#and every year you wonder what happened and you think 'if I had known'

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 1

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, definitely disordered eating, kinda depression?, isolation

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

He found her deep inside the House of Wind. Far enough from the festivities of Starfall that it was startling to find her.

The second oldest Archeron Sister must have wandered off just like he had.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Azriel asked her as he spied her sitting in a puddle of her skirts on one of the couches, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Why aren’t you?” Zahra gave back drily, not even looking up at him.

What exactly was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I can't stomach watching your sister dance with her mate? And even if I could stomach that, Rhys's mental commentary to him about it had turned his stomach. Even when Azriel had kept away from Elain just like Rhysand had ordered him to do, ever since last year. So really...what was he supposed to answer?

“Dancing isn’t exactly my favourite activity,” Azriel finally replied. It wasn’t a lie. 

"Yeah, well, mine neither," she answered with a shrug. "Not that I ever learned."

"You never learned?" he asked surprised. Nesta had learned. Elain had learned.

"Bastard, remember?" Zahra said drily. "I am lucky that I got to learn how to read and write and do basic math. I was not going to be molded into a perfect lady, because no self-respecting man would marry me anyway."

The blunt way Zahra was talking stunned Azriel momentarily. There was something harsh, something almost...bitter and resentful in her voice as she spoke.

It seemed like it didn't matter if one was born a bastard in Illyria or the Human lands. It was horrible either way.

"Your sisters will miss you," he said instead quietly. "And you'll miss the spectacle."

"I don't really care for the festivities," she said with another shrug. "I don’t like the holidays. Humans don’t have any. We… they are too busy trying to survive," Zahra corrected herself quietly. "And besides, I am only here anyway so I don't end up being an indentured servant until some of you decide that I am back in your good graces,” she gave back caustically.

He grimaced. That Zahra had vehemently disagreed about their treatment of Nesta was well known.

It had surprised him too because it was just as just as well known that Nesta seemed to not care for her half-sister on a good day. They weren't particularly close, in any way, shape or form.

Something in his chest clenched painfully. Not from the insult she threw in his direction, but from the defeated way she said it. That she thought that they would just…toss her aside like that.

She was one of them.

"We won't," he said firmly. Her eyes slowly turned toward him and there were dark shadows in those eyes. Out of all the Archeron Sisters, she was the only one with green eyes. Azriel wondered if she had inherited them from her late mother.

Zahra was only the half-sister after all. The result of her father’s dalliance with a maid. Her age put her somewhere between Nesta and Elain. 

It was easy enough to pick out the differences between Nesta, Elain and Feyre and Zahra. Dark hair similar to Elain’s, but green eyes. Skin a few shades darker than any of theirs. Lips that looked like Feyre’s but a nose that looked like none of her sisters. 

Zahra seemed to belong but didn’t. 

And right now, these green eyes…something was wrong. Something was off with these eyes. 

"You don’t know that," she said with a humourless laugh. "Do you want to lie to me too, and  tell me that Rhysand has nothing to do with whatever happened between Elain and you?"

Azriel stiffened, a low sound escaping his throat. She knew. She knew.

"How did you-" he croaked hoarsely and Zahra cocked an eyebrow at him.

 "Do you really think that I hadn't noticed the two of you dancing around each other for months? Or the fact that you two can barely manage to be in the same room together?" she asked dryly and Azriel averted his gaze.  "There is no one as beautiful and kind as my sister," Zahra said drily. "I don't fault you for falling for her."

Azriel said nothing, the pain in his chest growing at her words. The pain...and the bitter realization that his feelings were not as well-hidden as he had thought they were. 

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She has a mate. She deserves better than me anyway."

"Did Rhysand tell you that too?" Zahra said drily. "You never tried to hide the fact that your mate was dying from the same, so you have that on him."

Azriel gritted his teeth, the pain in his chest becoming almost unbearable. "It doesn’t matter," he repeated firmly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Elain is happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger." 

"Yes, she is," Zahra agreed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she apologised to him, her voice honest.

Azriel swallowed, the pain in his chest lessening only to be replaced by something else. Something...much more complicated. Something like…pity.

He pitied her. This young female was so full of bitterness. He couldn’t even fault her for it either. She had been just a bastard. Even when they had first met the Archeron Sisters…Zahra had been working in the household as a maid. Half employee, half part of the family. Like their father couldn’t make up his mind what he should do with his bastard daughter. 

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Azriel finally told her quietly. "Do you really not want to watch?" he asked her. "You are supposed to wish for something when you see the stars fall."

She snorted, the sound bitter. "What I want, I am never going to get," Zahra said, her voice brittle.

He took her in in more detail at that moment.

The simple green gown she wore, high necked and long sleeved...that long gown that did little to hide how thing she was. The dark brown hair, pulled into a braid, obviously trying to hide the pointed tips of her ears and failing...the way her skin, darker than all of her sisters, was nearly ashen.

They had all thought that she was doing well. That Zahra at least was adjusting well.

But she wasn't. She wasn’t doing better.  She hadn't adjusted. Azriel would bet anything that all she wanted in her life was to be human again.

She hadn't adjusted. She just acted in a way that didn't bother anybody, that didn’t spell trouble for anybody.  Zahra had gotten herself a job, managing the accounting at an apothecary in the city.  She had gotten herself a little cottage to rent. She didn’t go out and get drunk. She didn’t use any money from Rhys or Feyre. She showed up for family dinners, staying quiet and polite. 

And if she was miserable…well, then nobody cared, because she didn’t bother anybody. Azriel could understand that. The same was the case for him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, watching her quietly sitting here. The way she was trying to hide away. The dress that was more like a potato sack than anything else. The way her skin was almost...grey. That bitter voice. 

The shadows were stirring and he was unable to look away from her. She looks upset, Master, they told him helpfully. 

"Do you want to go home?" Azriel offered quietly. Home to her cottage? Maybe some peace and quiet would make her feel better. 

Zahra shrugged, not looking at him. Not giving him an inch. That wall of bitterness and sarcasm was so firmly in place, that it was practically a solid wall between them. 

“Don’t want to end like an indentured servant, remember?“ she quipped drily.

“You won’t,“ Azriel said evenly. “You had a headache. I brought you home.“

She still didn’t look at him, her hands tightly knotted into her skirts as she sat there. She was so thin, almost fragile-looking. Her skin was sickly grey. “Come on,” he said finally, walking towards her.

Zahra finally looked up at him. Those green eyes. A bitter and lonely light in them. “What are you doing?“ she muttered. 

“I’m bringing you home,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come on, get up.“

Zahra looked at his hand, her gaze wary. “Why?“ she asked quietly. 

“Because you look like you are about to keel over,” he said, more bluntly than intended. 

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, her voice sarcastic and bitter. But she placed her hand into his own and let him pull her to her feet, even though he could feel the tension in her entire body. 

Azriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed,” he said firmly. 

He led her towards the balcony, the last few streaks of light painting the sky, and he grasped her tightly as they shout these few feet into the air until he could winnow to the cottage she rented. 

It’s ugly, the shadows complained. 

He had to agree with them. The cottage was an ugly little thing. Plain. Small. The type of thing that was more of a hovel in the outskirts, rather than anything else. 

“Home sweet home,“ Zahra said dryly, pulling away from him and a key out of her purse. 

That cottage was in serious need of some renovations when the red paint that was flaking off the door was anything to go by. 

As she unlocked the door it became obvious that while she kept it clean and neat.. even that couldn’t help much. This is a hovel, the shadows hissed.

Azriel was inclined to agree. He looked around with a frown, as the shadows scuttered around the tiny cottage. “You live here?“ he couldn’t help but ask. It was a terrible hovel indeed. 

Zahra shrugged as if she didn’t notice the disgust in his voice. “I couldn’t exactly afford anything else at first,” she said drily. 

At least not without taking any money from Rhys and Feyre, and clearly that was nothing that Zahra wanted to do. 

He was struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small kitchen space, a table with a few chairs a fireplace… And the door that led to her bedroom, he assumed. 

“How long have you lived here?“ he asked carefully, taking in the bare emptiness. There were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets and little belongings anywhere. It was…lifeless. She shrugged again and kicked off her shoes, making her way towards the bedroom. “A year?“

The room was equally simple and bare. A bed, a few clothes. A little bathing chamber. That was it. 

“You’ve lived here for over a year?“ Azriel repeated, his voice turning sharp as he looked at everything. There wasn’t even a mirror on the wall. 

When she just shrugged again, he was done. He grabbed her arm and towed her back into the main room. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the table and one of the two rickety chairs. 

“What are you doing?“ Zahra asked, raising both eyebrows at him. Her irritation had started to rise considerably. At least that had done something to the sickly colour of her skin. 

“Making sure you eat something before you pass out on me,” Azriel muttered, turning back into the kitchen area, looking around with a frown.

There was…nothing. His shadows reported as much. She literally had a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the whole house. He was more than fuming. That was not enough that she was living in…this hovel, she was apparently also starving herself.

He pointed at the chair again. “Sit,” he ordered a little sharper than he had intended. 

The glare she gave him did not surprise him. Zahra hated being ordered around. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not hungry.“

Azriel clenched his jaw, the anger flaring. How stubborn could she be? 

“You clearly haven’t eaten in days,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You have nothing in your house to eat.” 

“I have what I need,” she retorted, her own anger flaring. Azriel gritted his teeth, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

“You are skin and bones,” he hissed. “There is barely enough fat on you to keep out the cold.“ 

“Why do you care?“ she snapped right back.

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Why did he care? Why, he asked himself for a moment. Why indeed.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it was just because she was Feyre’s sister. 

Thankfully, Azriel was saved from actually having to answer, when her stomach grumbled.

Loudly. Azriel almost chuckled at the sound of her own stomach betraying just how hungry she really was. “Clearly your body disagrees with you,” he said drily. 

“Shut up,” Zahra snapped, her skin flushing at the sound of her own stomach. 

“I will shut up after you’ve eaten something,” Azriel said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zahra gave him a glare that could strip the paint from the walls, (but then, the paint was already flaking off anyway). Still, she grudgingly sank down on the chair, her eyes avoiding his. 

He turned back into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and found absolutely nothing. There was nothing. Not even some fruits or vegetables. 

He slammed the last cupboard closed, almost causing the hinges to break, the anger flaring hotly in his chest. That stupid, stubborn, stubborn woman.

“I will personally come here every day and stuff you full until you burst,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Why?” she asked and he could hear the challenge in her voice. Her own anger rose to meet his own. “Why would you even bother?“ 

“Because you are starving yourself,” he said, spinning around to face her. “Because you are so thin, I could snap you in half with one hand. Because I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least a year. That’s why.“

“Maybe I don’t deserve a proper meal,” she shot back and something inside of him snapped at the tone in her voice. 

Because he knew that feeling. He knew. For just a moment he froze. They were far more similar than they should be. 

It was a terrible realization. He knew what the self-hatred and bitterness was like. He understood it far better than he wanted to.

“Nobody is going to suddenly show up and care,” he told her quietly. He saw her eyes flare at the words and he knew she got the meaning behind them instantly.

She sat there, her jaw tensed. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped, her voice bitter. 

“I know what it feels like to starve oneself,” he said calmly. “I know what it feels like to have not a single person notice or care.“

The words rang truer than they should. Her eyes widened for a moment, shock flashing through her. 

“I know what it feels like to be the one be always at the edge of the family. I know what it feels like for everybody around me to meet their mate but not me.“

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The pain he had buried so deep, deep down flaring up. The pain and loneliness and bitter realization that would never have what everyone else had.

He realized only then how much they really had in common. How similar they were. 

“I know what it feels like to be the afterthought,” he continued, unable to stop now. “I know how it feels to be shoved aside. I know how it feels to watch everyone around me find someone while I’m the one left behind.“ 

He took a step closer to where she was sitting, towering over her. “And I know how it feels to hate myself enough to deny myself the basic needs I actually have.“ 

The last words made her flinch. He was so close he could almost see the pain and guilt and bitter realization flit across her face. Her eyes were on her lap, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table. 

“I know what it feels like to feel as if I don’t deserve to eat,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not good enough. Not worthy enough. Not deserving enough.“

He knelt down in front of her, forcing her to look at him. To meet his eyes. 

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to see. To understand that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I know what it feels like to punish myself by not giving myself what I actually need,” he said quietly. 

Her breath hitched at the last words, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was listening. Really listening to what he said.

“You’re not the only one who hates yourself, you know,” he said quietly. The look in her eyes shattered him. The look of realisation. Of bitter understanding. The realization that they were so much more similar than either of them had thought before.

Zahra bit her lip, the guilt flashing across her face. Her hands started trembling, ever so slightly.

“You don’t deserve to go hungry,” he said quietly, his voice firm and quiet. “You don’t deserve to starve yourself. You don’t deserve to live in this… hovel.

“The cauldron should just have killed me,” Zara said her voice brittle. “I don’t like this life.”

And didn’t that break his fucking heart? 

She laughed bitterly, but there was no humour in it. “I’m not even surviving,” she said, a bitter smile on her thin lips. “I’m existing. There is a difference.“ 

The words hit him hard. She was right. She didn’t survive, she just existed. There was a difference and a huge one at that. “Then stop just existing,” he said quietly.

His hand was still cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking gently over her skin. 

“Says the guy that just keeps moping around,” she quipped.

It was a low blow but also true. Azriel’s jaw tensed at the comment. “I don’t mope,” he bit. “I just..“

He didn’t really have a good argument in his defence at the moment. 

He sighed. “We should both stop rotting away,” he said drily.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy to you to say,” Zahra said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. 

“Eat your cheese,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and snatched away the slice of cheese off the table. “Happy now?“ she muttered. 

“Delighted,” he gave back drily, as he moved towards her fireplace.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra said quietly. “I can do that.”

“Considering you’ve been too starved to think straight, you are going to let me do this,” Azriel cut across her calmly. “You are more than likely to burn yourself.” 

“Don’t the flames bother you?” She asked him quietly. He froze.

Nobody else had ever asked him. They had just expected him to be over it by now. He had 500 years to be over it. His hands clenched.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “They still do.” It was the honest truth. A truth he never told anyone before, least of all someone like her. The shadows curled around his shoulders and arms as if to calm him down. The flames still bothered him. They always would. “But I learnt to deal with it a long time ago,” he continued.

“That’s not fair to you,” Zahra said, her voice quiet. “You are always the one in discomfort. And nobody cares.”

Her words hit him square in the gut. It was true. It was painfully true. He was always the one being uncomfortable. Always the one on edge. It had always been expected of him to be over it by now, the pain and the hurt. The fear and the bitterness. 

He finished building the fire. Using a match to light it carefully, then closing the door quickly.

“I can deal with it,” he answered quietly. “You should go to sleep,” he advised her.

“So should you,” Zahra told him just as quietly. “You look terrible.“ He knew he looked like crap. But that didn’t matter. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing off her comment. Even though he knew it was a lie. Even though he knew they were both terrible at taking care of themselves. 

“You are a terrible liar,” she quipped. He looked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face. 

“And you’re a very stubborn, very stupid, very annoying woman,” he quipped back just as quietly. 

The smile on her face broadened the tiniest bit at the comment. “I could say the same about you,” she shot back. 

“Sleep,” he told her again.

And then he left that little cottage to get back to the House of Wind. He didn’t bother winnowing, instead, he shot up into the sky with one flap of his mighty wings. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

His mind was whirling as he flew back to the House of Wind. So much had happened in the last few hours and it was all still a lot to process.

He had always been good at keeping a rein on his thoughts and his emotions. But this time, he simply couldn’t. 

Zahra and him, always on the outskirts of their family. Ignored and expected to get on with it.

They were so similar in so many ways. It was shocking to realize just how much they actually had in common.

The loneliness and solitude he had come to live with, she had experienced herself. The pain and the bitterness, he could recognize it on her, for he had felt it himself. 

Where are you, Az? Rhys demanded at that moment mentally. Azriel would like to scratch out his eyes, but he didn’t.

I’m flying back to the House, he sent back curtly. Zahra had a headache, so I brought her home.

A headache, Rhys shot back incredulously. Azriel could almost see the look on his High Lord’s face. You really think I will buy that?

I don’t care if you believe me or not, Azriel responded icily, his temper rising already at the tone. It is the truth and I really don’t wish to have a discussion over it.

There was a pause in Rhys’ mind. Then a slight huff. You can be so unbelievably stubborn sometimes, you know that?

Azriel didn’t bother reacting to that.

Elain and Lucien are figuring things out. So keep away from her, Rhys told him sharply.

I am keeping away from her, Azriel shot back, irritation flaring. You really think I will go and ruin this for her?

I don’t know what you are up to, Rhys retorted, and Azriel knew the High Lord was irritated. But I really don’t have the time to deal with your crap right now. That’s an order.

Understood, High Lord, Azriel snarled back and he felt Rhys chuckle in his mind at the tone. I will keep away from your precious Elain, I promise. 

Damn right you will, he heard Rhys mutter in his mind and the mental connection between the two of them snapped close. 

Azriel snarled in irritation as he landed on his balcony and stalked into his room. It wasn’t enough that he was wrestling with his own emotions, No, he also had Rhys all up his ass about it. 

And he was infuriated about the whole thing.

Nobody will suddenly show up and care, he has told Zahra. It was the truth. Nobody would care.

They only cared as long as they got what they wanted from him.

Chip away the pieces they didn’t like. Mould him into a person they could stomach. 

Either it was Rhys ordering to keep away from Elain…or ordering him to behave around Mor and Emerie… and to be quite honest…Azriel was done.

It was always him that needed to bend to make everybody else comfortable. Nobody bends for him.

So many years of following orders, of keeping his mouth shut, of bottling up the anger.

Even when everyone around him was getting what they wanted. They got their happily ever after. And he was left behind.  Not once did someone ever realize that he was struggling. Not once did someone notice that he needed something…anything. That he was hurting and in pain. Nobody even bothered to check on him, to ask how he was doing. 

They all got what they wanted. Mor, Emerie, even Feyre. They all got the mate that they wanted. Rhys, Cassian and even Amren had Varian. 

He was the one always helping everyone else. Always the one having to endure everything. Never anything for himself. No love for himself.

Orders, commands, demands…that’s all it ever was. He didn’t get a say in anything. They just expected him to be fine. And if he wasn’t…he had to push through it. 

He was the tool that did whatever needed to be done. The spy that got the order to do the dirty work. The shadowsinger that just had to endure everything. 

All for scraps of attention.

Azriel was done.

He was so done. With everything. With everyone. With the one-sided affection that he had given in a desperate attempt to feel…something, anything…. 

He needed to stop expecting to get anything from them.

Zahra did not. She seemed to have given that up a very long time ago

The cold realization that they had been doing the same to her hit him. She was also the tool they used when they needed it. She may not be a spy, but they used her just the same. Expected her to be fine. 

She was alone just as much as he was. 

Alone and isolated, an afterthought to their family just as much as he was. 

***

It was quiet in the little cottage. 

Peaceful. 

Comfortable.

Sie should be happy. Or at the very least…she should be content, should she not?.

Zahra had a roof over her head. And if she wanted to…she could afford food.

Her job didn’t pay that well, but it wouldn’t leave her starving. She just wasn’t hungry. She seemingly never was.

That was a lie and she knew it. Deep down she was hungry all the time. She just refused to give in to eating. She refused to listen to her body screaming for sustenance. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nobody cared.

She didn’t care.

Something inside her had broken during her bath in that cauldron. Her humanity had burned away and with that…with that everything Zahra had ever wanted.

She didn’t crave anything anymore. Not love. Not affection. Not attention. Not food. It was all gone. All she felt was numb. 

Cold, empty and numb. Like her shell had hardened and frozen over.

She had never thought it was possible to feel so damn tired without having done anything. 

Zahra forced herself to get up. Forced herself to heat some water on the stove… to make tea. The cheapest tea she had been able to find at the market.

It wasn’t the best. The taste was bitter and the color was more brown than black. But it was tea and she was thirsty enough to drink it.

It wasn’t very warm and left a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. Like her life itself. 

Maybe just dying would have been easier, she reflected bitterly. Was this how eternity would feel? Alone? Tucked away in this cottage? 

All her sisters had been given a mating bond. They had been given another person who loved them unconditionally…that was at their side. That wanted them around. That wanted to spent time with them. 

And then there was her. 

She had been closest to Feyre during the years in that cottage. Nesta gave her the fault for seemingly everything htat had ever gone wrong in her life, though Zahra privately thought that for Nesta, Zahra was just the evidence of another of her father’s failings…Elain…well, Elain was more embarrassed than anything about Zahra’s very existence. But Feyre…well, Feyre hadn’t cared. And so Zahra had tried to dote on her as much as she could. 

And then clearly she had been replaced in Feyre’s affections. 

She didn’t fault her for that. 

Feyre had made her own life. And she had every right to do that. She was busy with her mate and her son and Mor was her best friend and…there was seemingly no place for Zahra there. 

Which was fine. 

It was. 

But if Zahra was completely honest with herself…she was unspeakably jealous of the mating bond of every single one of her sisters. 

Of that promise of at least one person that would be on her side, come Hel or High Water. 

Clearly, something was wrong with her that she hadn’t been given a Mating Bond.

She wasn’t worth a mate. Clearly, something was broken inside her. Otherwise, the cauldron would have given her a mate, right? 

Maybe she was broken so thoroughly that nobody even wanted her. 

Why would they? She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the woman she was supposed to be.

She was cold, empty and numb. Everything that nobody could possibly want. 

Everyone else got a mate, love and happiness. Not her.

She had nothing.

Her hands clenched around her lukewarm cup of tea. 

Some random sparks of light sparked against the mug. A gift from the cauldron. They didn’t seem to do anything but warm whatever they touched. Maybe that was that random power the cauldron had given her. Neither future or death…but…warmth. She supposed it was something.

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and she had never bothered telling anybody about it. 

Sometimes she allowed herself to play with them when she couldn’t sleep. They were strange and utterly useless. 

It wasn’t the power of foresight or the power of a death god…no. She had the stupid power to create sparks. Useless sparks of light. 

Oh well. 

Complaining about her sparks wasn’t going to help her either. 

So she pulled out her work and sat down to do her work as the sun came up and the day went on. 

Zahra balanced the account ledgers for one of the apothecaries in Velaris. Which meant she had a whole box of receipts to sort through and put into said ledger.

One receipt at a time, one name after the other. 

It kept her busy. It paid well enough. She seemed to have some kind of aptitude for it…maybe the fact that her father was a merchant had come through for once. 

She worked until the late evening. Until her eyes couldn’t concentrate on the numbers anymore.Until her back and shoulders ached with pain. She stretched her shoulders back. 

She wondered if she should eat something. Her cheese was gone, thanks to Azriel standing over her until she ate it…but she still had one or two slices of bread, didn’t she? 

She could go food shopping…buy another bread, another chunk of cheese tomorrow. 

Then Zahra heard a knock on the door. 

Confusion spread through her. Who would knock on her door at that very late hour? It was after 9 pm already. 

She got up, walked towards the door and opened it carefully.

It was the last person she would expected to be standing on the front porch. Azriel. 

“I am making you dinner.“

Her eyes widened at that announcement. “You are what?” she asked him dumbly. 

He just gave her a deadpan look and pushed past her. “I am cooking dinner because I am assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,” he told her plainly. 

It was true. Zahra hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long. But why did he care?? “Why?” she blurted out. “Why do you care if I’ve eaten?” 

He gave her a sharp look and pushed her towards the kitchen chair. “Sit down,” he simply ordered and she was too taken aback to protest against it. 

He had brought his own ingredients. His own knives, all tucked away in a little basket that he put on her countertop. “Can you peel potatoes?” He asked her as he rummaged through it. 

She could just stare at him. 

“Who do you think cooked the meat Feyre hunted?” Zahra replied drily.

Azriel froze in the process of digging something out of the basket on the counter. “You can cook?” he asked her and she heard the surprise in his voice. 

Zahra let out a snort. “Yes, I can cook,” she retorted. “What did you think I was doing this whole time in the cottage? Twiddling my thumbs?” 

He shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what you were up to,” he told her truthfully.  “I thought you were as useless as Elain and Nesta were at that point,” he admitted.

“Nesta did all the cleaning and hacked the wook,” Zara corrected him quietly. “Elain mended. I cooked. Feyre was the only one who hunted. And yes, we should have done more, but I did help run the household. The only one who never helped was our father.” The bitterness bled into her voice at that. 

There was a long pause after her admission. Then Azriel exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he muttered. “You don’t strike me as a pampered useless damsel.” 

“Thank you for that assessment, Shadowsinger,” she quipped back. “I will make sure to remember it when I need a pick-me-up.” 

He put a sack of potatoes in front of her. “I take it I’m peeling potatoes,” Zahra murmured, staring at the sack that was in front of her.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed in that no-nonsense voice of his. “While I prep the meat. I do hope you like rabbit,” he added drily.

“Oh good,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and started to peel away at the potatoes. “Did you hunt it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice neutral. Zahra bit back a snarky remark and focused on the potatoes. 

They worked like that in silence. Him preparing the meat, her peeling the potatoes and the carrots.

It was odd. This whole thing was odd. Sitting and cooking with Azriel. She hadn’t even known he could cook. 

And yet…it was comfortable. Like the silence wasn’t awkward and neither of them felt the need to break it. It was a comfortable domestic kind of silence. Like they had done this a thousand times before. 

“How are you with spicy food?” Azriel asked her after he had taken the potatoes from her. 

Zahra blinked in surprise. “I have a pretty good tolerance, why?” she asked, curious. 

“All the food I can cook is Illyrian,” Azriel answered drily. “I learned from Rhys’ mother and later from my own. It’s spicy.”

“I can handle a bit of spice,” she assured him. “It should be fine.” He nodded in response. 

The sound of the fire crackling in the stove and him stirring up the meat were the only sounds filling the kitchen as they continued their work. 

Zahra honestly had no idea Azriel could cook. He didn’t seem like the type of male who spent time cooped up in the kitchen, making meals. It was a little surprising. 

And yet, the scents of spices and rabbit were filling her kitchen right now... It smelled almost heavenly. 

She hadn’t smelled something as heavenly in a long time. And her stomach growled in response to the delicious scents of food. Zahra tried to remember when she’d last eaten something actually decent, but she couldn’t think straight. The food was distracting her.

“You look half starved,” Azriel observed in a deadpanned tone and she snapped her head up only to find him looking at her. 

His eyes were focused on her, a frown playing on his forehead. “When was the last time you actually ate something properly?” he asked her, his voice firm. 

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking away from him and to the pot bubbling on the stove. “Maybe a week ago?” 

He was silent for a moment. “That long?” he asked her, his voice carefully neutral. She just shrugged in response to keep herself from admitting that she actually couldn’t remember exactly. 

He poured hot, thick stew into a bowl for her and then put it in front of her, holding out cutlery for her to take. “Why are you doing this?” Zahra asked him weakly.

“Because I wish somehow had done it for me,” Azriel responded

That simple statement made her blink in surprise. It was not an answer she had been expecting. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say. 

And then he simply said. “Eat. You look like you’d blow away at the slightest breeze.”

She should have been angered by that blunt statement, but somehow she wasn’t. 

So Zahra ate.

The food tasted incredibly good. She had to admit that the Shadowsinger was talented with cooking. The food was spiced just perfectly, hot and filled with flavour. 

Every bite made her realize just how incredibly hungry she was. Her stomach filled slowly and the hunger abated with every spoonful. It was like her insides started to come back to life. The numbness was slowly disappearing, replaced by an odd sort of warmth flowing through her limbs. 

"Thank you," she finally said weakly.

Azriel just nodded at her, watching her eat. “Of course,” he murmured and continued with his own food. 

[redrose10]

Here is #6 from the photo game!

Warnings: Swearing, hints of cheating, anxiety, depression

A relaxing weekend spent at a cabin with your boyfriend sounded like an amazing idea at the time. No distractions, no work, just you and Yoongi spending a few days together. The fall time was the busiest time of the year thanks to the leaves changing and the brisk air making cuddling by the fireplace more desirable. To make sure you got the reservation and to get the best deal you booked the cabin six months in advance.

Then life happened and you and Yoongi got in an argument. It wasn’t anything new. You two had been together for four years and had arguments every now and then like any couple. You could tell something was different this time though. He seemed angrier, less willing to communicate and more closed off. You walked into the bedroom to give each other some space expecting to work things out later. Ten minutes went by and Yoongi walked in with red eyes and his cheeks soaked with tears.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I can’t do this any more.”, he whispered before shoving some of his clothes in a bag and running out the door. That was two months ago and you haven’t spoken since.

“Y/N you should go on the trip. Take a relaxing weekend for yourself. You deserve it.”, your best friend said over dinner.

The romantic trip you had planned with Yoongi was coming up. After all that happened you had forgotten to cancel it before the required date and now it was too late. The trip was non-refundable at this point. You thought about just loosing out but it was a lot of money.

“I don’t know. I wish you were available to go with me. Isn’t it kind of weird to go alone? Yoongi also helped pay so I don’t really think it’s fair for only me to go and even worse what if he shows up?”, you questioned.

“Y/N first off you paid for half the trip too so it’s just as much yours as it is his. Secondly I really doubt he even remembers it’s coming up. He looks pretty busy right now anyways.”

You followed her line of sight until your stomach dropped at what you saw. While you were barely able to function the last couple months Yoongi appeared to happily be on a date with another woman across the restaurant like he had moved on with no issue.

“How could he move on from me so fast?”, you asked rhetorically.

Your friend shrugged, “Maybe he’s known her for a while. He could’ve been cheating on you for all we know.”

“No he wouldn’t have done that to me. He wouldn’t have cheated.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”, she said pointing over in Yoongi’s direction. The woman he was with had turned around to grab her bag and you gasped, “Nari?”

You bit your lip trying not to cry. Nari was a producer that worked for the same company as Yoongi. She made you feel really insecure from the moment you met her. She was beautiful and smart and funny and worked as a producer just like Yoongi so they had a lot in common. You were suspicious from the first time you met her. It definitely crossed your mind a few times that maybe he liked her more than he lead on. He assured you over and over that she was nothing more than a coworker though and that you had absolutely nothing to worry about. You believed him. And now here he was staring into her eyes just two short months after breaking your heart into a million pieces. You started to wonder if maybe he really had been cheating on you that whole time. Your sadness and hurt began to change to anger the more you pondered that.

Suddenly you stood up grabbing your things. “Where are you going?”, your friend questioned confused.

“Home. I’ve got a trip to pack for.”, you gritted through your teeth.

The drive up the mountain to your cabin was a little scarier than you expected. You took your bag out of the back seat and entered in the code that the rental company had given you to gain access to the front door.

The cabin was adorable and you were really happy with your choice. It was tiny but enough for two people and more than enough for just one. The bedroom and the bathroom were at the back of the cabin and after your long stressful drive you wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and lay in bed and relax for a while before dinner.

You were drying your hair after your shower when you heard the front door open and shut followed by some jingling keys. Immediately you went into panic mode. You were alone in a cabin in the middle of the mountains. You couldn’t run anywhere and no one would hear you scream. You grabbed the fire poker from the bedroom fire place to use as a weapon and then slowly tiptoed down the hall ready to fight whomever was entering the cabin.

“What are you doing here?”, a deep familiar voice asked before you could speak. “Me?! What are you doing here?”, you spat back at Yoongi who was glaring at you.

For a brief moment you were a little relieved to see him and not a serial killer ready to claim their next victim but that relief was quickly replaced with anger.

“Seriously Yoongi, why are you here?”

Suddenly it hit you, what if he was here with Nari? Like what if he brought her here to enjoy the romantic couples trip you had planned for the two of you. You felt sick at the thought.

“I paid for half of this trip too. I need some time alone so I can work and get some stuff done.”

“What too many “distractions” at home?”, you rolled your eyes immediately thinking about him and another woman.

“Yeah actually there are. Not that it’s any of your business.”, he clapped back.

That hurt and your angry confidence faltered. Your lip began to quiver. You knew you needed to get away from him before he could see you cry.

“Fine. Do what you want. I’ll be in the bedroom.”, you said storming off and slamming the door shut behind you.

When you woke up the room was completely dark. The curtains were still open and it was clearly the middle of the night. You didn’t mean to cry yourself to sleep but you must’ve been more exhausted than you thought.

You were stretching out on the bed when your stomach started to rumble reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since the morning. Slowly cracking open the bedroom door you were met with silent darkness. Maybe you got lucky and Yoongi decided to go back home. That would be ideal you thought.

You tiptoed down the hall only to be met with the sound of soft snores coming from the couch. You peaked over finding Yoongi sound asleep all wrapped up in a blanket. He looked so cuddly and warm and you missed falling asleep with his arms wrapped around you.

Thankfully your stomach grumbled again getting you back on the right track. Yoongi was not yours to cuddle any more anyways.

The kitchen was small but livable. As quietly as possible you poked around hoping to find something you could quickly turn into a meal. Unfortunately thanks to the events earlier you didn’t even think to go to the grocery store to stock up so the kitchen was bare. You chugged a large glass of water hoping it would hold you over a few more hours until you could go get breakfast somewhere.

You turned to rinse out your glass when you saw a note sitting on the counter. The handwriting familiar,

“Pizza in the fridge. Promise I didn’t poison it. Just didn’t want to wake you. -Yoongi.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to be angry. You wanted to run into the living room and hug him. But instead you chose to just take a slice of pizza, conveniently with your favorite toppings which only made you want to cry more, and headed back to your room to hideout until the morning.

Somehow you managed to doze off again for another few hours. The bright sun shining through the crack in your curtains waking you up this time. You got ready for the day, putting a little more effort into your appearance than you had for the last couple months. You kept telling yourself it had absolutely nothing to do with Yoongi.

The kitchen was filled with the scent of pepperoni and garlic. Just as you walked in Yoongi was pulling what was left of the pizza out of the oven.

“This will have to do for breakfast. We’ll have to go into town and get some groceries.”, he said when he noticed you.

“Oh if you want to make a list I can just go. You said you had a lot of work to do.”, you replied wanting to avoid having to spend so much time with him.

But he shook his head, “It rained quite a bit last night. The roads might be rough. We’ll go together.”

You knew there was no use in arguing with him and maybe a small part of your heart warmed up at the thought that he still worried about you like that.

“Okay. We can leave after breakfast.”, you nodded.

The drive into town was silent and uneventful. The little town was cute to say the least. You even took note of the realty company there because you wouldn’t mind moving there some day.

At the grocery store you both quickly gathered what you needed. Mostly snacks since you were only there for one more night. You grabbed some fruit and a giant tub of ice cream. Yoongi grabbed a six pack and some instant noodles.

He surprised you when he suggested you both stop for lunch. You really wanted to say no but he was driving so you didn’t have much of choice anyways. You ended up at a quaint little cafe. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming even though the tension between you and Yoongi was ice cold.

You were sat on the back patio over looking the beautiful fall foliage. Several outdoor fire pits provided more than enough warmth.

“So how have you been?”, Yoongi awkwardly asked.

“Fine I guess. Not as good as you apparently.”, you replied harsher than you meant to.

“What is that supposed to mean?”, he asked confused.

You went to apologize but were interrupted.

“Alright did you two decide what you’re having today?”, the waiter Jin asked.

“Uh yeah just the classic burger for me.”, Yoongi replied.

“The harvest soup please.”, you said handing him your menu.

After he walked away the tension between you both was thicker than before.

You realized that Yoongi had been kind through the whole trip. Saving pizza for you, sleeping on the couch without argument so you could have the bed, heating up breakfast, taking you into town and paying for the groceries, now taking you to a nice cafe and trying to have a civil conversation. You realized you had been the one making things difficult.

“Hey Yoongi I’m sorry about what I sa-“, you began but his phone started ringing. He took it out of his pocket and you felt your blood boil when you saw the contact name flashing on the screen, Nari.

“Sorry Y/N. I have to take this.”, he said walking away from the table.

“Of course.”, you scoffed thankful that you didn’t fully apologize yet.

Feeling anxious and not wanting to just sit there any more you walked over to the balcony so you could look out over the property.

“They’re beautiful aren’t they?”, a guy said next to you. He pointed out to the field after noticing your confusion, “The trees.”

“Oh yeah. They’re gorgeous.”, you chuckled.

“They’re tulip trees. They’re even more beautiful when they bloom in the spring.”, he said, “I’m Namjoon by the way.”

He smiled flashing you the prettiest dimples you’d ever seen.

“Y/N”, you said, “Maybe I’ll have to come back in the spring to see them in bloom. That sounds quite nice actually.”

“Oh you’re not a local?”, he asked, “You know… if you want I could show you around the town a little.”

“I’d like that, but I’m just here on a little weekend trip. I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh Uhh are you here on a trip with your boyfriend?”

Your brows furrowed, “What? No I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Namjoon awkwardly chuckled, “Well um does that guy know that because he’s currently staring at us like he wants to kill me?”

You looked where he was pointing to see Yoongi standing there. His hands in his pockets while he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. And he was in fact staring daggers at you. You knew just from that look that he was furious.

“Don’t worry. He’s just a complicated friend thing person….”, you cringed.

“Okay well if you want to give me call I’d be happy to show you around. Maybe don’t bring your friend thing though.”, he laughed handing you his number.

You walked back to the table just as Jin dropped off your meals. You both ate in silence and that carried over to the drive back to the cabin too.

Once the groceries were unloaded Yoongi grabbed his headphones and laptop and went out to the back deck without a word.

You stood and watched him work for a while. The Yoongi that you knew all these years would never just give you the silent treatment. He discussed what was bothering him so that you could work together to solve it.

He answered another phone call. You figured it was Nari again so you walked away to give him some privacy.

You had just finished plating up dinner when Yoongi came walking back inside. He eyed the food and then you. “We didn’t have much to make a big meal but I put together what I could.”, you said shifting awkwardly under his gaze.

“Not hungry.”, he scoffed before turning to walk back outside.

“Seriously Yoongi, what the fuck is your problem?”

He stopped and turned to look at you, “I don’t have a problem. Why don’t you go out and have a nice dinner with your little friend you met earlier.”

You hated that you could feel tears already begin to form, “You’re one to talk.”

With three long strides he was right in front of you giving you somewhat of a startle, “Me? I haven’t done anything other than be a heartbroken mess these last two months without you but the minute a cute guy flirts with you then you’re practically trying to fuck him right there.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Your heart rate was skyrocketing. From his pocket you could hear his phone ringing again and it all came back to you.

“At least I waited until you broke up with me. You are the asshole who was cheating on me the whole time.”, you whispered as the realization of your words hit you. Tears began freely falling as you turned and ran back into the bedroom closing the door behind you.

You never expected that this trip would be filled with so much crying and hurt. It was supposed to be relaxing and fun.

You waited a while until you had calmed down and then decided you weren’t spending another night in the same cabin with Yoongi so you grabbed your bag and packed up your clothes. You did a double check making sure you had everything and with your car keys in hand you pulled open the bedroom door only to hear a loud thud followed by a groan.

Quickly you found the hall light switch flipping it on only to find a very buzzed Yoongi rolling around on the floor. The six pack he had gotten at the store now empty and tossed around him.

“Y/N please don’t leave. I need you.”, he slurred.

You looked over his face. He looked just as bad as you did if not worse. Clearly he had been crying. His nose was bright red and his eyes still teary.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”, you sighed while helping him up thankful you talked him out of the twelve pack.

Worried that he would roll off the couch you decided to let him have the bed. You were leaving anyways so it didn’t matter. Once he was all tucked in you tried once again to leave but he grabbed your wrist, “Y/N you can’t leave. I already lost you once and I can’t…I can’t do it again.”

He started to cry. You started to cry. You agreed to stay.

When you woke up the next morning Yoongi was already staring at you.

“I never cheated on you with Nari. I know that’s what you think happened.”, he said getting right to the point like the Yoongi you knew.

You stared at him in silence. Your throat was sore and your head hurt from all the crying.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “Y/N, I broke up with you because that’s what I thought was best for you. Just it’s just that the last couple months I felt like I was drowning. Work was piling up, I was spending less and less time with you. My mental and physical health were deteriorating. I saw how worried you were about me. I saw how sad you were. How tired you were. All because of me. And then I had a realization that I didn’t bring anything positive to our relationship. So when we got into that fight I saw it as my way to get you out of this. To free you from me.”

He paused for a second. He used his thumb to wipe away some of your tears that you hadn’t even realized were there again.

“But after we broke up I realized how much you held me together. I couldn’t function without you but every time I’d pick up my phone to call you or every time I’d stand outside your door ready to knock I would remind myself that this was what’s best for you. You wouldn’t be able to live your life if I was there dragging you down. But I’ve been a complete mess since that night. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. My work was slipping so bad and that’s why I had that dinner with Nari. The one you saw me at. She’s a head producer now and technically my boss. She told me that if I didn’t get my shit together that they would have to terminate my contract. That’s why she keeps calling me, to check in and see how my progress is coming along. And I’m sorry about what I said about you and that guy. If you want to go out with him it’s none of my business. I’ll work through my feelings alone.”

You sat for a moment trying to process everything that you just heard because you had no idea that he was feeling that way.

“Yoongi I’m sorry that you felt like that but you don’t get to make that decision for me. I would go to hell and back for you and with you. Part of being in a relationship is being there through not only the good times but the difficult ones too.”

After you heard sniffles coming from next to you, you noticed that he was crying. You pulled him into your lap which he happily allowed wrapping his arms around you and pulling himself as flush against you as he could. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your next to soothe himself.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I never meant to hurt you. I actually wanted was trying to do the opposite.”, he spoke through sobs.

“Shhh shhh I know. We can talk more about it later.”

And you did have a long discussion about all of the events that lead up to that moment. It was much needed and helped you both to open up and put all of your feelings out there.

You agreed to take things slow but you spent the rest of the day happily wrapped in each others arms by the fireplace just like you had originally planned .

[the-lancasters]

Villa Aroha, Tartosa

Previous| Beginning  | Next

Transcript under the cut

Emma: Robert, there’s someone here for you

Robert: Who-

Elizabeth: Hello darling

Robert: What are you doing here? You are supposed to be in Etrium

Elizabeth: Dad went without me

Robert: It's not that I didn’t want you here. But Dad-

Elizabeth: Doesn’t make things easy.

Robert: That’s an understatement. Alexandra was suffocating - on the brink of leaving

Elizabeth: Why didn’t you come to me?

Robert: I- I didn’t know if you would be on my side

Elizabeth: I guess I can’t blame you for that. Pause.  Was she really going to leave you?

Robert: Yes

Elizabeth: If Alex couldn’t handle the wedding planning, how is she going to handle life with our family.

Robert: Mum-

Elizabeth: It is a legitimate question Robert

Robert: If you don’t support us why did you come here?

Elizabeth: I didn’t say I didn’t support you sweetheart. But you can’t escape to Tartosa every time you don’t get your own way

Robert: You make me sound like a petulant child

Elizabeth: I have been married to your father for 35 years, and in that time I have had to learn and compromise.

Robert: Which is why we are doing this first and then going along with the big event

Elizabeth: This is hiding from your father.

I can see that you love Alexandra. But this is just the beginning of your life together and your responsibilities are not going anywhere.

Robert: I will protect her

Elizabeth: I sincerely hope you can sweetheart, because I can see how happy she makes you.

Robert: So we have your blessing?

Elizabeth: Of course.

Elizabeth: Now. You need to get ready, and I have a bride to see.

--

Elizabeth: Hello?

Margaret: Mum? What are you doing here?

Elizabeth: Im here to talk to Alexandra of course

Victoria: Let us get out of your way then.

Elizabeth: Will you sit with me?

Elizabeth: If you were wondering, Anne told me what was happening here this weekend

Alexandra: I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean any disrespect but-

Elizabeth: I’m not angry Alexandra

I haven’t always known how to be a good mother - it isn’t easy balancing a husband, a family, and our responsibilities. You’ll soon understand this, as Victoria did before you

Alexandra: I-

Elizabeth: But I think you are good for each other Alex.

Alexandra: Thank you.

Elizabeth: Anyway, I have brought you a present to properly welcome you into the family. It can be your something new

Alexandra: Oh wow, I can’t accept this - it is too much

Elizabeth: I wanted you to have something that you can build your own story with, and then pass down to your children. It comes, not from the Lancaster's, but from my great-grandmother, who passed it down to me.

[weirdcharacter]

Mourning online friends is a form of pain and grief I wouldn't wish on anyone.

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer

859 words

Steve watches a lot of people. He sees girls as their eyes linger on him. He sees some boys do the same. 

If Tommy caught them, he’d probably do what he always does; humiliate them, hit them. He’s always been a bit protective of him. Steve doesn’t know why. He’s known Tommy since middle school because their lockers were next to each other since they were assigned alphabetically. It’s been like that every year since then, too. 

Sometimes he wonders what his best friend would do if he stopped averting his gaze from places it shouldn’t be yet always strays to. 

More and more lately he finds himself watching someone in particular. 

Steve has to be careful. He can’t let his gaze linger and he has to make sure his face stays neutral, almost as if he’s looking through him and not at him. He forces himself to laugh when someone cracks a joke about The Freak as if Steve isn’t one himself. 

He knows he’s a hypocrite - a coward. He wishes he could be more like Eddie. Just be himself and not care about judgment or criticism. 

It’s his biggest dream and greatest fear. 

Steve’s seat in the cafeteria conveniently (strategically) puts Eddie directly in his line of sight. Aside from the singular elective they share, it’s the only time Steve gets to see him. He’s only been watching him since school came back after winter break and he’s captivated. 

He wishes he had somewhere to expel all of the thoughts he hoards in his brain like a dragon does gold. (Something Steve only knows because he - like a stalker - saw a book Eddie was carrying around for a week or so and checked it out of the library himself as soon as it was available. On the log card inside the cover, E. Munson was written a few times along with some other names.)

He gets an idea on Valentine's Day when he opens his locker after last period and a couple of pieces of paper fall to his feet. Steve watches as Tommy picks one up and coos, “Someone’s got an admirer.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and snatches the paper. He doesn’t necessarily care what these girls have written to him, but he feels weird letting anyone else see something that was intended for his eyes only. 

Tommy only snickers and pats him on the shoulder a few times in approval. Steve puts the valentines in his backpack to look at when he gets home. He zones out as Tommy starts talking again - something about taking Carol Perkins to Benny’s. 

At home, Steve reads the cards with a furrowed brow. He doesn’t want to be ungrateful given these girls are putting themselves out there and making a move on someone they like. It’s just. 

He feels completely detached from it all. None of the messages are personal. They could have been given to anyone.

He - somewhat guiltily - throws them away. 

The next day, Steve excuses himself during morning practice and slips a piece of paper into a beat-up locker.

Eddie you’re really pretty i wish i could tell you to your face -H

He signed the note with his last initial to be a bit more inconspicuous and perhaps give him some plausible deniability lest he be found out. He’s sure he’s being too precautious - paranoid? - but it gives him peace of mind nonetheless. He couldn’t imagine the dreadful things that would happen if someone traced this back to him. He’d have to run away. 

He’d have to kill himself. 

As much as he wants to, Steve doesn’t hang around Eddie’s locker to see his reaction. Though he does think about it all morning. They don’t have class together until later in the day. When the lunch bell rings, Steve has to force himself to make his way through the halls at an acceptable pace and pats himself on the back when the cafeteria is mostly full when he strides in.

He takes his place at the table where all of the more athletically inclined people tend to congregate and takes a deep breath.

When he chances a look, Eddie is already at the head of his table. He seems quieter than normal. Steve’s always been good at reading people and he can tell the difference between a good quiet and a bad quiet. Eddie’s quiet in a bad way. 

He languidly flips through a book with a faraway contemplative look. 

Steve looks away with a ghost of a frown on his face. 

He tries again the next day. 

Eddie i like your hair is it as soft as it looks? p.s. you didn’t look happy yesterday, sorry if it was my fault -H

That day at lunch, Steve doesn’t look at Eddie as frequently as he usually would, which is unfortunate. 

Eddie has taken to scanning the lunchroom with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest and despite him being affronted, Steve can’t help but think he’s kinda cute. 

He smiles to himself and tries to listen to his friends for once to aid in avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

two

[dakotalun]

"Oops" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.

warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie

word count: 3.4k

Part 2

a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.

What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.

His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.

And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.

You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.

Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.

‘SHIT!’

‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’

‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’

‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’

‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’

You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.

‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’

You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.

Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.

“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”

“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.

“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.

“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.” Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.

“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”

“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.

“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.

“Try. Me.” You challenge back.

Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”

You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.

“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.

“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else. 

Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.

You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.

You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.

The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.

The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.

---

You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.

Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.

The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.

“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.

“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.

“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”

Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”

“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.

“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.

“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.

You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”

“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”

“You mean for you?”

“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”

“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.

“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.

“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”

Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”

I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.

---

Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.

He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.

Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.

“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.

“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.

“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”

Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.

“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.

You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”

“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.

“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.

Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.

You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.

You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.

His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.

Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.

Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.

The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat  a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.

Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.

“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.

“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”

“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”

You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”

“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.

He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.

Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.

Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.

“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.

Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.

Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.

You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.

He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.

“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”

“I know,” You giggle.

“Brat,” He mumbles back.

“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.

How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.

But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis

[madaqueue]

PUSH AND PULL

something silent and intangible ties you to sukuna, and has for as long as you've known each other. but you can't help but wonder what would happen if you pull on that little red string of fate, bringing him closer than just friends.

pairing: ryomen sukuna x f!reader

themes/content: modern non-curse au, best friends to ???. suggestive/smut. language, pet names (pretty, baby, sweetheart), he calls you a slut but like as a joke, alcohol consumption, semi-public. 18+, MDNI (wc: 2.6k)

It was always just you and Sukuna, for as long as you could remember. Even as kids, the two of you found your home in the corner of the playground after he pushed someone off a swing you wanted to use; in highschool, you etched your names into the desks during some mundane class, landing both of you in detention. He wove his way into your life, and you into his, mending the frayed threads left behind by scissors and rough hands.

So of course neither of you ever dated - you didn’t need anybody else. Nobody would put up with (nor could handle) him and his moods. And you, well, nobody would dare get near you so long as you had him around.

To his credit, it took very little to scare any potential suitors off, oftentimes nothing more than a glare or a firm hand on their shoulder. And he seemed to understand that no one would ever quite compare to you, everyone else too boring, too bland, too pathetic to deserve his attention.

And so, you played along, this little game of pushing and testing and teasing and almost almost almost.

Yet, there was always something in the way, some invisible force keeping you from ever bridging the gap. “Just friends,” you both called it, a name for the insurmountable chasm between you. It was silent, unspoken, but always felt, a magnetic pull that kept you close but never allowed you to touch.

Tonight in particular, at this shitty house party of a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, that pull feels almost tangible, lingering in the hazy air.

Music blares, flashing LEDs illuminating the thin layer of sweat covering both of your bodies. Every thump of the bass electrifies the air, your heartbeat vibrating in tune. Tattooed hands hold your hips firmly against his body, your ass pressed to his pelvis.

You love this song. He loves you loving it.

That smug grin plays across his face, shadows cast by the flickering party lights above making it appear far more sinister to someone who doesn’t know Sukuna. But to you, he’s perfectly content.

When the chorus hits, you bend at the waist, dropping forward and grinding against him. Always such a fucking tease, he thinks as a quiet laugh escapes his lips. His fingertips tighten their hold but he shows no other sign of his sinful desires (he was proud of his restraint, even after all these years).

Bending your knees, the pathetically thin material of your dress rides up just enough that a prouder man would feel obligated to look away. Sukuna, of course, just chuckles as you look over your shoulder.

“You look like a slut.” Bright white teeth shine through his grin.

“At least I can dance,” you retort, hips circling against the front of his jeans. “You look stiffer than a dead guy’s dick.”

Throwing his head back, a laugh overtakes him, seemingly louder than the shitty pop song playing through the speakers. Pink hair catches under the red lights, absolutely electrifying. “Jesus, I forgot how filthy that fuckin’ mouth of yours can get.”

Fully turning around, you press your chest against his, your dress doing little to hide the way your nipples harden at the mild friction. The now-empty cup in your hand dangles at your side as you stand on your toes, lips brushing against his ear. “I’m gonna go get another drink to wash out this ‘filthy fuckin’ mouth,’” you shout over the music.

Instead of verbally responding, Sukuna steps back, slapping your ass as you make your way to the kitchen.

You know, of course, that he wouldn’t let anyone else talk to him the way you do, and you, of course, wouldn’t dare let anyone touch you the way he does (and he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone else do it, either).

The kitchen is brighter than the surrounding chaos, your eyes blurry as they adjust. Finding your way to the stash of bottles, you pour yourself some combination of juice and liquor. The fake marble of the table is cold against your skin as you hop onto it, crossing your legs as the liquid hits your lips.

It’s certainly palatable, you shrug.

You bask in the muted silence for a moment before it’s broken by Sukuna’s loud footsteps marching towards you.

He always commanded attention so effortlessly, eyes turning to follow his path. At first you thought it was the visible tattoos lining his skin and notably unnatural hair, but over time you grew to wonder if there was something more innate, something living within his soul that evoked the unyielding focus from those around him.

Ruby eyes lock on yours (surely an effect of the colored LEDs still flashing nearby) as he glides in front of you. Your legs part, dangling over the edge of the countertop as he slots himself between them, arms encircling you.

Placing his palms onto the table behind your waist, the scent of whatever expensive cologne he probably stole this week hangs on his clothes as he leans closer.

“Thought I finally got rid of you when you didn’t come back.” His voice is gravelly, lips pulled into a leering smile.

“Maybe I just finally got sick of dancing with someone who only wants to paw at me,” you chuckle sarcastically. Lifting the cup to your mouth, you take another swig. “And you’re awfully close for someone who smells like shitty beer and sweat.”

“Oh really?”

Before you can respond, his lips are trailing up your neck, his nose pushing your hair to the side as he nuzzles into your skin.

His breath is hot, tickling your earlobe as he lowly whispers, “Well you smell lovely.”

On instinct your legs try to close around him, a desperate attempt to quell the ache growing between them. You hate his stupid fucking voice, his annoying flirting, how he always goes just a little too far pushing your buttons.

But he’s your friend.

(And that’s all you’ll ever be to him, too).

All you can do is chug your drink, hoping the alcohol dampens the racing pulse of your heart.

“Thanks, I actually pay for my perfume, unlike you, you fucking delinquent,” you manage to spit out.

Finally he pulls back, eyes locked on you. There’s an intensity behind them you can’t quite name, but one you’ve grown familiar with.

He’s playing with you.

A low hum vibrates from his throat in response, his gaze traveling down to your lips. “What’re you drinking?”

He changes the subject, as he always does when things threaten to get too serious, too real. Always running away, afraid to face the ever-insistent voice inside him that evokes a pause the moment before he hurls himself over the edge into desire.

You smirk. “Why don’t you try it?”

Bringing the cup to his face, it rests on his lower lip as you tilt it upwards, the saccharine liquid pouring down his throat. His eyes never leave yours as he swallows. A small trail dribbles down his chin while you place the empty plastic cup onto the counter beside you.

“Messy boy,” you coo, tone as falsely sweet as the drink lingering on his lips.

Grabbing his face, you pull him towards you, close enough you can make out the faint freckles decorating his cheeks. You collect the sugary liquor on your tongue as it travels along his skin, slightly rough from his freshly-shaved stubble. When you reach the corner of his mouth, you place a teasing peck before releasing your grasp.

“Someone should really teach you some manners, ‘Kuna.” And that devilish smile spreads across your face.

You see, you can play with him, too.

He stifles the giddy laugh building in his chest as he fixes his gaze back on you. “And someone should teach you how to make a drink, that shit was nasty.”

“You entitled brat,” you snap back, pushing him away with a hand against his chest. “I make excellent drinks, otherwise why else would you end up drunk on my couch every weekend, hm?”

“Maybe I just like the couch’s company,” he grins, dimples poking through the darkened lines spanning his face.

You’re both just staring at each other, waiting for something to happen, for someone to make a move. The air is electric, buzzing with that imperceptible desire.

Fuck it.

Just as you move to lean into him, a noise cuts through the static.

“Sukuna!” someone calls from the depths of the party.

His head whips around before shooting you an almost apologetic glance. “Guess someone else requires my attention.”

“Wouldn’t wanna keep them waiting for everyone’s favorite asshole,” you mock. With a mirrored smack of his ass, you send him away into the chaos surrounding you.

In his absence, your head swirls, overwhelmed with the alcohol and the lights and the sudden heat in your core.

Just friends.

You’re just friends.

Taking in a steadying breath, your hands shake as you pour another drink.

But at what point does it stop being a game? When do you decide to stop playing?

With a sigh you knock it back in one gulp before wandering between the bodies crowding the space.

The rest of the party is all skin and noise. It’s fluid and blurry and utterly debaucherous, the way you throw your arms around your friends, the way your body moves with each increasingly loud and repetitive song.

By the time the next few hours have passed, your feet start to ache as you make your way from the swath of strangers crowding the makeshift DJ booth at the front of the house.

Stumbling towards the back, a familiar voice calls your name.

“Where ya goin’, pretty?”

Sukuna is sprawled across one of the stained couches lining the walls, an unfamiliar girl hanging on his side. Her hands rest across his chest as her eyes cover you disapprovingly, nails digging into his shirt when you refuse to give her an ounce of attention.

“Lookin’ for somewhere to sit down,” you sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“Got a free seat right here,” he smirks, patting his thigh. This fucker.

An angry glare forms along the girl’s face as she stares at you with a displeased grunt. Crossing your arms, you let out a breathy chuckle. “I would, but I wouldn’t wanna interrupt anything.”

Sukuna never even turns towards the girl who now traces her fingertips down his chest. “Nothin’ to interrupt here, baby.”

Exchanging a quick glance at the increasingly unhappy stranger lounged across him, she lets out an annoyed scoff as she rolls her eyes, finally removing herself from Sukuna. Brushing past you, she tries to shove into your shoulder before she misses, tumbling forward and back onto the dance floor.

You can’t help but giggle at the failed show of dominance, your eyes now finding their way back to Sukuna. He pats his thighs again expectantly, eyebrows quirking as he awaits your response.

He’s fucking with you, of course.

But before you know it, you’re standing between his legs. With a small sigh, you seat yourself on his lap, bare legs straddling him. A whisper of mischief dances behind his eyes while his hands make their way to your hips, holding you firmly in place.

“See? Isn’t this much more comfortable?” he taunts.

Heat builds in your core at how low his voice is, the rumbling of thunder just before a storm.

“Mmm,” you hum, letting your dissatisfaction show as you click your tongue. Wrapping your arms easily around his neck, your fingertips absentmindedly trace the lines of his tattoos to where they end at the neckline of his t-shirt. “It’s a bit better, but something’s still missing.”

“Oh yeah?” When he smiles, the lines adorning his skin crease invitingly. “And what’s that, sweetheart?”

You can’t help but grin silently. Because you can fuck with him, too.

Rolling your hips forward, your clothed pussy drags along the outline of his cock. The firm denim of his jeans provides just enough friction to have you stifling a moan. He inhales sharply through his nose, the soft sound cutting through the static noise surrounding you.

“Isn’t that better?” you coo teasingly as his fingertips dig into your waist.

A choked groan leaves his throat, his inability to let you have the upperhand fighting against the sudden desire to pin you down on this shitty couch and fuck you right here. Attempting to shake the thought off, his head falls forward into your neck.

Of course he’s thought about you like that before - you’re gorgeous, fucking hilarious, and somehow just as stubborn as he is. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

But some small part of him worries that the moment he pushes you too far, you’ll run, just like everyone else in his life. He was always too intense, too angry, too much. But not to you - you seemed to love him in spite of it, maybe even because of it.

Maybe that’s why he lets himself play this eternal game of cat and mouse, the push and pull.

But fuck, right now he wants to pull.

He wants to pull you against him, dragging you along the length of his hardening cock through his boxers. He wants to pull you up and down as he fucks into you, feeling your warm walls meld around him. He wants to pull your lips apart with his, tasting how sweet you are, whispering things he wouldn’t dare say to anyone else. Anyone but you.

The words feel heavy on the tip of his tongue. I want you. I want you. I want you. They’re too weighted, he worries. Instead, he settles for biting at your neck, hoping that your skin between his teeth will be enough to satiate his body’s need.

“S-shit,” you stammer at the sensations of his canines digging into your flesh. “Acting like a fuckin’ teething puppy, hm? Need someone to train some manners into you? Or do you want me to tell you to sit, stay, tell you you’re doing a good job?”

And he does. But of course, he’d never tell you that.

Instead, he bites harder, leaving dark bruises in his wake, a reminder of his mark on you.

As his lips trace up your neck, he pauses to nibble along your earlobe. “Just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” he whispers, his breath hot. “Wouldn’t want anyone taking what’s mine.”

You nearly whimper at the words - his? - but you manage to hold back, instead letting your neediness out with another circle of your hips. He hopes you miss the way his breath catches in his throat at the movement.

“Oh? I’m yours now?” you tease, silently pleading he doesn’t notice the lingering waver in your voice. “Quite possessive, don’t you think, ‘Kuna?”

You feel him chuckle more than you hear it, the warm puffs of air gently blowing against your hair. “I’m only possessive of things I want,” he growls. God, you always loved that rasp in his voice, like a gravel road lining the way home.

At this point, you’re sure your panties are soaked through, the tip of his cock dragging along your clit through them. You’ve never gone this far with him before, never been so bold, so desperate.

And he fucking loves it.

“And what do you want?” Your voice is airy, breathless, as your pace seems to pick up. You’re grateful for the dim LEDs flashing distantly from the depths of the party for hiding the blush undoubtedly dusting your cheeks.

Trailing wet kisses along your jawline, his mouth comes to rest just in front of you. His lips are soft, barely brushing against yours, a few millimeters apart. So close. So fucking close.

“I think it’s rather obvious.” His breath smells like liquor and desire as he whispers, “I want you.”

a/n: getting out of my writing slump by going back to my roots (wanting to fuck sukuna)

[arminsumi]

First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

2k

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[celeryb1tch]

innocent!reader x experienced!pervert!abby is rotting my brain tonight!!!

18+!! this is lesbian smut!

you sit at a table in the mess hall, abby’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and her friends all enjoying their dinner. casual conversation is thrown around the table, until manny’s new fling is brought up.

“-and i mean, SOAKED the sheets. i couldn’t believe my eyes,” he recounts proudly.

everyone is laughing along or rolling their eyes, but abby notices your hesitance. she leans down toward you with a concerned look. “something wrong?”

you shake your head lightly, looking up at her. “jus’ don’t get it,” you reply.

abby feels her stomach twist. she had known there wasn’t great sex ed on the WLF base, but she and her friends had grown up around doctors like her dad and she realizes she hadn’t know the full extent of just how ignorant you were. and admittedly, it made her excited.

“she squirted when she came,” she tries to explain gently. but you still look utterly confused, even as she goes on.

“…come? and she didn’t pee?” you seem so utterly lost. abby wonders if it makes her a bad person to expose you to these ideas, but you’re both already adults. still, that knot is twisting inside her deriving a sick pleasure from all of this. you had always looked up to abby, and she wondered how wrong it would be to corrupt that relationship with talk of sex- or even a demonstration?

that night, you’re laying in bed thinking about what abby said earlier. with all the training and violence you’d grown up around, you hardly had time to pay attention to the ache between your legs, or how it would usually occur when abby was around. but as you recount that conversation in your mind, it appears once more. you think of her arm wrapping around you, pressing you into her hard front. how she was still warm and sweaty from the gym, and how her flyaways stuck to the sides of her forehead because of that. something inside of you is saying you should be embarrassed, and you don’t know exactly why- but a louder, much louder, part is telling you to confide in your best friend. she would never judge you, right?

you shuffle down a few hallways in your fluffy socks until you reach one of the bigger accommodations: abby’s room. and with a bit of hesitance in your knock, you step back as the door opens immediately.

abby is clearly groggy, and must have also been getting ready for bed. she’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts and the usual black sports bra she has on during patrols and workouts. her hair is tied in her signature braid, with more wispy pieces that have come out throughout the day. “hey, you. everything okay?”

you nod and push past abby inside as was usual. she joins you on her bed, your bare thighs touching as you both sit. her eyes are on you and you can feel it again- that heat. you pull away slightly, squeezing your legs together as it’s the only thing you know eases the feeling.

abby pretends not to notice, just like she does any other time you blatantly stare at her muscles or blush when she touches your waist. she doesn’t want to scare you off, especially when she thinks she can tell what you’re going to ask about.

“you remember earlier at dinner?” you say, biting your lip slightly as unease turns in your tummy. and abby just nods, still looking right at you. “how manny said he made a girl, uh…”

“squirt?” abby offers. she says it so nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. like she’s never in a million years thought about fucking you until you do. like she wasn’t hoping this would happen every second after dinner.

“yeah, well, i realized there’s probably a lot of sex stuff i don’t know, and since you… y’know…”

poor baby, she thinks. how will she ever work up the courage. and abby thinks of all the times she’s teased you about all the women she’s fucked. called you jealous that you had to split quality time with her one night stands. seen you pout about her missing games night because someone asked her on a date in front of you. surely you were going to ask for her expertise- for her to help you out, to show you?

“since your dad was a doctor.”

oh. that was it? you wanted a little anatomy lesson. then what was all the embarrassment for? were you that ashamed of asking for a little bit of guidance?

abby gives you a soft smile and an assurance that she can help. and your body floods with relief. this is normal. you can tell her what you’re feeling and she won’t act weird. she can help you.

you stand up and strip off your pyjama bottoms and big shirt you had likely stolen from abby so long ago you don’t remember whose it was in the first place. and she just watches, small smile still on her face as she looks you over.

“okay, so right here? boobs, obviously.” she points to your chest, and you roll your eyes.

“i know that, stupid. show me the more advanced stuff.”

“you’ll have to take your underwear off then.” so you do.

abby instinctively reaches for it, stroking her fingers between your puffy, wet lips. her eyes are shining with admiration and her cheeks are hot.

you pull away slightly at the bolt of pleasure that spikes through you at her touch. “is it… supposed to look like this? i think there’s something wrong.”

she shakes her head fervently, eyes never leaving your pussy. “you’re just wet, that’s all. did something turn you on?” and at your confusion at the term- “get you excited? when girls see something attractive, they get wet.”

oh no. you can feel dread flooding your senses as you try to scramble for an explanation. that it just happens sometimes. that’s normal, right?

after a pause, and a look at your face, abby knows exactly what happened. “oh. you got wet from me, huh?”

you want to run away and disappear. you swallow a sob, but strangely, you feel that pulsing sensation again. all of this attention from abby isn’t working in your favour.

but she isn’t grimacing in disgust, or even asking you to leave. in fact, abby has a shit-eating grin on her face as she watches you cower in front of her.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask sheepishly.

abby reaches out to you, pulling you onto her lap. “no, baby, of course not. it’s cute.”

relief washes over you, but before you can really relax you feel abby’s hand once again on your folds.

“so wet for me, baby. how long has this been happening?”

a finger skims against a particularly sensitive spot, and you choke on your words, succumbing to the blissful feeling. “s-so long, abs. like forever.”

“poor girl. so pent up, so needy. and too embarrassed to tell me.”

“yeah…” you whine. you’re clinging to abby like a lifeline, overwhelmed by the building tension. it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before. so intense, so all-consuming.

abby’s fingers are expertly caressing your pussy, steadily adding more pressure so as not to overstimulate you. “this is the clit,” she murmurs, and you feel that electric spark again as she glides over one specific spot at the top.

“it’s too much,” you cry out, wriggling under her grasp.

“that means you’re cumming soon,” she explains with a chuckle. “feels so good, trust me. just ride it out.”

and you trust abby with every ounce of your being, so you try to relax your muscles as much as possible while you feel that climbing feeling come to a boil. and she was so right. you’re huffing tiny sobs into her chest as you come down, her strokes easing as you’re finally able to catch your breath again.

abby cradles you into her, clean hand running through your hair. you can feel the puddle between your thighs dripping down her own and onto the sheets, and you’re so exhausted.

“that was so hot, baby. did such a good job for me.”

“abs, that was… wow.”

she’s smiling down at you, admiring your sweat- wicked face. “bet you wish you’d asked me sooner, huh?”

[quaithe-seastar]

His Queen

Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Aegon are trapped in an arranged marriage, but you've both done your best to deal with it. Aegon admits to you that he has his doubts about being king. You do your best to offer him comfort despite having your reservations.

Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving), Slight angst, mentions of arranged marriage, mentions of infidelity

A/n: No beta, so I apologize for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

You groan, fluffing your pillow as you turn onto your side. Your eyes beg you to go back to sleep, but your mind seems intent on keeping you awake. You slide a hand over to the left side of the bed. The sheets where Aegon rested had grown cold. You frowned, longing for his warmth. He had been here when you went to sleep, just as he has been every night for the past week.

Since becoming king, Aegon has been different. He is taking a more active and involved role, not just as king but also as a husband and father. 

A great wave of weariness washes over you, taking your energy along with it. It leaves nothing but a sting of melancholy and humiliation in its wake. Perhaps you were a fool to think Aegon had changed. Had he slipped back into his old ways so soon? Where was he now, you wondered. In some brothel on the street of silk or in some filthy flea-bottom rat pit? You shake your head, trying to stop being so pessimistic.

Slowly, you got out of bed and pulled your robe over your nightgown. You pull your hair to the side as you slide on a pair of slippers. The castle was quiet and dark, though that was no surprise considering how late it was. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to fight off the chill in the air. Maester Orwyle believed the summer was finally coming to an end.

Your eyes wander around, lazily observing the same walls you have seen a thousand times before. Your mind turns back to your husband. The marriage had been arranged by your father and the late King Viserys. Your mother had wished you to marry the Lord of Seagard, Lord Jorah Mallister, but your father refused. What is a lord compared to a prince, he said.

Neither you nor Aegon had been happy about it. But somehow, you managed to coexist; you had little choice otherwise. Over the years, you had found yourself growing quite fond of him. He was charismatic and very easy on the eyes without even trying. Though you were unsure if he shared your feelings, it was so hard to tell. He was always off doing whatever he did with his spare time.

The sound of clinking metal echoed in the air. Your eyes land upon an alert Ser Arryk. Though the tense knight relaxed when he realized it was you. He removed his hand from the hilt of his sword and bowed his head.

“Your grace.”

“Ser Arryk,” you greet him courteously.

 “Is he alone?” You asked, gesturing towards the giant closed doors that concealed the throne room. 

You could see how the king guard tensed up again; a look of pity flickered in his eyes. It was a look you had grown accustomed to over the years. Your husband's indiscretions were well known throughout the city.

Ser Arryk nodded, “Yes, your grace.”

You take a step forward, and the knight quickly takes the hint. He pushed open one of the doors just enough for you to slip past it before pulling it closed again. The room was so quiet. Even the soft thuds your feet made against the stone floor echoed. The walk to the throne felt like it stretched on for hours. 

You could see Aegon in the distance. His silver-gold hair contrasted beautifully against the grim, gray walls of the throne room. The man stands at the foot of the steps, dressed down in his nightwear.

The iron throne was said to be made of the thousand swords of the conqueror’s enemies. Regardless of whether that was true, the throne was certainly a ghastly thing to look at.

The iron throne casts a large shadow that stops at the bottom of the steps, right at Aegon’s feet, threatening to engulf him.

“You disappeared. I was worried something had happened,” you said, breaking the silence in the room.

Aegon turned his head to look at you. He had a startled look on his face. Had he not heard you coming?

”I apologize, my queen. I did not wish to disturb you with my restlessness.” 

You fiddle with the sleeves of your robe. The title of queen was something you hadn’t entirely warmed up to yet. In truth, you weren’t sure what you thought of all of this. 

“I wouldn’t have minded. It’s better than waking up alone.”

A look of hurt and guilt washed over his face. You quickly came to regret your words.

“I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything,” you added nervously. “I shall leave you be.”

You quickly turn to leave, but before you can take a step, a voice calls out, “Don’t go!”

The urgency and desperation in his tone make you freeze. You crane your neck to look back at him. His dark eyes are wide and glossy.

“I mean,” he cleared his throat. “I would enjoy your company.”

You remain frozen, at a loss for words. He had never actively sought your company before. Aegon’s cheeks grow red, and he quickly adds, “Though you’re free to go if you wish.”

He quickly turns back around, facing the throne. You stare at the back of his head, your eyes following the waves of his hair. It had grown out quite a bit. That was also something you were not used to. He usually preferred to keep it short.

The soft thuds of your slippers hitting the ground echo in the air once more. You slowly move to stand by his side.

“Do you think I can do it?” He asked suddenly.

Aegon’s voice wavers as the question leaves his lips. You turn your head to look at him. His body is tense, and he keeps his eyes forward, not looking at you.

In a way, he reminds you of a child, your child, your sweet little Jaehaerys. He is your husband's heir now. One day, he will stand in this very spot. You wonder if he will have the same doubts.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the throne. You had wondered the same thing many times before. A deep, weary sigh escaped from your lips.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see him wince at your words. 

“I do not wish to lie to you, husband. I cannot say for certain if you will be a good king. But I do believe,” you take his hand into yours. “that you have a kind heart. And if you try, really try , you may surprise us all.”

He offers your hand a little squeeze. “I want to try. I just- I don’t know how. My father never prepared me for this.”

“No one prepared him either, yet he found his path. In time, you will too.”

An uneasy smile stretched across his lips. He shook his head slightly before lowering it. His eyes trained on the ground. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Hey,” you coax as you move to stand before him. 

Your free hand gently cups his face, urging him to look up at you. His eyes are vast and glossier than you’ve ever seen them. You can see the slight tremble in his bottom lip. He leans into the warmth of your palm. You run your thumb up and down his cheekbone. 

“You are not alone in this, Aegon. You have your small council and your grandfather, who has advised two kings bef-”

“And you?” He queried.

Aegon’s violet eyes shift back and forth between your eyes as if he were searching for something. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “You have me.”

His hands rest on your hips, pulling you closer. Soon, your chest is pressed against his. You can feel his warm breath on your face. You catch a whiff of the sweet arbor red that lingers on his tongue. Aegon lowers his head, nudging his nose against yours. Your lips just barely graze each other. 

A heat climbed up your face, making it feel like your skin was on fire. Unable to handle the growing need in your stomach, you lift yourself onto your toes, pressing your lips to his. Aegon responds immediately, moving his soft lips against yours.

This kiss was different. Different from the chaste kiss you shared on your wedding day or the sloppy drunk kisses you shared during the few times he joined you in your marital bed. 

Aegon kissed you with a desperation and hunger that you had never experienced before. Your arms wound around his neck, needing him even closer to you if possible. You let him lead you through the kiss, primarily due to your lack of experience but also because you find yourself becoming lightheaded. 

You feel dizzy like the world is spinning. You're running out of breath, lungs burning from the lack of air, but no part of you wants to stop this.

Aegon takes the initiative to pull away first. A pathetic whine passes through your lips. You lean forward, eager to feel his lips on yours again, but he doesn’t let you. He grabs your arms, pulling them away from his neck.

“Come with me,” he said, taking one of your hands into his.

You struggled to keep up with him as he pulled you behind him. Your feet sluggishly climbed up the stairs to the iron throne.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you reached the top.

“Take a seat,” he replied, not answering your question.

You eyed him suspiciously, unsure of what he was planning to do. Your eyes scanned the empty throne room, ensuring no one was watching you. A devilish smile rested on his lips as he gestured towards the throne. You hold onto his hand as you lower yourself onto the throne made of swords. 

Your body is tense, and you struggle not to let the fear of being pricked overwhelm you.

“How does it feel?”

You struggle to come up with an answer. You were frightened, but you could not deny the sense of power and strength that filled your chest. Suddenly, you could understand why so many people lusted after the throne.

“It’s ... nice.”

Aegon lets out a hearty laugh, and you turn your head away, mortified.

“My sweet little wife,” he mused, leaning down to kiss your head.

You stay silent, reeling with embarrassment. You close your eyes, wishing this was all a dream and that you would soon be back in the comfort of your own bed.

Warm hands slipping under your nightgown make you gasp. Your head snaps forward to find your husband kneeling before you. Aegon’s warm hands rest on your calves. You squeeze your legs together as tightly as you can.

“What are you doing?!” You whispered harshly, taken aback by his audaciousness.

His eyes flickered up towards yours, staring at you. “I want to try something.”

The gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“What?” You asked, though you believe you have some understanding of what he means.

Some of the more... bolder ladies at court loved to gossip and share stories of their late-night trysts with their husbands and paramours. You have heard a few stories about men who enjoy... feasting on their lovers. It was something you had never heard of before, let alone experienced. A part of you wondered if it was even true.

You had thought of asking Aegon about it, as he was quite... familiar with the ways of lovemaking, but you could not bring yourself to repeat what you had heard.

“Trust me,” he said, a grin reaching his lips. “I believe you will enjoy it.”

You stare at him, taking a deep breath before nodding. His warm hands slid up high, caressing your knees as he pushed them apart. You gasped, knees immediately trying to clamp shut to preserve some of your dignity. But Aegon doesn’t let you. 

He keeps a firm grip on your knees, keeping you spread open for him. Your nightgown is hitched up above your knees. The cold night air makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. The heat that was climbing up your face earlier spreads throughout your entire body. You want to close your eyes and turn away, but you cannot bring yourself to look away from him.

His eyes no longer stare into yours. Instead, his violet eyes remained focused between your legs. He glides his hands up your thighs, inching your dress higher until, finally, your cunt is exposed. But he doesn’t touch it. Instead, he moves his palms down, rubbing circles on your outer thighs.

The way Aegon touches you now differs from his usual impatient and rough approach. His hands seem almost reverent as they fondle your soft, plush thighs.

“Aegon,” you gasped as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to your right inner thigh. 

His hair fell forward, covering his face, but you believed you could feel him smirking against your skin. Suddenly, you felt him nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh. A sharp cry leaves your lips.

“‘m sorry,” he murmured against your skin as he kissed the bite.

His lips move up higher to the crook of your thigh. Your mouth hung slightly open, and a shaky breath passed through your lips. Being naked and exposed to him was nothing new, but having him so close like this was. Having his eyes and lips so close to your most intimate area was very new.

“Can you open them a bit more?” He asked, looking up at you.

You swiped your tongue across your lips before nodding. You were finally able to shut your eyes as you spread your legs wider, hoping it was enough.

“You’re perfect,” he said in awe.

A hot wetness glides over your aching cunt, making your entire body jolt. You let out a noise that is somewhere between a gasp and a cry as you try to draw your legs closed, but you're unable to, not with Aegon nestled between your thighs. His shoulders keep you spread open for his view and pleasure.

Aegon’s tongue was delivering the most exquisite pleasure you had ever experienced. He lapped up and down your folds, savoring your taste, before caressing your clit, alternating movements from up and down and side to side.

You look down, finding him peering up at you. His violet eyes locked onto you, watching your every expression, listening to every sound as he unraveled you beneath him. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, from the top of your head all the way down to your toes. All the air that fills your lungs is gone in an instant.

“Aegon- mmm,” his name leaves you like a meager whine.

His tongue works ardently between your splayed thighs, feasting upon you like a man starved. You find yourself enamored by the soft, tantalizing, wet sound his mouth is producing. One of your hands reached down, entangling itself in his messy silver waves. He moans against you, and the feeling has you arching your back. 

Your eyes rolled back as the pleasure quickly began to overwhelm you. Your chest rose and fell repeatedly, your hard nipples rubbing against the fabric of your nightgown. You did not know how much more you would be able to take.

Sinful cries and whimpers echoed throughout the throne room, but you could not bring yourself to care. How could you possibly think of anything else when your husband was sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body? 

Then, he slips a finger inside of you. 

“Aegon!” You cried out, so close to reaching your peak, yet not wanting this to end.

He easily adds another. His fingers move at a torturous, methodical pace. The pads of his fingers rub against your spongy walls, favoring that spot that makes you gasp and squeal. He catches your clit between his lips, suckling on it as if it were a treat. You gripped his head, rocking into his mouth.

You could feel a familiar heat building up in your lower stomach. The tension was almost unbearable. The world around you seemed to blur; all your senses honed in on Aegon and the pleasure only he could give you. 

You panted out curses and his name, shuddering at the warm pleasure that filled your entire body.

A groan erupts from the back of his throat, so guttural, it makes you weak. You glanced down and found him still watching you. His dark eyes entranced you, not allowing you to look away. 

Your legs and back stiffened, your stomach tightened, and your breath halted. You clamped your eyes shut and moaned out his name as you finally reached your peak. 

You remove your hand from his hair and tap his shoulder. Thankfully he pulled away with little protest, allowing your senses to calm down as your peak reached its end. Your back is aching from sitting upright for so long. You lean back a little, hoping to find relief, but the iron throne offers none. 

You're unsure how much time passes before you can properly catch your breath again. Soft fingers interlace with yours, bringing you back to the present. You blink, trying to fight off the drowsiness that is steadily creeping up on you. Aegon is still kneeling before you, with a self-satisfying look on his face.

“I told you you’d like it.”

You let out a breathy laugh and tried to push him away. However, you lacked the strength to do so.

“Just... give me a moment. Then I shall help you.”

“Mmh,” he hummed. “That won’t be necessary, my queen.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He smirked and glanced down at his lap before looking back at you. You sat up and looked down to find a dark wet spot that covered the front of his trousers. Your face heated up again, and a coy smile made its way onto your lips.

“That’s too bad,” you sigh. “I was hoping we could play some more.”

Aegon’s smirk is gone, replaced with a more serious look. “I just need a moment. Then I’ll take you right here.”

You laugh at his enthusiasm. “I’m more than willing to go again, but not here. I prefer the comfort of our bed.”

Aegon nods and quickly stands to his feet. He helps you stand and holds you close to his side as the two of you leave the throne room. 

“Your grace,” Ser Arryk bows as the two of you make it out of the room.

You gulped, mortified, realizing what the poor white cloak had just endured. 

“Ser Arryk,” Aegon smiled. “The Queen and I shall be returning to our bedchamber now.”

The knight’s eyes flickered toward you before quickly averting his gaze. It was not hard to tell that the man was flustered. You shot him an apologetic smile even though he would not look at you.

“Yes, your grace.” He replied, dutifully following behind the two of you as you returned to your bedchamber. You’ll have to convince Aegon to find some way to make it up to him.

[geekforhorror]

kiss it better

pairing: dbf!james kelly x fem reader

description: james kelly is one of your dads oldest friends who has a thing for you…especially in that short skirt of yours.

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!james, sub!reader, established age gap (james is 40, reader is 21), skirt fucking, james has a thing for your ass, pussy slapping, slight objectification, praise, degradation, corruption kink, unprotected p in v sex, fluff, etc.

word count: 2.5k

James knew what you were doing.

Currently, your dad was out buying some propane fuel for the barbecue grill outside because he had forgotten to get some beforehand. However, he had left you alone with his best friend James.

You had developed quite a crush on the older man a few years back and you’ve wanted him ever since. You didn’t know what it was about him that you found yourself attracted to the most. Maybe it was the faint stubble on his face, his piercing blue eyes, or his tattoos. Perhaps it was all three. You thought you were being subtle all this time about your little crush on James. I mean for christ sakes, you had even picked out the skimpiest crop top and tight skirt you owned when your dad told you he would be joining the two of you for the mini backyard barbecue.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed to James at all. He always saw how you would bat your doe eyes at him all innocently, the way you swayed your hips while walking past him, and how you tempted him. At first he thought he was looking into it too much, but then he saw it happen again…and again…and again. His need for you grew every passing day when you teased him and you were just adding more fire to his need for you.

That’s what was currently happening.

Your dad had texted you saying he would be back soon and told you to get the pack of beer out from the cooler in the kitchen.

“Can you come with me, Jamie?”

That was new. You had never called him Jamie.

“Sure, honey,” he says, trying to be nonchalant when all he wanted to do was smirk in your face. Plus, he wants to see the selection for himself. Classic James.

As you get up from the couch in the living room, he trails behind you, not missing a step before the two of you find the freezer where the blue cooler labeled ‘beer’ was located. Before you know it, you’re walking back to him and like always, you make sure to sway your hips for him. He was addicted to the way your pretty little body moved and couldn’t help but wonder how it would move while fucking you. His restraint was wavering.

Just when he thinks it couldn’t get any worse for him, you bend over. Doing this allows James to get a glance up your skirt and what he saw was enough for him to get hard in his faded blue jeans. Not only had you bent over for him on purpose, but had also worn the thinnest lace panties known to man. He swore he was going to blow his load right then and there.

Opening the box, you present it to James as if nothing had just happened. “Is this good for you Jamie?” you ask him sheepishly.

“I know what you’re doing, sweetheart,” he admits.

“What do you mean?” you ask with the fakest, most insincere tone you could possibly ever use.

“Don’t play dumb with me, doll. I see the way you act around me…acting all innocent after,” he says, calling you out with no hesitation.

“You did?” you ask.

“You make it hard not to notice when you’re parading your tits and ass around me every time I see you,” he says.

“What are you going to do about it?” you say with a smirk.

That was it.

Within seconds, he pounces himself onto you, his carnal desire for you getting the best of him. His lips latch onto yours, fueled with unwavering passion. He had waited for this moment and now it was happening. His tongue finally finds its way into your mouth and you don’t find yourself disgusted by it. All you felt was the desire for him to do unspeakable things to you.

“James…I need you,” you plead, whining into his mouth

“Already so desperate f’me and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” he coos.

You could feel the arousal seeping through your panties at the sound of his silky smooth voice. The effect he had on you was profound. Melting over his voice? You were screwed.

His hands found purchase to your clothed ass, but that wasn’t enough for him. Taking initiative, he rolls the dainty fabric up to your hips, now allowing him to grope your ass with those fucking tattooed hands you loved so much. If he only knew the amount of times you had touched yourself while imagining that they were his hands on your body.

He hoists you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist before breaking the kiss. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, sweet girl…how many times I’ve had to hold myself back out of respect your old man, but fuck it. I want you.”

With that being said, he holds you with his arms and takes you out of the room. Before he can lead you up the stairs that lead to your room, you stop him.

“Where are you taking us?” you ask.

“To your room, angel,” he says to you.

“What’s wrong with the couch in the living room?” you implore.

“Sweetie, I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I’m gonna fuck you the way you deserve, not on some old couch,” he says before finally going up the stairs with haste, but also making sure he didn’t drop you in the process. You guys finally make it to your room and he wastes no time before placing you gently down on the bed, moving you backwards so there was enough room for him to successfully tower over your body. The sight gave you chills, but in the best way possible.

His lips latch onto your warm skin surrounding your collarbone before sucking away at the tender flesh of it. You let out a breathy whine at the newfound sensation. You could feel how soft his lips were…just like you imagined they would be.

“James…” you say.

“Yes, baby?” he asks back.

“Can’t take anymore teasing…need you inside me,” you beg of the older man.

“Shhh…patience, pretty girl…be patient for me, yeah?” he says in a soft voice at which you nod at. “Such a good girl.”

He can’t even stop himself before he starts stripping you of your clothes,..if you could even call them that with how short and dainty they are. “Raise your arms for me, angel…wanna see those pretty tits,” he coos. You do as he says and within seconds, he’s met with the bare flesh that had been hiding underneath your shirt. He was in heaven.

“Should’ve known you weren’t wearing a bra,” he smirks.

He had imagined your tits so many times while jacking himself off. He always imagined the way your tits would bounce when fucking you, the way he would suck them.

“These are fucking mine, got it?” he enunciates, now pinching one of your sensitive nipples with his slender fingers, then rolling it accordingly.

“Fuck Jamie…” you say, lost in the feeling.

“My baby’s already whining for me, hm? You haven’t seen anything yet,” he claims. You had no idea him saying that would lead him to now suck at your pebbled areolas to prove his point.

“Such pretty tits on such a pretty girl,” he praises. He decides to tease you even further by pulling down your expensive lace panties before throwing them aside like they were nothing. “And an even prettier pussy…so wet for me, baby.”

The anticipation for him to slide into you was truly killing you. It was always on your mind when you knew it shouldn’t be. “You’re fucking perfect…need to have you,” he says, almost sounding a tad bit desperate.

“I’m all yours, James,” you assure him.

“Glad to hear it, doll.” he smiles. Finally, after what seems like ages, he starts throwing articles of his clothing off his toned body before he’s only in his black boxers while on top of you. You couldn’t help your curiosity as to how hard he was and looked down at the sight below you…and god, he was huge. The outline of his hardened bulge was more than prominent, leading you to question whether you could take him or not. He notices your lingering stare and can’t help but grow a little cocky.

“Eyes are up here, baby,” he says before grabbing your chin with his veiny hand.

“I’m sorry…” you trail.

“Don’t be sorry, baby. I think it’s quite cute seeing you get all flustered,” he says with a chuckle.

“I want your cock…please,” you beg, not even caring how desperate and whiny he had made you in this moment.

“Gonna fuck you so good until the only thing you remember is me and my name,” James promises you. “Gonna ruin you for anybody who thinks they have a chance with you.”

He slowly slides the fabric covering his cock down to the floor, where the rest of your guys’ clothes laid sprawled out. It only took a mere second before you saw the way his cock sprung towards his defined stomach. Fuck…he was gonna split you raw.

“You ready f’me, baby?” he asks you.

“Yes please…need your cock so bad,”

“Such a good girl for begging,” he praises while caressing your messy locks.

Suddenly, you feel his cock intrude your warm cunt, causing a moan to escape your lips from the sensation of him stretching you out with his thick cock.

“Shit…squeezing me so well, pretty girl… just like I thought you would,” he admits.

“Please move, James…” you whine.

“Anything for my girl,” he says before complying with your ever so desperate command. He begins thrusting into your tight hole without showing any signs of mercy or slowing down anytime soon. He wish he could take his time with you, but he knew it was only a matter of time until your dad was set to return.

“Just like that!” you scream out, your well manicured nails digging into his shoulder dimples as he fucks you into oblivion. With every inch inserted into you, the more dumb you could feel yourself becoming. But guess what? You didn’t give a fuck.

“Poor girl…already becoming dumb just from her daddy’s friend fucking her like the slut she is,” he degrades.

“Fuck…” you moan in response.

“Such naughty words from a girl like you,” he tuts in response.

“Need it harder…” you say in between raggedy breaths.

“You’re going to take what I give you and you’re going to like it, princess. Now behave,” he orders. You follow his instructions as explained before continuing with his erratic movements inside you. Your guys’ hips collide with one another, providing much needed friction that had both of you moaning. Sounds of your slickness began to fill the room and James couldn’t help but savor them. You felt his cock scrape your sensitive nerves that had already begun twitching around him.

He took in the way your chest heaved with every single thrust he made while inside you, the way you were panting for air…everything. You looked absolutely beautiful all fucked out for him and he would remember that sight below him for as long as he lived.

“Such a little cock slut, hm? So desperate for my dick that you dressed like this for me instead of asking me for it. Thought your daddy raised you to know better…guess not,” he tuts in disapproval. You felt yourself getting closer to your inevitable climax just by listening to his degrading words. You felt ashamed for getting off to someone speaking to you as if you were nothing, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Don’t fret baby, that’s what your new daddy is here for.” he says before slapping your pussy, guaranteeing that there would be a fresh mark tomorrow. The impact left a stinging sensation afterwards, but instead of wanting him to stop, you found yourself wanting more of his harsh blows. This was made crystal clear to him when you let out a moan.

“Look what we have here…a filthy slut moaning over getting treated like a fuck doll. My fuck doll,” he teases.

“Please…want more of it,” you admit.

“Of course you do, baby. Because you’re a pathetic little thing,” James mocks while still sheathed inside your sopping cunt. His hand lands another harsh hit to the irritated flesh, making you grip your sheets so hard that they were turning white.

“Fuck Jamie…’m so close,” you whimper.

“Hold on for a bit longer if you wanna prove you can be a good slut for me. Can you do that for me, baby?” he asks, hoping you would provide him with the right answer. You frantically nod your head, which was a good enough answer for him to keep bullying you and your pussy. Before you know it, he sets a new pace, one that was nothing short of animalistic. He wanted to be so deep inside of you as physically possible and that was what he was doing right now.

You can feel his cock twitch inside your warm cunt, which only makes him rock harder into you. Your vision becomes painted with stars as he was doing so and it felt fucking fantastic. He was the only man ever to make you feel like this. Safe to say, he exceeded any of your wild expectations.

Suddenly, you feel yourself becoming unraveled to the point where you can feel the hot coil start to unwind deep inside your fluttering stomach. With each additional movement he made, you felt the sensation become even more undeniable to feel.

“Please let me cum James!” you scream out in ecstasy.

“That’s it pretty girl…cum for me” he praises.

That’s all it took for you to splash your warm release all over his cock. You felt like you were on cloud nine while he was fucking you through your orgasm. The feeling of you coming undone on his dick finally made him ropes of his hot, sticky seed into your sensitive entrance. He groaned while doing so, which you found to be the hottest thing ever.

After the two of you come down from your heaven sent orgasms, he pulls out of you and lays down next to you. He positions himself so that he’s now looking at your pretty face in awe.

“I love you sweet girl and I hope you know I didn’t mean anything bad I said” he admits.

“I love you too James,” you say to him with a chuckle.

James smiles at your confession of love before pulling you in for a slow and gentle kiss, unlike the one you guys had shared before. The two of you found peace and solace in the kiss and you guys wouldn’t stop until either of your lungs gave out…or in this case, when your father comes home, which was now.

“Let’s not tell your father about this,” he says with a laugh.

“Agreed,” you say with a laugh back.

This was one for the books.

tag list: @zapernz @mortalheartache @midnight-raine @camiemorgan8 @myheartwillgoon2022 @demieyesore

[jenanigans1207]

“I don’t regret it, Dean.” Cas says quietly. “Telling you I love you was the best moment of my life.”

“Yeah? Well, it was the worst of mine!” Dean yells, throwing his arms out to the side. There’s a moment of stricken silence where Cas’s face falls and Dean realizes how his words came across. He rushes to elaborate. “Do you know how many years I wondered if angels could feel love? Romantic love? Do you know how long I hoped that they could— that you, specifically, could? And more than that, that you would feel it towards me? I wondered all the goddamn time, Cas. And then you— you finally—“ Dean swallows past a lump in his throat, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “You finally tell me not only that you can love, but you love me. Me. And in one second, ten years of my wildest dreams came true and then were ripped away.”

Dean looks down at his feet. Clenches his jaw against the feelings threatening to choke him. He tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose but it doesn’t help him feel any better.

“Dean—“

“I didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again.” Dean confesses to his boots. “I thought I’d have to live the rest of my miserable life knowing I could’ve had you and kicking myself for being such a dumb piece of shit.” He swallows again and looks up. “I thought you were going to spend eternity not knowing that I love you, too.”

“I didn’t mean— Dean, I didn’t—“ Cas shakes his head as words fail him.

“So yeah,” Dean shrugs a little helplessly, his voice still tight with emotion. “It was the worst moment of my life. Except for every moment that came after— because every single moment from your death until you came back was the worst moment of my life. Every moment without you is. And you coming back could’ve been the best moment of my life if you hadn’t been such an ass about everything.”

There was a time, once, in the distant past where Cas’s face never betrayed any emotion. Dean could’ve scrutinized every single molecule of his expression and he wouldn’t have been able to read a goddamn thing from it. That hasn’t been the case for a long time— Cas took to emotions and humanity better than Dean did, and it was the only thing Dean had ever known.

Now, Dean can read a multitude of emotions in Cas’s expression: disbelief in the slight part of his lips, hope in the blue of his eyes, shock in the rise of his eyebrows. He can practically read every thought going through Cas’s mind as he tries to process what’s happened.

And then, there it is: acceptance in the way the corner of Cas’s mouth ticks up.

“I had no idea.” Cas answers after a moment.

“‘Course you didn’t.” Dean replies, his own mouth mirroring the small smile. “You fucked off before I got a chance to say it back.”

“I just assumed—“

“You know what they say about assuming, Cas.”

“No, I don’t.” Cas is full on smiling now, warm and full of the love Dean had only ever seen hidden in shadows of his expressions. Now it’s practically splitting his face open, spilling out of Cas like he’s finally filled up with so much of it that it’s simply impossible to keep it all in. “And frankly, I don’t care. I only care about what you have to say.”

Dean huffs out a fond laugh as he shakes his head. “Finally gonna let me do the talking, huh?”

“I’m in the mood to do some listening,” Cas’s grin is dazzling and a little cheeky, Dean wants to memorize it immediately.

He takes a step closer to Cas. And then another. Cas simply watches him approach, making no attempt to back away. His personal space is inviting and Dean enjoys stepping directly into it with no hesitation.

“Well, I might be in the mood for something other than talking.” Dean whispers, less than a foot from Cas now.

“Oh?” Cas prompts, his hand reaching across the minuscule place between them to settle on Dean’s hip.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, leaning in. “But just to make sure you get it through your stubborn head: I love you, Cas. And I’ll fucking kill you if you ever do something like that again.”

Dean kisses him before Cas has a chance to reply.

[seonghwaddict]

blue bird — choi san, jung wooyoung

in which one of the most dangerous men in the city approaches you with an offer, but how would you have known it would turn into something more?

mafia boss!choi san x fem!reader x mafia boss!jung wooyoung. genre. fluff, smut, mafia au. warnings. explicit sexual content minors dni, unprotected sex, dom!san, dom!wooyoung, sub!reader, slight corruption, p in v, oral (f and m receiving), multiple orgasms, threesome, fingering, reverse cowgirl position, pussy drunk wooyoung??, subspace??, cum swallowing, san is a little mean, wooyoung likes to tease, lots of teasing, hair pulling, slight degradation, dirty talk like a lot of it, brief begging, praise, overuse of the word pretty, pet names (doll, princess, baby, pretty girl, good girl, baby doll, pretty little slut). i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know. wc. 6.9k.

lilo’s notes. hiii happy new year everyone!! this is dedicated to @garlichoisan, surprise! i was your secret santa :3 i’m sorry but i completely forgot to write angst and couldn’t find a way to squeeze it in, please forgive me 😭😭 i think i got a little carried away with the smut, it’s probably not my best since i’m not very experienced in writing it but i hope you like it and this as a whole!!

　　　　　　　　　masterlist

choi san wanted you in a rather unexpected way.

not in a friendly way or a sexual way, but actually in a professional way. ever since he’d heard of what you, the so called “blue bird,” were up to, he knew you’d be a valuable asset. shortly after he heard about you, he was quick to tell wooyoung about what he had learned from idling in a bar he’d never been to.

it was an early morning. so early that the sun hadn’t risen yet, but that didn’t bother san. he preferred quieter, intimate spaces rather than the bustling clubs of grey city. as he sipped on his whiskey, the two men beside him got to talking. neither of them were very memorable, if anything they looked too similar; not intimidating in any way. still, he made a mental note of the guns attached to their hips. it was nothing very interesting, small talk from what he could tell. well, at least until they mentioned an odd name.

“did you hear what she did?”

“who?” one of them, the one with comically thick glasses, said as he blew out some cigarette smoke.

“well… ya know…” his voice lowered to a whisper, though in his drunken state it was less of a discreet whisper and more of a loud hiss, “the blue bird.”

he gave a sound of recognition. “wonderful heist, wasn’t it?”

“indeed,” he laughed, a deep chortle, “she was here tellin’ ricky all about it yesterday. flawless, flew in and out like a ghost.” he sighed blissfully, as if he had been there to watch you work.

now this. this is what caught infamous mafia boss choi san’s attention.

“more like a bird!” the bespectacled man nudge his friend with his elbow, a high pitched giggle leaving him. “get it? because she’s called bl-”

the friend held his hand up with a deadpan expression. “yes, i get it.”

the two men talked about you some more (“pretty thing she is, isn’t she?” “mhm, heard she’s actually quite sweet too. odd thing to hear about an outlaw.”), but san tuned them out again. with an important upcoming mission, he needed someone capable of doing exactly what these two men had described. he needed someone like you. preferably, you.

going off of what he had heard, he frequented that bar, hoping you’d happen to be there at the same time. he sat at the same seat at the same counter every night and always ordered the same thing. he noticed that after the first two nights he was there, no one really sat next to him. presumably because they recognised him and opted to avoid him instead of doing anything.

not that he cared, this part of town was known to be filled with people of the rebellious type; people like him who despised the government and would stop at nothing to take it down. if anything, they most likely respected him and his business. but alas, that doesn’t matter much in this particular story, does it?

wooyoung even offered to take turns visiting the bar, curious to see this mysterious person as well. but two weeks passed and no sign of you. most of the people there were the same every time he went, he was sure he would’ve noticed a new face at some point.

fortunately, his efforts became successful.

as usual, no one sat directly beside him, leaving one or two barstools between him and whatever other patron sat at the counter. or so he thought. the usual bartender passed him and came to a stop. confused and thinking the bartender stopped for him despite already sipping on his drink, san tilted his head. but it soon became evident that he wasn’t there for him, but rather for the pretty woman he didn’t notice sitting beside him.

“the usual?” the bartender asked, a crooked smile spreading on his face as he looked at you, his hands busy drying a glass.

san heard a brief chuckle beside him, prompting him to take a proper look at you. the first thing he noticed were your lips. plump and red, smooth lipstick. then the slope of your neck and shoulders, exposed by the thin straps of your silky black dress, jacket hanging by your elbows. the soft yellow-tinted lighting bounced off your rich skin and perfect hair in an almost hypnotising way. there was something enchanting about your aura, your posture, you.

he forced himself to look away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“yes, thank you.” you replied, nodding at the bartender as he turned to prepare your drink.

“one hot chocolate for our blue bird coming right up!”

blue bird.

this time san couldn’t stop himself from looking. so it was you.

the men from the other day weren’t lying when they called you a pretty little thing. you wore a silky black dress and a black fur jacket to protect you from the cold wind of the night. as his eyes roamed over you they got caught on your plump thighs. briefly, he wondered if they felt as soft as they looked but soon enough something else caught his attention. as you shifted in your seat, he caught a glimpse of the inside of your jacket, a quick glint reflecting from inside told him you were indeed carrying a weapon. he made sure to keep that in the back of his mind.

a man such as himself, wide shouldered and intimidating, was hard to ignore. if you didn’t notice him staring from the corner of your eyes, you were sure the heat of his stare would’ve burned a hole through your skin. needless to say, he had caught your attention as well, except you seemed to be better at hiding it.

once the momentary shock subsided, he smiled. the fact that such a dangerous person would regularly order hot chocolates from a bar was amusing to him.

noticing the change in expression, you glance at him. what the hell? seeing a man grinning at you was unsettling. a man with such broad shoulders who could probably easily overpower you. his face looked familiar, you realised, but couldn’t quite attach a name to it quite yet.

unsure of what to do and what this man may want from you, you turned away and engaged in a conversation with the bartender as he prepared your drink, all the while ignoring the man at your side. as soon as you finished your drink, you placed some cash on the counter and got up, swiftly walking out of the bar.

while your goal was to get away, you didn’t take the fact that he might follow you into account.

“don’t go yet, little outlaw, i’d like to talk to you about something.”

his voice was rather calm and even, but still left minimal room for discussion. you rolled your eyes before turning around with a completely different expression—eyes wide and innocent, lashes fluttering, eyebrows raised.

“you must be mistaken, sir, i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

he chuckled and took some steps forward and that’s when you recognised him. shit. he slowly walked over to you, speaking to you in that same calm voice with a sprinkle of cockiness somewhere in it. “playing dumb? really? for someone as smart as yourself i’d expect you to know that the 1 billion won bounty on your head doesn’t hide you.”

you sighed at his words, taking steps back to maintain the distance. there was no use continuing the innocent act, snapping at him, “what do you want?”

“do you know who i am?”

“of course i do, the whole city does. do you think i live under a rock?” you scoffed a laugh.

he dismissed your sarcasm, being used to having to deal with such cheeky mouths. “i have an offer.” when you didn’t reply, he continued. “help me and my… business partner with a heist.”

that was not what you expected.

“hmm… no, thanks.” you smiled up at him but nearly faltered as your back hit the wall of an alley you had unknowingly backed yourself into. you cursed yourself silently as he stood right in front of you, so close you had to look up to maintain eye contact.

“i wasn’t asking, darling.” he looked down at you, expression nearly sneering as he held an air of superiority about him. “you either agree or you’ll wake up behind bars tomorrow morning.”

“you can’t arrest me or turn me in, they’ll forget all about me since you’re the more wanted one out of the two of us.” you spoke matter-of-factly, a cocky tilt to the corner of your lips.

“i never said i would be the one to turn you in, little outlaw.”

“you know,” you hummed and moved your arms. his first assumption was that you were reaching for the dagger he glimpsed inside your jacket earlier, instinctively catching your wrists in his grasp as your words died in your throat and your breath hitched. he shifted his grip to place both of your wrists in one hand, holding them up above your head as his free hand nudged your jacket open, revealing the dagger.

he clicked his tongue patronisingly and fished it out delicately. his eyes shifted to yours, eyebrows raising in a silent question as he tossed the weapon over his shoulder. the metal blade clinked and echoed in the barren alleyway. he kept your wrists in his hold but lowered your arms, holding them at the height of your hips.

he leaned forward, speaking into your ear lowly as you suppressed a shudder. “you may continue.”

you glared at him and had the sudden urge to punch the shit eating grin off his face. “what’s in it for me?”

“um…” his face went blank and he leaned back to look at you, clearly not a single thought processing behind those cat-like eyes. “is there anything you want in particular?”

“protection.” you said simply, tilting your head.

“oh,” he nodded slowly, his brows furrowing in confusion but he kept his eyes on you. “but can’t you find that in any store?”

he felt a hit against his shin as you kicked him lightly. “ew not that. i meant… well, doing what i do, there’s a lot of people after me. you have the means to have some of your guys make sure i don’t run into any trouble.”

san nodded understandingly, loosening his grip on your wrists but not letting go. not that you minded. “that’s perfectly possible, yes.”

you exhaled, relieved. warm air fanning against his neck as you did so. “okay, then, i’m in. so what is it you need me to do?”

this time he released your wrists completely and took a step back, reaching into an inner pocket of his tailored suit and pulled out a little card with one hand as the other brought your hand up.

he brushed his hand over your closed fist, opening your fingers up to reveal your palm, placing the card in your palm before gently nudging your fingers to close over it. in a swift move, he turned your hand around and bowed forward, pressing a slow and soft kiss to your knuckles—eyes locked on yours as you stared back at him in bewilderment.

he lifted his lips, smirking at you as he straightened up, hands moving to the bottom of his blazer and tugging, stretching the wrinkles away. “i expect to see you tomorrow at dusk, little blue bird.”

with a wink, he turned on his heels and walked away. you watched him, listening to the echoing footsteps as he left the alley and disappeared around a corner, leaving you slumped against the cold brick wall with burning cheeks.

you weren’t sure what you expected when you arrived at the address on the card choi san gave you. perhaps an underground bunker that looked nothing like the breathtaking estate you stood in front of.

the building was tucked within a small forest far from the outskirts of night city. the architecture seemed foreign and classical, a building you’d roam through whilst listening to tchaikovsky or chopin—not a building you’d expect to scheme against the government in. though, you supposed in some aspects it fit the aesthetic san had going on. sipping whiskey in a fully tailored suit, the smell of cigarette smoke and mint heavy in the air around him.

you walked up to the grand double doors, taking a moment to admire the intricate carvings before ringing the bell. less than a minute later, the right door swung open to reveal a stranger.

he wore wide dark jeans and a black and white plaid shirt, the top few buttons undone to reveal his chiselled collarbones and practically half of his torso. his black hair was slicked back with a few strands framing his face with the dainty square glasses he wore, some hanging silver earrings on display. he was, completely objectively speaking, handsome.

his eyes roamed over you, taking in your appearance before smiling and crossing his arms, leaning his side against the door as he pushed his glasses up to rest on the top of his head. you noticed a mole on his face—a small dot just under his left eye. “so you’re the little outlaw san told me about, huh?”

“yes, and you are?” you knew who he was, of course, but pleasantries were pleasantries nonetheless.

“jung wooyoung, but you already knew that.”

you chuckled and put your arms up in surrender, “oh no, i’ve been caught.”

his laugh was rather high pitched as he ushered you in. “come in, it gets cold at night.”

he led you through the house, stopping by what he referred to as his office but really looked like a sitting room with soft lighting and a desk to grab some rolled up papers before continuing the walk. the interior was just as beautiful as the exterior; intricate paintings and marble floors. wooyoung smiled as he saw the awe-stricken look on your face.

he led you to another set of double doors, pushing both of them open and stepping through without looking back to make sure you were following. now this was an office.

your jaw nearly dropped as you walked into the room, spinning a full circle to gawk at the various bookshelves that lined the walls and high ceiling that looked like it came straight out of the sistine chapel. a large fireplace cast a warm, yet still dark, glow over the room, making it look that much more impressive. a graceful vintage couch with two matching armchair were placed in front of the fireplace, a glass coffee table nestled between the seats and the source of light and warmth.

the floor creaked with every step you took, being made of dark wooden planks instead of marble.

you flinched as you heard san’s familiar voice snapping you out of your stupor. “pick your jaw up, you might catch flies.”

at the sound of his voice, you whipped around and glared at him after quickly pulling yourself together. he was sat in a leather chair at his impressive desk, wooyoung sat (balanced) on the arm of the chair.

you walked over and stood across from them in front of the desk. “it’s a nice house, are you two the only ones that live here?”

wooyoung took the chance to answer. “sometimes. there’s six others that are part of our… syndicate, but they stay in other places, surrounding grey city.”

“enough of that.” san waved his hand dismissively and leaned forward. as he did so, your eyes were drawn to his chest. he wore a white button up, though it appeared to be a bit tight judging by the way the fabric around the buttons strained every time he moved. your lingering gaze didn’t go unnoticed, but neither of them brought it up. “woo, the plans, please.”

the plan was set to take place the months after you had met with them for the first time. this gave you three to prepare, to memorise the layout and every detail about the building you’ll be infiltrating. for this preparation, you frequented their estate often—nearly every day—and spent hours with them. two weeks in, they offered you one of their guest bedrooms to stay in.

at first wooyoung got on your nerves, but soon enough you grew accustomed to his antics—the clinginess, the teasing. eventually, you even found yourself liking it and seeking it out.

san was slightly more reserved at first, more serious. but soon he, too, let down his guard. encouraging words, affectionate touches.

the more time you spent with them, the more you found yourself relaxing, letting them handle you with care instead of pushing them away like you used to with so many people before them. and eventually you, dare you say, began liking them.

you couldn’t deny the way san’s sharp snd perceptive eyes made you want to squirm under his gaze as he watched you bend over his desk to point something out on the building’s floor plan. you couldn’t deny the way his gentle commands (“do this for me please.” “come here, princess.”) had butterflies roaring in your stomach.

and wooyoung. while san was indeed quite physically affectionate, it was nothing compared to wooyoung. lingering touches and smooth words. sometimes you’d be grabbing something in kitchen and he’d come by, pulling you aside by your hips to grab something. later that day you’d offered to cook something up for dinner, but he only tutted and lifted you by your waist to place you on the marble island counter (“i don’t trust you in my kitchen, baby. just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah?”). jung wooyoung was a flirt and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

two days before the heist, you walked into san’s office after waking up and not being able to find woo. in the time you’d spent with them, you had learned that san acquired the bigger and fancier office by winning a game of rock paper scissors.

as you opened the door, the cat-eyed man looked up from whatever he was working on, smiling as he watched you yawn and stretch on your way over to him. he gave you a once over; you wore an oversized shirt, the collar shifted and hanging over one shoulder, the end of the shirt ending halfway down your thighs.

“sleep well?” he asked, putting his pen down as you stopped in front of the desk. he’d woken up not too long before you, still in his sleepwear, hair tussled but somehow still perfect.

you nodded, your voice soft in your sleepy state, “where’s woo?”

“he went out to get stuff for dinner,” he chuckled as he heard the slight concern in your voice. he pushed his chair back slightly and patted his lap. “come sit here while i work, princess.”

you grinned and walked around the desk, claiming his lap as your seat. you leaned back against him, back pressed to his front. he kissed your exposed shoulder chastely and got back to work. you tried to look down at his papers to see what he was doing, but the way his unoccupied arm wrapped around your waist and shifted you slightly (in a way that accidentally made his thigh rub against certain areas) had your mind going blank, unable to focus on anything other than his touch.

though you couldn’t see it, san also had a hard time focusing. every time you moved, your ass brushed over his pelvis. it was clear he didn’t think it through when he told you to sit on him since now he was having a hard time holding himself back, a bulge growing in his sweatpants.

you shifted again, trying to find a position where none of his body parts rubbed against your core, and he sucked a sharp breath in. his hands practically flew to your hips to hold you still.

“princess, i need you to sit still or i might go crazy, okay?” he spoke softly into your ear, hot breaths brushing against your skin and making you shiver, a fact he noticed and made him smirk. maybe he was already going crazy, but just a little more wouldn’t hurt, right?

he kept his lips by your ear for a moment before moving down slightly, placing them just below your earlobe. it was your turn for your breath to hitch, tilting your head to give him more space. he nearly groaned at the subtle act of submission, burying his face into your skin and kissing his way down to the crook of your neck.

time seemed to slow as his hands tightened on your hips, he scraped his teeth along your neck before biting down gently, not enough to hurt but enough to elicit a breathy whine. when the sound left your lips, he froze.

when you noticed he wasn’t doing anything, you whined again and rolled your hips over his pelvis, dropping your head back on his shoulder. the action surprised yourself too. you’d had sex, of course, but it was never a necessity for you. even when the opportunity presented itself, you wouldn’t chase after it. yet here you were, wordlessly begging him to continue. what had these men done to you?

“is this okay?” he whispered.

you nodded immediately, turning your head to look at him. his breath nearly caught in his throat as he saw the look in your eyes, illuminated by the soft glow of the fireplace—a silent plea for him to have his way with you, release the tension that’s built up over the previous three months. without waiting a second longer, he attached his lips to your neck again, a certain roughness to the way he caressed your skin with his lips and his tongue and his teeth.

you melted against him and let your eyes fall shut when you felt his hands slip shirt off, tossing it on his desk, and then rest against your bare waist, fingertips brushing over the skin making a shiver run down your spine. a voice that wasn’t his had your eyes flying open, your body freezing for a moment before you realised who it was.

“you two just couldn’t wait for me?” wooyoung pouted, leaning against the desk in front of the chair you and san occupied. san chuckled against your neck while you stared at wooyoung, dumbfounded, unexpected excitement stirring in your abdomen.

he looked from your face, to san’s smirk, and then down at the way your hips tried finding the right angle to grind on san’s lap. a dark chuckle left wooyoung’ slips and he leaned forward, hands coming to rest on your knees.

“need help with that, doll?” he tilted his head, a mocking pout gracing his lips as he cooed at you, one hand coming up to caress your cheek for a moment as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

your eyes practically twinkled as you looked up at him, pupils dilated as you nod helplessly. wooyoung smiled and patted your cheek affectionately, pecking your forehead again before sinking to his knees in between yours and san’s legs, kissing his way down your body. your eyes tracked him and his slow descent, breath held in anticipation.

“cute,” he giggled as he eyed your pink panties, slipping them off your legs and tossing them aside. he hooked your legs on either side of san’s, spreading them apart, looking up at you. “just relax, be a good girl and keep your legs like that for me, yeah?”

when you nodded, he kissed your inner thigh followed by a quiet groan as he noticed the arousal dripping from your cunt. “oh, doll, you’re so wet.”

“hm, is she?” san chimed in, one of of his hands leaving your waist to dip down and casually slide a finger through your folds; from bottom to top, applying more pressure the further he slid. you prepared yourself for his finger to get to your clit but, much to your dismay, he removed his hand just before he got there. you suppressed the urge to glare at him over your shoulder. simultaneously, wooyoung began leaving pecks all over your inner thighs.

san hummed and pressed another kiss just below your ear, whispering, his voice thick with lust, “all that and we barely even started. what a pathetic, needy mess, huh?”

the way he said it made it clear he expected an answer from you, but with how wooyoung ran a single finger through your folds, you couldn’t do much but shudder and nod. san clicked his tongue and snaked his hands further up from your waist just under your breasts, fingers brushing circles over your nipples. he waited patiently to give you more time to answer.

wooyoung’s tongue slipped out to lick a stripe from your hole to your clit and both your brain practically short-circuited. the combination of the feeling of his tongue and his wide, glossy eyes peering up at you from between your legs sending your mind reeling. he groaned as he tasted you, swearing in his head that he’d probably finish in his pants within five minutes. a sudden pinch of your nipples had you snapping out of your trance.

“say it, princess.”

“ah- i’m a mess.”

“and why are you a mess?”

you opened your mouth to answer but your own moan cut you off as wooyoung began circling your clit with his tongue. san’s lips backed away from your ear and he looked down at wooyoung, signalling for him to stop by holding up his flat palm. your chest heaved with heavy breaths as wooyoung reluctantly removed his tongue and leaned back just an inch, giving you a moment to recover.

“he won’t continue until you tell me why you’re a mess, baby.”

“because of you,” you whined, trying to press your hips closer to wooyoung’s face but to no avail as san moved his hands back down to hold you firmly by those hips he loved so much.

“good girl, that’s right,” he cooed into your ear, giving you a tender kiss. “you’re our pathetic needy mess, aren’t you?”

“your mess. i’m your mess.”

at the confirmation, san looked down at wooyoung and nodded. not even a second later wooyoung’s mouth was back on you. one of san’s hands stayed to control your hips and the other went back to massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples.

wooyoung’s pace was relentless. he ate you out like a man starved, licking up all the juices that seeped from you while he made sure to nudge his nose against your clit repeatedly. when his mouth wasn’t at your entrance, he had his lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between rhythmic sucks and prods of his tongue, one of his fingers teasingly circling your hole.

he swore he could’ve gotten drunk off your taste, finding the way you writhed in san’s lap so cute. wooyoung momentarily removed his mouth from you once again, watching your face as he tentatively pushed his finger past your entrance. he spoke, voice somewhere between a hoarse groan and a sigh.

“fuck…”

you threw your head back on san’s shoulder, suddenly aware of the hard erection pressed against your ass. you tried to rock your hips just a bit, wanting to help him, but his fingers tightened on your hips.

“keep being such a good girl and i’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your name, but i need you to be patient. okay, princess?”

your breath hitches and you nodded at his promise, your attention being drawn back to the man between your legs as he added another finger. your breathing grew erratic.

“mmm, so tight.” he groaned, eyes fixated on the way his fingers disappeared into your before slipping out again, more and more of your slick seeping out with each thrust of his digits. wet sounds reverberated through the room as you let out a silent curse.

you thought your noises were kept to a minimum, too embarrassed to really let loose, but as soon as he curled his fingers in you—easily finding that spongey sweet spot—a proper moan ripped itself out of you. and then his tongue was back on your clit, not as firmly as you would’ve liked but enough to draw out more moans and whimpers.

at first, he took his time, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a frustrating pace, tongue only lightly brushing over your swollen pearl. but soon enough, he sped up gradually until he reached a speed that had you crying out and arching your back with every inch that he moved. all the while san muttered encouragement into your ear.

“mhm, you’re taking his fingers so well, princess.”

“can’t wait to have my cock in your tight little pussy. don’t worry, we’ll make it fit.”

“look at you, being fucked dumb just from his fingers. you can barely even keep your eyes open, huh?”

you thought you were controlling yourself well but the moment wooyoung added a third finger, the stretch burning just slightly though your wetness kept things moving smoothly, the moment san spoke all those filthy words in your ear, you felt yourself crashing over the edge. it all felt so good you didn’t even realise you were climaxing until you felt yourself shaking and stars swarming your vision.

a high pitched cry ripped through your lips, moaning wooyoung’s name as he takes his fingers out so he can slurp up your release, groaning against you. you tasted so good and if he could, he would have bottled up all the sounds you made to listen to them before bed every night. san planted tender kisses to your jaw and shoulder as wooyoung eventually removed himself.

he looked almost as fucked out as you, drunk of the juices of your pussy as he slowly got up. he took your face in his clean hand and eagerly pressed his lips against yours, making you moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue. the two of you made out slowly, sloppily, and he slowly trailed his hands down. tracing the curve of your waist before settling his hands on your hips, guiding them to grind over san’s length.

you followed his lead, arching your back to position your pussy right over his erection. that seemed to have made san lose all his composure, rasping out harshly, “woo, please lift her up for a moment.”

moments later, you were back in his lap, this time his long cock buried deep in your cunt. his hands guided your movements, his thrusts matching the pace of the roll of your hips. though he wasn’t able to see your face, fucking you in a reverse cowgirl position, he could image how fucked out you looked. cheeks painted red, glazed over eyes, swollen lips, messed up hair.

wooyoung separated his lips from you, chuckling against your mouth. you struggled to kiss him, san feeling so good in you that you had a hard time thinking straight. “does he feel good, babydoll?”

you nodded and leaned forward just slightly to attach you lips to his pretty neck, mindlessly kissing and licking your way down to his collarbones. wooyoung tilted his head back, another dark chuckle. he thought you were so cute—making sure to give him attention even though you were bouncing in another man’s dick. said man groaned and slumped back in the seat at the change of angle as you leaned forward, not pausing his movements once. ever since he first bottomed out in you he had trouble putting together sentences.

your fingers fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. most of them were undone anyway, he liked it like that when he wore button-ups, but you wanted it completely off. he noticed your trembling hands struggling and took over for you, ignoring the buttons and just pulling off the shirt. your eyes roamed over him, jaw slack.

“you’re so pretty, woo.” you whispered after burying your face in his neck again, any filter you had on your words completely gone.

“i think you’re pretty too, doll,” he chuckled into your ear. “so pretty getting off on me and sannie at once.”

you leaned back and looked him over, darting between his eyes and the erection straining against the trousers with pleading, half closed eyes. it didn’t take a genius to figure out what you wanted, making him coo as he understood you.

“oh, you want my cock? you wanna suck it? just one shoved inside you doesn’t satisfy you enough, huh, you pretty little slut?”

your head empty, unable to focus on anything other than the two men you were trapped between, you nodded. san groaned as he felt your walls clench around him.

“fuck- she likes that.”

“is that so?” wooyoung straightened up and grinned down at you, holding your jaw in his hand. “well, then, go ahead, doll, do as you please.”

at he sound of his permission, your hands found their way to his trousers, undoing the fly and letting them fall to the ground. you could already see the shape of it through his boxers, but didn’t pause to inspect it, hooking your fingers on his waistband and pulling it down to release him.

while his length was impressive, it didn’t look quite as long as san’s but rather thicker. compared to every dick you’ve seen, you decided jung wooyoung had a pretty one. the blushing tip leaked precum that you smeared around to stroke him slowly.

you looked up at him every time you tried something new with your hands, looking for his reaction—running your thumb over his tip, squeezing lightly as your hand moved down. no mater what you did, it elicited a deep moan from him. you looked entranced as you watched the way his eyelids fluttered in pleasure. you leaned forward (both you and san moaning and shuddering at the change in angle), pressing a kiss to his tip.

this new angle had san pounding against your sweet spot repeatedly without fail, making you suddenly feel like jello. still, you tried your best to focus on the task literally at hand.

wooyoung noticed your lack of concentration, threading his fingers in your hair and gently pulling to make you look up. he pouted at you mockingly. “can’t think straight enough with sannie’s cock stuffed in you? it’s ok, doll, you look so pretty and fucked out i could cum just from looking at you.”

you shook your head and pushed forward, wrapping your lips around his tip and sinking your mouth down on his length to the best of your abilities.

wooyoung groaned, “that’s it, doll, there you go. you can take just a little more, can’t you, pretty girl?”

eager to please him, you took as much of him in your mouth as you could. you felt him hit the back of your throat and pulled back, coughing around his length. he slipped his hand out of your hair and stroke your cheek, prompting you to glance up at him.

“you’re doing well, doll, just remember to breathe through your nose. i know you can take me just a bit deeper.”

you nodded at his words, swallowing a little more, and wrapped a hand around the rest that you couldn’t fit, stroking him slowly as you led your mouth get used to the feeling. truth be told, you hadn’t given anyone head before, completely relying on your intuition now.

“yeah, there you go, my pretty little doll. i knew you could do it.”

as you mouth worked on wooyoung, you felt that familiar knot tightening in your abdomen. san must’ve been close too, letting out a hearty groan as he gripped your hips tighter and thrusted up into you faster. every time he pulled you down and snapped his hip up to meet you, the lewd sound of his skin slapping against your and his balls hitting your clit had you whining against wooyoung’s cock.

he sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering before cooing down at you. “what was that, doll? i couldn’t quite hear you.”

you continued with the sucking and stroking until you thought it was impossible, repeatedly shaking too much to keep a steady pace. but you could tell wooyoung was close judging by his sounds and pulsating, and still wanting to please him, you kept your lips around his head as you hand stroked him as fast as you could.

moments later, his body tensed and he came into your mouth. the thick, slightly salty substance ran down your throat as you swallowed it all down. when you were sure he was done, you pulled yourself off him. wooyoung looked ready to pass out, leaning against the desk and staring up at the ceiling as he panted, catching his breath. silent curses left his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

now with wooyoung taken care of, you leaned back against san, revelling in the feeling of him pounding into you as you felt yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. you heard him gasp by your ear and you clenched down on him.

“f-fuck… i’m gonna cum.”

oh how san loves fucking you. loves the way your walls flutter around his cock. loves all the sounds you make that he was sure you weren’t even aware of. how you writhe and jerk and shudder and whine and moan and he could go on for days.

“please, sannie,” you whined softly, “please, fill me up, please please please.”

that was the last straw. the desperation in your voice has his stomach flipping and he came just as you finished your begging. a shiver ran down your spine as your body went limp. he kept himself buried in you as one of his hands slide down to rub quick and tight circles on your clit, quickly bringing you to an orgasm that had your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

once all three of you calmed down and got cleaned up, you found yourself relaxing on san’s lap again. this time, you were on one of the couches in the living room as wooyoung sat beside you. while you were in the shower, he cooked up some instant noodles, feeding them to you now.

a hand stroked the outside of your thigh comfortingly as you slurped down the last of the noodles, you recognised it as san’s hand. your legs still felt like jello and you cuddled into him as wooyoung got up to put the bowl away. you felt san press a kiss to the top of your head, practically cradling you.

“you did well, my little blue bird,” he whispered against the crown of your head and pulled you closer, “i could stay like this all day.”

“too bad because it’s my turn now.” wooyoung buckled as he returned, collapsing on the couch and snatching you of san’s grasp without warning. he stuck his tongue out at san as he held the back of you head and pressed your face into the crook of his neck, making you giggle.

san whined and reached his hands out to grab you again only to be swatted away by woo. “hey! no fair.”

“yes, it is fair,” wooyoung giggled, “you’ve had her on your lap long enough.” his best friend glared at him and muttered something under his breath as he looked away with his arms crossed.

“oh, you big baby,” you laughed as you turned your head to look at him. extending you hand to pat his knee.

san’s eyes flashed as an idea lit up in his head. he grinned as he wrapped his arms around both you and wooyoung. you weren’t sure how it happened but next thing you knew, all three of you were laying down on the couch, the two men sandwiching you lovingly.

you felt yourself blush and your brain going blank. wooyoung laughed at the expression on your face, leaning forward to kiss you until san reached over and flicked his forehead. they proceeded to argue about who should be able to kiss you more as you sighed contentedly. you realised there was no other place in earth you’d prefer to be in more than right here, nestled between the two men who you knew would take good care of you.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @hee0soo

[o-sachi]

Dress to Impress Headcanons ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars.

ଳ what's it like to play the roblox game dress to impress with the blue lock boys?

ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, michael kaiser, alexis ness, shidou ryusei, nagi seishirou, reo mikage, Chigiri Hyoma

ଳ tags; crack, some profanity lol, gn reader, no y/n, can be established rs or not

[🐟]: Let me know if you want more characters to this hehe ~

ᯓ Isagi Yoichi

"How do you change the skin? Where's the hair? Why do the others have faces?"

He's so lost... poor baby. Expect a lot of questions (some of which get repeated) from him about how the game works. He's going to be overwhelmed with the buttons and stuff around his character.

You think 5 minutes is more than enough to put together an outfit, but somehow Isagi comes out of the runway without hair or with a bunch of clothes layered on top of each other.

He also asks how you do the poses on the runway.

"Hey, what's pose 28?"

HE RATES SUPER HIGH, so you're over there pouting 'cuz he's helping these 10 year old children win.

"This one's really nice. She's got a big bow on her head." / "But the theme is sad day, Yoichi..." / "And? Won't a big bow make it a happy one?"

Gets a bit sad 'cuz he gets rated low even if he rated all the others with 4 or 5 stars. Awww...

ᯓ Bachira Meguru

"I CAN MAKE MY SKIN GREEN? HOLY SHI-"

Expect that he will always use the most blinding colors known to man. He's gonna walk out on that runway looking like a traffic light.

He's so noisy when he plays. It's like he's commentating everything that's happening to him as if he has a whole stream going on. But in reality, it's just the two of you.

Spams pose 28 because all of the other cool ones aren't free.

Says "slay" every time he walks out because you said it once to him.

"HELL YEAH THAT'S A SLAAAY."

But if he's on a losing streak, he'll suddenly go quiet and focus more lol.

"Why are you quiet all of a sudden?" / "Shhh, don't interrupt my creative juices."

ᯓ Michael Kaiser

"What? Are you playing this game with your eyes closed or something?"

He said that. On voice chat. To a little girl. Who cried.

You had to reprimand him and tell him to apologize to the girl. But with his pride, he only allowed himself to rate her 5 stars the next round as his way of saying sorry.

"There. 5 stars... for the most clown outfit I've ever seen." / "Mihya!"

So mean to everyone else, but will always compliment your outfit even the ones you barely put effort in. You're starting to wonder whether or not it was condescending or heartfelt...

"That outfit looks great. We should duo in the next round." / "No, everyone in the server's mad at you and it'll affect my rating too."

He never makes it to the top 3 despite the good outfits he puts together because he talks shit on everyone in the server.

ᯓ Alexis Ness

"I got all the new codes; let me type them for you."

HE'S SUPER GOOD AT IT? It's to the point that you're jealous because his rank's way higher than yours.

"Just type M3RM4ID in that box." / "It's not working." / "Did you type the E as a 3 and the A as a 4?" / "What?" / "Never mind, gimme your Ipad."

He definitely knows all the codes that unlocks the hidden special items of the game. Plus, he's super into the lore as well. The nail technician? You bet he's going to talk about her extensive lore.

Super efficient when putting together an outfit. He's got a whole routine down to a T.

He actually rates outfits objectively—not too low and never too high.

ᯓ Shidou Ryusei

"HAHAHA WHAT'S UP WITH THAT WHACK ASS OUTFIT? #############"

He has also made a kid cry before. But unlike Kaiser, he doesn't listen to you and doubles down on it. Just an absolute menace all around.

He's definitely muted by the other people in the server because regardless of what he says, no one is responding to him. So there's only you left to talk to him.

Doesn't even try to put together a decent outfit. You're not even sure if he reads the theme at all because he walks out on the runway looking like the personification of a fever dream.

"Haha look. This pose makes it look like I'm thrusting in the air." / "Ryu! Oh my gosh..."

Definitely has been banned from Roblox before and he's using a new account to play with you.

Everything he types just shows up as hashtags at this point...

ᯓ Nagi Seishirou

"This theme is such a hassle... when is it going to be the pajama party theme?"

He already plays Roblox to begin with, but he needed extra convincing from you to play Dress to Impress because he didn't see the thrill in it.

He was only convinced when he saw you rage quitting after losing with such a fabulous outfit. He realized the competitive aspect of it and decided to play with you.

Nagi doesn't realize it but his rotation consists of the same tops and bottoms, so his outfits always come out looking the same. This leads him to losing all the time.

He definitely complains when the runway has too many players. Like... when is it going to end?

"Sei! Did you just tell the kids in the server to leave? What the hell?" / "Yah. They were making the line too long and I don't wanna wait."

Also complains when he doesn't show up in the top 3 even though he didn't really put any effort into his outfit.

ᯓ Reo Mikage

"Hey, babe, look. I bought the VIP. Want me to buy it for you too?"

HE'S SO PAY TO WIN. He's a VIP player, has all the pose packs, and literally everything you can buy in the game. He's not shy about flaunting it to the other players in the lobby.

He'll spend the first minute in the VIP area then walk all smug in the cOmMoNeR's area wearing the biggest fuck-you dress ever.

If the theme is anything normal, he'll still manage to make the outfit look high-end.

Trust that he'll spam all the expensive poses once he's on the runway. The little rascal would be smirking to himself as he presses the different poses.

Reo grumbles to himself when he loses. He can't help but be annoyed when he gets only a few stars while literally wearing a dress that costs thousands of robux.

"I was literally wearing the biggest ball gown and I still lost? What the fuck."

ᯓ Chigiri Hyoma

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I gave you 5 stars. Yeah, for sure... for sure."

SUPER COMPETITIVE! Not even you are safe from aggressive dressing and impressing.

You two will be in duos, but he'll always one up you.

"Hmm... interesting choice of colors." / "Is it that bad?" / "Bad? What do you mean? It's great. I promise."

He won't be talking shit on anyone, but you can tell what's running through his head with that smug look on his face.

"What's up with that look? / "Hm? Oh... haha. I'm just enjoying the game you know? / "..."

Will refuse to choose any other hair that doesn't resemble his own. It doesn't matter if the theme requires a different color. He will be using his red/pink hair and no one will stop him.

tag list; @meowkages , @shidousprincess

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[virgoilluminati]

can u please write a jude fic where your in a talking stage and he comes over and you both make out for the first time 🤭

It's been a long time coming...

A/N: this is my first request in absolutely ages so tysm you have made my day ✨❣️ As I am now unemployed (😜✌️) i have a lot of free time before i head back to university. So please if anyone has any ideas lmk 🥹

Inspo: Jude and You have been close friends since high school, but after one very drunken night, you admit your feelings for him, right before he leaves for the euro's. When Jude arrives home, he has only one goal, to give you that kiss that you've been waiting for.

Oh, you had royally fucked up.

So royally fucked up that you probably shouldn’t leave the house for at least the next two days, perhaps a week, even a month.

You’d told your best friend that you liked him, in a sweaty club, the night before he was going to the Euros. With the drink loosening your tongue, you blurted it out without thinking. The look on his face said it all; he was stunned into silence.

You and Jude had known each other since high school. He was in the year above you, but you both shared a huge interest in football. While he played for the boys’ squad, you played for the girls’. You got really close in the last year of high school as he began prepping for the under-21s football team while you were preparing for university. You became each other’s anchor, someone you both could rely on, no matter how tough it got. You told each other absolutely everything. So when you blurted out that you liked him, it was as if you had shattered an unspoken rule.

You had been drunk. That was the justification you were giving. You didn’t know what you were thinking; you couldn’t control what was going through your head. You couldn’t face him, not now. The memory of his expression replayed in your mind, a painful reminder.

You had sent him one text message, mentioning nothing about the incident, just wishing him luck in the Euros. Maybe he’d just forget it even happened. After all, he was pretty drunk too.

You had spent all morning preoccupying yourself with your uni work, taking the dog out for a walk, cleaning your room… basically anything to distract from the impending apocalypse. But it was pointless; every other second, you would check the blue tick on the message, with a simple “read” underneath it.

Hey, I hope the head isn’t too sore from last night ahaha. Best of luck in the Euros, I’ll be screaming your name at the local, love ya. (Read)

His response came about three hours later. In that time, you had gone through all five stages of grief. First, Denial: you denied that you even told him, that it was a huge mistake. Anger: you were angry that no one stopped you, as it was an open secret between all of your friends but him, but they had let you blurt it out. Bargaining: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you know. You could just say it was a mistake or you didn’t remember. Depression: this would be the end of your friendship—that he’d no longer look at you the same way ever again. Acceptance: your life was doomed, and that was the end of it. However, when his response came, you hadn’t actually prepared yourself.

Yeah, my head’s fine ahaha, though I think you drank more than me in the end. Currently on the way to the airport, Trent says hi. Pretty nervous about the Euros, I can’t lie.

You sat there staring at the three dots, wondering what else he was thinking. You cringed at him mentioning your drunkenness. He not only knew but he must’ve remembered. Oh god, this was going to be awkward.

You didn’t respond, noticing the frequent three dots on his screen going rapidly on and off. Sighing, you attempted to make a joke, quickly sending back a response.

I’m sure Trent is feeling it right now ahaha, how many shots did he have last night again? Don’t be nervous, you’ll be ace!

His reply came almost instantly.

Enough to need a new liver, I’m sure. Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’re about to board, talk later?

You couldn’t help but feel relieved. He wasn’t addressing your confession at all. Maybe he really had chosen to forget about it. Or perhaps he was giving you a way out, a chance to pretend it never happened. Either way, you seized the opportunity.

Sure, have a safe flight! Catch you later.

With that, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t ruin everything after all. For now, you’d focus on the positives: Jude was still talking to you, and you still had your friendship, even if it was a little shaken.

The next couple of days were a whirlwind of activity. Jude was swamped with training and media commitments, so your interactions were mostly confined to texts. Despite the busyness, he made sure to check in frequently, sending you updates and little messages that kept the connection alive.

After the Slovakia game, which they won in a nail-biting finish, you received a call from Jude. You could hear the adrenaline in his voice, the excitement of the victory still fresh.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course I did! You were amazing! That last-minute goal!" you replied, unable to hide the pride in your voice.

“Thanks. It felt good out there tonight. The fans were crazy. Nearly thought we were goners—"

"Nah, I knew you'd pull through."

"Really?" His voice sounded hopeful, as if he had more to say, but instead, he coughed and continued talking. "Uh, listen, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Okay, what’s up?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said."

"What I said? When?" you responded, your heart beating faster by the minute.

"The night before I went, about you liking me. I thought I could just put it aside and focus on the tournament, but… I can’t.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jude…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel. And the truth is, I like you too."

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I told Dec and Trent, and after they completely humbled me, they made me realize—I think I've always had a bit of a thing for you. It’s just… I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You won’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jude let out a breath. “Okay. One step at a time. I like the sound of that.”

For the rest of the night, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow naturally. The tension from the confession began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and excitement.

The next game was against Switzerland, and you decided to go out to the pub to watch it with a couple of your pals. The place was buzzing with excitement, filled with fans donning jerseys and scarves, and the energy was infectious. As the match began, you found yourself nervously scanning the screen for Jude, your eyes automatically seeking him out every few seconds.

Your friends, of course, noticed.

“Honestly, if you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through the screen,” teased Sarah, nudging you playfully.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “I’m just… making sure he’s doing okay.”

“Sure, just making sure,” Mark chimed in with a grin. “We all know you’re head over heels.”

“Guys, can we please just focus on the game?” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile.

As the match progressed, every time Jude touched the ball, your heart seemed to leap into your throat. You could hear your friends’ comments in the background, teasing you about how intently you were watching him.

“There he is again, Y/N! Are you taking notes on his every move?” Sarah laughed.

“Come on, give her a break. She’s just a supportive friend,” Mark added, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

You tried to ignore them, but the truth was, they weren’t entirely wrong. You were more invested in Jude’s performance than anything else. When he made a particularly brilliant pass, you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Sarah remarked, shaking her head in amusement.

The game was intense, with both teams playing aggressively. Jude was in top form, making crucial plays and demonstrating why he was such an asset to the team. As the game neared its end, with the score tied, the tension in the pub was palpable.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude.

Jude: Gaffer gave us 5 minutes, couldn't wait any longer to not text you.

You: What are you doing?! You're supposed to be on the pitch.

Jude: I think this is going to penalties, I feel it.

You quickly typed back, trying to infuse your message with as much confidence as you could muster.

You: Don’t worry, you’ve got this. I believe in you.

There was a brief pause before his next message came through.

Jude: Listen, how about this: if we win, I’ll take you out on a date.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at the screen, rereading his words. A date. With Jude. Your heart was racing now for an entirely different reason.

You: Deal.

The penalties were agonizing to watch. Each kick, each save, each miss, had the entire pub reacting in unison—groans of despair, cheers of relief, gasps of anticipation. You were barely breathing, your eyes fixed on the screen as if willing the ball into the net with sheer force of will.

Jude stepped up to take his shot. The pub fell silent. You could almost hear your own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, ran up, and kicked. The ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net. The pub erupted in cheers, and you jumped up, your shout of triumph mingling with everyone else’s.

The penalties continued, and finally, it came down to Trent. The pressure was immense. If he scored, England would win.

The pub fell silent again as Trent prepared for his shot. You could feel the tension in the air, your heart pounding louder than ever. He took his position, focused, ran up, and kicked. The ball flew towards the goal, past the goalkeeper, and hit the back of the net.

The pub exploded in cheers. People were hugging, high-fiving, and celebrating. You couldn’t believe it. They had done it.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jude: We did it! Can’t believe it. Guess I owe you that date ;)

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart soaring with pride and excitement.

You: You were amazing! We're so proud!! I can't wait x

Jude: Trust me, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N.

You spent the rest of the night celebrating with your friends, the victory and Jude’s promise keeping your spirits high. Amidst all the revelry, one thing was clear: your relationship with Jude was about to take a new and thrilling turn.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions and excitement. Jude’s team had just secured a 2-1 victory against the Netherlands. The pub you were in was filled with joyous celebration and raucous cheers. You knew Jude would be over the moon, and you couldn’t wait to hear from him.

Soon enough, your phone rang with an incoming call from Jude. You stepped outside, away from the pub’s noise, to answer.

“Hey, Jude!” you answered, your voice bright with excitement. “Congrats on the win!”

“Y/N!” Jude’s voice was noticeably slurred, and you could hear the background noise of a lively celebration. “I can’t believe we did it! We actually won!”

“I know, it was amazing!” you said, smiling. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thanks!” Jude’s words were slightly jumbled. “I’m just so… so buzzed right now! Remember when we were kids and we’d dream about moments like this? It’s really happening!”

“I know, it’s like a dream come true,” you said warmly.

“And you were always… so pretty, you know? I never really understood why you’d hang out with me,” he continued, his voice full of affection. “Everyone loved you, and I was just this goofy football guy.”

You felt a blush rising. “Jude, it didn’t matter. We had so much fun together.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I always thought… thought you were too good for me. I was just this guy with a big dream, and you were this amazing person who could have been anywhere.”

“Well, I was where I wanted to be,” you said softly. “With you.”

Jude’s voice grew more tender. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N. Even back then, I was captivated by you. The way you carried yourself, the way you looked—it was like you had this light that drew me in. I was always amazed by how stunning you were, both inside and out.”

You could hear Bukayo’s voice faintly in the background. “Jude, mate, turn the phone off. You're pissed-"

Jude chuckled, though his tone remained affectionate. “I can’t help it, Bukayo! Y/N, you have no idea how incredible you are. I mean, just thinking about you—how beautiful you looked back then and how stunning you still are—drives me crazy.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Jude, you’re making me blush.”

“I’m just speaking the truth,” he said earnestly. “You’ve always been this amazing person, and I’ve been lucky to have you as a friend and now… maybe something more.”

You felt a warm flutter in your chest. “I’m really glad we’re sharing these moments together. It means a lot to me.”

Jude’s voice grew more serious, though still a bit tipsy. “If we keep winning, I want to make sure we celebrate together. I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling. “For now, enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it.”

Jude’s laughter was warm and content. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But I’ll call you again soon, okay?”

“Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jude,” you said.

As you ended the call, you couldn’t help but smile. Jude’s heartfelt, tipsy confessions and the sound of his celebration had deepened your connection, making you realize just how much you both meant to each other. The future felt full of promise, and you were excited to see where this new chapter would lead.

When England lost 2-1 to Spain, the crushing disappointment was felt by everyone, especially Jude. As he and the team made their way back, he couldn't shake the feeling of defeat.

You, back home, had been anxiously awaiting any word from him. After a few hours, you decided to check in, hoping he was doing okay.

You: Hey Jude, are you alright? Just wanted to check in.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude. The text was brief, but the words were heavy with the weight of the loss.

Jude: Not great, honestly. It's been a rough night.

You felt a pang of sadness reading his message.

You could picture him, lost in thought, longing for comfort.

You: I'm so sorry, Jude. I wish I could be there with you too. You wanna hang out tomorrow? Watch a crappy horror movie and crash on my sofa?

The reply came back quickly.

Jude: Sure. I could use a little cheer up. I'd better go, journalists want a chat before we board.

You stared at the phone, hoping your words brought him some measure of comfort. You knew how much this loss meant to him, and how hard he had worked for this moment. The idea of him being alone in his thoughts broke your heart a little more.

You wanted to do something special for him, something that would show him just how much you cared. An idea started to form in your mind, and you sprang into action.

First, you pulled out his favorite hoodie from the closet. It was slightly oversized on you, but it felt like a warm hug. You wore it while you tidied up the apartment, making sure everything was perfect for when he got home.

Then, you went into the kitchen to start cooking his favorite meal. The process was therapeutic, each stir of the pot a way to channel your nervous energy. As the aromas filled the room, you felt a little more at peace, knowing that you were doing something to help him, even from afar.

As the hours ticked by, you kept checking your phone, hoping for any update on his flight. Finally, a message popped up.

Jude: Just landed. See you soon

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly finished setting the table, dimming the lights to create a cozy atmosphere. You lit a few candles, their soft glow adding a touch of warmth to the room.

When you heard the key in the lock, you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with anticipation. As the door opened, there he was, looking exhausted but so incredibly relieved to see you.

Without a word, he dropped his bags and pulled you into a tight embrace. You held him close, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he buried his face in your neck.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I missed you too, Jude," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I'm so glad you're home."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. "Come on, I made your favorite dinner. Let's sit down and talk about everything."

Later on, after you had let him get everything off his chest, you decided to watch a movie, something that would probably become background noise. As the movie played, you and Jude sat side by side on the couch, the tension between you that seemed to dance in time with the flickering images. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your arms or legs brushed, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

He was staring at the screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. The furrow in his brow, the way his jaw tightened, the constant fidgeting-he was still wrestling with the aftermath of the game.

You wished there was something you could do to ease his mind.

As if sensing your thoughts, he turned to you, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry I've been a grumpy sod."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "No, don't be. I'm your friend!" You smirk a little as you made eye contact with him for the first time that night. "I'm just glad you're here."

The movie continued, but the air between you grew thicker with unspoken words and emotions.

"Listen. About what I said-"

"We don't have too-"

"No we should! Because, i know I've been swept up with all of the euro's but- I meant what i said. I like you."

"I like you too."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you more frequently, and each time you met his eyes, it was like a silent conversation passed between you.

"Do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, you fell asleep halfway through."

He grinned, the first genuine smile you'd seen from him all night. "I was exhausted. You have a way of making me feel very relaxed. Always have done."

"It's a very good thing," he replied, his voice low.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his eyes. The movie, now a distant background noise, was all but forgotten. The distance between you seemed to shrink with each passing second.

"Jude..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. "I-." His eyes looked up and down at your lips as you settled into his embrace. He looks for any uncertainty before he continues.

"You make me feel seen. Like I can't hide anything from you. It's scary really-"

"Is that so-" you smile, your eyes casting over his lips.

"Mhmm. You make me such a good person-"

"Jude, just kiss me already." You laugh. He smiles instinctively,

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Can I...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to hold its breath as your lips finally met in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was like a spark igniting a fire, the kiss quickly deepening with a hunger that had been building all night. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more intense.

You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed against him, the kiss growing more intense. His lips were insistent, exploring yours with a desperate need. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own racing pulse.

Jude's hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back, sending shivers down your spine. Your skin felt electrified wherever he touched, each caress igniting a new wave of desire. You gasped as his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently at the sensitive skin.

"Jude," you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he continued his exploration, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

Your breath hitched when his lips found the hollow of your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you looked into his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Do you know how long l've wanted to do that?" you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of relief and desire.

Jude chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

"Probably as long as I have," he replied, his breath warm against your lips.

You both knew this was just the beginning, but for now, the world outside could wait. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled in each other's arms, finally giving in to the desire that had been simmering between you for so long.

[cutielando]

I just finished reading your chubby reader fic which I loved as a chubby girl myself!! I was wondering if you could do something similar with like a fit gym girlie I feel like muscle mummy’s tend to be forgotten a lot!

to the gym | l.n.

warnings!!: gymrat!reader (reader is described as being muscly and frequenting the gym)

my masterlist

Lando has always been keen on exercising. He didn’t really have a choice in the matter, seeing as his job required him to be in the best shape possible. 

However, that doesn’t mean that he looks down on people who don’t exercise as regularly as he did or at all. Every person was entitled to their own routine, in his opinion.

But when he met you, someone who lived and breathed exercise and hitting the gym, he felt like he had hit the jackpot. Being in the gym together, sharing your love for exercise with each other and always pushing one another to better themselves.

It was a dream come true, frankly. 

The first time he had suggested joining you for your workout, he figured you would go easy on yourself, do some light exercises and call it a day. The shock on his face when he saw you lifting weights, twice the weight he himself could barely lift, was something out of a movie.

You had found it so endearing, seeing him staring at you with such a perplexed expression and shock, you found it sweet and funny at the same time.

“Why are you looking at me like I’ve suddenly grown 3 heads that I don’t know about?” you joked once you had put the weights back and joined him where he was standing.

“You know you just lifted twice what I can lift, right?” he said, eyes still wide and staring back at you.

You laughed, holding your belly as your laughter rang through the fairly empty gym. This was one of your favorite things about living with Lando, the fact that the apartment building where you both lived had a private gym exclusive only for the residents.

“Babe, you know I’ve been a gym rat for years now. What did you think I’ve been doing all this time?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Lando shrugged, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“I don’t know, running on the treadmill? I figured you lifted weights and all that stuff, but I didn’t think you could lift more than me. And I’ve been training straight up hardcore my entire life” he explained, scratching the back of his neck before he reached out for your hand and pulled you closer to him.

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt against his body.

“I can do more than that, but I’m still jet-lagged and my body takes a while to recover, you know” you explained, making the shock return twice as intense.

Lando could swear his brain was malfunctioning. He didn’t know why or how, but the way you were speaking and the things you were saying were doing things to him. He found you so attractive before, but now it had reached a whole other level.

“Have I ever told you how hot you are?’ he asked, his voice having dropped to a dangerous low mumble.

You bit your lip, looking into his eyes sensually. If you had known this was all it took to get to him, you would have brought him with you a very long time ago.

“You have, and I could say the same about you. However, as much as I want to jump your bones this very second in this very gym, I need to finish my workout and you need to work on your neck” you said, your lips brushing against his as you suddenly pull away from him and make your way towards the treadmill for a running session.

Lando stared dumbfounded as you walked away from him like nothing had happened, getting back to your workout just like that.

He would lie if he said he didn’t want to just ditch his workout and take you upstairs, but he knew Jon would be coming soon enough to help him with his neck training and he didn’t want to have to explain to him why he decided to skip it.

♡♡♡♡♡

Ever since that first day in the gym, Lando had insisted on joining you for every workout routine that he had time to attend. It didn’t matter if he had just got back from a race halfway across the globe, or he was tired and sore.

He wanted to be there, even if it was just to watch and admire.

“Baby, you’re tired, you really don’t have to come with me” you argued with him one very early morning as you were getting ready to go downstairs to the gym.

Lando had just got back home very late last night, having flown all the way from China. The amount of sleep he got was nowhere near enough for him to get enough rest after such a busy weekend.

And yet there he was, wide awake before 8 am and ready to go watch you while you work out. 

“But I want to watch you” he pouted, his eyes barely open. His hair was fluffy and his curls were sticking up in every possible direction.

You sighed, knowing you would never be able to say no when he looked at you like that, lips all pouty and those puppy dog eyes staring right into your soul.

“You need to sleep, love. You’ve barely had any time to rest this weekend and when you finally come home you’d rather come and watch me exercise than get some sleep?” you asked, smiling slightly, but you already knew the answer.

“I would rather spend any time with you than sleep. If you’re not here with me then what’s the point of sleeping?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

You chuckled, shaking your head. He knew how to weasel his way straight into your heart, saying things like that which you couldn’t overlook.

Once he noticed the defeated look on your face, he got up from the bed and took your hand, offering to carry your bag downstairs.

When you arrived downstairs, you were pleased to see that there was nobody in the gym at that hour, giving you two some much needed privacy.

“Alright, I’m going to run on the treadmill for a while and then do some leg lifting. Are you okay here by yourself for a little while?” you asked him once you put your earphones in and your headband on your head.

He nodded, taking a seat on a bench in the middle of the room. The sight all but melted your heart, the way he sat there with his hands on his lap, like a little kid waiting for his mother.

You nodded and leaned in to quickly kiss him on the lips, turning on your music and getting to work.

It wasn’t even 20 minutes after that you got off the treadmill and noticed Lando had fallen asleep on the bench, his head resting on his knee. You pouted, taking out your phone and snapping a quick picture.

Because you knew there was no way he was comfortable in that position, you decided to cut your workout short and get him to bed, figuring you could get some more sleep yourself.

“Lando, baby. Come on, let’s go upstairs” you slowly shook him awake, his eyes opening and meeting yours sleepily.

“Are you done working out?” he asked, stretching a little and looking around, seeing you more rested than you usually were.

“I only ran on the treadmill today, I’m skipping my legs session today so we can catch up on some sleep together” you explained, taking his hand and trying to get him to follow you upstairs.

He protested, shaking his head and not moving an inch.

“No, go on and finish. We can get some sleep later. I don’t want you to jeopardize your routine because of me. I’ll watch, do your thing” he said and planted himself more comfortable on the bench, now facing towards the apparatus he knew you would be using.

You smiled lightly, finding his obsession with watching you train endearing.

Never before in your life had anyone been as supportive of your workouts than Lando has been. Compromising his sleep schedule just to see you train and do your thing, sleeping on a gym bench just so he could watch you in your element.

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner in life, someone just as passionate about the gym as you were.

Maybe even more.

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