#and she really helped me see her in a different light and now i love her

[bucketsorbueckers]

No Hard Feelings - Chapter 2

Paige x Azzi

Warnings: language, alcohol, dumb sapphics not communicating

Dual POV - 7K words

A/N: holyyy ??? thank u sm for reading the first chapter!! legit thought i was gonna post into the void so if you saw this, i’m kissing your forehead through the screen <3 next one’s longer. messier. high in yearning. sorry in advance (but also. not at all.) would love to know what you think!! little comments keep me going fr so just know i appreciate youuu 🫶

Paige POV

Paige sat on the edge of the couch, one sneaker still half-on, fingers tangled in the laces like she’d forgotten what they were for. Her head spun—half from the alcohol, half from everything else.

The room was quiet, save for the dull hum of the fridge and the yellow light over the stove casting long shadows across the floor. Her phone buzzed somewhere across the room. She didn’t check it.

She was still in the same pants Azzi had seen her in. That mattered for no good reason.

She pressed her palms to her eyes until stars bloomed behind her lids. She didn’t cry. Paige never cried. But the ache had settled deep—familiar now—and she wondered if she even remembered how. If it might help. If it might do anything at all.

She groaned and fell back into the couch, the room spinning slightly with the motion. So she closed her eyes. And that was the mistake. Because her mind didn’t go to the party, or the noise, or the laughter she hadn’t really listened to. It went where it always did: straight to Azzi.

Not the Azzi from tonight. But the Azzi who used to sit cross-legged on her bed, eating cereal out of a mug, one sock on, one sock off, looking at Paige like she wasn’t something to admire but something to keep.

If she were here, she’d be telling Paige to get water. To wash her face. To change out of her jeans. She’d braid Paige’s hair so it wouldn’t be a disaster in the morning. Probably force her to eat something.

But Azzi wasn’t here. So Paige did none of that. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for her phone. Doesn’t untie the sneaker still half-dangling from her foot.

Her mouth is dry. Her head hurts. And still, nothing feels as hollow as the space Azzi used to fill without trying.

She can still see her, clear as day: curled up at the end of the bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, twisting the drawstrings into little knots while Paige rambled about something that didn’t matter. A game. A play. A headline she hated. And Azzi would listen, always.

There was one night. Paige doesn’t remember what led to it—what they’d talked about, if anything at all. Just the way Azzi sat behind her on the floor, legs wrapped loosely around her waist, fingers moving slowly through her hair.  No music. No talking. Just touch. And the safety of being known.

And for once, Paige didn’t feel like she had to fill the silence. Azzi never asked her to be anything but there. She hadn’t realized what a luxury that was. Back then, it felt inevitable. Automatic. 

Now, silence feels different. Sharper. Meaner. Azzi would’ve known what to do with it. Would’ve filled it without trying. Would’ve made the air feel less heavy just by being in the room. But Azzi’s not here. So Paige just sinks deeper into the couch, lets the ache stretch wider across her chest, and tries not to wonder what Azzi’s doing.

If she’s curled up in that baseball player’s bed. Wearing his hoodie. Making him mac and cheese like it means nothing. Like she hasn’t done all of that before, for someone else.

And then—like punishment—a memory surfaces. 

Her bedroom. After a loss Paige had claimed like it was hers to carry—because that’s what leaders did, right? They absorbed the blame. They held it so no one else had to.

She’d sat with her knees pulled to her chest, back against the headboard, arms wrapped so tight around her legs it hurt. The room was dark. She hadn’t turned the lights on when she came in, hadn’t taken off her sneakers. Sweat clung to her skin, dried cold and uncomfortable, but she couldn’t make herself move.

The door creaked open. Azzi didn’t say anything.

She stepped in barefoot, silent, already in one of Paige’s sweatshirts—too big, the hem brushing her thighs, sleeves half-swallowed. She didn’t hesitate. Just crossed the room like she knew the floor plan of Paige’s grief.

She climbed onto the bed, moved slowly and knelt beside Paige. For a second, she didn’t touch her. Just looked. And then, gently, she reached out and cupped Paige’s arm.

“Come here,” she murmured.

Paige didn’t resist.

Azzi guided her down like she was something fragile, easing her back against the mattress until Paige was lying flat, stiff at first, eyes wide and blinking toward the ceiling.

Then Azzi lay down beside her. She pressed their bodies together, slid an arm beneath Paige’s head like a pillow, the other curling around her waist. Their legs tangled like instinct.

And she said nothing. 

Not you played fine.  Not you did everything you could. Not I’m proud of you.

She just stayed.

And Paige—who didn’t cry, who never let herself fall apart, who carried the weight of every game like it was stitched into her jersey— let herself lean in. Just a little. Just enough.

She remembered thinking: Azzi loved her even at her worst and never once asked her to be anything else.

She’d been so dumb. So fucking ungrateful for it—whatever “it” had been. She groaned as her phone buzzed again.

Dragging herself upright, she blinked at the screen. Sixty-something texts from Nika, letting her know she’d be staying elsewhere tonight. Paige gave the last one a thumbs up. No words. She didn’t have any left.

She retreated to her room like it might offer some kind of silence that would actually stick. She tried to sleep. Really tried. Stared at the ceiling. Flipped her pillow. Closed her eyes. Counted her breaths. None of it worked.

Eventually, with a sigh sharp enough to count as surrender, she reached for her phone again.

The group chat had finally calmed down. Just a few heart emojis and someone’s blurry selfie from the kitchen. Most of her teammates were probably asleep. She could’ve left it there. Should have. But her thumb kept scrolling. Down past Liv. Past Jana. Past everyone. Until she found Azzi’s name.

Her stomach twisted at the “last sent” date. Had it really been a month? She tapped into the thread. And winced. The screen was all Azzi. A wall of quiet, one-sided effort. 

Azzi: hey. just checking in.

Azzi: you left your sweatshirt in the locker room btw

Azzi: i know you’re busy. just wanted to say good luck on your exam today.

Azzi: saw you in the gym this morning. you looked tired.

Azzi: i miss you

Azzi: forget it. Sorry.

Azzi: i know we’re not really talking right now. but you’re still my best friend. that hasn’t changed.

Azzi: i’ll stop bothering you.

She stared at the final message a beat too long, then tore her eyes away.

It wasn’t like she had intentionally ignored them. She hadn’t meant to shut Azzi out. She just didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to bridge the space between who they used to be and whatever they were now.

Because the thing was, it wasn’t not knowing how she felt. That had never been the issue.

Loving Azzi had never been the problem. That part had always been easy. Natural. A constant in a world that changed too fast and asked too much. And if it had just been them—no cameras, no noise, no one else pulling—maybe things would’ve stayed simple.

Paige would’ve stayed. She knows that much. She would’ve chosen Azzi. She wouldn’t have given up. But somewhere along the way, it all got tangled. Messy. It wasn’t on purpose.

She just kept running out of space. Out of time. Too many people. Too many eyes. Always something to prove, someone to answer to. 

Azzi usually understood. She always had. She knew there was a version of Paige that didn’t belong to herself. The one in postgame interviews, in highlight reels, on social media.  She never seemed to resent it. Never made her feel guilty for the things she couldn’t control. Which is why Paige didn’t understand when it shifted. Didn’t know what changed.

The first crack happened quietly. Azzi had said something once, soft, but sharp in that way she always was when she didn’t want to start a fight but couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Sometimes, I just wish I was your first choice.”

It made her feel like a villain in a story she didn’t know she was in. Like she’d missed a moment where something shifted, and now she was paying for it without ever understanding the rules.

And from there, the fissures in their existence began to splinter. Quiet, invisible hairline fractures but there, cracking outward from the very fault line of who they were. Moments that used to feel easy began to catch. Silences stretched longer than they used to. Texts went unanswered a little too long. Jokes didn’t always land the way they once did.

Nothing big. Nothing loud. Just a slow, soft shift. And then, all at once, the space between them stopped feeling like a pause and started feeling like distance. Like something had shifted beneath them, and neither of them had the words to name it.

And Paige hadn’t asked. Hadn’t said, are we okay? Because she thought they were.

Because Azzi still braided her hair on road trips. Still sat beside her during film. Still laughed at her dumb jokes, even when they barely made sense. But there was something in her eyes that had started to fade. Some warmth that flickered a little too low.

And now Paige couldn’t stop thinking about it, how Azzi had kept showing up, softer and softer, until eventually, she disappeared entirely. 

Her phone buzzed again on the pillow beside her. Not Azzi. It never was anymore. She blinked away the sharp-edged memories and looked back at her phone. Her thumbs hovered over the screen, the thread still open—Azzi’s name at the top.

She typed:

i miss you too.

Stared at it. Deleted it. Typed again:

are you still up?

Backspaced. Studied the rhythm of the blinking cursor. She sat there a moment longer, the silence pressing in from every side, the ache spreading like a bruise she didn’t want to touch.

Then she tried again. Slower this time.

i don’t know how to do this. 

She stared at the words like they might rearrange themselves into something braver. Then she deleted them too and turned off her phone. Because reaching out meant admitting something had broken. And Paige wasn’t ready to know if it couldn’t be fixed.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡⌦ .｡.:*♡❁۪۪ ཻུ♡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

The sun filtered through her half-closed blinds too early, nearly cracking her skull in two. Paige groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes like that might block out the damage. Her head pounded. Her mouth tasted like shitty vodka.

She didn’t remember falling asleep. Didn’t remember turning off her phone. But it was there on the nightstand, face-down like she’d been trying to forget something. She stared at it for a long time before reaching.

Just one swipe. Just a glance. Azzi hadn’t texted. Paige let the phone fall back against the sheets and rolled onto her side, eyes squeezed shut.

Last night clawed at the edges of her memory. Blurry, uneven, softened by too much cheap liquor and not enough food. There’d been laughter, music, the low hum of voices bleeding together. But even through the haze, she remembered those moments.

Azzi looking at her. And then not. Azzi’s skin brushing up against hers in the photo—too warm, too familiar. Azzi glancing sideways, just for a second, before pretending she hadn’t. Azzi. Everywhere. All at once. And also not at all.

In the room. In her mind. In the silence of a phone that hadn’t lit up all night. Haunting her in the softest, sharpest ways.

Paige sat up, her joints stiff, mouth still dry, heart beating just a little too loud for how early it was. She didn’t bother with a text. Or a real breakfast. Just pulled on yesterday’s hoodie, tied her sneakers, and grabbed her keys like muscle memory had taken over.

The world outside was too bright, too loud. The sky an offensive kind of blue. But the gym– the gym was still dark when she walked in. Still cold. Still quiet.

Just the echo of her footsteps and the soft hum of overhead lights flickering on.

She liked it better this way. Before the noise. Before the crowds. 

She set a ball down at half court, took a breath, and started to shoot. One after another. Each shot a little too hard. A little too fast. Each one missing just slightly left.

She kept going. Kept moving. Sweat beading at her hairline like she could outrun the night before. Sweat it out, burn it off, leave it behind. As if sheer effort could scrub her thoughts clean of brown eyes and perfect curls. And that damn look in the photo.

“You’re a freak.” Paige stopped the ball with her foot, chest still rising and falling, and turned to find Nika leaning against the wall like she hadn’t just caught her in the middle of a silent spiral.“I fed you enough alcohol to give you a three-day hangover.”

Paige grinned. “Some of us are just built different, I guess.”

Nika rolled her eyes and strolled to the middle of the court. She sat down, legs stretched out in front of her, and watched as Paige kept shooting—thud after thud echoing through the empty gym.

Then came the throat-clearing.

Once. Twice. Three times. Paige exhaled hard, let the ball roll to a stop, and dropped down beside her.

“How nice of you to join me,” Nika said sweetly, not looking at her.

Paige shook her head, eyes drifting toward the championship banners swaying faintly in the rafters. Nika didn’t hesitate.

“You text her?”

“What?” Paige muttered.  “Who?”

Nika scoffed, waving her off. “I’m way too hungover to play this game with you.” She turned to face her now, voice flat. “Last night—when I walked your wobbly ass home—you said, and I quote, ‘I’m gonna text Azzi and fix all of this.’”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She picked at the edge of her sock, eyes still fixed on the rafters like they held better questions.

“I thought about it,” she said finally, quiet.

“Would call that progress for progress’s sake,” Nika muttered, “but I’m not a liar.” She exhaled, slow. “It’s been a month, P.”

Paige shrugged. “I thought we were doing an okay job with it. The team doesn’t seem to notice.”

Nika groaned, but this time it was softer. Less theatrical.

“Paige,” she said, quieter now. “Not everything is about the team.” She paused, studying her. “You’re not doing well. You think we don’t notice, but we do.” Paige didn’t move.“You’re quieter. You’re in the gym at all hours. You barely talk unless it’s about basketball.”

“I’m just… focused,” Paige muttered. “With the season coming up.”

Nika frowned, gentle but sure.

“I know I’m not Azzi,” she said, “but you don’t have to lie to me.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. She didn’t look at her. The silence stretched, filled only by the hum of the gym lights overhead. Then, so quiet it almost wasn’t there:

“I don’t know what to say, Nika.” She exhaled shakily, like the truth hurt to hold. “I’m scared that if I say it out loud—if I admit she walked away—then that means she’s really gone.” Her throat tightened. “And I don’t know how to live with that. I don’t think I can.”

Beside her, Nika swallowed, then shifted closer—close enough for their knees to touch, for the silence to feel less overwhelming. She wrapped her arms around Paige and tugged her in, firm but gentle. Like she wasn’t going to let her fall apart alone.

“It’s Azzi, P,” she murmured.“You and her—you're not just some on-again, off-again thing. You’re Paige and Azzi. That’s been a fact as long as I can remember. Even now, when everything’s messy and sideways, that doesn’t just disappear. You’re not cut off. Just out of sync. That’s not the same as losing her.”

Paige, in a rare moment of surrender, let herself lean in and buried her face in Nika’s shoulder like she could hide from the truth inside it.

“Then why,” she whispered, voice splintering, “does it fucking feel like I have?”

Nika didn’t answer right away. She just held her tighter, arms secure around her like she wasn’t going to let her fall any further. 

“Because you love her.” She felt Paige stiffen just slightly, like the words landed somewhere too deep. “That’s why it hurts like this,” Nika added, voice gentler now. “Because it’s real. And because it’s her.”

Paige didn’t have the energy to argue. Because Nika was right.

She loved Azzi. Not in the loud, all-consuming way people always talked about. Not fireworks or grand gestures.  It was quieter than that. Slower.

The kind of love that snuck in when she wasn’t looking and made itself at home. The kind that curled up in the passenger seat on long road trips and pressed in close after late-night losses. The kind that didn’t demand attention, didn’t ask to be named because it was already stitched into everything.

She loved her in the way her body remembered, in the pause before a joke, in the instinct to reach for her hand without thinking. In the way she looked for her in every room before realizing she wasn't there.

Azzi was the quiet in the chaos. The place her soul went to rest. The thing that ever felt like hers, even when nothing else did. 

And maybe that was the problem. Because when you love someone like that—so completely, so unconditionally—you start to believe they’re part of you.

You forget they’re allowed to leave. You forget they don’t have to stay. Even if you would’ve. 

Azzi POV

Azzi woke up slow.

The sun filtered through the blinds, soft and gold, warming the edge of her pillow. The weight of the blanket pressed gently over her shoulders, and the mattress dipped slightly behind her. Someone was beside her. Still half-asleep, Azzi smiled.

She didn’t open her eyes. Just breathed in and let herself sink closer—muscle memory guiding her, like it always had. The shape was right. The warmth. The way their knee bumped gently against hers. For half a second, she thought, Paige.

She hummed, content, pressing herself into the comfort like it might last.

“No time for snuggles,” someone muttered. “I’m hungry.”

Azzi’s eyes flew open to find Caroline. Her best friend is lying on her side, scrolling through her phone like she didn’t just shatter a perfectly good morning.

Azzi groans. “Why are you in my bed?”

“You fell asleep on mine. You stole my blanket. I followed my blanket.”

Azzi buries her face in the pillow. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am. A gift.”

Caroline sits up and stretches, already tossing the blankets back with no regard for Azzi’s fragile morning peace.

“You promised me breakfast,” she says. “Don’t think I won’t hold you to it.”

Caroline jumps off the bed, heading towards the door. 

“Five minutes or I’m leaving without you,” she called over her shoulder, already halfway to the kitchen. “And I swear I’ll eat your leftovers out of spite.”

The door clicked shut. And just like that, the space beside Azzi was empty again. She didn’t move. Just stared at the mattress, the faint dent where someone had been.

It wasn’t the same shape. Wasn’t the same warmth. But for a second, she’d believed it.

For a second, her body had reached for something it used to know by heart. She curled her fingers into the sheets, pressed her face into the pillow like it might still smell like her. Like Paige.

It didn’t.

She kicked the covers off and swung her legs over the side of the bed like she could shake it all loose. Moved too fast for a Sunday morning, pulling on jeans, shoving her arms through an old hoodie, twisting her curls into a bun without so much as a glance in the mirror.

She didn’t check her phone. Didn’t need to. She already knew Paige hadn’t texted.

By the time she stepped outside, Caroline was already on the sidewalk, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, looking annoyingly well-rested for someone who’d hijacked Azzi’s bed.

She held out the cup with a little smile. “You always forget your caffeine when you’re in a mood. You know the student centers is terrible.”

Azzi took it without arguing. They started down the block in silence, the morning quiet except for the soft scuff of their sneakers on the pavement. After a while, Caroline glanced over.

“You okay?”

Azzi shrugged, eyes on the sidewalk. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Caroline didn’t call her out. Didn’t push. She just nodded like she believed her. Or at least understood why she didn’t want to talk about it.

Then, gently: 

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

Azzi didn’t reply. But her fingers curled tighter around the coffee cup. And Caroline didn’t say anything else.

The student café was warm and buzzing, sunlight pooling across the tiled floors and clattering dishes. The line moved slow, but Azzi didn’t mind. She liked places like this—too loud to think, too small to fall apart in.

Caroline pointed to a table in the back while Azzi ordered for both of them, and by the time she slid into the booth, Caroline already had her phone out and a croissant torn in half between them. Cam arrived a few minutes later, all easy charm and windblown hair. 

“You two look like you’re recovering from something,” Cam said, sliding into the seat across from Azzi.

Caroline didn’t look up from her phone. Just gestured lazily in Azzi’s direction. “She is.”

Cam raised a brow but didn’t push. Just slid a pastry toward her like it might solve something. Azzi offered a grateful smile.

Caroline didn’t dislike Cam. She just didn’t buy the whole “he’s good for me” campaign Azzi had been running lately.

I can tell you’re not happy, she’d said one night. Azzi had shut it down before it could bloom into something messier. Because she needed Cam. Needed the steadiness, the ease, the way he never asked for more than she offered.

He was warm. Present. Simple. A safe place to land after limping her way across the scorched battlefield that was being touched—then abandoned—by Paige Bueckers.

It had been almost two weeks. And Cam really was a good guy. She figured if she told herself that enough, one day, it might matter. 

They made small talk. Caroline filled the silence. Cam laughed at something she said. Azzi tried to stay tethered to the moment, to the clink of forks and the smell of coffee and the way Cam looked at her like she was still whole.

Jana appeared halfway through the conversation, sliding into the booth beside Caroline with a groan and a dramatic yawn.

“I know,” She says. “The coffee is shit but I’m desperate.”

They all laughed. Even Azzi.  She was halfway through a sentence when the bell over the café door chimed again. Caroline stilled across from her. Eyes tracking the door.

“Shit,” she murmured, just loud enough for Azzi to hear.

Azzi didn’t have to look. Not at first. She didn’t need to. Some people enter a room quietly. Some crash. Paige didn’t do either. She just shifted the gravity.

Azzi’s spine straightened. Her breath caught. Something deep in her chest tightened—like muscle memory reawakening after too long asleep.  And when she finally let herself look toward the door, she nearly flinched. There was Paige. Framed in the doorway like the morning light didn’t quite know how to hold her.

Hair still damp, hoodie too big, sleeves shoved past her wrists like she’d gotten dressed without thinking. Like maybe she hadn’t slept. She looked like something Azzi had dreamed about too many times to admit.

Across from her, Cam glanced toward the door.

“Is that Paige?” he asked, voice quiet, almost casual.

Caroline didn’t look up. “Yup.”

Cam nodded, eyes following her for a beat too long. “Weird,” he murmured. “Being that recognizable. Having people clock you everywhere.” He shook his head a little. “I don’t think I’d know how to be normal.”

Azzi didn’t answer right away.

“She doesn’t really get to be,” she said finally. 

Cam didn’t respond, still watching. Just for a second. And that’s when Azzi saw it. Not awe, exactly but something adjacent. That flicker of recognition. That quiet pull. The same look she’d seen a hundred times in other people. On sidewalks. At games. In locker rooms and airports and campus dining halls. The look that said: That’s her.

Azzi had memorized it since they were sixteen. It was always the same…like the air shifted when Paige walked through it. Like something about her demanded to be noticed, even when she wasn’t trying. Especially then. She just had that effect on people. Impossible to ignore. Impossible not to want. 

And Azzi had spent years pretending she was the only person in the world immune to it. But she wasn’t. Not really.

Because she understood the awe. She understood the pull. The quiet hunger to know Paige. To unravel her. To be the exception in a world full of admirers. Azzi had felt it too. Still felt it, low and constant in her stomach. Sharp. Stupid. Unrelenting.

Loving Paige hadn’t protected her from wanting her. It had only taught her how impossible it was to ever truly have her.

And now she was here—walking past them, coffee in hand, eyes fixed on her phone like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Azzi caught her in the blur of her peripheral vision—still didn’t look, not really—until Jana’s voice cut through the quiet:

“Paigey! Don’t be rude. Say hi.”

Azzi stiffened. Caroline froze mid-sip. Paige paused. She didn’t look up right away. Just tapped once more on her screen, like she was taking care of something important. Then, finally, she lifted her gaze.

“Hey,” she said, quiet but pointed. Her gaze swept across the table, barely grazing Azzi, landing instead on the boy beside her.

Cam straightened, offering a hand. “I’m Cam.”

Paige looked at it for a moment too long before shaking it once.

“So I’ve heard,” She said. “Paige. Nice to meet you.”

But it wasn’t. Not really. Not for anyone at the table.

Paige didn’t sit. She didn’t even shift her weight like she might. Just stood there, coffee in hand, gaze flicking back to her phone like she was already halfway out the door.

Cam cleared his throat, trying to recover. “You hit the gym this morning?”

Paige nodded once. “Early workout.”

“Respect,” he said, with a small laugh. “I can barely get myself out of bed before ten.”

She didn’t laugh. Didn’t even pretend to. Azzi hadn’t moved. She was still staring at the spot just past Paige’s shoulder, like if she looked directly at her, she might combust.

“Are you going to sit down?” Jana asked, proving once again her innate ability to never sense the tension.

Paige’s lips twitched, not a smile, but something close to it. Tired.

“I actually can’t stay,” she said, eyes shifting to her phone. “Meetings.”

“Oh yes, our very own superstar,” Jana teased. “What endorsement are we chatting about today? Gatorade? Nike? Can you get me new shoes?”

That actually made Paige laugh. Short and real and gone too fast.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Paige lingered just a second longer, thumb tapping the edge of her coffee cup. Then, like it was nothing, she held out a small brown bag to Azzi.

“They had the cherry thing today,” she said, not quite meeting her eyes. “You always miss it.”

Azzi froze.

Jana blinked. “The cherry tart? I literally just asked and they told me they were out.”

Paige shrugged, “Guess they just think I’m special.”

She set the bag on the table in front of Azzi, casual as anything. Then turned, already stepping back.

“I’ll see you guys at practice.”

The door chimed behind her. And Azzi still hadn’t moved.

Jana sighed dramatically, breaking the silence. “Must be nice being Paige Bueckers. A god among mortals.” 

Cam chuckled, reaching for levity like it could stitch the moment back together. He slid an arm around Azzi’s shoulders.

“You alright?” he asked softly.

Azzi’s throat bobbed. Her eyes drifted from the untouched pastry bag to Caroline, who was already watching her. Not curious. Not surprised. Just steady. Soft in that way Caroline always was when she already knew the answer. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Her gaze said it all: You thought she wasn’t looking. But she was.

Azzi swallowed again, the ache rising higher now. Cam’s arm was still draped over her shoulders, his thumb brushing back and forth—like comfort could be that simple. But it wasn’t.

It was too much. Too close. Too easy. And somehow still not even close to what she needed.

Her skin buzzed with it. This gentle, well-meaning touch that felt like the wrong language spoken fluently. Carefully, she shifted out from under it.

“I need to make a call,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Then she stood, the pastry still untouched on the table, and stepped out into the morning light.

When the fresh air hit her lungs, Azzi sucked in a sharp breath, like she could force the panic back into place. But it didn’t work. Because across the street, Paige was still there. Still lingering.

Hands in her pockets, eyes half-lowered, like she was waiting for someone. Their eyes met. Paige tilted her head. Observant. Measured. Like she was trying to read something in Azzi’s face she no longer had permission to name.

And something hot surged up in Azzi’s chest. Not heartbreak. Not quite. Anger. Sharp and clean and useful. It almost felt good because it had an edge. Because it gave her something to hold. The urge to move buzzed in her limbs. To cross the street. To do something. To shove her hands against Paige’s chest and say you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to show up and act like you still see me. Still know me. Still care.

She imagined saying, I’m not yours to be generous with anymore.

But she didn’t move. Not an inch. She just stood there. And across the street, Paige didn’t either. For a few suspended seconds, they just existed. Two people who used to share a world. Now standing on opposite sides of it.

And despite everything, Azzi let herself think about it. Let herself remember who Paige had been once. Not to the world, not to the cameras or the crowds or the girls who lined up to take pictures after games but her Paige. 

The one who always found her first in a room, no matter how loud it was. Who could spot her from across a court full of chaos and send a look that said, You okay? without ever saying a word.

The one who unraveled quietly in her dorm room. Kicking off her shoes, hoodie tugged over her head, lying backwards across Azzi’s bed with her legs dangling off the side, eyes closed like the silence was the only thing keeping her together.The one who said I’m tired only to Azzi because she didn’t trust the world to know she wasn’t always strong.

The one who touched her like the world wasn’t watching because when it was just them, it never felt like it was. Fingers brushing her wrist under the dinner table. Knees knocking together during film. A hand lingering at the small of her back as they wove through post-game crowds.

Paige had never been soft for many people. She couldn’t be. But with Azzi—god, with Azzi, the edges always fell away. Her voice would go quieter. Her gaze would linger longer. She’d lean her head on Azzi’s shoulder like it was second nature, like she forgot she wasn’t supposed to need anyone.

She’d reserved that softness like it was something sacred. A secret Azzi never had to ask for, because it was just… offered. Freely. Quietly.

And Azzi—foolishly, selfishly, with both hands and her whole heart—had believed it would always be hers.

Because when Paige looked at her like that, all edges gone, all pretense stripped away, it felt like forever. But maybe it never was. Maybe Paige had just been handing her borrowed things. Little pieces of gentleness, of trust, of a love too soft for the world to see and Azzi mistook them for promises. 

Maybe she’d been holding something that was only ever meant to pass through her fingers. And now, standing in the echo of that quiet, Azzi couldn’t stop wondering:

What if the most devastating part of loving Paige Bueckers was never losing her but realizing she was never really hers to begin with?

Paige’s POV

Practice was hell. Sweat-drenched, leg-aching, breath-in-her-throat hell.

Season was approaching and Geno was one bad pass away from a full-scale meltdown. Paige wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and narrowed her focus.

Ball. Feet. Breath. Because basketball—basketball still made sense.

It was the one place she could still breathe without thinking. The one place where everything stayed exactly where it was supposed to be. Even now. Even after.

Across the court, Azzi moved like a second heartbeat. They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Azzi cut left, and Paige was already pivoting. A no-look pass, seamless and clean. A catch in stride. A shot. Net. They didn’t miss a beat. Not one.

Their bodies remembered: the rhythm, the weight, the pull of each other’s gravity. It was muscle memory. It was chemistry. It was grief, dressed up in a perfect assist.

Paige wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She was a professional, first and always.The game came first. The team came first. So mostly, she was grateful. Grateful that whatever had splintered between them hadn’t followed them here…that on the court, they still fit. Still moved like they were breathing the same air.

But there was still that ache. A pinprick under her ribs that she couldn’t shake. 

The damning knowledge that she could still find Azzi in motion. Still trust her without hesitation, without a word. But once the buzzer went off, once the world came rushing back in, she didn’t know how to reach her anymore. Didn’t know where to stand. Didn’t know if she was still welcome.

Geno’s whistle cut through the air, sharp and final, knocking her out of the thought. Practice was over. Just like that. And all at once, the noise returned, sneakers squeaking, water bottles snapping open, the hum of voices rising back into the space she’d carved out for silence.

Paige blinked, wiped her face with the hem of her shirt, and told herself to move.

But everything felt off—like the world was half a step ahead of her, and she couldn’t quite catch up. She moved slowly through the locker room. Slow to pack her bag. Slow to drift toward a conversation she would’ve once led without thinking. Like her body remembered how to be there, but not how to belong.

Her eyes flicked around the room, not looking for anything, until they landed on Caroline. Who was already watching her.

Caroline: Azzi’s best friend. Loyal, soft-spoken, sharper than she let on.

Paige had no idea what she knew. If Azzi had ever told her. If she’d shared any of it…them. Or if Paige had just been erased from the story.

She felt the thought creep in, uninvited and sharp: Maybe Azzi was embarrassed. Embarrassed that it had happened. 

They held eye contact for one suspended second. Not hostile.  Not soft. Just long enough for something to pass between them—something Paige couldn’t name. Then Caroline looked away. And so did she.

Eventually, Paige tugged her bag over her shoulder. The locker room had long since emptied out, and for a moment, she let the silence linger like it might settle something inside her. It didn’t. She stepped out into the hallway, footsteps echoing down the linoleum.

Outside, the sun had already dipped past the horizon, leaving campus washed in a dusky, dull glow. She shoved the door open and stepped into the chill, her body flinching instinctively against the wind. Her phone buzzed. She glanced down. Some email from her agent about scheduling. She didn’t read it, not really.

But then she felt it. Not a sound. Not a movement. Just a shift. The air changed. Like something important had entered the space. A whiff of vanilla. Her head snapped up. 

Azzi stood a few feet away, haloed by the dim orange spill of the streetlamp. Hoodie sleeves swallowed her hands. Curls tied up in a way that made Paige’s ribcage feel too tight for her lungs.

She looked like a memory Paige wasn’t allowed to touch anymore.

Azzi’s head turned then, like she’d felt Paige’s stare tugging at her spine. For a second, Paige braced for her to walk away. She looked like someone on the edge of it. But she didn’t.

“You’re leaving late,” Azzi said, voice soft.

Paige shrugged, because that’s what she did when she had too many feelings and no idea where to put them. “Didn’t really have anywhere to be.”

Azzi nodded, gaze drifting to the parking lot behind them like she was trying to pretend this was normal.

“Your shots looked good today.”

Paige rubbed the back of her neck, shifting her weight. Her body couldn’t take stillness in moments like this.

“Thanks,” she said, barely. “Yours too.”

Azzi smiled, if you could call it that. It didn’t reach anything. Polite and close lipped. 

“Thanks.”

And that was it.

But Paige could feel the words rising anyway, pressing against her throat like they might claw their way out if she didn’t let them. The messy ones. The ones she’d swallowed whole every day since Azzi left. Apologies that didn’t have a shape yet. Questions she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to. Explanations that felt like too much but not enough.  Anything to pull Azzi closer.  Even just an inch.  Even just long enough to believe that gravity hadn’t let go of them completely.

Paige had never been the kind of girl who begged. She worked. She pushed. She earned. But pleading? That was foreign. That was weakness.

And yet—For Azzi, she would.

She would get on her hands and knees. Crawl across the asphalt if that’s what it took. She would press her forehead to the ground like it was holy. Like this was devotion. Like her humiliation could be translated into worth. 

She’d offer it all: every last bit of pride she hadn’t already chipped away. The ache in her chest that hadn’t stopped since Azzi stopped being hers. The soft, aching pieces of her that still pulsed like an old bruise she kept pressing on, just to check if it still hurt.

(It did. It always did.)

She’d lay herself bare in that quiet, ugly way—the kind of vulnerability that doesn’t transform you or teach you a lesson. It just leaves you exposed. Skin peeled back. Chest split wide.

If there was even the faintest chance that Azzi might look at her and think, Maybe she’s worth it. Even if she never said it.  Even if she just stood there in the dark, hoodie sleeves swallowing her hands, eyes flicking somewhere far away like Paige was too much to look at directly.

Paige would still do it.

Because that’s what you do when someone’s name lives in your mouth like a secret. You ruin yourself for the chance that they might whisper it back.

Azzi was still watching her—closely, unbearably—and Paige felt the sting behind her eyes before she could stop it. That helpless, traitorous burn.

“Azzi,” she said. Barely. A whisper shaped like a sob, like a plea she didn’t know how to finish.

And then headlights cut through the quiet.

A car Paige didn’t recognize pulled into the lot behind them, flooding the space with too much light. And without thinking, she stepped closer to Azzi. Instinctive. Stupid. Like her body still hadn’t gotten the memo that they weren’t them anymore. That Azzi didn’t need her like that.

But Azzi didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just turned like she already knew. Like some part of her had been waiting.

“Babe!” The word hit like a slap, soft and smiling. Cam leaned out the window, eyes finding Azzi first. Like she was his to look at. “Sorry I’m late. Practice ran over.”

Then his gaze shifted. Landed on Paige. And lingered. On their closeness. The silence that hadn’t quite scattered yet.

“Oh,” he added, a beat too light. “Hey, Paige. Sorry—did I interrupt something?”

Paige rolled her shoulders back, spine straightening. She inhaled like she could breathe the ache out of her body, make her voice clear again.

“Nothing important,” she said, cool and sharp around the edges. The kind of cool that cost her something.

And she swore, for just a second, something flickered in Azzi’s eyes. But Paige had lost her map to Azzi Fudd, and now every look felt like a dead language. Beautiful. Incomprehensible.

Azzi blinked, gaze steady. “Were you going to say something?”

Paige’s throat burned. She swallowed hard. “Nah. Don’t keep your boyfriend waiting.”

Azzi’s eyes widened, startled. “He’s not—”

“See you later.”

It came out too fast, too final. But she didn’t take it back. Didn’t wait for the explanation. Just turned, walking away before her knees could betray her. Before she did something stupid. Like stay.

[twentyonetornmyheart]

Past the Darkness, There was Us

Yelena x Fem! Plus Size Reader

Word count: 3,681

Genre: angst, fluff

Summary: You waited like you always do.But this time, the dark came first.And somehow—through all the wreckage—you both still found your way back.

Warning:PTSD, dissociation, childhood trauma, emotional abuse, self-harm ideation, bullying, fatphobia, panic attacks, body image issues, alcohol abuse (mentioned), parental abuse (verbal and implied physical), Red Room trauma, recovery/healing themes

AN: Hey again! I wanted to write something for Thunderbolts because this movie really hit me—it was so emotional and powerful. This fic follows the same general plot, but I definitely added my own spin.

And I know it says plus-size reader, so I want to say this again:

there aren’t a lot of fanfics that center plus-size characters, and I always want to write stories for those of us who want to see ourselves in them. I know it’s not for everyone, but if it is for you—I hope it means something.

I’m still pretty new to writing, so I truly appreciate feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

You didn’t realize what was happening—it all felt so sudden, so utterly unplanned. You weren’t prepared for what was to come.

At that moment, you were sitting at home, curled on the couch, waiting for Yelena to return from her mission.

Lately, she had thrown herself into work like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Days would pass with no contact, and then she’d walk through the front door like a ghost—here, but not really. Her body, a mere shell drifting through this world, her mind somewhere far from here. When she was home, her presence was mechanical—a routine she performed out of muscle memory.

“Hey, baby. How are you? How was your day? I missed you too. Uh huh. Food smells good.”

The words were automatic, shallow echoes of what they used to mean. A kiss on the cheek, a brief squeeze around your supple waist—and then she’d vanish into the home office. Gone for hours.

You’d find her slumped in the chair, half an empty bottle of vodka dangling from her fingers, her expression vacant. You had always known when she left. Her face would become a blank slate, unable to form any emotion. It was almost as if the light in her eyes had dimmed to complete darkness. You’d whisper her name into the room, hoping to pull her out of this catatonic-like state. But no matter your efforts, it was no use. It was as if the Yelena you loved had been swallowed whole by silence.

It killed you to see her like this. Shattered your heart into unmanageable pieces.

You wanted to help. To mend it. To bring her back to herself. But you knew how she was—push too hard, and she’d retreat even further. You were left with no choice but to adapt. You had to teach yourself how to care without pressing. You’d gather the bottles without a word. Kneel to take off her boots. Guide her to bed with gentle, loving hands. You’d carefully use a warm washcloth to rid her face of any dirt or sweat. You’d press your lips softly to her forehead, leave gentle kisses, and run your fingers through her golden tresses with delicate care—hoping she could feel it through the fog.

You missed the way she used to laugh. The way she filled a room with her chaotic, radiant energy. Now, she barely spoke. Barely looked at you.

But still, you stayed.

You weren’t going to leave her—not at her lowest.

T This mission, though… this one felt different.

You remembered the day she told you about it. Something in her eyes—soft, hopeful—had flickered back to life. You could see the light slowly return to her gaze, like she believed in something again.

“This’ll be the last one,” she’d said. “When I come back, everything’s going to change.”

She meant it. You could feel it in your bones, in the quiet certainty of her spirit.

You had held her face in your hands so softly, as if holding too tightly might make her crumble, and whispered, “No matter what happens, I’ll be right here. Waiting for you to come home.”

She had wrapped her smaller, athletic frame around your plush one, squeezing you close, as if trying to remember exactly how you felt against her. As if she was grounding herself in the softness of your body.

But that day hadn’t come yet.

Three days had passed.

No calls. No texts. No heavy footsteps echoing in the hall.

You tried calling Alexei—only to be met with his ridiculous voicemail about his limo business. Your brain was too wired to let you sleep. Your stomach too nauseous to let you eat. You just sat, phone in hand, watching the news like it might somehow save you from your spiraling thoughts.

Like a church in the dark hours before morning, everything was still…

Until it wasn’t.

A breaking report: a massive explosion in the desert. Something had fallen from the sky. A crater had been left behind—immense, smoking, unnatural.

Your heart dropped. You could feel it thudding against the curve of your belly.

You didn’t want to believe it was connected. You tried to come up with every reason imaginable to convince yourself it had nothing to do with the love of your life. But your mind wouldn’t stop racing.

Then it came—the darkness.

It spread across the sky like spilled ink over a bright white canvas, stretching over the city—thick, black, and endless. You stood frozen in your apartment, convinced it would pass you by. That your walls would hold it off.

But they didn’t.

It seeped in through the windows. It bled through the walls. You could feel it breathing against your skin.

You ran.

Out the door, into the hall. But the darkness followed. It curled around you, pulled you under—

And then you were gone.

⸻

Suddenly, you were in your childhood bedroom. You had no recollection of falling asleep or passing out, your brain so confused on how you returned to this place.

The faded green floral wallpaper. The pink bedspread still lined with stuffed animals. Your bookshelf—filled with old, worn stories you used to disappear into.

While you were still puzzled about how you came to be here, it all looked innocent. Sweet, even. As if you were in one of the safer places, compared to others.

Until you saw the girl.

Dark, coily curls crowned the top of her head, delicate and untamed. Her thick, tender cheeks—meant for holding laughter and light—were streaked with warm, salty tears instead of the bright, carefree smile a child should wear.

She sat crouched by your dresser, small and trembling, as if she were trying to retreat into her own skin.

You took a step toward her—

And the door rattled. It was as if the walls around you started to shift, to vibrate.

Fists slammed against it. A voice screamed through the hinges.

“Y/N! OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!”

Your father.

You hadn’t heard his voice in years. You’d tried to forget it. Tried to erase the memories, or push them deep, deep down—as if the things that happened to you in your childhood had never happened.

But they were back now, sinking their claws in deep, clawing their way to the surface, leaving behind angry trails of red—raw and burning.

You knew this day. You remembered what was to come.

The sobbing child on the floor—you.

Tears continued to soak her cheeks. Her hands shook as she clutched a small blade, raising it to her thick thigh.

You remembered the day it hit you—really hit you—that there was no way out of the hell inside your own home. No saving grace. No hero at the door. Just you. And the noise. The chaos. You couldn’t stop the yelling, couldn’t dodge every hit, couldn’t make yourself small enough to disappear. So you did the only thing you could: you learned how to forget. You trained your mind to slip away, to tune out the shouting and the slamming doors. To float above it all like it wasn’t happening to you.

Because somehow, the bruises faded faster than the words.

And physical pain? That was easier.

That, at least, made sense.

You ran to her, dropping to your knees.

“Don’t do it, sweetheart. It gets better, I promise you. This isn’t the way.”

You begged her like your life depended on it—because in some ways, it did. You wanted so desperately for your younger self to believe it. To understand that this wasn’t the answer. That hurting yourself wouldn’t fix the hurt they caused. That even though the sting of physical pain might feel like relief in the moment, it would never ease the weight of the emotional scars buried beneath it.

She looked at you with hollow eyes—so much like Yelena’s sometimes—eyes with no light left in them, only darkness.

“It’s the only way. I can’t do this anymore. It’s too late.”

You reached for the blade—

But something grabbed you.

Hands—cold and unseen—wrapped around your wrists, yanked them back, and tied you to the bedposts. Splintered wood dug into your skin, holding you there as you thrashed, screaming.

“STOP! PLEASE! DON’T!”

You screamed through tears, kicked at the floor, clawed at anything that might make it stop.

And somehow—by some miracle—you broke free from the bindings.

⸻

You stumbled into the closet, desperate to escape the nightmare—but instead of solid ground, there was nothing. Just air. And then you were falling, fast and hard, like the floor had vanished right out from under you.

And you landed on freezing tile.

You looked up.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead at an annoying pitch. Wet, broken tile beneath you. You heard it before you saw it—eerie laughter echoing all around.

You started to recall more memories from your adolescence—your middle school gym locker room.

You turned and saw the group of girls—around twelve or thirteen—gathered in a circle, laughing cruelly.

You stood on shaking legs, your body already remembering what your mind begged to forget. You knew what was coming—had seen it before—but nothing could prepare you to face it again. Not like this.

They parted. And there she was again.

You.

You at the age of twelve, noticeably bigger than the rest of your classmates, your face once again blank of emotion.

You were lying on the floor, surrounded by shredded clothes. Barely breathing.

The humiliation burned like acid in your chest.

You remembered the whispers. The stares. The way they laughed at your body. Called you names. Said you needed motivation. Said if you had nothing to wear, maybe you’d lose the excess weight.

Willing your legs to move, you walked toward your younger self as the sea of girls parted for you. You knelt beside her.

Her eyes were glassy, tear-streaked. Her face blank. You softly laid your hand on her shoulder in quiet comfort, trying to be as calming and supportive as you possibly could.

Silence suddenly fell—a stark contrast to the loud cackling that had filled the room.

The group of girls surrounded you both, forming a wall of shadows.

You stood. Shaking. But unflinching.

You were not backing down. You were tired of giving in, tired of not fighting back. You were done letting others make these decisions for you.

They lunged.

Hands in your hair. Fingernails on your arms. Screams in your ears.

You fought your hardest—kicking, punching, tearing them away from you, lashing out as strong as your body would let you. But still, they overpowered you.

Ten girls pinned your limbs to the shower wall, stopping you from defending yourself—keeping you from fighting back.

You screamed for help until your throat felt shredded, raw like it was bleeding from the inside. Your lungs burned with every gasp, like you were breathing in smoke. And your heart pounded so hard it felt like a war drum echoing in your chest.

But no one came.

⸻

You were too busy fighting for your life—you didn’t notice someone else had entered the scene.

A thunderous boom shook the walls. More broken tile and debris flew through the air, creating a cloud of white dust. A figure charged through the smoke—fierce, focused, furious.

You couldn’t see what was happening, but they moved like a force of nature, knocking the girls away one by one.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t stand. Your body had completely shut down. You were curled on the floor, vision swimming, breath stolen.

You wanted to go home. You wanted it to stop.

It hit like a shadow swallowing the room. Your chest locked up, every breath clawing its way out like it didn’t belong there. The air felt thick, poisonous—like you were inhaling smoke or drowning in silence. Your vision warped, edges pulsing and closing in. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, like something had crawled beneath your skin. Your heart thrashed against your ribs like it was trying to break free.

And worst of all—you weren’t sure if you were dying, or just losing your mind.

Either way, it felt like the end.

And then—you were being held.

Wrapped tightly in strong arms—unyielding as vibranium—your body was pressed against warmth, something achingly familiar, like home you’d forgotten you had. The scent of metal and cedar curled into your lungs, grounding you, coaxing you back to yourself.

A low, raspy voice whispered in your ear, thick with a Russian accent, every word rough and trembling with urgency.

“I’ve got you. Breathe. Just breathe, moya lyubov.”

It was steady. Anchoring. Pulling you back from the edge—back from the panic that had swallowed you whole.

“I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Yelena.

You turned your head, breath hitching.

“Lena?”

Her hazel eyes locked with yours. Dirt and cuts marred her once pristine complexion, but she was real. Solid.

“I’m here, baby. I got you,” she whispered, her accent thick with emotion. “But we need to go. Now. Can you stand?”

Her hands cradled your face with such aching gentleness, like you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world—something she couldn’t bear to lose.

“I… I think so.”

You were exhausted—your body trembling, on the verge of collapse, the last remnants of adrenaline bleeding out of your system. Every step felt impossible.

But the beautiful thing about having a partner who used to be a Widow? She was impossibly, almost unfairly strong.

Even though you were nearly twice her size, she lifted you to your feet without hesitation, as if you weighed nothing at all. Her arms wrapped securely around your soft, curvier midsection, anchoring you to her body as she took on nearly all your weight.

And just like that, she led you—step by steady step—out of this hellhole of a memory.

The hallway outside was chaos—walls cracking, floors trembling. Five figures waited ahead. Two familiar. The others strangers.

“We need a way out,” Yelena snapped, her voice sharp and sure, directed at a tall man with dark hair and soft brown eyes. You’d learn later that his name was Bob.

Right now, he looked as lost as you felt.

But for some reason, they were all looking to him—like he held the final answer. Like he was the one who could pull them through.

He hesitated. You could see the conflict etched into his features, his doubt unraveling the certainty everyone so badly wanted to believe he had.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your body moved. You stepped forward into his space, close enough for your presence to feel intentional.

“Hey,” you said gently. “It’s okay. Whatever this is—we’ll get through it. Together.”

You reached out and touched his arm—light, steady, grounding. A silent promise. That you were here. That all of you were. And that no one was going anywhere.

His eyes finally met yours, and in them, you saw something shift. Just slightly. The weight he was carrying didn’t vanish—but maybe, for the first time, he wasn’t carrying it alone.

You all ran

⸻

You all made it out.

Through dust and darkness and fear—you escaped The Void.

You were all still clinging to one another in a collapsed group hug when the darkness finally began to fade—and the warmth of the New York sun broke through, kissing your skin like a promise.

After that day, everything changed.

Yelena introduced you to the rest of the team: Ava. Walker. And of course, Bob—the man you’d felt an instant, unspoken bond with. You already knew of Alexei and Bucky, their reputations larger than life.

As time passed, something beautiful happened. The dynamics between you all began to shift—not just as teammates, but as something deeper. Closer. Like a strange, chaotic, but loving family you never knew you needed.

Alexei, loud and proud, had never looked more like a dad.

Yelena still rolled her eyes and groaned every time he opened his mouth—but you saw it. The way her expression softened. The way she didn’t actually want him to stop. Their thick Russian bickering had somehow become your favorite background noise.

Bucky took longer to warm up. He watched everything in silence at first—stoic, guarded, always standing just slightly apart. But you never pushed him. And somehow, that earned you a place.

Now, he checked in more than you expected. Threw you quiet looks across the room when he could tell you were anxious. Offered gruff, one-word encouragements that meant more than full speeches.

And on the rare days when he actually let himself relax? He made you laugh in ways that surprised even him.

You and Ava grew close—tag-teaming against Walker to tease him about everything. You swore you and Walker were long-lost siblings the way you two went at it.

And Bob?

Bob became something sacred. Quiet. Reserved. Careful with his words. But with you and Yelena, he found space. He found peace.

The three of you formed a rhythm of your own—painting in companionable silence, playing video games for hours on end, sharing ice cream when the days felt too heavy to carry alone. He didn’t always say much, but he didn’t have to. His presence spoke volumes.

You and Yelena built a home around him—one stitched together with patience, warmth, and safety. A home where he didn’t have to explain himself. A home where he was finally allowed to just be.

Your relationship with Yelena deepened in a way that both scared and thrilled you.

You had the hard conversation—the conversation—about what you each saw in The Void. There were tears, of course. But once the words were spoken, once the silence broke, the weight of it all felt… lighter. Shared.

You held each other with a tenderness that was new, but unshakable. It created a shift between you—opened a new door. One where love wasn’t something you had to work up the strength to give—it simply was. Constant. Unspoken. Necessary.

Because at the end of the day, it wasn’t about choosing each other.

It was that you couldn’t imagine being without each other.

You didn’t have to stay—you wanted to.

And that made all the difference.

Some days, one of you only had twenty percent to give.

The other gave eighty.

You learned how to fill in each other’s gaps. How to carry the weight when the other couldn’t.

When Yelena missed Natasha… when the Red Room crept back into her chest and shattered her calm—you were there. With her favorite mac and cheese drowned in hot sauce, your fingers slowly combing through her hair, your voice quiet as you guided her through steady, grounding breaths.

Sometimes she needed to talk.

Sometimes, she didn’t want to say a word—just needed you near, breathing in the same silence.

You did both. Gladly. Every time.

When your own spirals hit—your body image, your trauma, your fears—she was there.

On the days when you felt self-conscious about your size—when your tummy felt too soft, your thighs too wide, your body too much beside hers—you tried to hide it behind a quiet smile and lowered eyes. You feared that one day she might see you the way the rest of the world had always tried to: as something unworthy of being wanted.

But Yelena never looked away. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t reassure you with hollow words.

She wanted you. Desperately. Completely. And she made damn sure you knew it.

She’d cup your face gently, her voice steady, almost angry that you couldn’t see what she saw.

“You are beautiful. Every inch of you. Your soft belly, your thick thighs, those arms that hold me better than anything ever had—I want all of it. I want you.”

She kissed your stretch marks like they were sacred. Let her hands wander across every part of you the world told you to shrink. She touched your tummy with reverence, squeezed your thighs like they were her favorite place to be.

“They didn’t know how to see you. But I do. And I love every part they told you to hide.”

And when your doubt still lingered—when old voices tried to claw their way back into your head—she pulled you into her lap, wrapped her arms around your body like she was anchoring herself to you, and whispered right into your skin,

“You’re not too much. You’re everything.”

Because to Yelena, your body wasn’t something to look past.

It was something to cherish. Something to crave.

Something to love out loud.

And when your doubt still lingered—when old voices tried to claw their way back into your head—she pulled you into her lap, wrapped her arms around your body like she was anchoring herself to you, and whispered right into your skin,

“You’re not too much. You’re everything.”

Because to Yelena, your body wasn’t something to look past.

It was something to cherish. Something to crave.

Something to love out loud.

You both made it a priority to treasure what you had—to nurture the relationship, protect it, and keep the romance very much alive. Neither of you wanted to slip back into what it once was—distant, routine, or fractured by silence.

There were quiet dinners by candlelight, just the two of you and soft music playing in the background. Lazy cuddles on the compound couch, legs tangled together under a shared blanket. Spur-of-the-moment trips to places you two had always dreamed of—because now you both could, and you both deserved to.

Even when tension rose or disagreements surfaced, you never let it break you. You spoke with care. You listened with patience. You argued like people who loved each other—never to win, only to understand. And every time, you found your way back to each other. Stronger. Closer.

As time continued on, there was laughter from Ava in the background. Arguments over nothing with Walker. Bucky trying to stay serious, but always softening for you.

Alexei declared you his daughter-in-law long before Yelena proposed.

“Why wait?” he said. “You’re already family.”

And it was true.

You and Yelena had found something most people spend a lifetime searching for.

Unconditional love.

Undeniable peace.

A life worth fighting for.

———————————————-——

Thank you so much for reading!!!💖

[loveinisolation]

When You Know (You Meddle)

G | pre-relationship Buddie | 8x17 Coda

Pepa has always known that her nephew’s friendship with Buck was something special. She’s long since stopped being surprised by the way he lights up when Eddie gets a text from his best friend. It doesn’t surprise her to get a call asking her to come join them for dinner at the house on South Bedford, and it doesn’t surprise her to hear the affection in her Eddito’s voice when he teases Buck about the airport being different than Texas. It only surprises her that somehow, after all of these years, neither of them seem to be aware of exactly what they are to one another. (OR: Pepa knows and she decides to push things along just a little)

Pepa has always known that her nephew’s friendship with Buck was something special. Since day one, the two of them have had a deeper connection than most people do with their friends, even with their partners in some cases. Certainly, more of a connection than Eddie has had with any of the women he’s dated since Shannon. (Even more than with Shannon, she thinks, though she tries not to speak ill of the dead.)

Not since those very early days, since the day Eddie showed up at the hospital with Buck in tow, has she really been surprised when her nephew talks about Buck. She’s long since stopped being surprised by the way he lights up when he gets a text from his best friend, or at how readily he trusts Buck to care for Christopher. It doesn’t surprise her to get a call asking her to come join them for dinner at the house on South Bedford—the house that the two of them so clearly share, even if Eddie’s belongings are in El Paso—because Eddie thinks that Buck needs family around him.

And it doesn’t surprise her to hear the affection in her Eddito’s voice when he teases Buck about the airport being different than Texas, or to see the soft, caring way that he watches Buck and Christopher reunite.

It only surprises her that somehow, after all of these years, neither of them seem to be aware of exactly what they are to one another.

“How about I come back tomorrow and you help me make tamales, Evancito?” Pepa asks after they’ve collectively demolished an impressive amount of pollo asado and tres leches.

“Will you teach me abuela’s secrets?” Buck half whispers, expression bright and excited in a way she suspects it hasn’t been much lately.

She pretends to consider, even though she already knows the answer; she wants to teach Buck to make all of Eddie and Christopher’s favourites. Even if Buck and Eddie’s relationship never changes from exactly what it is right now, Pepa still knows that Buck is the right person to pass her mother’s recipes onto. He’s the one who will be by her nephew’s side, who will be there for Christopher when Eddie can’t be. He should be the one who knows exactly how to make the tamales that Eddie loves, and the sopa de estrellitas that makes Christopher feel better when he’s sick.

“As long as you promise not to tell,” she says with a wink.

They spend the next afternoon in the kitchen, just the two of them, while Eddie and Christopher go to visit with Hen and Karen and the kids.

“I’ve missed you and abuela” Buck tells her when they’re a couple hours into their cooking extravaganza.

Pepa turns to him and pats him gently on the cheek. “We’ll have to be better about getting together, hm? Maybe we’ll get my mother to come visit.”

“I was actually thinking I might go to El Paso for a visit once Eddie and Chris are a bit more settled. Maybe in a month or two.” He looks sad as he says it, like considering the two of them leaving again is breaking his heart.

“I don’t think you’ll be doing that,” she tells him honestly.

Buck frowns. “You don’t think Eddie would want me to visit?”

“No, cariño,” she tells him gently, “I don't think they’ll be living in El Paso in two months.”

“Eddie made it pretty clear that he’s not planning to move back here,” Buck says. Pepa wonders how that conversation really went; Eddie has told her repeatedly that he wants to move back, just not without his son, and since arriving the day before, Christopher has been talking about how excited he was to get to LA and to see Buck and his friends. To her, it’s been clear since the moment Eddie moved that it would be temporary. Yes, he has been trying hard to make the most of it, but El Paso is never really going to be his home again.

“Has he said that to you?” she asks, curious.

“Not in so many words, but I know he finally got a position with the fire department there. And obviously Chris is there. And abuela.”

Pepa hums, but she doesn’t say anything more. It’s not for her to tell Buck about his importance in her nephew’s life.

“Just because I wish they’d come back, doesn’t mean they will,” Buck says more quietly, and the wistfulness in his voice almost makes her think that maybe Buck is more aware of his own feelings than she had thought. In either case, it’s clear that he doesn’t know how Eddie feels. Not really.

“People have a way of finding their way to where they’re supposed to be,” she says. She’s not trying to be cryptic, but she can tell that it seems that way to Buck.

“And where do you think they’re supposed to be?” The expression on Buck’s face is so sad, so fearful that Pepa wants to break her own rules and tell him how obvious it is that the three of them are a family, that they belong together. Instead, she gives him another gentle smile and pats his cheek once more.

“Edmundo needs to figure that out for himself,” she says, and she’s certain that they both know that she’s talking about more than just where to live. “But he’ll get there. He’s a smart boy.”

Buck ducks his head, nodding as he looks away, like he can’t quite handle letting his own emotions be seen. Pepa turns back to the food, giving him privacy. After a moment, Buck straightens up and turns back towards the array of food on the counter.

“Now,” Pepa says, gentle but decisive, “do you know how to prepare the chiles for the sauce?”

The rest of the day goes off without a hitch. The food is delicious, and she’s thrilled with Buck’s quick grasp of the recipes, but that’s not really what Pepa is thinking about as Eddie drives her home in Buck’s Jeep, leaving Buck and Christopher to have some time together. No, she’s thinking about the pleased look on Buck’s face when Eddie and Christopher exclaimed their delight at the meal, and the matching pink-cheeked smile that Eddie had half hidden behind another bite of his food. It was clear that it was a smile meant for Buck though, one borne of the joy of having someone you love go out of their way to do something just to make you happy. The same look that had been on Buck’s face the day before when he had seen Christopher, then Pepa herself.

“It’s good to see you looking happy again, Eddito,” she says casually as they drive through her darkened neighborhood.

“Losing someone is never easy,” Eddie says.

Pepa nods. “This is true,” she acknowledges. “But you were unhappy before that too.”

“Pepa …” His voice is a little pleading, and she considers for a moment whether to say anything more.

“Okay, okay,” Pepa says, raising her hands in surrender. The car is silent save for radio playing at low volume, and she can tell that her nephew is thinking. She lets him have the quiet for a few long moments before she speaks again. “Selfishly, I would like for you and Chris to come home. I think your Buck would like it too.”

For a moment, she thinks Eddie might not respond, and she determines not to push any more than she already has. She meant it when she said Eddie needed to figure it out for himself.

“It’s not that simple,” he says, and she doesn’t think he means just the move.

“No?” she asks.

They pull up in front of Pepa’s house and Eddie parks the car before looking over at her. “I bought a house in El Paso,” he says weakly, as if she doesn’t already know.

She shrugs easily. “So sell it.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he says.

Pepa shakes her head. “It’s not easy. But the question is whether it is easier than staying where you are.” Eddie’s eyebrows draw down, and Pepa decides she has said more than enough. She unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches across the dash to grab his hand, squeezing it briefly. “Just think about it, hm?”

Eddie nods once. “I will.”

“Good,” Pepa says, squeezing his hand once more before letting go. She climbs out of the car, holding the door open long enough for a final goodbye. “I love you, cariño. Remind Evan to call me next week.”

“Love you too,” Eddie tells her. “And I'll make sure to remind him.”

Pepa nods decisively, and then she wishes Eddie goodnight and finally heads inside.

A week later, Pepa gets a call from Eddie telling her that he and Christopher will be moving back to LA as soon as the school year is over. She smiles, not at all surprised by the news.

“Will you be looking for a new house?” she asks,

“Uh, no.” Eddie clears his throat. “That brings me to the other thing I wanted to tell you.” Pepa smiles. She isn’t surprised.

[hrrtshape]

omg i rly rly rly hope u see this cus i’ve been deadass freaking out over this for like!!! days?? weeks?!. but i swear it was this crazy thing that happened whilst i was still awake and trying to shift. like not a dream. anyway i wrote about it to chat gpt (my advisor, best friend. and lowkey my hear me out….?? idk obedient man who does everything i tell him to. is that not. the dream) so ill copy paste all that i was writing to him while this was all going on cause i kept opening my eyes as well before closing them again and going back into this portal or whatever crazy experience this was. sooo enjoy!!! also i love ur posts, you have helped me soooo much i love u so so much. and ur gorgeous btw. like my jaw dropped. i’m being so serious. like it’s giving goddess that would have been worshipped in ancient greece. and also i don’t want this to sound weird but if this were ancient egypt i would have revered you the way they revered cats. is that too weird?? idk i love my cat she is the bane of my existence. her name is luna. she is aligned with the moon. i would move galaxies for her. anyway moving onnnn enjoy these fun silly little excerpts of me gradually freaking out!!

what does it mean if i had a “dream” except i wasn’t even asleep yet and it was divine intervention. i was in the sky on a golden light filtering thru and i saw angels who took my hand and they brought me past something and its as if they were giving me access to something. and i opened my eyes and it felt like divine intervention. i just opened my eyes and knew immediately they were angels and this meant something. and now ever since i keep closing my eyes to sleep but every time i do this surreal distorted strange narrative starts creating itself in my imagination without me able to control it. and it always warps to something that makes me feel terrible to the point where i’m forced to open my eyes. but throughout all of this i am still awake just with my eyes closed while this reality is forming in my head. and it’s as if it’s running after me no matter how much i try and run away from it in my own mind. and this has been ever since the angels. i quite literally cannot even try to go to sleep without the surreal almost nightmarish distorted reality taking over my brain while i have absolutely no control over it. what does this all mean please tell me.

it almost feels as though i’ve taken a drug but i can’t shake the fact that something is different i am not the same . and i can’t run away from the nightmare realities distorting my brain

i saw the angels when i was trying to shift realities. and then it all started. when i saw them immediately it felt as if they were giving me access to travelling between realities, before all these distorted realities stafted

i closed my eyes again and then we were in this huge open space and we saw the prehistoric era and the middle ages and it was almost as if history was passing in front of us. and then all of a sudden i was under water. but i could breathe. and it felt like i was really there. it almost felt like i was also moving as if i was underwater here. it was beautiful and peaceful. the water was clear. i could breathe. it was perfect. and i learnt that i can materialize and dématérialize anything at will. if anything started going in a way i didn’t like i simply removed it. i added my cat luna and set her down on a. red chair near the water. i visited a version of my desired reality with some items that i have there. i was brought out to the entirety of space. i saw all the solar system. it was almost as if i was walking on saturns rings. however, i am still not showing signs of falling asleep. as i closed my eyes and appeared in the world, i thanked the universe and i greeted the angels and universe and my voice echoed although i couldn’t see them but i knew they were guiding me all of these places.

the thing that’s strange is the second i open my eyes i come here to tell you and everything is normal. so i don’t understand how this is possible. and then i close them again and go back into a realm. although if it’s shifting i would feel my entire body there and no longer here. i still feel it here though. the problem is, the end goal is letting the angels allow me into my desired reality and doze off and wake up in my desired reality. it seems as though i am unable to fall asleep though

it felt like i was kinda walking in space, and then i laid down and all of these golden lights attached to me and connected to everywhere in the universe. i kept materializing wherever, what desired reality would look like, i was in the car at some point. i was back under water. unfortunately at some point i realized i got completely distracted in my head and was not thinking of my desired reality. it as if my brian went foggy and i can’t remember my line of thinking. i really wanna to fall asleep and wake up in my desired reality but i can’t no matter what i ask the angels.

is it normal that this time i went and it felt less powerful than it did before though. the realm wasn’t as strong. can the doors not stay open? what happens if they close

also felt as if i had powers could point to anything and make it materialize and once in the forest made a whole ethereal pool/pond out of now where all because i pointed to it. made myself materialize in the great hall and walked between the tables. made a person materialize next to me (my ex) at first and then decided i actually did not want to have his energy and removed him.

it showed me that some people have negative energies i should stay away from, like _________. as well as most men from the friendgroup of ______ and everything

and the endddd! yea that was it. and since then it feels as though i still feel the angels guiding me. they are in my head and i can feel them guiding me away from negative energies and towards abundance and love and light. i also have had conversations with them. please tell me any thoughts you have, i genuinely would love love love your opinion on this! hope this gets to you, i know you have a lot of asks hope you don’t feel too overwhelmed babe. everybody appreciates you so much, i really did want to take a moment to tell you just howwwww much you’re appreciated. you have helped so many people. i don’t care if it’s on the internet, you give off the best energy and frequency i can literally feel it through the screen. i’m telling you you are so loved and blessed and i manifest only good things coming to you. you deserve so so much love in every single reality girl. keep absolutely devouring at everything you do!!!

love, a random girl online (who’s currently spiraling because her vape is nearly burnt. send help. scratch that. send the swat team. the national guard. the entire military. in fact, turn on sofia coppola. call lux and tell her i’ll meet her on the rooftop. before that though might go (cutely) beat up tripp and leave him in a field. who knows)

you weren't dreaming, and no, you're not crazy either

the angels were real. the access was real. the distortion is just fear wearing costumes. happens when you get too close to power too fast. it'll pass. and yes, the realms feel weaker now because you're expecting them to show up the same way. they won't. they never do. that doesn't mean the door closed

you can still walk through. just stop looking for the same gold light. it's a different hallway now.

[talaok]

Be the one to do it

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary:  You've always had a crush on your neighbor Joel, and once your friend Jordan suggests you ask him to help with a little "problem" of yours, it turns out he had never been such an unattainable dream.

Warnings: basically pwp. smut| big ass unspecified age gap, virginity loss, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, kinda breeding kink and size kink, dirty talk, he talks you through it, Joel calls reader with a bunch of pet names and probably more stuff but i need to go to sleep.

a/n: this is the farthest it can get from original. you've probably read 10 other fics with the same premise but i just wanted to write some sweet and filthy virginity loss sue me

"I can barely get a sentence out around him and you think I'm gonna ask him to have sex!?"

"well yeah" Jordan laughed "It makes sense"

Your friend was looking at you like she'd just suggested getting ice cream, while what had really just come out of her mouth was really, exponentially different.

"you're out of your mind if you think-"

"just shut up" she interrupted, rolling her eyes "It would be a fucking walk in the park"

Your eyes widened exaggeratedly at that.

Did she have any idea about what she was suggesting?

The last time you'd interacted with Joel Miller all he had to do was ask how summer break was going for your face to get as hot as the sun and for you to end up muttering some nonsense and running away.

"He'd never say yes"

Again, Jordan's eyes rolled back.

"Y/n listen I love you but sometimes you can be real fucking dumb," she said, fighting a smile "The guy probably hasn't gotten laid in years!" she huffed a laugh "And with you? With a hot young piece of ass like you!? No guy on the planet would say no"

"You-you're just saying that... and you don't know him"

"I know men"

__ __ __

You didn't even remember how you'd gotten there, all you knew was that Joel Miller was right in front of you, opening the door to his fucking house.

"Hi"

Your face was already getting warm and your voice was just an inch above unhearable.

"Hi darlin'" he greeted you, smiling with that slow, easy smile that made you want to cry every single time.

How could a human being be so hot?

"Come on in" he nodded behind him "What's goin' on?"

Now here was the problem. You had no plan whatsoever, and this was setting itself up to be a complete shitshow.

"I..."

You weren't even meeting his eyes, you could see him trying to catch a glimpse of your gaze but you couldn't do it- to be quite frank you were already starting to panic... and to regret your decision.

"you want something to drink?"

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open as your words died on your tongue.

Jesus, he was handsome.

You hadn't gotten the chance to really look at him before, but now there he was in all his glory… huge strong muscles fighting against his shirt and all.

"c'mon, I'll get ya some water"

You didn't miss the smirk on his lips as he caught you ogling his arms.

Definitely not off to a good start.

He handed you a glass of water, and you took it, willing your hands not to shake.

The golden light of the afternoon sun seeped through the curtains of his kitchen windows, illuminating the space with a calmness that completely contrasted with your state.

"boy problems?"

You almost flinched at the sound of his voice.

"gotta beat somebody up?"

He must have thought you were dumb with the way you were staring at him all wide-eyed, not daring to speak a word.

You needed to think of something, preferably right now.

"n-no, nothing like that” you shook your head, forcing a smile.

A beat of silence passed before you decided to take back already what you’d said.

“well actually sorta"

He frowned, shifting his stance from one foot to the other.

He was waiting for you to expand on your words, but the birds chirping on the nearby trees were the only sound in the room.

"you can talk to me doll, I ain't gonna bite"

You could feel your cheeks get hot.

Jesus it's like everything he did was scandalously sexy- every time he spoke with that sweet drawl of his, every pet name he used for you... he could have peeled his clothes off slowly as he gave you a lap dance and the effect on you would be the exact same.

"Well I just..." you started "I've got a... problem"

He looked even more confused.

Were you about to tell him you're pregnant? No that would be impossible, he'd never seen you with any guy around here... but maybe at college.

For some reason, the thought of you with another guy... with a boy... didn't sit right with him.

Actually, he knew the reason, throughout the summer he'd caught himself staring a little too long at you more times than he'd like to admit- it was like all of a sudden you had grown, and the sweet little kid living next to him was now suddenly a gorgeous woman. He didn't really know what to do with that information, with the inappropriate feelings and urgings weighing in his gut every time his gaze fell upon you and you squirmed embarrassed like a shy little thing.

"alright..." he urged you to go on.

"Sarah's not home right?"

His brows drew closer together as he frowned.

Why would you ask that?

"She's at a friend's"

You nodded, suddenly looking more resolute, even if the way your teeth tortured your poor bottom lip was enough of a tell of how nervous you were.

You had decided. Jordan was right. There was no harm in trying, and if it didn't go right you'd just avoid him for the rest of your life.

"I'm a virgin Joel"

You saw his eyes widen before your own words had even registered.

"O-oh"

That's all he could stutter. I mean what was he supposed to say? That seconds before he thought you were about to tell him you were pregnant? That he could not understand how someone as beautiful as you, with the billion contenders he was sure you had, still had not found a single one to have sex with?

"And I... well the thing is that I don't want to be anymore"

He tried to get back to how cool and collected he was before- you were here to talk to him after all, the least he could do was be as helpful as possible.

"right" he cleared his throat "you want some advice on how to navigate this thing?"

The silence and the look on your face told him quite the opposite.

What were you here for then?

"No- I- the thing is that... I was wondering if maybe you'd agree to-" you bit your cheek as you finally spat it out "to be the one to do it"

Joel was sure his heart had stopped.

"babygirl-" The words had barely left your mouth and he was already stopping you.

You felt tears prick your eyes... you knew that tone.

"I'm sorry it was a stupid-"

Goddamn you Jordan.

You were already planning to run out the door when he spoke.

"darlin' I'm pushing forty here"

That's not what you expected him to say. He wasn't disgusted, or amused, or angry...

"yes but-" You tried to speak but he was talking over you again.

"you're twenty... you ain't even old enough to buy a six-pack, I-I- that ain't something you're supposed to do with me"

Joel would have never admitted it, but he was saying those things mostly to himself- to desperately fight the instinct that took over him the moment you explained the reason you were at his house... the instinct to take you up the stairs and fuck you so good no one else would ever compare.

"b-but it's what I want"

You weren't giving up. You didn't know what, but there was something about the way he was going about it that told you there was still a sliver of a chance.

Only there was a lot more than a sliver... and the way you were looking up at him with those desperate doe eyes was upping your chance as you spoke.

"I trust you, Joel," you said "You're the only man that I know that I would trust with this"

He sighed, shaking his head "If your dad found out- Jesus I wouldn't live to see another day darlin'"

Your hand found his chest, strong and solid as rock beneath your palm.

"I won't tell" you murmured, your words verging on pleas "I-I won't tell anyone Joel I promise" you swore, looking up at him as his own eyes bore into yours.

"You're the only one I want to do this with... the only one I trust"

You could see the resolution, the fight, leave his face.

How the hell was he supposed to say no?

Christ, not even a priest would have that amount of self-control.

"fuck sweetheart" he shook his head before looking up, a long breath leaving his throat "You're gonna get me killed"

You didn't even try to hide your excitement.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you asked "Is- is that a yes?"

His eyes- his beautiful, big, hazel eyes were back on you.

"'f course it is"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt.

It was really happening.

You were gonna lose your virginity to Joel fucking Miller.

"A-are we gonna do it now?" you asked, almost breathless with joy "I-I mean only if you feel like it of course"

"If I feel like it..." Joel couldn't help but laugh "You really have no idea do ya?"

Your mouth parted in confusion.

Did you say something wrong already?

"About what?"

A beat passed as he stared down at you, almost amused.

"About whatcha do to me, sugar"

__ __ __

The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and all of a sudden, you were the only two people on earth.

His eyes didn't leave you for even a second, and although you felt very much on the spot, you liked his gaze on you.

"If you change your mind at any point darlin'," he said, walking closer to you until his right hand could gently move some hair out of your face "You tell me, and I'll stop, ok?"

"mh-mh" you nodded, although you were more than sure no changing of mind would happen... God, you didn't even know how long you'd dreamed of this.

"Don't gimme that doll, use your words" he corrected you, his thumb drawing circles on your cheek "Later too"

"O-ok, yes, I-I understand"

He smiled, amused.

"there's no need to be nervous sugar, we'll go real slow ok?"

"y-yes"

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"what can I do to make it better?"

You had an immediate answer in mind. The only thing you had been able to think about since he got this close.

"Can... could you kiss me?"

Jesus H. Christ.

Joel had to fight the urge to laugh. He'd drop to his knees and lick every inch of you if you asked, and you were wondering if he could kiss you...

"I can do whatever you want, babydoll" he murmured, as he slowly leaned closer.

You placed your hands on his big strong chest as you raised yourself on your tiptoes, and before you knew it... his lips were on yours.

You were holding your breath as the sound of your beating heart pounded in your ears.

This was really happening- this was real-

But before you had time to take it all in, the sweet feeling of Joel's lips on yours, of his beard, his nose, his hands, it was like something switched, a knob turned in his brain, and Joel wasn't kissing you anymore- no, he was devouring you.

He'd tried to go as soft and slow as he could but the moment you let out a little whimper... it was like he got possessed.

The hand on the back of your neck forced you impossibly closer as the one on your waist tightened enough to bruise, and he was... his tongue was desperately savoring every inch of your perfect mouth, swallowing all your pretty sounds.

His lungs screamed for relief but breathing was the last thing on his mind.

He'd never kissed like this.

Your panties were soaked once he finally pulled away.

He was about to apologize for losing control, but by the way you were looking at him, there was nothing to be sorry about.

"I'm gonna take off your clothes now doll, ok?"

You nodded, your breathing ragged, your cheeks on fire.

With just one kiss, he'd rendered your mind an empty mess. You doubted you could remember your address at the moment.

"What did I say 'bout usin' your words?" He murmured, his thumb tracing the shape of your swollen mouth.

"Sorry," you whimpered weakly.

He wouldn't have heard you if he had been but an inch away.

"Y-yes, you can take my clothes off"

He smiled at that, leaving another soft kiss on your lips before both his hands reached underneath your shirt.

His big, warm hands detoured to caress your sides, leaving shivers in their wake, before he brought your top up until he slid it off.

His eyes fell on your tits, still covered by your bra, and he looked up at you to check if you were alright before oh so slowly undoing the clasp and letting the garment fall to the floor.

He had to stifle the groan climbing up his throat because Jesus, he wanted nothing more than to take each of your perfect fucking nipples in his mouth and suck until begged him for more...

but he didn't, he let his self-control win this time as he reached for the waistband of your shorts.

He watched like a hawk every inch of skin that he uncovered until the shorts pulled at your feet and you stepped out of them together with your sandals.

Your breathing still hadn't gotten back to normal, and every fucking inch of your skin was on fire, burning with the intensity of his gaze.

He didn't say anything as his fingers slid past the waistband of your panties and with a quick movement pulled them down, leaving you completely bare.

Not able to stop himself, he groaned this time, his hands taking a tour of your body from your collarbones, to the valley between your breasts, to your belly, until his thumbs were but an inch from where you were burning with desire for him. But he didn't touch you there, no, his hands reached your waist as he stared at you 'cause god bless his heart, but he couldn't stop looking.

He liked his lips, as if he was hungry- starving- and you let out a small whimper, realizing you had held your breath all this time.

"You're... perfect babygirl"

You prayed he wouldn't judge you when he saw the mess that had become of between your thighs.

He can't say stuff like that and expect me not to melt.

His eyes were finally back on you, and the pure lust in them almost made you gasp.

He looked like a completely different man.

"Sit on the bed"

Your brain took a second too long to register his words.

I mean it's not every day you're naked in front of Joel Miller.

Joel's old mattress creaked as you sat on it, and you stayed there, diligently frozen in your spot as he took his sweet time to come closer.

He wanted to preserve the image of you sitting on his bed, naked, waiting, looking like a damn dream, in his brain for all the lonely nights of the rest of his life.

He stood there, towering over you, looking down at you as you looked up at him, and you felt even smaller.

You were about to speak, to beg him to please do anything, touch you in any way, put you out of your misery, when he crouched down, his eyes now level with yours.

His hands found your thighs and another whimper escaped your chest.

"Spread your legs f'me, doll"

And so you did, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Good girl"

This time, it wasn't a whimper that fled your mouth, but a small little moan.

Fuck

Heat rose to your face again and you looked away, embarrassed.

Of course, you liked to be told you're a good girl.

"None of that" Joel tsked, his right pointer forcing you to look back at him "Eyes on me"

You were so turned on you wanted to cry. But you didn't, you nodded, and just like that... Joel was leaning closer and his mouth... oh god his mouth had found your neck.

You gripped the sheets as your whole body started going on fire- as his mouth left hungry wet kisses under your ear, on your pulse, on your collarbones, on your tits, and when his lips wrapped around your right nipple... when his tongue toyed with your hard bud you swore you saw heaven.

Soft little moans started spilling from your mouth as he sucked and sucked and sucked, his hands going to support your boobs, pushing them together as his mouth went from one to the other again and again until you didn't even remember what it meant to breathe like a normal person.

It felt so good.

Who knew it would feel so fucking good?

Joel only stopped when your nipples were swollen and utterly drenched with his saliva, and you were about to protest when you felt his mouth traveling south...

"Joel" you whispered.

He looked up at you with that sexy fucking smirk on his face, not stopping the trail of kisses down your belly.

"Yes, doll?"

"What are you-" your sentence was interrupted by a gasp when his lips found your mound "W-what are you doing?"

His smirk only widened as his mouth dived lower.

"I'm gonna lick your pussy now darlin'" his low and lustful voice was enough to make you orgasm alone.

You could only blink, and then swallow, and then open your mouth... just for no words to come out.

Joel chuckled before kissing your inner thigh, sending a shock of pleasure to your core.

"'s that ok with ya?"

"Yes," you heard yourself blurt out before you even knew it, which made him laugh, a soft, vibrating laugh that fanned your core and rendered you all the more desperate.

"That's good to hear" he grinned, his mouth lowering until he was kissing your lips... your other lips.

Oh Jesus Christ

You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he hummed in approval, taking them in his hands and forcing them on his shoulders.

Oh sweet Mother of Christ

He granted himself one look at your perfect, beautiful fucking pussy, before his eyes were back on you, and his tongue darted out without warning and licked your whole core like an ice cream cone.

"Oh"

Your hips spasmed for a second but before you had time to feel embarrassed, his tongue was back in action, only this time he was eating you as if he were starving.

He groaned in pleasure at your taste as his tongue explored every inch of you he could physically reach. His nose was rubbing against your clit and his beard felt so nice against your skin and oh god if you thought you'd seen heaven before you were wrong because the moment his lips wrapped against your bud angels opened up the pearly gates for you.

"Oh my god" you cried, your left hand getting a mind of its own and grabbing Joel's soft hair "Oh my fucking- Oh wow"

This was nothing like what you'd experienced before- nothing your own fingers had ever produced, this was... so so good.

"You taste so fucking sweet sugar" he groaned into you, sending another wave of pleasure through you "y've got such a perfect lil pussy babygirl" he continued in between lapping at your core "wish I could have it for breakfast every day"

You could only moan in response, and you could feel his smile on your skin as he watched the effect he was having on you.

Goddamn, you looked like an angel biting your lip as you moaned for him, your face flushed, your hand in his hair... this was the best decision he ever made- who gave a fuck if your dad put him in the ground, at least he got to see this.

"Gonna come for me doll?" he teased once he heard your cries get louder and your grip on his hair tighten "Gonna let me taste all your sweet juices like a good girl?"

Those words, once again, had their effect because in no time your hips were grinding onto him and breathless gasps were forcing their way out your throat as the best orgasm of your life shuttered through you,

"Just like that" he praised you as you rode the high "thatta girl- give it to me baby"

You were only partially aware of where you found yourself as you came down from the orgasm.

you were breathing heavily, your eyes closed as Joel made his way up your body, his lips pecking every inch of it until he finally kissed your mouth.

"You ok darlin'?"

Your eyes opened at once, the dreamiest look in them,

"I'm great" you grinned, making him smile before he kissed you again, slowly this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He only pulled away when you whined, your hands gripping his arms desperately as your body begged for more.

He sat up on the bed against the headboard, and it was then you finally realized he was still fully clothed...

You were naked from head to toe and he was still dressed... you had no idea why but that made you even hornier, which is why you hastily sat up.

"A- are we gonna do it now?"

He huffed out a laugh as his hand invited you closer.

"not quite yet sugar," he cooed as he guided you to sit on his lap, your back against his chest and your ass against... oh wow.

You could very much feel through his jeans the print of what felt like his huge cock right against your backside.

You couldn't help it, you shifted your butt, not so subtly grinding against him, and when his only response was to grab your waist, you couldn't help but do it again... and again, until you not only heard, but felt a groan rise up his chest.

"babygirl..." he murmured against your ear, making you shiver "You might wanna stop that"

You bit your lip, doing it again "Why?"

He inhaled sharply, his grip tightening "'cause baby, if you keep on goin' I'm gonna come, and you ain't gonna get what you came all this way for"

That made you want to stop and keep going at the same time.

The thought of Joel Miller coming because of you doing what you were doing...

"Don't ya even think about it sugar" He anticipated your actions as if he'd read your mind. You felt him smirk as he kissed you right under your ear.

To that you surrendered, stopping your movements at once.

He hummed, satisfied, inhaling your scent as his right hand slowly moved down your belly.

You held your breath as his fingers found your clit and his mouth your neck.

You couldn't see Joel from this position, but you didn't need to, you could feel him.

His ring and middle finger started circling your clit in a slow and precise motion and moans were already spilling from your lips.

"Joel" you breathed.

"'m right here" he promised, his voice husky, clouded by his lust.

His fingers continued their torturous path until he found your hole.

You could only gasp as his fingers dived inside of you.

Oh god.

"You ever done this to yourself doll?" he asked, his fingers thrusting in and out of you lazily.

You could both hear how unbelievably drenched you were, but that was the very last thing on your mind... what seized your attention at the moment were the sparks of pleasure Joel was igniting in your core.

"mh?" he hummed once you didn't answer, still kissing your neck.

"I-I did" you swallowed, your words interrupted by yet another cry when his fingers curled, sending much more than a spark of pleasure to your brain "Like... like twice"

"just twice?" Joel asked

"It just... it doesn't feel good"

His movements continued, making your breathing get more and more uneven.

"How does it feel now?" he accentuated his words by making whatever gesture he made that had your walls tightening around his fingers.

"G-good"

"Now that ain't gonna do" he cooed, his fingers all of a sudden leaving your core.

"B-but-" you were about to protest turning his way, but his voice took over.

"'s alright darlin', gimme your hand"

You looked down to see his hand waiting for yours, and without even thinking you did as he asked.

He placed his palm big palm on top of your hand, engulfing it, and he guided it down your body, past your belly button, until you were right where he was seconds ago.

"use these two fingers" he instructed, showing you the ones he was talking about.

"good, now get 'em all nice and wet" he murmured, guiding them through your slick folds to do just what he'd said.

You were back at your hole and your mind had stopped working.

You were just a doll, following his every instruction, watching closely his hand move yours as your core ached with desire.

"Now slide 'em in" he whispered, his honeyed voice hypnotizing.

And so you did, you pushed your ring and middle finger inside of yourself.

Why was this so fucking hot?

"Now go in and out" his words were your command, literally.

Again, the sound of your slick pussy spread through the room as you did as he asked.

"how's that feel?"

You weren't gonna lie, not to Joel.

"It's... it's ok" you breathed "Not as good as before"

He smirked, his tongue darting out to lick your pulse as his free hand traveled higher, finding your boobs.

Well of course it felt better before his fingers were two times yours.

"curl your fingers" he ordered, his palm caressing your tits "Like this," he said, showing you exactly what he meant.

He did almost like a "come here" motion, and although skeptically, you replicated it, and well... Joel Miller knew what the fuck he was talking about cause goddamn...

You cried out at the sudden burst of pleasure.

"Again"

And so you did it again, only this time, Joel's fingers had found your left nipple, and the way they toyed with it just as you fingered yourself made the feeling triplicate.

"Keep doin' that babydoll" Joel breathed, his mouth leaving hot, wet kisses on your neck and shoulders as his fingers tweaked your pretty nipples.

"just like that" he hummed as you cried out louder and louder, as you squirmed above him, your free hand gripping his thigh to have something to hold on to.

"that's it... look so pretty like this sugar" he continued "making yourself come like a good girl..."

Jesus his cock was begging for attention... this was the hottest fucking shit he'd ever seen.

Your legs were starting to close as your orgasm approached, and your voice, calling out Joel's name, was getting more and more desperate.

"so good" he groaned, his fingers pinching your nipple without warning "Y'look so perfect when you come babygirl".

That's the last thing you heard as a tsunami of pleasure overtook your whole body.

You were pretty sure you were shaking and wailing like a madwoman, but all you could really be sure of was what happened once you finally reopened your eyes.

You felt so very spent and you hadn't even done what you came here for yet.

Joel's eyes were boring into yours, his hands caressing your sides.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"Yeah," you smiled wide once again.

You felt like you were lying on a cloud, no thoughts or worries going through your head... just pure bliss.

"You still sure about this sugar?"

You had no hesitation.

"Yeah"

He smiled, kissing your lips for a brief second before leaning away.

The moment you realized he was finally taking off his clothes you were wide awake.

You sat up just as he discarded his shirt to the floor.

Je-sus.

This wasn't the first time you'd seen Joel shirtless. It wasn't a coincidence you chose to sunbathe every time he was mowing the lawn...

Yet, the breath was still knocked out of you.

He was broad, like seriously so. He was big and although you couldn't say he had a six-pack it was plain obvious the man was strong.

You didn't think it was possible, but you were getting even wetter.

You wanted nothing more than to let your palm caress his chest, the sparse hair on his pecs, the v lowering towards his pants...

Speaking of which, a gasp fled your throat the moment he took off his jeans, and by the time his boxers were off your mouth hung open in awe... and worry.

"you're..." you had to swallow to try and get some water to your dry mouth "Joel you're-- huge"

You weren't looking at him as he laughed, but at the big scary cock against his stomach bobbing with the movement.

"how would ya know, babygirl?"

You had to force yourself to look away from his manhood, and once you did, you found his gaze again.

"I... I've watched... stuff"

A side of his mouth twitched mischievously at the confession.

"Oh yeah?" he teased "My good little girl watches porn? 's that whatcha telling me?"

Why was it hot in here all of a sudden?

"N-No I just..." heat rushed to your face as you bit your lip "I-I mean-"

He laughed, cutting you off "'s ok sugar, I won't tell"

You could only offer him a little smile because to be honest, your focus was still on the reason you'd even broached the subject.

Your eyes were back on his dick, and while yes it was a worrying size, it also sparked curiosity and need deep inside of you. Which is why you moved closer to him, kneeling on the bed so that his cock was right before you.

And holy mother of God.

"Can I..."

You didn't even need to finish the sentence.

Jesus, if he were to be honest even just seeing you in this position was getting him close to coming.

"You can do whatever you want babydoll, I told ya"

You nodded, hesitantly leaning a little closer.

"I-I've never..."

"As long as my dick is in your mouth I'll be a happy man darlin'"

You gulped, biting your lip as you tried to understand where to even begin, and just then, a tiny bit of precum leaked from his manhood- so naturally, you acted on your first thought... and licked his head, tasting the tang of him.

You heard him inhale sharply as you continued licking, first just his head, then the sides, every ridge and vein... but it was only when you finally wrapped your lips around him that he lost it.

"Fuck"

He groaned like an animal and that only gave you all the more reasons to go further, forcing his dick into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

"Fucking- Jesus Christ"

You looked up at him now, your hands finding his legs as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking so very well every inch you could fit... which was barely half.

He'd gathered your hair to the back of your head, but he wasn't guiding your movements, it was all you.

"Babydoll" he rasped, "I think that's enough"

But you didn't wanna stop. This was so hot... feeling him in your mouth, hearing him moan for you...

"Baby" he grunted "I ain't gonna be able to fuck you if I come down your throat"

Those crude words brought you back to reality... and made you even hornier.

You pulled away from his dick, letting it slap back against Joel's stomach.

"Lay down f'me"

You did, without question.

He stifled a groan at the sight, at the fucking image displayed before him once you obeyed his command and spread your legs.

Fuck.

He looked at your eyes, watching for any sign of doubt, of a second thought... but he found none.

It was then he finally took his cock in his hand, giving it a much-needed pump and making you swallow drily.

He was silent as he guided his tip to your folds, making it slide between them and catching on your clit... but you weren't.

You were letting out all sorts of little cries and whimpers and moans as he toyed with you.

But you too, fell silent once you felt him stop at your entrance.

"Mh-" you were starting to hum, biting down your lip as he began pushing inside when he suddenly stopped.

"Fuck- forgot the condom"

You blinked, trying to make sense of what had happened as he reached into his night table.

"Joel" you called for him, making him turn around, condom in hand.

"'m sorry darlin', should've remembered sooner"

But that's not what you wanted to say.

"Joel can we..." you gulped "can we not-- use it?"

He frowned as his dick damn near exploded.

You wanted him to fuck you raw?

"Jesus sweetheart you tryna kill me today or somethin'?"

You smiled, your hands fidgeting.

"N-no I just... this is my first time... I- I wanted to feel it, y'know?" you murmured "A-and I'm clean and if you... if you use it with all the other women then you must be clean too, so..."

Joel had the urge to laugh.

"That ain't what 'm worried about, pretty doll"

It was one thing your dad finding out he'd fucked you... a different thing if he'd fucking got you pregnant.

Your mouth formed an o shape as you remembered.

"O-Oh no, I-I'm on the pill"

I shouldn't do this.

There's still a risk.

I'm old enough to be her father I shouldn't be doing this for countless different reasons.

I shouldn't.

I really fucking shouldn't.

And yet Joel had already gotten rid of the condom and had made his way on top of you.

You smiled before he kissed you, taking away all the oxygen from your lungs.

"I need you to relax now sugar" he murmured, his hand guiding his dick to your entrance once again.

"O-ok" you nodded, feeling the very tip of him push inside you.

"Just like that" he praised, kissing you again "Doing so well f'me"

It burned.

The stretch got more and more demanding as he tried to push himself deeper into you.

"Ah!" you gasped, your hands gripping his biceps as he kissed your neck.

"I know baby, I know"

"I-it's big" you cried, planting your feet on the mattress to try and ground you.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, looking you in the eyes, although yours were shut close.

"N-no" you shook your head "I just... " you hissed from the pain as he slid in an inch further.

"You can do it babygirl" he whispered, still planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

"B-but it's too big" you whimpered desperately as he still kept going. It felt interminable.

"Don't ya worry 'bout it honey" he said, moving some hair out of your face "I'm gonna make it fit"

That got him the first little moan of pleasure, which coincided with you letting him get an inch deeper.

"Yeah you like that?" he cooed "You like the idea of me filling you up with my cock to the very brim?"

You moaned again, louder.

"I know you do sugar." one of his hands had traveled between your bodies to find your clit, making you cry out even louder "Want nothing more than to be full of me, do ya?"

"'s ok sweetie, we're almost there" he promised, his breath sending shivers up your spine "You're taking me so well... letting me stretch this perfect little pussy for the very first time..."

It still burned, but the worst was done, and his words were making you forget half the pain.

"such a good girl" he cooed "There we go, like that, lemme in babygirl... fuck"

You'd done it.

"Oh my god" you gasped.

You felt utterly and completely full, like your body had been missing a part of it all this time.

"Joel" you cried, your grip on his arms tightening.

"You ok sugar?" he asked, although you could hear the restraint in his voice.

"Yes" you breathed opening your eyes to look at him "Yes please do- do something"

He smirked as he gave you a quick kiss.

"I'm gonna start moving now, ok?"

You nodded hastily "Y-yes- please".

And so what could he do, if not exactly what you'd asked?

He retracted his hips just to thrust in again, and... wow.

"O-Oh my god" you cried, as he did it again, finding a slow and oh so very deep pace.

He was rolling his hips, grinding against your pelvis every time he trusted in, making fireworks explode in your body.

"Fuck, doll" he groaned, his pace quickening "Y'feel so good... so tight for me"

You could only moan at his words, your legs wrapping around him.

"it's like you were made for my cock" he said, staring at you although your eyes were closed.

He didn't want to miss even a second of this.

"To let me fuck you like you need" he hissed, having to refrain himself from coming too soon.

That had been a danger since the very first inch of him had entered you.

You just felt so fucking good.

"You're such a good girl baby, y've got no idea" he groaned, kissing and licking your neck "Taking me so well"

"J-Joel!" you basically screamed once the fingers on your clit resumed their work.

"I know baby" he cooed, continuing to fuck you thoroughly "I know it's a lot, but you can take it"

The sound of your skin slapping with his bounced off the walls with each thrust together with the creaks of the mattress.

"I-I- Joel" you kept on crying, your breathing getting more and more ragged as your belly tightened expecting the approaching orgasm.

"what is it darlin'?" he purred, "need me to fuck you harder, softer?" he murmured "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to ya baby"

"M-more"

He could only smirk as he picked up his pace, now slamming into you harder, feeling your walls tighten with each thrust.

"Oh god- O-Oh shit--"

"C'mon doll," Joel groaned as your nails dug into his skin "Be a good girl and come for me- let me feel you come around my cock"

He didn't even need to ask.

"like that" he rasped as your eyes shut tight and you cried as loud as your vocal chord permitted "Just like that- good fucking girl"

Each molecule of your body rearranged itself as the orgasm overtook your body, mind, and soul.

You were sure you had ascended to another universe, the only thing that grounded you was Joel's words as he reached his own peak.

"Fuck doll, 'm gonna come" he grunted " 'm gonna fill you up babygirl- like that- take it sugar-- take it all"

It took a long while for you to gain back consciousness, and when you did, you found yourself lying under Joel's blanket, his hand gently drawing patterns on your arm as he... he was watching you.

"There she is"

You could only find it in yourself to smile as you leaned closer to him, leaving a soft, quick kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, Joel"

[motthe]

Maybe some Young! Silco fic? (Or anything that you wanna do) I already loved his older version but his Young self in The last episodes got my heart in a grip 😭💖💖 He looks so full of dreams and maybe a little silly. Maybe with a energetic/chaotic significant other!

young!silco also has me in a death grip don't worry. hope you enjoy this!!

warnings: fem!reader, violence, sexual innuendos, secondhand embarrassment for drunk rambling

“It’s doable!”

“Doable and survivable are two very different things.”

Vander knocked his head against the metal backing of his mining gloves repeatedly, aching for the two of you to come to a compromise. The light of the fungi matched the tink tink tink of his patience running thin.

Crunching footsteps had him pausing, one eye opening to find Felicia pushing her helmet up higher on her head as she stared at you and Silco just beyond, still very much squabbling. She leaned on her hip, one hand rising to rest on it as she smiled down at Vander’s hunched form.

“Are they still arguing about the gap?” she whispered.

He groaned quietly instead of answering. It was all she needed.

“I can make it!” you protested, arms gesturing to the other side of the ravine. “I’ve jumped buildings twice the distance.”

“When you’re jumping buildings you can see the ground,” Silco argued, pointing to the darkness below. “We don’t know how long a fall that is, you absolute lunatic.”

“You’ve gotta hand it to her,” Felicia chuckled, taking up camp next to Vander. “No one else would even think of jumping across.”

“She’s an adrenaline junkie,” Vander muttered. “Jumping off shit is all she thinks about.”

“Would you—just let me—damn it, Sil!”

The shuffle of boots and clothes had both of their heads turning, watching with equally amused expressions as Silco passed by with you being half carried half dragged away from the ravine. Silco didn’t pay them a glance as he went. You kept stretching back the way you came, struggling but not truly putting all your energy into it. Felicia could tell. You loved being his center of attention for as long as possible, even if it kept you away from your wild pastimes. 

The sound of a horn echoed through the caves, sending the fungi white with the sound. The work day was finished. 

“Back to the last drop, then?” Felicia hummed, standing and offering a hand to the big man. He accepted it with a soft grin, following her out. The two of them watched Silco far ahead, who was now fully carrying you in your grieved state. You kept muttering you could have made it.

“Think they’ll ever get together?” she hummed, nudging Vander.

“Wish they would,” he sighed. “It was annoying years ago, now its just pitiful.”

She laughed, waving a hand at you when you pulled your head up from Silco’s shoulder to eye them. “Well, she’ll never do it. She’s convinced herself he’s too focused on our cause to ever settle down.”

“Some days I think the same thing,” Vander said, introspective when she glanced up at him, “others, I catch him looking at her. He doesn’t open up, barely does around us, but…”

“Disappears around her, yeah?” She smiled at him and he mirrored her, nodding.

Later that night, the Last Drop was bustling with the newest record added to the box. You’re dancing over chairs, running across the edge of the pool tables as people chant your name. Someone tossed a mug through the air and you caught it, swallowing the contents down and cheering with the rest before continuing on with dancing. 

Silco watched from his bar seat. He had cruel timing, turning his eyes back to his notebook when you pulled yourself away from the crowd to glance at him. To you, he was lost in his own world, but really he fell into yours quite easily. You were distracting. He perked up at the sound of your voice without meaning to, knew the outline of your body in his periphery. Abrasive and chaotic. You’re too much, too loud.

Too perfect for someone as withdrawn and stiff as him.

“Oh, heaven help me,” Vander grumbled, both hands on the bar as he stared at the scene. Silco paused to raise an eyebrow at him. “She just downed three shots in one.”

“How many does that make it now?” he questioned.

“Eight.”

Both of their heads dropped, knowing how the night would be going.

“All right, I give!” Felcia slammed a hand on the bar as she walked up, panting. “I can’t keep up with her. Gods. Where does she get the energy?”

Vander passed her a drink as Silco shrugged, music blaring all around them. Felicia scowled when she noticed his journal. 

“Oh, c’mon, Silco. Let loose for a bit!” she shouted over the din of the bar, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If I did that, nothing would ever get done around here,” he returned, smirking as she rolled her eyes. 

The counter shook under them, the second bang of Vander’s fist sending both of them on high alert. Two meant trouble. 

Felicia spun around, Silco turned in his seat. There by the record player you were backed against the wall by a man, one arm caging you in while his fingers pinched your chin. The cold look in your eyes had a shiver streaking down Silco's spine. You were a storm like this and he’d been lost to it for years. 

The man said something that made you scoff, batting his hand away and sliding to get out from under him. As his hand grabbed your upper arm Silco realized he was no longer sitting. Even across the room he could read your lips.

“Last chance. Beat it,” you warned.

The man laughed and tugged you closer, it sent your knee right between his legs. When he bent over, Silco heard the crack as your fist met the man’s jaw. He hit the ground, dead weight. 

Fuck, he thought, hands curling into fists at his side. You were perfect.

You stumbled back a few steps. It seemed those shots had soaked in. You were cradling your hand as yells broke out, slow to turn as a couple of goons stood from a table nearby.

“Great,” Felicia puffed, pushing off the bar, “he had lackeys.”

Vander shouted as they ran at you, Silco was halfway to you when you dodged the first swing, putting you straight into the path of another. Your back hit the record player, a scratch disrupting the music. The entire bar turned, regulars rushing forward without second thought and jumping the goons. 

Silco went straight to you, mindful of the chair Felicia was brandishing overhead as she flew into the meat of the fight. 

“Let me see,” he said, sliding a hand under your jaw and tilting your head back. You were hunching, still holding that hand of yours to your chest. 

“Hey, Sil,” you slurred, grinning and wincing. Your lower lip was busted, the right side of your face already beginning to swell from the jaw up. “Can you believe that guy? Down in one hit, hah!”

“Still have all your teeth?” he asked, wiping the blood trailing from the corner of your mouth. 

“What? You want me to open wide for you?”

He ticked a brow, scowling through the heat that flashed through his stomach. 

“Come on, let’s get ice on that,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around you. You hummed happily, falling into his side. Even as drunk as you were, your feet barely stumbled as he led you to the basement door. He nodded to Vander who already had the same idea, coming around the back of the bar to pass him an ice pack and a clean rag. He thanked him.

“Take care of her,” Vander said, rubbing a hand over your back. You tossed the big man a smile before he returned to his station.

“Keep that on there,” Silco said to you, heart aching as you hissed at the touch of it. 

“I’ve got it,” you muttered, hand brushing his. He made sure you kept it pressed to your cheek before opening the door and helping you in first, careful of the stairs as he closed it behind him. The sounds of fighting and the skipping music was muffled as he led you into the bowels of the Last Drop, setting you down gently on the couch.

He reached for your hand, frowning when you turned away from him. 

“Let me see,” he said.

“It’s fine,” you grumbled, curling into the couch.

“I’d like to see that for myself,” he pushed, fingers gentle as they smoothed over your wrist. Your furrowed brow relaxed a bit, watery eyes trailing to him. “Let me see,” he asked again, softer.

You sighed, the weight of your arm settling into his palm as he moved to sit next to you. You hand shook in both of his, the skin of your knuckles ripped open and gushing red. When he attempted to move your pointer and middle fingers you whimpered, head falling into his shoulder.

He apologized, pulling one hand away to reach into his jacket. “It’s sprained. I’ll need to wrap it.”

“Sweet Sil,” you sighed, your good cheek rubbing against his shoulder as you brought your knees up, “always prepared for the worst.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t constantly getting into trouble,” he hummed, pulling out a roll of bandages and beginning his work. You curled into him as he cleaned you up, tensing when he secured your bruised digits. As he tied the bandages off around your wrist, he sighed, holding your hand in his, thumb running over your skin. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffed.

He turned his head, a breath punched from his lungs as he saw tears slipping down your cheeks. The ice pack laid abandoned in your lap. 

“What are you apologizing for?” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I always make a mess,” you whispered, little gasps slipping. Each one was a bullet to his chest. He couldn’t stand seeing you cry. “I always annoy you.”

“No,” he murmured, arms stretching over you to pull you into his lap, “no, you don’t annoy me, pet.”

“Yes, I do,” you sobbed. “I get into t-trouble when I-when I just want you to look at me.”

Oh, Gods help him. He knew this was the alcohol talking but the hopeful flame in his heart was burning into a torch. He needed to calm you down and get you to bed. 

“I’m looking,” he said, lips grazing your forehead as he rubbed your back. “You don’t have to try so hard. I’m always looking.”

You sniffed and he grabbed the bloody rag, nudging the cleanest corner towards you to blow your nose. He chuckled when you groaned, curling deeper into his chest.

“Too drunk for this,” you mumbled. “Stupid shots.”

“Stupid shots, indeed,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Let's get you some water and go to bed.”

You whined, hiding your face in his neck. “Wanna stay here. M’warm.”

He sighed, settling into the couch. Eventually you would nod off. He’d carry you into bed, then.

“Hair’s nice.”

“What?” he chuckled, trying to look down at you, but it was impossible with you smushed up against him.

“Your hair,” you said, lips moving against his neck. “I like it when it’s bun. Hair frames your face nice. S’handsome.”

You’re going to hate yourself in the morning, he thought, holding back his laughter. You were never going to live this down and he wasn’t nearly nice enough to not tease you about this for the rest of your life. 

“Face hurts,” you sighed. He rubbed your calf, shushing you.

“Sleep, pet,” he murmured against your forehead. 

“You’ll stay?” you asked.

“I’ll stay,” he promised.

[itsthecline]

INTRODUCING… LONG TERM GF!READER

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ long term gf!reader who had been around forever , longer than rose , longer than wheezie even. she grew up next to the camerons , and so she always knew them— it helped that their parents were friends. she did girls days with her mom , sarah , and mrs. cameron once a month every month. after mrs. cameron passed away , they continued to do it , inviting wheezie to join them. mrs. cameron loved her , and always poked fun at her son for having a crush on her.

long term gf!reader who asked rafe out. it was fifth grade at lunch. she walked up to him and his friends at the table , standing over all of them. “do you want to be my boyfriend , rafe?” she didn’t realize that mrs. cameron saying ‘just ask him , honey’ implied not doing it at school lunch in front of everyone. obviously , a young rafe was a little embarrassed , cheeks and ears turning red , but he nodded and you skipped away happily. who knew they’d actually last?

long term gf!reader who was there for rafe for everything no matter what. she knew from a very young age that he was her soulmate , and so she also knew she had to stick it through. to be fair , it was easy when rafe lied about certain things so nothing seemed as bad. even if he hadn’t , he was sure she would go along with it anyway , but he felt better keeping her away from the dirty details as much as possible.

long term gf!reader who wanted babies and wanted them soon. after they got engaged probably when they were in barbados she kept bringing it up. “when are we going to have babies?” “how long do i have to wait for you to give me what i want?” “can we try for a baby now?” it was incessant , and rafe didn’t really mind. he wanted kids with you someday too , but he always said no. “no , honey. not yet,” he’d coo. when they did decide to start trying , she got pregnant right away. she dyed her hair back to her natural hair color , knowing it would be too much maintenance to keep bleaching it , and she went full mommy mode.

long term gf!reader who’s best friend was louisa cameron. genuinely , the youngest cameron stole her heart the minute she was introduced. she always babysat her when needed , had play dates with her growing up. she always loved babies , so wheezie was perfect. as they both grew up , she was the one to invite wheezie on the girls days. they’d have their own sleepovers despite rafe being annoyed she was sleeping in wheezie’s room down the hall rather his.

a/n okay , so this is going to be a regular series with some smau in there as well , so the fc is nicola bc she’s hot but ofc picture whoever you please for the parts that aren’t smau! this is going to be a lot of posts of them through their relationships ( and maybe some fics about the actual obx plotline thrown in every once in awhile ) but i want you guys sending ideas in as well because we all see rafe in a different light and i want to encapsulate all of that in this universe’s rafe:)

also: i was doomscrolling the other day and saw a series about high school girlfriend!reader and it inspired me to start this as well… as soon as i find that account u bet ur ass i’m sending y’all over there<3 and if y’all know who it is plssssss pls pls lmk

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[ramonathinks]

matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished. 

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one. 

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews. 

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person. 

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.” 

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat. 

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.” 

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that. 

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months. 

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke. 

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.” 

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried. 

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago. 

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful. 

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand. 

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?” 

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself. 

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t. 

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before. 

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him. 

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial. 

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him. 

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him? 

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in. 

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid. 

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water. 

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?” 

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events. 

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more. 

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud. 

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum. 

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you. 

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.  

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his. 

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body –  focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you. 

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation. 

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling. 

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves. 

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you. 

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response. 

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs. 

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.” 

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered. 

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow. 

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other. 

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.” 

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex. 

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews. 

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too. 

[tsukumomei]

—PUPPY LOVE || AO3

ft. Sae Itoshi

summary: rin swears the new girl makes “nii chan’s face light up”. sae smiles more, and spends time with her like it’s no big deal. their parents don’t notice, but rin can tell she makes sae happier, even if it’s a little annoying. wc. 2.2k

a/n: just a cute fic I thought of cause of that one additional time of the itoshi brothers “nii chan’s frame of mind”

right where we left off

Rin didn’t like her at first, not that he did now.

She showed up at the park one day, just standing there with her ball and staring like she wanted to join their game. She didn’t even ask, just yelled, “Pass it to me!” like she owned the place. Her voice cut through the sound of their cleats against the grass. Rin froze mid-step. No one talked to his big brother like that.

To Rin’s surprise, his brother’s gaze fell on her, and Rin could almost see the gears turning in his head.

Nii chan didn’t yell at her. He didn’t tell her to leave. He tilted his head slightly and nudged the ball her way with his foot. Rin frowned.

That was it. The first domino fell.

She wasn’t even good. She ran weird, her kicks were all over the place, and she tripped more than she scored. Rin thought nii chan would get annoyed, but he didn’t. He actually helped her. He showed her how to dribble and even taught her how to do some of the moves Rin was still practicing. It wasn’t fair!

Then there was the rainy day. Rin was sure they’d stay inside—no one played soccer in the mud, not even nii chan. But when Y/N showed up wearing her rain boots and grinning, nii chan grabbed a ball and followed her outside. Rin had no choice but to tag along. They ended up having the messiest, weirdest game of soccer ever, with Y/N sliding in the mud and nii chan actually laughing when she fell.

But what really annoyed Rin was how nii chan acted around her. His face was different. When Y/N was around, he looked... relaxed. And sometimes, he even smiled. Not his usual smirk when he wins, but a real smile.

It wasn’t like nii chan to be this way. Rin knew his brother better than anyone. Nii chan is the coolest, and he always looks ahead. 

But with Y/N, it was like he slowed down just enough to let her catch up.

One time, Rin saw them sitting under the big tree at the park. Y/N was talking a lot, waving her hands around and laughing, and he just sat there, listening. He didn’t even tell her to stop talking, which was weird because Sae hated when people talked too much.

Even at home, she was there sometimes. She’d come for dinner, and always ended up next to Sae. She’d laugh at nii chan’s jokes and he’d give her the last piece of karaage like it was nothing. 

Their parents didn’t notice, of course. Mom just said it was nice Sae had a “little fan,”and Dad said it was good for Sae to teach someone else; it would “build character.” Rin wanted to tell them they were wrong, but he didn’t know how to explain it. If only they saw what he did.

It wasn’t just about soccer. Y/N wasn’t like the other kids. She wasn’t scared of nii chan, and she didn’t try to impress him like everyone else. She just... acted like he was normal. And somehow, that made nii chan act normal, too.

Rin didn’t understand it fully, but he could tell Y/N was different. She was the only one who could make nii chan stay longer at the park, the only one who could get him to drop his guard. And as much as Rin hated to admit it, there was something kind of cool about that.

By the end of the summer, Rin still didn’t like how much time they spent with each other. 

But even if it was annoying, it wasn’t so bad to see nii chan smile.

—

Rin is eight now, and Sae is ten, and it was Valentine’s Day—the most annoying day of the year, at least to Rin.

When Sae opened his locker, chocolates and notes spilled out onto the floor. Rin, walking past with his own bag of books, stopped and stared. Even Sae’s friends, who were standing nearby, froze in surprise.

“Whoa! Sae, look at all this!” one of his friends said, picking up a pink heart-shaped box. “You’re like an idol or something.”

Rin looked around the hallway, noticing a group of girls peeking around the corner, giggling as they watched Sae. Rin rolled his eyes.

Sae didn’t seem impressed. He sighed, crouched down, and began scooping up the fallen chocolates. “You guys can take them if you want,” he said calmly. “I don’t really care.”

His friends’ jaws dropped. “Are you serious?” one of them asked, already reaching for a fancy-looking box. Sae shrugged.

“Yeah. Take them. I don’t eat sweets much anyway.”

Rin couldn’t believe it. “Nii-chan, you’re just giving them away?”

Sae gave Rin one of his usual unreadable looks. “What am I supposed to do with them? Keep them all? It’s just chocolate, Rin.”

Rin huffed, muttering under his breath. He might’ve been little, but he knew enough to tell that those chocolates weren’t just “chocolates.” The girls liked nii chan. They liked him liked him.

Later, when they got home, Rin peeked into Sae’s bag to see if he’d kept any of the chocolates. Sure enough, there was one. A small, simple box with a handwritten note tied to it.

“Why’d you keep that one?” Rin asked, pointing at it.

Sae looked up from his homework and shrugged. “She gave it to me in person,” he said. “It’d be rude to give it away.”

Rin squinted at him. Something about the way Sae said it made Rin feel like there was more to the story.

—

The next day, Rin noticed Y/N sitting on the stairs near the school courtyard, looking sad. She had her hands covering her knees, and her head was bowed. Rin frowned. Usually, she was cheerful and full of energy, but today, she just sat there, not even looking up when people passed by.

Sae noticed too. Rin could tell because instead of heading to class like he normally did, Sae turned and walked straight over to her. Rin followed, curious but pretending he didn’t care.

“What happened?” Sae asked, his voice calm but steady.

Y/N glanced up, her eyes a little watery, and gave a sheepish smile. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Sae crouched slightly, his gaze dropping to where she was holding her knee. “Doesn’t look fine,” he said.

Rin leaned closer and noticed the scrape on her knee, smeared with a little blood. Her other leg looked bruised, too. 

Y/N sighed, looking embarrassed. “I tripped on the stairs earlier. It was so dumb. I wasn’t even running or anything. I just... fell.”

“Can you walk?” Sae asked.

Y/N shifted and winced as she tried to stand. “Not really,” she admitted, sitting back down. “My legs hurt.”

Without a word, Sae turned around and crouched in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, confused.

“Get on,” Sae said simply.

“What?”

“I’ll carry you to the nurse’s office,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Hurry up before we’re late.”

Y/N hesitated, looking unsure. “You don’t have to—”

“Just get on,” Sae said again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Blushing slightly, Y/N carefully climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Rin’s eyes went wide.

“Nii-chan, are you serious?!” Rin asked, sounding both shocked and annoyed.

“Do you see anyone else helping her?” Sae shot back, standing up effortlessly with Y/N on his back.

Rin scowled but didn’t say anything. He followed them as Sae started walking toward the nurse’s office, Y/N leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Thanks, Sae,” Y/N said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Sae replied, his voice steady.

Rin trailed behind, muttering under his breath. “She’s so dramatic. It’s just a scrape. I fell yesterday, and no one carried me anywhere.”

But as he watched Sae carry Y/N, his brother calm as ever while Y/N’s face slowly brightened, Rin couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“Why does Nii-chan always go out of his way for her?” Rin thought, kicking a pebble on the ground.

By the time they got to the nurse’s office, Y/N was smiling again. Rin sighed, knowing that no matter how much it annoyed him, Sae was going to keep looking out for her.

Sae, as usual, looked calm, but Rin caught the faintest smile on his brother’s face.

Later, as they were heading home, Rin couldn’t help but ask, “Nii-chan, do you like her?”

Sae glanced at him, his face unreadable as always. “What do you mean?”

“You kept her chocolate,” Rin pointed out. “And you carried her to the nurse’s office. You don’t do that for anyone else.”

Sae didn’t answer right away. After a moment, he just said, “She’s different.”

—

Rin was still in elementary school, but Sae and Y/N were now in middle school. Even though they didn’t go to school together anymore, things hadn’t changed too much. Sae still came home every day, and most of the time, he’d be in a good mood. Rin liked it when Nii-chan was like that because it meant he’d play with him, and Sae would even show him new tricks.

But one day, everything felt... different.

Sae came home later than usual, and when Rin saw him walk through the door, he noticed right away that something was wrong. Sae didn’t say much during dinner, and when Rin asked if they could play soccer, Sae just shook his head.

“Maybe later,” he muttered.

Rin frowned. Nii-chan never said no to soccer.

Later that evening, Rin found Sae sitting on the steps outside their house, staring at the ground. Rin hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting down beside him.

He let out a small sigh, his gaze still fixed on the ground. Finally, he said, “Y/N’s moving abroad.”

Rin blinked, confused. “What? Why?”

“Her dad’s job,” Sae replied. His voice was flat, but Rin could tell he was upset.

Rin tilted his head, trying to process it. “So... she’s leaving? For how long?”

Sae shrugged. “Probably a few years.”

“A few years?!” Rin’s eyes widened. “That’s forever!”

Sae didn’t respond.

Rin thought for a moment, then asked, “Did she tell you today?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I’d miss her,” Sae admitted quietly.

Rin stared at him, stunned. It wasn’t like Nii-chan to say stuff like that. He was usually so calm and serious, never letting his emotions show.

“She said she’d miss me too,” Sae added after a moment.

Rin watched his brother’s face closely. Sae didn’t look like he was about to cry or anything, but there was something about the way he sat that made Rin feel uncomfortable.

“What are you gonna do?” Rin asked.

Sae glanced at him. “What can I do? She’s leaving, Rin. I can’t stop her.”

Rin thought about that for a moment. He didn’t like Y/N as much as Sae did—she was always stealing Sae’s attention, after all—but even Rin couldn’t imagine her not being around anymore.

The next day, Rin decided to follow Sae to the park after school, where he knew Sae and Y/N usually met up. He stayed hidden behind a tree, watching as they sat on their usual bench.

Y/N was holding a small notebook, and she handed it to Sae with a shy smile. “I made this for you,” she said.

Sae opened the notebook, flipping through the pages. It was filled with little doodles, notes, and memories of their time together—funny moments, inside jokes, and even some pictures she’d drawn of their soccer games.

“It’s so you don’t forget me,” Y/N said softly.

“I won’t forget you,” Sae replied, his voice steady but quiet.

They talked for a while, and even though Rin couldn’t hear everything, he could tell it was important. When Y/N finally got up to leave, Sae stood too. They said goodbye, and Y/N walked away, turning back once to wave.

That night, Sae was still quiet, but he seemed a little better. Rin sat next to him again, this time holding their soccer ball.

“She gave you something, huh?” Rin asked, glancing at the notebook on the table.

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna write back to her?”

“Maybe,” Sae said.

Rin stared at him for a moment before nudging him with the ball. “Wanna play?”

Sae looked at him, and for the first time that day, he gave a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Even though Rin still didn’t fully understand everything, he decided not to ask any more questions. If playing soccer could make Nii-chan feel a little better, then that was enough for him.

[lovableapocalypse]

weather the storm

dr. jack abbot x female!wife!reader

wc: 1.8k

summary: you take you and jack's son to the er in the middle of the night when he's sick, but your marriage happens to be on the rocks atm

warnings: reader and jack have 11 year old son, medical inaccuracies, mentions of marital differences/separation, mentions of surgery/medical procedures, established relationship, light angst but happy ending, not canonically accurate, reader has her dogs out

a/n: i don't know why i'm struggling so bad to characterize/write for abbot but i hope this does him justice. i def think he's more goofy in the show but this is a more sensitive situation so idk? i hope you like it okay!!! ugh!!!! i want to write sm more for him so maybe it will come easier to me

You were deep in sleep when you felt a familiar small hand grasp your shoulder. Your eyes shot open and you inhaled sharply as you sat up on your elbow. Your son’s face came into your weary vision. He was grasping your arm and bent over the bed, a distressed look on his face. 

“Mom.” He spoke in a pained whisper. 

“Benjamin?” You blink and clear your eyes, anxiety skyrocketing at the sight of Jack and your son’s form. You grab onto his arm that’s gripping your body and squeeze. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

His voice is soft and broken, “My side. My side really hurts.”

You sit up immediately and push the covers back. “Your side?” 

You run your hands over his arms and move the one that’s covering his midsection, lifting his pajama top. It looks normal to the eye.

“Here?” You place a gentle hand on him.

He nods, grimacing. 

You curse under your breath and stand, guiding Ben to sit on the edge of your mattress. It’s definitely his appendix and you’re praying to yourself it hasn’t ruptured.

You grab your phone off the nightstand. “You’re okay, baby.” You reassure him as you dial Jack’s number. 

You know it’s a shot in the dark. Jack was working an overnight shift again and you had been separated for two months now. Your marriage was one full of love and a deep connection to each other, but lately you’d been struggling. He’d been working nights full time and barely saw you. He tried to make time for Ben, which you appreciated, but it was a different story for you. 

You started spending more time at work in his absence and found yourself desperate for his attention. And when you reached a breaking point you pushed him away. You two fought like you’d never fought before and things buried deep inside came to the surface. After the two of you cooled down, you spoke with a marriage counselor and a brief separation was suggested.

So, here you were. At home in the house you used to share, the bed that you still kept to your side of. Jack had gotten a small townhouse closer to the hospital and stopped by for the occasional dinner and to pick up Ben. But, as the phone rang you internally begged him to pick up, all drama aside. 

You get his voicemail. Realistically, you know the ER can get chaotic at night, but you can’t help the curse that escapes again. You toss the phone down and grab your shoes from near the closet, the ones you swore you’d pick up days ago. 

You help Ben move to the car, holding his groaning form up. You hide your fear and anxiety and whisper reassurances to him. 

The dashboard reads 2:38 am as you drive the fastest and safest way you can to the hospital. You park and help your son to the familiar ED’s waiting room. It’s less busy than you would have thought, the night shift seeming to usually catch the weirdest cases. 

The receptionist is one you recognize thankfully, and her eyes shoot up when she sees you and Ben.

“I think it’s his appendix.” Your voice shakes. 

Ben leans into you, his eyes tearing. “Mom-”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re here now.” You repeat. 

The receptionist pages back and Dr. Ellis exits the locked doors with a nurse not a moment later. 

“Abbot?” She uses your last name as she rushes over and assesses Ben’s state. The nurse follows with a wheelchair and she helps you sit Ben in it. 

“I think it’s his appendix. Jack didn’t pick up and I have no idea if it’s ruptured-” 

Ellis cuts off your rambling, “Don’t worry, we got him.”

You follow her as they put Ben in a room and start an IV. You step forward and run a hand over your son’s hair, trying to comfort him. 

“Is Dad here?” He groans. 

“He’s in Trauma 1.” Ellis answers, giving you a look as she pulls the ultrasound over. 

“He’ll be here in a little, baby.” 

Ben nods but drops his head back defeatedly. 

Ellis moves closer to her boss’s son and speaks gently. “I’m going to lift your shirt and check out what’s going on, okay, kid?” 

Ben nods and she puts the soft gel on the wand, moving it over his abdomen. She watches the screen and Ben holds onto your hand, wincing softly. 

Ellis hums to herself, before placing the wand back and wiping your son’s side. “Good news is it’s not ruptured yet. I’m going to admit him to General Surgery and they’ll get him in pre-op.”

“He needs surgery?” You thought you’d heard of doctors being able to reverse appendicitis with medication. 

She nods. “It’s pretty inflamed, I’m not sure the antibiotics would work in time to stop a rupture.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah. Thank you. Can- can you just get Jack when you have a chance?” You know he’s working and you’re not in the best place but you want him here. 

“Of course.” She takes a moment to explain what’s going on to Ben before exiting. You sit on the edge of the mattress and squeeze Ben’s hand, trying to soothe him. 

Jack had been in Trauma 1 when you had entered the ER. A GSW had come in through the ambulance bay and the patient was critical. He had spent the first 10 minutes coding him, then working to stabilize him enough to send him up to the OR. 

When he finally exited and shoved off his gown, exhaling a deep sigh, he wasn’t in the mood to find out why Ellis was moving towards him in such a grim way. 

He went to glance up at the board but Ellis’ tone caught him off guard. 

“Dr. Abbot,” Her inhale was shaky, “Your son is in South 15.”

His world stopped. His years of training and education abandoned him in that singular moment. “What?” His voice was barely audible. 

“Your wife brought him in, looks like appendicitis. It’s inflamed and I don’t think there’s time for antibiotic treatment. He’s getting prepped for General Surgery-” He didn’t stay to hear her finish. His movements were controlled but hurried as he moved to the curtain he would find you behind. 

He shoved the curtain back and took in the scene before him. You were sitting on the small hospital bed, still in your tank top, striped pajama pants, and familiar worn flip-flops you’d had since before Ben was even born. You were whispering soft words to your son. Your son, whose face was scrunched up and who was lying back in a hospital gown, IV dripping into his arm. 

You turned at the curtain’s movement and sighed deeply in relief. Ben glanced up. 

“Dad.”

Jack was by his side in an instant. “You okay, buddy? What happened?” 

You stood and watched Jack run his hand over Ben’s hair, pushing the curls he’d inherited from the man back. 

Ben spoke softly, “My side started hurting, it woke me up. I woke Mom up and she brought me here.”

“I tried to call. I got here as quick as I could-” You continued. 

“You did everything right.” Jack nodded, his voice soft and eyes firm. 

He grabbed a pair of gloves from the box on the wall and pulled the ultrasound machine back over. 

You knew he trusted Ellis and her professional opinion, but he also wanted to make sure his son was okay for himself. 

Ben laid back as his dad examined his abdomen. You ran a hand over your bedhead and watched Jack shift into the all too familiar doctor he was. His expression unreadable, his movements precise. 

He wiped the machine and his son’s stomach before speaking, “You’ll be okay, kid. One less appendix for you.” He smirked, winking at the young boy.  

Ben smiled weakly at his dad and you let out the breath you’d been holding. Hearing that everything would be okay from Jack was the most reassurance you could get at that moment. 

A few more nurses came in, giving Jack sympathetic glances and prepping Ben to head to the OR. When Ellis came back in and gave the all good, you pressed a long kiss to your son’s head. Jack squeezed his hand and whispered ‘I love yous’ in his ear. You watched as they wheeled him towards the elevator. 

You knew he would be okay and that he was in the best hands, but your eyes watered. The night was catching up with you. A sob wracked through you and Jack watched your shoulders shake. 

He stepped close behind you, his hands finding your shoulders and his mouth pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“It’s okay.” His voice was quiet and that was all you needed to let the tears fall. 

Turning in his arms, you fell into his chest. His familiar hands, rough and calloused, wrapped around your crying form and his head came to rest on yours. 

It was overwhelming. Ben needing surgery in the middle of the night and Jack not being there next to you to know or help. You let yourself cry for a while, before pulling back. You said nothing as you let Jack lead you to the elevator. 

He kept his arm around you as you moved to the surgical floor. He sat with you in the waiting room, even finding a PTMC hoodie to wrap around your shoulders. He didn’t push you. He let you lean on him and intertwine your fingers with his. 

“Do you need to go back down to the ER?” You sniffle, head on his shoulder. 

“Shen can manage. I told him to page me only if there’s an emergency. I’m not going anywhere.” He squeezed your hand. 

You lift your head and his eyes meet yours, serious and soft. 

“I’m sorry,” you start, “about everything. Tonight- the whole night, I just kept wishing you were there with me. That I didn’t have to worry about calling or you being across town if something happened.” 

A tear escapes as you continue, “I don’t like this. Not knowing where we stand. It’s killing me. I miss you, Jack. All the time.”

His face contorts in emotion and he swallows before responding in that soft tone of his. “I miss you too. All the time. I’m sorry, baby. I thought- I thought this would help. That you’d feel better away from me.”

Your head shakes and a few more tears fall. “I don’t, I don’t. I want you to come home.”

His thumb catches your tears as he takes in your words. His touch is soft and casual, a motion you’d found comfort in for years.

His jaw visibly clenches and his nod is firm, but it carries the emotion you know he’s feeling. “I want that, too. I want you, Ben, all of us together.”

“Together.” You repeat and clutch his hand tighter. 

He pulls you into his arms and you let him. You fall into him for the first time in months with no second guesses. No imaginary lines being crossed. 

You feel his lips graze your hairline and you pull back slightly, hands cupping his face. His lips find yours easily and it feels brand new again. Your heart full and your mind at ease. 

“We’ll be okay.” His words wrap around you like his arms and you know in all certainty they’re true.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Wondering ♡

♡ Pairings: frat boy!mingi x chubby!fem!librarian!reader

♡ Genre: angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: While working your job at the campus library you find that the most popular guy on campus has developed quite the crush on you. Thinking that it's some sort of prank, you dismiss him completely but Mingi has his heart set on making you his and isn't content to give up that easily.

♡ Word Count: 4.5k-ish

♡ Warnings: mingi really develops a thing for chubby girls, reader has body insecurities, body worship, kissing, male masturbation, porn, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, a lil hair pulling, a lil rough sex for a sec, technically cum marking, pet names (baby), but otherwise fluffy

♡ A/N: This is a fic I wrote for a super adorable anon and as always I'm super honored that you even asked me to write this my love. I truly hope that I did your idea some justice and you enjoy it. To all the chubby babes out there who may read this, you're a bad bitch, I swear to you, and if anyone tells you otherwise I'll swing on em. Kay, love you, bye - xoxo

Nothing. Mingi strokes his cock—his palm gliding up and down his length, his thumb circling the rim—and he feels absolutely nothing. Lying in the darkness of his bedroom, the warm glow of light emanating from his phone illuminates the frustration on his face. His gaze lazily dances across the screen where a woman lies naked, a sex toy vibrating between her thighs. She’s in his favorite position, making his favorite noises, but he can’t get off on it.

Giving up, he lets out a groan, throwing his head back on his pillow. It’s been weeks of this. He’s been too horny to function but when the time of action comes he can only get halfway hard and nothing feels the same as it used to. Maybe a different video will help. Bringing his phone in close to his face, he scrolls through the recommended videos. His cock still in his hand, he feels it soften into a sad, floppy thing the further down he scrolls.

Just as he’s about to call it a night, prepared to at last put himself out of his misery, something catches his eye. An image of a naked woman spread across a bed, her plush body fully exposed. She’s bigger than other girls he’s seen naked in porn, even in real life. She’s chubby and soft with shimmering gloss on her lips and stretch marks on her thighs. His breath hitches at the sensation of the blood rushing down his length as he takes her in.

His interest officially piqued, he clicks into the video and watches her in action. He’s hypnotized by the way she bounces and jiggles, every motion of her body too perfect to comprehend. The skin pulls tight around his cock, beads of arousal rolling down the tip as he quickens his movements. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, an attempt at choking back the low groans fighting their way up his throat at the sight of juices moistening the woman’s soft thighs.

Seeing her hits him with a rush of something unfamiliar. Something that has his stomach muscles contracting and his mouth watering. His mind goes wild with thoughts of what it’d be like to touch her, to feel her body trembling against his. What he wouldn’t give right now to grip a belly like that or drag his tongue across the plush of her ass. It’s exhilarating, unlike anything he’s ever felt before. His cock grows so sensitive that he’s twitching with every stroke. 

Any care for if his roommates can hear him flies out of the window as a dizzying heat washes over him, the veins along his length throbbing as a waterfall of white shoots up onto his stomach. His phone drops onto the bed and he lets out a pitiful whimper, his eyes clung shut as he gives in to an orgasm so strong it makes his muscles weak. He’s so high from it that he fears he’ll never come down. Breathless, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he sits up in bed and flicks the light on to see what a mess he’s made of himself.

His eyes drift back to his phone where a suggestion for a similar video calls him. He takes a deep breath, feeling his cock stiffening again so soon. Mingi picks his phone up, his thumb hovering over the Next button. It’s 3am and in a few hours Yunho will be banging on his door to go to football practice. He should get his shit together, clean himself off, and go to sleep. But that rush was so unexpected, so utterly delicious. He slips back down into bed, hitting the Next button. He needs more.

“Whoa, there’s so many books here” Mingi gasps, staring up at the tall cherry wood shelves of the sprawling library. 

Mingi’s seen this place in pictures before—this marble palace with its sky high shelves and expertly crafted pillars—but in all his years on campus he’s never stepped foot in it. Nothing in this literary maze ever interested him enough to require a visit. His college career has always depended more on athletics and frat politics than it has books.

Most of his professors were more than content to give him a passing grade simply because of who he is. A stroke of luck that ran out the moment a new Women’s Studies professor stepped foot on campus. She’s set out to challenge him, to make him work for his grades if he actually wants them. A true tragedy if he’s ever been faced with one. 

“Duh, it’s full of books. It’s literally a library” Yunho laughs, plopping a small stack of books into Mingi’s arms. “I grabbed everything you need except one. The Vagina Monologues. You’re gonna have to go ask one of the librarians for help.” 

Mingi winces at the thought of the title leaving his lips and falling on a complete stranger’s ears, “Why’d it have to be called that?”

“Oh, stop being a child” Yunho huffs, catching a glimpse of a young woman pushing a cart of books past the aisle. “There! Go ask her!”

Mingi hesitates a moment but Yunho shoves him forward, “Off you go.” 

Stumbling his way down the aisle, Mingi traces the sound of squeaky cart wheels a few rows over, stopping dead in his tracks when his gaze finds the woman pushing it. She wears a flowy, pear colored dress with white lilies printed all over it. It’s long enough not to scandalize the other library staff but short enough to get a glimpse of where her thighs begin to kiss. From behind Mingi can clearly make out her shape in it, the plushness of her figure bringing to mind things he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about in the library. 

Humming along to a song in her head, she turns to place a book on one of the shelves and Mingi’s cheeks begin to burn. She’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. He’s said that about a lot of girls and never meant it but with this one it’s different. She has eyes that twinkle like sunshine dancing on the surface of some gorgeous lake. The curve of her nose is nothing short of perfection and her lips look like they taste of the sweetest sugar. 

“Can I help you with something?” you ask. The way he stares at you makes you feel more like an animal in some zoo than the object of his affection.

Mingi shakes himself out of his daze, lowering the stack of books down to cover the slight rise in his jeans. “Uh…I…yeah…um” he stutters. 

“Uh, I, yeah, um?” you tease, grabbing another book and sliding it onto a nearby shelf, “I don’t think we have that one.” 

“Who are you?” he spits out as if that’s a completely normal question to ask someone when you’re the one who approached them. 

“That’s a really weird question to ask someone, Mingi.”

“Wait, you know me?”

You giggle at the absurdity of such a question, “Of course I know you. Everyone knows you.” 

Mingi thinks about it for a second, the reality of his popularity setting back in. “I guess you’re right. I am pretty popular.”

The grin on his face makes you nauseous. Of course you know him. And of course he doesn’t know who you are. Mingi’s from a whole different world and you’re positive girls like you don’t exist where he comes from. Rolling your eyes, you grab back onto the handle of your cart, “If there’s nothing you need…” 

“Vagina!” he says, leaving you both stunned to the core, “I mean, monologues. Vagina Monologues. It’s, like, a book or whatever. Fuck it, are you busy tonight?” 

A whisper of laughter drifts down the aisle, giving away Yunho’s presence. He’s never seen his best friend crash and burn this hard. Keeping a straight face isn’t an option. Yunho’s laughter may not be meant for you but it feels like it is. The first time a guy like Mingi talks to you and of course it had to be a joke. 

“Second floor, in the Plays section, under E for Ensler” you snap, turning your back before you die of embarrassment right before Mingi’s eyes. 

“Wait, can I at least get your name?” Mingi calls out but you’re already pushing your cart down the aisle, disappearing around the next corner without another word. 

Yunho slaps a hand on Mingi’s shoulder, shaking his head in disappointment, “Who’s your new friend?”

Mingi sighs longingly, his gaze still lingering where you once stood, “I don’t know but I plan to find out.” 

Sometimes when you find yourself working nights at the library you feel like Cinderella. A slave to these old dusty books, forced to clean and organize them until your manicure begins to chip while other girls are out at bars or parties. Only there’s no fairy godmother to come wave her magic wand and turn your pumpkin into a carriage. There’s no glass slipper and certainly no Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet.

Still, you need the extra money so there’s nothing to be done about it. Taking a seat at the front desk you check the time, it’s almost time to close up shop and the last few stragglers are packing up their things to head out. Once they’re gone things should be peaceful. No questions, no interruptions, no one getting on your nerves. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” Mingi asks, popping up in front of your desk. 

“Oh my god!” you gasp, clutching your chest, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Kill you? How could I ever hurt a girl as pretty as you?” he says in that cocky tone you’ve become accustomed to. 

It’s been weeks since your first run in with Mingi and he’s been relentless ever since. He stops by every shift to ask you some silly question that somehow always turns into yet another attempt at flirting with you. You shoot him down every single time but he never seems offended or discouraged. He just keeps coming back all bright eyed and full of energy like a golden retriever. You’ve gone home every night wondering what his motivations are. Why’s he being so persistent? 

Sometimes for the hell of it you let yourself play with the idea that he might actually be attracted to you. Mingi is drop dead gorgeous after all and, even though you refuse to laugh at any of his stupid jokes, you find him pretty charming. For all his cockiness, he’s sweet in a way that makes you wonder what it might be like to be truly adored by a guy like him. This little fantasy of yours is always disrupted by the vision of Yunho laughing at the two of you. It’s a joke, that’s all, a stupid joke that Mingi’s cruel for not knowing when to give up on. 

“Aren’t you sick of coming here?” you ask, pretending to be busy on the laptop, “There must be something else you can entertain yourself with.”

Mingi smiles down at you, fawning over how your skin glows in the shreds of sunset that peek through the windows. “There is actually. I’m having a party tonight and I want you to come.”

Your eyes shoot open, an involuntary burst of joy hitting you. “A party?” you ask, sounding more excited than you intended to. Catching yourself, you reel back the excitement but it’s too late, Mingi’s already caught it. 

“Yeah, a party” he says, reaching behind the desk to grab a pen and a sticky note. He scribbles down the address and sticks it to your laptop screen. “Tell me you’ll come.”

He sounds so genuine when he says that. It’s almost as if he’s truly desperate to have you around. You look up at his face and feel the butterflies in your stomach go into a frenzy. You’ve heard the way other girls talk about him, the way they swoon over him like he’s this magical thing. You don’t want to be one of them, just another girl pining after Song Mingi but here you are. 

You clear your throat, snatching the blue sticky note from your screen, and putting it aside. “I don’t really know if I wanna spend my Friday night with a bunch of wasted pretty boys.”

“Ooh, so you do think I’m pretty” Mingi blushes, batting his eyelashes. 

You pick up a stapler, threatening to throw it at him, “Leave now and maybe, just maybe I’ll consider coming to your little party.”

Mingi throws his hands up, carefully backing away from the desk, “Fair enough. I’m wearing all black by the way. In case you wanted to, ya know, match or something.”

You wind your arm back, placing it in perfect formation to hit him in the head with the stapler. Mingi gets the message and scurries out of the door, leaning his head back in for a split second to whisper, “See you later, beautiful.” He winks at you and you groan but he’s gone now and there’s no one left to take your anger out on.

As the last few visitors trickle out you find yourself sitting in the silence of the library, that blue sticky note calling your name. You pick it up, swearing you’ll toss it in the trash but you only stare at it, reading the address over and over again. Some stupid frat party with a bunch of stupid boys at some frat house on the edge of campus. Why would you ever waste your time going to something like that? And who does he think he is insinuating that you’d even want to match with him? Anyway, you only have one good black dress and you’re sure it doesn’t even fit anymore. It isn’t even worth trying…is it?

“I’m telling you, this girl’s gorgeous and she’s super smart too. She knows everything about books and stuff, like, you can ask her anything and she just knows” Mingi rambles, grabbing another beer from the fridge. 

“Because it’s her job” Yunho teases, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

Mingi pops the beer open, flicking the metal top into a nearby trash can, “And how did she get that job? Because she’s smart.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen him like this over a girl…ever” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s beer for himself.

“Well I think it’s cute. Mingi’s got a girlfriend” Wooyoung sings, making cute little hearts with his fingers.

“She’d be his girlfriend if she didn’t hate his guts” Yunho mumbles half heartedly. 

Mingi gasps, taking offense to that, “She doesn’t hate me, she just hasn’t fully warmed up to me yet but she will.”

He looks around the kitchen and his friends all eye him skeptically. Mingi didn’t say that with nearly enough confidence for them to believe him and the truth is that he barely believes himself but how does he tell his friends that? He’s the one who girls drool over. He’s never the one doing the drooling. He has a reputation at stake and here he is ruining it for a girl who probably won’t even show up tonight. But he can’t bring himself to give up on you yet. 

That first night after he met you he couldn’t get you out of his head. He kept imagining that face, that body, under him, on top of him, next to him. Just the thought of you made him hard enough that touching himself was mandatory to ease his need for you. And the more he showed up to bug you the more fascinating he came to find you.

Yes, you were snippy but never enough to directly chase him away. You let him stick around long enough for glimmers of your true personality to show. You’d made the terrible mistake of showing him how sweet you could be, how funny of a girl you are, and it only made things worse for both of you. More than having sex with you he wants to kiss you and hold your hand. He wants to tell you how pretty you are and not have you threaten him with a blunt object for it. 

“Not to be that guy but when did you start liking…ya know?” Jongho says, hoping that the others will know what he means without it coming off rude.

“Chubby girls?” Wooyoung asks, making Yunho almost choke on his beer. 

“You can’t just say that” Yunho coughs, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the beer from his lips. 

Mingi’s eyes narrow, the question not quite setting right with him, “What does it matter?” 

“I mean, it…it doesn’t. I swear it doesn’t” Jongho stammers, looking anywhere but at Mingi. 

Wooyoung shrugs, coming to Jongho’s rescue, “In his defense, we’ve never seen you with one. She’s not your usual type.”

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my ‘type’ it has to be weird?” Mingi presses. 

No one says anything, not a solitary word. They only stare at the doorway, their faces drained of any color. In the next room a party rages, in the kitchen an argument is ready to erupt, and there you stand in between the two hearing something you shouldn’t have at a time you shouldn’t have heard it. 

“Hmm, well, thank you for that. I’m so happy everyone knows what I already did” you say, laughing to avoid tears, “Thank you for the invite, Mingi. Really.” 

Something’s said, you’re sure it’s by Mingi, but you can’t hear it. You’ve gone numb to everything. Even the music blaring from the speakers a few feet from you feels like it’s playing from miles away. Desperate to outrun the tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you rush through the crowd of partiers in the living room and make your way outside.

The autumn air blows against your cheeks, cooling your tears as they begin to escape. You wipe them away, doing your best to look normal as you pass people headed into the party, but you can’t seem to stop them from falling. You feel so stupid for ever believing that Mingi’s feelings for you were anything but a joke he could laugh about with his friends. His words ring in your ears as you approach your car, frantically digging through your purse for your keys. Not his type? Well he isn’t yours either. You’ve never been too fond of assholes anyway. 

“Shit” you hiss, the keys in your hand tumbling from your grasp the second you pull them out. You bend down to pick them up but someone snatches them away before you can. You spin around to find Mingi standing there, your keys jingling away as they twirl around his fingers. 

“Give them back” you demand, grabbing for your keys but he holds them up high just out of your reach. 

“You’re crying” he says and you can almost see his heart shatter, “Come back inside.”

“Why? So you and your friends can make fun of me to my face this time?” you ask, still fighting for your keys back but to no avail. 

Mingi frowns, “Make fun of you? We weren’t making fun of you. I’d never let anyone do that to you.” 

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my type it has to be weird?” you mock, feeling childish but justified considering the circumstances. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that just because I’ve dated smaller girls that doesn’t mean I can’t like you and I do. I really, really like you” he swears, “I love your body. I think it’s beautiful. Everything about you…I’m just obsessed with and all I wanna do is show you how special you are but you won’t let me and I don’t understand why.”

Folding your arms across your chest, you stand on the sidewalk staring at Mingi like you hate him but it’s not him that you hate. It’s the fact that you believe him. The tears have slowed now but your cheeks are still wet, black streaks of mascara beginning to run down your face. You drop your head, embarrassed by your mini breakdown, and Mingi swoops in, giving you a chest to lay your head on. His long arms wrap around you, locking behind your back to keep you close. It’s your instinct to pull away but his embrace is too comforting and warm to abandon. 

“If you want me to leave you alone forever I promise I will. I’ll let you go and you’ll never have to see me again” he whispers, “But if you stay I promise I’ll be good to you.” 

Your stomach sinks at the thought of never seeing him again. Day after day all you’ve done is tell him to leave you alone but it never occurred to you how much it’d hurt if he actually did. “I don’t want you to leave me alone” you admit, your face emerging from the black abyss of his shirt, “That’s, like, the exact opposite of what I want you to do.”

Mingi cups your face, his thumb stroking the curve of your cheek, “Good because I wasn’t actually gonna leave you alone. How can I when you look like this? You’re even a pretty crier. How’s that possible?”

You’ve always managed not to blush when Mingi’s said things like this—at least not when he’s around—but you don’t stop yourself this time. You don’t even make the tiniest attempt at hiding how utterly giddy you are over his comments. 

“Ooh, is that a smile I see?” he gasps, immediately making you regret it. You motion to hit him in the arm but he grabs you by the wrist, slipping his hand into yours as he leads you back towards the house. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll clean you up then we can talk more, okay?”

Mingi looks back at you and you could swear that time stands still. This isn’t where you thought you’d be on a Friday night, walking through a frat party hand in hand with one of the most popular guys on campus—with Mingi. He’s guiding you up the stairs, looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world and for the first time, somewhere deep down inside, you’re beginning to feel like it. 

Before you left the house tonight you swore that you wouldn’t become some frat party cliche. Mingi’s hot, there’s no doubt about it, but there was no way you’d wind up bent over some bed with your panties around your ankles.

You were actually right about that. You’re not bent over some bed, you’re laying across it, and your panties aren’t around your ankles, they’re tossed off to the side of the bed, blending in with the pile of black clothing you collectively shed before you found every inch of Mingi’s cock stuffed inside of you. You came up here to talk, that was it, and in your defense you did talk. You were vulnerable with each other, you opened up about your feelings, and the next thing you knew your tongues were so far in each other’s mouths that you could feel it in your throats. 

Mingi’s kiss is sweeter than you imagined. It’s the kind of kiss you could get lost in it. Even now, after he’s been kissing your lips raw for the last half hour, you find yourself wanting more. You’re so wrapped up in him, so completely consumed by the ecstasy of having him inside of you, that you aren’t even focused on the fact that you’re naked. You can’t begin to care if you look good or not when your body’s flush with heat, feeling the best it has in your entire life.

But you do look good. Nothing in Mingi’s wildest dreams could compare to how beautiful your body actually is. His hands explore your curves, discovering those spots he knows will come to be his favorites. That squishy belly of yours that pokes out just a bit more when he massages your sides. Those pillowy thighs that seem even thicker when he presses them to your chest. Those breasts that bounce softly against his face while he’s sucking at your bud.

“You’re so fucking amazing, baby” Mingi whispers, licking his way over the hills of your breasts to bring his lips to yours. “I do have a type. You know it’s you, right?”

“Is that so?” you tease, trembling at every stroke of his cock between the slickness of your walls. You run your fingers through his hair, your back arching against the mattress so much that you’re sure you’d float away if the weight of Mingi’s body weren’t pinning you down.

Mingi kisses you like a starved man whose hunger can only be satisfied by the taste of you. “Mmm, can’t you tell?” he hums between sloppy kisses, “Can’t you feel it?” 

He snaps his hips into you and you let out a moan that makes you grateful for the loud music blaring downstairs. Keeping his lips locked to yours, one hand gripping your hip and the other cradling your face, he thrusts into you harder. Hard enough to make the bed creak. Hard enough to make your walls clench tighter. Hard enough to have you tugging his hair, moaning between his lips while your decadent juices drip down his length.

Mingi groans, holding you even tighter as the head of his cock rides the ridges of your sweet spot. Your insides are so spongy and wet, clenching around him just right. There’s no way he can go back to masturbating after this. The thought of you won’t be enough. Fantasies are absolutely nothing compared to what it’s like to truly feel you under him and around him. 

“Mingi, mmm, gonna cum” you whimper, your eyes wide and glossy as you look up at him. 

You sound so cute when you say it that he loses his sanity for a second, his hips stuttering before picking up the rhythm again. Mingi slips both hands behind your neck, deepening the kiss as he bottoms out completely. Heat pools behind your belly, spreading through your body until you’re sure flames are dancing at your fingertips. Your body tenses, a weak little moan falling from your lips before your vision goes blurry and your high washes over you. 

“That’s it, good girl” Mingi coos, basking in the warmth enveloping him, “So pretty when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.” 

Your walls are pulsing, fluttering wildly around his swollen cock. Your cum just pours down him, making every movement slippery wet. He can’t take it anymore. He couldn’t hold back even if he tried. 

“Aah, fuck” he hisses, pulling out of you just in time to paint your inner thighs in white, leaving ropes of cum dripping dangerously close to your core. 

Completely destroyed by your orgasm, you’re plastered to the bed and can only watch as Mingi catches his breath, immediately going to work planting kisses all over your body. He kisses the places you love and the places you hate. He worships them all with his lips because to him they’re perfect in every way.

You surrender yourself to the reality of that, letting the lingering adoration from each kiss sink into your skin. Mingi’s yours, he has been since he first laid eyes on you in that library, all you ever had to do was let yourself have him. 

[lucidfairies]

LET'S PLAY

pairing: ghostface!Abby x reader x ghostface!Ellie

synopsis: you've always been afraid of scary movies, but when abby recreates one of her favorites with some help from her best friend... lets just say you face your fears.

warnings: fear kink (?), threesome, pussy eating, strap usage, gendered pet names, double penetration + anal [r! receiving], face riding [e! + r! receiving], scissoring [a + e], very brief gendered talk ("but my sweet girl can take it, can't she?"), unrealistic squirting

wc: 2k

a/n: hi guys! to be fully transparent with you guys, I've been extremely busy over the last couple of weeks and have no chance to write. on top of that I'm extremely under the weather right now, so this is the only Halloween shot I have written. 😭😭 I'm really sorry that it worked out this way, maybe I can finish and post the others later on!

it was halloween. finally halloween. and the conditions were perfect. the dark night sky was filled with grey clouds that stuck out from the moonlight, fog had been gathering all day, so that once trick or treating started for the little kids and partying started for the older kids, it was just right. you had different plans on your mind, though. tonight it would be just you and Abby, with movies, popcorn, and definitely some costumes.

in all honesty, halloween scared you in the slightest. the movies that Abby often wanted to watch were gruesome, and you wound up with your hands over your eyes, merely listening to the shrieks and stabbings. abby loved it, though, so you found it in your heart to get over it.

that fear, however, resurrected itself when the clock passed eleven, knowing she was supposed to be home at nine-thirty. you had texted her a number of times at this point, even called her, with no response. it was more than strange; in all the years you and abby had been together, she had never, ever missed a halloween.

at a certain point you sighed and got off the couch, accepting that she apparently just wasn't coming home. you went down to your room, changing and laying down to sleep. you tossed and turned, not used to a bed without her body in it. after a while, you laid on your back with a huff, grabbing your phone to text her again.

before you could press send, you heard an aggressive jingle of the lock on the front door. it didn't stop, and you were slammed with the feeling that someone was trying to to get in. someone was trying to to get in. a bat hid behind your door, and you ran over to grab it before leaving your bedroom. you looked over your shoulder, into every room, but you didn't see anything. the kitchen was dark once you walked into it, and as you went to flick the lights on, you felt a strong hand on your hip that pulled you back, covering your mouth with their other hand.

the bat was ripped from your hands by a second person, and you screamed, but the hand covering your mouth was gloved and masked the sound. you could feel the captors heart beating and their chest rise and fall.

“sorry I'm late,”

it was abby. abby who followed you through your house and abby whose hand was over your mouth. the lights flicked on and you were faced with a different person, dressed in a ghost face mask and it's matching rags. you pushed out of abby's grip and turned to face her, realizing that she also had a mask on.

“what the fuck abby?” you quietly shrieked. “what was that? you scared me.” the light caught the knife in her hand, and suddenly a pit developed in your stomach. it was fear, flat, undoubtable, fear. “why do you have a knife?” she walked towards you slowly until your back was against the wall.

“don't worry baby, we're just gonna play,” her large body encased you. “you remember ellie, don't you sweet girl?” you nodded slowly, tears welling up in your tear ducts. “my poor baby, don't cry, we're gonna be real nice to you.” when she said that, you finally came to the realization as to what was happening. this is why abby loves the scary movies. she likes the control; the fear. you relaxed. “do you trust me, pretty girl?” you looked at her through the mask and nodded slowly. “do you trust me to not hurt you?” you nodded again.

“let's play then, baby.”

that's how you ended up here, on your back, with ellie on your face and abby between your legs. ellie had a hand in your hair, forcing you to look up at her while you ate her out. she was grinding down on your tongue, chanting your name as she chest rose and fell quickly. she had definitely already come, but she was using you to get off.

abby, however, had a strap buried deep in your cunt. you two hadn't used a strap before, you didn't even know where she got it, all you knew and could think about was how much she was filling you. the mask was still covering her face, but you almost got off to it. she had your legs pushed up to your chest, drilling her hips into your ass over and over, going even after your orgasm had lit up your body.

finally she let up, but you knew you weren’t even close to done. ellie got off your face and they both looked at each other, as if they were coming to a conclusion by just looking at each other, then they both looked over at you. abby discarded her mask and tossed it into the pile of clothes, loosening the harness from her hips and throwing it along with everything else. “get up,” ellie said, replacing you as you stood up. “sit on my face, sweets. face abby like the pretty thing you are.” the position was weird, but somehow it worked. you were backwards on ellie’s face, but her skilled tongue still managed to find everything you needed just right.

abby lifted ellie’s leg up, shifting herself between her lifted leg and her dripping center, rolling her hips down until they were both moaning. with the hand that wasn’t keeping ellie’s leg steady, abby grabbed you by the throat and brought your lips to hers, moaning into your mouth as your tongues met. ellie was so good at eating pussy, you almost didn’t want to pick between her and abby. maybe tonight meant that you could have both of them whenever you wanted.

ellie fucked you with her tongue while her thumb found your clit, spreading your wetness and her saliva over it and rubbing in rhythmic, slow circles. you were all but pushing all your weight onto abby, who was still riding ellie’s pussy. now, though, her head was back, neck exposed. you regained your headspace slightly, just enough to run your lips along her neck and suck. your lips traveled to her tits, marking her in a way you hadn’t before.

you stopped as soon as you felt your orgasm building quickly, instead opting for your previous option of grabbing her for support. it seemed as if you both were in the same boat, because her face scrunched up in focus, like it did every time she came. your head was on her shoulder as you came, whimpering at just how good it felt. ellie didn’t let a drop miss her tongue.

abby stood up, and you zoned in on how both of their pussies were covered in each other’s cum. your pupils were wide, your mouth was basically hanging open with drool. abby looked at you and chuckled. “wanna clean me up, sweetheart?” you got up from the bed and kneeled in front of her, assuming that’s what she wanted you to do, and waited for her to spread her legs. she leaned against the wall and propped her leg up on your shoulder, letting you lap at her until everything was gone. it tasted so good, so much like abby with a hint of ellie. it was the perfect blend.

though you wanted to lick up ellie too, she had already cleaned off with a bed sheet. “I have one more thing to try, if you’re up for it, baby.” you nodded profusely, and both girls looked at each other with a smirk. “get on the edge of the bed in doggy.” you did as told, putting your knees on the edge of the bed and arching your back so that your face was in the comforter. “good girl,” abby cooed, reaching down to pick up her harness and clip it on again. ellie also pulled one out from the jumble of clothes, and you wondered where hers was going to go. in the bedside drawer, abby pulled out a small bottle of lube, which she must have snuck in at some point earlier in the day to prepare.

earlier, when all of this started, you didn’t need lube, so you couldn’t understand what that was for. until both girls walked behind you. you felt the tip of one of their straps rubbing against your ass and you leaped forward, ill prepared. “this is gonna be a big stretch, baby, but my sweet girl can take it, can’t she?” you hummed at abby’s words, sucking in a harsh breath as her strap entered a new place. it was certainly different, but it felt so good. it was just the stretch you wanted, and it got even better when you felt ellie running the tip of her strap up and down your folds.

when ellie pushed her strap into you along with abby’s, the earth froze. “fuck, babe, look at your slut,” from what you could see, they were both admiring the way your stretched for them. You weren’t going to deny that it hurt a little, but with the way they were looking at you and the way ellie kept hitting exactly where you needed to plus the stretch of both of them, it made up for the slight discomfort.

once they gained a rhythm, you had them railing you at the same time, strokes hard and fast, with ellie’s large, skinny hands wrapped around your waist to keep you up. your hands grasped the bedsheets tightly, listening to your body as you neared closer and closer to finishing. there was another feeling building, one you hadn’t felt before, but you made an effort to ignore it. The closer you got, the noisier you became, moaning and grunting with every thrust until you were twitching on the edge of release.

the weird feeling that you were ignoring came back hard and fast, sitting somewhere strange in your bladder. it was like the urge to pee, but with some form of pleasure to it. they pulled it out of you with their harshness, making you squirt hard as you finished. you rolled your hips back at how strong your orgasm was, tears running down your face and creating a pool on the comforter.

you felt strangely empty as they both pulled out, unclipping both of their harnesses yet again and tossing them. “you did such a good job angel. let’s get cleaned up.” you all showered together, then abby surprised you with matching pajamas. ellie was packing up her stuff and you frowned.

“stay,” you said, and she looked up at you and smiled. “we can watch a movie. you can leave in the morning. don’t drive home in the dark.” she sat her backpack down and climbed into bed with the both of you. abby rolled over to grab the remote and turned on scream, just for the irony.

taglist: @inukastan1 @elliecoochieeater @pepperflakess @hastasupern0va @jazzys19 @purring4elliewilliams @decaffeinatedclodbagelweasel @lonelyfooryouonly @heyimrye (if your not tagged it said your account did not exist, I apologize)

[lunarcowgirl]

don't leave me here without you | one

yeah yeah fuck me, jack abbot x f!doctor!reader

you can read part two here and part three here

dr abbot finds your resume and thinks you are leaving the pitt - absolute disgusting and pathetic behaviour ensues, its all very endearing.

~~~

from the office of the author: DOn't even LOOK at me, I'm embarrassed. the pitt consumes my every waking thought so I'm going to make that everyone else's problem :)

this is my very first fic!!! it is a work of fiction!!!!! i do not know anything about being a doctor!!!!!! inaccuracies are none of my damn business!!!!!!!!!!

i can’t help but love the emotional constipation of jack and robby in this show, and i was feeling inspired by jack, so this is my attempt at unpacking a bit of it. reader is indeed reader, but i have formed a bit of a character in my head, so pls forgive me she does get a last name late in the piece. hope you enjoy!!!!! maybe more soon!!!!! <3

warnings: cussing, jack being pathetic, snooping based behaviours, mentions of loss of bodily function/traumatic injuries, mentions of war, mentions of covid, a spider may or not be guilty of a crime, miscommunication i fear, bad grammar from yours truely, bit o' angst

word count: 2.1k

Dr. Jack Abbot thought he was doing a very fine job not staring at you all shift long, thank you very much. It had gotten harder since you’d changed the way you’d done your hair, letting the blonde grow out. When the lights hit the top of your two fastidiously tied french braids it set the crown of your head on fire, like the sun itself sat behind you in some kind of imitation of a halo. angel indeed. You’d pierced your left ear again, yet another little golden hoop in the soft shell of cartilage at the very top. Every now and then, he would see you reach for it, as if to scratch an itch, but catch yourself before you could touch the still healing wound. The smallest, prettiest crease would form between your eyebrows, and your hand would curl into a tight fist of frustration. You were going to be the absolute death of him.

The last trauma had been difficult; damage to the neck not only making finding an airway close to impossible, but suggested a grim future for the patients ability to move as he once did. Walking was now in question. Fucking e-scooters, they were starting to offer up more victims than motorbikes. It had been an excruciating emotional dance to explain to the teenager’s recently widowed mother, that her 15 year old’s life would now be dramatically different, that she was going to have to take on a new burden. The quiet, contained grief in her eyes, not breaking contact with his, was just about all he could take for this shift.

It was easy then, to justify a little bit of gratuitous selfishness in front of the board; the easiest place to catch a glimpse of you. This shift you’d remained calm and switched on, as you always were, but something was clearly scratching at your mind. Standing dutifully behind Jack as he spoke to the mother, gently answering her questions, offering sincere condolences, introducing her to Kiara had all been done with perfect form. but when it was done, you had all but fled back to the nurses’ station, logging onto one of the computers at break neck speed.

This is where you now sat, chin resting on your linked fingers, eyes in a predatory narrow. Without meaning to, without really realising it was happening, Jack let himself drift slowly around the desk. On his journey closer to you he let his hands fall into nonchalant, non-suspicious motion. Adjusting the cord of the landline, running his finger over some forms to see if they needed his signature, flicking on a tablet to consider the chart on it. He didn’t really have the time to think too hard about it, but some small voice in the back of his head told him he looked like a fucking idiot. Jesus Christ, he’d committed now.

To get a decent angle of your screen he would have to step back a little from the desk, making it pretty damn obvious he was snooping. If it was only a glance, just a few seconds, he should be in the clear. Mindful not to get to close (you seemed to have eyes in the back of your head when it came to him, probably since he was your attending), he took one last scan of the room to check no one was clocking every last shuffle he was taking.

Pursing his lips with arms crossed tightly across his chest, he stepped back swiftly, eyes flicking down your screen. The majority of it was taken up by a word document, your name is bold letters across the top. Underneath was a jumble of dot points, places and years and accolades and societies—a resume?

A resume…your resume. You were leaving?

His heart went somersaulting into his stomach, bouncing off his ribs on the way down.

When had you decided this? Where were you going? When were you going to tell him?

Jack felt anger and grief and confusion and jealousy all at once in his veins like some kind of poisonous cocktail. What was he, some kind of teenager? What had he ever done to deserve an explanation from you? You, who was so wonderful and so clever and so funny and so so beautiful. You who had only ever weathered his grumpiness and sour expressions and poorly timed criticism with grace and patience. You who’d never figured out how to be a pessimist, who never let the bad days win. The thought of your absence was more painful than he could have ever expected — it scared him goddamn shitless.

“Dr Abbot?”

Dr Ellis had materialised out of nothing on the other side of the desk, one eyebrow cocked. Jack nearly tripped over his own feet to get away from you and the scalding sensation of shame burning across his face, “Ya?”

“Uh, can I get your eyes on a case in South 15? We’ve got a 10 year old, lethargic, sweaty, confused. Her parents are insistent she hasn’t ingested anything.”

Your head snapped up, finally divorced from whatever hypnotic pull the resume had on you.

“Does she have control over her extremities, fingers?”

Ellis frowned, “She was moving them a lot, almost obsessively. I figured if might just be a reaction to the confusion and being in a strange place.”

You stood in one fluid motion, hands quick to grab a pair of gloves, feet quick to dance around the station to get to Ellis’ side.

“Mind if I join? I think we need to look for a spider bite. Funnel-weavers are usually—”

And with that the pair of you were gone, walking shoulder to shoulder into the fray like soldiers in arms, conversing in low, practised tones. Ready to tackle whatever the inside of that room held; the scariness of having to diagnose quickly, the stress of terrified parents breathing down your neck. It didn’t matter how bitter-of-heart Jack had become after all the years of carnage, there was still a part of him that sang at the sight of a well-oiled team. It was selfish, he considered, to believe your leaving would effect just him. Every last doctor, nurse, support worker, radiologist, technician, transport aide, frequent flyer and desk clerk would mourn your loss. Perhaps the endearing Mel King most of all. She had taken to your cheerful demeanour and calm teaching style like someone drowning does to oxygen. In the time Langdon had been a voluntary inpatient, you had been a much needed rock in the stormy wake of that revelation. Another loss could send her off kilter again, and the ER needed her…badly.

So where exactly were you planning to run off to? Surely you wouldn’t go overseas again, not after what had brought you home the last time...

Morality was telling him to just walk away, to busy himself in some problem that likely was currently yearning for his help.

They hadn’t reached out had they? Could they convince you to go back?

He wished Bridget would just call for him, that Shen would bustle in with all his careful questions. But wishing would not make it so. And he had fought so long, all his life. The older he became, the easier it was to just surrender. To drift. The computer was about to fall asleep, locking it to the world. One swift movement of the mouse sealed his fate. He was a shameless snoop, a betrayer of privacy - your privacy.

It couldn’t be denied, the resume was impressive. Very, very impressive. How many graduating honours could one 30 something year old have? And the places you’d been, you’d practised - how many names could you possibly stack next to each other? Some of them he hadn’t even seen with his eyes, even after all the time in the camouflage pants that chaffed like you wouldn’t believe. You’d seen the very worst Covid had served up in Mexico City and Rio, you had been at the very front in Ukraine, in Afghanistan, traipsed all the way across North Africa and South America and just about every island in Indonesia. Pittsburgh, even with its fair share of tragedy, felt so foreign on the page next to all the adventure and danger. It would be easy to think that you had simply become bored, and wished once again to go somewhere that you could stem the flow of blood. Jack thought the blue beret would match the new blonde hair quite nicely.

“Dr Abbot?”

He froze. That voice. How long had he been staring at the carefully typed words, wishing they would reveal an answer?

There was no way, no way at all that he could gracefully and silently retreat from this one. He was elbow deep in the cookie jar, no better than a child, spited at not being told the grown up’s secret. He looked behind himself with humiliating slowness, feeling infinitely small and ashamed. The small crease between your brows had deepened into a valley he could not dig himself out of.

“Dr James.” He said, his voice sounding all together too loud and too far away, “If you are walking away from a computer in any circumstance other than a complete emergency, you must log off, there is confidential information of patients that must be protected from wandering eyes.”

“Wandering eyes?” You let a laugh escape, entirely hollow.

And then, with more steel then he had ever heard, “Can I speak with you privately for a minute?”

“Fine.” He said, straightening with an angry click from his back. Too old for all this high school shit. You made a point to lean past him, and log off with a few aggressively passive aggressive snaps of the keys.

He trailed behind your long, mechanical strides, deeply unsettled by the stiff set of your shoulders. Maybe you’d developed the ability to be negative in the time to took to stomp from the nurses’ station to the family room door, which you promptly shoulder charged open. Once it was safely closed behind both doctors, you whirled on him.

“What the hell were you doing looking at that?”

“Like I said, you need to log off—”

“Bullshit, Jack!” You looked wild, eyes impossibly wide, “There was no reason for your face to be 2 inches from the screen to log me out. Or have your eyes completely given out since the start of shift?”

If there was no way to dodge the bullet, he may as well try swallowing it, “What exactly do you plan on doing with that document? You gonna flee the country again? Run from all us sorry fucks here in the Pitt?”

You recoiled, like the venom in his words had actually struck your skin. Jack watched them sink in, the sizzle of their marks.

You shook your head once, looking down at your sneakers, the 10-year-too-old linoleum floors.

“I can’t believe you. I cannot believe you.” The words were pulled straight from your chest at the end of meat hooks.

Jack opened his mouth to strike again, but your gaze shot upwards and locked onto his. The attacks died on his tongue.

“All I have done since I set foot in here was try and get close to you Jack Abbot. I have offered you my full attention, my utter respect and confidence and trust, all my effort, all my energy, everything I have.” You took an incredulous step backwards, unsteadied by your own words and the weight of them now sitting between you, “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, I would ride right on back into all the shit and misery all over again if that is what you asked of me.”

Something that looked frighteningly like a tear slipped down your cheek and off your chin.

“And what do you offer in return? You push and push and push me away.” The words wobbled now, exhausted from the revelation.

“What right do you have,” You gasped, “to now act betrayed about this? To declare you’ve always cared? Like its me that’s hurting you?!”

Killshot.

Jack’s mouth pressed into a hard line, a terrible burning spreading through the back of his eyes, a horrible pressure on his chest. All that time he had been pretending not to look at you, you had been staring straight through him into his very soul. Seeing every ugly inch of his insides. He wanted to run, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness at your feet.

Bridget rapped sharply on the door of the window, her face grave, “Car pileup on the highway, multiple traumas, 4 minutes out.”

By the time he turned back to you, your face had been schooled back into cool neutrality, a deep breath filling your lungs. Before Jack could reach out and touch you, you were gone, like you were never even there.

~~~~~

um, so yeah I guess? more soon! x

| next

[amoressb]

✦ LATE NIGHT LIVE

PAIRINGS — idol bf!riki x reader

IN WHICH — riki goes live with you and shows off your matching pjs

you were waiting for riki outside of the recording studio patiently. you had a little surprise for him when he came out. before you came to the studio you had saw these cute cookie monster pjs and thought it would be cute for you and niki to wear them together and now here you are.

“oh hey y/n!” you hear a voice say. you look to your left and see sunoo. “hey sunoo howve you been?” you smile at him. “ive been good so far, pretty tired tho. glas recordings over so i can go home now. are you here for riki?” he assumes seeing that you have a little bag saying for riki on it. “yeah got him a little something!” you open the bag for him to see. “aw thats cute, you really do bring out his soft side. he should be getting out now tho so ill see you later!” he waves to you. “byeee!” you smile waving bye to him.

about a minute or two later the door opens revealing your boyfriend. he looks to his side smiling immediately upon seeing you, “hey baby, how long have you been here?” he pulls you in by the waist gently. “mm maybe like 10 minutes ago?” you look away from him thinking. “but anyways i got you a little something here!” you stated getting out if his grip and grabbing the little bag. he smiles grabbing the bag from you and opening it to see a pair of blue cookie monster pajama pants. “really baby?” he states chuckling.

“lets wear them tonight yeah?!” you smile waiting for a response. “yeah but im scheduled for a live tonight, ill still wear them tho okay” he holds you cheek smiling tilting his head at you a little. you say nod happily, grab his hand and make your way home. riki couldnt help but smile at you. you being so excited to match with him and everything, he loved it. he couldnt wait to get home and match with you.

finally getting home, you both immediately went to change into your pjs and a simple black shirt. riki started setting up his live on your vanity since it had a light up mirror while you sat behind him on the couch making sure youre not in the background. riki started the live and comments immediately started rolling in. “hey guys hope youre all well” he smiled waving at the camera.

how was youre day riki !!

“my day was good we simply recorded our bits for some songs then i got surprised by a special someone” he states looking off camera to you smiling. engenes already knew who riki was talking about. you. they absolutely adored you and loved the noticeable difference in riki.

is she with you?

can we see her !!

“yeah shes behind me off camera actually” he looked at you still smiling. “cmere baby they wanna see you” riki holds out his hand to you. you grab his hand smiling cheekily and made your way into the camera.

omg i love her pjs !!

“thank you i just bought them today!” she happily states. “yeah were matching actually look!” riki smiles happily and stands next to you, grabbing your waist gently. you both see the comments going crazy at how cute you guys look. riki turns to you and gives you a kiss on your cheek.

riki takes his seat again and pats his lap looking at you. understanding what he means you take a seat on his lap and almost immediately riki wraps his hands around your waist and lays his head on your shoulder. the engenes see this and they absolutely love it omg.

ni-ki is my standard.

theyre so cute i want what they have !!

idk about you but i want y/n🤷‍♀️

“well you cant have her but you can still keep those edits coming yk” he looks away with a grin. you lean into the camera and wink, “dw im always yours engenes.” riki immediately gave you his signature side eye while loosening his grip on you. the comments started laughing at the scene in front of them. you also started laughing and turned to him, reaching your hand up to his cheek, bringing his face closer to you, giving him a kiss on the cheek. he looked away breaking into a smile. the rest if the live was just you and riki flirting at (many) times and for some reason riki constantly bringing up that he was matching pjs with you. he was just that happy about matching with you.

“bye engenes have a good night” you and riki say waving then turning off the live. it was noticeable you two were tired so both immediately jump into your shared bed getting into the covers cuddling up to each other closely. “that was acute live riki” you say stroking his cheek softly seeing his eyes are already closed. he simply hums and gets closer to you if thats even possible. “goodnight riki i love you” “goodnight princess i love you too” he mumbles sleepily. you chuckle and kiss his forehead and you both went off into dreamland.

* happy birthday to my bby riki !! *

[jupiterpilgrim]

Silent Night, Whispered Secrets

Christmas Special 🎄

Yunjin x Male Reader

word count: 4.5K words

The office is eerily quiet on Christmas Eve, with only the soft hum of your computer and occasional clicking of the keyboard breaking the silence. Most of your coworkers left hours ago to start their holiday celebrations, but you're still here finishing up year-end reports. The only other person crazy enough to still be working is Yunjin, whose office is just down the hall from yours.

You've known Yunjin for the two years you've worked at the company. She started a few months before you and helped show you the ropes when you first joined. You hit it off right away, drawn to her quick wit and infectious laugh. She's the kind of person who can find humor in even the most mundane office situations, making even boring meetings more bearable with her subtle eye rolls and whispered commentary.

Physically, Yunjin is absolutely your type, though you've tried not to think about her that way given your professional relationship. She has a classic beauty about her, with delicate features framed by stylish glasses that give her a sexy librarian vibe. Her lips are full and naturally pouty, the kind that make you wonder what they'd feel like pressed against yours. She typically dresses conservatively for the office in blazers and pencil skirts, but you can tell she has a slim, petite figure with small breasts that suit her frame perfectly.

The sound of heels clicking on the tile floor pulls you from your thoughts. Looking up, you see Yunjin leaning against your doorframe, her jacket discarded and the top button of her white blouse undone.

"Still at it?" she asks with a sympathetic smile. "You know Santa won't come if you're still awake doing spreadsheets."

You can't help but chuckle. "Pretty sure Santa skips over office buildings anyway. What's your excuse for still being here?"

"Same as you probably - trying to get everything wrapped up before the holiday break." She walks into your office and perches on the edge of your desk, something she's done countless times during your friendly chats. "But I'm officially taking a break and you should too. We've been at this for hours."

The familiar scent of her perfume - something light and floral - wafts over as she settles next to you. You realize she's right about needing a break; your eyes are starting to blur from staring at the screen.

"Yeah, you're probably right," you concede, leaning back in your chair. "Most of this can wait until after Christmas anyway."

"Exactly! Speaking of Christmas..." She swivels to face you more directly, crossing her legs. "What are your plans? Big family gathering?"

"Pretty much the usual - heading to my parents' place tomorrow morning. Mom always goes overboard with the decorations and Dad pretends to complain about it while secretly loving every minute." You smile thinking about your family's traditions. "What about you?"

"Similar, minus the over-the-top decorations. Though my mom does make enough food to feed a small army." She pauses, seeming to consider something before asking, "Will your girlfriend be joining you?"

The question catches you off guard. In all your conversations, she's never directly asked about your relationship status before. "No girlfriend to bring along," you answer honestly. "Flying solo this holiday season."

"Really?" Her eyebrows raise slightly above her glasses frames. "I find that hard to believe. A guy like you, single at Christmas?"

There's something different in her tone now, a slight flirtatiousness that makes your pulse quicken. "What do you mean a guy like me?" you ask, playing along.

She adjusts her glasses in that adorable way she does when she's about to say something bold. "Oh, you know... Smart, funny, easy on the eyes." Her lips curve into a playful smile. "The kind of guy who probably has women fighting over who gets to kiss him under the mistletoe."

Your mouth goes dry as you process this shift in dynamic. Is Yunjin actually flirting with you? After two years of carefully maintained friendship?

"Funny, I was just thinking the same about you," you reply, testing the waters. "Surprised you don't have a line of guys waiting to take you home for the holidays."

She laughs softly, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. "Maybe I'm waiting for the right guy to ask." Her eyes meet yours with unmistakable intent now. "Someone who already knows me... understands me..."

The air between you feels charged with possibility. You've imagined moments like this before but always pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to complicate your friendship or work relationship. But now, with her looking at you like that...

"Yunjin..." you start, not quite sure what you're going to say.

She slides off your desk and extends her hand to you. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

You don't hesitate for a second, turning off the computer and getting up from your chair. Your heart pounds as you take her hand, letting her lead you out of your office and down the darkened hallway. Her fingers are soft and warm interlaced with yours. She guides you past the break room and copy area to a section of the building you rarely visit.

"Where are we going?" you ask, though you're happy to follow her anywhere at this point.

"Somewhere private," she answers mysteriously. "Where we can talk without worrying about security cameras."

She leads you into what appears to be a storage room, flicking on a small lamp that casts a warm glow over boxes of office supplies and forgotten furniture. It's cozy in an odd way, like a secret hideaway.

Yunjin turns to face you, still holding your hand. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and you can see her chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

"I need to tell you something," she says. "Something I've wanted to say for a long time but never had the courage."

You squeeze her hand encouragingly, heart racing with anticipation.

"I have feelings for you," she continues. "Real feelings, beyond friendship. I think I have for a while now but I was afraid to admit it, afraid of ruining what we have. But being here tonight, just the two of us... I couldn't keep pretending anymore."

The confession hangs in the air between you for a moment before you respond. "Yunjin, I had no idea you felt that way. I mean, I've definitely thought about you like that but I always told myself it was just a crush, that it would pass..."

"And did it? Pass?" she asks softly.

You shake your head. "No. If anything, it got stronger the more I got to know you. You're amazing, Yunjin. Smart and funny and beautiful... I love how you can make me laugh even on the worst days. How you always remember little details about things I've told you. How passionate you get when talking about things you care about..."

She steps closer, reaching up to touch your face. "We've been through a lot together, haven't we? All those late nights working on projects, lunch breaks spent venting about difficult clients, celebrating each other's wins..."

"Yeah," you agree, letting your free hand rest on her waist. "I guess it's natural that feelings would develop. We just... fit."

"We do," she whispers, then rises on her tiptoes to press her lips to yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, tentative, as if you're both still afraid of crossing this line. But then she sighs against your mouth and something ignites between you. Your arms wrap around her waist as hers circle your neck, pulling each other closer as the kiss deepens.

Her lips are even softer than you imagined, moving against yours with growing passion. You can taste mint on her breath, like she'd been preparing for this possibility. The thought makes you smile against her mouth.

"What?" she asks, pulling back slightly.

"Nothing," you murmur, trailing kisses along her jaw. "Just happy."

She tilts her head to give you better access to her neck, letting out a small moan when you find a sensitive spot. "Mmm... want to know what would make me happy?"

"Tell me," you breathe against her skin.

"Letting me give you your Christmas present." Her hands slide down your chest as she speaks.

You pull back to look at her, seeing desire burning in her eyes behind those sexy glasses. "What kind of present?"

Instead of answering, she starts unbuttoning her blouse, revealing smooth pale skin and a simple white bra underneath. Your breath catches as she reaches behind to unhook it, letting the garment fall away.

You can't take your eyes off Yunjin's exposed chest as she straddles your lap in the dimly lit storage room. Her breasts are small, almost flat against her slim frame, but they're absolutely perfect to you. Each one is barely a handful, topped with delicate pink nipples that have hardened in the cool air. The sight makes your mouth water with desire.

"I know they're not much to look at," she says shyly, noticing your intense gaze. "Most guys prefer bigger..."

You silence her self-consciousness by cupping both small mounds in your hands, feeling their subtle weight. "These are exactly what I want," you tell her firmly. "Perfect little tits that fit my hands just right."

She shivers as you run your thumbs over her nipples, watching them stiffen further under your touch. The rosy buds stand out proudly now, begging to be sucked. You lean forward slowly, maintaining eye contact as you take one peak between your lips.

"Ohhh..." Yunjin moans softly as you begin to suckle her breast. Her fingers thread through your hair, holding you against her chest as you worship her sensitive flesh.

You alternate between gentle suction and firm licks, paying attention to how she responds. When you graze your teeth lightly across her nipple, her whole body trembles and she lets out a gasp. You do it again, a bit firmer this time, and are rewarded with a breathy "Yes..."

Your hands knead her small breasts as you continue lavishing attention on her nipples. Despite their size, or perhaps because of it, they seem incredibly sensitive. Every touch, every lick, every gentle bite makes her squirm and moan in your lap.

You pull back slightly to admire your work - her nipples are now swollen and deep pink from your ministrations. "So responsive," you murmur, blowing cool air across the wet peaks and watching them tighten further. "I love how sensitive these little tits are."

"Only for you," she whimpers as you dive back in, this time taking as much of her small breast into your mouth as possible. There's something incredibly arousing about being able to almost fit the entire mound between your lips.

You suck firmly while massaging her other breast, feeling her nipple press hard against your palm. Her hips begin to rock subtly in your lap as her arousal builds. The movement makes your already hard cock throb with need, but you're determined to thoroughly worship these perfect little tits first.

Moving to her neglected breast, you trace circles around the areola with your tongue before capturing the straining nipple between your teeth. A sharp gasp escapes her lips as you apply just enough pressure to toe the line between pleasure and pain.

"Oh god," she pants, grinding more insistently against you now. "That feels so good... I never knew my breasts could be this sensitive..."

You hum against her flesh, the vibrations making her shudder. Your hands slide around to grip her ass, helping guide her movements as she rocks in your lap. Each roll of her hips makes her small breasts sway slightly, a hypnotic sight that has you alternating between watching and tasting.

"Such perfect little tits," you murmur between licks and kisses. "Love how they bounce... love how responsive they are... love how they fit in my mouth just right..."

Your praise seems to turn her on even more. She arches her back, pressing her chest more firmly against your face as you continue your oral assault on her sensitive peaks. Her breathing becomes more ragged with each passing minute.

You bring your hands back to her breasts, squeezing them together so you can move back and forth between nipples more easily. The sight of her small mounds pressed together, topped with those pretty pink nipples, is incredibly erotic. You lap at both peaks simultaneously, making her cry out.

"Please," she whimpers, though you're not sure what she's begging for. You respond by sucking harder, drawing one taut nipple deep into your mouth while pinching and rolling the other between your fingers.

Her whole body is trembling now as you continue your relentless attention. You can feel how wet she is through her panties as she grinds against your lap, seeking friction. The combination of your mouth on her sensitive breasts and the pressure against her clit seems to be driving her wild.

"I think..." she gasps, clutching your head tighter. "I think I might... from just this..."

The revelation that she might cum just from breast play spurs you on. You double your efforts, sucking and licking and nibbling at her swollen nipples while your hands massage the soft flesh of her small breasts. Her movements become more erratic as she chases her pleasure.

"That's it," you encourage between sucks. "Let go for me... show me how sensitive these perfect little tits are..."

With a sharp cry, she does just that. Her body goes rigid in your lap as waves of pleasure wash over her, triggered by nothing more than your mouth on her breasts. You continue gently sucking and licking through her orgasm, prolonging the sensation until she weakly pushes your head away, too sensitive to take any more.

"I've never..." she pants, looking down at you with wide eyes. "That's never happened before..."

You press soft kisses to her flushed chest, admiring how her nipples are now deep red and slightly swollen from your attention. "Just proves what I said - these are perfect."

With a smile Yunjin slides down your body with a hungry look in her eyes, her delicate fingers work at your belt buckle as she settles between your legs, licking her lips in anticipation.

"Now I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel," she purrs, finally freeing your throbbing cock from its confines. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight. "So big..." she whispers, wrapping her small hand around your shaft.

You groan at the first contact, already rock hard from getting her off with just breast play earlier. She starts with slow, exploratory strokes, learning the feel of you. Her other hand cups your balls gently, rolling them between her fingers as she studies your reactions.

"Tell me if it's good, okay?" she asks softly, her hot breath ghosting over your tip. "I want this to be the best you've ever had."

Before you can respond, she leans forward and drags her tongue from base to tip in one long, slow lick. Your cock twitches in her grip as she swirls her tongue around the head, gathering the bead of precum that's formed there.

"Mmm," she hums, savoring the taste. "Already so excited for me..."

She continues teasing you with her tongue, tracing the prominent veins along your shaft and paying special attention to the sensitive spot just under the head. Her hand keeps up a steady stroking motion, spreading her saliva along your length.

When she finally takes you into her mouth, you have to fight not to thrust up into that wet heat. She starts shallow, just sucking on the tip while her tongue works against the underside. Her eyes flutter closed as she focuses on the task, clearly enjoying herself.

"Fuck, that feels good," you groan as she gradually takes more of you in. Her mouth is so hot and wet, and the suction is perfect. She hums in acknowledgment, the vibrations sending pleasure shooting through your cock.

One hand wraps around what doesn't fit in her mouth yet, working in tandem with her lips and tongue. The other continues massaging your balls, occasionally trailing lower to tease your perineum. The dual stimulation has your toes curling.

She pulls off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. "I love how hard you are," she says, pumping you with both hands now. "Love feeling you throb in my mouth..."

Before you can respond, she's diving back down, taking you even deeper this time. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside of your shaft as she bobs her head, building a steady rhythm. The wet sounds of her sucking fill the room, obscenely erotic.

You thread your fingers through her hair, not guiding her movements but just wanting to touch her. She moans around your cock in response, the vibrations making you groan. Her pace picks up slightly, switching between deep sucks and focusing on the sensitive head.

"Just like that," you encourage as she finds a particularly good rhythm. "Your mouth feels fucking amazing."

She pulls back again, this time to focus solely on your tip while her hands work your shaft. Her tongue swirls around the head before flicking rapidly against the frenulum, making your hips jerk. "Want to taste every inch of you," she murmurs before taking you deep again.

This time she doesn't stop until you hit the back of her throat. She holds there for a moment, swallowing around you, before pulling back for air. Strings of saliva connect her lips to your cock as she gasps.

"So fucking hot," you groan, watching her catch her breath. Your cock twitches in her grip, achingly hard from her skilled attention.

She smiles up at you before diving back in, this time maintaining eye contact as she works you over. The sight of her pretty lips stretched around your girth while she stares up at you with lust-filled eyes is almost too much.

Her technique varies between long, slow sucks taking you as deep as she can manage, and focusing on the tip with quick flicks of her tongue. She seems to delight in finding what makes you moan loudest, repeating movements that get the biggest reactions.

"Getting close?" she asks during another brief break, her hand never stopping its stroking motion. When you nod, she smiles. "Good. I want to taste your cum... want to swallow every drop..."

The dirty talk combined with her renewed oral assault has you right on the edge. She seems to sense this, doubling her efforts. One hand pumps your shaft while the other gently squeezes your balls. Her mouth focuses on your sensitive head, sucking firmly while her tongue works the underside.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum!" you growl, staring down at Yunjin's face as she works your throbbing cock with her skilled mouth. Her designer glasses are slightly fogged up from her heavy breathing, adding an irresistibly naughty librarian vibe to her cock-hungry expression. Those plump, glistening lips stretch obscenely wide around your thick shaft as she bobs her head with expert precision.

Rather than slow down at your warning, she doubles her efforts - taking you even deeper into her hot, eager mouth. Her full, pouty lips form a perfect seal around your cock as she sucks harder, her tongue dancing and swirling along your sensitive length. Drool runs down your balls as she services you with single-minded determination, the wet sloppy sounds of her enthusiastic sucking filling the room.

You reach down to tangle your fingers in her silky hair, accidentally knocking her glasses slightly askew. She doesn't miss a beat, continuing to worship your cock while reaching up to adjust them with one hand. The intellectual look of her wire-rimmed frames contrasts deliciously with the absolutely filthy things she's doing with that talented mouth.

Her crimson lipstick is completely ruined now, smeared all over your cock in scarlet streaks. The sight of those perfect dick-sucking lips wrapped around you, combined with her sultry gaze behind those sexy glasses, has your balls drawing up tight. She must sense how close you are because she takes you impossibly deeper, until you feel the back of her throat squeezing your sensitive cockhead.

Her nose presses against your pelvis as she deep-throats you with practiced ease, her glasses fogging up even more from her heavy breathing. The rippling sensation of her throat muscles working around your length finally pushes you over the edge.

"Fuuuuck!" you roar as your orgasm hits like a freight train. Your cock pulses violently, shooting thick ropes of hot cum directly down her eager throat. She moans in satisfaction around your spurting length, continuing to suck and swallow rhythmically as you empty yourself into her hungry mouth. Not a single drop escapes those perfect cock-hungry lips.

Even after you're completely drained, she keeps gently nursing on your sensitive head, her tongue lapping up every last trace of cum. Only when you're trembling from overstimulation does she finally release you with an obscene pop. Your cock emerges glistening with her saliva, still twitching occasionally.

She looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes behind her slightly steamed glasses, licking those full, swollen lips with obvious satisfaction. A thin strand of saliva and cum still connects her mouth to your cock. "Mmm, fucking delicious," she purrs, her voice slightly hoarse from taking you so deep. She gives your softening length one final kiss before sitting back on her heels.

Your legs feel weak as you watch her run her tongue over her lips again, savoring your taste. Her ruined lipstick smeared across her mouth and chin. Combined with her messy hair, fogged glasses, and the hungry look in her eyes, she's the perfect picture of debauchery.

"That was incredible," you manage to say once you catch your breath. She just grins wickedly, clearly proud of her cock-sucking skills. And rightfully so - you've never had your dick sucked with such enthusiasm and expertise before.

"I love the way you taste," she says, running one finger along her bottom lip while pushing her glasses back up her nose. "And the way your big cock feels stretching my mouth open. Makes me so fucking horny." To emphasize her point, she brings both hands up to her small breasts, squeezing them firmly through her top.

The sight of her playing with herself while looking at you with those intelligent eyes behind her frames makes your spent cock twitch with renewed interest. She notices and laughs, her hands still kneading her chest. "Already wanting more? Such a greedy boy." She leans forward to plant soft kisses along your shaft, which is already starting to harden again.

"Can't help it when you've got such perfect dick-sucking lips," you tell her, running your thumb across her plump bottom lip. She captures the digit between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth with a sultry look. The combination of her hot tongue swirling around your thumb and her glasses sliding down her nose again makes your cock throb.

"These lips were made for worshipping cock," she agrees after releasing your thumb with a wet pop. "Especially yours. I love how thick you are - really makes me work for it." She emphasizes her point by wrapping those gorgeous lips around just your sensitive head, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact through her slightly fogged lenses.

You groan at the sight and sensation. "Fuck, you really are insatiable aren't you?" Your hand finds its way back into her hair, careful not to knock her glasses off this time as you guide her movements. She starts taking more of your rapidly hardening length into her mouth again.

She pulls off just long enough to say "When it comes to sucking your cock? Absolutely." Then she's diving back down, taking you to the root in one smooth motion that has you seeing stars. Her throat contracts around you as she swallows, making you gasp.

Your grip in her hair tightens as she starts bobbing her head with renewed vigor. The wet sounds of her enthusiastic cock-sucking fill the room once again. She alternates between taking you deep in her throat and focusing on your sensitive head, her talented tongue doing incredible things that have you moaning.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you praise her, making her moan around your length. Her glasses fog up completely as she works your cock faster. "Love watching those pretty lips stretch around my thick cock. You were born to suck dick, weren't you?"

She responds by taking you even deeper, until her nose is pressed against your pelvis again. The feeling of her throat squeezing around your cock while she looks up at you with those big, eager eyes behind her steamed-up lenses is almost too much to handle.

"That's it, take it all like a good girl," you growl, using your grip on her hair to hold her in place for a moment. She moans and squirms, clearly loving being used like this. When you finally let her pull back for air, she gasps and immediately dives back down for more, quickly adjusting her glasses before wrapping those perfect lips around you again.

Her enthusiasm is infectious. You start thrusting your hips slightly, fucking her willing mouth while she moans encouragement. The sight of your cock disappearing between those perfect cock-sucking lips over and over, combined with her sexy librarian look, has you racing toward another orgasm embarrassingly quickly.

"Gonna cum again," you warn her through gritted teeth. She responds by sucking even harder, her cheeks hollowing as she works to draw out your load. Her tongue does wicked things to your sensitive head while one hand massages your heavy balls.

This time when you explode, she pulls back just enough to catch your cum on her tongue. You watch in awe as rope after rope of hot cum paints those gorgeous lips and fills her eager mouth. Some of it lands on her glasses, making her look even more debauched. She makes a show of swallowing it all down before licking her lips clean with a satisfied smile.

"Mmm, even better the second time," she purrs, giving your sensitive cock one final kiss. Her lips and chin are glazed with a mixture of cum and saliva, her lipstick completely destroyed, and her glasses are splattered with your seed. "Well, what did you think of my blowjob? Think that lived up to being the best you've ever had?"

"Fuck yes. Your lips, your mouth, your tongue, those fucking glasses... You're perfect, Yunjin.”

Still on her knees, she reaches for the open cardboard box nearby. It’s crammed with small packs of wet wipes. She plucks one out, tearing it open with her teeth before pulling a single wipe free. As she starts cleaning her glasses, she laughs softly. “These glasses? Expensive as hell,” she says, wiping the lenses with a casual ease. “But having you cum all over me while wearing them? Fucking worth it.”

Her words make you shudder slightly, your breath catching as you watch her throw away the last used wipe, her face and glasses less messy now. She smirks, using her thumb to rub at the the forgotten bit of smeared lipstick.

When Yunjin finishes, she sighs, looking at you with those big lovely eyes. "Did you like your present?" she asks softly.

You pull her closer, crushing your mouth to hers, tasting yourself on her tongue but too far gone to care. “Best Christmas present ever,” you murmur against her lips, your hands finding her hips, pulling her impossibly closer as she melts into you.

"Merry Christmas then," she says with a playful wink, wiping her mouth delicately.

"To be honest, I've never liked Christmas as much as I do now," you tell her when your lips move away.

She laughs softly, tucking her head against your neck. "Just wait until you see what I have planned for New Year's."

You hold her close, both of you catching your breath as the reality of what just happened settles in. Outside the windows, snow has begun to fall, dusting the city in white. It's still Christmas Eve, you still have family obligations tomorrow, but right now none of that matters. All that matters is this moment, this woman in your arms, and the promise of more to come.

"We should probably head home soon," Yunjin says eventually, though she makes no move to get up. "It is Christmas Eve after all."

You press a kiss to her temple. "Five more minutes," you bargain, and feel her smile against your skin.

"Five more minutes," she agrees.

You sit there together in comfortable silence, watching the snow fall outside while your racing hearts slow to normal. Whatever happens next, you know this Christmas will be one to remember. And as Yunjin snuggles closer in your arms, you can't help but think that sometimes the best presents come when you least expect them.

The office will look different from now on, you think. The familiar halls and rooms now charged with memory - her hand in yours as she led you here, the first press of her lips against yours, the way she looked on her knees between your legs…

Finally, reluctantly, you both begin to dress. You help Yunjin button her blouse, stealing kisses between each button until she laughs and pushes you away playfully. Her hair is slightly messed up from your fingers and her lips are still swollen from their earlier activities.

She's never looked more beautiful.

"Walk me to my car?" she asks, slipping her hand into yours.

"Of course," you reply, squeezing her fingers gently.

As you make your way through the quiet building, you can't help but marvel at how much can change in a single night. Yesterday, Yunjin was just your friend and coworker. Now... now she's something more, something precious and exciting and full of possibility.

In the parking garage, she turns to face you before getting in her car. "Text me when you get home?" she asks, and you nod.

"Definitely." You pull her close for one more kiss, slow and sweet. "Merry Christmas, Yunjin."

She smiles against your lips. "Merry Christmas."

You watch her drive away, snow swirling in the headlights, before heading to your own car. As you drive home through the quiet streets, you can't wipe the smile off your face. This Christmas is already shaping up to be the best one yet.

Your phone buzzes with a text just as you're pulling into your driveway. It's from Yunjin: "Already missing those five more minutes 😘"

You reply quickly:

"We'll have to make up for lost time after the holidays."

Her response comes immediately:

"Can't wait 💕"

As you head inside, you find yourself actually looking forward to returning to work after Christmas. Who knew the office could hold such possibilities? But then again, with Yunjin involved, anything seems possible.

You fall asleep that night with thoughts of soft lips and gentle hands, of whispered confessions and promises of more to come. In your dreams, it's still snowing, and Yunjin is there, smiling at you through the white flakes, reaching for your hand.

Tomorrow will bring family gatherings and holiday traditions, but tonight belongs to the memory of her - the taste of her kisses, the sound of her moans, the feel of her skin under your fingers. It's the best Christmas gift you could have asked for, and it's only the beginning.

[heliosunny]

Hi! I love your depictions of Phainon, especially when he toes the line between charming and threatening. I’m a sucker for a good unrequited love trope, so could you write a scenario where reader was in love with Phainon in the past but he treated her the same as he did everyone else so she eventually loses hope and gives up, so now he’s the one that has to chase after her? Thank you so much!

Yandere!Phainon x Fem!Reader

The first time you saw Phainon, you thought the stars had fallen from the sky and taken the shape of a man. He was brilliant, untouchable, a light too blinding for anyone to hold. And yet, you tried.

You were seven when you first told Phainon you wanted to marry him.

It had been one of those golden afternoons, the sun slanting through the trees, painting his silver hair with a soft glow. He sat on a patch of grass beside you, staring up at the clouds like they held all the answers in the world.

“Phai!” you had said, kicking your legs idly. “When we grow up, let’s get married.”

“Married?”

“Yes! Like grown-ups do! You’ll protect me, and I’ll make you happy.”

Phainon tilted his head, considering. Then, with a soft laugh, he shrugged. “Alright.”

And that was it. A simple agreement, like you had just decided to play a new game. He didn’t think about it beyond that moment, and maybe, at the time, you didn’t either. But as you grew, the weight of those words stayed with you.

Years passed. You stayed by his side, always reaching, always hoping. Phainon was kind—always had been. But as you both grew older, you noticed something.

He was kind to everyone.

He smiled at others the way he smiled at you. He listened to them, helped them, comforted them—just as he did with you. Maybe a little softer, a little gentler when it came to you, but never in the way you wanted. Never in a way that meant something more.

And so, the quiet realization settled in your heart like a stone sinking into a river.

You weren’t special.

Not to him.

And then there was that day. The day you knew, without a doubt, that you were just another name in his life.

It had been at the annual festival, a celebration where lights hung from every corner, where laughter echoed in the streets, and where lovers exchanged tokens of devotion.

You had spent all morning crafting a gift for him—something small but meaningful. A charm, woven with threads of silver and blue, the colors that reminded you of him. A silent confession, the last desperate hope that maybe, maybe he would see you.

When you found him, he was standing beneath the lantern-lit trees. But he wasn’t alone. A girl stood before him, cheeks dusted pink, hands nervously clasping a carefully wrapped box.

You had seen it before—people gravitating toward Phainon, drawn in by his quiet kindness, by the way he made everyone feel special. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That he would just smile, politely decline, and move on.

“Oh, for me?” Phainon had taken the box gently, his voice carrying that familiar warmth, the kind that once made your heart race. “That’s really kind of you.”

You stood there, gift clutched in your hands, heart pounding as he opened it. Inside was a scarf, delicately embroidered, clearly made with effort and care. He held it up, smiling, before effortlessly wrapping it around his neck.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” he said. And then, without hesitation, he lifted a hand and gently patted the girl’s head.

It was the same gesture he had given you countless times. The same words. The same smile.

Something inside you shattered.

You had spent years thinking you were different, that maybe, maybe the way he treated you was special. But here he was, accepting another person’s affection with the same grace, the same warmth.

You weren’t special.

Not to him.

Your hands trembled around the charm you had made. And then, slowly, you let it fall to the ground.

Phainon never even noticed.

----

“Y/N”

His voice cut through the air, quiet but firm. You stiffened for half a second before turning to face him.

“What is it, Phainon?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy”

“I never meant to make you feel like—”

You stopped him before he could finish.

Eventually, you stopped seeking him out, stopped waiting for his attention. And as days turned to weeks, you started avoiding him entirely.

But you never got the chance to truly leave him behind.

Because then the war came.

It happened suddenly—one evening, the village bells rang in alarm. Riders arrived from the capital, shouting of an approaching army, of an impending invasion. Chaos followed, families scrambling to gather their belongings, the town elders deciding who would flee and who would stay to defend.

Phainon, of course, chose to fight.

You still remember the look in his eyes that night. Determined. Steady. As if the boy who once watched clouds beside you had already faded into something sharper.

“You’re leaving, right?” His voice was firm, but there was something uneasy beneath it. “You should go to the capital—it’s safer there.”

You had hesitated, watching the way his hand gripped the hilt of a borrowed sword.

He was afraid.

You had known him long enough to see it, even if no one else could.

“I—” Your throat tightened. What were you supposed to say? Be safe? Don’t fight? You had spent so long pulling away, trying to make peace with the idea that you were just another person to him. And yet, standing there, watching him prepare for battle, you couldn’t help but remember the Phainon you once loved.

In the end, you only nodded. “Goodbye, Phai.”

The way his breath caught at your words—it almost made you stay.

But you didn’t.

You left with the others, escaping toward the capital as the village prepared for war.

You never thought you’d see him again.

Years Later – The Capital

The war changed everything.

Your village, though damaged, had survived—but life could never return to what it was. The battle had taken many, scattered others, and those who returned were never quite the same.

You, like so many others, had built a new life in the capital.

With your skill in design, you carved out a name for yourself among the noble elite. What had once been a simple love for embroidery and fabric turned into something much greater—a business, a reputation, a sense of independence you never had before.

You ran a high-end clothing shop near the palace, known for its elegant craftsmanship and modern designs. Nobles sought you out, eager for your work, for the quiet dignity and beauty woven into each piece you created.

And here, in the bustling streets of the capital, you finally found yourself.

----

The soft chime of the shop bell barely drew your attention as you worked, fingers carefully adjusting the pearl buttons on an elegant gown. You were used to high-ranking visitors—nobles, courtiers, even foreign envoys—so the presence of yet another escort was nothing unusual.

“Sir Luvain, if you’d follow me, the tailor should be expecting you.”

Slowly, you lifted your gaze.

Phainon stood at the entrance, clad in the silver-trimmed armor of the royal knights, the sigil of his rank gleaming against his shoulder. He had grown taller, stronger—the soft edges of youth sharpened into something disciplined, something restrained.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, as if nothing had happened, you turned your attention to his companion, the nobleman he was escorting. With practiced ease, you greeted him, all professionalism and grace.

“Lord Luvain, I trust you received my message regarding the final adjustments?”

The noble smiled, stepping forward to allow you to take his measurements. He spoke lightly about the upcoming banquet, about how eager he was to debut his attire. You listened, responded when necessary, all while acutely aware of Phainon standing silently at the edge of the room.

“Your measurements are set, my lord.” you finally said, stepping back with a slight bow. “This will be delivered two days later. If there are any final alterations needed, send word.”

Luvain gave a pleased nod before turning back to Phainon.

Phainon hesitated for just a second—his lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something—but you were already turning away, reaching for your next task.

----

The bell chimed again the next morning.

You didn’t expect to see him. Not so soon.

But there he stood, alone this time.

You frowned as you saw his handsome face.. ruined. His lip was cut, a faint bruise darkening his cheekbone. He wasn’t injured enough for it to be from battle. No, this was different. A personal kind of fight.

Still, you didn’t ask.

Instead, you simply set down your tools and gestured toward the small seating area. “Sit.”

“…I didn’t come for treatment.”

“I didn’t ask why you came.”

Perhaps it was the casual, almost dismissive way you spoke. Perhaps it was the fact that, for the first time, you weren’t treating him as something untouchable.

But he obeyed.

As he settled into the chair, you retrieved a small cloth and a jar of medicinal balm, kneeling beside him to gently dab at the cut on his lip.

He winced slightly. “I could do this myself.”

“You’re terrible at it”

Up close, you noticed the slight exhaustion in his expression. You had heard stories—whispers of how politics in the palace were ruthless, how those who rose too quickly often became the target of others.

Perhaps he was learning that now.

It had been years since he left the village, years spent surrounded by flattery, empty smiles, and noble courtiers who praised him not for who he was, but for what he had become.

Yet here you were. Treating him with the same quiet care as always.

You hadn’t changed at all.

And maybe—maybe that was what unsettled him most.

“There.” You finally pulled away, capping the jar and setting it aside. “Try not to get hit next time.”

“You’re not going to ask what happened?”

You glanced at him, then gave a light shrug. “Does it matter?”

Then, with a soft sigh, you stood. “Well, if that’s all, Sir Phainon, I have other clients to attend to.”

You had never called him that before.

Not Phai. Not Phainon. Just Sir Phainon, like he was any other knight, any other customer.

Something about it unsettled him.

But before he could dwell on it, you had already turned away.

“Take care” you said over your shoulder, already moving on.

As he stepped out of the shop, Phainon barely noticed the bustling streets around him. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the way you had looked at him—or rather, the way you didn’t.

He had spent so long being adored, sought after, respected. And yet, none of it compared to the simple, quiet way you had once looked at him.

The way you didn’t anymore.

---

Days turned into weeks, and Phainon didn’t disappear like before.

If anything, he only climbed higher.

You heard the murmurs in the capital—of his growing reputation, his skill on the battlefield, his unwavering determination. His name was spoken with admiration, his presence sought after by nobles eager to have a knight of his caliber within their inner circles.

But no matter how high he reached, no matter how many doors opened for him, he always seemed to find his way back to you.

At first, it was subtle. A chance meeting in the marketplace, an escort duty that just so happened to lead him near your shop. Then it became deliberate. He would stop by under the guise of checking on his previous order, lingering too long, watching you in that unreadable way.

You had long stopped being a girl waiting for his affection. You had built your own life, your own success. But somehow, he refused to let you slip away.

----

“You may take the next few days off for your wedding. Enjoy yourself.”

Your worker’s eyes lit up, bowing in gratitude before hurrying off. You watched her go, your fingers idly tracing over the fabric on your desk.

Marriage.

You hadn’t thought about it much.

But now, with your employee stepping away for her own wedding, it dawned on you—it was that time in life where people settled down, where friends and acquaintances from your village were likely married with families of their own.

Once upon a time, you had naïvely dreamed of it, too.

A childhood promise, whispered in the golden glow of late afternoons—"Marry me when we grow up!"—and the careless laughter that followed, as if it was nothing more than a game.

But it hadn’t been a game. Not for you.

And in the years that followed, when you had loved him in silence, when you had watched him treat others with the same kindness he gave you, when you had finally learned that you were never special to him—

You had given up.

You weren’t that foolish girl anymore.

The shop bell chimed.

Phainon.

But this time, he wasn’t in armor. No weapons, no duties. Just simple, well-made clothing that suited him far too well—his presence somehow heavier despite his unassuming attire.

And in his hands—

A small, wrapped gift.

“For you.”

You hesitated before reaching out, carefully undoing the ribbon.

A hairpin. Carved in the shape of a flower that once bloomed in your village, back when you were children.

“…Why?”

Phainon inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself.

“I’ve been a fool. I didn’t see it back then.” He said “How much you meant to me. How much I took for granted.”

No, he wasn’t doing this.

Not now. Not after all these years.

“I thought of you often, even when I was away” he admitted. “But I only understood it after returning. When I saw you again, when you treated me as if I was just another face in the crowd.”

Your fingers curled around the hairpin.

“Because that’s what you are now” you whispered, barely able to find your voice.

“It’s not what I want to be.”

“I don’t want to be ‘just another knight’ to you.” His gaze locked onto yours, “I want—” He exhaled, softer this time. “I want you.”

And yet, all you could do was stare at him—at this man who was once your world, at this man who had only now realized his own feelings, at this man who had already taken too much from you.

You had already suffered once. Already let yourself burn for him.

You wouldn’t do it again.

Carefully, you placed the hairpin back into the box and closed the lid.

“…Thank you for the gift, Sir Phainon.” Your voice was steady, polite. “But I have no use for it.”

“Y/N—”

“I gave up on you long ago.” The words cut through the air, “And I have no intention of reliving that pain.”

“Goodbye, Phainon.”

And with that, you turned away.

You didn’t look back.

But as you walked away, you couldn’t hear the sound of him leaving.

Because this time—

This time, he wasn’t willing to let you go.

His heartbeat thundered.

He had always been admired, always been wanted. There was not a single noblewoman who wouldn’t welcome his favor, not a single courtier who wouldn’t seek his company.

But you?

You, who had once loved him so openly, had turned him away.

And it hurt.

More than it should have. More than anything ever had.

Phainon’s grip tightened around the small box still in his hands.

No.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Not when the only person who had ever been truly kind to him was slipping through his fingers.

----

No matter what you said, no matter how much distance you tried to place between you—

Phainon kept coming back.

Whenever he had a break from duty, he would stop by the shop under the pretense of ordering something, checking on an old commission, or simply greeting you.

It didn’t matter if the sun was blazing or if the streets were slick with rain—Phainon would still appear, standing just outside, waiting for the smallest chance to speak to you.

And you?

You refused to give him anything.

And yet, it never stopped him.

Until one day—

You closed your shop.

It was the first time in weeks that Phainon hadn’t seen you.

He had arrived as usual, fully expecting you to be there, only to find the doors locked. A simple note hung at the entrance, inked in your delicate handwriting:

"Closed for the week. No appointments will be taken."

The words should have meant nothing.

And yet—

Something in his chest twisted.

Because you weren’t someone who closed your shop without reason. You weren’t someone who let anything—anyone—get in the way of your work.

“You didn’t hear? She’s fallen ill” one of the merchants gossiped. “Not too severe, but bad enough to keep her indoors.”

You were ill.

And no one had told him.

By the time he arrived at your house, you were already recovering.

You were still pale, still weaker than usual, but you were up, moving about, focused on tidying the mess that had gathered during your bedridden days.

When the knock came, you hesitated.

Then, with a tired sigh, you opened the door.

And there he was.

Phainon, standing on your doorstep.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I heard you were unwell.”

“I’m fine now.”

“I’ll stay”

“…What?”

“I’ll stay here” Phainon repeated, stepping forward slightly. “Until you’re fully recovered.”

You had spent weeks pushing him away.

And still, still, he refused to listen.

“Phainon.” You swallowed back the frustration. “Go home. You have better things to do than waste time here.”

“I don’t consider this a waste.”

You inhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temples. “Stop this. You’re—” A sigh. “You’re an important figure now. You have responsibilities.”

“…You really think that?”

You exhaled, suddenly too tired to argue. “I think you should leave.”

And with that, you turned away, stepping back inside.

You closed the door.

You locked it.

After that day, something changed.

Phainon stopped coming to your shop. Stopped appearing in front of you. Stopped waiting by the doors, stopped lingering in the streets.

And for a while, you thought you had finally won.

---

The streets were quiet.

You stood at the entrance of your shop, the weight of exhaustion pressing on your shoulders as you locked the door for the night.

The metal clicked into place.

A shadow moved.

Your fingers froze over the lock. What was that? A ghost?

Slowly, cautiously, you turned.

And there he was.

Standing at the edge of the dimly lit street, half-shrouded in darkness, his blue eyes watching you.

You had known Phainon for years. You had grown up with him, watched him rise from a mere village boy to a knight of the palace. You had seen him change—seen him become colder, more refined, more distant.

But this was unnerving.

Still, you swallowed down the discomfort, "Phainon…?"

"You've been ignoring me. Did you meet someone else?"

"What?"

"Is that why? You found someone else, didn’t you?"

You frowned, unease curling at the base of your spine. "That’s ridiculous. I just have my own life, Phainon. You should focus on yours."

Then, with an exhale that sounded almost amused—

"You don’t understand how exhausting things are in the palace."

He took another step forward.

You instinctively took one back.

"Everything is fake" he continued, "Every smile. Every kind word. They all lie. They all pretend to care. But you—"

"You were always real."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach for the key still in the lock.

"But now you avoid me," he murmured. "Now you won’t even look at me."

"Phainon—"

He cut you off.

"If I got you pregnant," he said suddenly, "no one would bat an eye."

Your mind barely had time to process the words—what he had just said—before your body reacted on instinct.

You slapped him.

Phainon’s head snapped slightly to the side, his cheek flushed red from the strike, his lips slightly parted from shock.

But that moment of surprise didn’t last.

Slowly—so, so slowly—he turned his head back to you.

The last remnants of the boy you once knew were gone.

There was only him.

Only the man who had finally decided to take what was his.

You moved to run.

His hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you forward, crashing into his chest.

"That," he murmured, "was a mistake."

By the time the townspeople saw the smoke, it was already too late.

The shop was engulfed in flames. The fire devoured the wooden walls, the carefully crafted gowns and fabrics, reducing everything to ash.

And inside—

A body. Unrecognizable. Burnt beyond recognition.

A robbery gone wrong, they said.

A tragic death.

You were gone.

Far beyond the burning remains of your old life, in a place far from the city’s reach, a single candle flickered inside a dimly lit room.

The scent of smoke still clung to Phainon’s clothes as he sat beside the bed—the bed where you lay, unconscious.

Your wrists were bound. Just enough to make sure you wouldn’t do anything stupid when you woke.

He exhaled softly, reaching out, fingers brushing against your cheek.

Even now—even now, you were still his.

Now, you had nowhere to run.

The ropes around your wrists chafed against your skin, but the pain barely registered over the sheer rage bubbling in your chest.

The moment you had woken up—realized what he had done—you fought.

You screamed. You kicked. You thrashed so violently that Phainon had to pin you down.

"Let me go!" you spat, your voice hoarse from screaming.

Phainon only sighed, looking down at you with something almost close to pity.

"You’re being difficult."

"Do you think I’ll just sit here and accept this?" Your breath was ragged, fury shaking through your limbs. "I will never be yours."

"You always say that" he murmured, "But you’ve never really tried being mine, have you?"

"I have time" he whispered.

And that terrified you more than anything.

Because he truly believed you would break.

Your wrists throbbed where the restraints had dug into your skin. Your breath came ragged, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

Phainon knelt before you, "You’re exhausting yourself"

You flinched. He hesitated. But only for a second before he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"You always did push yourself too hard"

You gritted your teeth. "Don't act like you know me."

That made him laugh—quiet, humorless.

"I do know you." His eyes burned as he held your gaze. "Better than anyone. Better than all those nobles who use your talent, who smile and bow and then forget you the moment they leave."

"I remember you, even when no one else did." His fingers brushed against your knuckles, "I never stopped thinking about you. Even when you left me behind. Even when you convinced yourself you didn’t care anymore."

You yanked your hands away.

"You don’t get to say that"

"Why?" he challenged. "Because it’s the truth?"

"Because you’re insane."

"Maybe I am. But does it matter?"

"You’ve already lost everything, haven’t you?" he continued, voice deceptively soft. "They think you’re dead. Your shop, your name, your life—it’s all gone. No one’s coming for you. No one even remembers you exist."

Phainon cupped your face then, forcing you to look at him.

"But I do," he whispered. "I always will. I would burn the world if it meant keeping you by my side."

For the first time, you truly understood.

There was no line he wouldn’t cross.

No limit to how far he would go to make sure you never left him again.

Phainon leaned in, forehead pressing against yours.

"Stop fighting," he whispered. "Just let go. You’ll be happier if you do."

"…I don’t know how to let go"

"You don’t have to know" he murmured. "Just trust me."

You nodded.

And that was it.

That was all he needed to believe he had finally won.

Days passed.

Phainon gave you more freedom—not complete, but enough. Enough for you to move without chains. Enough for you to pretend.

You let him think you were adjusting, that his patience had worn you down. You let him dress you in fine silks, let him touch you, let him believe that you were his.

Because the closer he let you get to the edge of the cage—

The easier it would be to escape.

The day of the wedding arrived in whispers and candlelight.

The halls of the estate were decorated in muted elegance—nothing extravagant, nothing too public. He didn’t need an audience.

This wasn’t about power.

This was about you.

And Phainon already had what he wanted.

Or so he thought.

You stood before the mirror in your gown, hands trembling—not with nerves, but with anticipation.

Outside, the horses were ready.

Inside, the door was left unlocked—a careless mistake born from his growing trust.

You took a breath.

One step.

Another.

The halls were silent as you slipped through the shadows, heart pounding with every second.

The exit was so close.

"Going somewhere?"

The voice froze you in place.

You turned—and Phainon stood at the end of the hall.

His wedding attire was pristine, but the grip he had on the hilt of his sword? Tight.

Your mouth went dry.

"Phainon.."

"Was it all a lie?"

You clenched your fists.

And then—

You ran.

Bolted down the hall, legs burning, lungs aching—but Phainon was faster.

You twisted, struggling, but he slammed you back against the stone wall, his body caging you in.

"You almost had me," he murmured, "Almost."

"Let me go."

"You were going to leave me," he said, "Again."

"Then ...I'll just have to make sure you never try again."

The room was suffocatingly quiet.

The iron shackle around your ankle was too tight, cold against your skin.

Phainon stood at the door, silent, watching.

Then—

He left.

For a moment, you almost believed that was it. That he had locked you away, that this was the extent of your punishment.

Then he came back.

With a knife.

Your body tensed when he knelt beside you, when his calloused fingers traced along your wrist too gently before pinning it against the bedpost.

You sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed the knife flat against your palm—just resting there.

"You tried to leave me."

He tilted his head, as if waiting. Daring you to lie to him.

"Say it."

"I—" You swallowed hard. "I tried to leave."

The blade pressed harder. Not enough to break skin. Just enough to make you feel the cold bite of the metal.

"Did it feel good?" he murmured. "Running away? Thinking you could escape me?"

"Phainon, please—"

A sharp swipe.

You flinched, expecting pain—but he didn’t cut you.

The blade had only sliced through the sleeve of your gown, the fabric slipping down your arm in ribbons.

"You’re scared" he observed.

You clenched your fists, refusing to give him an answer.

"Good."

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away.

He set the knife down.

The bed dipped as he leaned in one last time, lips brushing against your ear.

"Next time," he murmured, "I won’t be so merciful."

Then he left, locking the door behind him.

Leaving you with the shackle around your ankle, the torn fabric on your arm—

And the overwhelming realization that you were truly trapped.