#better than you did. and what if all of him and who he was slowly seeps into this new person and you are forced to

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends? — Part Two

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: You and Azriel are struggling with the aftermath of your heated argument. Unfortunately, you both cope in very different ways.

Warnings: angst! (with a side of some friendship fluff)

Word Count: 5.2k

Part One

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The room reeked of stale arrogance and cold stone— like it always did.

You could handle Keir alone. Azriel knew that. You did, too. But that didn’t make it easy. Az’s presence was enough to silence Keir’s snide remarks with a single look. Without him here, Keir was running his mouth like a common court gossip, his words dripping with the kind of entitlement that made your skin crawl.

He was droning on now, his voice a low hum in your ears like the buzzing of a persistent, uncatchable fly; rattling demands, complaints, thinly veiled insults. It was always like this.

You were barely listening. 

Your mind kept drifting to Az, to the conversation the night before. 

Your chest simmered with a new emotion every time you replayed it. Anger, disappointment, betrayal. You weren’t sure which stung more: his sharp tone, the way he’d dismissed you, or the bitter fact that you’d never had Azriel talk to you like that before.

Where was he now, anyway? What had Selene needed so urgently that he’d decided official court matters could wait? Somewhere far more comfortable than this gods-forsaken pit, you were sure.

“…and the resources we’re requesting are more than reasonable, given the sacrifices we’ve made to maintain this arrangement.”

Keir’s voice sliced through your spiraling thoughts, slick, self-satisfied, and grating. He had quite the punchable features, you observed. How had he lasted this long without a good deck to the face?

“If Rhysand truly values his court,” Keir continued, a mocking edge creeping into his tone, “and not just his little city, then perhaps he should send someone who understands the importance of negotiation.”

Your mind jumped again—to Azriel, to the way he’d looked at you like you were the one who’d crossed the line. You couldn’t figure out where you’d gone wrong. Was it the mention of Elain? That small, stillness you’d felt in him? You hadn’t intended it to be a jab, hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty. You were concerned. Your approach was good-natured. Or, at least you’d thought so. 

Keir’s voice drifted in and out of focus as you stared at him, boredom spreading through you, a dull throb in your chest. You were ready to leave. Ready to escape the suffocating air of the room. You were annoyed at yourself, too, if you were being honest. Here you were, seething, ungrounded in a way you rarely allowed yourself to be, simply because of a five-minute argument. A spat. 

Usually, during these meetings, Azriel helped you regulate your dislike for Keir. When the male’s mere existence stirred memories of his cruelty to Mor, Azriel’s presence would be a steadying hand at the small of your back, a quiet reminder to keep your temper in check.

But he wasn’t there. And your thoughts were all over the place. And Keir only wanted to talk to Azriel—why did everyone need him so suddenly?

“Your attempts at diplomacy are largely symbolic. A pretty face to soften the High Lord’s more… aggressive tactics. And, well, without the Spymaster— ”

Something snapped inside you. That diplomatic part of you, the skills you’d fought tooth and nail for, had perfected over centuries, crumbled completely.

“Shut up!”

The words hit the room like a thunderclap. The two males beside him stiffened, their hands twitching toward their weapons.

“For the love of the Mother,” you said through gritted teeth, “Shut. Up.” 

Keir’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging open for a fraction of a second before he recovered, his features twisting with irritation— with offense, with shock. “Excuse me, girl?”

You stood slowly, your chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. You knew you should grimace, should feel some pang of guilt for letting your temper get the better of you. This wasn’t what you were here to do. This wasn’t how you tended to be.

But you didn’t care.

You were tired, irritated, and in desperate need of a drink, a joint, or someone to hit in the face.

“Do you ever tire of hearing yourself speak?” you said, gesturing sharply with your hands. “Or do you enjoy the sound of your own idiocy too much to notice how pathetic you sound?”

Keir’s eyes narrowed, his smirk returning, like he enjoyed your bite. Found a worthy opponent, even. “Careful,” he said, his voice low, threatening. “You’re out of line.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You’d give Mor a tight hug this week, praise her once more for being able to survive seventeen years under the suffocating arrogance of a male like Keir.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” you snapped. “You are not some untouchable ruler. You leech off the power Rhysand allows you to have. Do not forget that.”

Keir’s jaw tightened, his knuckles white where they gripped the arms of his chair. One of his soldiers shifted slightly, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. You turned your glare on him.

“Try it,” you said coldly. “I dare you. Lay a hand on me, and you’ll find out just how thin your leash really is. Do you think Rhysand wouldn’t love an excuse to raze this pathetic little agreement to the ground? You think Morrigan wouldn’t personally take that sword and shove it somewhere creative? Trust me, they’re looking for an excuse.”

Keir inhaled sharply as he stood slowly, placing his palms on the table before him and leaning forward with a snarl. The gleam in his eyes was predatory, animalistic. “Are you threatening me?”

“Yes.” You mirrored him, placing your palms on the table and leaning forward, still holding his gaze tight.  “Would you like to see if I’m bluffing?”

Silence blanketed the room as Keir stared at you. You could see it in his eyes—the horror of recognizing that you might actually be his equal. Or worse, his superior. He was struggling with how to approach the situation, how to balance his newfound realization with the need to maintain authority in front of his males.

After a long moment, Keir shifted his gaze to his men and motioned for them to stand down. Their hands dropped, spines stiffening like statues at his sides.

You took the silence as your answer.

“That might be the smartest move you’ve ever made,” you said with an amused hum. Straightening, you brushed your hands off and smiled. “The Spymaster will be back next week to negotiate terms about resources. Pray he’s in a better mood than I am.”

A sense of satisfaction bloomed in your chest as you turned to leave. It felt good to finally tell him off—Lord knew it had been coming for centuries. You’d been biting it back at every meeting, every forced smile, every empty negotiation. It had been far more tame than you’d liked, but it was something, at least. A small victory. 

The relief washed over you for a fleeting moment before it began to slip away, replaced by that familiar unease, the stirring of anger still simmering beneath the surface.

You knew why.

Keir wasn’t the male you were truly mad at. 

At least, not in the way that made your heart ache. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You’d barely gotten out of the bath and dressed when there was a soft knock at your door. You let out a deep sigh, running your hands along your face before walking into the bedroom proper, feeling the slight chill of the air against your still-damp skin.

The thought of Azriel hit you almost instantly, your body tensing at the possibility. After all, it was just the two of you living in the townhome, and it was late—no one else was expected. As much as part of you wanted to see him—to curse him out, maybe, or pull an apology from him, you weren’t sure—a bigger part of you just wanted to sit alone. To wallow in the strange self-pity that had bloomed in your stomach since the meeting with Keir.

“Go away, Azriel. I don’t want to t-”

Your gaze landed on Mor instead. She stood in the doorway, hands behind her back, a small smile on her lips.

“Good thing I’m not Azriel,” she said, stepping forward. Her familiar perfume drifted through the room. “I’m much more attractive.”

You stifled a laugh despite yourself, the corners of your mouth tugging into a reluctant smile. Mor had always been infuriatingly good at that—chipping away at your mood, no matter how sour. Tonight, she looked less mischievous than usual, wearing a simpler gown—still stunning, but more comfortable.

“What are you doing here?”

Mor’s presence instantly lightened the weight on your chest, even just slightly, but a glimmer of disappointment sparkled in your chest, threaded through your ribs and refused to leave. Part of you had hoped it was Azriel at your door. Even if you’d have sent him away with biting remarks, at least he would’ve tried. At least he would’ve been there.

“I heard through the grapevine that there was a messy meeting in the Hewn City.”

Your stomach twisted. Shit. Keir had worked much faster than you’d thought. You wondered, briefly, how long it had taken for him to go run and complain— had he waited an hour? Perhaps two?

You grimaced, offering a sheepish smile. “Oh, right. That,” you drawled. “Is Rhys mad?”

“Not at you,” she replied. ���He’s mad he missed it. I am, too.”

A grin tugged at her lips, and it wasn’t long before identical ones broke across both of your faces. You looked down, scuffing the carpet with your toe. “I don’t know what got into me.”

Mor snorted. “My father got into you.”

You looked up and raised a brow. She shot you an unimpressed look, the kind that would usually mean you were inconveniencing her with your childish humor. But there was amusement in her eyes, glinting like sunlight on glass. She wanted to laugh.

“You know what I meant,” Mor grumbled, lips twitching again. “Keir tends to bring out the worst in everyone.”

You nodded at that, tucking a loose stand of hair behind your ear. “I know I tell you this all the time,” you said, “But gods am I sorry you had to grow up with him.”

Mo shrugged, waving it off with a dismissive hand. The other stayed behind her back. “Character development and all that,” she said breezily. “Anyway, I have something for you.”

“If it’s wine, I think I’ll pass.”

She shook her head and brought her hand around, revealing a small to-go box. It was unmistakable—the kind used by your favorite bakery, all the way in the Day Court. 

“Ta-da,” she sang.

Your chest warmed at the sight. Slowly, you took the offering, running your fingers along the box’s edges. When you looked back at her, she was watching you with a tender smile—the kind only Morrigan could give. It wasn’t the playful smirk or sharp grin she wore for the world. 

“What's this for?”

Mor tilted her head. “You’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. I thought you could use some comfort treats. And company.”

Your heart swelled. You’d told her and Elain little of the fight with Azriel when they’d sought you out, pacing outside your door until they decided you were ready. Elain had apologized profusely, saying she hadn’t meant to spark the argument when she suggested you talk to him. You’d assured her there was no apology needed—not from her, at least. She’d only sped up the inevitable: the realization that Azriel didn’t seem to value your opinion the way you so often valued his.

Mor wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “I also did bring wine. It’s downstairs. We can sit, talk—and if Azriel comes home, I’ll make sure he doesn’t hear us. Or see us.”

You let Mor guide you downstairs, where she opened a bottle of wine and drew you into a conversation—a deliberate distraction about her and Emerie, about apartment hunting and her attempts at civility with Nesta. You listened as best as you could, grateful for the reprieve, and even forced yourself to savor the dessert she’d brought.

It was as good as you remembered. That was something, at least. Azriel hadn’t managed to ruin that, despite the bitter taste your argument had left behind.

Mor waited about half an hour before gently steering the conversation where she really wanted it to go: what happened with you and Az, how you were feeling.

The problem was, you couldn’t quite put your finger on why you were so upset. You told Mor the things you knew for certain: that it was unfair for Azriel to assume he knew what you were going to say, that he hadn’t given you—his best friend for centuries—a chance to speak or express your concern. That he hadn’t trusted you enough to even hear you out. Mor nodded along, agreeing that Azriel had been out of line, that it was unlike him to take someone else’s word over yours so easily.

But even as she agreed with you, it didn’t ease the pressure in your chest. It wasn’t just about him being unfair or dismissive. There was something deeper, something you hadn’t yet figured out how to say. Something else about it that bothered you so deeply. 

Maybe it was the way he’d so easily twisted your intentions, the way he’d looked at you as if you were an inconvenience, made you feel like every word you’d spoken had been some elaborate ruse. Like your concern wasn’t genuine. Like the years you’d spent knowing him, understanding him, recognizing the subtle shifts in his behavior, didn’t matter at all. You were just finding a convenient excuse to meddle, to dig your claws into his relationship, sabotage what he had so you could steal him away in the middle of the night. 

It was possible you were being a little overdramatic. And you’d definitely emphasized his words in your retelling to Mor, but it didn’t change the intent. What he’d said. What he’d believed. To imply that after everything, you couldn’t be a good friend to him. That you couldn’t care without an ulterior motive.

He hadn’t even tried to talk to you since. Not a word, not a glance. You tried to reason with yourself—it had only been a day. Maybe he needed time to cool off, to think. Maybe he was as confused as you were, unsure of how things had spiraled so fast. Maybe this silence was just him giving you space.

But a part of you didn’t think that was true. There was a possibility that his silence wasn’t for your sake—it was for his. Because he didn’t think he owed you anything.

That thought was the worst of all.  That he didn’t even care.

And you were furious, too, that Azriel had tipped you so completely off balance, that these feelings had bled into your lashing out at Keir. The memory of it was already clawing at you, leaving a faint sting of embarrassment. You knew it would follow you like a stray dog, nipping at your heels. You’d gotten emotional. You—the Night Court’s ever-diplomatic emissary—had been anything but.

You were certain you’d care more about it in a few days, when you had the energy to think clearly.

“Y/n?”

You blinked, startled out of your daze, suddenly aware of how tightly your fingers had curled around the small fork in your hand.

“Hm?”

Mor gave you a sympathetic smile. “I think you should get some rest,” she said, crouching down in front of you.

You hadn’t realized you’d ended up on the floor, leaning against the table—a habit you fell into when you were upset, like grounding yourself by sinking as close to the earth as possible. Mor extended a hand, helping you up with that steady, no-nonsense kind of care only she could offer.

She started tidying up without asking, brushing away crumbs and organizing the small mess you’d both made. Her eyes flicked to the pastry box on the table. “Are you gonna finish this? Or do you want me to toss it?”

You glanced down, confused, at the small leftover piece in the box. That was strange. You usually devoured these, barely leaving crumbs, let alone a full bite. For a moment, you thought nothing of it.

And then it clicked. It was instinct, an old habit of sorts—leaving a bite for Azriel to try.

You bit back a disappointed sigh. What had once been second nature, something you did without thinking, now felt deeply embarrassing. Sickening. Too intimate, like a little girl with a crush.

“Toss it,” you said quickly, your voice tight, sharper than intended.

Mor didn’t comment, simply folded the box closed and tossed it into the trash. Before she left, she pulled you into a hug, warm and unhurried.

“It’s okay to focus on the anger right now,” she murmured into your hair. “If nothing else makes sense, you’re entitled to it. I think you’re a few centuries overdue.”

You let out a short, dry laugh. “Yeah,” you replied, the word heavy on your tongue. “I think I have a few more remarks left in me.”

Mor grinned as she stepped back, smoothing her hands over your arms before heading for the door. “Atta girl. Make him miserable.”

You lingered on her words as you climbed the stairs.

A grudge sounded great. It sounded righteous. It sounded like something you could do—at least for now, until your feelings settled.

Lucien really was better than you. He’d endured so much, and somehow, he still found room for forgiveness, a way to let Azriel off the hook.

But you didn’t want to let this go. Not yet.

You’d given Azriel centuries of friendship, of loyalty and unwavering support, and he hadn’t even deemed you worthy of the benefit of the doubt. Maybe later, you could be like Lucien, could forgive Azriel for his shortcomings and his idiocy.

Not tonight.

You curled up in bed, willing yourself to embrace the cold, sharp edges of your anger. But, despite your best efforts, that wasn’t what stayed.

The sadness did.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel didn’t apologize. 

Not verbally, at least. It was a habit born in the aftermath of the first war, when he’d been forced to reckon with who he’d become, the things he’d done as Spymaster.

He’d learned quickly that some things were too heavy to face, too raw to acknowledge. Easier to tuck them away, seal them behind his silence. Apologies came with a price he couldn’t play. Because if he started apologizing for those things—acts born of desperation, of blind obedience to a High Lord who demanded it—he’d never stop. He’d be drowning in it for centuries.

So he didn’t. He wouldn’t. And if he refused to apologize for the horrors of his past—if the shame and pain of it were too much—then he had to be consistent. If he didn’t do it then, he couldn’t do it now. Not even for the people he loved.

Instead, he accepted the damage he caused. Accepted that he’d make mistakes. That he’d hurt people.

He stored those moments away in the ever-growing, aching place inside him that proved how unlovable he was—how destined he was to hurt the people he cared for most. How inevitable his failures were.

On the worst days, when the silence felt unbearable, he’d reach for those memories, let them remind him of who he truly was. He’d sit with them, twist them into hatred—at himself, at his failure, at the fact he couldn’t change it. He could never seem to stop.

But Azriel loved his family. He truly did. He’d die for them. He’d commit every horrible act over and over if that was what was needed to ensure their safety. So he usually found other ways to apologize.

This time, though, Azriel felt… embarrassed. Ashamed, even. Humiliated. He’d acted like a child, reckless and unthinking, had been dismissive of someone he loved.

He valued the females in his life, respected them deeply. And usually, for them, he could set aside his twisted need to avoid apologies. Instantly.

You and him had argued before—fought, even. It was bound to happen over centuries. But it had never been like this. This felt different. Everyone knew.

He wanted to apologize the night it happened. But he couldn’t. He’d gone too far. He told himself that his apology needed to be big enough to make up for it. 

All week, the memory looped in his mind, relentless and punishing. The second the accusation left his lips, regret had consumed him—an instant, choking thing. Even his shadows had recoiled, letting out a sound that might’ve been a gasp. But the worst part, the part that kept him up at night, was your face.

Your features had twisted into something he’d never seen before. Not in all the centuries you’d been by his side. Something like offense. Or maybe, Azriel thought bitterly, something worse. He’d convinced himself it was disgust. Pure, unfiltered disgust.

It bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Azriel was used to people being upset with him. It came with the territory—his silence, his sharp edges, the anger he carried like armor. He could be difficult; he knew that. Could be impulsive, cold, quick to anger. Over centuries, he’d learned to live with it, to endure the way disappointment settled in others’ eyes when he pushed too far.  But it never suffocated him like this.

He had disappointed you. You were angry, disgusted by the accusation he'd thrown your way—why had he done that?

Selene's words lingered in his mind, over and over, such meaningless, small words. They’d burrowed themselves deep, driven him borderline mad. He couldn’t figure out why.

It made him itch, made him unsettled in a way that didn’t make sense. He had assumed that itch meant the words bothered him—something about them, something he couldn't quite grasp—and that had gotten under his skin, gnawing at him.

He’d been avoiding you since that night.  It was easy, despite the fact that you were the only two in the house. After all, you had been avoiding him too.

He was being a coward. He knew it. Avoiding you when he knew damn well he needed to find you, get you alone, and apologize. Profusely. Repeat it until there was some hope of undoing the damage. But avoidance was easier. Safer.

It was what he was best at.

The thought of apologizing only for you to turn him away, for you to look at him with disgust, with anger, was more than he could stomach. And he'd convinced himself that that was the most likely scenario—and it would be valid. Completely, utterly valid.

So, he did what he did best: he retreated into himself. Into Selene.

But a few days had passed, and now the ache in Azriel’s chest was gaping. Raw. Unbearable. He couldn’t breathe.

The guilt had started before the sun rose, creeping up Azriel’s spine as he pulled away from Selene’s warm embrace. She’d stirred when he slipped out of bed, her lips parted to protest, but he hadn’t stayed to hear her argument. It wasn’t comfortable—none of it. Not the weight in his chest, not the way his shadows murmured disapproval like a broken melody on repeat.

He needed to be here—at family brunch. He wanted to be here. And for the first time in days, his shadows seemed content with a decision he’d made. Thank the gods for that.

The house was full by time he arrived. He didn’t need his shadows to tell him. He could hear their laughter from the doorway, could smell the pull of a sweet feast. Rhysand was the first to notice his presence, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Look who decided to join after all.”

Az didn’t reply, not in the way he usually did. Instead, his gaze immediately found you, his breath stalling as he caught the subtle stiffening of your shoulders. You didn’t turn. You didn’t so much as glance back.

Mor, seated beside you, did. Her brown eyes flitted from you to him, a semi-scowl in her expression as she turned her gaze to Emerie on her left, dismissing Azriel entirely.

Another person he’d probably have to apologize to.

Az swallowed, his shadows tugging at him like restless children, desperate to curl around you, to offer something—comfort, perhaps, or a plea for forgiveness he hadn’t yet put into words. But you still didn’t move.

Clearing his throat, Azriel finally said, “I’m sorry I’m late.” 

It was Feyre who responded, casting a quick glance towards you before offering Azriel a smile. “No worries, Az. We’re glad you’re here.”

That was a lie. But the chatter began once more, anyways. 

Az moved forward, gaze flicking to the one empty chair at the table— the chair beside you. Just as he reached for it, your head snapped up, eyes meeting his for the first time in days. 

“Are you sure you want to sit there?”

Azriel froze. “What?”

You tilted your head at him, eyes narrowing in a way he hadn’t quite seen before—a look that was, if he was being honest, downright unnerving. But then, just as quickly, the emotion fell away, replaced by something sharper, crueler, and laced with exaggerated concern. “What if I’m overcome with lust and expose myself to you?”

From across the table, Cassian choked violently on his drink, Nesta muttering something under her breath as she thumped his back.

Azriel closed his eyes for a brief second, forcing a steady inhale before lowering himself into the chair anyway. He could feel his shadows retreating reluctantly, curling tighter against him, sharing his discomfort. Only when the conversation resumed once more did Az lean closer to you, dropping his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Can we talk?”

“I don’t know, can we? Did Selene give you permission?”

Azriel clenched his jaw, willing himself to take another deep inhale. Before he could pull a response, your face shifted into something exaggerated, all false excitement and mock sweetness. “Don’t tell me I’m being considered as your third? Oh gods. Should I throw myself at you now, or—?”

“Y/n, come on,” Az murmured, his voice tight— pleading. “Please.”

For a beat, Azriel thought you were mulling it over, almost expected to see your face soften like he was used to. But it didn’t. 

 “Rhys,” you said, your voice carrying as you turned to the High Lord. “Would you like to tell Azriel what to expect during his meeting with Keir next week? He’d like to know.”

Az’s stomach twisted at the sound of his name—not Az, but Azriel. Cold. Formal. Foreign. He hated the way it sounded coming from you, devoid of the warmth or familiarity he’d always taken for granted, like he was a stranger. Had he truly made you that angry in the span of a few minutes? 

This, Az thought bitterly, was why he opted to never speak unless it was needed.

Rhys nodded, though his gaze flickered between you and Azriel with something like caution. Before Azriel could protest, or even try to get another word in, you turned to Mor, engaging her in conversation as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all.

The rest of the meal passed in a strange limbo. It wasn’t hostile—if anything, it felt painfully normal. Conversations swirled around the table. Laughter floated between bites of food— and his shadows had danced whenever the sound of yours had reached them.

Azriel was willing to admit that, with the situation aside, he’d missed this—missed his family. The time spent with Selene lately had only highlighted how much he craved the sense of home that these moments brought. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize for his absence.

He’d been nervous to disrupt what he and Selene had, even if “alright” was the only word he could muster to describe it. It wasn’t perfect—it wasn’t love—but it was... something. It could develop into something. Right?

But as good as the meal could’ve been, your silence weighed on him like a stone. You ignored him completely. No more snark, no insults, not even a glance. It got to the point where he wanted a petty remark, wanted you to look at him and tell him exactly how stupid he’d been. Usually, you were vocal when you were angry. Confrontational. He’d seen it over centuries, the way your fury blazed as brightly as you. You didn’t let things stew. You didn’t let him stew.

Why were you so quiet now? Why weren’t you yelling at him, demanding answers, or throwing his mistakes back at him like daggers?

Why had you accepted him—and his stupidity—with the same quiet resignation as that night?

It was worse. It was so much worse. Your anger felt different with him. And he hated it.

When the meal ended, Azriel stayed seated, watching as the others began to leave. He watched as you leaned down to Nyx, your hand brushing the baby’s cheek with such tender care it made his chest ache. Feyre’s expression softened at the sight, and you smiled at her and Rhys, thanking them for the meal before leaving with Mor, Emerie, Cassian, and Nesta.

None of the females spared him a glance. Cassian offered him a small, apologetic smile. He wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

Thank the gods Amren wasn’t here. Small blessings, Az supposed.

He sighed, clearing his plate and bringing it to the kitchen. He rinsed it, the sound of water doing nothing to drown out the weight in his chest, and when he turned to leave, Rhys was there, Nyx balanced on one arm.

“Good luck, brother,” Rhys said. Az didn’t bother asking what he meant. He already knew.

The wistful, pitying smile Rhys wore was infuriating. The amused gleam in his violet eyes was worse. Rhys looked almost... grateful, as if relieved it wasn’t his head on the chopping block.

“A fight with the one member of our family collectively loved by everyone else,” Rhys mused, shaking his head. “Phew. You’ve made an enemy of a pack of vicious, beautiful wolves.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Rhys shifted his attention to Nyx.

“Can you say, ‘Uncle Az is screwed?’” He cooed. Nyx babbled nonsensically, waving a tiny fist, and Rhys grinned. “Yeah, he’s gonna have to grovel, huh?”

Azriel glared, his shadows bristling as he brushed past him with an unamused glare. Rhys’s laughter followed him down the hall.

Must grovel, his shadows repeated, Grovel. Apologize. Admit.

Whatever the hell that meant.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note:

me trying to write reader and getting sad that shes lowkey gaslighting herself and downplaying her emotions bc she cares about az: ☹️

me writing az as someone who just accepts he hurts people and doesnt realize he can like...just apologize: 😒

me knowing this angst is gonna be so fun:🥰

anyways thank you for reading!! i've already written a lot more, so expect 2-3 more parts! <3 (i have their makeup written😏) every comment or ask yall leave gets me so inspired

but until then... how long do yall think its gonna take for them to talk? tehehe

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore @m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking

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@inkedinshadows @mellowmusings @paankhaleyaaar @curiosandcourioser @thisrandombitch

azriel tag list 🫶🏻:

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder @mortqlprojections @ushijima-stits

@honethatty12 @chillymountsjess @velaris-avatar-formula1 @idkitsem @kazbrkker

[bruhstories]

Bet IV

p.1 here & p.2 here & p.3 here

mandatory mdni because things will start to get heated up in the following chapters.

summary: you're starting to feel things for the man who hired you to take care of his cat. but he's only being nice. that's it and nothing more. pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, domestic violence (reader gets slapped by her uncle), veeeery slow burn, reader's dad is dead w/c: 2.1k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can't find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

"Where were you last night?"

You sighed at your uncle's question, sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. He woke up earlier than he should have, especially for a man who worked night shifts at a warehouse. He did it on purpose, just to have more reasons to pick on you, and you knew that all too well. You lived through that hell for the past ten years.

"I told you, I was cat sitting." 

"Cat sitting." He repeated with derision in his voice. "You need to get a real job."

"I have two real jobs." You reminded him, and it took all your willpower not to raise your voice at him.

"Where's the money, then? Huh?" Your uncle grabbed you by the wrist, twisting it backwards.

"I'm getting paid today!"

"How much?" 

"660,326!" You cried out as his fingernails dug deeper into your skin.

"I better see that money on my nightstand by tomorrow morning." He let go of your wrist. "Keep the change."

How generous, you thought, rubbing the crescent-shaped dents in your skin. At least he didn't hit you, but your small victory crumbled when he turned on his heels, smacking you with the plastic fly swatter in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

You didn't cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him. 

But when you stepped through the doors of Mr. Hwang's penthouse, the dam broke, and tears streamed down your cheeks. They burned when they touched the cracked, swollen skin, courtesy of your uncle, but you still smiled at the sight of Eunjoo.

Instead of waiting next to the water bowl, like she had done before, the cat jumped on the countertop, her paw gently touching your wrist, where the imprinted dents of his fingernails were still visible. You didn't know why, but Eunjoo's gesture made you cry harder, heavy tears falling onto her plate. 

"Good kitty." You sobbed, daring to pet her, and she allowed it, nuzzling your hand for the first time since you met her.

Without wasting a single moment, you took out your phone to take a selfie of you and Eunjoo, and sent it to In-ho, with the caption 'Making progress!' You thought he might be happy to see her slowly lower her guard and get attached to you.

Who hurt you?

Stupid. How could you be so stupid to send a selfie when your cheek was grazed and puffy? Of course Mr. Hwang would ask about it, he was a nice man, one whose kindness you didn’t think you deserved.

I accidentally walked into a lamppost! Silly, right?

Hoping that the lie would be convincing enough, you carried on with your tasks after eating with Eunjoo, and to your surprise, it worked. It fooled him, but you weren’t proud of yourself in the slightest. 

You need to be more careful next time. If anything happened to you, who would take care of Eunjoo until I return?

It shouldn't have hurt reading his reply, and yet your heart ached. What did you expect? You were an employee, he obviously wanted his cat to be safe, not you. And how could someone like him even care about someone you? You came from different worlds that could never intertwine.

I will.

No thank you, no sad face — you were bitter, even though, rationally, you had no reason to be. Besides, you lied to him in the first place. Maybe if you told him the truth, he would have sent a different reply. It didn't matter. In less than five days he would come back, pay you and never speak to you again. Just like all rich people did.

You cleaned the bathrooms that morning, scrubbing the bath tubs, the toilets, the sinks and the floors until your fingertips stung and your head pounded from the bleach fumes. The vibration of your phone startled you, and you wiped your hands to check the notification.

Have I upset you?

Okay, maybe he did care. Or maybe he was just very observant and noticed your monotonous reply.

Not at all, I just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry that you worried about me, or that I seemed upset! You're right, I need to be more careful next time.

Please don't take this the wrong way, miss, but I've never met anyone who apologised for making me worry about them. You're quite special.

You did a double take when you read Mr. Hwang's reply, and a wave of remorse crushed your heart. The man was too nice for you to lie to him, but you didn't want him involved in your family affairs, either. There was a strong internal conflict within you, a battle between honesty and dishonesty, but for the time being, dishonesty won, no matter how disgraceful it was.

Choosing not to reply, as time was ticking and the Abduls would be waiting for you soon, you swiftly finished tidying up the bathrooms and put away all the cleaning products so Eunjoo couldn't get to them. With the automatic feeder full, fresh water in the bowl and litter boxes clean, you left.

In all fairness, you didn't know what to reply to his text. No one called you special before, except for that one guy you dated who only wanted to sleep with you, and unfortunately succeeded. It wasn't your proudest moment, but you moved on since then. You stared at the text, typing a reply, then deleting it, then typing again, and you did that for the duration of the entire bus ride back to Guryong Village. By the time you knocked on Ali's door, you still hadn't come up with a response.

What could you even say? Thank you? Likewise? I'm sorry I lied to you, my uncle slapped me with the fly swatter? No. In telling the truth, Mr. Hwang would pity you, perhaps even offer you more money, or food, or clothes, and you didn't want to be pitied. You wanted your hard work to be recognised, not to use your social status or depressing background as an excuse.

Mrs. Abdul couldn't feed you that day, and that was fine. They needed to prioritise themselves, since they didn't live any better than you. Luckily, you saved enough money to buy a kimbap roll for lunch and a bag of rice crackers for dinner and breakfast. Resourcefulness was, perhaps, your strongest point and the reason you survived for so long.

The theme park was packed with tourists and locals, gathering to watch the parade, and you took the time to entertain children and take pictures with them, always on your feet, always working. Back in the dressing room, you took the comically large mascot head off, sweat dripping down your face and neck. Summers were worse — there were body parts you didn't think could sweat.

"Excuse me, Y/N?"

You looked up from your seat to a man around your age, a coworker named Donghyun. He had worked there for a few months or so, but you barely spoke.

"Yes?" You smiled, resting your elbows on the mascot head in your lap.

"We're getting paid today, and a few of us are going for drinks after work. I was wondering if you would like to come." Donghyun avoided looking into your eyes, nervously pinching the soft fur of his own mascot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I have another job I need to get to. Maybe another time."

"Yeah, another time." He nodded. "Hey, could I get your number?"

"Why would you want my number?" You laughed, immediately pursing your lips when Donghyun frowned. "Sorry, yeah, of course I'll give you my number!"

You were such a people pleaser, it was ridiculous, but he seemed to feel better after saving your number in his phone. And there was no harm in making new friends.

"I'll text you later." Donghyun nodded with a smile and left.

What a strange interaction, you thought. It wasn't unusual for men to like you — you were pretty, smart, funny — but you just weren't interested in any of them. In fact, it was their age and maturity that didn't appeal to you. They acted like prepubescent pricks, trying to impress anything with a vagina and a pretty face by being obnoxious and loud and downright irritating.

Older men were different. They had manners, they were respectful and caring. They knew how to dress, knew how to speak to women, kind of like Mr. Hwang.

Oh. 

God, you needed to forcibly remove that thought from your mind before it spiraled into something worse. In-ho probably wanted nothing to do with you — no, he definitely didn’t want anything to do with you. He was just a nice gentleman who happened to not be married. Maybe he had a girlfriend that didn't live with him. Or maybe he worked so much he couldn't afford a relationship. 

Maybe he murdered people.

You laughed at that ridiculous idea — no one in their right mind would do that, especially not Mr. Hwang. He had a cat, for God's sake. Murderers usually killed animals, surely he was just a normal man with a lot on his mind, a workaholic, or a hermit.

Walking into your boss' office, you received your pay and counted the money — 662,326. You got more than you should've, completely forgetting about the pay rise. Your uncle didn't need to know about that, and you took the extra 2,326 and hid it in a small pocket inside your backpack, along with other money you saved. Unbeknownst to him, you secretly opened a savings account in the hopes that one day you would be able to leave and rent your own place, but you only had 1,094,463.60 won, which was barely enough to cover the deposit.

One day. One day you would leave all that abuse behind and have a fresh start. But today was not that day. 

Back in Gangnam-gu, you entered the penthouse earlier than normal and dropped your bag on the floor next to your worn and torn boots. You were hoping they would last through winter because you really couldn't afford a new pair. Eunjoo ran to greet you for the first time, and your heart was filled with joy at the sight of the cat rubbing against your leg. She was growing on you, and you soon realised how much you'd miss her when Mr. Hwang returned. Perhaps he'd let you visit her. 

You turned the TV on and played some songs by ABBA, the sadness of the morning gone, replaced only by joy and optimism. Things would turn out well, you just knew it. You grabbed In-ho's black clothes and placed them in the washing machine, all the while dancing to the beat of Money, Money, Money. It was a song you related to, but you didn't want to find a wealthy man. You just wanted to have enough money to survive without your uncle.

"It's a rich man's world." You sang to Eunjoo, who wiggled her butt, playfully attacking your feet. 

"All the things I could do if I had a little money, kitty. I would get my own apartment, I would donate to orphanages and charities. Oh, don't look at me like that." You frowned when Eunjoo stared at you judgmentally. "I would! There are people out there who need help. But you know what I would get for me? A hotteok! Ah, I would kill for that cinnamony goodness."

You placed the food on the floor and opened the pack of rice crackers. 

"My dad got me a hotteok on my seventh birthday. It was the best birthday ever and- oh my God, I'm talking to a cat." Laughing at the sudden realisation, you shook your head in disbelief. "Well, you're probably my only friend anyway. You don't judge me. You don't care if I'm rich or poor. You just listen and eat. Oh!"

Good evening, Mr. Hwang! Could I ask what your favourite dish is?

You decided that would be your gift. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill, but you were confident in yourself. And who didn't want to come back to a hot home-made meal? Maybe he liked jajangmyeon, or jjigae, or something sweet, like chapssaltteok. The possibilities were endless.

Beef Wellington. Why?

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Beef fucking Wellington? How on Earth could you even afford all the ingredients? The tenderloin itself was probably over 65,000 won. But you were going to do it for him, regardless of what it cost. You felt that Mr. Hwang deserved it. 

I was hoping to cook it for you when you returned. I'll admit, I didn't think it would be such a... fancy dish, but I'm sure I can manage. 

Have you tried it before?

I'm afraid not. Is it good?

Exquisite. You'll have to stay and try it when I return, yes?

Chewing on your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat at his request. You knew he was just being nice, but you couldn't stop the sudden burning desire to just obey. 

Yeah, I'll stay. 

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol  @mariiestfu  @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesnlog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @houta-habtet-houta @alexisabirdie @riri53 @bluehourss

[strwbrychffoncke]

"baby ,i care for you,, 2.6k words synopsis: caleb nurses you back to health contains: fluff! lads caleb x f!reader (caleb calls you "good girl" + "silly girl" x1) ,established relationship! ,just some self-indulgent fluffy sick comfort ,chef!caleb ,kind of stern!caleb (he's just worried) ,caleb makes u take medicine ,two suggestive jokes (cause its caleb) ,like one second of angst ,one single use of "gege" ,he carries you to the couch ,he pats your head/gives u a massage ,lulls you to sleep ,one head kiss ,i think thats it note: not proofread! its 5 in the morning when i post this so forgive any mistakes i just needed this out of my system i need him to take care of me so baaad :x enjoy

-

for some reason, you woke early for someone who didn't sleep till the late hours into the morning last night.

what you'd gotten couldn't even be considered proper sleep, more like just a nap, but somehow your body wasn't too keen on slipping back into the grips of slumber that easily.

and somehow, you woke up feeling even worse than you had for the past two days.

even if your sore throat was mostly gone, you heaved out a couple of dry coughs as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket, shivering in the cold that surrounded the room (courtesy of your comfort, unable to sleep comfortably otherwise even if it worsened your current condition), and on top of that your head was softly throbbing. not wanting to deal with it, you decided to lay back completely to soothe the pain.

your nose was stuffy and runny at the same time, reaching for some tissues on the bedside table to wipe away at it, not before sneezing a couple of times and sniffling afterwards— it was so sensitive today for some reason.

you let out a deep sigh, soft breaths escaping from your mouth as you couldn't breathe comfortably from your nose.

how did it get worse? sure, you only took medicine once yesterday instead of every couple of hours like you were supposed to, but seriously, it was just a sore throat and a small fever!

you sighed, irritated that you were still sick. weren't you supposed to be the one with a good immune system? you and caleb often argued about it, and if he were here, he would surely use this as a point that his was better.

the yearning for his presence bit into the silence of the room as you laid comfortably on your back, shutting your eyes once again as your shallow breaths evened out.

you thought about getting up, washing your face and then making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, and then something to eat so that you could take your medicine and then proceed to rest- something caleb would already be doing for you the moment he'd realize you were sick.

but he wasn't here right now, and even though you'd seen his moments posts about being out with friends, you had no plan to worry him when this was just a little cold.

you thought about it- you were hungry after all, and you wanted something warm to soothe your throat, but just the idea of going all the way down and doing all of that at the moment in your state was tiring.

but, you had taken care of yourself for the past two days like this. what was another?

you opened your eyes, pulled yourself up with a groan, swung your legs over the edge of the bed to slip on your slippers, slipped on the closest sweater and slowly padded your way to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for balance as your headache and sick haze had you dizzy and unsteady on your feet.

you washed up without much of a hitch, and when you exited the bathroom, you thought you heard a door close.

huh?

you thought it might be your mind playing tricks on you. after all, you were at home by yourself and weren't expecting anyone (even if you yearned for someone, the stray thought of him being here leaving you as soon as it came), and you couldn't think of anyone that would stop by on a random wednesday who also happened to have a key to your place.

you shook your head, pocketing your phone as you padded down the way towards the living room, pausing at the faint sound of the television being on- had you left it on?- before proceeding towards the kitchen.

you froze at the sound of light humming coming from your kitchen, feet subconsciously carrying your slightly swaying body closer at the pleasant smell of food wafting towards your nose, completely disregarding a certain bag laying at the end of the empty sofa.

your footsteps must've been heavier than you thought because before you could fully enter the kitchen, the person in question turned around, staring straight at you, spatula in his hand and smile stretching across his face.

"morning, sleepyhead."

you tilted your head.

"caleb?" you whispered.

"surprised?"

you took a few steps closer, heart pounding with excitement but managing to keep your distance due to your illness.

"what are you-"

"hey."

his playful smile quickly morphs into a look of concern as he studies your face, noticing your shallow breaths, quiet voice and slightly-swaying body.

"pipsqueak, are you sick?"

you jolt, looking off to the side.

"not really, its just—"

you startle at his free hand brushing your bangs from your head and resting on your forehead.

"hey! i don't have a fever, i'm fine—"

"your voice is mostly gone," he deadpans.

"that's—"

"how long have you been sick??" his look is full of concern, voice laced with worry.

"just the past two days.."

"two days? and you didn't think to tell me?"

"it was just a sore throat at first!"

"and you're telling me this is still just that?"

before you can answer you're interrupted, bringing up your sleeved arm up to cover the lower half of your face to sneeze twice into it before sniffling.

you put your sleeved arm down and sigh.

"bless you," he says, taking a once over if your state before placing a hand on your lower back.

"here, i made you breakfast, just- sit down, i'll get you everything."

"that's okay, i wanted to—"

"i have water ready for tea if that's what you're after, just sit down, i'll bring it to you."

he says it in a way that almost feels like he's scolding you, and you can't help but to obey and trudge over to the closest seat at the dining table, secretly grateful since your head was hurting more now.

you momentarily rest your head on the cool surface, missing the frown that adorns caleb's face at seeing you in such a weakened state.

he knew how prideful you were when it came to your wellbeing, and he also knew how, for as little as it happened, sick you got when you did succumb to illness.

luckily, from a surface level it didn't look too bad, and the duration wasn't anywhere near severe-level yet. he was sure it was something plenty of rest and medicine would help with.

which is when he vowed, while filling your plate and pouring the steaming water into your favorite mug with a green tea bag resting inside, that he would be the one to nurse you back to health himself.

just like he used to.

-

"that's way too many, caleb!"

"i'm not letting you leave until you take em' all."

"is this really necessary??"

"lingering sore throat, mild fever, headache, stuffy and runny nose, sneezing, dry cough. did i miss anything?"

"no.."

"then yes, this is all necessary. it's not even that much!"

"caleb, there's five different pills sitting in front of me. i am not swallowing all of that!"

"haven't you swallowed more than just this before?"

"caleb!"

you smack his arm and he lets out a hearty laugh— one that you're grateful to see (despite it being at your expense), given he's mostly been overcome with concern— before looking over the medicines again.

"fine, fine, here."

one hand drags an orange pill away towards him.

"how about now?"

you deadpan.

"you're joking, right?" you sniffle.

"that's the best i can do, pipsqueak. now hurry up and take them."

you let out a groan, but reach for the largest pill first.

"do i really—"

"yes," he crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. "i won't say it again."

you sigh, taking a small sip of tea before slipping the pill between your lips, tipping your head back before taking multiple large gulps of your tea to help its descent.

caleb nods, uncurling his hands and reaching for his utensil to grab some rice.

"good girl, now eat some more and take the rest," he instructs, shoving the rice into his mouth.

you're about to speak but are interrupted by a small sneeze.

"bless you."

you pout at him.

he points to your plate with his chopsticks.

"eat."

"you're lucky your food is so good..." you trail off, shoveling some eggs into your mouth, delight quickly filling you at the flavor of such a simple food item.

the cycle repeats: caleb watching you take sips of your tea and shoveling small bites of food into your mouth before pushing the next pill towards you until they're all gone.

in no time at all, both of your plates are empty. he takes yours from in front of you as you sip on the remainder of your tea, nodding when he asks if you're finished before taking them away to the sink.

you watch as he rolls up his sleeves and makes quick work to wash the plates, utensils, and the kitchenware he'd used, mesmerized by the familiar movements but willing to watch again and again all the same.

once he was finished and the dishes were properly put away, he dries his hands, walking back over to you and feeling your forehead again.

"hmm.. not too warm. how are you feeling right now? are you cold?"

you nod your head, and he gently pats the top of it. you close your eyes in response, the gesture soothing to you.

he grins.

always so cute...

"we should get you back to bed," he murmurs, bending down to your level. "want gege to carry you?"

you crack your eyes open and shake your head, prompting him to tilt his in question.

"i don't want you tripping on the way to your room if you're still dizzy, pipsqueak—"

"i don't wanna go to my room," you cut him off.

"can't i rest near you?" you peer up at him, hope filled in your droopy eyes, and something about that hits him.

you'd been on your own feeling like crap the past two days (now onto the third) and, knowing you, haven't been taking proper care of yourself, prompting the sickness to become what it is now.

no one could guarantee that you'd been eating properly, taking the proper medicine and on time, and most of all, not trying to work while in this state.

his heart feels heavy at the thought, but at his prolonged silence and hard stare, you shift your gaze behind him, embarrassed, and speak up again.

"or— i've already caused you enough trouble, right? this is supposed to be your time off and i've worried you enough... so i'll go back to my room! i wouldn't want to get you si—"

"no, no, no," he quickly cuts you off, swiftly shaking his head before grabbing onto your shoulders.

"pipsqueak, when have i ever denied you of your wishes?"

you sniffle. he did have a point...

"and besides, it's my job to worry about you, ya know?"

"so come on, let me carry you to the couch, yeah? we can put on whatever you like until you fall asleep."

you smile, ever so grateful at how caleb loved to spoil you.

you move to stand up and barely feel your feet hit the ground for half a second before you're easily scooped into caleb's arms, laughing at the sudden gesture before he walks towards the living room with you.

"caleb! i could've—"

"nope, you really couldn't have. i saw the way you trudged through the kitchen earlier, pipsqueak. you looked like you'd fall over if i so much as blew on you."

you look away, small pout adorning your lips, sniffling again.

"s' not my fault... don't even know how i got sick this time."

"maybe cause you missed me so much?

"yeah, maybe."

his heart throbs at your honesty, plopping down on the couch with you before smiling.

"so i guess this means i've got the better immune system, huh?"

"ugh, i knew you'd bring that up..."

he chuckles, letting you adjust in his hold as you use his lap as a pillow.

"whaddya wanna watch, pipsqueak?"

"dunno," you yawn. "just see what's on right now."

you watch as he looks around for the remote, pointing at it being just out of reach on the coffee table. you're about to offer to grab it before you see the strings of his evol grip onto it, bringing it into his hand before he catches it with ease and begins flipping through the channels.

"cheater," you tease quietly, letting out a small laugh at his use of his evol.

"hm?" he catches your words, humming thoughtfully in response, eyes glued to the television.

"you say that, but i remember a certain hunter practically crying under my evol while begging me to—"

"c-caleb!"

he laughs at the way you try to swat at him as you're laying down, settling for a small thwap! on his thigh instead.

"sorry, sorry," he says nonchalantly, loving how easily riled up he could get you at the mention your bedroom activities.

"here," he says, free hand finding its way to your head, softly massaging at your scalp.

"this a good enough apology?" he asks, only earning pleased mewls from you in response.

he smiles fondly in response, pleased at your little noises and the way you nuzzle into him further, resembling a satisfied cat that just filled its belly and was ready for its afternoon nap.

he eventually lands on a channel with a classic favorite movie for the both of you, setting the remote down and using his now-free hand to rub soothing circles into your back.

"you know, wearing my clothes while you're sick is a little selfish, don't you think?"

"s' warm," you mumble, slowly being lulled to sleep by his ministrations.

"and comfy. smells like you..."

even though he teased you, he always felt his heart grow fuller at the sight of you in his clothes, and he felt some amount of pride that it was the first thing you'd reached for even in your current state.

"yeah? i guess i can forgive you," he whispers, evol reaching for the nearest blanket to drape it over your lower half.

in the edges of slumber, you can feel a kiss being planted on the side of your head, but you don't have the energy to reprimand him for doing such a thing and risk himself getting sick.

he sits back up, watching you fondly as he continues his comforting ministrations.

"get well soon, okay? ill be right here when you wake up."

even after he was sure you were sleeping, he continued his gentle caresses, comforted by the fact that you were there with him, and that he could keep a close eye on you.

-

extra:

half-paying attention to the movie on screen, he was already planning a soup to make you when his phone buzzed beside him.

it was a message from a friend of his.

wanna grab a bite later? my treat! some others will be joining too.

grateful for the offer, he messaged back quickly.

can't, playing nurse for my cute girlfriend tonight~

aw, next time, then!

he placed his phone back down, looking back at you and brushing stray hair out of your face as he thought back to your words.

"can't i rest near you?"

you'd looked so helpless, almost like you were expecting him to refuse you and make you rest by yourself, but eyes holding a lingering hope anyway as they peered into his soul.

his heart is full, his eyes are full of mirth, lips curling lovingly.

silly girl...

there's nowhere he'd rather be than here, right beside you—

whether you were ill or perfectly healthy.

always.

and he would make sure you never felt the burden of illness by yourself so long as he could help it.

-

a/n: i'm sick and couldn't help but imagine the l&ds men taking care of me ,and namely imagined caleb nursing me back to health so here we are. caleb come home!

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 12)

You woke up feeling uncomfortably warm. Not that it bothered you too much—it was the kind of warmth that made you feel too comfortable to move. Wrapped tightly in a cocoon of blankets, you realized you were stuck in someone’s arms.

And when you blinked your eyes open, all you saw was darkness.

The darkness of someone’s shirt.

You shifted slightly, trying to free yourself a little, but the grip was way too strong. You literally couldn't move, the blankets wrapped too tightly around your body. It made you squirm a bit to try and get free, but still, nothing. "Mhm..."

"Kyle, Johnny, let her go." Simon's low voice sounded muffled somewhere behind you, his heavy hand patting your covered body lightly. "I don't think humans enjoy nesting immobile like this."

Which, yeah, had some truth to it, considering you were still squirming a little, unconfortable with being stuck in place so firmly.

"It's for protection..." Johnny whined—mostly playfully—as he gave you one last squeeze before loosening his hold, pulling you up slightly so you could now see the rest of the room. The blanket that was wrapped around you not so constricting anymore. "Well, good morning, pup! Slept well?"

You blinked slowly, still feeling too sluggish to answer properly. Instead, you rubbed your eyes and face slowly with both hands, trying to wake up a bit. That didn’t stop Johnny, though, who immediately reached out to feel your forehead, checking your temperature. "Ah think it went down..." The Werewolf muttered, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. It was harder for him to gauge your temperature when he ran much hotter than humans.

"Let me."

Gaz stepped in, leaning closer to feel your forehead, his feathers twitching slightly even when his body was otherwise totally still.

"You feel much better, fledgling." He announced, a small, gentle smile on his face.

"Great! This means we can play, right, pup?"

You glanced up at Johnny’s face nervously. He looked so eager, but you weren’t quite sure if you were ready to play yet... he was still way too big and scary to consider fighting with him.

“Johnny.” Simon reprimanded in his low voice as he stood from the nest. “What did we talk about before?”

"And ya think ah'll hurt her or somethin'? Ya don't knae human limits either, do ya?" Johnny didn’t yell, but his naturally loud tone rose slightly, and your body tensed instinctively between the soft blankets.

Were they fighting? Were they going to argue because of you?

"Humans are more delicate." Gaz chimed in with a neutral tone, stretching his wings as he stood up from the nest, still addressing Johnny. "Especially her, weak as she is after the flu...."

"I knaw ya worried, Ky. I knae, but I'm very careful. Ya knae that." Johnny replied, his voice softening as he moved up to hug Gaz's side gently, one hand smoothing down the feathers on his wing. "Besides, ya have to help me convince Ghostie—he’s such a hardass."

"Har har." Simon deadpanned, rolling his eyes as he bent down to lift you out of the nest. His heavy hands patted your pajamas gently to both fix your clothes and wake you up a bit.

Johnny grinned smugly, amused by Simon’s reaction, his wolf ears pressing down as he let go of Kyle to approach you.

"Ay, pup, do ya wanna see how hybrids spar?" Johnny asked with a mischievous grin as he looked down at you, stepping closer to Simon.

"Huh...?" You murmured, blinking up at him, caught off guard.

"Johnny—" Simon hissed, the raspy, airy sound of a Wraith’s warning making you jump back in surprise.

Only to be interrupted by Johnny tackling him down back into the nest, the Werewolf growling back as they tumbled on top of the blankets and pillows.

You gasped weakly in surprise, eyes wide as you watched them both fall to their knees, Johnny's bicep trying to get a hold of Simon's neck as he tried to push the bigger man down. Simon was clearly stronger though, as he held back the Werewolf's arm and pulled it off of him.

Gaz chuckled sharpily at his two mates' antics, shaking his head softly as he walked past you to go to the bathroom. The soft feathers of his wing brushed against your back reassuringly as he went.

You noticed Simon’s sclera starting to darken, and he let out a low hiss before tackling Johnny's side roughly, pinning him to the nest this time. Johnny growled back, his nails digging into Simon’s arms, in his compression shirt, which somehow resisted tearing under the sharp claws.

You could see both of their muscles bulging with how much strengh they were fighting eachother with.

“You two muppets, stop that.” Price’s voice came from the doorway. He entered the room, shaking his head in mild amusement at the scene. “You’re scaring the kid.”

Johnny took advantage of Simon’s brief distraction to push him off, immediately crawling over to you with a panting grin.

"See? Isnae it fun??" He asked, leaning on the edge of the nest with his arms crossed and his head resting on them. "Course ah'd go easy on ya, pup. Let you mess me up, aye?"

"Who called, Price?" Simon asked, straightening up and casually scratching his arm where Soap had sinked his nails in.

"Nikolai. He was with Kate and Rya." Price replied with a small, affectionate smile, a tinge of affection on his gruffy voice.

"Are they...?" Simon started to ask, glancing at you briefly before looking back at Price, trying to be subtle to avoid worring you in case he was wrong.

"Yes, they are paying us a visit soon." Price confirmed, his tone careful as he gauged your reaction.

"Who...?" You asked quietly, already feeling anxiety creep in at the mention of three new people.

"Bonnie lassie, it's okay, aye? It's just our pack!" Johnny said quickly, trying to reassure you as he got up to his knees to manage to look you better in the eye. "Our pack is very nice, aye? Nice people, very gentle! Ya'll love them!"

"Well, Rya, sure, but Nik and Kate...." Gaz emerged from the bathroom, looking refreshed and wearing a small, amused smile.

"Gaz."

"Kyle."

Both Ghost and Price immediatly scolded the Harpy in unison, their tones sharp but familiar. Gaz just laughed it off, shaking his head lightly.

"Kidding, kidding~"

"They are very nice people, I swear it, doll." John said quickly, his small smile softened by the warmth in his voice, though partially hidden by his beard. "I'll show you pictures after, okay?"

You hesitated, still feeling uncertain. Nervousness tightened your chest, but you nodded slowly. It wasn’t like refusing was an actual option. This wasn’t truly your house. Maybe the best you could do was what you'd done in some foster homes before that had frequent visitors: hide away from sight until they were gone.

Like a cat.

"Let's have breakfast, hun. And you need to take one more dose of medicine. Maybe some warm tea too, hm?" Kyle smiled, his wing brushing your back gently to nudge you toward the door.

You were still getting used to the mornings in their house. They were clearly early risers, with none of them showing the slightest hesitation about starting the day even if they just woke up. The ease with which they interacted, did chores, and moved around impressed you. It was a stark contrast to your usual sluggish mornings.

Not that you were grumpy in the mornings—just… slow. Sluggish. You often zoned out while sitting at the table, barely able to keep up with the energetic chatter and movement around you. They talked continuously, laughing loudly, getting up and sitting back down, picking up dishes, and cleaning as they went.

Truly impressive. You could never.

After taking a warm shower, brushing your teeth, and getting dressed in warm clothes, you found a new problem, though. Johnny was trailing you like a persistent puppy. His wide grin practically begged you to join him in whatever he had in mind.

"If you're going to play with her, take her downstairs to the gym." Simon suggested, clearly offering no help in discouraging Johnny's enthusiasm.

The small, betrayed look you shot Simon only made him chuckle softly as Johnny gently took your hand, leading you toward their indoor gym.

The gym was much bigger than you'd expected, equipped with far more gear than some gyms you'd seen before. The bright white lighting and clean concrete floors created a spacious and organized feel. Each piece of heavy equipment was well-spaced, making it seem as though every detail had been carefully planned.

You scanned the area, taking it all in, until Johnny tugged you toward a section lined with thick, black padded mats on the ground.

"I... don't know how to... fight...." You murmured, your brows knitting together in confusion as you looked up at Soap. It was almost a silent plea for clarification.

"I knae, lassie, don't ya worry! We're just playing!" He beamed at you, guiding you to the edge of the mats. "Here, take off your shoes, bonnie."

Both of you stepped onto the mats. You wore the new socks John had gotten for you—purple with white stars—that carefully protected your small feet, while Johnny went barefoot. His feet were large, with sharp toenails and thick fur along the tops, really what you would expect from a Werewolf.

"What... do you wanna play...?" You asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper in the otherwise quiet gym. "Play fight...?"

"Ah like some wressling like anybody, mah kids also love it too! Ah'm sure we'll have some fun, wee lass!"

He smiled confidently, dropping to his knees. He had an eager and wolfish grin on his face, energy pratically radiating from him.

"Let's see what ya got!"

Part 11 /

[suni-writings]

Take the pain away.

jude bellingham x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

+18!! mdni

(content warning: unrequited feelings, cheating [unrelated to jude x reader], toxic relationship [also not jude x reader], smut, fingering, unprotected sex [have safe sex pls])

it's been a while since i wrote a jude smut, but you ask and i shall deliver. we have been waiting for this one. heavily inspired by "fuck the pain away (lost tapes 2022)" by tory lanez.

He was exhausted. Not because of football, not because of fame, but because of his best friend. Being physically exhausted was something he was used to — Jude could get rid of it in a few weeks if it resulted in some type of pain. Emotionally, however? He was clueless as to how to heal it, especially since time did nothing but deepen his feelings towards her. It messed up his head, his thoughts got foggy, and he seemed to act out of impulse whenever he was around her. Nothing could really stop him when she was next to him, and that was his doom.

Well, that and her boyfriend. Her hideous, stupid attempt of a man of a boyfriend, whom did nothing but make her feel bad and cheat on her. She wasn’t the girl Jude used to know anymore — the fierce one, who everyone would be scared to even look at her the wrong way. Somehow, that manipulator managed to get her undivided forgiveness every time. It was a never-ending cycle, one that was tearing his mind apart. He was always the one to rescue her, until that dumbass showed up again, promising to be different and acting like a prince for a week.

That night wasn’t any different. The moment his phone vibrated in his pocket and Jude saw who sent the message, he already knew what it was about. And, despite being tired, he still walked up to her house, because she had him at his mercy. He wanted nothing more than to see her okay again, to be her sunshine of her rainy days.

Even if for a single moment only.

She had left the door unlocked for him. Jude carefully got inside, taking a deep breath. He could hear her sobs coming from her room, which he carefully walked up to.

“Princess?” Jude called out softly.

Even in the darkness, he could see her hands coming to dry the tears in her eyes. She sat up, still sniffing, and he sat next to her. He caressed gently her face and wiped another tear.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“What’s the point? You already know what happened. It’s what always happens.” She let out a humorless chuckle and sighed. “I’m sorry. I probably look like shit right now.’

Bellingham took a moment to look — more like admire — her face. Red glimmering eyes, puffy nose, the bite marks on her lip to avoid crying. She still looked breathtaking.

“You look like a mess, honey,” Jude smirked. “But still pretty as ever.”

She gave a small smile, that quickly turned into a grimace, and she looked at him.

“I feel so weak, Jude. I don’t know why I keep letting this happen, I don’t know why I’m so—” she stopped midsentence and laid in bed again, holding back her tears. He was next to her, supporting the weight of his body on his elbow. “Please, take this pain away. I can’t handle this anymore.”

He took a deep breath yet again. There’s not much he could do, and all his options sounded selfish; even if it was for her own good, it also benefited him. Like leaving that project of a man for once and all. He slowly took strands of her hair out of her face, gently outlining her cheek. He avoided looking at her lips, because he couldn’t do anything about it. Especially with her this vulnerable.

“I’m here, princess. What can I do for you?” Jude asked quietly, toying her hair between his fingers.

“Take the pain away.” She begged again and looked into his eyes.

She had no idea how much Jude wanted to do that.

“I can’t do that. I’m not him, I can’t fix his mistakes, but I can—” he bit his tongue when he realized he was about to say too much; to act selfishly, to prove her she could do better, to give her a taste of what she could have.

A few moments of silence fell between them and her eyes searched for his. She leaned closer, as if she got the hint. As if she wanted it too.

Jude could be her temporary relief, he didn’t care. If he could help, he would.

Who was he trying to fool? If he could have her in any way, he would.

“Fuck the pain away. I could fuck the pain away, baby.” He whispered as he looked at her in her beautiful, almost translucent nightgown. “An eye for an eye. Give him a taste of his own poison. You say the word, I’ll do it.”

She leaned even closer to him, her hand gently resting on his face as she caressed his cheek. She bit her lip, thinking. She was desperate, and Jude was right there for her.

If her boyfriend could do it, then so could she.

Without a second warning, to Jude’s surprise, her lips crashed into his, hastily seeking relief. When their tongues touched, she was in a frenzy, and everything started to get blurry.

All she could think was the way Jude kissed and bit her neck, the way his warm tongue descended to her collarbone and threatened to go even lower. The way she tugged, on Jude’s hair, not wanting the moment the moment to end, needing more of his kisses. Of his burning touch.

“Need to take this off, princess.” He muttered against her collarbone, holding the hem of her nightgown. She nodded and stood her arms up so he could easily remove it. “Making this all so easy for me.” He said once he saw her breasts and tossed the nightgown away, biting her nipple before gently sucking it while caressing the other with expertise.

She was already panting. In a single attempt, he brought his covered knee close to her core, and the damp in her panties was undeniable.

That only fueled his anger. That bastard had her and didn’t touch her properly.

His mouth left her breast and moved back to her neck, sucking and biting it while his hand descended to her core and she her back almost arched in anticipation; if he knew she was that touch deprived, he would’ve suggested that a long time ago.

With his hands underneath her underwear, he pressed two fingers against her clit and moved them slowly, pressuring further to see the way her chest rose, the way her cheeks flush and how her mouth opened, too scared to make a sound.

So, without warning, Jude inserted the two fingers inside her and moved them fast, curling them until he found the spot that made her back arch, and the room became filled with moans. He kissed her throat, his mouth vibrating with each moan that came out of her mouth. His movements were precise, fast, and with an urge to prove something that, before he could realize or properly enjoy what he was doing, her walls were closing against his fingers.

“Jude, I’m—” she tried to say, but he smirked against her skin and moved his fingers even harder.

“You’re what? Tell me, baby.” Jude teased her and her back arched. He felt his fingers hurt, but it didn’t matter. Not when she was coming undone in his hands.

“Jude—” she tried to warn again, and he kept moving his fingers, looking at her in the eyes. She struggled to keep them open, trying to keep eye contact.

“Is that everything you know how to say now? My name?” He hit the spot once again and smirked. “I could get used to that.”

Her walls fully clenched around his fingers, and she finally came, seeing stars behind her eyes and leaving a loud moan. It was something she had never experienced so strongly, and she didn’t know if it was because her boyfriend didn’t care about her pleasure or if it was because it was Jude. Maybe the answer was both.

“Fuck.” she muttered, panting. He just smirked, looking into her eyes and leaning away, putting his own fingers in his mouth to taste her.

“Now that’s a very—” his fingers left his mouth with a pop once he made sure to savor the taste. “—very good girl. And a delicious one, if I might add. Could taste you for fucking hours.”

Jude didn’t care if he still had his clothes on. He had a taste of hers, and nothing would stop him now.  If he already couldn’t stop himself before touching, the gods may as well punish him, and it wouldn’t be enough for him to stop.

He kissed her again, making her taste herself before lowering the kisses — from her mouth to the spot under her ear. From her neck to her collarbone. From the valley of her breasts to her stomach. The kisses only lowered. Before he could reach her panties once again, starving, she tugged on her hair.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m too worked up for you to eat me out. Need more.”

He bit his lip and smirked. As much as he wanted to taste her, he wanted to be inside her. He took off his shirt in a swift move and she sat up, crawling closer to him to kiss him and bite his neck. He felt like his skin was on fire and the bulge on his sweatpants only got harder. He took a deep breath.

“You’re not helping, princess.” He sighed.

“Am I not?” Now it was her time to tease. She straddled him and sat right against his crotch, making him almost roll his eyes. “You should take those sweatpants off.” She said as her hands caressed his abdomen.

He quickly turned the position, now on top of her, and took his sweatpants off.

“Good enough for you, princess?” He whispered, leaning closer.

“Better if you took your underwear off.” She smirked.

“Brat.”

Instead of taking his underwear off, he took her panties off in one single move. A risky one, since he could’ve ripped it from how quickly he took it off. He lowered and admired for a moment.

“Such a pretty pussy. A shame you won’t let me eat you out.” He whispered as he looked at her core, gently touching her puffy clit once again. She was stretched, but not enough. He didn’t pay attention to that when he had his fingers inside her — he just wanted to see her pretty face coming.

“Jude.” She called him out with some urgency, and he sighed.

Maybe the gods couldn’t stop Jude, but she could.

He took his underwear off, only now realizing how painfully hard he was. She watched as his cock sprung out, rigid, leaking with too much precum. He bit his lip and put his hand around his cock, spreading the precum slowly. He knew how sensitive he was right now, and he had to hold it back for her. He lined his member with her entrance and slowly dipped inside her.

She moaned loudly and Jude could feel his breath stopping from how tight she was. He gave her some time to adjust to his size.

“This is too much.” She whined.

“Darling, I’m not even moving.” He replied. “Your boyfriend lacks even in that area? He’s truly useless.”

She would’ve chuckled if she wasn’t having a hard time with the way his cock filled her, the burning sensation from the stretch seeming unending.

“It hurts.”

Jude leaned close to her, their lips almost touching.

“It doesn’t, baby.” He thrusted one time, to make her more used to the movements. “I’m taking the pain away. Just feel me here. That’s all you have to do.” He pressed his hand against her belly and thrusted once again, earning a moan and feeling himself from how big he was.

She could do much better than her boyfriend. He wanted to be the much better.

He started properly moving, hard, fast, desperate for his own release as well. To prove her how much better she could be fucked if he was the one doing it. And each time he hit the spot, he could feel her walls clenching. His hand never left her belly, knowing how deep he was going into her. He couldn’t stop.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and held his hair as his movements became more frenetic, moans dripping from her mouth to his ear with anything he did. He moaned whenever she clenched too hard against him.

“You’re so fucking tight.” he muttered, panting, trying to keep the pace. It was taking all of his willpower to not just come already. She didn’t reply, of course. She was too busy scratching his back and moaning desperately.

His movements became more erratic, slower, and, when her walls clenched around him one last time, he spilled everything inside her and fell to her chest, trying to catch his breath.

“Jude?” She called him out once they could properly speak.

“Yeah?”

“Stay. For the night.” She pleaded softly, caressing his back that were marked by the painting her nails had done.

“I wasn’t planning to go anywhere else, princess.” He smiled at her.

Jude held her against his chest, as she peacefully slept. He leaned his chin on the top of her head and, once he was certain she was sleeping, he sighed.

“I can’t take the pain away because I’m not your man.” Jude whispered. “But I wish I was.”

[nachrosas]

SLIDE TO LOVE | s.reid x reader

summary: you try to teach spencer how to roller-skate. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: just spencer being a little drunk in this one! word count: 936 a/n: just a little fun day at park with spencer :)

It was a beautiful day. The park was especially alive there. Children's laughter echoed across the green fields, interspersed with the rhythmic sound of roller skates gliding across the asphalt. You were sitting beside Spencer on a bench shaded by a tree, watching the surrounding movement.

“Look at them!” you commented, pointing to a group of young people doing tricks on a small ramp. “I think they're competing to see who can get hurt first.”

Spencer adjusted his glasses, his curious gaze following their movements. “In fact, studies show that high-risk sports stimulate the release of adrenaline and dopamine, which can be considered a motivating factor. What's more, the likelihood of musculoskeletal injuries in sports like this is…”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't contain your smile. “Right. Dr. Reid, what about you? Have you ever tried skating?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “Me? No, never. It seems… too unstable for me.”

“It's fun!” you insisted a little, standing up and tugging on his hand. “Come on, Spencer. It's time to add that to your list of extraordinary skills.”

He hesitated, but your piercing gaze made him stand up slowly, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “If I fall and hurt myself, it'll be your fault.”

“No problem! I'm a great instructor!” you assured him, guiding him to the small hut that rented out roller skates.

Spencer looked at the skates on his feet as if they were bombs about to explode. “Did you know that skating is responsible for approximately 100,000 injuries a year in the United States? About 33% of them involve the wrists, because when people fall, they choose their hands as a method of protection.”

You laughed, crossing your arms. “Okay, Dr. Statistics, but you're forgetting the most important fact: falling is part of the fun.” You took a step forward, grabbing his hands. “And besides, I'm here to make sure you don't become one of those 33%.”

He frowned, but you saw the corner of his lips twitch, almost forming a smile. “I can't be good at everything, you know?” he grumbled.

“Exactly! And that's why it's going to be so much fun to watch you stumble a little.” You winked at him and gently pulled him away from the grass, towards the asphalt.

As soon as the wheel of Spencer's roller skates touched the smooth surface, he staggered, his arms moving like uncontrolled propellers. You held on tightly to his hands, biting your lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Okay, okay, don't worry! Small steps, right? Let's try again.”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on his own feet, his expression determined. Every step was clumsy, and he stumbled a few times, but you never let go of his hands.

“You're thinking too much,” you commented, as you helped him regain his balance for the third time. “You have to relax, let the movement flow. It's like walking in sneakers! Only instead of sneakers, it's wheels.”

He looked up at you, his brown eyes shining with something other than frustration. “Relaxing? I'm not exactly good at it.”

You laughed, tilting your head. “Really? You don't even think so. All that genius and you can't take two steps without pulling me along?”

Spencer stopped, swaying slightly on his skates. “You know I'd do anything to see you smile like that, right?”

The world seemed to slow down. He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart soar. A shy smile took over his face.

“Well, in that case,” you replied, squeezing their hands tighter. “You'd better keep practicing. Because I'm still not satisfied.”

He smiled back, genuine and full of renewed confidence, and took another step. Of course, he stumbled again, but this time your laughter echoed together, filling the park with a light and contagious joy.

With you still holding his hands, Spencer was able to glide with more confidence — or at least what felt like confidence. His movements were still clumsy as if he was learning to walk again, and that's when you realized that he was really trying. For you.

For a brief moment, he took three consecutive steps without stumbling, and you both celebrated as if he had just won a medal. But the euphoria was short-lived. With his next move, Spencer lost his balance, tripping and pulling you along.

You both fell to the ground awkwardly, but the impact was cushioned by the laughter that escaped your lips. You looked at him, who was now lying on his back, trying to catch his breath as he laughed more freely than you had ever seen before.

“I told you,” he said between laughs. “that it wouldn't end well.”

“Finish well?” you repeated, sitting down and holding out your hand to help him up. “Spencer, that was perfect!”

He accepted your help, taking a seat next to you, still with his skates on his feet. “If that's your definition of perfect, maybe I need to revise my standards.”

You gave him a gentle push on the shoulder, smiling. “You know, I think you're starting to get the spirit of the thing.”

He tilted his head, studying you with that look that seemed to unlock secrets. “Maybe it's because I have the best teacher in the world.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained. “And you'll need more lessons! Next time, no falls, okay?”

“Next time…” he repeated, with a slight curve to his lips, as if the mere act of saying those words was a promise.

[elryuse]

My Toxic Ex

Yandere Seola X Male Reader

Tags : Cheating Seola, Toxic Seola, Regrets, Yandere, Obsessive, Forceful Sex, Hatred, Manipulation, Pregnancy?

Words : 3,4509 Words

This Is a Commission Work for My friend @Pizza_anon on Ko-fi. I hope you like it Buddy.

"Seola..what the fuck". Y/n yelled, as He saw a terrible sight. His girlfriend of 2 years, have been sleeping with guys all around campus, as she giggles and moaned. Y/n was heartbroken, Seeing how seola clearly enjoyed it.

Seola his once pure and caring Girlfriend, was changed. She was no longer the cheerful, happy, and loving girlfriend once more. She became toxic, cruel, manipulative. Sometimes Y/n wondered what went wrong, What did he do wrong. As her habits grew more and more destructive, Y/n finally has enough.

After a ton of Cheating that she has done, Y/n was finally tired. He's tired hearing all of this news from his friends that Seola is with another guy, Seola slept with some guy, etc. He's done. And so, He simply left. He moved into a new College, far from Seola. He slowly composed himself, Getting his mentality into a better state. As he finally made new friends, and left the ties from his previous life.

Y/n met a beautiful girl. Eunji, was her name. She was cute, smart, and most importantly, Caring. It has been years, since Y/n felt loved, wanted. And it clearly shows, as after a few months of dating her, Y/n was committed to become his boyfriend. Eunji smiled, as she hugged him under the Apple tree. However, as Y/n may thinks this story would end on a happy ending. It was from happy, nor sad. It would be devastating.

Seola, Who all this time was busy having fun with guys all over the campus found herself stuck in a limbo. A sudden news, Her porn videos and naked pics were leaked all over the internet, and most importantly on her university. This made her popularity crumble into dust. As people began mocking her, slut shaming her, and what's even worse, the friends that she thought was there for her, turned out to be the monster that leaked all of her vids and pics.

They all laugh, as they sneered at her, mocking her. Seola was broken. The guys who she slept with, didn't bother to care for her. Instead they feel more proud than ever, as they still kept those videos and pictures all inside their phones. Seola trembles, as day by day, Her friends would leave her, and in the end, the were none left.

Seola suddenly remembered about Y/n. The man who truly cared for her. The man who actually cared for her. She suddenly cried, as She started to remember all of those good times she had with him. She remembered the time where the two got into a small fight, and even though it was unnecessary his fault, Y/n still decided to be the one who apologize first, which made Seola really happy and proud.

She imagined, if she still go back to him. Will he accept her apology. Will he still get back with her, after all of this time, and after all of this suffering that she gave him. Seola was stucked, didn't know what to do, what to act. But she thinks again and again, and not wanting to regrets her decision, she finally started to do some research on Y/n.

And to her surprise and shock, Y/n looked different. He seems happy. His smile, that once was shown to her, now shines brightly on the digital screen, He shares the world about his new girlfriend, Eunji. The two seems perfect, they lack any negativity, far beyond what Y/n and Seola used to have. At that moment, Seola cried. She had lost. She had truly made the biggest mistake in her life.

As she caresses the phone screen once more, a devious plan suddenly showed up. She could still win him over. She could still be with him. And even though this plan would hurt her and him, She didn't care. She only wanted Y/n to be with her again. And so, Any plans good or bad, suddenly become the pinnacle of the system. Seola laughed, as She opened a small wrinkled picture from her jacket. A photo of Y/n and Her. She knew, This wasn't going to be easy. But she knows, that whatever the outcome is, She'll have him back.

As Y/n and Eunji get up from their tiring slumber, He could see that today was a good day. The Sun was shining brightly, the clouds doesn't look cloudy. The evening air was crisp, the kind that made you want to pull your jacket tighter around yourself. Y/n walked home from Eunji’s apartment, his mind still buzzing with the warmth of her laugh and the softness of her touch. He couldn’t believe how different life felt now—how free he was. No more walking on eggshells, no more wondering if Seola would blow up over something trivial. For the first time in years, he felt like he could breathe.

But as he turned the corner onto his quiet street, a familiar silhouette caught his eye. His heart skipped a beat. No. It can’t be.

Seola stood under the flickering streetlamp, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked... smaller somehow, less vibrant than the girl he remembered. Her once perfectly styled hair was slightly disheveled, and her makeup, though still striking, couldn’t hide the shadows under her eyes.

“Y/n,” she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to make him pause. “We need to talk.”

He clenched his jaw, stopping a few feet away from her. “Seola, I don’t think there’s anything left to say. We’re done.”

Her lips quivered, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry. But then, her expression hardened, and she took a step closer. “You think it’s that easy? You think you can just walk away from me and start over like nothing happened?”

“I didn’t walk away, Seola. You did. Every single time you chose someone else over me, you pushed me further away. And now... I’m done.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You really believe that? That it was all my fault? Maybe if you had cared enough, if you had fought for me, things would’ve been different. But you didn’t. You just gave up.”

Y/n stared at her, incredulous. “Fought for you? Seola, you were sleeping with half the campus. What was I supposed to do? Beg you to stop?”

Her eyes burned with intensity, and she closed the distance between them in two quick strides. “You were supposed to fight for me!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “Because I needed you! I needed you to show me that I was worth something!”

The raw pain in her voice stopped him cold. For the first time, he saw past the bravado, the cruelty, the arrogance. All he saw was a girl who was broken, who had been hurting long before their relationship fell apart.

“Seola...” he started, his voice softening despite himself.

But she cut him off, placing a hand on his chest. “Don’t,” she whispered, her nails digging into his shirt. “Don’t pretend to care now. Not when you’ve already moved on. Not when you’re with her.”

He frowned, stepping back. “Eunji has nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t she?” Seola’s voice was low, dangerous. “You think I don’t know about her? How perfect she is? How kind and caring and loving? Tell me, Y/n, does she make you feel like I did? Does she make your heart race? Does she make you want her so badly it hurts?”

“Seola, stop—”

“No,” she hissed, grabbing the front of his jacket and pulling him close. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. But you do owe me this. One last chance. One night. That’s all I’m asking.”

Her breath was hot against his skin, and despite everything, he felt his body respond. She was so close, too close, and the scent of her perfume—something sweet and floral—filled his senses. Memories flooded his mind: late nights tangled together, whispered promises, stolen kisses. But then, the darker memories followed: her cruel words, her betrayal, the way she always made him feel so small.

“I can’t,” he said firmly, trying to push her away. But she held on tighter, her fingers digging into his skin.

“Yes, you can,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. “You miss me. I know you do. You miss the way I touched you, the way I made you feel. And deep down, you want me just as much as I want you.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and he hated how right she was. Even now, after everything, a part of him still longed for her. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not after everything she’d put him through.

“Seola, this isn’t going to work,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m with Eunji now. I’m happy. Please, just let me go.”

For a moment, she was silent, her grip loosening slightly. Then, without warning, she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was desperate, hungry, full of years of pent-up longing and regret. Y/n froze, torn between pushing her away and giving in. Her tongue slid against his, coaxing his mouth open, and he felt himself responding despite his better judgment.

When she finally pulled away, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “One night,” she whispered again. “That’s all I need. Let me remind you why we belonged together. And then... if you still want to leave, I’ll let you go. I promise.”

His chest heaved as he struggled to think clearly. This was wrong. So wrong. But the ache in his body told him otherwise. The way her hands roamed over his chest, the way her hips pressed against his... it was too much. And yet, not enough.

“Seola...” he breathed, barely able to form the words.

Her lips curved into a sly smile, and she leaned in close again. “Shh,” she whispered, tracing a finger along his jaw. “Just let me take care of you. Like I used to.”

Before he could protest, she dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands already working to unbuckle his belt. His mind screamed at him to stop her, to pull away, but his body betrayed him. He was hard, achingly so, and the sight of her looking up at him with those dark, possessive eyes only made it worse.

“Wait—” he started, but she silenced him with a sharp tug on his pants. They pooled around his ankles, leaving him exposed to the cool night air—and to her.

Seola didn’t waste any time. She wrapped her lips around him, taking him deep into her mouth with a practiced ease that made his knees buckle. Her tongue swirled around the tip, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through him. He gripped her shoulders, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer.

“God, Seola...” he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a wicked grin. “Missed this, didn’t you?” she purred, before sinking down again, deeper this time. Her hands gripped his thighs, holding him in place as she worked him with relentless precision.

He was losing control, fast. The rational part of his brain screamed at him to stop, to end this before it went too far. But the rest of him was drowning in sensation, in the heat of her mouth and the way she moaned around him, as if she couldn’t get enough.

“Stop,” he managed to choke out, though his body betrayed him by thrusting forward. “Seola, we can’t...”

She pulled away again, panting slightly. “We can,” she insisted, standing up and pressing her body against his. “And we will. Because you’re mine, Y/n. You always have been.”

Her lips crashed against his again, silencing any protests. She guided his hands to her waist, encouraging him to touch her, to feel her. And despite everything, he couldn’t resist. His fingers found the hem of her skirt, sliding underneath to cup her ass. She moaned into his mouth, grinding against him.

“Take me upstairs,” she whispered, biting his lower lip. “Let me remind you what you’ve been missing.”

He hesitated, torn between the guilt of betraying Eunji and the undeniable pull of Seola’s body against his. But in the end, it wasn’t a choice. Not really. With a groan, he grabbed her hand and led her toward the building, his mind racing with what was about to happen.

As they stumbled into his apartment, Seola pushed him against the door, kissing him furiously. Her hands pulled at his shirt, while his fumbled with the zipper of her dress. Clothes fell to the floor in a haphazard pile, and soon they were both naked, pressed together in a tangle of limbs and desperate need.

She broke the kiss, stepping back slightly to admire him. “You’re still so beautiful,” she murmured, running a hand down his chest. “And you’re all mine.”

Then she turned around, bending over the couch and looking back at him over her shoulder. “Come on, Y/n,” she said, her voice dripping with temptation. “What are you waiting for?”

He hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his hands gripping her hips. She gasped as he entered her, her nails digging into the cushions beneath her.

“That’s it,” she moaned, arching her back to meet his thrusts. “Just like that. Fuck me, Y/n. Make me yours again.”

The sound of her voice, the feel of her tight around him... it was too much. He lost himself in the rhythm, in the way she whimpered and begged for more. But even as he moved inside her, a nagging thought crept into his mind. This is wrong. This is...

“Harder,” she demanded, cutting off his thoughts. “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

And so, he gave in, letting the heat of the moment consume him. But as he glanced down at her, at the way her body writhed beneath his, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a mistake. A delicious, intoxicating, irresistible mistake.

“Seola...” he murmured, his voice rough.

She looked back at him, her eyes glazed with lust. “What is it? Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

And he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not until...

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting streaks of gold across the rumpled sheets. Y/n stirred, his body heavy with exhaustion, his mind foggy from the night before. He blinked slowly, trying to piece together what had happened. Seola. Her name echoed in his head like a warning bell. He turned his head, expecting to see her gone, as she often was after their reckless encounters back in university. But this time, she was still there, curled up beside him, her hair splayed across the pillow like ink spilled on paper.

She looked so peaceful—soft, even. It made his chest ache. He shouldn’t have let this happen. He had Eunji now. Sweet, kind Eunji, who deserved better than this. He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to steady his breathing. His heart pounded, not from desire but from guilt. The weight of it pressed down on him, suffocating.

“Morning,” Seola’s voice broke the silence, smooth and melodic, yet laced with something he couldn’t quite place. She stretched languidly, her bare skin catching the sunlight, and propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. Her lips curved into a sly smile. “You look awful. Rough night?”

Y/n didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Words felt trapped in his throat, tangled with regret and confusion. He wanted to get up, to leave, to pretend this never happened. But his body refused to move.

Seola sighed dramatically, sitting up fully, letting the sheet pool around her waist. She leaned closer, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. “You know,” she began, her tone casual, almost too casual, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

He tensed immediately, his instincts screaming that whatever she was about to say would only make things worse. “Don’t,” he said quickly, his voice hoarse. “Just… don’t.”

Her smile widened, and there was a glint in her eyes that made his stomach twist. “Oh, come on, Y/n. You’re going to want to hear this.” She paused, letting the tension build, savoring it. Then, softly, almost sweetly, she dropped the bomb. “I’m pregnant.”

The room seemed to tilt. Y/n stared at her, his mind struggling to process the words. Pregnant. The word hung in the air between them, heavy and unrelenting. He shook his head, disbelief coursing through him. “No. No, you’re lying.”

Seola laughed lightly, as if they were discussing the weather. “Why would I lie about something like this? It’s true. I found out last week.” She reached for his hand, placing it gently on her stomach. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, and for a moment, he felt frozen. “There’s a little piece of us growing right here. Isn’t that amazing?”

He jerked his hand away as if burned, scrambling to his feet. His chest heaved as he backed away from the bed, his mind racing. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after everything. “You… you can’t be serious.”

Her expression shifted, her playful smirk fading into something sharper, more intense. “Dead serious,” she said, her voice low and steady. “And it’s yours. I haven’t been with anyone else since we…” She trailed off, letting the implication sink in. “You’re the father, Y/n.”

His knees threatened to buckle. He sank into a chair, his hands gripping the edge of the seat so tightly his knuckles turned white. Father. The word reverberated in his skull, each repetition louder than the last. He felt sick. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had finally moved on, found someone who truly cared about him. And now… now this.

Seola watched him closely, her gaze calculating. She slid out of bed, standing naked before him without an ounce of shame. She knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his thighs, her touch both grounding and suffocating. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” she asked softly, her voice dripping with false innocence. “A family? A future together?”

He shook his head, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “No. Seola, no. That’s not… we’re not…”

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But we could be,” she whispered, leaning in closer, her breath hot against his ear. “Think about it, Y/n. You could have me all to yourself. No more fighting. No more games. Just… us.”

Her words were like a poison, seeping into his veins, clouding his thoughts. He wanted to push her away, to scream that this wasn’t what he wanted. But the way she looked at him—like he was the center of her world—made something inside him waver. For years, he had loved her. Or at least, he thought he had. And despite everything she had done, some small, stupid part of him still craved the warmth she once offered.

As if sensing his hesitation, Seola pressed further. She kissed him, soft and slow, her lips moving against his with practiced ease. He tried to resist, but his body betrayed him, responding instinctively. When she pulled back, her eyes were dark with satisfaction. “See?” she murmured, trailing her fingers along his jaw. “You still want me. You always have.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. How could he deny it when his body screamed otherwise? When every fiber of his being seemed drawn to her, despite the chaos she brought?

Seola stood then, pulling him to his feet. Her hands slid up his chest, her touch deliberate, possessive. “Let me remind you,” she whispered, her voice a dangerous purr. “Let me show you why you belong to me.”

Before he could protest, she kissed him again, harder this time, her teeth grazing his bottom lip. His hands hesitated at his sides before giving in, gripping her hips as if clinging to life itself. She smiled against his mouth, triumphant. “That’s it,” she coaxed, guiding him back toward the bed. “Let go, Y/n. Just let go.”

He was falling, spiraling deeper into her web. And as she lowered him onto the mattress, her hands roaming greedily over his body, he knew he was lost. The guilt, the doubt, the fear—it all melted away under her touch.

For now, at least, she had won.

[grimsonandclover]

Write write write

filthier the better

Sending all the love 🫶🍑

What He's Made For

Sub!Patrick Zweig x Dom!Fem!Reader

Eeuuuhhhhhh I'm sorry, just been thinking a LOT about just having enough of Patrick's shit and taking it out on him. Turns out, it's exactly what he was aiming for.

I'm writing this in a horny, ovulation-fueled daze so it's not going to be great or even good but its what I need. not proofread at alllll

consider this a foreplay part one since it ends abruptly because i need to post this before i pass out (im so tired). i need the horny freaks of this fandom to let me know if a part two is desired because I WILL write it

MDNI

1.1k words

This is entirely self serving and I'm opening up to you guys. This is me sharing. No more 600 word angst and fluff it's time for PERSONAL FANTASIES. kind of a 180 after i JUST posted that little la chimera fic lmao

You're fighting, you don't even know what for. Patrick's been pushing your buttons, getting on your nerves, and testing your limits all night. God, fuck, he won't stop. Every little word from him, all day and now night, is spoken with the pure intention of pissing you off.

"Did you really ask him about the weather?" He'd scoff on the drive home from a party. "You're miserable at small talk. Really, it's embarrassing."

The walk to the apartment elevator: "And those shoes. You've been whining all night like a fucking baby. I told you not to wear them, but you'd rather be a prissy little princess than listen to me." You're silent, breaths quickening as your fist clench around your apartment keys in the elevator, watching the floor numbers tick up. "They're ugly, anyway. I don't really get why you insist on wearing them."

Unlocking the front door, fumbling and struggling because it's hard to see through the boiling water behind your eyes. "Do you need help with that? You had, like, what- one shot of tequila the entire party? Didn't think you were such a lightweight, can't even open a door. God, you're a mess."

Once the door is open, and a sickly smug smirk is plastered on that stupid face of his, you shove him in. The action is abrupt and unexpected, Patrick stumbling back and catching himself on the entryway wall. You almost miss the smirk returning to his lips. Who cares, it's time to speak your peace.

His back is on the wall and he stays where you threw him as you rip off your coat. "What the fuck is your problem, huh?" The coat is thrown to the floor and he blinks as you fist the collar of his stupid button up. Since when does he wear these, anyway? "All fucking night, you're in my ear like a bitch. Do you need a leash?"

He's been playing with fire so far. "Woof." Patrick grins.

The taunt makes your eyes narrow and glare harden. "You think it's funny? I've got a migrain because of it. I'd be in the middle of talking to someone and you'd start your shit again. That's what's embarrassing, not my small talk."

"You're like a child, how you beg for my attention. A dog. Is that what you are, Patrick?" You tug his collar and his breath catches. Drool pools in his mouth and he swallows, eyes zeroed in on his mouth while he still smirks. "Are you a misbehaving dog?"

He doesn't answer you, just giggles. In a sudden move, your hands are on his shoulders and you're pushing him forcefully to his knees. It's only because he doesn't anticipate it that it works. In a flash, your hand is gripping a fistful of curls at the back of Patrick's head, yanking it to make him look up at you. His mouth falls open, a soft gasp escaping from it. Yes. Finally.

"Are you," The words are spoken through your teeth, and this time he really is on the brink of drooling. "A fucking dog? Or are you going to start behaving like a man?"

His grin spreads again from ear to ear as Patrick slowly shakes his head. "Uh-uh."

Oh, that does it.

Your fingers tug his head further back and he gasps again at the slight sting of his scalp. Your other hand comes up, and before he can blink, a crack is heard through the entryway.

Patrick's cheek is red and stings so badly he can't feel the pain on his scalp anymore. It's so delicious he moans. He never knew until this exact moment that he liked to be slapped, lucky you.

"Wrong answer." He shivers at your tone, the blood in his body rushing to his cheek and to his dick. "Are you going to behave?"

"No." He whispers, eyes fluttering as he anticipates the next stri-

Oh, fuck. Patrick can feel a wet patch form in his boxers when you do it again-- he hasn't cum in five days, and Patrick's hyper aware of it now. The sound that comes from his mouth is almost pornographic and anyone else listening would swear that he must be at least getting his dick sucked and not just slapped around. The hand that slaps him moves to his mouth, index and middle finger shoved forcefully until you hit the back of his tongue. He wants to suck them, so he does, but then you shove them even further back until he gags a little. This isn't for him to enjoy (though he is anyway).

"Shut the fuck up." You sneer, fingers in his throat and hair, taking back the power he's had over you all night. They way he looks on his knees, peering up at you like you're his god with tears in his waterline and-- shit, that smile is still there. "I'll make you behave, then."

The hand in his hair lets go, pushing him back by the forehead till he hits the wall with a thunk. "Look at me."

He already was, but Patrick angles his head again, this time on his own, to better suit your needs-- especially when you tell him to open his mouth and you have a grip on his cheeks. You lean down the tiniest bit for better aim before collecting spit in your mouth, then spitting it into his. "My fucking mouth. Don't ruin it with all that cheap talk, acting like you don't know who owns it.

"Who owns it."

Patrick's got stars in his eyes as he swallows, so lost in you he forgets to answer-

A smack across his cheek again, another filthy moan. "You- you own it."

"Own what?"

"Me-- my mouth, my body, fucking all of it. It's yours."

"It's mine." You nod, gripping his cheeks again until his lips pucker. Patrick's drooling. "Mine. Don't use it against me, or I won't be so nice."

If this is you being nice, Patrick doesn't know what he'd be willing to do for mean. Every word you say, every tug, your spit in his mouth-- it all sends shivers of pleasure down his spine and through to his dick, aching and tenting in the shorts he wore to practice and then to a party. He truly is as filthy as you make him out to be.

You grab his hair again just to shove him in between your thighs, the material of your jeans rubbing harshly against his face and the irritated skin of his cheek. Patrick can smell you through it. He feels punch-drunk. This is what he was made for. This is his true purpose, not tennis.

His large palms slide up and down your thighs, hungry fingers begging at the button of your jeans. Off. He needs them off.

You let him peel them off you, not for him but for yourself. You need him to show you what he's actually good for. Why you keep him around.

[navybrat817]

Hey- if you're still taking prompts for ficlet Friday- Bucky and #31- pinky swear.

Oh, this is sweeet! How about more of our drunk!Bucky before that night out?

Pinky Swear

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 800

Warnings: Talk of fear of heights, backstory, slight angst, slight fluff

A/N: Takes place before Pretty Girl.

Bucky deeply inhaled the cool evening air and exhaled slowly. He hadn't moved from his spot on the outdoor sofa since he sat down, but he knew the number of steps it would take to get from his seat to the door. Looking at the rooftop guardrail, he reminded himself it was more than tall and sturdy enough to prevent anyone from falling. He was fine. Everything was fine.

“Bucky!” your pretty voice beckoned to him over the rest of the chatter from the group. “Come look at this view.”

Finding a stable point to look at was always good practice when he was afraid, and who better to look at than you? His pretty girl. You weren't technically his girl, but you were in his heart and you looked extra pretty tonight. He told himself the reason his heart stopped was because of how pretty you looked and not because of how close you were to the guardrail.

And here you wanted him to join you, but his body wouldn't move.

“I’m good right here,” he said, his smile tight. He gripped his beer bottle so tight he almost shattered it.

“You sure?” you smiled over your shoulder.

All he had to do was take a breath, get up, and join you. His head spun at the very thought, and he couldn't do it. He was a fucking coward. “I’m good,” he said again.

There was a frown on your pretty face as you went over to the sofa and sat beside him. “Hey. Are you okay?”

You always seemed to know when he was feeling off and he wanted to remove the concern from your eyes. “I don't…”

“You don't what?”

He inhaled and exhaled again, and he felt your pretty gaze on him as he ran a hand through his hand. There was nothing wrong with telling you. Maybe it would make him feel better. “I don't like heights,” he said above a whisper, feeling some of his anxiety subside.

It stemmed from his childhood when he lost his dad in a parachute accident, and it never went away. The fear only got worse when he fell from the train. When he was under HYDRA’s command, he wasn't allowed to experience fear. They locked it away deep inside with the rest of him. Now that was himself again, his fears came back to the surface stronger than before.

“Oh, Bucky.” You moved a little closer and angled your body as if to shield him from the view. It was sweet of you. “Are you okay?”

His jaw clenched, but he nodded. “I'm fine as long as I don't go to the railing.”

Your eyes widened and he felt like shit when he saw the guilt that swam there. “Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have asked you to look if-”

“Don’t be. You had no idea,” he said, putting his hand over yours and quickly pulling away when he realized what he did. “I know you wouldn't have asked if you knew.” You were one of the most thoughtful people in his life. If you knew in advance that he hated heights, you not only would've kept him far from the railing, but you would've made the gang move the gathering somewhere else to accommodate him.

“No, I wouldn’t push you out of your comfort zone,” you confirmed, staring at your hand where he touched it.

“You’d somehow widen the comfort zone so I felt okay,” he smiled. That was the kind of person you were.

“Maybe,” you smiled. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he nodded. Anything you wanted.

“If you don't like heights, what made you come up here?” you asked curiously.

You.

But he didn't admit that you were the reason. It would've been the right time or place. “I… I don't want it to be a big deal. Besides, I wouldn't look like a team player if I skipped,” he answered, and he was telling the truth. You were still the number one reason though.

“Well, if you aren't feeling it, we can go to the lounge. Just say the word,” you offered.

“We?” he repeated.

You played with the hem of your shirt, which made him smile. “Yeah, I mean, if you want the company.”

Bucky always wanted your company. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, leaning in a little closer. “And listen. I know this is silly, but if you could not say anything. Steve’s the only one who knows and…”

Bucky was learning to be vulnerable again. He was trying. And if there was anyone who wouldn’t use his fears against him even in a joking manner, it was you. He trusted you.

“I won't say a word,” you whispered.

“You swear?” he smiled.

You surprised him by wrapping your pinky around his, and your touch would linger long after you let go. “Pinky swear.”

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️ And we still need him to confess.

[butlervibesonly]

𝑊𝐸𝐿𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝑇𝑂 𝐺𝑅𝐴𝐶𝐸𝐿𝐴𝑁𝐷 PART 2|| 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐭 || Austin! Elvis story

PART ONE OF THIS PART → PART THREE coming soon...

• Summary: Evils shows Y/n Graceland as she spends the day here with him. Eventually, she also joins the Presley family for lunch, revealing the sad truth of her parents.

• Pairing: Austin! Elvis x female reader

• Warnings: flirting, making out, kissing, probably typos

• NOTE!! My acknowledge of Elvis is not so big, all things I know are from movie, documents, webs etc! So I deeply apologize for any mistakes/typos/misunderstanding that have nothing to do with reality. All of this is fic and has nothing to do with no one or anything. Based just on Austin's role of Elvis!Thank you for understanding! 🫶🏼

• Note: Yall I apologize if its clingy or something, I try my best really 😭 AND MAKING OUT SCENES ARE NOT MY CUP OF TEA THIS JS ACTUALLY FIRST TIME EVER I WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS 🫨

Graceland is huge. You would get lost if it wasn’t of Elvis who shows you everything. Every little thing looks so luxurious and so rich. More like a house it feels like Elvis’ kingdom he’s living in.

“There, doll, is my bedroom,” he stops in front of big door. “I don’t usually let anyone in but I need ya go there.” There is a playful chuckle on Elvis’ face. You smile at him, knowing how lucky you are. “Well, that sounds really like honor.”

Both of you enter the bedroom which is covered in dark shades. Your eyes land on his massive bed and door to his own bathroom. “Wow,” you breathe out, your eyes exploring the room. Elvis stands next to you and you feel the warmth of his body on your own. “This is really - something.”

Elvis glances at you, smirking. “Mama’s makin’ lunch for us. Wanna sit before it’s done?” he gestures at the couch. You nod, sitting down. “Elvis… What did I do to… Y’know… Get this lucky?” you ask as he sits down beside you.

“Ya think it’s luck?” Elvis replies, with the cockiness in his eyes. “Y/n, I invited ya to get to know ya better, it wouldn’t be fair if I let you go hungry…” he, slowly and gently takes your hand into his.

You smile to his kindness and look around again. There is a guitar resting in the corner, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. You look into your lap, fingers nervously tracing the pattern of your dress. Elvis sits next to you, hand supporting his head as he rests his elbow on the backrest. His eyes check you - it feels like he is eyeing every detail of yours.

“So, ya have always been good at school?” he asks, glancing at you with a curious smile. You nod and turn your face to look him in the eyes. “I kinda have to. My papa’s always been very... strict about it.”

Elvis tilts his head. “How strict?”

“Strict like... ‘Education is important, no distractions, no boys!’ kind of strict…” you answer, lips curling into a small smile when you realize how naive it sounds. “Guess I’m breaking his plans, huh?”

“Mhm… pretty much,” you laugh softly, but your gaze instantly shifts to the floor. “He just wants the best for me, I guess.” Elvis studies you for a moment, his expression softening. “And what do ya want?”

You hesitate for a while. “I mean, I want to make him proud, of course. But... sometimes I feel like there’s more out there, you know?”

“Then why don’t ya… do what ya want?” Your cheeks flushes, and glance at him shyly. “I would love to, really. But I’m afraid,” you start, your voice trembling. “I’m afraid that if I didn’t do what he wants, I might never get the bright future he promises me.”

Elvis shakes his head, his eyebrows raising. “Hmm…” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t treat ya like this, doll. If you were mine, ya would have everything.” At this your heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?” you ask confused

“If you were mine,” he says his voice dipping deep enough to make your heart race even more than before , “ya would have everything ya ever wanted. Freedom, adventure... Ya wouldn’t have to live by anyones control, Satnin.”

‘Satnin’ replays in your head. He calls you either Doll or Satnin…

“I’ve never met someone like ya before. You don’t want anything from me. You’re not... trying to be someone you’re not.” he leans closer his finger removing some hair from your face.

Your chest tightens at his touch, and warmth spreads through you at his words. “Well, maybe that’s because I don’t really know who I’m supposed to be, yet.”

“Maybe that’s what makes ya so special,” he says quietly, barely above a whisper. What Elvis actually does is that he leans even closer, stopping a short distance away from your face to give you a moment to pull away if what he's planning isn't something you want to do as well.

But you don’t pull away. You and him did this before, after all… Elvis presses his lips against yours softly. His full lips feels so gentle on yours. It's almost as it was for the first time but there is one difference - it's more intense now. His lips are more warm and they part slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside. His hand travels on your hip, while the other hand cups your cheek carefully.

He quickly pulls away, his both hands now on your hips so that he can carry you all the way onto his lap. You sit astride in his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kisses you again more greedy.

“Elvis-” you breathe out against his lips. However, he doesn't let you speak and before you can say anything, his lips are on yours again, biting your lower lip. His big hands roam your body gently, sliding from your curves all the way to your back so that he can pull you closer to his chest. Closing the gap between each other, you tangle your fingers into Elvis' dark hair.

You feel like a swarm of butterflies is flying in your stomach from the tingling you noticed earlier. Elvis girns into the kiss, knowing damn well how he makes you feel. “Elvis, I-“

“Doll,” he trails his kisses on your neck. “You feel like everything to me, angel.” he sighs, and you feel his breath on your skin.

“Bewbie! Lunch is ready!” As much as you would love to continue this, you both pull away from each other. Elvis presses his forehead against yours, rubbing both of your hips. “Guess ya will have to come more often…” You smile at his statement.

Both of you eventually gets downstairs where the dining room is just across the living by the stairs. The dining room looks as luxurious as the rest of the house. The table is set with plates and a food along with glasses. You almost gasp at the look of it - Gladys did this all because of you.

You sit in your chair, hands in your lap, trying not to fidget with them hem of your skirt under the gaze of Evlis’ mother. Gladys is a petite woman with soft, dark curls her eyes looking serious but actually she is very kind.

“Now, don’t you be shy, sweetie,” Gladys says motioning toward the plate of fried chicken. “Go on and help yourself. I made plenty, hope you’re gonna like it.”

“Thank you a lot.” you nod, your voice soft as you reach for a piece. Across the table, Elvis gives you an encouraging smile. “Mamas chicken’s famous around here,” he smirks. “Ya are in for a treat.”

“Stop it, now, El,” Gladys says with a laugh, swatting at Elvis playfully. “Don’t let him fool you, darlin’.” Gladys leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing with curiosity and questions. “So, Y/n, tell us a little more about yourself. You’re a student, aren’t ya?” You nod, taking a look at Gladys and Elvis. “Yes, I am. I’m finishing up university this year.”

“And what’re your plans after that?” Vernon joins in, his voice carrying a note of authority, just like Elvis’. “Well,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly. “My parents wants me to have the best future possible. So that I’m successful and surrounded with the best only. They’re... really serious about education.”

Gladys tilts her head up, her expression softening. “That’s good of ’em, but you don’t sound too sure about it, darlin’.” You hesitate for a second again, knowing Elvis asked you familiar question earlier. You glance at him briefly before lowering your sight to the plate in front of you. “I’m not quite sure yet… They’re real strict, y’know. Always have been. I think they just want what’s best for them and not for me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, but that sounds like they are fools,” Vernon says. “They kinda are…” you admit, your voice quieter. “They’ve got all these rules, especially my father. No boys until I graduate, no distractions, just school. Only school. Sometimes I even feel like... like I don’t have a chance to figure out what I really want.”

Gladys’ brow furrows and she eventually reaches across the table to pat your hand. “Bless your heart, honey. It must be hard to be in your position. But y’know, you can always reach out to us and we’ll help ya. You’ll figure it all out, I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you so much.” you say, your cheeks blushing at Gladys’ kindness. As much as you love your mama for raising you up and giving you all what you need, she would never step in like Gladys does.

“Well,” she adds, leaning back in her chair with a smile, “I can see why our boy’s so smitten with you.” Your eyes widen, and you glance at him. He grins, leaning forward to prop his chin on his hand. Even tho what just happened between the two of you, you couldn’t stop getting more surprised.

“Mama,” Elvis steps in, his tone teasing, “don’t say this, ya scarin’ her off.” Gladys laughs, waving him off. “Oh, shush, Bewbie. I’m just sayin’ she’s a sweet girl! You could stand to keep some better company, what with all them girls chasin’ after you.”

Vernon chuckles, nodding. “Your mama ain’t wrong about that.” You can’t help but laugh, your nerves easing just a little as the conversation continues with some fun stories, and all the jokes. You feel so welcomed here, almost as if you belong there.

As all of you start to clear the table, Gladys pulls you aside. “Y/n, sweetie,” she says softly, her hand holding yours, “I know it ain’t always easy standin’ up for whatcha want, but don’t let nobody decide your life for ya, y’understand?” You nod, the words settling deep in your heart. “I’ll try, I promise, and... Thank you Mrs. Presley- I mean. Gladys,” you remember she asked you to call her by the first name.

“Y’all welcomed me with open arms and… I never felt better. Not even at my own house. And I mean, I know Elvis just for few weeks but this all means a lot!”

“Oh, darlin’, I can see ya two are just gettin’ to know each other,” Gladys points with her eyes at your neck. You rub your neck confusedly, turning to see a reflection of yourself in one of the mirrors that are almost everywhere in the house. You see a slight hickey on your neck, and you gasp.

“Oh, dang it!” your hands flying over your mouth. “My father will loose his mind!” you turn back at Gladys, panicking. Her hands travel to your shoulders as she clearly wants to calm you down. “No, no, we can fix this,” she gestures you to stay here and walks somewhere.

As Gladys returns to you, she carries a bottle of makeup in her hand. “We’ll cover this up with makeup, sweetie,” she helps you cover the hickey Elvis left there. You never felt more embarrassed but clearly Gladys doesn’t really mind at all. “Keep this,” she gives you the bottle. “I have plenty of those,”

You smile at her gladly and Elvis appears in the door. “Ready for some music?” he smiles. The two of you together enjoy his music as he plays the piano or his guitar, and you enjoy so much fun.

As time comes for you to go back home, Elvis gives you ride back home. You wish you didn’t have to return home actually, because you felt so free and so independent. As Elvis stops in front of your house, he reaches for your hand, hidden enough so that your parents wouldn’t see in a case they would be looking.

He notices the pout on your face and he leans in loser. “Don’t be sad, doll,” his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I will write ya and call ya if that will be possible.”

You smile a little, knowing you mean something to him. “Thanks, Elvis. For today and for… for everything.” you breathe out, looking over at your house. You see that the kitchen window is opened, definitely so that your parents can hear you arrive. “Your mama is such a sweet woman and your dad… I wish I had parents like you. Because you have freedom.”

Elvis furrows his eyebrows, squeezing your hand tighter. "Graceland is always open to you, Satnin,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief and see your father looking out the window. "Now go, honey, or I'll never let ya see me or be with me again." You let go of Elvis' hand and get out of the car.

You turn at the door to wave and mouth, "Bye, Elvis." He nods in farewell, his eyes gleaming. As you enter the house, your father is waiting in the hallway. Your hands are clenched into fists, waiting for him to ask or worse - notice something. You covered your hickey with Gladys's makeup before leaving Graceland, but you're still overcome with fear.

"How were ya?" he asks, his eyes scanning you. With a deep breath, you searched your mind for an answer as the memories from today started to come back to you. "Amazing, papa, everyone was nice to me," you replied, heading to your room. "But I'm tired now. Good night."

As soon as you get into your room, you shut the door behind you and fall down on your bed. You can’t stop thinking about Elvis; about the things you two have done, and how you felt that you are his girl. You know one thing for sure - you love that man with your whole heart.

[blushsturns]

bf!chris x plus size!reader

title: bubble bath

pairing: bf!chris x plus size! reader

w/c: 2230

description: you have a long and tiring day so chris decides to run a bubble bath for the both of you.

your body was aching. literally aching. you were on your feet all day at work and it was much busier than usual. annoying, rude customers, your staff members who make you do all the work, your boss who is incredibly ungrateful and selfish and never shows up. everything always falls on your shoulders and you’re tired. so fucking tired.

the second you get home from work, you drop your purse on the nearest countertop and walk over to your bedroom, slumping yourself over onto the bed next to your boyfriend chris as he laid there watching tiktoks. he immediately pulled his phone away and set it on the nightstand as he noticed you were home and you didn’t look happy at all.

“baby? what’s wrong?” he immediately slid over to you, his hand finding your back and rubbing it in smooth, slow circles against the fabric of your shirt.

you felt awful. your body ached from head to toe. you turned your head over to look at him as you laid on your stomach, a slight pout on your face. “work is killin’ me, babe. i can’t do it anymore. i’m so tired.” even your voice was tired as you strained to even get those simple words out.

chris didn’t like seeing you so upset. he never wanted you hurt, even if that meant having a bad day at work. he was an amazing boyfriend and you were so lucky to have him. you both moved in together 6 months ago and since then, your relationship has been so much more balanced and easy going.

it broke his heart to see you like this. he continued to run his hand up and down your back as he sat next to you on the bed, a frown on his face. “oh my love, m’so sorry. you kick ass everyday and they don’t deserve you.”

he always knew what to do and say to make you feel better. your face softened as you hear his words, looking over at him with tired eyes. it's not that you were sleepy tired, you were just simply exhausted from life lately. your self esteem has also not been doing the best lately. all your life you had to deal with being the ‘plus size girl’ and having to figure out how to be comfortable in your own skin. luckily, chris was an amazing, supportive boyfriend who loved you despite any flaws you claimed to have and made you feel beautiful inside and out. he cherished your body like it was made just for him.

“missed you.” was all you could manage to speak out, your eyes never leaving his.

“missed you too, princess. you know what you do deserve? a nice ass bubble bath. you can sit, relax, and unwind. i can start it for you. what do you say?”

his words excited you, your frown immediately disappearing and turning into a small smile. chris was so good to you and even when you felt like you didn’t deserve it, he reminded you and showed you that you did. you nodded your head, slowly moving your body so that you could sit right next to him on the bed, your hand immediately finding his. “please? but only under one condition.”

he took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers together, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. his eyebrow raised up in curiosity as he stared at you when you asked him the question. “what is it?”

your cheeks turned a dark shade of pink before you started to speak again. “can you join me in the bath? please. need a massage too.” you don’t know why you got nervous and flustered when you mentioned things like this. a bubble bath together was an intimate experience, but you didn’t have to have sex. you both have had sex before, even if it took you some time to fully feel comfortable with him seeing your body underneath your clothes.

chris worshiped your body and always knew what to do and say to make you feel good and special. like you were the most beautiful girl in the world. he loved every curve, every dimple, every stretch mark. you were his and he was so grateful.

“of course i can, baby. let me get it going for you, okay?” he gave your hand one more squeeze before leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “you never even have to ask. of course i’d join you and give my girl the most amazing massage of her life.”

your cheeks continued to flush as he spoke, nodding your head as he got up from the bed. “thank you, baby. you’re so good to me.”

he got up off the bed with a grin on his face. before he entered the bathroom that was in your shared bedroom, he flashed you a playful wink which made your stomach twinge with butterflies. you began to pull your clothes off your aching body piece by piece until you were naked. you looked over at the full size mirror once you were fully nude, taking in a deep breath as you scan over your own body. chris loved your body, he fucking worshiped it. you still had to learn to love your body, but with the help of chris and how good he was to you, you were slowly getting there day by day. you grabbed the hair tie from your wrist and threw your hair up into a messy bun. you took one more good look at yourself, scanning over your curvy figure, your perfect breasts, you’re stomach that chris loved to kiss so much. you were coming to terms with the fact that maybe you didn’t mind being a plus size woman. maybe it was just part of who you were.

“babe! all ready!” chris shouted from the bathroom. you immediately pulled away from the mirror to join him. once you stepped inside, your eyes widened in surprise. the light was turned off, but a couple candles were lit and placed by the bathtub that gave just the right amount of light. the bathtub was filled with bubbles. chris stood there, fully naked with a wide grin on his face once he noticed your presence and you taking it all in. “surprise! all for you, baby.”

you suddenly felt like you were on the brink of tears. no one has ever done anything like this for you before. you always dreamt of having a love like this, but didn’t truly know what love was like until you met him and he changed your life for the better. “chris..” you blinked back a couple tears as you started speaking, although you weren’t sure what to say. it was safe to say chris had made you speechless. “all of this? for me?”

he let out a soft chuckle and immediately grabbed your naked body to pull you close to him. your bare chests now pressed up against each other’s. he shook his head at your words, placing his index and middle finger underneath your chin to lift your head up so your eyes can lock together. love and adoration filled his gaze, his other hand resting onto your bare lower back. “for us, but mainly for you. i’ll get in first.” he flashed you a huge grin, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away and stepping into the water.

he got himself settled into the bathtub, his back leaning against the tile wall as he looked up at you and motioned for you to come join him. you flashed him a small smile before immediately joining him into the bathtub. the bubbles surrounding your skin and the water was delicately warm and comfortable. you instantly let out a satisfied sigh, your body fitting in between chris’ legs. your back rest against his chest as you leaned your head back to look up at him with an adoring smile on her face.

“thank you so much, baby. i defintely needed this. and you.”

chris grinned widely, nodding his head at your words. he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, both of your lips lingering against one another’s for a moment as he whispered, “anything for my girl. now, let me give you a nice massage, hm?”

you instantly nodded your head, your body comfortably sitting in front of him. your hair was still tucked up on top of your head in the messy bun.

once his hands were on your skin you immediately shudder against his touch. his hands felt amazing. you definitely needed this. your eyes fluttered closed, your head tilting forwards as you your body relaxes to his touch. “thank you baby.” you say softly as you let out a content sigh.

he continues to massage your back before moving his hand down lower to your tailbone, pressing firmly into your tight skin with his thumbs which causes a soft wail to leave your lips at the feeling. you didn’t realize how much you needed this until chris brought up the idea. he kneaded your skin with his hands, your head tilted onto your shoulder as he continued his movements. “mm, anything for you, baby.” he pressed a couple kisses to the back of your shoulder, a shudder running down your spine at the feeling of his lips against your skin.

the warm water made you relax, but it was chris’ touch that made it all so much better. you were incredibly lucky to have such an amazing boyfriend like him who always looked out for you and knew how to treat you and make you feel special.

you stretched out a bit more so that your back was now pressing against his chest as you adjusted your body so you can lay against him. he moved his hand from your back to your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze, his fingers dancing along your skin. his hands ran up and down your hips, a soft whimper leaving your lips at the feeling of his skin against your curves. “so fuckin’ curvy, ma. just the way i like it.” he breathed out, his hands squeezing your hips a bit harder, causing another whimper to leave your lips.

he made you feel absolutely beautiful in every way and you felt even more special when his hardened cock pressed up against you as you laid against him. “chris..” you whined out, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “really?” you looked back at him with an amused expression on your face. you loved knowing he got turned on so easily by you. just from touching you, kissing you, or simply looking at you, he was a goner.

he let out a soft chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he continued to run his hands up and down your soapy skin, his hand moving over to your tummy. you felt the most insecure about your stomach; how it always looks bloated and hangs out of your pants, especially when you sat and you had the faintest lines of stretch marks that covered your tummy and hips. he kissed every single inch of you every time he saw you naked, reminding you how beautiful and sexy you were. it always made you so flustered, no matter how often he did it.

“can’t help it, baby. you’re so pretty.” he pressed a couple more kisses to your shoulder, his hand caressing your stomach in smooth, slow circles.

you sighed contently against him as he spread his legs further so you can continue to lay comfortably in between his legs. your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink from his words and from feeling his hardness against you. it always surprised you and made you feel so special when he’d get so easily hard because of you.

“i love you.” you whispered to him as you rested your head onto his chest, looking up at him with a gentle smile on your face.

“and i love you.” he whispered back, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips, smiling against them.

you both spent a decent amount of time in the bath before you were starting to get chilly and told chris you wanted to lay down and cuddle with him to relax and maybe watch some movies before you went to bed for the night.

when you got out of the bath, you grabbed a towel and walked over to the bedroom. chris cleaned up the bathroom and blew out the candles before walking back into your bedroom.

chris saw you getting changed into your pajamas, your shorts already on your body and when you were about to put on your shirt, chris wrapped his arms around you from behind and grabbed the shorts from your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your shoulder. his hands rested on your stomach, his hardened cock was pressing up against your ass which caused you to let out a soft gasp.

“who said you were allowed to put on clothes, hm? no sense in puttin' them on when they’re comin' right off anyway.”

taglist:

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @sturniololuv08 @xclusivedesires

a/n: thank you for reading! i’m not sure how i feel about this one, but i’ve been writing it for a couple days and just wanted to finish it so i can post it. if you have any ideas for me that you want me to write about, or just wanna talk, you can send me a message!

click here to be added to the taglist

-nessa ღ

[unhingedangstaddict]

More angsty mpreg oneshot because I kinda can't stop thinking about it

“Hi, is this Evan Buckley?” A woman’s voice came over the phone.

“Yes.” Buck confirmed.

“My name is Sheila Rollinson, I’m a nurse at West LA hospital. Someone who has you listed as their emergency contact has been brought into the ER via ambulance and is unconscious, which is why I’m calling you now.”

“Who is it? What’s going on?” Buck asked desperately.

“Thomas Kinard,” She said slowly.

Buck was already trying to think of the kindest way to tell this nurse that he was not interested, that she needed to find someone else to call because Tommy was not a part of Buck’s life anymore by Tommy’s own choice.

“We suspect he’s suffering complications related to his pregnancy, the doctor is with him now.” Sheila continued to explain.

(Read more below the cut)

“We’re going to be a family.”

Tommy’s words yesterday. It wasn’t ‘we are a family’ or ‘we could be a family’. It was ‘we’re going to be a family’. Tommy was trying to tell Buck he was pregnant. That’s why he suddenly needed to talk to Buck. That’s probably what he meant when he said he realized it last night. Tommy had just found out, and one of the first things he did was try to tell Buck.

And Buck was so caught up in his anger that he hadn’t even listened to what Tommy had to say. Because if he had, he would’ve noticed that wording last night. He would’ve understood what Tommy meant. If he’d been listening, he would’ve understood that Tommy was doing all this for their kid. God, if Buck had just listened to Tommy Buck wouldn’t have said he wasn’t interested or that he wouldn’t change his mind. Buck was too angry to even realize he’d told Tommy he wasn’t interested in being a part of their kid’s life. Tommy was crying when he left, and Buck did that. Buck caused that by saying he didn’t want anything to do with their child.

Buck felt like he could be sick. This didn’t undo all the hurt Tommy had caused when he broke up with Buck. But this did explain why Tommy contacted Buck two months later. Because while he thought Evan deserved better than him, Tommy knew he owed it to Buck to give Buck a chance to be in their son or daughter’s life. Yesterday wasn’t about Tommy’s wants or needs- it was about the baby.

“Sir? Are you still there?” Sheila’s voice came over the phone.

[cheeseatlantic]

Hi! If you’re taking reqs, ghost meeting a stray cat on base an slowly learning to care for it? Cat as an extension of himself, closed off but wanted care? Is this something?

ohmagawd my first anon… hi babes!! i am, feel free to like abuse the fuck out of my inbox!! and yes, i love this. i see him having like the mangiest fucking cat ever, like one eye, a chunk out of it’s ear and likely a tabby cat. so that’s how we’re imagining it! (i read that tabby’s are basically closed off but wanting care, otherwise i would have chose a black cat, but a tabby seemed the most like ghost)

He definitely did something to piss Price off, because what the fuck was this op? Basically a suicide mission or to test his sanity. Hidden behind rubble, alone. He’d probably get Price a pack of cigars as an apology or something.

Gunfire, and explosions in the distance, this op was going to shit. He was stuck in thought when a meow snapped him out of it and he looked down and there was this banged up tabby cat, a chunk taken out of it’s left ear and it’s right eye looking all mangled and fucking infected. The sight made him grimace, he saw strays on deployment, sure. But they never approached him.

“Oi, piss off, yeah?” He grumbled, trying to shoo the cat away but it didn’t budge, instead seeing a zipper on his tactical vest moving around as it pounced and started playing with it, it’s claws clawing at his vest, making little marks as he grumbled under his breath and scooped it up and brought it up to his face. “Quit it, you owe me a vest. Bye.” He grumbled to it, putting it down and giving it a little nudge to get it away from him.

But it started purring and instead climbed up on his lap, curling up and closing it’s eyes as if it wasn’t in the middle of a fucking warzone. “Bloody hell, your worse than Johnny.” He said under his breath with a sigh. An explosion went off too close to him for his liking, startling the cat as it climbed up his vest and onto his shoulder. “Okay, fine. Your coming with me then.”

“Now what’s this, Lieutenant?” Price asked, cocking an eyebrow as he eyed the cat hidden in his vest, head poking out and resting on a gun in a compartment. Price’s face twisted a bit in disgust as he added. “And what happened to it’s eye?” And Ghost replied with. “Dunno, gonna get it checked out… Or something.”

The fucking cat looked exactly like him, grumpy and grumpy. It also meowed like how he spoke, also grumpy! It’s like this cat was him, if he was a cat that is.

“Rescued a hostage, he’s a vet. Should be in medbay, name’s Andrew Scott. Could be of help.” Price said, leaning against his desk. Ghost nodded and walked off. He definitely wasn’t letting Johnny or Garrick see, they would think he was getting soft.

When he got to the medbay he approached a woman, middle aged and looked friendly as she asked. “May I help you?” With a friendly smile as he looked down at the cat who was fast asleep and looked at the woman again. “Lookin’ for an Andrew Scott.” And she raised an eyebrow as she looked at her computer, typing away before she clicked her tongue and told him. “Section D! Just to your right.” And he nodded and walked off.

The man had agreed to help the cat, who was a woman. Now she rested on his bed, sleeping away as he sat on an armchair across from his bed as he looked at the cat, had an eye patch now. Because they had to remove the eye. And he spent a fuck ton of money on supplies for the bloody thing, his cabinet had toys, food, antibiotics and ointment for the ear. “You better live, woman. I spent €350 on you.” He grumbled.

Soon after she woke up, stretching out as she looked at Simon, blinking as she let out another grumpy meow. “Hungry?” He asked, getting up from his chair to open his cabinet, grabbing one of his two plates and a can of patè. This cat was eating better than him, all he had was fucking mess hall food.

He cracked it open and dumped it onto a plate, setting it on his bed in front of the cat as he towered over it and watched her eat. She ate like him, just absolutely chowing down without a care in the world. “You like?” He asked, and the cat ignored him and kept eating. Just like him.

“Acknowledge me, I spent money on you.” He grumbled, poking her on the head gently as she just ignored him and kept eating. “And your name is Cat, got it? Callsign Patch. ‘Cause of the eye patch.” He added, patting it on the head as it ate. Why the fuck was he naming her? No way he was getting attached, right? Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night, that’s why he was being soft.

“And I bought you your own bed, get off mine.” He said, continuing to poke her as she just kept ignoring him. She was her father’s daughter, I guess.

part twoooo????? ;)

[angelbby555]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ Party pooper

Summary: You thought your bachelor party would be a blast. Turns out the only person you want to be around is Bradley

Word count: 1k

⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

You were sitting on Bradley's lap as he ate dinner. You weren't hungry so you just sat there with him picking at a loose thread on his shirt. Your bachelor party was tomorrow, you would be hitting different bars with your girlfriends and getting absolutely wasted. After the wild party monster is out of you, then you would transform into a nice pretty wife. That's how every bachelor party felt.

A thought popped into your head making you smile. You stopped picking Bradley's shirt and turned to face him.

"If I cheated on you during my bachelor party would you be offended?" You innocently asked, kissing your fiancée's cheek. Bradley froze at your question. A small smile spread on his lips. His honey burnt eyes filled with amusement, like you should know better then to ask such a thing.

"Yeah I would." He simply answered before bringing the forkful of pasta to his mouth.

"But it's the last day of me being a bachelor don't I get a free bee?" You playfully asked. Once he heard the tone of your voice he knew you were joking. Bradley placed his fork down on his plate, wrapping a strong arm around your waist.

"Tell me who would be your free bee and I'll tell you, yes or no if I'll allow it." You brought your bottom lip between your teeth, drumming your fingernails on the table thinking about his friends. You obviously wouldn't sleep with anyone when Bradley could satisfy you like no other. But you did want to tease him.

"Jake?" You raised your eyebrows, and immediately Bradley was shaking his head.

"No." He replied trying not to laugh.

"Javy?"

"Nope."

"What about Mickey?" You thought that maybe he would approve because Mickey was always sweet to you.

"No." Bradley's brows furrowed, his face slowly growing serious. You bit the inside of your cheek trying to muffle any laughter.

"Maverick?" Your voice sounded a little hopeful causing Bradley lips to part in shock that you mentioned his uncle's name as a person you would sleep with.

"Absolutely not." Bradley knew you were only trying to get a rise out of him by naming all the people you knew, and he was trying not to lash out thinking about you with any of his friends.

"I mean Pete's kinda fine, when he wants to be." You suggestively said raising your brows at him. Bradley poked your side in retaliation making you jolt up with a laugh. You found your fiancée protectiveness and ability not to share you endearing.

"You gotta say yes to somebody Bradley!" You let out a whimsical huff. Bradley flashed you a love sick gaze not being able to believe that after tomorrow you would be his wife.

"I'll say yes when it's not one of my friends." Bradley murmured against your forehead before pressing a kiss there. A few seconds passed as you let Bradley enjoy his pasta in silence. But of course you were still trying to get him to snap.

"...Danny." That name had always triggered you. Danny was your best friend that Bradley had been jealous of when you first started dating. It didn't help that Danny would sometimes flirt with you, right in front of Bradley just to piss him off. Because of Danny's cheekiness you had to explain to Bradley several times he was nothing more than a friend.

You watched your husband's eyes darken and his fork clattered back on his plate. Bradley calloused had held on to your neck firmly, and just like that you were getting turned on from his jealousy.

"No, you're not allowed a free bee to anybody." Bradley's voice was firm once he had enough of your joke . "The fact that you're even asking for that to be is insane." His grip on your neck tightened a little so you would understand this was starting to bother him.

"...So no to Danny?" You innocently asked. Bradley forcefully smashed your lips on to his causing you to moan. Truly you just wanted Bradley to handle you.

⊹☆~⟡⋆

The next day of your Bachelor party, you thought it would be a blast. Thinking you could be as slutty as you wanted and drink so much until your speech was slurred. You thought you would have loved the attention from other guys, But turns out all you craved was for your fiancée big strong arms to be wrapped around you.

"Get away from me, get away from me, get the fuck away from me!" You laughed out as a jacked male stripper was grinding on you. Your friends had hired him for the party and were now filming you as they erupted into a fit of laughter. It felt illegal for any man to touch you that wasn't your fiancée.

The music was too loud for your liking, your dress was way too short and you were regretting your wardrobe options, you felt a bit claustrophobic in the crowds of people at the club. But it was now too late as your friends pulled you to the dance floor.

"Do you see this ring? I'm married!" You yelled out, showing the rock on your finger to a blonde guy who was trying to dance with you. Not my man, you thought.

You remember it was so much fun to party when you were in high school. It was a blast to drink with your friends and have guys staring at your body. Seems like you had grown out your party phase, since you missing out on a quiet night with Bradley as you cuddled up and watched a movie.

"Oh gosh, I wanna go home!" You miserably cried out to your friends, as a guy did a shot off your breast

You were sweating, and tired, and felt violated from all the guys touching or staring at you. The party in you had died out as soon as you entered the first club. Now it was only 11 o'clock as you sat on a bar stool sipping a vodka lemonade.

"Where's my daddy?" You whimpered to your girlfriend making them laugh. The whole night all you talked about was how amazing your Bradley was. You had way too much to drink to realize you were referring to your fiancée as daddy to your friends.

Your girlfriends didn't want to hear your whining and moaning anymore. At some point into the night when you were talking about his amazing beer pong skills, they had called him up to come pick you up. Your friends smiled at him once they spotted Bradley's tall self walking into the neon colored bar.

Your eyes immediately landed on his handsome self, wearing grey sweats and a white t-shirt. Your whole demeanor seemed to light up just looking at him. That's when your friends knew Bradley was the one for you.

"There's daddy, go to daddy." One of your friends teased, as they playfully smacked your butt as you wandered towards your aviator, leaving your drink behind. A lopsided grin came over took Bradley's face as he watched you.

"Hi daddy!" You beamed excitedly. Bradley pressed a tender kiss to your cheek before collecting all your hair into his hand in a make-shift pony tail. It seems like he knew exactly what you wanted, because you were humming once the air hit your neck. Then you were handing him your hair tie that had been on your wrist and he was tying your hair up for you.

You closed your eyes once you felt safe with him. Bradley was thinking you would be having the time of your life with all these guys, drinking, flirting, dancing. Enjoying your last day as a bachelor, especially after the conversation you had about free bee's last night. Not for a second did he think you would be whimpering for your daddy all night.

"What happened to all your free bee's baby?" Bradley teased, while pressing a kissing your neck. With pure amusement he watched you lean into his touch when he placed his hand on your cheek. At this moment Bradley knew how much he was needed in your life.

"I don't want any other guys." Your desperate doe eyes stared up at him. "I just want my daddy." You whimpered. Burying your face into his chest shielding yourself from the club.

"Don't worry daddy's here." Bradley cooed before scooping you up into his arms. He gave an amused head nod to your friends as they all waved at him goodbye. You would much rather be under Bradley's property, then be a bachelor for any longer.

sorry to my main man Bradley Bradshaw for moving on to Benny Cross lol <3

[smytherines]

I had a lot of fun writing this one. I think reintegrated Tatiana Slozhno sort of necessitates a different style of writing than what I usually do, so I got to be very spontaneous and informal with it and just get out of my own way for once, and I'm really happy with the result

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She blinks. She doesn't know. She blinks again. Shouldn't she know? The voice on the intercom is cheery, and the room she's in is clean and well-appointed, and shouldn't she know the color of her mother's eyes?

Panic curls in her stomach and dread creeps up her spine as she realizes she cannot remember. She can't remember her name. She can't remember picking out the blouse and skirt and heels she is wearing. She can't remember how she got here, or where here is, or what here is. 

The voice on the intercom says something, but she can't hear it. She launches herself at the door again, banging at it until her fists are sore. Screaming. Begging to be let out. Threatening and cajoling, kicking until the toes of her dark blue pumps are scuffed and deformed.

The voice on the intercom speaks again, but all she can think about is leaving. She steps out of one mangled shoe, holding it in her hand like a weapon, ready to strike the moment the door--

"Jesus, what the fuck?" It's Curt. His voice is high and loud and alarmed. Curt is here in front of her. In his house, his hands held up in front of his face like he's about to be--

Tatiana notices the boot in her hand, inches away from smashing into him. But that can't be right. She was just... 

Shit. Reghabi told her to stay put, but she had to see him. Curt. Her friend, Curt M. 

Mega. His name is Curt Mega. 

And he's staring at her, equal parts confused and irritated, because while she knows him, he does not know her. For part of her, he's the only friend she has. For part of her, he's a stranger. For this version of him, she's nothing but the lunatic who accosted him at the automat.

Her head hurts.

She slowly lowers the boot until she ends up dropping it onto the floor. Curt relaxes, sort of. He runs his hands through his hair. He checks it a lot, or at least the other one did. 

But it is him. Not the same him, but it looks like him, and talks like him, and has the same red-rimmed eyes as him. So it must be him. And if it's him, she can trust him. If it's him, she'll be safe. 

Tatiana follows him down the stairs, into the basement, watches as he takes the cover off of a large brown couch and hands her a sleeping bag. And the whole time she can still hear it in her head.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She doesn't know.

"Well-- uhhh--," One of his hands rubs anxiously at the other, "you can sleep down here tonight. And tomorrow we can..." He nods, but doesn't finish.

The basement is sparse, just the couch and a few boxes piled up, but it's warm. And she is so tired. 

There's a cigarette case-- silver filigree-- and a matching lighter on the little makeshift table near the couch. She reaches for it on impulse, because who wouldn't want a cigarette after the night she's had? Curt snatches it off the table, clutching it to his chest. 

"I wouldn't have taken you for a smoker," she manages. She can spot nicotine stains better than most. She was trained to be observant. 

"I'm not." His face twists uncomfortably. "It's... someone I knew."

Curt opens the case reflexively, clearly familiar with it. He examines the contents carefully. And finally, reluctantly, he hands her a cigarette and lights it for her. The case and the lighter go into his pocket. 

"I always wondered why you were so sad." She takes a drag. The tobacco is old and stale, and it stings her lungs. 

"What do you mean?" Curt asks, his voice oddly low and rumbling, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs the same way her friend does. Restlessness spilling out of him like a pot boiling over.

"Down there." She takes another drag, the pain in her head overwhelmed by lightheadedness and nausea. "Sometimes when you came in, your eyes--"

She ashes her cigarette.

"You're even sadder here." Tatiana finishes quietly. 

He looks away like he knows.

Tatiana wonders if that is the kind of thing you're only supposed to say to a friend. It's been so long, she must've forgotten the rules.

Curt clears his throat. He won't meet her eyes now.

"Okay, well... if you need anything I'll be upstairs."

Upstairs with the empty liquor bottles. Upstairs with the reason why Curt M. always smells of alcohol, why he shakes and sweats at the end of the day. Upstairs with whatever thing is haunting him. She knows the feeling well.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She still can't remember. She isn't sure if she ever knew. How old do you have to be to remember a detail like that? 

If she thinks carefully, she can remember golden red hair shining in the sun, a faint melody ringing in her ears, deft fingers braiding her hair.

She can remember the state facility, with its grey walls and the stench of antiseptic. The way light twisted and warped the dark hallways. 

She can remember the sweater with her initials hand-stitched into the collar, burned in front of her for failing an objective.

She can remember the people she has killed and the ways that she killed them. 

She can remember taking a job with Chimera to protect a family which exists only vaguely in the corners of her memory.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

But not that.

Curt is fiddling with the boxes, like he wants to leave but doesn't know how.

Tatiana takes a final inhale, stubbing the cigarette to save the other half for morning. She crawls into the sleeping bag, pulling it up over half her face. She wants to disappear in it. She wants to go back. 

She hears Curt moving something as her eyes drift closed.

When she opens her eyes it is pitch black. 

She struggles out of the blankets, wearing her older brother's boots with newspaper stuffed inside them, and even in her coat and her boots she is the coldest she has ever been. 

She can just barely make out the shape of the room now. She creeps along, hands held out in front of her, needing to find her way out. 

She steps into the doorway and she can see a faint light. One of the kitchen chairs her grandfather made is in the fireplace turning to ash. She moves toward it in a trance. It looks warm.

"Tanechka, you should be in bed." Her mother's golden red hair takes on the glow from the fire as she approaches.

She kneels down in front of Tatiana, and sweeps her hair back, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She watches as Curt's shadow disappears up the steps, and she whispers.

"Blue."

[puppeat123]

Homicipher

Mr.Scarletella x GN reader

Wrong locker

Part 4

Warning Mention of: Slightly suggestive content! It’s implied not outright stated, Stalking, drinking alcohol, creepy behavior

Recap from the last chapter - You both resided on different sides of the city. It's pouring too much. You made the decision to thug it out. White Day was just around the corner. “You are not okay. Do you want help?” What else is absent from your home? Before you departed, did you leave your sweater there? You were accomplishing a lot before you went, who knew! What else may disappear? Did your carpet have that red thread? You don't have many red outfits besides two shirts and perhaps a pair of shoes or two bottoms. You sense that something is wrong, but you're not sure what it is—perhaps it's simply been a hectic week! Perhaps you also failed to notice the piercing crimson eyes that were looking at you through your somewhat cracked open window.

Italic text = flashback

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.>>>>>.𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹<<<<<..~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What else may disappear? Did your carpet have that red thread? You don't have many red outfits besides two shirts and perhaps a pair of shoes or two bottoms. You sense that something is wrong, but you're not sure what it is—perhaps it's simply been a hectic week! Perhaps you also failed to notice the piercing crimson eyes that were looking at you through your somewhat cracked open window.

Following your every move with such intent and wonder.

His red eyes looked almost black due to the way his pupils expanded at just the sight of you. A warm tingle went from his head down through his spine. Making every fiber of his being yearn to get closer. Although it was a simple and messy home outfit in his eyes, you couldn't look any better.

The smell of you lingering on your recently thrown-away clothes, especially in your undergarments. mixed with your scent and watching you move around and do everyday tasks, deepening the pit of desire from his entire body. His wants winning the best of him, taking him slowly, pulling him into an almost religious experience, allowing himself to bask not only upon your scent but simply watching you.

His breath grew unsteady with each passing minute.

You are his muse.

The apple of his eye.

You're a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeare sonnet.

He gasped for air as if it was his first time breathing, holding your clothes over his face, not allowing any sound to escape him. He wants nothing more than for you to occupy his mind in such a high. His head spins in a fuzzy haze, mind, and body wanting nothing more than his very reason for breathing.

You.

Me desire you.

You like me. Me l̴̺̿i̵̞͆́k̷̪͂̐e̸̘̿̌ you.

Ẉ̷̭͑̚ȇ̴͓ ̵͈̲̆̆g̵̦̃͛͜o̶̤͘ ̴̗̟̆̏t̴̛͙͍̋õ̶̠̂g̴̭̘̉͒e̸͓͝͠ţ̴̮͂̔h̶̝̥̀e̵͕̓͑r̵͚̝̂.̶̗̰̄͝ ̷̡̫͌̓

..

.

.

You jam out to your favorite songs while getting your home together. Although yes, the apartment was old, and a lot of the stuff was broken, like the cooling system, it is still a home.

White Day was so close around the corner now, 3 days left.

What will you do if Mr. Crawling does confess? You love him so much, but he was your friend, nothing more, as the men in red stated.

Although the man in red himself wasn't too bad. He was tall, with dark, pretty, tired eyes, and very kind even after the way you treated him after the incident with Mr. Crawling by the lockers during the weekday. He got you your favorite drink as well. His hair framed his face nicely enough to see at least one eye at all times. He seemed to be smart as well, being in the student council team helping organize events and school trips.

He had pretty broad shoulders as well. He seemed to be well-built under his shirt and jacket.

The silent type can be so hot and mysterious!

Now you're stuck, what if they both like you?? What will be your response? You are just a normal person so that might not happen.

You took some time to also stretch mobility is important you know! Makes it easier to get comfy to in a weird position while going to sleep.

Today was a productive enough day, but what would make it better would be getting some takeout, maybe some pizza, Chinese food, or Olive Garden.

Chinese food was the closest to the apartment, as was the lady, who was always so sweet, plus she had a lot of things besides food. It was like a mini gas station.

You put on some pants and slip on a hoodie and jacket to stay warm from the cold rain. Some lip balm so your lips don’t get chapped from the cold weather.

You make sure to have your phone in your pocket, house keys, and wallet.

You quickly walk to the store. At the store, you bump into none other than the red man. Mr. Scarletella.

"Oh hey, I didn't know you came here."

You stated you are now getting a bit more comfortable with starting a conversation with the man. He seemed to be caught off guard by your presence at the small store.

"Hello Y/N, yes, I like to come here often to do more grocery shopping from time to time. What about you? What did you come to buy?"

You were basically standing in front of him with how small the shop was. You walked up to the counter near the menu.

"I'm just here for some takeout. It's been a long day, but I'm pretty happy, but what about you? What did you come here today for?"

How your eyes shined and how nice you looked made his heart flutter. He must stay composed.

"I am here to grab a couple of items for my fridge."

Not true. You always here after teird day. Me want you.

“Would you like some drinks on me for the takeout?”

“That would be nice! If you want, we can share takeout at my place!”

He leaned in closer to you. 

“That would be nice.”

You paid for the food. He paid for the drinks while helping you carry the food on your way back home. 

He took off his coat and left it on the hooks near the living room. 

“I see you came well prepared this time around.”

“Yup.”

You said you were kind of embarrassed about the whole situation.

You troubled. Not hurt. You like me.

It felt like all his attention was on you and only you, nothing more. You could feel him gaze on you at all times. 

You entered your apartment happy that you cleaned it earlier. 

You grabbed some plates and started sharing the food with him while he placed the cold beverages on the table. 

"Here is your plate, and this is mine." You placed his plate on the table and sat down next to him. 

"Thanks again for the drinks; that was really sweet of you."

He smiled a bit. "It's all good! It's always nice to drink after a long day."

He held out his bottle of sake as if waiting for something. You clinked your beer against his drink before you both started drinking. 

You ended up watching some reality TV with him while eating. It made it easier to sit in silence or talk through each bite. Once you both finished up, you took your plate and were about to take his to the sink before he gently stopped you by holding your wrist. 

"It's okay, I got it. Just show me where the kitchen is."

"No, no, you're okay. You're a guest in my house; you're all good."

He shook his head.

"No, you already bought the food, which costs more than the drinks. Let me help you clean up."

You thought about it for a bit; if he really wanted to help, he could, plus he offered to do so, so that wouldn't make you a bad host. You let go of his plate and allow him to take it. 

"Alright, the sink is right there."

You point past him, and he turns his head, looking at where you are pointing. Once he sees the sink, he nods, grabbing your plate and utensils along with his and making his way to the sink.

You grab the empty bottles and throw them away in the trash. 

Mr. Scarlettela rolled up his black sleeves to his forearms before turning on the water and starting to wash the dishes. 

He was very kind, or could it be he was still trying to show he was a good person?

“..' I will show you.'

He walked away.

He has done a lot so far, even out of that context, though. He could have let you struggle in the rain after being so stupid and running away like that from Mr. Crawling. He helped, though, as well as the current interaction offering to clean the plates and buy drinks.

"So what do you do outside of school? Because I know you must be busy being a student council."

He finished up washing the dishes.

"I like to read in my spare time. How about yourself?"

He started drying off his hands on the cloth that was on the side of the sink. 

"That's cool; me too!" 

Once he was done, he turned around to you with his sleeves still rolled up. 

"That's awesome! What kind of books do you read?" 

You froze in place; you can't tell the truth!

"Um, I like fictional and fantasy books." 

"Oh wow, that's really nice, too. What are your favorite series?"

"I like Crave by Tracy Wolff, or Legends & Lattes by, I believe, Travis Baldree is pretty good."

You're pretty sure those books were tame; it has been a long while, so you really don't remember. 

"Ahh, a romance novel enjoyer, I see! I too enjoy them; I really like Legends & Lattes. I haven't read Crave, but I'll check it out sometime!" 

The way you want the earth to swallow you whole at the moment was too real. 

You cracked open another beer and quickly got to sipping, hoping he would stop asking questions. 

You were low-key getting a bit tipsy, but what did you expect chugging down that much beer??

“Oh man, it’s already nighttime? But you live here; will you be good going home?” 

“Yes, I will be okay! Before I go, could I perhaps use your restroom really quickly?”

“Yeah, it’s down that hall next to the room.”

“Alright, thank you!”

You walked to your living room and continued watching the K-drama on screen, waiting for him to finish up.

After a while you started to wonder if he was okay or if he fell down the toilet because he was taking a long time.

While that exact thought came to mind, you heard his voice from behind you.

“Pretty good show. What’s the name of it again?”

You quickly twisted your neck to him.

“I thought you were still in the bathroom.”

“No, I finished a while ago but got caught up in the show.”

So he was there the whole time in silence, watching the show??

“Anyways, It is getting quite late; I better start going home. Thank you so much for inviting me over!” 

You put your drink down and got up. 

“Yuh, not a problem; it’s all good. Make sure you have your things!”

You stated as you walked him to the door of your apartment. 

“I think I have everything I feel like I’m missing something, but I’m not sure what. I have my keys, my wallet, and my jacket. It’s fine; let me know if you find anything of mine here!”

You open the door wide for him to leave.

“Alright, well, it was nice having you over as well. You have a good night!”

He walked out the door waving bye to you.

“Good night!”

You waved back before closing the door.

You turned off your TV and made sure all the lights were off. 

You walked to your bathroom and brushed your teeth before heading to bed and sleeping off the slight drunk.

-~*•🌙✨•*’z

His hands trembled over the empty tin can.

Fingers grazing over the opening before pressing his lips against the opening where your lips once were, leaving leftover lip balm. 

The best part of it all was he was able to hold your wrist! 

Today has been a good day, his mind clouding once again; however, he wouldn’t let his ends loose. He needs to make sure he was the only person who you’d say yes to during White Day. 

It was now in 2 days.

2 days is a lot of work to do a lot of preparation—only the best for his darling.

….

Zzzzzzzz

..☀️☁️

You woke up to your alarm blaring today; it was another day of school. You were pretty excited about it because White Day is coming up, and who doesn’t love White Day! Just two more days!

You got up, took a shower, brushed your teeth, and gathered all your items for school before walking out of the house.

The school gave out free food, and you’re already paying a lot of money to attend that college, so you’re going to make sure to take advantage of that!

The food might be alright, but it is still where your money is going towards! 

You step out the door before you get pushed to the floor, knocking the air out of you.

You then feel someone also land on top of you almost immediately after. 

Your vision went a little dark, but you quickly caught your breath. It honestly felt like the Minecraft scene when you take damage. 

The day is just starting, and you're already dealing with bullshit. Come on now. 

“Oh my god!I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Mr. Sacrletella. 

He quickly pulled himself off you and stood on his feet, reaching out a hand to help you up. You sat up slowly, low-key throwing him a dirty look.

“Are you okay?? I’m so sorry my alarm didn’t go off. I was supposed to have a meeting today!”

You reached out for his hand and took it. He pulled you up with ease. 

He looked at your head to make sure it was all okay. 

“I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry, here I can call us a ride to the school so we don’t both run late because of me.”

“Sounds like a fair offer.”

You both sat in silence waiting for the ride to arrive at the apartment. 

"So what time do your classes start?" 

"At around 10:30" 

"Oh, that's not bad at all!" 

"Yup."

Now you were going to miss the nasty food from the cafeteria that your money is paying for. 

"Did you eat breakfast yet?"

You shook your head, wanting to tell him you missed it because of this stupid bump in. 

His shoulders fell more, seeing almost as a look of defeat. 

"I'm really sorry. Let me buy you breakfast as an apology for everything."

"You don't have to do that, you know?" 

You were hoping he would insist because you were hungry and not trying to be greedy. 

"No, no, really, let me get you something to eat."

Always love some free food.

You hummed, and before you could start your sentence, the car pulled up. 

“Our ride is here; let’s go.”

You nodded, getting up and following. Mr. Scarletella

He opened the door for you to come into the car and closed it behind you.

You buckle up your seatbelt, and Mr. Scarletella hops into the car as well, putting on his seatbelt.

The drive was silent for a bit; the driver was an older woman. Her rugged voice broke the silence.

“So are you two a couple?”

You are confused and astonished by the question, before looking to the side where Mr. Scarletella was only to see him facing away from you.

“Uhm, no, we are not. I’m not sure if he does have a girlfriend, though!”

The old lady chuckled a little.

“I’m just asking; I thought you two were a couple!”

After having been in silence for so long, Mr. Scarletella took a glimpse of you to see your reaction, which was nothing more than confusion and nervous body language.

The rest of the ride to school was spent in silence. Nothing else but pure silence and embarrassment throughout it all.

You thanked the driver kindly before leaving the car and arriving at school.

Your stomach was starting to growl from hunger, so you looked over to Mr. Scarletella, who was right next to you, looking around the school entrance while the car pulled away.

"I promised you food." He looked down towards you smiling.

"Plus, I wouldn’t want to have you distracted by a grumbling stomach all class!"

You look away in shame and sadness at the comment, cheeks warming up a bit while he just chuckled to himself. 

"What would you like? Just let me know because I am hungry myself."

"I really like (fav food) from (fav fast food). We could possibly get something from there. I'm unsure if you like them."

"Oh, that's my favorite place as well!"

Me not known.

"Oh nice, let's go then before we need to get to class and you need to get to your meeting."

You both rushed to get there and ordered quickly. 

"Thank you so much for the food. Once again, you really didn't have to buy it for me."

That’s so sweet! He didn’t have to buy you food as you stated before, but you were happy and grateful that he did either way.

"It was no problem. Truly, I am very sorry for everything today. I hope you can forgive me."

"No, truly, it's okay. I really do appreciate the food very much, but you must get going; you have a meeting to be in, and I have a class I need to get to!"

He perked up almost as though he forgot even after the first reminder. 

"Yes, you are right, YN. I will see you around then!" 

"See ya!" You rushed to class as fast as you could, almost in a running manner.

"No running in the hallways!" He winked, chuckling at his own joke. 

You faked a laugh a bit before continuing on your merry way.

You rushed to class and made it before the teacher arrived so that you could get settled in. 

You sat next to Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped in class. He looks upset until he saw you walk through the door, causing him to smile and wave at you. 

You quickly sat down at your desk before you got bombarded by questions from both.

“What happened?"

"Are you okay?"

"Why are you late?”

You know Mr. Crawling doesn’t like Mr. Scarletella, so what could you say? But you can’t lie to your friend either! What to do? Hard choices in all reality, but you also don't want him to worry and think you don't trust his better judgment; a white lie will do. It's not really lying but just omitting certain facts.

"There was a bit of an incident, so I was running late for school."

Mr. Chopped seemed satisfied while Mr. Crawling seemed unsatisfied with that answer but took it nonetheless. 

Mr. Chopped had his hair braided with little clips here and there so his hair wasn't in the way but still looked cute.

"Well, thankfully it was nothing serious, and you are here in one piece!" 

Mr. Chopped stated while starting going on about what he did with Mr. Silver yesterday and how science class was really difficult. You turned over, nodded, and smiled. Mr. Chopped was really a talkative person, but you didn’t mind listening to his long discussion sessions about nothing sometimes.

In all honesty, you were glad he started talking because you did not know how to explain that you were basically hanging out in a car with the guy that Mr. Crawling absolutely does not want you to be around because he is dangerous. You knew Mr. Crawling would not like it whatsoever and would ask more questions, maybe even start following you to make sure you were okay.

In the middle of Mr. Chops's conversation, the teacher walks into the classroom surprisingly late; the class has now started. 

Time skip—

Once class was over, all three of you walked around to the yard; you still had your bag of food ready to eat. Yes, you took small bites of it throughout class, but you can’t just eat a full meal in class!

You settled down at a small circular table big enough for 3-4 people. So all 3 of you were facing each other; you can see behind them, but they couldn’t and vice versa. The boys pulled their food and started eating and joking and laughing and gossiping until their smiles faltered a bit, and then their smiles slowly turned into something different, each while staring behind you. 

Mr. Chopped seemed confused but relaxed, while Mr. Crawling seemed upset and worried. 

You sighed. Your suspicion was confirmed; they say Mr. Scarletella is approaching you all. Ironically, even though people were scared of him, he was still really popular with the girls and people who like boys. That was very confusing because the crowd was a mix of trying to talk to him and trying to get away from him. 

“Hello YN, Mr. Crawling, and Mr. Chopped. Do you mind if I sit with y'all?”

You shrugged; Mr. Chopped shook his head no, moving to the side so he could sit. While Mr. Crawling told him no.

To Mr. Crawling's dismay, Mr. Scarletella sat down at the table right between you and Mr. Chopped. 

Mr. Crawling sat even closer to you at the table, and so did Mr. Scarletella. 

You feel like you're in the middle of something between the two; you were basically shoulder to shoulder with them. 

This is some middle school drama-looking situation.

“So what made YOU want to sit HERE?”

Mr. Crawling grabbed your arm that was resting on your side before he grabbed onto it and leaned against you while Mr. Scarletella placed his hand over yours, pulling it to his lap. 

They kept fighting over who was sitting here and all other types of petty stuff. You felt like a rope in a tug of war over whatever they were arguing about, something you couldn’t understand. 

This felt like a shojo manga type of shit, like what!

You pull your arms away from them, which made both of them become silent. You stood up and walked towards Mr. Chopped and sat next to him. 

Both of them looked shocked and confused but then redirected that into anger towards each other. You looked at Mr. Chopped, who looked back at you.

“So, hm, you like grapes?”

He pushed his plate over to you, which you took like 2, so it wasn’t rude. 

You both stared in amusement at the fight between the two.

They both said something that they seemed to both agree on. This, however, prompted Mr. Chopped to start giggling and poking you. 

You in fact did not know what they were saying; you were cooked. You know you heard your name in there but not enough to know what is going on. What a shame.

Mr. Scarletella got up and walked over to you.

“Hey, I don’t think I got you a drink with the food. Want to go get you one?”

You shrugged your shoulders; you didn’t need a drink; it would be nice, though. 

“Hey YN, I actually brought you a drink here. I know it’s your favorite!”

Mr. Crawling pulled the can/pouch from his bag, holding it over towards you. 

“That’s warm, though I’m sure they would prefer a cold drink, isn’t that right?”

Mr. Scarletella stood over behind you while Mr. Crawling glared daggers at him. 

“I don’t really mind, but also I don’t want food to go to waste.”

You don’t know whether to go for the cold drink or the warm one that Mr. Crawling brought for you with much love. It was kind of chilly, so you decided to decline the cold beverage from Mr. Scarletella. 

“I think I’m good with this that Mr. Crawling has, plus you already did buy me food, and I don’t want you to be inconvenienced by that. I appreciate it, though!”

Mr. Crawling gave him a small, sly smirk while Mr. Scarletella hummed, glaring at him. Mr. Scarletella placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t inconvenience me with anything; I'm just trying to ensure you are eating well." 

"Thank you. I appreciate your concern as well as the fact that you got me this other food. Let's just all enjoy the food." 

You patted the seat next to you for him to sit rather than stand. He sat between you and Mr. Crawling; Mr. Crawling did not like it, but he did not protest your choices.

Lunch over~~

You waved them goodbye as they headed different ways to class, except Mr. Scarletella, 

"So you have a class upstairs as well?" 

You asked him if he seemed flustered by the fact you saw him going the same direction. 

"Yes, I do."

"So how did your meeting go? I know you said you were late to it this morning."

"Yes, my meeting went very well and was a great success. I managed to convince them to make a spring festival for the whole school."

"Ooh, that's pretty cool. Let me know how that goes and what stuff you will have, because it sounds fun! Well, this is my class right here. I'll see you in a bit."

"Will do! See you in a bit!"

~~~~

This was a free period for him as well; the student council tended to have meetings during this time. It wasn't a required meeting, so he decided to skip it. He tried to not make any sound, but it was hard not to using the hand that held yours. The privilege that he had to hold your hand out of all people. The air feeling short from his lungs with his other hand covering his mouth. His heart racing, nothing but mumbling your name as if you were a god to pray to. 

He continued with only you in mind.

~~~~

After 2 other classes and a boring lecture, you were free! You had nothing to do after school today, so you went to visit Mr. Crawling. He was part of the baking club, and he was really good at it too. You make your way over to the club room and see Mr.crawling working on some cookies it seems. He was so focused on placing the frosting on them he didn’t notice you standing in front of him.

“Hey, Mr. Crawling, what are you doing there?”

He flinched a little before quickly lifting his head up to see you. 

“Oh hey!”

He smiled at you before looking back down at the cookies he was decorating.

“I’m making some cookies. They have club day coming up soon, so here I am trying to see what cookies would look better. What do you think?”

He stepped to the side, letting you have a close look at all the designs he made. There were cookies that were decorated to look like a strawberry cake, others that were plain chocolate chip cookies, and others that just said, “Join the baking club!” On a plain background. 

They all look pretty cute, some simple, others very complex, but if they had to make many of them, the plain ones seemed to be the best choice. 

“Why don’t you do the plain cookies, and the bags you put them in when handing them out can have the baking club's logo on it?”

He thought about it for a second and nodded. 

“Yeah, that would be way easier but still pushing the club's name!”

You nodded, although you doubted he hadn’t thought about that yet; maybe he just wanted to make sure to leave a good impression. 

“Do you want one of them?”

He asked, pushing the finished cookies towards you; they were too pretty to eat! But Mr. Crawling's cooking is also so amazing that you can’t decline. Last time you did decline, he was hurt, thinking you disliked his cooking. He took pride in his cooking skills.

“I’ll take this one right here, thank you so much!”

You grabbed the cookie and took a bite out of it; you could see him perk up with pride in his work.

“Where is Mr. Chopped? He is usually here with you, isn’t he?”

Mr. Crawling shrugged.

“I’m not sure; maybe he is with Mr. Silvair! He said he wasn’t doing very well in science.

“Ahh, okay, thank you. Well, I will stop disturbing you and let you work in peace. Thank you again for the cookie; they are delicious as always! I will be back for more!”

You waved your hand at him while you started making your way out the door.

“Thank you! See you in a bit!”

You walked off on your way to find Mr. Silvair; you passed the nurse's office, where he usually was. He wasn’t there, so he must be in the biology room. You walked past the library and the similar redhead holding a book, sitting alone.

You peeked through the door slightly. Mr. Scarletella flinched a little but quickly turned over to see you.

“Hey, what are you doing here alone?”

He almost seemed embarrassed; he cleared his throat before he spoke up.

“Well, I am the president of the reading club, so I like to go over books and see what we should read next.”

You hummed in understanding. 

“That’s nice. I didn’t know we had that as a club.

He looked at you. 

“Yeah, we are a small, close club. You should come by sometime and join us for a book review.”

“Yeah, I should, so what are you reading?”

You pulled a chair nearby and sat next to him. He was a little taken aback by this action and quickly grabbed the book. 

“So I’m reading Crier's War, and it is a beautiful story so far. The book starts with humans making AI, but over time the AI that become human are called automae because they become sentient. These robots were made to be the perfect human beings. They then take over the humans, which starts their empire. It really is going over what your character says about you and being human. They talk about the corruption within. I love it so far, and I think my club will love this book.”

(This is an actual book, by the way, and it’s fire. It is a queer fiction book if you're into it or aren't into it.

You nodded; it did sound pretty cool. The duality and what makes someone truly human: is it their actions, or is it the fact that they are physically human?

“I will come by for your next book meeting, then let me know what day it is so I can be ready!”

He pulled a book out from his bag and handed it to you.

“This is the book we are reading. If you want, we can go over it and read it at your place.”

You took the book and nodded.

“Welp, I’ll see you around then!”

You got up and walked away to continue looking for Mr. Chopped! 

You made your merry way up to the 3rd floor to go to the biology lab.

You found him!

Mr. Chopped with Mr. Silvair, they seem to become friends. You knocked and walked right in. Mr.Silvair was the same age as you all he was a teachers assistant who took over cause he was just too good at what he dose.

So they get straight into biology lessons. How unfortunate or maybe fortunate?

Time skip is boring~~~~~

The sun was setting. 

You walk past the library once again and still see Mr. Scarletella in there. What was he still doing here??You walk into the library and make your way to him. 

“Hey, you okay? What are you still doing here?”

Now that you got closer, you could see he was falling asleep. He had a lot of paper on the table mixed with books. 

His head was in his arms; you did not notice until now, but his nails were painted red as well. Red seemed to be his favorite color, and it really did suit him well. You noticed deep eye bags under his eyes, suggesting he hasn't been sleeping well. You gently tapped his shoulder, which seemed to catch his attention. It was for sure time for him to go home. 

“You okay? Let’s get your stuff together so you can get sleep at home.”

You started grabbing papers, some more scribbled on than others, and had a list that seemed to be like a plan of sorts while you were gathering them together. You glanced at one paper, and it had your name on it. You tried to read a little bit of it. Mr. Scarletta snatched the papers from your hand quickly before you could get a better look. 

“It’s okay; I got it!”

He scrambled to get his items, shoving them into his bag.

“Alright, if you say so."

You awkwardly stepped away and watched him put all his belongings in his bag. 

"So, are you sure you don't need help? That's a lot of papers."

He shook his head, waving his hand, showing he's all good. Once he was done, he got up and pushed his chair in. 

"Okay, I am ready."

You nodded, feeling bad about not helping him while he seemed off or maybe just tired. So you made your way out of the library and down the stairs to get to the first floor; you peeked into the baking club room and couldn't find any signs of Mr. Crawling being there anymore. 

"What are you looking for?"

"Mr. Crawling, I saw him here earlier before I went to look for Mr. Chopped. He might have gone home already."

You pulled out your phone while walking to the exit of the school and quickly texted Mr. Crawling asking if he was home before putting your phone away. 

You didn't notice how the red eyes followed your every move and got a glimpse of other text messages shared between the two of you. 

"So you and Mr. Crawling are close?" 

You were surprised by that comment, so you just shrugged.

"I mean, he has helped me a lot, especially with getting used to the school when I first came here. I remember I was so lost and confused."

He nodded in understanding.

"Have you had an easy time adapting to the school then?"

"Yes, all thanks to him!"

"I'm glad to hear it was easy to adapt to the school environment."

You continued walking towards the apartment complex in silence.

You got there, and it was already very dark by the time you got home. 

The building was huge and had around 12 floors. You were lucky to get a bottom floor, but due to its age, there was no elevator in the building, so it would be a lengthy walk from here. Mr. Scarlettela was so sleepy that it seemed like he wasn't going to make it to the top floors. You have eaten with him before and got tipsy, and he didn't do anything. He was also really nice to other students and never got in trouble. He could take the guest's room that way, so he doesn't have to walk all 12 steps, and he looked so tired. 

"Hey Mr. Scarletella, what apartment do you live at?"

"on the 12th floor"

"You look tired. I have a guest room because it is a long way up there to your apartment." 

"It is okay; I can make it up there." He said between yawns.

You chuckled a little.

"No, it's okay. Come on, you can stay here. Come in; let me show you the room."

You took him to the guest room and let him get comfortable, only for him to fall asleep immediately after touching the bed. 

You closed his room and went into your room and made sure to lock your door before changing and going to sleep.

It should be okay to let him stay the night, right? He was a friend and never did anything weird to you so far; he was always kind, so it was okay!

Surely it was okay.

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Sorry it took so long I kept forgetting to save while writing so I had to keep rewriting things like 10x🗿. iuwegiugaweiyfy

Enjoyyyyy

Also, he was jerking off in the window part as well as when he was in the bathroom after not going to the meeting. I am unsure if it wasn't clear, but I just want you all to know. I would rather you know than continue, because then it will get weirder.

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