#everything is said but nothing has been worded

[scarletemeterio]

Hello! Can I ask for ekko with an reader who confessed to him thrice (and thrice rejected) and then he finally falls hard for them? With a happy ending, thank you!

(kind of like she fell first he fell harder trope)

Let Me Love You (Ekko x Reader)

Warnings: some cursing Genre: angst, hurt/comfort Word count: 2.3k Reader has no set pronouns!

The first time was the hardest of them all. You’d muster up the courage to confess your feelings for him, knowing very well that it could go south.

“I have something to tell you,” you uttered. He gave you a worried look, noticing that there was a hint of desperation in your voice. You were in his so-called office, working on something that didn’t really matter anymore.

“Is everything okay?” He simply asked.

“I’m not sure,” you began, “but I really need to say this.” He gave you his full attention, making you feel a bit intimidated by him and extremely self-conscious. “I’m in love with you,” you blurted out.

Silence quickly filled the room, and the tension could easily be cut by a knife. The moment you saw his face, you knew it: he didn’t feel the same way.

“I, uh, I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward at all. You can just forget I said anything.”

“I really don’t want to hurt you but I just don’t feel the same way.” You were trying to hold back your tears as his words left his mouth. “You’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to be with you, but that person isn’t me.”

You simply looked at him and slowly nodded. “It’s okay, you can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t.” It was hard to speak at this point. He knew you were hurt, but you’d never show it; it would just make things harder for the both of you. “Is this gonna change things between us?”

“I would hate that, honestly.” You nodded again, finally being on the same page about something. He came closer and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder to try and alleviate the tension. If only it were that easy.

•••

Some time passed and you still tried to hide your feelings for him. For a while, it worked, you’d suppressed them every time you spent time with the boy but deep down, you missed the way you were before. It had always been hard for you to open up to people, but you’d never been this miserable before. You were just a shadow of your usual self, and it was evident to everyone in the base.

Ekko himself tried to talk to you about it, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for your attitude. Finally, after a particularly hard day for you, you just lost it.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me, Ekko? It’s you!” You truly didn’t mean to scream at him but you also couldn’t help it. Lately, you lived on edge, always frustrated about something; it was like you were a bomb simply waiting to explode. “I swear I tried to play dumb, to ignore everything but I just can’t.”

“Is this about-?”

“Yes, Ekko, of course it is.” You interrupted him. “I know you went on with your life and pretended I never said anything so we could go back to the way things were, but it’s not that easy for me. Nothing about this has been easy.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You know exactly how I feel about you. We’ve known each other for years, you can’t tell me you never realized why I’ve been acting so strange.”

There was a pause between you. You were agitated, heart beating so fast that you could feel it in your throat. “I guess I wanted to pretend nothing ever happened,” he confessed after some time. “Acknowledging it made it real and I just- I just want my friend back, without any messiness and complications between us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ekko. I’m sorry my feelings are such an inconvenience to you. Trust me, I wish I could change them and forget about you for good but I just can’t.”

Something twitched inside of him when you said that and he looked at you with hurt eyes. “You really mean that? That you’d like to forget me?”

“I meant forgetting about my feelings for you, ‘cause you’re not making things easy for me,” you explained. “When you come over and put your arm around me or stand so close to me that I can feel you breathing it kills me, Ekko. And the worst part is that you know it.” You took a deep breath, anger slowly leaving you, feeling nothing but sadness. “Sometimes I feel like you enjoy testing me like that because you know that no matter what I’ll always come back to you. But I’m tired of this dance between us, it’s too much.”

“I just don’t know how to feel! This is hard for me too!” Neither of you cared if someone heard you at this point, you’d simply have to put up with the weird looks from everyone. “I don’t know what you want me to do and I’m confused.”

“Honestly,” you began, “I want you to give me some space.”

“Wait, I- uh, I don’t want that, please,” he took a step closer to you, trying to grab ahold of your hand but you avoided his touch, as you avoided his sad eyes.

“Do you have feelings for me, Ekko?”

“I said I’m confused.”

“It’s a simple question, do you?”

You finally looked at him and he realized that you were crying. He could count with one hand the number of times he’d seen you cry, and he never thought he’d be the reason why. “I don’t know,” he finally whispered.

“Then I don’t have anything else to say. I don’t want to wait for you to figure out how you feel and keep getting hurt in the process, I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Wait, please-.”

“Ekko,” you cut him, “I need some space, don’t make this even harder, please.” And with that, you left, leaving him even more confused than before, and with a pain in his chest he couldn’t really explain.

You should’ve known this was coming. Still, it hurt like the first time. You couldn’t blame him; if anything, you were glad he was honest with you. But after today, you realized that you needed to keep some distance from him, or this would end up destroying you for good.

•••

Days quickly turned into weeks, and you realized you hadn’t said a word to the Firelight’s leader in almost a month. Your heart still flipped inside whenever you inevitably ran into him or locked eyes with him within the first few days since the fight, and soon you started avoiding him all along.

In no time, the boy started feeling an emptiness inside him, something he couldn’t explain. He was truthful with you in that last conversation, he truly wasn’t sure how he felt, but with every passing day that you were nowhere to be seen, he realized that maybe he’d been a complete fool.

He missed you, there was no denying that. Now the question was if his feelings for you were simply platonic or if deep down he yearned for you, maybe even more than you for him. Ekko wasn’t the best with his emotions, not because he actively repressed them, but because all of this was extremely new to him, and he just felt so overwhelmed. However, there was one thing he was extremely sure of: he wanted you in his life.

It had been days since he last saw you, evident now that you’d been avoiding him for a while, so when he finally caught a glimpse of you around the base, it was like seeing an angel. Soon, his pleasant feelings were replaced by envy. You were talking with one of the new members from the Firelights, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was nothing he wanted more than to be the one you had your attention on. He didn’t recognize himself, filled with jealousy and bitterness.

The boy was pulled out of his thoughts when someone asked him a question, engaging in conversation with him, but that strange sensation still clung to him like glue. He hated himself and blamed his stupid ass for being such an idiot, these were merely the consequences of his own actions.

When he was lying in bed that night trying to fall asleep, you were the only thing on his mind. Your smile that shined like the stars, your lips that he so wanted to feel against his own while your arms wrapped around his body. He wanted to bang his head against the wall, he was such an idiot. If only he’d realized this before then maybe now you wouldn’t hate him. It all seemed so obvious to him now. You were there for him, by his side from the very beginning. He could always count on and lean on you, he trusted you even more than he trusted himself. Oftentimes he’d become mesmerized by how pretty you looked when you spent time together, the sun hitting your face in just the perfect way or your hair effortlessly framing your face in such a flawless way. Of course, he thought nothing of all this at the time, brushing it off as objective thinking. But now, it suddenly hit him, everything was different now because he wasn’t unsure anymore, he knew exactly how he felt about you. He loved you.

He sat on his bed, passing his hands through his face in an attempt to clear his mind. He wanted- no, needed to talk to you. Maybe you didn’t even feel the same way anymore, but he had to get it off his chest, he had to at least try. But right now, he also had to calm his nerves because if he didn’t, he’d go and knock on your door this very moment, and he was certain you didn’t wanna see him at all. So instead, he got up and went to take a walk, thinking it would be nice to sit by the tree to help him organize his thoughts. What he wasn’t expecting was seeing you there.

As soon as you saw his figure making its way to you, you got up, ready to leave but were interrupted by his voice. “Wait, please, don’t go.” You knew you should pay him no attention and leave anyway, but it had been so long since you’d last heard his voice that you were taken aback for a moment, standing in place. “Can we talk?” His voice was soft, nothing compared to what it was in your last conversation together; you could even hear a hint of desperation, which was what ultimately made you turn around and stay.

“What do you want, Ekko?” As soon as he heard you he let out a small smile, confirming that yours was the voice he wanted to hear every day when he woke up and every night before going to sleep.

He motioned for you to sit down again, doing the same right after you. “I’m sorry for everything,” he began saying, “I never meant for things to end up like this between us.” His chest accompanied his breathing, moving just a little too fast, earning him a concerned look from you. “I know that you probably hate me now, I know I would if I were you, and you’ll probably hate me even more after what I have to say since I acted like a complete idiot and took so long to figure out something that was right in front of me this whole time but I- uh, I do have feelings for you. Lots of feelings actually, I’m in love with you.”

You snapped your neck to look at him, trying to read his expression in search of a playful tone, but it wasn’t there. He was serious, he was finally saying what you wanted to hear for so long now. So long that you couldn’t fully believe him.

“Ekko, I don’t want any games, please.”

“I’m being serious. These weeks without you have been absolute torture, I can’t do this without you, I need you.” He rubbed his face, stopping at the bridge of his nose to pinch it. When he looked back at you, he had tears forming in his eyes, a sight you hadn’t seen in a very long time. “I’m being honest. I’m so sorry it took me so long to finally realize it. I made it my personal vow to always protect you and keep you safe and I’m the one that caused you pain and for that, I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t really know what to say, nothing seemed good enough. Your mind was racing and quickly you were lost in your thoughts and were brought back to reality by the sound of Ekko getting up, ready to leave. “These last weeks have been hell for me, too.” Your eyes met his and you stoop up, getting closer to him. “I don’t hate you, Ekko. I could never hate you.”

“But you don’t love me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just a bit taken aback that’s all.” He got closer to you, trying to grab your hand and this time, you let him do it. He brought it to his face and planted a kiss on it, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m so in love with you that just thinking about spending a second away from you makes me suffer. I don’t want to feel that way anymore, I want to be with you, share my life with you, and love you every day.” One of his hands went to cup your face and you leaned against it. “Please let me love you.”

You looked at his lips and then back at his eyes, and in just a second the air was knocked out of your lungs when you felt his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet but desperate and filled with emotions. “Please let me love you, too,” you said when you separated.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

hey! i loved this request, i'm a sucker for angst :)

i changed it just a little bit but i still hope you like it anon, thanks for requesting! really enjoyed writing this one and i LOVE writing for ekko

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 2

Part 1

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1608

If anyone were to ask how he reacted when Damian jumped from the bed to attack him, Dick would say that he reacted exactly as a vigilante who’s been on the job for years now would. Ask anyone else who was there to witness it though and you’d get a much different story of events. 

"Aaaahhh!" Both Dick and Damian slam onto the ground. Damian hits don't pack as much of a punch as they normally would, but that doesn't mean they're not precise when hitting a body's weak spots. "Dam- oof, Damian! It’s okay, you're safe! I'm your brother!" 

That did not have the desired effect he wished it did on the smaller boy; if anything Damian seemed to grow angrier at the mention of them being brothers. "Liar!"  

The others must have heard the commotion because the next moment the med bay door is being thrown open with everyone rushing in. Jason is the first one to get to them, and when he does he's quick to grab Damian. He holds the furiously kicking child to his chest while pinning Damian's arms to his side. 

"Dick, you alright?" Duke is kneeling by his side with a comforting hand on his shoulder as he helps Dick sit up. "Baby Damian really caught you off guard, huh?"

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos happening Dick hears the sound of a camera click, and he can't help but smile. Another photo down!

"Damian," Bruce's voice is firm as he says, "You need to calm down; no one here is going to hurt you."

That of course does nothing to calm the child who just woke up with strangers surrounding him. "Since when has telling someone to calm down ever worked?" Tim questions as he watches everything from the doorway. 

Bruce sends a slight glare Tim's way before directing his attention back to his youngest child, "Chum, my name is Bruce Wayne, do you know who I am?"

"No, but I know that you've somehow managed to take me hostage," Damian growls out. He's stopped struggling in Jason's arms, and seems to be analyzing them all with a hard gaze. "Who are you working for?"

"Do you know about Batman?" Bruce counter questions instead of giving any kind of answer. 

"I might; is he the one behind this?" Damian for the first time looks unsure about what's happening,

Jason gives a little amused huff, "That is Batman, demon brat."

"Surely not!" Damian judgmentally looks Bruce up and down, "Batman is definitely taller than him." 

That of course got a laugh from everyone, and even Bruce had an amused smile on his face as he thought about how Damian said something similar when meeting him for the first time. 

"And do you know who Batman is when it comes to you?" Dick asks after a few seconds. It's clear at this point that Bruce is trying to see if Damian has been told who his father is. If they can establish that relationship now it might save them all from anymore attacks; at least for the rest of the night.

Instead of answering Damian tucks his chin to his chest and glares at the ground. What's really shocking though is how his body goes almost limp. It seems to shock Jason as well because his tight grip even loosen, and changes to a more gentle hold.

Asking questions probably isn't going to get the baby assassin to trust Dick thinks to himself; not with how his youngest brother was raised. They're going to have to try something else, "Hey Dami, how about we-" 

Before he can continue though Dick is cut off by a loud smacking sound. Damian had very suddenly thrown his head back so that it would hit Jason square in the face. He wouldn't be surprised if it even broke Jason's nose from the sound.

With Jason's grip already loose it doesn't take a lot of effort for Damian to escape his grasp, and make a run for the door. Tim, who was far more focused on his camera, didn’t even have a second to properly react before he was being knocked out of the way. Allowing the young child access to the whole cave.  

"Motherfu-" Jason cuts himself off with a groan before running towards the door as well, "You really let him run right past you, Timbo?"

"You're the one who let him go!"

"He broke my nose!" 

"Guys!" Duke shouts as he runs past the two of them, "let's focus on finding Damian before fighting with each other!" 

That kicked everyone into gear as soon all of them were now trying to find the escapee who had seemingly disappeared. The only thing they can hope for right now is that he doesn't find a weapon of any kind. 

Everyone has split off in different areas to search, and taking the situation more seriously knowing that the kid could pop out of anywhere and attack them. It's not until after 20 mins of searching that Dick decides to just start speaking, hoping that he can somehow convince him to come out of hiding at the very least. 

"Damian, I know that you know Batman is your father, and now you know that Bruce," He gestures to where the older man is standing, "is Batman; your father! I swear you are safe here."

The cave is covered in silence as everyone waits for a response to come. Just as it looks like nothing will happen a slight but deliberate sound comes from the side of where he is.

"Damia-" 

"Silence." Damian speaks forward enough to be seen, but making sure to stand out of reach, "Did Mother set this test up? Grandfather? Either way I'm not falling for it. If you wanted to make this more convincing you should have included my brother."

Dick felt a pain in his chest at that word. Brother? Did Damian really have a brother while at the league? Is he talking about a sort of battle brother, or did Talia have another kid? Is it Bruce's kid? Taking a glance to where Bruce is he sees that the man must be having the same thoughts as his face sits somewhere between anger and grief. 

"You have a brother!?" Tim is the one that finally asks the question on everyone's mind. 

"There is no need to continue this act; I've already figured out that this isn't real."

"Like the same mom, same dad type of brother?" Duke even looks aghast at the revelation of a second possible child of Bruce. 

Damian only looks more annoyed at each question, but answers anyway in a tone that makes it clear that he thinks the answer is obvious, "Tt of course. That tends to be the case with twins after all." 

Damian has a twin?

The de-aged child in front of him could lie about a lot of things right now to get an advantage in this situation, but what advantage does lying about a twin get him? Damian seems so sure that all of this is a test from the league. There is no way he could lie about something like this. 

Damian is a twin. 

As much as Dick wished it wasn’t true he couldn’t lie to himself about this. Between the ages of 6 and 10 something must have happened to the other boy. He’d bet money that whatever it was made Talia bring Damian to the manor. Why did she or Damian never say anything? Was his brother even given the chance to mourn the loss of his brother?

Damian had a twin. 

"Jason, you were with the league for a while, did Damian really have a twin?" Tim whispers quietly to the man standing next to him.

"I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind when I was there, and even then I never saw the brat or brats I suppose." 

"Enough!" Damian suddenly slams a foot onto the ground clearly done with everyone around him whispering, "the test is done, and I'm ready to return back to the compound." 

Tim now turns to Bruce with nothing but shock still on his face, "I think it'd be easier to just explain the truth to him. Otherwise this is what the next couple days are going to be like.”

"The baby assassin is just going to keep attacking us and trying to escape otherwise." Jason adds on as well as he takes a seat at the center table. “I for one would like to keep the demon spawn close by because I’ve got some questions he’s going to need to answer ASAP when he’s normal again.”

Bruce seems to finally snap out of his trance and slowly starts to make his way to Damian. Once he's just out of reach of his son he kneels down so that he's much closer to Damian's current height. "Son, this isn't a test, and I am your father.”

"You are a liar; my father wouldn't leave Danyal behind!" 

No one was surprised this time when Damian sprung forward to attack Bruce. In the end Alfred had to give him a light sedative to calm him down enough to be laid back down on the med bay bed. Duke even went upstairs, and brought Alfred the cat down to sleep in the boy's lap. Unsurprisingly, that cat still loves him when he's this small. 

For now they can only hope that things will be calmer when Damian wakes up again. 

The cave after that was met with suffocating silence as there was only one thought in everyone's head.

"What happened to Danyal?"

[mcrdvcks]

what are hands for?

chapter summary: After an offhand comment from your father shakes your confidence, you find yourself spiraling into self-doubt.

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm not even gonna lie, this is extremely self-indulgent. i've barely been home for a week and my dad's already called me fat once and it definitely won't be the last time

anyways, i basically wrote this for myself but i thought i'd share it because i know for some people, being home for the holidays is rough! and the only thing i need is for logan to tell me he loves me and everything would be perfect

warnings/tags: insecure!reader, reader has a brother, skipping meals, implied that reader has received rude comments from family before, reader describes herself as 5'7" and over 200 lbs one time (like i said, self-indulgent), curvy!reader, angst, fluff

You have always had mixed feelings about going to your parents’ house for the holidays, or even during your breaks during college. You loved home, it was where you grew up so naturally you were supposed to love it.

But you also hated it. Hated the comments, the looks, the yelling—all of it.

And somehow here you were, standing in your parent’s quaint house, your younger brother and his girlfriend already in the dining room helping your mom with dinner while your dad greeted you and Logan.

"Hey, kiddo," your dad said, pulling you into a quick, half-hearted hug before turning to Logan with a small smile. "Logan. Good to see you again."

Logan gave a polite nod. "Good to see you too, sir."

Your dad’s gaze flicked between the two of you for a moment before gesturing toward the dining room. "Everyone’s in there. Why don’t you join them? Dinner’s almost ready."

Logan looked at you briefly, a silent check-in, before heading off. "I’ll go see if they need help," he murmured, squeezing your hand lightly as he passed.

The air shifted the second Logan stepped out of earshot. Your dad turned back to you, giving you a once-over that was a little too long for comfort.

"You’ve put on a little weight, haven’t you?" he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just landed a verbal punch to your gut. "Must be all that mansion food."

Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to respond—what, you weren’t sure—but he didn’t wait for an answer. He just patted your shoulder like it was nothing, muttered something about checking on the turkey, and walked off, leaving you standing there alone.

In the back of your mind, you knew you should’ve put on a different shirt, this one was just a tad bit too tight. But it was one of Logan’s favorite’s, so you didn’t pay too much attention to it.

You pulled on your blouse a few times, trying to get it to not stick to your stomach before walking into the dining room like you always did when you were younger, with a fake smile.

---

You huffed, yanking the seventh shirt over your head and tossing it onto the growing pile on the bed. Nothing looked right—nothing felt right. Every shirt clung too much, hung awkwardly, or just didn’t sit right. And with each outfit failure, the voice in your head grew louder, echoing your dad’s casual remark.

You tugged at the hem of your tank top, staring at your reflection in the mirror with narrowed eyes. “Stupid,” you muttered, turning to the side to inspect your profile. “It’s just a shirt. It’s fine.” But it didn’t feel fine.

After another long minute, you grabbed a loose hoodie from the closet and pulled it on, letting it drown you. It wasn’t what you’d planned to wear, but at least it hid everything you didn’t want to see.

You made your way downstairs to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before your class. On the counter were a box of donuts, and without thinking you grabbed the two you normally did in a napkin and made your way out.

But not before pausing at the doorway, a bite already taken out of one donut as you looked down at the food in your hand. You took another bite and threw both away, making your way to your classroom before the kids got there.

You got to the classroom a good twenty minutes early, dropping your bag onto the desk with a sigh. The hoodie you’d thrown on still felt too heavy, too obvious, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. The two bites of the donut you’d managed to eat sat like a stone in your stomach.

You busied yourself setting up for the day, pulling worksheets out of your bag and lining them up on the desk. It wasn’t much, but focusing on something, anything, kept your mind from wandering too far down the spiral. The kids would be filing in soon, their chatter filling the space, and that would make it easier. It always did.

But for now, the silence was suffocating.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe, and you looked up, expecting one of the students. Instead, it was Ororo. She leaned casually against the frame, a warm, curious smile on her face.

“Morning, Y/N,” she greeted, stepping into the room. “You’re here early. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you shuffled a few papers around unnecessarily. “Yeah, just… wanted to get a head start. You know how Mondays are.”

Ororo tilted her head, clearly unconvinced but kind enough not to push. “If you say so,” she said, her tone light but probing. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a second on the oversized hoodie before she caught herself. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, ‘Ro.” You gave her another tight-lipped smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.

She hesitated for a beat before nodding and stepping back into the hallway. As soon as she was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

The classroom slowly came to life as the students trickled in, their energy filling the room and pushing your thoughts to the background. By the time the lesson was underway, you were almost able to pretend nothing was wrong. Almost.

It wasn’t until later that day, during lunch, that it all came rushing back. The teachers’ lounge was unusually crowded, laughter and conversations bouncing off the walls. You slipped in quietly, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the counter before finding a corner to sit in.

From across the room, Logan caught your eye. He was leaning back in one of the chairs, arms crossed, but the second he saw you, his expression softened. He gave you a small nod—his way of checking in. You nodded back, offering a faint smile.

You didn’t miss the way his brow furrowed slightly, though, or the way his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before he turned back to his conversation with Scott. It wasn’t like Logan to hover or push, but you knew he noticed things. And he never let them go.

---

After classes you went into the kitchen to put your mug in the sink from hours ago. Out of habit, you grabbed a few cookies Ororo had made yesterday before stopping yourself.

You stared at the cookies in your hand, your frown deepening as your dad’s words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Your stomach churned, and for a moment, you felt like throwing the cookies straight into the trash.

“What’d those cookies ever do to you, darlin’?” Logan’s voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze wasn’t accusing, just… observant.

You hesitated, gripping the cookies tighter. “Nothing,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just… wasn’t really hungry.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, pushing off the doorframe to step into the kitchen. “Didn’t seem like you were thinkin’ about that a second ago,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “Something on your mind?”

You shook your head quickly, putting the cookies back on the plate. “Nope. Just tired. Long day.”

He didn’t look convinced. Logan had a way of reading you like an open book, and you hated it sometimes. Hated how hard it was to hide from him, even when you wanted to.

“Darlin’…” His voice was softer now, his hand reaching out to brush yours. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “It’s nothing, Logan. Seriously.”

He stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “Y/N, you know I don’t buy that. You’ve been off since we got back from your folks’ place.” His voice was low, steady. “Talk to me.”

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. The last thing you wanted was to unload all this on him. But the look in his eyes—genuine, steady, patient—made it impossible to deflect.

“It’s just… something my dad said,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “What’d he say?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

“Y/N.” His tone was firm, but not unkind. “What’d he say?”

You exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze. “He… made a comment about my weight,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up. “Said I’ve been eating too much mansion food.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together. “He said that?” His voice was low, dangerous. You nodded, still not looking at him. “That’s bullshit,” he muttered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“It’s not—he didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to defend weakly, though you weren’t sure why. “It’s just how he is. And, it’s not like he’s wrong either, I could lose some weight. I’m 5’7” and over 200 pounds, and sometimes my old pants don’t even go over my thighs or hips. And—”

Logan held up a hand, cutting you off gently but firmly. “Alright, stop. Just stop.” His voice was low, steady, but there was a protective edge to it. “First off, I don’t give a damn what your old pants fit like. And second, your dad? He’s got no right to talk to you like that. None.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Logan stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Nope. Not hearin’ it, Y/N. You’re sittin’ here pickin’ yourself apart ‘cause of some stupid thing he said, and that’s not fair. Not to you.”

“But he’s not wrong,” you muttered, looking away. “I mean, look at me. I’m—”

“Perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “You’re perfect. And I don’t wanna hear you say otherwise.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who just says things?” Logan shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Princess, I’m the last person to sugarcoat anything.”

You hesitated, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Logan sighed, stepping closer and resting his hands lightly on your hips. “Y/N, you’re strong. You’re smart. And yeah, you’ve got curves—and I happen to like ‘em. A lot.”

Your face heated at his words, but Logan wasn’t done. He gave your hips a gentle squeeze, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You think I’d be standin’ here, chasin’ after you, if I didn’t think you were incredible? Come on now.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments, Logan,” you said quietly, still not quite meeting his eyes.

“I know you’re not,” he replied. “But I’m givin’ ‘em anyway, ‘cause you need to hear it. And because it’s the damn truth.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, despite yourself. Logan grinned, clearly pleased to have gotten a reaction out of you. “There’s that smile,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Missed that.”

The knot in your chest loosened just a bit, and you let out a shaky sigh. “Thanks, Logan,” you murmured. “I just… I don’t feel like myself sometimes, you know?”

“I get it,” Logan said, his voice softer now. “We all got our crap to deal with. But you don’t gotta deal with it alone. Not when I’m here.”

You gave him a small nod, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. Logan’s smirk returned, and his hands slid from your hips to the curve of your thighs, his fingers grazing lightly. “Besides,” he said, his tone turning teasing, “you know what these thighs are for, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He grinned, his hands squeezing gently before lifting you up. “For my hands. Nothin’ else they need to do, far as I’m concerned.”

You yelped in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Logan! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Not until you stop talkin’ nonsense about yourself.”

You glared at him, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed your indignation. “I’m serious, Logan. I’m not exactly lightweight—”

“Good thing I’m not exactly weak,” he interrupted smoothly, his grin widening. “You think a couple extra pounds are gonna make me break a sweat? Sweetheart, I’ve fought Sentinels and lived to tell the tale. Trust me, I got this.”

You groaned, your hands tightening on his shoulders as he adjusted his grip, holding you securely. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinkin’ you’re anything less than perfect,” Logan countered, his tone softening just a bit. “Now, you gonna stop beatin’ yourself up, or am I gonna have to carry you around all day until you do?”

“Logan, we’re in the kitchen,” you hissed, glancing toward the doorway. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let ‘em,” he said with a shrug. “Not like they don’t already know you’re my girl.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “Besides, anyone’s got a problem with me lovin’ on you? They can take it up with me.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, setting you down gently but keeping his hands on your hips. “Now, what do you say we grab those cookies and actually enjoy ‘em? ‘Ro made ‘em for us, after all.”

Your gaze flicked to the plate of cookies, and for a moment, doubt crept back in. But Logan’s steady hands on your hips and the unwavering warmth in his eyes grounded you. “Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s eat the cookies.”

“That’s my girl,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reaching for the plate. He handed you one, grabbing one for himself, and took a big bite, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Damn, these are good. Think she’d notice if we finished the whole plate?”

You laughed, the sound lighter than it had felt all day. “Pretty sure she’d kill us.”

“Worth it,” he said with a smirk, taking another bite.

You rolled your eyes but bit into your cookie, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue. For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest eased just a little.

And when Logan leaned in to steal a crumb from the corner of your mouth, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to protest.

[revelboo]

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t log on every day to check for updates to your Trine x Reader series (Skywarp you lil shit 💜) but I do hope you continue your writing with Thundercracker and his love of movies.

I definitely will, I enjoy writing them 😁 Shockwave and Optimus arrived, Skywarp and Thundercracker got delayed

True Romance Pt 12

Seeker Trine x Reader

• There’s something oddly comforting about feeling all three of them hold onto you. Not demanding anything more than this as you stare up at the sky. Like you just belong here with them and it lifts through you with an ache you don’t quite understand. Because Skywarp and Thundercracker are always reaching for you, but Starscream’s only just started to lose some of his frosty indifference. Watching you more, glancing at you while he’s working to check on where you are, who has you. Gruffly asking if you need anything, his wings fidgeting. You’d assumed he’d been annoyed at having to look after you, but maybe that’s just how he is. Wondering if maybe the aloof, distant act is just that- an act.

• Aware of his brothers around him, his trine together and at peace, the warmth of you against him, there’s the uncomfortable realization of how fragile this is. Finding you had been pure chance. You might not have survived the wreck. Might have run towards the Autobots instead of staggering his way. What he’s sure of? Skywarp and Thundercracker are happy and there’s nothing he won’t do to protect that. “I thought we could all watch a movie together when we go home,” you say, voice soft and hesitant. Asking. And that word, home, rings through him coiling warm about his spark. Because it’s right.

• “Not the sappy stuff,” Skywarp mutters, turning his face against your throat and venting. Because if Thundercracker picks, it’ll be a love story. It’s all he wants to watch lately. Since finding you. Feels your fingers brush a wing and he shivers slightly, leaning into the touch, wings flaring. Aware of Star shooting him a look to behave when it’s so hard when you don’t know what your soft touch does to him. Tempting him to bite the curve of your shoulder when you absently brush over his sensitive wings. Growling when Thundercracker reaches up to grab your wrist and pull your hand away.

• “Wings are sensitive,” Thundercracker says, gripping your hand to keep you from accidentally finding any other sensitive spots. Sees your face redden slightly as he rubs a servo against the back of your hand. “Like mesh.” Carefully tugging your hand so your fingertips brush his neck. Shivering despite himself and avoiding Star and Sky’s optics as they stare at him. Judging the little teaching lesson, recognizing that he’d just wanted to feel you touch him.

• And everything just sort of shifts even though you have no idea what just happened. Aware of a tension that hadn’t been there just a second ago as Thundercracker keeps your hand trapped in his, servos rubbing absently against you like you’d been touching Skywarp’s wings. “I don’t care if you touch my wings,” Skywarp grumbles, looping an arm around your neck, face so close to yours you can feel it when he vents, brushing his cheek to yours so your skin prickles with awareness. And then Star is gently pulling Thundercracker’s hand from yours.

• “Everyone keep their hands to themself.” Stiffening when you pull your other hand from his helm, Starscream has to resist the urge to pull it back to him after just saying that. Because he understands Skywarp’s grumpy muttering. You’re soft and warm. And absolutely off limits. Even if Skywarp is right and you are compatible that way, he’s not interested in the drama of his trine squabbling over you. Which means keeping the other two and himself in line to keep the peace. Resisting the temptation that you pose, something that had never occurred to him might be an issue. Realizing he likes the feel of you against him a bit more than he should.

Previous

[luveline]

this request may be a bit of a long shot, but would you be willing to write a drabble for mouth of september? maybe she gives the boys a scare either by going out and then not coming home at the time she said she would or maybe she faints from not having eaten enough? totally okay if you don’t want to or if you want to use this as a prompt for something else, mos has just been one of your fic series that i think about pretty consistently even two-ish years later.

anyway have a great day and hope you’re doing well jadey <3 love u

I love you! me writing this actually did feel like a longshot but not cos I didn’t love it and not cos I don’t love u, I hope you enjoy it!! been so long since I wrote this !!🩵 fem! 4k words

cw suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation

It’s cold tonight. 

You blow on your fingers, feeling them warm, stiffness lanced for precious few seconds. You didn’t mean to walk so far from the house, not while the wind is racing like this. The corner shop just seemed to move around while you weren’t looking. You should’ve asked Sirius to go with you, he has a better sense of direction, even if he would’ve complained the whole time about the shit weather. 

Remus would’ve come and not complained, but he was sleeping at the time and waking him felt cruel. James would’ve come, racing around in Lily’s car, but then he would’ve followed you back into the house insisting on making you some supper or a cuppa or something, and what you’d wanted was to be alone. A bar of chocolate wouldn’t hurt either. 

Stupid travelling corner shop, you think to yourself. Stupid me for fucking losing it. Should’ve just stayed home. Can’t even walk to the shop. 

You take a deep breath. You give the streets a wretched, embarrassed glare and flop down onto the nearest bench. Fuck’s sake. Lost and freezing to death. 

If Sirius were here, if he heard what you were thinking, he’d frown at you with that dark pinch to his eyes and tell you to Stop it, now. 

He’s maybe half of the reason you’re out of the house tonight. Maybe all of it. It’s all complicated and horrible and everyone thinks it’s a bad idea but the thing is that Sirius himself isn’t complicated, he isn’t horrible. He’s kind to you in funny ways, and when you’re together Sirius makes you feel like you’re someone worth being kind too, which doesn’t happen often. 

Your self annoyance fades to something more familiar soon enough. Everything goes quiet, leaving you there with your heart, quick and slow beating, can’t seem to choose, and your cold feet. Your socks feel too tight. 

Your teeth start to chatter. You can’t sit here forever. 

(But wouldn’t it be better? If you stayed? Caught cold?) 

If you get poorly from the cold, you’ll feel miserable from the moment you wake up. You’ll be ill at work, which will make work worse. You’ll have to stay in your room so you don’t get one of the boys sick, and that really would ruin your week. Nothing means anything if you don’t get to see your best friends. 

You gather yourself up and turn toward the street you’d just walked down, determined to retrace your steps. 

In the distance, a familiar shape is jogging toward you. 

“Y/N?” James shouts, sounding as though all the breath in the world has been sucked from his lungs. He doesn’t stop jogging until he gets a few feet from you, where he bends to catch his breath. “Fucking hell!” His head snaps up. “Fuck, shortcake, are you alright?” 

You close the distance. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” He forces himself to stand, breathing hard as he grabs you by the wrist. “Are you okay? You scared me so badly.” 

You grab his arm back. “I’m really fine, I’m fine, what’s wrong?” 

“You’re what’s wrong, you aren’t home!” James swallows a lump. “You left a note, you’d be home by seven. It’s nearly ten. Remus rang me in a fit ‘cos he didn’t know where you’d gone, we thought–” James gives you an imploring look, though it’s so so sorry at the same time, you feel your stomach twist into a hard knot. “We thought you were having a bad night.” 

“James.” Embarrassment makes you soft-toned. “I’m really sorry I scared you, but I got lost, that’s all.” You don’t really like to lie, only James seems to need to hear it. “I’m glad you found me. I was worried I wouldn’t get home.” 

James gives a breathy laugh. “Oh, good.” 

You’re pulled into a hug. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No, it’s okay.” He rubs your back with force. It feels more for him than you, though you don’t exactly mind it. You can pretend as much as you want that you don’t like it when the boys give you affection, but they know it’s not true, and they know it’s alright to give it to you most days. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine as long as you’re fine.” 

“Fine,” you say. 

He pulls away. “Oh, god. Alright, let’s go back to the house. It’s freezing, you’re not wearing a proper coat?” 

“I didn’t plan on being out long.” 

“No?” 

He takes you by the shoulder to encourage you back the way you came. “Just wanted some chocolate,” you say. 

“I’ll get you some.” 

You both know it doesn’t add up. James doesn’t make you say much else, relieved you’re alright, and you fester in the guilt of worrying him so harshly. 

“Where are your glasses?” you ask. 

“I forgot them in the car.” 

“Where is the car?” 

“Remus thought you might’ve gone to the library, you were supposed to take that Sky-Fi back.” 

“Sci-fi.” 

“Right, the space books. He took it to see if you were walking home, I said I’d come this way, and Sirius…” James grimaces. “Not sure where he went. He was already out by the time I got to the house.” 

“How are we gonna find him?” 

“He’ll come back eventually.” 

You stick close to James’ side, dodging crisped up leaves and following him down the dropped kerb and finally onto a familiar road. “Guess I’ve lived here so long, I should’ve known the way,” you say. 

“It’s alright.” 

You bite your cheek for a second. “I’m really sorry, James, I– I didn’t– is it really ten?” 

“…Aren’t you cold?” he asks softly. 

“I didn’t think about it.” 

“I wish you would.” He pokes his tongue against his cheek. “I want to know if you’re having a bad night. It’s alright if you were. If you need more time, more help, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not like that… not all of it. I was walking to the shops, I swear. Just feel so,” —your voice slips into a colour of shame you despise— “weird sometimes. I’m sorry I made you worry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

“Is this a common occurrence?” 

“Not the walk, just. Just this. Making you worry. I didn’t mean to make everybody worry.” 

“Well, I am worried. When you disappear for a couple more hours than you say you will, it’s scary.” James gives you a shrug. “I love you, I’m gonna wonder where you are.” 

“But–”

“I worry about Sirius when he goes to the pub until who knows when, worry about Lils when she does too many hours at work. I worry about Remus every day, his eyes are worse than mine ‘cos all he does is read,” he says with a laugh. “It’s fine.” 

“I worry about you too,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks, stricken. 

“Remus told me you can pop your knee out from your kneecap when you weight lift. I know you think it’s fun and stuff, but that’s scary.” 

“I’m getting fit!” He rolls his eyes. “Lily likes my abs.” 

“Well I liked you when you were soft.” 

James cackles at your poor fake-flirting. “I’ve never been soft, take that back! You know being captain made me solid as a rock.” 

“James?” a voice calls. 

You look up at the same time. Sirius is sitting on the wall in front of the house smoking; he takes a harsh, quick drag and stabs it out so hard that ash sullies his fingers as he stands. 

“Oh,” he says, blowing the smoke from his mouth quickly, his breath a ragged thing as he bounds across the road to hug you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get what he’s sorry for. “It’s okay.” 

He smells so strongly of smoke it’s like he’s blowing it under your nose, but he’s not so sharp to the touch. You falter at being touched kindly, feeling tension in his back as you curl an arm around him. 

Sirius digs his face into your neck. 

“Hey?” you ask quietly. 

He steps back suddenly, an accusing fist held between your two abdomens. “Where have you been?” he asks, and there’s the sharpness to match his smell, scowl turning his grey-blue eyes to pitch, lashes in a furious tangle. “You can’t do that. You can’t just disappear for hours.” 

“I’m sorry–”

“It’s not okay.”

“She said she’s sorry,” James interjects, “maybe let’s leave it?” 

“Being sorry doesn’t erase the last two hours of us panicking, though, does it?” 

“She got lost–”

“James, it’s okay, it’s–” You shake your head. “Maybe you should go inside to warm up? You’re not wearing a coat either.” 

“I was in a rush.” James gives Sirius a warning look. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. Five minutes and I’m coming back out.” 

James trudges up the garden path to the house. You twist your hands together, staring into Sirius’ face, wanting to see every bit of his anger, keeping tabs on all of it so as not to be surprised. You should’ve known he’d run out of patience with you eventually. He’s had to deal with your awful moods more than anyone else. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Do you realise how scary it is to worry you’ve hurt yourself?” Sirius asks starkly. 

You flinch. “It doesn’t exactly feel great for me, either.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Still, he softens. You feel like you’ve cheated. “I don’t understand. You got lost? How far away from the house were you?” 

“I don’t know, I was trying to go to Del’s.” 

“You’re not being honest with me, or any of us. It’s not fair. My heart is like a fucking racehorse,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest, fingertips smudgy with ash, “’cos all I’ve thought tonight is that you’d gone off and jumped off of a bridge or something. I know you wouldn’t.” He lets his hand fall. He quietens. It is almost apologetic, how he slows. “I know you wouldn’t. I knew you’d come home. But please don’t make me think about it.”

He’s gone pale in the cold, his hair in twists and tucked haphazard behind his ears. In his thick bomber jacket and his jeans, he could’ve just hopped of the bike, windswept as he is, but it’s the mark of worried hands having pushed his hair back repetitively rather than the weather, though the longer you stand there in the wind, the more tangled it becomes. “I dont get why you’re so determined to be alone,” he says. 

You don’t want to talk about it. When do you ever? More than ever, you’d like to stalk past him and slam your bedroom door, let him know you’re fine by yourself and seething, let him stay ignorant to you as you squirm in a bed you’ve come to hate. How often do you lay there wishing you could be alone forever? It’s not fair to anyone. It doesn’t make sense. They all love you and you feel sorry for them, ‘cos you tricked them, ‘cos you’re nothing worth thinking about for long. 

Sirius won’t stop frowning at you. It makes the drowning feeling worse. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, hoping this time it’ll stick. “I don’t know what happened, I just wasn’t thinking. I don’t feel very well.” 

“I know.” He scoffs to himself. You relax at the hint of self-deprecation. “It’s not your fault. I’m fucking furious with you but I know you can’t help it.” 

“Sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. For saying you’d jumped off a bridge, that’s horrible, but you really fucking worry me sometimes and I’m so relieved that you’re okay that it’s making me horrible.” 

“You’re not horrible.” 

“I’m mean.” 

“You’re not.”

“No, I am. You’re the only person who doesn’t see it. Or at least doesn’t say it.” Sirius rubs his face, scraping a stray hair from his nose. “Sorry for shouting. Here,” —he holds out his arm— “let’s have a proper one.” 

He hugs you nicely, no force to it, less lingering smoke. The scratch of his cheek catches yours, his hand at the bottom of your back, your jacket and shirt rising with every sweep of his touch. You press your closed eye to his hair. 

“Why didn’t you come and sit with me or– we could’ve talked. Could’ve just led in bed, doesn’t matter, I would’ve gone to the shop with you.” He squeezes you, pressing his nose to your shoulder. “I can be morbid. We can be two miserable layabouts together.” 

“I didn’t…” You cringe. “Sirius, it’s not on purpose, I swear. I didn’t do it to make you worry.” 

“I know that, Jesus.”

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home.” 

You pull apart as a car turns onto the street. That’ll be Remus. Another for your troupe of worry. 

“What do you think, is he mad at me too?” you ask. 

“Remus?” Sirius gives you another half hug. “‘Course not.” 

And true to form, Remus climbs out of the car with a fond smile. “Hey, where have you been?” His hair ruffles in the wind, scars turned palest purple in the cold. “You need to learn how to tell time.” 

You let him hug you. “Sorry.” 

“That’s alright, let’s go inside though. Have some tea. Did you eat much today?” 

You ignore the question. “Tea,” you say. 

“Yeah.” 

Remus ushers you down the path to the house, Sirius on your other side like bodyguards. 

“Thanks for, uh, looking for me.” 

Remus takes you by the forearm. “We’ll always look for you. But next time, wake me up first.” 

You nod gratefully. “Uh, okay. Thank you.” 

“Stop saying thanks. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s fine.” 

That’s what you’ve all said, but it doesn’t make it true. 

—

James goes home, though he doesn’t want to. “I can stay,” he says over the rim of his mug, half-pleading, wanting you to ask him to. “We can have a sleepover.” 

You insist that you’re really fine, he has work tomorrow, it’s late. When he doesn’t move, you say, “I feel bad enough that you were out looking for me in the cold.” 

Your voice is pathetic and scratchy and he can tell you’re going to cry, they all can, so he doesn’t push it anymore than that. He goes home, and you go to bed, and Remus follows you up a little bit later with a glass of juice and some thick, buttered slices of teacake. 

“You okay?” he asks, climbing into bed next to you where you’re laying down. 

“Fine.” 

“Didn’t eat much today?” 

“No.” 

“Have the juice, at least.” 

You take the glass. 

Between your sorry sips, Remus picks at one of the slices of cake, steals looks at you, though he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. 

“Sorry about today. Didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“You can stop saying sorry.” Remus lets his head tip from one side to another. “I can hear it in your voice that you don’t want to say it. Not that I don’t believe that you’re really, actually sorry. But you keep repeating it because you’re worried I want you to do that, and I don’t.” 

“It’s what I should say.” 

“Well, you’ve said it.” Remus turns to you, all bookish and rakish at once, lovely but tired, and he must be giving you a similar appraisal. “I wanted to be your friend the second I first talked to you. It wasn’t guilt.” He shakes his head. Wasn’t ’cos they’d played that prank on you with the shoe-eating goo, spied on you crying in a school hallway, overwhelmed. “I just liked you, and that was without any sort of knowledge of what you’re like. Now that I know you, I couldn’t be rid of you. Truly. I love you, you know that?” He smiles gently. “Even when you need time and you disappear. Please… don’t really go anywhere though, will you?” 

“I won’t.” You decided a long time ago that ending your life wasn’t in the cards. There are terrifying moments, numb ones, blink-and-it’s over ones, where you feel like it’s the only option you have. But it ends eventually, or it sinks into a background to be forgotten until the next time it aches. 

“Are you eating properly?” he asks. 

“Remus–” You shake your head as he brings a hand to your forehead, like he might stroke your hair. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“You don’t like answering, that’s all.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“I’ve made you talk much more than you would’ve liked to, tonight.”

“I like talking to you. To all of you.” You rest your head on his thigh. “You really are my favourite people in the world, Remus. I wouldn’t… wouldn't give you up.” 

“Good,” he says, stroking your forehead just a few times. “‘Cos we can’t be without you.” 

Sirius finds you collapsing in on one another a little later and rounds the bed to lay on your other side. He doesn’t bother sitting as Remus did, pulling the blankets up and slipping in beside you without worrying about what parts of you are touching parts of him, nor the slip of your back where your shirt’s riding up, nor how warm it is under the quilt. He grabs the end of your t-shirt and pulls it flat over your stomach, before his hand spreads out there, and you realise half-heartedly that he’s hugging you from behind. The room is barely seeable. Remus is nearly sleeping. Your tea cake went uneaten, left stodgy and dark on the nightstand. 

“This okay?” Sirius asks. 

“Yeah.” 

He burrows nearer, rubbing his nose against the back of your neck, then taking a long breath of you. 

“Are you mad?” you ask. 

“Not anymore.” 

You can’t believe that any of them could love you so much as to look for you. That James would want to stay the night, and that he’d let you turn him away. If you had any energy left in you tonight you would’ve done the same to Remus, and then Sirius. James won’t be happy when he finds out they’d slept in the bed with you and left him out, but he’ll forgive it eventually. None of them should care so much about you, what’s special about you? What’s even really good? What’s worth it? 

Sirius breathes behind you. He doesn’t seem scared to touch you, not worried to lay as close to you as your bodies will allow. His heat sinks into you. 

“Know any poems?” he asks, letting you shift into his back as he pushes an arm beneath you, curling, really holding you to him, a spoon of a hug. 

“What kind did you want to hear?” 

Sirius doesn’t answer. You hold still as his hand begins looping over your stomach. 

“I can’t remember anything right.” 

“Can you guess at one for me?” he asks. 

You stare at Remus’ falling chest. You’re lucky to have good friends. 

“I read one a few days ago, a couple of times, it was only a few lines.” You wait. Sirius doesn’t say anything, so you start to relay the poem slowly, stringing the words together as they come. “The world was a… nautilus shell... And the world was a grain of sand.” Your voice is odd, but the lines come to you regardless. “The world was a honeycomb… And the world was a strip of tender bark.” 

Sirius lets his lips warm your neck, asking softly, more touch than sound, “That was the whole poem?” 

You take his hand where it’s against you. “That’s it.” 

He nods. 

The world was a nautilus shell. And the world was a grain of sand. The world was a honeycomb. And the world was a strip of tender bark. You run through the poem again, three times, tripping over strip and tender and bark as Sirius’ breath warms your nape. 

“Please don’t do that again,” he says. 

“I didn’t mean to–” You force yourself to stay still. “I would never do something like that to scare you.” 

“Nobody in this room or out of it believes that you went on your walk tonight to scare them.” His nose tips down your neck. His hand spreads wider over your stomach. It feels so weird, so warm and rigid. It’s the best touch you’ve ever been given, and it doesn’t matter because you’re so ashamed of yourself —you went on your stupid little walk with at least some bad intent, and your friends noticed because they love you when they shouldn’t bother. This is a stain now, something you’ll remember. “But I can’t take it. Do you get that? I can’t take it. James found you two hours ago and I still feel like I don’t know where you are.” 

“Didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, love.” He actually does kiss your neck then, quiet smack of a real kiss. “I know. I know.” His forehead presses to your shoulder as he settles in. “You’re okay. I’m not mad.” 

“Me neither,” Remus croaks. 

You let yourself relax enough to feel tired. Warmth from either side of you threatens to bowl you over. 

“How are you feeling now?” Sirius asks. 

“Fine.” Always fine. They deserve better honesty. “I didn’t want to hurt myself. Jus’… I needed to move, like, go, and I hate this part. I don’t think it should matter that I’m not– that I don’t feel well.” 

“Don’t get upset,” Sirius says quietly. 

“I’m not.” You sound tight. “When I want to be somewhere, it doesn’t make sense that it matters. In the moment, I don’t remember that you…” 

“Love you?” Sirius asks. 

“I know why you were worried, I promise. I don’t live in a bubble. I know I’m selfish.” 

“Not selfish.” 

“It was, though.” 

“You’re thinking about it like we have a problem with what you did, and it’s my fault because I got so mad, but it’s not really that you did it.” His hand curls shy of your breastbone. “I was mad, but– darling,” —you squeeze your eyes shut— “you’re not on trial. You don’t have to prove your way out of this, all we need to know is if you’re alright now.” 

“Not really.” 

Remus gives a half-sleeping mumble. 

Sirius sits up in bed to look at both of you. “We love you. We,” —he gestures between you and Remus emphatically— “aren’t going to stop. No matter how many walks you go on, how many scares you give me.” He frowns at you sympathetically. “We’re not getting any further, are we?” 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry.” He grimaces, dark around the eyes. “I’m a right prick and I’ve made a right mess of everything.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, chancing a touch, terrified you’ll be reprimanded for it but knowing, as you know he loves you, that you’re allowed. The tips of your fingers touch his collarbone. Sharp thing. 

He pulls a jib, lips all up and thinned like a smirk gone wrong. “Love you.” 

You must’ve petrified him. He’s never so open with his feelings, even when it’s half-joking like this. 

“I love you, too.” 

He makes another face. Good enough, it says. 

“Make me hot chocolate?” you whisper. 

“Mm, come on.” He pulls you from the bed by your wrists. “Don’t complain when it’s gritty. I’m not skilled as Remus.” 

“Quite right,” Remus mumbles. 

You hug him quickly before you leave. 

[arabella0001]

i feel so anxious about posting this, but these are my guilty pleasure thoughts 😫

yours to break (choso kamo x reader)

synopsis: choso needs a reminder of his place—and you make sure he feels it

warnings: insecurity, bad self-esteem, uexperienced, sub/dom play( sub choso!!), blowjob, oral (female receiving), teasing, praise, overstimulation, rough fuck, light degrading

choso has always been quiet, but you get it. you actually like this about him. you know he’s struggling with words and trying to fit in, but you always admire this about him—about your pretty boy—how he’s trying, how he wants to understand humans, how he cares for his brothers, and how he’s more aware of his surroundings than most people are.

you’ve started learning his subtle changes in behavior, when he’s struggling with words, emotions, and all of that. and today was one of those days.

you can’t put a finger on it, but oh, choso has his mind wrapped around it.

he wasn’t used to being around so many people, let alone watching you around them—how you laughed with his brother yuji or playfully nudged megumi’s shoulder, joking about his stoic behavior. of course, you never let him out of an interaction; you were so good to him. but he feels like he’s wasting your time, like he’s not good enough for you. his dark eyes tracked every small interaction, feeling complicated emotions that he usually shared with you.

of course, he didn’t need to tell you he was upset—you already knew. but you wouldn’t speak to him about it in public. you waited until both of you were back at your apartment. you tried to talk to him, and he tried—he really tried—but he couldn’t help drowning in his insecurities.

you shut the door and crossed the room, looking at him gently. after he undressed from his jacket, he felt your gaze on him, and when he looked at you, he panicked internally.

“choso?” you asked him in a soft voice.

“y-yes?” he slapped himself mentally for stuttering; he didn’t want to be a bother to you again.

“what’s wrong, my pretty boy?” you murmured, tilting your head to catch his gaze. his eyes flicked to yours, full of love and adoration, but fear too.

"i’m sorry," he said, voice low and rough. "it’s nothing, let’s—" his voice cracked slightly, and he exhaled sharply, like he was scolding himself.

“cho, please tell me. i know you don’t feel well. remember, we navigate your feelings together so you can understand them better?”

“yes, but—” he stopped himself, but unconsciously, he trusted you too much to hide this from you. “i know i shouldn’t feel like this…” his fingers dug into his thighs, frustration clear. "i’m just—" he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "i feel like i’m not… enough for you."

your eyes widened a little at his answer.

“choso, that’s not true," you said firmly, taking his hand in yours. "what makes you say that, baby?"

he stilled immediately when you hold his hands firmly. there it was—that quiet surrender you knew so well, the way his defenses crumbled when you took contro

“you’re… different with them," he said quietly, voice tight. "you’re so comfortable, so... happy." doubt swam in his eyes. "but i’m not like them," he muttered. "i don’t know how to be that for you. i don’t even know if i can."

the vulnerability in his tone hit you like a punch to the gut.

you walked over, gently prying his hands open and threading your fingers through his. he finally looked up, and you saw it in his face—his insecurity, his self-doubt.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his lips parting as he leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself—he wanted to let go, to let you guide him. he needed you to take control, to remind him of his place with you, to quiet the doubts swirling in his mind.

“cho, look at me,” you said, grabbing his chin gently so you could lock eyes with him. “they’re my friends, but you? you’re… you’re everything."

his breath hitched, his eyes flicking down as heat crept up his cheeks. you noticed the way his body relaxed slightly under your touch.

you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "you don’t have to be like them. i like you exactly how you are. i don’t want them. i want you."

he shook his head, his lips parting to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. his breath hitched, his hands hovering over your hips as though he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you.

"let me prove it to you," you murmured, your lips brushing his.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his lips parting as he leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself. the way his body softened beneath your hands, the slight tremble in his shoulders, told you everything—he wanted to let go, to let you guide him. he needed you to take control, to remind him of his place with you, to quiet the doubts swirling in his mind.

“should i show you, cho?”you take his hand and turning to your room, he bites his lower lip, uncertainty flickering across his features before he nods eagerly.

"y-yes, Y/N” choso’s breath hitches as you lead him into the bedroom, his pulse quickening at your sultry voice, his other hand shaking slightly anxiously.

he swallows hard, his mouth going dry as you close the door behind them, the sound echoing through the quiet room. choso’s gaze return to you, his pupils dilating with a mix of nervous excitement and longing, his mind quickly adapt to the new atmosphere, an atmosphere he knows it very much.

"you will be a good boy and you will listen?" you tease him, whispering in his ear, putting him on the bed with his feet hanging off and you between his legs.

your fingertips flicker gently over his face and collarbone, each touch deliberate and teasing.

a shiver runs down choso's spine as your warm breath tickles his ear, sending waves of tingling heat across his sensitive skin. his eyelids flutter shut at the teasing motion of your fingertips, making him squirm slightly beneath your touch, his breath catching in his throat.

"yes, y/n, i'll be a good boy," choso promises breathlessly, his voice thick with anticipation.

his gaze, dark and heavy with need, locks on you, drinking in every detail—the playful curve of your lips, the way your eyes glint with mischief, the soft fall of your hair framing your face.

as you settle firmly between his spread thighs, choso’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break free. vulnerability flashes across his expression for a moment before it melts into sheer desire, completely overwhelmed by your dominant affection.

"p-please, y/n…" he stammers, voice barely above a whisper, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as he surrenders completely.

"mmm aleeady begging” you chuckle softly, letting your fingers trail over his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake “you’re so beautiful, choso…did you know that?” you murmur appreciatively, your hand coming closer to his aching dick, you want to worship every inch of him until his begging for more.

choso’s back arches off slighty the bed, he whimpers softly, his hips twitching involuntarily

"you are beautiful too..." his voice strained with need, he wanna reaches out, desperate to touch you, but he know better you don’t wanna do it like that.

he bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as he fights the urge to thrust into your touch

"please..." choso pleads, his submissive eyes glazed with lust and surrender.

“you are so sweet, baby.i love how you try ro behave. i really do “you kneel between his legss, looking at him teasingly and undress his pants slowly.

choso’s breath hitches as you unfasten his pants, the zipper sliding down with agonizing slowness.his heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins.

he watches a intently, drinking in the sight of your mesmerizing eyes, choso’s cock twitches in its confines, straining against the fabric as his body responds to the building tension

"c-can you touch me…more? " his voice ragged with desire as he almost tries to lift his hips

you give a wicked smile, removing his pants and underwear, exposing his dick and you start stroking it slowly, from base to tip, watching his reactions closely

“more? but you are so cute when you are completly at my mercy”

choso’s head falls back against the mattress as you wrapp your small hands around his throbbing cock, the first stroke sending a jolt of pure ecstasy through his body

“ahhhh” he cries out, his voice cracking with pleasure, lids fluttering closed as he surrenders himself fully to your touches. “don’t stop, please...“ his voice hoarse with desire.

“shh. don’t command me baby or i might stop” you continue your ministration, teasing the head of his cock “and you don’t want that, do you?”

his hips buck instinctively, seeking more of that maddening touch and your threatening voice.

"no, no, i’m sorry…please... “he whimpers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. his eyes snap open, locking onto yours with an intense, pleading gaze

his hands clench into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he struggles to maintain control, but the ache in his cock threatens to consume him wholly.

you smirk at him, your pussy dripping already just by his pleading eyes, continuing to stroke his cock slowly, occasionally giving it a gentle squeeze, your other hand moves to fondle his balls, rolling them in you palm.

“mmmm, you're so responsive, cho. such a perfect little boy, you’re making me so wet already

you lean and start lickiny his dick slowly up and down, preparing him for what has to come.

his entire body quakes as your tongue makes contact with his sensitive flesh, he throws his head back, a hoarse cry tearing from his throat as pleasure crashes over him

"Y/N!”, his hips throbbing erratically as you lavishe attention on his aching cock, his vision already blur at the edges as he teeters on the brink of climax but he know he needs ro resist the urge. you retreat for a second, gasping for air.

“remember cho, you don’t get to cum untill i say so, yeah?” he moan so hard when your lips envelop his cock once more, the suction drawing him deeper into the wet heat of her throat.*

“yes yes Y/N, i remember! please don’t stop!" his voice raw and desperatec his body trembles uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as he fights the impending orgasm, his fingers dig into the sheets, the only thing keeping him grounded.

his vision goes white as you take him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock, gagging and slurping. tears stream down his cheeks, mingling with the sweat dripping from his brow as he's pushed to his limit.

"please, baby... i can’t... is too much!" he sobs, his voice breaking on a ragged whimper. his muscles spasm, his toes curling as he strains against the iron grip of his climax.

at that, you let him go with a pop, returning to stroke him slowly “oh baby but i think you can a little more, right?”

“but I admit, you were such a good boy, cho” you tease the head of his cock again and he twich instantly“should i reward you? should i let you fuck my throat, baby? to cum in my mouth? or maybe on my tits?”

choso’ s resolve crumbles, his willpower shattered, his eyes widen, pupils dilated with lust

“yes!!! please Y/N, let me… i need so badly i can’t —“he begs, his voice thick with desperation. choso’s hips surge forward, closer to your beautiful lips, his imagination running wild with the depraved scenarios playing out in his mind, about your warm mouth, about your perfect tits

"cum in my mouth, cho” you take him again in your mouth and start deepthroat him, looking up at him with determination in your eyes.

he don’t need much longer, as your throat constricts around him once more, choso loses all sense of control, his climax erupting in a violent rush of hot, sticky fluid. he bucks and thrashes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his release as he empties himself into your waiting mouth.

choso’s hands find your hair, tangling as he holds you in place, plugging your mouth to the limit.

after the aftershocks pass, choso slowly takes his cock out of your mouth, his body limp, spent and panting. a dazed expression on his face, still reeling from the force of his climax.

you swallow everything he give you and pull off his softening cock, licking you lips clean “mmm so delicious” choso watches you gulp his load and he cups your check with trembeling hand, his expression full of adoration while he watch every part of your face.

"that was….incredibile..Y/N….thank you.”

“you deserve it, baby” you stand up and climb on him, his legs still shaking slightly, you take his earlobe in your mouth “now, how about you take care of me, hmm?”

a shiver runs down Choso's spine as warm breath caresses his ear, he groans softly.

"...anything for you," he moans feeling your hot breath and lips on his earlobe, he push your back closer and start worshiping your body.

he licks and nips at you skin, trailing kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. choso’s hands roam your body, mapping every curve and contour as you gasp and grinds unconsciously on him. you lick his neck and pinch his pecks slightly which made him moan.

“yeah? should i muffle you with my pussy? grind on your pretty face?”

a gasp escapes choso’s lips as the brief sting of pain quickly giving way to pleasure. He arches into your touch, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants.

“mmm yes... please, i want to make you feel good" he whispers, his voice husky with desire. “i-i want to taste you, feel you grinding against my face..”he pleads, his words dripping with submission and longing

you push him by his chest and climb on him fast, your soaked pussy closer to his face, smearing your juices all over his cheeks and chin as his eyes widen, hungry with desire while he put both hands on your ass and push it closer to his mouth, without hesitation, he parts his lips and extend his tongue and you start grinding on his face.

“f-fuck, cho! you are so obedient…..” you lift one leg over his shoulder, opening you further to him “now, open wide and show me how much you adore me, cho.”

"mmmhm…," he moans around your pussy, the flavor of your arousal coating his tongue. choso’s nose burrows into your slick folds, inhaling deeply as he laps at your clit and inner walls with reckless abandon.

choso’s cock already throbs painfully against his belly, straining for release even as he focuses solely on you

“ahhhh, yes, cho! just like that, eat my pussy! you starts grinding harder on his face, her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him where you wants him most “you’re such a slut for my pussy, aren't you? fuck you feel so good” you moan harder, your legs trembeling

choso’s response is a muffled, guttural moan, his voice distorted by the plushness of your pussy filling his mouth. your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him deeper and he welcomes the slight discomfort, craving more of your dominance, using his mouth like that.

"mmph, mmhmm...yes” he manages to convey between licks and sucks, his words slurred and breathy.

“oh, cho! right there, don't stop!” your breathing gets heavier, your moans louder as you ride his face “i’m gonna cum, cho!” you warn him before your whole body tenses up and she screams in pleasure, your pussy clenching hard around his tongue as he devours you and licking all your cum.

choso’s low moans vibrate against you, a symphony of pleasure and devotion. he continues to tongue-fuck you through the aftershocks, only when your tremors subside does chlso slowly pull back, his face glistening with your arousal and tears of pleasure

as he gazes up at you with adoring eyes, his chest heaving with emotion

“you taste so good, Y/n”

you look down at him, your eyes filled with love and lust “you were such a pretty good boy, cho” your voice hoarse from the screaming, still catching your breath

you undress from your shirt, revealing your tits to him, and start moving slowly on his abs, your pussy closer to his throbbing cock.

“such a good boy like maybe you deserve to fuck me, what do you think?”

choso’s heart races as you teases his straining erection with your slick folds, hos gaze is transfixed on your perfect breasts, his hand instantly cupping both of them, teasing them and pinching them slowly.

he groans, he pleades, his voice raw with longing “please…need to be inside you... “i’ll make you feel so good, Y/N, I promise," his eyes locked onto hers, brimming with love and lust.

you chuckle gently “i love how desperate you are for me” you take his dick and slowly you let him feel your walls

“f-fuck’” a low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he feels you, he gasps as you start moving, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to anchor himself.

"do you see it now?" you whispered, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. "do you feel how much you mean to me?"

his grip on your waist tightened, and his voice broke as he stammered, "y-yes… i—ah—" he couldn’t finish, his thoughts too jumbled, his body trembling beneath you.

"you’re the only one," you murmured, your tone soft but commanding. "the only one who gets to have me like this."

his eyes squeezed shut as a desperate, shaky moan escaped his lips, your name spilling from him like a prayer. the way his body reacted to every touch, every word, almost overwhelmed you—soft whimpers, broken gasps, his lips parting as he tried and failed to keep up with the sensations. he was so vulnerable, so open, it made your chest ache.

you steady yourself, wrapping your hand on his throat, bringing him back to the present “you like that, cho?” you smirk and start moving faster, slamming your hips down his cock “being my only one submissive boy?”

you lean forward, your breast pressing against his chest as you whisper in his ear

“i bet you want to take me and fuck me however you want, huh?” your hand tighten around his throat, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp and choso’s eyes roll back in ecstasy, a primal part of him almost taking over.

“no, no, Y/N….ah..i love it when you take control” he pants, his voice ragged with desperation. his hips buck up to meet your thrusts deeper

you grins wickedly and keep going, your movements become erratic “look at you. so desperate for me” you slap his cheek playfully, your pussy clenched harder on him.

“think you've earned a reward, do you know what is it?” choso’s vision blurs at the edges, your grip on his throat remains unyielding, he feels an intoxicating sense of euphoria. he gasp when your slap touched his cheek, his body tenses, coiled springs ready to snap, desperatly.

"p-please,... tell me... I'll do anything..."

“you can fuck me how you want, choso” you whisper, your voice cracking from the pleasure

at this, choso’s control stop immediately, he loses all semblance of restraint, flipping you onto your back and start thrusting with bruising force.

his hands grab your wrists, pinning them above your head as he begins to pound into you violently, each savage thrust driving him closer to the edge. one of hand goes to your clit, start moving faster and faster, wanting for you to cum either him

“mine! you’re only mine!” he snarls, his voice a feral growl as he claims glur body with ruthless intensity. choso’s hips slam against you, the lewd sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the room.

“oh my god, cho!!! make me cum!!!” your head rolls on the bed as you scream, when you lock your eyes with him, his eyes, wild and unhinged, bore into you as he ravages your cunt, his cock throbs inside you, driving closer and closer to the edge.

feeling your body tense, sensing your impeding orgasm, choso’s hip start slamming with bruising force, he rolls your clit between his finger, your legs shake badly as you feel your own climax taking ove. you start screaming into his neck. choso groaned deeply, his cock grinding harder around cervix, feeling your spasmming walls and orgasm,

““Y/N!!!”” choso cant hold any longer as his hips start jerk erratically, with a a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock throbbing as he unleashes a torrent of hot seed deep inside you and you whimper, feeling so full from both of your climaxes.

💞💕afterward, he collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. you turned to him, brushing his damp hair out of his face, and his dark eyes met yours, still clouded but filled with so much love it made your heart ache.

"you’re incredible," you murmured, your voice soft but full of conviction.

he blinked at you, his lips parting slightly, and after a moment, he whispered, "thank you… for letting me."

you smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "you don’t have to thank me, choso. i wanted this just as much"

his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you like you might disappear.

"do you believe me now?" you murmured against his skin, your voice soft and steady.

choso pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice low and hoarse.

"yeah," he whispered, the smallest hint of a smile in his voice. "i do." You smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin

“good," you whispered. "because you’re stuck with me."

"wouldn’t have it any other way," he replied, pulling you even closer.

"thank you, y/n," he murmured after a moment, his voice still shaky.

"for what, my pretty boy?" you asked, your fingers never stopping their soft patterns on his chest.

"for reminding me i’m enough," he said quietly, his arms tightening around you.

you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his skin

“you don’t need reminding, choso. you always have been."

"i’m sorry," he murmured after a pause. "for doubting you."

you shook your head slightly, your voice tender but firm. "you don’t need to apologize either.. just remember next time—there’s no one else i’d rather be with than you."

he buried his face in your hair, his voice barely above a whisper as he promise

“i’ll remember." and for the first time all night, he let out a quiet, contented sigh, his insecurities finally silenced.

[mariclerc]

betrayal and rescue (pt.2) | cl16

Summary: your ex betrays you, but luckily your teammate has your back.

Warnings: ferrari driver!reader, single mom reader, misogynistic comments, fluff and Charles being such a sweetheart.

Part 1

The last month living with Charles have been a real dream come true for you and Mia, he has been a very important support for both of you during this time, he's a very caring and gentle person, his soft touch and kind nature is what you and Mia needed to really start healing. It was a rare, lazy Sunday with no commitments pulling you two away from bed, Charles lay propped against pillows, dozing lightly with Mia curled on his chest. You smiled at their peaceful forms, carding gentle fingers through Charles' tousled and soft chocolate curls.

Mia stirred, yawning widely before spotting you. “Mama! Morning!” she crawled over to snuggle into your side, little hand gripping Charles' shirt.

“Good morning my pretty girl!” you say softly at her, kissing her cheek. “Good morning Charlie!” you giggled.

Chuckling softly, Charles' arms wound around both of you as his eyes fluttered open, he smiled sleepily. “Bonjour, mes amours.” he murmured, pressing kisses to your heads. (good morning, my loves)

You sighed contentedly, resting your cheek against his warm and comfy chest. In that moment, all the cares and worries of the world felt so far away, here in your very own cocoon of blankets, surrounded by the love of your makeshift family, nothing could touch the three of you.

Your mind wandered back over the torturous last months you've spent trapped in your ex's grip... the constant walking on eggshells, never knowing what might set off his volatile temper, never having that feeling of safety or protection, even in your own home with Mia...

Now, Charles' strong arms encircled you both, radiating an unshakable calm, warmth and safety you'd never known before. His affection for you and Mia was unconditional, showering you daily with kind words, gifts, and adventures that filled your hearts to bursting.

Tears welled in your eyes as you peered up at Charles' handsome, adoring face. “I never thought I could feel this happy and content.” you whispered. “You gave me and Mia the life, the family, we always wanted.”

Charles' gaze softened, brushing away your tears with his thumb. “I'm the lucky one, princess.” he insisted gently. “You both brought me more joy than I ever believed possible.”

Leaning down to capture your lips in a slow and tender kiss, he poured every ounce of love into it that you still had trouble believing was truly yours after so long in the darkness. But in Charles' light, you and Mia were starting to heal, to believe, and to understand that happy endings do exist for those who keep hoping.

Mia let out a squeal of happiness. “Dada, Mama! Kisses!” she said giggling.

Charles smiled at her. “We have multiple kisses for you too, petite étoile.” (little star)

He said and then he started to fill Mia's face with kisses, who giggled more and was so happy, you smiled when you saw them, it was your beautiful family.

***

The Miami race weekend brought new challenges as you and Charles tried to keep your blossoming relationship private amid the media frenzy in the paddock and social media.

You two arrived separately to avoid suspicion, only allowing your hands to brush as you passed beside each other in the paddock Charles' eyes lingered with a smile, filling you with warmth.

During the practice sessions your radios remained businesslike, but his frequent checks that if you were hydrated or had enough fuel said everything. Small glances across the garage were your only connection, yet more intimate than any public display could be.

Qualifying came, neither of you hold back—though whether from passion for racing or each other, even if you weren't sure. You were pushing your cars to their limits as if nothing else existed.

After that, you stopped by Charles' driver room under the guise of strategy debrief. But as the door closed, his lips captured yours feverishly. Your restraint finally snapped under the tension of the day, the kiss is very slow and soft, as you two break away from the kiss, you place your forehead against his.

You gazed up at him worriedly. “Do you think people will start speculating about us?” you whispered softly.

Charles brushed his lips softly over your forehead. “Let them speculate baby, I don't care who knows how much you and Mia mean to me.”

His words filled you with joy and longing for the day you could shout your love from the rooftops, but for now, this stolen moment between you two, where the world fell away, was enough.

The press conference after the qualifying session were in full swing, you fielded questions professionally about setup choices and tire strategies that put both of the Ferrari cars on the front row for sunday's race.

But one of the journalists had an accusatory tone. “Some think it's no coincidence you and Leclerc are performing so well together... Care to elaborate on rumors of an forbidden relationship distracting you both?”

You started to reply calmly when another cut in. “Yeah, she's probably just sleeping her way to the top! Honestly, what else is a pretty face good for in a man's sport?”

Venomous laughter rose from some journalists in the room, your chest tightened in panic and rage —this was your nightmare scenario. Being a woman and also being in motorsports, you have often encountered derogatory and unpleasant comments about you and about women in general, it's like most men are bothered by the fact that a girl is faster than them on the track or that women deserve a place everywhere as them, that includes sports too. Before you could respond, Charles suddenly grabbed his microphone.

“That is completely unacceptable.” he said in a low, dangerous tone that chilled the room. His green eyes blazed with barely contained fury. “She is one of the most talented and dedicated professionals in this paddock, regardless of gender. The disrespect shown here today is a disgrace to the sport.” Charles leaned over the mic, jaw clenched. “I suggest selecting your next questions more wisely and showing my teammate the respect she deserves not only as a driver, but as a human being... If not, this conference is over.”

An uneasy silence fell as Charles grasped your trembling hand supportively under the table, you took a calming breath, regaining composure.

You swallowed dryly. ”Our performances speak for themselves, which I think is good for the team.” you stated clearly. “Charles and I simply push each other to excellence through our competition and partnership, that's all.”

Max Verstappen also wanted to give his opinion on the journalist's misogynistic comment towards you.

“Forgive me for being so bold, but I think that kind of comment is very out of place. I mean, considering that y/n is a mother and an exceptional driver and she deserves the same respect as all of us, right?” Max said, staring at the journalist, who was completely pale. “I think you should ask her about her race and strategy, and not about her private life, I don't know, that's just my opinion.” he said and dropped the microphone leaving everyone in the room speechless.

The rest of the questions thankfully remained respectful, but later, outside of the press conference room, Charles embraced you tenderly.

“No one gets to tear you down like that. You are so much stronger than their smallmindedness, okay?” he whispered in your ear.

You smiled up at him through happy tears, gripping his race suit. In that moment, you knew that with Charles by your side, you could overcome any obstacle that came your way.

Despite of those awful comments, the Miami Grand Prix was a huge success for both of you, with Charles taking victory and you claiming second place on the podium, the third 1-2 finish in the season for Ferrari, you're in total bliss. You two opted to skip the official afterparties and all the glamour, eager for some low-key family time.

Back at the hotel, Charles ordered a feast from room service while you and Mia showered away the sweat of the day. Emerging refreshed in pajamas, your heart overflowed seeing Charles play with Mia on the floor, her giggles echoing.

“Mama, dada won! Yay!” Mia squealed proudly as you bent to pepper her face with kisses, Charles beamed up at you, eyes sparkling.

“You were so incredible out there today babe!” he praised, helping you plate your overflowing meal spread across the suite's floors and furniture.

The three of you dined under the moonlight spilling through enormous windows, talking and laughing for hours as Mia dozed in your lap. Finally content and full bellies, the evening wound down with Mia yawning off to bed, Charles gathered you into his lap on the couch, kissing you so deeply and yet gently as if you were made of flickering glass.

“Thank you for giving me the family I never knew I wanted... For filling these months with a happiness I ever believed possible.” he whispered softly against your lips.

You cradled his handsome face, memorizing every beautiful line and facet. “I should be the one thanking you, you know? For trying to heal the wounds of my past and giving Mia and I the love and safety we always deserved.”

He shakes his head. “It has been such a pleasure, being with you and taking care of both of you it's been a journey, a beautiful one.” he whispered and you giggled softly.

Your relationship was far from traditional, that's for sure! But on nights like this, in the blissful quiet of each other's arms, it felt more right than anything you'd ever known.

***

You definitely enjoy the little breaks in-between races, it's were you can take a moment to ground yourself outside racing and just enjoy the calm and warm of your little family and that can be just a rewarding like a race win or a podium.

“Mama!” Mia screams a little. “A scary ghost is following me!” she says while running and giggling around the living room.

Almost a second later, Charles appeared hiding in a white blanket trying to catch Mia in his arms, but she runs away... He almost collide with the coffee table.

You laughed at their funny antics. “Oh no Mia! It's a really clumsy ghost.” you say while giggling.

“Boo! There's a sneaky little girl around here, I'm going to grab her in my arms and turn her into a little ghost!” Charles' said imitating the voice of a ghost.

Mia giggled again. “No, no! Bad ghost, really bad!” she covered her mouth. “Catch mama!” she said pointing at you.

You opened your mouth, shocked. “Me? But I'm just trying to make some tea!” you say. “It's not fair baby!”

You and Mia started run around the living room, making Charles crash almost with every single chair and the rug, you two laughed at him.

You feel and arm behind you. “Haha, gotcha!” he said in a mocking tone, making you and Mia collide to the rug, he took off the blanket, revealing is disheveled hair and a flustered cheeks.

“Dada, again, again!” she said giggling.

Charles giggled too. “Oh baby, maybe tomorrow, does that sounds good?” he asked her and she nodded.

You just smiled at him, you never saw him looking so radiant and joyful, it's like he's reliving things from his own childhood and it's so nice to see him like this with Mia.

You smiled. “You are a rather scary ghost and a little silly.” you giggled.

He chuckled softly. “Well, thank you, love! It's been years of practice.” he kissed your cheek.

“You know? You're amazing Charlie!” you say softly.

He looks at you. “Really? Well, um... Thanks darling, the truth is I only do what I can.” he blushed. “It's just me.”

You kiss the tip of his nose. “And that's why you're so amazing! You're you, as silly as it might sound, you're so passionate and so gentle at the same time!”

Mia smiled and kissed Charles' cheek. “Mwah! Dada kisses!” she said softly and he giggled.

“Do you want kisses, petite princesse?” he said to Mia and she nodded. “Okay, here we go!” (little princess)

Then he proceeded to cover Mia's face with kisses all over and she let out loud giggles, you smiled at the beautiful scene, and you realized something very important... You were in front of the love of your life and your little ray of sunshine, maybe everything would have been very different if you had tried from the beginning with Charles, or maybe not, but you are very sure of one thing... You are at home, in your safe place, with your two favorite people, the ones who keep you on your toes most of the time, but you wouldn't change it for anything in the world, Not even all the podiums or victories the world has to offer you, nothing compares to this.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Falling Into Me

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Smut (p in v, fingering, oral f receiving), angst, loss of virginity, light fluff, feelings :(, real bad self-image issues

Summary/Warnings: You're a virgin, and it's really not a big deal. Everyone was a virgin once. You're just a virgin longer. Maybe forever, because nobody really seems to be willing to solve that problem for you.

You've never told Sam and Dean, and you don't have any intention to. Ever. But when a hunt goes wrong, Dean finds out. And he might have been keeping something from you as well.

Author's Note: This might be the horniest thing I've ever written. Enjoy <3!

Title from Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan

Word Count: 8.9k

You haven’t slept in three days, and it’s starting to be a problem. But you can’t afford to sleep. You can only drink staler and staler coffee, sit at the motel table, and pretend this is a case that, somehow, you’re going to solve. That Dean isn’t grumpier than usual, and Sam doesn’t constantly look like he’s going to kill the next person that dares to have an incorrect idea. It’s why you volunteered for the next round of interviews. You don’t want to be there when one of them snaps and kills the other, and while you wouldn’t love to return to the room and find it covered in blood, at least then you’d have an excuse to call it.

You wouldn’t call it. You’d work the case until it was done, because that’s what you do. And Sam and Dean won’t kill each other, because they’re Sam and Dean. That said, you are expecting a pouting Dean to pacing back and forth outside the room as he waits for you to return, and a grumble about how Sammy said he was being annoying and needed to walk it off. You’re more than prepared to give him a sympathetic smile and ask him if he was being annoying. And he’ll probably protest that he wasn’t, and you’ll raise your brows, and he’ll admit he mighta been drumming really loud while eating the chips.

It’s not an unreasonable expectation. None of you have slept, because this thing is insane. There’s no obvious pattern to the victims, no connections, nothing in line with everything you’ve ever seen. It’s men and woman, a wide age range, no previous coflicts or knowledge of each other in life. There are holes through theirs chests that could be bullet wounds, but obviously aren’t, because Bullets don’t remove the heart from the body. But it’s not werewolves, because werewolves aren’t clean killers like this and every fucking person in this stupid town has passed the silver test. There’s a new kill every night, and a new body every morning, and another reason for you, Sam, and Dean to start screaming every day. Every hour makes you all wired, because it’s closer and closer to another evening where you won’t have caught this asshole and another person will die.

And it’s become really easy to get on each other’s nerves. Sam was mad at Dean because he’d purposefully gotten you all burgers instead of Sam’s rabbit food, you’re mad at Sam because he said you were bad at poker—and you are, but what the fuck—and Dean’s mad at you because-

Dean’s not mad at you. You and Dean don’t really get mad at each other. You understand each other, better than you’ve ever understood anyone else, and it’s the perfect amount of alike that you’ll lend him grace you wouldn’t lend anyone else—including yourself—but you don’t see enough of your own twisting, molding innards to hate him. You mostly see something better. A man that has all the same rotting parts, but has made something out of them while you just waste away in toxins.

And you think Dean sees something similar in you. It’s why you’d been obnoxiously chewing potato chips, right in his ear, and he hadn’t punched you or snatched the bag away from your hands. He’d just rolled his eyes, grabbed one of his own, and started chewing in Sam’s ear.

So you hadn’t really volunteered for interviews so much as been aggressively told by Sam you were doing interviews. And it was only fair Dean met the same fate.

But he hadn’t. And when you opened the door to the room, they both looked happy. 

Dean practically shouts your name when he sees you, wildly gesturing for you to join them at the table. “Sammy found it!” He grins at you almost manically, and it’s a little adorable. “We can finally fucking leave.”

“I might have found it,” Sam corrects, his smile a little more tentative, but still real. “And we can’t leave yet. Not until we actually get the thing-“

“Obviously, dude, but that’ll be soon, instead of in a million years.” Dean looks to you for agreement. “I mean, c’mon. You guys can’t really wanna stay in hicktown Ohio forever?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Good coffee.”

Dean glares at you. “The coffee tastes like ass and you freakin’ know it-“

“Dean.” You give him a flat look. “Do I actually get to know what the monster is?”

Sam sighs. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“I already don’t love it, it’s a monster that’s killed like, ten people-“

“Worse than that.” Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “It’s sorta like a dragon.”

You, very suddenly, don’t feel really well. Everything is hotter than it had been a second ago, and the walls seem to be closing in as your skin begins to prickle and ache. “Like a dragon?” You ask, forcing your voice to remain steady. “Or a dragon?”

“Like a dragon. Tell her, Sammy.”

Sam shoots Dean a glare—not happy being thrown under the bus—and mutters, “It’s a unicorn.”

You stare at him for a long minute, then shake your head. “It’s a what.”

“Unicorn.” Sam mumbles. “They’re, uh, looks like they’re real.”

“But not Pinky Pie and Disney.” Dean adds, turning Sam’s laptop for you to read. “Real fucking assholes.”

“They hunt virgins.” Sam explains. “To bond with. And it’ll kill anyone who falsely lures it.”

“Stab the poor son of a bitch right through the heart, then pull that sucker right out.” Dean adds, spreading his legs and propping his elbows on his knees. “And it looks like it’ll go after chicks and dudes, any age, so that’s why there’s no pattern. You’re able to fuck, you’re fair game.”

“Oh, cool.” You mutter, a lump starting to form in your throat. “I’m always looking for equal opportunity murderers in the monsters I hunt.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna make it a little harder to find the thing.” Sam grabs his laptop back, frowning at the screen. “It’ll take a human form, then look for a virgin. And it won’t be able to tell until it gets the person’s heartbeat up, so it might be a guy or a girl, depending on who it’s hunting tonight.”

“But,” you glance at Dean, who’s grinning as you start to put it together. “It is hunting tonight.”

“Hunts every night.” Dean says, rubbing his hands together. “And we don’t know where, but we can take some guesses. Split up and look at all the bars in town ’till one of us finds something, then gank this douchebag and get the hell out of here.”

“Split up?” You whisper, something wired and flailing coiling around your guts. “That’s, um, shouldn’t we stick together? If it’ll go after anyone?”

“Not everyone.” Same shrugs. “Low, uh, body counts. I guess. Low enough that it can’t tell immediately.”

“So we just need a bunch of whores?"

Dean snorts. “Well tonight,” he spreads his arms, shooting you a wink that really isn’t helpful right now. “We’re the whores, Sweetheart. We’re safe, and we’re going to kick some unicorn ass.”

It’s a cheesy, stupid thing to say, and usually you’d laugh and crack a joke back. Something about unicorn ass and whores that you can’t really think of right now, because there’s bile in your throat and something heavy fogging over your brain.

“How do we, uh,” your tongue is numb in your mouth, and every word is dragged out of your throat. “How do we kick a unicorn’s ass.”

“Well, we’re looking for electrical malfunctions, golden eyes when it gets, uh, excited, and a refusal to drink anything but water.” Sam frowns at the screen, looking up at you with a half-shrug. “Anything amoral seems to knock it down, so just, uh, swear? Then shoot it with iron. Iron kills it.”

“And, um,” you swallow, tugging at the fabric of your sleeves. “What’s gonna to the virgin? If the unicorn finds it?”

Sam sighs. “They, uh, they seem to use them.”

Dean frowns, leaning around to try and read the screen. “Use them-“ 

“Their purity. Use their purity.” Sam raises his brows, and you can see the exact moment it clicks in Dean’s head. 

“That’s...” Dean trails off, running a hand over his face. “Shit.” 

Sam mutters an agreement, and your mouth feels like sandpaper, your heart beating like it’s trying to escape your chest.

“And after?” You whisper, a little unsure you want to actually ask the question, or know the answer. “After they’re used?” 

“Well, they’re not ‘pure’ anymore.” Sam puts an air quote around pure, and you feel a little sick. “So, uh, stab.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly. You might need to lie down. “Stab.”

Dean looks over you with a drawn brow, his voice low and cautious as he says your name. “Are feelin’ okay-“

“I’m fine.” You remember how to smile, and hope it looks real. Not like your teeth are starting to feel out of place in your mouth, and you can’t seem to find enough spit to choke on. “Let’s get the unicorn ass.”

Dean doesn’t look convinced. Hell, Sam doesn’t look convinced. But they both let it go for now, and you can breathe just a little easier knowing you’re not barreling towards a fight.

But only a little easier. 

Because you’re fucked.

Virginity is a funny thing. It’s just a social construct, but it’s a social construct some monsters seem to take as scripture, making it a hazardous thing to still have in your line of work. 

And you hadn’t meant to be a hazard. It just kind of happened. Because it started as something that was a given to have, then turned into something that you just were a little too busy to lose, before becoming an awkward conversation you’re not willing to have. Something that hangs, silent and sharp, over your head and around your throat. Something that’s now a question of why? Why is it never you? You’re not ugly. You’re even pretty enough that, if you tell someone, they won’t believe you and it’ll all feel worse. You’re even pretty enough that you’ve seen people size you up at bars, but none of them ever approach you.

So it might just be you. You might just have something on your face that gives away that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, a little too rough to touch and not have it sting, telling people stay away. 

And Sam and Dean will never know. You’re already a little younger, a little worse of a hunter, a small problem when they’re obviously trying to take someone to their bed but the girl sees you and makes quick and inaccurate assumptions. Sam is better at brushing them off—She’s like my little sister—but Dean gets red and awkward and suddenly loses all his well-practiced charm. He sulks back to the table, and won’t look you in the eyes for an hour or walk with you back to the bar. You’re honestly shocked neither of them have thrown you to the curb by now, an you’re not going to give them another reason to. Another reason for Sam to make a sad, puppy-eyed pity face and Dean to stare at you like he’s not sure you’re real. Like there’s no way someone could’ve possibility survived as a hunter like this. 

And a small, well-contained part of you wishes Dean would look at you the way he looks at other women. Like they still have beautiful, horrible secrets that he’d love to uncover with only his hands and mouth. 

You’ve got secrets. Dean can’t have them—because they’re a liability and you’re not looking to lose him forever—but you really wish he’d just look at you. Once, really look at you, and not see you. See something so much better, that you think he’s always a little close to finding, that nobody else ever seems willing to try and look for.

You’re a little grateful they left you alone in this backwater dive bar. It would hurt to watch Dean flirt right now, when everything feels raw and wired in your body, and every time someone drops next to you at the bar you feel more and more sick. There are quick, polite conversations with random strangers who sound like they’d rather be anywhere than here, with you, and by the time you’ve repeated your cover story for the eighth time your lungs are wrapped iron and your nails feel like a burden on your fingers.

It’ll be over by tonight. All three of you know what you’re looking for, so the unicorn will be dead before sunrise, and you won’t have to do any explanations about why you’ve been quiet and tense since Dean said like a dragon. Nobody will look at you with pity or confusion, nobody will get hurt, and you won’t end up with a hole in your heart as the only people that have ever seen you to be worth something realize just how wrong they were. That you’re really just a small, useless burden that even a literal monster wouldn’t be able to stomach the presence of-

“You here all by yourself?”

Something sparks in your gut at the voice, coming from off to the side, because for a second you really think it’s Dean. It’s deep, moves through your whole body, and knocks loose something in your lower gut that always makes you feel hungry, but it’s not Dean. When you turn, the man next to you looks like someone ran Dean through a printer too many times and he came out faded. A little too short, not quite as broad, all the pretty scars that make Dean Dean seemingly vanished, and a gleam in his eyes that Dean’s never had. It’s a little more feral, without any playfulness or glowing shadows. Too much yellow instead of green, the cocky smirk just a little off, none of it right. None of it Dean.

“I’m, um,” you frown, because this man even smells like Dean. “I’m waiting for a friend. He’s running late.”

Not-Dean clicks his tongue. “Shame, leaving a pretty girl like you all alone. You want some company until your boyfriend shows up?”

You shake your head, turning your glass around in your hand. “Not my boyfriend. And I’m actually…” You trail off, your eyes falling on the man’s own glass. The clear liquid inside. “You drinking vodka?”

“Am I- Oh, sure.” The man chuckles, raising his drink for you to click. “Here’s to not-boyfriends-“

“Can I have some?”

You watch the man carefully as he looks between you and the glass. “Nah, sweetie, you don’t want this, it’s some strong stuff-“

Sweetie. Not sweetheart. Not Dean, not right, not safe. And something is starting to crawl over your skin and shoot up your spine, making you sit a little taller as your heart pounds louder and louder. 

As Not-Dean licks his lips, and scans over you with yellow eyes that might be shining. 

Fuck.

“I, um, I’m gonna go call my friend.” You start to shift off your seat, pulling your phone slowly out of your pocket. “He should’ve been here a few minutes ago, and I’m worried-“

“C’mon, you haven’t even told me your name.” Not-Dean wiggles his brows, and it looks wrong on his face. “Bet I can guess, if you give me a hint-“

“No, it’s fine, my name is, uh…” you look down at your phone, the screen completely black. You’d charged it before you left.

“Your name?” Not-Dean prompts, grabbing your arm. Holding you near him, at the bar. “I’d really love to learn it. I could teach you a few things in exchange-“

“I was never given a name!” Your voice is a frantic shout, Not-Dean’s eyes narrow, and you do the only thing you can think of. Punch Not-Dean square in the face, yank your arm from his grip, and run. Fucking sprint out of the bar and not allow yourself to falter as you hear a roar that’s a little hoarse and off pitched. Like a horse keen. Like a wounded animal.

Like a monster.

Splitting up had been a terrible fucking idea. Now you’re alone, you don’t have even an idea where Sam and Dean are, and you can’t afford to stop and jack a car because you can hear it in the distance. Hooves, clapping against the pavement, getting closer and closer as you begin to run out of breath. You can’t hide, it can hear you, and you can’t go faster because you already feel faint and everything is beginning to collapse in your body. Muscles tightening and skin crawling and eyes pushing out of your skull, every breath too shallow and every step too short. 

You fall to your knees behind a truck, wrapping a hand around your own throat and trying to force your heartbeat back down. Slow, even breathes that come out in choked gasps, nails digging into your skin as the hooves slow, and you hear a low sputtering sound from somewhere behind you. 

And it’s too quiet. You can’t hear anything but your blood in your ears, and all you can see in the night is the flickering yellow light of a streetlamp in the distance. You squeeze your eyes shut and swallow every breath, hoping you can force yourself out before the unicorn finds you. You don’t want to be used. You don’t want to be alone. You just want Dean, where’s Dean, why the fuck did you let him leave you alone, why didn’t you tell him the truth, why can’t you think of anything else but Dean, where’s Dean-

There’s something hot on your neck, and a large presence at your side. Something like spit is being splattered on your neck, and you can’t contain the vomit when a too-rough hand trails up your arm-

“Get the fuck back, you son of a bitch!”

A loud bang cuts through the air—making you jump out of your skin as a heavy body slumps onto yours—and it sounds like church bells and music. It sounds like Dean. That’s his voice shouting your name, his arms wrapping around your body and carrying you away from the unicorn, his breath fanning over your face as he sits you on the curb and starts to turn your face in his hands.

“Fuck, never should’ve left you, but I didn’t-“ Dean cuts himself off with a huff, and you think he’s talking to himself more than you. “Did the asshole touch you anywhere I can’t see?”

You shake your head, keeping your eye glued shut as you curl your hands in Dean’s shirt. Maybe Dean’s shirt. Not-Dean had been wearing plaid too, and you don’t have the nerve or will to open your eyes and seen if it’s your Dean, or the cheap unicorn knockoff.

“Shit, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Sam’s on his way, but we gotta get you out of here-“

“Didn’t touch me.” You whisper, fighting every urge into your body to curl forwards and start sobbing weak and pointless apologies. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay? You think, fuck-“ Dean’s arm—bigger, warmer, maybe actual Dean—loops around your waist, his voice a little closer to your ear. “Need you to hold onto me, got it? We’re goin’ back to the car, and you gotta, fuck, can you open your damn eyes?”

They fly open, almost on command, and it’s Dean. The smell of whiskey is stronger, more authentic, and his face is sharp in all the right places, and it’s really Dean. 

And he looks pissed. His touch on your body is careful, and his eyes are attentive and sparked with worry, but his jaw is clenched, and his every word is suddenly pushed through his teeth.

“You’re gonna hold onto me.” He orders, holding your wide-eyed gaze with a glower. “I’ll take a better look at you when we get back to the room-“

“Dean, I’m fine-“

“And,” Dean barrels on, as if he didn’t even hear you. “We’re going to have a chat. You’re, I can’t-” he shakes his head scooping you fully into his arms. “Just hold on.”

He sounds pissed. Dean’s rigid and silent the whole ride back to the hotel, his grip white-knuckled and tight on the wheel, and you feel even worse than before. This is it. He had to save you, and he’s going to learn why he had to save you, and he might not kick you out but he won’t look at you the same again. No more ease or awe or comfort or understanding, because Dean’s rotten in places where the mold can be burned away with every good part of him, but you’re just rotten. Just a hideous thing that roars in your chest, just angry and cowardlyand revolting and wrong. You’re just wrong. 

All the panic and paralyzing adrenaline had left your body, so you push yourself out of the Impala on unsteady feet. Dean mutters something about Sam dealing with all the cleanup as he opens to motel room door, watching you shuffle inside with clenched fists and an unreadable expression. You flop onto the bed with a small whine, your body beginning to drown in exhaustion, your gaze locked on the peeling paint of the ceiling as Dean moves around the room out of your view.

“Why’d you come back?” You ask, your voice hoarse and weak, and Dean lets out a long, low exhale from somewhere off to the side.

“You were actin’ really weird.” He grunts. “Didn’t sound like yourself. Weren’t laughing at my jokes, or making fun of Sam. Looked sick every time one of us said stab.”

“I could’ve just been-“

“Don’t.” He snaps, and you crane your neck to see him at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and looking at you. Dean seems to be really looking at you, all of you, and you suddenly really wish he would stop. You’re complete exposed below him, under his glare, and he’s going to see something he hates. Something you don’t have a name for that you’ve never wanted him to see, never wanted him to find. The thing that makes everyone else look away.

But Dean’s attention is like a drug, and you need him to stop before you lose him, but you also never want him to stop watching you. It’s confusing and raw and makes you feel like a live wire, one word or touch or stare away from snapping and bursting into a million sparks.

And Dean’s still looking at you. 

“I didn’t,” you swallow, his eyes like a magnet on yours. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.” He repeats, his voice lower. Harsher. “You’re not injured.”

You shake your head.

“Good. We need to talk.”

“Dean, I-“

“I’m asking the questions.” Dean leers over you slightly, and you nod again. “Why the fuck did that unicorn seem like it was hunting you.”

He knows the answer. His whole face is already painted in anger, and you know he knows. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Because it was hunting me.”

“Unicorns only hunt virgins.” Dean grunts your name, still not looking away. “You’re not-“

“I am.” You mumble, folding your arms over your own body as you drop back down onto the mattress. “Sorry.”

“Why would you say, fuck- Why in goddamn hell wouldn’t you tell me and Sam-“

“Tell you and Sam what?” You scowl at the ceiling. “That I’m untouched? Pure? Boring-“

“That you’d be in danger!” Dean all but roars, and you don’t flinch, but you do cringe. All the mold in your body feels as if it’s spreading like cancer, because Dean would never hurt you with his hands, but he might be about to curb stomp your heart with only his mouth. “I don’t give a shit about the virgin thing, I care that you were so fucking stupid to go off alone, that you didn’t trust me enough-“

“It’s not about trust, Dean,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut again. “And it’s not like you tell me everything-“

“I do! I’ve told you about all the shit in my past, and my fear of flying, and Rhonda Hurley, and that weird freaking dream I had with the mice in top hats-“

“That’s not the same!” You’re pushing back up on your palms, raising your voice to match Dean’s. You just need him to stop yelling at you, to rip the band-aid off and finally give up on you so you can rest. “This isn’t your business-“

“It’s my business if it’s gonna get you fucking killed, Sweetheart. And I coulda helped you-“

“Helped me?” You scoff. “I don’t need your help with this, Winchester, I’ve come to terms with it-“

There was a brief moment where Dean had looked like you’d kicked him, but it vanishes in a second as he gapes at you in disbelief. “To terms with virginity?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, holding his suddenly slack expression with your own glare. “Nobody wants me, it’s not a big deal-“ 

Dean snorts. “There’s no damn way you’re that stupid-“ 

“I am not stupid-“ 

“Yeah? Cause you’re a fucking idiot if you think nobody wants you.”

It’s your turn to gape at him. Your heart stumbles slightly in your chest, your fingers curling into bedsheets, and the world begins to spin as you try and understand his words. “What?”

“You,” Dean takes a firm step forward, drawing your name. “Are a fucking idiot if you think that there’s not one damn person on the planet who wants you.” 

“But-“

“Nah. No freakin’ buts.” He’s closer now, his knees bumping yours as he glowers down at you. “I’ve watched too many hair-gelled losers at bars size you up like they wanna take a bite for you to have buts. Hell, I’ve-“ Dean shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Shit, there’s just, there’s no way-“

Your face twists back into a scowl. “Fuck off, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you believe me-“

“Oh, I believe you, Sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring as a low groan leaves his chest, rolling through the air and settling between your legs in an aching heat. “And I finally fucking get it. You just, you have no idea. I thought you just didn’t want it, but you’re just- Shit-“

“Dean,” your voice is soft, a little breathless, and can’t help but rub your thighs together as his hands start to flex at his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“I know,” he mutters, scanning over your body with an almost predatory expression. “I’m not, I just gotta,” his gaze flies back to yours, his voice suddenly stern. “Sam tell you how the unicorn choses its form?”

You blink. “Wha-“

“It takes the form that will be most appealing to the target. To help the asshole get attention quickly. That unicorn,” his voice drop, deeper than you’ve ever heard it, and it takes all the will you have to not start fall back into in the sheets. “Looked kinda like me.”

“I, um, I don’t-“

“Do you want me?” Dean grunts your name, and you make the mistake of dropping your gaze down, to his pants. To where an impressive outline is straining against his jeans. 

“I’d, I mean, I’m not-“ You swallow, everything a dizzying haze of Dean. “Yeah, I think, but you’re not-“

“I’m not what?” He growls, kneeling down to your eye level, trailing a slow hand up your thigh. “Not interested?”

 “Yeah?”

“Wrong.” Dean’s hand moves higher, trailing closer and closer to your center before running back down to your knee. “So incredibly wrong, Sweetheart. I’ve wanted you since, fuck, since I first saw ya’. But you didn’t seem to want me, so I backed off, but if you just didn’t-“ He pauses, his brilliant green eyes suddenly tearing into your soul, unraveling you before he’s even touched bare skin. “Do you? Want me?”

“I already said-“

“You said yeah.” He mutters, rubbing his hand is a slow pattern on your knee. “Need you to say the full thing, before I do anything else.”

Dean’s face is suddenly softer, with something that aches and tugs on your own heart shining through his eyes, and you couldn’t lie to him if you tried. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to Dean. It feels cruel, and wrong, and as if you’d be denying yourself something so good and rare it will never be replicated if you walk away now. 

“I want you,” you whisper. “I’ve wanted you. But I’m not, it’s not going to be good for you. I mean, I know how to take care of that,” you point to the bulge in his pants, pressed slightly against your calf as he crouches before you, and Dean frowns. “But I’ve never, um, you know-“

“You’re not takin’ care of anything.” He says, scanning over your open face with drawn brows. “We’re doing this, it’s gonna be about you.”

“Oh.” There’s a little drool falling out of your mouth, Dean reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, and your voice becomes a squeak. “Okay.”

“If you really wanna,” his mouth curves into a smirk, and you need it on yours now. “Next time, I’ll let you go to town on Little Dean.”

You can’t stop the small giggle escaping your lips, and it turns into a full laugh as Dean’s own grin grows, and nothing really feels that bad anymore. “Little Dean?”

“Compared to the rest of me, yeah.” Dean does a loose gesture at his broad, strong body, his grin growing cocky. Hungry. Starved. “But trust me, gorgeous. Ain’t nothing little about him.”

Your eyes widen, your thighs rubbing together as the need for him becomes almost unbearable, and Dean lets out a deep, low chuckle. 

“You want me, babygirl?”

You nod, and Dean’s eyes narrow as he squeezes his hand on your leg. 

“Need you to say it-“

“Yeah.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

A grin splits over Dean’s handsome face, and his hand drifts to your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours as he drawls your name. “I’m gonna need to get you ready, so just,” he pushes you slightly, and you fall flat on your back, moving your own hands to hold his against you. “Stay there, look pretty, and let me work.”

You nod, your vision already a little blurred with desire as you stare at the ceiling. Dean draws back, shuffling around at the edge of the bed, and you look up to see his shirt gone. It’s all warm, slightly golden and freckled skin, strong and soft in all the right places. His muscles flex as he takes a long, deep breath, and big, calloused hands lowering to trace over your midriff, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What’d I say about stayin’ there-“

“I, um,” you gasp a little as his hand slips under your shirt, bunching the material and starting to slowly pull it over your chest. “I’ve done other stuff. Just so you know. And I’ve done things to myself-“

“I bet you have,” Dean mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you carefully against him as he helps you out of your clothing. “Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you, touch you, fucking ruin you-“

You let out a high, needy moan, burying your face in his neck and mumbling against his skin. “Please, Dean, just-“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as his free hand slips into your pants, cupping your pussy over the fabric of your underwear and rubbing back and forth so torturously slow you might fly out of your skin.

“So wet for me already,” he grunts, tugging on your hair until you lean back, meeting his gaze. “Ready?”

You’re not sure what you need to be ready for, but as long as it’s Dean doing it, you’re good. You nod, wrapping your arm around his neck in silent affirmation, and Dean pulls back to pop open the button of your jeans with a single hand, offering himself easier access.

Two broad fingers toy with the hem of your panties, Dean’s eyes almost glittering as his attention falls to where he’s touching you. Watching your body shiver when he glides his thumb over your clothed slit, your hips jerk when he presses down on your clit, your legs stretch as wide as they can when he starts to rub small circles against you.

“Dean,” you whine, your free hand moving to cup his jaw, trying to move his gaze back to yours. “Please, shit-“

“That feel good, babygirl?” Dean starts to quicken his movements, adding small, teasing flicks and pinches that make your eyes roll back in your head. “You like me teasin’ you? Playin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy until you’re soaked- Fuck-“

You start to grind on Dean’s hand, trying to chase relief while showing him that he didn’t need to play with or tease you. He has you, unraveled on his fingers and desperate for more of him, all of him, whatever he can offer you that will feel like this-

“Shit, you’re dripping.” Dean’s movement on your clit still as he drags his thumb down, resting right over your aching, already sensitive cunt, and pressing into you just enough to make you whimper. “I gotta taste you, Sweetheart, c’mon.”

His gaze shoots back to yours, something a little animalistic in his low, hoarse voice that almost makes you cum on the spot. “Need you hold on, pretty girl, we’re gonna get you out’a these.”

You nod, letting Dean lay you back down on the mattress, lifting your hips as he drags your jeans off your body, taking your underwear with them. Leaving to totally, completely naked on the bed. Vulnerable, entirely at his mercy, with not another place you’d wish to be in the world.

Dean crawls slightly over you, one of his hands tracing up your stomach, palming at your breasts, then rolling your nipple between two, rough, expert fingers. You gasp, arching slightly off the bed, and a low, deep groan rolls from Dean’s chest.

“Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You’re,” Dean cuts himself off, dropping his mouth to your other breast and latching plump, slightly chapped lips around your nipple. Your vision starts to line with light that might be angels coming to take you away, because this has to be heaven. This is better than heaven. Heaven wouldn’t allow such sinful things as Dean groaning against your skin, his boner pressing into your thigh, or his hand kneading at your ass. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good. This feels like everything, and blissfully nothing, and mostly just Dean.

You must have moaned his name, because he crashes up, fisting a hand in your hair as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. All teeth and spit and burning need. Dean tastes like coffee and whiskey and syrup and fruit when he shoves his tongue down your throat, and he smells like gunpowder and leather as his weight hold you easily down, and his lips are so soft but so demanding as he practically devours you, and you’re high. He’s not even inside you yet and you’ll never have enough. This isn’t more than what you’ve done before, but Dean’s ruined you with just teasing touches and wet, starved kisses, and you’re starting to worry you might ascend when he actually fucks you.

He starts to kiss and suck a line over your jaw, down your neck, and between your breasts. It’s heavy and wanting, but still so carefully coordinated. Every move Dean makes seems to be calculated, because he nips at your collarbone right as he tugs on your hair, and the sound that leaves you is high and undignified and exactly what he wanted. His chuckle rumbles in his chest—now pressed against your stomach—and all you can do is moan as he continues his perfect torture. Licking one nipple as he pinches the other, dragging two fingers through your folds as he kisses down the plane of your stomach, stopping right at the apex of your thighs with glittering eyes and firm hands, slowly guiding your legs open.

“Shit.” He mutters, warm breath right over your pussy, making your hips jerk slightly. “Goddamn, baby, you’re responsive.“ A wide, smug grin overtakes Dean’s face as he pushes one finger into your pussy, and you squeak. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He growls your name, and starts to pump that finger in and out, the pace so slow and almost painfully good. “God, you have fucking idea how long- How bad-“ Dean groans as you squeeze around him, and adds another finger. “You’re making such pretty sounds, babygirl, better than I ever imagined. Shit, you’re sexier than a fucking dream.”

His eyes drift back to yours, and shiver goes up your spine from how Dean’s looking at you. Really looking at you. Watching your writhe in the sheets and plead for him in weak gasps, watching you at your most vulnerable state, and grinning like he loves what he sees. Like he’s never seen anything better.

“Dean,” you gasp as his fingers pick up speed, starting to scissor inside your dripping cunt, bumping against a tender spot inside of you that seems to sing under his touch. “Oh my god, Dean, please-“

“Such pretty sounds,” Dean grins at you, crooking his fingers against that same spot to rub. “Let’s see if we can make some more.”

Without further warning Dean drops back down, latches his lips onto your clit, and sucks it right into his mouth like candy. It’s almost immediate, how he pulls you from warm pleasure to raw, almost feral desperation. You’re right on the edge, grinding on his face as his stubble burns your inner thighs in the best was possible, his tongue flicking over that pulsing bundle of nerves, his fingers reaching a demanding and brutal pace-

“Fuck, I’m-“ You let out a loud moan as Dean growls against you, pulling at his short, soft hair to try and both move him away as you dangle over the drop, and urge him on to let him catch you when you fall. “Close, Dean, I’m close, please-“

He pulls away, and you almost scream from the loss. You even force yourself up to glare at him, but you’ve barely gotten a steady balance when a high, needy breath escapes you at the sight of him. 

Dean’s towering over you, his pants discarded into another corners of the room, stroking his massive, fully-erect cock in one hand as he scans over your sweaty, flushed body. 

“I wanna fuck you dumb, babygirl.” He grunts, and you can’t really hear him your own Dean-addled brain, so you just gape and moan, and he chuckles. “Shit, looks like we’re already halfway there. You got any words for me-“

“Dean, please.” The words start to fall out of your mouth with the slight drool on your chin, almost as if he’d commanded them. “Please, I need you, need you so bad-“

You spread your legs in offering, and Dean groans. “Fuck, Sweetheart, you can’t just-“ He closes his eyes, running a hand over his face, and there’s a moment before he speaks again where you worry you’ve ruined it. That you’d shown too much, or Dean saw too much, but no matter what this is over before you can even get that huge, glorious cock inside of you- 

“I’m sorry-“

Dean frowns, his brow drawn as he looks down at you. “What the hell are you sorry for.”

“I dunno, I’m just not-“ You swallow. “I’m not good at this, I don’t know what to say-“

He grunts your name, prowling over your body under your trapped between his strong body and the bed, unable to escape his intense, searing gaze. Looking at you, examining you, and not flinching or moving away. “You,” he says, tracing one gentle hand over your cheekbones. “Are fuckin’ amazing at this.” 

You can only gape at him, so he keeps going.

“I’m the one that might fuck this up, Sweetheart. You’re so,” he makes a loose gesture to your body, and you really wish he’d use words, but the look of sheer awe in his eyes will be enough for now. “And I get to do this for you, and I’m not trying to blow my load before you even cum once.”

“I almost came.” You offer him a small smile, your fingers tracing over the sharp line of his jaw. “But you stopped me.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’m plannin’ to make that up to you. If you still-“

“I want it.” You cut him off quickly, rolling your hips up, right against his cock. “Please, Dean, I really want it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, dropping a little further down. “Are you-“

“I’m sure.” You guide Dean’s lips back to yours in a soft, almost sweet kiss, and say the words you really hope will snap whatever leash he’s put on himself. “I want you.”

It works. Something flashes in Dean’s eyes, and his hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and rolling it in slow circles as he growls in your ear.

“Wanna feel you, babygirl. Fuck you raw. I’m clean, but if you want me to grab a rubber you’re gonna need to keep yourself going while I-“

“No!” You almost yelp, wrapping your arms around him in a desperate attempt to keep him above you. “I mean, I’m clean too, obviously, and I take birth control just for like, lady stuff-“

Dean raises his brows at you. “Lady stuff?”

“It kinda helps with period cramps and-“ You cut yourself off with a moan as Dean flicks your clit, tossing your head back you start to squirm, trying to catch him into you. “Fuck, Dean, please just fuck me-“

“You mean like this?” Dean guides the head of his cock inside you, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Fuck ya’ like this, baby?”

You grind on him, scratching at his back as you plead. “Shit, that’s, Dean that’s good, more-“

“More, baby? You need more already?” His grin is shit-eating, and you’d hit him if the dark look of lust in his eyes, the baritone of his voice being several octaves lower than you’ve ever heard it, and the throbbing ache of him starting to split you open wasn’t rending your limbs only putty in his arms.

“Dean, please-“

You might stop breathing as Dean guides himself fully into you, settling his face in your neck as he bottoms out. There’s a long moment where it’s only Dean’s warmth over and inside you as he gives you time to adjust, groaning against your skin as you squeeze around him.

“Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so tight.” He kisses right behind your ear. “Feel, fuck, feel so good around my cock, so fuckin’ good-“ He emphasizes his words with one, short thrust that pushes him right against that one spot and makes you whine. “You ready, baby? Ready for me to pound this tight little pussy until you cum all over my cock-“

You almost yank him back down into a desperate, borderline feral kiss, because if he kept talking you might have cum from just the sound of his low, rough voice growling in your ear and rumbling in your chest.

Dean takes a long, ragged breath when he pulls away, and you roll your hips only once. Just enough for him to groans and fall back over you, kissing and sucking on your skin like he thinks you’ll vanish if he doesn’t mark you with his touch. 

Then he starts to move, and you were right. This is heaven. Dean’s moving so slow, pulling almost all the way out before driving back inside, until you’re fully impaled on him—his cock pressed fully against that one spot, making your whole body feel warm and alight, and your head feel a little dizzy—then repeating the movement again. And again. Over and over, so fucking slow, still leaving softer, slightly uneven kisses along your collarbone and grunts against your skin but-

“Dean,” you gasp his name, your nails digging into the muscles of his broad back as he continues to move on you. “Fuck, Dean, go faster, please-“

He rises up to meet your eyes, an unreadable expression on his face that’s made entirely hunger and want, but edged with something a little stronger you don’t understand. “You sure-“

“Yes.” You’re practically whining, scratching at Dean’s skin as you squirm under him, desperate him to really, properly fuck you. “Please, Dean, feels so good, need more, need you-“

He shakes his head slightly. “Don’t wanna hurt you-“

“Not gonna-” you let out a breathy moan as Dean pushes back into you, the movement a little harsher than before, and so fucking good. “You won’t hurt me, please, Dean, fuck-“

“I’m-“

“You said,” you force your eyes to stay on Dean’s, even as he sits deep into you, cock throbbing against that soft spot and making you see stars. “You said you wanted to fuck me, Dean.” You raise your chin, grinding up into his torso until his throat bobs. “Fuck me.”

A low, primal noise leaves Dean’s mouth, and he fully snaps. You might have screamed his name when he began to move again—ramming into you at an unforgiving pace, creaking the bed and bruising your hips as he grabbed at your skin, molding you perfectly into his touch and body—but he swallows the noise with a deep kiss that makes your eyes go unfocused, your whole body slack and only for Dean to play with as he drags you higher. Slamming against that spot, balls slapping onto your ass, one free hand squeezing at your tits before dragging down your side and finding your clit-

“So fucking good, babygirl.” Dean groans into your mouth, and you think you might be floating or falling or flying, but it doesn’t matter because Dean grunting in your east and slamming into your dripping cunt, and that’s the whole world. “Look so good, all ruined and whiny, such a good fucking girl, taking this cock so well, made to be fucked so fucking pretty-“ He pinches your clit, and you whimper his name. “Wanna cum, baby? Wanna fucking soak this cock-“

“Yes,” you gasp, scratching at his back, muscles rippling as he drills into you. Something in you hopes it leaves a mark. That Dean feels you on his back a little forever, just like you know you’re going to feel him in your pussy and on your neck for the rest of your life. “Feels so good, Dean, feels so fucking good, wanna cum so bad-“

“Beg-“

Dean barely grunts your name before you bite on his upper lip, almost screaming into his mouth. “Please, Dean, please, need to cum, wanna cum so bad-“

“Shit, baby, you’re-“ Dean groans, his pace becoming uneven and thrusts slightly staggered, cock twitching deep inside you as he ruts into your aching, clenching pussy-

Dean flicks your clit once, sending your hips almost flying off the bed, and starts to rub you at a frantic, savage pace. 

“Cum with me.” He growls your name, lips ghosting over yours and you stare at him under, cockdrunk, lidded eyes. “C’mon, baby, cum-“

Your scream is hoarse as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train—pure, drug-like bliss washing over your whole body, a soft haze of Dean settling behind your eyes and over your skin—and Dean roars as he slams open, warmth coating inside you and dripping between your thighs, down your ass, and onto the bed.

Dean rolls over, taking you with him, and remains carefully sheathed inside you as your cunt grows sensitive and your breathing slows back down. It helps that he keeps your ear pressed to his bare chest, where you can hear his heart beating. Calm and steady and strong, just as certain and constant as the man it’s inside. 

As the man had been.

You’re not sure what he’s going to be now.

“That, ah,” Dean breaks the silence, his voice low and almost soft. “That do it?”

You smile against him. “If you mean take my virginity, then yeah, I think you did it-“

“No, I mean was it,” He groans, his arm shifting slightly around as his voice drops. “Was it good. For you.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, trying not to hum like a needy fucking when Dean starts to run his fingers through your hair. “Yeah. Really good.” You stifle a moan as he twitches inside you. “It was awesome. Good, uh, good job?”

“Thanks, Sweetheart.” You can hear to smug grin in his voice, his free hand starting to rub soothingly on your back. “You were pretty fucking awesome yourself.”

There it is. You were pretty awesome. And he’s still inside you. And you need to know if you were awesome enough for something, anything to stick.

“You said, um,” you swallow, staring at his tattoo because you can’t bear to look at his face right now. “You said I could give you a blowjob next time. Did-“ 

“Did I mean it?” 

You nod nervously, and Dean’s whole chest rumbles with his low laugh, rolling right through your body. He grunts your name, and—when you still don’t look at him—hooks a finger under your chin to guide your gaze to his. 

“Look.” He sighs, and this is it. He did you a favor, and that’s it. He won’t stay, nobody stays, why would Dean Winchester be the one to stay- 

“I get it,” you mumble, and wish you would find the will to make your body roll away from his. “You don’t need to explain-“ 

Dean’s grip on you remains firm, and his voice is a deep, amused drawl. It feels a little cruel in your gut, because you’d have really liked more. More would have been the best. You didn’t even need all of Dean, you’d just have really like more. 

“You get it.” He raises his brows, and you nod again. “Sweetheart, you might want to actually hear the explainin’ part before you say anything.”

“I, um-“

“See, I’m a firm believer that all ladies should ride more than one dick in life. Too much of a good thing, ya know?” He winks at you, thrusting slightly up into you, and you flush. “But, if you’re taking applicants for long-term dicks, I’d have to be dumb not to apply. I’m never gonna complain if I get you all to myself.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a whisper. “So, um, you mean-“

“If you’ll have me,” he mutters. “I’ll take you up on that blowjob offer soon. And any other offers you’ve got.”

“Offers,” you swallow. “For long-term dicks?”

He shrugs—tracing a finger over your arm and refusing to meet your eyes—and it might be your turn to make the move. 

“Dean.” You whisper, crawling up his chest just enough for his eyes to easily find yours. “I’d really like you being my long-term dick.”

He frowns. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that-“

You drop down to press a soft, tentative kiss against his lips, and he tenses for only a second before overtaking you. Deepening the kiss with his tongue pushing on your lower lip, groaning when you open for him without a moment’s hesitation, pinning you onto his chest with big, strong arms as you fall fully into him.

Dean pulls back for only a second, searching over your open expression—all affection and need for him, swollen lips and shallow breaths—until he finds what he’s looking for, and his face splits into a wide grin. 

“If you’re lettin’ me,” he says, tucking a little bit of hair behind your ears. “I think I’ll stay your long-term dick for while, Sweetheart.”

“I’m letting you.” You whisper, a small smile pulling on your own lips. “But we need to come up with a better name than long-term dick.”

“Boyfriend?”

You stare at him for a second, unsure if this is real, because Dean just said that word like it was obvious. Not something he’s adamantly refused to be for anyone, ever, for the entire time you’ve known him. He said it like he was waiting to say it. And, looking at him—unfamiliar hope haunting the very deepest part of those perfect eyes, his grin so genuine but filled with nerves—you think he might have been. And all the money and glory and pleasure in the world couldn’t make you tell him no.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Boyfriend’s good.” 

Dean’s grin becomes almost boyish, and this last kiss is sweet. It’s a kiss in the rain, or under bleachers, or on a rooftop with nothing but time and peace around you.

And you and Dean have never had either of those things. 

But you’d really like to and find them. And if it’s with Dean, you really think you could.

End Note: Look at Dean. Being Emotional. I'm so proud of him (I made him do that)

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Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ RAFAYEL | paint (christmas special)

── ◜rafayel x fem!reader — mini one shot 1.3k words ◜Rafayel prepares a Christmas gift that she has been waiting for for a long time. — author's note here | christmas specials from the rest of the LIs on my profile

"Rafayel? We have to go. Come on." She ran through the halls until she reached the front door, waiting her boyfriend to reach her a couple of seconds later. "I almost forgot dessert," she whispered to herself as she started walking to the kitchen.

Until Rafayel got in her way. She frowned in confusion and tried to step aside but it didn't work. "Can you move? I forgot dessert," she said, thinking it was one of his usual pranks.

"We can't go out." He said quickly, not really wanting to make too much of a fuss. He knew how excited his girlfriend was to be able to attend this meeting, and she had been waiting weeks for Rafayel to meet her friends.

"What are you talking about?"

"The streets are closed because of the storm." He grimaced and felt guilty as he saw her face turned into disappointment.

"What? But this morning I saw the news, it said that…" She didn't finish the sentence. She had seen the weather that morning, everything pointed to snow but other than that it was nothing serious. When it turned into a storm? "I can't believe it!"

She groaned and dropped her bag on the floor. She felt completely disappointed, it was almost midnight and although they were already too late for the meeting, she hoped to arrive in time to eat dessert, introduce Rafayel to her friends and spend a couple of hours there before going home.

"We can stay here. It won't be so bad." Rafayel's arms wrapped around her, after all they had already been there all day. They had planned to spend the afternoon together, doing things that according to her were Christmassy and they would close their night at her friends. It was just a small change of plans.

"But I wanted you to meet my friends," she murmured in disappointment, her voice muffled as she had her face buried in Rafayel's chest.

"I can meet them later. We'll have a meeting just for that." He hated seeing her so sad. He knew this meeting was important to her, but he couldn't just stop the storm with the power of his mind.

Half an hour later she was sitting on the living room floor. She was still wearing the clothes she had chosen to to go out that day and Rafayel was in front of her watching her take spoonfuls of the dessert she had made for her friends.

"It's not that bad. We can still open the presents here." Rafayel pressed his lips against his girlfriend's forehead. He didn't know what else he could do to cheer her up.

"It's not that, it's just… You know I hate it when plans change." She made a face and looked at him.

Rafayel smiled when he saw the cream of the cake dripping from the corner of her lips. He reached out and with his index finger he took the cream before it slipped from her lips and stained her clothes.

Yes, he knew perfectly well how much she hated it when her plans changed. Rafayel always thought it was something more than just a change of plans and there was something else in his girlfriend's head.

He looked away, starting to think of something he could do to make her feel better. Letting her just sit on the rug and eat that dessert seemed to have made her feel better but she still had that pout on her lips.

Then he remembered… There was a gift he had kept in his studio and he didn't really think about giving it to her yet, not as a Christmas present at least. It was something she had asked him for a long time ago and Rafayel had simply refused after giving her a reasonable explanation.

"I have something for you." She frowned as her boyfriend got up from the floor and walked down the hall where the bedrooms and his studio were.

"What is it?" She asked taking a spoonful of the dessert again, thinking that it was simply one of the gifts he had bought her despite all the times she told him that she didn't really need anything. Finally she felt like she had had enough of that dessert. It was too much sugar and she was beginning to feel her body's rejection of it, so she decided to simply put it aside and clean any trace of sugar from her mouth.

Rafayel came back into the room a couple of minutes later. He had something in his hands and he seemed… nervous? Why did he seem nervous about a simple gift? It wasn't that she didn't appreciate it, but unless it was a pregnancy test she didn't understand his nerves. She had started joking about it since she found out that in seahorses it was the man who carried the baby.

"Here it is." He placed a gift wrapped in green paper on her lap. She looked at him waiting for some explanation, she felt like she needed some context because it was something important. "Do you remember when we started dating you asked me what you had to do to make a painting of you?"

She nodded, she remembered it perfectly because she had insisted too much until Rafayel told her that he couldn't because he didn't feel capable of capturing her beauty. Her cheeks turned red just by remembering it.

Then something clicked in her mind… she parted his lips in surprise and turned to look at Rafayel waiting for him to say something. He just looked at her with a small smile on his lips.

She tore the gift paper as fast as she could. She could feel her heart beating hard, until… She couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was a painting, of her.

It meant much more than he thought. She had wanted so much a painting of her completely made by Rafayel, but after having refused she had simply given up and stopped asking.

"You… But I thought…" She felt that the words were not coming out of her mouth. She turned to look at him waiting for something else, to explain the reason why he had decided that this was the perfect time to make a painting about her. Until she noticed something. "Where is this?"

She looked at him. She didn't recognize the background in the painting because it was focusing a bit more on her face but there was definitely some kind of cafe behind her.

"It was the first time I saw you. Do you remember?" She nodded. Of course she remembered because he had told her that story himself thousands of times.

"Of course I remember, it's just that… I can't believe it." She looked at him, feeling like she could cry at any moment. It was just a unique gift… too unique.

"I'm still think I didn't capture your beauty." She smiled. "I thought it would be a special gift. Much better than those boots you wanted."

She giggled. There were some nice black boots she had wanted a few weeks ago but had decided that it was a totally unnecessary expense.

"The boots would have been a nice gift too." Those words had come out of her mouth without thinking but in reality that gift was much better than any other. If Rafayel had simply bought the boots for her it would have been a great gift too. Anything that came from him was.

Rafayel laughed and put his arms around her to bring her closer to him. She still had her eyes on the painting he had made for her. It was her favorite painting now. "They're in the blue box," he murmured close to her ear.

She opened her eyes in surprise and looked at him. Had he bought the boots for her too? "Rafayel!"

He smiled at her excitement. He leaned in to press his lips against hers for a couple of seconds. "Merry Christmas, cutie."

[coichii]

LIGHTS ON ✭

—(🎧)—> the first flight went smooth, landing swiftly in Melbourne on a layover to Sydney to visit your wonderful long distance boyfriend. when the cold, wintery weather freezes up, turns out it’ll be a while before you see him again.

pairing - longdistance!bf!felix x fem!reader

genre - fluff & comfort (what a shocker)

word count - 1.8k (yk how I said it was gonna be rlly short..nvm! I was thinking like..barely 1k☠️)

warnings - cursing & that’s it!

series note : hello !! welcome to part six of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “lights on” by Tyler, the creator. enjoy <3

Seeing your long distance boyfriend after what felt like years despite it only being months was blissful.

You always missed him. Missed his warm smile, adorable freckles, kind & loving words, and everything more. Missing him was all you did at this point.

So when you got a text from your boyfriend last month saying he’ll pay for your ticket to come visit him and his family, you couldn’t have been more happy. Ecstatic even.

You’re not surprised when you find yourself smiling at nothing on the flight to Melbourne, looking out the window at the beautiful, vast ocean of waves.

The excitement bubbled in your stomach. It’s always so nice to visit him and his family. His mother is always so caring, his father is funny and kind, and his sisters are entertaining and hilarious.

You loved seeing him most of all though. His warm kisses that you missed resonated on your cheek as you thought about him, warmth rising on rosy red cheeks.

You always visited him around this time, when the rain froze into snow. You remembered how he would always wrap his warm scarf around your neck, pulling you into his warm side.

“Plane is now descending into Melbourne. Please at this time, fasten your seatbelts and put up your food trays.” A voice over the intercom sounded, filling your heart with even more excitement.

It would be only a matter of time before you see him again.

◂—♥︎—▸

“What! What do you mean our flight is delayed!” A voice, angry bellowed from beside you. Delayed? What do you mean the flights delayed?

“Sir, calm down. As soon as the blizzard passes, we will board and take off for Sydney.” An attendee ushered, going back to talk with other worried staff.

Now that you think about it, you haven’t picked up your head from your phone much since you arrived, nor have you taken in your surroundings really.

You spare a glance to the side with a huge window and your eyes widen in shock.

The sky, runway, honestly everything, is completely white. All you see is snow absolutely overrunning the airport.

Yeah, there’s no flying in this.

Beep beep! Your phone sounds as you process everything. Looking down at it, you see an incoming call from felix and pick it up.

“Hey baby! How’s everything going!” You hear his voice on the other end of the phone. “You’re about to start boarding, right?”

“Ha.” You dryly chuckle. “It just got delayed. There’s a horrible blizzard...” You explain, voice trickling off at the end.

You play with your hands nervously as the people besides you get nervous, calling their families and telling them they won’t be able to make it intime for Christmas.

It’s hard to not let it get to you, causing you your own form of anxiety. If you can’t see him this holiday, you’re not sure what you’re going to do.

“Oh, that sucks, baby. I hope it clears up soon.” He pouts. You can’t see it of course, but you can hear it in his voice.

“Yeah I know. Sorry about it though.” You mumble, guilt sinking in. It’s been forever since you’ve seen him and he’s the one who payed for your ticket. This is the worst case scenario at this point.

“Hey, no no. Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” His voice was soft and reassuring, comforting you from your mind, which was slowly drowning you in guilt.

“Okay, ba-“ you were cut off by the sound of a speaker. You look around to find an atendee standing with a mic in her hand, an uneasy look on her face.

“Unfortunately, it is loooking like this plane won’t be taking off until tomorrow.” A collective groaning was heard. “Please come check in and we will offer our complimentary rooms to stay in.”

You were in complete shock, and so was everyone else. Until tomorrow? Could the weather actually be that bad?

“Hey, love? What’s going on?” He asked, weirded out by the sudden cut off of your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Uhm, no.” You replied, voice quivering slightly. “We have to stay overnight, I’m going to be so late.”

He notices the shiver in your voice, heart breaking at the sound of a slight sniffle. He knows you hate disappointing him, and he wants you to know that you’re not.

“Hey, angel. Don’t you worry about it, it can’t be helped. We’ll still be waiting for you, okay?” His warm voice felt like a comforting blanket being placed over your shoulders, comforting you in a secure and safe hold.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, baby. I’m sorry, I love you.” You respond as your cheeks turn red. You try to convince yourself it’s the bitter cold rushing in from the outside, but you know better.

“Don’t apologize, y/n. I love you too, good night, sweet girl.”

You hang up and make your way to your room, slamming your luggage that you had received onto the wall before plopping down on the bed.

Man, you can’t wait until this plane can take off.

◂—♥︎—▸

Turns out, you’re going to have to suck up those wishes.

You woke up this morning to absolute pandemonium. Angry people shouting at any staff member they saw, spewing their anger for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“How are we supposed to go home if the flight is cancelled?” A young woman’s voice screamed, and your heart dropped to your stomach.

Cancelled?? Wait wait wait… that can’t be?

“We apologize for the inconvenience.” A robotic voice started over the speakers. “All flights departing have been cancelled until further notice. Please prepare to leave within the next twelve hours.”

You can’t believe it. You need to leave within twelve hours. Not only are you not going to be able to visit, but your stranded in a foreign country for who knows long just because of some stupid snow.

You can feel the tears swelling up in your eyes, them beginning to slowly tip over your bottom eyelid.

You go to the only sense of comfort you have left; Felix.

“Hey, baby!” He chirps, the phone only having to ring twice. “On your way?”

“I wish I could say that.” You dryly chuckle, and he can immediately tell that it holds no humor behind it.

“Baby? What wrong, is everything okay?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“It’s cancelled. I don’t know what to do or where to go, Lix.” You voice cracked, tears rolling down harder as your breathing unevened.

“Hey, listen. Everything is going to be okay. You can get a hotel and get the closest flight out of there, but don’t cry please. It’s all going to be okay.” He tried to comfort, but it mostly ricocheted off of you and fell on deaf ears.

“I’ll try the hotel, but the first flight to Melbourne is sold out, I heard about it before I called you. I’m stuck here.” Your voice trembles, the feeling of hopelessness creeping its way up your spine.

It feels like being in a forest at dark, owning a compass but it not spinning around the way it does. It feels like nothing is going to save you.

“My love, I need you to listen to me.”

Your ears lock on to his voice, paying the upmost attention to the soft yet firm tone of his words.

“Everything is going to be okay. You’re going to get yourself a hotel, and I’m going to figure something out for you soon, okay? You’ll be fine, I promise you.”

You can feel his words warming up your stomach like a pot of hot soup; comforting and home like.

And that’s what he always felt like to you.

◂—♥︎—▸

Knock knock knock! The loud sound echos off the hollow wooden door of the room.

You had booked a room at a nearby hotel, noticing multiple familiar faces from the airport staying there as well. It was a little tricky, but you eventually got settled at a room on the 3rd floor and hoisted all your luggage up there.

You must have fallen asleep there, because the time all of a sudden jumped from 11am to 5pm from when you had layed your head down.

Cautious, you make your way to the door, not forgetting to peer through the peephole first.

And then, you saw him.

“Felix!! Is that really fucking you?!” You shouted, heart blasting with joy and love after you opened the door. You practically shoved your body into him, laughing at a slight ‘oof’ sound he made when he hit the back wall.

“Yes it’s me, darling.” He coos at your incoming tears before quickly moving to wipe them away.

“H-how’d you come here so fast?” You whimpered, checking and touching his face as if to check if he was real and not a made up figment of imagination.

“I came just as soon as you hung up, i told you I’d figure something out, didn’t I?” He explained. You observed the love sick look in his eyes, wondering how somebody could be such an angel.

Wondering how you got so lucky with him.

“I’m so happy baby, I seriously love you so fucking much.” You said, finally letting go of him and ushering him into your cramped room.

“I love you too, princess. It was no problem.”

“No problem? The drive is eight hours!” You chucked, cuddling into him from where he had taken a seat on the small couch.

“Well, yeah. But it’s worth it for you.” He whispered, stating this as if was just some small thing he had did hold the door open for you.

But it was so much more. No one had ever shown you that they cared for you like this.

Ever.

“Let’s take a rest here for the night then we can go back to Sydney, yeah.” He suggested, and you jumped.

“Wait wait, you’re still taking me to Sydney? You don’t think that’s too much for you, babe?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern.

“No, silly. You came here to see me and my family and that’s what you will do.” He giggled, pressing kisses over your cheeks and smiling at your reddening face.

All you could do was look at him, the most fond, loving look in your eyes.

Wow, this is definitely the man you’re going to marry.

[aventurineswife]

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of music drifting from the Charmony Festival below. Sunday stood at the edge of the terrace, halo faintly aglow, a testament to his divine heritage. His eyes—so often calm and resolute—burned with an emotion he rarely allowed to surface.

You approached cautiously, the soft crunch of your footsteps against the stone floor breaking the silence. He didn’t turn, but you could feel his awareness of your presence, a tension in the air that hadn't been there before.

“I thought you’d be inside,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He exhaled, his breath visible in the cool night air. “I needed space,” he replied, his voice laced with something unfamiliar. Regret?

You stepped closer, your hand brushing the edge of his coat. “Sunday, what’s wrong?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head back, gazing at the stars above, their distant light reflected in his golden irises. “It’s cruel, isn’t it?” he finally murmured. “This world, this life… it’s cruel to ask people to endure so much pain for the promise of some distant reward. Why shouldn’t they have peace now? Why shouldn’t they rest?”

Your chest tightened at his words. You knew his philosophy, the twisted logic behind the Sweetdream Paradise he offered. A world of eternal, painless slumber. A world you could never fully accept.

“Because it’s not living,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

His lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “And yet, living has brought you nothing but suffering.” He turned to face you, his golden eyes meeting yours, piercing through every wall you’d ever built. “You came to me broken, yearning for escape. Was I wrong to think I could give you peace?”

Your breath hitched. “I didn’t come to you for peace, Sunday. I came to you because I dared to want something more. Something real. I wanted you.”

For the first time, his composure cracked. His gloved hand reached out, trembling as it cupped your cheek. The warmth of his touch was at odds with the cold resolve in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m not something you can have. I don’t belong to this world. I don’t belong to you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you covered his hand with yours. “Why not? Why can’t you let yourself want this, too?”

His halo flickered, dimming as he lowered his gaze. “Because if I allow myself to want… I’ll lose everything I’ve built. I’ll lose the Sweetdream Paradise. I’ll lose my purpose. And worst of all… I’ll lose you.”

Your heart shattered at his words, the weight of his internal conflict pressing against your chest. You wanted to scream at him, shake him, tell him that you didn’t care about his purpose or his paradise. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into his touch, letting your tears fall freely.

“I don’t need a paradise,” you said softly. “I just need you.”

For a fleeting moment, he looked as if he might believe you. But then, the faint glow of his halo brightened, and he stepped back, severing the connection between you.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice cold and distant once more. “I can’t be the reason you suffer more.”

You reached out to him, but he turned away, his coat sweeping behind him like a curtain closing on a tragic play. And as he disappeared into the shadows, you were left standing alone, your heart aching with the weight of a love that dared to dream—and the pain of a man too afraid to embrace it.

[evabby]

POLAR OPPOSITES.

chapter iii < chapter iv > chapter vi || series masterlist.

SUMMARY : you and abby anderson go to the same college, and are in the same english class — you’re polar opposites who clash at every turn. abby is carefree and confident, whereas you’re more focused and disciplined. when you’re forced to partner up on a project, your rivalry deepens, but an unexpected connection does too. as abby pushes you to loosen up, your dynamic shifts from competitive to something far more complicated.

AUTHOR NOTE : im sorry for not posting in a while!!! a lot of stuff has just been going on but chapter 4 yay!!

WARNINGS : none i think !!

CHAPTER IV : BREAKING POINT

“angel?”

you froze at the sound of her voice. when you looked up, there she was — abby, standing a few feet away, her expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“go away,” you mumbled, swiping at your eyes, sat with your knees up and your head resting on them.

she didn’t.

instead, she sat down next to you on the bottom of the stairwell, close enough that her presence felt grounding but not overwhelming.

“you looked like you needed a break,” abby said gently, her voice low.

you laughed bitterly. “a break? i just humiliated myself in front of everyone. i couldn’t even finish my presentation.”

abby tilted her head. “you didn’t humiliate yourself. you’re just… human. it happens.”

you shot her a sharp look, the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface.

“not to you. you’re always so.. so perfect. like nothing gets to you.”

abby blinked, and for the first time, you saw something like hurt flicker across her face.

“you think i’m perfect?”

“don’t start,” you said, your voice cracking as you speak quietly.

she sighed and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling tiles.

“i’m not perfect. trust me. i screw things up all the time. my dad’s this incredible doctor, and im always wondering if i’ll ever measure up. but you? you’re… amazing. even when you’re too hard on yourself.”

her words made your chest ache. you wanted to argue, but the lump in your throat stopped you.

“i’m so tired,” you whispered instead.

abby’s voice softened. “then stop trying to carry everything on your own.”

the vulnerability in her tone cracked something open in you. you looked at her, and she held your gaze, her expression steady and unflinching.

“i don’t know how,” you admitted, looking back down at the stairs.

abby hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“let me help you. you don’t have to go through this alone, silly girl. not with me here.”

something about the way she said it, so earnest and unguarded, made the tears spill over again. you didn’t fight them this time. instead, you let abby pull you into a loose embrace, her arms warm and solid around you.

“i’m sorry,” you murmured against her shoulder, sniffing to cover up the tears falling down your face.

“for what?”

“for avoiding you. for everything.”

abby pulled back just enough to look at you, a faint smile on her lips.

“i was wondering when you’d realise I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

you let out a shaky laugh, and something inside you loosened. for the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe.

“i missed you,” you admitted quietly.

abby’s smile widened, her usual cocky charm shining through. “of course you did. look at me.”

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in her tone settled in your chest like a balm.

the silence between you stretched, comfortable this time. abby reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. your breath hitched, and when you looked at her, the playful glint in her eyes was replaced with something deeper.

“angel,” she started, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “i—”

you shook your head quickly. “don’t. not yet.”

she studied you for a moment before nodding. “okay. not yet.”

but the unspoken promise was there.

for now, this was enough.

it started small.

a message from abby popped up on your phone the next day.

hi angel

you okay?

you stared at it for a long time, debating whether to respond. your chest still felt tight from the presentation, and the memory of abby’s arms around you was fresh, almost too raw. but in the end, you typed back a hesitant:

i’m fine

thankyou

that seemed to be enough for her to start breaking down the walls you’d built. she didn’t push—abby never did. instead, she started showing up in the little ways.

during class, you noticed her sliding a copy of her notes toward you when the professor went too fast for you to keep up.

at the library, she’d casually drop off a coffee at your table without a word before heading off to her own seat.

and when you were both in study groups for different classes, she’d catch your eye across the room and give you a small, reassuring smile.

it was maddening and comforting all at once.

one evening, abby showed up outside your dorm. you opened the door, surprised to see her standing there with a takeout bag in her hand and that infuriating grin on her face.

“figured you hadn’t eaten yet,” she said, holding up the bag.

“abby, you don’t have to—”

“i know,” she interrupted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “but i want to.”

you sighed, letting the door close behind her. as she unpacked the food, you couldn’t help but notice how easily she filled the space. she sat on the floor like she belonged there, cross-legged and already picking at her fries.

“come on,” she said, patting the spot next to her. “you’re not gonna let me eat all of this by myself, are you?”

despite yourself, you smiled and sat down. it felt normal. comfortable.

there conversation stayed light— abby told you about a lab experiment gone wrong she’d witnessed earlier that day, and you laughed despite your lingering stress. for a little while, it felt like the tension between you had faded, like things were slowly falling back into place.

but when she left that night, you found yourself standing at the door long after she’d gone, your chest heavy with the weight of all the things you couldn’t say yet.

the next time you were alone with abby, it was during one of your late-night study sessions. the project was almost finished, and you were both sitting in the quiet corner of the library that had become your unofficial spot.

abby was leaning back in her chair, balancing a pen between her fingers as she watched you skim through your notes.

“youre doing it again,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“doing what?” you asked without looking up.

“that thing where you overthink everything.”

you sighed, dropping your pen. “i’m not overthinking. i’m just trying to get this right.”

abby leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studied you. “you always do. you know that, right?”

her words caught you off guard. you glanced at her, and there was something in her expression that made your heart stumble—something softer than her usual teasing grin.

“abby, why are you—”

“because i care, angel,” she interrupted, her voice quieter than usual.

the words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. you felt your pulse quicken, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“i..” You hesitated, your throat tightening.

abby sighed and leaned back again, running a hand through her hair. “you don’t have to say anything. i just— i can’t pretend anymore. i care about you. more than i probably should.”

her confession was raw, unguarded in a way that made your chest ache. you opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

“it’s okay,” abby said, standing up and grabbing her bag. “take your time. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

before you could stop her, she was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of what she’d just said.

for the rest of the night, you couldn’t focus on anything else. abby’s words replayed in your mind, over and over, until they were the only thing you could hear.

chapter iii < chapter iv > chapter vi || series masterlist.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Insecure Delusions

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader Warnings: Physical injury, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Desensitised to almost everything, Ettore goes to extremes just to feel something. Part of the Hand That Feeds universe, but can be read as a standalone.

Author's note: Day eight of Smuffmas - holly and hair pulling. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Boredom is a burden that weighs heavily upon Ettore’s shoulders as he moves slowly through the ship. He feels numb to the constant stimulus that he’s surrounded by; the gentle hum of the engines, the glare of the lights, the chatter of his fellow prisoners, yet his mind will not quiet and allow him to relax. Usually he throws himself into his work duties, focusing on the monotony of scrubbing floors, the way the bleach tingles against his knuckles and leaves his skin raw, but he has been given a day off today; a privilege granted to those who have donated a specimen, and Ettore had done just that this morning.

Even the momentary relief that came with climaxing into a little plastic cup hadn’t been enough to stop the racing of his thoughts. Usually, only she could do that. Sinking inside of her welcoming heat, all thoughts would leave his mind as everything became centred around the way her wetness yielded and squeezed around him. However, lately even that wasn’t enough, nothing seemed to satisfy. He needed more, the trouble was he didn’t know what more was.

Unable to occupy himself with anything else, he sought her out. He didn’t want to, he needed to, she was a compulsion that he had zero control over. He walked towards the garden, having spied Tchemy, who was the usual occupant of the ship’s only green space, in his bunk as he passed through the corridors; he knew he’d find her there, she liked the quiet.

As he stepped into the lush, green surroundings, his nose wrinkled in disgust. The rich, earthy scent of the soil was repulsive to him, almost alien in its aroma. Ettore was used to the brutalism of plain white walls and concrete, he had never spent much time outside in nature. The care that people took to tend so lovingly to plants and flowers, keeping them alive, demanding they be treated with respect, while not extending the same courtesy to other people was bewildering to him. It made him angry, so he avoided it.

It was unavoidable when he wanted to see her though, so he endured it, his hands clenched into fists as he stepped slowly between the meticulously plotted out foliage, his eyes scanning the space for her. For a moment he assumed she wasn’t there, when he couldn’t immediately see her, and was ready to turn and leave, but a quiet rustling in the far corner caught his attention, and when he craned his neck he could see that she was crouched down in front of a bush.

He approached her silently, but she could tell he was there, even before he was upon her – she had grown used to the quiet way in which he stalked, was so attuned to his presence and mannerisms that she could always sense him if he was close, without even needing to see him. There was both a sense of comfort and unease for Ettore in having this sort of bond with someone – it meant she no longer feared him, but at what cost would that eventually be to her?

“I never realised there was a holly bush here before,” she said thoughtfully, by way of greeting, though she didn’t turn to look at him. “Reminds me of Christmas.”

“Never celebrated it,” he replied with a derisive sniff, as his gaze travelled over the sharp looking green leaves and red berries of the bush she was crouched in front of.

She turned to him, looking up at him, and seemed as if she wanted to say something as her lips parted, but she closed her mouth and turned her attention back to the holly. “I don’t suppose any of us do anymore,” she finally whispered.

He watched as she reached out a hand, stroking it almost reverently over the holly leaves. Suddenly, she hissed and snatched it back with an “ow, fuck!” before sucking on her finger. Ettore crouched beside her, gripping her wrist and coaxing her hand away from her mouth.

“Bastard thing pricked me, I’d forgotten how sharp they are– oh…”

Her voice trailed off as he wrapped his lips around that same finger, his tongue running over the pad, an attempt to arouse her as much as it was to soothe her pain. He released her digit with a wet pop, letting her hand drop back to her side, as he observed her silently; the subtle dilation of her pupils, the slight parting of her lips, a wordless plea for him to turn a quiet moment into pleasure. Ettore was all too eager to oblige.

Moving from his crouched position, onto the steadier surface of his knees, he reached out, wrapping the hair at the back of her head around his fist and pushed her forward, towards him. Still squatting, the movement knocked her off balance and she wobbled, hands flying out to steady herself. Her fingers found their way into his hair, tugging harshly as her body collided with his.

Ettore hissed, a blend and balance of pain and comfort stirring within him that stirred his already half hard cock to full arousal. His own grip on her hair tightened reflexively. 

Her eyes widened the moment she realised what she had done, and she let go immediately, settling into a kneeling position as his hands moved to her waist to steady her.“Fuck, that was an accident, I know you don’t like me to touch you, I–”

It was true. In however many months it had been since they started sleeping together, he had never once allowed her to touch him, always insisting she kept her hands behind her back or above her head whenever they fucked. The idea of tender caresses and being held made Ettore’s stomach turn, he wasn’t ready for that. But this had felt different, the pain he’d experienced as she’d tugged harshly at his roots had awakened something in him. For the first time in a long time he felt alive.

“I liked it,” he interrupted her.

“You liked me touching you?” she whispered, her eyebrows raising in surprise, as a soft smile spread across her face. Slowly, tentatively, she placed her fingers upon his jawline, tracing it gently.

Bile rose in Ettore’s throat, and he gripped her forearm hard enough to make her yelp as he wrenched her hand away from his face. “Not like that,” he muttered darkly, eyes drifting to the angry red marks his fingertips had left upon her flesh.

“That hurt,” she seethed, fury in her eyes as she glared at him.

“Hurt me back then,” he challenged, staring back defiantly.

She surged forward with a snarl, her hands sinking into the shortness of his dirty blonde hair and pulling hard, making him grunt. She seized the opportunity, her mouth pressing against his before she sank her teeth into his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood.

Ettore’s pulse thrummed with excitement, as he tore at her red scrubs, ridding her of her bottoms as he manhandled her onto her back. This was the most he had felt in years, his heart thudded so loudly within his chest, he was certain it meant to break free of his ribs. There was a certain sadness to the fact that the trajectory of his life had led him to the point where he needed to experience physical pain in order to enjoy himself, but there was no room for subtlety when she tugged off his shirt, leaving him bare chested as he pushed down the waistband of his trousers, and notched the swollen head of his cock against her slick entrance.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, pressing forward, met with the tight resistance of her inner walls, paired with the agonising sting of her fingernails raking down his torso, leaving crimson scratches in their wake.

Previously, none of this had meant anything at all to him, it couldn’t, not when he was unable to feel anything. But now, as his hips snapped against hers, his cockhead bullying relentlessly inside of her, it was as if all of his nerve endings had awoken from slumber as the sensation of being buried deep inside of her mingled with the dull throbbing of his scalp and the soreness of his lip and chest.

His hands grabbed her hips with enough pressure to bruise as he continued to rut into her with brute force. She panted with exertion, her eyes bright with arousal and something that bordered upon sinister intent. Ettore’s eyes almost rolled back in ecstasy as she gripped his throat, squeezing tightly, and his balls drew taut against his body, signalling he was close as a white, hot ache began to lick at his lower spine.

His thrust forward as hard as he could, one final time, then stilled as he pulsated deep inside of her, groaning as he pumped her full of his release. She let go of his throat, her arms dropping limply back to her sides. As his mind swam back into focus, he could see that the blood from the mess she had made of his lip had dripped onto her top. He pulled back, gaze drifting to dark marks already beginning to form upon her hips.

“You okay?” she whispered breathlessly, pulling him from his thoughts.

He wasn’t sure how to answer her question. They had unearthed something within him that had lain dormant until now, and now he had been given a glimpse of it, he was eager to keep digging until he felt something. She had touched him today, amd even though it was just to hurt him, he knew he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Part three || Series masterlist

[saiintvalentiine]

Hi Saiint! *heres a (virtual) dogfies plushie for you 

Could I get a apologetic Parrotx2… :3 like he finally realizes how mean and ignorant he has been to wifies sometimes and actually says sorry says that he cares about him,.. that dog deserves apology and comfort :(

sorry for holding ur request hostage this dogfies is just so stinkin cute that every time i opened my inbox id see him and get cuteness aggression :(((( sweetest baby ever............ set in the first war video when they talk on the stairs at around 25 mins!

Word count: 508

“I’m really sorry for everything I said,” Wifies says, wringing his hands together. “I want to help you again. I’m sorry for not understanding your point of view.”

The thing about anger is that it’s easy. It’s hot. It expands. It rises. It fills. The anger is there, Parrot could touch it, a weight that breathes like a wounded animal in his chest.

But he’s sick of blood and wounds and burning. He can see the red around Wifies’s nails despite the way he’s moving them. The darkness under his eyes.

It hurts. Parrot is tired of everything hurting. He’s tired of— of hurting everyone around him. For once, he’d like to actually fix something. Not patch it over, not help it escape its fate for only one more day, but fix it. He can fix this, them.

“I’m sorry too,” Parrot says. Wifies’s eyes flutter, uncertain, dodgy.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how you felt either.”

It’s strange to see Wifies so still. He was all quick, small motions just a second ago, but it’s like Parrot’s dropped sand on his head.

“It’s— don’t worry about it. I was being inconsiderate.”

“So was I,” Parrot can’t stop himself from pacing, wings rustling. “The worst thing getting here was turning around expecting you to be there and nothing. It was awful. I kept thinking about how I had begun to rely on you being there with me.”

He drifts closer and closer to Wifies, who watches him with wide eyes. Is this such a surprise? Parrot can’t blame him. He can’t remember the last time they talked like this.

“But it was plenty of time and silence to think. I realize now that you care.”

“I do,” Wifies sounds more stressed than before, voice rising.

“And that what you did, what you said. . . it was because you care, and you were scared.”

“Terrified,” Wifies corrects. He starts to pick at his nail beds. “Parrot, I have so few people I’m close to in this life, and I don’t think I’ll be this lucky in the next. The idea of losing you terrifies me.”

There’s something unnerving about how Wifies says that, as if he’s resigned to loss but holding on anyway. He’s never been that much of a pessimist. Parrot reaches over and pries Wifies’s hands apart, holding them tight.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Parrot rubs his thumbs across the back of Wifies’s hands. They tremble in his grip, fine and shallow but trembling nonetheless. “You were trying to protect me. I’m sorry for not thinking of it that way.”

It’s easy to pull Wifies close and hug him. He curls up into Parrot instantly, breath puffing against Parrot’s throat as he presses close. Parrot’s wings rise around them, a second layer to keep prying eyes away. This is for them.

It doesn’t burn. It aches, but in a good way, the way a yellowed bruise does. Or maybe it doesn’t hurt at all, the way it was always meant to be between them.

[angelsfat3]

ⓘㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄. ⠀⠀( 她。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. 𝖡𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌. She forms your perfect eclipse.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Angst, fluff, au, drama, wlw.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Death wishes (brief), mention of cheating, crying, comparison with someone.

“You know... I think this time it’s different,” Karina said suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled as you both worked on the project.

You were sitting on the school bleachers, surrounded by scattered papers and open books.

The soft orange glow of the late afternoon sun painted the sky, but nothing in that serene moment could prepare you for what you’d just heard. Karina spoke with that spark in her eyes that made everything about her seem more radiant, and all you could do was look at her, trying to keep your expression from betraying what you felt.

“Different? With who?” you asked, striving to keep your tone casual as your fingers fidgeted nervously with a pen.

You knew the answer, but you didn't want her to confirm it. You weren't ready.

“With Anthony,” she replied, almost as if she couldn’t contain her excitement. “I don’t know.. there’s.. there’s something about him… He’s not like the others. He makes me feel special.”

That name hit you like a punch to the chest. Anthony.

The guy everyone knew, the one who never seemed to take anything seriously, especially not relationships.

You felt your lips moving before you could stop them.

“Anthony? The same Anthony who…?” you began, but Karina interrupted with a wide smile, as if the question didn’t matter.

“Yes, I know what everyone thinks of him, but I think it’s different with me. He listens to me, makes me laugh, and… I don’t know, I feel like this could be something real.”

Her voice was a melody of happiness, and for a moment, you looked at her, wishing that smile was because of you.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned her attention back to the project, as if she hadn’t just sent your world spiraling into confusion and heartache.

“Well if that thi..-he, if he makes you happy... Then so am I.” you finally said, forcing your voice to sound steady, even as something inside you shattered with each word.

Karina gave you a warm smile before continuing to talk about Anthony—the things he did for her, the promises he’d made. You nodded, feigning interest, while the weight of unrequited love settled more heavily in your chest.

As much as you tried to focus on the project, all you could hear were her words, each one carving deeper into the part of your heart that had always belonged to her.

Since you were fifteen, Karina had been your everything. Friend, confidant, the safe haven you always turned to when the world became too loud.

Being by her side was effortless, as if she'd been born to fit perfectly with you. The shared laughter in school hallways, the movie nights that turned into hours-long conversations until dawn, and those moments when silence spoke louder than words...

Everything with Karina felt natural, like breathing.

But time has a cruel way of bringing clarity, even when you'd rather stay blind. Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, you began to see her differently.

It wasn't just her laughter that felt like home anymore; it was the way her lips curved when she smiled, how her hair fell over her shoulders, and that spark in her eyes that made the rest of the world disappear.

You fell in love. And it hurt.

It hurt because every hug from her felt too brief, because every time she held your hand, it was a reminder that you'd never hold it the way you wanted to.

It hurt because she shared her secrets and dreams with you, and you sat there, smiling and listening, while a longing so deep swelled in your chest that it became unbearable.

There were nights when you closed your eyes and let yourself imagine a world where she looked at you the way you looked at her. A world where your laughter intertwined with kisses, where her hands sought yours not out of habit but out of need.

But then you'd wake up, and reality would strike with a devastating coldness.

And then came the cruelest blow of all. The day you found out before she made it obvious.

It wasn't Karina who told you actually, but a mutual friend, mentioning his name so casually it left you frozen: Anthony.

You didn't need an explanation; everyone knew who he was. The guy with the easy smile, the sweet words, and a reputation that made any relationship with him feel like a countdown to disaster.

That afternoon, when Karina spoke about him with a smile so wide it seemed to light up the entire room, you felt something inside you break.

You tried to smile, to pretend you were happy for her, but the ache in your chest was unbearable. Every word she said about him was like a small wound, a confirmation that what you felt for her would never have a place in her life.

The nights that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. Sadness, jealousy, anger.

Why him?

Why someone who couldn't possibly see Karina the way you did? You knew how to care for her, how to love her, how to make her happy.

But she had chosen someone who, in your eyes, didn't deserve her.

And yet, you couldn't hate her.

Every time you saw her, the love remained, tangled with the pain. That bitter mixture consumed you, but you didn't walk away. Because the only thing worse than watching her be with someone else was imagining a world where you couldn't see her at all.

So, you stayed, her friend, enduring her confessions about that guy, the little details of their relationship that quietly tore you apart.

You stayed, trapped between love and sorrow, between hope and resignation, while Karina remained the center of your universe, blissfully unaware that you had made her that way.

Little by little, that feeling of emptiness took hold of you.

Seeing Karina with Anthony every day made you feel like a shadow, like you were nothing more than a spectator in the life of someone you once thought would be yours alone.

Every time you saw her smile with him, every laugh they shared, it was like a piece of your heart slowly breaking.

You told yourself it was normal, that it was just a phase, that your love for her was something you had to let go of, but as the days passed, the words you repeated no longer held the same weight.

Karina was more radiant than ever, her face glowing with the shine of something new, something that wasn't you. There was something in the way Anthony looked at her, something that overflowed inside you, and all you could do was stay there, watching from a distance, feeling the pain you never managed to express.

One day, while they were walking down the hall, you stayed behind, feeling the anguish choke you as you watched Karina laugh while Anthony held her hand.

That hand you once wished was yours. That connection they shared made you wonder if what you had felt had ever been more than just an illusion.

"I love you so much, beautiful," Anthony told her with a smile that made it clear how much he adored her.

Karina, with that smile of hers, the same smile she had shared with you countless times, responded with the same warmth. "I love you too, Anthony. You're amazing."

Her words cut deep. Very deep.

You felt so small, so invisible, as if everything you had been for Karina was never enough. Sometimes you wondered if maybe, in some corner of her heart, Karina saw you the same way, as the person who had always been there, waiting, but never to be anything more than a friend.

The truth was, at that moment, doubt settled in you.

Did you really think there was something more between you? Had you deceived yourself for so long? Because seeing Karina so happy, so in love with him, told you that there was nothing you could do, nothing you could be, that would make her look at you the way she looked at him.

The days grew longer, each conversation you had with her felt heavier.

Karina talked about Anthony, about their plans, about the little things they shared, and you smiled, but inside it just hurt more and more. Every time you saw her so happy with him, you felt like you were losing something you never had.

You sat there staring at the clock, waiting for Karina's call, but it never came. Instead, there was a message from her saying, "I'm going out with Anthony today, can't talk, but I'll see you later!!! ♡"

That was it.

The words that had always made you feel special had faded, and in their place, there was something you couldn't ignore.

You couldn't be the one by her side. You'd never be that person. And though you tried to smile and pretend everything was fine, inside, something broke every time you thought about how happy she was with him.

A deep emptiness took over you, as if all the love you had given her was a breath that vanished into the air, leaving behind only the echo of something that never came to be.

Maybe you would never understand why she couldn't see you the way you saw her, but with every

moment that passed, you were certain that there was something in you that would never be enough for Karina to love you the way you loved her.

And even though you tried to convince yourself it didn't matter, that she deserved to be happy, deep down you knew that, even if only for a moment, you wished you could be the person she looked at with that smile, the one she now gave to Anthony.

But damn, the tears on your pillow weren't lying, this was killing you, she was killing you, your love, her smile. The way you knew you'd never be him, that you could never give her everything.

The days seemed to pass in slow motion. Every time you crossed paths with Karina and Anthony, it felt like the air grew thicker, heavier.

Communication was becoming more and more empty, you stopped seeing each other daily, even the places in the classroom changed, now you were behind her.

And Anthony? Next to her.

The way they looked at each other, how their hands intertwined with such ease that it tore you apart, made you wonder if you'd ever had a chance. Because, if you really thought about it, maybe there never was one. Not even when it was just you and her.

And yet, deep down, you clung to the tiny spark of hope that remained inside you, the one that still made you dream that maybe, one day, she would see in you what you saw in her.

But that hope was starting to crumble, slowly, like a sandcastle being washed away by the waves.

One afternoon, as you left class, you found Karina sitting on her usual bench in the park, her head resting in her hands, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite read.

For a moment, you thought maybe today would be different, that you could break the silence that had settled between you, talk about what you felt, take the risk at last.

But then, before you could approach, you heard her laugh. That laugh you used to share, the one that always made you feel like the world paused just for the two of you. But this time, it wasn't you making her laugh. It was Anthony.

He approached her with that arrogant smile he always wore, and kissed her on the cheek, such a simple, natural gesture, but one that made your heart break a little more. Karina looked at him, her gaze so full of affection, of something you had never been able to reach in her life.

And then you just stood there, frozen, watching from afar. You couldn't move, couldn't stop yourself from feeling everything you had kept quiet, everything you had hidden deep inside, spilling out uncontrollably.

Karina, upon seeing you, looked up as if she had been waiting for you all along.

"Hey! Have you been standing there the whole time?" she asked, with that innocent smile.

You smiled back, but couldn't help that your voice sounded a little lower than usual. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Her tone was curious, without malice, as if nothing were different. But to you, everything happening around her was changing at a speed you couldn't stop.

You stayed silent for a moment, fighting against the words that piled up in your throat, the words you could never say.

Because if you did, everything would break even more. And even though you knew that, the sadness burned inside your chest.

"Nothing," you finally answered, trying to maintain your composure, though you felt something inside you crack every time you thought about what could never be. "Just a few things about my project."

She nodded, completely unaware of what you truly felt, and continued talking about her plans with Anthony.

You, on the other hand, stayed there, trapped in that moment, feeling how the love you had saved for her faded in the face of the reality of her happiness with someone else.

Every time you saw her smile, that smile she shared with him, you felt smaller. More insignificant. Like everything you had been, everything you had wanted to give her, wasn't enough.

And then you realized something that had been eluding you all this time. Karina would never look at you the way you looked at her.

The love you felt wasn't anything more than an unattainable dream, an illusion of what could have been if things had been different. But they weren't. And while she carried on with her life with Anthony, you stayed in the shadows, just another friend.

That day, when you said goodbye to Karina, your smile was as fake as ever, but inside, you felt broken.

You knew you would never be the one by her side in those moments of happiness anymore. And though you tried to convince yourself that it was best to let her go, the pain lingered. Because, in the end, all you wanted was to be the one she looked at that way, with that love that seemed reserved for Anthony.

And you knew that, no matter how much you wished for it, it would never be you.

And by the time you realized...

You had lost all hope.

You had reached a point where you accepted that you would never be more than just her friend, that you would never be the chosen one, that your feelings for Karina would only be a silent burden you would carry forever.

That day, the pain embraced you so tightly that the fake smiles you had held for so long completely crumbled. There was nothing left but an empty sensation deep in your chest.

You were in your room, lying on the bed, trying to calm the mind that screamed that everything was lost.

But then, suddenly, you heard a knock on the door.

You were so immersed in your thoughts that you didn't expect it. When you opened the door, the sight of Karina froze your body.

She was there, standing in front of you, her face wet with tears, her expression of anguish so deep it almost hurt more than anything you had ever felt before.

Before you could say anything, she wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a desperation that broke your soul.

You instinctively embraced her, though the pain in your heart was so overwhelming that it was hard to breathe.

But what really consumed you was seeing Karina broken, so far from the perfect image you had always seen in her. She sobbed, her trembling body against yours, and you, though you held her tightly, felt a mix of rage and despair you couldn't explain.

"He... he told me he loved me, that nothing would change," she continued, sobbing. "And now... he did this to me."

"What... what happened?" you asked, your voice trembling as you held on to her tightly, as if the weight of her pain was something you could ease, something you could fix.

Karina sobbed, trying to speak, but the words came out halting, almost drowned by her tears.

"Anthony... was... with another girl." The way she said it, how broken she sounded, made something twist in your stomach. "He was kissing her. We were supposed to go to the mall to see a movie, and when I arrived, I saw him... with her. He saw me, and... he didn’t care. He just looked at me and left with her. I... I don’t know what to do. I... I feel so stupid."

Karina’s face in your arms made you want to break something, destroy everything around her, but at the same time, her suffering was a direct stab to your chest.

Because yeah, you felt anger, you felt that Anthony deserved the worst for doing this to her, but there was also a part of you that wanted to see Karina suffer for giving herself to someone like him, for leaving you behind like that. The contradiction ate at you from the inside.

The world faded for a moment. All you could hear was the rapid beating of your heart and the muffled sound of her tears.

"I’m so sorry," you said, your words heavy with pain and frustration. "I’m so sorry, Karina... you don’t deserve this."

The hatred for Anthony was a flame that spread quickly inside you.

For a moment, you imagined yourself doing something you never thought you were capable of.

You wanted to see him suffer, you wanted him to pay for every tear Karina had shed. You wanted to tear him apart with words, gestures, anything you could. But at the same time, something inside of you was holding you back because you knew what really mattered was Karina, her pain.

She clung to you tighter, as if it was the only way to stay afloat in that sea of confusion. "I don’t know what to do," she whispered, her voice broken. "I thought... I thought Anthony was different, he promised... That he wouldn’t do this to me. And now... I don’t know if I..."

You sat with her on the bed, still holding her tightly, listening as her sobs became softer but didn’t disappear.

Her face, so messy and tear-streaked, made you wish time would stop. Because while all of this was happening, you felt closer to her than ever before. But the pain remained, the uncertainty remained. In that moment, even though Karina was broken and vulnerable, you felt broken too.

"I’m so sorry, dear.." you whispered, holding her even tighter, as if you could stop her suffering. "I’m so fucking sorry for not being there for you.."

She, with her face against your shoulder, nodded, her breathing ragged. "I don’t know what to do... I don’t know how to go on." she sighed. “It's like... in such a short time he made me feel so many things..”

It was hard to know what to do, how to comfort her, how to make her stop feeling that devastation.

You knew what you wanted to do, what you desired with every fiber of your being, but you didn’t know if you should.

You didn’t know if you should release all the anger, all the frustration inside you, or if you should keep being the friend who had always been there for her.

As the minutes passed, only a sense of stillness remained in the room.

The tension in the air was palpable, as if both of your emotions were on the verge of exploding, but for a moment, everything calmed down.

Karina, exhausted, lifted her head, looking you in the eyes with a mix of pain and vulnerability. And there, in that gaze, you could see something else, something that, though painful, spoke more than any word.

She trusted you.

But despite all the pain, despite the betrayal, you knew that the feeling of being next to her, of having her close again, even in her worst moment, was the only thing that truly made you feel whole.

Karina continued crying, her eyes red as if they had been flooded with tears that could no longer fall.

Her cheeks were wet, but most of the tears had already evaporated, leaving behind an expression of exhaustion, someone who didn’t know how much more she could endure.

Her breathing was still irregular, broken, and she couldn’t stop inhaling her own sniffles, as if the pain was so great she couldn’t even hold it back.

With her head fallen to your chest, she slowly pulled away just enough to look at your face, her eyes resembling two broken mirrors, reflecting the torment she carried inside.

In a movement so soft, so subtle, that you almost didn’t notice, Karina took your hand with hers, as if she needed to be closer, as if she feared that if you pulled away, she’d lose the last connection she had left.

She stayed like that for a few seconds, her gaze fixed on your eyes, but then, with a low, trembling voice, she asked, as if unsure that what she felt was real.

"You... won't leave me, right?"

The question hit your chest like a blast of icy wind.

The fear in her voice tore at you from the inside. It was a fear you had never heard before, a fear that, if it weren’t for the situation she was in, would have seemed inhuman. But there she was, the girl who had always been strong, always so sure of herself, now vulnerable, completely lost.

A knot formed in your throat, but you shook your head immediately. You couldn't bear the thought of seeing her even more broken.

It couldn’t be any other way. No matter what happened, you would never abandon her. Without thinking, your other hand went to her cheek, and when you touched it, you felt the softness of her skin, still wet with tears. It felt so real, so close… like the whole universe had paused in that moment.

"No, never," you said, your voice firm, almost as if it were a promise sealed in your soul. "Over my burnt corpse, Karina. I won't leave you, never."

It was a promise so strong, so heart-wrenching, that not even you could believe it as you said it, but it was what you felt. It was what you thought with every fiber of your being. You would never leave her. Never.

The air between you two thickened with something so intense it almost hurt. Everything was too close.

Every breath you took, every movement Karina made, felt like an electric shock running through you. You were completely trapped in her pain, her vulnerability, and the moment her eyes looked at you as if searching for something that only you could offer.

Karina didn’t look away, not for a second. She kept facing you, her body slightly leaning toward you, as if the gravity of the situation forced her to get closer.

She couldn’t pull away. She didn’t want to. She was broken, yes, but somehow, it seemed like only you could fix the broken pieces of her.

Slowly, Karina began to speak, her voice cracked but needing to come out.

"It's... it's just... I never thought this would happen to me. I... I thought he really loved me, that... that this would be different," her words choked in her throat, and her breathing remained labored, as if each phrase were too much for her heart to bear.

"He told me so many times that he wasn't like the others, that I was special... But... why did he do this? Why did he make me feel like I was the most important thing to him, if I really wasn't?"

The sadness on her face deepened even further, her expression crumpling in such a way that seeing the pain in her face made you feel like a dagger was piercing your own heart.

Your hand continued to caress her cheek, trying to calm her, while your own thoughts grew darker. The image of Anthony kissing that girl overwhelmed you, but for some reason, hearing Karina's pain through her words made you feel more powerless, as if everything you wanted to do—kill Anthony for what he had done—was insignificant in the face of her suffering.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she continued, not stopping to look at you, almost as if she were waiting for you to have the answer. “I... I just wanted someone to love me. I thought that... that he would...” she repeated, her head slightly tilting to the side as her tears started to fall again, still unable to stop.

Each word Karina spoke seemed to pull you closer to her, and though the temptation to caress her face, to hold her in your arms and take away that pain, consumed you, you stayed there, facing her, as if the world had frozen in that moment.

The desire to comfort her was uncontrollable, but the tension between you was so palpable that you didn’t even know what to do with your own emotions.

Her sobs continued, but this time, it felt different.

This time, Karina’s pain was cutting through you even deeper. It wasn’t just her suffering that affected you; it was the way she was surrendering to you, without reservation. Every tear that fell from her eyes felt like a sigh of pain, a sigh you felt as your own.

The room fell silent again, a heavy silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Karina, between sobs, she tried to speak again, to let off steam with the air, perhaps.

She kept talking, her hands resting on her knees as she tried to explain everything running through her mind, as though pouring it all out could somehow rip away the pain Anthony had left behind.

"It’s just… it hurts so much, you know? Because I thought this was different… I thought, at least this time, someone would choose me, that someone would actually love me for who I am and not for my status, my body or my money."

She paused, letting out a small, tear-filled laugh as she wiped her cheeks. "But here I am, crying like an idiot over a jerk who isn’t even worth it." she said, letting out a small, uneven laugh as she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

"You know? Out of all this, I think the only good thing is… that you’re here. That I can talk to you. If you weren’t… I don’t know how I’d be handling this."

She laughed again, but this time tears glistened in her eyes. It was a desperate sound, as if she were trying to find relief in a moment where none existed.

"At least you’re not an idiot like Anthony," she added with a faint smile, one that barely concealed the sadness beneath.

You looked at her, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it could echo throughout the room. In that moment, everything blurred. Her voice, her words, even her laughter.

It was as if the universe had narrowed to just her—to her face so close to yours, to the way her eyes still shone despite the tears. It was too much. Everything was too much.

And then it happened.

"Hey, everything okay?" Karina asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

That simple question was the breaking point. Before you could stop yourself, before your brain could process what you were doing, you leaned in and kissed her.

It was a brief kiss, almost desperate, yet filled with everything you had been holding back for so long. Your lips met hers—soft, warm—and for one fleeting moment, the world ceased to exist entirely.

When you opened your eyes, she was still. Her eyes were wide, staring at you in shock. She didn’t push you away, didn’t say anything, but she didn’t kiss you back either. She just sat there, frozen.

Your heart stopped, and you pulled away instantly. You stood up so quickly you nearly tripped over your own feet.

"I’m s-sorry… I-I’m so so-sorry," you began, your voice trembling as you avoided her gaze. "I don’t know what came over me, I… I-I didn’t mean to… I w-wasn’t trying to take advantage of you, Karina, please b-believe me…"

You brought your hands to your face, the heat rising so fast it felt unbearable. Fear clawed at you—fear that she would think the worst of you.

You were so consumed by your apologies, so lost in your own panic, that you didn’t notice when Karina stood and moved closer to you.

“I-I'm sorry, I-I don't know what I was thinking, I-I let myself... I-I was an idiot... I-I really didn't want to..”

You were so consumed by your apologies, so lost in your own panic, that you didn’t notice when Karina stood and moved closer to you.

"Can you stop apologizing already?"

Her voice cut through the chaos in your mind, grounding you.

You looked up at her, still trembling, and saw her smile. It wasn’t mocking, nor was it angry. It was soft—almost… affectionate.

"Okay," Karina said, placing one hand on her hip while taking your hand with the other. "Thanks for confirming I’m irresistible, but you could at least give me a heads-up next time, you know?"

Her tone was half playful, half serious, and it only made your head spin more. But before you could respond, she gently guided you back to the bed.

"Come on, sit down," she said, pulling you by the hand until you were both seated again.

"Now, tell me… was that because you couldn’t stand to see me cry, or because you really wanted to kiss me? Because, honestly, both options are pretty flattering."

Her light tone contrasted with the weight of what had just happened, yet the tension remained—thick, almost tangible.

It lingered between you, like something waiting to unravel. You were trapped between shame, confusion, and something else—something closer to hope. Again.

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⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ Karina is for pretty girls.︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

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[archivequinn]

Can you please do an eddie angst? I love your fluff. I'm in the mood to read angst.

I've never tried angst before, but I hope you like it!

Summary: You and Eddie are breaking up.

On a cold winter evening, the wind was fiercely rattling the window frames, the city was shrouded in darkness, but inside the house, it was warm and filled with excitement for Eddie’s arrival. You read the postcard he had sent once more: “I’ll be there tomorrow night, princess. Wait for me. I miss you so much.” The words, written in Eddie’s messy handwriting, made you feel as though you could hear his voice. You had been apart for a month; such a long separation was unusual for you, and tonight would be a reunion where everything would fall back into place.

Finally, you heard the sound of an engine outside the door. Your heart began to race, a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It felt as though your feet weren’t touching the ground. You ran to the door, your hands trembling slightly.

Eddie was there. His face looked tired, but the sparkle in his eyes and the scent of the wind clinging to him spoke volumes. He seemed like a man who had let go of all his burdens and was now overflowing with you. Smiling, he took a step toward you. “I’ve missed you so much…” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. Then he opened his arms and hugged you tightly.

His breath brushed past the side of your neck, warming you like a gentle breeze, and the rhythm of his heartbeat mingled with yours. The hug lasted so long that it felt as if all the troubles in the world had disappeared in that embrace. Tears welled up in your eyes; his warmth, his scent, his presence enveloped you completely. “Eddie…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He whispered back, “I know…”

You went inside. Eddie’s eyes wandered around the room, as if he was trying to recall a memory from a long time ago. “I even missed the smell of this house,” he said with a slight smile. Hats and scarves piled in a corner, the small details seemed to remind him of your shared story. He took you in his arms again, pressed his lips to your forehead, and closed his eyes. In that moment, time truly seemed to stand still. It was just the two of you; the noise, chaos, and confusion of the world were nothing more than a distant echo.

Finally, Eddie pulled back slightly, though his hands still rested on your waist. Looking at your face, he began to speak excitedly. “I have so much to tell you!” he said, his eyes gleaming. He talked about his adventures on the road, the places he had seen, the excitement on stage. “One time, a light bulb burst in the middle of a performance, and the whole set almost fell apart, but I shouted so much that people thought it was part of the show!” His laughter lit up the room, but a growing unease was building inside you.

During dinner, you noticed that Eddie kept glancing at the clock. At first, it seemed insignificant—maybe he was tired, or something was on his mind. But the peace of the evening gradually turned into tension. Finally, Eddie leaned slightly toward you, taking a deep breath. He put his fork down and placed his hands over yours.

“Listen,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. In his eyes, there was both happiness and deep indecision. “There’s something I need to tell you.” He paused for a moment, biting his lip as if weighing his words. Then, taking a deep breath, he continued. “I’ve received a new offer. A big tour… but I need to start immediately. I have to leave in a few hours.”

He looked at you, and you tried to understand the turmoil in his eyes. “This has been my dream. You know that, don’t you? You’re proud of me, right?” he said, his voice fragile like shattered glass.

“Of course, Eddie,” you replied, forcing a smile.

Eddie’s words trailed off, and there was an intensity behind his gaze. You looked into his eyes, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled with the weight of your emotions. “How long is the tour?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie took a deep breath, placing his hands on the edge of the table, his eyes cast downward. “A year,” he said. His voice wavered, and the strong, energetic man you knew now seemed like a boy struggling to find the right words. “We’ll be apart for a year.”

Those words felt like they had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. You felt a heaviness in your chest, struggling to breathe. When you looked into Eddie’s eyes, you saw both determination and fear. “Eddie…” you began, but couldn’t continue. The words collided in your mind, replaced by the sorrow you felt.

“Eddie, how can we handle such a long separation? A month was already so hard; a year… it feels impossible,” you said, your eyes filling with tears. You hadn’t expected them to come so quickly, but you couldn’t hold them back in front of Eddie.

Eddie reached out and held your hands. “I know. But I have to do this; I’m doing this for us. You’ve always been with me in this dream. I can’t do it without you,” he said, his voice cracking. In his eyes, there was both a plea and a deep guilt.

“Eddie, you say you’re doing this for us, but how meaningful can it be without us?” you asked. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you forced yourself to keep speaking. “You’re everything to me. But to not see you, to miss you, to think of you every day for a whole year… it will destroy me.”

A look of pain appeared on Eddie’s face, as if you had taken a piece of his heart and placed it in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, lowering his head. “I can’t do this without you,” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible. But then he raised his eyes to meet yours, a flicker of hope dancing within them. “But maybe we can figure it out together. I want you to come with me. Let’s go on this tour together. I want to live my dreams with you by my side. Please, think about it.”

The moment you heard his proposal, your heart clenched with both joy and sorrow. The thought of being with Eddie, waking up every morning to his smile, warmed you for a brief moment. But then reality reminded you of itself. “Eddie, no… I can’t do that,” you said, your voice cracking. “I have a life here. A job, a routine. Leaving everything behind to be with you sounds like a beautiful dream, but… that’s not how things work in real life.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, as if your words had deeply wounded him. “Don’t I mean anything to you?” he asked, his voice fragile and desperate. “I don’t want to live this dream without you. But if you’re not with me, living while missing you this much will tear me apart.”

“Eddie…” you said, your voice choking amidst sobs. “You mean everything to me. But sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes the realities of life overshadow our dreams.”

Eddie remained silent for a moment, as though your words echoed in his mind. Tears streamed down his face, completely breaking the strong mask he usually wore. He reached out for you, but you stayed where you were, your eyes locked on his. “I love you,” he said, his voice cracking like shattered glass. “But how can we make this work? We have to find a way… I can’t do this without you.”

You brought your hands to your face, wiping away tears that only returned immediately. “I know you’ll never stop loving me,” you said, your voice trembling. “And I’ll always love you, too. But maybe loving each other isn’t enough to change our situation right now. And maybe… maybe this is the best we can do for now.”

Eddie took a step back, the desperation and heartbreak on his face resonating throughout the room. He closed his eyes, his lips moving silently as though searching for words but saying nothing. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he took a trembling breath and opened his eyes to look at you again. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you,” he said. “I never want to say goodbye to you.”

In that moment, time seemed to stop. As you gazed at each other in silence, everything felt both unbearably heavy and inexplicably light. Eddie wrapped his arms around you once more, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to pull you into his very being. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking with sobs. “I’ll always love you.”

In that embrace, as you felt each other’s heartbeats, you both wished this moment could last forever. But you knew; even if this wasn’t a goodbye, nothing would be the same after this.

Eddie held you for a while longer, but the embrace no longer carried warmth—it carried a weight. You both knew this was the final connection before you let go of each other. Eddie’s breath was uneven, and each time it hit your shoulder, your heart broke a little more. His hands moved gently over your back, as if trying to etch the feeling of this touch into his memory.

Finally, he pulled back slowly. His eyes were red, yet they still held a deep resolve. He cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “Princess,” he said, his voice low and trembling, “I want you to take care of yourself. Promise me, okay? Wrap your scarf if it’s cold, don’t catch a chill at night. Don’t forget to eat properly. And… please, no matter what, try to be happy.”

You could only nod. You wanted to speak, to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. The tears streaming down your face silenced you. Eddie’s eyes carried the pain of a farewell that would last a lifetime. He looked away for a moment, his gaze falling to the floor.

He reached for the chain around his neck, a guitar pick hanging from it. It was his favorite pick—the one he used on stage, the one that reminded you of him more than anything else. His hands trembled slightly as he removed the chain. He held the pick in his palm for a moment, looking at it before meeting your gaze again. “I’ve carried this with me everywhere. But now, it needs to stay with you,” he said.

He placed the chain around your neck, his fingers lingering on the pendant for a moment before pulling away gently. “Always keep this with you. If you ever feel lonely, let this necklace bring you back to me,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. Your hands instinctively reached for the necklace, and as the coolness of the pick touched your palm, the knot in your throat tightened even more.

“But Eddie,” you said, your voice muffled by sobs, “Will we ever see each other again?” The words spilled out desperately, tears streaming uncontrollably down your face.

Eddie paused for a moment, looking straight into your eyes. The depth in his gaze carried a thousand words he wanted to say, but only a few made it past his lips. “I promise you,” he said, his voice broken but resolute. “No matter where I am, I’ll always think of you. I’ll always write to you. I’ll send you a postcard from every place I visit. Even if you forget me, those postcards will remind you of me.”

Those words gave you a small sense of solace, but your heart only grew heavier. Eddie took your hands in his and held them tightly. “But no matter what, you’ll always be here for me,” he said, placing a hand over his chest. “You’ll always be with me.”

Eddie slowly released your hands and let his eyes roam over you one last time. It was as if he was trying to etch every detail of you into his memory, knowing he might never see you again. “I love you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Then he turned away. For a moment, he hesitated, as though he wanted to turn back and say something, but he kept moving forward. His steps were heavy but determined. You stood frozen in place, tears filling your eyes as you watched him go.

When Eddie reached the door, your breath caught, hoping he might turn back. But he didn’t. He opened the door and stepped outside. The air was freezing, the cold wind brushing against your face as you whispered after him, “Eddie…” But your voice was swallowed by the wind.

The door closed slowly. You ran to the window for one last glimpse of him. Outside, as snowflakes fell, you saw Eddie’s back. He was leaving. His steps quickened, as though he was afraid that stopping would make him turn around. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, his head bowed. And you stood there behind the glass, tears streaming down your face, feeling your heart shatter.

Eddie didn’t look back. But you knew; you could feel that he was crying too.

credit for divider: @/strangergraphics taglist: @multyfangirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @t-folklore13