#and i’m happy their helping one another
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i don’t even know what to say. you’ve left a yapper speechless. with Real Tears in her eyes. i feel so much adoration for you and i’m soso grateful for your words, the time that went into composing such a heartfelt review, and just your support. i actually will fall on my knees and beg you to kiss me PLEASE MISSIE 😭😭🩷
something about your ocs (at least from what i've been able to read so far) is that you really capture the essence of their innocence and youth. it makes me nostalgic and so protective of them 🥺 esp this oc and how the fic ended. bc even if jk didn't want to rob her of her youth, he did. and god, does it hurt.
this DID it for me… had my ass pulling a tom holland, i got the engagement ring here baby plz!
i have always been insecure of the way i capture most of my ocs… i think i can’t help but unconsciously make them “weaker” just bc they’re the victims of so many more painful and deeper emotions. it’s something i like but i also fear it can maybe come across as a stereotypical depiction of women? idk. but your comment really made it better. i’m happy you liked her 🩷 and Sawrry you could feel her hurt hehe
like i said, it takes a real special person to pull off this sort of trope, but i expected no less from you. bc wow... amazing. i don't read a lot of age gap fics bc if im being frank... it's a pretty taboo topic in our society, yet this happens everyday to real people, right? i think it's one thing to judge it based on what it is and then having the opportunity to build a world with characters and feelings around it. what an experience. thank you as always lovie!!
i’m 🥹🥹 so lovingly overwhelmed with this. it’s suchhhh a huge honor. to be seen as a special person?!???? by you!!!!?? and wow this is like the biggest compliment i’ve ever received. i love reading about age gaps, and writing it has been a challenge but it still remains one of my favorite tropes. and you’re totally right about what you’re saying. i haven’t found myself supportive of it in situations that saw my closed ones involved, but writing and reading about it truly puts things into another perspective sometimes. these stories still deserve to be told ❣️
thank You, prettiest soul 🩷 always thankful <3
OLDER ⋆ 정국
you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.
pairing: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader
genre: smut, dilf au, best friend’s father
warnings: lower case intended, porn with some lots of plot, age gap (21 n 38), dom!jk, sub!reader, voyeurism, messy blow job, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of tit play (small chested reader yayyy), two (2) spanks, unprotected sex, cum eating, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, but also praise, pet names, some angst hehe, she falls first he falls harder??? but miscommunication sadly, forbidden love
ratings: 18+ / mdi
word count: 18.2k
a/n: i kinda hate this it doesnt make sense anymore to me but when i realized i was already 12k words in so 😃 here you are! its also so hard to write smut for me because i get carried away but then it becomes too overwhelming Help. anyways. im back hey!!!!
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in the backseat of his car, you stare forward at his hands gripping the steering wheel. there’s something hypnotic about the way his fingers curl around the leather. you bite your lips, an attempt to suppress the heat easily pooling low in your belly, your thighs rubbing together to conceal the effects of your lewd thoughts.
but amid them, one stands out. it’s the one that puts a shameless, selfish smile on your face, when you fixate on the image of the fourth finger of his left hand lacking a gold band.
it’s been a few months since that day— since areum, your best friend, showed up at your door in a frantic state, her finger jabbing the bell over and over in a panicked rhythm that jolted you from your bed.
you had nearly tripped down the stairs in your rush to swing the entrance open, and when you did, you were instantly tackled by your friend collapsing into your arms, her tears soaking through your shirt.
kicking the door shut, your hands busy embracing areum with panic in your eyes, you tried to steady both her and yourself. in between her uncontrollable sobs, shaking you to the core, she let her worries tumble out her mouth. her words came in a torrent, fast and breathless, barely giving you any time to fully process them as she buried her face in your neck, her body trembling.
it took a moment for the huge news to break through your thick, slowed down brain, but then it struck you, areum chanting it repeatedly as if she couldn’t grasp her mind around it: her parents were splitting up. divorce was imminent.
your own disbelief mirrored hers, but for very different reasons. you felt it in the way your shock turned into excitement; indecorous, depraved exhilaration, with your friend still hiding in your chest.
even as her sobs echoed in your ears, your mind latched onto one single thought, repeating like a mantra: he’s single. mr. jeon is single.
you felt terribly guilty when you sensed a smile that you couldn’t quite suppress stretching over your features, and the jittery sensation that came with it flowed your body and reached your hands, tightening them around areum harder to try and squeeze the shame out of yourself.
since that day, you’ve lost count of how many afternoons you’ve spent at areum’s house. you’ve been doing your best to be the friend she needs, to keep her company when what she fears the most is loneliness.
you’ve been a constant presence, helping her through the mountain of neglected work she left piling up, distracting her with baking sessions, or mindlessly binge watching entire seasons of friends on lazy evenings. anything to keep her mind off the pain.
but each visit is an opportunity. a fleeting chance to see him. to study how he moves around the house with that quiet intensity of his, a presence able to fill every room like a calm, steady current.
you’ve memorized many of his mannerisms. the way his eyes soften when he looks at areum; the way his mouth twitches into a faint smile when she tries to cheer him up; the way he nods at you in recognisment, silently letting you know he’s grateful for what you’re doing to help his daughter.
you wish you could help him too. in other ways. ways you know you shouldn’t be thinking about.
you can’t avoid it, though. you’ve witnessed him come back home from work countless times now, watched the tension etched across his features as he steps through the door, wished you could be the one to ease it off his shoulders. let your hand travel down his chest, reach his belt.
you feel disgusting unfailingly, but how can you not let your mind wander when he groans so deliciously every time he loosens the tie around his neck and kicks off his shoes?
you know exactly what his next move is, the imperceptible sigh melting the weariness off his face the moment he greets his daughter, a tender smile breaking through his exhaustion.
“any requests for dinner tonight, girls?” he always asks, his gaze jumping between areum and you on the living room couch, waiting for a response.
after your friend replies she likes whatever her daddy cooks, your stomach twists with nerves when his eyes meet yours to make sure there’s no complaints, and you quickly shake your head, biting your lips to keep from saying something foolish. is your dick on the menu? perhaps?
and the man can cook. exceptionally well. he moves around the kitchen with an effortless grace, every movement purposeful, every dish you have the honor of tasting better than the last.
while you help setting the table, you catch yourself staring more times than you should, mesmerized by the way he chops vegetables or stirs a pot, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.
fuck. is there even a single flawed bone in this man’s body? with every day you spend at his house, you’re convinced there can’t be.
you want him to notice you, the same way you notice him. you tell yourself you’re just being a good friend to areum, but you know there’s more behind your constant visits.
there’s definitely more behind the way your skirts get shorter, your tops tighter, your bras purposefully not worn.
you feel crazed when you convince yourself his gaze falls upon your exposed thighs when he puts a plate in front of you at dinner, or when his eyes seem to be caught, only for a fleeting second, by your hardened nipples, evident through your poor excuses of shirts.
even when your interactions don’t go further than a brief exchange about college and areum or quiet, polite smiles in passing, the mere thought of being around him sends a rush through your veins, a dark and forbidden feeling tumbling in your stomach.
you’ve been seeking more and more of that after one particular night, your feet making their way down the stairs after areum had fallen asleep and you had rathered take your leave. you found him stretched on the couch, a drink in his hand.
his eyes hazily followed your movements, his voice low and slightly slurred, “are you leaving already?”
hearing him acknowledge you outside of the usual context of areum’s presence made you stop dead in your tracks, your reddened cheeks turning to face him, the dark color spreading all over your features when you fully took him in.
he was cladded in a comfortable attire, one you almost never saw on him, black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt falling sweetly on his shoulders, the short sleeves revealing the intricate ink designs running all over his right arm.
you shook yourself out of your trance suddenly, stuttering, “huh… yes. didn’t wanna be a bother.”
he chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, “oh, you’re not. i wish all of my daughter’s friends were like you.”
his words hung in the air, with sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. you simply laughed along, a nervous, shaky sound escaping your lips, trying to mask the way your heart was racing with desperation for the gods to grace you with the depth of his tipsy voice all night.
to this day, you still think your horny and delusional prayer was heard when he nodded to the empty space beside him, lifting his glass slightly, “care for a drink? you’re 21 now, right?”
you only nodded shyly, more out of reflex than actual thought, slowly making your way to sit beside him just as he had instructed. the proximity sent a wave of heat through your body, your insides melting with the lava, the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent replacing the burned ground with a trail of flowers.
you were willing to do whatever he wanted from you at that moment, even if it meant downing the harsh liquor he poured into a glass for you. you took a sip, struggling not to grimace at the burn that followed. he smiled.
it was probably the alcohol loosening his tongue, but that night, for the first time, you saw a side of mr. jeon that he kept carefully hidden away, his vulnerability a strong characteristic of it.
his words tumbled out in a quiet, almost confessional tone. he spoke about his marriage, about how he had always felt somewhat trapped. still a teenager himself, he was only 17 when he found out his soon to be wife was pregnant with areum; 23 when they decided to marry.
his voice soft, but tinged with a sadness you hadn’t heard before, he admitted he never felt like he got to live his youth to the fullest, certainly blessed with his perfect baby, but also chained down by responsibilities and a tightening pressure he shouldn’t have had to deal with at such a young age.
then, with his eyes burning into your shiny and equally flaring ones, he paused just for a moment, and you felt he could see right through you, into the very core of your being. that he had you all figured out.
“when i look at you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze traveling down your bare thighs, squished together on his couch, “i feel like i get a bit of that youth back. you’re so full of life, so fresh, so… full of love for my daughter. i’m glad she has you. glad we have you.”
as he found your orbs again, you noticed his had significantly darkened. you were sure your heart would have failed you if you had kept navigating in his gaze; instead, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.
that night, he paid for your uber and insisted you sent him a text when you made it home. it was only read the morning after, and left unanswered.
even now, you’re convinced that if it weren’t for the whisky, those words would have stayed locked away in his mind, never seeing the light of day. not even if he were forced to speak them at gunpoint.
still, you’re grateful for the magical effects of alcohol and how they’ve brought you a tiny bit closer to give a look into his complicated world. it has awakened something in you, something stronger and far more dangerous than anything you’ve felt before.
you want to be there for him. help him through the doubts and regrets. be the youth he missed. take the weight off his shoulders. let him use you on that couch.
that feral, undomesticated monster inside you is a hundred times hungrier when, exiting the library building with areum by your side, babbling in your ear about today’s plans, you see his sleek mercedes parked outside.
he honks, getting his daughter’s attention too, who excitedly walks over the car when she spots it. the sound works as a pavlovian trigger for you, it has your mouth salivating and your senses alert, catching up with your friend and getting in the backseat.
it has been a few weeks since you last saw him, both you and areum too busy with assignments and outside activities, and his charming smile as he asks about the day cuts the breath from your lungs.
you’re silent as your friend fills him in, your ears struggling to pick up her speech as it only takes a few more seconds for your eyes to be caught by an interesting detail, one that has your world rocked: he finally took his wedding ring off.
the wedding ring that has stood as an unspoken boundary between you and your reckless fantasies is gone.
the realization hits hard, and suddenly, the reality around you narrows. your mind veers into dangerous territory, conjuring visions that feel too real.
you can almost feel his left hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, claiming you. and the images are so vivid, so consuming, that you don’t even notice when areum nudges your shoulder.
you don’t register her calling your name until the sound finally cuts through, pulling you back to the present with a jolt.
you blink a few times, trying to ground yourself, before turning to face her, areum’s voice light but her expression amusedly curious, “dad asked you a question.”
your whole face drops, panic clear in your features, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. you’ve been zoning out, lost in a daydream about the very man sitting in front of you, the one you literally just ignored, too busy thinking of him. the irony is almost too much.
your eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and the slight smirk on his lips only makes you look even dumber, stuttering all throughout your explanation, “sorry, mr. jeon. i— um. i was distracted.”
he simply chuckles, low and clearly not offended by your lapse in attention. his focus is back on the road, but as he speaks you keep yours on the words he’s directing at you this time, “it’s okay. i always tell you, just jeongguk is fine. i was asking about your day, you seem a little worn out.”
“oh. i—it went well! i guess i’m just tired,” the words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you hope they sound convincing enough. you just can’t stop your eyes from falling on his left hand.
“well, you can’t be!” it’s areum’s excitement interrupting your furious imagination and bubbling over, “you need to help me set up for tonight. then, we’re gonna do our makeup, our hair, and dress up. i’m so excited!”
right. the reason why you could finally see mr. jeon after weeks and why you’re currently driving to his house is because it’s areum’s birthday.
the day feels significant in so many ways. you’re excited to witness your best friend turn a year older even after the hardships she’s been faced with. honored that you’re the one she’s chosen to help make this night perfect, ensure every detail is just how she’s pictured this moment to be like. and you can’t deny that you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of tonight, knowing there’s going to be faces you’re not that well acquainted with. you’d say you’re a bit awkward with new people, but you’ll try to bear through it for the sake of areum’s happiness.
but mostly, you feel guilty. because no matter how much you try to focus on your friend, the thought that truly makes your insides all mushy with fuzziness is the fact that you’re going to be in the proximity of her dad, again.
you crave for the smallest moments. the brief second where you’ll catch his gaze. the way his cologne will subtly linger in the hallways of his home. your eyes have a habit of drifting to his hands, those strong, veined, tattooed hands that move so smoothly whenever he speaks.
even now, in his car, as you glance at his side profile, there’s a ridiculous and almost cosmic sense of gratitude. like you’ve been chosen. blessed by whatever god to exist on this planet at the same time as him, to simply witness his presence.
it should be enough. it really should. but you’re a sinner. you’re greedy, wanting more. always more.
that buzzing sensation sticks with you throughout the entire day. the hours are packed with frantic energy, as you and areum run around in anxious over-organization, only for her own panic to rub off on you, making your movements quick and precise, as if every step has to be executed flawlessly.
and with all the chaos, he’s there in the back of your mind. mr. jeon. his presence is overwhelming, even when he’s not around.
he helps for a while, joining you in the backyard as you set up for the evening, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the whirlwind around you. but then he disappears into his studio, retreating into his own space, leaving you to your tasks, and you don’t see him until hours later.
yet, you still feel him, as if he’s always near. his upstairs studio’s window faces the garden, and it’s enough to make you hyper-aware of your every gesture.
you straighten your back, slow your steps, each action more deliberate, because even though you don’t know if he’s really watching, it feels like he is.
getting your makeup, hair and outfit ready with areum does slightly ease that sensation off your chest. you love these moments with her. shared girlhood when you do each other’s eyeliner, the flutter of excitement as you zip up dresses, as you rummage through her closet, searching for the perfect piece to complete your look.
but even then, you’re brought back to the man working just a few rooms down the hallway. it’s astonishing how easily areum has access to everything she wants. the power her dad holds, the kind of wealth that makes life feel effortless in ways you can’t help but envy.
for her, money isn’t just something that buys things. it’s a silent force that shapes her world. she doesn’t have to worry about how much something costs or wonder if she’ll ever have enough. it’s as simple as snapping her fingers.
it must be nice to have that kind of life. to have someone like him in your corner, with wealth that seems to fall into place as easily as leaves from a tree. you don’t resent her for it, not really. but it makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a world where nothing is out of reach.
where everything, even the man who haunts your thoughts, could be yours with the right words or a simple gesture.
when you see him again, you’re standing in his kitchen. areum is still upstairs, fixing the tiniest details to her makeup, but you decided to come down early, just in case the first guests arrive, wanting to be helpful, wanting to keep yourself busy.
you’re momentarily lost in the view outside the window, the backyard garden bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, their soft hues blending beautifully with the sage and pastel yellow decorations. the setup looks like something out of a dream, and it pulls a small, unbidden smile to your face.
the quiet peace is interrupted by the sound of a cupboard cracking open behind you, and you startle, your heart giving a quick jump.
you turn, following the noise, and there he is— jeongguk, bent over as he retrieves a bottle of red wine from the lower cupboard.
as he straightens up, bottle in hand, he finds your eyes already staring in his. he’s uncharacteristically deliberate as he still lets his gaze wander up and down your figure.
you’ve dressed carefully for tonight, choosing a flowy pink dress that flutters delicately against your thighs. the corset top hugs your waist in all the right ways, accentuating your shape, the kind of dress that makes you feel just a little more confident, a little more seen.
but now, under his gaze, you feel exposed, like he’s seeing more than just the fabric of your dress. his eyes linger longer than usual, and when his orbs dip to your chest, it’s almost as if he hesitates, like he’s trying to tear his eyes away but can’t.
you’re not even sure if the engrossed look on his face is real or just the product of your own twisted fantasies.
still, your body responds instinctively, your hand drifting up to play with your necklace, an unconscious gesture, while your other arm wraps around your waist, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together under the intensity of his stare.
when his eyes return to your wide ones, he gives a subtle nod towards your dress, and the smile that curves his lips is warm, but you can’t decipher that something else it wants to communicate.
his voice is smoother than you’ve ever heard it, as if literal honey, sweet and rich, is dripping out from his pillowy lips, “what a beauty. you look very pretty.”
you weren’t expecting that. it steals the breath from your lungs. it’s not just the words, or even the way he says them, velvet wrapping around your senses.
it’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.
at this point, you’re seriously questioning if there was a stronger substance in the liquor you and areum shared earlier, even if you hadn’t taken big quantities, each small sip burning your throat and making you grimace at the sensation. but you figure it must have been enough to distort the current reality around you. or maybe, mr. jeon is the inebriated one.
you don't know how you find the voice to speak, or if you even do, the word escaping your lips in an uncoordinated mess, almost imperceptible, “thanks.”
he hums deeply in response, and it vibrates through the space between you. you let out a shaky exhale the moment his gaze finally shifts away. he resumes the task at hand, effortlessly opening the bottle of wine and turning his back to you as he reaches for a glass from the higher cabinet.
the muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt, and for a split second, you’re unsure what to do. whether to stay, add anything else, flee the room entirely. make small conversation about areum’s birthday. comment on his look, too. oh, you have a lot to say about it.
you can tell he just wrapped up his work-related tasks for today from the way the first three buttons of his white shirt are opened, revealing his deep cleavage. his hair slightly tousled, but in a way that looks purposeful, perfectly intentional. his slacks hug him deliciously, rounding the curve of his ass and making you swallow hard.
your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you, and the counter.
surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence first, again. the rich sound fills the air as he pours the red wine, the motion so precise, so fluid, it feels like witnessing an authentic art form.
he doesn’t bother looking up at you as he asks, seemingly casual, but slightly amused, “is there a boy you’re trying to impress tonight?”
the way he steers the conversation makes you less agitated, more confident. especially with the question thrown your way. teasing, almost belittling. you can see he’s not even trying to hide his pretty smirk, his focus on the wine flowing into the glass.
the question lingers, and you twirl your necklace around your fingers, smoothing down your dress with your other hand, your eyes flitting to his naked left hand, “mh… you could say so.”
of course, you’re not thinking about a boy. mr. jeon is no boy— he’s a man. the kind women dream about but know they’ll never find. the kind that belongs on the big screen or in the pages of a novel, with his effortless charm, his wealth, his looks that stop you in your tracks.
but he’s in front of you. and he’s tall, muscular, with hands that could crush or caress, tattooed in a way that makes your mouth dry up and water all at once.
it’s him you want to impress. you want to affect him the way he affects you, with effortless intensity. you want to pull him in, make him look at you the way he makes your world tilt on its axis with just a glance.
you’re hypnotized as you witness him in one of his rich man activities, performing a ritual with the wine glass. he brings it to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the aroma.
there’s something so practiced, so sensual in the way he handles the glass, the liquid dancing with delicate precision, as if even this simple act holds meaning. you can’t look away.
when he's satisfied, he finds you again, and your mouth is slightly open without you even realizing it. the moment he lifts the glass to his lips, you bite your own, almost harshly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.
his smile is soft, but there’s something unsettling in its honesty, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
he mutters into the glass, his words resounding even stronger, “well, he’d be a fool not to fall for you.”
the implications of his comment make you swallow audibly, while he downs his first sip of the wine with fine ease, his adam’s apple bobbing with it. the whole time, his eyes never leave yours.
a thick silence stretches between you, and you wish you could break it but you don’t know how. your mind spins with the unspoken tension, but he seems entirely comfortable with it. the only sound filling the space is the quiet hum of the house.
he places the glass back on the counter, the soft clink of it slicing through the quiet. smoothly, he nudges it in your direction, his movements slow, as if testing the waters.
his voice is inviting, even more than usual, “you want some?”
”is that wine?” you instantly cringe at the way you sound strained.
he hums, a low sound of affirmation, watching you carefully.
you briefly glance at the glass, “i’ve never had it.”
”try it, then.”
with a slow twist of his fingers around the base, he slides the glass toward you. as it moves across the marble surface, you notice how he rotates it imperceptibly, but purposefully, so that the side where his lips touched the rim is now facing you.
the gesture is subtle, but the intent behind it is clear. at least to your deranged fantasies.
there’s a faint lip mark where his mouth had been, and the sight of it pulls you in, making your pulse pound in your ears. you look back up at him, finding his gaze still on you, his expression unreadable but heavy with implication.
without a word, you lift the glass, your fingers wrapping clumsily around the stem. you bring it to your lips, your mouth closing over the spot his lips had just pressed on.
the wine hits your tongue— bitter, sharp, and unfamiliar. you gulp hard, the liquid burning slightly as it slides down your throat. your face scrunches involuntarily, a clear sign of distaste. the richness of the flavor is too much for you, and you can’t help but grimace as the aftertaste lingers.
he watches, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. when you set the glass down, he effortlessly picks it back up and brushes his fingers across the rim.
his tone laced with amusement, he asks, “like it?”
you shake your head quickly, trying to hide your discomfort.
his chuckle is low, a soft rumble that makes your stomach flip. swirling the wine gently, he muses, “i heard there’s going to be alcohol tonight.”
you groan lightly, slumping your shoulders, “ugh, i know.”
the endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret meant just for you, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate, “make sure you don’t drink too much, pretty face. i’ll be around.”
just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spinning. pretty face?
what just happened? you’re not sure, but you’ve definitely stepped into something dangerous, something you can’t quite shake.
it’s hard to do so, even as the birthday party kicks off. the energy in the backyard shifts as more guests arrive. lively voices and unfamiliar faces begin to fill the space. areum’s laughter cuts through the hum, infectious and bright, drawing everyone in.
it all contrasts sharply with the weight still hanging in your chest from your earlier encounter with mr. jeon. your eyes keep darting toward the house, toward where you know he is, even though the logical part of you tells you to stop.
you stand at the entrance to the garden for a moment, taking in the scene. the subtle smell of flowers mixes with the faint scent of food, and your best friend bounces around the space, radiant in her dress. you’re genuinely happy for her, honored to share this moment.
and with your best efforts, you start engaging with others, smiling as you talk to some classmates and mutual friends, but it’s all surface-level. your mind is elsewhere.
it’s only later, as the evening progresses and the party settles into a rhythm, that you begin to relax. mainstream music plays in the background, and it inevitably involves everybody, as some classic party games become the main entertainment.
long after the cake and the gift-opening, the group gathers into a loose circle, throwing each other never have i ever questions.
you can’t help the way you all still feel like teenagers deep down, and how you get foolishly excited whenever the topic gets hot, and hints at anything that is sex related.
childish and immature, you know, but your ears still perk when the first probing question is tossed out.
“never have i ever been fingered.”
areum instantly shushes it, her eyes panickedly looking back to the house in hopes her dad isn’t around. laughter bubbles just as quickly, both because of the question and the girl’s reaction.
as expected, many reach for their drink, and you do too. the few present boys holler in a teasing manner, gaining some eye rolls.
sheepishly, the plastic cup touches your lips and you take the smallest sip from your punch. you can’t appear unbothered like your other peers, your cheeks subtly flaming as the embarrassing memories rush to your mind.
it’s silent, the small plea you telepathically send to anyone that might be listening. you pray for the topic to shift to something else, something that won’t inevitably put you at the center of the attention. something you can relate to.
but of course, god is not on your side. the questions only dig deeper, wandering in uncharted territory (at least for you), and you never reach for your glass again.
you can only sink further in your chair as everybody else around you seems even more lively with the way the game has turned, sharing their experiences, giggling as they listen, refilling their cups.
beside you, areum buzzes with energy as every question is just something for her to drink to, nothing that shocks her or that she isn’t familiar with.
never have i ever given head.
never have i ever been ate out.
never have i ever rode someone.
it’s undeniable, the way your skin heats up. with how you’ve been spending your whole day, fantasizing about the man who’s probably already asleep in his bedroom by now, your friends sharing their adventures only fuels your imagination.
you feel dirty when you put yourself in those scenarios, and for every daring moment they relive, the figure that appears beside you is always mr. jeon.
if only you turned your head, just for a moment, and glanced toward the kitchen window that faces the backyard.
you would have seen the same man dominating your thoughts, staring intently at the scene unfolding outside.
jeongguk is hidden in the shadows, the darkness of the house swallowing him whole, with every light turned off. maybe that’s why neither you nor areum notice him.
you don’t see him. you don’t feel him. you’re too caught up in the moment, too consumed by your own desires, unaware that the man that put you in that same condition is standing so close, watching.
jeongguk traces your every move with his intense gaze. he studies how your face dips down at every new question, how your smile seems just a little too tight, too forced when listening to the stories, the ones that make you shift uncomfortably in your chair.
if you don’t notice it, he does almost immediately— the way the attention in the circle shifts toward you.
the glances thrown your way become layered with a subtle curiosity, laced with something that looks like concern. but then, in the eyes of a few, jeongguk catches a faint trace of judgment.
it’s there, in the tilt of their heads, in the way they exchange fleeting looks with one another, as if they sense your unease and interpret it as something lesser. something they can pick apart.
his jaw tightens as he observes, that familiar protective instinct stirring within him. it makes his hands twitch by his side. he stays rooted in place.
eventually, the moment you clearly seem to dread the most (it doesn’t take a genius to know. it’s written on your face. or maybe, he got so used to studying you. it comes easy to him. knowing you,) follows.
it makes you want to vanish into the thin air caressing your legs, the way the question is put out with intent, an only pretending-to-be-careful tone wrapping it, all pairs of eyes instantly directed in your direction.
“never have i ever… had sex.”
you feel trapped, a momentary panic bubbling in your chest as you reach for your cup, hesitant. the rim hovers near your lips as you avoid every expectant glance, taking the smallest sip you can manage.
a murmur ripples through the circle. you can’t decipher it, too busy feeling the heat spread across your face. it’s only later that you realize no one else drank. the question had been crafted specifically for you, a silent test.
lara exhales, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “woah, i was getting worried for a second there, ___.”
you barely have time to react before areum steps in, her voice sharp in your defense, “what’s wrong with never having had sex, either way?”
“nothing, but—”
you’re not sure why you speak, and why you choose your speech that way specifically. you cut in before you even realize what you’re doing, driven by a sudden urge to explain yourself, an unshakable need to clarify forcing itself up your throat, “i only took a small sip, though.”
the group’s collective curiosity spikes, attention zeroed in on you like never before. you feel it— everyone waiting for you to continue, to reveal something you���ve kept to yourself until now. so, you give in, words tumbling out against your better judgment.
you clear your throat, straighten your back against your chair, your tone evasive, “i technically am not a virgin, but…”
the expectation drips from every person around you, their wide orbs trained on you, and for some reason you continue, gulping audibly before providing them with an explanation they don’t deserve, “when we— did it, he um… he got his tip in, but— god, this is embarrassing.”
“c’mon, tell us!”
you sigh, pressing forward with the humiliating truth, “he came, like, two seconds after. so, i felt nothing.”
the laughter that erupts is immediate, your friends covering their mouths in shock and amusement. you can only chuckle nervously, shrinking in your seat with a deep, liberating exhale.
yunjin pats your shoulder beside you, “that’s so sad, babe. we need to find you a real man.”
a strange sense of relief courses through you, the adrenaline from finally being acknowledged and validated by your friends swelling within, and you quickly learn how the buzz spreading to your body after taking part in sharing one of your experiences awakens you significantly.
you don’t know why, but you keep talking, oversharing, feeding into the newfound attention, “oh, i’ve been waiting for one in particular.”
you quickly become the center of attention for different reasons than the previous ones, now. their curiosity flares again, eyes wide with excitement as they beg for more details. who is it? tell us!
their voices overlap, but you dismiss them all with a playful shake of your head, giggles bubbling up as you try to evade their questions.
but just as quickly as the moment came, it fades when you glance to the side, and your smile drops.
jeongguk’s eyes meet yours immediately.
the intensity of the gaze knocks the breath from your lungs, the air thick between you as time seems to slow.
he’s been watching the entire time, arms crossed, the muscle in his jaw tensing as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. there’s a quiet frustration etched into his expression, a subtle irritation with your friends’ behavior. but it’s more than that. there’s something stirred by your confession.
your inexperience. your innocence. the untarnished parts of you he’s only beginning to realize he wants to corrupt.
the truth is, he’s known for a long time. longer than he’d like to admit, really. but he’s never let himself feel it fully until now.
it wasn’t something that hit him all at once. no, it crept up on him slowly, over the months. he’s always known you were beautiful, in that distant, untouchable way. you’re his daughter’s best friend, after all.
but he couldn’t help his eyes from lingering on you a little too long when you’d come over to hang out with areum, how his heartbeat would quicken up when he’d let himself be coddled by the warmth of your helping actions, the way his muscles would tense when he’d catch sight of you lounging by the pool.
he’d been good at keeping it under bay. but you weren’t subtle, not even the slightest. your fleeting glances, your breath hitching whenever he was near, your clothes putting you on display for him. it all made it harder.
even more when you’ve been nothing but the proof that angels exist, and at some point he convinced himself you were sent on earth to fill the void he felt his whole life, with your unconditional care towards his daughter and your pupils widening whenever they’d land on his.
and earlier, in the kitchen. he’s used to being in control, but the way you responded to his presence, to the compliment he gave you, had moved something deep inside him.
maybe it was seeing you tonight, all grown up and standing there in that dress, hugging your figure deliciously. how you carried yourself, confident yet unsure, mature yet untouched.
hearing you talk about your inexperience, about that brief, awkward encounter with a boy who clearly didn’t know what he was doing. watching you squirm under your friends’ teasing questions, witnessing how you tried to explain yourself.
it’s like it all clicks into place for him. and for the first time, he’s letting himself acknowledge it.
jeongguk wants you.
he knows it’s wrong. so wrong. he’s never felt this way about someone so much younger than him, and yet, the need to be the first one to truly touch you, to show you what it means to be wanted by a real man, makes his blood run hot.
it’s dangerous, the way these thoughts take hold of him now. maybe it’s the way you’ve changed lately, stepping into womanhood but still holding onto that wide-eyed innocence. or maybe it’s him. maybe he’s the one who’s changed, his resistance crumbling little by little.
he feels disgusting. selfish, his stomach swirling with nerves. dirty, his fingers twitching and begging to free his insides from such feelings.
but there’s simply no ignoring it anymore, no pretending like you’re just areum’s friend. that boundary he set in his mind is starting to blur. he’s old enough to know better, but old enough to know exactly what he wants.
your eyes widen with terror, meeting jeongguk’s own hardened gaze. he wants to tell you, wants you to know, but the way your startled expression lingers in his narrowed eyes makes him hesitate. it fills him with uncertainty, an unfamiliar feeling, one he rarely contends with.
the moment is abruptly interrupted when one of areum’s friends, an older guy she’s met through her dad’s colleague, crashes into you from behind, draping his weight over your shoulders.
you struggle not to stumble forward, holding yourself on the arms of your chair while you look to the side, and immediately try to pull away when you realize the unwanted proximity.
but it’s hard, you’re weaker than the boy’s embrace, holding you still and wiggling his eyebrows, his tone playful as he ruffles your hair, “is it me?”
the people around you laugh, the sound light and carefree, but the way your body stiffens, the clear discomfort in your eyes— jeongguk notices.
and he also notices (reluctantly) the ugly feeling making space in his stomach the more that guy’s face moves closer to yours. his jaw twitches, the muscle at his temple ticking.
he can’t just stand there doing nothing anymore.
the sudden sound of the door to the garden opening catches everyone’s attention, and your gaze flies over in that direction.
jeongguk steps out, his presence commanding, and your expression drops. areum’s eyes grow wide, instantly sensing something wrong in the way her father is looking at the scene. his eyes are too dark, too sharp, and if no one else detects it, you and his daughter surely do.
still, the taller boy behind you moves up again, taking a step back from your seat, and jeongguk seems to reserve him a look you find hard to decipher. it’s firm, heavy with a warning.
“areum,” he calls, his voice calm but edged, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
she’s quick to move toward him, and you can’t help but try to listen in on what he’s saying to her.
but the voices of your friends rise again, loud and boisterous, filling the space with chatter, drowning out any chance you had of overhearing.
you sigh, and when you return to your slumped position on your chair, you can’t ignore how all the girls around you are sneaking glances at him, their giggles piercing through the air as they whisper among themselves.
jeongguk has always had a certain effect on people, and tonight is no different. you hear some of their comments, but they don’t fully register in your mind.
all you can focus on is the bitter feeling rising in your chest.
you bite the inside of your cheek, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. it sickens you, the way you have to share the image of him with everyone else.
you wish only your eyes had been granted the gift of looking at him, of admiring the way his shirt stretches across his chest or how his hair falls perfectly, even when tousled.
but instead, he’s a spectacle for everyone to enjoy, and you hate it.
when areum returns, she’s slightly slumped over, her energy deflated. behind her, mr. jeon stands with his arms crossed, a small, condescending smile tugging at his lips.
areum’s voice is low as she announces, “the party’s over, guys.”
the subtle groans of disappointment echo around you as your friends try to protest, giving up when met with no possible negotiation. they then gather their things, saying their goodbyes and slowly trickling out, only after trying to argue about it.
once the last guest has left, it’s just the three of you, left to clean up the remnants of the night in the dimly lit garden.
jeongguk barely looks at you. his focus is elsewhere. on the mess, on areum, on anything but you.
as you bend down to gather some empty cups, you steal a look at him again. he’s helping clean up too, though his motions are deliberate and slow.
it’s silent for a while as each one of you picks up their own task. teamwork seems to be efficient, every area of the backyard slowly regaining its original aspect.
until areum yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head as she makes her way over to you and her father. she mumbles, blinking heavily. "’m so sleepy."
jeongguk raises an eyebrow, glancing at the still-messy garden, some leftover cups and plates scattered across the tables, and the chairs strewn about from the night's festivities.
he teases lightly, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "oh, really? you’re just gonna leave all this mess behind?"
for a moment, the weight of his words hangs in the air. you and areum both freeze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, unsure if he’s serious. the pause is brief, but it’s enough for tension to rise in your chest.
but then, jeongguk’s lips curl into a soft, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“just kidding,” he chuckles, his tone warm now, the joke clear. “go sleep, c’mon. it’s past your bedtime.”
areum sighs with exaggerated relief, rolling her eyes before stepping forward to wrap her arms around her dad in a loose hug. she mumbles into his chest, “i’m not a kid anymore, dad. i don’t have a bedtime.”
he chuckles with a lightness that was foreign to you until that moment, and he leans down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head, his voice low and tender as he whispers, “whatever you say. happy birthday, reumie.”
it’s such a simple moment, nothing grand or elaborate, but the intimacy of it, the quiet affection between father and daughter, makes your heart clench.
you watch them with stars in your eyes, completely captivated by this rare portrayal of vulnerability from mr. jeon. he’s always been the composed, collected man in the background of areum’s life, but here, he’s just a father, brimming with love for his daughter.
you almost feel like an intruder witnessing such a private exchange, but you can’t pull your eyes away. every detail — his hand softly resting on her back, the delicate warmth in his eyes, the way his voice softened — it all paints a picture of a side of him you’ve rarely seen.
you want to be part of it, too. want to bask in his love, the one he keeps hidden but the same one that shapes him whole. that fills him from head to toe, never spilling, always quiet. makes him the brave man you only know through your best friend’s admiring eyes, never from his words.
he doesn’t like talking about himself, but you’d kill to know what truly goes through his mind, even for just a second. you’d gladly find a house in his brain, and you’d pay rent and everything.
when areum finally pulls away and turns to you, her expression sleepy but content, she asks, “you coming with me?”
you hesitate, glancing at the mess still surrounding you. you speak with a small, reassuring smile, only looking at your friend, “i’ll be there in a minute. i wanna help clean up first.”
she just shrugs, already too tired to argue, and heads inside. jeongguk’s eyes follow her briefly before flicking back to you.
his lips part as if he wants to say something. maybe to insist that you shouldn’t stay, or that you should go inside too. but the words never come. instead, he watches you silently for a second longer, before turning his attention back to the garden.
now, it’s just the two of you.
the quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. the subtle hum of the night seems louder now without the chatter of party guests, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze fills the air as you move around the small round tables, readjusting the chairs.
you’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting back to mr. jeon. to the protective edge in his tone earlier, to the way he’s been looking at you tonight.
but then, in your distraction, you clumsily trip over your own feet, your breath catching as you stumble forward.
before you can fall, though, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you instantly.
“oops. careful, little one,” it’s jeongguk’s deep voice murmuring close to your ear, the warmth of his touch grounding you.
your face flushes immediately, the heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck.
“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him through your lashes, feeling ridiculously small under his intense gaze.
“it’s okay,” he instantly replies, his tone so gentle it almost makes your heart falter.
silence falls again, but this time, it’s thicker, and maybe even uncomfortable. you both remain still for a moment, his hand loosely gripping your arm, and you feel yourself burn where his fingers rest. his thumb brushes your skin lightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it’s enough to make you gulp audibly.
finally, he releases you, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, "thanks for making my daughter happy today. i really appreciate that. i appreciate you."
the words catch you off guard, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his voice, deeper, almost too revealing.
your mind races, trying to find the right words to respond, but all you can manage is a stutter, “oh. i—”
his voice is firmer when he gently cuts you off, “go sleep now. i’ll finish here.”
you want to protest, but the way he’s looking at you — his dark eyes locking onto yours, holding you in place even with his hand now by his side — makes it impossible.
there’s something about the way he’s speaking, like he’s being careful with his words, almost spelling them out, making sure you’re paying attention to each one, “if you need anything, you know where to find me. yeah?”
you swallow hard, nodding slowly. his gaze is unwavering, and it feels like he’s saying something more than just the words themselves, something you can’t quite grasp yet. you stammer, “right. yes. i—i’ll… goodnight.”
“goodnight.”
it’s not exactly a good night for you. in a sense, maybe it is. you always welcome dreams like these when they decide to visit. but right now, it feels more than a little awkward.
worst timing ever. you’re lying next to areum, the daughter of the very man who’s making you wet with just a few flashes of imagery dancing behind your closed eyelids.
at first, it’s soft, almost serene. you see a beach, engulfed in warm, blurry tones that blend together like watercolors left to bleed in the sun. the sea is flat, unmoving, and glimmers like pearls under the flaming light.
a weight presses down on your exposed thigh. the sensation feels so vivid that it pulls you deeper into the dream, and as you glance down, you instantly recognize the large, familiar hand resting there.
jeongguk’s hand. his left one. on the fourth finger, a gold ring.
when you lift your head, his face greets you with a wide, unusual smile. his hair is wet, slicked back as if he’s just come out of the water, droplets clinging to the tips.
but the softness of the look he gives you is replaced by something more dangerous, more daring. he bites his lip, and you see it.
a double piercing sits on the side of his mouth, the silver studs gleaming as he plays with them using the tip of his tongue. your breath catches in your throat. you don’t just see it there.
on his eyebrow, a matching piercing catches the sunlight, giving him a rebellious edge.
you remember them from old pictures areum showed you once. jeongguk, in his younger days, rougher, wilder, and undeniably charming.
it must have left a deep impression on you because your subconscious has dug it up now, weaving it into this dream. deep in your slumber, you unconsciously whine.
his hand kneads the soft skin of your leg, and his grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling into familiar crescents, but with an edge you’ve never seen on him before.
"you wanna take another bath?" his voice is husky in your ear, filled with suggestion. he’s leaning in now, closer, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin.
your throat feels dry, your pulse quickens, and before you can say anything, his hand slides higher, fingers grazing the hem of your swimsuit. his breath fans over your face, and suddenly, the sea behind you isn’t the only thing that feels like it's burning.
"come on. just you and me."
before you can even think to answer, your surroundings shift. the beach, once hazy and peaceful, morphs into something more private.
you’re no longer in the open air, but sitting at the border of his pool, both your feet grazing the warm water.
jeongguk’s hand is still playing with the laces of your bikini, and he’s slow and teasing as he pulls one of them. when he fully undoes it, you’re bare in front of him.
but he doesn’t look down just yet. he keeps staring in your eyes, his smile gone now, replaced with something more serious, more focused.
jeongguk leans closer to your ear, his lips brushing your lobe, and it feels way too real when he whispers, “let me make you feel good.”
it’s with a jolt that you wake up, the low sound still echoing in the depths of your brain, and you struggle to take in your surroundings at first.
on your right, areum is sleeping soundly, even snoring softly. you'll tease her about it in the morning.
but if the thought initially puts a smile on your face, it morphs into a frown when you register the reason why you’re now awake, and you brim with guilt.
you have to get away from your best friend. need to get away from your brain, if possible. wash it all with a glass of cold water.
you make sure not to cause too much noise as you slowly sit up, the covers falling from your figure and the air welcoming you with goosebumps on your skin.
your naked feet tentatively touch the ground and you force yourself to stand on them, padding on the floor and exiting the room, gently closing the door behind your shoulders.
at first, you only hear it. faint, muffled noises; fussing; heavy panting; groans.
you blink rapidly, convinced your hazy brain is still cozily wrapped around the blankets, finding it hard to let go of the images that had flashed behind your eyelids and adapt to the new state of consciousness.
but as you make your way to the stairs, the sounds get closer, and more vivid. it’s not just your mind playing evil games, anymore.
it’s shushed moans, and eager whines. and they seem awfully close to how you’d always imagined mr. jeon would sound like. in that situation.
having lost control over your own brain a long time ago, it feels like you’re now being ordered around by it, no freedom of choice whatsoever.
your feet move on their own, following the source of that delicious music, and you swear your eyes get teary with joy when you find that the door was left ajar.
you feel delirious. the small gap is more than enough to give you a view into what you never thought you’d have the honor of witnessing: the man of all your desires has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing it, then dragging it up and down in slow movements that you just know are torturing him, from the way he harshly bites his lower lip, to the way his furrowed eyebrows almost meet at the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on his doings.
nonetheless, he loves it. his mouth opens every time he brushes the tip of his thick dick with his palm, releasing small whines, followed by quiet moans when he uses his other hand to play with his balls.
he cusses repeatedly, then grips his base and halts his movements. only to go over the punishing pattern again, bringing himself closer to the edge then retraining when he feels like stepping over it.
the sight of mr. jeon edging himself makes your knees weak. it takes over you physically, you genuinely have to find support in the wall beside you.
you need to be there with him. you need it to be your hand; need him to guide it just the way he likes it; need him to teach you how to please him. his groans make your head spin, and you need to get closer.
you’re not thinking when you instinctively take a step towards the slightly open door, but when you do, the floor cracks under you.
you’re paralysed. in the silence of the house, wrapped in night time, the otherwise small sound is amplified, and he stops his hand.
with the little power you still possess over your actions, you move your back to the wall beside the door. your breaths are ragged, too overwhelmed with the mixture of fear and lust, and you think of running away to hide but a huge weight is chaining you down, and you find yourself unable to move.
you can only register fussing from the other side, the soft thump of his feet on the floor and the door opening alarmingly. when he looks to the side, he’s met with his expression mirrored on your small face, your eyes wide but willing themselves to keep looking in his.
if you were to look down, you’re not sure you could keep yourself composed, knowing his cock is hard and unattended in his pajama pants.
“___? what are you doing up?” his voice quickly takes on the calm that characterizes him so well, instilling some of it in your startled figure.
still, you stutter all throughout your answer, making it clear what you just spied into with the way your face changes color, “i— water. i wanted— there’s no, huh, water in the fridge.”
mr. jeon does a weak job at hiding the confused amusement on his features. nonetheless, he nods, a small grin on his lips while he says nothing, just walks to the stairs and makes his way down them. you follow hastily, careful not to trip.
there’s plenty of water in the fridge, but he doesn’t question it. he takes out a bottle and pours a glass for you, sliding it over the counter.
you take the smallest sip, afraid you might choke with the way he stands facing you, staring so intensely into your orbs.
when you put the still full glass down, he smirks. you see his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him, “nightmare?”
the depth of his voice translates into heat pooling right in your lower stomach and staining your shorts. you’re a mess just from the blurred sight of him. you shake your head, “more like… a weird dream.”
he smiles fondly, having to break the prolonged eye contact and look elsewhere, his grip getting tighter and his patience wearing thin.
he won’t be able to control himself much longer if he doesn’t get out of this kitchen, especially with the effects of your effortless charm flooding down his pleading dick.
you’re in front of him, eyes full with a feeling that scares him, only the counter dividing your bodies, and you’re wearing the tiniest satin shorts paired with a white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, the cut dangerously low and your nipples evident through the material.
he’s a gone man.
his eyes no longer anchoring you, your gaze automatically travels to where you shouldn’t be looking, for your own sanity. but the outline of his cock is so delicious, it makes your mouth water with want.
you’re not sure if it’s your own eyes deceiving you, but you swear you can see it throb, and at that moment you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. just thin, loose pants covering his length.
you gulp, clenching around nothing. you feel him sigh, and the sound makes your head spin with greater force.
he looks back at you, but you’re too enthralled by your current view, the effects of it almost completely shutting out your hearing and your rational thinking, as you round the counter and leave his words hung in the air, “i’m sorry for… what you probably saw. should’ve closed the door.”
apology silently dismissed, or simply ignored (why would he even apologize for blessing you with such an unforgettable sight?) you now stand next to him. as he turns to you, you’re faced with his chest, and you have to bend your head upwards to meet his curious eyes.
your body has long forgotten to trust the thin amount of rationality that could still be found in your brain, and that’s how you find yourself leading your hand to cup his cock through his pajamas.
his face is stoic, staring at you intensely. he doesn’t startle, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t move away. but you feel him. if the contact does something to him, he doesn’t show it. he keeps looking down at you, in your eyes.
then, he speaks, his voice steady, “what are you doing.”
you’re suddenly aware of your actions, and you fall victim to them, feeling small because of his stern, composed gaze while you melt under it.
your voice is frail, barely a whisper, too weak to sound as convinced as you truly are, and your words come out slurred, “wanna help you.”
he doesn’t break, doesn’t seem affected by your desperation, but his pupils are blown out, knuckles white from grasping the counter, “you already did enough.”
your hand is still on his dick, unmoving. no one dares break the moment, though. if anything, being this close to him, feeling him while you both search for something in each other’s eyes, is only spurring you further.
you get on your tip toes, your perky nipples brushing against his chest, your voice low while you tilt your head to the side, “what were you thinking of? i’ll be that for you.”
immediately, his hand flies over yours. he doesn’t move it, just holds it still. the look in his eyes is a lot darker, his eyelids droopy, his jaw clenched, “stop this.”
the electrifying spark that buzzes you the moment you feel his skin travels from your hand to your whole body, and it significantly weakens you.
you don’t know if you fall to your knees because they genuinely give up on you, but it’s how you find yourself facing his hardness, your eyes never leaving his glossy ones, highlighted by the dim light shining through the curtains of his kitchen.
“___. get up.” there’s a tremor in his voice, and the hand that was blocking yours now falls by his side, twitching.
you see it in his eyes. sense it in the tension of his muscles. he’s holding back. but you don’t want him to resist you.
“please,” your beg is muffled and quiet, your nose brushing against his length and following a torturous path that makes him hiss.
he groans deliriously, willing himself to tear his orbs off your big, pleading ones staring up at him, but he doesn’t do anything to move you away.
“fuck,” the chuckle that follows is feverish, his body on fire with the forbidden, but so wanted touch, “don’t make me have to reject you, doll.”
“you don’t have to,” you’re unexpectedly quick in your answers, your conscience coming back to you but letting it be taken over by a dark feeling, the one that makes you kiss his tip through the thin material, and lick along his length, finding his eyes, “i want you.”
jeongguk inhales, his lower lip bleeding with the harsh biting, and he swears his knees are shaking with the effort of keeping even the slightest, thinnest thread of sanity intact.
he wishes he could stop you. knows he should. but he can’t. he can only watch as your slim fingers hook under the hem of his light pants and lead them to pool down his ankles.
the way his cock springs free and brushes your smooth, pure face makes him huff out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he takes in your eyes widening at the sight of his length.
mr. jeon is long. and thick. he’s veiny, and perfectly shaved. it looks almost unrealistic, but he’s in front of you in all his glory and he throbs. leaks pretty precum to coat his angry tip.
he doesn’t know how he manages to speak, especially when you look up at him through your droopy eyelids, pupils blown and tongue ready to take him.
his voice is rough, as if it wants to stay stuck in his throat, but he forces one last warning out, “___. don’t do it.”
any and all kinds of inhibitions are nonexistent the moment you attempt a kitten lip at his wet tip, and the simple action makes his head fall backwards, a way too loud growl escaping him.
his breaths are heavy, broad chest moving with them as he looks down at you again, too tempted to look elsewhere.
he curses as soon as he does, his lust-filled orbs swimming in your equally craving ones, and he believes this view is crafted by the hands of a god, not slightly comparable to anything his mind came up with back in his room, not too long ago.
the reason why he’s gotten rock hard under his covers, it’s you. the yearning he couldn’t suppress anymore, the hunger making him salivate, the need to be consumed by your love, the desire to be touched by you, to be cured by your innocence, only to taint it.
he’s thirsty, wants to drink all of you in. wants to finally have you, taste you, feel you. he’s tired of fighting it.
jeongguk doesn’t know how to decipher his heart doing literal flips in his chest when you fully take his cock in your mouth, and he lets out a sound he’s never heard his own self ever produce.
it’s high-pitched, whiny, delirious, and it leads himself to subtly push himself forward, to bury his length in your throat.
you inevitably choke at the new sensation, your eyes fluttering shut to keep the tears welling up under your eyelids from spilling out, but you go relentlessly, just as hungry.
you tentatively bob your head up and down his length, messily taking him as best as you could, probably accidentally scraping him with your teeth a few times, and you try to make up for it with your swirling tongue, slurping thirstily.
he almost coos at your eagerness, and as badly as he wants to bask in the sensation, having to keep himself from pounding into your mouth, he holds your silky hair in a ponytail and gently pushes you away.
when you find him again, your eyes are glossy and your eyebrows drawn up with worry.
you don’t want this moment to end. you don’t want your insecurities to be proven right, don’t want him to ward you off, to still think of you as nothing more than a childish girl with an evident crush. you’re on your knees for him to finally see you.
jeongguk instantly reads your thoughts.
his voice is quick to sooth you, a sweet smile painting his face with an expression you rarely see on him. it’s soft, just like his voice, “come up here, angel.”
you want to listen to him, want to follow his every order. but you’re not sure how to when he’s regarding you with a care you’d never thought would be directed at you, one that empties you of any strength. when the pet name rolling off his tongue that easily seems so natural, you want to think it’s all he’s ever seen you as.
with a delicate tug at your hair, he leads you on your feet again. but you’re weak, your chin falling on his chest as you look at him through your lashes like he’s hung every single star in the sky.
his hand leaves your locks only to cup your face, promptly helping you stand straight to study your features.
if he didn’t know better, he’d say you’re high off the strongest substance you could find. your pupils cover your orbs in a dark, wide circle, a lazy smile on your pink lips as you let yourself be handled by him, no control over your body, almost falling over his bigger one again before he steadies you by your hips.
he lets out an amused chuckle at the state you’re in because of him, and he hopes you know just how much you’re affecting him, too. he wants to swallow you, pill after pill, overdose on you.
when he’s sure you don’t need his help keeping you still anymore, leading your palms to rest on his wide shoulders, he takes your face in his big hands and forces you to swim in the intensity of his gaze.
his words are spoken slowly, a low whisper fanning over your lips, “if i kiss you now, i won’t be able to control myself anymore.”
your eyes jump relentlessly between his own orbs and his mouth, the latter winning the battle when you fixate on it, and speak just as weakly, “please, kiss me.”
you barely manage to get the words out before jeongguk is all over you. he devours you, pushing your lips open and finding your tongue, playing with it in a mess of slick and heavy breaths.
his fingers travel through every angle of your body they can find, pulling your face impossibly closer by your nape, leaving goosebumps along your bare arms wrapping around his neck, falling down your torso and squeezing harshly as they rest by your sides.
your moan is inevitable when his palms reach down the curve of your ass and shove you against him. you feel his hardness meet the softness of your lower belly, his wet tip poking at it and making him hiss on your lips.
he does his best to swallow all your sounds, your muffled whines and whimpers his favorite meal as of now. it’s a wince of slight pain that you let out as he positions you in between his body and the counter, the border pressing on your lower back.
when he moves from your kiss, even with your lungs being unable to breathe anymore and begging for a break, your head follows his movements to try and bring him back on you again.
the chuckle he lets out is almost belittling, the right side of your face being completely engulfed by his palm to put distance between your mouths, his other hand keeping you still by your waist, and his own hips push against you.
you quickly glance down to where your bodies meet, and you whimper when you take in the way his cock is just above your core, his balls brushing against your clit. you only need to lift yourself a little forward to fully feel him.
but it’s like he instantly knows what’s making your head spin, his grip tighter but still mindful not to hurt you. the sudden squeeze has your eyes finding his, feeling ridiculously smaller under the weight of his heavy gaze.
he makes sure you keep your whole focus on him, and as much as registering the way your orbs are glossy with anticipation and desire is making him almost regret his next words, he lets them out, steady but soft, in your face.
“you had your fun, baby. now, you’re going to listen to me. hm?”
this time, your reaction comes promptly following his request. you’re hanging from his lips, tracing their every move and sound, immediately nodding at the order.
but it’s not enough, and jeongguk ensures to sound a bit firmer, ”use your words.”
”yes, mr. jeon.”
the way your response rolls off your tongue with seemingly no hesitation, your pupils still on his, the words you choose to say, make him let out an amused chuckle.
your eyes widen, and he drinks in your state, cheeks flushed and lower lip trembling. you need to bite it in order for it to stop shaking when he narrows his eyes, his left palm rising from your hip and finding its way under your top, his remark making you startle, ”you’re such a bad girl. aren’t you?”
jeongguk makes up for the way more tears seem to well along your bottom lashes by cupping your small breast in his larger hand, swirling his thumb around your nipple, and you need to fight against the loud moan traveling its way up your throat, the chocked sound getting stuck as your mouth hangs open, your eyebrows furrowed.
but it only takes some more of his degrading tone for you to let out an unashamedly loud noise, his fingertips pinching your nipple, ”calling me that only because it gets you off. doesn’t it? you’re not so innocent after all, princess.”
he quickly swallows your sounds with his lips on yours, and both of you can’t help but hum lowly at the contact. jeongguk thinks he could keep kissing you for hours on end. but he badly wants to feel every other inch of your body, too.
unexpectedly, the kiss gets broken when he turns your body around with ease, your back now pressing against his front, and you steady your shaking figure by planting your hands on the counter.
the access to your ear comes effortlessly, he just needs to bend his head down to cover your height difference and make sure his whispered words meet you as close as possible, “i’ll give you what you want. but you need to be quiet and good for me, understood?”
you’re not sure if you should use your voice or stay silent, but your body doesn’t give you the chance to ponder over it before letting out a whiny yes. you’re not exactly being quiet, but can he blame you?
the man you’d get to talk to for more than five minutes only in your dreams is now promising you he’s going to give you what you want. and his cock is perfectly nestled in between your ass cheeks. you’re positive you’ll have to throw your shorts right in the bin after he’s done with you.
though, the scoff resounding in your ear makes you regret not even trying to lower your volume. you really want to be good for him. don’t want to disappoint him.
that’s why when he taps two fingers under your chin, without him having to express it for you, you part your lips open, tongue out. from the corner of your eye, you see the side of his face scrunched with a long dimple before he shoves the digits inside your wet mouth.
you instantly wrap yourself around his thick fingers, coating them in your warm slick, and you can tell it’s affecting him with the way the hold on your hip tightens, and he shifts between your thighs.
with your tongue swirling around the two digits, your eyes search for his face. looking up at him through your lashes, you clench around nothing when you take in the effortless way he towers over you, his body engulfing your whole smaller figure.
the sinful eye contact leads him to spur you on further, his voice rough with desire, “that’s right. suck on them like you would my cock.”
you hum deeply at the encouragement, fluttering your eyelids shut as you energetically bob up and down along his fingers. you think you can still feel the taste of his precum lingering on your tongue, and you whine, wishing you could have him again.
the noise gets cut from your throat when he forces his digits out, the slicky sound lustful, and it makes him groan lowly.
with his other hand, he delicately pushes your head forward to bend you over the marble counter, the same one where hours ago he passed you his glass of wine to take a sip from.
the surface is cold against your cheek and he’s out of your vision as he stands straight. not being able to see what he’s doing, the expression on his face as you lay folded for him, makes the anticipation flood even stronger in your veins.
you feel him pull your shorts down enough to reveal yourself to him, hear him hiss as he’s enthralled by the way your pussy glistens, all for his eyes to admire.
the curse that follows is instant, “fuck. no panties?”
you’re embarrassed for your straightforward bareness, whimpering at his surprise with your fist tightening and your nails imprinting crescents in your palms, but you’re also so impatient to feel his touch.
tentatively, you wiggle for him, hoping to brush against his length, but it’s to no effort as he instantly stills your movements with a hand on your lower back.
he scoffs incredulously, feeling your bare ass against his palm, “it’s like you knew this would happen. you dirty, naughty girl. always giving me those eyes.”
it’s light, the spank that meets the side of your butt, but you gasp nonetheless. you need to bite your lower lip harshly in order to suppress the loud moan from escaping your throat, and you’re sure it bleeds when he softly strokes the spot he hit.
the hand soothing you now travels to your front, torturously putting pressure on your sensitive stomach and following a slow pattern, only to reach your wet core.
he finally touches you where you’ve been needing him the most, and you both groan when he uses his already soaked pointer and ring finger to spread your lips, his middle one tracing your slit.
you inhale deeply as he repeats the motion, and when you exhale you can’t help small whines from leaving you, the pleasure already too overwhelming.
you feel like passing out when his body weight presses on you again, his mouth directly on your lobe, the intention in his voice dripping on your skin, “you think i wouldn’t notice? you know how hard my cock gets everytime i see you in these tiny clothes of yours, huh? you’re quite literally the death of me, doll.”
then, it’s like all your senses come back to you the moment he pushes his digit in, and he immediately reaches around you to put his other hand over your mouth the second he sees it opening, your eyes rolling up.
you scream in his palm, the sound muffled with his fingers tightening under your jaw, his body still leaning on yours.
he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and stills his middle finger inside you, getting you used to his presence, “shh, princess. good baby, you’re doing perfect.”
the contrast to his earlier shaming tone only makes you whine more, your eyes squeezing closed to try and keep the noises in. you’re sure you bite his palm when he starts moving inside you, the finger curling tentatively and soon being joined by another one.
you shake your head weakly, feeling yourself reach delirium, and you manage to stammer out, “can’t— can’t do this.”
“you can baby, c’mon. you wanna be a good girl f’me, don’t you?” his tone is still low, warm breath fanning over your nape, and you melt under the sudden change in attitude.
you nod, not because you believe you can actually get through this without your heart failing and the whole neighborhood hearing you in the process, but because you do want to be his good girl.
“say it.”
“wanna be good— your good girl.”
he hums, “that’s right. i need to stretch you out if you want to take my cock.”
you choke in his wrap, now looser around your face, surprised at his words, and you clench hard at the mention of his cock inside you.
you throw your head backwards in search for more of his proximity, and you mumble nonsense, your brain completely melted, “yes! want your dick.”
“i know you do, little one,” with your head nestled between the crook of his neck, his hand now falls to your throat, and he holds you gently by it while his fingers pick up a faster pace.
he’s ruthless as he moves them inside you, effortlessly finding your sweet spot with a curl of his long, tattooed digits, and you whimper at the foreign sensation, unable to moan like you really want to.
you feel like screaming the more he keeps going, the only possible reaction to what is happening to you. one moment ago you were dreaming of this, and now it’s your reality.
mr. jeon is fingering you and calling you his good girl. his large figure is behind your smaller one bent over the counter, his palm around your throat, his hard length pressing against your ass.
the moment he uses his thumb to flick at your clit, you arch your back into him and you hear him fight to suppress a surprised moan.
“shit. you’re so impatient, sugar. dripping around my fingers. wanna taste your sweet juice, can i?” it’s a rhetorical question, hushed slurredly in your ear, because after he lets it out his fingers leave your hole, and find a new home on his warm tongue.
he purposefully moves your chin to make you a witness of his sinful action, humming deeply around the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut, his digits popping out drenched.
your mouth hangs, your tongue unconsciously peeking out as if asking to be made a participant, but jeongguk only smirks and stands straight once again, his wet hand leaving another light spank on your ass cheek, “turn around, sweets.”
you do as asked, making sure your palms are still steadying your weight on the counter now behind you, afraid your legs alone won’t be able to.
but you soon find out you won’t have to put much effort into that when jeongguk lifts you with ease and sits you on the surface, your slickness meeting the cold marble.
you don’t have to lift your head to look at him anymore, your heights now the same. but finding yourself directly in front of his hardened gaze makes you feel even more intimidated.
especially when he traces your inner thigh, his eyes never leaving yours, “every time you stand up to leave after dinner, you always leave a puddle on my chairs. and i’m left to clean it up.”
you swallow audibly at the accusation, and you can feel your eyes water once again, biting your lips to conceal the shame.
he only grins amusedly at your state, the tip of his tongue coming out to play with his lower lip. the hand on your leg now forces it to move to the side, his face only getting closer to yours, his tone deeper, “i’ve thought about licking it up, you know? but then i always stopped myself, because i knew i’d get to taste your pretty, wet pussy.”
you gasp, a shaky moan leaving you uncontrollably, and your fingers hover over his figure, wanting to find support in him but unsure whether to touch him.
he finds your mouth with a short kiss, almost reassuring, but he’s back to spitting sins the moment he lowers his face between your spread legs, and the way he looks up at you is almost scandalous.
he looks devilish, his orbs visible through his lashes, his tongue wetting his lips. he takes your uncertain hand and places it between his tousled hair, directing himself to you, instructing you how to use him.
he presses a peck above your clit, still drinking in your reactions, his smile wicked, “i knew you’d crumble soon. you little minx. going after your best friend’s dad. so naughty.”
your head is thrown backwards at his words, ones that only add to the pleasure that takes over you when he latches at your pussy, the wet sounds ungodly.
the shame and guilt mixing in the back of your mind generate a profane sense of bliss you’d never think you could reach, and even though deep down you feel dirty being confronted with the truth he sputtered out so easily, you can’t help getting off to it right now.
jeongguk is ravenous as he finds your drenched lips, lapping furiously at them and drinking the juice that continuously drips out.
he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen clit, and your hand that he himself put on top of his head now tugs at his curls, forcing him closer to you.
he’s trapped, your legs squeezing around his head, his nose nuzzled in your slit, and he can’t stop the hand that reaches to stroke his pleading dick.
you think you hear him mumble something along the lines of taste so good as he teases your hole with his wet muscle, and you’re a gone woman the moment you look down, your eyes fluttering open.
his own are closed, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose relentlessly grinding against your sensitive nub, and the way he seems so affected by the act of pleasuring you breaks something inside you.
you feel it begin to crumble when his tattooed hand reaches up to lift up your top just enough to expose your breasts, nipples hardening with the cold air and the stimulation, and they hurt deliciously when he starts kneading at your boobs, fondling them with care.
the deep hum generated from his throat vibrates against you, and the flick of his thumb around the center of your tit matched with the way your clit is being continuously abused unexpectedly leads you to your orgasm.
it’s fast, unannounced, and you find support in his hair, your body taking over your brain and relentlessly grinding against jeongguk’s face, suffocated between you, unable to stop reaching for the heavenly, and so awaited high.
your whines are frantically high pitched, but the moment he feels you cum all over his mouth everything around him disappears except you, and all he cares about is slurping you, drinking you as you let it all out because of him.
he pants, breathless, opening his eyes to witness your climax, to admire you breaking under his doings, chest swelling with pride and a primal sense of protectiveness.
when he hears you whimper the more he keeps sucking on your clit, your slim fingers pulling at his locks, he finally lifts himself up.
on the path he follows to come back up to meet your face, he finds your nipple with a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing your nub, and he smiles against it, teeth gently pinching it, when seeking with his eyes for your reaction he sees your own rolling back.
next, his mouth is on yours, smearing your wetness all over your lips and mixing it with his spit on your tongue, connecting in a frantic, hungry dance.
his forehead is on yours when he breaks the kiss, his breaths heavy, the lazy grin on his face the only thing you can focus on, hanging on his gentle words, “did so good, pretty. came so hard all over me.”
your eyes inevitably fall down to his cock, painfully hard against his stomach, the tip angry and slicked with precum.
you feel your core buzz, kissing him to conceal the unshameful desire building up so fast again, but still you can’t help from mumbling against him, “wan’ you to fuck me.”
the hum of pleasure coming from his throat reverberates on your lips, and he smiles at your confession. even chuckles, one hand resting at your hip and sliding you closer.
“that what you want, baby?” your legs wrapping around him, he kisses along your neck and travels down to your collarbones, leaving small bites to keep himself from marking you like he truly wants to.
he slips his palms under your thighs and lifts you off the counter effortlessly, and you squeeze your hold tighter around him in order to keep yourself balanced.
the new position has his cock perfectly meeting your core, your slit brushing against his tip as he walks you two over the living room couch, his mouth promptly swallowing your whimpers.
when he lays you on the sofa, he straightens himself to fully admire you. you’re sprawled for him, your hair framing your head like a halo, the sweat pearling your forehead adding to your angelic state.
your hands are on either side of your face, fingers dainty and slender, and your tank top is lifted up enough to show him your small breasts, slightly spilling from the sides.
your shorts still rest under your ass, and with a swift motion he fully takes them off you, giving him access to your center.
but the attention is taken away from your wet cunt when he lets his eyes come back up to your face, your cheek resting on your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment at his ravenous observing.
he smiles, becoming impatient with the feeling that only grows inside him, and he walks out of his pants still pooled down his ankles, taking off his loose t-shirt and letting it fall on the ground.
your eyes widen at his sculpted physique, now finally in front of you, his buff dimensions intimidating you, especially when your orbs follow his v line and put you face to face with his huge cock, so close to your watering hole.
he teases it with his length, sliding it up and down your slit, then slapping it against your clit. you arch your back, groaning.
“am i the real man you’ve been waiting for? you wanna be fucked by this big man, don’t you?” his sinful words only make you nod dumbly, becoming potty under his control.
at your eagerness, he wastes no time. aligning himself with your hole, he enters you. the stretch is deliciously painful, his tip boldly splitting you open for him.
he knows your wail is coming, so he lowers himself on you to block your sounds with his mouth. but he’s the one that needs to be silenced.
the moment he feels your tightness around his bare dick, he growls. his sounds grow more desperate as he sinks himself deeper, the grip on your waist enough to wreck you, and you’re expecting it to leave a mark.
you hum roughly against his lips, your nails scratching along his shoulder blades in search for any kind of grounding you can find.
it’s too much, his dimensions way oversized for what your hole can take, and the fact that you can’t help but grip him even tighter isn’t helping.
he reads you, your broken whines and the tear falling from your left eye, and the moment he bottoms out he stills himself, his face in the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling the warm skin in a reassuring manner, “shh, baby. i got you. let me make you feel good.”
the whispered words are the same ones that jolted you from your sleep, the dream almost too real, and paired with his middle and ring finger circling your sensitive nub they cause you to emit a pleasured squeal, your chest arching into his.
at this point, you’re afraid you’re still trapped deep in your slumber. that none of this is actually real, it can’t be.
you’re so convinced that it’s just too good to be true that you test it, scraping your nails harshly in his back, and when he bites the skin under your jaw in protest you gasp shakily.
it’s definitely real. jeongguk is fucking you. almost. not yet.
with the way your clit is being stimulated by his long fingers, the initial sharpness turns into more slick, and you impatiently groan, “fuck me, please.”
one final kiss is left on your lips before he lifts his torso up, his hands roaming along your sides and grasping a hold of your tits.
he teases you with a playful smirk on his face, your disappointed pout only resulting in a devilish chuckle from him as he massages your soft boobs.
but you can feel him throb inside you the more you swallow him in, and you know he’s just as impatient. you buck your hips up in search of friction, and the sudden motion makes the both of you moan.
he’s suddenly resolute as his palms fall to your waist and effortlessly hold you up as he begins fucking into you. with each stroke he picks up his pace, and he’s soon pounding your tight hole wrapping around him.
the two of you soon find out it’s impossible to be quiet. your sounds are stuttered and pornographic, and it makes jeongguk afraid he’s never going to be able to get them off his brain.
his own noises are heavenly, deep growls and surprised whines falling out his pillowed lips, slightly agape in bliss, brows drawn up.
your eyes roll back and never come back, your vision patched, and you think you weren’t build to survive this kind of pleasure. it’s almost deathly when he finds that one particular spot that makes you see stars.
your skin slapping is louder than his hushed speech, but he makes sure the words reach you and translate into wetness coating his length even more, drenching it, making it soaked in your juices, “that’s how you need to be fucked. that’s how my girl needs to be fucked, hm?”
“mhm, fuck, yes!” it’s breathless, but you want him to hear you. you feel yourself get closer just watching him smirk proudly at your state, his pupils blown out.
his palms are back to playing with your breast, kneading it harshly, and you enjoy the way he seems to be hypnotized by the vision, “fuck. love your tits. fit just right in my hand. you were made for me, princess.”
your head is thrown back between the cushions, your legs wrapping around his ass and pushing him even deeper, the anticipated sensation building simultaneously in both of your trembling bodies.
“i’m not gonna last long, baby. this pussy’s too tight. trappin’ me inside it,” jeongguk’s voice is rough, the words leaving him slurredly and all his effort put into snapping his hips against yours, his eyes focused on the relentless in and out motion.
you wail, mumbling nonsense, but at the same time the most sincere words you’ve ever sputtered to him, “it’s yours, jeongguk. f—fucking yours. forever. ah— fuck.”
he hums, feeling you contract around him the more he speaks to you, “that’s it. my pussy to fuck, angel. mine to play with, mine to fill up.”
your eyes widen at his territorial remarks, and when they meet his hazy ones they water with overwhelming ecstasy.
the possibility of his cum filling you up is what does it for you, your nerves undoing once again and making you spasm around his throbbing dick.
he talks you through your abrupt orgasm, praising you for cumming so good all over him, drinking in your blissful sounds and your hips rutting against his.
he’s just as close, and the realization that you came the moment he mentioned painting you in his seed makes him a crazed man, his motions stuttering sloppily, “fuck. aren’t you a naughty one, doll. you really want me to cum inside you? you want it, huh? i bet you do.”
your repeated nodding and the way your body is so pliant in his hold, letting it be completely handled by him with no functioning muscle, pervades his senses with a primal force that he puts all into fucking your sensitive cunt.
he smirks wickedly, “you’d look so pretty. all stuffed. want me to fill up this tight pussy? want my mature cock in so deep you can’t breathe?”
you think you scream at his continuous suggestions, but you can’t be sure when all your senses are clouded, the oversensitivity turning you into a literal doll for him, no power over your actions.
he looks just as fucked out, his lips parting as he basks in the feeling of being in control of you, his eyes fighting to stay open and keep you in his vision.
when he feels you contracting around him in overstimulation, his breath stutters and he feels himself reach the peak, quickly pulling out of you to spill his cum over your naked skin.
you gasp at the sudden emptiness and the warm liquid that keeps falling over your stomach, his cock being pumped in his fist and milked from all he can give you.
you both pant in exhaustion, your legs loosening their grip around him as he dips his weak knees on either side of you on the couch.
he hums when he fully takes in your figure, marked by his cum, and he smiles when he sees your eyelids struggling not to fall.
but you spasm once again when you feel his finger slide over your stomach, the wet liquid being collected, “now, you gonna clean this up for me. open your pretty mouth, baby.”
you don’t even ponder on the request, you just follow the order. your brain is reduced to thoughts that are only related to him, and it automatically complies to anything that he asks from you.
you engulf his digits promptly, swallowing his semen, looking up at him through your lashes and unashamedly clenching at his lazy smirk.
he makes sure every drop of his is collected and sucked by your hungry mouth, smiling when you don’t ever complain, “mh, good girl. get them neat.”
when he’s satisfied, he hovers over your face and finds your tongue in a sensual, slow kiss, both of you moaning at the exchange.
with a sloppy sound, he parts from you only to disappear between your thighs, his eyes mischievous, “gonna clean you up, too.”
you gasp at the feeling of his mouth wrapping around your core once again, slurping your juice and lapping at your inner thighs, and you’re not sure how this is going to help in getting you clean. you only feel yourself becoming even wetter, if possible.
leaving a kiss above your nub, he straightens up with a boyish smile softening his features, and with the fond way he’s looking at you, nobody could tell he just made you cum twice.
he moves your bangs from your forehead, closing the distance between you once again to leave small pecks over your still reddened face, “you did amazing, doll. made me cum so hard.”
you hum contentedly, snuggling closer to him, your body unconsciously gravitating toward his warmth. your hand lifts to thread through his hair, but before you can touch him, he shifts, pulling away.
the warmth he provided vanishes, replaced by the cold emptiness of the couch. panic surges in your chest, washing away any remnants of fatigue. you prop yourself up on your forearms, eyes tracking his movements.
you don’t want him to leave you here alone, bare and vulnerable, maybe a bit confused and uncertain, and deep down deathly scared of whatever will come after this.
your brows furrow, heart picking up a painful speed when you see he’s getting dressed—tossing on his shirt, pulling on his pants. and for a second, your heart clenches with dread. is he leaving?
but then you notice him picking up your shorts from the floor, his expression softening as he walks back to you with that same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter earlier.
relief washes over you.
he handles you delicately, as though you’re something fragile. his fingers brush your skin as he slips your shorts back on, pulling down your top before encircling your waist with his strong arms.
you squeal lightly when he pulls you onto his lap, settling back on the couch with you cradled against his chest. his hands never leave you, securing you to him.
you settle into him easily, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of his body returns, your legs draped across his lap, arms circling his neck.
for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels like it’s in its right place, like this is where you’ve always belonged. it feels so natural, so easy, being wrapped up in him.
his deep, slow breaths lull you into a state of calm. his chin rests on the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing strokes along your spine.
you press even closer, breathing him in, feeling like you could get used to this, like you already have. like you’ve always known this is where you should be.
your fingers trace absentminded patterns along his tattooed arm, the one holding you secure under your legs. you feel the need to look at him, to admire the man that marked you as his.
but when you glance up, you’re a bit startled when you notice the shift in his expression. his face is hardened, jaw clenched tight. he’s not relaxed like he was just moments ago. his gaze is distant, staring intently at a spot across the room as if lost in thought.
yet his hands continue to cradle you, almost unconsciously, like holding you has become second nature to him.
but his mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and they only scatter all over the place as he feels you move closer, impossibly so.
you seek warmth, care. nuzzle your fragile body against his for protection, something more that he fears he can’t give you. love.
he once thought he’d drained himself of it, had nothing left to offer. but now, with you in his arms, the smallest spark flickers to life, burning its way up his throat until it feels like it’s going to consume him.
he wants to give in. he wants to hold you tighter, trap you against him, keep you with him. give you love.
but he can’t do that to you. can’t make you go through the same path that took everything from him. not without ruining you in the process.
he knows what comes next. love turns into suffering. it’s inevitable.
and could he survive seeing the look on areum’s face if she ever finds out? how would she react if she knew the truth about what he’s done, about how he feels? about how he truly wants to act upon his feelings?
the thought makes him feel sick, even as his heart beats steadily against yours, comforted by your presence.
but why doesn’t he feel disgusted? why isn’t there shame gnawing at him, making him pull away? there’s only bliss. the sheer joy of having you this close, of holding you like this, makes him forget everything else.
he wishes he could be immature, for once. wishes he was your age, and that nothing truly mattered. that he still could allow himself to make stupid decisions.
maybe then, you’d feel right in his arms, and reality wouldn’t catch up to him.
“jeongguk? are you okay?”
your soft, honeyed voice pulls him from his spiral, and he startles slightly, caught off guard. his eyes meet yours, wide and filled with concern, searching his face for answers.
he tries to hide the storm brewing inside him, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “huh? yeah. i’m okay.”
of course, you don’t believe him. an ugly feeling makes space in your stomach, and the weight of everything begins to press down.
you don’t want it to take over you just yet, want to be coddled by the illusion a little more, want to try and believe there’s nothing to be afraid of.
you offer a tentative smile, hoping to ease whatever tension is growing between you. “you… you seem worried.”
“i’m not, baby. i’m just thinking.”
“about?”
“stuff.” his voice is clipped, and the small wall he’s building between you becomes clearer.
the distance stings, and your heart sinks as you try to hold onto the moment that felt so perfect just a second ago. desperate to reach him, you place your hands on his face, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze.
your eyes jump all over his, but you manage a genuine, if small, smile. “you can tell me, you know. you can talk to me.”
one simple, small smile spreading across his lips makes you doubt all of your worries. it makes you want to believe that maybe, there’s truly no reason to be scared. that maybe, this can go well.
“i know,” it’s whispered on your face, his hand coming to play with the hair that frames your cheeks sweetly. “let’s get you to bed now, hm?”
before you can protest, he’s lifting you off the couch with ease, cradling you in his arms bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all. you clutch onto him.
you feel your insides fuzzy with the gesture, and you wiggle yourself closer in his embrace, looking up at him expectantly, “your bed?”
it breaks his heart having to disappoint you, tone firm as he tries to make up for it with his thumb brushing your thigh, “no, baby. you gotta go back to areum’s room.”
“but— but… i wanna sleep next to you,” you plead, your voice small and almost childlike as you pout up at him, hoping to sway him.
he looks away, focusing on the stairs as if looking at you would break his resolve. “we can’t, dove. you know we can’t.”
his words feel like a punch to the gut, and your voice hesitates. “we can’t?”
the silence that follows is louder than any answer he could have given, and it weighs heavy between you, suffocating. there’s no actual explanation to it, and the realization leaves both of you uneasy.
at areum’s door, he sets you down gently, making sure you’re steady on your feet. he’s careful with you, like he always is, his voice low, “go wash up. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“no…”
“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make this harder.”
you frown in protest, keeping eye contact, but he doesn’t break. his gaze is steady, resolute.
you want to argue, want to push, but the exhaustion settles over you, and you slump, defeated, but you still sway sweetly for him, your hands tied behind your back, “okay… can you kiss me?”
your voice is small, muffled behind your pout as you seek for him with anticipation, a shy smile making its way on your lips.
when he doesn’t move closer, you get on your tippy toes and lean in his direction once again, your eyes almost fluttering shut before you hear him clear his throat, and take an awkward step back.
you’re back on your heels with a thump, the same one reverberating in your chest with your heart falling, your mouth hanging open with confusion written all over your expression.
you go to say something but he’s quicker, his voice solemn, “goodnight, ___.”
jeongguk smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones that took over his whole face just minutes ago on the couch, his eyes full of you. you’re not even sure if you can define it as a smile.
it’s polite, almost too polite, and it only results in feeling tremendously distant from him. he’s completely disconnected from you.
he retreats, long legs carrying him away, his back to you as he slips into his room. the door clicks shut behind him, the sound final, and it echoes in the hollow space.
you stand still, the weight of his absence pressing heavily on your chest. the spot where he left you feels like a grave, your feet sinking into the cold floor as if it’s pulling you under. the warmth he offered, the fleeting sense of safety, is gone, and you’re freezing.
you try to breathe, but the air feels sharp, your throat tight with the effort to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. it’s useless, though.
your bare feet shuffle against the floor, but you can’t move forward. you can’t go back. you can’t do anything except stand there and feel the weight of it all crash down on you.
you’d been so afraid this would happen. how could you have been so foolish? even in the midst of the sweetness, you knew it was too good to be true. a part of you always knew.
and yet, you let yourself believe for a fleeting moment that something real could come from it. that you could be enough.
you’d have done anything to prove it to him. to show him your loyalty, your willingness to make it work. you still would. you’d give him every part of yourself, if he’d only take it. if he’d only look at you the way you want him to.
the full weight of your reality sinks in. in the end, none of it was truly real.
a sob breaks free from your chest, raw and painful. the sound echoes in the quiet hallway, bouncing off the walls that now feel oppressive, like they’re closing in on you. this house, every corner, it’s all stained now, tainted by the lie you let yourself fall into.
and you? you feel tainted, too.
#this is what i’ve always dreamed of baby#never too much I NEED MORE#thank u Always!#t💌y#📂.fic: older
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The Love Triangle From Hell (3)
Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader
Synopsis: Following PART TWO, Steve feels even more distant from his friends- especially you; Eddie reflects on memories he has of you two; Nancy and Jonathan work together for the paper; Robin does her best to navigate what being friends with you and Steve looks like; you seek comfort in one of the only ways you know how- calling Eddie
Series Masterlist
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; allusions to violence; miscommunication; jealousy; kissing; implications of smut; horniness
A/N: You guys are literally the absolute best. I am having the best time writing this- I'm so inspired by all of you. The love you have shown this fic so far has me overwhelmed. Thank you for your kind words, you have helped me work through some serious writer's block. Your comments and reblogs are keeping me going fr
This is unedited; please let me know what you think and if I missed anything I should include as a warning.
This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI
His hands are tangled in your hair and he’s pulling you in close for another searing kiss. He can’t catch his breath, but he’s just so desperate to stay close to you like this. Your lips are so soft against his and your mouth is so inviting as you yank him closer. You whimper against his lips and it makes him shiver. He feels weak in the knees as you feel so pliable to his touch. You melt into his embrace and sigh happily as his lips trail down your neck.
“Want you,” you moan softly, tugging his hair. He groans at the sensation. “Need you so bad.”
“‘M gonna take care of you,” he promises, bringing his lips back to yours.
“Love you,” you moan.
Before he finds out if he says it back, his alarm goes off and he’s brought back to his reality. He groans disappointedly, covering his ears with his pillow- desperate for a couple more minutes with dream you. There’s a bang at his door.
“Steve! Turn that shit off!” Eddie calls from the other side of the door. He’s yelling but his tone is playful. Steve hits his alarm off and drudges out of bed finally. Eddie has coffee made and Steve forgets anything is wrong at the moment.
“Did she say anything last night?” Steve asks groggily as he pours himself a cup.
“Um, not really,” Eddie replies, taking a moment to think about it. “I mean, yes but not about anything that we don’t know already. She’s conflicted, she doesn’t know what to think or feel. She just wants time.”
“Okay,” Steve replies, leaning up against the counter. He takes a sip of his coffee. He needs to get to work. He can talk about this with Robin when he gets there.
When you called Eddie, you didn’t expect Steve to answer. You thought maybe he’d say something- you wanted him too. But he didn’t. You couldn’t read him anymore.
Eddie was thrilled to hear your voice. He’d missed you, and he’d missed talking to you. He wanted that piece back as soon as he could get it. He reveled in the way his name sounded coming from you.
“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, “I didn’t mean to upset Steve- I heard the way he dropped the phone down…”
“It’s okay sweetheart,” he says compassionately. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He’s met with a sad feeling of silence.
“I’m happy you called,” he says gently. He hopes the sentiment makes you feel better.
“I’ve missed you,” you admit, and Eddie feels like his heart might swell out of his chest.
“It’s hard when the two people who you talk about everything with are the people you want to talk about,” you joke, and he laughs with you.
“You can talk shit about me,” he teases and he hears you groan. He bites his lip, holding back a smile.
“How are you doing?” You ask, changing the subject.
“Much better now,” he flirts.
“How are you doing, really?” You ask again, your voice sounding more fragile.
“I meant, honestly- not great. But not worse than anyone else is doing right now.”
“Yeah…”
“I miss you a lot too,” he admits. He runs a hand through his hair, and it reminds him of how amazing it felt the last time you played with his hair. He’s craving that touch so badly.
When you both were in high school, Eddie went out of his way to make sure you always had a seat at the table. He’d notice as you stood with your cafeteria tray, waiting for Steve to realize there was no open seat for you at his table. He’d wave obnoxiously to catch your eye and he’d smile at the way you’d get shy from the attention. He’d point at the empty seat next to him, and he’d grin as your eyes light up in realization you had a spot. You’d shuffle through the crowd and take your seat next to him. You’d take a seat and ruffle his hair in your hands.
Eddie was always a creature of habit. As much as he exudes chaos, he actually thrives in having a routine. Don’t get him wrong- it’s never been a good routine… but it’s routine nonetheless. In high school it was a lot of the same. Tuesdays, Corroded Coffin played at The Hideout. He would get home way too late and never get in bed until close to 3am. Wednesday mornings, he’d sleep through his alarm and stroll into first period consistently 10ish minutes late. Thursdays he prepped for Hellfire, and then of course, the piece the resistance was Friday. Hellfire. An epic campaign that would run several hours and ensure the most recent shit week had been worth it to make it to that moment.
He remembers that he was paralyzed when the group proposed to postpone Hellfire one time his first senior year. It snaps him out of his thoughts, as he was so wrapped up in you- and how close you were sitting. Eddie knew that hypothetically, it shouldn’t matter if the date changes. However, he couldn’t wrap his head around change. He hated it- still does. A disruption from his status quo throws off his entire week and it will take him too long to mentally recover. He knew that he came off as a hard ass, but he prefers it than trying to explain his mind to his friends. He had felt his jaw tighten as he tried to rationalize with himself that it can be okay to switch it up. He unclenched his fists once he realized that he was making his knuckles white unintentionally.
“Uh yeah, no problem. Saturday’s fine,” he was able to manage through gritted teeth. He relaxed when he could look past himself and see his friends smile, thanking him and happily chatting about the campaign. He smiled when he observed that his decision made everyone happy. That for him outweighed the internal struggle.
He didn’t really listen to the reason everyone wanted to reschedule, but he picked up on after the fact that everyone is talking about the Snow Ball. He couldn’t help but recoil back into himself as his friends talked about their plans to go- who they’re asking, what suit they’re getting, what songs would play, and whatever. He couldn’t have cared less. Unless…
His eyes wandered to sneak a glance at you. He wondered if you had plans- maybe you're hoping someone asks you. Maybe, he’s lucky and you were hoping that someone would be him. He wondered if you had a date. Maybe you already had been asked. It’s not like you had been aware of the way Eddie’s felt about you- unrequited feelings that tugged on his focus constantly since he’s known you. You caught his eye and offered him a shy smile and he could crumble.
Eddie immediately averted his gaze, and focused his attention back on his friends. He ignored the way his face suddenly became so warm and he ignored the butterflies that were swarming around in his stomach. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on these feelings- he knew that there’s no way you feel the same. Who could possibly like him?
He felt a pressure when the freshman looked at him, one of them having asked Eddie about his own plans. Eddie sees the way the kids look up to him, they idolize him. He knows they think he’s cool. He can’t let that go just yet, he loved it too much. He needed it. He wanted to have them hang on to this version of him for as long as they’d believe in it.
So, despite his usual distaste in school sanctioned functions, he did not want to allow the kids to think he couldn’t score a date. He could only blame society so much before they realized it’s actually his own fear of putting himself out there that cramped his dating life more than anything else. He then resolves that he needs a date to this dance. He tells himself that it’s for the freshman, to keep up the cool facade or whatever. But in actuality, he just wanted to ask you because he wants to ask you out. It’s his perfect window of opportunity.
“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it, honestly,” you said, when one of the freshmen asked you if you had plans. “I’d been so busy with the play, I haven’t had a chance.” Eddie watched as you glanced over to Steve’s table. “Steve and I usually would go to this kinda thing,” you said quickly, and Eddie could see your apprehension despite your best attempt to hide it. “We’ll probably go as friends again.”
He said nothing.
A few days later, you called Eddie and he could immediately tell you’re upset. You’re doing your best to hold it together but he can tell you’re almost at your breaking point.
“Hey,” you say, your voice straining as you try not to cry. “I know this is totally not your thing, but I’m kind of in a bind.”
“What can I do?” He asked, sitting up straight on his bed. He was getting ready to locate his shoes or his keys- thinking you’re in trouble somewhere. He’ddrop anything to come get you.
“I know you’d probably rather do literally anything else, but um, I have two tickets to the Snow Ball and I already bought a dress…”
“I thought you’d be going with Steve?” He asked. You sniffled.
“Um, yeah I kind of just assumed he’d take me. I didn’t realize that he asked out Nancy Wheeler,” you choked back tears. “I mean it’s not like that,” you lied, maybe not to Eddie but more to yourself, “we’re just friends. But I still thought He and I would be going together like as friends again- you know? But, uh, yeah- he is taking like a real date.”
“I know you’d hate it, and I will make it up to you. But, I already bought the tickets and I can’t get my money back. It’s like not a date or anything, just like a friend thing…”
“I’d be happy to take you,” he replied, sincerely. He can tell you were expecting him to fight you on it. When would you catch on that he’s willing to do anything for you?
“Eddie, thank you so much,” you sniffled, still trying your best to keep it cool. “I owe you one,” your voice cracks and you hang up quickly before he gets a chance to say anything.
Eddie didn’t really understand back then why you were even friends with Steve to begin with. Eddie thought Steve, frankly, was a total douchebag. However, once he actually got to know Steve- it was a different story. He couldn’t resent Steve. He loved him like a brother now. And once Eddie got to know the Steve you’ve always known, your feelings for him made sense. But at the same time, Eddie held his tongue for all the things Steve did or didn’t do for so long. Steve was good guy at his core, Eddie understood. But his actions didn’t reflect that in Eddie’s eyes. But it wasn’t his place to tell you that. It didn’t seem right. You’d known Steve so much longer than him.
Nancy and Jonathan invited you and Robin to go with them to watch Lucas’ basketball game. You were excited to get out of your little apartment and support Lucas. Jonathan was photographing it for The Hawkins Post. Jonathan paced up and down the court side to get photos, and you sat up in the bleachers with Nancy and Robin. You were never one to go to school things really, but it was Lucas’s senior year and it was a big game- of course you were going to be there.
“It feels weird, Steve not being here,” Nancy whispers to you and you nod in agreement.
“Yeah, everything just feels weird right now,” you agree. “You and Jonathan are okay?”
“We’re good. We’re doing good, um, still working through stuff but we’re going to just work through it.”
“That’s good.”
“Robin?” Nancy asks, and Robin turns her head to pay attention. “How’s things with Vicky?”
Robin’s face turns tomato red. “Fine,” she mumbles, happily. “I’m gonna hang out with her tomorrow.” You elbow her teasingly, making her blush redden.
“How’s it feeling? Being the best at all of this out of us?” You tease.
“I don’t know,” she’s so embarrassed, it’s so sweet. “We both just like each other- it’s not that complicated. She’s so great.”
The three of you turn your attention back to the game at the sound of the whistle. You clapped and cheered the loudest whenever Lucas had the ball. He tried to plead with the lot of you to tone it down, casting weary looks in your direction. You couldn’t help yourselves. You felt so proud of him.
You decide to take a walk to the concession stands and get some snacks for everyone. You order four sodas and two large popcorns- one for Jonathan and Nancy and one for you and Robin. You fish the cash out of the front pocket of your jeans, and hand it to the kid working the window. You thank him, and balance it all in your hands to navigate carefully back to the stands.
You see a familiar face coming down the hallway, sprinting. For a moment, you can’t help the smile that forms across the expanse of your face until you remember what’s been going on. Your face falls, and you feel so stupid for being excited to see him when it hits you again all at once.
You don’t think Steve knew you’d all be here, because he looks just as surprised to see you. He stops and his sneakers squeak across the polished gym floor. He looks at you with an expression of pure panic. He totally didn’t think you’d be here. And you’re surprised he came alone- but of course he did, he’s Steve. Of course, he’s going to show up to every game for Lucas. You shouldn’t expect any less. It still takes you back.
“Can I help with those?” he asked, gesturing for you to pass some stuff to him. You nod, and tilt so he can take some of the things from your grasp.
“Where are you sitting?” He asks, and you nod your head towards Robin and Nancy. His face deflates. “Ah, okay.” He walks over with you, and he passes the items in his hand off to Robin. He moves aside so you can walk back into your spot.
“Thanks, Steve,” you offer him a soft smile, appreciating the effort despite the circumstances.
“Yeah of course,” he mutters, backing away, lingering for a moment because the seat that’s usually there for him between you and Robin isn’t there. He quickly pulls himself out of his thoughts and just heads over to the next row of bleachers, finding a seat next to a couple of his old basketball teammates that are here for their little brothers.
Steve can’t even focus on the game, he keeps trying to steal glances of you from his peripheral vision. He wants to know what Robin said that made you laugh like that, and he wished he could have heard your laugh- but you’re too far away from him. He watches as your jaw drops at something Nancy tells you, and he watches how you cheer so happily for Lucas. He wants to know if this is bothering you the way it’s bothering him. You look like you’re keeping it together and he wants to know if that could truly be the case.
Even when you’re carrying so much hurt, you give off such a radiance that Steve and he’s sure everyone else is just drawn into. Your pretty smile and your bright eyes are all he can think about- he only knows when to cheer when he feels the people around him move. He smiles when you stand up and pose, pointing to Lucas- then Lucas matches it, giving it back to you. He watches as you both share that moment of just pure joy, and his heart aches. He doesn’t know if he could ever make you that happy.
When the game was over, you looked to see if you could find Steve but there was no sign of him. You all invited Lucas to go out for celebratory pizza for his big win, but he wanted to go with his teammates. The plan fizzled pretty much after that. Robin wanted to get home so she could call Vicky and Jonathan and Nancy wanted to head home so Jonathan could start developing his photos. When you and Robin are walking out, you see a familiar van.
“I’ll bum a ride from Nancy,” Robin assures you, pushing you in Eddie’s direction. She waves to Eddie from a distance and then jogs to catch up with Nancy and Jonathan.
“What are you doing here?” you ask with a smile. He pushes himself off of the hood of his van and walks over to you, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.
“I thought you might be here,” he quips. “Plus, I had to poke my head in- Sinclair is some big shot apparently?” he jokes, “I had to check out for a few minutes.”
“He’s really great,” you agree.
“Was Steve here?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah I saw him. He didn’t really stay either- I mean he stayed for the game, but we didn’t talk really.” You shrug.
“Well,” he says, trying to optimistically change the subject, “Do you wanna get out of here? I could give you a ride home or we could get food or something- or even just drive around and not talk. I’m not picky.”
He looks so beautiful like this, you observe. The sky is pitch black but the lights in the parking lot illuminate him perfectly with a soft glow. His hair is wonderfully messy and his smile is making it hard for you to breathe. Has he always looked like this? You wonder, astonished as it hits you all at once. He’s gorgeous. Your eyes linger, taking in every little detail you’ve overlooked before. He waves his hand in front of your face to snap you out of your trance.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he tisks.
“Looking at you like what?”
“Like you’re trying to jump my bones,” he chuckles. Your face warms, and suddenly you realize how long you must have been staring.
“Ha, right,” you joke sarcastically, or at least, trying to joke sarcastically. You walk past him and get into the passenger side of the van and try your best to compose yourself in the few seconds it takes for him to follow suit.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he says, turning over the ignition, “where to?”
“Can we just drive around like we used to?” you ask- the circumstances of tonight making you feel so nostalgic.
“Of course we can,” he hums, passing you the case of his cassettes- a familiar and welcomed sight for your tired eyes.
You watch Eddie as he drives, and observe the way the muscles in his arms flex ever so subtly as he turns the wheel. You watch his ringed fingers tap across the top of the steering wheel and you can’t help it the way your mind wanders. You’re so wrapped up in the way his hair sways so effortlessly and the movement of his jaw as he sings, you don’t even notice that Steve was leaving the gym just in time to see you both drive away.
After a little while of aimless driving, and hitting up the drive thru, Eddie ends up parking at Lover’s Lake when neither of you are ready to go home just yet.
“Eddie?” You ask absentmindedly, finishing off the milkshake he got you. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” he replies, also finishing his, but with an obnoxiously loud suck of his straw- determined to get every last sip.
“Why do you like me?” you ask, cringing almost immediately. You think you sound like a middle schooler or something- you’re so embarrassed. His eyes widen for a brief second, contemplating his answer. He tosses the empty cup into the back.
“First off,” he criticizes teasingly, “I did not say I liked you- I’m in love with you. Get your facts straight, ma’am.”
“My apologies,” you giggle, holding your hands up in defeat.
“I mean- I love everything about you; always have,” he starts. “You’re sweet and kind. I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re incredible, and sometimes I can’t figure out why you wanted to ever be friends with me in the first place.”
“Eddie?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Would you kiss me?”
Eddie’s a goner when you’re looking at him with those doe eyes. More than anything he wants to lunge across and close the space between you. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. It takes every fiber of his being to hold himself back..
“I don’t know if I can kiss you without knowing if I could ever kiss you again,” He whispers, but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in towards you. His hand lifts to hold your cheek and suddenly he’s so close. Closer than the two of you have ever been. His lips are tantalizingly close to yours when his forehead touches yours. A huge bang on the side of the van scares you both away from each other.
“Give her time, my ass, Munson! Get the fuck out here! Get your fucking hands off my girl!”
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MON CHÉRI
Alastor x Overlord Wife!Reader (from this request) In which, reader is bored at an overlord meeting and decides to tease her husband instead of paying attention.
Overlord meetings—a large meeting usually organized by Carmine (and sometimes Zestial) that brought the overlords of pride together to discuss their souls and the exterminations. And man did you hate them. Being overlords, both you and your husband Alastor had to attend the mandatory meetings yearly, so naturally when you discovered that there was another one taking place today, you couldn’t help but mentally groan.
Alastor, ever the dutiful husband, had informed you of the upcoming Overlord meeting earlier that morning. He had mentioned it with a hint of sarcastic sigh underneath his eternal smile, knowing full well how much you despised those gatherings. He seemed almost happy about your suffering.
“These meetings are the same every year.” You groan, putting your face in the palm of your hands. “Can’t we just miss one?” Alastor chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he wraps a clawed hand around your waist, pulling you close. “I’m afraid not, dearest. Besides, it’s not all terrible, my dear.” You roll your eyes and let out a small ‘hmph.’ as you cross your arms angrily. How were they not that bad? They were usually three to four hours of listening to Carmilla rant about how many souls you all collectively owned and the dangers of the exterminations. Things you already knew!
And all Alastor would do was sit there and watch you suffer…but not this time. You were already plotting your revenge as you put on your finest accessories and sunday best. If he was going to force you to sit through the horribly boring meeting—then you might as well force him to sit through your relentless teasing, right?
Alastor leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and amused smirk playing on his lips as he fixes his black bowtie. "Planning on outshining everyone at the meeting, are we, my doe?" You smirk. “I guess you could say that.” You say in a sing-songy tone. Alastor chuckles, his gaze never leaving yours as he straightens his tie and approaches you. He reaches out and gently turns your chin towards him, before offering his arm. "Shall we get going, my dear?" You gently wrap your arm around his, pushing your hair behind your ear. “We shall.”
And thats how you got here, sitting in your chair at the meeting, bored to death. You’re not the only one either. The Vees are all on their phones, Rosie is eating a meat sandwich with meat that looks suspiciously like a human hand, and Zestial is simply staring into space—Yet, Carmilla keeps going. Your husband has his usual smile stuck to his face—with a hint of a snide smirk, one that almost reminds you of the grinch. A devilish smirk that only made you want to enact your schemes sooner. You wanted to ruin him.
You slowly place your hand on an unsuspecting Alastor’s thigh, lightly rubbing it. Alastor keeps his eyes on Carmilla, but you can feel him lean into your touch slightly, as his eyes gently flicker to yours for what seems like less than a second. You can feel how the overlord tries to keep his composure, but his leg muscles tense under your touch. A slight smirk plays at his lips as he leans forward slightly to continue listening to Carmilla's monotone voice.
You slowly drag your hands further up his thigh, closer to his clothed cock. Alastor visibly tenses this time, his breaths becoming more and more shallow—and almost desperate? Alastor throat quietly, maintaining his usual smiling demeanor as his hands grip the armrests of the crimson office chair tighter. "Darling…" The radio demon whispers, his voice carrying a warning undertone. "We're…" He swallows hard. "In a meeting." His voice comes out raspier than intended under all the radio-static as he smacks your hand away.
You roll your eyes softly, continuing to watch Carmilla as your hands continue their upwards assault, finally arriving at his clothed erection. You gently rub as the demon next to you grips his cane in one hand, and the arm rest in another—his grasp is so tight his knuckles turn white. Alastor's face flushes a light shade of red, his breathing becoming more and more ragged with each passing second. He bites his lip hard to stifle a grunt—his eyes flickering to you with a mix of desire and a clear 'stop this' message. "Fuck.."
A bead of sweat slowly trickles down from his forehead, as Carmilla stops her speech about the souls you and the others may lose during the next extermination, and turns to Alastor, a small scowl on her face. “Is something wrong, Alastor?” She asks in a low tone, her voice just as raspy as usual. Alastor quickly composes himself, his face returning to its usual calm smiling expression as he meets Carmilla's gaze. "Nothing at all, Carmilla. Just a slight…discomfort." He says, his voice strained as he tries to hide the effect your subtle touches have on him.
Carmilla gives a small hum of acknowledgement in response. “Are you sure you’re fine, darling?” You ask, feigning a sweet tone of sympathy. Being the doting wife you are, how could to bare to see your darling husband suffer in the silence of a meeting? If only they knew. Alastor nods curtly, his eyes darting back to Carmine for a split second before he turns his attention back to you.
"I'm fine, ma chérie. Truly." He says, his voice a little sharper than intended as he tries to maintain his composure. “All right then.” You say, as sweet as pie but mentally smirking. Carmilla looks between you two, her gaze lingering on Alastor for a moment before she nods and continues speaking about the plans for the upcoming year. "As I was saying, we expect a significant increase in soul activity during the new year, so we'll need to adjust our patrols accordingly…” Carmilla drifts off.
For the remainder of the meeting, you tease Alastor with your fingers. At one point, you even give him a handjob. The demon had to put his hand over his mouth to silence his grunts of pleasure. But finally, after three and a half hours of a nonstop lecture from Carmilla, you were free to leave. The other overlords started filing out of the room—the Vees practically running—and you followed, your husband close behind.
Once outside, Alastor practically drags you to the nearest empty room—using his shadows to fight against your resistance—closing the door behind you. He spins you around to face the wall, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses his clothed erection against your core. "That was very naughty, darling. Teasing me under the table?." The overlord lets out a small chuckle, his wide smile never leaving his face. “I don’t know what you mean.” You feign innocence.
“Dressed like this?” Alastor gently rips your shirt off your body. "Liar." He hisses, his fingers digging into your hips possessively. He can still feel the phantom sensation of your fingers under the table, slowly driving him mad during Carmilla's lecture. "You think you can get away with torturing me like that, my precious doe?" You let out a small gasp. “Alastor-”
"Answer the question." He growls through his smile, his breath hot against your neck as he leans against your back, caging you in with his arms. "Was it on purpose?” The red demons eyes glare into yours, as the surrounding radio static grows louder. “Your outfit, the subtle leg movements, the tiny touches on my thigh under the table?" Your breathing grows shallow in anticipation. “Yes.” You breathe out. His breath catches in his throat at your admission, the red-hot need in his eyes growing more intense. "And why, may I ask, would you do something so…" His voice drops to a husky whisper. "So…" He grinds his hips against yours. "…provocative?"
“I don’t know.” You gasp. A deep chuckle escapes Alastor's lips, tinged with both amusement and arousal. "You don't know?" He whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "Or perhaps you simply enjoy the thrill of teasing your husband?" You tense up, mentally deciding staying silent was the best course of action as you let out a small wanton moan. Alastor’s large gloved hands slowly slide up your sides, his touch gentle yet firm. “I will make sure you get back your teasing tenfold, dearest.” He mockingly coos, as he nips at your neck. “Hold on tight, ma chérie d'amour.” You were in for a long night—that’s for sure.
#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel x you#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin x you#alastor x you#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel alastor#radio demon#hazbin#hazbin hotel smut#alastor smut#smut#one shot#x reader#fluff#fem reader
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1/ I use the labels therian and otherkin :D
2/ My kintype/theriotype is a dream creature that looks kinda cat like (at least the face) and it has 4 pairs of wings (so 8 wings in total), 4 paws, 5 horns made of light, long body, neck and tail. The tail has feather like fur at the tip of it and the creature has curly fur on the head kinda like hair. The colours can be anything except the horns always stay a golden bright light and the eyes are either pitch black or white (if they’re white they glow).
3/ I do have shifts and my most common ones are phantom wings. I don’t think I’ve had a cameo shift.
4/ I just simply feel nonhuman. I have some behaviours that are more animalistic like making random squeaks and chirps. I have other things as well but idk how to explain.
5/ The community is a lot less toxic than in 2018 (I was in therian packs and community on instagram) but I guess that comes with a cost since it has way more misinformation now. I am happy about all the people I have met in the community :D
6/ I have dyed my hair to an unnatural colour, certain necklaces, one a whole outfit, masks, barefoot shoes that I call my paws, quadrobics and all the art I have of my kintype.
7/ I do think I have some species dysphoria but it does mix with my gender dysphoria so it is a bit hard to tell. I do have some stuff like missing my wings, my fangs not being slightly sharp enough and my body feeling wrong. Before I cut my hair short and dyed it I almost tried to rip it out.
8/ Take your time. No need to rush. I took like 6 years to figure myself out and there could be more I don’t know of yet.
9/ As I already said in number six I have stuff like necklaces, masks, a whole outfit, barefoot shoes and art. I do also have a bunch of things with feathers on them that makes me feel more connected to my kintype.
10/ Oh boy do I. Get ready for a long explanation. My kintype is a god like being created by Obsidian or came to be with Obsidian (I’m not entirely sure yet). Obsidian is a higher being (higher beings are above gods so more powerful than them). Obsidian is time, space and antimatter. Obsidians other names are Watcher and Eyes of the universe/multiverse. So Obsidian watches worlds and universes to make sure they don’t try to break the way everything works (you can kinda think of TVA from Marvel). To help Obsidian watch over worlds there are gods. My kintype is one of these gods. It is the god of dreams so it doesn’t really have a physical form in our reality/world so that is why it has mortal vessels. I believe I am one of them. I believe I know of other two vessels. One of them is a Middle Eastern guy aged 20-30 in death and another one is a light coloured wolf with green eyes. You can ask more if you want :D
11/ I don’t have anyone since only person I know is @pixistix-xp also yes I do like that you tag me in these things so I can be more active and stuff :D
If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!
(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?
2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)
3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?
4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?
5/ What do you think of the community?
6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?
7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?
8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?
9/ Do you have/want to have gears?
10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)
11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈
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cabernet sauvignon- w. maximoff
pairing: rich!wanda x reader
summary: jealousy leads to beautiful beginnings
a/n: hi!! final chapter of dirty cash. i’m so grateful to everyone who took the time to read this series! i’d be so happy and excited to do any one shots u guys may have ideas for!
minors do not interact
wanda’s day leading up to dinner was nothing short of frantic. she’d spent the entire day before deep cleaning her whole house, afraid that you’d end up in her medicine cabinet somehow or inspecting every crevice of her house. that thought lone had her spending hours crouched underneath tables, standing on stools, even using a micro brush to ensure there was no dust on any surface of her house.
it’s been a week since she took you and your niece out for a girls day. she went home giddy that night and sent a dinner invitation to you as soon as she parked in her driveway.
so, here she was trying her best to find the perfect outfit that looked put together but not too try hard. she stared at the pile of rejected clothes laying on her bed, teetering the fine line between excitement and frantic.
she groaned silently and threw her head back, “why don’t i have any clothes?”
her entire room was in disarray, shirts haphazardly thrown on her bed and jeans laid out on her desk chair. she pulled out piece after piece, holding each article of clothing up to her body in the mirror before throwing it away.
she spent the next twenty minutes scouring and searching for an outfit, only to end up with a blue and white striped button down and dark jeans— an everyday uniform for her.
hi! i’m at the store grabbing wine, do you need anything from here before i head your way?
wanda’s phone chimed with a text message from you and she immediately picked up and read. she smiled down at the message, her heart blooming with warmth at the sight of your name in her phone.
no, everything’s ready! just drive safe.
the next few minutes consisted of wanda fluffing pillows and angling picture frames in an aesthetically pleasing way. taking a few deep breaths, she calmed herself down when she saw you pull into her driveway. she straightened her shirt out and smoothed her hair, taking a deep breath.
but when she saw your car pull into her driveway, all her cool evaporated into thin air.
you didn’t even get the chance to knock on her door before she opened it for you, a wide grin on her face.
“hi,” she breathed out, her grin someone becoming wider now that she’s laid her yes on you, “come in.”
so you do.
and her home is beautiful. you take in the smell of food, the movie playing in the background, the pictures adorning her wall.
you turn to look at her, “your home is beautiful.”
although your body angled toward her, your eyes are too busy looking over how her home is decorated. all the while, wanda is frozen in time at the sight of you. you seem to be enamored by the cozy atmosphere she’s built, and wanda can’t help but be enamored by the way your eyes twinkle in awe.
smiling, she moves toward you to grab the bottle of wine, “thank you. come into the kitchen so we can eat,” your fingers momentarily brush against one another, but wanda didn’t let it linger too long— her nerves getting the better of her.
you follow her, watching wanda’s brown hair flowing gracefully behind her as she leads you further into her house. walking into the kitchen, you’re hit with the rich savory aroma of her home cooked meal.
you take in the smell, letting out a small sigh, “didn’t know you could cook,” you tease as you look over her shoulder at the red hued dish on the stove.
wanda scoffs, glancing back at you in faux offense, “of course i made this! what, you think i can’t cook?”
you nod playfully, your lips curving into a mocking pout, “oh, i know better now.”
wanda smirks subtly, giving you a once over, “good,” her eyes drag over you for a moment before returning back to the stove.
her voice drops slightly, her tone carrying a tease— you can’t help but flush at the way she looked at you. the air between you is warm and charged, you can’t help but wonder what tonight could lead to.
the two of you plate the food and sit at her kitchen table, soft music playing in the background. the light from the overhead fixture casts a comforting glow around the room.
as wanda’s speaks, you watch as she fiddles with her rings, a nervous habit of hers you’ve picked up on. you can’t help but let out a small giggle in amusement.
wanda’s brows furrow, “what’s so funny?”
you shrug nonchalantly, “you’re nervous,” you say matter-of-factly, “you’re normally not like this,” you lean back in your chair as you analyze her.
tilting her head, she she narrows her eyes at you, “i’m not nervous.”
raising an eyebrow and scoffing softly, “so you’re lying to me now?” your voice has a playful tone to it, and it works— wanda visibly loosens up and her lips twitch into a smile.
she rolls her eyes and stays quiet, her cheeks a soft shade of pink.
you side eye her a bit, then nod in agreement with her, “okay, then you’re not nervous.”
she begins to chuckle, “you’re impossible, you know that?” her smile widens and she shakes her head at you.
“maybe,” you quip, your your teasing grin widens.
the playful exchange lightens the atmosphere and wanda’s nerves slowly work themselves out. wanda glances over at you, her expression softening— almost like she’s trying to memorize this moment. for the first time tonight, you wonder to yourself if she’s feeling as caught up in this as you are.
the dinner is filled with easy conversation, the two of you laughing over shared memories and you gazing at wanda when she isn’t looking.
nearing the end of the dinner, you look over at wanda, “this was amazing, wands,” you say gently as you look at her, “you’ve been holding out on me. i had no idea you could cook like this.”
wanda props her chin in her hand, smiling as you thank her for the meal, “in all honesty, i didn’t think it’d come out this good,” she admits softly, “i just think it just tasted better because you were here.”
caught off guard, you blink. the warmth in her voice feels intentional, not overwhelming, but it makes your heart race. she takes a sip from her wine glass, acting as though the moment was not meant to linger.
you two sit on her couch, sipping the wine you brought over. wanda turns her attention to you, “i’m really happy you came tonight,” her voice low and sincere, “i can’t remember the last time i enjoyed dinner this much.”
you tilt your head at her, noting the way her words felt more meaningful than casual, “what, dinner with your exes wasn’t this thrilling?”
you knew you were possibly crossing a line and fishing for something you didn’t want to catch. part of you wonders if you’re treading too close to something vulnerable.
wanda smirks, a playful light in her eyes as she looks at you, “dinner with my exes involved a lot less conversation and a lot more… awkward silence,” a soft laugh bubbles up as she recalls how she couldn’t have meaningful conversations with them like she has with you. she picks up her glass, looking over the rim at you as she takes a sip, “but you? you make it easy.”
wanda watches your reaction with a laugh, shaking her head at how easily flustered you can get. the red on your face is hard to ignore and you can feel your ears hot.
she laughs lowly once more, “you’re easy to fluster.”
before you can recover, she changes the subject, not allowing you the chance to recover, “so, does this mean i’ll be having you over more often for dinner?”
you clear your throat, putting the wine glass down on her coffee table, “i’ll have to be back. i may need a second round to make sure this wasn’t a fluke.”
wanda nods, a smug smile on her face. internally, she was celebrating and already planning for next time. but outwardly she’s nodding and leaning her cheek into her hand.
“didn’t take you for the demanding type,” she says, her tone laced with amusement.
rolling your eyes, you face your body towards her on the couch, pulling your legs beneath you, “i’m not demanding, i’m thorough. there’s a very big difference.”
tilting her head, she narrows her eyes as if she’s analyzing you, “don’t worry, i noticed it after we spending time together,” she looks away from you, her voice dropping a few octaves, “but it wasn’t the first thing i noticed.”
you watch her as she looks away from you, noticing how she flirts but never pushes too far afterward. you decide to change the subject.
“wanda,” you say causally, “how do you know jesse?”
wanda raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, “i don’t,” her fingers fiddling with her necklace, “valerie mentioned her at the aquarium. why?”
nodding along, attempting to sound unaffected, “i just didn’t think i she’d bring her up, that’s all.”
wanda tilts her head, noticing your sudden mood change, she places a soft hand on your own, “don’t worry about it,” she brushes the topic off with ease, “besides, i have my own share of exes who like to linger.”
you snap your head toward her, eyebrows furrowed, “linger?”
wanda hums, a smug smile tugging on her lips at your reaction, “matter of fact, one of them texted me yesterday. she wants to get dinner this week.”
your jaw tightens before you can even help it, “that’s nice,” your words comes out clipped.
wanda fights the urge to laugh, reveling in your reaction, “yeah, i haven’t responded yet. who knows?”
she watches you as you hum and busy yourself with the movie playing in front of you two, but your concentration is far too deliberate to be real. she knows she should ease your worries— she could, but something about the face that you don’t want her to go is making her heart flutter.
you get up to leave a short while after the movie ends, helping wanda clean up the living room you two lounged in.
wanda leads you out, a familiar hand on your back as always, “text me when you get home please.”
you nod and smile up at her, “of course,” wanda looks at you with a grin and twinkling eyes.
she lingers, her contact with you not wavering, her eyes tracing every detail of your face with a deep smile. before you can even think better of it, your arms loop around her neck while her hands find a comfortable spot on the sides of your waist.
you pull back slightly, looking into her eyes, unsure if you should speak your mind. wanda looks down at you, her heart beating rapidly at the contact with you.
“wanda?” you say, almost silently.
“hm?” wanda can hardly focus on anything other than the fact that you’re holding onto her and looking at her with a lovestruck smile. her heart is pounding so loudly she’s surprised you can’t hear it. there is no denying the tenderness behind her expression.
you notice as her eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, a subtle smile on her face as she gazes into your eyes.
“don’t go to dinner with your ex,” you say rather quickly, “please.”
an amused grin appears on wanda’s face as she holds you, tilting her head, “why?” her face inches just the slightest and you can feel her breath on your cheek.
you’re unsure if you’ve crossed a line, but the way she’s looking into your eyes so intensely— the way she’s holding you gently makes you throw caution to the wind.
you don’t answer her question with words. instead, you lean in, hesitation for just a brief moment to see if she pulls away. she doesn’t. her lips meet yours, softly, tenderly even, as if she’s been waiting for this moment.
wanda doesn’t pull away. instead, her hand presses softly against your lower back, pulling you in. she holds you close with such tenderness that it makes your heart ache. when you pull back, her grin is still there, but this time it is softer now.
your cheeks flush,“don’t go to dinner with your ex,” your voice is steadier now, “please.”
wanda’s grin softens into something more sincere. her thumb rubbing against your waist absentmindedly as she nods, “okay.”
she speaks simply as she watches you sigh, as if the decision was ever in question.
wanda leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering like she doesn’t want to let you go, “text me when you get home.”
you nod, your hear full as you step back, awaiting when you can see her again.
wanda watches you leave, leaning against her doorframe with a giddy smile, her bottom lip in between her teeth. neither of you say it, but you both know it’s different now. there’s promise there, a promise of something more.
finally.
#dirty cash#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x r#noe writes#wanda maximoff x reader#elizabeth olsen#wanda x y/n#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff fanfic#wanda x reader#wanda x you#wanda marvel#wandavision
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⏦゚♡︎ “YOU’RE INSANELY ADORABLE LIKE THIS”
୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!seunghyun x fem reader
୨ৎ genre: fluff! slight suggestiveness
୨ৎ from myeong: ahhhh!! my first ever love. I’m so happy to be writing for him. thank you for requesting and I hope you can enjoy x
a soft sigh left your lips when you turned to look towards the smaller clock that was neatly placed on the wall, something that seunghyun just had to have for some odd reason. something about ‘it makes the room pop!’ which you never understood his artistic ways. all that mattered to you was him coming home soon from his long hours of shooting for squid game season 2. although you were insanely excited about this opportunity he had to come back into the spotlight and show off his acting skills, you missed him dearly. finding yourself going through your camera roll of all the pictures you’d taken of him mostly off guard doing whatever it was that he enjoyed doing and some of them he took of himself on your phone just so you could have them—which was your favorite. a smile tugging at your lips when you heard the familiar sound of the passcode being punched in and you knew it was him. quickly turning off your phone and tossing it to the side you lifted your body and ran towards the door where he would be coming in at, slightly jumping up and down from the excitement that was running through your veins. getting a glimpse of his tired eyes your lips formed a frown but was quickly turned upside down when he smiled at you, shyness coming over you.
“well? is my girl gonna come hug me or not?” and without another word spoken you ran into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist knowing that he would catch you and keep you safe within those strong arms you adored so much. what seunghyun loved the most about you was your caring, affectionate, and shy personality. although you two had been together for almost a year now it was something new with him every single day and that’s what kept the relationship alive and well. you both learned something new about each other and so far? his favorite? was your shyness. you kept your face hidden in the warmth of his neck while his hands stayed put on your waist. feeling him take off his shoes and walk into the living room where you just were moments before. he took a seat on the couch and leaned back against the soft cushion with a sigh, gently pulling on you to look at him.
“you know I like it when I can see your face, hm? you’re being so shy right now.. missed me?” all you did was nod but kept your arms wrapped around his neck, wanting to keep close to him as much as you could. taking in your favorite scent of his cologne and shampoo. “I missed you so much. I know you’ve been busy shooting but I can’t help but to miss you and need you here with me.” you softly whispered not even wanting to say such a thing in the first place. his deep chuckle filled the room and you whined in response knowing he was about to tease you for being such a needy girl. slowly but surely you finally lifted your head to look at him which was a mistake because once your eyes found his beautiful large ones it felt like you were stuck. couldn’t move but it was the greatest feeling. every single time you were like this and all you could feel was shyness and embarrassment come over you. seunghyun knew it and lifted a large hand to cradle your face keeping you right where he wanted you to be, “you’re insanely adorable like this.” is all he said before leaning in to press his lips against your own in a sweet but passionate kiss. your smaller hands found his warm wrists and held onto them tightly as if he would disappear once you let go. once he pulled away you went to hide your face in his neck again but he quickly stopped you from doing so and that’s when you felt his warm soft lips against your neck. you squirmed from the feeling and he kept you in place on his lap.
“stop squirming silly, you’re so cute did you know that? such a cute girl. you’re my girl. all mine and only I can make you like this.” he said in between kisses that he continued to place against your neck, which was correct—only seunghyun could make you feel this shyness. “seunghyun..” is all you could say not wanting to embarrass yourself any further and that’s all he needed to hear to stop and stare at you for a few moments wanting to take in the cuteness that he was seeing. it only made you feel more flustered and shy and he knew that, that’s why he did such a thing. looking away from him he quickly grabbed ahold of your jaw and forced you to look at him again his head shaking with a slight ‘tsk’ leaving his lips. “want to see my cute girls face. especially when you’re so flustered like this.” is all he said before pulling you into another kiss, lifting you and himself off of the couch and heading into your shared bedroom.
#fanfic#kdrama#korean actor#kpop#kpop bg#kpop fandom#kpop fanfic#kpop fluff#kpop smut#top#bigbang x reader#bigbang#choi seunghyun#thanos#squid game#squid game 2#top x reader#seunghyun x reader#kpopidol#kpop idols#kpop boys#kdramas#kpop x reader#kpop x oc#reqs open#korean drama
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Death Wish 14
Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Bucky Barnes
Part of the mob drabbles au
Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
Photo Inspo
When Castro leaves, there’s no buffer left to you. As usual, you have no defense against this man. You feel Bucky watching you as you avoid him.
You take in the decor. As nice as it is, it’s just another reminder of the distance between you and this man. He has everything and you have nothing. You are entirely at his whim.
He sighs and you sense the subtle shift behind you as he stands. You glance over your shoulder as he strips off his jacket. He stretches his neck to either side and it pops.
“May as well get settled, doll, too late to send you off now,” he drawls.
You face him entirely and nod. Resignation isn’t such a new feeling to you. He looks at you with a fire in his eyes. He comes forward and you plant your feet.
“Are you excited? At all? A wedding? A wardrobe? The most powerful man in the city?” He stops before you and tilts his head.
You stare at him and open your mouth. You should lie to him but you can’t force the words out. Despite your speechless gape, he doesn’t appear disappointed. He cups your cheek and his tongue peeks out over his lip and he considers you.
“I respect that. You’re too honest for your own good.” His thumb brushes up to your temple. “So I’ll ask the big question, do you think... do you think I’m handsome, doll? I have been told I got nice eyes but I got a lot of people around me who will tell me whatever I wanna hear.”
You flinch and narrow your eyes. You feel a dimple pinch. He smirks.
“You think that’s funny,” he states.
“I guess. You don’t need me to answer that, do you?”
He takes a breath, “maybe not but I’d like to hear it from you.”
You look down then flick your eyes back up, “yes, you are handsome, Mr. Barnes.”
He snickers and brings his other hand up, cradling your head gently. “And you’re gorgeous, baby.” You scrunch your face and clucks, “don’t make that face, you know it too.”
“Barnes--”
“Bucky,” he insists.
“Bucky,” you echo wistfully.
“Hey, I know I gotta treat you right or one day you’ll find someone to take care of me--”
You shove him, not thinking. His words lash you like a fiery whip. He takes a step back, though you know that you truly can’t impact him that much.
“Don’t you dare—How could you say that to me?”
His eyes drift placidly then spark as they fall on you again, “you play innocent with everyone else. It’s perfect, but not with me. I know what you’re capable of.”
Your nose tingles, “you don’t understand--”
“I don’t?” He arches a brow. “I don’t understand the bruises on your neck or the desperation in your voice? I didn’t deliver you exactly what you wanted on a platter?”
“Why are you doing all this? What—do I have to get on my knees and thank you?” You step forward then stop. You sneer and drop to your knees. You clasp your hands together with a clap. “Oh, Bucky Barnes, the King, thank you for putting that gun in my hand. Thank you for taking those years of abuse and twisting them into your prize. Thank you. Is that good enough?”
He looks down at you. His expression is clear, calm. He holds out his hands.
“Get up,” he demands.
“No, you want me on my knees. You want me beneath you. To know that I owe you this life.” You tug but he doesn’t let go. “I don’t want it. I never did. I just wanted... I wanted my sisters to be free.”
He slowly bends his knees and lets you go. He comes eye level with you as you take a breath. He scoops you up in a single motion and you cry out. He hikes you up, turning you sideways in his arms. You push on his chest, your other arm stuck against him.
“Barnes--”
“Why don’t you just call me James then? If you’re going to act like my mother,” he growls as he marches past the sofa.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t--”
“You meant it. Goddamn it, doll, that’s as genuine as you’ve been with me. Don’t think I’m stupid,” he takes you into the foyer and turns up the large staircase. You wriggle as panic swells in me.
“Please, I’m... I don’t know what I’m doing. I told you--”
You voice fizzles as he remains silent, his expression stone. You look down and shudder in his embrace. He carries you to the second floor and down a hallway. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the four-postered bed, dropping you onto the plush cushion.
“All you need to worry about knowing how to do, is keeping me happy,” he snarls. “That’s it.” He glares at you with a fearsome leer. “I told you, all I want is you. Not your lies, not your groveling, just you.”
You prop yourself up on your elbows, “I...” you search his face. “I don’t know how to give you that.”
He steps closer and bends over you slowly. A hot breath plumes from his nose as he plants his hands on either side of you. You drag yourself up on the bed and he lowers himself to trap you there. He leans in until his nose touches yours.
“You don’t gotta try so hard,” he brushes his nose on your cloyingly. “You just gotta... be...” his traces down to your cheek, nuzzling you. “Doll,” he tilts his head to nibble your lower lip. He growls and pulls on it until it slips free.
He frames your chin as he comes down onto an elbow. He crushes his lips to yours and you hum in surprise. His tongue begs for entrance and you easily abide his plea. His hand slips down to your throat as he invades your mouth. Like everything he ever taken, he claims you with brute force.
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#series#drabble#mob au#au#marvel#mcu#avengers#winter soldier#captain america#death wish
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Hey hey heyyy!
I actually love avatar too! I’m counting down the days until Avatar 3 comes out so I can watch it a million times <3
Anyway, I was hoping you could do headcannons of Viktor x councillor!reader who is an advocate for building up the Undercity so it gets to Piltover level if that makes sense. (Basically just wanting equality within the two districts)
Thank yeww!
-🎐 anon
Thank you for the request!!! (I mightve gone a little off track) Gaaaah I love me some good quality characters that wear their heart on their sleeves. Also I cannot wait for avatar 3!! I fear everyone around me will hate me bc that is all I will be talking about
A/N: two fics two days in a row?? A Christmas miracle
Characters: Viktor x Counselor!Reader
Warnings: nothing explicit—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—
Heart
You took over the counselor position after your Uncle, Torman Hoskel, retired.
You got into politics for the sole purpose of giving equality to those less fortunate. You were a black sheep of sorts, in comparison to your other family members
you were seen as childish- bright eyed and naive, but you played your cards closely and carefully, much like one Medarda (she too realized this)
It was earlier on into the beginning of the age of Hextech, Jayce Talis and his partner, Viktor from the Undercity were becoming the faces of the future.
People mainly only acknowledged Jayce, but you often sought out Viktor as well, including him on the conversations with the progress of Hextech
You gave Viktor the equal respect and admiration as Jayce received from everyone, and that surprised Viktor- a welcome surprise, thankfully
Over time, you built a steady, healthy friendship with him and Jayce, genuinely happy and enthralled with the progress and creations they made over the years
At first, Viktor thought your actions were none other than another counselor wanting Hextech in their pocket-
He was mistaken and he's glad of it, you never came in with that as your goal
You first poach the idea of installing something of good use to the undercity to Jayce in private, hoping for him to take the hint to speed things along.
His best friend, his partner in Hextech after all, was from Zaun. Viktor deserved to see their creations be used to help his people.
You advocated for Zaun more as time went on, acknowledging the name that the people have given their home. You brought in infrastructure ideas, growing more and more agitated as your ideas kept being pushed to the back burner.
This got you into arguments- Many arguments with the other counselors but you refused to bend. Counselor Heimerdinger remained neutral, not able to see that his people were starving in the undercity, suffering and ill ridden despite his prodigy being a product of that environment. You appreciated Heimerdinger for everything he's done, but came to the realization that it wasn't enough.
word of uprisings and crime lords gaining power in the Undercity after all the things that happened 5 years prior (the explosion at Jayce’s, the one down by the southern docks, the death of the ‘Hound’, Vander); it all gained your attention more
You had called for a meeting with the other counselors the night you returned, bringing your own collected vile of what was called Shimmer. The purple, glimmery fluid almost glowed, pulsing with light as you placed it before Counselor Heimerdinger.
“I’m afraid I must be completely honest and blunt here,” you usher to the vile,
“This is the product of our blatant disregard of our people in the Undercity.”
Counselor Salo scoffs, rolling his eyes and spewing some vile insinuations of ‘heathens’ and ‘animals’.
You ignore him, standing in the middle of the circular table,”I commend Counselor Kirammans house for commissioning the pipes in the lower parts of the Undercity to give them safe, proper air to breathe,” you nod to the woman,”But this is not enough. The people deserve more. They need our support, our protection-“
You don’t realize that Jayce and Viktor have been summoned, approaching the room and being let in halfway through your rant.
Viktor is surprised-
“These people have dug their own grave- they start riots and spew violence-”
“Only because they've been backed into a corner, Salo!” You shout, walking closer to his seat and therefore cornering him, despite the barrier of the table,”Anyone will do what they can to protect themselves, their families, from violence.”
You stand up straight, looking around the table. The counselors either look away or face you, a scowl on their lips.
“We are supposed to protect our people, not bury them underground with no hopes to getting out,” you usher to the vile once more,”This is what our lack of protection and equality does to them. Strips them of their lives. They're constantly in fear or struck by illness or addiction, all because we've been turning a blind eye. It's no wonder they've been rioting- it's the only thing that has gotten your attention!”
You glance over to Counselor Shoola, at least hoping she would acknowledge it but you're surprised to see Jayce and Viktor in the entryway.
“This meeting is adjourned,” Counselor Heimerdinger speaks out, beckoning the two in the entryway in.
You send a scathing glare at them all before storming out.
Viktor finds you a few hours later on the terrace above the gardens.
He's quiet, his cane the only form of noise as he approaches. There's a brisk chill to the air, moon high above the clouds cascading a cool glow along the flowers below.
He sighs, leaning against the banister, gazing down below before drifting his eyes back up to the sky
You huff out a soft sigh, head bowing in exhaustion,”They're all idiots.”
He laughs softly, nodding in agreement as he peers over at you,”Yeah- yeah, they can be.”
You bring your head up, frustration in your brow,”I just- how can these people be so stuck up? I get that my head was in the dirt for a while- but I learned and I'm trying to make things right-”
“You're using your status and position to do good,” he murmurs, leaning on his elbow and facing you,”That's more than any of them can say, honestly.”
You glance over at him with a sorrowful look,”What if that isn't enough? I'm doing all that I can, I've started production in the lower mines to clear out the old piping-”
Viktor shakes his head at that, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to place his hand over yours,”Even speaking it aloud does something. Your actions alone have proven that, don't think I haven't heard you giving ideas to Jayce for the undercity while I wasn't there.”
He smirks at you and you huff.
“Just keep doing what you're doing, I'm right there with you and I know Jayce is too,” he reassures softly.
You nod quietly, peering down below,”I hope I haven't squandered my position.”
“I don't think you have, and honestly,” he steps closer,”I don't think you will anytime soon. Your seat in that chamber is important for Piltover's Infrastructure- I'd say you hold more cards than Shoola or Salo.”
You roll your eyes with a fond huff,”Now, I doubt that-”
“Don't,” he speaks firm but careful,”You have what they don't seem to-”
You raise a brow,”And what would that be?”
He's silent for such a brief moment, eyes flicking across your face before he smiles softly,”A heart.”
Your face warms, surprisingly, and you attempt to brush it off with a sarcastic laugh.
“Considering one of them is made of metal-”
“I mean it,” he steps closer, and suddenly you feel his warmth,”You have a heart- full of fire and care for people you haven't even met-”
He cups your forearm,”You were kind to me without scorn, even when we first met.”
You're silent, gaze drifting down to his hand holding your arm. Your heart is thundering away in your chest,”It's not difficult to be kind.”
“For some, it is,” he murmurs, his warm eyes drifting over your face, urging you to look at him,”But you never wavered.”
You bring your gaze back up to his, almost taken aback by the genuine smile on his lips.
He brushes back a stray hair, tucking it behind your ear and cupping your cheek tenderly, pulling you in.
You almost think he's going to kiss you, but instead presses his forehead against yours, sighing softly.
“Keep using your voice,” he murmurs,”They're sure to listen eventually.”
You lean into his hold, hand moving to cup his elbow softly as you nod quietly.
He's the one to pull back, another surprise, but doesn't let you pull away completely- instead peering at you with a soft, but questioning gaze, eyes moving down to your lips before trailing back up to yours.
You nod, nose brushing his as he slots his lips over yours.
—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—
A/N: requests are still open!
#arcane#arcane fanfic#arcane league of legends#fanfic#arcane fic#viktor x reader#viktor fanfic#viktor lol#viktor league of legends#viktor arcane#viktor x you
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imagine Vi with a gf that will do drastic things to their appearance and not mention it- like reader just shows up with new piercings, haircut, nail set etc and just plays it off to mess w/ her
"I've always had those wym?" "It was just a trim idk what you're saying"
Ok I’m obsessed w this idea bc it’s literally me, I shave and dye my hair every month and don’t realize ppl can’t recognize me when they don’t see me every few weeks, oopsi. This also ended up being very self indulgent BECAUSE I GOT A TATTOO OF VI’s NAME ON MY LOWER NAVEL 😌 I’m so down bad for her it’s not even funny (this IS a photo of MY tattoo so plz just lmk if ur gonna use it for anything)
Anyway hope u like this! (And thank u for my first Vi ask!!) requests/asks are always open!
Lil suggestive at the end but nothing too crazy I’d say…
Vi loves that you’re so all over the place, it makes her feel like you’re always changing and it’s kinda why she fell for you in the first place.
But she was not prepared for the amount of drastic appearance changes you bombard her with on a monthly basis.
You’ll show up with a random new hair color one day, walking into the gym she works at to drop off her lunch. Just strutting into the place, so nonchalantly, like there’s absolutely nothing new when in fact your hair went from brown to black with bright green highlights.
Vi’s at the reception about to head to the back with a new client when she sees you. She doesn’t even register that it’s you at first and her jaw only drops when she does a double take.
“Hey honey” you say in your regular loving tone.
“Uhh… Hi.. uh- hi baby?” Vi’s so confused but you just look at her innocently and bat your lashes. “I brought you lunch!”
“I see that” Vi looks down at the bag you dropped on the counter and leans over to kiss you on the cheek quickly. “I also see you’ve got a new hairstyle?”
You look at her surprised, “oh this?” you’re picking up strands of hair twisting them around your fingers absentmindedly “yeah I guess…”
“You guess?!?” she stares at you incredulously “it’s quite a big change cupcake!”
You fake being hurt and pretend dramatically, placing a hand your heart “So you don’t like it?”
“No, no, no! I didn’t say that! I just meant it’s so different!” Vi’s reaching over to run her fingers through your hair “I really like it”
“It’s really not that different Vi, just added the green” you brush it off, messing with her a little.
Vi swears your hair was brown and not black but she just shrugs, “as long as you’re happy!”
Then one day you’re off work early and you walk by this piercing shop every day on your way home. You’ve got a few piercings on your ears and that one on your belly button that Vi adores, but you’ve been wanting a septum for a while.
So before you can convince yourself otherwise you’re walking out of the piercing studio with a fresh silver ring in your nose.
You walk into your apartment met with the sound of Vi playing video games on the couch. Swooping down you attempt to give her a peck on the lips while she moves her head around your figure trying to see the screen “Hi Angel… one sec I just have to pass this level, then I promise I’m all yours”
You let her be and go to quickly clean your brand new piercing before she’s done with her gaming.
Later you guys are making dinner together and Violet can’t help but notice the silver ring glittering above your top lip when it catches the light. To be fair, Vi is always staring at your lips anyway, so it’s not like she really wasn’t gonna notice a piercing right above them.
“Uhhh hey babe?”
“Yeah Vi?”
“Did you always have that septum piercing?”
“Mhm” you’re humming absentmindedly as you stir something on the stove.
Violet can’t think straight, cause is she that distracted and so down bad that she didn’t notice her beautiful girlfriend had a septum piercing?!? Or is this another one of your “what do you mean I didn’t change anything!” moments like when you showed up with dyed hair and pretended it was the exact same or when you got new nails done and told her you’d been wearing them for weeks…
She swears you messing with her like this is gonna be the death of her, but… she’d never complain.
Nothing prepares Vi for your next drastic move though, cause she goes absolutely feral when u show her the tattoo u got of her name on ur lower navel.
Oh no. You’re done for. Cause she’s almost quite literally on her knees drooling, staring up at you with big blue eyes and you know she’s about to jump your bones and never let you go.
Vi knew you were going in for a tattoo appointment that day. But what she didn’t know is that you decided to surprise her with a little “VI”, the same one she has on her face, but in ink the color of her hair. The deep fuchsia pink you love.
So when you come home from your tattoo appointment, Vi thinks you just went for the bigger piece you got on your leg. So she jumps from the couch as soon as she hears you entering your apartment “Hey! you’re back!” and she’s running down the hall kneeling at your legs, lifting your trousers to see the new piece with an excited “Lemme see!!!”
You’re just as excited and giggle while she admires the work. But you keep ur mouth shut and don’t say a word about the little surprise tattoo you have of her name just above your panty line.
“It’s so cool! I love the colors and it’s so much bigger than I thought you’d go for! I love it!” Vi’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Did it hurt? You were at the studio for a while…”
“Nah it wasn’t too bad, plus the artist was so gentle and it’s not like it’s my first rodeo Vi.” You’re rolling your eyes at her concern and she’s standing back up pulling you in for a long kiss.
“I’m gonna go unwrap the tattoo foil and wash the new ink, are you ok to start dinner hon?” You yell into the kitchen as you walk toward the bathroom. “Yeah! In a minute!”
Before you’ve even finished undressing to hop in the shower, Vi’s bursting into the bathroom claiming she needs to wash her hands before cooking. (but you both know there’s a perfectly good sink in the kitchen and she just loves barging in on you in the shower).
She’s smirking as she leans on the side of the sink “Cute panties”
You look down and immediately cover your face in embarrassment realizing you’re wearing high waisted flower-patterned cottons. It’s not your usual choice and they’re kinda reserved for shark week cause you don’t think they’re cute, but it was your best option for getting a lower navel tattoo and making sure it didn’t get irritated. “Stahppp Vi, I had to wea-“ you catch yourself before you can tell Vi about the tattoo.
She’s already sauntering over to you her hands finding their place on your bare waist making you shiver. “I don’t know… I still think they’re kinda cute..” Vi trails off as her fingers dig under the band and slowly lower it.
You’re waiting in anticipation for her to notice the tattoo at any moment, and then she does.
Her eyes go wide the second she sees it. You swear you can see her brain reset to factory settings and her mind go blank.
She doesn’t know what to say or do. Sliding down to the ground, shes now on her knees in front of you, hands on your hips holding the band of your panties down with her thumbs as she just stares at the little fuchsia pink “VI” on your lower navel.
“Vi?” You try gently, dragging the word out like a question.
“Hmm?” She’s not looking at you, just staring at the tattoo of her name on your body as she swallows hard. “Fuck Angel, fuck… is that… is that my name, sweetheart?” She’s biting her lip inhaling and ur nodding a happy “mhm” down at her.
Something short circuits in her then. The way her name is permanently on your skin. The way her name on you marks you as hers. She’s breathing heavy.
She thinks she’s drooling but she doesn’t care. She’s focusing her pretty blue eyes up on you now. You cup her face and try to play it off like you usually do, teasing her with your big appearance changes, teasing her “Oh, I’ve totally always had thi-“
Before you can finish she’s up, kissing you hungrily, her hands on your waist and the side of your neck, crowding you against the sink. Your breath hitches as you notice the glimmer in her eye and you can barely contain a little gasp when Vi’s thigh slides between yours.
“Don’t bullshit me Angel, we both know you haven’t always had a tattoo of MY name-“ she’s brushing her fingers across the fresh lettering, making you wince “-especially not here of all places.”
She’s kissing your neck, sucking on the soft skin leaving marks everywhere, slowly making her way down your body. Your hands are in her hair as she reaches your navel. She’s kissing everywhere but the tattoo, stopping to say a few words in between light pecks and little kitten licks “Fuck sweetheart… mmh, I can’t believe… you, fuck… got my… name tatted… ugh.. fuck” her voice trails off sounding so thick and needy. She’s looking up at you through her lashes and you know you’re done for.
You whimper and Vi’s vision goes fuzzy. Forget the shower, forget dinner, she’s carrying you to the nearest bed… so she can look at her name on your skin while she makes you scream it.
#I can’t believe i actually got a tattoo of her name#i’m just a girl#vi arcane#arcane vi x reader#haunted by dreams tf#vi brain rot#vi headcanons#violet arcane#vi arcane x reader#vi fluff#vi x fem reader#vi x you#request#reqs open#asks open
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REMEMBER
Click here for chapter: 1 & 2
Chapter 3: Forgotten Faces, Remembered Pain
Paige's POV
I grew up here in Minnesota, living what seemed like a perfect life until I left for college in Connecticut three years ago. Good family, solid school, a career I was proud of, the best friends anyone could ask for. I had everything I could have dreamed of. Or at least, I thought I did. But then, a certain someone walked back into my life, and now I realized—time doesn’t heal anything. You just get used to carrying the weight of what hurts for a lot longer than you should.
It all started when I was twelve, discovering my love for basketball. My dad used to bring me to this basketball court just down the street to practice, sometimes for hours. We’d always end up at the local convenience store, grabbing snacks—he’d stock up on chips while I picked out ice cream. I still remember that day. I grabbed my usual chocolate ice cream, lined up to pay, and that’s when I heard it.
"No! What you gave me is a dollar short! I can count!" A girl’s voice, sharp with frustration, cutting through the air. I turned, half expecting some kind of mistake, but she was standing there, arguing with the cashier, insisting on the right change.
I couldn’t help it—my eyes met hers, and she shoved the receipt into my face, her little face demanding validation.
"You know math? Tell me I’m right, and she’s wrong."
I had to laugh. I looked at the cashier, then back at her. "Yeah, you’re right." Though I was laughing, I actually glanced at the receipt and she was, indeed, right.
She flashed that cocky grin of hers, so smug. "See? Told you I’m right."
That was just the beginning.
She started following me around, asking questions, poking into my life, telling me she had no friends, she was bored all the time. I didn’t even know why I let her in, but I did. So, I told her, "If you want to waste time, you can come watch me practice. You live around here, right?" She had mentioned earlier that she lives nearby.
"Yeah, that works," she replied, smirking. "I can waste time and practice my math by counting your scores. That is, if you can score."
That was her way of challenging me.
Five years. Five years we spent inseparable, like we couldn’t exist without each other. And then, the world broke apart.
One day, she came to practice with bloodshot eyes, her face red and blotchy from crying. Before I could even ask, she blurted out, her voice cracking:
"I’m leaving Minnesota. Mom says it’s for work, and we’ll be back sooner than I think."
She started sobbing uncontrollably. "I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave you here alone."
I was speechless. My world was spinning, and I didn’t know how to respond. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
"If that’s what the adults want, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?" I muttered, trying to ease the tension. "We can still talk on video calls, and you’ll be back before you know it."
But what about what I wanted?
"No!" she screamed. "If I leave, you’ll forget about me. You’ll find new friends!"
I could hear the panic in her voice, and it drove a sharp pain into my chest. "I won’t. I promise. It’s just us two, forever and ever."
And then she was gone.
For two years, we kept in touch, but as soon as I moved to Connecticut for college, things started to unravel. The calls grew less frequent, the arguments more intense. Silence followed, suffocating silence. No texts, no calls. Just emptiness.
I thought she was living her best life—at least, that’s what her social media told me. She seemed happy, thriving. But where did that leave me? Did "forever and ever" mean nothing? Was I just another part of her past, fading away?
I moved on, or so I told myself. I threw myself into my studies, my career. But still, there were nights when I found myself searching for her name, staring at her photos, wondering what had happened. Longing. Disappointment. Anger. Then confusion. Why was I still so obsessed? She left me all alone, even when I needed her the most. When I suffered an injury while playing my sport, I thought she’d be there for me, but I was wrong. I admit, I reached out to her, sending messages here and there—but maybe that was just my vulnerability talking. In the end, it didn’t matter. The lowest point of my life wasn’t even worth her time.
And then, there she was. Standing in front of me. But she was... different. Not in a good way. Something about her seemed so out of place. Her whole aura had changed. What happened to her?
It’s been a week since that first encounter, and I’m running errands for Drew. I roll my eyes—he’s got the audacity to ask me to get ice cream for him. As I’m perusing the different flavors, out of the corner of my eye, I see him.
Steve.
The shock is immediate, but the look on his face is worse. He’s more stunned than I am. But why is that? Am I not supposed to see him anymore?
"Paige? Long time no see! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Connecticut?"
My heart skips a beat. He keeps tabs on me?
"I’m on a break. Gonna head back tomorrow though, classes start soon. It’s good to see you again, Steve." I try to sound calm, but it’s hard when my mind is still reeling. "How’s Emma?"
His face contorts, and I see a flicker of pain—something I haven’t seen before, and it sends a sharp pang through me.
"Emma’s gone. Just three months ago."
The words crash into me like a wrecking ball. What? Emma’s dead?
I don’t know what to say. My mouth goes dry. "Oh my god. I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?"
"We’re fine now, I guess. But the last three months have been hell. Losing Emma... and then having my daughter almost..." He trails off, his voice cracking. "I’m just thankful my daughter got lucky."
My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"
"I came here with my daughter. You haven’t seen her yet?" he asks, and the words send a shiver through me.
Oh, I've seen her, but then she disappears again for the rest of the week.
"But maybe even if you did, she won’t remember you," he adds, his voice tinged with sadness.
I freeze. What?
"She’s suffering from a temporary memory loss from the accident, Paige."
She forgot me? She forgot about us?
The ice cream Steve is holding shakes slightly in his hands, and I suddenly realize I’m staring at it. "Is that for her? That’s her favorite."
"Yeah. I’m hoping it’ll help her remember, you know?" Steve’s voice breaks, and it feels like the weight of everything is pressing in on me.
I don’t know why I say it, but it spills out before I can stop myself.
"I want to help. Make her remember."
I must be crazy.
He looks at me, surprised but grateful. "You would? That means a lot to me, Paige."
He pauses for a moment, his eyes a little distant, before continuing. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while now—about sending her back to school. The doctors think getting back into a routine could help her. They said it might spark something, help her remember what she loved." He exhales, his voice wavering slightly. "I’ve been struggling with whether or not it's the right time, but... I think it might be the only way."
I barely hear him as my mind races. "She can attend to mine. Transfer her. She can join the swimming team. She still swims, right?"
Or maybe I'm just out of my fucking mind.
"Yes!" Steve’s face lights up. "That’s actually a great idea. I’ll start processing her papers next week."
She needs to remember. Because when she finally looks me in the eye and says sorry, it won’t be some empty apology. It’ll be real.
She’ll remember me. She has to.
Chapter 4 setting's gonna be at Uconn. More interactions and stuff!! <3
Taglist: @authentic-girl03 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @0phantom0 @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj
#paige bueckers#uconn#uconn huskies#uconn wbb#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers x reader#paige x reader#paige buckets#paige bueckers fanfiction#paige bueckers x oc
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{ All For Us Part II } Part I
Hello and Welcome to the part Two of All for Us ! I'm so happy this little story seem to please people. I still don't really know How to describe in the good way what this story will be, but so far I thing something like ; Toxic relation and healing process are good terms for it.
I hope you will enjoy this part as much as you enjoyed the firts part. My only negativ recap from this part is ; Im sorry for the ending I feel like I rushed it and also sorry for the lac of word or expression. If someone want to help me or correct something or even help me rewrith some parts hit me Up. I will not say No if it can make it better.
TW : Mention of drug, smut without Smut ( Started but never ended) Toxic relation, cheating
Tags : @private-vampire @rafesbunniebby
When you came back in the main Room, you return to the bed you awaken and sit on it. Your arms was wrapped around your legs as you try to breath to not start to cry. You wasn’t sure if all you felt was cause of the pregnancy, the stress or just cause you stopped abruptly to take drugs some months ago. Your mind was set to not take it but your body just want to feel high again. Also you would not be again’t not feeling stress Right Now.
You spotted Thano’s purple hair in the crowd as he mad his way to you with another guy before sitting in your bed, in front of you. He’s eyes was locked on you as you try to look like nothing matter, but your wet eyes and slightly trembling body betrayed You.
«-You didn’t seem to feel Alright, flower. »
He gave a Look at his friend, asking him to leave us alone for a moment. When He left, Thanos got closer to you. If you felt better you would have kicked his ass far from you, but you hardly have energy ton control the hurricane of emotions in your body right now.
Thanos put his arms around your shoulders before whispering something in your ear.
«-Maybe you need one of my special treats, for energy. I bring t some with me. -Scram, looser.»
Your voice was low, but the tone was hatfull. Thanos simply turn his head to look at you and raised an eybrow. He knew something was wrong.
«-Y/N … i’m serious. You didn’t seem fine. We already talked about that. If you want to quit drugs you can’t just do it like this. Your body will still crave it and if you refuse him his usual treat, he will make you go feral.»
A small sarcastic smile appear on your face. You Eyes was locked on what happen in the crowd in front of you, ignoring what the other talked about.
«-You mean, like you did ? No. I will not be like you.»
Thanos sight and let go of you to place himself again in front of you to have eyes contact with you.
«-I know i wasn’t the best boyfriend. I know I fucked up, but I swear I didn’t cheated on you. So please, let me help you.»
He get out the cross to his necklace and opened it, After taking care no one was looking at you, and took one little pill and put it your hand. You looked at the small thing with a lot of hesitation. He gave this to you, for free. You could just swallow it and let the anxiety fly away, but it will be an horrible mistake. This could be the death of your child and the win your body crave for. Also a Win for Thanos who think giving you drug is the real and also the best way to help you.
You closed your eyes, took a deep breath as your hand was place one your belly like you tried to protect your child.
«-I can’t.
Your voice was shaky, just like you refuse to take the pill to gave you good conscience but it was just really hard to say no when all you need is that small little thing to make you feel better.
-Excuse-me, what ? What do you mean you can’t ? »
Thanos seems really surprised to ear you say no to this. That was one of your favorite drug before.
Giving him back his pill you opened your eyes and answered with more confidence.
«-I can’t. I don’t want to touch that shit ever again.»
The rapper looked at the pill in your hand and took it back, unsure and still surprised. He was about to say something but was cut by the crowd asking to leave, to do a vote. The guard agreed but first, they showed you and the rest of the alive competitors the amount of money you had collected after one game. If you all take the decision to leave, you will end up with more money than when you arrived but it wasn’t enough to pay your debts, but was it worth risking your life ?
The vote started with player 456 who voted to go back home. You will pass in the last ones, it give you time to think about what you're gonna do.
You weren't surprised to see Thanos vote to stay.
When it was finally your turn, get up of your bed and walk to the machine, looking at the two buttons and the numbers of vote. It was 50/50
As much as you wish to go home, stay alive and never have to see Thano’s face ever again, the money you will receive from all the people who died in the first game, to had put your life in danger, it wasn’t enough. Not enough to clear you debts or to raise a child. Plus, here you will not find a way to put your hand on drug again. At least if you could leave with a little more money to go in detox, it will be the best. That’s why you choose to stay.
You felt sorry for everyone who wanted to go home, you will maybe choose to leave after the next game.
Before going to bed, you had to go to the bathroom. You didn’t felt so good, all the stress, the blood, the weird smell everywhere gave you nausea and you could hold in anymore. You took the first cabinet and throw up. You wasn’t sure if it was just the pregnancy but for once you had doubts about it, it just didn’t help.
«-I’m sorry… I’m sorry to put you in all this danger. To make you feel all those harsh emotions…»
Still throwing up, you felt tears on your face. You could hold in anything anymore. Everything was too much for a day.
«-One more game… and we are going home. I swear. »
You cried out as you flush the toilet. You let all your negative emotion out until you heard someone knock at your cabin door.
«-I’m sorry, I overheard you and I felt worried. Are you alright there ? -Yeah, wonderful, you answered with a lot of sarcasm, best day of my life.»
You sniffled and whipped your tears before get up of your feets and leaving the cabin. You found yourself face to face with another young girl with the number 222 or her hoodie. She looked at you with some concern. On the other part of her top, you could see a X. She voted to go home and cause of your vote, you denied her that fate. You felt like it was the best decision to stay, but you also felt so much guilt.
«-You talked alone ? She asked you.-Yeah, exactly. »
You are not here to make friends and you dont know her. You will not start to explain all your worries to a perfect stranger.
«-Can I ask you something ? She asked as you made your way to the sink -You already did but yeah sure. -Why did you choose to Stay ? -Why did you choose to leave ?»
You saw her in the mirror, putting her hand on her belly while she looked at it with a worried look in her eyes.
«-Because I’m pregnant.»
Now you felt more guilty. You was in the same boat in this situation. What a Hellhole, two pregnants womens for one game. As you watch the water flow in your hands, you sigh heavily and close it, still looking at the sink.
«-So Am I. That’s why I chose to stay for at least one other game. I need this money to clear debts and at least go to therapy before I give birth. I don’t want my child to leave like I used to the last two years.»
You opened up so easily and mentally cursed yourself, you knew you shouldn't but you felt better now. Maybe Life put her on your way to show you that you are not alone.
«-How many months ? She asked.-I don’t really Know, for around 2 months. I realized it after I left my boyfriend, almost two months ago.»
She slowly get closer to You as you turn around to face her. You noticed her belly, it was bigger than yours, but with the baggy clothes it’s easy to hide. You should be able to hide it from Thanos without any problems. Your bum his only visible when your remove your cloths or show that part of your body, witch mean ; Never.
«-Why are you here ? You asked Her. -I need money to raise the kid on my own and the father put me in debt. I want a fresh start, but I never thought it would be a deadly games. What about You ? -Not that different from You. Addicted dad, drugs debts for both of us, also other things with an internet guy who scammed him and He lost everything. »
You continued your little chat with player 222 until a guard knocked at the door, asking You to get out. When the lights will turn off you need to be In your bed.
You both left the bathroom to go back to the main room.
Once In your bed and the lights off, you weren't sleepy at all. You had too much on your mind, starting with Thanos and how you left him. Since you saw him cheating on you, you often have nightmares about that, waking up with the horrible feeling of not being enough, cause that’s exactly what you felt that day.
Two Months Ago
You were awakened by Thano’s soft kisses on your Body. You could feel every one of them, starting by the corner of your lips, going down on your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. Your skin felt like melting under his lips. You could feel him smile as he continued his way down, kissing your collarbone as his hands found their place on your hips, pressing you against his more than awake boner. Having such an effect on him makes you smile as you open your eyes. The light coming from the big window of his apartment felt like aggression. Your eyes shut again as the headache started to hit. You were probably a little bit hungover from last night.
When Thanos noticed you were awake, he smiled and slowly slid his hands under the Big t-shirt of his that you borrow every night, claiming it as your pajama.
«-Good morning Beautiful, he said as he came back to kiss your neck. -Good morning, you answered as you tried again to open your eyes.»
This time, it was easier and the sun didn’t feel like your eyes were melting. You could see the beautiful smile of your boyfriend as his lips joined yours for a passionate kiss. Passing your arms around his neck, you answered the kiss with as much passion as him.
His Hands, still on your hips until now, started moving up to your breast, gently squeezing it . A shiver passed through your body when you felt the cold air on your exposed skin since your T-shirt followed Thanos hands.
Your boyfriend ended the kiss and he took his time to look at you. Flushed cheeks, heavy breathing, exposed breast with hard nipple who seem to call for his mouth.
«-Fuck, baby, your are so beautifull.»
You didn’t know what you could answer. Thanos was one of those men who make you blush with that kind of praise. You liked that and He knew it.
With a Smile, he opened the drawer close to the bed and put out a stack of pills. For a second you thought he would take a condom but his priorities seemed to be for something else.
«-Do you really like that ? You asked, unsure. -Relax beautiful, it will just make the experience better, for both of us. »
He was about to take the pill when you stopped him.
«-Thanos, you don’t need that to make love to me.»
That’s when reality hits you like a car at full speed. You don’t even remember one time, in two years, when you was sober when it came to intimacy.
«-We can do it without, this time.-Why ? We always used to fucked when we was high. Believe my experience, it’s better.»
Fuck, not even making love. All of that made you feel suddenly uncomfortable. Gently, you pushed him from above you and replace you T-shirt to cover your body. All that just turned you off.
«-Is that what it is for you ? We just fuck. -Fucking, Banging, Hoocked up , making love. All the same. Why is that suddenly such a Big deal ? -I don’t know, I just feel like it’s wrong. We shouldn't have to be high every time we have intimacy.»
Thanos' sight as he got up and took the pill.
«-Fuck off. You turned me off with your princess shit, he said as he left the room to go to the bathroom.»
That day was no fun. You had a great time the other night after his show, you came home late, drunk and probably high and now this. Thanos never liked when people tell him how to act or how he should feel, but you should have this right, at least to make the best out of him, but when you try he just push you away.
You barely talked that day. He had another show at the same bar from yesterday and had to work on some songs, so you let him work in peace. You spent your day in a coffee shop, thinking about what happened this morning, until you realised nothing was right in this relation. You didn’t even remember him telling you he loved you. All he always said was about how good you locked, or how beautiful you was, how much fun he had with you, but never how much he loved you, and somehow that broke your heart.
You could have wait until he came home to talk to him, but you knew He will probably be to tired and too high to have a serious conversation, si you showed up at the bar before he started his show. Making your way to his private room, you was about to enter but you stopped when you heard a feminine voice coming from there. The door was a little bite opened so you could see what was happening there. That’s how you knew. The vision broke your heart more than it already was.
You saw a random girl sit on the table in the middle of the room and your boyfriend passionately kissing her. You knew Thanos for long enough to know that kind of passion. It was the ‘’ I will fuck you right here and right now ‘’ kind of one.
You saw enough so you just left with tears in your eyes and even less than a broken heart.
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okay so hear me out for an angst idea. remus x muggle reader. they’re dating and so in love and she doesn’t know he’s a wizard or werewolf yet. all of the sudden he shuts her out (cause he’s scared to tell them) and she’s stressing thinking he’s done w her and go from there where you please 😘
(also feel free to make gender neutral i just used she pronouns bc that’s what i use lol)
Magic Tricks
Remus Lupin x fem!reader
WC: 2k
CW: Angst; hurt/comfort; Remus doesn’t know how to communicate
A/n: thank you for the request lovely! I definitely tried to make it angsty, but I didn’t wanna prolong it cuz I know Remus would be trying to remedy the problem ASAP!! I hope you enjoy
The first day or so of silence you give him an out, figuring something is going on. But when he still doesn’t reach out after four days, a pit of dread begins to fill your stomach. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to you. Not with Remus, obviously, but with other boyfriends. Disinterest was always the first step, and then silence, and then the inevitable “it’s not you, it’s me.” You just don’t understand what you could’ve done wrong. Things with Remus, at least you thought, were going well. Great, even. You were certain he was going to be the one you would marry. But now? Now you’re not so sure.
Instead of spending Friday night depressed and alone, you tag along after work to the company’s happy hour. You hope it’ll get your mind off your suddenly distant boyfriend and even help you loosen up.
You’re sitting at a table chatting with some girls from your department about one of their annoying neighbors when the restaurant door opens again and a chilly breeze blows through. You tighten your jacket as you look up at the brisk intrusion and falter There, getting seated by the hostess, is Remus. With another girl. 10,000 emotions are swirling through you, but the worst by far is shock.
Your shoulder is shaken, “hey, you okay?”
Your throat constricts in your chest and you’re not sure you can respond to your concerned coworker, “hmm?”
“You don’t look so good” another says.
“I- I’m sorry I just, I just saw my boyfriend, over there, and he’s with another girl.”
A plethora of protests and groans of disgust emit from your friends but you tune them all out. You’re hurt and confused, and before you know it, your legs have carried you over to where Remus and this redhead girl are sitting.
“Remus?”
You hate how hoarse your voice comes out, and your stomach twists in embarrassment.
The brunette’s head snaps up, eyes meeting yours and widening, “dove?”
Your eyes flit between the happy pair and you scoff, “funny seeing you here, sweetheart. I see now why I haven’t heard from you in days.”
The redhead chokes on her drink, cheeks turning a dark shade of crimson, “oh no! That’s not! We’re not!”
You glare at her and look back at Remus, arms crossed, “what the fuck, Remus? If you weren’t interested in me anymore you could’ve just said it. Instead, you’re going behind my back with other girls. That’s low.”
You turn around and begin to storm off, angry tears building in your eyes.
A warm, familiar hand grabs your wrist, stopping you, “dove, wait, no! It’s not what it looks like. I swear! Please give me a chance to explain. This is Lily! You remember her, right? I’ve talked about her before. She’s my friend from school.”
You stare at the love of your life disbelievingly, “seems like she’s more than just your friend.”
Remus shakes his head desperately, “no that’s not it. Please, let me talk. Just-“ his eyes flit around the room anxiously, aware of the many people watching the scene unfold, “can we go somewhere private to talk.”
“Now you wanna talk?” And damn it, a few tears start rolling down your cheeks, “Remus I haven’t heard from you in a week, and then I catch you with another girl. You have to know how it seems. Even if nothing happened, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve ignored me, and made me feel worthless. I- I can’t be with someone who ghosts whenever they feel like it!”
“Baby, my love, please,” he pleads, his hands trembling.
“Remus, I’m done. I can’t,” you pull out of his grasp and stalk back over to your table, grabbing your purse and leaving in a hurry of embarrassed tears.
You’ve been bawling your eyes out on the couch for the last few hours, wallowing in your own self-pity. You can’t believe it. You and Remus are really over. The love of your life is gone. You’re not sure you can ever recover. Your phone has been buzzing like crazy- likely Remus- but you choose to ignore it. You can’t talk to him right now, not after everything that happened tonight.
A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts and you stand, wrapping a blanket around you and wiping the remnants of tears from your stained cheeks. When you open it you’re surprised, but not, to see Remus.
“What are you doing here?”
“Dove. I came here to see you…. to explain….everything. I didn’t get the chance at the bar, and you wouldn’t answer my texts or calls. So I’m standing here now, before you, to just give me one chance to make things right. Please, sweetheart, I’m begging you.”
You concentrate on him, eyes scanning his form. His brunette hair is tousled and messy, his clothes are disheveled, and he looks unbelievably tired and stressed. Even though you’re angry and upset, you love him still, and your heart tells you to fight for any possible chance there might be to save this relationship.
“Fine, come in.”
You turn around and stalk into the living room. Remus’ heavy footsteps fall into step behind you and he shuts the door, sealing off the cold night. You take up home on your gray couch again, finding comfort in it amongst the most uncomfortable situation of your life.
He looks at you awkwardly and ruffles his hair, “can I sit?”
You scootch over to give him room even though your body craves to be closer.
“So, what great excuse do you have for tonight? For ignoring me?”
Remus coughs and turns a shade paler, “uhm, right, okay. Uh- I,” he curses quietly, “sorry. I. Okay I’m just gonna say it. I’ve been ignoring you because I’m- I’m a wizard. And I was scared to tell you because I thought you’d run away and think I’m crazy and I love you so much and. Yeah.”
Disbelief. That’s the only emotion you feel. You scoff loudly and glare at him, “are you fucking kidding me, Remus? A wizard. That’s your excuse? And what great one do you have for Lily, huh? Let me guess, she’s a vampire.”
“Well no she’s a witch actually and-“
Remus freezes, realizing that doesn’t really matter because you aren’t being serious.
Tears threaten to spill from your eyes again and you stand up, wiping them away frustratedly, “Do you think I’m stupid, Lupin? Do you really discount my intelligence and dignity so much that you think you can use a bullshit excuse like that? I thought you’d at least grant me a mature conversation, but your behavior this past week should’ve warned me that wouldn’t be the case.”
“No, beautiful! I’m not lying, I would never, ever treat you so unkindly I- Well I know I’ve been unkind this week, but just let me show you.”
He fumbles in his dark brown coat and pulls out a long brown stick.
“Let me guess, that’s your wand. And where’s the broom?”
“I can’t afford one,” Remus says with a blush.
You only roll your eyes, “right then, let’s see you do a spell if you really are a wizard.”
He clears his throat nervously and nods. He flicks his ‘wand’ and a bouquet of red roses appears in his hand.
Your eyes widen and you’re impressed, but still not convinced. A flower- appearing-trick is an act you’re sure any skilled magician can pull off with some practice.
Remus extends them to you- “an apology. For being a right prick.”
A smile wavers on your face but you push it down and don’t accept his gift, “is that supposed to convince me, Remus? Any magician could do that.”
His hopeful gaze falters and he bites his lip, “right. Okay- okay hold on uh….Please don’t freak out.”
Remus stands up and moves to the middle of the room, and it’s not lost on you that you really feel like you’re attending a children’s magic show. He holds his hand with the wand to his head and taps twice and right before your eyes Remus slowly disappears into thin air.
Your heart quickens in your chest and you curl into the couch, “Remus! What the fuck?”
“Dove! I told you not to freak out.”
Something touches your arm and you scream, flinching away.
“Sorry, sorry, my love. It’s just me. I’m right in front of you.”
You tremble as your eyes dart around the room, brain not comprehending how you can hear but not see him.
“Baby, reach out slowly.”
You shake your head.
“Please,” he asks in a strained whisper.
With shaky hands you reluctantly reach out until your hands hit something. You flinch slightly, but when something warm wraps around your wrkdr you relax. Even when invisible you’d recognize that touch- the gentle, calloused skin of Remus’ hands.
“H-how? I- you- magic….”
Slowly Remus appears back in view and sits down, tentatively taking both of your hands into his. He almost sighs audibly when you don’t fight his touch.
“I’m happy to answer any questions you want, dove. Just, I want to know… do you still want me? Can you forgive me for lying and ignoring you? Do you think I’m a freak?”
You’re certainly dazed, but you’re awakened from your trance at those final words…. do you think I’m a freak?
Are you overwhelmed? Yes. Are you freaked out? Absolutely? Do you still not totally belive magic is real? For sure. Are you still mad at Remus? Yeah, maybe a little.
But do you think he’s a freak?
“Baby,” you sigh, eyes softening and hand moving to cup his face, “of course not. We… we certainly have a lot to talk about… both magical and communication based… but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. I’d love you less if you cheated or were a terrible person, or lied for a bad reason. But for being different than me… for being you, I could never, ever hate you. I don’t think you’re a freak baby. I love you, for all that you are. And I wish you would’ve trusted in me a little more.”
“I was just so scared to lose you,” he confesses hoarsely, his tired eyes dimming with sadness, “but I see I did that more by hiding than just telling you the truth.”
You hum and nod, running your thumb over his bony cheeks…
“Rem?”
He hums, brown eyes looking at you so softly you melt.
“I obviously have lots of other questions but first… Lily… you’re really not-“
“No! No! Dove, never. I love Lily, but she really is just a friend. She was actually lecturing me on the way to the pub tonight about how I was gonna mess things up with you if I didn’t get my act together.”
“Think I need to meet her formally…” you murmur amusedly, “we’d get along well…”
Remus chuckles fondly and carefully wraps you into his embrace.
You go nearly boneless.
“I really am sorry, my love,” he murmurs into your hair.
You inhale the scent of his sweater and the lingering smell of old books on his collar and sigh, “no more apologies, baby. Just promise me you’ll never do that again.”
Remus kisses your forehead gently, “never. But on that note, I should probably confess that I’m also a-“
#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin fic#remus lupin headcanon#remus x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x self insert#marauders fandom#marauders headcanon#marauders fanfiction
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A New Kind of Thunder
THIS IS MY FIRST FANFIC, A LITTLE GENTLENESS WOULD BE NICE also it was NOT beta'd
Hughtober Prompt: Thunderstorm (yes I wrote this in October, sue me)
Pairing: Worst (Best) Logan Howlett x Reader
Tropes: Cuddling in a thunderstorm
Warnings: Wade, he deserves his own warning, reader had a traumatic experience during a storm, so thunderstorms give her flashbacks <3 (had to give it some spice)
Other tags: Logan lowkey being happy and a big softie, making Logan watch a musical
Background: Usually when a thunderstorm hits, you seek out comfort in the form of watching movies or some other activity with your best friend, Wade. You knew that a thunderstorm presented no real danger to you, but it still creeped you out to be alone.
Description: When a thunderstorm hits, you walk across the hall to Wade’s, ready to invite him over so the two of you could have a movie marathon and wait it out until the storm died down and you’d be able to sleep. You didn’t expect Wade not to be home, and you’re shocked when his roommate, Logan, answers the door instead of him.
You sighed, hearing the first crack of thunder. You knew that a storm was coming. But you hoped you’d be asleep by the time it came through. Unfortunately, the knowledge of the coming storm seemed to be enough to keep you from going to sleep. Looks like you’d be spending another night watching movies with Wade on your couch.
Getting up from your bed, you slipped on some comfy pajama pants and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a cape. You also slid on some socks, not wanting your feet to be cold against the floor. You walked through your apartment, walking out and across the hall to Wade’s.
You lifted your hand and knocked on Wade’s door before rubbing a hand over your face. You hated needing company during a thunderstorm, but in the wise words of Wade, ‘You can’t help what you’re scared of, sugar bear’.
Hearing footsteps on the other side of the door, you thanked whatever deity was out there that he seemed to have been awake already.
When the door opened, you were met with a man who certainly wasn’t Wade. It was Logan, Wade’s new roommate. The two of you didn’t talk much, and you never hung out one on one. Not that you didn’t want to, you were just nervous that he would grow annoyed by your company. So, you took what you could get and settled for only spending time with him when Wade wanted to.
You’d certainly never seen him like this. He wore a white tank that was tight across his chest along with a pair of pajama pants that were plaid. It was truly infuriating how good he looked sometimes, especially right now. It’s just pajamas and a tank, and he looks like a goddamn model. You did your best to keep yourself from drooling when you spoke.
“Hi,” you spoke softly, not wanting to disturb any neighbors. The walls were fairly thin after all. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I was looking for Wade.”
“I was already awake,” Logan assured, his voice matching yours in volume. “Wade isn’t here, he’s at Vanessa’s,” he explained.
“Oh,” you sighed softly. “In that case, sorry to bother you,” you gave him an apologetic smile, feeling a little bad for disturbing his night. You started to turn back around and head back to your apartment when Logan spoke again.
“What did you need?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe. “Is everything alright?”
You turned back around to face Logan. Part of you was embarrassed to tell him the truth, but if you ever wanted to be real friends with him, opening up was going to be part of that.
“Well,” you started, “I get freaked out by thunderstorms, it’s a long story,” you answered. “Usually when there’s a storm, Wade comes over and watches movies with me so I forget about the storm.”
Logan stayed silent for a moment, observing you in the moonlight that came through the window at the end of the hall. You were convinced he’d never hang out with you now, not with the way he looked at you. When he went to speak, however, you would’ve sworn he almost looked nervous.
“I could come watch movies with you,” he offered. “I’m not as talkative as Wade, but we could turn the tv up, and you wouldn’t be alone.”
“Really?” You smiled, unable to stop it. “I don’t wanna keep you up or anything,” you hummed, you really wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience.
“I don’t sleep much anyways,” he shrugged. “At the least, it gives me something to do since I can’t sleep.”
“Then you’re more than welcome to join me,” you nodded, “You can pick the first movie,” you added as you turned and walked back into your apartment.
Logan made sure he had his own apartment keys before he shut the door and followed into your place.
Once Logan was in your apartment, you shut the door and headed for the living room. You grabbed your remote and plopped down on one end of the couch as you turned it on. The only light was the tv and the moon coming in through the windows.
Logan got settled on the other end of the couch, seeming to get comfortable.
“What do you wanna watch?” You asked, looking over at Logan. You smiled softly at the sight of him getting comfy on your couch. He didn’t seem out of place at all, it seemed natural to have him there.
Now is not the time to be ogling Logan, but it was hard not to when he was so handsome, and the fact that he was here because he wanted to help you out made him all the more attractive.
“You can pick,” he shrugged. “I’m not that picky when it comes to movies.”
“Musical it is,” you snickered, wanting to see if Logan would protest.
Logan just shrugged again, seeming to really not mind what you wanted to watch.
You flipped through some movies, finding one of your favorite musical movies. The Greatest Showman. You just loved the story, and you had to admit the main actor was very good looking. Nothing better to distract from a thunderstorm than some singing eye candy. Thinking about it, he kinda looked like Logan.
You pressed play, putting the remote down and curling up a little as the opening credits began.
“What’s it about?” Logan questioned, looking over at you.
“It’s about a ringleader forming a circus,” you hummed. “He brings it up from nothing. It’s set in the 1800s, so you’d fit right in,” you joked.
“Don’t tell me you’re gonna be worse than Wade tonight,” he shook his head, a barely there smile forming at the corner of his mouth.
“Guess we’ll find out,” you snickered, giving him a playful shrug.
================
You were about halfway through the movie, and the two of you were both invested. You were laying down now, your head near the armrest and your legs curled up on the couch next to Logan. He still sat in the seat he’d started in, but he seemed to relax into the couch a little more, one arm over the back of it.
The storm hadn’t been bothering you too much so far, but it seemed as if that was ending now.
A loud crack of thunder boomed, and it felt like it shook the windows of your apartment. You sat up, looking out the window.
“Hey,” Logan spoke, trying to get your attention away from the rain pouring against your window.
You turned to look at the man, shifting your attention to him instead of the rain.
“You alright?” He asked, surprised by your reaction to the thunder.
“Yeah, it just caught me off guard,” you answered. Before he could reply, a lightning strike lit up your living room, followed by another, louder, roll of thunder. You jumped again before sighing. You could feel your chest getting tighter.
Logan scooted a little closer after you jumped this time, placing a hand on your shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he spoke. He was never the best at comforting, much less so when he used his words instead of actions.
You nodded, taking a breath. You leaned into the couch, trying to relax again. It was short lived, however, when another lightning flash filled the room, the thunder following.
Before you could even think about reacting, Logan was pulling you closer, his arms holding your shoulders protectively.
“It’s only a noise,” he hummed, his voice quiet. “Not gonna hurt you,” he added.
You laid your head against his shoulder as he held you. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on the sound of him breathing evenly rather than the rain pounding outside. Slowly, you let your breath sync to his, the slow breaths helping you to relax.
“There you go,” he said, still keeping his voice low.
His voice almost reminded you of the thunder rolling outside. You could feel the rumble of his words in his chest when he spoke. But this thunder wasn’t frightening. It was soft and comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket straight from the dryer.
Logan pulled away after a moment, and you tried not to seem too disappointed. He picked up on it anyway, and was quick to reassure you.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, a small smile on his face. “Just thought there were more comfortable ways than me hunching over to hold you and you bending your neck to lay your head down,” he explained. You were sure that was the most words he’d ever said to you consecutively.
He laid back on the couch, patting his chest and opening up his arms, inviting you to lay against him. You hesitated for a moment, and he seemed to gather what was worrying you.
“I’m a mutant with a metal coated skeleton,” he let out an amused breath, “I’ll be fine if you lay on me.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the way he put it. You pulled the blanket over you both as you laid across him, your face tucking against his neck.
“Comfy?” Logan mumbled, wrapping an arm around your middle.
“Mhm,” you hummed out. After a moment, you spoke again. “Can you keep talking?” You asked, hoping he wouldn’t find it too odd.
“Why?” He asked in return, but his voice was more curious than any sort of upset.
“Your voice distracts me from the thunder,” you replied, closing your eyes.
“Oh,” he hummed, his chest rumbling as he did. “What do you want me to talk about?”
“Whatever you want,” you answered. He could be reading the dictionary, and you’d listen to every word. “I’m sure you have plenty of stories to tell.”
Logan thought for a moment before starting to speak, telling you a story about a time that he’d worked as a lumberjack in the late 70s. He went on, telling you that he’d been living in a cabin in the Canadian Rockies.
You listened intently as he spoke, committing every word to memory. It sounded like a rather nice place to live. The life he described was simple and filled with much less trouble than the life of a hero.
As he spoke, you felt yourself growing sleepier and sleepier. He’d started rubbing your back about halfway through the story, and it was definitely helping you keep your mind off the storm.
“‘M getting tired,” you mumbled out, your cheek squished into Logan’s chest.
“Go to sleep,” he replied, “I’ll be here when you wake up,” he added, “Hopefully the storm will be over by then.”
“Can you keep talking’ til I’m asleep?” You asked softly.
Without agreeing or denying, he just picked up his story where he left off, making you smile.
It wasn’t long before you were passed out on top of Logan, breathing evenly as you slept. Logan looked down at you, smiling softly at the sight. Maybe tonight, he’d finally get a good rest too. With that thought on his mind, he closed his eyes and let himself doze off, his arms wrapped around you protectively.
================
Logan woke up later than he typically did the next morning, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere to be anyway. He let out a sleepy hum as he blinked open his eyes to look down at you in his arms. A small smile made its way to his face as he saw you were still fast asleep on his chest.
As if the universe wanted to say ‘fuck you’ to Logan, Wade walked over and into Logan’s view.
Logan blinked a few times, almost like he was trying to will Wade out of the room.
“Well good morning, sleeping beauty,” Wade spoke, too chipper for Logan, as usual. He was munching on a muffin that he’d clearly stolen from your kitchen.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Logan huffed, but kept his voice down, wanting to let you rest after being up the previous night.
“Stealing food, clearly,” Wade lifted up the muffin to emphasize his point. “My turn. What are you doing here, peanut?” He hummed, sitting down on the small coffee table that was in front of the couch. He placed one elbow on one of his knees and propped his now tilted head on his hand. “You never hang out with each other, and now I come over and catch her napping on your chest like you’re a big pillow. Totally jealous, by the way, I’d pay to lay on those thick tits of yours.”
Logan rolled his eyes. Somehow Wade never seemed to run out of things to say that would annoy him.
“I’m here because you weren’t,” Logan replied. “It was storming last night and she came over looking for you. When I answered the door and asked what she wanted, she told me and I offered to watch movies with her.”
“That’s cute and all,” Wade nodded, “But that doesn’t explain why she’s cuddling up to you like she’s done it a hundred times before.”
“Do you ever stop asking questions?” Logan complained.
“Nope, now spill or I’ll wake her up and make her tell me instead,” Wade whined petulantly.
“Okay, fine,” Logan sighed. “There were a couple big booms of thunder and she got scared, so I was holding her. She seemed to calm down so we just moved to get more comfortable instead of sitting up. We fell asleep like that, then I woke up and my absolute worst nightmare was here,” he jabbed at Wade, deadpanning.
“Oh you so have it bad for her,” Wade teased with a grin.
“I do not have it bad,” Logan argued.
“You don’t?” Wade raised one brow. “Tell me then, would you cuddle me because I was scared?” He questioned.
Logan stayed silent, unsure how he was supposed to answer that without flat out lying, which he knew would end in Wade insisting he gets cuddles at some point.
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought,” Wade snickered softly. “You should just ask her out,” he hummed before taking a bite of his muffin.
“Not happening,” Logan shook his head. “There are too many reasons why I shouldn’t do that.”
“Oh come on,” Wade complained with his mouth full before swallowing and speaking again. “Why not?”
“It would just put her in danger,” he reasoned. “Nothing ends well for anyone I care about,” he added, sighing softly. “That’s the last thing I’d want to happen to her.”
“You care about me, and I’m fine,” Wade grinned.
“You also can’t fucking die,” Logan deadpanned. “I’m serious, I don’t want to be the reason she’s in danger.”
“You say that like we wouldn’t both murder someone who tried anything,” Wade hummed. “Nobody hurts my best friend, and I’m positive that nobody would end up alive after trying something on Wolverine’s girlfriend.”
Logan stayed quiet, looking down at you on his chest.
“Fine, I’ll think about it,” he decided. “But don’t you dare say anything to her about how I may or may not feel.”
“May or may not my ass,” Wade rolled his eyes, standing up. “I’m going back to my place, if you two fuck, try not to let the whole complex hear you,” he joked as he headed towards the door.
“Fuck off, Wade,” Logan grumbled out, but he seemed to relax again when he heard the door close behind Wade.
As much as he hated it, he had to admit that Wade may be right.
================
Ever since the night of the storm, you and Logan had gotten closer. You hadn’t been too close, like hugging or cuddling again, but you hung out more. He’d come over and have dinner and then watch whatever movie you decided to put on. Occasionally, you dragged him out to go see a movie you wanted to watch in theaters or get ice cream when you felt a craving for it.
You’d certainly grown to fall for the man. Before, you knew he was handsome and just all around attractive, but now that you knew him even better, you were well and truly fucked. Even if you did have feelings, you’d never mention it, not wanting to end up back at square one and without him as a friend.
The most interesting change was the pet names he seemed to add to the end of every other sentence. It came out as if it was second nature when he spoke to you. Honey, babe, sugar, sweetheart. Each time he used one, your stomach fluttered.
================
It was about four months after the initial storm and Logan was sleeping, unaware of the raging storm outside. It was even more intense than the last.
He woke up when he heard a loud crash. He sat up straight, worried that some sort of danger was near. He sighed when he realized it was just thunder, laying back down.
“Stupid fuckin’ storm,” he grumbled to himself, closing his eyes to go back to sleep. It seemed to hit him only when he said the word out loud. It was storming outside and you were probably in your apartment, terrified.
He got up quickly, going to check first if Wade was still in the apartment. He found Wade fast asleep, curled up with a stuffed unicorn. He felt a little bad about being happy that he’d be the one to go help you.
Rushing out of the apartment, he made his way across the hall and knocked on your door. When he got no reply, he grew more worried. He hurried to go back to Wade’s and grab the spare key to yours he now knew that Wade kept on the table near the door. Once he grabbed the key, he was back to your door, unlocking it and pushing it open.
He called out your name softly, not wanting to wake you if you were already asleep. He assumed that you must be until he heard a small sob coming from down the hall. He’d never been so thankful for his advanced hearing.
Walking quickly, he made it to your bedroom, the door already open. There was a lump on your bed under your blankets and he assumed it was you. He walked in, sitting down on the edge of your bed.
“Hey, it’s me,” Logan’s voice was soft, “I’m here.”
Slowly, you poked your head out from the blanket and looked at Logan. It was like seeing him flipped a switch. You flung the blanket off of yourself and nearly tackled Logan with a hug. If it weren’t for how strong he was, you would’ve both probably tumbled off the bed.
“Woah, woah,” Logan kept his voice quiet as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “You’re alright, it’s alright.” He lifted one hand to run through your hair.
There it was again. His voice like a sweet version of the thunder that rolled just outside your window.
You cried softly against his shoulder for a few minutes, slowly calming down now that Logan had arrived. Just like last time, you focused on his even breathing and mirrored it. Eventually, the tears stopped and you just sniffled quietly.
“You could’ve come over to get me if you were this scared, honey,” Logan said as he rubbed your back in slow circles.
“I wanted to,” you said softly. “But the thunder was so loud and the rain was pelting the window. I just got so overwhelmed, it felt like I couldn’t move.”
“Alright,” Logan nodded in understanding. He knew what it felt like to freeze up. “I’m here now,” he added, laying his head against yours. “I won’t go anywhere until you feel better.”
“Will you stay again?” You asked softly, shyly.
“Of course,” he nodded, letting go of you so you could get comfortable.
You slipped under the blanket of your bed, then held up the blanket for Logan to join you.
He did as you wished, getting under the blanket and laying down next to you. Gently, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to his side.
Your arm rested on his shoulder while one leg tangled with his. You were convinced that this was the safest you’d ever feel.
“I never asked,” Logan started. “Is there a reason thunderstorms scare you? I asked Wade, and he told me I should ask you instead.”
You stayed quiet, and for a moment, he was worried that he’d overstepped with his question. He was about to try and backpedal, but you spoke.
“The worst day of my life,” you started, “It was during a huge storm. Now when it storms, and the thunder cracks, it’s like I’m back there again. I have to relive the hardest day of my entire life.”
If anyone knew what that was like, it was Logan. Half the time when he slept, he was reliving the day he lost everything. Now it made sense in a way he could understand.
“I didn’t realize,” Logan sighed. “‘M sorry,” he added, feeling a little bad for making you talk about it.
“Don’t be,” you shook your head. “I wanted to tell you anyway, I just didn’t know how,” you admitted. “I’m glad you asked me.”
Logan didn’t say anything else, just wrapping his arm around you a little tighter.
“You came without me asking,” you said quietly, tilting your head to look up at Logan.
“I woke up and it was storming,” Logan spoke, looking down at you. “Wade was still home, so I figured you were here alone and wanted to come check on you. I know you don’t like being alone, so I came over. I’m glad I did.”
“I’m glad you did too,” you agreed with a small smile. You were sure your eyes were still puffy from crying, most likely a little red, too. Part of you was embarrassed that Logan was seeing you like this, even when it was mostly dark, but the other part of you knew that Logan probably didn’t even think twice about it.
Logan gave you a small smile in return. You were so happy that he’d started showing himself to you a little more, you loved seeing his smile and hearing his laugh.
“Thank you,” you added, realizing you hadn’t said it until just now. “For coming over because you knew I’d be scared.”
“Don’t have to thank me,” he shook his head. “It would’ve been shitty if I’d have just gone back to bed when I knew you needed someone.”
He sounded so sincere that it felt like your heart was being squeezed. Without another thought, you leaned up to place a small kiss on his cheek, a small show of your gratitude. When you pulled away, you laid your head back down against him.
“What was that for?” Logan chuckled, one side of his mouth turning up.
“For being here,” you shrugged, “Since you won’t take my thank you, I thought I’d give you that in its place.”
Logan rolled over onto his side so he was facing you. He then pulled you up so the two of you would be eye to eye. He looked at you as if he was trying to commit every detail of your face to memory. It made your cheeks grow warm.
“Can I talk to you about something?” He asked, his voice serious, but not so serious that you grew worried about what he had to say.
“Always,” you nodded.
“The first time I came over, when Wade wasn’t home, I didn’t know what I’d be getting into,” he admitted with a small smile. “The next morning, when I woke up, you were still asleep and Wade came waltzing into the living room and he and I talked.”
“Oh god,” you interrupted. “Tell me he didn’t say anything embarrassing,” you joked.
“No, nothing embarrassing,” he assured, resting a hand on your hip. “He actually told me to do something, and at first, I told him I never would, because I was scared of hurting someone,” he sighed. “But he convinced me to think about it, and I’ve been dwelling on it every day since.”
Logan went quiet, and you thought that he almost seemed…. Nervous.
“What did he tell you to do?” You spoke softly, wanting to give him a nudge and let him know he could open up to you. “Who did you not want to hurt, Lo?”
“You,” he finally got out. “I didn’t want to hurt you. He told me to just ask you out already, and I said no because the people I care about usually end up getting hurt. But I kept fucking thinking about it, and I know that I’d do everything I can to keep you from getting hurt.”
You weren’t sure what to say. The very last thing you had expected him to say was that he wanted to ask you out.
“I’m obviously not good with words,” he huffed out a breath. “I just need to say it. Do you wanna go out with me, sweetheart?”
You swore you could feel the palpitations as the words finally left his lips.
“Yes,” you grinned, lifting a hand to hold a side of his face. “I’d love to go out with you, Logan,” you leaned up to press a gentle kiss on the end of his nose, which he scrunched up in response.
“I promise I’m not going to let you get hurt,” he assured as he leaned in, resting his forehead on yours. “I’ll keep you safe. From thunderstorms, or from anything else.”
“I know you will,” you replied, “I feel safe, right here in your arms,” you smiled, cuddling into him a little more as if you were trying to prove your point.
“I’ll hold you whenever you want, honey,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. “Anything to make you feel safe.”
“Doesn’t just make me feel safe,” you grinned. “Makes me feel happy, too.”
“Oh yeah?” He asked, his voice just on this side of teasing. “Good thing I’d do anything to make you happy too.”
“Anything to make me happy?” You questioned, sliding your hand down from his face to his chest, “I think a kiss would really make me happy.”
“I did say anything,” he chuckled, leaning in until your lips brushed. “Absolutely anything for my girl,” he added before pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss that you both sighed into.
When he pulled away, it was just enough to breathe, close enough that your lips still touched when you spoke.
“Your girl?” You spoke, barely above a whisper. “I think I could get used to that. That would make you my guy, huh?”
“Yeah, I’ll be your guy, babe,” he chuckled quietly. “Any day of the week.”
“Just in the days?” You joked, acting as if you were offended.
“Christ, you and Wade are going to kill me,” he huffed playfully. “I’ll be your guy any time you’ll have me.”
“That’s more like it,” you laughed quietly, pecking his lips.
The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, when you realized something.
“It’s not storming anymore,” you smiled. “Guess you distracted me from the storm.”
“Told you I’d keep you safe,” he grinned.
“I think I know why it works so well when you talk,” you said shyly.
“And why’s that?” He asked.
“Your voice, it’s low and I can feel it in your chest when you talk,” you began. “Reminds me of the thunder, but it’s gentle and even instead of overwhelming. So when you talk, it’s like a whole new kind of storm that I can focus on.”
“I’d be glad to distract you anytime,” he teased, pecking your lips.
“You know, you should come stay the night sometime when I’m not having a panic attack,” you joked.
“I think I’d like that,” he agreed. “Wade’s never gonna let me leave without interrogating me though.”
“I’ll come over when you’re about to leave, I can try and get him off topic,” you chuckled. “All I’ve really gotta do is mention Vanessa.”
“What if I don’t mind people knowing where I’ll be?” He asked.
“I’d say that it’s very sweet and that I don’t mind either,” you smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth.
“Kiss me like you mean it, none of the corner of the mouth shit,” he complained, but based on the smile on his face, he was only teasing you.
Opting not to reply, you leaned in, pressing your lips on his. You hadn’t expected his lips to be as soft as they were, but you supposed it made sense when his skin healed itself.
You pulled away slowly, letting out a content breath and scooting down so you could press your face against his neck.
“You smell good,” you commented casually as you closed your eyes.
“Glad you like it,” he chuckled, tucking one arm under his head while the other kept you against his chest.
The two of you continued to steal soft kisses and trade laughs until eventually you were being pulled under into a nice sleep.
================
Logan took a deep breath as he woke up. In the night, you’d managed to turn over, so he was now the big spoon. He grinned, pulling you closer back against him.
Without warning, Wade’s head popped up over your side of the bed, a smile on his face.
“Why the fuck are you always here when I wake up?” Logan complained, letting a sigh out of his nose.
“Because you’re always here when I come to check in after a storm,” Wade answered, standing up and revealing that he was wearing a tie dye onesie.
“Well she’s fine, you don’t have to check up on her anymore,” Logan assured. “Now get out so I can go back to sleep,” he huffed.
Wade completely ignored Logan. Typical.
“So did you two finally do it last night?” He asked, already heading to the door, praying Logan wouldn’t get up to beat the shit out of him.
Logan didn’t get up. Instead he leaned over and grabbed the alarm clock on your bedside table and threw it towards Wade.
Wade dodged it, grinning like an idiot as he ran out and through your apartment so he could exit the front door.
“What the fuck was that?” You groaned out sleepily.
“Nothin’,” Logan answered, wrapping his arm back around you. “Just your alarm clock breaking against the wall.”
“Do I want to ask why you threw it or not?” You questioned, turning around and pressing your face to his chest.
“Wade,” he answered simply.
“Got it,” you nodded, “No need to explain.”
Logan chuckled and leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead.
“Wanna go back to sleep?” He hummed out.
“Now that I’m awake, I was thinking maybe we could go get something for breakfast,” you shrugged, looking up at Logan with a lazy grin.
“I could go for breakfast,” he nodded. “Let me hold you for a little longer first,” he added, squeezing you even closer to him.
“I could go for that,” you copied his words, laying your head back down.
Logan grinned, just looking at you laying your head on his chest. Yeah, he could get used to being a new kind of thunder for you.
#logan howlett#logan howlett x you#wolverine#worst wolverine#worst logan howler x reader#worst wolverine x reader#best wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlet x reader#james logan howlett#wade wilson#fanfiction#fanfic#wolverine fanfiction
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Watching Garam lick his fingers was something Angel would never forget. The man continued to surprise him. we should've done this sooner. He couldn’t agree more. But instead Angel laughed softly as he placed another kiss to the top of the man’s head. Angel laid beside the man and smiled as he protested him taking a bath. He wouldn’t argue, Angel wanted nothing more than to keep Garam in his arms. And hearing the man say he was happy filled him with joy. That’s all he ever wanted for Garam. Was for him to be happy. And to know that he was the cause was the icing on the cake. What he was not expecting were the kisses that followed. And those kisses soon turning into bites. He couldn’t help but let out breathless moans as his arms tightened around his best friend. His bottom lip soon caught between his teeth as he tilted his neck to allow the man better access to it. Angel’s mind was completely blank. He could only focus on the kissing and bites to his neck that were driving him insane. But he kept himself calm, knowing this was it for the day. They had crossed many lines in one day and they both needed a break. No matter how horny they both seemed to be. He cared for Garam too much to allow urges to block their genuine feelings for each other. Or more importantly their friendship. When the smaller man seemed satisfied with his markings and let up Angel let out a breath, “You are going to be the death of me” he teased running his hands slowly down the man’s back. As Garam gave him his rule he smirked. Angel knew he could hold out but he wondered if his friend could. “Really only on your neck? What if I want to leave one here?” Angel asked as his fingers gazed over the man’s thigh. “Or maybe here? I think this would be a perfect spot” he continued to tease moving his fingers from his thigh to Garam’s ass. He left a little tap before grabbing it grinning, “Mm, I don’t mind waiting until they are gone. Do I get to make a rule?” Angel asked enjoying their banter. “For every day I have to wait. That’s how many times you cum” Angel was sure to press a kiss to the man’s cheeks as he spoke and moving to whisper in his ear. As they both pulled back Angel smiled being able to see the man clearly now. His eyes softened as Garam spoke taking in what he was saying. His tone seemed serious yet nervous. He used his free hand to brush some loose strands from his face. An eyebrow raised as the smaller man began to stumble over his words and his cheeks turned a shade of pink. As Garam hid his face away Angel let out a chuckle and nodded, “Okay baby I got it. I’ll keep that in mind.” He squeezed the man against him kissing the side of his head. As they laid there in silence for a moment Angel’s mind began to wander. He wasn’t ready for full intercourse. The idea of it scared him. He truly didn’t know how his body would react. Yes, when he was around Garam in the beginning he would flinch or stiffen whenever the man touched him. He wished he could make sense of it. Why his body reacted that way. But what he did feel is safe with Garam. And right now safety was everything for Angel. “Garam, I didn’t think I was ready or anything. Especially not for whatever the hell we just did. But you make me feel safe. And I’m happy it was with you”
his lips parted, thinking angel was going to finish in his mouth like he had so graciously done for garam but the man hadn't. garam flinched slightly as he felt warm liquid shoot onto his face and lips, which eventually dripped into his mouth. a hand lifted to wipe away what had spilled onto his cheeks, bringing it to his mouth to lick his fingers clean. he was left smiling once angel had fallen back to lay down, eagerly taking a hold of his fingers when the man reached out to him. "we should've done this sooner." the words that left his lips so carelessly probably should have remained in his head.
garam smiled after being pulled to lay against the other's chest, his hand balling up to rest just below angel's ribcage curled up underneath his own chin. it'd been so long since he was actually given the opportunity to cuddle with somebody. "it's okay," his voice was small as he tried to hide his excitement from something others might have seen as so insignificant. he was quick to start shaking his head when the other mentioned garam needing a bath, though with the position they were both laying in, he wasn't able to shake it very much. "i think i want to stay right here." he countered as he shifted to press his nose against angel's chest, inhaling deeply. his lips were pressed next, trailing soft kisses up the other's neck until his nose nudged against angel's earlobe. only a second later, garam was taking that same earlobe between his lips and tugging on it gently. "i'm really happy," he whispered before nuzzling his face into angel's neck. he didn't stop there, though. garam continued kissing the man's neck, those kisses quickly turned into sucking as he was determined to leave a mark on the other's skin. it was an act done out of pettiness, not something he thought through, as he wanted there to be something clear and visible left of their time spent together. a mark that he was sure darius would see, assuming the man would see angel again before the marks faded. he knew his intentions were in the wrong place, he knew angel would probably be upset if garam were to clue him in on why he was doing this. but he needed the third party to know that angel was off limits, there was zero chance garam would let anything happen between the two of them beyond the kiss they shared outside angel's apartment. "i haven't gotten to do this in a long time," he continued to whisper, alternating between kissing and sucking the skin of angel's neck. when he was satisfied with the work he'd done, garam pulled away to look down at the few little burgundy marks now on angel's neck and smiled. he brought his hand up to run his finger over the larger mark, one he'd intentionally made in the shape of a love heart. "this is the only place you're allowed to leave marks on me," he said, tapping the mark he'd left. "you can do anything you want to me as long as you follow this rule. and if you break the rule, you don't get to touch me until the mark you made is gone." garam probably wouldn't follow through with the last part of his request, it'd feel more like a punishment for himself rather than for angel. he pushed himself up a little bit, still resting the majority of his upper torso on angel but he wanted to actually get a good look at the man underneath him. "i know i talked about wanting someone to be gentle with me but you don't have to if you like it rough. i like that, too, but there are also going to be times where i want things to be nice a-and intimate and, you know, not just fucking. and i know you're not ready to actually do stuff like that but what we did, if it happens again—" he paused, feeling his cheeks heating up. garam hated that he felt embarrassed talking about stuff like this, especially since he was so open about it when he wasn't sober. "i liked that you let your, um—" he paused again, a bashful smile creeping over, "your urges take control. your hips, you—" his eyes closed as he let his face fall back down to the crook of angel's neck. "you can fuck my mouth whenever you want." garam whispered, unable to actually look at the other.
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Hiiiii, i hope you're all having an amazing day on whichever day this gets seen, i owe you my life for running this incredible blog 💛💛💛
Would you happen to know of any meet cute human au fics in which Crowley is a cat dad? (preferably M or E rated, but im not that picky) There's just something very endearing to me about Crowley owning a cat that i can't explain...
Thank you in advance for your help!! 💛
Hello! Here are some fics in which Crowley has a cat...
with the help of a cat, or two by whicorzoo (G)
In which the cat in the window of the flat right across from Crowley's is unfairly perfect, so on a particularly whimsical night, he decides to put up a sign in his window to tell his neighbor as much. By morning, he's forgotten about it, until he sees it in his window and regrets the decision entirely. He expects to have his cool, intimidating facade never taken seriously again. He does not expect a response.
Pass the Star by mageofthepeople (E)
An Ineffable Wives roller derby AU Azalea Fell meets Antoinette Crowley at her first roller derby bout with a new league. After an incident leads to a trip to A&E, the two are drawn to one another but Crowley is reluctant to potentially ruin a great friendship for something more.
But, soft! by On1OccasionFork (M)
With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out; And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. -Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene ii Crowley's life is going well. He's got his shop, his friends, and a new flat with a balcony perfect for a few plants. That's when things start to get complicated.
love like yours (will surely come my way) by CCs_World (T)
Dr Zira Fell is a new professor of theology at St Beryl's University. His first day there he meets the mysterious and enchanting Dr AJ Crowley, an art history professor and a painter. They almost immediately become friends, and spend most of their time getting lunch together, talking, drinking wine, making art, and falling slowly in love with one another. Featuring cameos of everyone's favorite (and least favorite) characters, gratuitous descriptions of paintings, long text messaging conversations, and one cranky cat.
Or Be Nice by charlottemadison (E)
Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbours. And...it does not go at all well, until it does. A human AU in which Aziraphale is a bookseller, Crowley is a drummer, and they are both petty disasters in the worst/best way. +++ “So what’s your deal?” “My-my-my deal?” Aziraphale stammered. “I’m a bookseller, is my deal.” “Oh,” Crowley replied, sounding as uninterested as it was possible to sound. “It’s just, I couldn’t help overhearing, and --” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “You really are an accomplished musician. But I thought -- for after 11PM -- perhaps we could reach some arrangement?” “Arrangement?” Aziraphale felt his his smile turning forced. “Such as, perhaps, playing the drums *before* eleven? Instead of after?” Crowley stared blankly at him. In fact he stared for so long that Aziraphale briefly wondered if he'd lapsed into ancient Greek again, which he was known to do in bad dreams or during panic attacks.
Whickber Street by Caedmon (E)
Anthony J. Crowley doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy. He’s finally quit his old job and is opening his childhood dream: a comic book shop. All of the neighbors are great, but the bookseller seems to hate him… Aziraphale Eastgate grew up in his great grandfather’s shop. Now he runs it and lives above it. He loves everything about his life on Whickber Street…. but the new proprietor down the street has him terribly, terribly vexed. Sparks fly when these two meet, and Aziraphale vows to hate him forever. Fergus, meanwhile, sets a timer. Looks like Cupid has come to Soho.
- Mod D
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Okaaaay I can't resist on sending in another idea ❤️😊 I just loved the previous imagine too much!
Maybe some more Tim angst, where he's dating another officer for a while now and they're really happy. Then someday they get into an argument about something stupid, so she keeps ignoring him for nearly the whole shift. Later he hears over the radio that one officer got shot during a call and he already has a bad feeling. Just then his phone rings and Grey confirms his fears that it was you.
At the hospital it's not sure if you'll survive and Tim fears losing you without apologizing. In the end you survive of course and it's all just cute and fluffy in the end 🙊
We’re in this together
Summary: A police shift goes wrong, nothing out of the ordinary for an officer, but it hits differently when you’re losing the love of your life, and your last interaction was a fight.
Reader x Tim Bradford
Genre: fluff/angst
The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the small kitchen as I leaned against the counter, cradling my favorite mug in both hands.
The first sip sent a warmth through me that was only rivaled by the sight in front of me.
Tim sat at the table, hunched over, tying his boots with the same care and focus he brought to everything he did.
Sunlight poured through the window, framing him in a soft glow, and I couldn’t help the way my lips tugged into a smile.
“Another day, another shift,” I teased, my voice gentle as I took another sip of coffee.
He glanced up at me with a crooked smile that never failed to make my heart flutter.
“Another day of you trying to boss me around.”
I raised an eyebrow, setting my mug down as I sauntered toward him.
“You love it when I boss you around.”
Tim chuckled, his hands pausing on his laces as he gave me a look that was all warmth and affection.
“You might have a point, sweetheart.”
He tugged the laces one last time and stood, towering over me in that way that always made me feel both small and completely safe.
“But I think I deserve a little credit for putting up with you.”
“Putting up with me?” I repeated, crossing my arms but unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.
“Who’s the one who burned breakfast again last week? Pretty sure I’m the patient one here.”
Tim stepped closer, his hands finding their way to my hips as he leaned down just enough to press a kiss to my temple.
“I burned breakfast because you distracted me,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending a little shiver through me.
I rolled my eyes, laughing softly as I rested my hands on his chest.
“You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And you’re perfect,” he replied without missing a beat, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried.
He pulled back, just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek.
“Ready to head out, or should we take another five minutes to ‘discuss’ who’s the patient one in this relationship?”
I laughed again, giving his chest a gentle shove.
“Grab your jacket, Bradford. We’re not showing up late just because you can’t stop flirting.”
Tim grabbed his jacket and slid it on, but not before stealing one last kiss, quick but lingering enough to leave my heart racing.
“Can’t help it,” he murmured as he opened the door for me.
“You make it too easy.”
The drive to the station was filled with the kind of soft, easy conversation that came with knowing someone inside and out.
Tim reached over at one point, his hand brushing against mine where it rested on the console.
Without a word, he intertwined our fingers, his thumb tracing gentle circles over my skin as we drove.
“Think Cap will still be in that mood again today?” Tim asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.
“Probably,” I replied with a grin.
“You know how he gets when things don’t go perfectly. Angela said he spent half the night poring over those reports. Sounds almost like you.”
Tim shook his head with a soft laugh, his eyes briefly meeting mine.
“He needs to take a page out of your book and learn how to relax. Just like how you thought me.”
I smirked, squeezing his hand. “I’ll let him know you said that.”
“You would,”
he replied with mock exasperation, but his grin softened as he lifted my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles, his lips warm and gentle.
“That’s why I keep you around, you keep everyone on their toes.”
My cheeks warmed at the affection in his voice, and I leaned back into the seat, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment.
With Tim, even the drive to work felt like something special, like a little pocket of peace in the chaos of our lives.
As we pulled into the station’s parking lot, Tim shifted the car into park but didn’t move to get out just yet.
Instead, he turned to me, his gaze soft and adoring.
“What do you want to do on our next day off? Our day off is sacred, you know.”
I tilted my head, pretending to think, even as a smile tugged at my lips.
“How about a picnic? Somewhere quiet, just us. You bring the sandwiches, and I’ll bring dessert.”
His smile widened, and he leaned in to steal one last kiss before we stepped out into the world of uniforms and chaos.
“You always know how to make a day perfect,” he murmured against my lips.
“So do you,”
I whispered back still not believing I've got the grumpy Tim Bradford wrapped around my finger.
The precinct was already alive with its usual controlled chaos when we arrived.
The familiar hum of ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air.
Officers walked around, exchanging case files, refilling coffee mugs, and prepping for the day ahead.
Tim and I stepped through the front doors together, the click of his boots against the tiled floor perfectly in sync with mine.
Ever the gentleman, Tim held the door open for me, his hand brushing lightly against the small of my back as I walked in.
The gesture was small but grounding, one of those quiet moments of affection that felt uniquely ours.
We didn’t make it three steps inside before Lucy’s voice rang out, full of teasing energy.
“Oh, look, it’s the power couple gracing us with their presence!”
she called, grinning from ear to ear as she leaned against her desk.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.
“Good morning to you too, Chen.”
Angela was quick to join in, an amused smirk playing on her face.
“Wait a second... is that a smile on Tim’s face? What did you do, bribe him with something?”
I turned to Tim, arching a playful eyebrow.
“See? They think you’re less grumpy. Guess I’m rubbing off on you after all.”
Tim let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he slid his hands into his pockets.
“I’m not that grumpy,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him by twitching upward.
“Oh, sure,” Angela replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“And I’m the King of England.”
I laughed, giving Tim a quick wink as we moved toward our desks.
“Don’t worry, Bradford. I like you grumpy. Keeps things interesting.”
He shot me a mock glare, but there was no hiding the warmth in his eyes as he pulled his chair out and settled in across from me.
The morning briefing was the usual mix of updates and assignments, with Grey running through the day’s agenda in his signature no-nonsense tone.
Tim sat beside me, his leg brushing mine under the table, a quiet reminder of his presence that made my heart skip despite the mundane nature of the meeting.
When the captain finally dismissed us, Tim leaned over, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
“You zoning out on me, sweetheart?”
I smirked, tapping my pen lightly against my notepad.
“Nope. Just wondering how you manage to look so serious all the time.”
He tilted his head, a playful gleam in his eye. “It’s a gift.”
“Must be exhausting,” I teased, standing and grabbing my notes as we joined the others heading toward the bullpen.
The rest of the morning passed in a comfortable rhythm as Tim and I fell into our usual routine.
Working together had become second nature after months of finding our rhythm.
We didn’t need words to communicate half the time, a shared glance or the slightest tilt of his head was enough to tell me what he was thinking.
But as the hours ticked by, the warmth of the morning started to shift.
Calls came in one after another, each one more demanding than the last.
The weight of the job pressed down on us, and the lighthearted banter that carried us through most days began to fade.
During a brief moment of reprieve, Tim appeared beside me, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.
His expression was softer now, more serious, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Thought you could use this,” he said simply, his voice quieter than usual.
I took the cup, my fingers brushing his for just a second longer than necessary.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I said softly, meeting his gaze.
He gave a small smile, one of those rare, genuine ones that he saved just for me.
“Don’t mention it. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”
It was moments like these, tucked between the chaos and the noise, that reminded me how lucky I was.
With Tim, the hard days felt a little less heavy, and the good ones felt extraordinary.
Tim and I rarely fight, but if we did, we were quick to make up. But this time I wasn't so sure about that.
It began in the shop during a lull between calls, one of those rare, quiet moments when the hum of the engine was the only sound filling the air.
The city seemed unusually still, as though even it were taking a breath.
I glanced out the window, watching the sunlight play off passing buildings, when the thought struck me.
“Hey,” I said casually,
“we’re out of supplies in the first aid kit.”
Tim, who’d been focused on the road, flicked his eyes toward me briefly.
“You forgot to restock it, didn’t you?”
His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried an edge that immediately put me on the defensive.
I turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
“Me? You’re the one who used it last.”
He let out a short breath, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the steering wheel.
“Yeah, and I told you to refill it afterward.”
“You told me?” I shot back, incredulous.
“No, you mentioned it in passing, and I assumed you’d take care of it since, you know, you used it.”
Tim’s jaw tightened as his gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead.
“It’s not about who used it. It’s about being prepared. What if we get a call and need it? Are we supposed to improvise because you didn’t think to check?”
His words, laced with frustration, hit a nerve.
My temper flared, and I turned in my seat to face him fully.
“Oh, so now it’s my job to clean up after you? Got it. I’ll just add that to the list, right after making sure you remember to pack your lunch and not leave your coffee mug in the car.”
He scoffed, shaking his head.
“This isn’t about me leaving my mug. This is about you taking responsibility for something important instead of deflecting every damn time.”
The way he said it like I was careless or didn’t pull my weight, sent a sharp pang of hurt through me.
“Wow, Tim,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Thanks for the lecture. I’ll be sure to put it in the suggestion box right after I file all the other things you think I should be doing better.”
“Forget it,”
he muttered, his tone curt as he turned his attention back to the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
I crossed my arms, glaring out the window as silence fell over the car.
The warmth and ease of the morning were gone, replaced by an icy tension that made the air feel heavier.
By the time we pulled up to the next call, the tension had settled in so thickly it felt like another passenger in the car.
Neither of us spoke as we stepped out and approached the scene, our usual rhythm replaced by clipped movements and short, professional exchanges.
For the rest of the shift, I kept my responses to Tim short and curt.
If he asked for status updates, I gave him the bare minimum.
If he cracked a joke to try and lighten the mood, I didn’t even spare him a glance.
It was petty, but I wasn’t ready to let it go.
I could feel his frustration growing with every brush-off.
The way his jaw clenched or the flicker of annoyance in his eyes when I avoided meeting his gaze only confirmed it.
By mid-afternoon, he stopped trying altogether, the usual back-and-forth banter between us replaced by strained silence.
Finally, during a rare quiet moment back in the car, Tim broke the silence.
His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.
“You going to keep this up all day?”
I didn’t look at him, instead staring out the windshield at the street ahead.
“I don’t know,” I said flatly.
“Are you going to stop being an ass?”
He sighed, long and heavy, the sound of someone grappling with his own frustration.
“Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Have it your way.”
But even as he said it, there was something in his tone that softened the edges of my anger.
I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, catching the faintest flicker of hurt in his expression.
It wasn’t like Tim to let things fester, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed too hard.
Still, my own stubbornness held firm, and I looked away before he could catch me staring.
The silence between us stretched on, heavier now than it had been before.
The next day arrived, and the tension between Tim and me hadn’t eased.
With us both being too stubborn to give in.
We were back at the station for our next shift, with the two of us still clearly not on speaking terms.
The air was thick with unspoken words as we went through the motions of starting our day.
Tim was focused, doing his job with the usual precision, but the distance between us was palpable.
Angela and Lucy exchanged looks as they watched the two of us, sensing that something was off.
“So,” Angela started, leaning against the counter with her coffee cup,
“what’s going on with you two? You guys usually can’t keep your hands off each other, and today—”
She gestured between us, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Nothing?”
Lucy raised an eyebrow, glancing between Tim and me.
“You two seriously not talking?”
I glanced at Tim briefly, but his attention was fixed on the paperwork in front of him.
I sighed inwardly, turning to face my friends.
“It’s just... a disagreement,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.
Angela looked unconvinced.
“A disagreement? You’ve barely looked at each other all morning. Come on, you can tell us. What happened?”
I didn’t know how to explain it.
The argument from yesterday still felt fresh, and I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.
“It’s fine,” I said, shrugging it off. “We’ll work through it.”
Lucy wasn’t convinced either, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Right, because it’s so obvious you two are just fine.”
I forced a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Now, we’ve got work to do, right?”
Tim didn’t seem to notice our conversation, too absorbed in whatever report he was reading.
I glanced at him again, feeling the weight of the silence between us.
Part of me wanted to reach out, to say something, but the other part was still too angry to make the first move.
The next few hours felt like a blur of cases and calls, my mind distracted by the unspoken words lingering between us.
At least I was scheduled to go on patrol with a rookie today, which meant I’d be away from Tim for a while.
The rookie, Aaron, seemed eager enough, though I could tell he was still finding his footing.
I was relieved, in a way, I didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of being in the same shop as Tim while we were still this... distant.
Late in the shift, the radio crackled to life, breaking the silence.
“Units 23 and 45, we have a report of a suspected robbery crew holed up in an abandoned warehouse. Multiple units responding. Proceed with caution.”
I immediately grabbed my gear, my heart rate spiking slightly.
This was serious.
Aaron, looked at me, his face a mix of excitement and nervousness.
“You ready, Officer?”
I gave him a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes.
“Just follow my lead.”
The ride over was quick, the weight of the situation settling in as we pulled up to the scene.
The warehouse loomed in front of us, abandoned and desolate, like something out of a movie.
Officers were already moving into tactical formations, their expressions tense as they communicated through earpieces.
My stomach tightened as we got out of the car, the sound of officers shouting commands echoing through the air.
We were assigned to clear the second floor of the building.
I glanced up at the stairs, the darkened interior of the warehouse giving off an eerie vibe.
My instincts kicked in, but I pushed the thoughts aside, there was work to do.
Aaron and I moved cautiously up the stairs, checking our corners as we went.
The silence was deafening, the only sound our footsteps on the dusty floor.
It was too quiet.
As we reached the top of the stairs, I motioned for Aaron to take the left side while I covered the right.
We moved slowly, staying low to the ground.
My hand hovered near the grip of my weapon, but something felt... off.
And then, a single gunshot shattered the silence.
The sound was deafening, ringing in my ears, and before I could react, pain exploded in my side.
I gasped, the force of the impact knocking me to the ground.
My breath hitched as I tried to focus, feeling the warmth of blood soaking through my uniform.
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay conscious. “Aaron…”
My voice was shaky, but I could still hear the panic in his voice as he called for backup.
But all I could focus on was the searing pain in my side and the growing sense of fear that gripped me.
At that moment my mind went blank and the last thing I could think about was... Tim
Meanwhile,
Tim was still at the precinct, sitting at his desk, his mind occupied with the usual paperwork and the hum of the station around him.
It was a rare quiet moment, one of those in-between times when the calls had slowed down, and officers were catching their breath.
He barely noticed the radio crackle to life at first.
But then, a voice came through, sharp and urgent:
"Officer down. Requesting medical assistance."
His stomach dropped.
A cold wave of dread swept over him, his breath catching in his throat.
The world around him seemed to slow as he stared at the radio.
He was trained for these moments, for the harsh reality that could hit at any moment.
But this? This felt different.
He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he looked around the bullpen. His heart was racing.
The words replayed in his head. Officer down.
The feeling of helplessness, of not knowing who hit him like a freight train.
But he had a feeling who it was, otherwise he wouldn't be reacting like this right?
"Who is it?" Tim's voice was low but desperate, laced with an emotion he wasn’t willing to admit.
The other officers in the room exchanged glances, but no one had an answer.
The station seemed to be holding its breath as everyone waited for more information.
Tim didn’t wait.
His eyes locked on his phone as it began to ring, the screen lighting up with a name he’d never wanted to see in this context: Grey.
His heart pounded harder, a sickening sense of dread seizing him.
He grabbed the phone with shaking hands, swiping it to answer.
"Grey," he said, his voice tight, barely holding it together.
There was a pause on the other end. A heavy silence.
Then, Captain Grey’s voice came through, thick with an emotion Tim couldn’t place.
“It’s Y/L/N, Tim,” Grey said, his tone grim.
“She’s been shot. They’re taking her to St. Joseph’s.”
Tim froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow.
Y/n has been hit. He couldn’t breathe.
His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one a blur of terror and disbelief.
His hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep it together.
“Tim…” Grey’s voice softened, as if he could sense the storm raging inside him.
“Get to the hospital. They’ll need you there.”
Tim didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.
He just slammed the phone down, his body already in motion, his heart racing like it might beat out of his chest.
The sound of his boots pounding against the floor was deafening in the silence of the station.
He didn’t think. He didn’t ask questions.
His mind was consumed by one thought, one single, unrelenting impulse: Get to you.
He grabbed his keys off the counter, his fingers fumbling as he rushed to the door.
He didn’t stop to grab his jacket, didn’t hesitate for a second.
His eyes were wild with panic, his breath shallow as he sprinted out of the station.
The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Every second that ticked by felt like a hundred years.
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his grip so tight it was painful.
The sirens of other emergency vehicles echoed in the distance, but they only made the dread in his chest grow deeper.
What had happened? Were you okay?
His mind raced with questions, but every time he tried to focus on the answers, the fear crept back in.
He couldn’t let himself go there, not yet.
He didn't even get to apologize, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you.
The hospital loomed ahead, its lights flashing in the early evening dusk.
Tim didn’t slow down as he pulled into the parking lot, his car screeching to a halt.
He was out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop, barely registering the cold night air as he rushed inside.
His heart was pounding in his ears, the noise around him a blur as he darted through the hospital’s hallways.
He had no idea where he was going, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get to her.
Finally, he reached the ER. The doors swung open, and he froze for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he scanned the room.
Nurses and doctors moved quickly, their expressions grim as they passed by.
"Sir," a voice called from behind him, and he turned to find one of the paramedics who had been at the scene and knew about Tim's arrival.
“She’s in surgery.”
Tim’s breath hitched, and he felt his knees go weak. Surgery.
The word felt like a punch to the gut.
“Is she…” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t want to hear the answer.
The paramedic’s eyes softened, but there was no comfort in them.
“We don't know yet, the bullet went deep making it a dangerous operation. They’re doing everything they can.”
He was out of breath, his chest tight, his mind spinning.
He couldn’t shake the image of you he created in his brain, lying on the floor of that warehouse, the pain in your eyes, he wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there to protect you.
He walked over to the waiting area, collapsing into a chair, his head in his hands.
His body felt like it was made of stone, but his mind was all fire, anger, guilt, fear, tearing him apart.
All he could do was wait. And pray.
Tim sat in the sterile, quiet hospital room, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand, his eyes fixed on your face.
The soft beeping of the machines monitoring your vitals was the only sound that filled the space, but even that felt too loud, a reminder of the fragile thread that you were hanging on.
Tim had barely been able to breathe since he’d received the call about you.
The news had come like a punch to the gut,
'Officer down.'
It was all a blur after that, the frantic rush to St. Joseph’s, the sterile scent of the emergency room, the doctors giving him no guarantees.
They weren't sure you’d make it through.
Those words had haunted him, repeating in his mind over and over, and no matter how many times he told himself you were a fighter, the fear never quite went away.
He never told you that he loved you properly that morning, never had a chance to make it right.
The argument from the day before still felt raw, and the thought of not getting the chance to apologize tore at his heart like nothing else could.
“I’m sorry, babe,” Tim whispered softly, his voice barely audible.
“I should’ve told you I loved you before. I should’ve… I should’ve been better. I’m so sorry.”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles, as if his touch could bring you back to him.
Your hand felt warm in his, but the stillness of your body only made him feel more hopeless.
What if he’d never get the chance to make it right?
What if this was the last time he’d hold your hand, the last time he’d be able to tell you how much you meant to him?
Angela and Lucy arrived not long after, their faces a mix of concern and support as they entered the room.
Tim hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked away from you.
Lucy tried to lighten the mood, cracking jokes to get him to smile, but it felt impossible.
How could he laugh when you were lying there, so close to slipping away?
She offered him a drink, trying to give him space to breathe, and as soon as she left to go down the hall, Angela stayed behind, sitting beside him in the chair.
“You know, you don’t have to do this alone,”
Angela said, her voice soft but firm, as if trying to remind him he didn’t have to carry the weight of everything by himself.
“You’ve got people who care about you.”
Tim swallowed hard, running a shaky hand through his hair.
The guilt was suffocating, and the uncertainty of what would happen to you next made his chest ache.
“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her, not after everything. The last words we said to each other… they weren’t even good ones. We fought. I fought with her, and now… now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to make it right. What if she… what if she doesn’t wake up?”
Angela reached over, gently placing a hand on his arm, her eyes full of empathy.
“Tim, she knows. She knows you love her. She knows you’d never want to hurt her.”
“I should’ve told her that,” Tim muttered, looking down at his hands, his voice thick with regret.
“I should’ve told her before. She deserves to hear that from me, not after everything's already gone wrong. What if... What if she doesn’t know how much she means to me?”
Angela squeezed his arm in reassurance.
“She does, Tim. You just have to believe that. And when she wakes up, you can tell her then. You’ve still got time to make it right.”
“I just wish I’d made more time… before all this happened,”
Tim whispered, his voice barely above a breath, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.
As the hours dragged on, Lucy came back with a drink, and the two women left, sensing that Tim needed some space.
They both exchanged a concerned glance before making their exit, but their presence, their words of support, had offered Tim a little comfort.
Still, as the door closed behind them, he was left alone in the room again with you.
His heart beat painfully in his chest, and the room felt colder now that the comforting voices of his friends were gone.
He sat back down in the chair beside your bed, his hand still holding yours as if he could keep you anchored in this world with his touch.
Then, something unexpected happened.
Your fingers twitched, and Tim's heart skipped a beat. His gaze snapped to you, not daring to blink, as he saw your eyelids flutter.
For a moment, he thought he might be imagining it, but then you blinked again, and this time, your eyes fluttered open, groggy but focused.
Tim didn’t know what to do first. He could barely breathe as he leaned closer, his hands shaking.
“Y/n?” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
His hand moved to your cheek, gently caressing it as if to make sure you were real, that this wasn’t some dream he was having.
“Baby, you’re awake?”
Your eyes met his, blurry at first, but then clearer as you seemed to recognize him.
A small, weak smile spread across your face, and Tim felt the tight knot in his chest slowly start to loosen.
“Tim?” you whispered, your voice soft, hoarse from the intubation, but still full of recognition.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he breathed out, his voice thick with emotion.
He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.
“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”
Tim called for the doctor immediately, unable to tear himself away from your side.
His heart raced as he watched you, feeling a mixture of relief and fear.
What if you didn’t make it through this?
What if you slipped away again before they could get to you?
But then the doctor arrived, checking your vitals, and gave them the good news.
You were stable. You had pulled through.
“You’re going to be okay,” the doctor said.
“You’ll need to stay here for a few days, but you’re out of the woods.”
Tim let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
He felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t felt since the moment you were shot.
You were here.
You were with him.
I let out a small chuckle, despite the pain, trying to lighten the mood.
“Thought I was in heaven when I opened my eyes and saw all these lights.”
Tim couldn’t help but laugh, his hand tightening around yours.
“Please never scare me like that ever again." He said now much more seriously, before speaking up again.
"I’m so, so sorry, babe. For the argument, for the way I talked to you, for everything.”
My smile faltered, my eyes full of vulnerability.
I reached out with my free hand, gently cupping his face.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I never should’ve let us get so angry. I love you, Tim. I just… I just want you to know that.”
“I love you too,” Tim replied, his voice shaky.
“I love you more than anything. And I promise, I’ll never let something like that happen again. I won’t take you for granted. I’ll fight for us, always.”
My voice cracked as I spoke again, tears spilling from my eyes.
“I don’t want to fight anymore, Tim. I don’t ever want us to be apart again.”
Tim kissed my hand, his lips brushing over my knuckles, the tears still flowing freely from both of us.
“I swear, babe, I’ll make it right. I’ll spend every moment from here on out showing you how much I love you.”
“No more fights. No more leaving things unsaid. Let’s never do that again.”
Tim smiled, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispered the words that had been stuck in his heart all along.
“No more fights. I promise. We’re in this together."
"Always.”
In that moment, everything felt right again.
I was alive. I was here, with Tim.
And nothing, no matter what, would ever break us apart again.
The end
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