#and before anyone in the notes goes off about it yes i know there are other health issues to worry about. like in all breeds

[evilminji]

Okay, but? I just thought of the funniest/best crackship/rare-not-pair?

Tianlang-jun+Su Xiyan+Shen Jiu+Shen Yuan

As in yes, the Shen TWINS. Who? Probably weren't/aren't twins? Like? Shen Yuan definitely just sorta shows up out of now where? Hauled back to the Sect by Shen Jiu, who DEFINITELY was an only child the last anyone knew of it, from like... a night hunt or visit to town? And he's like...

"Found a weird plant."/"Qi deviation"/"Killed a malicious blue window spirit. Possibly a god."

No, he will not explain. This is HIS now. No one look at HIS brother. He's keeping him.

Like? Yeah, they can kinda SEE that, Shen-shixiong. Maybe relax the death gri-? *feral street kid territorial hissing* MOTHER FUCK! Yue-shixiong! Come get your nightmare!!! He's biting! AND MULTIPLIED!

At least? The new one? Seems very nice?

.....naive, almost...

T-too nice....

Okay, they can see why Shen-shixiong was worried. The Fairies of Cang Qiong collectively side eye each other, nod, and agree to cut-a-fucker if anyone tries to Lewd the Baby. No wonder Shen-shixiong is vibrating with aggression and stress.

And like? Somehow? Hiding them on the women's only (with only the exceptions WE allow) peak? Cuts down on Shen-shixiong's infamous brothel trips? Like he still GOES, but it's more "visits with occasional stays" and less "constant stays over night"?

.......waaaaait a second.....

*turns around and actually looks at what he's doing on their peak, which is sleeping while girls chat and play music around him as his brother does someone's hair near-by*

Motherfu-! Shen-shixiong is a prettyboy! Brothels are full of women and have GUARDS! Of COURSE! Is he even SAFE on Qing Jing?! *furious note comparing with each other as dots start to come together*

Like? His reputation is still SHIT. Shen Jiu is still "the lecher" to outsiders and jealous men who CAN NOT comprehend being surrounded, constantly, by gorgeous women for any other reason then sex. But like? The Fairy peak knows. He's their bitchy martial uncle. The "Never marry and all men are bastards" uncle. The "Will tear a person's soul out and feed it to them, if they cross him or us" uncle.

You can totally hide behind him and go Nyeyeyeye~ >:P at someone and he'll still side with you if you do it sparingly enough. It's GREAT.

Of course, this would get Qi-shemei and Lui-shixiong fighting. Because Lui-shixiong is listening to his peak mates, who are PERVERTS. And are slandering the Shen's, INCLUDING their wittle baby A-yuan(!!!), by suggesting they are-! ARE-! *furious martial sister seething*

Shen Jiu decides? Discretion is the better part of Valor here. Night hunt time. Let's go, brother. I'll even let you look at the beast before I kill it.

They stop in town. Near the Guady Assholes territory. Shen Yuan would like to peruse the book sellers. Indulge his favorite hobby... ripping apart the plot of Bad Books. He is, after all, a bit of a hate reader at heart. He gets his "allowance" (what am I, a child?) (Yes.) (BROTHER!) and wanders off....

Oh! OH? A Most Handsome Man?! He looks like Luo Binghe fanart made real! But slutty and more playful? Rougish. N-not that he NOTICES such things! Because he is very straight. Only girls.

Tianlang-jun? Meets a cute book buddy while waiting for his girlfriend. He got them big ol startled baby animal eyes. Tears apart books like he's gripped them in his teeth and mauled until the books entrails fell out. VERY fun to tease! Hey, Yan-er~♡? How about a third?

*Su Xiyan looks Shen Yuan up and down, sees the clueless Bambi eyed/easily flustered blink, and kinda wants to ruin him*

Oh FUCK NO! Says Shen Jiu! Crashing onto the seen. His "someone is trying to lewd my not-a-brother-but-you-cant-prove-that senses" a tingling. BeGONE, harlots! You degenerates! You-! YOU-! SEX HAVERS!!!!

Well now... what a high stressed, vicious, mean, bitchy, highly competent yet pathetic little man...

*dual interest noises*

So begins there chasing the Shens. Shen Yuan going "idk, maybe we should-" and Shen Jiu going "DO NOT! Don't make eye contact! Don't BREATHE in their direction! Their sex having kind need NO ENCOURAGEMENT."

And? The Old Palace Master? Slowly but surely losing his SHIT.

Because? It's ONE thing, which is bad enough, to lose his Pwecious Su Xiyan to another. But to lose her to THREE? People are TALKING! Whispering! Suggesting she's a DEGENERATE! When EVERYONE knows it's that Shen Jiu boy! And that DEMON.

And!!! The BEST part of this Ship? The SINGLE BEST part?! Is!

WHO'S HAREM IS IT~?

Su Xiyan? The only woman? The clear "Top Energy" Queen of this whole polycule? Only one with the people skill, ruthlessness, AND common sense? Does she have a harem of pretty boys?

Or is it Tianlang-jun? The obvious choice? What with being the Demon Emperor. Did he just... decide he has a thing for Cultivators? Picked a pretty empress and a pair of twins on the side?

Shen Jiu? Is his beauty/seductiveness/lewdness THAT powerful? That he would somehow hook not only his own brother? But a HEAD DISCIPLE? And the EMPEROR OF ALL DEMON KIND?! He IS said to be a strategist...

Or the quiet dark horse, Shen YUAN? Mysterious past, beauty that hits you like a punch to the gut. Kinda makes you want to throw your life at his feet and beg him to take it. Wifebeams. Wife beams EVERYWHERE. Truely, only the most powerful could defend a place at his side.

Again, the Shen's aren't related. Shen Yuan Transmigrated. Shen Jui was just like "hey, thanks gods. I WILL take this Free Twin. Mine now! You are literally never getting this back!" After most likely SUPER MEGA DEATH murdering the System for trying to kill him. Shen Yuan's body is a construct. It might not even be human.

But they DO look alike! And since when has Shen Jiu ever explain SHIT?

@mayfay @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @hdgnj

[6okuto]

Royal GN!reader x Royal Guard!Akaashi | not fluff not angst but something that takes up 900 words for sure. somethingburger...

“You should loosen up.”

“This is my job.”

“Consider yourself off-duty,” you say plainly, resting your hands on the stained oak wood table, expletives and jagged shapes roughly carved into its surface.

Tucked far enough into the tavern that the horses resting outside are shifting shadows at the corner of your vision, Keiji looks at you for the first time since you sat down, eyes finally stopping their scan of the crowd.

If you knew him less, you wouldn’t notice his paused breath before speaking your title.

“Please? For the night?” Taking care to keep your sleeves away from something spilled by an earlier group, you lean forward, both to plead and because the cheering at a nearby table might drown out your voice otherwise. “You’re already out of uniform.”

His armour has been replaced with a dark tunic and pants, a heavy fabric to guard against chilling weather. (You had offered a white vest that he thanked but declined; it was too pristine for the place you’d visit, too obvious your outing wouldn’t be familiar.) The only metal Keiji (visibly) dons rests below his collarbones—the gold necklace you gifted him in his first year of service. His sword waits against the table, the leather of his scabbard warmed by flickers of the lamp light above.

Blue-gray eyes bore into you—neither cold nor enticed, simply unswayed—as Keiji brings his forearms to rest on the table, matching your lean. “Because anyone would notice a fully armed royal guard, and someone wanted to sneak out.”

“Yes, and you let me! And you’re saying you won’t even share a drink?”

“I’ve sworn to protect you. I can’t do that tipsy off cheap ale,” he sighs, sliding back into his seat, posture straight. “If all goes well, my sword’s handle will only be warmed by my guard, not a drunk decision.”

“So you want to watch me sit here, doing nothing but sip piss from a mug alone?" You huff. "Surely you won’t let me find another charming companion for the night either. Why did you even let me leave, much less follow me, Keiji?”

Someone yells behind Keiji about another round of drinks, while the table in sight laughs at something a barmaid has said.

Beneath your frustration, disappointment washes over you, and Keiji notes how your shoulders slump and lips purse. His gaze softens, focused on your figure across from him rather than his surroundings. It’d be impossible to say what he wants without raising his voice and someone overhearing, so he leans in again.

You blink, but only hesitate a moment before meeting him at the table’s middle. The air between you warms, and Keiji’s voice has to stay near speaking, but it’s as good as a whisper while a rowdy group marches in singing.

“I don’t know what you hope to find in this place, but I won’t stop you so long as it’s in good sense. And I came because I’ll follow you anywhere,” he says your name, a level quieter than the rest of his words, and your stomach flutters, aches. “I promised you that years ago.”

Your lips part at his words, and Keiji’s eyes flicker to them, if only for a moment. But you’re in a tavern, far from home and its sweet flower gardens, and he can smell the stench of sweat and boots caked in manure from dozens of people’s travels on the road, and nowhere could be a worse place for the thoughts he pushes away.

Before you can reply, he parts from you again, looking between his sword to the establishment’s residents, skipping over your expression. The air empties and chills with his disappearance as he tucks away softness for adamant eyes once more.

“So long as I stay sober, and you don’t enter a room with some shifty stranger that’s completely beneath you, Your Highness. But to be frank, everyone here is just that,” Keiji’s snark comes uncontrolled, accompanied by a grimace and sigh.

It helps push away the swirling emotions that you always find yourself in around him lately, especially with your title’s return over your name. You barely manage a breathy laugh.

Looking around, it doesn’t seem like you can disagree. But you retort anyway, if only to push down the lump in your throat, if only to prove you can—“That’s rude, Akaashi. You shouldn’t judge people so quickly. There might be lovely partners in bed that you’re keeping away.”

Keiji tenses while his insides twist, then relaxes as well as someone trained to can. “Keeping people away is part of my job.”

“Mm, it is, isn’t it?” You tap your fingers against the table, lighthearted tone caught in a wave of something bitterly aching as you trace a swirl in its wood. You meet his gaze before you continue, “Though if you know anyone who might meet your expectations for the role of my significant other, please do let me know. I’d love to meet them. Oh—excuse me!”

Lifting your hand to grab a barmaid’s attention, your eyes leave your guard’s and glimmer as someone else—a simple traveler hoping for something to wash their journey away for a few hours.

Still watching you, a polite smile on your lips, Keiji taps the spot on his hip where the top of his blade usually lies, wondering how cold he could allow its hilt to become for a night.

@shobvrry @khalixvitae U....

i fear trying a new AU like this but unfortunately he keeps invading my mind.... orz. don't know how much i like this but. at least now he exists in something more substantial than thoughts and a self-ship moodboard. LOL. write for urself and try new things!!

[joski-town]

The latest BOAS grading stats by The Kennel Club. Those are great results and really shows what a difference getting a well bred dog makes when it comes to health.

84,8% of Frenchies, 81,8% of bulldogs and 78,6% of Pugs are unaffected.

I can't wait until these kinds of testing are available worldwide, right now in France we only have Breath testing which is clearly not as thorough.

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Another Clone Danny x batfam au, Danny was also full dead before he's shoved into a clone body, but it's not really relevant in this part.

[Pt2: here]

Danny isn't a hundred percent sure how he got here. Last thing he remembered was running away from the GIW and his parents. They got a lucky shot on him, and he was losing ectoplasum fast. He's pretty sure he was about to fully End. He remembers being mildly amused over his parents' inventions killing him twice, before it all goes dark.

He woke up as a baby. A clone baby by the looks of his environment, an underground lab(?). His creator(?) is staring at him as if he's a miracle, and given the fancy sci-fi screen thingy (a tablet? Or ipad? He's not sure how he knows these terms) in front of the cloning tank say "attempt 99", he probably is this guy's miracle.

Danny doesn't see anyone else around, and this guy, a teenager about Jazz's age (?), seems happy on a personal level to see Danny wiggling in the tank. So it's not likely he was forced to do this. Whatever this is..

"I did it...? Holy shit! I did it!" The teen cheers before freezing, "I'm a parent now.. I did not think this through... welp, I'm a parent now."

The guy checks his vitals before draining the tank. Danny is handled as if he's the most precious, yet breakable thing in the world to this kid.

"Hello, I'm Tim, your dad, I guess." The kid, Tim, introduces himself, and Danny giggles at him because if Danny was a normal baby, he'd have no idea what he was saying. "You're the clone of my dead best friend. He was half kryptonian. I promise to do my best to help you learn your powers and culture. I'll break into Clark's ice fortress if I have to to do it."

Danny has no idea what any of that means, but Tim seems determined, so Danny isn't too worried. He's more worried about the power thing. Are they going to be completely different from his old ones? Does he still have access to his ghost powers?

His little baby body can't handle his big emotions, and he starts crying. Tim panics, checking for mess, before realizing he doesn't have baby supplies. He clearly didn't think his cloning attempt would work with how unprepared he is. And that's valid if Danny really is his 99th attempt.

Tim bundles Danny up and rushes them to the nearest store that has baby supplies. Danny is clothed and fed promptly and given a wolf plushy. Danny isn't sure about the wolf thing, but the stuffie does sooth his baby instincts, so he rolls with it.

"Alright, baby. I... I didn't think of a name for you. I originally was trying to make a clone closer to Kon's age and figured they could name themselves, like Kon did." Tim sighs, slightly rocking Danny in his arms. "Man, I must seem insane talking to a baby. A baby I made because I couldn't deal with one more person in my life being dead or gone."

Danny notes the interesting wording.

"Okay. Can you understand me at all? I forgot to adjust the knowledge download to a year old's level, but that doesn't mean your baby brain absorbed any of the info."

Ooooh, that explains why he knows things that didn't exist where he's from.

Danny blows spit bubbles and attempts to nod. It's a bit hard, his baby muscles not developed enough for the action. Tim understands, though.

"Okay, okay." Tim looking both scared and relieved. "How about you pat me once for yes and twice for no? At least for now. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Danny lightly smacks a hand to Tim's face. They both giggle over it.

"Alright, so I'm going to list off names, and you can tell me yes or no, okay?" One pat. "Okay, let's see."

Danny wonders if he can get a new name that can still let him have Danny as a nickname.

"Jasper" No

"Darin" No

"Dugu" No??

"Presh?" No! Tim? Where are you getting these names??

"Ratan" No

"Cicil" No

"Matthew" No

"Theo?" No

"Alihan" No

"Atiya" Nope

"Tesher" No

"Senai" No

"Uuum... Habwat?" No

"Geoffrey" No

"Amari?" Nope

"Jordan" ... huh, technically could get Danny from that, but still. No.

"Riley?" No

"Drew?" Nope

"Nova" Oooo so tempting, but no

"Esteban" Nope

"Izar" No

"Aedan?" You know what, good enough. That's Danny's new name.

Tim looks misty eyed when Danny finally agrees to a name.

"Alright, welcome to the world, Aedan Drake." Danny blows bubbles at him. "We'll visit adding Kent and getting you a proper kryptonian name when you can actually speak and understand what those names mean. Kon's human name was Conner Kent, and his kryptonian name was Kon-El. It translates to abomination of the house of El. He was a clone of Kal-El and wasn't treated well for it. I won't let the Els treat you as they treated him."

Tim looks pissed on his friend's behalf and cradles Danny protectively.

"The Els don't matter anyways. You will always be a Drake. And Drakes protect what they claim with viciousness." He kisses Danny's forehead. He then moves to the fanciest computer Danny has ever seen, and with the hand not supporting Danny's body, starts designing what appears to be a bulletproof and stabproof baby carrier. "I should have waited til after I finish hunting for clues to get Bruce, he's my adoptive father, out of the timestream. My siblings think I'm crazy, which creating a clone isn't helping my case over, but I know he's alive. I found evidence, just not enough to prove it to them."

Danny starts nodding off. Tim's ramblings are soothing and his hold gentle, Danny's tiny baby body doesn't stand a chance at staying awake. He's sad he's missing out on all the dad lore because of it.

Once the carrier is ready, Tim starts going out and taking Danny with him. Danny is actually pretty safe on these outings. The carrier is bulletproof, stabproof, has tinted bulletproof glass so Danny can get sun without people seeing him, it's temperature controlled, well ventilated, and has plenty of cushion. Seriously, Danny is sure the whole thing is like 60 pounds with him in it, but Tim gives zero fucks. He's determined to keep Danny safe.

It's super touching. And Danny swears to one day return the favour. The day is closer than he thinks when a creepy old fucker crawls out of the woodworks. Danny hates him instantly. Tim explaining the creep's relation to Tim's family doesn't change Danny's mind. In fact, it probably makes his opinion on this Ra's Al Gul even worse. And once he sees how that pedo looks at his sweet new dad, he plans to be an absolute menace.

[hwallazia]

XMAS DINNER GOES WRONG – 정우영

⋆ synopsis. it seems like your husband can’t keep it in his pants, not even on a fucking christmas dinner with his family. but, as the lovely wifey you are, you gotta give him some relief, right?

pairing. husband! jung wooyoung & fem! reader.

wc. 3,2k

warnings. smut (mdni!), suggestive language, cussing, almost!! getting caught by wooyoung’s mom (oops), pet names (love, babe, my wife, pretty girl & more), nipple play, wooyoung sucks your entire skin (neck, collarbone, tits and the list can continue…), teasing, wooyoung tears your panties to shreds heh, not dirty—NASTY TALK, begging, yn at some point says “stop” but it’s bc she’s far too blissed out; not bc she actually wanted him to stop, this is alllll consensual!!, unprotected sex, praise ofc, squirting, gut-wrenching fluff in the end ‘cause love him too much.

nic’s notes ⋆ first ff of the xmas event yes sir !! i felt some shit writing this istg (๑/////๑ " )

you know holidays, right?

the perfect opportunity for the entire family to gather and celebrate achievements, blessings, and thousands and thousands of other things. cousins, nephews, aunts, uncles, and even great-grandparents were reunited in that cold and windy winter night. an entire feast was splayed on the table for everyone’s delightfulness, different kinds of foods and smells mixing and creating a delicious, toe-curling experience for anyone’s nostrils.

the hours you had spent shopping for every ingredient for each dish, cutting the vegetables, cooking everything to the exact, perfect point and term really paid off once your and your husband’s family were brought together at the large, dark oak table to celebrate your very first holiday — both families now joined together as one.

nothing could go wrong. the chatting flew as calm and joyful as spring water, sharing experiences and old memories pleasingly, smiles spread like the most enchanting disease—as well as the wholesome ambience, and everything was accompanied by a delightful meal, the well-deserved five star bonus of the evening.

so, if everything was meant to go perfectly, then why the hell was your husband staring at you with the most explicit, sluttiest “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen?

wooyoung sat in front of you, his two cousins sitting each on his sides. his plate was rather full, and that had an explanation: he was far too gone and busy burying heart-shaped daggers into your eyes while his hand cupped his cheek, head tilting to his right — his tongue glided over his dry bottom lip every now and then. you’d bet that none of his thoughts were in the bible. ‘cause fuck, even his younger brother would guess that something’s odd about him. that that’s not the usual behavior of his dear older brother.

“yn? darling?” the voice of wooyoung’s mother dragged out quickly of your insulation bubble. her tilted head clearly showed that she had been trying to talk to you for a while. a soft, warming hue of red struck your cheekbones.

as you gyrated your head to meet her worried gaze, you replied. “yes! mrs. jung, ‘m sorry. what were you saying?”

“are you doing fine, sweetie? you were gone for a bit.” she stared at you intently, genuinely worried about her daughter in-law. oh that woman was almost a fallen angel—if not one. if only she knew it was his own son who was to blame—the very last person she’d suspect, and oh, how deliciously ironic that was.

the figure of your husband’s shit-eating grin could be seen out of the corner of your eye—a sight that ignited a fiery rage within you, yet one you couldn’t help but savor, lingering on the view as long as possible before responding to your sweet mother-in-law. “oh, it was nothing. i’m prolly just zoning out because of how tired i am. y’ know, spending the entire day in the kitchen was exhausting.” the cherry on top of the excuse was the little, innocent giggle you emitted by the end. the woman gave you the most pitiful, yet endearing look. she lifted her arm, indicating with her open palm the white stairs, the reflection of the christmas-decorated banister lighting up her eyes.

“oh, sweetheart. you should go rest, it’s pretty late after all.” her gesture softened your heart, chest clenching a bit.

this woman was going to be the death of you! … uhm, never mind. first place is taken by wooyoung, who seems quite excited with the idea of going upstairs with you, by the way. take a guess at what his mind is scheming.

you shook your hands in front of your chest, quickly denying the opportunity. “thank you really, but i’m okay. i’ll just go wash my face.” you excused yourself, hovering your leg over the other and getting yourself up. “maybe that way i can wake up completely.” ending with a little giggle, you started walking towards the staircase when suddenly, the voice of your dear husband rang inside your ears.

“excuse me. i’ll go help my wife.” his foxy eyes curved into crescent moons, and his lips stretched wide, forming an upward line. oh fuck, you were done for.

“oh yes, i was about to ask you to do the same. please, son.” she stated, nodding approvingly. oh what a gentleman she had raised.

you resumed your steps quickly, arriving to the second floor in less than you expected. you turned your head, only to be met with an empty corridor. thank goodness he hadn’t gotten there yet.

or so you thought. ‘cause when you refocused your attention to your front, a pair of arms grabbed you by your waist and swung you around the air in a swift motion as he dragged you to an empty room. the last sound heard in the corridor was the slam of a closing door.

your breathless body was pinned against a cold wall, trapped between two quite familiar, tanned arms. simultaneously, your disoriented irises tried to adjust to the darkness of the room and focus on the feverish, hungry eyes standing in front of you.

“wh… what the fuck was that.” you muttered as the remains of your breath flew away. wooyoung seemed enchanted by your current state though.

“heeey, don’t curse at me like that.” his gentle, cocky voice penetrated your mind like a bullet. knuckles crept up the sides of your exposed arms, providing soothing strokes — goosebumps prickled to life in response. he opened his warm palms and reached to your also bare shoulder, massaging them. “after all, ’m jus’ here to help you.” he pulled his secret weapon and started making out with your neck, licking your flesh like a starving man and spreading wet kisses all over it.

“help me? how are you helping me like this?” you uttered as your breath hitched, head leaning to the side at the right angle to give him enough space.

wooyoung sucked that sensitive spot that always made your eyes roll to the very back of your head, dragging a whine out of you successfully. his chuckle and victorious smirk didn’t go unseen by your already blissed-out self. he leaned back a little to admire you. just for a bit, palms not leaving their place. “you’ll know when we’re done.” his hands moved in a swift motion, arms wrapping around your thighs and shoulders, lifting you effortlessly in a princess carry. “for now, just shut up and enjoy it, hm?”

“w-wooyoung—you know we can’t do this now— angh!” your anxious, flustered self made a futile attempt to reason with wooyoung, hoping he’d remember that both your families were gathered downstairs for a fucking christmas dinner—while he, entirely unbothered, seemed more than eager to spend the evening thoroughly ruining you in the bed just one floor above. and that was clearly shown when he threw you to the bed as if you were the lightest feather and immediately crawled to you.

“c’mon, love. i just wanna help you stay awake” his gravelly voice purred gift next to your ear as his taunting hands played with the sides of your dress, fingertips aching and itching to rip it off you.

he had you underneath him, completely flustered and nervous. he knew you were really anxious about the dinner—you’d spent a whole hour straight ranting about how nerve-wracking the preparations were, only to end up feeling physically ill from the overwhelming surge of dopamine flooding your system. but your reddened cheeks were smiling at him and your plump lips were whispering nasty things to him. holy fuck, how couldn’t he be tempted?

he needed to be balls deep in you. now.

his skillful tongue found home in your neck and collarbone, sucking cute love bites all over. but, your body was still tense, too uneasy at the thought of the possible scenario of someone entering the room and catching the two of you in such a compromising position.

“b-babe, please—hmph”

in a sultry tone, he muttered, “already begging. so fucking cute.” a smirk was drawn on his lips before his hands reached to your cleavage and popped your tits out of your low-cut dress. “y’ want me to fuck you? ‘s that what it is?”

before you could even think of an answer, he dived right into your breasts, licking your sensitive nipples as though they were his favorite toy — because they absolutely were.

god, the incessant thoughts that ran through your head and his tongue lapping around your buds were too much. everything was starting to be too much, and he hadn’t even taken your clothes off. with heightened sensitivity, your lips fell open and a beautiful, sweet melody of your moans and whimpers escaped through them — a delightful melody for your husband’s ears.

impatient hands stripped you of your glittery dress, leaving you with nothing but your black, thin panties. wooyoung took a moment for himself — well, more accurately for you, to admire and revel in your beauty as he should. a rush of blood surged to his cock, making it throb even harder than before. he was no more than a man, overwhelmed by desire. “you’re fucking irresistible, y’ know that?” he started down to where your and his crotch connected, brows furrowing when he saw your clothed pussy. “i think it’s time for this to go.”

a sharp rrrrrip! bounced through the walls and brought your attention. “woo did you just—?!” you followed the movement of his hands, which discarded the shreds of black fabric to the floor. “that was my—! hahh” and his thumb flew right to your already swollen clit, stimulating it with circling motions.

“why’re you whining when you know i’ll buy you ten more pairs,” he whispered as he soaked in the unsteady shiftiness of your body — and for that, he posed a strong yet harmless grip on your waist. his fat thumb worked nonstop over your bud, sending sparks right to it. your body jolted upward at the feeling of his middle and index fingers tracing soft lines up your pink folds. the sight of your walls clenching and relaxing around nothing spun him. “ooh, what a greedy wifey i got.” he chuckled under his breath, gaze stuck to his home — and i mean your cunt. “sooo desperate for my fingers, huh?”

at this point, any sense or unsteady thought had already vanished away, completely replaced by a selfish state of mind. you wanted him to finger you, fuck you, drive you insane. and you wanted it right fucking now. and so you mewled, “god, please just do something.”

“got the name wrong, darling.” and with that, he pushed two fingers at once inside your fluttering walls, tugging a satisfied moan out of you. “it’s wooyoung. or hubby” he giggled. he fucking giggled as he rammed those fingers mercilessly, shooting stars and fireworks filling your vision.

“w-wait stop— baby, please— fffuck!” stuttering words and incoherent gibberish spilled from your swollen lips, too red and slick from how often and harshly you’d bitten them; eyes welling up with tears from the intense pleasure overload.

“stop?” a chuckle rumbled through his chest. “fine then” he withdrew his long phalanges, leaving you empty. completely fucking empty, with velvety and throbbing walls already missing him. you cried as you felt the void of your pulsating pussy, but before you could coax a desperate “please” from your lips, wooyoung grabbed you by the waist. you gasped, as he manhandled you, positioning you on top, naked folds grazing his clothed sex.

you pouted and wooyoung laughed. he was finding this shit way too funny. “since you so nicely begged me to stop, then put your back into it, mm?” a loud smack! reverberated through the walls as his heavy palm landed on the flesh of your ass. “fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl.”

and did he have to tell you twice. desperate, shuddering hands worked on his dress pants, quickly undoing his belt and zipping it down just enough to uncover his rock-hard bulge. you grabbed the band of his boxers and pulled it down as well, his cock springing finally free. with a smooth movement, you took his member and positioned it below you. and just before you sit down on him completely, someone knocked on the fucking door.

the surprise caused you to jolt and lose control, sinking in a faster and sloppier motion than you intended — a loud cry resonating through the thin walls the moment his tip kissed your cervix perfectly. with eyes wide open, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cursing yourself for being so fucking noisy and sensitive and—

“yn? are you in here?” the muffled voice of wooyoung’s mother echoed from the other side of the door.

shit shit shit.

“y-yes, ma’am! i… ’m kinda busy over in here—ugh!” you tried to speak as loud and clear as you could, but wooyoung seemed to be unbothered by your efforts since he grabbed your hips and started swaying your core up and down his girth. up, down, up, down.

you stared at your husband with glaring eyes, stabbing knives into his. fuck, did this man even care about being heard by his own mother? now, with all doubts gone, you’re certain you’ve married a freak.

“are you okay, sweetie? what’s going on over there?”

and you swear you heard the door creaking open, so you exclaimed. “no! everything’s fine!” you yelped, your voice higher-pitched than you intended. “please don’t come in.”

wooyoung chuckled underneath you, soaking in the sight of your nervous self trying to mute your cries as your tits bounced right on his face. he could die right there and then and he’d be happy. “what’s wrong, baby? can’t take it?” he whispered as he gazed directly into your tightly scrunched eyes, your partially open mouth releasing nothing more but silent cries and pleas.

“fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” you hushed soundlessly, yet willingly bouncing up and down his length. the low, manly giggle he uttered spun you. fuck, he had you wrapped up around his finger.

“oookay? uhm, do you know where my son is? is he there with you?”

he grinned. that shit-eating grin you hated so damn much appeared all across his face. “c’mon pretty, tell her the truth. tell her how good i’m fucking you, how good you’re taking my cock, hm?” he growled into your ear, his voice low and raspy, sending shivers down your spine. the sound was intoxicating, clouding your thoughts and turning your mind into mush.

your throbbing walls clenched around him subconsciously, his head rocking back in reaction. “he’s… he’s here with me, h-helping me like he said he would.”

wooyoung seemed utterly satisfied by your answer, his grin only spreading wider. “that’s my wife. so beautiful.”

“perfect then! i’ll see you in a bit then.” after those words, no other sound was heard — other than the wet clapping of your flesh against his hips.

“‘s she gone?” your half-lidded eyes stared down at your husband, who was hugging you by the waist, face deeply buried in your bobbing, soft tits. your hands flew to the back of his head, cupping his neck whilst caressing his raven hair fondly. at your words, his head lifted, and took a glance at your divine expression.

“baby, i didn’t care, not even a second, if she was hearing or not.” his intoxicating, dark irises sent love letters to yours, utterly drunk in love. “i jus’ wanna cum inside your sweet pussy.”

skillful fingers crept to your hardened, overstimulated nipples and all the way down where your bodies collided, positioning right on your clit. his left hand stroked your firm nipple and played with one breast, letting wooyoung’s tongue take care of the other whilst his right hand shifted rapidly over your bundle of nerves.

he fell in love with you again as he saw your back arching into a perfect crescent moon. “good girl.” your loud whines and moans only encouraged him to keep going. “so responsive to me.” he exhaled breathlessly. “fuck, are you about to cum, baby?”

“y-yeah, fuck— woo, i-i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna fucking cum” you yelped as your bounces became sloppier, more desperate and more reckless. wooyoung motivated you by whispering sweet things and heart-melting praises right into your ear.

“cum, baby. cum for me, milk me dry.” and with one last bounce, you sprayed your juices all over him, soaking his pants and white shirt even more.

exasperated grunts and exhales left your husband’s mouth at the sensation of your folds clamping down on him — you definitely understood the assignment of milking him dry. ‘cause your pussy received the hot ropes of cum that his dick spurted out with great pleasure, sucking the life out of his poor, now softened length.

you crumbled down on him, your weakened core landing on top of him with his dick still inside you. your head found home in the crook of his neck as his hand reached to your back, wrapping your waist safely whilst the other provided soothing ministrations to your face. with your last ounce of strength, you pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, an even warming sensation drowning the both of you.

“fuck” was all you could mutter. “how’re we going to get back there, they’re waiting for us.”

wooyoung hummed thoughtfully, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and brushing against your skin. “we could pretend we fell asleep. with that, they shouldn’t suspect a thing.”

“hey that’s actually a great id—“

the door creaked open and your bodies jerked softly. the both of you knew exactly what to do, so your eyes flew shut. wooyoung even started snoring quietly to add a spec of realism to the scene.

the sound of your mothers’ voice echoed through your ears. “she said wooyoung was helping… her” wooyoung’s mom immediately lowered her voice as she took in the scene. an almost soundless aww escaped your mom’s lips.

“well sure he was helping her.” your mother sighed at the wholesome moment she had the luck of appreciating.

“i think he was massaging her. ‘cause when i knocked on the door, i could hear like— muffled sounds, that seemed like moans.” she stated, and you froze in place — well, not like you could move an inch. “at first i was confused, but then she clarified that wooyoung-ah was helping her “like he said he would”” she remarked your words as if she had studied them.

“oh i see.” your mother spoke. “i think we should let them sleep. my poor yn had a long day.”

and with that, the door shut closed with a soft click.

wooyoung giggled under the covers as your face burned from the embarrassment.

“massaging? well, that’s a way to put it.”

“wooyoung, babe, as much as i love you, please shut the fuck up.”

he laughed wholeheartedly, a gut-wrenching sound that never fails to make you smile. “you embarrassed, my love?”

you slapped your open palm against his exposed chest as you whined. “stoppp.”

his small, soft giggle buzzed inside your eardrums before he left on the top of your head a kiss full of fondness and affection. “cutie.”

| masterlist

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

You would hit BELIEVE how happy I am that you’re writing fics for Declan O’Hara he’s my new DILF obsession!!! Also it was so well-written and in-character, oh my goodness!

I was wondering if I could request a fic where Declan and female!reader are having an affair, and she’s super nervous because she’s Taggie’s best friend. She meets Declan one night in his car, and he calms her down and, obviously, they have car sex.

Ending this with a huge I LOVE YOUR WORK

Shut Up and Drive.

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The one person who riles you up the most is also the only person that can calm you down.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. cheating. declan and his dirty mouth. one use of the c word. overuse of the nickname sweetheart.

word count - 3k

authors note - the minute he put that baby blue t shirt on… I was suddenly on my knees. funny how that happens. can’t and won’t stop with the fics for this man. I am riding the rivals train to the ends of the earth, baby. thanks for being so sweet, anon <3

masterlist. inbox.

The phone is shaking in your trembling hand, cord all tangled where you keep twisting it around your finger nervously.

“Hello?”

You almost drop the receiver at the sound of that familiar Irish accent, despite the fact that you were the one that rang him. It has your stomach churning, in a different way than usual.

“H-hi,” you barely whisper, before clearing your throat and trying again. “Hi. It’s me.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he breathes, as if it’s the first time he’s taken a lungful of air all day.

“I, um… I’m sorry to call you on the house phone. I know it’s not how we do things usually.”

“It’s alright. What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I just, uh… I called to say that I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I would have told you in person, but I didn’t know when I was going to see you next, so.”

“Can we-” he begins, before lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, “-can we talk about this properly? Please?”

“We can’t. I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m beggin’ ya. One conversation. You’re not ending this in a quick phone call on a Wednesday night, you hear me?”

You inhale deeply, biting at your lips. There’s pure anxiety radiating through your body, prickly and unrelenting.

“I hear you,” you murmur down the receiver. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighs in relief. “I’m gonna come and get ya - we’ll go for a drive, alright?”

“Sorry you have to lie,” you whisper, guilt colouring your tone.

“I’d lie for you a thousand times over.”

His words shouldn’t make you feel as giddy as they do, but alas. Here you are.

“I’ll put some shoes on.”

“And a coat. It’s cold as fuck tonight.”

You half laugh, half snort at him down the phone, dreamily imagining the grin he most likely has painted on his face listening to you.

“Yes sir,” you tease, giggling. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll drive up without my headlights on. Look out for me, yeah?”

“I will.”

I always do, you think to yourself. I always do.

The line goes dead abruptly, the buzzing vibrating straight into your temples. You slip your shoes on, quickly fixing your hair and touching up your makeup in the mirror in the hallway while you’re there. You shrug your arms into your coat at Declan’s orders, knowing he’d tell you off if you turned up without it on.

You’ve almost forgotten the entire reason you called in the first place was to break things off with him.

Almost.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

True to his word, Declan drives up your road without his headlights on, slowly and with practised precision.

You’re waiting at the window for him, patiently anticipating the sight of that stupid yellow car. You’re out of the door in seconds as soon as you see him, bounding towards the passenger side and slipping in before anyone notices. He drives off quickly, not taking any time to say hello before he’s taking off out of the town and towards the rolling countryside.

You drive for a good fifteen minutes, to a spot the two of you frequent on your drives. It’s a dirt track, leading to nothing but fields for miles on end. Declan pulls the car around the bend and out of sight from the busier road, knowing that it has more than enough privacy. You’ve never been caught here before, and you don’t plan to start.

Finally turning off the engine, he turns to face you, taking in how the moonlight illuminates your features in the lowlight of the car.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

You’re refusing to look at him, knowing that if you do, you’ll surge over and kiss him until you’re both dizzy. You can feel his gaze on you, though, intense and unwavering. As it always is.

His thumb and pointer finger hook under your chin, forcing you to stare straight into his determined brown eyes. You’re willing yourself not to crumble, but you can feel your resolve starting to slip already.

“I missed you,” he whispers, careful not to spook you.

“I missed you too,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Shit.”

He chuckles, and the low timbre of it settles right in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s all this about then, hmm? The phone call?”

“What did you tell Taggie? Where did you say you were going?”

It’s your least favourite part about all of this, the lying. Lying to Taggie, to Patrick, to Caitlin, to Rupert, to your friends, to your family. Coming up with excuses has become second nature - something you hate about yourself now. You hate how it comes so naturally to both of you these days.

“Told her I was going to meet someone about some potential research for a show. She had evening plans anyway, she’s off out to Lizzie’s.”

You’re fiddling with your fingers, picking at your nails in a nervous habit as you chew your bottom lip. If anxiety was personified, it’d be you.

“You avoided my question. We need to talk about what you said on the phone, sweetheart.”

Taking a deep breath, you turn in your seat to face him properly, going over the speech you’ve practised in your head dozens of times.

“Okay. I’m… I’m not sure we should do this anymore. I- I just… I feel guilty. For lying to Taggie, mainly. And because you’re technically still married, but mainly for lying to Tag. She’s the closest friend I have, and I’m sleeping with her father. It makes me a terrible person, Declan. I have to put a stop to it.”

He processes your words for a moment, looking at you intently.

“Do ya want to?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to? Put a stop to things? Or do you just feel like you should? For other people.”

You want to lie, tell him exactly what you had planned out, feed him what you know will work. But you can’t. You can lie to everyone… except Declan.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “But I should. We should.”

“Why now? Did something happen? Did someone say something?”

“No, no. I just… Taggie said something really sweet the other day about how she was glad that she had me, because making friends here hasn’t been easy for her. And it should have made me happy, and instead, it broke my heart.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Declan cradles your face in his rough hands, resting his forehead against yours. It’s like the whole world melts away for a moment, leaving just the two of you in the tiny yellow car.

“I’m a horrible person,” you mumble. “And a horrible friend.”

“You’re speaking as if it’s just you. And it’s not, you know. There’s two of us in this affair - I’m just as guilty as you are.”

“Fine then. We’re both horrible people.”

He chuckles, breath tickling your face, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. His lips are brushing yours every time he speaks, meaning you can practically taste the cigarette smoke and spearmint on his tongue.

“I never claimed otherwise,” he retorts, still smiling.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit as his thumbs sweep back and forth across your cheekbones. “It’s weighing down my conscience, and I don’t want to hurt Tag. But… I can’t give you up, Declan. I need you. I need you more than anything.”

“You make me crazy. God, I think about you night and day, sweetheart. My thoughts revolve around if I’ve seen you and when I’m going to see you next.”

“So what do we do? I can’t quit this. I can’t quit you, I can’t quit us. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. I wish I had the answers… I wish I could make all your worries go away. But I can’t.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just… I thought that I could do it in one clean sweep. Get it out the way, you know? Call you, end things, be done. And then the minute I heard your voice over the phone… I knew I couldn’t do it. Because deep down, I didn’t want to.”

He leans in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, desperate to be close to you.

“Declan.”

“If I could fix it all for you, I would,” he murmurs against your skin. “You know I would.”

You pull back to put some distance in between you, watching him carefully for his reaction to what you say next.

“You should break things off.”

He flinches as if you’ve punched him in the stomach.

“What?”

“You should. I clearly can’t, so you have to be the one to do it. Do it, Declan. End things with me right here, right now. Please.”

Your tone is weak and unconvincing, as if you can’t even bring yourself to say the words with any conviction.

“I can’t,” he confesses, voice breaking on the last word. “I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling it slowly as if he’s buying himself some time. You wait patiently for him to continue, nerves frayed at the edges.

“Because I love you.”

Now it’s your turn to flinch, his admission smacking you across the face violently.

“You-”

“Yes. I love you, sweetheart. It’s taken me a while to figure all of this out, but I know it now. That’s why I’ve never been able to end this. Because it’s not just incredible sex… it’s something more. Something real.”

There are tears welling in your eyes as you look at him, watching the way he lays his heart on his sleeve in the moonlight just for you.

“I’m scared,” you confess. “I love you too and it scares me.”

You don’t miss the way his face lights up as you say it, but he’s trying to keep a careful lid on his emotions for now.

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to ya. You know that.”

All you can do is nod in response, digesting everything that has happened in the last five minutes. You do know that. He’s proven time and time again that you’re not just some fleeting fling to him.

“Declan?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Now he grins like an idiot, eyes alive with adrenaline and hope.

“That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard ya say.”

You tuck some hair behind his ear before leaning in to gently press your lips to his, wanting to seal the moment. He kisses you back sweetly at first, before taking control with more force, slipping his tongue into your mouth cheekily. You happily let him take the lead, sighing in contentment as you melt into him.

“C’mere.”

Climbing over onto his lap, you hinge your legs on either side of his in the drivers seat, straddling his hips. You try to straighten up but end up hitting your head on the roof of the car, which makes you both wheeze with laughter.

“This car is too fucking small,” you grumble, rubbing the spot that you smacked.

“Y’alright? Want me to kiss it better?”

You hate the way the teasing tone in his voice shoots right to your core, shaking your head in defiance.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Patronising bastard.”

“I like it when you get your claws out,” he chuckles, tracing patterns on your thighs over your jeans. “S’hot.”

You kiss him again to shut him up, biting at his bottom lip in punishment. He groans all low and slow, which makes you grind your hips into his, despite the multiple layers of clothing separating you.

“Backseat,” he whispers, pushing you off of him gently. “More room.”

You splay yourself across the wide back seat, opening your legs so Declan can slot in between them.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” he prompts as he shrugs off his own jacket and undoes his belt.

You can’t help but chuckle at his impatience, happily taking off your coat and jumper and unbuttoning your jeans. Your breath catches in your throat when you look back up at him - he’s wearing the Venturer t shirt that hugs his biceps just right, accentuating every delicious muscle he has to offer you.

“Wore it for you,” he mutters against your lips. “Know you like me in a t shirt.”

You roll your eyes but kiss him with determination anyway, all teeth and tongue and clashing bodies. You’re clawing at his clothed shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist to buck your hips into his.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “Lying awake at night thinking about your thighs, your tits, your cunt.”

All you can do is sigh, fingers digging into his biceps in desperation.

“Wish I could take my time with you like you deserve. These quick fucks just aren’t the same.”

He sounds almost upset about it, voice staying deep and low.

“Remember that time I stayed the night? And you couldn’t walk in the morning?”

You laugh breathily, thinking back fondly to that night a few months ago. You’d both orchestrated it so carefully, crafting cautious lies and fabricated stories to snatch a good sixteen hours of time together.

“Need that again soon. Might have to start sneaking ya into my house in the dark, make you climb the gutters like we’re in a film. Although, it is a bit hard to keep you quiet.”

You try valiantly to ignore the heat that flushes across your chest as he teases you, knowing that he’s right.

“Declan?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You grab his hand and shove it down your underwear, jeans trapped around your thighs. There’s very minimal room in this tiny car, but you’re both determined to make it work. He groans when he feels how wet you are, swiping through your core.

“Fuck me. Have you been like this the entire time?”

“Since this afternoon,” you whimper, trying to grind down onto his fingers. “Couldn’t stop thinking about when you ate me out on my kitchen worktop last week. My legs were shaking for two days afterwards.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, slipping a finger into you as he drops his head onto your shoulder. “I got myself off thinking about that yesterday. I swear if I concentrate, I can still taste you on my tongue.”

All you can do is whimper, desperate to have him in any way you can. The fact that you have the same effect on him that he does on you makes your head spin, dizzy with want.

“Don’t make me wait,” you beg, cradling his face so he has to look you in the eye. “Fuck me, please. Please, Declan.”

“Okay, pretty girl. I’ll give ya anything you want. Anything.”

He shuffles around so he’s sat back on his knees, pushing his jeans and underwear down just enough to free himself. You spread your legs as wide as you can, trying to give him as much room as possible. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself in this position in this car with him - and it won’t be the last.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, licking across your teeth with his tongue. “Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

He slides into you with ease, both of you gasping at the familiar sensation. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as he holds your hips in a bruising grip, pads of his fingertips biting into your flesh.

Declan doesn’t waste any time, setting a relentless pace that has you bouncing across the seat. The car is shaking like crazy, all the windows fogged up - anyone who passes will know exactly what’s happening inside.

The man above you can read you like a book and play you like a fiddle. He knows the exact angles of his hips that’ll have you keening, the certain spots to focus on that’ll have you seeing stars. He knows you better than anyone, in more ways than one.

“That’s it,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Atta girl. Taking it like you were made for me.”

“Maybe I was,” you breathe, tipping your head back to give him access to your neck. “Just for you.”

He groans all melted and golden like molten honey, the vibrato of it rumbling through your bones. You’re holding onto him for dear life, as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this reality. When his thumb finds your clit to rub firm, slow circles, you’re convinced you’re floating on another plane of existence.

The only word you can seem to formulate is Declan, which only pushes him closer to the finish line. He’s determined to get you there first, angling his hips upward to hit that one spot that has you gasping. When he moves one hand to your throat and gently squeezes, you fall apart instantly, taking him with you.

“I love you,” he breathes as he comes, forehead resting on yours. “My girl.”

You’re shuddering and shaking as you lie underneath him, panting like you’ve just ran ten miles. Declan collapses on top of you, laying his head on your chest comfortably. Your fingers rake through his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp like you’ve done so many times before.

You both allow yourselves to close your eyes for a minute, recovering and attempting to catch your breath. You’re convinced, for a moment, that you’ll never feel more peaceful than you do right now. You breathe each other in, satiated and content.

You finally open your eyes, expecting to see nothing but fogged windows and starlit darkness. Instead, you see a man bending down, looking straight at you. Arguably the worst possible person that could see the two of you in the position you’re in.

Rupert Campbell Black.

He’s grinning like an idiot, shaking his head in disbelief.

You’re about to warn the man in your arms when Rupert opens the car door, slipping himself into the drivers seat and spinning so he’s facing you. Declan has jumped out of his skin, jolting upwards to cover you as best he can.

Rupert smirks all dirty and knowing, eyes dancing over your half naked forms.

“Well, well, well. Secrets out, lovers.”

@graceflorence @dionysus-drabbles

as aaaaaaaalways… reblogs are golden!! they’re the currency of tumblr, my loves. you reblog, and your favourite writers will write you more fics. simple as that. mwah. <3

[moon-ttokki-x]

protective!maknae line skz x maknae!9th member reader

pairing: protective!ot8!skz x maknae!9th member reader

summary: how skz would be protective of their maknae (that's you!)

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, maknae line being super sweet and supportive, mentions of acne, scars, uhh spiders? bugs in general, seungmin villain era, felix is passive aggressive (there's a valid reason i promise)

a/n: divider by @mikeykuns . also taglist is open for anyone who wants to join !

skz masterlist | hyung line

Han who watches out of the corner of his eye as your stylist sits you down in your usual chair before the show, and begins sticking stickers all over your face. When you bat their hand away, they tell you it's because of your scars and acne that's been happening recently, and Han can't fight the sudden, unexpected anger that rises up inside of his chest as he watches you sink down into the chair and go silent. Definitely gets up and puts a few of the same stickers on his own face so as not to draw attention to yours, and gently peels off a few of them on your face, telling you that you look stunning whether there are blemishes on your face or not. Spends the rest of pre-concert prep sticking stickers onto the members' butts to try and cheer you up (it works).

Felix who goes live after you received hate for your outfit at their latest concert, passive-aggressively mentioning the event and glaring through the camera. Comments flood the screen but he couldn't care less; he just doesn't see the point of hating on someone so unnecessarily for something that wasn't even their fault. Doesn't look up as you appear at the door, silently watching him chide the 'Stays' who threw hateful comments at you as you left the venue after the performance. Bravely sticks up for you despite the many repercussions it could have, and lets you sit under his desk while he changes the subject, talking to Stay through the camera about various other things. Strokes your hair and lets you rest your head on his knee, relishing his comforting warmth.

Seungmin who talks far more than usual during a certain episode of a variety show; he's watching you being pushed towards a small container, with some sort of spider or bug inside. You've mentioned to him before that that sort of thing really freaks you out, and he can see the visible distress on your face as you're forced to pick the insect up, flinching and tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Tries to draw the hosts' attention away from you so you can put the unpleasant insect down, and messes about and knocks things over to keep them occupied while you collect yourself. And, if he's feeling particularly mean (which he is) the hosts might find themselves dealing with a few creepy crawlies in their dressing room later. But it's nothing to do with him, he didn't do anything.... (yes he did).

Jeongin who quickly covers you during a performance when your voice cracks or goes unstable, not even looking at you so people don't catch onto the mistake. Even adds a few notes onto the song to draw attention away from you, and winks at you as he slides into his position for the second part of the routine, effortlessly covering the part you've missed due to the slip-up. He knows how it feels, to feel like you ruined a performance for the whole group, so he sticks with you after the show as well, holding your hand, and talking to you constantly and quietly to keep your mind off of the mistake. Even messes about with his hyungs to make you laugh (though he's terrified of what Minho might do to him later), but it's worth it to see you smile, always.

a/n: yayy second part . just keeping you guys fed <3 keep an eye out for the second part of 'stupidly perfect' (chan x reader)!

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[intrepidacious]

step number one

summary: You haven't kissed anyone in a couple of years. Johnny's more than happy to help you out.

pairing: johnny storm x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: friends to lovers, making out (in the name of practice) please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: this was supposed to be my valentine's day fic but here we are. c'est la vie. hope you still enjoy this fluffy nonsense a week later 🫶🏼

masterlist | read on ao3

"You got any plans for tomorrow?" Johnny asks the day before Valentine’s Day, spread out on your bed like usual, his eyes not lifting from his phone.

You snort. "Yeah, right."

There’s something, you think, about the aggressively pink-and-flowers-and-chocolate aesthetic of this month that well and truly makes you want to throw up. 14 per cent discounts and coupley pictures and cutesy videos have been flooding your feed for the past week and a half, and with most of your friends neatly paired off as well, it’s like there’s absolutely no escaping the—

"Why not?" Johnny asks. "I mean, pretty girl like you gotta have guys lined up around the corner." The smile in his voice is sincere enough to let you believe he really does mean that as a compliment.

"First of all, ew," you reply, closing your app after yet another "date fit" video. "Second, the last date I went on ended with the guy leaving the country, so there’s that." Granted, you’d known about his travel plans beforehand, but still.

Johnny pushes up on one elbow. "Really. Coffee shop creep?"

You scowl at him. "Don’t call him that."

He’d been nice enough. Paid for your drinks and museum tickets. Hung his jacket over your shoulders when you started shivering. Yes, he’d also ghosted you and gone to Iceland, but it wasn’t like you’d known him that well.

You’d only gotten your hopes up too soon, like you always did.

"That was your last date?" Johnny says, attention fully on you now. "Wasn’t that, like, four years ago?"

"Five," you mumble, your cheeks heating. Almost six, but who's counting? "So, no, I’m not doing Valentine’s Day."

Being single is much easier, anyway. You don’t have to consider anyone else in your life; don’t have to wonder about what they’re doing or whether their family liked you or if they’re planning a three month trip abroad … huh. Maybe that one’s still somewhat of a sore point, after all.

"Why haven’t you gone out with anyone in five years?"

"I don’t know, it just sorta happened. Not everyone goes on a date with a new person every week."

"Gross exaggeration."

"Not really," you say, nudging his side with your toes. "Do you ever see those girls a second time?"

"Sometimes. Hey, when did this become about me?" He catches your foot when you make to poke him again. His smile doesn’t waver, but his voice becomes gentler when he speaks again, a little more serious. "I thought you want a relationship."

You swallow.

"I do," you say quietly. "It’s just … it’s scary. I don’t like putting myself out there, and I’ve been so busy with everything else. I don’t have time to worry about small talk or the fact that at this point I don’t even know how to kiss anyone anymore."

It’s a vicious circle, really. Wanting something serious while also being terrified of anything serious. And suddenly, almost without noticing, years have gone by and nothing has changed at all.

Next to you, Johnny goes very still.

Honestly, it’s not the reaction you’ve expected. Deep down, you thought he’d laugh, tease you about the fact that it’s been nearly six years since you’ve gotten intimate with anyone. Sometimes, you want to laugh about it yourself, even though at the same time, you don’t find it funny at all.

But Johnny Storm has always had more layers than people give him credit for; even you, sometimes.

"Do you …" His voice cracks and he clears his throat, staring at the wall behind you. "Do you wanna practice?"

You blink, heat rushing to your cheeks before you even understand what he’s asking. "Practice what?"

"Kissing."

…

Maybe your brain short-circuited. There’s been some misfiring in your neurons, mistranslating his actual words, because there’s no way on earth he’s just suggested what you thought you heard.

"I—"

"It’d be one less thing for you to worry about, you know," he interrupts, talking quickly. You’ve never seen him look at you this intently. He seems to realize from your stunned expression, and a shadow of his earlier smile softens his face. "Don’t worry," he says. "I don’t bite unless you want me to."

Your mouth opens and closes a couple of times, your heart pounding so loud you can hear feel it behind your temples. "I don’t know how to respond to this."

"Say yes," Johnny says. "We can just try it out. We don’t have to bring it up again after today, it’ll just be … preparation, you know? Step number one of getting you back in the game."

It doesn’t feel like a game at all, this suggestion.

The craziest part about it, though, is that you are seriously considering it. You stare at him, his pretty blue eyes and his cocky grin, and the earnest expression behind his nonchalant façade. No matter your answer, he wouldn’t judge you.

Besides, it’s not like you’ve never thought about it.

You’ve caught glimpses of Johnny kissing other girls one too many times not to secretly wonder what it would be like. To feel his lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you, your hands gliding over the short buzz of his hair.

It’s longer now, maybe even long enough to tangle your fingers in and yank.

"Fine," you say quietly, and watch his smirk falter ever so slightly.

No matter his grand bravado, he clearly didn’t expect you to agree. It’s sweet, the way he scrambles to sit up properly, not even caring that his phone drops to the floor.

"Yeah?"

You swallow, nod. There’s an excited blush spreading on his cheeks that’s kind of endearing but also makes you want to melt into the ground. The way he’s staring at your lips makes you feel aware of every single cell in your body. You can’t remember ever being looked at like this.

"Do you want to …?"

"I don’t know, can you just—"

His hand cups your cheek, warm and steady. He’s always so warm.

"Close your eyes," he says lowly, and they fall shut of their own accord.

You don’t think you’re breathing as you wait, your hands fisted into your blanket as if you’re trying to hold on for dear life. Maybe you are.

For a very long moment, nothing happens, and you’re starting to feel like you’re being ridiculed after all. Like you’re going to open your eyes to Johnny laughing in your—

His lips brush against yours, just a single, careful touch, lingering, testing the waters. You don’t dare to move, or breathe, or do anything but feel. Your mind is racing, even though you cannot catch a single coherent thought.

The sheets rustle, the mattress dipping as Johnny breaks the kiss, adjusting his position. His thumb is still on your cheek, a gentle caress.

"You in there, darlin’?"

"Yeah." Your grip loosens a little.

"Okay." His breath fans over your lips. "You wanna try again?"

You’ve barely started nodding before he dives in again.

This time, you’re a little more ready for it, moving your mouth against his experimentally. He smells nice. You don’t know what to do with your hands.

He pulls away again and your heart tugs painfully, but he only tilts his head the other way and goes back to kissing you, still so soft, so languidly, like he has all the time in the world. He makes no rush of deepening the kiss, which is so like and unlike him at the same time.

It’s you, then, who leans in closer, your tongue slipping into his mouth, your brain going in and out of focus with each shuddering breath as he responds fervently. His fingers move down to your chin, angling it just a little. One of your hands lands on his shoulder, seeking balance.

He tastes sweet. Dangerously addictive.

This time, you’re the one to move back, your eyes flying open, feeling like his fire has set your entire body aflame. "How’d I do?"

Johnny blinks a couple of times, staring at your mouth, his pupils blown wide. You press your lips together.

"Not bad," he says hoarsely. "Maybe a little …"

"What?"

"Come here."

He catches your hands, putting them around his neck. It’s an awkward position, the rest of your body still angled away from his until he raises an eyebrow.

You realize there’s two options before you, and you’re not ready to have him on top of you in your own bed.

Instead, you straddle his thighs, looking over his shoulder to not have to meet his eye. His arms fall around you, settling at your lower back, pleasurable heat crawling up your spine.

"This okay?"

You kiss him again.

He makes a startled noise against your mouth, tightening his hold on you as his head drops back, granting you easier access. Your heart is pounding so wildly in your chest it’s making you dizzy.

It’s the most natural thing in the world, to kiss him like this. To scratch your fingernails against the nape of his neck until he makes that sound again. It vibrates against your tongue, and you melt against him, his body hot and solid against yours. Even when you come apart for air, he’s the only real thing in the world.

There’s nothing innocent about the way your mouths crash together now. He swallows your surprised moan like he’s been hungering for it, his hands bunching up your shirt at your back. You shudder against him when he grazes bare skin, each new touch burning in the most delicious manner. You’re weightless, intertwined, content to never again draw a single breath that hasn’t fallen from his lips first.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting your mouth in a way that borders on desperate. You press even closer to him, your fingers slipping into his hair in that way you’ve wanted to for longer than you’ve cared to admit even to yourself, hips involuntarily stuttering against his until he groans, responding in kind to each push and pull.

Finally, after what well may have been hours, you come apart, your forehead pressed to his, chests heaving. You don’t want to open your eyes; don’t want to return to the aftermath of what you’ve just done.

"Go out with me."

You sit back. Johnny’s arms are still draped around you, and there’s a mesmerized smile on his face as he looks at you. "What?"

"Go out with me. On a date." His voice is rough and strangely hopeful, and it makes your stomach flutter. "I promise no small talk."

"You’re not serious."

"About you?" His gaze drops to your lips again. "Always." His nose bumps against yours. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" You exhale shakily, dropping to a whisper. "That’s soon."

"Hmm."

"Maybe I should practice some more before then."

He smiles against your mouth.

thank you for reading my first full length johnny fic 😌 i'm sure it won't be the last. if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale. 

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him. 

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“‘Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol. 

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

First | Previous | TBC... Masterlist

[seasidefallenangel]

she's got those evil eyes (2)

bllk boys and their mean girlfriends ft nagi seishiro, hiori yo, michael kaiser

notes: i got asked to make a part 2, reader is still a bitch, hiori and kaiser's kinda suggestive?, part 1

༄ nagi seishiro:

✣ his pr team asking him to care about his girlfriend’s actions is like pulling teeth - only twenty times more frustrating. whatever you say goes as far as he’s concerned. even if he himself doesn’t wanna do something, the glare in your eyes with your foot tapping impatiently on the hardwood floor causes a quiet, “yes, boss,” to fall from his lips in submission. maybe he’s a tiny bit scared of you, but he also knows it’s just easier to give you whatever you want and be your watchdog to shield you from criticism instead.

⁀➷ if nagi died in the next five seconds then he would be satisfied. going out with your nails gently massaging his scalp while he snuggles against your stomach and plays on his phone is probably the closest to heaven anyone has ever been. so when that hand is so cruel as to leave his head in favor of smashing the keys on your phone, he’s very obviously displeased. “come baaack,” he mumbles with a slight whine in his voice. you’re unresponsive, causing him to move and look up at you, asking, “what are you doing now?” he has a vague idea of what considering his manager is rapid texting him to log onto your account and delete your tweets, but he simply mutes the conversation. you mutter that it’s nothing he needs to worry about, and he just responds with, “mkay,” before tugging your hand to his hair again, intent on being coddled by you. 

༄ hiori yo:

✣ the devil on your shoulder whispering to do all this stuff in the first place. he knows he looks completely harmless, so you’re the perfect cover for him to let out all his deranged thoughts by proxy. it looks like he has a tight leash on you, but the reins are barely even held in his hands. kurona sends him an interview one of the paparazzi managed to snag of you walking out from the grocery store, and hiori flat out leaves practice because he needs to see you now.

⁀➷ the recording of your voice echoes from his cell phone while he enters your shared home after rushing there. a grin lies on his face as he hears you tell the reporter how you’re thrilled that his worthless life led him to hassling a soccer player’s girlfriend before yanking his camera and throwing it on the ground. a fair share of comments say you had every right to do so considering the invasive nature of the press while the rest disagree, saying it was far too aggressive. if anything, hiori wishes you were more aggressive.

you can’t even get a word in as he sits on the couch, gripping your wrists almost painfully while tugging you into his lap. his lips are on yours faster than you can blink - kissing you so hard you feel lightheaded but it’s just not enough. hiori needs you pliant beneath him, that nasty streak of yours quelled by his suffocating hold. despite that, part of him wants you kicking and cursing him out, teeth gnashing as blood from your lips trickles into his mouth. his heart is clawing its way out of his chest and eager to jump into yours, for you to become an extension of his body. an endless plethora of breathy “i love you”s is his confession of how badly he wants to break you, and have you break him in return.

༄ michael kaiser:

✣ be serious - he’s the one you’re fighting with the most. there’s nothing he loves more than to rile you up, knowing how fast your temper will crack. a self proclaimed expert at getting under your skin if he had to describe it. though he still enjoys seeing how harsh you can be with the general public, his favorite pastime will always be pissing you off. quite frankly, he tends to get jealous when you’re paying just a bit too much attention to others during your rampages. 

⁀➷ an amused smirk rests on kaiser’s face as he leisurely stands against the frame of your shared bedroom’s door. if he’s being honest, part of him isn’t even listening. you’re busy spitting out insults about his demeanor towards one of your friends and all he can think about is ripping the attitude out of you. not forever, of course. the enjoyment he gets from your outbursts is far too valuable. maybe just for a night or two so he can enjoy his docile puppy before you begin baring your teeth towards him once more. even now as you grow more irate, he’s walking over like he has all the time in the world - completely unbothered.

his fingers curl around your chin, paying no mind to the way you try to bite them off. instead, he’s cooing at you like you’re a harmless child. “hm? what’s got you all worked up, haschen? have i not been giving you enough attention?” his all-knowing tone infuriates you and you’re about to try and mutilate him until his hand slides down to your throat, squeezing just enough to know that he can and will rip the breath from your lungs. voice eerily low, he stares into your eyes with a piercing grin and unsettling smile, asking, “should i show you how i deal with feral animals?”

[bbyobbyo]

seventeen as dads headcanons

content: reader is married to svt, normative(?) family structure, literally just unhinged thoughts, not proofread lol

note: was trying to write an actual fic but then got distracted sorry, dadventeen brainrot is so real

Seungcheol

Super protective “don’t touch my family” dad outwardly

All of his kids’ friends are straight up SCARED of him

But within the household he's the one sneaking ice cream when you say no, albeit guiltily

Shopping trips with him will always result in buying something for them and he is very willing to be taken advantage of

“Babe if I can’t spoil them now, they’re gonna grow up and move out before we know it!”

Tries his best to be handy around the house, but probably makes it worse, ends up calling Mingyu to come fix it

Jeonghan

DEFINITELY a “go ask your mom” dad

This man not only powerless, he doesn't even want the power, he's just here to have a good time and if you say they can't, then sorry kiddo

You can’t tell me that he doesn’t bring up becoming a family prank channel at least once a week

LOVES bragging to everyone else about his kid’s achievements, cannot shut up about them to anyone in a 5 foot radius tbh

His kids definitely talk to him about everything, which is great because he is SO nosy.

Has a list of all their best friends, enemies, and crushes at school somewhere on his notes app for future reference when they come to him for advice

Joshua

The REAL practical joke dad, admittedly made them cry a few times when they were younger and felt really bad about it

Perfect sweet husband and father in image, all of his kids know he’s actually lame af

Dominates the summer barbeques, UNDISPUTED GRILLMASTER

Super dependable, will drop everything if his family needs him and never goes back on his word

Gives surprisingly good fashion advice

Jun

Definitely walks around the neighborhood with his baby in a sling carrier strapped to his front, POINTS AT EVERYTHING OF INTEREST

When they start learning how to speak he adopts all his baby’s weird mannerisms (it started off as a cute joke but then realized he couldn’t stop)

Cries at every baby milestone until they’re like 10

Will not stop bringing up embarrassing childhood moments, especially in front of their kids’ friends/significant others

Cuts fruit for them instead of apologizing

Hoshi

Will fully ally himself with his kids

Like legit would do anything for them. ANYTHING.

I’m talking borderline go to his kid's school to beat up their hypothetical bullies himself sort of dad

The kids can always count on him to say yes if you say no

Absolutely DEVASTATED when they grow out of the tiger stuff he buys for them and become angsty teens

“What do you mean tigers aren’t cool? Do you not love your old man anymore?”

Wonwoo

Quiet doting dad

Definitely more affectionate when the kids are younger but gets into the awkward advice-giving stage when they grow up

LAME DAD JOKES GALORE, groaning is a regular activity in this household

Tries to google basic algebra every time his kids ask for help on math homework because he doesn’t want to admit he forgot everything

Chaotic af unsupervised. “Guess we’re having pizza again tonight kiddos” kinda dad because he cannot and should not cook

Jihoon

Another quiet dad, but make it savage

I feel like he would just love roasting his kids (affectionately of course)

And always overwhelmingly acts of service so his kids know they are loved

Allowance randomly appearing under their pillow, their favorite foods magically stocked in the fridge, always relenting to one last bedtime story no matter how tired he is

Would let you have final say but he makes it really clear he’s on their side and empathizes with them but its out of his hands

“Next time just don’t get caught, okay?” *winks*

Minghao

Loves loves loves just spending time with his babies

Doesn’t matter what he’s doing he just wants to be in the same room as them or cuddling and holding them

Emphasizes equality in your relationship so his kids can grow up with those values and learn to respect others

TURNS EVERYTHING INTO A LIFE LESSON OH MY GOD

Doesn’t believe in allowances but will cave and literally buy them anything they want if they ask

Would rather die than miss any important event (competition, speech, recital, talent show, graduation, etc.)

Mingyu

Absolute super dad, what can’t he do? Nonstop home improvement projects, cooks anything his kids are craving, offers to drive everyone everywhere

But also the whiniest dad ever lol constantly complains about people “ruining his system”

Absolutely FUCKS at the school bake sales, earns them twice the target fundraiser amounts because he's dilf material and knows how to get the moms to spill their pockets

Likes to have the final say, but you’re both usually on the same page in regards to discipline so his kids aren’t getting away with anything

Just the most supportive dad in the universe, the kids learn to never take him for granted

Seokmin

You already know his kids are gonna be spoiled rotten. He will be the favorite parent by default sorry I don't make the rules!!

His arms are the very definition of a safe space

Leaves all the discipline to you because he cannot keep a straight face when delivering a lecture (one time he made them cry and also ended up crying because he felt so bad)

Does so much embarrassing shit just to cheer his kids up when they have a bad day, acts surprised when they tell him he's cringe

Such a pushover that they are probably gonna make fun of him when they're older, but that's okay because they know there's no universe in which their dad will stop loving them

Seungkwan

As long as he can pick them up still, his kids are never on the ground for too long

Two words: SPORTS. DAD.

He could practically captain the cheerleading teams at their school with how many events he's been to

Knows all of his kids’ friends parents, they all get together and have coffee once a month actually

Nags nonstop and complains about everything he has to do for them, but is always diligent and does it without question

Gets so pouty when they start getting embarrassed to show affection, he WILL get his cheek kisses if it's the last thing he does!!

Vernon

Chillest dad in existence?!?

Literally as long as his kids are safe he doesn't give a single fuuuuckkk

“Sleepover? Yeah, call me when you're done and I'll pick you up.”

He WILL argue with you if he doesn't think there's a good reason to say no to them

So cute and encouraging to all their weird hobbies and phases throughout the years. “Lemme see” and “Really? Show me” are regular phrases in his vocabulary

His kids are definitely gonna inherit his legendary facial expressions afnngjdg

Chan

Super affectionate and doting, but also quite strict with them at times

“I just want the best for you, I want to see you succeed”

HAS A PHOTO OF THEM READY AT ANY TIME, lockscreen is a different shot of his kids every day and is eager to show it off even if no one asked

Not so subtly signs his kid up for dance lessons

Just the most encouraging dad ever, makes sure that they know making mistakes are a part of life and that he will always love them no matter what

[nonsensology]

Later at the wish granting ceremony, CEO Magnifico announces he’s greenlit Ice Age 6 and five more live-action remakes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

There are so many cancelled and unrealized projects that Disney is sitting on, that they do not benefit from in any way by keeping them locked up tight. They really ought to just let them go if they don't have any intentions of doing anything with them.

Incidentally, I could never agree with the mentality of “Magnifico is actually the hero, and Asha is the TRUE villain” that a lot of people seem to have. I drew my comic based on this post. I feel like if more people had been aware of this possible interpretation, they wouldn’t have sympathized with Magnifico.

Does Wish have bad writing? Yes, it does. And it’s because of that bad writing that every single character suffers. What I think happened is that, as a result of said bad writing, Asha became a character that’s so uncompelling and lacks uniqueness that she ends up a blank slate for audiences to project their frustrations with the movie onto. King Magnifico on the other hand, is probably the most interesting and entertaining character, due in no small part to Chris Pine’s performance, and so the audience is much more sympathetic towards him and willing to ignore his flaws.

One of Asha’s problems as a character is that she doesn’t really contribute much to the story. By contrast, Magnifico’s downfall is brought about entirely as a result of his own actions. Magnifico is in fact not a good leader, because he gives in to paranoia and temptation, acts in a very unprofessional manner, and escalates the conflict to an absurd degree.

Please note, Asha does not get upset that Magnifico refuses to grant her grandfather’s wish, nor does she ever demand that Magnifico needs to grant every wish. She gets upset that he insinuates that her grandfather might have dangerous intentions, and because he does not have a convincing reason why he doesn’t return wishes that he won’t grant. Rather than calmly explaining his reasoning to her, Magnifico rudely dismisses Asha and then blows up at her.

If Magnifico were a good leader, he would have explained to each person WHY he won’t grant their wish, and given them advice on alternatives. As it stands, he knows full well that everyone expects their wish to be granted. It’s why they even came to Rosas in the first place, it is the literal reason he even built his kingdom. He clearly makes a big spectacle out of the wish granting ceremonies, which every citizen visibly goes wild for. He never elaborates to anyone his specific standards for the wishes he chooses to grant, other than a broad statement of "for the good of the kingdom". In his regard, Magnifico reminds me of bureaucratic systems that never provide every option or solution upfront, with their logic being "you didn't ask".

Not to mention, he literally tells Asha, "People think wishes are just ideas. But no, no, they are a part of your heart. The very best part." He knows, for a fact, how important wishes are to everyone. But the movie's awful writing makes him think the best solution to dealing with wishes that MIGHT have dangerous consequences, is to just hoard them. All that returning the ungranted wishes will accomplish is returning the memory of what the wish even is, that's literally it, and the people will be no better off than they were before they gave Magnifico their wish.

I dunno about you guys, but whenever I watched stories that preached “be careful what you wish for”, my takeaway was never “your desires could be dangerous and you should never pursue them for fear of disaster”, I always thought the stories were telling us, “beware of anything that promises instant gratification, because it’s usually too good to be true, and will cost you more than you will gain”. While the things you want in life may have disastrous consequences, you won’t really know until you try to pursue them through your own honest efforts, and not through “magical” shortcuts. That’s how we learn and grow, through trial and error. 

As it currently stands from my point of view, when people say "Magnifico has every right to keep ungranted wishes" it looks like they're unintentionally saying, “The Disney Corporation has every right to keep your work and ideas, because you willingly and legally handed them over. Tough luck if you regret the deal you were given. No takesies backsies!”

While I have found no evidence to confirm that the filmmakers intended for Magnifico to be a criticism of Corporate Disney, considering the inclusion of the animation sweatshop scene in Pixar's Inside Out 2, I think the probability is likely. (Not to mention, when Asha shows Magnifico her little flipbook animation, he dismissively remarks “Do we consider that a talent?”)

Please note, everyone is free to rewrite and reinterpret Magnifico however they want. He's just a fictional character after all, and fan content is supposed to be for fun. I just think it's funny how defensive people get over him a he appears in the final movie. They say he deserved better, and I agree, but we have very different ideas of what "better" means. In fact, I think every character in Wish deserved better, because again, they were all victims of bad writing. My problem isn't that they took a good man and made him arbitrarily "evil", it's that they didn't make him evil enough from the very beginning. Remember those deleted scenes featuring a villainous Magnifico with better writing, along with an evil Amaya that he can play off of? I'm fairly certain that everyone unanimously agreed these deleted scenes were much better than the final movie, and yet some still insist that Magnifico should have been a hero all along. I dunno, it's a funny dichotomy. 

EDIT: A few days after posting I came across this video essay supporting the interpretation of Magnifico as a critique of Corporate Disney and I loved it. Please go watch it!

[writerinthewoods05]

Hellooooo! I've never really sent a request before so I hope I'm doing this right. I saw that you write for adult Nyx and NO ONE ever really writes for him so I was wondering if you could write Nyx x reader based off of the song "not like I'm in love with you" by LEW. Basically just them being like older teenagers maybe and just acting like pining idiots. Maybe if you could do some smut too🥺🙏 I just I love your stuff and I've had this idea in my head and I can't write it myself so... Also I love shadows and snow angels!!!! So cute!!!

Oh my gosh Lovely, your brain! I love it! This was so fun to work on and I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

We're just friends, right?

Nyx Archeron x Fem Reader

Here's the Spotify code if anyone wanted to listen while reading, just screenshot or download it and scan it in the app.

Ever since Nyx turned 18 he was always flirting a new female. He hardly ever spent time with you anymore and you were upset! I mean you had every write to be, you were his best friend, Which meant you automatically deserved his undivided attention constantly. Rhys thinks otherwise, maybe he can try to knock some sense into you both.

Word count: 10.1k oh my God!!!!

Requested: yes!

Warnings: smut, so much plot, jealousy, p-in-v, oral F receiving, unprotected sex, fairly vanilla surprisingly, Nyx being oblivious for a bit, Nyx also being a skirt chaser, Rhys being the dad we all deserve, we die like men

💔🔥💘

Author's note: this took sooooooooo looooooong! First the app glitched and I lost an hour worth of editing. Then it did it again and I gave up for about 20 minutes and then I came back to try again to find that the app did save the changes and just decided not to tell me! In any case, this fic has taken over 7 hours of editing so far not including the writing so I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!

You sat on Nyx's bed and listened to him as he told you about the fling he had the night before. He was in the bathroom, a towel hanging loosely around his waist as he shaved. You rolled your eyes for the millionth time knowing he couldn't see you at the moment. You were Nyx's best friend had been since you were kids, Unfortunately that meant that you were basically volunteering to listen to him after he has a fling with a new female. Oh well you choose this...

"Ok so after Rita's you took her back to her place and...."

Nyx poked his head out of the bathroom, a lather of shaving cream on his jaw as his eyes met yours. He flashed you a cheeky grin, clearly amused by your eye-rolling antics.

"Well, as you can imagine, things got a bit... heated," he said, drawling the last word. "I mean, have you seen Mia's s place? The view alone was enough to get my blood pumping." He chuckled and disappeared back into the bathroom, the sound of the faucet turning back on. You could hear him continue, his voice echoing slightly off the tiled walls,

"So there we were, on her balcony, the city lights twinkling below us... and one thing led to another. You know how it goes, Anyway, let's just say she was quite... enthusiastic, and the things that girl can do with her hands... Also she moaned like a bitch.. in a good way of course you know Very vocal, if you catch my drift." Another pause, followed by a low, appreciative whistle.

Nyx emerged a moment later, now shaving cream-free and rubbing a towel over his freshly shaven jaw. He flopped down on the bed next to you, still bare- chested and barefoot, the towel just barely covering his modesty.

"Honestly, Y/n, the things that girl could do with her tongue... I'm not sure I'll ever be the same." He shuddered dramatically, a dazed grin spreading across his face at the memory. You knew he was just try to pester you but said nothing. Rolling over to face you, he propped himself up on one elbow, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief and self- satisfaction.

"So, what do you think? Should I go see her again like tomorrow, Or do you think I should let her miss me.... just a little bit?" His grin turned sly, a eyebrow arching wickedly as he waited for your reaction. He knew you'd give him hell, but he also knew you'd never stop him from having his fun... even if a small part of you wished it could be you he was eager to see again.

You gave him a kinda grossed out face at hearing the details but thought for a second. You were just being a good friend, at least that's what you told yourself. It's not like you wanted him like that.... It was just... Whatever...

"You should go for it, I mean if you enjoyed yourself that much... Why wait right?"

Nyx's grin widened, his eyes glinting with triumph as he saw the slightly green tinge to your face.

"Why so squeamish, Y/n?" he teased, reaching out to playfully boop your nose. "It's not like I'm telling you anything you haven't heard before Besides, you're the one who always says I should be more adventurous. He smirked, the word dripping with innuendo. Rolling onto his back, Nyx folded his hands behind his head, stretching out languidly like a satisfied cat.

"I think... I think I will take your advice. Meet up with mia again tomorrow night, see where things go. Unless... you have other plans for me?" His tone was playful, but there was a flicker of something more in his eyes as he looked at you, a hint of a different kind of hunger,

"Gross!"

You shoved his shoulder as he sat up, grabbing the towel before it could fall. You smirked and watched as he entered his closet to find an outfit. It always stung to hear about Nyx's escapades for some reason but he was the high lord and lady's son. He was as witty as his mother and as handsome as his father, no wonder females basically threw themselves at his feet. You'd be lying if you hand thought about doing the same but really you and Nyx had been friends since you were kids, you were just being ridiculous.

"How about this time you wear a shirt that has buttons past your bellybutton" You tease him as you stay on the bed and let him change in peace. Nyx stuck his head out of the closet, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he took in your flushed cheeks and the way you'd shoved his shoulder.

"Oh, so now you're modesty police?" he teased, his voice dripping with mock outrage. "I thought you liked the view, Y/n." His eyes twinkled with playful accusation, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He disappeared back into the closet, the rustle of fabric and the clunk of hangers on the rack filling the air. A moment later, he emerged wearing a crisp black shirt, the buttons indeed done up all the way to the top. The shirt accentuated the broad expanse of his shoulders and the lean lines of his chest. He did a little twirl, his grin widening as he caught you staring.

"There, is this better?" he asked, a smug note in his voice. "Or do you have other... sartorial advice you'd like to share?" There was a playful lilt to his tone, but also a hint of something softer, gentler. A warmth that made your heart skip a beat, even as your mind told you you were being ridiculous. You stood with an annoyed smile and walked over to him before making him lightly on the chest and walking past him into the closet.

"Well now you just look like nerd. At least unto the top two, seriously how you ever get laid is beyond me..." You say sarcastically as you grab a jacket that would match his look and the weather both.

Nyx's eyes widened in mock offense at your teasing jab, a hand flying to his chest as if wounded.

"A nerd? Me? Why, because I actually bother to cover up in polite company?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I'll have you know, the ladies find my intellect... captivating... Among other things..." He said with a smirk as he flecks his arms making the fabric go taut. there was a playful gleam in his eye, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As you rummaged through his closet, pulling out a sleek leather jacket that would complement his outfit perfectly. Nyx leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an amused expression.

"But I suppose I can take your fashion advice, just this once," he said, plucking the jacket from your hands and slipping it on. The leather hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his lean, athletic build. He struck a pose, cocking an eyebrow at you with a grin. "There. I'm practically a fashion icon now, Happy now?" There was a playful note in his voice, a teasing lilt that made your heart flutter in your chest. But there was something more too, a warmth and affection that made you feel cherished, valued...

"your a dork you know that." You say chuckling as you pass him again to go get your shoes and purse. It was Friday which mean you, Nyx, Rhys, Feyre, Azriel and Morr would go to Rita's, to have a night out. Nyx's grin only widened at your teasing jab, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Guilty as charged," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "But you love me anyway, you big softy." He winked at you, a playful smirk on his lips as he watched you gather your things. As you both made your way downstairs, Nyx slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close.

"You ready for a night out?" he asked, a note of excitement in his voice. "I hear Rita's has a few new drinks on the menu . Might be a good chance to cut loose, dance a bit, maybe with someone else for a change..." His eyebrows danced suggestively above his smirk, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

Nyx's parents and aunt and uncle were already waiting by the door, looking stunning as always. Feyre's gown was a shimmering work of art, while Rhys and Morr were equally impeccable in their formal attire. Azriel even wearing his normal black leathers seemed to look just as put together as always. They turned to greet you both, warm smiles on their faces. "Bekah, you look lovely," Feyre said, pulling you in for an air kiss on each cheek. "And you, my love look like your father, as always." she teased, a playful note in her voice.

"thanks mama." Nyx's eyes crinkled with affection as he came and kissed his mother on the cheek.

Already you could feel the anticipation building, the promise of a night filled with laughter, dancing, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to let go and be a little reckless. You could only hope that nyx would actually spend the night with you guys instead of running off for the night with the first female he smiles at. It had been so long since he had actually spent time with any of you when you weren't at the house.

once you got to Rita's, the six of your found a table and ordered dinner and drinks. This was probably the third or fourth time you'd been allowed to drink alcohol here. You didn't handle it particularly well and You didn't love it by any means but you tolerated it enough to indulge when your overly nervous.

You glanced over at Nyx, noticing he was quieter than usual. You followed his gaze to a pretty blond female all the way at the bar across the dance floor. Of course..... You'd been here 10 minutes and he already got his eyes set on someone, at least he wasn't up and leaving the table yet but you knew that could change at any second so you focused your attention on having a conversation with Rhys. Nyx wasn't a womanizer, he was kind and did think of other people's feelings. Granted if a female showed interest in him he usually wouldn't turn her down but he was never against a relationsh- why the hell are you even thinking about this! It has nothing to do with you! Gods what is wrong with you as of late, it was exhausting....

Nyx felt your gaze on him and glanced over, catching your eye. He offered you a small, distracted smile, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. The blonde at the bar had caught his attention, her laughter ringing out over the pulsing beat of the music as she joked with her friends. He downed the rest of his drink, the amber liquid burning its way down his throat, before standing abruptly.

"Be right back," he murmured, not quite meeting your eyes as he made his way towards the bar. You watched him go, a mix of exasperation and... something else, something you didn't want to acknowledge, churning in your gut. This was just like Nyx, spotting a pretty face and being drawn in like a moth to a flame. But then again, when had he ever been able to resist a challenge, a chance to charm and captivate? It was in his nature, a part of his very being, Feyre said he got that from his father. And yet, a small, traitorous part of you wished, just for once, that he might look at you the same way, with that same heated intensity... But no, you pushed that thought away, disgusted with yourself for even entertaining such a notion.

you mentally try to shake the feeling of and turn your attention back to Rhys seeing as your friend as yet again left family time to go get laid. Shit this was becoming a habit... And it was really starting to bothering you.

Rhys noticed your distraction and followed your gaze to where Nyx was now engaged in animated conversation with the blonde, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, studying you with a thoughtful expression. "He's a grown male, sweetling," Rhys said, his voice a low rumble. "He knows what he's doing." There was a note of mild reproach in his tone, a subtle reminder that you were being a bit... overprotective. Possessive, even. But then again, Rhys had always seen the depth of your bond with his son, the unbreakable connection forged in childhood that had only grown stronger with time.

you made a face and shook your head dismissively.

"I know that. It's just... Annoying," Sure let's go with that. You thanked the Cauldron when your drinks arrived. You took a large sip of your drink in hopes of clearing your head of what ever this possessive, Jealous feeling... No, not not jealous, that would be ridiculous...

"This used to be when we all would spend time together and ever since be turned 18 he never... Nevermind, doesn't matter."

You took another sip and made absolutely sure to keep your eyes away from the bar. Rhys's eyes softened as he studied your face, a flicker of understanding in their depths. He reached out, his large hand coming to rest on your shoulder in a comforting, fatherly gesture. "Ah, y/n," he said, a note of gentle reproach in his voice. "Is that what's bothering you? That things have changed now that your both getting older?" His gaze drifted to where his son stood still engrossed in conversation with the blonde. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he turned back to you.

"He's not a child anymore, sweetling. He has... needs and desires that he's just beginning to explore. It's natural, at his age. Lets not forget, he's a freshly adult Illyrian male, I'm not going to sit her and pretend that we aren't known for getting around. Rhys's thumb absently rubbed your shoulder, a soothing motion. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to spend time with you anymore. You're still his bestfriend, That will never change-"

You cut him off and shrug him his hand off of your shoulder. Rhys had always been like a second dad to you and you were always very welcome to any advice he had for you but for once you didn't want to fucking hear it. You made sure to slam your mental shields up and close the cracks snugly before your responded.

"I don't need the sex talk Rhys. I'm not a kid either ok, I just meant that it just... Aggravating that he'd rather spend his time chasing females that do actually give a fuck about him over spending time with his family. It fine he's his own person, it's just annoying...."

You you didn't try to cover the disgruntled look on your face as you down the last of your drink as signal the bartender to send you another. Rhys watched as you downed your drink and signaled for another, a hint of concern flickering across his face. He knew this was a sensitive subject for you, a raw nerve that you didn't want him to touch. But he also knew that sometimes, the things we didn't want to hear were the things we needed to hear most.

"Y/n," he said softly, his voice low and gentle. "I understand your frustration. I do. But you need to accept that people change as they grow older, and so do their priorities. Nyx will always make time for you, no matter what. But he's also entitled to his own life, his own experiences."

Rhys paused, letting his words sink in. "Spending time with a pretty female isn't a betrayal of his friendship with you. It's a part of him growing up, and I know you used to be extremely close but-"

you just stood and grabbed your bag before turning to Rhys a badly disguised pissed off expression etched into your face.

"Actually I'll see you all at home. l forgot I have to be up early tomorrow, I'm gonna head home early."

You said with a dry tone before turning and striding to the exit and leaving. It was clear that Rhys, in trying to meditate, had only pissed you off more. What he didn't see was the hurt that made you feel like screaming when you realized Nyx hadn't even noticed you'd left. You only felt the burning of Rhys and Feyre's gaze burning into your back.

Nyx was still engrossed in conversation with the blonde, oblivious to your abrupt departure. He was laughing at something she said, a hand resting casually on her hip as he leaned in close to hear her over the pulsing music. The blonde was eating it up, hanging onto his every word, her eyes shining with admiration and a hint of something more. Nyx was in his element, charming and captivating, but he was also utterly focused on his new companion, not sparing a thought for the empty chair across the room where you had been sitting. The sight made you sick, your stomach twisting painfully.

You didn't stop storming out of the building even when you hard footsteps coming after you. You finally decided to turn and for a half second your heart jumped to see a dark figure emerge from the the doors. Only to have that flutter be smashed again to see Rhys exit and not his son. Nyx really didn't even notice you left... Why the fuck did you even care anyway, the answer was getting harder and harder to deny with every passing day.

"Y/n, wait," he said, his voice low and urgent. Rhys caught up to you quickly, his longstrides eating up the distance between you. He reached out, his hand closing around your elbow, halting your furious retreat.

"I know you're upset, but please, talk to me, you know I'm always here." There was a note of concern in his tone, a hint of something else, something that made your heart skip a beat despite your anger.

Rhys guided you to a quiet spot nearby, away from the thrumming music and chatter of the bar. He studied your face, his brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and worry. "Talk to me," he coaxed softly, his thumb rubbing small circles on your elbow. "Tell me what's really bothering you. Is it... is it just about Nyx? Or is something else? Whatever it it, bottling it up isn't going to help you sweetling." His gaze was intense, searching, as if he could see right through to the tangled mess of your emotions. As if he knew that the anger masking your face was only a flimsy veil for something much deeper, much harder to name.

You close your eyes and force yourself to keep your mental shielding up as you thought of a way to respond without sounding absolutely pathetic.

"I just... I have, other things going on and I'm just... Like I said I have to be up early tomorrow, I'd just be better if I went home now..."

You avoided the question with as many lies you could muster. You HATED lying to Rhys but you felt like your heart and mind was rebelling against each other and you couldn't tell him why you were upset if you couldn't even admit it to yourself

Rhys's eyes narrowed, a flicker of skepticism crossing his handsome features. He wasn't convinced by your flimsy excuse, and he knew you well enough to see through any pretense. Leaning in closer, his voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur,

"Y/n darling, look at me." His fingers tightened gently on your elbow, a silent command. "I've known you since you were a little girl. Your the closet to a daughter I have and I can tell when something is your not telling me something, and why won't you just tell me what's wrong?" His gaze softened, a glimmer of compassion and understanding in their depths. "Please, talk to me. Let me help you, you know the last thing I'll ever do is judge you for hurting... whatever it may be. You don't have to do it alone." There was a tender note in his voice, a gentle encouragement, as if he were coaxing a skittish horse to trust him. His thumb continued its slow, soothing circles on your elbow, a silent promise of comfort and support.

Your eyes were locked on the concrete as they welled slightly and you just let yourself lean forward to hug him.

"I'm just... I don't have a right or a... A reason to be mad but I am... And I'm so fucking angry that I don't know why..."

Another lie... You knew deep down exactly why you were angry and it wasn't even with Nyx. You were mad at yourself for being a fucking coward.

Rhys wrapped his strong arms around you as you leaned into his embrace, holding you close. He made no move to pull away, allowing you the comfort of his warm, solid presence. "Shh, it's alright," he murmured, one hand coming up to stroke your hair in a soothing gesture. He he rested his cheek on top of your head gently as rocked you from side to side, the same why he would when you were a kid and scraped your knee. "Everyone has a right to their feelings, Bekah. You don't need a reason to be upset." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "Sometimes, the most difficult feelings to understand are the ones that come from within ourselves. They can be the hardest to acknowledge, to accept." His voice was low and gentle, a tender rumble in your ear. His hand continued its gentle caress, a silent reminder of his unwavering support and love.

"it's like I don't exist to him anymore..."

You whispered into his chest and just slumped to lean into him more. You had never even wanted 'that type of attention from Nyx but at the same time, for some reason, you didn't think you'd ever have to ask for it either....

Rhys's arms tightened around you as he heard the quiet admission, a flicker of realization crossing his face. He leaned back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Darling," he said softly, his eyes searching yours with a newfound understanding. "You could never be ignored, not by anyone, and certainly not by my son." His thumb brushed gently over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "I love you, sweetling. We all do." His voice dropped to a low, fervent whisper.

His gaze held yours, intense and sincere, a silent promise. "And I know Nyx loves you too, even if he's not always the most... perceptive about showing it." A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he pulled you back into his embrace, cradling you close. "Give him a chance, sweetling. Give yourself a chance to see what's right in front of both of you." His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he held you, a silent comfort and reassurance.

"He's always perceptive... That's the problem..."

Rhys stilled, a flicker of surprise and a hint of something else, something softer, crossing his features. He searched your face, a new understanding dawning in his eyes.

"You're upset because you feel invisible to him. Because you think he doesn't see you the way you've always seen him." His voice was low and gentle, a tender murmur. "But darling... that couldn't be further from the truth."

"Nyx sees you, Y/n. He's always seen you. He's just... not always the best about showing how he feels." A wry smile tugged at his lips before he brushed a tender kiss to your forehead, a silent comfort. "Be patient with him, you know he can be a bit slow sometimes." He said giving you tight squeeze if only to make you laugh.

"Right, he sees me and because he can't talk to me about it, he goes fucks anything with a pair of tits cuz that makes perfect fucking sense!"

Your anger flared faster that the heaviness that settled onto your chest once again. You pushed out of Rhys's hold before covering your face with your hands and giving Rhys a quiet apology before just turning on your heel and winnowing back to the river house.

Rhys watched you go, a mix of concern and newfound understanding etched into his handsome features. He stood there for a long moment, his brows furrowed as he processed the revelation, the pieces falling into place like a puzzle. Then, with a determined set to his jaw, he strode purposefully back into the bar, his mind made up.

Nyx was still engrossed in conversation with the blonde when Rhys approached, a look of grim determination on his face. He tapped Nyx on the shoulder, a gesture that was almost a bit too rough to be polite. Nyx turned, a look of embarrassment and mild annoyance flashing across his face before he saw who had interrupted him. Rhys leaned in close, his voice a low growl in Nyx's ear.

"A word, son?" he said, a note of command in his tone. He didn't wait for a response before turning and heading towards the entrance once again, expecting Nyx to follow. Nyx hesitated for a moment, a flicker of confusion and irritation in his eyes, before he muttered a quick apology to the blonde and followed in his father's wake.

Rhys led them to a quiet corner, away from prying ears and eyes. He turned to face Nyx, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression stern.

"Y/n left" he said without preamble, a note of accusation in his voice. "She was upset, and I think I know why." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Son, have you ever stopped to think about what that girl means to you? Really think about it?" His gaze bored into Nyx's, a silent challenge. Nyx opened his mouth to respond

"She's my bestfr-" a look of bewilderment crossed his face, as Rhys cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"No, listen to me," he said, his voice low and intense. "She is more than just your friend, she's your bestfriend and if you were using your brain she might actually be more. She's been by your side since you were a kid, a constant in your life. And you need to seriously think about how your actions might be affecting her" He paused, letting the revelation hang in the air between them.

"So why do you think she's hurting, Nyx? Why do you think she's been so agitated recently?" His gaze searched his son's face, a silent demand for honesty. Nyx stared at his father, a look of confusion and dawning realization slowly spreading across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, as if struggling to find the right words.

"I... I don't know," he said finally, a note of uncertainty in his voice. "I never really thought about it." He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture of frustration and bewilderment. "I mean, Bekah is my best friend. She always has been. It's not like she really cares, she's the once egging me on most of the time, But..." He trailed off, a flicker of emotion crossing his features as the implications of Rhys's words sank in, Rhys watched his son closely, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"But what, Nyx?" he prompted softly, a gentle encouragement. "I know damn well your smarter than this boy."

His gaze searched Nyx's face, a silent demand for honesty and introspection. He didn't get it but he was satisfied when Nyx cursed under his breath and practically sprinted out to the street before winnowing away too.

You were in your comfort pajamas with a half eaten tub of ice cream and a sappy romance book in your lap by the time Nyx opened the front door and flew up the stairs. You had stopped crying by now and had just decided to stay in one of the guest rooms for the night to just wallow in your self pity and get lost on one of the love stories Nesta had lent you... It was easier that thinking about your actual predicament... When Nyx had bust through your door. You screamed and jumped from the bed as you started at him for a minute.

"What the actual Fuck Nyx! you scared me to death! What are you even doing back her, I thought you would have found somewhere else to be tonight?"

Thank the Gods the words didn't sound as bitter as they felt as you picked up your ice cream and book from where they had fell before standing and pulling on your robe gently trying not to act as if he hadn't been the one to practically rip your heart out of your ass and feed it too you in pieces.

Nyx stood in your doorway, his chest heaving and his eyes wild. He looked.... disheveled, in a way you'd never seen him before. His hair was mussed, his shirt slightly askew, a look of barely contained turmoil etched into every line of his body. He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze roving over your pajama-clad form, taking in the ice cream, the book, the robe. Something flickered in his eyes, a heat that had nothing to do with the physical, and everything to do with the emotional turmoil that was clearly consuming him.

He took a step into the room, then another, until he was standing right in front of you. He reached out, his hands coming up to grip your shoulders, a gesture that was almost too tight to be gentle. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice rough and ragged. "I didn't mean to scare you, I just... I needed to talk to you." His thumbs rubbed small circles on your shoulder blades, a gesture that was almost unconscious, as if he couldn't help himself. He studied your face, a look of confusion and a hint of something else, something softer, in his dark eyes.

"Y/n," he said slowly, as if testing the name on his tongue. "Why did you leave? Why did you run off like that?" There was a note of accusation in his voice, a hint of frustration, but beneath it all, a current of something else. Something that made your heart skip a beat despite yourself. Like he was trying to get a specific answer from you. He leaned in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath warm on your skin.

"And don't tell me it's because you had to be up early, cuz we both know that you never get up early after you drink..." he murmured, a wry note in his voice. know there's more to it than that. His gaze searched yours, a silent demand for the truth, a silent plea for understanding.

You scoffed slightly and pulled away before turning around and started to absentmindedly tidy your nightstand. Anything to avoid this conversion...

"Rhys needs to learn to keep his big mouth shut..." You mumbled bitterly. Nyx's reached to wrap a hand around your marn trying to turn you back to him, a hint of frustration flashing in his eyes. He leaned in closer, his voice low and intense.

"No, Y/n don't make this about dad, This is about you, and me, and the fact that... I think I've been a blind idiot... for a really fuckin long time..." His gaze searched your face, a look of dawning realization and a hint of something else, something softer, in their depths. "Tell me, Tell me what's been bothering you, what's had you so upset lately." His thumb continued it's small, unconscious circles on your arm, a gesture that was almost soothing despite the tension that crackled between you.

"And don't lie to me. Not now, not about this." There was a note of command in his voice, a silent demand for honesty, but beneath it all, a current of something else. Something that made your heart race despite your best efforts to ignore it.

You let him angle your face to look back at him and swallowed hard as you looked for words. Your not used to seeing that look directed towards you and it was throwing you off. He was fishing for answers, he did this all the time. He had a hunch and he wanted you to confirm it.

"I don't know why I'm upset, probably just hormones or something..." You tried to make an offer handed joke in a last ditch effort avoid the question. "Your allowed to do what ever you want, none of my business...'

Nyx's eyes flashed with a sudden intensity, a glimmer of frustration and something else, something deeper, in their dark depths. He stepped closer, crowding into your personal space, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Stop it," he said, his voice low and rough, a hint of a growl underlying his words. "Stop trying to dodge the question, stop trying to brush this off like it's nothing." He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a gesture that was almost... intimate.

"This isn't about your damn hormones, Y/n! This is about the fact that you've been hurting, and I want you to tell me why!"

"you know why! I just... I never thought I'd have to, fight for your attention. I thought I had it... And then you turned 18 and you proved to me how wrong i was."

Nyx's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of realization and a hint of something else, something softer, in their dark depths. He stared at you for a long moment, as if seeing you for the first time, as if truly taking in the weight of your words. His grip on your hair tightened slightly, a gesture that was almost unconscious, as if he couldn't help himself. "Y/n," he said slowly, his voice rough and low. "I... I never mea-"

"just drop it Nyx! forget it, it doesn't... Just forget it."

You huffed, cutting him off and pulling away from him again. You had to get outside, to get some fresh air. You pushed past him and ran down the stairs feeling like the walls were closing in on you. Nyx be damned, your heart be damned. he didn't get it. Of course he never meant to hurt you, how could you have ever thought he did. No.. NO you were angry because you were in lov-... shit you were in love with him. The acceptance hid you harder that the cold night air as you finally made to to the backyard.

Nyx stood rooted to the spot for a moment, a look of stunned disbelief on his face as you pushed past him and raced down the stairs. Then, as if shaking off a trance, he sprinted after you, taking the steps two at a time. He burst out into the backyard just as you were wrapping your arms around yourself, your breath misting in the chilly night air.

He approached you slowly, as if approaching a wild animal that could bite at any second, his hands held out in a gesture of supplication. "Y/n," he said softly, his voice low and gentle. "Please, don't run from me." He paused, a look of newfound understanding in his eyes. "You're in love with me, that's why you've been angry." It wasn't a question, but a statement. He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours, a hint of something else, something softer, in their depths.

"yes asshole, fuck of course I..."

You kept your wrapped tightly wrapped around yourself as you tried to keep the panic from seeping into your voice. This was it, you fucked up but it wasn't fair. It was selfish and ridiculous but you wanted his attention, all of it, always! You wanted all of him to yourself! And you had no right to be angry from not getting what you wanted so much when you hadn't even tried to hint that you might have wanted him. You looked back at finally the devastation and the utter longing showing in your eyes. You wanted him, his mind his body, you wanted him so badly it hurt. You had pushed your emotions aside for so long that finally accepting them nearly sent you to the ground.

Nyx stood still, his eyes widening slightly as the realization of your confession sunk in, he hadn't honestly expected you to say it out loud. He stared at you, taking in the devastation and longing etched into every line of your face, the way your arms were wrapped tightly around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face - surprise, confusion, a hint of fear, and then.... a softening, a warmth that began to glow in his dark eyes.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out, his hands coming to rest on your your waist gently. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he held you too tightly. He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own. You waited for the word to come, the anger, the frustration, but none did. One second he was cupping your face in his hand and the next he was hugging you so tightly you thought your lungs would burst. And the amount of whip lash you got from him pulling back and kissing you like you were life itself.

Your eyes fell closed before your body caught up to your mind and you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. You fingers tangled into his onyx hair as you felt him nip at your lower lip. To think half an hour ago you were cursing his existence and now, if you had your way, you be cursing his name for so many other reasons...

"Nyx..."

Nyx groaned softly against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening as he felt your fingers tangle in his hair. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to tangle with yours, a silent declaration of desire and want. He pulled you flush against him, eliminating any space between your bodies, as if he wanted to consume you, to make you a part of him

He broke the kiss, only to trail his lips down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, a hint of pain mingling with pleasure, a silent promise of passion and possession. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, a plea, a silent beg for more. And more is exactly what he gave you, his hands roaming over your curves, mapping out the contours of your body as if committing them to memory.

"Nyx, I..." He paused, his breath hot against your skin, a look of fierce intensity in his eyes as he met your gaze. "I love you, baby, I love you and I need you so fucking much right now." He sealed his confession with another kiss, a fierce, passionate claiming of your mouth, a silent vow of love and devotion.

If you hand been so lost in him you might have realized how strange it was for Nyx, the boy who had a new girl every few days seemed to confess to love so quickly. You also might have noticed the burning snap inside your chest as he lifts you into his arms and walked you slowly to press you against the side of the back deck, not seeming to care that you were still outside, completely exposed to anyone that might come home early.

Nyx didn't seem to care about anything but you in that moment, his eyes blazing with a newfound intensity as he held you close. Railing of the deck, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. He leaned into you, his hands gripping your hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles on your hip bones through the thin fabric of your pajamas.

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured. He nipped at your earlobe, a gesture that sent shivers down your spine. "I want everyone to know that you're mine, that you've always been mine." His voice was low and rough, a hint of a growl underlying his words.

His words set the fire in your heart spreading to every inch of you he touched. You moaned as you felt his hand come to rest under your ass kneading the plump flesh as he pinned you between himself and the deck. The smell hit you soon enough, Nyx smelled like vanilla and cologne, and books and... Home, he smelled like home. If you hadn't already giving into him completely, that, would have been the final push. Your hands quickly raced over the front of his shirt trying to undo the buttons without pulling his mouth from your neck.

Nyx groaned softly as your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his own hands tightening on your hips. He helped you, his deft fingers making quick work of the buttons until the shirt fell open, revealing the expanse of his chest. You ran your hands over the hard planes and ridges, marveling at the feel of him beneath your fingertips.

He leaned back, giving you a moment to explore, a wicked grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Like what you feel, baby?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "You can touch me all you want, baby. I'm all yours." He punctuated his words with a roll of his hips, pressing his growing arousal against your core, a silent promise of what was to come.

Nyx's eyes darkened with desire as he watched you, a look of pure, unadulterated hunger etched into every line of his face. "Fuck, baby," he groaned, his hands sliding up your sides to cup the soft swells of your breasts after curly shoving your shirt up.

"I want to touch every inch of you, to taste every part of you, I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby." His thumbs brushed over your nipples the pads of his fingers digging in a bit. A gesture that made you arch into his touch, a silent plea for more.

Nyx looked up at you as he knelt before you, his dark eyes blazing with a feral intensity that made your heart race and your skin prickle with anticipation. He slowly peeled your shorts down your legs, his fingers trailing over your skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. As he tugged your shorts off, he leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, the shortest bit of scruff scraping lightly against your sensitive skin. He paused, looking up at you with a wicked grin, his hands gripping your thighs.

You pulled him back into a firm kiss and he set you down only to kneel in front of you and pull your shorts from your legs. The look in his eyes almost looked as feral as you felt. You didn't know if it was nerves or something more as you felt what felt like a second heartbeat, thudding in your chest, like a phantom it made your breath race faster.

"I want to taste you, babygirl. Fuck you smell so damn good..." His voice was a low, rough growl, a hint of a promise in his words as he leaned his forehead against your abdomen, his eyes locked on your slit and he breathes in deep, taking your scent again.

"Can I, baby? Can I taste you? Please?" His gaze held yours, a silent demand for permission, a silent plea for you to give yourself over to him completely

Your head fell back at his words as you lost your words again, You reached down to run your fingers through his now unruly hair, it was the only confirmation you could muster in this state of euphoria you were stuck in before he even touched you.

Nyx took the action as a yes, a low, approving growl rumbling in his chest. his breath hot against your pussy. He looked up at you one last time, his eyes dark and filled with a hunger that made your heart race. Then, slowly, torturously, he leaned in and licked a long, slow stripe up your slit, his tongue delving between your folds to taste your essence.

He groaned loudly at the first taste of you, the sound vibrating through you, making your hips jerk forward involuntarily. He gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he began to feast on you, his mouth and tongue working in tandem to bring you pleasure. He quickly picked your up and threw your thighs over his shoulders so you were resting on his face completely.

He focused on your clit, sucking and flicking the sensitive nub with a skill that left you seeing stars. Two fingers slid inside your dripping core, curling and pumping in a rhythm that had you climbing closer and closer to the edge. You let out a long throaty moan and bucked your hips a bit. Fuck he was good at that, he should be considered how many... No don't think about that right now it'll just piss you off again.

"Fuck Nyx, uuugh!"

Nyx looked up at you, a wicked grin on his face as he continued his ministrations. He could feel you starting to throb, your moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing second. He knew you were close, could feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He pulled back slightly, his fingers still pumping slowly, his thumb circling your clit with a maddening pressure.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice a low, encouraging rumble. "Let go, babygirl. Come for me, baby, I want you to come in my mouth." His eyes held yours, a silent demand, a silent plea for you to give yourself over to the sensation, to let go and surrender to the ecstasy that awaited you.

You sink both hands into his hair and brace your shoulders back against the deck before bucking against his face again and again, chasing your orgasm so hard you wanted to cry before you felt that coll in your stomach snap, your movements jerking to a halt with a scream. Nyx groaned as he felt your walls clench and spasm around his fingers, your scream of ecstasy ringing in his ears.

"Oh good fucking girl!" He continued to lap at your dripping core, his tongue delving deep to catch every last drop of your release as you rode out the waves of your intense orgasm.

As your movements slowed and your breathing began to even out, Nyx slowly pulled back. He looked up at you, his face glistening with your essence, a look of pure male satisfaction etched into every line of his handsome face. He leaned down capturing your mouth in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. He swallowed your soft moans, his hands sliding up your body to cup your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his large hands.

Nyou could barely stand and was beyond grateful when he picked you up again before climbing the few steps and laying you flat on the deck below him, bed he started pulling at the laces of his pants urgently. Nyx gazed down at you, his eyes dark and intense as he quickly worked at the laces of his pants. He could feel his cock throbbing, aching for your touch, for your heat. He needed to be inside you, needed to feel your walls wrapped around him like a velvet glove. He kicked his pants off along with his boxers, freeing his thick, hard length. It bobbed against his stomach, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. He crawled up your body, settling himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your still sensitive entrance. Nyx leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"Ahh NYX Fuck!"

"I need you, Y/n," he murmured, his voice a low, urgent growl. "Fuck i need to be inside you, I'm gonna fuck you so good babygirl... Fuck look at me Fucking look at me..." He grabbed your chin and stared into your eyes as He rolled his hips, the head of his cock slipping inside your wet heat. He groaned as his head fell and his eyes rolled, letting out a silent plea for you to give him the words he so desperately needed to hear.

You lifted your shaky legs to wrap around his waist as your reached to cling to his shoulders. You hand landed firm on his chest as you tried to breath That damn second heart beat felt stronger now, and you felt like you were so warm you were gonna explode! Then you felt it, right before lined himself up with your entrance, his pulse, it matched... The burning in your chest, the need, the emotions, the pulse, you knew those signs. You didn't get a chance to think on it to hard before he thrust himself forward, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head at the delicious burn that came with the stretch.

"Nyx your- AHh! Fuck Nyx! Please your my- AHH FUUUUUCK!"

Nyx groaned loudly as he felt your tight, wet heat envelop him, your walls gripping his throbbing cock like a vice. He paused for a moment, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he fought the urge to come right then and there. "Fuck, Y/n," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight, so perfect around my cock." He rolled his hips, grinding against you, letting you feel every thick, pulsing inch of him. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured,

"I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much. Mm gonna to fuck you until you can't walk, your gonna be limping for days when I'm done with you." He pulled back slightly, his gaze holding yours, a look of pure, unadulterated love and desire.. and utter hunger etched into every line of his handsome face.

Nyx could feel your walls starting to flutter around his pistoning cock, could feel your body tensing as another orgasm built inside you. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as he pounded into you with a ferocity that bordered on animalistic.

You could get the words out as he started thrusting into you hard and fast and fuck if it didn't make you want to let him take you whenever or wherever if it felt this good. Your mind was still screaming though the pleasure though, MATE, HE'S YOUR MATE' but you were too engulfed in him to scream anything other than his name as you felt yet another orgasm approaching quickly, fuck, the male was going to be the literal death of you!

"That's it, baby," he growled against your lips, his voice a low, urgent rumble. "Come for me, Y/n. Come all over my cock. Your doing so good babygirl, common! Please I'm so fucking close!" He angled his hips, hitting that special spot inside you with every deep, powerful thrust, determined to push you over the edge and into oblivion.

Nyx could feel his own release approaching rapidly, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your clutching heat. He was close, so close to filling you with his seed, to marking you as his mate in the most primal way possible. With a final, hard thrust and a hoarse shout of your name, he came, his hot, thick essence flooding your insides, painting your walls with his love and desire. As your high washed over you you felt it, a smaller distant snap, before you felt Nyx tense above you like a statue.

"You feel it... The bond..." You whispered in disbelief as you stared up at him, the world around you finally coming back into focus.

Nyx's eyes widened in shock as he felt the snap of the mate bond, a jolt of pure, primal energy coursing through his veins. He stared down at you, his gaze filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief, a look of pure wonder etched into every line of his handsome face. He nodded slowly, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I feel it," he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet reverence. "Fuck I feel it baby." He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own as he struggled to process the magnitude of what had just happened. He lifted a shaking hand, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache, and brushed a stray tear from your skin.

"I love you, Y/n," he whispered, his voice a low, fervent murmur. "More than anything. And now... Cauldron, your mine." He sealed his vow with a soft, sweet kiss, a silent promise of a love that would last a lifetime.

"I'm so sorry baby, I didn't know. Can you forgive me?" He say looking at you through half lidded eyes, his gaze hopeful as he hovered above you still. You chuckled at him before pulling him into another kiss and gently flipping his so you were straddling his hips instead.

"I can think of a few ways for you to make it up to me..."

You both had stayed out there for at least another hour, you hadn't even accepted the bond but you felt like you were in the frenzy already. You must have passed out from utter exhaustion at some point because you woke up the next morning in Nyx's room snugged into his side as the morning light shifted through the blinds. You turned your gaze to look at Nyx, he looked so peaceful it made you so much more inclined to stay in bed forever.

"But you look so pretty when your sleeping."

"You know it's rude to stare..." Nyx mumbled without opening his eyes and you giggled slightly and leaned up to kiss his nose lovingly.

Nyx's eyes fluttered open at the feeling of your lips on his nose, a sleepy smile spreading across his face as he blinked up at you. He reached up, his hand cupping the back of your neck, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone with a tender, loving caress. He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through his chest.

"Pretty? I think that's supposed to be my line," he murmured, his voice still rough and gravelly with sleep. He tugged you down, capturing your mouth in a slow, deep kiss, a silent good morning greeting that made your toes curl.

As he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, a look of pure, unadulterated contentment in his dark eyes. "Good morning, baby," he whispered, a hint of a growl underlying the words. "I hope you're ready for a long morning cuz I'm not nearly done with you yet." He pulled you at straddle him and rolled his hips, a clear indication of his growing arousal, a silent promise of the pleasure that awaited you both. You moaned but quickly scooted off of him before wrapping one the sheets around you and heading for his closet.

He pulled you flush against him, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your hip, holding you tight against the hard, muscular length of his body. "Come on baby, you can't just leave me like this..." He nipped at your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point, a silent, primal promise of the pleasure. His hand grasping your and grinding his naked cock into your palm, a small growl escaping his as he did.

"As much as I would enjoy that I think i need to go make you some breakfast. Unless you don't want me to..." You say teasingly know damn well he'd want to cement the mating bond as soon as possible. Nyx watched as you scooted away from him, a look of mild disappointment flashing across his face before being replaced by a wicked, mischievous grin. He lounged back against the pillows, his hands tucked behind his head, a look of pure, satisfaction etched into every line of his smile as he watched you wrap the sheet around your luscious curves. He cocked an eyebrow at your teasing words, a low, warning growl rumbling in his chest.

"Oh, I want you to make me breakfast, Y/n," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "But can't you just stay here for a few more minutes..." He levered himself up, stalking towards you with a predatory grace, a look of pure, animalistic hunger in his dark eyes.

"you act like we will be able to keep are ands off of each other during the frenzy I think you can wait 20 minutes."

"Morning Rhys, morning Feyre."

You say chuckling as you lean up and kiss his cheek before pulling on a pair of his bants and a T-shirt and practically skipped downstairs, or as well as you could considering your legs still felt a bit numb.

"Come on, let's feed you before you eat me instead."

"you act like that would be a bad thing..." Nyx says and slaps your ass playfully and lets you leave so he can calm himself and get some pants on at least.

Once you got downstairs you saw that the coffee post was on already so you head out to the back yard deck, Nyx hot on your trail not dressed to be outside but at least he wasn't naked anymore. You stepped out to greet his parents who had breakfast out there every morning. You actively tried not to stare at the spot 5 feet away where their son had rearranged your intestines a few hours ago as you came and said hello as usual.

Nyx's parents looked up as you and Nyx stepped out onto the deck, offering you both warm smiles. Rhys, rolled his eyes as he took in Nyx's state of undress, while Feyre, his mother, simply smiled indulgently, as if this was a common occurrence. Maybe if you played it cool, they wouldn't find out that you both defiled their breakfast spot the night before.

"Good morning, Y/n," Feyre greeted, her voice warm and welcoming. "It's good to see your feeling better." She glanced at Nyx, a small dismissive smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "And good morning to you too." She said to Nyx as he came over as kissed her forehead lovingly.

"morning Mama."

"Thank you sweetling but we've eaten, we were going to let you know that we are going to have to go take a trip to wind haven, Devlon is starting to act out of line so we should be back in a couple weeks."

"I'm gonna make breakfast if you want some, I can make extra." You offered, as you usually did, trying to seem like you weren't impatient for them to leave for the day. Rhys closed his paper and set it down before standing and stretching for a minute.

Rhys said calmly after offering his hand to his wife to help her stand. You were grateful that they were going to be gone considering you were planing on consummating the bond today, it doesn't tend to stay very quiet. You gave Nyx a look turning away from Rhys and Feyre as they entered the house again before you heard Rhys call over his shoulder.

"And the house better not look anything the the way we found the deck this morning by the time we get back!"

You and Nyx stared at eachother, your faces turning red and you both groaned. Well so much for them not finding out...

~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading Lovelies, if you want to be added to the tag list just comment or dm me. Again comments are always welcome, I hope you enjoyed the story!

@romantasyreader28 @tele86 @mich0731 @6v6babycheese @jennnsthings @mulansaucey @starlightandsouls @jir67 @paleidiot @icey--stars @ohemgeewhat @littlelunatica @celestialamore @rcarbo1 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @queenoffeysand @suppppp97

[bookyeom]

to care for you — lc

pairing: dino x reader word count: 4.4k warnings: mention of blood and injuries, mention of fainting, swearing, hurt and comfort, kissing request prompt: Okay so tumblr ate my ask 😭 but this is in response to @darkypooo’s request for Dino + “do you want to kiss?” “Yeah.”

Author’s Note: Yes, this is a Spiderman AU — but you don’t need to know much other than the bare minimum about the Spiderman universe to understand the story :) It’s set in college instead of high school, though. I’m actually so, so proud of this one, and I hope you like it!

Thanks so much for all the support on my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I’m doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!

He‘s exhausted. 

It’s an exhaustion that’s begun to seep deep into his bones lately, but it feels extra heavy tonight. After a not-so-brief brush-up with some bad guys, he’s hurting in places that he didn’t know existed — even after all of his years spent studying science. He can’t remember the last time he got this hurt — to the point where even breathing is hard. All he wants to do right now is give up. He’s not sure what good he’s doing out there, anyway.

He’s exhausted, and he’s hurting all over, and honestly? All he wants to do is see you. 

He feels like that a lot these days.

He knows he’s not supposed to want you like he does, to need you like he does — for so many reasons. First and foremost, because you’re one of his closest friends — his confidante (in everything not Spiderman related, anyway), his safe place. You’re his friend, and friends aren’t supposed to love each other the way he loves you. Besides, he’s Spiderman. He’s not supposed to need anyone at all. In this line of business, feelings are a weakness.

You, thankfully, have no clue about his alter ego… or his feelings.

Well, at least you didn’t know about the superhero part. Until now, when he drags himself into his room and you’re there, curled up in his bed. He thinks he must be hallucinating. He’s too out of it to really register it at first, but then your eyes meet his from where you’re sitting up against his headboard, duvet pulled up to your chin, and he’s frozen. You blink back at him in the dim light of his room, your face lit up solely by the lamp on his bedside table.

“Chan?”

Your voice is small — so quiet that he thinks without his heightened senses he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. He can’t think straight enough to really process that his mask is off — he must have dropped it somewhere between the living room and here. All he can register before he’s stumbled back and slumped into his desk chair, eyes screwed shut from all the pain, is that you don’t look nearly as scared as he thought you would. Then everything goes black.

There’s a warm pressure against his jaw and his cheeks. 

He slowly comes to as he registers the feeling, struggling to open his eyes and find the source of the sensation. He can hear a faint voice call his name, once, twice, and when his eyes finally manage to flutter open just a little, he’s met with your concerned gaze.

“Fuck. Hi,” you mumble, and he blinks. The pure worry in your voice helps to bring him back to earth a little bit more, and he tries desperately to clear his head. How long was he out?

“Why…” He tries to speak but fails, his voice weak and his throat hoarse. 

Why are you here? 

He sees you wince when he tries to move, to shift into a more comfortable position even though he knows nothing will be comfortable right now, and your head is suddenly shaking back and forth so fast that it almost gives him whiplash.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and he dazedly wonders why you don’t sound mad. Or frustrated. Or anything but concerned, really. He’s confused, his mind swirling even more as he tries to understand why your hands are holding his face like that. Hadn’t he kept things a secret from you for far too long to warrant your concern? Don’t you hate him now?

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you say, and Chan fights the urge to try and speak again, to blurt out everything that he’s wanted to tell you since he met you. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you hastily continue, “but you have to tell me how to help you, Chan.”

His eyes flutter shut once more at the sound of his name coming from your lips, and he feels your thumb brush against his jaw. 

“Chan,” you say again, and you sound more panicked this time, so he does his best to calm you down. 

“Off.”

You blink at him again as he finally speaks. You’re not sure what he means, and you’re desperate to know, because you can’t look at him in pain like this any longer without doing something to help.

“Off,” he repeats hoarsely, and your eyes widen as you hastily remove your hands from his face.

“Shit, sorry!” Your eyes frantically wander across his face, searching for any damage your fingers might have caused. “I don’t know where you’re hurting, I didn’t mean to—“

As you babble on, all he can do is shake his head minutely. That’s not what he meant. The last thing he wanted right now was for you to take your hands off of him. He manages to lift a hand to press gently against his side, where a dark stain has formed. He glances down at where the material is clinging to his skin before looking back up at you. 

“Oh!” You reply, realization dawning on your face. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks. “Can you stand up to move to the bed so I can help? If not, I can—“

Already, he’s attempting to move, desperate to make any of this easier for you. He wants to apologize, to say he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know exactly what for. For not telling you? For you having to see him like this? 

You help him stand, his arm reaching to rest on your shoulders as you do. You can tell he’s trying not to hurt you with his weight, and you almost laugh — how very Chan of him. You’re grateful that in the shock of survival mode, you’ve managed to avoid for now the way you know your heart is going to break when you register seeing soft, kind, selfless Chan beaten down like this. 

Cry tomorrow, is the message your brain is sending. Figure it out tomorrow. Right now, you need to help him.

“I’m strong,” you try to joke, though it’s a weak attempt, and Chan looks at you in confusion. “You can put your weight on me,” you elaborate quietly. He understands and gives you a sheepish smile, before doing as told, though you know he doesn’t want to. 

The two of you maneuver the few steps to the edge of his bed. Chan hisses involuntarily at the pain as he sits down, and you whisper soft apologies, though he has no idea why. Once he’s down, you immediately get to work, reaching behind him to find the zipper at the top of his suit. You manage to get it down as smoothly as possible, your eyes falling to where Chan is still clutching at his side.

“This part is going to hurt like a bitch,” you tell him softly.

“That’s okay,” he says. “It always does.”

You freeze for a moment from where you were about to begin to slide the suit off of his shoulders, but Chan doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said. You feel a sharp pain in your chest as his words replay, and you blink back tears, taking a moment to steel yourself. 

It always hurts.

You don’t respond, your fingers beginning to move again, and you’re surprised that they’re not shaking. Chan shivers when your fingers brush against his skin as you begin to slide the suit over his arms and off. You ease him out of the material on his uninjured side first, before coming around to the front of him and crouching down. You meet his eyes, his brown ones clouded over with pain, and your fingers gently reach to rest on top of his hand that’s still clutching his side. You give it a squeeze and he nods in understanding, closing his eyes tight, and you help him remove his fingers from the wound. You stand back up, and begin to pull the rest of the suit down his side and to his waist. Chan barely lets out so much as a whimper when you peel the rest of the material off of him. 

His lack of reaction is not what surprises you the most, though. The biggest surprise comes when you reach the spot on his side where you know a sickening amount of blood should be, and you find that it’s all dried — and that the wound has already begun to heal over. 

Huh?

Your brain can’t compute it. You glance up at him in complete confusion, but his head is hung low, and your heart breaks enough to distract you from all of the questions you want to ask. You force yourself to push the confusing mess of thoughts away until later. You can’t think about any of that right now. You can’t. 

“Chan?” Is what you say instead, knowing that you need to keep him awake enough to help him clean up, long enough to know he’s alright. Your hands are on his knees as you kneel between his legs and peer up at him. You have to stop yourself from reaching out to trace the newly-forming scars on his chest and arms, wanting nothing more than to kiss each mark and its associated pain away. You desperately want to know what happened, who hurt him like this, but you’re not sure you can handle it. You briefly register the older, faded scars that mark his skin, unsure of where they end and the new ones begin. 

You can’t figure it out — in front of you sits Chan, but it can’t be the Chan you know. It can’t be the one who giggles at your stupid jokes or falls asleep in your 8am lectures, or the one who remembers your coffee order every single time. The one who you swore had never fought with anyone in his life. The Chan in front of you looks so broken that you can’t put the two of them together. 

“You… okay?”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his again as he speaks, voice cracking and hoarse. Your heart stutters a bit in your chest as he attempts to look down at you, his eyes hooded over and half closed with the effort. He looks like he’s about to fall over, and still, he’s asking if you’re okay.

You’re hit so hard with sudden emotion that it causes you to inhale sharply without warning. Your hand lifts involuntarily to brush his hair back from where it’s falling into his eyes, and as he continues to try and hold your gaze, you register it all. This Chan is still your Chan. It’s the same Chan that has stirred feelings inside your chest that you were certain you could never feel again. The Chan whose intelligence and kindness still astounds you every single day. This Chan and your Chan are the same.

Your head spins.

When you finally make it to the bathroom, it’s all Chan can do to slouch down onto his bathroom floor. You help him out of the rest of his suit before crouching down beside him, wracking your brain for everything you’ve ever learned about cleaning wounds. You remain numb as he gives you single-word answers to where things are in his bathroom. It’s funny — you’ve been in his apartment so many times, but you’ve never needed to know where the antiseptic was. 

Chan’s eyes remain half-open as you work. He’s fighting with all his might, you can tell, and you can feel his eyes on you the whole time. You don’t think his gaze leaves you even once. It becomes monotonous: you clean the cut, he winces, you apologize. And repeat. Your mind wanders in what you’re sure is an attempt to protect yourself.

You’d come over tonight for your weekly movie night, letting yourself in with the code you’d long since been given access to. When hours had passed with no sign of Chan and no texts from him either, your heart had broken a little — had he forgotten? Was he okay? It was so unlike him that you’d stayed just in case, your heart racing with every little noise as you waited. 

You hate so much that your worst fears had come true.

Chan’s pain seems to ease in record time, bruises forming on his skin faster than you’ve ever seen. You have so many questions, but you push it all down, down, down. He falls asleep on his couch and you stay up all night, blanket pulled around your shoulders as you sit on the windowsill and make sure he’s still breathing. 

He wakes as the sun is beginning to rise, and you watch as he shifts to sit up, letting out a breath of what sounds like relief when he’s able to move without much trouble. Some of the cuts on his face and chest are already scabbed over. 

How?

When his eyes finally land on you, he jumps a little.

“Hi.”

”You didn’t sleep.”

It’s an observation rather than a question. You pull your knees up and rest your chin on them. “I was worried.”

It’s quiet, and he doesn’t know what to say. Neither do you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is small, and he immediately feels guilty.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he expects you to do, what he expects you to say. You level him with your gaze, searching his face. Your eyes linger on the scabbed-over cut just above his brow, and you bite your lip before you speak again.

“It was…” You can feel your lower lip start to tremble in an act of betrayal, and you bite down on it to try and stop yourself from crying. “It was terrifying to see you like that, Chan,” you finally manage, and you know that after all these hours, the dam is about to break. You can tell he knows it, too, by the way his brows furrow even more, and his eyes widen just slightly.

“I know,” he murmurs, and that’s what does it.

Your hands move to cover your face as you finally let yourself cry, sobs muffled by your palms. You can hear the couch creak as Chan moves, and you can feel his presence as soon as he’s close. He whispers your name once, his voice breaking, and when he moves your hands away from your face, you don’t have the strength to stop him. He’s sitting next to you on the windowsill now. You sniffle, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Chan holds onto your wrists, rubbing gentle circles against the skin. 

“I’m so mad at you,” you finally say, and he lets go of your hands. He doesn’t retreat to his side of the window though, staying put as he nods, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks down.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” he says, voice quiet. “I hope you understand why I couldn’t… but you still have every right to be pissed at me.”

It’s silent, and you stare at him in disbelief. There are so many thoughts running through your head, and it takes you a moment to settle on just one. “You think I’m mad because you didn’t tell me that you were Spiderman?” You finally say, causing him to look at you again in surprise.

“I mean, yeah? Why else—“

“I’m mad,” you emphasize, “because you’re out there getting hurt, and my heart literally can’t take the thought of that, oh my god, Chan.” Your voice breaks, and fuck, you’re about to cry again, but you can’t stop. Your eyes trace over his face, pausing where the bruise is starting to form on his cheek, and you feel frustration begin to build again as you angrily blink back tears. “What the fuck, Chan. Why the hell are you… I mean, if I hadn’t been able to help you last night, I wouldn’t — I just, I can’t even imagine—“

Your words are cut off as Chan’s hands find the side of your face. His gaze is firm as he looks at you, and his sudden boldness catches you off guard, your words dying in your throat. Once he seems to realize that you’re not going to run, his thumb moves to caress your jaw, and you can’t help the shiver that spreads through you at the gentle touch. Your hands lift to rest on his arms where they’re holding you, and you’re speechless, your eyes unable to leave his. He takes in a deep breath, and you follow.

“I’m here,” he says, and you draw in another shaky breath. You don’t think he’s ever been this forward with you before, but you’re grateful for it. He’s warm, and he’s here. He’s alive.You’re torn between wanting to never leave his side again, and needing desperately to be away from him so that you can think.

“I think it might be good for me to go now that I know you’re okay,” you say softly after a moment, and you can see the hurt that briefly shadows his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, though, and he nods, removing his hands from your face. 

“I understand.”

“And I… I probably need some time.”

He nods again, and your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, but you have to. For now. Your feet feel leaden as you get up, going through the motions as you grab your backpack from the hook by his door. You barely register putting on your shoes, your mind on autopilot until it’s broken by his voice from just behind you.

“Y/N?”

Your name coming from his lips feels like a punch to the gut, and you almost reach out for him again, but you hold firm.

”Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. Can you just…” he sucks in a breath. “Can you please not tell anyone? About, you know—”

His words hit like a ton of bricks. You cut him off, expression full of silent fury at the insinuation. “Yeah. I won’t.” 

You’re pissed that he even had to ask, and he knows it, but there’s nothing else he can do. His secret is more important than anything — he just wishes it didn’t have to be more important than you. 

It takes three days for you to end up back at his door. He’s missed all of your shared college courses so far this week, and you’re worried. You’re terrified, actually, and you need to see him.

When he opens the door, you do a double take. It’s almost like nothing happened to him at all. The bruises and cuts are barely-there, and you’re reminded of the miles-long list of questions you have stored in the back of your brain. He’s surprised to see you, you can tell, and he blinks slowly before stepping aside to let you in.

“How are you?” You level him with raised eyebrows as you take off your shoes, and he nods, biting his lip. “Yeah, I know. I was worried that—“

“I didn’t tell anyone,” you interrupt. “Don’t worry.” You look down, your heart twisting painfully in your chest when you remember the words he’d said to you. ‘Can you please not tell anyone?’ You cross your arms as you head over to the living room, but you don’t sit down. You don’t really know what your plan had been — you’d just needed to see him. 

“Oh,” comes his soft reply before he adds, “I mean… I didn’t really think that you would.”

Your eyes briefly meet his across the room, confused, before you recover and look back down at the floor. “So then what were you worried about?”

You can feel his gaze intent on your face. “You.”

Your breath catches and your eyes swiftly meet his again. You blink. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Chan,” you say after a moment, trying to push down the bubble of irritation you feel building in your chest. “You didn’t even text me once.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he says quietly, “You said that you needed time.”

“To process, yes! But you didn’t even text me that you were okay. I was worried about you, Chan. Why would you be worried about me? I’m not the one coming through your window and fainting from injury, now am I?”

You can see the guilt flicker across his face. “I know,” he says, and then he suddenly feels the need to apologize again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t message you, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” He pauses. “Ever again, maybe.”

You can hear the sadness in his voice, and your heart breaks. You feel the anger in you start to dissipate as he looks away from you. Your eyes catch on the barely-there faded scar across his eyebrow, and your mind is filled with painful memories of the Chan you’d seen that night. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Chan.” 

He knows. But judging by the way you sit down on his couch instead of storming out again, he thinks that somehow, his stupidity has already been forgiven. 

It’s quiet as he joins you. You can feel him looking at you, and when you can’t take it anymore, you look back at him pointedly. He blushes, quickly looking away when your eyes meet. You sigh, your head falling into the back of the couch before you turn and curl up against it, your eyes drifting shut. 

"Is that my sweater?" 

Your eyes shoot open, and it's as if he's finally grown the courage to look at you directly again now. His brown eyes search yours, and he motions to the shirt you're wearing. You look down — even though you know he's right — and your cheeks are on fire. You’re wearing the sweater he’d leant you forever ago on a cold night for your walk home — the one you’d never returned. You slept in it almost every night, and he hadn’t asked for it back. 

"Keeps me warm," you mumble, tugging on the hem. It's silent for a beat before you continue, voice even quieter than before. You pause, ruminating on your next words before you take a deep breath and say, “The last few nights, wearing it kind of made me feel like you were safe.”

You can hear his intake of breath before he says, soft, “Are you mad at me?”

You shake your head, because you’re not. You’re scared, stressed, worried sick — but you’re not mad. Not anymore. “No, Chan.”

The nickname sends a flood of relief through him more than your actual reply does. 

“I’m not mad,” you continue, “because of course you’re Spiderman. Of course you’re putting yourself in danger trying to protect others. I love how selfless you are, Lee Chan — I always have. But me? I’m selfish. And I’m scared to death of losing you.”

All he says, all he can say, is, “I’m scared, too.”

You look at him again now. You search his face as you ask, “Of what?”

“Of getting hurt. Of… of losing you, too.”

Your heart is suddenly beating so fast you think it might soon break free from your rib cage. You don’t know why you say it, because you’ve already got his undivided attention, but his name comes out breathlessly anyway. “Chan?” 

“Yeah?” He’s looking at you with those beautiful, big, questioning eyes, and you can’t help it. 

“I think it might be a terrible time for me to say this,” you blurt out, “but I — Chan, I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

Chan blinks.

“Wait, what?”

Your face flushes, and it’s your turn to look away. “Sorry,” you murmur.

“No, don’t — oh my god. What?”

You’re not sure what he wants from you. You’re embarrassed now, pulling your knees up to your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from your feelings. Your face is flushed as you turn to look out the window, and you can almost hear Chan’s brain buffering as he remains silent.

“Do you mean that?”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” Your voice comes out a bit harsher than you intend it to, but you don’t take it back. 

“I…” He trails off. He doesn’t say anything more, and the quiet is almost deafening. You’re finding it a little harder to breathe as the seconds pass, and you wrack your brain for something, anything to say to fill the stifling silence.  

“I’m going to go,” is what comes out, and then you’re standing up so abruptly that you feel a little dizzy. The scene is familiar — you, running from what you’re feeling, running from him. 

“Wait,” he blurts out, and you do. You pause in spite of everything in you that’s begging you to run, and then he says, “Can I… I mean, do you want to… kiss?”

You turn back, eyes wide. It’s such a ridiculous question, such an innocent thing for him to ask in light of everything that’s happened in the last few days — but it’s so Chan that you almost forget about it all. This is probably a bad idea, you both know that — and you don’t care. You don’t know how this is going to work, but you’ll figure it out. 

Because it’s your Chan — the one who cares so much, the one who gives you hope, the one who wants nothing but for the world to be a better place.

“I mean — I love you too,” he says into the silence, and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer.

“Yes,” you breathe out before he can panic. “Fuck. I have so many questions, but first, yes. Yes, I want to kiss you, Lee Chan.”

You can hardly believe the giggle and shy smile he sends your way before he kisses you breathless. 

Yeah, you think to yourself as he pulls back, as your fingers lift to gently trace the barely-there bruise on his cheek, as he leans into the warmth of your hand. As you think about how he’s been doing all of this — trying to change the world — alone.

Yeah, you think. You’ll figure it out. 

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[jiarkives]

Azriel meets his mate who is a no nonsense female and isn’t dealing with the IC busy body bullshit. And azriel loves it cause he wants to be able to have something that is just his

He loves his brothers but they don’t know how to butt out of things. But his mate puts her foot down and lays down the law.

I need someone to stand up for him and take care of him.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — azriel’s mate does not take shit from anyone, not even the high lord.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — azriel (a court of thorns and roses)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff ; written with fem!reader in mind

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — i loved the idea but i fear i didn’t write my thoughts well enough so i might rewrite this completely and i changed the plot a bit so yeah !! thank you for requesting !! 🤍

~

“Love? Where’d you go?” Your voice was soft and so was your touch as his eyes focused back on you. It was early in the morning and you were both still in bed, opting to spend your day lounging around to let him rest after his week-long mission with the Night Court’s general in Windhaven.

“It’s Rhys.” He sighed and you knew immediately what he wanted, your eyebrows furrowing as you sucked in a breath. “He needs my help with something regarding Autumn.”

“But you just got home last night,” you said. “Have you talked to him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did he listen?”

“Well—”

That was all you needed to pull away from him and get off the bed, going straight into the bathroom.

“Wait, Dove.” He quickly followed after you, gently grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him. “It’s alright. It’s just a quick in and out. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know you can handle it, but just because you can doesn’t mean you have to, especially not this soon,” you said firmly, giving him no room for arguments.

And that was how you found yourself barging into the High Lord’s study after knocking briefly with Azriel trailing after you quietly, causing both him and the High Lady to look up at you with confusion written all over their faces.

“Good morning, High Lord, High Lady,” you greeted politely, looking at them as you addressed them. “I heard about you wanting to send Azriel to deal with the Autumn Court, but if you aren’t aware, he just got home last night.”

“We are well aware.”

Azriel sucked in a breath at Rhysand’s response, his eyes widening as he shook his head at his brother as he attempted to get you to back off with a gentle touch of his hand and his shadows.

“Then why are you sending him to another mission so soon?” You crossed your arms, looking at Rhysand with an eyebrow raised. The corner of Feyre’s lips twitched into a smirk as she witnessed the scene before her.

“Well—”

However, you did not give him a chance to respond as you cut him off, “Well, you better find someone else to do it for him because he will be resting at home with no interruptions.”

“You do remember that I am your High Lord, right?”

At this point, Azriel had given up completely and let you take the reins, while Feyre watched in amusement as you grilled his mate on his seat.

“Alright then, High Lord, find someone else to deal with your shit in Autumn and let my mate rest,” you said, your tone firm and stern as you practically glared at him, no room for any arguments.

Rhysand could only gape as his widened eyes flitted over to Azriel, then to you before quickly clearing his throat as he composed himself, “Alright.” He relented. “Azriel may take the whole week off and rest with you. Then, I get the Night Court’s Shadowsinger back.”

“Good,” was the only thing you said before giving Feyre a polite nod, staring at Rhysand for a moment longer, and finally leaving the room, leaving the two of them alone with a smirking Azriel who looked proud (and aroused).

Azriel was not even surprised when his shadows left him and followed his mate out of Rhysand’s study.

“Sorry, brother.” He shrugged. “What the missus says goes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rhysand nodded with a grin, waving him off. “You go home and rest, brother. I’ll see you in a week.”

Azriel grinned and bowed slightly in goodbye before moving to leave the room.

“Wait,” Feyre spoke and Azriel immediately stopped and turned to face his High Lady. “Please tell your mate I’d love to introduce her to Nesta. I have a feeling they’d get along well.”

“I will.” Azriel nodded.

“Leave, brother, the scent of your arousal is starting to flood the room.”