#but it wasn’t HIS fault he was better- so why should he pretend to be sorry for it?

[smallsinger5901]

imagine how Mello felt after being the best at Wammy’s for years, the best contender to succeed L, one of the only people there to have ever MET L in person. He knew what he was going to be with his future, his whole LIFE! Then Near turns up. And suddenly this random younger kid is beating him effortlessly, putting in none of the work and dedication that he did, and this person has none of Mello’s flaws, none of his emotions or impulsivity or anything else he was criticised for. All at once the place he was king of was oppressive and cold. He was just another random, nameless Wammy’s kid.

His whole LIFE had been taken from him. Then L dies and he’s told to ‘just get along’ with the person that robbed him unflinchingly of his life’s goal? i understand why he left.

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are worried now, more than usual.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steels his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

Hood stands, making his way across the room casually. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

[little-jana]

"Good Girl"

Pairing: postprison!Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: steamy, 18+, fluff, no smut

Warnings: kissing, Spencer calling reader a good girl

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Spencer giving Reader a lot of compliments and one of them makes her blush a lot.

Spencer had been different since prison. Not entirely in ways the team would notice—he still rattled off statistics, quoted obscure literature, and beat everyone at chess. But when you’d known someone as deeply as I knew Spencer, even subtle shifts felt monumental. He was sharper now, his edges honed by experiences no one should have endured. But when it was just the two of us, in those quiet, stolen moments, he softened.

That’s why I stayed by his side tonight instead of joining the team for drinks. Spencer had waved off the invitation, saying he needed a quiet night, and when I hesitated to leave him alone, he’d asked me to stay. It wasn’t much—a shared meal and a chess game in his small apartment—but to me, it felt like everything.

“I can’t tell if you’re planning your next move or plotting my demise,” Spencer said, leaning back in his chair as he watched me.

“I can do both,” I said lightly, though the truth was, I’d been staring at the board for so long because I had no idea what to do.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m thinking,” I corrected.

“You’ve been ‘thinking’ for six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

“Are you timing me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I glanced at the clock when you stopped moving your hand after your last turn.”

“Of course you did,” I muttered, my eyes flicking back to the board. “Not all of us have an IQ of 187, you know.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The soft light from the lamp behind him highlighted the sharp planes of his face, and for a second, I forgot what we were talking about.

“You’re better than you think,” he said, his voice low.

“Better at chess, or better in general?” I quipped, trying to deflect the heat rising in my cheeks.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his hazel eyes unblinking and intent.

“Both,” he said simply.

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to focus. This was just Spencer being Spencer—kind and honest to a fault. It didn’t mean anything. Not really.

Finally, I made a move, sliding my bishop into place. I looked up at him triumphantly. “Your turn, genius.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to the board, and he moved his queen with a casual grace that made my stomach sink. “Checkmate,” he said softly.

“What?” I leaned forward, scanning the board. He was right. Of course he was right.

“How?” I groaned, sitting back in my chair. “I was so careful!”

“That was a good game,” he said, his tone genuine. “You lasted longer than usual.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “Your defense has improved. That last move was smart.”

“Then how did I still lose?”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Because I’ve been playing chess since I was four, and you’ve only been playing for—”

“Three months,” I finished for him.

“Exactly,” he said, his smile widening. “But you’re learning fast. Good girl.”

The words hit me like a freight train. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, pretending to fiddle with the edge of the table.

“Something wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“No,” I said quickly, my voice higher than usual. “I’m fine.”

“You’re blushing,” he observed, tilting his head.

“I’m not,” I lied, even though I could feel the heat spreading down my neck.

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” I said weakly, avoiding his gaze.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his tone teasing now.

Desperate to change the subject, I stood and grabbed the empty takeout containers from the coffee table. “I’m going to clean this up.”

Spencer followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I tossed the containers into the trash. His presence was a tangible thing, and I could feel his eyes on me as I wiped down the counter.

“Good,” he said softly.

I turned to face him, confused. “Good what?”

“Good technique,” he said, nodding toward the counter.

My cheeks flamed again. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

“No,” he said, his expression softening. “I mean it. You’re good at a lot of things, but you never give yourself credit.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I think you’re overestimating me,” I said quietly.

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “You’re smart, capable, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. You’re… amazing.”

My breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes—it was overwhelming.

“Spencer…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine. The touch was so gentle, so careful, it made my chest ache. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

I shook my head slightly. “It’s not that… I just don’t see myself the way you do.”

His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “You should. Because I’m not wrong.”

The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken words. I felt like I was standing on the edge of something, and for once, I wasn’t afraid to fall.

“You’re doing it again,” he said softly.

“Doing what?”

“Doubting yourself,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet kind of sadness.

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just don’t know it yet.”

My cheeks burned, and I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting my chin up with his finger. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I whispered, though the words felt hollow.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you don’t have to.”

Before I could overthink it, I stepped closer, closing the small distance between us. “Spencer…”

“Yes?”

I hesitated, my heart hammering in my chest. But then his eyes softened, and I knew. I knew he would catch me if I fell.

“I want to kiss you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

Spencer's lips curved into a small, surprised smile. “You do?”

I nodded, my cheeks flaming. “Is that… okay?”

His eyes softened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper—something that made my heart race. “It’s more than okay,” he said quietly.

I barely had time to process his words before his hand cupped my cheek, his fingers feather-light against my skin. He was so close now, his breath warm against my lips. For a moment, we just stood there, suspended in time.

And then he kissed me.

The world fell away.

It started soft, tentative—like he was afraid I’d disappear if he moved too quickly. His lips brushed against mine once, twice, each touch careful and reverent. It was everything I hadn’t dared to hope for: tender, consuming, perfect.

But then I leaned in, my fingers clutching at the front of his cardigan, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, and Spencer’s hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand rested lightly on my waist, steadying me as my knees threatened to give out beneath me.

The softness gave way to something bolder, more urgent. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that left me breathless, and I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped me. Spencer stilled for a fraction of a second, as if startled by the sound, but then his grip tightened ever so slightly, and I was lost all over again.

He tasted like peppermint tea and something uniquely Spencer, and I never wanted it to end.

When we finally pulled apart, I was dizzy, my head spinning in the best way possible. Spencer rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“That was…” He trailed off, his voice unsteady.

“Amazing,” I finished for him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of his apartment. “Yeah. Amazing.”

My cheeks flushed, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Really?” I asked, my heart swelling at the thought.

He nodded, a small, shy smile playing at his lips. “But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Spencer,” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh. “How could I not? You’re… you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to puzzle out my words. “I’m not always good at recognizing when people care about me,” he said quietly.

“Well, I care,” I said firmly, my hand still clutching the front of his cardigan. “A lot.”

He smiled then, a real, unguarded smile that made my chest ache in the best way. “I care about you too,” he said softly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken promises, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

Spencer’s hand slid from my waist to my hand, his fingers curling around mine. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I looked away, flustered. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he said, tugging me closer. “You’re smart, kind, and strong. And you’re a good girl.”

There it was again, the phrase that sent my heart into overdrive. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the shy smile threatening to break free.

“You really like saying that, don’t you?” I teased, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

“Only because it’s true,” he said, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at me—I couldn’t take it. I hid my face in his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his cardigan.

“You’re impossible,” I mumbled against him, though my tone lacked any real heat.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he replied, his voice filled with gentle amusement.

I tilted my head up to look at him, narrowing my eyes in mock indignation. “You’re lucky I like you.”

His smile widened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m the lucky one.”

---

After we settled onto the couch, Spencer pulled a blanket over us, his arm draped around my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed so far away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Spencer?” I asked softly, my voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“This is real, right?” I tilted my head to look up at him, my eyes searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

He glanced down at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Of course it’s real. Why would you think it’s not?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing. “It just feels… too good to be true.”

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. “It’s real,” he said firmly. “I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, focusing instead on the warmth in his gaze. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to my forehead.

And in that moment, with his arms around me and his words echoing in my heart, I believed him.

[adverbally]

Now My Bedsheets Smell Like You

Written for the @stmarchmm prompts “fake dating/courting” and “scenting” | wc: 1,645 | rated: E | cw: sexual content | tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, mating cycles/in heat, intersex omegas, getting together, scenting, first time, vaginal sex

———

Steve splashes another handful of water into his face, scrubbing at the dried sweat along his hairline. He’s still flushed, pupils still blown wide, but maybe Eddie won’t notice. Maybe Steve can sneak out before Eddie even gets up.

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, after all. It had been Nancy’s idea for the two of them to pretend to court. Steve’s family name made him an Omega of high standing, and being seen with him could only improve Eddie’s reputation. It would only be until the end of summer, until everyone in Hawkins could accept that Eddie was innocent and let him go about his business without constant harassment.

Steve couldn’t blame Nancy, either. He was the idiot who had agreed to the plan. What could be so bad about spending more time with his new friend? Steve would make sure nobody bothered Eddie and keep an eye on his progress as he healed from his injuries. A little more touching in public, a little more scenting, sleeping over at Eddie’s occasionally, none of it was a hardship.

Until this morning, when Steve woke up in Eddie’s bed with the Alpha clinging to him, surrounding Steve with his smoky-sweet scent.

Steve knew Eddie smelled amazing. He’d spent many an evening curled up in his nest with the shirt he’d worn to hang out with Eddie that day, breathing in the mix of their scents— cardamom and vanilla layered with Steve’s sage and citrus. But to wake up with a nose full of Alpha, so warm and thick that it drowned out Steve’s own scent and made him lightheaded?

Well, that’s why Steve is hiding in Eddie’s bathroom now, half-drowning himself in the sink in the hopes that the cold water will bring him back to his senses. He should shower, probably, scrub any trace of Eddie from his skin so he can think clearly, get out of the trailer and breathe in the fresh summer morning instead of wanting Eddie so bad—

A knock on the bathroom door. “Steve? You okay?”

God, why does Eddie have to sound good, too, all raspy and deep with sleep? It makes something clench in Steve’s gut, makes him want to whine and lick the spicy sweetness directly from Eddie’s scent glands until Eddie gives in and fucks Steve cross-eyed…

Oh. Steve isn’t just regular horny, he realizes like a slap in the face. He’s going into heat. Eddie smells so damn good that he’s causing Steve’s hormones to riot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s next knock is more insistent.

“Don’t come in,” he blurts, burying his face in the nearest hand towel.

“Uh… okay?”

Steve sighs and braces himself on the edge of the sink. “Sorry, I know it’s early but I have to go.”

He can hear Eddie’s bare feet shuffling on the carpet in the hallway. “Was it— did I do something?”

Eddie’s voice sounds small, scared, and Steve made him feel that way. His heart breaks a little. “No. No, Eddie, of course not.” He needs to see him, touch him, reassure his Alpha. Before he can think better of it, Steve throws the door open and launches himself into Eddie’s arms.

“Oh. Oh, oh my god, Steve, you—” Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, lips grazing the swollen scent gland there until Steve shudders beneath the touch. “You smell so good,” he mumbles into warm skin.

Steve’s head swims at the feel of Eddie’s body pressed up against his, but he tries to stay focused. “I think you triggered my heat. So unless you want me to jump you in about ten seconds, I need to—”

“You don’t want me to help?”

When Steve meets Eddie’s gaze, all he finds is genuine confusion. “You want to?”

Eddie bites his lip. “I haven’t been pretending. The fake courting thing, I’ve been… I wanted to do it for real, so I treated it like it was real. And I know you’re not in charge of how your body reacts to stuff, but if this heat means you’re interested, too—”

Their lips crash together with too much teeth but Steve doesn’t care when Eddie is groaning and licking into his mouth like a starving man. His Alpha tastes as good as he smells, a little more peppery but complemented by the vanilla that bursts on Steve’s tongue.

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes when he pulls back. He cradles Steve’s face in his blessedly cool hands, running his thumbs across Steve’s feverish cheeks. “I’ll take care of you, I just need you to say—”

“Yes, Eddie, please,” Steve gasps, rolling his hips against Eddie’s so he can feel Steve’s cock, hard and needy. He’s wet, too, wetter than he can ever remember being. He wishes Eddie would just push him up against the vanity and fuck him right there.

Like he’s reading Steve’s mind, Eddie guides him back into the bathroom and steals another kiss. “Okay, baby, how do you want me?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate to hook his fingers in the waistband of Eddie’s boxers and yank them down to his knees. He does the same to his own underwear and leans over the sink, catching Eddie’s dumbfounded expression in the mirror. “Here, just like this.”

Eddie catches on quickly, crowding Steve against the counter and sliding two fingers through the slick between Steve’s legs. “Fuck, sweetheart. Is all this for me?”

“Uh-huh,” he confirms, nudging his hips back into the pressure of Eddie’s fingertips circling his hole. Steve can’t hold back a gasp when they breach him with an easy glide.

“Can’t wait to taste you,” Eddie murmurs in his ear. His lips trail down Steve’s neck, leaving little nips and kitten licks along the way until he reaches his scent gland. “Gonna be so sweet, so good for me.”

Another finger slips into Steve’s pussy alongside the other two. The fullness is just right, enhanced by the promise of more to come when Eddie finally gets his cock in him. Steve can’t wait much longer. “Eddie, c’mon, fuck me!” he pleads.

“Give me a minute, Stevie, I don’t wanna hurt you. Gotta make sure you can take me.” Eddie nips at Steve’s neck as he scissors his fingers apart.

Steve keens at the stretch, clenching down when he imagines how much better it will feel once Eddie fucks him, knots him. “I can take it, I can take it,” he babbles. “Please, let me take it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie hisses to himself, his free hand dropping from Steve’s waist to squeeze the base of his cock. “Baby, I don’t know how long I can last.”

“I don’t care, we can go again. Ed, I need you, please—” His begging suddenly turns into a disappointed whine when Eddie’s fingers leave him, only to be replaced by an involuntary chirp as Eddie notches the head of his cock at Steve’s entrance.

“Okay, okay, oh, fuuuuck.” Eddie buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, gulping in breaths like the Omega’s scent is the only thing keeping him sane as he sinks into the tight heat of Steve’s pussy.

It makes Steve burn with jealousy, the fact that Eddie can smell him but not the other way around. He fumbles behind him to grab one of Eddie’s hands, drags it to his nose and huffs the sweet warmth of his scent straight from his wrist like a drug he can’t get enough of.

“Steve, oh my god, how are you even real?” Eddie’s hips jerk against his ass, grinding into him helplessly. There’s no real rhythm to his movements yet, caught up as he is in the whirlwind of heat pheromones, but it’s everything Steve wants at the moment.

“Alpha, smell like mine,” he purrs against Eddie’s pulse point. The skin is thin at the inside of his wrist, practically begging for Steve to bite until he draws blood and tastes cardamom and vanilla on his tongue.

“You, too,” Eddie groans, sucking hard at Steve’s scent gland as his thrusts find a steady cadence that knocks Steve’s hips against the edge of the sink. “Mine.”

It should be embarrassing how quickly Steve’s orgasm creeps up on him but Eddie is thick and hot in his cunt, and Steve’s cock is grinding against the countertop, and Eddie’s scent is right there in his face and in the stale air of the Munsons’ trailer and—

Steve can’t even choke out a warning before he’s coming, clamping down on Eddie’s cock and clutching his wrist for dear life as he makes a mess of the sink.

Based on Eddie’s strangled growl, he’s not far behind. “Ohjesusfuck, Stevie, I’m gonna—”

His knot catches painfully on Steve’s rim, just this side of too big, but Steve shoves back against him until it breaches him with a wet noise and a curse from Eddie. He can feel each spurt of the Alpha’s come filling him up, Eddie’s hands shaking against Steve’s hip and mouth, his hips grinding deeper and deeper where they’re locked together.

It’s good, so good that Steve’s knees go weak and Eddie has to hold him up as they both tremble through the aftershocks. It’s even better when Eddie starts whispering to him, sweet nothings like, “So good for me, honey. Felt so good, made me pop my knot so fuckin’ fast. Just a few more minutes and then once my knot goes down, we can go back to bed, nap some more before the next wave.”

Steve just purrs, content to be surrounded by— and full of— Eddie’s spicy-sweet smell. His Omega is satisfied for now, finally settled on Eddie’s knot, and the urgency bubbling in his veins calms. For once, Steve is looking forward to the rest of his heat, knowing he’ll be cared for by an Alpha with calloused hands and a soft heart and a scent that feels like a warm hug.

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [5] (myg)

title: the storm-ish 1.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut

summary: you meet yoongi's fiancée for the first time and... don't care to get a good read on her. yoongi keeps upsetting surprising you.

warnings: [other parts should be read before this one] this one's frustrating, there's not much improvement regarding oc and yoongi, it gets worse actually. aand it's a teensy tinsy bit unedited bec j don't have access to my laptop rn.

"Here's the dining area!" Taehyung fakes excitement as he leads the party further into your home, "I set the table."

You crouch down, catching your daughter in a tight hug, “Hi, baby,” you whisper into Nao’s hair.

For a second, you could pretend everything was normal. Just you and your kid. No pink hair highlights.

But then you stood up and saw Yoongi standing awkwardly behind Naomi.

“Hey...” Yoongi greeted you softly. His eyes briefly met yours before flicking back to Nao, “Hyejin wanted to meet you, and, uh… she brought dinner.”

You forced a small, tight-lipped smile.

Dinner. She brought dinner. As if that made any of this easier. Still, you nodded once, knowing you had no choice but to go through with this.

Hyejin had walked into your kitchen by now, snooping around with curious eyes. She wants to know you so bad. Picking up a random iron skillet from the drying rack, she observes the room intensely.

She eyes the colour scheme you picked out for your whole house. It's plain but not bland, she notes. White. A little... woody. Vintage. Yet very colourful and so full of personality.

A lot of well-executed DIY projects, most likely done with your daughter--- a windchime, stained glass paintings, miniature clay figurines, jars of seashells, hanging jellyfish lamps, personalized ceramic plates and mugs with designs painted and characters sculpted onto them.

Hyejin finds you fascinating.

She noticed a bunch of crocheted tapestries. Similar to the ones in Yoongi's room. She had always found it an odd design choice in his home. But, it makes perfect sense in yours. And obviously, she finally understood where he got it from.

And she can't wait to finally get to know the woman who had her soon to be husband wrapped around her finger for years.

Yoongi never told her why you broke up but she intends to get that information out of the two of you today.

Suddenly snapping out of it, you speak stiffly, “Oh, um, thank you,” gesturing at the bags of food place on the coffee table.

Your eyes dart towards Hyejin, who was already gliding back to you sporting a bright, effortless smile.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, _____,” Hyejin smiled warmly, "Your home is lovely. You really are a true creative."

Whatever that means.

“I hope it’s okay I tagged along. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now. Yoongi never talks about you."

Oh!

That definitely didn't hurt.

You smile, not knowing what to say. Simply nodding, “Thank you. And sure, it’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine.

You still felt disrespected.

Taehyung’s brows raised slightly, but he didn’t comment either. Instead, he offered you a supportive smile from behind Hyejin and mouthed, 'You’ll be okay.'

You can only hope you would.

Yoongi knew how fragile you were, and how hard it was for you to see them together, but he had let this happen anyway.

Yet, you understood Hyejin too.

It isn't really her fault. You'd have felt better about it had this been your decision.

"Mimi, go wash up for dinner." Yoongi instructs his daughter.

Then Hyejin chimes in, "But remember not to get your hair wet! _____, do you have a shower cap she can borrow?"

Your mouth drops open a little and your ears start to heat up.

Who does this woman think she is? She's talking to you as if you're not Nao's MOTHER.

What the hell does she mean 'Do you have a shower cap she can borrow?'

That's your kid, not hers.

Not realising you were glaring at Hyejin, you forced out yet another smile. This time it was glaringly obvious.

"She has one. She knows where to find it. Don't you, Nao?" You smiled down at her fakely.

Your daughter grabbed at your dress, "Yeah. But it's okay if I don't use it. My school doesn't allow colourful hair. We'd get into trouble." She directed the last half to Yoongi's fiancée.

Oh, thank goodness it wasn't permanent dye. You breathe a sigh of relief.

Hyejin's smile drops a little but she recovers almost instantly. "Oh, wouldn't you want to twin with me though?"

Is this lady emotionally manipulating your kid?

You don't give Nao a chance to respond because you knew she'd never want to hurt anyone's feelings and you hate that she's pushed in a corner now. "Wash your hair, honey," you smile down at her sweetly, "Use mommy's shampoo if you need to."

Yoongi finally decides to intervene. "Or we could let Mimi make her own choice. She knows the consequences, and is smart enough to decide what's better for her."

And unsurprisingly, ever the diplomat (which is odd because he's literally a lawyer by trade), he won't take sides.

Sadly, he's wrong this time.

Your squint your eyes at him as if you can't understand him, "What consequences? There's a consequence. Just the one. And she already stated it. We'll get in trouble with her school."

Your anger is a bit misdirected when you demand your daughter to clean up, "Go wash your hair, Naomi. I don't want to see even hint of colour that's not natural."

Nao's eyes widen before she runs off pouting. She knew you hadn't meant to scold her but it still upset her.

This is exactly what you were worried about.

You look at Taehyung pleadingly, prompting him to check on Nao. He immediately complies and chases after her.

You weren't ready to deal with Yoongi's new life now because you knew you wouldn't be able to digest it. You did not want Nao taking the heat for something that isn't her fault. But you suppose that's inevitable because you still haven't learnt to process your feelings and emotions about Yoongi.

Also, in all honesty, you could've dealt with the school. It wasn't that serious of an issue. They aren't too strict on the appearance discipline, especially hair.

You're on a roll now though.

"And what the hell are you doing altering my daughter's appearance without consulting me anyway?" You don't know who you squeaked it at but it was definitely warranted for.

"She's my daughter too, _____." Yoongi speaks cooly yet firmly.

"Exactly. She's yours and mine. And I need to be part of every decision making process," you scoff frustrated, "I mean, how would you feel if Taehyung and I decided to chop her hair off? What if the three of us get... I don't know, bowl cuts?" You're on the verge of yelling.

Yoongi looks bewildered, "You wouldn't do that."

You record the time. This is the moment you think Yoongi finally understands you.

"That's the point, Yoongi!" You exclaim. "Of course I wouldn't because I'm not fucking stupid!" You place emphasis on 'stupid', "-and I respect you!"

The jab wasn't subtle.

"What are you implying? That Hyejin is? That I am? That we don't respect you?"

"Oh, am I wrong?" You raise a brow.

"It's just some hair dye."

"That's not the issue here," you suddenly point at his fiancée, "And why are you calling my kid Nao?"

Hyejin's eyes widen at the sudden attention. She looks to Yoongi for help.

Taehyung reemerges from Nao's room when he hears arguing.

He observes Yoongi's stance and his explosion radar goes off, "O-okay, why don't we just-" but before he could even try to diffuse the situation, Yoongi loses it on you.

"God, _____, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

A sharp pang hit your chest, it felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

He's never yelled at you before. He's yelled with you, around you, maybe even about you but never at you.

Moreover, he did not deserve to scream at you.

You wish you could just pout and run away into your room like your daughter had.

Instead you stand your ground and stare at Yoongi's face, challengingly.

Hyejin just stood back, a little bewildered. She's surprised Yoongi had it in him to scream this loudly. And he's the least angry, most stable person she knows. Though, she doesn't know how to feel about him treating you like this.

On one hand, she's elated that he's speaking in her defence. And on the other, she's worried she'd be on your bad side after this. And that you'd keep Nao from her. If she didn't have a relationship with Nao, she can't possibly continue being with Yoongi.

For a while, nobody said anything. Taehyung was too afraid to even breathe let alone say anything.

The two of you were like a pressure cooker.

And let's not get into what Yoongi said--- 'What's wrong with you?'

You'd like to know. Clearly, something must be wrong because you don't know why he'd marry a woman after months of dating but not you even after years of being together and even having a child with.

You watch as Yoongi's fiancée grasps his hand to calm him down.

There have been very few moments when you've wished you had one of your classic cream pies to smash in someone's face.

Now is one such instance.

And then it happens.

Your vision begins to blur.

Not wasting any time, you wrap your arms around yourself in a soothing manner and storm off into your room, refusing to break down in front of a stranger.

You wanted to make a good impression so badly but it was just too soon.

Yoongi swiftly shook Hyejin off of him to follow you but was pulled back by a strong arm. Taehyung.

He glares at the taller man before yanking his arm back, continuing after you.

Before you could slam and lock your door like a petulant child, Yoongi blocks it with his foot, "Stop."

"I don't want to talk to you." You assert.

"Then don't. Just listen to me." He suggests. More like demands. His face was stoic as ever with maybe a hint of discomfort and remorse now.

"Please?"

Outside, in the living room, Heyjin and Taehyung awkwardly lingered.

Taehyung breaks the silence, "You just had to do this now, didn't you?"

Hyejin doesn't reply but gives him a pointed look.

As much as she trusts Yoongi, she doesn't trust you and Yoongi locked in a room together. She noticed way too much passion for two people who've broken up.

Unfortunately having crossed way too many boundaries already, she can't help but just wait.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ rose blood by mazzy star ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: fuck tumblr for posting my half-baked chapter im literally so fucking annoyed i had to redo all the changes but it's whatever!

exhales

and i am still sorry for the delay! please let me know what you think; love it, hate it, can't stand it, can't live without it? tell me! bec i wanna hear all about it

(anf did you catch a subtle Gilmore girls reference 😋)

[winwintea]

that's okay

PAIRING ↬ academic rival!na jaemin x ace!female reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, academic rivals to lovers au, college au, fake dating au, jaemin = campus playboy, drunk decisions, art museum date, plushies because i want a plushie, jaemin is kinda whipped fr

SUMMARY ↬ you're determined to outshine your academic rival na jaemin, the campus heartthrob infamous for his frivolous reputation. but when a few too many drinks suddenly ropes you into a fake dating scheme with jaemin, you realize that there's much more to him than his playboy persona. can two opposites navigate a connection that’s anything but fake?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lotties-readings !! grinding this fic in a day was so fun. the 3 am brain creativity actually carried this time too. hope i did him justice 😭😭 SHOUTOUT TO THE ASEXUAL COMMUNITY I LOVE YALL <33 THIS ONE'S FOR YOU !!!!

PLAYLIST ↬ cooler than me - mike posner, anti-romantic - txt, are you satisfied? - marina, that's okay - d.o.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?

Na Jaemin. The Playboy. He’s probably slept with half of the school and the rumors are on and off with him. The college’s infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the ‘hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!’ ideology. For some, it was oddly endearing. For you? Maddening. Because Na Jaemin wasn’t just a playboy. He was your rival. Jaemin just had this certain charm to him that attracted the masses. Everyone, including your friends, had had a crush on him at one point in their lives. Everyone except you. Despite his supposedly carefree attitude, he always ranked #1. And you? Stuck perpetually at #2, clawing at his heels, only for him to breeze past like it was nothing. If it were anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t care so much. But no—it had to be him.

You swore to steer clear of him. No parties, no flirtations, and certainly no personal involvement. That resolve lasted until one ill-advised college party, where Jaemin, drunk and absurdly charismatic, roped you into the lead role of his most ridiculous performance yet: his fake significant other. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Jaemin, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.  “Just go with it,” he’d said. You hadn’t thought it would last beyond that night.

You were wrong.

You suppose it’s partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene, you’re an outcast. An outcast with false modesty to trick people’s curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

“Remind me again why I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner.” you say, glaring as Jaemin hands you a pastry. “The party doesn’t start until 10PM tonight!” 

“Here you go, love. Be careful, it’s hot!” he says, completely ignoring your question. He resumes walking, hands in his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, resuming your slow stroll in the garden of a nearby art museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question.

“I know it’s hot,” you mutter, taking the pastry anyway. He’s insufferable. Even now, you can tell he’s doing this for show, making a big deal out of playing the doting boyfriend for the strangers milling about the museum garden. “Do you ever actually answer questions, or is that too much to ask?”

“Oh, I answer,” he breezily responds, unfolding a crumpled checklist from his coat pocket. “I’m just selective about when. Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too.”

“No thank you.”

Straightening the lapels of his gray coat, Jaemin fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself. “Now, do you want to check out the sculptures before we head to the main exhibit?”

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You’ve seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you’re seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You’ve got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you’d get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones. 

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Jaemin’s brilliant mind (not that you’d ever give him the credit for it) are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too. 

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you’d be having fun now.

“Jaemin, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other. At the very least.”

He grins, entirely unbothered by your irritation. “Relax, Y/N. We’re supposed to look like we’re having fun. Couples don’t bicker this much in public, you know.”

“Maybe because real couples actually like each other.”

“And yet,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Here we are. The picture of romance.” Ah. He’s right, damn it.

“I only lowered my guard because these people don’t know us, stupid… Let’s get inside already!”

Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There’s no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

You grit your teeth but let him guide you down a quieter path, away from the crowds. It’s all part of the act, you remind yourself. Just one day of playing along, and people will stop speculating about your personal life. Totally worth it.

Right?

Inside the museum, the tension eases slightly. The museum is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses. There’s so much to see that you’d frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Jaemin chose the perfect dating spot. You’re not sure if it was based on your own preferences. Surely not. But you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

“Picture!” he announces, pulling you close before you can protest.

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Jaemin presses his face closer to yours.

“Oh, this is a good one, I’m definitely posting it. You look so in love.”

“I’m in love with this work, that’s it.” you say flatly, staring at the painting behind him.

“Uh-uh. That works for me too.” Jaemin replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don’t even bother looking.

“At least you’re a natural, Jaemin.”

“What, in faking an expression? How are you so sure?”

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don’t lose Jaemin, looking for his hand to take hold of. You’ve already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, “There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do.”

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Jaemin, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. You were instructed to watch them if you’re having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. Advice from him no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it’s too late telling your brain to forget what it’s been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomachs at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That’s it, except for Jaemin, who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you’re alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside. As Jaemin turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbs your reaction to the touch of his warm hands. 

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

“You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let’s get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too.” 

“It’s okay I can do it myself.” You back away from Jaemin, running to take care of it.

And that’s when you realize it.

Pretending to be Jaemin’s partner might be the biggest mistake of your life.

Because it’s starting to feel a little too real.

When you exit the bathroom, Jaemin is waiting for you outside, arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. The two of you continue your museum date as normal, nothing out of the ordinary happening other than Jaemin just being Jaemin. 

When lunchtime rolls around, Jaemin takes you into the museum café, refusing to let you pay for anything even though he bought the museum tickets as well. Struggle as much as you want, Jaemin was pretty stubborn.

You and Jaemin sit across from each other, nursing cups of hot chocolate. The quiet buzz of conversation around you blends with the faint classical music playing overhead, the calmness contrasting your otherwise chaotic day.

You’re still nursing your wounded pride (and scraped hands) from earlier. Jaemin’s fussing had been embarrassing, sure, but also... oddly touching. It’s been messing with your head ever since.

“You’re being quiet,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. He stirs his drink and watches you with another unreadable expression. “Not complaining. Unusual for you.”

“Just tired,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze. “This whole thing is exhausting.”

“Yeah?” He leans back, “What part? The fake dating, or me?”

“Both.”

His laugh is soft, almost self-deprecating. “Fair.”

A moment passes, and you realize he’s studying you. Not with his usual playful smirk, but something more serious. It’s unsettling and scary, like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You know,” he starts, voice quieter now, “you’ve always hated me.”

Your head snaps up. “What? I don’t—”

“Don’t lie. I noticed.” he cuts in, but there’s no malice in his tone. “It’s fine. I get it. I mean, I’m Na Jaemin, right? The playboy. The guy who’s ‘probably slept with half the school.’” He uses his fingers to air quote the phrase, lips forming a bitter smile. “That’s what people say, isn’t it?”

You feel a pang of guilt. It’s exactly what you’ve always thought, always assumed about him.

He continues, eyes fixed on his drink. “Funny thing is, that wasn’t true at first. I wasn’t like this in high school. Sure, I was flirty, but it was harmless, y’know? Then one day, someone started a rumor about me. Said I hooked up with some senior at a party.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t true, but people believed it. And once the rumors started, they didn’t stop. Girls came up to me and I just... didn’t say no.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why not?” His smile not breaking, “They already thought I was that guy. And honestly? It was easier to play the part than fight it. People liked the idea of me being the ‘fun, no-strings-attached’ guy. I became what they wanted.”

You’re quiet, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. All this time, you’d judged him without really knowing him. And now, sitting across from him, you realize how wrong you’d been.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“For what?”

“For... hating you, I guess. I just—” You hesitate, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, searching for the right words. “I’ve never liked the whole ‘playboy’ thing. It feels... shallow. And I don’t understand how people can be so casual about it.”

Jaemin’s gaze softens. “That’s because it’s not your thing. And that’s okay.”

Your eyes lit up with shock. You definitely weren’t expecting Jaemin to be this receptive towards your criticisms of him. “I guess I’ve always judged people like you because I don’t... get it. Sex and dating just seem so complicated and messy. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Jaemin tilts his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You’re ace, right?”

You nod, surprised he remembered. He must’ve heard it somewhere, you barely told anyone except for your close friends. Others just assumed, which was fine by you.

“That’s... honestly kind of cool,” he says, leaning forward. “I mean it. You don’t have to deal with all this shit. Expectations, drama, people using you for what they want. You just... are. I envy that.”

“You do?” The idea feels absurd. Jaemin, envying you?

“Yeah.” He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “I’ve spent so much time being what other people expect. Sometimes I don’t even know who I really am. But you? You’re just you. That’s... rare.”

His words catch you off guard, leaving a strange ache in your chest. You wonder if he’s just been hiding behind a mask this whole time. Who really was the Na Jaemin sitting right in front of you right now? “Well,” you say softly, “I think you’re more than what people say about you.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Careful, Y/N. That almost sounded like a compliment. You’re supposed to hate me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you shoot back, but there’s no hostility in your tone.

For the first time, you see him for who he really is. Not Na Jaemin, the playboy, your rival… but just... Jaemin. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t hate him as much as you thought.

When the two of you finished your museum exploration, you found yourselves in the gift shop. The aisles were packed with trinkets, books, and stuffed animals, the kind of things that were charming but utterly unnecessary and overly expensive. You didn’t plan on buying anything, but Jaemin insisted he wanted to pick up something for a friend.

Shivering slightly, you rubbed your arms, trying to warm up in the chill from the air conditioning blowing down from the vent above.

“Cold?” Jaemin asked, his sharp eyes catching your sudden movement.

“Oh, just the A/C,” you replied quickly, waving him off, but you couldn’t stop the flush creeping over your cheeks.

“Do you want my coat?” He was already starting to remove his gray jacket, but you held up a hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said hastily. “It’ll be warmer outside.”

Jaemin paused, then smirked. “Aren’t you glad your friends dragged you to that party?” He asked, standing right beside you now, picking up a penguin from the stuffed animal bin. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “Though I’ll admit, this has been... fun. Even if the ‘fake dating’ part threw me for a loop. And yes, he’s super cute. But penguins aren’t my favorite.” 

He raised an eyebrow, eyes burning into you, as he turned the penguin over in his hands. “Who said it was fake?”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard right. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, just hummed and walked away, leaving you standing there with your arms crossed, frowning after him. What’s he playing at?

Trying to shake off the odd tension, you wandered to another shelf and found yourself staring at a tower of cell phone plushies. Your eyes landed on a bunny plush, adorable, with floppy ears, sparkling blue eyes, and a pink nose. You reached for it, but so did another hand.

“Oops—sorry,” you stammered, looking up to see Jaemin standing beside you again.

“Oh,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes were unreadable.

“I was just—”

“Which one did you want?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

“The bunny,” you admitted, pointing. “But it’s the last one, and if you wanted it—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed it.

“Actually, I did,” he said, pulling out his wallet and heading to the cashier.

You stood there, stunned and a little annoyed. Seriously? He’s that kind of guy?

As you stared forlornly at the remaining plushies: a raccoon, a squirrel, and a cat that weren’t nearly as cute. You sighed. It’s fine. It’s just a toy. But somehow, it still stung.

“Here.”

You turned to see Jaemin dangling the bunny plush in front of you, a playful grin on his face. “You—I thought you wanted it?” you said as you reached out to take it. The plush felt even softer than it looked.

“I did,” he said with a wink. “But I wanted to buy it for you.”

“I—thank you.” You stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling silly but also oddly happy. A big, goofy grin spread across your face as you hugged the bunny to your chest.

Jaemin chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you fired back, but your cheeks still burned.

You started to turn away, but Jaemin stopped you with a gentle tug on your sleeve. His expression was different now, serious, almost nervous, as he looked at you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped. “What is it?”

“This... whole fake dating thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy. That was strange in comparison to his usual confidence. “It wasn’t just about my ex, or shutting people up. I—I’ve been watching you for a while. I mean, not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I just... I’ve always been interested in you. You’re smart, funny, and you don’t care about impressing anyone. You’re... different. In a good way.”

Oh you weren’t expecting that. You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jaemin, I—”

“I know you have concerns,” he said, cutting you off gently. “About... your sexuality, and what people might think. But I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what the world expects or what people say. I care about you. And I’m not asking you to change or be anything other than yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. You didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long assuming Jaemin was just a shallow playboy, someone who could never understand you. But now, looking into his eyes, you realized how wrong you’d been. Jaemin understood you way too well. Enough to the point where he was hitting all the right points of reassurance in your heart.

“I don’t know if I can be what you’re looking for,” you whispered.

He smiled softly. “You already are.”

For a moment, the world around you faded. The noise of the gift shop, the bustle of other shoppers. It was just you and Jaemin, and the quiet, fragile connection that had grown between you.

Maybe this wasn’t fake after all.

You realized just how much he’d been hiding. Jaemin, the playboy everyone admired, the guy who never seemed to take anything seriously, was opening up to you in a way that was raw, even vulnerable.

“Honestly?” you whispered, clutching the bunny plush to your chest. “I never thought someone like you would understand... someone like me.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I get that. I probably don’t fit the part, huh? But, Y/N, you’re incredible just as you are. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want and what you don’t want. I wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

You looked down, feeling way too emotional, “So, you really don’t... mind?”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile was gentle. “Not even a little. I’m here because I like you for who you are. You don’t need to be anyone else or change anything about yourself. I’m fully willing to love you. Just like this.”

His words settled over you, as warm and comforting as his coat might have been. The insecurities you’d held about relationships, about your identity, all the ways you feared you might not be enough for someone. Maybe never even find someone at all? They began to melt, replaced by a quiet sense of peace.

“So... if this isn’t fake, does that mean this is... this date is… real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaemin smiled, reaching down to take your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a way that felt so natural it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s as real as you want it to be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring this out together.”

Looking up at him, you felt something you hadn’t quite felt before. This wasn’t about conforming to anyone’s idea of love or romance. It was about connection. And standing there, surrounded by stuffed animals and museum souvenirs, you felt like you’d found something rare.

You squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking across your face. “Alright, Jaemin. Let’s give this a try. Just... don’t go stealing all the last plushies every time we’re out together, okay?”

He laughed, his grin brightening at your words. “Only if you agree to keep that bunny plush with you as a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Of this moment. And of the fact that someone finds you absolutely perfect, exactly as you are.”

The two of you walked out of the gift shop hand in hand, leaving behind any doubts and stepping into something perfectly real.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung

[heavenlybodies333]

The Ex-Files - T.R.

!warning!:minorsdni, mature content

pairing: ex!Tom Riddle x you

It's been one week since you and Tom had called it quits.

A week since you had stormed out of his dorm, leaving behind the remnants of a relationship that once consumed you both. You had tried—Merlin, you had tried—to be patient. To accept the late nights, the whispered meetings with his followers, the growing obsession with power that seemed to eclipse everything else, including you.

Seven years of knowing him, two of those as his girlfriend—and it all came crashing down because he cared more about his twisted ambitions than he did about you.

And yet, even as you tried to forget him, it seemed like everyone else wanted to remind you.

“He’s different now,” Nott had mentioned offhandedly during Potions, swirling his knife through a pile of knotgrass. “Since you ended things. Girls in and out of his bed every night. Don’t think I’ve ever seen him so...careless.”

You had scoffed at the time, pretending it didn’t bother you. Of course he moved on fast. Why wouldn’t he? Tom Riddle didn’t dwell on things. He didn’t waste time mourning lost relationships. If anything, the fact that he was already fucking his way through Hogwarts should’ve confirmed what you’d told yourself when you walked away: you were never that important to him anyway.

Except... it still stung.

And it wasn’t until Charms class a few days later that you realized there was more to the story.

“You should’ve seen him,” Bellatrix was saying, her voice low but still loud enough for you to catch every word. She was perched next to Cassie Black, nails tapping against her desk as she leaned in conspiratorially. “I mean, at first, it was going fine. I thought I was finally getting somewhere with him. And then—” She paused for dramatic effect, “He said her name."

Cassie's eyes widened. "No."

"Oh, yes," Bellatrix drawled. "Clear as day. Right when he was about to finish too. I mean, imagine how humiliating that is. I’m on top of him, giving him the best he’s had all week, and he’s thinking about her."

Your stomach twisted painfully. You knew exactly who she meant by "her."

You.

Bellatrix kept talking, oblivious to the way your hands curled into fists beneath your desk. "And the worst part? He didn’t even finish. Just pushed me off like it was my fault and said he was done. I don’t think he’s finished with anyone I swear."

Your breath hitched.

So that was the problem.

A bitter, angry part of you wanted to revel in his misery. Good. Let him suffer. Let him realize what he lost. But another part—a part you weren’t ready to confront—hated how much you wanted that to be true.

Later that evening, you found yourself outside his dorm, heart hammering against your ribs. You didn’t know why you were there—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Your knuckles barely grazed the wood before the door swung open. Tom stood there, shirtless, dark hair tousled like he had just risen from bed. But you knew better. Knew that no matter how many girls he fucked, it wasn’t enough.

“What do you want?” His voice was cold, but you knew him too well to be fooled. His eyes—those dark, consuming eyes—dragged over your body with slow, deliberate intent.

You stepped inside without invitation, brushing past him. “Heard you’ve been busy,” you said, letting the words drip with disdain. “Didn’t take you long, did it?”

Tom closed the door with a soft click, leaning against it. "I didn’t realize you cared."

His honesty was a slap in the face—but you saw the tension coiled in his shoulders, the frustration simmering beneath his composed façade.

“I don’t.” A lie. You let the silence stretch before adding, “But maybe you should be more careful. Calling another girl by your ex’s name? Sloppy, Riddle.”

His jaw tensed, the only sign your words had struck home. For a long moment, he just watched you, the air between you growing thick and heavy.

Tom pushed off the door, advancing toward you with that lethal grace that had always made your knees weak. "You think I haven’t tried to forget?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You think I haven’t fucked them hard enough to chase the taste of you from my mouth?"

Your resolve wavered as he reached you, fingers brushing your jaw. "Poor Tom," you taunted, though your voice trembled slightly. "Finally found something you can’t control."

His lips curled into a cruel smile. "Careful, darling. You’re still mine."

"I’m not yours," you shot back, even as your body betrayed you—leaning into his touch, craving the heat of him.

Tom’s hand slid to the back of your neck, dragging you closer until your breath mingled. "A lie doesn’t become truth just because you repeat it," he murmured before claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss.

The anger melted into need—hot, consuming, and impossible to resist. Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue swept against yours.

"This doesn’t mean anything," you gasped as he backed you toward his bed, his mouth trailing down your neck.

"Keep telling yourself that," he said darkly, pushing you onto the mattress.

You should’ve stopped him. Should’ve walked away.

Instead, you let him drag your skirt up, his fingers quick as they slipped beneath the waistband of your panties.

"Already wet for me," he murmured, sliding two fingers through your slick folds. "Miss me that much?"

"Fuck you," you snapped, but your hips lifted to meet his touch.

His laugh low and wicked as he pulled your panties down your thighs. "Gladly."

Tom knelt between your legs, his mouth replacing his fingers without warning. Your head fell back against the pillows, a moan tearing from your throat as his tongue worked you open—slow, precise, and devastating.

"Still taste so sweet," he murmured against your clit, voice thick with hunger.

Your hands fisted the sheets as pleasure curled hot and tight. He was relentless, dragging you higher and higher until you were trembling beneath him.

"Don’t stop," you breathed, and he didn’t—not until you came against his mouth, crying out his name in a way that left no doubt who you belonged to.

Tom wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes burning as he crawled over you. "You’re mine," he said again, voice rough as he unfastened his belt and pushed his trousers down.

"This doesn’t change anything," you warned, though your body betrayed your words, arching beneath him as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your entrance.

"Of course it does," he said, sinking into you with a devastating precision that made your toes curl.

You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you—stretching you in a way no one else ever could. His pace was brutal, every snap of his hips punishing, like he wanted to brand himself into you.

And maybe he did.

"No one else," he growled against your ear. "No one else can have you."

He fucked you like he had been starving. Each thrust was punishing, his fingers leaving bruises along your hips, your thighs. But it wasn’t enough for him. Not until you were moaning his name, nails raking down his back as he came. Profanities spilling from his throat as his warm cum filled you.

It was only afterward, when the air grew thick with the scent of sex and sweat, that the weight of it all settled heavy in your chest.

You slipped out of bed while he lay there watching you, his expression carefully blank as you pulled on your clothes.

“Stay,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a command. Not this time.

You paused, fingers trembling as you slipped back into your skirt. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to. But if you did, you knew you would never escape him.

“No.” Your voice was steady. Firm. “We’re done, Tom.”

A flicker of something dark passed through his eyes. Something dangerous. “You’ll come back.”

You shook your head. “Not this time.”

And with that, you walked away—leaving him behind, where he belonged.

part II to this fic

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: obnoxiously sighs* mc has way more self respect than me cus I would sit my ass right back. inspired again by my darling @shyamanuensis for helping me write it😽💚

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

[sleep-i-ness]

Too Little, Too Late (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Synopsis: Covering for Daphne proves to be the final straw in your friendship with Draco Malfoy

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST

You ducked under the boughs of the tree, chest heaving, eyes wide as you spotted them. “He’s coming. Daphne, he’s coming.���

They leapt apart, Daphne cupping Neville’s cheek reassuringly. She stepped back to your side, and you could faintly hear shouts in the distance. If any of the Slytherins were ever to find them together, Neville would be hexed within an inch of his life for sullying a Pureblood witch and Daphne, well, Daphne would be ripped to shreds by her family for not abiding by the expectations for a well-brought-up witch. She should be going for someone like Draco, not Neville, but… the heart wants what the heart wants. You knew a thing or two about that.

“Okay, you two need to split apart; we’ll just have to pretend that it’s Neville and I having some sort of sordid affair by the Lake, okay?”

Neville flushed, eyes darting towards his girlfriend. “Is this-?”

“This is the best option, okay? I’ve thought it through; no one’s going to question why I’m ‘dirtying’,” you made air quotes with your fingers, “myself with a Gryffindor. I don’t have the same family expectations to uphold.”

You glanced at your best friend, who was breathing shakily, face drawn. “Daphne, pull yourself together. You need to look shocked, not like you’re about to be given the Dementor’s Kiss.”

Loud footsteps clattered down the steps to the edge of the bank and you looked up, squeezing tightly onto Daphne’s hand. Reaching out, your fingers brushed Neville’s hand and ignored his flinch. As long as he didn’t say anything, you could make Draco believe this. As you felt Daphne being pulled away from you, you slipped your hand into Neville’s, interlocking your fingers so as to stop his jolt.

“What the hell is going on here?”

You spun around, making eye contact. Draco Lucius Malfoy. Not the head of the Malfoy family, but the unofficial leader of the Slytherin House. Daphne peered out from behind him, giving you a subtle thumbs up.

“Y/N?” Draco murmured, before his eyes hardened, cold and icy as he glared at you. “Are you with Longbottom? That snivelly little Gryffindor?”

You and your brother had grown up as pretty much part of the Pureblood circles, and so clearly Draco expected you to conform to the traditional Pureblood behaviour. Not that you weren’t doing so, but he could sod off with his expectations.

You tried to smile at him, lips twisting into more of a grimace. God, that man’s cheekbones could cut steel. Even when angry, he was incredibly attractive. You had tried to hide these thoughts from Daphne when you’d first developed your crush on him several years ago, but she could read you like a book and had confronted you only days after your realisation.

You gave Draco a scornful look. “What’s it to you?”

Draco stuttered, faltering at the sight of your harsh glare. He ended up with, “you should know better than that.”

And you just rolled your eyes, knowing that was more than enough to set him off.

“Common Room. Now.”

You just raised your eyebrows. “Watch your tone, Malfoy.”

He scowled. Draco knew better than to ask why Daphne was with you, where one of you was found, the other was never far behind. “Come. We need to talk.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay here with Neville and finish up what you rudely interrupted.”

It was only when your name rumbled out of his chest that you decided you weren’t going to argue any longer and dropped Neville’s hand in a flash. You skidded over to him, linking arms with Daphne who gave you an apologetic look. You just shrugged. It wasn’t her fault that Draco was an absolute bellend who had decided that this year you were his favourite punching bag. In the metaphorical sense, that is. He knew better than to even point his wand at you.

It took maybe a generous ten metres, at the point that Draco had decided you were out of Neville’s earshot, before he spun round with a murderous look on his face. “What the hell was that?”

You met his eyes, hating that the dark rage pulsing in them did nothing more than set off a swarm of Pixies in your stomach. And okay, maybe intimidated you a little, but in a hot way. And that was the problem; you should not be finding this so hot right now. Especially with the way his jaw ticked.

“My life, my business.” You stuck your nose in the air and dragged Daphne on, past him. She looked like she’d rather face a Blast-Ended Skrewt than be stuck between the two of you arguing.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight anymore. Daphne seemed to like the idea of you and Draco being the power couple of Hogwarts and had been trying to convince you that he had a soft spot for you. You wished. He’d first seen you as that snotty little girl with pigtails who’d follow him and your brother around and gone where the days where he saw you as an annoying little sister. If that. Now you were just an insolent cockroach under his foot that needed to be stomped upon.

“If you’re going to be dragging your name through the dirt, leave Daphne out of it. You’re ruining her reputation just by interacting with her,” he called after you and you didn’t deign to respond, merely just picking up the pace to get as far away from him as possible before you collapsed from either exhaustion or into tears. You hadn’t decided yet. But you were so tired of this dynamic between you and Draco.

You soon reached the Slytherin Common Room, and you peeled off towards your dorm. Luckily, the boys’ dorms were on the opposite side, so you could hope to avoid Draco for the next… well, however long it took to for him to calm down. You’d use Daphne as a feeler to judge when it was next safe for you to emerge.

“Thanks for coming back with me,” you murmured to Daphne, releasing your clutch on her arm once you reached the safety of your doorway.

Daphne’s jaw dropped. “Uh, no, you are not just shutting me out like that. As if I’d leave you alone after that hell of an afternoon.”

You sighed, opening the door for her, and glancing down the hallway to the Common Room. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but it certainly wasn’t the sight of Draco staring after you, pink splotches on his cheeks and a foreign flash of emotion in his eyes. And then it was gone, and he sneered.

You raised a hand in response, acknowledging him but not deigning to stoop to his level, and then stepped into your dorm, where you could finally drop the stupid façade. Daphne was by your side in an instant as you sagged, using your hold on the door handle to keep yourself up right.

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” she murmured, ushering you to sit down on your bed, before plonking herself next to you and wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You sighed, leaning into her. It wasn’t her fault and there was no part of you that blamed her, although it would be far easier to than have to come to terms with the fact that Draco Malfoy was just an arse. An arse with a really nice arse. You snorted to yourself.

“It’s not your fault he’s such a prick. I don’t even know what I’ve done this year to set him off,” you moaned, falling against your bedpost with a thump. “It’s not like he’s even my friend at this point.”

Daphne just stared at you, face sagging as her eyebrows drew together gently. “You can’t discard four years of friendship just because Draco’s been in a mood this term.”

“Like he has?” You wrinkled your nose. And then slapped your knees. “Right, enough moping.”

You yanked out the bottle of Firewhisky from under your bed; it had been part of your brother’s stash that he had never intended for you to find or sneak to school. But for moments like this, it was exactly what you needed. Time to drown your despairs.

“To men who appreciate us!”

You clinked glasses, knocking back the whisky with little more than a grimace.

A few rounds later and the two of you were on the carpet in your dorm, looking up at the starry ceiling. You hadn’t even needed to kick out Millie, no doubt she was curled up in her boyfriend’s arms.

“I love him, Y/N. I really do.” As usual, Daphne’s mind had drifted off to Neville and you smiled. They were so sweet together, even if no one else would agree with you.

“I know you do. And he definitely loves you as well.” You were certain on that fact. You’d seen the way he looked at her, even when she wasn’t looking at him, and it made your heart ache for a love like that. Scratch that, it made your heart ache for Draco to look at you that way; not just any man would do.

“And I’ll get Draco to pull his shit together. I swear, the only reason he reacts this much is because he’s mad about you,” she slurred as she gestured wildly.

You laughed. “I appreciate the sentiment, but he won’t. He doesn’t love me.”

You received no response and, when you glance over, Daphne had fallen asleep. She looked so carefree in moments like these, brow smoothed out and features relaxed into a pleasant smile. When she was asleep, she didn’t need to worry about dating someone in secret or the expectations placed on her for being a Pureblood.

Bang. Your musings were interrupted by a loud knock, and you jolted upright, head spinning. Daphne didn’t even stir. Hoping it was just another student stumbling down the corridor, you let the dizzy spell pass as the knocking failed to cease.

Feeling your way past your bed and to the door, you lit your wand with a murmured Lumos. “Who is it?”

If it wasn’t anyone other than Pansy, Tracey or Millie, you were going to hex them. Well, mainly if it was Crabbe or Goyle, no doubt sent out to torment you. Not that you thought that you were still lingering on Draco’s mind, but you also wouldn’t put it past him to send his minions to do the dirty work of pressuring you about your “relationship” with Neville.

“It’s me.”

You sighed at the familiar voice, slipping out the door to talk to him. You were only in your nightwear, but no one would be out to see you at this time of night.

“What the hell do you want, Blaise? Do you know what time it is?”

“You alright?”

You nodded, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“No, nothing, just Draco came back in a bit of a tantrum, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess who had gotten him so riled up.” Blaise’s mouth tilted up at the end of his sentence and you wondered why you couldn’t find someone like him attractive. Someone kind, objectively hot and a good friend. Not some prickly blonde twat with anger management problems

You snorted. “You know Malfoy. Likes to get himself wound up by whatever I do.”

“And so, the name Neville means nothing to you?”

You blinked at him. And then remembered that you were probably meant to look a little more ashamed than you did and fixed your eyes firmly on the ground.

“Yeah, nice try,” Blaise snorted. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to get myself involved in the situation. I fear both you and Draco equally, but please, for my sake, sort things out with Draco. I really can’t be bothered to hear another rant about you, as much as I love you dearly.”

You shrugged. “Not my problem that he’s so fixated on me.”

“Yes, but it’s also not mine,” Blaise whined, bottom lip jutting out, and you stifled a sudden snort. So much for all the airs he’d been putting on this year now that he was a ‘proper adult’. He was still a petulant child at heart.

And then you sighed. “I’ll… think about it.”

“Thank you,” Blaise pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Sleep well, hope you don’t wake up with a horrid hangover.”

You blew a kiss in response and shut the door in his face. By the time you’d gotten back to your bed, Daphne was still snoring away peacefully but had somehow managed to spreadeagle across the entire mattress. You sighed, unable to muster the energy to care enough to move her and decided to just sleep on her bed.

:.

Breakfast the next morning was a frosty affair; you could swear that the room had dropped ten degrees as soon as Draco had entered and set his eyes on you. He’d just sneered, luckily, but had dropped into a seat only two down from where you were sat, Pansy and Daphne acting as barrier. Which sucked, because it meant that you’d inevitably all end up in conversation and then you’d have to deal with him making snide comments all meal.

Was it too much to ask for just a nice, relaxed breakfast, where you could actually enjoy spending time with your friends?

“Would you mind passing me the jam, Daphne?” You smiled at her as she nodded, eyes darting towards Draco and back to you, a tinge of worry in her gaze. You just rolled your eyes in response. He could grow up.

“Looking forward to Potions today?” Blaise slid into the seat opposite you, and you snorted.

“Only if you promise to not fuck up our potion this time.”

“I’ll have you know that you’re very lucky to have me as your partner,” Blaise purred, leaning forward, lips tilting up into a smirk. His hand reached out to stroke your arm, and out of the corner of your eye, Draco’s hand clenched so tightly around his spoon that it turned white.

You just raised an eyebrow, patting his hand. “Trying to hit on me isn’t going to make me forget that you stirred our potion clockwise last time.”

He shrugged. “We didn’t lose any House Points.”

“Yes, because Slughorn loves you. Not that I know why.”

Blaise pouted. You gave him your most unimpressed look, grinning only when he jutted his bottom lip further out.

“Blaise, you look like a petulant child,” Pansy snorted, rolling her eyes when he just gave her the middle finger in response, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Blaise,” you sighed.

“Yes?” He perked up, lips twitching into a smug smile.

“Stop staring at me.”

He frowned, grumbling as he helped himself to a serving of eggs, slopping them onto his plate with enough force to send them skidding into Theo’s lap. Theo stared at his lap in abject horror, taking a second before turning to Blaise, jaw tensed.

“What the fuck, mate.”

You and Daphne dissolved into giggles at the furious glower on Theo’s face and Blaise’s answering squeak. Theo shot the pair of you a look, which did nothing other than make you laugh harder, clutching onto each other to keep yourselves upright.

“Scourgify,” Draco drawled, waving his wand with a lazy flourish before raising an eyebrow and sneering at you and Daphne. You waited until he’d looked away to roll your eyes, not really wanting to cause a scene in the Great Hall. Only Blaise caught your expression, sudden laugh bubbling out of him. Theo turned back to him, lips twitching downwards again.

“Something funny?”

“No, no, sorry about your gown, Theo,” Blaise blinked, eyes darting between you and Theo. “Just… well it’s her fault.”

He pointed to you, and you clasped a hand to your chest, widening your eyes. “Little old me? Whatever have I done?”

“Oh, cut it out,” Blaise huffed a laugh. “This fake innocent act isn’t fooling anyone.”

A mutter from Draco caught your attention and you whirled around, eyes suddenly blazing. “Care to repeat that, Malfoy?”

“Ooh, last name, someone’s in trouble.” Blaise sang, and you gave him a withering look before returning your attention to Draco.

“Well, I was just saying,” he hesitated ever so slightly, something in his eyes faltering slightly, before his sneer settled back onto his face, “that you really can’t even attempt to call yourself innocent when you’ve been sullying yourself with Gryffindor scum like that Longbottom. Who should I expect to find you with next? Weasley? Potter?”

His nose wrinkled and you just laughed, a cold, harsh sound. “I fail to see how my romantic life is any of your business.”

“It is when you’re singlehandedly destroying the reputation of our House.”

You raised an eyebrow, lips pursing. “Now, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Besides, despite what you think, I am not just some common whore.”

“It certainly didn’t seem like that yesterday.”

You scoffed. “What? When you caught me and Neville holding hands? Merlin, what a scandal.”

Draco simply scowled, eyes casting a disparaging onceover accompanied with a wrinkle of his nose, and so you turned away. He wasn’t worth your breath.

You caught a flash in Blaise’s eyes as he watched Draco, something akin to worry, but you brushed it off. It wasn’t your problem. Draco had made the gap between you abundantly clear. You had tried, right at the beginning of the year, when you’d naively assumed that the cold shoulder was Draco having a strop rather than deciding to cut you off out of nowhere. You still weren’t quite sure what you had done, but you had a funny feeling it had something to do with the whispered conversations your parents had been having over summer. Something to “grown-up” for your ears, but you’d read the paper; you knew You-Know-Who was back and that your parents, as untraditional as they were, fell within certain circles. They’d stayed out of one war, and you could only hope that they managed to do the same this time around.

Draco stirred his tea with a mutinous expression, the muscle in his sharp jaw pulsing slightly and you allowed your eyes to rove over his features whilst he was distracted. You didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it before, but he looked off. Sallow skin, dark bags under his eyes, and even his expression seemed half-hearted.

He glanced up, making direct eye contact with you, and you froze, waiting for a sneer, a derisive comment, an eye roll. But he gave you nothing, just looked back down at his tea, and so you looked away. It wasn’t any of your business, whatever was bothering him.

-

The usual chatter in the Hall died instantly as you stirred your tea, deeply focused on avoiding clinking your teaspoon against the rim. You hadn’t spoken to Malfoy in weeks, determined to diffuse some of the tension in the air by ignoring him steadfastly. It took you a second to notice the unusual hush. And so, you looked up, eyes falling on Katie Bell, that Gryffindor who’d gotten herself cursed. The story had spread round the school like wildfire, as rumours tended to do – you’d learnt that the hard way in fourth year, following a rather disastrous argument after Yule Ball… But that was a matter of the past.

Potter immediately jumped up to accost Bell and you frowned. Poor girl couldn’t catch a break. You couldn’t decide what was worse, Potter or a curse. Especially with that particular brand of Gryffindor determination in his eyes. Despite the still lingering silence in the Hall, you couldn’t make out a word of what they were saying, and you wrinkled your nose.

Katie’s eyes shifted over to your table, face paling and a shudder wracking her body. Your eyes narrowed, head turning to follow her gaze, mirroring Potter. And your eyes caught on Malfoy, his chest heaving. And then he pushed out of his seat without a word, eyes cast down, avoiding any of Pansy’s attempts to stop his flight.

You picked up your tea and attempted to take a sip. But your stomach rolled, and you sighed, before getting up and trailing after him. Merlin, you felt like a lovesick puppy. As much as he’d made it clear you weren’t friends; five years weren’t quite so easily thrown away.

You skidded to a halt in front of the second-floor girls’ bathroom, catching the door before it slammed shut and slipping through the gap. Allowing yourself a moment to breathe before easing yourself fully inside.

Draco’s hands were splayed against the sink, shoulders hunched as he shook silently. You crept forward, not wanting to startle him, not knowing how to announce your presence. And then his head jolted upwards. Burning grey eyes met yours in the mirror and you froze.

“What the hell do you want?” He snarled, venom laced into every word, and you flinched unwillingly.

Somehow you found the strength within you to respond. “I came to check on you.”

“Check on me?” He scoffed, turning round so that his red-rimmed eyes met yours properly. He stalked forward until he was so close you could see every fleck in his irises and feel his breath against your skin. “Why would I want you to check on me? You’re nothing but a pathetic blood-traitor. You don’t even belong in Slytherin. You’re like some mangy stray that’s wandered in, begging for scraps.”

You laughed bitterly. “I’m not going to argue with you. I wanted to offer you comfort.”

He sneered, his expression twisting into something almost feral. “Comfort?” He spat the word as if it were poison. “You think I need comfort from you? Don’t flatter yourself. You can’t even manage a proper spell without fumbling through it like a Mudblood trying to hold a wand for the first time.”

Draco leaned in even closer, eyes narrowing as he snareld. “Let me make this very clear: your sympathy, your comfort, your pathetic little gestures—I don’t want them. You’re barely worth my time as it is, and your attempts to play the hero are as laughable as they are nauseating. Why don’t you go find someone else to ‘save’ with that deluded martyr complex of yours? You’re nothing but a leech, clinging to the coattails of people who actually matter, hoping to be noticed.”

A smirk twisted the corners of his lips as he took in your silence, eyes glinting with sadistic satisfaction. “Or is this just your way of pretending you’re useful, more than just some slut in a skimpy skirt? Please. If you disappeared tomorrow, the only difference would be that the rest of us could finally breathe without your sickening desperation polluting the air. Even as a failure, you’re not half as interesting as you think you are.”

You shook your head, blinking to keep back the traitorous tears. “I’ll leave you in peace then.”

And darted out the door, not allowing him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

The dark hallway blurred as you darted away from the door, no destination in mind, just moving. Paintings swam in and out of focus as you tried to breathe, forcing your legs to keep on going even whilst you squeezed your eyes shut, so very aware of the water building up behind the floodgates. You would not cry over him, not in public at the very least. He was nothing but a nasty, horrid teenage boy, who’d used every insecurity he’d known about you to cut you to the quick.

You slowed down, taking deep breaths as your hurt morphed into something more akin to anger, a flash of heat shooting through your chest. What an absolute tosser. You hmphed, lifting your nose into the air and rolling your shoulders back before you continued to stride down the corridor. That was it. You were done with Draco Malfoy and his disgusting behaviour.

And then you crashed straight into someone.

You took in the person before you, eyes widening. Potter didn’t even stop, shouting a quick apology before storming on down the corridor.

Shit.

You picked up your pace again, anger wiped clean as you desperately tried to think of where a teacher could be. You needed someone, anyone, because in the state Malfoy was in, you wouldn’t put it past him to kill Potter.

You might not like either of them, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see anyone dead. Or have that on your conscience.

“Professor,” you cried out, breaking out into a run as you saw Snape’s billowing cloak turn round a corner.

You skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding bumping into him, and looked up at him as he sneered. “Yes, Miss Y/L/N?”

“You need to come quick; it’s Potter and Malfoy.”

Snape sighed, scowl deepening. “Lead the way.”

You scurried ahead, already fearing the worst, already picturing Potter’s body on the floor. You didn’t like him, but that didn’t mean you wished him dead. He was insufferable, filled with some inane sense of righteousness. And Malfoy had made no secret of his hatred for him.

The door to the girls’ bathroom loomed in the distance and you quickened your footsteps, glancing behind to check that Snape was still following. He gave you a nod before you pushed open the door to the bathroom and gasped.

Red.

All you could see was red, swirling on the floor, seeping through the cracks in the grout, spilling out of… of Draco.

You held back the urge to retch. Snape pushed past you, breaking your eye contact, and knelt down besides Malfoy’s still body. Was he dead?

You couldn’t stay here.

-

The heel of Draco’s shoes clicked against the flagstone, footsteps echoing through the quiet corridors of the dungeons. Even the slightest movement sent a dull throb through his chest where Potter’s curse had torn him apart, ripped him to shreds and left him bleeding on the bathroom floor. He’d given up at that point, wondering what would happen to his family now he’d failed. Just like his father.

And then Professor Snape had come in and she had trailed behind him, eyes wide before darting away like the sight of him bleeding out on the bathroom floor was nothing more than an everyday occurrence.

She hadn’t even come to the Hospital Wing.

He had lain there for days. And in those days, she hadn't visited him once. No letters, nothing left for him at his bedside like in second year, nothing from Blaise or Pansy about her worrying herself sick. Just silence. After all she’d done to force herself into his life, chasing him down in the hallways, pushing for answers, always in sight.

The familiar blank expanse of stone came into sight and Draco paused, leaning against the cool wall, fingers flexing around nothing but air. She was probably in there, chatting and laughing with Blaise or Daphne as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t witness him nearly dying on the bathroom floor.

He huffed, fist clenching. And then sighed, murmuring softly to the wall, before rolling his shoulders back and raking a hand through his hair.

The door slid open with a low rumble, the passageway alight with the warm amber glow of the fire and the low hum of conversation. Draco took his time descending down the stairs, forcing away the urge to wince, aware of the eyes on him. All eyes but… He immediately sought her out and there she was, leaning against the far wall, talking quietly to Theo. She didn’t even look up.

His stomach twisted.

Draco clenched his jaw, turning his head away and heading over to where his friends were lounging on the sofas by the fire. Blaise lifted his head, a smirk playing at his lips that did nothing to hide the worry in his dark eyes. “Back already, Malfoy? Didn’t think they’d let you out so soon.”

Draco forced a laugh. “Couldn’t stand another minute of Pomfrey’s hovering.”

Pansy laughed like he’d said something momentously witty, and he fought the urge to sneer, instead slipping into an empty armchair and propping his feet up on the table. His eyes flickered involuntarily to her again, not that he was sure why when she still hadn’t even acknowledged his presence, laughing at something Theo said. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh properly at something he’d said.

Blaise was still talking, but Draco’s mind had already checked out of the conversation. His gaze kept drifting across the common room, despite his determination to keep his eyes focused on the fire. She was still with Theo, and now she was smiling, a soft, genuine curve of her lips that sent an uncomfortable jolt through his chest.

The fire crackled beside him, warmth filling the icy common room, but he barely felt it. Barely felt anything at all. It was unreasonable, really, how he kept searching for some sign that she’d noticed his presence. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted?

But now, with her decidedly ignoring him, the silence from the place she used to hold was deafening. It gnawed at him, a splinter lodged beneath his skin.

“Oi, Malfoy,” Blaise said, nudging him with the tip of his boot. “You’re zoning out. You sure Pomfrey didn’t knock you around a bit before letting you loose?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Draco muttered, tearing his eyes away from her and forcing a smirk to his lips. “Just wondering if I missed anything interesting while I was gone. Or was it just business as usual? Pansy prattling on about the latest Witch Weekly, and Theo trying to flirt with anyone who breathes?”

“Oi, I don’t flirt,” Theo shot back, but there was a teasing grin in his eyes. “I simply… converse charmingly.”

This time, the laugh that bubbled up from her was louder, her head tilting back just slightly, and Draco’s jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. He tried to drown out the sound by focusing on Blaise, who was already launching into some story about the latest idiocy Crabbe and Goyle had gotten up to, but the words blurred together into meaningless noise.

It was infuriating. She was right there, close enough to touch if he simply got up and crossed the room, but she might as well have been miles away. Was she purposefully keeping her back to him? How childish.

But she’d always come back. Always forgiven everything.

Without thinking, he pushed himself up from the chair, ignoring Blaise’s raised eyebrow and Pansy’s questioning look. “I’m getting something from my dorm,” he muttered, not waiting for a response before turning on his heel and stalking towards the corridor that led to the boys' quarters.

The moment he was out of sight, he slumped against the cold stone wall, head tilted back as he stared into nothing. His hands trembled slightly, fingers twitching with the urge to slam them into the wall, to release the seething frustration boiling under his skin. But all he could do was clench them into fists at his sides, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

What was he expecting?

Taking a steadying breath, Draco rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shove down the swell of emotions that threatened to choke him. He needed to get a grip. Malfoys didn’t wallow; it was beneath them to even deign to interact with those who didn’t strive for their companionship.

He pushed himself off the wall with a bitter shake of his head. If she wanted to pretend he didn’t exist, he could do the same.

-

Draco was slouched in an armchair by the dying fire, swirling the last remnants of firewhisky in his glass. The amber liquid glimmered faintly in the firelight as he brought it to his lips, relishing the burn that chased away the chill creeping through his bones. He hadn’t meant to linger here, but the solitude had been a welcome relief from the ever-watchful eyes of his housemates, who couldn’t stop asking if he was truly alright.

The sound of the common room door creaking open made him tense. He stayed perfectly still, hoping whoever it was would leave him alone. Footsteps padded softly across the stone floor. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was; he recognized that light tread anywhere. And when he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure moving across the room, her silhouette lit by the dim glow, his heart gave an involuntary jolt.

She didn’t see him at first, her focus entirely on the tables along the far wall. She was searching for something, her movements hurried and distracted. Her hair was tied back messily, a few loose strands falling into her face, and she wore a tired, almost haunted look that only deepened the lines under her eyes.

Draco stayed silent, watching her through hooded eyes. He could see the way her shoulders tensed when she realized they were alone. It was almost pathetic how she tried to act like she hadn’t noticed him, pretending to be engrossed in the titles lining the bookshelf.

Draco’s grip tightened on his glass. He should just let her be.

The silence stretched, taut and uncomfortable, until Draco’s patience snapped. “Looking for something?” he drawled, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife.

She froze, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. “I didn’t realize you were here,” she said, her voice measured, careful. She didn’t look at him as she moved to retrieve her forgotten book from a nearby table.

“Right. You’ve been so good at ignoring me, I almost forgot you existed,” Draco sneered, his words sharper than he intended.

Her eyes finally met his, dark and guarded. “What do you want, Draco?” She sounded exhausted, tired of the fight before it had even begun. Before he’d even got a real reaction out of her.

“Why did you stop?” His voice came out quieter, almost strangled, as he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. “You were everywhere. Incessant, following me around-” He stopped, the words tangling in his throat.

Her jaw clenched, eyes darkening. And he drank it all in, something leaping in his throat at the sight. “You pushed me away, you shut me out every single time I tried to help. What was I supposed to do, keep throwing myself at a brick wall?”

Draco’s hand clenched around the glass, knuckles turning white. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No, you didn’t,” she shot back, before her voice faded off, gaze drifting away from him. “But you didn’t have to treat me like I was worthless for offering it.”

He didn’t know what to say, oddly mesmerised by the shimmering in her eyes, the telltale sign of traitorous tears ready to fall. He had seen her cry before, many a time, over bad grades, over a fight with Pansy, but never because of him.

A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he kept his expression impassive. “I didn’t ask for your pity.”

“Pity?” she repeated, her voice still quiet, barely reaching his ears even in the dead stillness of the common room. She shook her head slowly, a small, bitter smile tugging at her lips. “You really think that’s what it was?”

He turned away. “What else could it have been? You’ve made it clear I’m nothing more than a waste of time to you.”

For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire. Her gaze softened, but only slightly. “You were never a waste of time,” she said, her voice softer now, but still edged with steel. “But I won’t keep throwing myself at someone who’s determined to push everyone away.”

Draco’s fingers clenched into fists at his sides, but he stayed silent, staring into the fire. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, couldn’t stand the way her eyes seemed to strip him bare, exposing all the things he’d tried so hard to hide.

She sighed, a sound that was more resigned than angry. “Maybe you don’t know what you want, Draco,” she said, her voice a low murmur. “But I do. I can’t... I won’t keep trying to save you when you’re so determined to drown.”

She turned on her heel, her footsteps soft against the stone floor. As she reached the door, Draco finally spoke, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “Y/N.”

She paused, her hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn around. “Goodnight, Draco,” she said, her tone distant, polite. And then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.

Draco stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where she had been. The fire crackled weakly behind him, the embers slowly dying out, and the silence that filled the room was heavier than ever.

For a moment, he considered going after her. But instead, he turned back to the fire, letting the flickering glow cast shadows over his face.

[xtreme-shipper]

Just Don't Give Up

Azriel (ACOTAR) x FReader (Human)

WC: 1.5K (Oneshot)

Summary: When it all becomes too much to keep going, our favorite Shadowsinger shows up just in time.

Warnings: Mentions of (and attempt at) suicide, angsty, I think, canon divergent, not proofread, lol, hurt/comfort, English is not my first language. Let me know if I should add anything <3

N/A: Hi! This is my first ACOTAR fanfic, so constructive criticism is really appreciated :) It's been a while since I've written fanfiction, but recently, I've been obsessed with Az, so here we are.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The night sky was blinding in the best way possible. Another year had passed, and you could see from the distance how your friends were celebrating another Starfall, a drunken joy filling the air, their voices full of excitement. The preparations started early this year, and the night court went all the way in, with concerts throughout the city and free drinks for all its citizens. You could tell the party would go on until sunrise and wondered, not for the first time tonight, why weren’t you down there with them?

“Is everything alright?” Az had asked you earlier that day. You nodded, smiling brightly at him.

“Just had a long night.” He nodded, not fully convinced, but he didn’t push the subject, which you were grateful for. You didn’t need to ruin the mood because of your problems.

 Nightmares from under the mountain still plagued your sleep, making it almost impossible to get any rest, and it was starting to show. The things that you had to see while not being able to do anything haunted your every second.

You didn't expect to survive when you escaped from the human lands, but Rhys found you not long after you crossed the border. He wanted you to turn around, warning you that Prythian wasn’t safe, but the alternative—going back to town—was not an option; anything would be better than that, even certain death. So you stubbornly refused to, claiming you knew how to take care of yourself. The problem was that one of Amarantha’s minions watched the interaction and wanted you for its own entertainment, so Rhys had to pretend that he had taken a liking to you and wanted you as his pet.

Word got to Amarantha, and she wasn’t particularly happy with her plaything taking a liking to someone else, so she punished him while you watched, unable to do anything. Useless.

After that first time, Amarantha decided it was a fun idea to have his “beloved” pet watch the suffering she had caused. So, every time you did anything she deemed disrespectful (which was basically everything), a torture session would take place. You couldn’t help but think that if you had just stayed where you belonged, Rhys wouldn’t have suffered as much as he did. It was your fault, even when he insisted that it wasn’t.

Shaking your head, you try to get rid of the memories.

You turn your eyes to the stars, the same ones you prayed to every night. Always the same wish without any answer from them and wonder, like you so often do, whether you should still be here.

The inner circle had never treated you as less or excluded you from anything. They were your support when no one else would lend a helping hand, and with the years, they became your family, yet even now, you still feel like an outsider. You weren’t Illyrian like Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. Heck, you weren’t even Fae to begin with. You ended up being in the way most of the time.

You took your jacket off, letting the cold breeze hug your bare arms, where scars of silent battles painted them. A shiver ran down your spine as you stepped closer to the edge of the building.

In the human lands, your family never cared for you, and even when you left, no one mourned your “death”. Here in Velaris, you had people looking out for you, yet you felt like you didn’t quite fit in.

Would they notice? Would they care if you just… disappeared? Fae's lives were so endless that compared to them, humans’ existence must seem… insignificant.

Another step. You had slipped from the party when it all became too much. Your feet were moving on their own accord. Another shiver, another step. They would probably mourn for a while but then move on. You could stop the nightmares and the pain, and they could move on; Rhys wouldn’t have a living reminder of every time he was abused and had to endure the shame. Or when he was beaten, and you had to patch him up with your scarce medical knowledge.

Az and Cass could stop pretending that you didn’t cause their brother more suffering. That your recklessness didn’t make things worse. That they didn’t believe you weren’t brave enough to help him.

You are standing on the border of the building now, eyes fixed on the stars above, “Please,” you whispered. “Please.” You weren’t sure what you were asking for any more. Relieve from the pain, the guilt? Maybe you didn’t need an answer from the stars to fulfill that. You could hear the music all the way up here, a serene tune drowning the rest of the noise. You start walking on the edge, arms stretched wide to give yourself a bit more balance. One step, then another.

Letting go… should you… just one step…

A cold grip settles on your ankle and another on your wrist, pulling you carefully away from the border while a sad smile paints your lips.

You were used to Az’s shadows clinging to you from time to time, so you welcomed the touch but didn’t budge. You knew their master was standing a couple of steps behind you. “You know, you aren’t very sneaky for a spymaster.”

“I was looking for you.” His voice wasn’t more than a whisper. “I was worried since you left so early.”

“I’m fine” was all you said. A lie you had perfected over time.

He led out a humorless laugh. “You don’t seem fine.” You hear his steps, careful but loud, so you know he is getting closer. “Can you please step away, Sunshine?” You tense at the use of your nickname. So familiar by now, yet so unfitting.

“It’s fine, Az. I’m just admiring the night sky.” You can feel him right behind, you know. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

“Y/N… why are you here?” You knew he meant at the rooftop, but your mind couldn’t help going to a darker place.

You take a moment to answer, weighing your options. After a couple of silent minutes, you decide to be honest. “Did you know…” You pause for a second to try to stabilize your breathing. “That I was not only responsible for treating the High Lord's wounds? I was also tasked to inflict them.” You choke at your words, your throat feeling like it's closing, and it’s getting hard to breathe, but you push the words out anyway. “I am responsible for every scar that never fully healed, for every messed-up nightmare he has at night. I can still feel the way his muscles tensed every time I inflicted pain.” The world was spinning before your eyes, and the words were coming out in short breaths. You were gasping for air, struggling to get any inside your lungs, but still, the words wouldn’t stop coming out of your mouth.

“I’m the reason he suffered. If I hadn’t been there that day, or maybe if I had put up with my life at the… maybe he wouldn’t… he saw his… and I couldn’t… anything…” you close your eyes again. “How am I supposed to live here and accept all his help and love whe—”

A strong hand grabs you by your waist, interrupting your words and yanking you away from your doom. “It wasn’t your fault.” Az’s whisper came breathless, and his arms, though firmly hugging you, were shaking.

Tears were running down your face, staining his shirt. A protective wing wrapped around you, offering shelter. Giving you a protection you didn’t deserve. “I need the guilt to stop, Az. I’m a broken reminder of his pain, and selfishly, I can’t take it anymore.” You felt so tiny, so… shattered, fragments of yourself falling to the floor with every tear shed. He was silent for a moment, trying to hold you together while you crumbled.

Then his words reach your ears. “He once told me you remind him of his sister, you know?” One of his hands starts caressing your hair while the other firmly supports you against his body. “That your bad jokes to lighten the dreary mood and your constant presence were some of the things that kept him from giving up. That thanks to you, he was able to survive long enough to find his mate.” A loud sob shakes your entire body, hands fisting his shirt as you grab onto him for dear life. “Do you know why I call you ‘Sunshine’?” Az pauses, so you shake your head in response. “Rhys had been suffering long before you got there, and when he told us how you gave him hope, even when you yourself were silently breaking apart, how you would sing to him and brighten the mood with your warm voice, I knew. I knew you were like the sun he had been deprived of for so long. You saved my brother in the way that mattered the most. You were his light, and ever since you started living with us, you became my light, too.”

You were speechless at his words; raising your head from his chest, you looked into those beautiful hazel eyes and found nothing but tenderness. “You are my light, and I’m sorry it took so long for me to say it, Sunshine.” He places a kiss on your forehead. “I won’t say it will be easy, but I promise to be here with you. We will get through this. I promise, ok?” You nod as his grip tightens. “Just don’t give up, Sunshine.”

[cressidagrey]

Unafraid - The Unexpected Series

Summary:

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

What if… Azriel actually takes Rhys at his word? And does exactly what his High Lord ordered? With unexpected consequences.

This is Azriel following his High Lord's order to the fucking letter (well, kinda.)

Warnings:

Mention of Sex Work, Mention of Faerie Genocide, Sex Work, Bathing

Note:

This was a thought experiment that kinda started to grow a life on its own.

(super pretty divider by @saradika-graphics)

Azriel was having a bad day. 

In a string of bad days. A string of horrible days. 

He knew that he wasn’t in the right headspace for this. He knew that he had no business to be here. 

And still, he was. 

It was the only place where even a monster like him could get something that resembled love, after all. 

It wasn’t like anybody else wanted him. Wasn’t like anybody else was interested in him in any other way than…It wasn’t like he deserved better than this. 

This was all he deserved and he should just accept it. Accept it and move on and figure out that whenever he had any sort of physical wants…this was where he should go. 

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

So there he was. Walking down the street to this pleasure hall and…every step was trudging. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. Why… Why he didn’t just go home…go to the House of Wind and try to sleep once more…why he didn’t just…

Because he didn’t want to lay down in his empty bed, alone, and close his eyes, and be alone and…

He wished for somebody to touch him like…like he mattered. Like his feelings mattered. Like his feelings were something other than simply an inconvenience for the Court. 

He was just supposed to flip the switch and turn them off, right? Elain had chosen Lucien so Azriel should just get over her. He should just move on. And be done. 

And he couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

He wished he could, but he couldn’t. 

And so there he was. 

He poured a handful of gold coins on the desk in the front…enough for a whole night. Even if he just stayed an hour, he thought that one of the long-suffering females deserved it for putting up with him. 

For letting him put his ruined hands anywhere near her and pretend that she wanted this. 

Why was he even doing this again? 

Azriel didn’t even know himself anymore. 

Still, he followed behind the voluptuous proprietress, a red-headed High Fae named Marge, into the courtyard, filled with all the females that worked there. “Are you searching for anything in particular or…?” she trailed off, asking Azriel as she mustered him. 

Searching for his will to live. Though that was probably not the answer she was looking for. 

And no, there was no particular sexual act that he wanted, that he was in the mood for. Absolutely nothing that…immediately struck his fancy. 

Nothing that…He didn’t even really want sex. 

He wanted…

“Any female that’s not afraid of me,” he forced out, his voice like gravel. Companionship. Understanding. Something as close to willing as he could get. 

Marge’s dark eyes widened as she took in that particular request. He half expected her to laugh him out of her establishment. If she did, he couldn’t even fault her for that. The coin was worth a try. 

And then, to the wordless shock of him…“I’ll take him,” came a quiet voice. His head swivelled around, just as a soft, small hand claimed his. 

Blonde, blue-eyed. Beautiful. Gorgeous in fact. Full lips pulled into a bright smile. 

“Would you like to come with me, Sweetheart?” she cooed and he managed a shaky nod. 

She didn’t even seem to notice the scars that covered his hands. She didn’t seem to care. Everybody noticed. Everybody cared. 

But she just…didn’t. 

And her smell…it was clear of fear. Utterly unafraid. 

Roses. Nothing else. 

“You aren’t afraid,” he choked out as he followed behind her, up the stairs, to a room, that was clearly hers. Soft and cream coloured with heavy drapes and she closed the door behind them with a soft snick. 

“Should I be?” she asked him lightly. “You have given me no reason to be afraid of you.”

No. He just existed. Existed with scarred hands and ferocious wings and the shadows that he had sent away for the night and still lurked around…he scared everybody.

“You have done nothing to me that would make me fear you,” she told him calmly, walking over to a commode, filling a glass with the amber liquid from a bottle on top of it and then bringing it to him. 

“You may call me Blossom,” she told him. Smart. Not that it was her name…but that he may call her that. “What is your name?”

“Azriel,” he answered. For some cauldron-forsaken reason, he gave her his real name, just as she pushed the glass in his hand and him down onto the edge of her bed so that she could straddle him. 

He let her do with him as she wished. 

Something about Blossom…something about her made her putty in her hands. Whatever she wanted from him he would probably do it…let himself sink into the pleasure of just this…just the smell of roses and her eyes gently watching him…just this. 

“Now, there is a secret you should know about me,” Blossom told him, her voice sweet and soft. He just stared at her, as she shrugged out of the silky dressing gown she wore, leaving her utterly bare to his gaze. 

There was no piece of her that wasn’t beautiful. From the upturned tip of her nose to the full swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the lush fullness of her hips…

And then suddenly between one blink and the next…she changed.

Not her body. That stayed the same. 

An iridescent pair of pink wings sprouted from her back and stretched wide…her hair stopped being ordinarily blonde and turned blush pink…and her ocean blue eyes turned into a colour that he could spend hours describing and still fail horribly. 

She had been beautiful before. With that glamour. 

But without it…without it…she was breathtaking. So beautiful that she put him on his knees. He could just stare at her, drink her in, his mouth slightly open. 

“I have wings just like you,” she told him, a smile on her face and he swallowed. 

There was only one type of faerie that had wings like that…A very rare type. 

“You’re…a Floresco Faerie?” he asked her, his voice hoarse. 

Hunted to near extinction by the Spring Court centuries ago. 

And one had seemingly escaped to Velaris. 

Her full lips pulled into a smile. 

“Guilty as charged,” Blossom answered, lifting his hand that still kept a loose hold of that amber liquid to her lips and took a drink before she lifted it to his own lips. 

He took a sip, his eyes still fixed on these beautiful, fluttering wings. So rare. So beautiful. 

“Now, Azriel. Why don’t you tell me what you would like tonight and I’ll…” she trailed off as she saw his expression, mustering him for a moment. He would spend the rest of his life wondering what exactly she saw in his eyes that made her take the glass from him, put it on her bedside table and then suggest: “How about a bath?”

Somehow that was the best suggestion he had heard in decades. 

Her bathtub was right there, connected to her bedroom, a massive thing that was pure indulgence. Of course, it was. They were in a pleasure hall after all…

She stripped him out of his clothing slowly and then led him into that massive bathtub…the water blood hot and smelled like roses, with plenty of bubbles to go around.

He had never bothered with bubble baths before.

Clearly an oversight. 

Just as it was an oversight to have her small, soft hands all over him as she spread soap over his skin. 

She didn’t ask, didn’t give him an opportunity to turn her down. Blossom touched him gently with no hesitation. Not even thinking twice about it.

He could have wept with gratitude. Her scent never turned into fear. It stayed the soft scent of roses clinging to every inch of her. Not once did she hesitate to touch his skin, or his scars, or the dark illyrian markings over his arms and chest. 

Every muscle of his body grew lax in response, until he was a puddle underneath her touch, just watching her. 

Watching this beautiful female and her soft smile. 

Blossom washed his hair, fingernails gently scrubbing her scalp and he could have started purring.

Something inside him relaxed. He wasn’t even sure what. But just the feeling of another warm body next to him…of her touch to his body, without hesitation, without fear, without anything…simple touch…

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had that. 

Maybe Azriel should have expected it, but still, the moment her hand snaked down his stomach, lower, it took him by surprise. 

He caught her hand in his, hand shooting out to wrap around one fragile wrist like a snake. 

At least now, her scent should sour into fear. She just held still. 

“You don’t want me to touch you?” she asked him, one eyebrow raised. 

He really didn’t. Not like this. Not…

“Not like this,” he admitted weakly and her eyes widened. 

“Would you like to touch me?” she asked him, cocking her head to the side and he let go of her wrist. When she arched her back just like that, she made the best of every single one of her assets. 

And she was beautiful. But Azriel didn’t want that. Not truly. 

“No,” he said quietly. “Not like this.”  

He just wanted…

Something inside Blossom’s expression seemed to shift to understanding. She didn’t ask, she didn’t push…didn’t try to touch him like that anymore. Instead, her hands shifted to slow languid strokes…gently and…nearly reverently along his chest and arms. 

“Would you like a kiss instead?” She asked him softly, soft lips dusting over the shell of his ear. 

He hesitated. 

That was seemingly all the agreement she needed. Little butterfly kisses were pressed all over his face, against his temple and forehead and the tip of his nose and Azriel trembled underneath her at this. 

Kiss after Kiss, her sweet breath and the plush softness of her lips…they pressed to his skin without hesitation, without fear. Like he wasn’t a monster to fear. Like he was just a male in need of comfort. 

 It was more than he had ever thought he would be able to get that night. Or ever. 

Comfort that he didn’t think he deserved and still clung to like a drowning male, because this was all he could have…This was all he was allowed to have. 

He lost track of how long she did that…until the water turned cold and both their skin had shrivelled up…until she got him out of that water. 

The spell she had seemingly cast over him broke. 

This was all he was willing to take from her. All Azriel deserved. 

So he got redressed and Blossom watched him, infinite softness in her gaze. 

“You know…not a lot of males would pay the amount you do, just for this,” she told him carefully, as he had the doorknob in his hands. 

“Not a lot of females are willing to take me on,” he countered quietly, before he opened the door and disappeared through it. Forever. It would be nothing but a stolen interlude. 

Or would it? 

[flowery-mess]

somebody else

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI / short smut, like a paragraph / angst, angst, angst

Words: 3k

Author's note: seems like the only thing that the writer's block will let me write is sad shit. It's inspired by the songs mentioned bellow and one of my older ideas that finally came to life

‼️ Please remember that this is a work of fiction featuring a real person and does not reflect Noah's actual feelings.

Noah Sebastian masterlist

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songs to listen:

Astrid S - It's ok if you forget me

Walking on cars - Somebody else

cursive paragraphs are flashbacks

bold cursive is reader's letter

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You and Noah, a couple that everyone adored in the beginning. It was almost like love at the first sight. You two hit it off shortly after you met, feeling the kind of connection that tells you there’s nothing to wait fot, that you’re meant to be. But were you really?

“Noah we should talk.” you sighed and ran your hand through your hair.

Noah stood by the big window in his apartment where you moved just a few weeks ago. It was nice for the first week or two, but then things took a turn and everything seemed to fall apart.

He knew it was coming, the talk and addressing the elephant in the room. You thought that maybe he just wasn’t used to living with a partner, that he needed time to adjust to this new living situation, but only he knew that the problem was elsewhere.

*

“Noah stop!” you laughed when Noah dipped his finger in the chocolate cream and put it on your nose.

“Nah, you look cute and now I can do this.” he leaned down to lick the sweet cream off your nose.

You were both craving something sweet and nothing seemed like a better idea than to make cupcakes when it was almost midnight.

“You’re disgusting.” you scrunched your nose and pretended to be disgusted. 

“You love it.” and he was right, you did. You loved being able to spend all of your free time with him, doing all those domestic things. And you loved him.

*

“I’m tired, can we-” he tried to speak, but you stopped him before he could finish the sentence.

“No. I can’t pretend like nothing is wrong anymore, I’m tired of that.” you stood your place, determined to not go to bed with tears in your eyes again.

“Okay.” he sighed and kept looking out of the window. He knew this was his fault and he didn’t have the courage to turn around and see your face, the hurt in your eyes.

“What happened? What changed? What did I do?” you whispered the last question, scared of what his answer will be.

One day he came home and it wasn’t your Noah anymore. He became distant, almost cold towards you. Your sweet Noah turned to someone who was barely his shadow.

The subtle touches stopped, his thousand kisses in the morning stopped, going to sleep together stopped, the intimacy of your relationship was gone.

“You did nothing wrong. I just, I-” he finally turned around to face you. When he saw you sitting on the couch in the middle of now yours living room he felt sick.

He was the cause of the tears that were threatening to start running down your cheeks, he was the reason why you felt so small in that moment.

“You just what?” you asked, hoping for an answer. You just needed to know, even if it would hurt you, nothing could be more painful than the change in his actions.

“I don’t think I can do this.” he whispered and closed his eyes with a hope that when he opens them again his head will be back where it was when he met you.

He was happy back then, hell he was happy even now, but something in his head kept telling him that he’s not worthy of this. Of your love, your kindness, the warmth you brought to his apartment, how you always welcomed him home with a smile on your face.

He was open with you in the beginning, telling you that he never imagined himself with a girlfriend in a happy relationship. He told you that accepting love is hard for him, but he promised you that he will try. Try for you.

“Can you come here please?” you shifted to the side so he could sit next to you. He did as you asked him, sat down and left enough space between you.

You saw his body was tense, his head was low and his eyes were full of mixed feelings. He wasn’t looking at you, he couldn’t.

“I don’t get it Noah, I need you to talk to me or I’m gonna go crazy.” you let out a nervous laugh and felt the first tears wet your cheek.

He heard the crying in your voice and he couldn’t help himself but to look at you. He used to look at you differently.

*

“So, what do you say?” Noah asked nervously, watching you walk through the rooms of his apartment.

He just asked you if you wanted to move in. He thought your rent was ridiculously high for the box that you called your apartment and he thought it would be a good next step for your relationship.

“Do you sleep with your window open or closed?” you asked with a serious face.

“What?” poor Noah, he was so nervous to ask you this and now you were teasing him.

“Answer, open or closed?” you kept looking at him like that question was so important.

“Open.” he gave you his answer, wondering what the outcome will be.

“Perfect. When can I move in?” you finally broke a smile and a wave of relief rushed through Noah’s body.

“Really?” he closed the space between you and took your face in his big warm hands. They felt like home.

“Really.” you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

He couldn’t stop the smile on his face, the one when your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He grazed your cheeks with his thumbs, his gaze flicking between your eyes and lips. The moment felt perfect.

“I love you.” he said. And then he looked at you like you hang the moon and the stars when you said those three words back.

*

And now he was looking at you with “guilt” written all over his face.

“I-” it was hard for him to tell his thoughts out loud, because he knew he’s going to hurt. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m just gonna hurt you and you don’t deserve that.”

You didn’t understand that, you didn’t get what he meant by that.

“I’m always gonna leave for tour, I’m always at the studio and coming home late. I don’t want you to be here alone, waiting for me.”

You didn’t know what to say. You talked about this, about his lifestyle and you knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Why would you think you’d hurt me? I know what comes with your job Noah and I’m okay with that.”

But you knew he was just making excuses, giving you reasons to leave him.

But your love for him was stronger.

You loved waking up next to him, feeling the warmth from his body and the weight of his arms that were wrapped around you every time you opened your eyes.

You loved weekends when you didn’t have to wake up early for work and you could sleep in, have a morning cuddle before making breakfast together.

You loved his sweet little messages during the day.

You suddenly became a fan of doing the house chores, because you were doing it together.

You loved it even when he came home late from the studio, because that meant it was one of the few times he’d let you hold him. You often took a bath together, him laying on your chest, often falling asleep from your fingers running through his hair.

“I’m gonna hurt you.” he repeated. He knew he would never hurt you intentionally, but he was scared that his lifestyle would hurt you.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t know how to accept happiness. You don’t mean that.”

“I’m not happy like this.” he said quickly and with a firm voice.

You took a few breaths before saying the next sentence. “You’re not happy?”

Silence took over the room as both of you tried to get a hold of your emotions.

You kept looking at him, wanting him to say something. But he stayed silent.

“Listen Noah, if this is a phase that we have to overcome because all of this is new for you, then we’re gonna make it work. We just have to be honest with each other.”

“I am.” short and straight answer. But it felt like a punch to your gut.

Anger took over you and suddenly you had a lot to say.

“I’m not gonna let you do this. I’m not gonna let you ruin our relationship just because you think you don’t deserve it. I don’t know what caused this, why you feel like you need to suffer and you don’t deserve to be happy. But I want to help you through it and realise that you’re a person who’s worthy of love.” your voice broke with the last sentence. The man that you were looking at deserved all of the love in the world and it seemed like he was the only one to think the opposite.

His head was hanging low, his hair long enough to cover his eyes when they fell from behind his ears, making it impossible for you to see the tears on his face.

He didn’t know why he was feeling the way he was, he just felt like he doesn’t deserve someone like you.

“I love you Noah, so much. You make me happy every day.” you continued and slowly moved to kneel in front of him. Seeing his glassy eyes and trembling chin broke your heart even more. “You’re so worthy of all my love. You treat me so well like no one else ever did. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side. I need you to hear me when I say this, look at me.” you lifted his head with your fingers under his chin, gently forcing his eyes to look into yours. “I’m offering you my heart here, all you have to do is accept it. I wanna give you all the love you deserve, make up for everyone who made you feel like you don’t.”

Your hand slowly slid down his clothed chest, taking you back to a moment when everything was still perfect.

*

“So good.” you moaned with your head tilted backwards so you could see Noah’s face. His hips were thrusting into you, his eyes closed from all the pleasure and you used this moment to trace your fingers down his chest. It was covered in sweat and moving up and down from his heavy breathing.

“That’s it, touch yourself.” he encouraged you when your hand slipped between your bodies and started circling around your clit.

You both felt it coming. His head was in the crook of your neck, he was giving you soft irregular kisses as your back arched from the bed when the orgasm took over your body, his own following right behind you.

*

But that was weeks ago. He hasn’t touched you since then. The only physical affection he gave you these days was a quick peck or forehead kiss.

“I’m gonna wait for you when you leave for tour, I already told you that that’s not a problem for me. I’m always gonna be here when you come back.”

You mirrored his movements and let your eyes stare at the floor.

After minutes of silence you understood that his stubborn mind won’t accept anything of what you just said.

“I think that you need time to think about things. I’ll stay in the guest room and give you space. But I love you Noah, and I’m gonna keep repeating that until you’ll accept it.”

You stood up from the floor, ready to jump in a shower and cry, thinking about what you did wrong.

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from walking away, a small spark of hope that he’s going to open up.

“I’ll take the guest room, you stay in the bedroom.”

“Okay.” you whispered and pulled your hand out of his grip, wanting nothing more than to be upstairs alone.

You thought that giving Noah space would help. That he’d think about what you said to him that night. That he’d process that and his own feelings.

But nothing seemed to change.

From a home full of love and laughter, your apartment became cold and silent.

He didn’t kiss you when he came home anymore, he didn’t send you sweet messages throughout the day, he didn’t come back to sleep in your bedroom and he stopped showing you affection at all.

One day you decided that it was enough, enough of torturing yourself, because that’s how it felt. He left that morning, didn’t tell you where, but that became a regular thing. But the fact that he didn’t even say bye and just left like you were not there was the last drop.

You packed yourself a bag, for a week, ten days maximum. You thought that would be enough, that when Noah will read the letter you left him on the kitchen counter he will realise that you two have shit to solve out.

He came home later that day, the sun was almost set and he wanted nothing more than to disappear behind the door of the guest room just so he could avoid seeing you.

Seeing you hurt and sad, knowing that it was because of him, made him hate himself even more. You didn’t deserve any of that and he was sure he didn’t deserve your love you were willing to give him.

When he noticed your favorite shoes were missing he didn’t think too much of it, maybe you went out with a friend or for groceries. He stopped telling you where he was going a while ago, he didn’t blame you for doing the same.

But then he found the white folded paper on the kitchen counter and something immediately felt wrong. Like if he suddenly realised that you won’t be coming back from a store later.

He took the white paper in his inked hands and noticed the dots where the paper was more crinkled, knowing it was from your tears that he tried to ignore every day, every night when he tried to fall asleep, but heard your cries from down the hall.

My dear Noah,

I can’t live like this anymore.

As much as I want you to know that you’re loved and deserve to be loved, I need to feel loved too to make this work.

I tried to tell you and show you the best I could, but I guess I failed. I guess it wasn’t enough.

Living together like two strangers won’t help us, so I decided to leave for some time, to give you time alone to think about us.

I want you to know that I’m still in this and I want to give you 100% of me, but I need you to do the same.

I just wish I could have the happy version of you back, and I’m sorry if it’s my fault that you turned into this version of yourself. I’m sorry if I ever said or did something to make you feel like you’re not worthy.

Reach out when you feel ready to talk.

I love you, even if you don’t love me back.

He didn’t realise he was crying until some of the words you wrote started to blur.

He never wanted this. He never wanted to make you feel unloved, because he loved you with everything he had. He just couldn’t help it, the voices in his head that kept reminding him that you deserve so much more than he can give you.

You didn’t fail at loving him, deeply inside of him he never doubted your love for him. But the voices were stronger.

This wasn’t your fault, it was all on him.

I love you, even if you don’t love me back.

And he wanted to run after you to tell you he loves you. He wanted you to know, wanted you to stay, to tell him everything is going to be fine.

But he couldn’t.

You came back to his apartment after two weeks when you knew from Nick that he was at the studio. You packed more of your belongings. Walking through the apartment you felt sick. You kept seeing flashbacks of you two, happy in the beginning.

Then you left again.

Two weeks turned into four, then weeks turned to two months and you knew that he won’t reach out.

You went to pack all of your things from his apartment when they were gone for the weekend.

You cried the whole time, feeling humiliated that you were not worthy of a stupid text or a phone call.

When you were packed, you made your way out of there as quickly as you could.

You didn’t turn back, because despite everything, all you could see there were the happy memories with a man you thought was yours forever.

Noah tried to bullshit everyone with lies, that he moved on and that he was okay. He was far from being okay, but the thought of you being happy kept him from trying to make up the mess he made. He wanted you to be happy and was convinced that he could never do that.

And eventually you moved on. It was hard, but you did. You met someone who made you laugh. A genuine laugh that you experienced with Noah at the start of your relationship.

He was nice, attentive and made you feel loved.

But he will never know that you gave your heart to another man, to someone who you were sure you’ll love forever.

Noah found out after Matt ran into you and your new guy at a bar. He told him, because he felt it wasn’t fair to keep something like that from his best friend.

Matt told him that you looked happy, that you looked genuinely happy with that man on the small dancefloor, where he spun you around and danced with you until you ran out of breath.

Just like you and Noah used to, in your apartment almost every night before he ruined it. And now you were dancing with somebody else.

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This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

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[nathaslosthershit]

Stupidly Charming (CL16) [AoM Part 2]

Part 1: Audacity of Man Summary: Charles was never anything but a compassionate and wonderfully loving boyfriend. You always used to brag about how attentive he was... I guess this is karma?

You had tried to distract yourself, not get angry or upset over the fact that Charles had most likely forgotten your anniversary.

It was still early in the day, he could surprise you, or make up for the fact he forgot.

But hours went by of radio silence from the Ferrari driver. You couldn’t really blame him, even if he remembered your anniversary, you knew he wouldn’t be able to drop everything at work to text or call you.

Still you had hoped for something. 

“Fuck him! What an idiotic asshole, especially after you made him breakfast.” Your friend said as you caught her up on the situation. “Get upset! Get angry! If the second he gets home he isn’t on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, be the biggest bitch to him you have ever been.”

“That seems extreme…”

“Fuck extreme, fuck him! Get angry, fight, and then have the best makeup sex of your life.”

That you could do.

“Honey! Oh how I missed you” Charles said as he opened the door and saw you on the couch, pretending to read a book you had given up on actually paying attention to a while ago. You were still too upset.

You didn’t answer him. You even scoffed as he didn’t seem to recognize your silent treatment, just planting a kiss on your cheek and going to change.

What an asshole.

“Did you think about what you wanted for dinner?” He asked as he returned.

Again, silence.

“I was hoping to try out that new place that opened up down the street, heard it has amazing desserts.” 

Still nothing. 

“Baby? Did you hear me?”

…

“Are you okay?” He sat down next to you. A look of realization appeared on his face as he saw your frown. Finally, he was remembering. 

“Oh honey, I am sorry I had to leave today when I knew you wanted to hang out. I wanted to as well, you know I did. Hours in the simulator and all I could think about was coming home to my beautiful girlfriend, the person I am most excited to spend the rest of my life with.” Nevermind, he still didn't remember. But dammit as he hugged your waist and pulled your face towards him to plant kisses everywhere, you couldn’t fight off the laugh that left your mouth. He was stupid but he was charming. Stupidly charming. 

“There she is,” he said looking at the smile now on your face, much to your dismay. “How about I order from that new place, I’ll get all the things on the menu I know we’ll like so we can try them all.”

“Charles, that's an expensive amount of food for no reason.”

“No it isn’t, not when it is for you. You better get used to it, you are being spoiled for the rest of your life.” he walked away to order and you tried hard to remember why you were mad in the first place.

Right, your anniversary. But was it even fair to blame him? He was busy with work and while you wished he would prioritize you a little more, he always made sure to make up for it, to make you feel as loved as possible. 

You were halfway to forgiving him when he came back into the living room, an apologetic look across his face. “I have to jump on a call, could you go pick up the food, my love?” Nevermind, even when making up for being busy because of work, he was too busy because of work to make up for it. 

“Fine.” Was all you said as you got up, the frown back on your face as you grabbed your stuff and left, ignoring his calls and apologies behind you. 

If that hadn’t put you in a bad mood, then the whole ordeal around picking up the food did.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. It will only be a little longer, we weren’t expecting this much business so fast!” The lady behind the hostess stand said.

It wasn’t her fault of course, but it didn’t help your mood. Still you tried to keep it together as you waited 45 minutes to pick up food that should have been ready the moment you got there.

You even kept it together as you realized you had forgotten your keys to the apartment inside, so you had to call Charles to let you in. But after a few insistent knocks on the door, and a few missed calls, you finally broke down. Maybe it was dramatic, leaning on the door as you sat on the ground, crying, but fuck that. You were upset, and upset you were going to remain. Still, it took a few minutes for Charles to come to the door.

“Ah, I am so sorry love I was on the phone and didn't see your-” He was rambling excuses the second he opened the door but stopped when he saw you on the ground, a mess of tears and snot. “Honey, what is wrong? Oh my love I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you out here so long, and I didn’t know that the restaurant would be such a mess.” He kneeled in front of you as he wiped away your tears.

“It's not that-or not just that. It's everything Charles, this wasn’t how today was supposed to go-”

“I know, my love, I’m sorry I was-”

“No, you don’t understand. Charles, it's our anniversary, and I spent so long thinking of things we could do today to make it special, but nothing happened and it just got worse and worse till I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just- you didn’t even remember and everytime I tried to tell myself it was okay to be upset or angry, you would be so sweet that I couldn’t justify it-” You couldn’t even finish as sobs racked your body. 

Though, you paused when you heard Charles let out a low laugh. You looked up at him, but he wasn’t smiling or laughing at you, tears streaming down his face confirming as much. It was more of a pitiful laugh. 

“I knew this was a stupid plan. There were too many ways it could backfire.”

Before you could question what he meant, he picked up the food in one hand and reached for you with the other. You hesitated.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. Even though you were upset, you took his hand and stood up. Of course you trusted him. 

Your eyes widened as you saw the state of your apartment. Candles lit and spread around, balloons and streamers nicely framing your table that had been set up with a white table cloth, your nicest plates and glasses atop it, and a beautiful, large bouquet of flowers.

“I wanted to make tonight special. I had planned on making the entire day special, but when I had to leave I came up with a plan to make up for me being gone.” He looked at you, waiting for your reaction, he looked… embarrassed? “It was stupid, to pretend I forgot about our anniversary, I wasn’t going to but when I realized I hadn’t said anything, too caught up in the fact I was being taken away from you, I thought I would pretend so I could surprise you. I didn’t have a call, I just needed time to get this ready but after you left upset and then had to deal with all the problems at the restaurant, I began to panic, so much so that I didn’t hear your knocks and didn’t see you had called.” 

You started crying again, alarming Charles. “I know it was stupid, I shouldn’t have done it, I didn’t think it through I’m-” you kissed him, hard.

He was an idiot, such a fucking idiot, but he was yours, and for all of his bad moments, you knew he loved you so much. 

You two finally pulled away, that's when you realized he was shaking, a lot. 

“Charlie?”

“I- I had a whole speech. I worked on it for months. In the shower, in the car, during free practice last weekend it's all I could think of actually, that's why I got yelled at by my engineer.” he laughed, turning red at the memory. “I wanted to talk about how much I love you, how much I don’t deserve you, that I know it's so hard to have my job continually come in the way, but you will always be first, my love, even if it doesn’t feel like it. And I want to spend the rest of my life working to deserve you and your love. I want to spend forever making you feel just as happy as you make me.” Had tears not been blocking your vision, you'd have seen him reach for the box in his pocket.

But it wasn’t until he got down on one knee that you realized what he was doing. And before he could ask the question, you tackled him to the ground. 

The soft carpet luckily kept Charles’ head from hitting the ground hard. You didn’t care, he didn’t care, too busy giggling in between kisses as you both rolled on the ground. Once you two had calmed down and sat up, he slipped the ring onto your finger. “The ring is beautiful, Charlie, but this isn’t how I expected getting proposed to.” you teased as the two of you wiped tears away and tried to fix your messy hair from rolling around.

“It wasn’t how I thought I would propose, but if it ends in getting to spend the rest of my life with you, then I don’t care too much.”

So stupidly charming.

[xoxochb]

hello!! can I request percy x fem!reader with the song dress by Taylor? the Great War is also great if you’d prefer that!! Thanks, and congrats 💙💙 (daughter of hades reader)

— dress

warnings: heavy make out, pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hades a/n: yeah smutty fics are growing on me

there was one day at camp where campers were allowed to wear whatever they wanted. some campers chose to wear their usual camp attire, some chose pajamas, and some chose casual clothes. you however— chose a little black dress. stuffed away in the bottom of your dresser you pull it out. it had a low neckline and ruffles at the bottom. it went down to a little above your mid thighs so yes, it was a bit revealing but it was black and it was comfortable so you wore it anyways. you exited cabin thirteen after changing and made your way to the dining pavilion for breakfast. you pretend to miss the way you watch percy’s eyes scanning your frame from his lonely seat at the poseidon table. mostly because he was your best friend and nothing more. but seemingly his gaze wasn’t screaming ‘best friends’

you sit down at your table with nico who brought will to sit with him this morning. the boys exchange a look, your brows furrow in response

“what?” you ask, confused

“Is there something you’re not telling us?” asks nico

“I’m sorry?”

“did you see the way percy was eyeing you?” will adds

“I’m not a fucking mind reader. I want words”

“are you and him a thing?”

you groan. “me and percy are best friends. that’s it”

“then tell me why he’s eye-fucking you right now” nico points behind you to what you assume is the poseidon table

“he’s not. like I said— we’re only best friends”

the boys both return to their breakfast. “suit yourself”

you huff and leave the dining pavilion. you don’t know exactly where to but you just know you can’t sit at your table anymore. with your brother and his boyfriend accusing you of sleeping with percy and the son of poseidon himself allegedly ‘eye-fucking’ you there was no way you could sit there and eat regularly. at this point you regret choosing such an immodest dress

the rest of the day you avoided percy. It was better this way, he wouldn’t give you looks and you wouldn’t feel weird about your friendship. It’s a win-win. first you took a break by the lake and read your book for a bit, uninterrupted you were fine. then came lunch when you had to sit in the pavilion again. to your percy didn’t show. you tried not to let it get to you but you couldn’t help feeling like it was your fault. after lunch you went back to your cabin for a nap. when you woke the pit in your stomach hadn’t been closed yet. whatever was bothering you needed to leave, dinner was in minutes and if you didn’t show up this time, while percy isn’t there your brother— without a doubt would think something suspicious of it

you ignored your feelings and went anyways. again, percy wasn’t there

“nico do you know if percy ate lunch earlier?”

he shakes his head. “no. maybe you should bring him something to eat”

“I don’t know…”

“he likes you y’know? you might be in denial but I don’t miss the way he looks at you. especially this morning”

your cheeks flush red. “no. I’m just going to talk to him, sort things out. we’re only friends, I swear”

“(name), I love you, but you’re an idiot”

you roll your eyes. “thanks, neeks, you’re so kind”

“I try my best”

“I’m going to bring percy a plate. we’ll talk to tomorrow”

“don’t have too much fun over there”

“goodbye”

you hurriedly stand up and leave. firstly grabbing a plate from the kitchen, then heading to cabin three. your beating heart stops you from knocking, the gods only know what’s going to happen once you enter. your hand moves faster than your brain you suppose because by the time you know what’s happening the doors opening, revealing the son of poseidon on the opposite side

“percy, hey”

not awkward. you cannot make this awkward

“what’s up?”

“I- uhm, brought you a plate. you weren’t at dinner”

“oh!” he takes the plate from your grasp “thank you. do you want to come in?”

you try to ignore the way your cheeks heat up. nothing is going to happen

“yeah, sure”

you walk in after percy am close the door behind you. he sets the plate down on his bedside table and takes a seat, beckoning you to join him— and reluctantly you do just that. things got awkward. very awkward. especially with the intense eye contact you’re making. is this what all best friends do? sit in a dark cabin making the most sensual eye contact of their lives?

“percy” you whisper

“(name)”

“why do I have the feeling we’re not best friends anymore”

you hear his breath hitch and he inches closer to you. “because I don’t want you like a best friend”

“nico told me you were looking at me this morning. Is it true?”

“you’re wearing a little black dress. did you think I wasn’t?”

“we’re best friends, percy”

the tip of his fingers touch yours, which were settled on your lap. “we don’t have to be”

“we can’t” you shake your head and stand up “we can’t do this. we’re friends. I mean gods— I want you, I really do, but what if things don’t work out? our friendship is ruined?”

“you don’t think we’d work out? we’ve been friends for years, it’s surely worked this long”

you cross your arms over your chest with a sigh. percy stands up from his bed and takes one of your hands into his own, the other pushing a stray hair behind your head before resting on the side of your face

“percy” you whisper “are you sure about this?”

“yes, I am. like you wouldn’t believe”

fuck it. you throw your arms around his neck and crash your lips together. percy’s hands place on your hips and he pulls you closer into him in a needy manner. you pool out your emotions into every kiss. you’ve yearned for this, you really have. stupid percy and his stupid button up shirt— your fingers struggle to get any undone! but percy has it easy, he slides the straps of your dress down your shoulders and the rest lower. you pull back for a second but only so percy can lay back on the bed. you slide the rest of your dress off and then you join him on the bed, straddling his hips

thank the gods you decided to wear this dress today

[s-soup111]

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I would walk in my garden forever.

- Alfred Lord Tennyson

Paring: Jinshi x (f) reader

Genre: angst

Tags: Break ups, death.

A/n: I swear I don’t hate Maomao, she’s just a victim of hate in these ffs 😔

He could spend years waiting for you, he really would, he’s probably still waiting for you now, even if he is delusional enough to think you’d love him back. It’s his fault he knows, “Please, please don’t leave me here alone!” Those were your last words he heard as he left you in his flower garden in the harsh coldness of winter. That was some time ago. You were attached to him; yet, not lovers, something he holds dearly to his heart but not something that is really his.

He knows himself, even in the warm and welcoming sun’s of summer, he still can’t seem to let you go. He’d had countless proposals, however none of them loved him as you did. “I miss you, do you miss me?” He laughs at himself, why would you miss him? After all, he did leave you with nothing but hate in his heart, or that’s what he tells himself. “Everything is temporary, this is merely one of those things.”

He becomes interested in the girl named Maomao, you watch from a distance, he smiles at her as he’s smiles at you once a season ago, perhaps you miss that, perhaps you did. Maybe you did feel jealous when he’d unconsciously touch her back as they’d walked down his flower garden together, the flower garden which you shared your first kisses.

It was indeed quite strange to see him act with her in such a familiar way, as if he’d been with her all his life instead of you. He’d hardly look at you when you walk past, maybe this was fate. You wasn’t sure yourself. “You deserve better than me.” Those were his words on that day. Unfortunately, you didn’t care, you didn’t care that he was only pretending; you didn’t care that you could do was blame yourself. You cared so much that you cried so much until your face dried.

“Did you even love me?”

He saves her, he saves her life instead of yours. Though, he watches you as you fall with no sort of emotion in his eyes, you stare at them back; full of betrayal and hate you saved up just for him. You live, you live knowing that he never did truly love you. He lives, he lives too knowing that you will never love him again as you had once before.

He faults once and once again, no longer can he read your face easily as he used to, he cannot find if you are happy or sad, angry or joyous; you walk normally but with nothing left inside of you, soon you will surpass the marriageable age and will be sold off to a man of high status, he feels uneasy at that thought. But he cannot bring himself to talk to you.

When you see him hold her hand, you break a sob. You cover it with your hand- he looks so happy, how dare he. Remain as composed as a lady should, that’s what you should remember. Never let a mere servant bring you to your knees. He hears you though. He knows it’s you and stiffens, Maomao asks him if he’s alright and offers him her arm but suddenly notices what’s wrong. She sees you from the corner of her vision, and quickly lets go of Jinshi and ushers off without a word.

He remains shaken as you walk up to him silently and with grace. He can feel you behind him. “Oh, my Lord, I didn’t know I would find you here on this fine day, what are you doing with that..girl?” You ask. He prays you don’t see him visibly shaking. “Are you alright, my Lord?”

He doesn’t know what to feel, is he alright? Surely he should be, after praying for your return..but something is stopping him from replying- a stone stuck in his throat, preventing him from speaking. “I love you, I love you so much and I hate it.”

He doesn’t know why he still holds onto you, no longer does he watch you from afar, but he does question himself sometimes, if he should’ve said it. He remembers your astonished expression, but still he couldn’t read what you were saying from your face. He looks at the stars with a pitiful gaze, how pathetic of him to feel this way. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle my heart myself,” he whispers to himself as the clouds form and rain fall, staining his robes.

He notices you some paces away, staring into nothing- towards the heavens. You look breathtaking. You were beautiful, not like those ladies in story books. You were beautiful for the way you thought, you were beautiful for the way your eyes once sparkled when you talked about something you loved. You were beautiful for the way you could make him smile even if you were dying just a little bit each time. No you wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as your looks, you were beautiful for something deep down in your heart.

You stood there in the rain, its coldness piercing your skin through your thin layers of silk. Jinshi runs towards you, you hardly notice him however. He breaks you so well, so easily as your love was and forever will. Easy to love yet just as easy to break. You can’t love him, you don’t know how to. Love is fleeting, just like birds. One second they’re there, another and they’re gone.

He notices the blood that spreads like wildfire from your chest as you pull out the knife.

“Your love was torture, and I loved it all too much.”

[onelittlespiral]

Tf where someone's huge musky cock keeps turning others into massive muscle bros on accident?

FML: Cursed

Up front, I’ll say this one’s a bit different. Let me know if you all like it. -❤️

Everything was too bright. My head was pounding. Memories were fading in and out from last night. Fuck, how much did I have to drink last night? I stumbled out of bed, trying to forced myself towards the bathroom to take a piss. I had made a New Year’s resolution to quit the bottle. Yeah, so much for that. I managed a quick piss and splashed some cold water on my face. That helped a bit. At this point all I wanted to do was bury my head back in my pillow. Slowly, I shuffled back towards my bed:

“Yeah? You coming back for more of this?”

A man. A man was in my bed. A hunk of a man was flexing in my bed. My mouth hung open for a moment as my brain chugged to life. I couldn’t quite believe it.

“…God damn it! Uggh, what did I let happen?”

“What, not in the mood? I can be quite,” he started a little pec dance, “persuasive.”

I was not in a mood to be amused by his flirting. “No, no it’s not you-or at least it is you now but-” I stammered, “Look. It’s complicated. Get up, please, I need you out of here. If you take some time to… cool off… it should pass.” I paused a moment, “I’m sorry.”

Quickly, I started pulling together what clothes I could find that would fit his new stature and tossed them at him. Even facing away from him I could tell he was a little taken aback. I’m sure in his current brain he couldn’t quite believe he was being rejected. But I knew it was better for everyone that he leave now. I scooped up his old clothing and threw it all into a tote. It wasn’t his fault he was here in this situation, getting kicked out of a stranger’s house early in the morning. Maybe that’s why I scribbled down my contact info and slipped it into the bag. He would have questions later, he deserved some answers. By now he had managed to put on the cut off tank and the shorts I had thrown him. The shorts were a size too small and left nothing to the imagination, but it would have to work. I doubted his canvas shoes would fit over those behemoths. He would have to go barefoot. After a few awkward pleasantries where he asked me if we should lift together some time and I politely declined, he finally got the message and slipped out the door. I locked it behind him and slumped to the floor. I still had a headache.

It was going to be a long day. At this point I was awake, so I just decided to hit the shower. The steam helped clear my mind so I could try to piece the night together. It had been two years now and it was still happening. I wish I knew how to stop it. But looking back, I’m not sure what else I could have done. Every time it happened though, every time I saw his face, I just replayed that day again in my mind:

We were sitting at our favorite cafe when I broke the news.

“What do you mean? You’re breaking up with me?” my ex boyfriend was stunned. Truly, I don’t think this had ever happened to him before.

“Please don’t act surprised. We both knew this was coming. We aren’t good for each other.”

“Baby, we aren’t good for each other,” he cooed, leaning over and cupping my jaw, “We’re great together. You can’t pretend to deny it. I can feel that cock twitch, hear every moan when you’re inside me. Come on, let’s go home and I’ll bring you to your knees.”

“No. This isn’t about us in bed. This is everything outside of it. I don’t like how you talk to me, how you treat me, how you touch me,” I said, slapping his hand from my face, “and how you treat everyone in the world as your plaything. I just can’t put up with it anymore.”

That finally set him off, “Oh, you have no idea what I can do.” He snapped his fingers.

I watched as a man in a suit next to us dropped his book. He began to convulse, and I watched in horror. He reverted from his fifties to his late twenties in a moment, smoothing his wrinkles as his hair turned from silver to brown. His skin tightened around his swelling body, as his muscles easily ripped through his shirt and pants. A deep moan escaped his mouth as his clothes reformed themselves into a tank top and gym shorts. As a snap-back hat formed and tightened around his head, I grimaced, knowing that his mind was being assaulted with a new identity. I knew the look on his face well as drool flowed from his open mouth. Then, all at once it stopped. He just picked up his book and kept reading. No one else even seemed to notice what had taken place.

It was a thinly veiled threat and we both knew it. “See? This is the shit I’m talking about. What happens to him now? He had nothing to do with this, you just can’t contain yourself.”

“Oh relax, he’s fine. I didn’t dumb him like I do to you. No one will ever remember anything different. Though I imagine whatever new hires at his firm will be confused why the new boss is a jacked gym bro while everyone else in the office is pushing 40 and wearing suits.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“I can’t! I can’t do this anymore. I don’t ever want to see you again.” I gathered my things to make my exit.

He came round the table, in a far less joking mood, “You’ll regret that,” he grabbed at my groin and cupped my package, “from now on, whenever that gets going, I have a feeling you will be seeing a lot of me” I felt a stirring in my sack. Something had… shifted?

“What did you do?” my shouting had finally drawn the attention of onlookers.

“Good luck, baby. You ever want that resolved, you’ll have to find me.” With that, he turned heel and left.

Now, two years later, he was right. I had seen far too much of him. The water had gone cold. I turned the faucets off and stepped out to dry myself off.

The first time had been a shock. I had given myself time to heal from the relationship, but about two months in I decided to head to a bar. Immediately something was off when I entered. I saw a few old flings, and a friend or two who were surprised to see me there. But it was like when I entered the whole place shifted towards me. Men were buying me drinks and fawning for my attention. The bartender even slipped a few comments in. They all looked smitten with me, trying to get just a little closer. By the end of the night I had some twink sitting in my lap. I decided it was time to blow off some steam. I took him to my place, where he immediately began tearing off my clothes inside the door. I managed to get him back to my bedroom before he had my boxers off. Immediately he buried his nose into my bush. Admittedly I hadn’t been keeping shaved since the breakup, and I guess that was doing it for him. He went to town on my cock. I wasn’t prepared for him to take it in one thrust, but he wasn’t waiting. All I could do was grab his hair and hold on as he worked my cock like a pro. I felt his hair curl beneath my fingers as I held on for the ride, moaning as he pushed all my buttons. He knew just when to pull back to keep me edging, his thick fingers holding on as he devoured my cock. Finally I knew I needed to fuck him. I pulled him off of my cock, but as he stood up and his dazed expression met mine I screamed.

“Fuck baby, where have you been all of my life?” he said.

He was the spitting image of my ex. The hair, the muscle, even that stupid nickname. In shock I pushed him away as he gave me a look of confusion.

“What are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

He looked back at me confused, “What are you talking about? We just met like a few hours ago. You invited me over. Sorry.”

Something about the statement rang true. I only realized later it was because he apologized. My ex would never. “Did he put you up to this? What’s your name?”

“Hey, I’m not sure who you’re talking about, okay? I’m Justin. I was just looking for a good time.”

“Have you seen yourself? You don’t look like the twink I met at the bar.” I retorted

He looked in the mirror, and his face seemed to puzzle for a sec. I knew that look. He was trying to reconcile memories he had. Fake memories. Then he smirked, “Yeah, pretty hot right? I’ve been working out, getting that more twunk look going.”

So he was clueless then. It was weird seeing someone look so much like him, and have a mix of his mannerisms and others. He had certainly made sure his cockiness was implemented. The asshole.

“Look, I’m not sure tonight is going to work out. I need you out of here. Now.” That was a little mean, it wasn’t his fault. But he had to go. I gave him some of my ex’s clothes he had left lying around and pushed him out the door without saying goodnight. It was only next week when I went to the bar that I saw him again. He had seemingly gone back to normal, besides a very distinctive mustache and stubble he was growing now. It didn’t fit his thin, hairless body and it made me chuckle…

*BZZZZZT*

My phone was getting a call from an unknown number. I guess it was time to answer some questions:

-Hey, I found this number in my bag. This the guy from last night?

*Sigh*

-Yeah, it’s me. Are you, uh, feeling better? More… yourself?

-So I’m not crazy! What was that? What happened?

-I am so so so sorry. It’s a long story. Let’s just say my ex is… a looot.

-Well hey, who’s isn’t?

I chuckled

-You’re taking this surprisingly well. Most guys don’t want to look at me after all this.

-So this has happened before?

-Yes. But I promise I didn’t mean to. I must have gotten too drunk last night, and I know that’s not a good excuse. But I’m not sure what to do about it and at this point I’d starting to think I never will

-Woah, woah. Calm down. Would you want someone to come over? To talk to?

I paused.

-No, I think I’ll be fine.

-Please, I want to. I want answers and it seems like you need someone.

-I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Plus, I don’t think I can see you like that.

-I promise. I don’t think I have anything the same.

-Promise?

-Here, look

He did look back to normal. And he was quite cute. I can see why drunk me decided to pick him…

-Still, I’m not sure…

-Nope, it’s decided. I know the address, I’ll be there later tonight around 6. *click*

What had just happened? I think, against all odds, I just got roped into a second date.

God damn it.

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part nine)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: jayce has been gone all week. you finally find out why...but not without him confronting you for your voicemail a few days ago.

notes: mentions of death, mental health references, angst as usual. lots of dialogue but a LOT is happening. jayce and reader being mean to each other, pining finally (if you squint)

sorry for the people i missed from the tag list last time! be sure to double-check that you didn't miss an update or two so you don't get confused!!

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

You didn’t have many friends. It was a fact you accepted after Powder. Starting college didn’t make it easier—everyone seemed to have their set groups and you were never part of them. You’d exchange small talk and social media accounts with people in your classes. You hoped and wished the relationships would blossom but they never did. 

So you watched. 

Social media was admittedly the bane of your existence. The worst part of your day was scrolling to see what everyone was doing—to compare how little you were up to in comparison. It seemed so fucking fake. People would post the same thing, feigning their concern for whatever the new trending social cause for advocacy was. You hated it. Half of these people were horrible; they posted out of obligation and an image they wanted to uphold. 

It’s why you didn’t take the posts seriously. 

During the week you saw the same photo, a man missing in the area. You didn’t know him, not at all, but there was an air of familiarity about his features. Grimacing at each repost, you would scroll out of annoyance, deciding that this was yet another cause that people only half cared about. Inherently you hoped he would be found, of course you did. But it didn’t feel personal in the way that people were pretending it to be. It was all a facade, you thought. You let it pass by with little attention…until he was pronounced dead later in the week. 

Kino Medara

It took you so long to realize it was Mel’s brother, even longer to connect that his disappearance was the reason why she’d been in distress a few days ago. She was worried, and you only cared about Jayce and the stupid kiss the night before. You called him immature, yet you were stuck on something as juvenile as that. An event that happens so young for people that they often forget the other person’s name. An action that's done carelessly every day without a second thought. You were stuck on it, and a man was dead. Someone’s brother was dead. Jayce’s friend, he was dead. 

It felt weird, then, to see another automated email about your sessions resuming as normal. You even called to confirm, not at all believing that Jayce had turned around and decided to see you, teach you anything. Caitlyn reassured you; Jayce was back and ready to see you today. 

Your entire posture pressed down. There was an off rhythm to your step, not at all looking forward to this today. 

But I should. He probably needs someone. 

Walking into the student center and toward your usual room felt like a push toward something greater than a tutoring session. The weight of your voicemail lingered above you, how inconsiderate it would seem. You didn’t know. You would’ve never said those things no matter how much you meant them at the time. 

It wasn’t Jayce's fault, not at all. 

As if he felt you there, he turned to look at you beyond the clear door. His eyes were reddened, rimmed with a darkness you hadn’t seen before. He didn’t move like you expected him to—as he usually did. 

You pushed into the toom, examining how little he reacted to your presence. Sitting across from him, you observed his folded hands in front of you. Before thinking better of it, you reached out to him. You figured he’d appreciate the gesture at the very least—welcome it in a time like this. You were wrong; he pulled away. 

“Why’d you come?” 

“What?” 

He looked up finally, tilting his head at how oblivious you were. “If you wanted me to leave you alone…why’d you come here? Why show up?” 

“Jayce, I-“

“No, that’s what you said right?” His voice ticked up slightly, an accusatory tone in his words. You deserved it.

You sighed, “I did. I said that but… I didn’t mean it.” 

“Yeah, okay.” He chuckled and looked away, letting the silence fill the room. It suddenly felt smaller than before. 

You spoke quietly in an attempt to test the waters. “I’m sorry about Kino.” You paused, “I know you and Mel are friends so this must’ve been hard-“

“Don’t.” 

He wasn’t like himself. The Jayce you knew, despite everything, was always warm. He had a way about him that made your entire body feel an increase in temperature. Even if by a small amount, imperceptible to others, you felt it. He was a light for you that you lost a while ago and you weren’t sure why. 

Jayce looked at you, really looked at you by then. “You didn’t even know him." He paused, "It’s best you mind your damn business.” 

That warmth, the minuscule feeling of a fire in you was burning out. Jayce himself had started it but now worked to quell the flame. He smothered it—as if it was the worst thing ever. 

“I lost my friend, too.” His brow flinched at that, the ones you liked so much. “I thought I did...but she came back.” You inhaled, “She came back and I thought it would be amazing and it wasn’t and I hate myself for how I reacted. But for a while, I thought she was gone—really gone. I let myself spiral over it.” You rubbed your hands, the nerves filling you. “I know how you feel, I do. You just—you can't let this control you.” 

Jayce sat there, letting your words settle with him. He seemingly searched for his response, and you could tell the exact moment he found one. He was angry, more than before. 

“My friend’s brother…my friend…is dead.” He wrung his hands together, “So I genuinely couldn’t give two shits about your friend. We’re not all so lucky, okay?” 

This was going so wrong. 

“Fuck, Jayce. I am trying my hardest, okay? I am so sorry about what I said but can we find a middle ground here? Can you just take a second and talk to me—without being rude as hell?” 

“I’m rude? I think you need to look in the mirror.” You recoiled, stunned at him again as he continued to talk. “You call me, tell me I’m all these things like you know me. Well, you don’t know shit.” 

“Jayce, stop-“ 

“You think you know everything but you don’t. You don't know anything.” 

You nodded slowly, understanding where this was going. He wanted you to hurt, to feel stupid, to expose the parts of you that you’d let him see. You hated people like this, ones who pretended to accept the weakened parts of your exterior. In a way, this let him in. You left vulnerable the part of you that felt stupid. He knew about it, and immediately pulled at it, ripping you apart. 

He couldn’t be harsher than you, no.

“I wish I never walked in here that day.” You folded your arms, looking away stubbornly.

He shrugged, “Good—I wish I never met you.” 

You scoffed, “Is this some kind of way to absolve your guilt? Is this because of what happened at the bar?” 

He leaned back, putting distance between you two. “My priorities haven’t been right. People that I actually care about needed me—and all I could think about was you. My mom,” he searched low, his head twisted back and forth in front of you. “My mom needs me.” 

“I’ve never once—not once—have I kept you from her, Jayce.” 

“Doesn’t matter. I should’ve been with her—not you.” 

You felt the sting. You’d attempted to get ahead of it, to not let him win. There wasn’t a prize; the only result was that you’d both be hurt. 

“I’m sorry that I just suck so bad that we couldn’t even have a conversation today.” You nodded, moving to stand. "And you didn't have to say it, I know. I get it. I'm sorry we kissed too...was fucking stupid." You whispered the last bit, flinging your bag over your shoulder.

He watched you silently. You hadn’t even unpacked, let alone gotten comfortable. The entire ordeal was tense. The innermost parts of yourself wanted to feel sorry for him, for all that he was going through. But he didn’t even ask. He wasn’t even curious about how you had been. That hurt more than the thought of him being in pain. 

As selfish as it was, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He hurt you. You hurt him. 

Suppressing your emotions was common these days. You couldn’t change that for Jayce, not now. So you left. You walked out with no idea of how you'd pass your midterm next week, and truthfully, you couldn't care less.

chapter ten

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