and there was a reason for that fatigue. Each night, you had terrible dreams about your abduction - dreams or memories, who knew? - and you were now almost afraid to sleep. Like you had told Theo, you were thankful you didn’t remember anything about your kidnapping, but having those dreams brought you a bit of anxiety. You hadn’t told anyone, because you were scared that your parents would freak out, and didn’t tell Theo in order not to bother him. You ate your plate, not saying a word as your parents talked about everything and anything. Once you were done, there was a moment of comfortable silence, and you cleared your throat. 

“I have something to ask you guys,” you said. 

“What is it, dear?” 

“I’d like to go back to Hogwarts,” you answered, not beating around the bush. “I think I’m fully recovered now. It was nice being here, and I appreciate everything you did for me, but I think it would be good for me to go back to school.” 

Your parents shared a look, and for a second you thought they were gonna insist you stayed here.

“If that’s what you want, y/n,” your mother said, “then we support you.”

“We’ll write to Professor Dumbledore tomorrow,” your father nodded. “It will be good for you to be with your friends again.” 

“And Theodore,” your mother added with a wink. 

You felt your cheeks becoming pink and looked at your plate.

“He’s a good lad,” your father smiled.

“I hope you guys will…find a way to get back to the relationship you had,” your mother said gently. “You loved him a lot.” 

You nodded, and after a long moment of your parents telling you stories about your childhood, you decided to bid your parents goodnight - which always included a hug - and went back upstairs to your room. You lit a candle, as it was dark outside, and sat down at your desk before grabbing a piece of parchment, a quill and some ink. 

Dear Teddy, 

I was supposed to stay a little longer with my parents, but I really want to go back to Hogwarts now. My parents will write to Professor Dumbledore tomorrow, and I hope to be at school in the next few days. 

I miss you.

y/n

You then turned to your owl, who apparently had the habit of going to sleep at the same time as you, who made a small noise as if to greet you as you opened its cage. 

“Can you take it to Theo?” you asked your pet. 

You gently stroked its feathers, and then your owl took the letter and flew across the opened window. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You stepped out of the chimney, and, as expected, found yourself in Professor Snape’s office. He was sitting on his desk, apparently grading students’ work, and barely raised his eyes to look at you.

“Good evening, Professor.”

“Miss y/l/n. I hope you’re fully recovered.”

His last words surprised you, as you had found him cold and severe during the few minutes you saw him in the hospital wing. 

“Yes, thank you, sir.”

“Then I shall see you in class.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carrying your luggage, you left his office, and, as you expected, you found Pansy waiting for you in the corridor. She immediately opened her arms and almost ran to give you a hug, which you gladly accepted.

“Aw, darling, I’m so happy you’re back! How do you feel?”

“I’m good.”

But your attention was on the person behind her. Theo was leant against the wall, his hands in his pockets. You detached yourself from Pansy, and Theo and you started to walk towards each other. You felt your heart beat faster, and it even beat faster when Theo gave you a small, shy, smile. Did I feel that way before?

“Hey.”

“Hey. It’s nice to see you.”

“You too.”

It was a bit awkward, as neither of you knew what to do - a hug? A kiss? - but Theo stared at you for a second before stepping closer, gently cupping your face in his hands and kissing your forehead. You closed your eyes, enjoying his touch and his lips on your skin much more than you thought. After the kiss, his hands remained on both sides of his face before he took them away, and you felt disappointed and sad.

“Thank you for your letters,” you said. “I really enjoyed receiving them.” 

“I liked your answers, too,” he said. 

You smiled at him, and suddenly Pansy chuckled.

“Come on, you bloody lovebirds, let’s go.”

You and Theo shared an amused look before you all went to the Slytherin common room, which was near. 

“We should go get dinner,” Pansy said. “y/n, dear, how about you put that luggage in your bag and you’ll unpack after dinner?”

“Alright,” you nodded.

After all, you were hungry too. Pansy led to your dorm, as you honestly didn’t remember where it was, and you put your luggage inside before going to the Great Hall alongside Pansy and Theo. On the way, Pansy kept talking about all that happened while you were gone, but only heard half of it as your hand kept touching Theo’s, which made you somehow want to hold it - or at least to have some physical contact with him. I’m going crazy, you thought. Why do I want to touch someone who’s still a stranger? 

Once in the Great Hall, you sat between Pansy and Theo, who introduced you to his friends, who all greeted you warmly. You looked around, trying to familiarise yourself with the large, beautiful crowded room. As you had lived in a quiet house for weeks, all the noise around made you feel uneasy and comfortable. Only Theo seemed to notice, as he grabbed your hand under the table. You turned to him, and found him giving you a reassuring, warm look. You squeezed his hand, both to show thankfulness and affection, and he gently stroked the top of your hand. You started to feel better, and focused on the conversations the boys were having. You didn’t participate in it, as you had ho idea what they were talking about half the time, but you laughed at their jokes - and, with each laugh, Theo and you shared a look. Once you were done eating, Pansy and you decided to go back to the common room - as it was still too early to go to bed -, and the boys followed. After sitting on one of the green couches, again next to Theo, for two hours spent listening to the boys, sometimes talking to Pansy and again feeling the push to touch Theo’s hand. As it was now getting late, the boys started to go to bed, as they started classes early tomorrow, but unlike earlier, Theo didn’t hesitate to once again cup your face in his warm hands and kiss your forehead, but this time, you got on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Good night, Teddy.”

“Good night, cara mia.”

You blushed at the nickname, before following Pansy - whose dorm was not far away from yours. 

“I promised to spend the night with Daphne,” Pansy said, apparently feeling guilty. “Her dorm is the one next to yours, so I won’t be very far if you need me, okay? You got along very well with Daphne before your…um, departure. She won’t mind at all.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said. “I’m actually tired, so I don’t think I’ll have a hard time falling asleep.” 

“Alright.” Pansy hugged you, “Sleep well, dear.”

She gave you one last hug before entering Daphne’s dorm, leaving you alone in the silent corridor. You went into your dorm, closing the door behind you. You looked at the unfamiliar room full of unfamiliar objects. It felt as if it all belonged to someone else. Trying to ignore the feeling, you unpacked your bag, went to take a shower and then went to bed. Tomorrow, Pansy would give you a list of all the things they saw in class while you were gone and it was going to take you a while to catch up on everything - and if you didn’t manage to, it was going to be even harder to pass your exams at the end of the year. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“y/n, wake up! Come on, wake up!”

You jolted awake, trying to catch your breath. The dark, cold room and the unfamiliar voices that had been plaguing your sleep were still fresh in your mind, and your first reflex when you felt two hands on your shoulders was to try to pull away.

“Amore, it’s me!” 

It took you half a second to realise you were in your dorm, safe, and that it was Theo in front of you. 

“Teddy?” 

He nodded, and sat on the bed. “I had the feeling I needed to check up on you, and when I came you were having a nightmare.” 

He started stroking your shoulders with all the tenderness in the world, and, almost without realising it, you put your head in his chest, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as he could, and put his chin on the top of your head.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here.” 

He pressed a light yet tender kiss on your temple and your heart, which had been beating very fast from waking up so abruptly, starting beating normally. After a while, you felt better, and not once did Theo move. 

“Thank you, Teddy,” you whispered.

“Of course, tesoro.”

Despite wanting to stay in the comfort of his arms, you detached yourself from him, but he kept one of his arms around you. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his thumb stroking your skin.

You shook your head, and he gave you a nod. 

“I don’t remember much,” you said. “But… Teddy?”

“Hum?”

“Would you…Would you mind staying here with me?” you asked more shyly than you thought.

Theo looked at you and had a soft half smile. 

“I’d like nothing more, love.” 

He bent to press a kiss on your temple and you moved to the side of the bed to give him as much space as you could. Once he was ready, he gently brought your head to his chest before putting one arm around your waist and the other in your hair. Instinctively, you put one hand on the side of his neck, and after a short moment, you felt your whole body relax. You closed your eyes, and suddenly realised Theo smelt amazing.

“You smell good,” you whispered without thinking.

He had a chuckle, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You used to tell me that often,” he said. “But thank you, cara mia, you smell good too.”

He started playing with your hair, and you fell asleep to the beating of his heart and his warmth.

When you woke up the next morning, your head was in the crook of Theo’s neck, and one of your legs was over one of his. His arms were still tightly wrapped around you, and, looking at him, you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked when he was sleeping. You put your head back, wanting to enjoy the comfort of his warm embrace for a moment, but you realised it was time to wake up. You pressed some kisses on his cheek, and after a while he started slowly moving. 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

He groaned before he finally opened his eyes, and his lips immediately turned into a smile. He looked at you for a moment, and brought his hand to your cheek.

“I almost forgot how good it felt,” he said almost to himself.

“What?” you frowned. 

“To wake up with you in my arms.” 

“It feels good too,” you whispered, caressing his hair. “And I know it felt good before my abduction.” 

There was no way it didn’t feel like that before. If only I could remember…

“We should get up,” you said.

He nodded and had a small sigh, “Yeah, we should.” But then he smiled, “But five more minutes, please?” 

You laughed and nodded.

“Alright, five more minutes.” 

But, as you should have expected, five minutes into ten, then twenty, and finally thirty before you managed to have him let you get out of bed. You rose from the bed, which made him groan in annoyance, and as you went to the bathroom to get your school uniform, you turned to the bed, where Teddy hadn’t moved.  

“Teddy, come on!” you laughed.

“You know, cara mia, no one would mind if you only started class tomorrow.”

You know he was likely to be right, but you shook your head.

“Maybe, but I have enough to catch on already. I can’t afford to be even further behind.”

“I’ll help you,” he said, sitting. “You were always a very good student, why shouldn’t you be now?”

“Maybe I was, but now it’s different.” 

Teddy stared at you, and you immediately knew what he thought. Yes, it is different now.

“I can still help you,” he said.

You nodded, “I’d love that, Teddy.” 

He finally got up, and agreed to go dress up in his dorm when you asked him.

“We’ll meet in the common room in five minutes,” you assured him. 

And as promised, you met there five minutes later, both all ready for the day. It felt a bit weird to be in a uniform, but you did your best to ignore it. After all, everyone was wearing it. Theo and you sat again with his friends and Pansy, who immediately asked you how was your night.

“Oh, really good.”

You and Theo shared a look and you felt yourself blush. 

After breakfast, you walked with Theo to class, with him sometimes giving you information about the castle, or something you saw. On the way, some students came to you to tell you they were happy to see you again, and each time, you felt thankful but awkward. But thankfully, Theo didn’t leave your side once, and always let you know who the person was - friends for the most part. They were Slytherins for most, but as you came closer to class, it was a Gryffindor boy, with dark hair, green eyes and glasses, who approached you.

“y/n? Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” 

You noticed the strange scar he had on his forehead, but it felt impolite to ask him about it. 

“Back off, Potter,” Theo said coldly. “We don’t have time for you.”

“Teddy, don’t be rude,” you frowned.

“I was just asking how she was,” the Gryffindor boy said calmly. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He turned to you with a kind look, “I’m glad to see that you’re alright. But…You really don’t remember anything?”

Theo opened his mouth to answer but you were faster.

“No, unfortunately. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?” 

“Harry,” he simply answered. “I’m Harry. We…” 

This time, Theo sighed.

“It is really kind of you to ask how my girl was, Potter, but if the Chosen One will excuse us, we’re gonna be late for Potions.”

He put an arm around your waist, and before you could say anything, led you to the end of the corridor. You gave Harry a look of excuse, but he only stared at you.

“Teddy, that was rude,” you said as you entered the Potions room. “He was nice.”

“Not all people are as nice as they look, love,” he simply said and you rolled your eyes. 

“But, if he asked me how I was, he must have been a friend, no?”

Theo had a small, annoyed sigh. “That’s a big word. But your closest friend is Pansy. And also Daphne, I guess. If you need more friends, ask Pansy to introduce you to girls from our house. Or at least, who aren’t in Gryffindor.” 

Theo indicated you a seat in the middle of the class, and sat next to you.

“By the way,” you asked, “what is that strange scar he has?”

Theo sneered, “Long story.”

You were about to ask him when Professor Snape came in, and all conversations faded at once. He gave instructions for the rest of the lesson, and you and Theo worked on the potion. You laughed a few times because Theo couldn’t stop making jokes. Snape eventually noticed and came over.

“Mr Nott, do focus on the potion. Miss y/l/n needs to concentrate if she wishes to get back to the same level as the rest of the class, and I think your immature foolishness will make it harder.”

“We’re sorry, professor,” you apologised. “I was a bit nervous, as it is my first class since I got back, and Teddy was only trying to help…in his own way.”

Snape stared at you both and left without a word. Theo and you looked at each other and had a hard time not laughing.

“Dumbledore must have asked him to be nicer to you,” he whispered as he stirred the potion. “Usually, we would have got detention. Or at least a threat of it.” 

The rest of the class went smoothly, and so did the rest of the day, with all the teachers telling you they were there if you needed anything, and helping you if needed. As the last class of the day ended,  you put your book in your bag and rose from your seat. Theo did the same, and you started walking to the door, but Theo didn’t move. 

“Pansy and I need to talk to Professor McGonnagall,” he said. “It’s gonna take a while,” he sighed. “Hey, how about you go to my dorm - it’s the first one after the serpent symbol - and eat the snacks I left there? You used to like them.”

You were a bit surprised, but nodded. You left the class, and walked down the corridor when you heard a voice from your left side.

“y/n!”

You turned your head and saw Harry in a smaller, darker corridor. 

“Harry?”

“Can we talk?” 

Your eyes went to the door of the class, where Theo still was.

“Sure.”

You walked to place yourself in front of Harry, and you noticed he looked at you strangely. 

“I’m sure you’ve been asked this several times, but you don’t really remember anything about your abduction?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Nothing.”

You could have talked to him about the nightmares, but if you didn’t tell Theo, the person you were the closest to at the moment, why would you talk to a stranger about it?

“And,” Harry continued, “what did they tell you about it?”

You frowned, trying to remember the first conversation you had with Professor Dumbledore. “Well, they said I went to, um, Hogsmeade, I think, alone, and that’s where I was last seen. Apparently I was kidnapped because my parents work at the Ministry. They also don’t know where I was being held or how I escaped.” 

Harry thought for a second. “And what did tell you about the Death Eaters?”

You frowned again, “Not much, only that they worked for someone with bad intentions. But I’m aware I was likely interrogated and tortured, though. Why?”

“Nott,” Harry said. “His father used to work for that ‘someone with bad intentions’. Malfoy’s father too. Oh, and, Nott’s best mate Riddle, he’s the son of that someone.”

You tried to register his words. Theo’s father? You knew Theo did not see him much, and never thought much about it. Draco? Who has been nothing but polite and kind to you? And Mattheo, the funny Mattheo who constantly teased Theo like a brother, and was friendly and warm? After all, you didn’t know any of them. For all you knew, they might have lied all along. 

“You…think they know something?” 

Harry shrugged, “Who knows. All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t trust anyone. I…just want you to be safe, okay?” 

He opened his mouth to say something else but kept silent. 

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m here if you need anything.”

You nodded and after giving him a polite smile, you went back to the corridor, and walking down it, you ran into Professor Snape.

“Miss y/l/n.”

“Sir?”

“The Headmaster wishes to see you in his office at once. Please follow me.”

You nodded and followed him through numerous corridors. He made you enter a beautiful room with several windows, where the Headmaster was waiting for you. 

“Professor, Miss y/l/n.”

“Thank you, Severus. Please, Miss, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

You approached his desk, and sat on one of the large grey armchairs - which were far more comfortable than they looked.

“If you allow me, Miss, how do you feel?”

“I’m well, thank you, sir.” 

“And how was your first day here?”

“Very good, sir. I’m glad to be back in class with my classmates.”

 “Good, good. And, one last question, did any of your memories come back?”

You shook your head, “No, sir. I tried to remember anything, even small things, but in vain so far.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I expected it, do not worry. However, if I made you come here today, it’s not only to make sure you are well, but also, giving your answer to my last question, to tell you there is maybe a way to find your memory back.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Really?”

“Yes. Please, come”

You rose from the armchair and followed him to a small, beautiful basin you hadn’t noticed. 

“This is a Pensieve,” Dumbledore said kindly. "If I put a memory inside, I can watch it. Even the details I don’t remember will be there. However, in your case, I have a bit of hope that, if you put your head inside, you might find your memory again, or at least some of it.” He paused before continuing in an even kinder voice, “But if you do not wish to try, I will not force you. All you have to do is to say ‘no’ and I walk you to the door and wish you a good evening.”

“I want to try.”

For me, and for Teddy. He deserves it. 

And also to see if they’re all lying. 

Dumbledore smiled, “I’ll admit I’m happy to hear it, young lady. So, whenever you’re ready…You will just need to hold your breath for a moment…"

You nodded and walked to the basin, putting both your hands on it. You held your breath, and, having the reflex of closing your eyes, put your forehead forward in the liquid. Your eyes opened by themselves, but no memory came. No scene with your parents when you were a child,, or here at school with Pansy or Theo. The liquid seemed to move a little, as it was being stirred, but eventually, all you saw was white. You waited for a moment, before going back to the surface. You breathed again, and realised, stupidly, that you weren’t even wet. 

“Nothing, sir,” you said, feeling ashamed as if you had failed an exam or didn’t understand something that even a five year old got. “There was only white.”

The Headmaster nodded, “Yes, so I thought. Trust that I’m sorry, Miss. But I will continue looking for a remedy. In the meantime, if your friends or Mr Nott want to show you a memory they have, my door is always open.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

“I believe it is now time for me to wish you a good rest of your evening.”

“Good night, sir.”

You left the office and, after getting lost a few times, managed to finally find your way to the Slytherin’s common room. You heard familiar voices as you came in, and several faces immediately turned to you.

“y/n!” 

Theo and Pansy rose from the green couches and almost ran to you.

“Where the hell were you?” Theo asked in an angry voice. “We searched for you everywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not expecting him to behave like that, “I was with Professor Dumbledore, he wanted to see how I was doing.” 

“Oh,” Pansy said. “That explains why we couldn't find you. Well, I have to go to the library to do some homework, so I'll see you both later.”

After Pansy left, Theo took your hand and gave you a large smile.

“I have a surprise for you, amore. In your dorm.”

“A surprise?” you said with a smile. 

“Yes,” he laughed. “Pansy and I actually didn’t have anything to tell McGonagall, we just needed to make sure everything was ready. That’s why I asked you to leave. Come on.”

His hand in yours, he led you to your dorm, where he slightly opened the door. 

“Close your eyes, love.”

A smile on your face, you closed them, and Theo put his hands on your shoulders to lead you in, and once you were inside, he put them around your waist. 

“You can look, baby,” he whispered in your ear.

You opened them, and saw the room had completely been transformed. There were flowers and at least thirty small lights in the air (A/N: Like in Disney’s “Tangled”, except it’s not lanterns) all arranged in a precise manner alongside shooting stars, and on your bed were several snacks and several presents. 

“Teddy! It’s so beautiful!” you said, and, without thinking, kissed him on the cheek.

“I’m glad you like it, cara mia. Come.”

The both of you sat on the bed, and he presented all the snacks - and the drinks - he had brought.

“I only took your favourite,” he smiled. “I can’t wait for you to try them.”

The feeling of guiltiness you had when the Pensieve didn’t work came back and you sighed. Maybe I can at least tell him that I tried somehow… 

“I tried,” you said. “In Dumbledore’s office. He…tried to make me remember, but…nothing came. I’m sorry, Teddy. I really want to remember, I promise you.”

“Amore, don’t be sorry,” he cupped one of your cheeks and pressed a kiss on it. “I know you would do anything to remember. And I know it’s not your fault.” 

You nodded before clearing your throat. “Teddy, I…I have a question.”

“Go ahead, amore.”

“Is it true your father used to be a Death Eater?”

Theo looked at you for a while, with both surprise and confusion.

“What? Who told you?” 

You hesitated, but decided to be honest. “Harry. He came to talk to me after class, and…”

“God damn it!” he said, angry now. “This little fucker always have to ruin things. Ever since we got together, he always tried to put ideas into your head.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “y/n, look, it’s true my father used to work for You-Know-Who, but I don’t know if he went back to him after his return, and I don’t care! He could die and I wouldn’t care! I don’t care about him, what he does or what he believes in. All I care about is us and, well, my friends, but I don’t give a damn about anything else!” 

“Teddy,” you said, “I know you care! I’m not saying you’re like him, but maybe through your father and Draco’s, we could find a way to find out who abducted me.”

Theo looked at you, apparently thinking. “We could try…But even if my father or Draco’s father or even his aunt know something, I don’t see them telling us anything unless we use Veritaserum. And we would have to wait for the next school break to ask them.” 

“I can wait,” you say. 

Theo sighed, “If that’s what you want, we’ll make a plan. But, tonight, can we just celebrate being together?” 

Both his voice and eyes were pleading, and all you could do was nod.

“Of course, Teddy.”

He seemed to relax, and, one by one, handed you the presents. There were books, an album filled with pictures of you and Theo, a small book where Theo had written all your memories together, and, to finish, some jewellery - a gorgeous necklace with a heart-shaped diamond, a ring with a small white flower on it - and you thought there was no more gifts and was about to give him a “thank you” kiss on the cheek but Theo took a small grey bag from his back. 

“This one is special,” he said before handing it to you.

You took it with a smile, and opened it. There was a beautiful, small bracelet inside. You took it out and was about to put it on when Theo reached a hand out.

“Do you mind if I put it on your wrist?”

“Sure.

You gave him your wrist and he put the bracelet, but he didn’t let go of your wrist, looking instead at it and caressing it with his thumb. 

“This bracelet is different from the other gifts,” he said. “I gifted it to you on our first anniversary. It has never left your wrist ever since, except once.” You frowned and he looked at you, “when you got abducted, you lost it. I found it on the ground when I was looking for you, and I knew something was wrong.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, “Your absence was killing me, cara mia. We were never separated since we got together, you know. Even during school breaks, you invited me to your home. Not only that, I didn’t know where you were and could only imagine what you were going through. Even my dreams were filled with nightmares of you facing unspeakable things alone. I couldn’t think of anything but you and how I missed you. I stopped going to class and going down for meals. I would have done anything to get you back, you know? I know I’m still a stranger to you, y/n, and it’s probably too early, but I love you. More than anything, more than my life. You’re all I have, you know? My mother is dead, my father doesn’t give a damn about me. Sure, I have my friends but you…God, y/n, you’re…everything. All the joy and happiness I have, I owe it to you. You taught me to be kinder with others but also with myself, and to have faith in me and what we had. I never took you for granted, and it hasn’t changed. But now, I can’t stand to be apart from you. I totally understand if you want to take things slow, and I will earn your trust and love again, but, please, just…just give a chance, amore. A chance to show you why I’m your Teddy and why you’re my y/n, and to make up for the time we lost. That, even if you don’t remember it, there is a reason why we were together. If you never get your memory back, it’s fine, I’ll spend hours telling you about every moment we had together in detail, and we’ll create new happy ones. I…love you, y/n.” 

After his last words, there was a silence and you could almost feel the weight of his words sinking in, going straight to your heart. That’s when you realised the attraction and the pull you had felt towards him from the moment you saw him was completely normal because Theo, with his large blue eyes and his adorable accent, was your soulmate. There was no doubt why you had loved him. Unable to say a word, you brought your hands to his cheeks and kissed him. The surprise caused him to not kiss you back immediately, but once he did, it was with all the longing he had felt ever since you had disappeared. One of his hands found your waist while the other was on one side of your neck. Your heart started beating faster and you felt something in your stomach before, all of a sudden, you felt as if you were struck by lighting. Your eyes opened by themselves, and images came rushing into your head. 

You playing with your parents as a child, buying your wand, being sorted into Slytherin, your first conversation with Theo and Pansy, all the classes and exams, your time spent with Theo before you guys dated, the moment you realised you were madly in love with him, your first date and first kiss, all the times you guys cuddled, the first time you spent the night loving each other, and, finally the last time you saw him before your abduction. Then, memories of a dark, dirty room and people wearing black pointing their wands at you, screaming in pain as you swore you didn’t know anything, and then, finally managing to escape and run back to the forest where you passed out. You felt tears coming out of your eyes, and broke the kiss.

“I love you too, Teddy. More than anything,” you whispered. 

He frowned, full of confusion, and you stroked his cheeks. 

“I…I don’t know why, but the kiss, it brought back all my memories back. Our first date was a picnic near the lake, right? That’s when we had our first kiss.”

He didn’t say anything but nodded. “You…You remember.”

It was your turn to nod before hugging him, stroking his hair and inhaling his comforting scent. 

“It’s the bracelet,” he suddenly said before breaking the hug. “When I bought it, the man at the shop told me it had magical properties, but I didn’t listen. I was late for class and wanted to have time to create a surprise for our evening. Maybe it remembers its owner?”

“Maybe,” you agreed. “But whatever it did, I’m glad you decided to give it to me that day. I always saw it as a symbol of our love, and now I truly believe it is.”

Theo nodded and you stared at him, admiring how gorgeous he was.

“I love you,” you said, “my Teddy.”

He kissed you again, this time with passion, and you knew this night was the first of many beautiful new memories together. 

(A/N: The bracelet, as Theo said, was magic. When y/n was abducted, a tear fell from her eye to bracelet, and we know memories can be found in tears. So the bracelet basically saved the memories and when she put it on, her memories came back.)

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[lorelune]

of carnage

|| blade x reader || E/18+ || shared toxicity, band au || wc: 8.8k  || ao3 ||

You and Blade are mutually assured destruction. You know this, and yet it does not stop you from chasing after him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c this fic is part of a trade i did for some LOVELY selfship art with MOST BELOVED @rabbbitseason!! they asked for toxic bladie and reader and i come to DELIVER 🙏 setting and au are heavily inspired by my time in my local music scene and all of the 💀that came with it. i'm glad it can be all get repurposed into blade smut 🫶 THANK YOU!! to bitti for giving me so many fun wants to craft around!! THANK YOU!!! as well to @ofmermaidstories and @2kmps for beta reading!! now, please mind the tags on this one and enjoy <3

CW: dark content, band au, dubcon, pain during sex, bleeding during sex, toxic relationship between blade and reader, angst, hurt/a little comfort, manipulation, gaslighting by blade and the reader @ themselves, face slapping, spanking, spitting, reader smokes cigarettes, reader drinks, self destructive reader, past blade/dan heng, implied unrequited jing yuan/dan heng, kernels of jing yuan/reader

“Are you going to the gig tonight? Fu Xuan asks as if the answer isn’t obvious already.

You crane your neck back to look at her from your roost in front of your full-length mirror. Your knees dig into the carpet and the tips of your fingers are tinged with black. You’ve spent the better part of the last thirty minutes attempting to perfectly smudge the smoky line of eyeliner on your lower lash line. A tube of dark, red lipstick (his color) and sticky gloss rests on the fluffy carpet beside your folded knees.

“Of course.” You can’t make yourself smile, not when your stomach is in knots. “Are you?”

“I should if you are going,” she huffs, leaning against your doorframe. “You need a chaperone.”

(She’s probably right.)

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You grimace and turn away, unable to meet her gaze. She’s too good at reading you. “I’ll be just fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“... He’s playing, isn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah.” You rub more aggressively at the widening smears around your eyes. “But that’s not the only reason.”

“Sure.”

“It’s not, really.” You meet her gaze with a glance in the mirror. It’s hard to keep, her stare intense and full of judgment— (And worry.) “There’s a bunch of good bands tonight. There’s a touring group— all the way from Pier Point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have no faith in me, do you?” You pout, keeping your voice light, and hoping it comes off as a bit of a jest.

When you finally turn to face Fu Xuan fully, she dips to sit beside you, on her own folded knees. She plucks your soon-to-be-worn lipstick off the ground and uncaps it, just long enough to see the color, before sighing and closing it once more with a pop. 

“Not really, no.” Fu Xuan leans against your side, cheeks puffing out. “Not when it comes to him—”

“You can say his name, you know.” You smear chalky highlighter on your cheeks with your fingertips. “It’s not a slur. He’s just some guy.”

“‘Some guy’,” She groans. “If he’s really just some guy, why don’t we skip the gig tonight and stay home? We can order in some nice food, and I could invite Qingque.”

“... I—”

“You know that going is a bad idea, right?” Fu Xuan sighs. “We’ve gone over this before.”

“I’m aware of that.” You can’t suppress your scowl any longer, turning to face her. “Blade is fine—”

“He treats you like shit.”

“He treats everyone like that.”

“That doesn’t make it better. If anything, that makes it worse. You deserve better.” Fu Xuan sounds genuinely upset. “And you can do better. Easily. With literally anyone else, even if you find them at one of your nasty house shows. Try entertaining the thought?”

“You don’t have to be so—” You turn to her, fist balling up on your knees— “So mean about it.”

“It’s messy.”

“And it’s not your business.”

“It’s not!” Fu Xuan says, exasperated as she rolls her eyes. “I really shouldn’t even be bothering, but you are my friend. And it is painful to watch you chase the tail of a man who will hardly give you the time of day or bare minimum respect. Excuse me for showing concern.”

“Your concern is noted.” As it has been before. “But I’m fine. I wasn’t lying earlier— there’s other groups I want to see tonight. You... don’t have to come along just to babysit. I’ll be alright. I know you hate them.”

“I do.”

Fu Xuan crosses her arms and exhales, something angry and burning. “At least let me drive you. I can pick you up later too. Rather I do than some stranger or him—”

“Blade. His name, Fu Xuan.”

“Blade.”

“God, you do say it like a slur.” You roll your eyes, the pit in your stomach having become larger and darker. You swipe below your eyes and thank an Aeon or two that your eyeliner is waterproof. 

...

The house venue is a bit out of town, in the rural suburbs on a lot that’s big enough to host a crowd and not bother the nearest neighbors. Fields streak by during your journey, humming with junebugs and chirping with late- summer crickets. Low hills roll by as a harvest moon rises, waxing and half-full.

Fu Xuan drops you at the curb and idles as you collect yourself. A crossbody bag carries your essentials (your phone, your sticky lip products, a lighter to go with the pack of cigarettes that you actually don’t smoke, and two condoms shoved against the bottom). You fiddle with the strap against your shoulder.

“Call me when you need me to pick you up, okay?” Fu Xuan taps the steering wheel. “I’ll be awake.”

“Okay, mom.”

“I mean it—”

“I know.”

“Don’t go home with Blade. Or let him drive you home. He handles a car like he’s trying to kill himself.”

It’s a fair assessment but you still shake your head, trying to seem good-natured despite the rot you feel curling in the back of your throat. Bile, rising, before you have a drop of liquor in you. It’s a little pathetic; you’ll really think so in retrospect. For now, you walk toward the venue itching for a drink in your hand or familiar company. Thundering bass and ripping guitar vibrate from the basement windows, shaking the ground beneath your feet.

A crowd clusters at the back of the house. Folks swap cigarettes and clutch cans of cheap beer and flasks decorated with stickers. You quickly survey, looking for, searching for him—

(He’s usually out here before his set, hiding away somewhere with Kafka sharing cigarettes and glaring at anyone dumb enough to make a pass at her.)

A hand grabs you by the shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Oh my gosh, you’re here! I didn’t know you’d be coming to the gig!”

It’s March, you know. She is easy to identify with the sweet, candy-like perfume she wears and the slight press of her almond-shaped gel manicure into your shoulder.  March turns you abruptly, throwing her arms around your shoulders and squeezing. Too tightly, knocking the air out of you in an instant. You give her a tentative hug back and pull away quickly. The contact scalds you.

“Have you seen—?”

“Blade?” March pouts and tilts her head. “You know, I feel like you only come to these things to see that guy. He’s nothing special. And I have seen him. He was off sulking a while ago, by the sheds in the back of the lot.”

“... I’ll have to check. Thanks, March.”

She sighs as you walk away from her, before calling out to Stelle (who is always a step or two behind her anyways.) 

You feel— bad about how you treat them. They’re both good people. So is the third in their trio, Dan Heng, a man with a beautiful face and an eerily calm demeanor, especially when compared to his companions. The group of them was introduced to you back when you first started attending these shows, hanging around the scene, and sweating in the basement of mildew-filled houses. They were some of your first friends, and easy to mesh with when you gave yourself the time and space to. Stelle always had a flask with lukewarm vodka or tequila, and March kept a case of seltzers in her trunk. Dan Heng was the ever-reliable sober cab. 

(It was nice back then. Before you had become so entangled with Blade and the subsequent social politics that came with chasing and occasionally fucking the hot, albeit emotionally-unavailable bassist of HUNTERS. It was far easier to hold those friendships than to orbit around a man who you can never tell if he hates you or wants to fuck you in his back seat.)

You find Blade tucked away around the side of the house, cloaked in shadow while taking long drags of a cigarette. The cherry glows in the dim light. From the basement window peeking out from the ground, a red glow pours out, illuminating the well-worn combat boots he wears. They’re crusted in filth, falling apart at the toe. 

(You’d still lick them if he asked you to. Hump them if he asked you twice.)

Another figure stands across from him. Serene, arms crossed, with storm eyes visible even in the poor lighting. Dan Heng keeps a perfectly neutral expression as he speaks, hushed, to Blade who wears a scowl so perfectly that it looks like he’s carved of immovable stone rather than not flesh. 

You’re not quite within earshot. You can’t make out their words, only their tone. It’s an angry exchange, one that’s charged with heat lighting and ire. Blade spits something at Dan Heng, venomous in his tone like he so easily is. Dan Heng replies back something so cooly that it’s like a low-tide wave lapping at your feet.

If you were better, you would turn around and leave. Neither of them know that you’re here, so close. It’s invasive to listen, but you know that there’s... history between Blade and Dan Heng. You’ve always wondered what it is, and considering that Blade has the emotional availability of a rotting vegetable, you won’t be getting those details out of him.

Maybe witnessing their dynamic (yet again) could provide you some clarity—?

(And maybe, if you know why Blade was so, so hurt by Dan Heng, you can do better. You can be the exact thing that Blade wants, and then he will want you, just as much as you want him.)

You listen more keenly:

“I’ve asked you to stop booking shows where the Express is already playing.”

“And I’ve asked you to get off my dick and stop being such a priss, but it doesn’t look like you’ll ever do that.”

“I’m asking you to be reasonable.”

“Sure, because clearly asking me to not play prime gigs is ‘reasonable’. Not to mention you should be taking this up with Kafka or Elio, not me. Did you just want an excuse to talk, Imbibitor Lunae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, have something else you’d prefer to be called? I remember plenty of things you liked hearing. Want me to name a few?”

“Hold your tongue—”

A stick cracks behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Bladie~” Kafka purrs behind you, hands sliding up over your shoulders, hot breath over the back of your neck. “We’re on soon. Soundcheck in five, Firefly has a vodka shot for you if you want.”

You’re frozen.

Blade grunts from around the house, and as he does, Dan Heng emerges from the shadows quickly, on hastened feet, and nearly stumbles when you see him. Your expression must be— fucking stupid. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed as Kafka runs her nails up and down your neck. 

As Dan Heng practically sprints off, Kafka croons quietly into your ear, “And what are you doing all the way back here? Looking for Bladie again?”

You don’t need to speak for her to know your answer. Blade’s steps thud against the ground over the short, dry grass. 

Part of you knows you should scramble away and pretend you weren’t just lurking like a stray dog begging for kitchen scraps. It’s humiliating to be caught by Kafka (yet again), doing the same shit on a different day. Another part of you, one which is much louder, more persuasive, and saccharine sweet, urges you to face Blade. If you get caught in his maw, good. 

Your hands shake as Blade emerges from the dark.

He looks like death. Ghostly pale skin with deep purple eyebags, like bruises. His eyes are cut carnelian, ethereal and volcanic against his parlor. A cigarette hangs between his plump lips, threatening to burn and melt the pieces of his fringe that hang around his cheeks. Long, wild black hair, tipped in faded crimson, falls down his back in frizzy waves. His arms bulge obscenely in the tight, black shirt he wears. A carved jade pendant hangs off of his belt.

Blade stares you down and his scowl deepens, turning even more sour. He mutters something under his breath, something unintelligible but cruel. It’s not the first time he’s spoken to you that way. He’s done so more loudly and more brutally. 

You—

(Hate it. You love it. Well, maybe not love, but you crave the way that Blade is awful to you. You’re horrible.)

“Better get inside now,” Kafka hands drift to your waist, tugging on the belt loop of your pants. You let out a little yip. “I’m sure the front row is filling up fast. No need to spy on Bladie if you get a prime spot during the actual set, hm?”

She’s right; she usually is.

Kafka leaves you with an elegant twirl, humming one of HUNTERS songs from their new EP under her breath. You know the tune. You’ve been playing it on repeat for the last two months. 

It’s easy to follow the jarring trills of soundcheck as you float inside the home, following the trail of people headed toward the basement. Descending down the rickety, railingless stairs into thick, humid air that reeks of sweat, beer, and fledging mold. Down, down, down you go— maybe to hell, where you perhaps belong.

...

Moon Drinker by HUNTERS

You taught me that the high moon 

Was our lovers’ sigil

How quickly did you throw away our runes

How empty is your cup

Moon Drinker

That you would break mine too

...

The gig is decent. That’s how these shows tend to be and you enjoy them just enough to tolerate the stench and humidity of grungy basements like this one. 

Three bands play, IP3, the Express, and HUNTERS. The interest you expressed to Fu Xuan about Pier Point’s IP3 was a lie, but they’re not bad. The frontman, a blond with eyes like inverted crystals, has a sultry edge to his voice that verges on sexual. It’s a cleaner sound that rips into something dirtier, filthier, as their set goes on. 

The Express follows IP3. You’ve seen them more times than you can count, but the trio is still nice to listen to, even now. March always plays with the crowd in between her harmonies in a way that riles folks up just enough without causing abject chaos. The band plays a new song you don’t know, one that is angry and loud and so unlike their normal sound. Dan Heng is on vocals, rather than solely on guitar, and you’re reminded of how mournful and melodic his voice can be. The exact words of the piece get eaten by the cement foundation of the basement, but you imagine that it’s an elegy.

HUNTERS is last on.

They usually are, as their music is the loudest and gnarliest, and they’re typically the most well-known (even if they have a shit reputation and their crowds leave trashed venues in their wake). You feel— insane when they start playing. You know all of their songs, even if you don’t really like their music. Kafka’s voice is hypnotic in a way that’s disarming, even on a recording. Silver Wolf is too good of a drummer for the caliber of band that they are, and Firefly shreds easily on guitar, trained on strings since childhood, but using her talents in a grunge band rather than on a world stage.

Blade’s bass playing is messy. Though his tempo is sure and unwavering, the actual rhythm drags and punches in intervals that verge on unnerving. You have never been able to place if this is due to whatever rage and poison he carries into music making, or if his fingers are as arthritic as Kafka jokes that they are. 

It doesn’t really matter, in the end. The sound blends together in a cacophony that sounds like the way bursted flesh looks. If you could taste the way their newest EP sounded, it would be the iron tang of blood and the acrid burn of bile. 

You’re fucked for it— for Blade. You’ve been since you first became tangled in this web.

A pit opens in the middle of the crowd, small at first, but rapidly widening, with more and more people throwing themselves into it. They bounce around and bash against the individuals at the sides of the pit, only to be shoved back in a moment later. 

You try to stay away from it. Instead, you watch Blade like a fucking pervert.

The basement has gotten hot. Steamy, if you look hard enough at the air that barely circulates against the low, pipe-ridden ceiling. Blade has thrown his hair up in a high ponytail, wisps of hair still cling to his neck and temples, sweat visibly rolling down his neck. His shirt sticks to his toned chest as the overclocked speakers try to keep up with the HUNTERS most recently released song— ‘MOON DRINKER’.

Blade doesn’t look at you. Not once.

His eyes are fixed elsewhere, deeper in the crowd, beyond the bodies in the pit and those who hang at the outskirts by the house’s ancient boiler. Blade’s attention is fixed on— something (someone. You can assume who.) Not once does his gaze drift down his instrument, and never does he acknowledge the way you stand in the front row, so close, with your attention squarely on him.

(This is normal. So normal, it’s painful.)

The pit expands even further, widening as more gig-goers jump into mosh as one song bleeds into the next. You almost get swirled in yourself as a stranger slams into your side with enough force to nearly knock you to the ground. 

A broad, warm hand catches you by your bicep, hoisting you up before you even have a chance to fall. 

“Be careful now,” It’s Jing Yuan (who is much too powerful and rich to be at a basement show, but yearning pushes you both to do stupid, nonsensical things) who speaks directly into your ear, so you can hear him even as your ears ring muffled. “Are you alright?”

You turn to nod at him, flashing him a thumbs up and nervous smile. The cologne he wears permeates the space around you, overpowering the sweat and mildew with ease. He gives you an easy smile and a squeeze, before letting you. He sidesteps your frame to be closer to the pit, crossing his arms over his chest and shielding you from the worst of the throng. 

You’re grateful for the cover; it would be embarrassing to topple over right in front of Blade.

It takes you a moment to recenter yourself, lost in Jing Yuan’s scent and the roar of Firefly’s final, aching guitar riffs. You look back to HUNTERS once more as they finish out their set in a loud, carnal flourish. The expensive speakers they’ve dragged with them are going to fucking blow out—

Blade is staring at you.

Not into the crowd, toward the placid face and cold heart that so clearly plague him, not to his bandmates or instrument, but looking at you.

In the red-lit basement, his eyes nearly glow, unnatural in their anger as they always are. It seemed more concentrated, feral and crystallized in its intensity. Rage. You want to cower under it while your insides feel hot and frigid all at once. He pierces so easily, so thoughtlessly. As the crowd erupts into cheers and shouts as the set ends, you cannot move. Staked in place. 

Not once does Blade look away from you, and his mouth does not deviate from the twisted frown he wears.

... 

Swordmaker by HUNTERS

If I were forged alongside you, 

Do you think I would forgive you then?

If iron was your skin,

Steel your lungs

and lead your heart,

You would be easier to hold.

Empty are memories

Full is the garden

And bloody is the blade.

…

You should be better than this.

Blade slams you up against the back of the shed, the motion jarring and far too fast to be pleasant. Your head knocks painfully against the wood and peeling paint, and despite how you whimper with the impact, Blade doesn’t react. He doesn’t seem to care. 

(You know he doesn’t.)

He hikes your leg up over his hip and grinds against your core through your pants. The motion is rough, clumsy and far too harsh to be pleasurable. The dry friction through your panties makes you squirm and dig your nails into his shoulders. Blade grunts in your ear. You think he likes the pain.

The gig was only let out half an hour ago, and plenty of people are still milling around. Whispers are circulating about if and where there will be an afterparty. You weren’t paying much attention to them— they’re easy to ignore— especially when Blade had been dragging you by the wrist just far enough away from the main house to fuck without being overtly noticeable. 

(Barely, though. Blade can be loud and you can be loud when you’re with him. You’re tempting fate to be caught, seen with him in this way. It’s an open secret that you’re the scraps that Blade entertains himself with, but you would rather not be caught with your literal pants down.)

Blade smells like cigarettes and sweat. The scent of unclean smoke tangles in his unruly hair as you get a grip on it and tug. The juncture of his neck has the faintest hint of some cologne you’re sure he doesn’t know the name of and stale sweat. You press your lips there and dare to drag your tongue across his skin and taste him. It’s not a good taste, not necessarily, but you love it. Salty and filthy. (It’s disgusting, but familiar and morosely comforting.) You are drunk on it and it makes you feel pathetic at the same time.

A growl sounds in your ear as Blade pins you with his weight to the shed. Dragging you back from his neck, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him fully. 

“Don’t leave marks.” He paralyzes you with his stare and sneer. 

“I’d never.” You try to sound earnest, even if it’s a lie. Because you would— you’d bite and tear at his neck (like he does at yours) until the skin there is black and blue. Happily, you would leave hickies above his collar. Split his lip and bite his jaw hard enough to bleed. You could wear his blood on your teeth and smile for once at these fucking gigs.

Instead, you do not bite him. You just let Blade maul you as he desires.

He grinds against your core. The pressure is unpleasant at this point, too much and too little all at the same time. When you whimper now, he just ignores you and slips his hands under your shirt. He grabs your waist in both hands and squeezes.

“Turn around,” says Blade, already twisting you himself, so your front is pressed against the shed.

“H-Here?” You laugh nervously. Despite your... reputation, something cold, unwelcome and uncomfortable settles in you. “C-Can’t we go to your car? Or inside?”

“Maybe later.”

(It’s awful. It’s sick, the way your heart flutters at the implications of ‘later’. ‘Later’ means more of him. More of Blade’s time, his touch, his hardly-there care. More scraps for you to gorge yourself on, more time to beg for more. It’s sick. It’s sick how fucked you are for him.)

Blade reaches around your front to undo the button at the top of your trousers. In a swift motion, he has them around your thighs. Just enough that he can bend you over and access your cunt with some amount of ease. He keeps your panties on at first (he usually does this. You’re never sure why. You can delude yourself into thinking it’s him taking his time with you, but you know that that is a lie). 

Blade places one of his hands on the back of your neck to flatten you against the shed, while the other must be unbuttoning his own pants to get his cock out, based on the jingling of metal and shred of a zipper. You swallow, your mouth dry. You’re dry, but you know that if you try to touch yourself to prep at this point, Blade will only be meaner.

The most he does is run two fingers over your slit, over your panties. It’s barely enough contact on your clit to be felt, but you gasp and shudder anyway. Canting your hips back, you try to encourage more contact. Anything he’ll give you.

He sighs behind you. Disappointed. Aggravated. It makes you want to cry.

Blade peels down your panties. The cold air shocks you, your core tightening up, but you hardly have time to adjust to the temperature before Blade’s equally cold hands fully part your folds. He sighs again, pulling away only to spit on his fingers, and smear his saliva around your hole. It feels dirty. You feel dirty.

When Blade pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact (at how cold it is, at how the crowd milling around smoking cigarettes and cheap weed is just on the other side of this dilapidated shed crows and laughs into the night). You swear you can recognize March’s giggle above the din of conversation.

You’re brought back to your entanglement with a harsh slap to your ass. Harsh and audible. The sound that escapes your lips is choked and high. 

“Don’t get distracted,” Blade huffs. He spits again, presumably on his dick. 

You nod, latching onto the pain radiating from slap to your ass. As if sensing it, Blade lays down another strike. This one is hotter, harder. He isn’t holding back. It is sure to bruise the tender flesh there. A mark. Something that will tangibly ache, something leftover from your tryst.

You could cry.

The velvety head of Blade’s cock nudges your folds. He brackets you into the wall, arms on either side of you. Heat radiates off his chest and sinks into your spine.

“‘Feels good?” He asks, voice hoarse as he coats himself in your meager slick.

“Y-yeah,” you lie. It’s not enough to feel good. You don’t care.

Blade seems content enough with your answer as he bears down on you. Flattening you to the dirt-covered shed, he hitches his hip down, then up, trying to fit the tip of his cock into your hole. He maneuvers your hips as he pleases, grunting when the tip of him catches on your cunt. When you dare to whine, even the smallest sound, he cracks his hand down on your ass again. Your vision speckles into darkness with the shot of pain and—

(The roar of anxiety and subsequent shame when you realize how much quieter the milling crowd nearby has become.)

“Hold still.” Blade's voice has sunk low, gravely with the cigarettes he’s been smoking all evening. 

The next time his cock touches your opening, he presses in without hesitation.

It’s—

It’s too fucking much.

It is, it always is, every single fucking time he fucks you. Any prep he gives you is perfunctory. Blade will never lavish you with attention, not in the way that you probably need. That you—

(Might even deserve.)

No, the most that Blade will do is fuck you filthy behind a shed, near some of his more well-adjusted peers and probably come inside of you. On past occasions, he has let you suck him off in the backseat of his car. He’s only accidentally (‘accidentally’) came on your face a few times. Less than ten, more than five. Once, he ate you out for a few minutes, but you swear to god he was groaning someone else’s name as he did.

(You’re fucking pathetic.)

This is always too much. Blade is too big. Too big, even if you were stretched and primed with a few fingers like would be right and proper. As tight and dry as you are, it’s painful. He has to grind into your cunt with rolling little thrust so he can fit himself in at all. Each one shocks a breath out of you, a shattering, fragile sound. 

When Blade bottoms out, he lays flat over your back. The weight of him is suffocating. His corded muscle is all dead weight above you as his cock twitches inside you. You can’t tell if he’s idling to allow you some time to adjust, or purely for his own leisure. You can’t be sure. You don’t want to ask him either.

“You’re tight.” Blade’s voice threatens to break.

(Of course you are. He’s the only person you will let fuck you, and these trysts only occur every few weeks, when there’s a show that you can be cornered at.)

He bucks into you, deeper still. The head of his cock is touching parts of you that shouldn’t be touched.

You whimper, “Blade—”

He growls in response. It’s a raspy and low tone that makes arousal burn in your gut and leak down your thighs. (You hope so anyway— it’s more wet and you don’t think it hurts enough that you’re bleeding.) Blade fucks you in earnest, then. There’s no delay, no waiting, no potential for momentary, perceived niceties. He pulls out of you almost completely, then thrusts back into you in one single motion. The friction burns and your vision wavers. 

(You still moan like a whore.)

You feel— dirty. Disgusting. Pathetic as he fucks you like. You don’t feel like a person as he fucks you; you never do. How could you? The grip he uses on your hips is too bruising and the force and strength he’s using to brutalize your cunt is just too much. He fucks you like he’s taking anger out on a piece of drywall. Blade shares physically with you in the way a dog shreds a chew toy to bits, then leaves it on the ground to fester.

Blade grunts next to your ear, nipping there.

He doesn’t kiss you— well, not often. He can’t with your current position. You wouldn’t expect him to anyway. Sometimes he leaves a ring of dark hickies across your neck, like a collar. You like those, but he always waits an extra long time to see you after he marks you like that.

(You presume to make sure that the bruises have fully yellowed, then faded. A clean canvas.)

Blade’s pace increases, just before he pulls out. His cock rests on the cleft of your ass and he tips his forehead to rest on the shed, just beside yours.

“You’re still dry.”

“Sorry—”

He cuts you off. “It’s fine.”

...

It apparently isn’t fine. 

Blade drags you toward the house. He barks at someone, then Kafka, to find a room. You feel dazed as he does. Out of your body, as you receive a number of knowing and unknowing stares from the lingering show-goers who cluster around a firepit. 

(How many of them heard you just now? How many know the exact sounds you make when in barely-there pleasure? In certainly-there pain? How many of them know the sound of Blade’s too-big cock slapping into your too-dry cunt?)

It makes you feel sick to think about.

A room must be found for the two of you, as Blade drags you up the stairs of the back porch. 

As he does, he hesitates.

(He has so rarely done this.)

His gaze is not on you; it pierces elsewhere in the dark. A floodlight off the back of the house illuminates a section of the yard, and just beyond its reach, nestled somewhere between the dark and light, he fixates. His jaw sets and locks. 

There are figures, you realize.

They’re easy to identify once you actually focus. One is lithe and short-haired, the other broad-shouldered and long-haired.  Dan Heng and Jing Yuan. Speaking on the outskirts. It feels private. Their attention turns from their hushed conversation to the two of you as Blade stares daggers and swords into them. As if he could pierce them with nothing more than his silent rage and angry eyes. 

You freeze.

Their expressions are obscured in the lowlight, but you can almost feel the looks they give you. Like a sickly mucus that gets stuck to you and rolls down your flesh in slow, cold globs. 

Dan Heng (once so dear to you, still probably dear to you—) looks guarded, thought darkened. Contempt twists his expression, anger following just after. You’d ever wager that he’s disgusted, maybe. Probably with you, because he knows you’re better than this. Beside him, Jing Yuan wears an expression of careful passivity, of geniality, as he always does, but it’s tinged with something sad and old. For all parties involved in this silent, momentary exchange.

Jing Yuan regards you directly, slowly blinking at you, as though he was a large house cat intent on making you feel safe, and not a presence that only drives the bubbling anxiety in you higher. 

It’s a seconds-long encounter that stretches for an eternity. You cannot make yourself move. You cannot feel anything other than rotten and small.

Blade lets out a harsh exhale and yanks you away. The scene breaks and you’re dragged inside. He whispers under his breath, vitriol-tinging his tone. Your panties feel sticky and wet as you walk.

Kafka had found a room for you, on the second floor of the house. God knows whose it actually is. You don’t get a good look at the room as Blade pushes you inside.. It’s dim, the only light is licking in from the dirty window, an afterburn from the raging bonfire outside. You hear muffled voices still, leaking in like a draft. 

Blade locks the door and pushes you onto the unmade bed.

It’s a cheap mattress with flannel sheets. It smells like old weed smoke and cheap incense. Fu Xuan would tell you that you deserve better than this. You think you might.

Blade climbs on top of you, jaw still locked, and eyes far away.

(You do wonder what happened between him and Dan Heng. Something did. Something gutting and heartbreaking— you hear it when Blade sings. A betrayal, an intangible knife cut but still so painful. Dan Heng has always spoken about Blade with a type of protective neutrality. He warned you to never get involved with Blade. To stay away, to not get on Blade’s bad side, and if something did entangle you with him, Dan Heng could sort it out. He has always cared so fiercely for those he loves; it’s a shame that you have squandered it.)

(Blade is a sentimentalist. Blade is so held in the past that it chokes him. It always has, during every moment you’ve shared with him. He lingers in the bloody past, he holds it in his hands with a grip that’s meant to snap bird wings and flay flesh. He hates Dan Heng. He still loves him, though. You see it on his face sometimes. You hear it in Blade’s music. The ache, the death, the unending grief and mourning and rage that the man simply won’t let go of.)

(It is obsession.)

It shouldn’t make you bitter to think about. Yet, it does. It’s not your place to hold those types of feelings, let alone express them. For so many reasons, Blade will never see you as anything more than a cheap fuck. You think Dan Heng is the primary one. Over time, you’ve grown bitter. Resentful. 

Blade pulls off your shirt in one swift move. He’s slower than he usually is. More deliberate. His hands are shaking, like how they do just after he finishes a set. It’s… off—

You hate it. You hate that the lingering pain of someone else will effect Blade more than you ever, ever could in the present.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. His breath catches as you do.

”What the fuck is your deal?” You sneer at him. There’s a cruel edge in your voice that does not sound like you. Blade brings out the worst in you, and you fall prey to it, so easily. 

Blade glances up at you, eyes sharp like cut gems. He says nothing.

”You and Dan Heng,” you laugh. You don’t mean to— you don’t, you don’t— and you yank Blade’s hair so he has to look at you better. “It’s pathetic, you know. How you look at him like a kicked fucking dog. What happened between the two of you, anyways?”

Blade freezes. So do you.

You’ve misstepped so brutally. So stupidly and tragically and idiotically. You’ve pushed too hard for what—?

Blade is on his haunches in an instance and he slaps you across the face.

Your head follows the force of the impact, forcing your face to the side. Your cheek smarts. It wasn’t— that hard. Blade is strong. He could do worse. Still, it shocks you. The pain is enough to make you gasp and reel.

”What the fuck—“

”Don’t,” Blade grabs your jaw, “open your mouth about things you know nothing about. You should know better.”

You should. You do.

”I could know more, if you ever told me, I don’t know— anything?” You laugh in his face, manic behind your eyes. You’re crushing the delicate nature of your cheap arrangement like how a child would crush a flighty butterfly’s papery wings. 

Blade shakes his head, smothering a laugh. He wrangles you forward, half-off risen from the bed, and parts your lips with his thumb. Before you can react, bite, claw— he is raising himself higher than you, dwarfing you in height, and spitting down into your mouth, onto your tongue.

”You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” He pats the side of your face, over the cheek that he struck. It burns. In another world, this touch would be tender. Here, you can only wince. 

Before you can reply, continue to run your mouth and rile him up further, Blade kisses you.

It shocks you, stuns you. 

He— he hasn’t ever kissed you before. It’s never been an explicit boundary, but never once during these trysts has Blade ever initiated this type of contact. It has felt dangerous to do so yourself. Something that’s too intimate, too personal to share. The core of your entanglement is the way he uses you. It’s impersonal. 

A kiss, you think, implies something more tender.

You gasp into his lips, and he takes the opportunity to all but violate the inside of your mouth. His tongue plunders inside, licking at his own spit that you have yet to swallow. A noise chokes off in the back of your throat. Something desperate and shocked that you hardly recognize. It’s filthy. He nips at your lips and pushes you back down.

Blade devours you. 

It’s too much, really. It’s a gesture of tenderness that has been so thoroughly mutilated, calling it a kiss feels paltry. The way his lips are on your own is much more like an argument and a subsequent conquest. One in which you lose ground. He nips at your lower lip, snags it between his teeth, and tugs it as he pulls away.

You pant, the sound of your own breath roars in your own ears. Your hands are still buried in his hair, grip unyielding, anchoring you.

Blade smiles, something poisonous and satisfied. You are too drunk on the singular kiss he gives you to care that much.

“That’s all it takes, is it?” He laughs, the sound dark and rolling, like the sound of an earthquake cracking the earth. 

He already knows you’ll beg for scraps. God forbid he gives you even a morsel more. 

The bed squeaks as he flips you by your hips so you’re laid flat, belly-down on the dirty sheets. Blade spanks your still-clothed ass for good measure before rustling around behind you. Assumedly to disrobe, just enough to fuck you. Assumedly, to ignore the condoms you brought (knowing he would disregard them—). Assumedly, to fuck you with every inch of your life. 

You want it. You want him so badly it physically hurts.

(Or, maybe you tore while he had you behind the shed. Who is to say?)

Blade clamors behind you, shaking, arthritic hands tugging your pants by the waistband. He doesn’t even bother to unzip them this time. Your panties get pulled down along with them, and they get tossed elsewhere in the barely-lit room. Blade spits behind you, and a sound of too-dry stroking follows. 

“D-do you want me to suck you off?” you ask with a hum. You’d let him fuck your face, if he asked. Or, if he wanted. Blade wouldn’t ask.

“No.”

“Just let me know.”

Blade sighs behind you, but you think little of it.

You brace yourself up on your elbows, lowering your upper half to be flat against the bed, and arching your hips as high as they’ll go. It’s as if to make yourself look appetizing. You hope it entices Blade, even a little.

(Please, you need him to want you. You need him to want you so badly. Please, please, please—)

The head of Blade’s cock rubs as your hole, down to your clit, then back up again a few times. He’s so hot, it’s like he is burning you. Contact that scalds. The contact against your clit is... nice. It’s the most warm up he has graced you with in a while. You could crave more, but settle for this. 

“C’mon Blade,” you whine. Your voice sounds airy. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t reply, not with his voice. The rocking of his hips becomes more pronounced, and the slide of him against you becomes slicker. Still too big, too hot, but wet at least. Which is a bonus. Pre and blood are probably leaking onto the shaft at least a little bit too.

It makes it easier once he slides home in a single blow. 

It’s too fucking deep— especially with this angle. The head of his cock presses against your deepest parts, bruises them in a place where no one can see or feel but you. Blade is huge, the girth of him stretches you as his hips rest against your ass.

A wretched noise bubbles up past your lips. Something between a cry and a plea, for more, for less— to go home, to be in a warm, clean bed with someone who actually cares— you aren’t sure. Your desires have been twisted up and wrong for so long, you can’t tell what you really want. 

It makes you feel rotten, and then there’s only one thing you want.

(To hurt.)

Blade fucks you, then. Fully in, fully out of. Long and deep thrusts that carve out your insides in a brutal way. It’s violent. He leans over your back, and braces himself over you. You feel small, stupid, and hurt. A horrible swirl of things that make tears spring up at the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in the crusty pillow you’d manage to snag nearby—

And Blade tugs it away immediately. His big, calloused hand curls to hold your jaw up, so every pitiful whine and whimper you let out can’t be muffled. The bed squeaks as his thrusts slow.

“Don’t hide.”

“I-I won’t.”

“You were.”

“I won’t a-again—”

“You want this, don’t you?” Blade growls in your ears, then moves to the most fragile skin of your neck and bites. 

(You do, you do— god you do. You need this.)

You nod, and Blade keeps biting. His jaw nearly locks. You’re sure that you’ll be bruised for a week.

Blade scoffs and rears back, grabs your hips in both hands for leverage. And he fucks you.

That’s all it can be, really. You can’t get a solid hold on anything. The pillow has been thrown off the bed, and you struggle to find purchase on the sheets. All you do is take it. Pleasure, or something like it, builds in your core and goes nowhere. It simmers but never crests anywhere near orgasm. 

You don’t mind. This is enough.

Blade’s pace increases, never frantic. Never with him. Manic maybe, insane, tortured and damaged, but never frantic. Not with you. His rhythm falters as his cock slides in and out of you, slick beginning to stick to the inside of your thighs. 

His hand comes down on his ass. The other cheek, this time. It’s enough force to bruise again. You’ll have trouble sitting for a week.

As Blade nears his peak, his rhythm stutters. His breath grows harsher and more strained. His grip goes from bruising to breaking. You gasp with the pain, but don’t tell him to stop. His cock brushes against your cervix, and never your sweet spot. 

Blade flattens you to bed, prone, and puts his entire weight on top of you as his orgasm hits him. A strangled cry shatters from his lips into your ear as he fucks you too fast and too hard. A gush of warmth fills your insides, spilling to your outsides when there isn’t enough of you to hold all of him.

The bed frame slams into the wall with his final few thrusts. 

You lay there, in the filth, in the pain and the dissatisfaction of the tryst, and rot.

...

Blade leaves you there, at some point.

Not right away, but eventually. He rolls off you at some point, catches his breath for a while, checks his phone, then rises to right himself.

You cannot make yourself move. The only thing you can make yourself do is take slow, measured breaths. Each ache in your body is punctuated, loud and unignorable now that the fizzling pleasure of sex has dissipated. What’s left of it is this: carnage. 

“You have a ride home?” Blade asks. He must be near the door, based on the sound of his voice.

Fu Xuan’s warning words come to mind, and shame fills your belly. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

And he leaves.

You rot for a while longer.

This is not the first encounter that has gone this way. Blade fucks you like this and leaves. There’s no reverie or sweetness. There is using and being used, and the conclusion that always follows is this. Cooling, soon-to-be dry cum leaking out of you in thick droplets and a bite mark on your neck you’ll need to conceal for the next two weeks. Blade will ignore you like he doesn’t know you, next time he sees. But still fucks you like a toy.

It’s awful. It’s all you want.

You force yourself up at some point.

You’re surprised to find that your pants and panties are in a heap on the end of the bed. You are sure that they were tossed farther, but perhaps you misremember. Painstakingly, you rerobe yourself. Moving your legs in such ways hurts so bad, you could cry. You probably did cry while Blade fucked you. 

The quick stop in the squalid bathroom confirms this. Mascara smudges around your eyes and down your cheeks. The sticky gloss you were wearing has been smeared away. Not even a stain of the crimson remains. 

You feel hollow as you walk down the stairs, outside, toward the bonfire and its rapidly dwindling flames. A few folks still millaround, people you recognize, just barely, though no one you could call a friend remains around the pit. Stelle, March, and Dan Heng are long gone, probably. You’d feel too ashamed to look them in the eye anyway.

Someone offers you a warm beer and you take it. Your hands shake.

Hollow and wordless, you move around the backyard like a specter. Part of you wishes you were one, just something mostly formless and shapeless. Transparent. No one could see you make a fool of yourself that way. There would be no witnesses to your desperation and perversion.

You swallow back bile when it rises in your throat, and wash it down with a chug from the can.

You’re surprised to find Jing Yuan idling around the corner of the house. He looks up when you near him, and he greets you with the same genial smile he always wears. He nods to the space next him, already plucking a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket on his shirt. You take one, and he lights it for you in the next instant.

“It looks like you needed that,” he hums. He doesn't take one for himself, only tucking the carton away and out of sight.

“Maybe.” You want to vomit. Or slide down the wall of the house and rot there. 

He laughs then. It’s too... warm of a sound for how you feel. For how dirty these venues are, and for the company that you have come to hold, it feels dissonant. Jing Yuan is too kind, too patient. 

(He cannot be your friend because your ruin would spread to him, maybe.)

“Take as many as you like,” he urges with a hum, and settles next to you.

Silently, you ruminate. Descend into yourself. You suppose, given the events you’ve seen tonight, that you’re both stewing in something akin to yearning. 

(Jing Yuan is better than you for it. He, at least, doesn’t sleep with his unrequited adored in someone else’s bed after a messy house show.)

“Do you have a way home?” asks Jing Yuan, breaking you from your slow-rolling spiral.

You shake your head. It would be rude to call Fu Xuan so late. You— you hadn’t really thought about a ride. Not yet. 

Jing Yuan looks you up and down and his smile looks sadder, “How about a ride home?”

“Sure.” You nod. 

The ride back home in Jing Yuan’s (too nice, too expensive, too decadent) car is quiet. An album from a band you don’t recognize plays at a low volume. Soothing, soft voices, so juxtaposed from the venue you leave behind. Maybe you just can’t recognize the words because you’re decaying. Your phone lays in your lap, over your aching thighs. 

[no new messages]

(Because Blade never messages you after a fuck. You’re not worth that much to him.)

...

Gingerly, you unlock your front door and enter your little apartment. Fu Xuan lays on the couch, on her back, with her phone against her collarbone. Her mouth is parted in peaceful sleep, though her hair is still done up, all of her pins are still in.

(She waited for you, again. And you failed her, again.)

You don’t know how she puts up with you. Or why either.

Some part of you wants to vomit. Wretch, like it’ll purge the awful, disgusting thoughts warming you. They do not serve you. You should just—

(Know better. You gain nothing from entangling yourself from Blade. The sex is... enough. Because Blade doesn’t know his own strength sometimes and makes it hurt, unintentionally toeing the line between too little and too much. It’s still not worth it. It shouldn’t be worth it. You’d be better off never going to any gigs, ever again. You wouldn’t have to disappoint and embarrass yourself to your old friends then. You wouldn’t have to linger in the yearning of others while never having that affection given to you.)

You collapse atop your bed. Your makeup has been roughly scrubbed off with an old towel, and you can feel the crunchy remnants of mascara clinging around your eyes. You can’t make yourself care. Burying your face in your pillow, you burrow into your blankets. You’ll probably be sore and hungover tomorrow... today? The songbirds are just beginning to chirp their morning arias. It makes you sick to your stomach.

As you begin to doze, your phone vibrates. 

[one new message]

blade: did you get home 

Your mouth feels dry and your chest feels so tight you could die. 

you: yeah. jing yuan drove me. 

[seen: 5:11 AM]

You hold your breath as Blade begins to type. Then stops typing. Then begins again. It goes on for several volleys and you really do think you might puke.

blade: get some sleep

You drop your phone somewhere in your sheets. Giddiness fills your chest, despite the exhaustion and ache and bone-rotting fatigue. Elation causes you to smile, something wide and girlish that you have to hide in your pillow, lest it be beared to the world.

(It’s a scrap. It’s nothing. It’s worse than the bare minimum and the bar is already in hell.)

But, it’s something.

A morsel. Something to clutch onto and hold and cherish.

You want to put his words between your teeth and swallow. 

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 3 - ( c.s )

part two

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, a bit of drinking

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: part three baby here we go! hope you guys enjoy!! if i forgot a tag it either wouldn’t let me or i missed it (if i missed u pls comment and i’ll fix it right up). anyways kisses for u all i hope ur having a good day, my inbox is open for anything as always MWAH

@cutenote @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @l9vesick @bb-1s-blog @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @annamcdonalds67 @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @luckistar-posts @angelworldspost @ponyosturniolo @rainyenthusiastdaze @heartz4chris @sturnvvz @cupidsword @wurlibydominicfike @mattswrld @yoursopretty15 @poopydroopt @latinasforchrizz @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner

it’s been a day since the kiss, and you still haven’t told a single soul. for some reason, you’re way too scared to admit what happened to your roommates, even though you know they’d be the last to judge you for it.

and yet you just can’t, despite the fact that it’s been eating you alive for over twenty-four hours straight. saying it out loud makes it real, so you decided it was best to keep it inside.

however, you still need to give chris his jersey back, which you’ve been neglecting to do because you don’t want to see him.

or maybe because you’re scared.

it’s an involuntary thought, and it makes you angry. there’s nothing to be scared of, because he doesn’t have any power over you.

right?

you grab his jersey off the top of your dresser. it’s all clean, and it still smells like detergent from when you washed it yesterday. you’ve been putting it off all day, and it’s time for that to stop.

the sun is nearly gone, so you head down the stairs, silently thankful that ramona and cassidy are both are both runnings errands as you slip out the front door.

you’re in your comfy clothes, black sweats and baby blue hoodie that you stole from cass, and you’re immediately regretting the fact that you didn’t grab a jacket.

you hurry across the lawn, passing the cars parked in the driveway. there’s an unfamiliar red one at the end, and it almost makes you pause, but the possibility doesn’t fully connect in your mind yet.

so you head up the steps and knock on the door loudly, still very much so a woman on a mission.

it takes a moment, a long moment, before someone comes to open it for you. it’s connor, which is unfortunate, because you really weren’t prepared to speak with anyone besides the one boy you’re actually looking for.

he looks a little confused, but he smiles nonetheless. “what’s up?”

“i’m just, uh, trying to drop off chris’s jersey.” any bit of confidence you had is gone now as you choke on your words.

connor’s eyes widen a little as his grin fades, though you can tell he’s trying to play it off. “he’s a little busy right now, but i’ll get it to him.”

your eyebrows furrow as he reaches his arms out, like he’s trying to rush the process along without any more interrogation.

“busy with what?” you question, though you hand it over regardless.

he looks at you for just a half a second too long, like he’s waiting for you to piece it together, and then it clicks. chris is busy because he has a girl over, and that’s her car in the driveway.

you wish it didn’t phase you, but you can feel your face morphing into an emotion that borders disgust and anger.

“oh, i see.” is all you say, because you’re already fucking embarrassed beyond belief.

you turn and head back down the stairs, trying to ignore the way your stomach is flipping like you’re going to throw up.

connor doesn’t say anything. instead you hear the door close, and you feel completely numb as you walk back to your own porch. part of it is because of the cold, and part of it is because you feel so stupid.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but that was exactly what you should’ve anticipated knowing chris.

you step back into the warmth of your own home, and even when you close and lock the door, a shiver chases you.

you head back up to your bedroom, kicking your shoes off by the door. you want further confirmation, so you peek through the curtains that hang over your window.

chris’s room, which is coincidentally directly across from yours, reveals nothing besides a dim light that peeks through the closed blinds.

you let the drapes fall back into place, still in shock. it was so ridiculous to believe for even a second that he was any different than he had been for the last six months.

you should’ve taken him at his word. he doesn’t date, and he’s not interested in you beyond teasing you or making you look like an idiot.

and you refuse to be taken for a fool.

you pace along the floor for a second until you decide you deserve some wine. you know there’s at least half a bottle in the fridge, and maybe it’ll help you calm the hell down.

a few minutes later you’re back upstairs, huddled up in your bed with a book you had started earlier in the day, sipping from your glass as you read.

it’s hard to fall into the fantasy world you picked out at first, but then you begin to feel your cheeks flush and your eyes are suddenly devouring the words.

you’re so enveloped in the plot, completely unaware that your roommates had gotten home until ramona walks in. it startles you, so much so that you lose your page.

she pauses to take in your state; the empty glass, the minimal leftovers in the bottle you brought with you, your droopy eyes.

“wine before 7 p.m. on the lord’s day? you’re crazy.” she jokes with a grin.

you shrug, also smiling a little bit. “felt like getting a little wild.”

mona puts a hand on her hip and nods toward the door she just entered through. “well, could i maybe convince you to take this crazy train downstairs so we can catch up on VPR? we’re like, three episodes behind now.”

you snap your book closed and roll out of bed, which you can tell by her snort looks far from graceful.

“all you had to say was VPR.”

you sit at your desk, gnawing on your bottom lip as you try to focus on the stupid online homework prompts that are due soon. the overcast afternoon light pours into your room, and you hear your phone buzz against the wood.

chris

still playing hard to get?

you roll your eyes before you can help it. the text doesn’t surprise you, because he’s been messaging you for the past few days, ever since he inevitably found out you stopped by from connor.

chris

that’s clearly a yes.

you wonder how many times he’s going to text you as you put your phone down to pull your hair out of your face, tying it up at the back of your head.

once again, you hear the device vibrate, and you flip it to glance at the screen.

chris

i can see you ignoring me you know

your eyes betray you as you glance out the window, just to find chris standing in front of his own. he’s pouting at you with his phone in his hand, hair all curly and damp like he just got out of the shower.

you stand up from your chair without a second thought and take a few steps so you can yank your curtains closed.

he might refuse to believe it, but you’re not playing hard to get. you just can’t fucking stand him.

chris

now that’s just cold

come onnnnnn princess

y/n

holy shit

do NOT call me princess

chris

you love it

y/n

i hate you

chris

if you don’t stop this i’m coming over there

y/n

i’d like to see you try asshole

chris

fine.

you pull back one curtain to call his bluff, and your heart actually drops when you see that he’s not standing there anymore. that just means he’s probably on his way over already.

you have no idea if cass or ramona are home or in their rooms or what. but you do know that you’re locking your door, and if he makes it through the house undetected he’s not getting into your room.

you sit on the edge of your bed for a moment, waiting because you don’t know what else to do with yourself. and then the knock comes, right before chris twists the handle and finds it locked.

“open up.” he demands, his gruff voice muffled through the door.

“no.”

“i’ll go downstairs and get cass if you don’t let me in.” he threatens, which doesn’t really scare you.

cassidy will kick his ass out if she realizes you don’t want him here. you’ll have to explain some things, but it’s probably time to do that anyways.

“you’re being a baby and you’re wasting your time. go home, chris.” you reiterate.

“come on, i just want to talk.” he wiggles the handle once again, like that will somehow open it.

“then call a sex addiction helpline.” you reply hotly, glaring at the slab of wood that separates you as if you can actually see him, though you’re glad you can’t.

“can you please open the door?”

“nope.”

“jesus, you’re so stubborn it’s ridiculous.” he groans, and you hear his forehead thump against the door.

he’s growing frustrated now, and even though you’re heated too, you kind of love it.

“so are you! how many times do i have to tell you to leave?” you shoot back.

it’s silent for a moment, which scares you. then you hear a small sigh.

“i didn’t think i would have to do this.”

the lock on the door begins to twist and turn rapidly, and you leap forward to grab it with your hand.

chris twists it hard and your fingers fumble to keep it jammed. your thumb is already in pain, and the harder he pushes the closer you are to failing. you’re finally forced to let go as chris comes shoving his way into your room a few seconds later.

even though he stumbles slightly, he looks so proud of himself, clutching the heavy duty paper clip he used to get inside.

“there, that’s better.” he says smugly.

you watch his eyes take in your room, covered in posters and full of random artifacts, and you hate it. for some reason, it feels deeply personal.

“holy shit, why don’t you just go home already?”

it’s impossible to keep your tone level anymore as you turn away from him.

“i’m here now, so you have to talk to me.”

“no, i really don’t.” you reply before plopping down onto your mattress, crossing your arms as you lean against the headboard.

“don’t be a brat.” chris follows your lead, even though you weren’t inviting him to join you.

he falls beside you, sprawling out on his back by your feet. his shirt raises over his sweats, exposing a bit of skin above the band of his boxers, and you have to tear your eyes away.

you can feel the warmth of his body, can smell his aftershave mixed with hints of some kind of fresh body wash, and all of it drives you crazy.

you curl your body into itself so there’s as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“why are you so mad?” chris turns his head slightly so he can look at you.

“i’m not mad, you just disgust me.”

this makes him smile. “i beg to differ, i think you like me.”

without hesitation, you extend one leg to kick him in his side. even though it’s not very forceful, he lets out a little groan of surprise, hand going to rub his hip as he frowns.

“you didn’t have to kick me, damn.”

“you deserved that.” you argue, tucking your knees back to your chest.

this time he stays silent and just looks at you. his eyes scan your face, darting down to your lips every other second, and you’re suddenly very aware of your surroundings.

“what the fuck are you staring at?” you ask in a brief moment of panic.

his eyes are so unnerving. it’s like he can see right through you.

“you’re pretty.” chris shrugs before averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

your face flushes, and you force yourself to remember the embarrassment from the other day, how stupid you felt after discovering that he’s still the same old player that sits beside you now.

“shouldn’t you be giving some other girl an STD or something?” you snap, and he huffs out a breathy laugh.

“first of all, i’m totally clean. and if you’d actually let me explain, you’d realize the girl that was over on sunday is just an ex fling who was picking up some old stuff.”

his clarification shocks you, though you still don’t necessarily believe it yet. he could be lying, even though it doesn’t seem like he is.

“you’re seriously telling me you weren’t hooking up with her?” you ask.

“it was strictly platonic. nothing happened.” he confirms, shifting to face you again.

chris lifts his hand to trace gentle patterns along your shins, and you don’t shy away this time. the feeling of his palms, even when separated by your leggings, is far nicer than you imagined.

“okay.” you mutter simply.

“you’ve been ignoring me the entire week and all i get is an ‘okay’?” he halts his movements so he can curl his fingers into air quotes.

“what would you like me to say?”

“an apology would be a nice start.”

you bark out a laugh. “an apology for what? for not talking to you? because i really didn’t take you for the sensitive type.”

he just shakes his head, nudging your legs with one of his knuckles lightly. “god, you and that headstrong attitude will be the death of me.”

“can’t wait.” you quip back, and now its his turn to chuckle.

silence settles over the two of you for a moment, and you’ve been far too close for too long, so you move to stand once again.

“alright, well, we talked. time for you to get lost.” you motion toward the door.

chris sits up, running a hand through his messy hair before he replies. “look, we don’t have another game until sunday, so we’re hosting at the house tomorrow. you should come.”

you raise an eyebrow and tap your chin, like you’re really contemplating. “i’ll have to think about it.”

“please? it’ll only be fun if you go.” he flashes you a charming smile, and you hate that it actually does kind of work.

“maybe i’ll make a special appearance. maybe.” you point a wary finger at him as he gets back on his feet.

“that’s what i like to hear.” chris says, making his way toward you.

you expect him to pass right by, but he lingers, like there’s something else on his mind. he stares down at you with those big blue eyes, and you can feel yourself slipping into dangerous territory.

“is there something else?” you ask softly, and the sound of your voice is maddening to him.

you don’t even try to tempt chris on purpose, he knows this, and yet everything about you is so enticing. not to mention he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss since it happened, or that pretty little mouth of yours.

but he shakes his head again, because the things he’s thinking about you so early on in this strange relationship frighten him.

“uh, no, sorry. i’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

and then he blows right by you without waiting for a response, disappearing just as quickly as he arrived.

[jinxandishamyloves]

🎆🎇 New Years 🎇🎆

A/N Hii! This is my first time posting on tumblr and first time writing something for Jinx. It’s been a LONG time since I’ve written anything so I hope it’s not too bad. Hope you guys are alright and you enjoy my little story <3

Summary: A week after the battle, you and Jinx fly away on an airship to have a new beginning.

Tags: Jinx x Fem!reader, angst and comfort?, idk how to tag, post-Arcane

Warnings: Kissing but that’s about it

1020 words

Men DNI

It had been about a week since the two of you had left Piltover and Zaun, a week since the final battle. The two of you were on an airship to find new lands, a new future away from the past that would forever haunt you.

You had been asleep in the airship when it rocked, causing you to stir. It happened often so that many nights you wouldn’t be able to sleep all the way through. You reached over to wrap your arm around your partner only to find warm sheets left behind. As you tried to calm the panic and worry that was threatening to rise, you stood up from the bed and grabbed a torn coat, throwing it over your shoulders.

The air was cold in the night sky, the breeze blowing onto your face as you stepped up on deck. A wave of relief washes over you as you catch sight of the woman you had fallen in love with leaning against the railings at the front of the ship. You quietly padded over to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder so as not to startle her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You murmured, a soft smile pulling at your lips.

Jinx gave a look of surprise before her face relaxed at the knowledge of who it was. She shook her head before turning to look down ahead of the airship, a foreign city before them. Her brow was knitted together and her cracked lips were pressed together in a thin line.

Sensing that something was on her mind, you rested your head on her shoulder, snaking your arm around the other woman’s. You looked down at the city, lights shining from windows that dotted the land that somehow mirrored the way the stars sparkled in the night sky.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you said, hoping to ease the tension. But Jinx said nothing, the woman falling into a familiar silence to protect herself from getting too close. Yet somehow you always knew the right moment to break through or to just let the silence pass.

“We’re gonna be okay, you know that?” You pulled away and gently tilted Jinx’s chin so that she was looking at you. Those gorgeous pink eyes bored into you and you had to take a moment to remember what you were saying. “We’re leaving it all behind. We’re starting again and we’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that.” Her voice was hoarse but defiant as if she were sure that everything would go wrong, just like it did countless times before.

“We’ll make it different. I’m with you this time, Jinx, let me help you this time.”

One of your hands intertwined Jinx’s fingers, your other cupping her cheek as the two of you gazed at each other’s faces in the dark. A clear tear, one without shimmer, had slipped from one of her eyes and your thumb caught it, brushing it away. You could see how her lower lip trembled and your heart ached, wishing that you could take all her pain away. Ever since Isha had passed, Jinx had become so uncharacteristically quiet and it confused the both of you but your commitment to her had never once faltered.

“I’m here and I’m not leaving. You push me away and I’ll push harder. You try and leave me and I’ll do whatever I can to find you again. I’m like… some annoying pest, something you can’t get rid off.”

“You’re not a pest.”

You nudged Jinx’s shoulder lightly, trying to coax a smile no matter how big or small. A light chuckle escaped Jinx’s throat and her lips curved upwards slightly so you took it as a win, although the pain in her eyes was still visible. The past would never leave Jinx and you knew it but you also knew that the future was still undecided. But for now, they were in the present and what you had now was enough.

The two of you were perfectly content with being in each other’s presence so you both turned to lean against the railing to look either up at the starry sky or down at the vast lands when loud banging and crackling sounds suddenly started. You both tensed, Jinx immediately wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in close. You grabbed the nearest object to you that you could use as a weapon and it was… a mop? You shook your head, it would have to do.

But before either of you could react further, the sky lit your faces in coloured lights. The two of you stood in awe as the brightly coloured lights flashed and crackled in the sky and reflected off your faces.

“Oh,” Jinx murmured, her body relaxing at the realisation that there was no threat. “Just fireworks.”

But then it hit you. There were fireworks because it was the New Year. How did either of you forget?

“It’s New Years.”

“Oh…”

The two of you fell silent once more as you watched fireworks, your head resting back on Jinx’s shoulder. Jinx turned her face and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her arm wrapping around you. You looked up, giving her her a small smile.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?”

“It’s New Years…”

“And?”

And?…

“You know what happens at midnight.”

Jinx let out a playful huff as she pretended to be annoyed. “Fine, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“You act like you hate it.”

“I don’t.”

“I know.”

And with that you reached your hands up to cup Jinx’s face as you felt her hands resting on the small of your back. Your noses brushed against each other and your breaths mingled before pressing your lips against the other woman’s. It was a soft kiss, the movements slow and tender as you pulled each other close to find comfort in each other’s warmth.

It was the New Year. Leaving things behind had always been hard but now it was time to let go of the past and to change the future. It was time to be free.

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts Pt. 2

f1!driver!jason x reporter!reader

A/N: IM SO EXCITED FOR THE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE WHO ARE ENJOYING THIS SERIES🤭🤭 i hope you don’t mind that I tagged those of you who commented on the first part because i don’t want u gremlins (*said lovingly*) to miss out on this next part AHHHH (might change this in the future idk but this is the only thing i can think of rn) I CANT WAIT FOR U GUYS TO READ ABOUT THESE TWO CAUSE MY ROOMMATE AND I HAD SO MANY GREAT IDEAS HEHEHE <3 as always comment ur thoughts if ur comfortable, reblog, and like if ur enjoying the series \(*~*)/

Tag List: (Sorry for the tag) @jaybirdstreet @gallusstuff @meowkn @velvetberries @i0lovepink00 @rayaskoalaland @spidernuggets @janybabyy

part 3 for you beautiful people 🤭 hehehe but here’s the link for pt. 1

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers

Word Count: 4.1k

“Jason, we haven’t gotten anything done for this interview that your management team wants. I need something to write about.” You nagged at Jason from the inside of your red go-kart.

From afar, Jason tries to drift his blue go-kart, his form too big for the small car. Large hands covering majority of the small steering wheel, he laughs as he passes you, your hair flying into your eyes from the sudden wind.

How is he even going that fast? You question to yourself.

Jason’s laughing like a child as he starts his next lap, you watch from the side of the track as he gets closer to you, his classic smirk on his face, the one you’ve seen on the cover of major magazines.

It was like watching his persona shift, seeing how comfortable he was. Enjoying himself, having fun. A lighthearted kid in your eyes.

Once he rounded the last corner of the track, he locked onto you, gripping the steering wheel, jerking it to one side to skid to a stop right next to you.

“Race me. If you win, I’ll answer five of your questions, guarantee it.” He beams at you, competitiveness masking his entire face. There was a lit fire in his eyes.

“If I lose?” You raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Come on, have some confidence!” Jason smiles.

You stay quiet, staring at him. Jason opens his mouth again to speak.

“Okay, fine. If you lose, you have to come with me somewhere. Can’t say ‘no.’” He tilts his head teasingly. Matching your stare, the white streak in his hair falling into his eyes, no longer pulled back from the breeze from driving. “I’ll even buy you breakfast that day.” He negotiates.

“Five questions if I win—“ You held up five fingers to emphasize yourself.

“That’s the spirit!” Jason interrupted from excitement.

“I get one question, no matter what even if I lose,” You wanted to make sure you got something out of today. “And I’ll go anywhere you want.” You glanced back at your steering wheel. Adjusting yourself and glancing to the race track up ahead, deciding how to effectively drive through it.

“You’re on.” Jason watched your side-profile, enamored by your serious face, concentrating as you chewed on your lip slightly.

He watched closely, noticing the slight sparkle to your eyes once you were satisfied with your plan. A slight warmth in his stomach when you surprised him, looking back at him with a smug look. A playful evil smile on your lips.

He was crazy about seeing the new reactions he riled up in you. Jason tried to memorize them, saving them into his mental photo album of you.

“Go!” You shout, speeding off, leaving him behind in your imaginary dust.

——

It was all for nothing, you had lost.

Jason had surpassed you a third of the way to the end of the track even with your head start.

Curse his world record. It even applied to go-karts.

“Is this ‘cause I stole your sandwich last week?” You groaned, exiting the track for the next group of people to get their chance to race. “It was an accident that I never took it out of the bag, I only noticed after I got home.”

You were so engrossed in finding a silly reason for Jason’s win that you almost walked into the group of people walking toward you, ready for their turn to race.

Jason grabbed the sides of your shoulders, guiding you in a different direction, careful to not let you bump into them.

You didn’t even flinch at the physical contact, getting use to Jason’s brief touch, you honestly welcomed it.

Jason was about to speak before a group of teens and children ran up to him, asking for an autograph. A small boy even asked to sign his jacket, saying he wanted to frame it. Another girl said to sign her hand, enthusiastically telling Jason she’ll never wash her hand again.

You covered your smile, watching Jason kneel down to her level, telling her how unhygienic that is, but he can sign her shirt too.

Hopefully her parents won’t be too mad at that.

You gave them space. Going to the food stands to grab a lemonade. When you turned back you watched Jason interact with the group of kids, happily making them laugh. Telling them to be safe on the go-karts.

It was cute to watch him try to take a selfie with one of the teens. They had to tip toe, trying to reach Jason’s height before he leaned down to wink to the camera.

When the kids ran off, excitedly yelling to one another at the chance encounter, you leaned against one of the nearby chairs watching Jason walk back to you.

“I do not understand kid slang anymore.” He chuckled to himself, standing in front of you. “What does ‘slay’ mean?”

You nearly burst out laughing, almost spitting some of the lemonade out.

“What did they say to you?” You wiped the corner of your mouth, a tiny bit of lemonade on the edge.

Jason looked at your mouth for a split second, then met your eyes again.

“Uh, they said I ‘slayed’ and then one boy proceeded to repeatedly say ‘skibidi?’” Jason looked at you, genuinely confused. “Did I miss something? I genuinely don’t know if I should be thankful or worried?”

“It’s just children being children, I know ‘slay’ is positive, but you lost me on the other one.” You smile as Jason raised his hand, thumb brushing the corner of your lip, gently wiping the edge.

Did you miss a spot? You were sure you got all the lemonade off.

From a distance, you heard giggling. Another group of kids watching from behind a half wall, immediately ducking behind it, hiding when you and Jason glanced over to the noise. One kid never ducked, watching intently as their eyes sparkled over the arm rest, another kid tackling him to the ground, a loud ‘oof’ echoing after a thud. Not long after, you heard two kids whisper shouting at one another.

You chuckled, amused at your nosy onlookers.

“Let’s get out of here, I got one question I need to use and I need to hear about this place you have to take me to.” You sung as you stood up, walking to the exit with Jason by your side.

——

You walked next to Jason, brisk air felt through your hair once you met the breezy outside. A slight chill eating at your spine underneath your thick jacket.

The winter air freezing more each day.

“Question time?” You glanced up at Jason.

“Not yet.” He walked up to his motorcycle, handing you a helmet.

You unconsciously grabbed it, questioning what was going on. Standing there, awkwardly holding onto it.

“Why do I need this?” You raised an eyebrow.

Jason put on his helmet, the combination with the leather jacket did wonders for your eyes.

You could no longer see his sharp eyes, covered by the black visor, reflecting your confused face.

Jason looked at you.

“A quick ride.” He nonchalantly answered, raising his thumb to rub at your raised eyebrow as you closed your left eye. “Get on.”

He was really fond of touching your face for some reason.

“I’ve never—I don’t even know how to get on.” You looked down at the helmet, staring at your reflection again.

Jason sat down on the seat, starting the motorcycle and revving it.

When he was satisfied with the sound, he waved you to come closer. When you stood at his side, he grabbed the helmet out of your hands and placed it on your head himself. Looking at his work, he nodded, satisfied with himself.

Then he pat the small section behind him.

“That’s not a seat.” You reluctantly looked between the nonexistent seat and Jason.

“Yes, it is.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I could fall off.” You spoke through the helmet.

“Not if you hold onto me.” Jason proudly explained.

You could hear the smirk on his face despite it being completely covered. Paired with the laid-back lean he had to his body and the ego he was wearing, it was intoxicating.

You sighed. Awkwardly stepping on the small step, throwing your leg over the motorcycle, adjusting yourself as you tried to balance your weight, Jason’s build helping you practically not move the machinery beneath you.

“Did you plan this? How do you have an extra helmet?” You questioned as you tried to find something to grab onto with your hands, not wanting to consider Jason’s shoulders or even worse, his waist.

“Aw, don’t waste your one question on that.” Jason playfully revved the motorcycle again.

“Just go before I change my mind—”

Jason accelerated forward, taking off and cutting off your words as you felt your body leaning back. You nervously grabbed onto his shoulder, then pulled your weight toward him. As scared as you were, you didn’t realize you had shifted yourself, grabbing onto his waist. Pressing your helmet to the back of his broad shoulders, forcing yourself to look down as you closed your eyes.

“You asshole—“ You yelled against the wind.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you!” Jason spoke loudly, clearly lying to you.

You squeezed his side, trying your best to pinch him through his leather jacket.

He only laughed at you.

——

When you got to your apartment, he stopped outside. You were discombobulated at how fast he drove. You wanted so desperately to call it reckless, but he was also weirdly in control.

You could worry about that later.

Once Jason parked, he put the kickstand into place, but you didn’t move. Still clutching onto his jacket.

“See that wasn’t so bad.” Jason teased.

You didn’t say anything. Only looking at the back of his head, hands clawing at him.

“Hey, you okay?” Jason worriedly looked back, not able to read your expression through the helmet that blocked your face.

He tried to turn his entire torso to you as much as he could. His demeanor changed to frantic.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

That whipped you out of your blank stare.

“You better never invite me to your place or I’ll steal your TV remote, hide your phone charger, and make sure to take one side of all your socks, so you never have a matching pair.” You quietly threatened, not sounding intimidating to Jason.

He got off the motorcycle, you let go of his jacket as he pulled away.

A small laugh came from his helmet.

“Then I’m going to break into your place and use your TV, your phone charger, and wear your socks.” Jason reached out, holding his hand out to help you off.

“Don’t you dare, I have everything perfectly organized and you’re going to mess it up.” You pouted, grabbing his hand, slowly getting off the back of the motorcycle.

“Then I’ll bring my new TV remote, my new phone charger, and all my one-sided socks after I break into your place.” Jason unexpectedly pulled you close to him.

Your helmet bumping into his chest, as you tried to catch your fall on gripping his forearm with one hand, then reaching up to touch your head, but your hand only touched the smooth helmet surface instead.

You quickly glanced up. Only seeing the dark visor as it looked down to you. Jason still holding onto your hand.

“I’m sorry, I drove too fast.” Jason softly apologized, a tone you’ve never heard from him. Too soft, it made your heart ache.

You almost forgave him, almost, but your racing heart distracted you.

You prayed he couldn’t feel your heartbeat.

“Can I pick you up tomorrow morning? Breakfast and then take you somewhere?” Jason continued, warming your hand in his.

You almost lost your sanity because you swore his helmet got closer to yours.

You cleared your throat.

“I’m using that question tomorrow, for sure. You can’t back out.” You turned your head to the side, not fully back to yourself to handle the intensity of his stare.

You thanked the helmet gods for covering his puppy-eyed look with a visor.

He tapped the top of his helmet to yours, letting it rest there.

You froze. You were sure your ears were bright red. Thanking the helmet gods again for shielding you.

Jason breathily laughed, it made your stomach tingle.

“I can’t wait.” Jason whispered before pulling away from you, hand lingering on yours before he let go, your palm cold.

He helped you pull your helmet off, your hair most likely matte against your head.

Jason waved goodbye, ready to drive down the street before he yelled.

“I’ll be here by eight!”

The sound of the engine fading low in the distance.

——

You were dragging the next morning.

Getting ready, putting on your usual clothes, but knowing how much Jason loved to move around, you opted for reasonable clothes you can maneuver in.

It was a quarter until eight. Not bad, you were doing good on timing.

You laced up your shoes, grabbing a jacket. Placing any essentials you needed for the mysterious day.

Thank goodness Jason was getting breakfast, you needed something to jump start you.

When you locked your door, walking down the steps from the second floor to the ground floor, you saw a familiar motorcycle parked outside. With a familiar broad back standing next to it, the back of his head in clear view.

Your eyes brightened as you raced down the stairs, hopping down the last three steps.

A wall separated you and Jason as you stopped, hiding just before the edge, calming yourself, taking a breath, brushing off nonexistent dust on your jacket.

You casually walked out, acting like you didn’t have a burst of excitement at seeing him.

“Five minutes early? Wow, I’m honored you did that for your ‘lil reporter.’” You quipped as Jason turned back to you at the sound of your voice.

A hand brushing through his hair. What a good morning.

“Breakfast delivery, check. Your ride, check. The most handsome man in front of you, check.” Jason proudly presented his bag of breakfast goods to you.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” You quickly grabbed the bag, excited to eat.

After the two of you devoured your meal, you were ready to leave. You easily grabbed onto Jason’s sides, feeling the engine come to life beneath you once you joined the daily traffic.

You started to recognize the change in scenery.

Crime Alley.

You hadn’t been here in ages, a somber feeling itching at you.

After coming to a stop, you read a small sign ‘Donations and Free Meals.’

You looked at Jason, who didn’t look back at you. He moved his motorcycle into the garage to the side of the building. They seemed to be connected, only separated by a door on the shared wall. He left both of your helmets, closing the garage door.

You followed Jason like a duckling, his motions fluid, in routine.

He must come here a lot. Saying ‘Hi’ to many faces, just as glad to see him back, introducing you to every person he knew.

No one knew about any of this. Not the public, no one but the locals.

He got in line, helping to organize the stock of donations, other volunteers prepping food, just done with serving free breakfast.

You quickly fell in with the volunteers, asking where you can go to.

A new stock of winter clothes had come in, available in adult sizes and for children. You were confused, not at what Jason seemed to be doing on the weekdays he wasn’t at the race track, but why he never mentioned it.

You watched from afar, staring at Jason put on a pair of work gloves. Smiling at the other men helping him lift heavy boxes.

He was avoiding you, you knew he could feel your blank stare from across the room.

Okay, Mr. Todd. You get this one pass. You thought to yourself, moving back to hand out winter jackets to the group of kids coming in through the door. You were going to make him face you one way or another.

——

Lunch was here.

It was time to corner Jason.

When you walked around, you thanked the founders of the organization for allowing you to be here today as you passed them, looking for Jason at the same time.

Asking those you met earlier that day if they had seen him.

The best you could find out was he tends to spend the breaks in the garage next door, where he parks.

You grabbed two sandwich trays, making your way back to the garage.

You opened the door, pushing it open with your hip as you balanced the to-go trays.

“Y’know you could have told me to wake up earlier if you wanted to help out with serving breakfast.” You voiced, Jason cleaning his motorcycle with a microfiber rag. Only momentarily stopping when he heard your voice.

You placed his sandwich tray on the table, storing some simple maintenance tools.

You folded out the metal chair leaning against the wall, opening your lunch.

“I hope your not mad, I know I didn’t explain anything.” Jason stammered, nervously wiping more aggressively.

“I’m not mad. Surprised, but I wouldn’t be mad at volunteering.” You took a bite, talking like normal.

Jason stayed silent, not moving. Looking down at the very shiny motorcycle.

“Please eat with me, Jason.” You tilted your head to his plate of food.

With a sigh, he took off his gloves, sitting next to you on a bench, not facing you.

“How did you find this place?” You asked, calm.

“I was riding around one night.” Jason paused. “It wasn’t a good night before I stumbled across this place.”

Jason grabbed one slice of the sandwich, only looking at it.

“I only mentioned it, but my family…has bad history. It has gotten better, but it doesn’t resolve what happened.” Jason lost himself in the memories, before inhaling. Almost preparing himself to speak again.

“My career was at its peak, but my family was crashing again, so I distanced myself. Almost a record at this point.” He lowly chuckled, but he wasn’t amused, his shoulders slightly sinking.

You stopped eating, joining Jason in only holding your sandwich.

“I was so tied down by the Wayne family name. Like it haunted me. I couldn’t do anything without someone breathing down my neck, ready to ask about Bruce’s next scandal. I didn’t care because what did that have to do with my career? I ignored it. Let myself get lost in training, but I didn’t realize how much I evaded everything. I avoided anything to do with them.”

Jason heavily exhaled, laying his full sandwich back down. His appetite diminishing.

“I was in such a dark place. My mind wasn’t here. I can’t thank my management enough for what they let me get away with. I should have never gotten away with anything, but they helped me, assisted me. I wish I could thank them properly, but nothing I could do could make up for it.” Jason spoke, admitting a personal part of him that you held your breath at.

“It was good. I was winning again, despite everything around me, but I couldn’t maintain it. I burned out so fast that I was out for almost an entire season. But I found this place. It surprised me seeing it off the road. It was a place that supported itself, by itself. No Wayne name attached to it. It surprised me.” Jason sadly laughed again. “I was so lost, I almost forgot that Gotham helped itself too, no rich guy dipping himself in everything. The city has its issues, but the people in it work just as hard to change it.”

Jason looked at you for the first time.

“As much as I hate it, I deal with it because I want the people I care about to be safe. So just like these people here, I picked myself up.”

A heavy air settled on the both of you.

Jason stared at you, unbreakable and somber. Your breath still stuck in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. You were speechless.

You silently put down your food, moving your chair closer to him, leaning toward him.

Jason’s hands were shaking, not at all matching his hard stare, watching your every move.

“Y’know, I’ve always preferred you in red, not black.” You softly glanced down at Jason’s red hoodie.

His expression slowly softening, a small smile on his lips as his head hung low, trying to mask his pained expression.

You reached your hand out. Gently cusping your hand under his chin, gently moving his face back up to yours. It felt closer than it was.

“That must have been so difficult. I can’t imagine all the pain you went through, the pressure from your races must have hurt, but the unintentional pressure from your family…I can’t imagine it.” You spoke so softly, that it felt like a whisper.

Your thumb gently smoothing out his frown lines.

“Jason, you must realize that you’ve accomplished so much. You don’t have to push yourself until your body hurts. No one but you will suffer from that and you don’t deserve it. We’ve only met a couple of times these past few weeks, but seeing how free and loose you were, that’s the Jason I adore.” You pulled his face toward yours. Emphasizing your seriousness in your face. “You aren’t tied down by anything, you can choose what to care about. Like your racing team, your brothers, and even Bruce. It may not be my place to tell you any of this, but I’ve seen what you’ve done today. How involved you are.”

You huffed, suddenly passionate. Jason’s eyes widening.

“I talked to multiple people about what you’ve done for them, how often you come by. I don’t need to hear it from you about what you’ve accomplished. It’s what I do. I find information. Talk to the people and they can tell you so much. Although you may probably feel like you are mimicking Bruce, putting your hands in things you shouldn’t, but you don’t just drop things off with a fancy card signed with your name. You introduce yourself, put on some work gloves, and deny any food they offer you.”

Jason smiled, laughing. Feeling his breath on your face.

“Why are you laughing right now?! I’m being serious!” You exhaled in disbelief, gripping more firmly onto Jason’s face.

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen you so emotional. I know it sounds bad, but knowing that you’re getting so angry because of me, makes me so weirdly happy.” Jason smiled, his teeth in clear view.

You frowned.

You like Jason’s smile, but in this moment, you wanted to wipe it away.

So you pinched his cheek.

“Ack—“ Jason’s smile going away at the slight pinch. “What’s that for?” He tried to pull away, but you kept your hands on the sides of his face.

“I tried to have a serious moment, Mr. Todd.” You angrily reverted back to your formal address of the driver smushed between your hands.

“Hey—quit that.” Jason couldn’t see much as you mischievously smirked.

In retaliation, Jason grabbed the base of your chair, pulling you closer as the legs screeched against the concrete, you swayed against the movement. Clumsily falling forward, nearly colliding face to face with Jason.

“You idiot, I almost fell!” You grimaced, not fully realizing the close distance of your face and body. Your hands still on his face.

Jason fell silent.

You glanced at him, lost for words. Your eyes widening at your noses almost touching.

You entire body was just inches away from fully touching him.

Your breath picking up, your heart beats increasing.

Jason’s eyes glanced between yours. Until it fell to your lips, opened slightly as you exhaled.

Your ears were reddening.

Everything fell in slow motion.

Jason’s hands lifted from the chair, moving toward your legs.

You breath stopped.

Creak.

You whipped your head around. The door opening as a volunteer walked into the garage. A man standing still, quickly analyzing the proximity of the two of you, the sandwiches moved haphazardly. From his angle, it had looked like you were enjoying lunch, despite both of your sandwiches barely touched.

“Oh—I, sorry.” The man immediately closing the door. A loud thud shaking the walls.

“Oh god.” Your face dropping into your hands. “That is so embarrassing.”

“We’re adults, it’s not so bad.” Jason shook his shoulders, turning around to grab his sandwich to finish.

“How am I going to go out there? I swear I only do embarrassing things around you, how could I act like a little kid fighting with you—“ You stopped, following Jason with your eyes as he stood up. “What do you mean ‘we’re adults?’”

“Sorry, lunch is over.” Jason grabbed his glove on the way out, shoving the sandwich into his mouth, pointing at it like he can’t talk.

“Jason!” You yelled as he closed the door.

End A/N: I headcanon that Jason for sure heard reader rushing down those steps and he nervously tried to fix his hair in his side mirror HEHEHEHE

[wonysugar]

if you insist | jang wonyoung

synopsis: jang wonyoung, the biggest fuckgirl on campus, asks you, y/n l/n, an honors student, to study together after classes

pairing: scum!wonyoung x goodgirl!femreader

genres: college au, smut with plot lowkey and tbh that’s it help

tags: g!p wonyoung, college au, wonyoung is a fuckgirl, reader doesn’t know wonyoung has a dick, facefucking, cowgirl, wonyoung doesn’t care how reader feels in the beginning, wony is insufferable in this (sorry it must be said), some texting, reader and wony are both vers switches

warnings: none? just be mindful that wy kinda sucks at first but then we grow to enjoy her me thinks! (and she also has a dick so that’s that)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i wasn’t originally gonna make her have a g!p but inspiration struck me and i just had to. also, sorry for taking so long with this!! i truly hope you enjoy it<3

“so, any questions?”

that sentence alone wakes basically most of the class up from their deep sleep, this is one of - if not the - most boring class in your program. every session of his is a literal snoozefest, you hadn’t slept well last night so this would’ve been your chance.

but you still managed to stay awake, you needed to ace this next test, keeping a streak of good grades is your main source of dopamine, so failing it was out of the question. well, it’s not like you failed any of them, anyway.

the class comes to an end and the students all pack their stuff to leave. as you put your books away, jang… wonyoung walks up to you? ‘what the hell does she want?’ you think to yourself. she leans on the desk and runs a hand through her long straight dark hair, her other hand inside of her gray hoodie’s pocket. you look at her up and down, then finally set your eyes on hers.

“what do you want?” you annoyingly ask her, grabbing your bag and jacket, her being the only thing holding you back from leaving.

“why so uptight, girl?” she grins, looking back at her friends as they laugh at this whole interaction. her friend group was a bunch of ugly frat guys, you weren’t surprised she associated herself with them though, she’s the exact same (just, much hotter). “i was just gonna ask you if you were busy later, baby.” not-so-subtly eyeing your every curve, even slightly tilting her head to catch a better glimpse of your ass, cheekily smiling.

you roll your eyes at the girl, “i don’t want to fuck you, wonyoung. now, if you’ll excuse me-“

then, she leans in, her taller figure towering over you and stopping you from moving forward, your heart skips a beat, despite you not really wanting it to, “who even mentioned sex, y/n? oh you totally picture me naked.” she smirks, peaking glances at your lips.

“get to the point. what do you really want?” you coldly respond, trying to not pay too much attention to her literally staring you down.

she backs up from you, chuckling as she readjusts her already good looking hair. “chill shawtyy, it was a jokee.” you glare, “anyways, i was just wondering if you wanted to study together later, back at your dorm? i barely listened in class, i’d like to actually understand the lecture this time.”

study together? actually understanding the lecture?? since when did this girl ever care about studies?

“oh, so now you’re trying to get good grades, jang wonyoung?” you say with a scoff, earning a playful smile from her in response.

“i guess that seeing you work so hard motivates me, l/n y/n.”

i mean, what could go wrong? if she’s really trying to improve her grades, then who were you to stop that? that would just be wrong of you. plus, it doesn’t look like she’s lying, either. you notice the hopeful look in her eyes, is she waiting for you to accept? you chuckled,

“i’ll think about it.” you say as you walk past her. then, making you jump, she slaps your ass before putting her hood on and jogging over to her friends, earning a high five from one of them as they all laugh. she looks over to you and winks, “see you later, mama.”

you can’t lie, that pet name sent a chill down your spine and you unfortunately couldn’t tell if it was a good one or not. could it even be considered a pet name? anywho, you walk to your next class, excited to see what the rest of the day brings you. and you kinda wish it involved wonyoung, because despite denying it, you did find her very attractive.

you’ll just have to wait and see.

-

after getting wonyoung’s number from your very ‘popular on campus’ friend, huh yunjin, you’re hesitant to text her. i mean, it’s not like your life right now is all that interesting to begin with, so maybe flirting with a fuckgirl is gonna help you kill your boredom.

smiling to yourself, satisfied with your decision, you grab your phone and type a quick message as you make your way to the exit. after saving her contact, you’re about to set your phone back in your pocket, and you get a notification.

she already responded? you open your phone and type out your next responses as you see her messages.

what?

and she just leaves you on delivered after that? what the fuck is wrong with her.. and what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you getting butterflies?? this is anything BUT cute. the typos? the winky face?? god you can literally visualize her smirk just from reading her messages. despite all of that, you giggle to yourself, but then quickly mentally beat yourself up for it. she’s just joking, is what you thought. you type out your dorm number and put your phone back in your pocket.

you get in your car then drive to your shared apartment. upon arriving, you immediately start rearranging the place. i mean, it’s not like she would care about your dorm looking pretty anyway, since hers probably doesn’t look any better. you’re doing this for your own self, you told yourself. thank god your roommate wasn’t home that day, you’d have a lot of explaining to do.

hours quickly went by as you cleaned up everything, you turn on your phone, reading the clock, 5:54 pm.

she’ll be here soon. you mentally prepare yourself, putting on different, more comfy-looking clothes, then proceed to sit on your couch. bouncing your leg up and down as you await the ringing of your doorbell, looking at the progressing time on your hanging clock. ‘why am i freaking out over this?’, you think to yourself. it’s not like you’re meeting a date, plus she’s probably gonna be late. reassuring yourself, you come to the conclusion that it’s because you haven’t received someone over in so long. of course you’d be exci-

ding dong!

quickly, you rush to your door and open it, finding the taller girl, wonyoung, leaning against the door frame. well, she’s surprisingly here on time. she’s wearing a backwards cap, a black zip up jacket over a white oversized t-shirt and some gray sweatpants.

you weren’t expecting anything grand coming from her, so the look doesn’t faze you.

she smirks at you eyeing her outfit, “did you miss me, bae?”, making you sigh as you roll your eyes, stepping aside to let her in.

“you’re on time, that’s surprising.” you say in a condescending tone. in response, she chuckles, taking off her jordan’s, “how could i keep you waiting?”

she steps foot into your house, observing everything, but only for a quick moment.

“damn, you keep this place neat though huh?” right as you were about to brag about being a very organized person, unlike her, she quickly cuts you off, “yeah sooo…. where your room at?”

you give her a look of disbelief.

“god, y/n, it’s so that we can study properly. who the fuck studies in the living room?” you process that for a moment and look away from her in slight shame, she probably didn’t even mean it like that. then, as you’re about to apologize,

“that text i sent you is still on your mind, hm? you’re cute.” she says, chuckling as she’s grabbing your waist, gently pushing you against one of your hallway’s walls. you unintentionally gulp, looking into her eyes, then at her lips.

“you want me to, don’t you? you want me to fuck your brains out?” leaning into you, she whispers against your ear. you can feel her hot breath on it, making you shiver. but instead of actually doing anything, she quickly steps away from you, a smirk plastered on her face.

what the fuck.

“no but seriously, where’s your room shawty?” she nonchalantly asks, as if she wasn’t all up on you not even 5 seconds ago?? god, what is with this girl? you just blink at her in complete disbelief and confusion, then lead her to your room.

-

“so that explains why that phrase could be interpreted as a lot of different things. does that make sense?” you ask her, her gaze instantly meeting yours, like she wasn’t looking at the book. was she even listening?

“…what are you looking at.” you coldly add.

“sorry, i wasn’t listening.” she smirks, still looking at you, eyes darting back and forth between your lips and eyes. you scoff, mumbling an annoyed i know as you close the book in question, sitting up. you’ve had enough, she’s driving you insane.

“look, if you’re just here to sit around and do nothing you might as well just leave. i mean, you’re not even paying attention nor are you fucking me right now, so this just seems like a waste of time.” you snap at her. in response, her eyes widen, she definitely wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt. she then grins.

“which one are you waiting for me to do?” she smirks, getting closer to you.

frustrated at yourself for even wanting wonyoung to do you in the first place, an annoyed “fuck you.” was all that could come out of your mouth.

“i mean, if you insist.” she smirks, and places her lips onto yours, forcefully and roughly. quickly, she brushes her tongue along your lips, asking for entrance. you part your lips, allowing her tongue to roam around your mouth. before you could even realize, she was on top of you, her jacket and cap off and her hard on pressing on your stomach.

wait. her.. hard on???

you quickly push her away in surprise. she looked at you, a confused look painted on her face. “what?” she asks you.

“y-you. you have a dick??” you hesitantly ask her back. it’s not that you were against it, quite the opposite, even. but, it just caught you by surprise. since when did she… okay, dumb question.

she scoffs in amusement, “I thought everyone knew that? why do you think straight girls like me so much?”

ugh, nevermind, she was so much hotter when she wasn’t talking. before you could say anything else, though,

“you wanna see it, y/n?”

you reluctantly nod, earning a sly smile from her. quickly, she grabs the waistband of her not-so-boner-proof sweatpants and pulls it down, revealing black calvin klein boxers, her cock poking through.

“take it off.” she basically orders you, making you glare at her. you didn’t like listening to anything wonyoung said, but saying you were horny would be an understatement and you didn’t feel like stalling. you pull the boxers down, making her throbbing dick bounce up at you before sitting up.

dear god, it was big. you couldn’t exactly blame the girls who begged to fuck her anymore, cause if you knew it was that huge before, you would have thought about it a lot more. it’s girthy and veiny while being slightly above average size. it’s weirdly pretty for being used to fuck a bunch of girls, you keep that to yourself, though. you don’t wanna inflate her already huge ego.

before she could say anything arrogant about her size, you put the head in your mouth, slowly circling your tongue around the tip. quickly, you work towards taking the entire length as she groans and throws her head back. suddenly, though, as you’re still sucking, she unexpectedly grabs your head and forces her cock all the way down your throat, earning a gag from you and a moan from her.

“you were going too slow.” she specified, groaning and relentlessly fucking your throat. you would never admit it outloud, but you loved the way she was roughly pulling on your hair, using your mouth to get off. it hurt your ego, your pride, being used by a fuckgirl like this, being used by wonyoung like this. it was degrading, but you still loved it.

you keep letting her handle you like this for a long while, working your tongue on her tip and shaft in the process of her moving your head up and down her cock. hair all on your face, you didn’t even bother tying it, you liked it messy, and she apparently did too. her moans and groans getting higher and shorter, her grip getting tighter, you can only assume that she’s getting closer to finishing.

“fuck baby.. you’re gonna be good and swallow it all, okay?” she said, still using your throat. soon enough, she lets out a long moan and you quickly feel her dick slightly throb, spurting out a warm and thick liquid everywhere in your mouth, it was bitter and salty. you pull away and she looks at you, smirking and expecting you to swallow, which you don’t wanna give her the satisfaction of seeing. you wanted to see how far she would go, what she would do to you.

when she sees that you’re not doing what she asked, “come on, swallow it, you bitch.” she tells you, grabbing your jaw and smiling at you in a mocking way. you probably look like a huge whore to her right now, cum slightly spilling out of your mouth and everything. you glare at wonyoung and swallow all of it like she asked earlier, all of her semen, keeping eye contact. in response to that, she chuckles and grabs your cheek, patting it. “atta girl, you’re hotter when you do what you’re told.”

you roll your eyes as she chuckles and push her back on the bed, eyeing her still very hard dick. in a swift motion, you take off your jeans and panties, hovering over her. then, you sit down on it, slowly taking in all the length.

“you a virgin?” she asks you, holding onto your waist.

“no, why? you think i don’t know how to ride di-“

she grips on your waist and unexpectedly pushes you down onto her cock, making you accidentally let out a loud noise, a mix between a moan and a yelp. it was painful being penetrated so fast, especially by something so big but the sensation was also.. amazing. before you could have the chance to ask her to go slowly, though, she’s already pumping in and out, increasing her speed progressively. okay, now, it hurts.

“can you go slower for - mmh - f-fuck’s sake..”

“no? you take things too fucking slowly, i’m here to cum, not fall asleep.” she grunts, still lifting you up and down her cock, using you like she would a fleshlight. you notice that she gets a lot more annoying during sex, meaner, even. and you hate to admit it, but you’ve also noticed that you seem to enjoy it a lot.

“fuuuck babygirl, you’re so tight.” she mumbles as she presses her thumb onto your exposed clit and plays with it, earning a whimper from you. you feel your walls clench around her as you roughly bounce on her, taking in all of her length.

she’s fucking you so roughly, magically hitting all of the right spots, as if she knows exactly where they are. you couldn’t help but let out the lewdest most shameless noises known to man, it feels too good not to. she definitely didn’t use her mouth for much, but god did she know how to use her cock.

after a while of you bouncing up and down on her, you already feel like you could cum, despite trying your hardest to keep it in, to enjoy it a little longer. a knot was starting to form in your lower stomach, fuck, you were so close, and the fact that she was fucking you so roughly nonstop was making it so hard to keep it contained.

“fuck y/n i’m about to cum again..” she whimpers out needily, once again tightly holding onto your waist. you can’t let her though, not yet. you grab her wrists and pin them above her head, preventing her from touching you. a confused but very aroused expression plastered on her face.

“you can wait a little longer, right?” you ask, but in a tone that basically makes it seem like an order. she glares at you, gaze full of lust yet worry. you could tell she liked the sense of being in control, and that she felt vulnerable in this state. she usually was doing the fucking, not whatever this is. and she was even more frustrated that she liked it.

she moaned, chest heaving up and down from the effort she’s putting in to not climaxing, especially inside of you. you ride her dick, changing the speed to your liking. sometimes moving painfully slow, making her sensitive tip throb at the sensation, other times riding it like there was no tomorrow, she felt it everywhere, your slick running up and down her entire shaft in a fast motion. “c-can i cum yet? you’re being so - fuck - annoying.” she messily asks you, the feeling of you bouncing on her making her stumble over her words.

“maybe i’d let you if you weren’t so goddamn impatient.” you say, moaning out the words.

you were making it so hard for her, she actually thought she would pass out. thankfully for her, though, you quickly get closer to finishing, the noises coming out of your mouth getting louder and higher. then, you feel yourself clench around her length.

seeing you like this, hearing you call out her name as you came all over her cock, it all just made her arousal grow even more. she really couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“y/n please get off i need to cum ineedtocu-“

“cum inside of me.” you interrupted, you were still coming down from your high and you needed her to fill you up. you were on the pill, but she didn’t need to know that yet. you wanted to see how far she would actually go. “w-what? are you fucking crazy what if i get you pre-“ you cut her off by lifting yourself up on her cock, then back down, earning a cute moan from her.

“fill me up, wony. do it.”

upon hearing those words, the nickname, her eyes widen and she bites her bottom lip, throwing her head back as she pants from all the different feelings she felt. she would’ve actually thought about it more if she wasn’t horny out of her mind at the moment.

a mind blanking orgasm hits her, and you can feel the familiar feeling of her warm thick juices filling up your cunt again as you both moan in unison. she rambles out fucks and oh my gods as she takes it all in. watching her become such a mess just because of you.. if you weren’t so tired, that would’ve definitely made you wanna fuck her again. poor baby has probably never even been edged by a girl before.

you watched her as she came down from her high, head still thrown back as she’s panting and heaving. then, she lifts it back up to look at you, smiling shyly. was this the same wonyoung you knew? because if yes, she got significantly cuter.

you laid down on her, resting your head in the crook of her neck. you didn’t even bother pulling her dick out of you, it felt comfortable, and honestly? you were way too lazy to.

“so, are you gonna be telling this to your friends?” you jokingly ask her.

“they’d never let me live it down if they knew you got me begging for you, girl.. so, no.” she confessed, making you giggle.

“also shawty, if you do get pregnant, just be aware that i will not be taking care of the baby.” she adds.

you hum, “you’ll still fuck me whenever you feel like it though, right?”

she chuckles in response, “i mean..

if you insist.”

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ Ever since Daryl and Merle joined you and the rest of the survivors, Shane believed that the brothers were no good and warned you to stay away. But you never had good hearing.

(A/n) ➳ This is gonna have multiple parts, I’m not a fan having multiple dividers used as time-skips. Take care of yourselves!!

Word Count ➳ 2.1k (There ain’t a lot of smut but I’ll make it up to you guys in the next part!)

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, mentions of death/killing, swearing, mentions of masturbation/masturbation (M), oral (F), cunilingus, fingering, pet names (baby), overstimulation…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (Coming soon!!)

You often found your mind wandering ever since the outbreak, you struggled to believe what was happening was real. You tried to think positively and hoped that in the end, you would wake up from the nightmare. But there was no nightmare since there was no dream. The outbreak indeed happened and the world is in fucking shambles.

Even during the panic, you found it unbelievable, you refused to believe. It took your brother bruising your arm to drag you into the truck. And when Lori and Carl were put into the truck, Shane told you his belief of his friend’s demise. Another thing that you refused to believe and luckily, you didn’t change your view.

Shane stretched his arms as he stepped out of the tent, a groan leaving his lips. But he wasn’t the only one awake so early, you were as well.

You were folding the group’s clothes, but you were also looking at the tags of the men’s shirts the group had taken. You were ripping the sleeves off of those you deemed the right ones.

“What are you doin’?” Shane asked you, lifting an eyebrow as you ripped another sleeve. He had a good guess of who those were for.

“Daryl’s shirts are coated in sweat an’ dirt. There are holes in ‘em.” You replied, a harmless smile on your face. Shane knew that you were trying to do something good for him. “He needs new ones.”

Shane kneeled, taking your wrist to stop you. “Don’t you think he can do that himself?”

“But he’s out huntin’.” You pulled your wrist back.

“If he can make time for huntin’, he can make his shirts himself.” Shane snatched the rest of the shirts and pushed them to the side. “What are you doin’ up anyways?”

Your eyes looked away from his, fidgeting with the tag of Daryl’s shirt. Your dreams were plagued by nightmares, you wouldn’t go into detail, and you were happy that you forgot most of it.

Shane could see it in your eyes, he rubbed your back. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get our home back.”

“Would we?” You mumbled, rolling your eyes.

“What was that?” Shane demanded to know. He grabbed your shoulders. “Say it again.”

“It’s gone, Shane. We have no home, there’s nothin’ to go back to.”

“Don’t you ever think like that.” Shane snapped. His voice was low yet gruff, showing how serious and angry he was. “We’re goin’ to get home. Understand?”

You looked away once more, nodding. Your ears caught the sound of Daryl panting, arguing with his brother to wake up and help him.

Shane moved his hands from your shoulder to brush back your hair. “Go back to your tent, get some rest.” Patting your back and taking the sleeveless shirts, his voice returning to normal. “And keep away from them. I shouldn’t have to remind you, again.”

You heard Shane speaking with Daryl, handing or shoving the shirts to his arms in trade for some of the game he caught. You also heard Shane taking credit for the work done for Daryl.

“I did ‘em. You smell like shit.” Shane was starting to piss you off. First telling you to keep away from people you were going to have to work with and then taking credit for work you did…

It was most likely midnight. You and Shane were the only ones sitting by the dying campfire. Georgia may be hot during the day but could be cold during the night.

Shane glanced around, he was cautious, making sure it was just the two of you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. “Stay away from them. I shouldn’t be repeatin’ myself and I don’t like to.”

You knew Shane could be an asshole at times but deep down, he meant well. But it was harder to believe him each time when he wouldn’t give you a reason.

“All I am askin’ is an explanation.” You begged Shane. “Give me a reason.”

“Do I really need to explain myself?” Shane loudly sighed when you nodded immediately. “They are suspicious. I know we need every hand we can get but when it comes to them, to Merle. It’s obvious that they are plannin’ somethin’, somethin’ bad.”

“What does that have to do with Daryl? Or me?”

Shane was getting annoyed by your constant questions. He ran his fingers through his hair, nearly pulling them out. “Let me ask you this. Do you think Daryl will go out of his way to save you?”

“What if-”

“No ifs ands or buts. Answer it.” Shane said sternly, he didn’t need your response since your silence was your answer. “Daryl is only lookin’ out for his brother, he ain’t gonna be saving your dumbass unless you got somethin’ for him or Merle.”

“Don’t say that about him. Daryl is just misunderstood.”

A harsh laugh left his lips. “Jesus (Y/n), why are you tryin’? You are unbearably naive. Always having soft spots, like that damn dog. Watch, Daryl is gonna bring you down to his shit level, and when he does, I ain’t gonna be there to help your pathetic ass. You’re gonna be risking your life for people who don’t give a damn about yours.”

Tears stung your eyes, hurt by your brother’s words. And Shane could see it. “You’re my sister, the only family I have left. I won’t have you taken away from me because of them.”

You felt like a fish out of water, the way your mouth was opening and closing. It took you a good minute before you could finally speak. “The world has gone to shit Shane. We need each other to survive, we can’t be divided.”

“(Y/n)-”

“You gotta get rid of your black and white thinkin’. Find common ground with them, not draw a line in the dirt and spit on it.”

You pushed his arm off and stomped off, you must’ve looked like a child.

“(Y/n).” He called out to you, watching you walk off.

You sat on a random rock once. You knew your path back to camp, you remained close by, in case of an emergency.

You wiped your eyes, frustrated. You took deep breaths, running your hands up and down your thighs to stop you from completely sobbing.

“The hell you doin’ out ‘ere?” You flinched, snapping your head around just to see Daryl with a string of rabbits over his shoulder.

“I could say the same.” You grumbled, turning your head back around. “Why you huntin’ out so late?”

“None of yer damn business.” He countered rather harshly. “You gonna answer?”

You were ready to rant but Daryl was a man of few words, and he preferred it if people got to the point instead of wasting his time. “Shane and I fought. He’s a fuckin’ asshole.”

“...Wan’ me to kill ‘im?” He asked, loading his crossbow and hearing a click.

A faint smile crossed your face, holding in the snicker you had coming. “I thank you for your offer. But I’ll be alright. He’s probably stressed.”

“What’ver you say.” Daryl turned around and walked away, just in time for Shane to appear. He didn’t bother giving Shane a second look.

“Still havin’ a hard time deciding if I’m real or not?” Rick asked, taking the water you handed him.

“No, I made up my mind when Shane told me. I knew your stubborn ass would come out sooner or later.” You laughed as well as Rick. You laid your head on his shoulder, sitting by the dead campfire with him.

Comfortable silence overcame you both, but Rick had questions. Especially when he hadn’t seen you and Shane speak, even when he returned.

“Shane… What happened?”

“Shane… He doesn’t think that the brothers are good.” You replied. “I understand where he’s comin’ from but Daryl’s different.”

“Talk to him often?”

“Not really.”

Rick sighed. “You’re too kind, one day that will come back an’ haunt you.”

Rick left the conversation at that, leaving you with your thoughts. You were stuck. You couldn’t focus and you didn’t want to be around your brother.

You joined Daryl despite his protest and annoyance. He allowed you to follow, even more when he learned that never shot a gun before when the topic of weapons came up.

“Don’t be lookin’ tense.” Daryl commented, his hand coming to your wrist. “Yer holdin’ it too tight, relax yer damn grip.”

You mumbled an apology, doing your best to take his advice. But after a couple of minutes of remaining tense, Daryl took away the gun. “That’s it, what’s on yer mind?”

“E’cuse me?”

“I ain’t gonna risk our food on you unable to shoot a damn gun.” You rolled your eyes. “Yer shit brother?”

You grumbled, cursing Shane under your breath. “I rather not think about it.”

“Yer gonna have to find a way to deal with yer shit if you ain’t gonna talk.”

“Like what? Takin’ care of myself?”

Daryl shrugged. “Probably.”

“What am I supposed to do here? Not much to take care of myself with.” You motioned to the trees that surrounded the two of you.

“Perfect place to jerk one out though. Quick and easy-”

“E’cuse me?” You repeated, a little louder this time.

“How many times you gonna say e’cuse me?” He horribly mimicked your voice. “The way ya lookin’ at me shows that you hadn’t done it.”

“I have.” You huffed but Daryl lifted his eyebrow. “I-It’s just- it’s difficult. I can’t do it when I know people are around or gonna be lookin’ for me. I don’t wanna be embarrassed.”

“Haven’t ya learned to do it quickly?”

“No… But are you willin’ to help?”

Daryl gave you a confused look. “Thought yer brother didn’t want you ‘round me? Would ya think he’d approve of this? Me touchin’ ya?”

“Who gives a damn what he thinks? He can’t decide what I want.”

He placed his crossbow against a tree and crossed his arms. “Ya gonna give somethin’ in return?” You nodded hastily. “Then take yer damn pants off.”

Your fingers pulled on his sandy blonde hair, taking gasps of air as you felt his tongue lapping all of your juices. How long has it been? An hour or two? How many orgasms have you had? You weren’t even going to try and count them all.

He kept a tight hold on your hips, he pulled you back whenever you pulled away. He had you laid against the dirt, feeling the pebbles and sticks poking at your back and head stopped bothering you when all you could think about was clouded.

Daryl remained between your legs, your thighs clenching around his head, the wetness covering the lower half of his face. His tongue danced around your folds and clit.

Daryl shifted his position, he kneeled, giving him a perfect view of your flushed body. A layer of sweat across your open skin, an arm thrown over your eyes and your other hand was no longer pulling at his hair but gripping a patch of patch.

He dipped one finger into your cunt, feeling you squeeze around him, making him add another. He slid his fingers in and out, fucking you quickly.

His other hand reached to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his fly and freeing himself. He jerked himself off using precum as a kind of lubricate. Each stroke of his cock was matched by the pace he was fingering you.

Above the wet sounds of your cunt, he could hear the soft moans leaving your mouth. His breathing fell into an unsteady pace alongside an occasional groan from the back of his throat.

Both of his arms were burning, moving faster than to what he was normally used to. A painful shiver ran through him, he was coming.

Another painful bolt. There was a hint of pleasure, but there was a different feeling. “H-Hold on-” Your back arched off the ground, a gasp cutting you off. “I think-”

He curled his fingers and repeatedly hit your g-spot. “C’mom baby, c’mom baby.” He repeated under his breath, twisting his fingers and scissored them inside of you.

You swore loudly, feeling the sudden release, squirting all over Daryl’s hand and pants. Daryl tossed his head back, leating out a strained fuck though his teeth. You felt his hot cum spill over your cunt, your arm moved away from your face and looked at Dary through your hazed eyes.

Daryl gave a couple of more pumps, stopping both of his hands. You gasped when his fingers pulled out, you could see the mess you made. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” Daryl chuckled, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking off the remaining juices on them. “Feelin’ better?”

You nodded, panting. “Very.”

“Good, ‘cause you still owe me.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

nonsense!

pairing: minho x fem!reader

summary: based off of nonsense by sabrina carpenter <3

tags/warnings: minho is lwk kind of head over heels, minho tells himself he doesn't like us, studio/hyunjin mentioned, kind of odd confession? it was kind of rushed

a/n: hi guys!! k so i was listening to my playlist and like always!! i found a song to make a oneshot off of!! so todays is minho <3 i haven't done anything with him yet so im excited eeee! hope yall enjoy <3 (also asher!!! tysm for making me the banner :> credits to u @asherthehimbo <3)

masterlist nonsense link

Minho had never been the type to lose focus. He was disciplined, sharp, and always in control. But for some reason, lately, he couldn’t shake the thought of you.

It started with small things. A laugh that echoed just a little too loudly in the studio, or the way you’d offer him a bottle of water after practice. Nothing big, nothing that screamed obvious attraction, but enough to make his thoughts linger on you longer than he cared to admit.

He kept telling himself it wasn’t anything. Maybe you were just easy to talk to, or you were just really good at making him feel like he wasn’t the only one in the room. There had to be a reason he couldn't stop looking at you in rehearsals—he just hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Minho, are you even paying attention?” Hyunjin’s voice broke through his thoughts. He blinked, quickly refocusing on his friend.

“I’m listening,” Minho muttered, forcing himself to concentrate on the routine in front of him. But his mind was still drifting, like it had a mind of its own, right back to you.

You were across the room, catching your breath, and Minho couldn’t help but notice the way the sweat glistened on your skin, how your eyes were narrowed in concentration. He had seen you do this a hundred times, but today, it seemed different. Or maybe he was just noticing it more. He mentally cursed himself and refocused on the task at hand. Stop it, Minho, he thought.

But every glance, every smile you sent his way, only added to the strange feeling that had started to settle in his chest. It was subtle—just a small tug, but it was enough to make him question himself. He couldn’t let himself fall into this mess. Not with you. You were just... you. And he had better things to do than get distracted by someone like that.

After practice, Minho found himself walking out of the studio without thinking, but before he could get too far, he heard your voice calling from behind.

“Minho! Wait up!”

He paused and turned around, trying to act casual, but his stomach did that annoying flip when he saw you jog over, your cheeks flushed from the exercise, eyes sparkling as usual.

“What’s up?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

You gave him a quick grin. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me earlier. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. So… thanks.”

Minho shrugged, feeling his heart race for no reason at all. “No big deal. You were just struggling with that move. I didn’t want you to feel frustrated.”

He noticed how your expression softened at that, and for some reason, it made him feel... weird. Not in a bad way. Just different.

You tilted your head slightly, still looking at him, but now with a small, knowing smile. “You’re pretty nice, Minho. Don’t let it get to your head though,” you teased, tapping his shoulder lightly.

Minho chuckled, trying to ignore the way his chest felt tight. “It’s hard not to when you say stuff like that.”

There was a beat of silence. For some reason, it felt like you were waiting for him to say something more. He was sure you noticed the slight shift between the two of you, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“So, are you heading out?” You broke the silence, looking toward the exit.

“Yeah, I was about to. You?” he asked, his voice a little too eager, though he didn’t know why.

You shrugged. “I’ll be around. Maybe I’ll catch you later?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Minho said, trying to act cool, though inside, his thoughts were all over the place. Catch you later? What’s that supposed to mean?

Over the next few days, Minho kept telling himself he wasn’t interested. He wasn’t falling for you. That would be ridiculous. But every time he saw you—whether it was during practice, or when you stopped by the studio just to chat—it was like he couldn’t get his mind to stop racing.

There was something about you that made everything feel lighter. You didn’t care for the fame, didn’t care about the pressure, and yet you still gave everything you had in every moment. Minho admired that. Admired you.

But he couldn’t admit it to himself. He wouldn’t.

It wasn’t until a week later, after another long practice, that the words he had been avoiding finally spilled out.

Minho had just wrapped up his session when he found you sitting alone in the lounge area. You were scrolling through your phone, looking peaceful—something that caught his attention in a way he hadn’t expected. The way you were completely at ease with yourself made something shift in him.

You glanced up and caught him staring, and this time, he didn’t look away.

“Minho?” you asked, your voice light, but he could see the curiosity in your eyes.

He walked over, feeling the weight of the moment. “Hey.”

There was an awkward pause before you smiled and patted the seat next to you. “You’re looking serious today. What’s up?”

Minho shook his head, half-laughing. “Just tired, I guess.”

You nodded knowingly. “It’s been a long week for everyone.”

He stood there, contemplating the words he’d been holding back. “I’ve been thinking… maybe I’ve been a little distracted lately.”

“Distracted? How so?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, that spark of curiosity still there.

Minho ran a hand through his hair, sighing quietly. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, shaking his head again. This is ridiculous. You don’t even know her that well.

But then, the words tumbled out before he could stop himself. “I think I might be... getting too attached to you.”

There. It was out. He couldn’t take it back now.

Your expression shifted for a moment, processing what he said. You didn’t laugh. You didn’t brush him off. You just looked at him, as though trying to figure out if he was serious.

Minho felt a strange mix of embarrassment and relief. Maybe you’d think he was crazy, maybe you’d laugh it off. He didn’t know.

But then you spoke softly, “I’ve been feeling the same way. I didn’t want to say anything either.”

Minho blinked, his heart skipping. “You... you have?”

You nodded slowly, your gaze steady on him. “I didn’t want to make things weird between us, so I kept telling myself it was just… nonsense. But you’re not the only one who’s been distracted.”

Minho exhaled, almost in disbelief. “So, you—”

You smiled, a little shyly this time, but there was something warm in your eyes that made him want to stay in this moment forever.

“I guess we’re both just a little too stubborn for our own good,” you said softly. “But maybe we don’t have to overthink it.”

Minho’s chest tightened again, but this time, it felt like a weight he was happy to carry. "Yeah. Maybe we don’t."

And for once, he let himself relax. He didn’t need to question it, didn’t need to convince himself it wasn’t real. He didn’t have to know all the answers.

Maybe it didn’t make sense. But in this moment, it didn’t need to.

hope yall enjoyed <3

todays writing playlist....

nonsense by sabrina carpenter, seven by jungkook (ft. latto), maniac by conan gray, cupid by fifty fifty, cruel summer by taylor swift, shinunoga e-wa by fujii kaze, touch by katseye, feather by sabrina carpenter, what is love by twice, super shy by newjeans, you belong with me by taylor swift, as if its your last by newjeans, heather by conan gray, because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, the feels by twice, 3D by jungkook (ft. jack harlow) queencard by (g)-idle, style by taylor swift, antifragile by le sserafim, theres nothing holding me back by shawn mendes, left and right by charlie puth (ft. jungkook), deja vu by olivia rodrigo, lover by taylor swift, magnetic by illit, nxde by (g)-idle, perfect night by le sserafim, omg by newjeans, i am by ive, psycho by red velvet, blank space by taylor swift, teeth by 5sos, stupid in love by max (ft. huh yunjin)

*bold is explicit*

my playlist

taglist: @rockstarkkami @sirloncelot-of-bananas

taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3

[pombeom]

Hello pombeom hope ur having a good day/night !!! Idk if ur requests are open i forgot to check BUT if its alr... may i request a domtutor!taehyun x bratsub!reader ? 🙊

Having an intense terry brainrot its so crazy RGHHH so scenario is, reader is really behind her like classes and almost failing everything and the teacher said she needs to catch up and take a tutor blh blah blah.. so, the teacher assigned tyun to be his tutor. Then, Everytime they have a study session, reader wont take it srs so tyun snapped out of it and just fucked the shit out of her 🫨

Feel free to ignore this if u get uncomfortable with this request !! Sorry if its not the best description, but the rest is up to you !! 🤧

Also, do you have a taglist? If yes, i would love to be tagged in every txt fics, thoughts OR ANYTHING ABT TXT😶‍🌫️

tutoring trouble | taehyun fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: meandomtutor!taehyun x brattysub!reader

warnings: spanking, namecalling (slut, brat), dirty talk, blowjob, doggy, manhandling, creampie, unprotected sex, hair pulling, choking, mean mean taehyun, nippleplay, marking, hickeys, zero aftercare, dacryphilia (reader cries), lmk if i forgot anything

a/n: thank you so much for being my first request!! this was so much fun to write and i hope this cures your brain rot 😭 don’t have a taglist atm but when i do (hopefully soon 🤞(just need to figure out how it works)) i’ll definitely add you :)

requests open

“Can I have a word please?”

At the end of the seminar, your professor calls upon you as you and your friends begin to leave. 

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.” 

“Right. I just wanted to talk to you about your recent grades. For someone who used to perform well in every assignment, your performance has been slipping to well below average. Even on a test where everyone managed to score above 60% you were the only one with a mark of 48% which tells me that you might need some additional support. A senior student has volunteered to help you out so from now on you shall receive tutoring session from him every week. His name is Kang Taehyun and he’s a very capable student who I believe can give you all the support you need,” your professor waffled on as you simply stare into her face absorbing all the information she’s blurting at you. 

“Is that all?” 

“Yes that’s all. I’ve scheduled your first meeting for tomorrow afternoon. I checked both your timetables to make sure you were both available. You’ll be meeting in the library at 1pm. And remember, if I hear that you haven’t showed up, then I’ll have to deal out more severe consequences.” 

With even more information being darted in your direction, your mind wanders to the plans you made with your friends for lunch tomorrow. Guess that’ll have to be cancelled then. 

You let out a sigh of frustration as you thank your professor and walk out the room with a grimacing look. How dare she ruin your plans like that. Just imagining the thought of a tutor sounded like hell. This Kang Taehyun also seemed like a right old nerd. It’ll be surprising if he lasts more than a day with you. 

You were wrong. He lasted more than a day. In fact he lasted nearly 3 weeks of your bratty attitude which just refused to listen to anything he says, interrupting him mid-sentence to ask irritating questions or dozing off as he’s explaining a key concept. Even through the trials and tribulations, he still put up with you but you could tell that he each week he was getting closer to breaking point. He just needed one last push. 

Instead of the library, you asked if you could meet up at your house instead, using the fact that you were recovering from being sick last week as an excuse. Phase 1, complete. 

Taehyun arrives promptly at 1pm, tapping a rhythmic knock on your door. As if you were waiting for him, you opened the door within seconds revealing to you his casual outfit of a baggy t-shirt that he paired with dark wash straight leg jeans and a silver chain that hung comfortably around his neck. You may not have liked him much, but you appreciated his sense of style. Laid back but put together. 

Inviting him in, you direct him towards your room, telling him that that was where you worked best. You bought over an extra chair and placed it beside your own desk chair and you both pulled out your work materials. 

Without further ado, Taehyun begins the session, paying no attention to the change of setting that you hoped would throw him off. You were ready to move into phase 2 of your plan. 

Taehyun, being seated at your right proved to be advantageous as it allowed you the opportunity to make physical contact as you both move your hands at the same time, “accidentally” bumping your hand into his. 

You were also wearing your oversized pyjama shirt with a pair of black shorts underneath, your shirt unbuttoned quite low. Without drawing too much attention to yourself, you slowly push one side of the shirt down your shoulder, hinting at your black lace bra. You try and meet his gaze but his eyes were avoidant, only paying attention to his notes and whether or not you were writing them down too, which of course you weren’t.

“Can you please focus. We’ve got a lot to cover,” his eyes finally look up to meet yours giving you a stern glare. 

“I am focusing, aren’t I?” Your puppy eyes never worked on him but you were hoping that them playing with your bra strap might distract him. 

“Stop fiddling with your bra strap and pay attention,” his voice was commanding in a way that even you felt threatened into obedience. You also weren’t expecting him to be so direct. 

You pick up you pen and start copying down the notes as he explains them suddenly getting another idea. 

“Taehyun, I’m thirsty. I’m gonna get some water, do you want some too?” 

“Yeah, sure, get me a glass.”

You filled up two glasses of water in the kitchen, holding one in each hand and as you walk past him, you accidentally spill water on his shirt, leaving him soaking wet. 

“Fuck! What the hell?!” he yells, standing up in shock. 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry! It was an accident. Let me get you a towel.” 

You giggled as you walk away towards the storage cabinet grabbing a new towel. But when you return, you see a sight you weren’t prepared for. 

Taehyun had removed his shirt leaving him flashing his hard abs and built muscles. Instead of turning around or covering your eyes, you stand there gawking at his physique. So this is what he’d been hiding under his baggy T-shirt the entire time. You move closer to him, handing him the towel to dry off. 

He wipes his body dry and passes you the towel back glaring into your eyes. 

“This is what you wanted to happen right? When you invited me to your house, I knew something was up. Fucking brat can’t just sit quiet and focus on her lesson.” He inches closer to your body, pushing you against the desk as he corners you. His face was now mere millimetres away, leaving you gasping. 

“Go on. Tell me what you want,” he instructs, his voice a little raspy, “What? Now you suddenly can’t speak? Guess I’ll just have to punish you then.” 

His hands grab onto your waist pushing you up to sit on your desk, moving away any pens and paper in the way. His fingers tuck your hair behind your ear as he continues to move them along your cheeks and jawline leaving lingering touches on your skin, sparking like jolts of electricity. As his hands reach your neck, his fingers wrap themselves around it, his grip slowly tightening. 

Your lips part as you pant for air when his other hand swipes a touch across your bottom lip before he inserts his thumb into your mouth, pushing it in and out. He removes his finger from your mouth letting out a pop sound. 

Before long, his hands move down your shirt, undoing any remaining buttons, stripping you of your shorts as you’re left almost naked, feeling bare in front of his gaze. 

He’s skilful in removing your bra, cupping both breasts as he squeezes them into his face, breathing in your scent. 

“Such perfect tits. You were desperate to show them to me, weren’t you?” 

“Taehyun, suck on them. Please,” your voice trembled as you begged him. 

“Such a desperate slut aren’t you. Unlucky for you, brats don’t get what they want.” 

He’s strips you of your underwear and his own, leaving you both naked when suddenly he picks you up, flinging you over his shoulder, spanking your ass as he moves towards your bed. 

“Such,” spank,” A,” spank,” Brat,” spank. 

He drops you onto the mattress, and climbs over you. He moves up to your neck, sucking your sensitive skin rabidly, reddish purple marks appearing instantly. He moves along you collarbone sucking harshly while pinching your nipples, earning him a sharp moan. 

“Get on your knees.” He pulls you up by your hair and pushes you onto the floor as you become on eye level with his veiny cock. Your reactions to his hardness were instinctive: hands wrapping around the base of his shaft as your tongue swirls around the pink tip. 

“You don’t get to tease me ok, brat? Now suck my dick.” 

You feel your hair being pulled into a makeshift ponytail as he rams your throat up and down his cock, almost gagging you. 

You feel him twitch on your mouth and before he could cum he pulls out, taking away his own orgasm. 

Pulling you back up onto the bed, he places you on all fours as he grabs your waist firmly as his cock teases your entrance. Sliding in between the lips of your pussy, your wetness leaks out onto his dick, lubing it even more than your saliva. 

“Taehyun please just fuck me!” you whine, almost crying at the pain of his teasing. You needed him in you. 

Without warning he slams his cock into your core, hitting your cervix in one go. He continues to pound into you as he pushes your face into a pillow, muffling your moans as your tears leak onto the cotton. His dick is ruts against your gummy walls as he grunts with each swift push. You clench around his cock, feeling the veins as your wetness oozes out, dripping down your leg. 

“God your pussy is so good. Look at you, taking my cock so well, aren’t you? Only brats get fucked like this. Brats who don’t listen or pay attention. Brats who are so desperate. Brats who like to tease their tutor.” 

He’s now slamming into you at an unimaginable rate, your cries being heard even through the fabric of your pillow. The familiar sensation builds in your stomach. 

“Taehyun I’m gonna cum!” 

“Hold it. Only cum when I tell you to.” 

He’s ruthless with his speed, punishing your pussy over and over. His actions took over your entire body as your vision goes blurry even with your eyes closed and your legs shaking despite his support in holding you up.

“You can cum now.” 

You didn’t wait a second longer before your orgasmic wave comes crashing down sending ripples across your entire body when you collapse completely. At the same time, Taehyun cums inside your throbbing pussy, which remains pulsing even after he’s removed himself, pushing out the mixture of both your cum down your already wet leg. 

You’re left gasping for air once again, trying to catch tour breath after the intense sex. Taehyun leaves you alone on your bed to go put on his boxers and jeans, sweat dripping down his sculpted abs. 

“Oi, where’s my tshirt?” 

“It’s there.” You point vaguely behind you as you were unable to lift your head or body to help him out. 

He eventually finds it on the the radiator and at this point it had finished drying so he slips it back on and begins packing up his notes and stationery. 

“Same time next week. And maybe next time you’ll actually pay attention.” 

He waltz out, hearing the main door slam whilst you still lay in bed worn out. 

You don’t think you could ever focus in his tutoring classes again. Not when you knew how his cock felt inside you. His punishment failed. It only made you crave more. 

[grimm-writings]

YIPPEE YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN can i get a scenario where chilchuck slowly falls in love with a gender fluid reader? maybe he’s confused about their presentation at first, but then finds himself attracted to their masc and fem sides :0

two sides of the same coin

…ft! chilchuck x genderfluid! reader

…tags! fluff, end of manga spoilers, implied bisexual chilchuck, the mortifying ordeal of having to explain your identity to someone not in the know

…wc! 935

…notes! this request makes me so happy, because i’m also genderfluid!!! i’ll be using primarily my own experiences with my gender here, so i hope it’s to your liking! happy pride month!!! <3 

“So, you’re… everything.”

“Yes! I guess you can say that.  Although it’s more like it varies.”  Your hands move in the air to communicate your point.  “Sometimes I’m a girl, sometimes a boy.  But I’m also sometimes both, or sometimes neither!  Or maybe I’m partially a girl and partially neither, or I’m partially a boy and partially neither.  And then, on the rare occasion, I am everything!”

You can only watch in real time as Chilchuck slowly loses brain cells.  You’d fear that he may not be able to readily accept you, same as the rest of your party.  The reaction was positive enough (though Marcille and Senshi particularly need time to adapt properly) but there’s still lingering confusion.

Chilchuck slowly nods, though you can tell he isn’t exactly grasping it yet.  “So… What am I meant to call you?”

He’s trying to keep his language respectful.  That’s more than you can say for others you came out to.  You can tell Chilchuck is trying, even if this is unfamiliar ground for him.  He might know enough about different romantic and sexual preferences, and maybe more simple means of gender transition.  Your identity is… hard to explain to someone not in the know, though.

“Just ask,” you reply.  “I might have some indicators in clothing that could help.  Like…”  You gesture towards your current outfit.  “I’m presenting pretty masculine at the moment, yeah?”

“Yeah…” You don’t miss how Chilchuck eyes you up and down.  “So I should keep an eye out for how you dress?”

“Precisely!”  You snap your fingers into a point at Chilchuck’s face.

“Don’t do that.”

You drop your hand.  “Sorry.”

Chilchuck leans back on his seat, folding his arms over his chest.  If he was being honest, this only makes his heart confused.  He was already more used to you presenting masculine throughout your dungeon crawl.  You did express occasional disdain for your current dress, but can’t do much about it.  That in of itself made him wonder if he liked guys.  Now you’re saying you’re a girl sometimes?  Or neither?  Or everything?  He can’t even imagine you in a dress without his mind screaming at him in embarrassment.

You take in Chilchuck’s expression.  Brow furrowed, clearly trying to process your explanation.  He’s definitely accepting of it, just confused.  If there was a way you can explain it better to him…

An idea flashes through your mind with an “ah!”

Chilchuck perks up at your sudden yelp, blinking.  “Something the matter?  Wh– Hey, what are you doing?!”

You had practically scampered on all fours to where your travel bags were, digging around for something.  A few seconds pass before… “GOT ONE!”

Returning to Chilchuck’s side, you hold up one of the gold coins in… someone’s possession.  The half-foot cocks an eyebrow at it.  “What’re you getting at here?”

“This coin is still the same coin when it’s flat in my hand like this,” you begin, before flipping it over.  “Or when it lands on tails.”

Chilchuck watches as you place the coin on your thumb, and flip it up into the air only to let it land randomly, 50/50 chance each time.

“I can’t control whether it lands on heads or tails.  Sometimes it does something really peculiar and stands on its side, or it’s on a slant in some way.”

You watch as the gears turn in Chilchuck’s mind.  “So you can’t really control how your gender works, sometimes you just… feel a certain way?”

“Exactly!  My dysphoria – that’s the term for feeling uncomfortable – can fluctuate, but it’s still the same coin.  It’s still…”

“It’s still you,” Chilchuck finishes, turning his head to look up at you with understanding finally brightening in his eyes.  You can’t help but fluster a little.

It’d be a while since then until you’d make it back to the surface.  Everyone is as accommodating as ever to use the right pronouns when you tell them what for.  It soon comes naturally to just let you live as you are.  It’s welcoming and warm with everyone.

A nice spring breeze blows through your skirt as you make your way down to the entrance of the forest where the feast takes place.  You can spot your party from a mile away, your boots hitting the dirt path as you run over.

“Leave some for me!”  You exclaim in greeting, causing your friends to turn their heads.  Marcille gasps in wonder as she takes in your appearance, meanwhile Izutsumi makes a small noise in surprise.

Chilchuck is stunned into silence, and you can just tell the tips of his ears are going red before he keels over and spits out his drink onto the grass.  “W-What are you wearing?!”

“A dress, Chilchuck,” you quip back, sitting in between him and Marcille.  “Laios still being harassed by Yaad and the rest?”

“Hang on, we’re not moving on from this so fast!  Let me look at you!”  Marcille adjusts herself so she can inspect your look.  “I didn’t think you’d suit a dress so well!  Where’d you get that petticoat?”

You are about to answer when Izutsumi interrupts; “you look so… different,” she relays.

A sheepish chuckle escapes you, as you turn to Chilchuck, who has since been staring at you.  He blinks once you perceive him and glances away.  “You’re still you.  It…  You look very… you. It's nice.”

You can’t help but laugh at his flustered attitude, leaning down to kiss the top of his head as he gives out to you.

You are accepted, and you are loved.  What place could possibly be better than here?

[its-time-to-write]

how about a Jamie x reader fic when they go away to Amsterdam they sit together on bus and they wake up cuddling and then there’s an issue w hotel booking and there’s a one bed trope and they end up waking up cuddled together and then they admit feelings and reader goes to game with a tartt jersey on <3

I’ve been thinking about this forever, and I’m terribly sorry it took so long!! I do enjoy being an adult, but I’m at a point in life where I don’t have much free time and if I do, I use it to sleep😂

I really miss the days when Ted Lasso was still airing and the x reader tags had new content every day. I feel like that one meme of Thanos when he’s like “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” Shoutout to all y’all who are still here and reading my stuff! Love you!!

smile at me

It’s straight-up fucked. It really, really is. But also maybe it’s good, as Keeley pointed out, because not having a boyfriend anymore means you can focus on yourself?

Or something. 

Of course he had to break up with you right before leaving for Amsterdam. Hell, he broke up with you because you were leaving for Amsterdam. 

“I don’t want you going to another country with a bunch of other guys,” he had said. “It’s them or me.”

“It’s literally my job,” you told him. 

Apparently, that didn’t matter. 

But what-fucking-ever, you’re at Keeley’s waiting for a car to take you to the airport, and she’s promised to make sure you don’t think about your stupid ex even once. 

It’s times like these you wish Ted were still here with a spot-on pun and some dad-type advice. All you ever get from Beard is a weird anecdote and a vaguely threatening look. 

Keeley chatters on for the entirety of the ride to the airport, through customs, and all the way to the lounge. 

“You’re gonna get loads of great content for the socials, babe. Candids, action shots, behind-the-scenes. Friendlies are fucking amazing!”

Last time Richmond were in Amsterdam, they had lost horribly. They’re hoping to make up for it this time around. 

The plane is full of Greyhounds, both footballers and coaches alike, with Rebecca at the very front. Keeley plops done in the seat next to her as Dani waves at you from the middle. 

“I saved you a seat!” he calls. You smile as Sam takes your bag to put it in the overhead. “Thanks, Dani. You excited?”

Dani grins. “I think this time I am ready to see a whole field of tulips!”

You laugh as the lads roll their eyes. Jamie leans across the aisle toward you and says, “Oi, what’s the twat doing while you’re away?” 

You press your lips into a thin line. “Not a clue.”

He raises an eyebrow and says, “You break up with him?”

“He broke up with me.”

Jamie twists his face into a scoff. “And you wonder why I call him the fucking twat. Prick. Bet it was so he could finally fuck his coworker.”

You shrug. Jamie’s never liked your boyfriend. It’s not like you were together long, only a few months. And sure, he was a little bit of a twat, but sue you. You had a special place in your heart for pricks with a heart of gold, only he didn’t even have a heart at all. 

“You should date someone better,” Jamie continues. 

You glare at him and retort, “Oh yeah, because it’s just that easy. You got some one in mind?”

Jamie gives you his most angelic look and says, “What about me?” which makes half the plane dissolve into laughter, yourself included. 

“Cheers, Jamie,” you say as you wipe your eyes. “I needed that.”

A strange look crosses his face, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual cocky expression. “Anytime, love,” he replies as you turn to start a conversation with Dani. 

As much as you’d like that, Jamie would never date you. His joke stings a little but you brush it off. Maybe you’ll find another twat in Amsterdam to distract yourself from the fact that you’re half in love with Jamie Tartt.

—

“I’m sorry, we don’t have a booking under you name,” the hotel concierge says.

You tap your nails to your wrist. “Are you positive? I’m with AFC Richmond, they should’ve had one.”

The concierge taps on his computer for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid we don’t have anything. And all of our rooms are booked this weekend. Might I recommend the hotel down the road?”

Damn it. There’s no way this is happening. Everyone else has gotten to their rooms without a hitch and here you are, alone in the lobby as you pull out your phone to call Keeley. There’s no way this is fucking happening. 

“Everything alright?” asks a voice behind you, and you jump. 

“They don’t have a room for me, and they’re fully booked,” you explain. 

Jamie looks at the concierge, who shrugs apologetically, then back to you. He asks, “Why don’t you share with me?” and you frown. 

“I thought you were rooming with Declan,” you say. 

Jamie lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, but he switched with Richard because O’Brien fucking snores and he don’t give a shit.”

You say, “So you’re with Richard, then,” and he shakes his head. 

“Nah, Richard’s with Jan.”

“I thought Dani was with Jan,” you say. These fucking footballers. What’s the point in having set rooms if they’re just going to switch it all up.

“Dani is with Jan,” Jamie says patiently, as if this all the most obvious thing in the world. “But Dani’s a cuddler, so he’s probably going to fucking end up with, I don’t know, Isaac or someone. Which means I get a room all to meself.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “Alright, I can do that. As long as you don’t mind.”

Jamie winks. “Sharing a room with a pretty girl for four days? Ain’t a problem, love.”

You laugh and follow him to the elevator.

—

It feels a bit like playing with fire, agreeing to room with Jamie. Especially since you’re freshly single and definitely open to a rebound. But there will be two beds and a lot of space and anyway, you’ll be busy with the match and social media, respectively. 

Except as soon as you walk through the door, you realize there’s a tiny little hitch.

“There’s one bed,” you blurt out, so surprised you’re unable to filter your words. Jamie blushes a little bit as he says, “Yeah, um, Cockburn and I hate sleeping alone, so we asked for one. He grew up sharing a bed with his brothers and I just fucking hate being alone. I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

“No,” you say firmly, “you need good rest. It’s not a problem.”

It’s not a problem. 

Or at least it wouldn’t have been if Isaac had been a shittier captain. 

But as it is he’s great, so he’s got the whole team going out to dinner at a pre-determined location complete with a dress code of no t-shirts and apparently you count as part of the team, so you have to go too. You’re in your massive bathroom trying to curl your disgusting travel hair when Jamie walks in wearing one of those white hotel bathrobes.

He asks, “You mind if I’m in here?” so you shake your head, struck temporarily mute by his bare clavicle. Fucking hell, you feel like a repressed Victorian woman. 

Jamie says, “Mint,” and goes about his alarmingly detailed skincare routine. You’re pretty sure you’re done with your hair so you crane your neck in an attempt to check the back. 

“Missed a spot,” Jamie says. “Want me to get it for you?”

You shoot him a dubious look but hand him the curler. He runs a hand through your hair, picking up the offending strand and it’s all you can do not to shiver. 

“Mum taught me,” he explains and you nod ever so slightly, not wanting him to accidentally burn your neck. Jamie says, “All good,” and runs his whole hand through your hair this time, making the curls bounce. 

You choke out, “Thanks,” and hurriedly put away your things, desperate to leave before Jamie can pick up on the fact that you can barely handle being in the same room as him, and that you have great concerns about what the night will bring. 

—

“You look fucking hot,” is the first thing Rebecca says when you meet her in the lobby. Keeley looks mildly offended that Rebecca took the words out of her mouth, but she just laughs and taps your arm. 

“Gonna break a few hearts tonight, yeah?” she grins.

You’re not sure about that, especially since dinner turns out to be a very domestic affair. It’s loud, sure, but it’s definitely toned down since it’s a pre-match celebration instead of a post-match one. You’re with Sam, Keeley, and Roy with Jamie far, far away. You push all thoughts of him from your brain only for memories of your ex to surface. You frown. 

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Roy says and for a moment, you think he’s talking to you. But he’s actually talking to Jamie who has moved from his place across the restaurant to right behind your chair. 

“Fuck off grandad,” Jamie says good-naturedly. “Wanted to tell this one that some of the lads are going out dancing after this. Not too late,” he hastily adds at Roy’s burning scowl, “just for two hours and we’re only allowed one drink.”

You’re pretty sure that’s a bit more liberal than Roy likes, but he nods his head slightly so he must be in a good mood.

“So, you coming?” Jamie asks and before you can reply Sam and Keeley chorus, “Yes she is.”

You give Keeley a Look before turning back to Jamie. “Guess I am,” you reply.

The smile Jamie gives you does more to make your head spin than any amount of alcohol you’ve had in your lifetime.

—

Jamie has taken it upon himself to wipe that frown off your face. He might have been watching you over dinner and that might have been why he chose that exact moment to invite you out, but he’ll never fucking admit it to anyone except Sam. And Keeley. And maybe Cockburn when it was the off-season and they were a little tipsy. (But not drunk, never drunk.) 

So yeah, sue him if he’s spinning you around on the crowded dance floor just because it makes you laugh. It’s not his fault that he’s been wildly in love with you since the day Higgins hired you. It’s not his fault that you’re easy to be around and have the most beautiful smile he’s seen in his life. 

And fuck, it certainly isn’t his fault you can’t see in yourself what others do. Why you settled for a piece of shit like your ex, he’ll never know. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do his best to show you how special you are. He knows you’ll never feel the same about him, but maybe he can help you level up your standards. Maybe if you’re with someone good, it’ll hurt less that it’s not him. 

So he lets you hold his hand for the entirety of the two hours that the team is out and doesn’t say a word when you don’t let go in the cab back to the hotel. 

You’ve gotten that closed-off look in your eyes again, the one that means you’re thinking about your ex, so Jamie knocks his shoulder into yours and asks why he can’t have the password to the team’s Instagram account, which is a sure fire way to get you to lecture him on irresponsibility and aesthetics and the best way to get your eyes to come back to life.

—

Honestly, it’s easier to fall asleep than you might have expected. It’s a big bed and you’re fucking tired. 

You just didn’t expect to wake up in the middle of the night crying, but it’s always fucking like this when you go through a breakup. You go to sleep fine and wake up sad, so you do your best not to wake up Jamie except you’ve both ended up entangled in each other’s arms, so he can feel you shaking. 

“Hey,” Jamie says in a soft voice, “You’re okay, love.”

You half expect him to push you away once he realizes you’re so close, but he only pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Maybe it’s because you’re both half-asleep, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

You sigh and settle into him, drifting off in a matter of moments. 

—

You wake up to a pair of blue eyes watching you. 

“How you feeling?” Jamie asks, voice gravelly with sleep. 

You just blink at him. It’s hard to form coherent sentences within the first ten seconds of waking up, and even harder with the memory of Jamie’s arms around you last night. 

Wait. Not just the memory. The present reality because neither of you have moved. 

Jamie misinterprets your silence and begins to extricate his arms.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m not to trying to like, cross and fucking boundary or something. Should’ve left you alone.”

You’re still not awake enough to talk so you grab him to stop him from moving away. He gives you a questioning look so you say, “I wouldn’t have agreed to share a bed if I thought you were a creep.”

Jamie grins. “So like, if Jan had offered to share a room you’d’ve said no.”

You wrinkle your nose as you say, “Jan’s not a creep.”

“He’s the fucking worst,” Jamie grumbles, “And anyway, can we not talk about Jan fucking Maas this early in the morning?”

“Sure,” you say, “let’s talk about something else.”

Despite your comment, you both lapse into silence. You’re enraptured by Jamie’s blue eyes. You’ve never been able to study them this close before, and you want to take this opportunity to memorize every fleck of green. 

Jamie seems to have a similar thought, except his gaze flicks to your lips. 

“I have morning breath,” you tell him and he says, “Real men don’t give a shit, babe,” before leaning forward.

It’s softer than you’d expected, sweeter. 

It’s also strange to think that you’re making out with Jamie in bed, and that he’s the one who initiated it.

The thought is so absurd that you giggle, mid-kiss. Jamie breaks away and says, “Oi, there’s no way that was a shit kiss.”

“No,” you say between giggles, “it’s just weird that we’re doing this. Like, how are we supposed to look each other in the eye after?”

Jamie moves so he can look at you better, and you roll from your side to your back. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Oh come on, we share a room and a bed, we kiss because I have all these sad feelings and you’re feeling a lot of emotions about the match, and then we have to work together after. It’s silly.”

Jamie cocks his head. “That’s what you think is happening?”

“Yes?” you say. None of this is going how it’s supposed to. “What do you think is happening?”

“I like you,” he says, and there is absolutely no mistaking his meaning. 

“Oh,” you reply in a small voice. “Since when?”

“Since before you started dating the twat. When Higgins introduced ya to the team.”

“That’s a fucking long time ago!” you exclaim. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Jamie rubs his face. “Yeah, ‘cept you showed up to work tellin’ everyone how you started dating the twat. And I ain’t a home wrecker.”

You groan. “Fuuuck. I literally only dated him to try to get over you.”

Jamie shoots up. “What?!”

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ve been like a little bit in love with you ever since you winked at me during that first promo I did.”

Jamie blows out a breath. “Okay. Think that’s enough talking. C’mere. We’re making out proper, like, then we’re going to breakfast.”

You grin as you climb onto his lap.