#i almost just fucked you anyway right then & there for even saying it

[jaeyuniversal]

you broke me first - l.hs

pairing: virgin!lee heeseung x experienced fem!reader

synopsis: you and heeseung are the school’s golden pair — popular, admired, and constantly shipped. the only problem? you can’t stand him. from competing on exams to gym class, you’re always neck and neck, and no one gets under your skin like he does. but while you see a rival, he sees the love of his life. when you overhear a hushed conversation that breaks you, will heeseung be able to win you back?

featuring: all of enha, winter from aespa, yuqi from (g)i-dle, and keeho from p1h

genre: angst... slow burn, some fluff, kissing, skinship, SMUTTTT, college au, first love trope?? sorta? one sided enemies to lovers

playlist: you broke me first by tate mcrae & what was i made for — billie eilish

warnings: smut so mdni (18+), alcohol consumption, vandalizing property, Sexual Tension, everyone is around the same age (21-23), lowercase intended <3

(smut warnings under cut!)

wc: 13.271k

a/n: first fic is here! plsplspls leave feedback as anything helps!! was listening to you broke me first and got inspo for a kinda angsty fic pls bare with me :3 anyways! enjoy the read <3<3

smut content: mention of toys (but no use), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex (not for you), dry humping, switch! hee and reader, riding, mating press, too much kissing, masturbation (m.), breeding kink, slight dacryphilia, oral (m. & f.), deepthroating, belly bulge, creampie, size kinkish, big dick! hee, not much aftercare but it's like fluffy, y/n has a “reputation” that she gets around, VIRGIN HEESEUNG (but no one knows…) i think thats it? lmk if i missed anything ◡̈

not proofread!

lee. fucking. heeseung. you hate him. you can't stand him. he always knows what to say just to piss you off. you might be wondering, "why don't you just try to avoid him?" the issue is... you do. you try with ALL your power but to no avail, he's in the same friend group as you.

your friends, knowing you hate him, decided to combine friend groups to see if you and him could mend things. spoiler alert: it failed miserably.

you felt safe in your small circle with keeho (the man you deemed to be your biological older brother — you aren't related), yuqi (your junior high best friend), and winter (your literal wife).

you guys were well known around the entire city of seoul for being the "it group" — always partying, hooking up, and somehow still acing every class (while nursing massive hangovers).

however, heeseung's friend group consisted of the golden boys in decelis university: park jongseong (known as jay, he hates his given name), sim jaeyun (known as the australian transfer student, jake), park sunghoon (the insanely hot figure skater), kim sunoo (the bubbliest person you've ever met), yang jungwon (the boy with feline features, however you've made a special note to never piss him off cause he has a black belt), and nishimura riki (known as ni-ki because he wanted to be different).

you loved riki. he was like your younger brother — chaotic, blunt, and always three steps ahead of everyone. you’d even joked once that if you had to suffer heeseung’s presence, at least you got riki out of it.

unfortunately, riki had the worst habit of instigating chaos.

“truth or dare?” he asked one friday night, grinning like he already had your life planned out. everyone was crammed into jay’s ridiculously large basement, music low, snacks half eaten, and bodies sprawled on beanbags and plush carpet.

you should’ve said “truth.” you knew you should’ve. but you weren’t a coward.

“dare,” you answered, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

the group erupted in ooooh's in perfect synchronicity.

riki’s grin only widened. “i dare you to sit on heeseung’s lap for five minutes.”

you almost lunged across the room.

“riki,” you hissed, “you are so dead.”

he just wiggled his brows suggestively. “i’m a baby. you wouldn’t hurt me.”

the worst part? he was right.

you looked over at heeseung, who was watching you like a cat watching a cornered mouse — lazy smirk, fingers casually drumming against his knee. “scared, sweetheart?”

“i’ll kill you in your sleep,” you said sweetly as you stalked over and dropped yourself into his lap like he was made of cardboard and air.

he oofed, not because you were heavy, but because he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it.

“wow,” he murmured, lips near your ear. “you smell like citrus and bad decisions.”

you resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

five minutes. you just had to survive five minutes.

but then his hands casually settled on your waist, and you felt it — the spark. the electric, traitorous, goddamn spark that told you this was a very, very bad idea.

because maybe, just maybe, your hatred wasn’t as pure as you thought- no. what are you thinking??? you immediately shook the feeling that was buzzing inside you and blamed it on the alcohol swimming in your blood.

you definitely. hated heeseung. yup, yeah, you really did.

heeseung on the other hand? he was just praying to every god he could think of that you couldn't feel how sweaty his palms were getting.

because he was panicking. full blown, internal screaming, oh-no-she’s-sitting-on-me-and-she’s-warm kind of panicking. he hadn't expected you to actually follow through on your usual threats, much less practically straddle him in front of your mutual friends.

but now? now he was just trying to not pass out from the sheer force of your perfume and presence and the weight of years of unresolved tension that sat heavier than you ever could.

"you're sweating," you said flatly, side eyeing him with that expression that usually meant murder or mockery — or both. "you good?"

"totally," he croaked. "i always nearly die when beautiful people threaten me. it's, like, my thing."

you blinked once. twice.

"did you just call me beautiful?"

"i said what i said," he muttered, then immediately regretted everything.

your brows lifted in slow, dangerous amusement. "you feeling okay, heeseung? you hitting on me while i’m threatening you?”

“wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, almost too quiet for you to hear.

and there it was again. the spark. like a lighter flicked too close to your frayed nerves.

you looked away, choosing to focus on literally anything else, but his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, grounding you, almost daring you to acknowledge it.

“how much longer do i have to sit on this assholes lap?” you questioned under your breath, reminding yourself, reminding him, that this was temporary.

"4 minutes!" jake sang back as his accented voice rang in your ears. fuck, it's only been one minute? you thought to yourself... until he spoke.

“i could ruin us in three,” he whispered, warm breath tickling your ear. he was so close you could practically feel his labored breathing against your back. you craned your neck to the side so you could look him in the eyes, "what did you just say???" heeseung was at a loss for words — his brain only drawing blanks.

did he say what he thought he said in his head out loud? impossible. he's hidden it so well, no one in your guys' shared friend group had even suspected his overbearing attraction towards you.

so heeseung did the only thing he could think of. he gulped.

just as your gaze dropped to his adams apple, sunghoon cleared his throat, reducing the fiery tension between you two to reduce to a simmer. "time's up" he stated. and just like that, the warmth you once shared was gone.

as the game progressed, the most interesting things to occur were jake kissing sunghoon on the cheek, riki vandalizing an old alley way that never saw the sun, and winter lady-and-the-tramping a twizzler with keeho.

you and heeseung never dared to even spare a glance in each other's direction for the rest of the night.

───

you laid awake, staring at the ceiling in jay's basement while trying to get comfy on the leather couch that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. you couldn't sleep. and the reason? none other than your self-proclaimed arch nemesis: lee heeseung.

your friend groups slept on different floors to prevent you and heeseung arguing and waking up the entire house. you slowly got up, attempting and (barely) succeeding to not step on a sleeping figure sprawled on the floor.

as you walk up the stairs from the basement, you hear two people whisper shouting at each other.

you glance at the time displayed on your phone.

a measly 3:16 am stared brightly at you. who's awake at this hour?? as you step closer to the hushed voices, you think you can make out the unmistakeable deepness of riki's voice and heeseung's annoying(ly hot) whispers, tinged with sleep.

"why the fuck would you dare HER of all people to sit on MY lap????" heeseung shouts quietly, clearly frustrated. riki bursts into a fit of giggles. "dude, don't tell me you feel something for her, don't you guys like hate each other?" he says between snide little chuckles.

heeseung freezes. there's no way riki really caught on to what he was supposed to never let slip through the cracks... right?! so he musters up all the dignity he has left and defensively grunts a series of defenses "nowhywouldieverseeherlikethatsheisn'tmytypeandithinkshe'sgross"

riki blankly stares back at heeseung's panicking eyes, "okayyy," he drags the word out, "you don't need to put her down like that, she's like my older sister, dude" riki spits back.

your lips twitch in a small smile, just for a second. just long enough for riki to catch your eyes peeking behind the corner. he nods once, subtle and solid. always in your corner.

but the comfort dies as soon as heeseung opens his mouth.

"i could never love someone like her."

and the world stops.

he says it so casually. almost like it’s a joke. like it's just another throwaway comment tossed between drinks and half-meant insults. but it lands with the weight of something cruelly true — or at least, something you believe he means.

you feel the breath hitch in your throat. just once.

riki's gaze is drawn to your frozen frame. and that's when everything freezes. heeseung whips around to see you standing there. eyes blown and glossy.

riki shifts, but he doesn’t move to try and console you — he knows better. knows this is something that'll bruise. something you need time to process, alone.

you bite back tears. “right,” you say, quietly. “of course.”

heeseung’s expression flickers — confusion, regret, something else — but you’ve already masked the pain. emotion draining from your face like you’ve trained for it. like it’s a sport. like if you stop moving, the hurt will catch up.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he says, a little too late, a little too soft.

you readjust your posture, fixing your shirt.

“you meant it exactly like that,” you reply, and it’s not even bitter. it’s worse. numb.

riki’s there before heeseung can say anything else. standing between you like a wall. like a shield.

“walk away,” he tells you gently, and you do.

because if you stay, you might ask him why not. and you’re not sure your heart could take the answer.

riki turns back to heeseung, flames he's never seen before burning in the younger boys irises that are normally filled with mischief and teasing glints. but all of a sudden none of that is there anymore. it's pure, unfiltered anger. raw emotion.

heeseung wants him to yell at him. say something, anything. but nothing comes. riki just walks upstairs like he doesn't even know who heeseung is anymore.

and maybe he doesn't.

───

the next morning, when heeseung wakes up, it's almost peaceful. until rain begins to tip tap on the roof and everything comes crashing down. his chest is tight and immediately swells with regret. so much he thinks it'll spill out of him just like the rain outside.

he needs to talk to you. make sure you're okay. but he knows he's the last person you want to see right now. still, he has to try

as he descends down the stairs, he doesn't smell the usual feast jay would prepare them: eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice and cereal for jake since he claims, "it doesn't hurt his tummy," (his words).

he actually doesn't see jake. nor sunghoon, sunoo, jungwon, jay, winter, yuqi, or keeho.

after last nights events, he expected not to see riki as he was probably with you.

how did he go from having the girl of his dreams sitting on his lap, to making her hate him even more?

it's simple, really: he fucked up.

he moves through the house like a ghost — rooms too quiet, air too still. no laughter, no music playing off someone’s phone. just him and the rain.

the basement still has the blanket you’d curled up with last night. your mug — half full. he picks it up, and it’s cold. like him.

he tries to call riki. no answer.

he tries to call you.

it goes straight to voicemail.

he types out a text. deletes it. tries again.

“i didn’t mean what i said. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i'm sorry, y/n”

he stares at it. sends it.

and immediately regrets it. because what if you never answer?

as he packs up all his belongings, ready for the uncomfortable drive home, someone enters the house.

heeseung's heart rate picks up. what if it's you? he bolts down the stairs and is ultimately disappointed when he's met with a very disapproving jay.

they stand across from one another, staring into each others eyes.

heeseung's the first to break. he collapses on the bar stool at the counter and drops his head into his hands like it weighs a ton.

jay just sighs and sits down next to his friend.

"is she okay?" heeseung mumbles, his face buried in his hands.

jay’s jaw tightens. "why do you care?" he snaps. "you sure as hell didn’t last night when you said you could never love someone like her."

the words hit hard — harder than jay intended — and heeseung shatters.

the sobs break out of him like a dam giving way, loud and raw. tears stream down his face, and the sound of it makes jay flinch, caught off guard by how real the pain is. how broken heeseung suddenly looks.

still, jay moves without thinking, reaching out and rubbing slow circles on his friend’s back. it doesn’t fix anything, but it softens the edges of the moment.

they sit there in silence, the storm outside echoing the one inside, as heeseung cries himself hoarse.

by the time he’s able to breathe steadily again, nearly an hour has passed. his eyes are red, his voice barely there. he lifts his head and meets jay’s gaze; tired looking into just as tired.

neither of them says much. there’s no need.

finally, jay sighs and stands. “go grab your stuff,” he says quietly. “you’re in no shape to drive. i’ll take you home.”

heeseung doesn’t argue.

because for once, he knows jay’s right.

───

your phone dings.

dni: i didn't mean what i said. i didn't mean to hurt you. i'm sorry, y/n

you stare at your phone. gaze void of emotion. you've cried out everything you could muster.

you don't even know why heeseung's words echo in your head.

were you really that intolerable to be around? surely you weren't. all of heeseung's friends enjoyed hanging out with you and same with your little group.

so why did hearing your supposed enemy say he could never love someone like you hurt so bad?

you suppose you need to distract yourself from thinking that heeseung's words have any sort of impact on you. and that's when your door swings open. riki, yuqi, winter, keeho, sunghoon, jake, sunoo, and jungwon walk into your apartment with food, video games, board games, coloring books, skincare — everything you needed at the moment.

a break.

a break from your spiraling thoughts and endless questions you didn't want answered.

there's a knock at the door, jay comes in after he dropped heeseung off, with a freshly made cake, red velvet. your favorite.

you don’t move at first.

the warmth of your friends floods the apartment — laughter, chatter, the familiar rustle of takeout bags and the buzz of game controllers syncing. but it feels distant, like you’re underwater, watching from behind a thick pane of glass.

yuqi wraps her arms around you from behind, cheek resting on your shoulder. “we got your favorite pork buns,” she says softly.

you nod. you don’t trust your voice.

riki’s the one who notices your phone still clutched in your hand. screen glowing. that message. his message.

he doesn’t say anything, but he takes the phone from you gently, pressing the lock button, letting the screen fade to black. and you’re grateful. because if you kept staring at it, you might’ve started crying again, and you didn’t think you had anything left in you.

“movie?” sunghoon offers, holding up a stack of dvd's none of you ever returned to the library.

“coloring?” sunoo chirps, already spreading out gel pens across your coffee table.

“face masks?” winter insists, already tearing them open.

you let them distract you. you let them love you in the only way they know how — loudly, messily, unconditionally.

there’s a moment, in the middle of the chaos, when keeho makes a stupid joke and jungwon snorts soda out of his nose, that you laugh. actually laugh.

and then it hits you like whiplash — how easily heeseung could’ve been here. how almost close you came to letting yourself believe there was something soft behind his smirks and eye rolls. how you’d dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, the tension between you wasn’t just one-sided delusion.

but then he said it. “i could never love someone like her.”

and even with the people you love surrounding you, something in your chest hurts. like a bruise that won’t stop blooming.

later, after everyone’s settled into pillows and half-finished coloring pages, riki sits beside you. he doesn’t speak for a long time.

then, quietly, “you don’t have to pretend around me.”

and that’s when your lip trembles. just slightly.

“i don’t know why it hurts this much,” you whisper. “i knew he hated me. i knew. so why do i feel so broken?"

“he didn’t have to say it like that,” riki replies, voice firm. “he didn’t have to break something just because he couldn’t admit he wanted to hold it.”

you nod, finally letting a single tear trail down your cheek. riki wipes it away before it can fall too far.

he squeezes your hand.

“he messed up,” he says. “that’s on him. not you.”

you hold onto that — his words, their presence, the comfort of being chosen and cared for.

and for the first time since last night, you breathe. not easily. not painlessly. but it’s a start.

───

heeseung didn't know how hard it would be to try and get any information about you.

how you were doing, if you were okay. anything

your mutual friends? after hearing how massive he fucked up, they sided with you.

sure, jay, jake, sunghoon, sunoo, and jungwon would text him and hang out with him occasionally, but they wouldn't utter a word about you. most of the time heeseung saw them, it would be for awkward movie nights or when they would game together when none of them could sleep.

when he was alone, his mind ached, his chest twisted in pain, but mostly... his body ached.

he tried to stop it, he knew it was wrong.

but when you sat on his lap, something in him shifted.

sure he knew you were pretty (breathtakingly stunning), but he never imagined something he thought about constantly would ever become reality.

he thought back to those 5 minutes. the tension. surely it couldn't have just been made up in his head, right?

the way your entire body tensed when his hands rested on your hips. normally he wouldn't have touched you, but you were shifting and he needed to stop his growing problem before you noticed.

and thankfully it worked.

however, he was already hard as a brick.

his breath hitched as he remembered the look in your eyes — uncertain, but not scared. curious, maybe? or was he projecting again?

he swallowed hard, his hands now clenched at his sides like if he let them loose, they’d betray him again.

five minutes. that’s all it was. but it looped in his head like a damn broken record.

you hadn’t said a word. but your thighs had tensed. and when he shifted, trying to regain his composure, you hadn't moved away — not immediately, anyway.

maybe it meant nothing. maybe you hadn’t even noticed the way his breath had gone shallow or the way he was holding back like his life depended on it.

but god, his body remembered.

he shifted in his bed now, alone, frustrated, angry at himself. this wasn’t who he was supposed to be. he wasn’t supposed to want this — to want you — not like this. not in silence, not in secrecy, not in pain.

but the damage was already done.

and the worst part?

he wasn’t sure he even wanted to stop anymore.

as he stared at his chase atlantic posters, he thought to himself. any guy would get hard when a pretty girl sits on his lap, right? surely it isn't just because he's a pathetic virgin who's had to lie to his entire friend group about how he "gets around."

soon enough, his thoughts were interrupted by the rapidly increasing ache between his legs.

his hands trembled slightly as they hovered over the tent in his shorts. his breathing was shallow, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as if he were caught in some fever dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

he hated how much he needed this.

how much he needed you.

with a low, strangled groan, he finally gave in, palming himself over the thin fabric. the relief was immediate, but it wasn’t enough — it never was. not when the ache ran deeper than just skin. not when every nerve in his body was screaming for more.

he slipped his hand beneath his waistband, hissing through clenched teeth as his fingers wrapped around his thick length, already twitching with need. he was so hard it hurt, painfully stiff and dripping at the tip, slicking his palm almost instantly.

your name burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back.

he couldn’t say it. shouldn’t say it.

but in his head, it echoed over and over again. your laugh. your voice. the way you looked at him — or didn’t. the way you moved. god, he remembered everything. he was haunted by it.

he shut his eyes tight and let his hand move — slow at first, starting at his base and dragging his fingers up each vein decorating the sides. his patience wore out quicker than he'd ever admit, starting to move up his length, then down with just enough pressure to make his thighs twitch. he bit his lip, hard, trying to hold in the sounds. but as the memory of you shifting in his lap played behind his eyelids like a cruel fantasy, a soft whimper escaped.

he was losing it.

desperation clawed at him with every stroke, every flex of his hand. his hips lifted off the mattress as his muscles tensed. he imagined your fingers replacing his, your body hovering over his, your breath against his neck.

“please,” he gasped into the dark — not even sure what he was begging for. forgiveness? permission? you?

he pumped harder now, faster, chasing that high like it would save him. his other hand gripped the sheets, knuckles white. he was right on the edge, falling apart with nothing but the echo of your presence and the throb of need coiled deep in his belly.

“i need — fuck, i need you,” he moaned, broken and breathless. his body was hot, slick with sweat, twitching under his own touch.

he could feel it. the band threatening to snap at any moment.

he swirled his fingers around his tip, hitting that spot that made his vision go white. he was close.

all it took to unravel him was an image of you, mouth replacing his hand. trying to fit as much of him into your mouth while he just laid there and took it.

eventually the thought was too much, his seed spilled over his stomach in thick, messy ropes, his fist slowing only when the aftershocks wracked his frame like a wave of guilt and pleasure colliding all at once.

he laid there for a moment, chest heaving, skin flushed and sticky.

and then it hit him.

he still wasn’t satisfied.

because it wasn’t your touch. it wasn’t your voice, your kiss, your heat. it was just his hand and a fantasy he couldn't let go of.

and no matter how many times he did this, no matter how many times he used the memory of you…

it was never going to be enough.

───

you’ve held it together for as long as you could — smiled through movie nights, laughed at keeho’s stupid impressions, even ate something other than ramen yesterday. but it’s all surface level. the moment you're alone again, the cracks split wide open.

there you are, sitting on your couch, drowning in your thoughts. 

the faint glow of the streetlamp filters through the windows, further highlighting the text message staring back at you

“i didn’t mean it.” 

it replays in your head over and over like a broken record until your vision starts to blur. tears flood your waterline but you make no effort to stop them. 

you don’t sob. you just sit there, hurting so quietly it’s almost peaceful.

until it isn’t. 

your lip trembles slightly, then it all comes pouring out. 

“why? why did you say that? what the fuck. did i do to deserve those words?” 

riki hears your quiet words from the bathroom. he comes rushing out, empathy and sadness twirling in his eyes. 

“hey, hey, hey, talk to me y/n. yell at me if you need to, yeah?” he says. voice barely above a whisper. all you can choke out is a tiny “no, none of this is your fault.” 

riki sits next to you, holding you, trying to piece you back together as if he were the one who broke you.

disrupting the mellow silence lingering in your apartment, there’s a knock at the door.

not wanting the worst case scenario, you answering the door to heeseung, riki gets up and makes his way to where the sound came from. 

to both of your dismay, a tired heeseung stands in the doorway. 

his hair is messy, dark bags under his usually teasing eyes, looking like he hasn’t slept in days.

he freezes when he sees you. your puffy eyes, shaking hands, the way you curl in on yourself like you’re trying to disappear. 

riki steps in front of you, but you give him the signal to back down. you and heeseung can handle this alone. what’s another argument anyways? 

as riki walks away, heeseung starts slowly “yn…” 

you look at him. and no matter how hard you could have tried, nothing could have stopped you from snapping at him.

“why are you here?”  “i had to see you. i had to say–”  “you already said enough, heeseung.” 

god. the way you say his name. all he’s thought about since you last saw each other was you saying his name. and now, he doesn’t wanna hear it ever again. 

he opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. 

“do you know what it felt like to hear you say i wasn’t lovable? that someone like me could never be enough for you?” 

as if you could read his mind, you shake your head, dismissing whatever he was about to spit out. 

with every last ounce of energy you can gather, you scream. “you don’t get to feel sorry now. you made your choice the other night. i knew we had a mutual hatred, or at least some twisted distaste, but i never even thought about saying something like that to you.”

he doesn’t respond right away. just stands there, frozen. then you hear it. soft sniffles. ragged breathing. sobs.

he breaks.

because this is the first time he gets it. really, truly understands what he did. what he said. what it cost you.

“i’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice cracked and barely audible. “truly. what i said last week… i didn’t mean it. even thinking it broke me.”

you stare at him for a long, quiet second. and then you say it — flat, but shaking.

“you broke me first, heeseung.”

his breath catches. your words land like a punch to the gut, because they’re the truth. maybe the first truth spoken between you in a long time.

heeseung, who’s always so calm. so composed. the one who rolls his eyes at everything and makes everything feel like a joke. he’s crumbling in front of you now. not fighting. not defending. just falling apart.

and then it hits you. maybe he’s always been like this.

watching you. listening. never the first to strike, only ever the one to react. maybe he was never the villain in this story.

your breath hitches. maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

you don’t know why the realization crashes down now. maybe it’s the sound of his sobs. maybe it’s the way the silence has more weight than anything he’s ever said. but something inside you shifts.

and for the first time, you see him — not as the enemy. but as the boy who let you hate him, because he didn’t know how to ask for anything else.

you replay every argument like a tape stuck on rewind. you were always the one who started it.

the snide comments. the sideways glances. the venom you dressed up as jokes.

heeseung never really fought back. he always matched your energy, sure, but he never escalated it. never crossed a line. not until that night.

your chest tightens. you realize you don’t even remember what the first fight was about. some hallway bump? a misunderstood glance? maybe it was never about anything. maybe it was just you, projecting every piece of your brokenness onto the only person who saw through it and stayed.

god, had he always stayed?

you remember in elementary school, how he used to bring you extra snacks when you forgot lunch. how he gave you his hoodie that one time you were shivering during morning assembly, even after you’d spent the entire week roasting him in front of your friends.

you remember the way his gaze always lingered—not in a way that felt invasive, but like he was always checking. watching over you without saying a word.

and now here he is. slumped into his knees. back pressed against the wall, crying over you.

you were so busy building walls with your bitterness that you didn’t notice it was slowly breaking him. 

the quiet way he tried to reach over them.

you sink to the floor across from him, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the weight of everything between you.

for a long moment, you don’t speak. neither does he. you just breathe in the silence together — like it’s the only language you both understand.

“i didn’t know how to stop hating you,” you whisper, voice catching. “because if i stopped… i think i would’ve started needing you.”

heeseung lifts his head. eyes red, lashes wet.

“i already did,” he says. “i never stopped.”

your heart fractures in a way that doesn’t feel sharp, just tired. heavy.

“i don’t know what to do with that,” you admit.

“you don’t have to do anything,” he murmurs. “not tonight.”

you nod. once. then you help him get up. both your legs feel numb, but you walk him towards the door. your hand rests on the handle, taking a second to look up at him. really look at him, and you’re tempted to say something. 

but instead, you give him the quietest thing you can offer: a small, broken sort of smile. not quite forgiveness. not quite goodbye.

then, he steps out into the night. and just like that, the quietness of everything settling in takes over. no more lies. just the truth.

as you’re deep in thought, riki walks in with two mugs of hot chocolate — extra marshmallows, your favorite. 

-ˏˋ⋆ 3 years ago ⋆ˊˎ-  

it’s a chilly summer night. you and riki are sprawled out on the roof of his parents' house, the shingles warm beneath your backs from the day’s lingering sun. crickets hum below. the stars blink overhead, careless and constant.

you shift slightly, seeking warmth, and without a word, riki lifts his arm. you curl into the space beside him, head on his shoulder, fingers tucked into the sleeve of his hoodie. his arm settles around you like it belongs there.

“do you think we’ll ever feel like this again?” you murmur. “peaceful. like nothing’s wrong.”

he hums low in his chest. “you mean without chaos or boys who don’t deserve you?”

you let out a breath, half a laugh. “exactly.”

there’s a pause, the kind that feels thick with unspoken things.

riki’s voice is soft when he finally speaks. “i think… the people who make you feel heavy, like you're constantly questioning yourself, that’s not love, y/n. that’s something else.”

you turn your face slightly to look up at him. he’s gazing at the stars like he’s afraid of admitting he craves the one thing he’s always sworn to never care about. 

“love should never hurt,” he says, quieter this time. “not the kind that stays.”

you don’t say anything right away. you’re too busy memorizing the way the night folds around his words. the way he’s always been a comfort for you, the one to pick you up when you’re falling. 

and in that moment, you believe him. you really do.

you nod once. “then i hope… when it’s my turn, it feels like this. safe.”

riki swallows. “me too.”

-ˏˋ⋆ present time ⋆ˊˎ- 

and now, back in your bedroom, the silence left in heeseung’s absence is deafening.

your gaze flicks toward the window, rain still threading down the glass like tear tracks. your mind lingers on that rooftop — the stars, the safety, the version of you who still believed in soft things.

before all the hook-ups, parties, and one-sided confessions. 

you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders and whisper. either to riki or yourself, you don’t know.

“you said love should never hurt. i think heeseung missed that memo.”

and god, how you wish you could go back to that night — before the spiral, before the ache.

before the boy who made you feel like an afterthought.

before you let yourself fall over someone you thought you didn’t care about. 

riki leaves after making sure you’re alright, mumbling something about dance practice. 

and again, it’s just you. in the quiet. 

then, almost without thinking, you rip a blank piece of paper out of your journal.

you don’t plan it. it’s just instinct — fingers gripping your pen, waiting for permission your heart hasn’t quite given. but then you start writing.

dear heeseung,

i hated you before i knew how badly i could want you. maybe that’s where it all went wrong. because at some point, i stopped seeing you as the boy who annoyed me and started seeing you as someone i wanted to understand. as someone i wanted to look at me and see me. and for a while, i thought maybe you did. i thought maybe the way you pulled me into your lap, the way you whispered near my ear, the way your hand rested on my waist — i thought maybe it meant something. i thought i was stupid for hating you. turns out i was just stupid for hoping. you said you could never love someone like me. and god, that broke something in me i didn’t know was still whole. because even when i told myself i hated you, there was always that small, traitorous part of me that wondered: what if he doesn’t hate me back? what if it’s more? but it wasn’t. and now i can’t unhear it. you probably didn’t even mean it — not in the way it came out. maybe it was fear, or pressure, or ego. but it doesn’t matter, does it? words don’t get erased just because we didn’t mean them. they echo. and yours… yours are still echoing inside me like a song i can’t shut off. i don’t think i’m mad at you anymore. i think i’m mad at myself. for letting you get close. for not guarding the parts of me i only let out in small doses. for thinking i was different to you. i wish you hadn’t said it. but mostly, i wish it hadn’t mattered so much to me that you did. – y/n

you take out an envelope, neatly fold the paper and stuff it inside, writing a neat ‘heeseung’ on the front of it. 

some truths aren’t meant to be sent. some confessions are only meant for the rain to witness.

and tonight, that’s enough.

───

the second the door shuts behind him, the silence hits like a punch to the ribs.

heeseung stands there for a second too long, staring at the wood grain of your door like it might open again. like maybe you’ll come running after him. like maybe that small, broken smile you gave him wasn’t the end.

but it doesn’t open.

and it was the end.

he starts walking. he doesn’t even remember moving his feet, just that suddenly he’s outside, and the rain greets him like an old friend. cold, sharp, unforgiving. it soaks through his hoodie in seconds, but he doesn’t flinch.

he deserves it. every drop. every chill. every echo of your voice in his head.

“not quite forgiveness. not quite goodbye.”

god, what did he do?

how did he take someone who was literally sitting in his lap, trusting him with the fragile thread of something real — and turn that into this? this mess of silence and space and words he can’t take back?

“i could never love someone like her.”

he had said it so carelessly. so cruelly. trying to deflect the attention off himself in front of your friends, like a coward. like a boy who still thinks protecting his ego is worth more than protecting a heart.

especially your heart.

he wipes his face with the back of his hand, unsure if it’s tears or rain. it’s probably both.

he thinks back to your eyes right before he left. the way you looked at him like he was someone you used to know. like whatever thread was between you had finally snapped.

and the worst part?

he couldn’t even beg you to stay.

because he knows — he knows — he doesn’t deserve it.

he walks home in silence, the city around him buzzing and breathing like it doesn’t care at all about the wreckage inside his chest. his phone buzzes a few times in his pocket, probably jay or jungwon checking if he made it back safely.

but none of it matters.

because there’s only one person he wants to hear from.

and you’ve already said everything you needed to say. in the way you didn’t ask him to stay. in the way you didn’t cry. in the way you simply closed the door.

so when heeseung finally steps into his apartment, soaked to the bone, trembling from more than just the cold, he collapses on his bed, stares at the ceiling, and whispers:

“i didn’t mean it. i swear i didn’t mean it.”

but there’s no one left to listen.

not tonight.

───

heeseung isn’t the center of your world anymore.

not in the way he used to be.

in the weeks that follow, your friends become your anchor. riki never leaves your side. winter brings over matcha lattes and blankets. sunoo paints your nails while jake tells bad jokes. you laugh again. slowly, but surely.

you start writing more letters.

some are angry. some are soft. some are nothing more than wordless scratches of ink on paper.

but one night, you write a letter that feels different.

you don’t even realize what you’re saying until it’s already down:

i wanted you. for a long time. maybe even when i said i hated you. maybe that was the only way i knew how to say it without crumbling. i masked want with rage. affection with sarcasm. love with loathing. you made it easier to run. but i wanted to stay. god, i wanted to stay.

you fold that letter gently. tuck it into your drawer. it doesn’t matter if he reads it. not now.

because healing isn’t about him.

it’s about you.

and you’re getting there.

lately, the weekends have felt lighter. your apartment has become a familiar gathering place again, only now, it’s just the people who stayed. who showed up. who chose you. heeseung hasn’t come around in weeks, and no one really talks about it. not in a cruel way, just in the quiet, understanding way that friendships shift when someone slips out of the picture.

you used to dread saturday nights, used to flinch every time the group chat lit up with plans. used to wonder if he’d show up, if you’d have to spend the night pretending not to notice the weight of his silence, the way your laughter dulled around him. but somewhere along the way, those nights started to feel easier. not because you stopped missing him — but because you started remembering how to miss him without hurting yourself in the process.

your living room is alive with warmth and laughter. the scent of popcorn and mango smoothies drifts through the air. blankets are piled high on the couch, soft pillows strewn across the floor where riki is dramatically throwing himself down after losing yet another round of mario kart to sunghoon, who’s grinning like he just won the olympics.

“cheater,” riki groans, pointing an accusing finger without lifting his head.

“just admit i’m better,” sunghoon replies smugly, stretching his legs across the coffee table like he owns the place.

in the corner, winter and yuqi are dancing barefoot to a chaotic mix of early 2000s pop and indie throwbacks — somehow still synced up to choreography you’d all made up back in sophomore year. their laughter is contagious, unfiltered and bright, and it tugs a smile onto your face before you even realize it.

keeho is halfway through teaching jungwon and sunoo a tiktok dance in the kitchen doorway, voice loud and arms flailing with exaggerated energy. they’re laughing too hard to get the moves right, collapsing into each other every time they mess up. jake, unfazed by the chaos, is blending something suspiciously green in the kitchen, wearing a headband that reads “chef vibes only.”

you’re curled up on the loveseat, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, a half-finished smoothie in your hands. and for once, you’re not scanning the room for him. you’re not wondering what he’d say or how he’d look at you or if tonight would be the night he pulled you aside and finally said something real.

you’re just… here. and it’s enough.

someone throws a pillow at your head, probably riki, based on the cackling, and you lunge to retaliate, laughing as the pillow war erupts across the living room. it’s messy, loud, ridiculous. and it’s yours. this little world you’re rebuilding, one laugh, one night, one breath at a time.

there’s still a part of you that misses him. maybe there always will be. but tonight, that part is small. quiet.

outnumbered by joy.

meanwhile, heeseung is alone in his apartment.

the place is dim. quiet. it hasn’t felt like home in a long time. he's been staring at his phone for an hour now, hoping for a text that doesn’t come.

he thinks about the group chat. the silence from everyone. he thinks about the night he ruined everything. and how, somehow, he still wants to fix it.

he knows an apology isn’t enough. not this time.

he needs to show you, all of you, that he’s not the same guy who let his fear speak louder than his heart.

he just doesn’t know how yet.

but he will. he has to.

because he doesn’t just want forgiveness.

he wants to deserve it.

───

somewhere in the chaos, one of your unsent letters goes missing.

riki finds it by accident. tucked under a cushion, edges worn. he doesn't mean to read it, but your handwriting draws him in, and before he knows it, he's holding your heartbreak in his hands.

he doesn't say a word. just slips it into his pocket and walks away.

a day later, heeseung finds the letter folded on the seat of his car.

he doesn’t recognize the paper at first. but the second he sees your handwriting, his heart drops.

his hands shake as he unfolds it. the silence around him is so loud, he can hear his pulse in his ears.

and then he reads it.

every word. every line. every raw, aching truth you never meant for him to see.

i thought maybe the way you pulled me into your lap, the way you whispered near my ear, the way your hand rested on my waist — i thought maybe it meant something. turns out i was just stupid for hoping. you said you could never love someone like me. and god, that broke something in me i didn’t know was still whole.

heeseung sits there, completely still. letter trembling in his grip.

"fuck," he whispers. "fuck."

he shows up to the next group hangout like his life depends on it.

he doesn’t talk to anyone. not really. not until you walk in.

you freeze when you see him. part of you wants to turn around and leave.

but he doesn’t let you.

he stands. crosses the room.

"can we talk?" he asks, voice low, not demanding, but pleading.

you don’t say anything.

"please. just five minutes. if you still hate me after, i’ll leave you alone. forever."

there’s a long pause.

you nod.

he takes you outside, away from the noise, into the quiet night.

"i read it," he says.

you blink. "read what?"

he reaches into his jacket and pulls out the letter. your letter.

your stomach drops.

"i wasn’t supposed to see it, i know. but... i’m glad i did."

"heeseung—"

"no. let me say this. please."

his eyes are desperate. glassy. his words shaky.

"i lied. that night. i said that because i was scared. because i felt too much, too fast, and didn’t know what to do with it. i thought if i pushed you away, i could kill whatever it was before it killed me."

he takes a step closer.

"but you weren’t just someone i hated. not really. you were someone i couldn’t stop thinking about. you were the highlight of every party, every night, every moment. i was an idiot. but i never stopped wanting you."

your throat is tight.

"you broke me," you whisper.

he nods.

"i know. and i’ll spend every second proving to you that i’m sorry. not with words — with time. with actions. with everything you’ll let me give."

there’s silence.

then you take a breath.

"you’ve got a lot to prove, lee heeseung."

he gives the smallest, hopeful smile.

"then let me start now."

and he does.

not with fireworks. not with promises he can’t keep. but with the small things. the consistent things.

the next morning, there’s a text from him. simple. 

“did you sleep okay?”

you stare at it for a while before replying. 

“yeah. you?” 

“not really. kept thinking about you.”

you don’t answer that. but your heart stirs anyway.

a few days later, he’s waiting outside your class with a drink in his hand, the one he used to make fun of you for ordering (“that’s basically sugar and foam, y/n”), but now buys without hesitation. he doesn’t try to walk you home. doesn’t push. just hands you the drink, offers a soft “you looked tired,” and walks away before you can respond.

he lets you come to him.

at the next hangout, he doesn’t hover. doesn’t sulk. he helps jake in the kitchen, jokes with jungwon, lets the others tease him without biting back. when you walk in, his eyes find you — but he doesn’t pull you aside. just offers a quiet, careful smile. like he’s waiting. like he’s learning how to stay.

one night, you’re struggling with your laundry, balancing way too many bags and a basket of unfolded clothes, and he appears without a word, grabbing half the load from your arms. you glare at him, but you don’t tell him to stop.

he walks with you to the laundry room, helps you separate colors, folds your towels when you’re too tired to finish. “i owe you way more than this,” he says softly. you don’t look at him. “yeah,” you murmur. “you do.”

he doesn’t reply. just keeps folding.

you start to notice it more after that. the way he lingers behind after group dinners to help clean. the way he listens, really listens, when you talk, even if it’s just about the books you’re reading or the music you’ve been into lately. the way he starts learning your rhythms again, not to manipulate them, but to respect them.

one night, you find a note slipped into your bag.

“this isn’t about getting you back. it’s about being someone who deserves to stand beside you. i don’t expect anything from you. just… thanks for letting me try.”

you don’t know what to do with that. but you keep the note anyway.

and maybe the biggest moment doesn’t feel big at all. it’s late. you’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, overwhelmed with everything—assignments, memories, feelings you’ve tried to ignore—and he shows up.

he doesn’t say anything. just sits beside you. close, but not too close. his shoulder brushes yours. your hand trembles. and without looking at you, he says, “you don’t have to talk. just let me sit here.”

and you do.

because he’s not trying to fix you. he’s just showing up. and maybe that’s what love looks like now.

quiet. patient. real.

you don’t forgive him all at once.

but some nights, it’s harder to pretend you don’t want to.

like the night it rains, and you forget your umbrella. you’re standing under the campus archway, clutching your books to your chest, half-considering just running for it, when a quiet voice says, “hey.”

you turn. heeseung’s holding out his umbrella, expression unreadable, hair already wet from the walk over.

“you’ll get soaked,” you mumble, surprised. “i don’t mind,” he says. “but you hate the rain.”

you want to tell him to leave. want to remind him that knowing those things doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

but instead, you step under the umbrella. shoulder to shoulder. hearts too close. you don’t say a word the whole walk home. but you remember how he always matched his pace to yours. he still does.

───

there’s another time. movie night.

everyone’s over again, sprawled across the living room. you end up between yuqi and jungwon on the couch, but at some point, someone moves, and when you shift, you realize you’re next to him. again.

the movie plays. people whisper and pass snacks and argue over the plot twist. but all you feel is the space between your knee and his. the ghost of warmth where your arms nearly brush.

you don’t move away. neither does he.

and at one point, you laugh at a stupid scene. without thinking, you glance at him, wanting to see if he found it funny too. he’s already looking at you. and for a second, everything stills.

you look away first. but your heart doesn't stop racing for a long, long time.

───

the third moment is softest of all.

it’s late. everyone’s left. you’re cleaning up alone, stacking plates in the kitchen.

you don’t hear him come back until he’s beside you, rolling up his sleeves.

“thought i’d help,” he says gently. you nod. don’t speak.

you’re both quiet for a while, working in sync. something about it feels… familiar. domestic. like home.

then, as you’re drying the last cup, you glance over. he’s watching you, and there’s something in his eyes. something tender. careful. full of things he hasn’t said yet.

“i miss you,” he says softly. 

your breath catches.

you set the cup down.

“heeseung–”

“i’m not asking for anything,” he interrupts, voice thick. “just… i miss you. and i wanted you to know.”

you swallow hard. there’s so much you could say. but instead, you whisper, “i know.”

he nods once. and then he leaves. because he meant it — he wasn’t asking for anything. but that’s the moment you know: you don’t hate him anymore. you never did. 

───

it happens a week later.

a rooftop. stars overhead. winter’s birthday, most of your friends are tipsy on alcohol, sugar and too many karaoke songs. you haven’t had a drop of alcohol, wanting to truly feel everything.

heeseung finds you leaning against the railing, eyes on the sky.

“hey,” he says. you nod and let him stand beside you.

the silence isn’t awkward anymore. it’s soft. steady.

“can i ask you something?” he says, barely audible.

you hum.

“do you still feel it?” he asks. “whatever it was… whatever we had.”

you don’t answer for a long time.

and then, quietly… “i never really stopped.”

he turns. slowly.

your eyes meet. and in them is every apology he’s ever whispered with his actions. every moment he gave you space. every time he showed up when he didn’t have to.

you reach for him first.

your hand brushes his. his fingers curl around yours like a prayer.

and then, finally, he kisses you.

soft. aching. full of every unspoken word, every almost, every could’ve been. this isn’t the kind of kiss that demands anything. it’s a promise. a beginning.

you pull back first, just enough to whisper, “i don’t wanna do this while you’re intoxicated, i don’t want you to regret it.” 

he stares at you before mumbling into your lips.

“y/n, i haven’t had a drink, but it feels like i’m drunk when i kiss you.” 

your heart stops and everything fades into the background. “don’t break me again.” you plead, face inches away from his. 

he presses his forehead to yours.

“never again,” he breathes.

and this time, you believe him.

as he reconnects your lips, his hands tremble slightly where they find purchase on your waist. the night air is cool, but your skin is burning—flushed, alive, and aching in a way you haven’t let yourself feel in so long.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes flick between yours and your lips, like he’s still not sure this is real.

“we don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “just say the word.”

but you don’t want him to stop. not tonight. not after everything.

so you slide your fingers into the collar of his jacket, tug him closer until your lips brush his again.

“take me home, heeseung.”

and he does.

his apartment is quiet when you get inside, the chaos of the earlier party gone, the night still humming with something electric. you barely have time to kick your shoes off before his mouth finds yours again. hungrier now, more desperate. like all the restraint he’s shown is unraveling, thread by thread.

his hands are everywhere — your hips, your waist, your jaw. like he’s relearning you. memorizing the weight of you against him.

you tug his jacket off, fingers fumbling with the zipper, and he lets out a low, breathless laugh against your neck.

“still impatient,” he teases.

“still hot when you shut up,” you shoot back, and he groans.

you barely make it to the couch.

he sits first, pulling you into his lap like it’s instinct, like he’s needed this for months. your knees straddle him, bodies pressed chest to chest, your hands tangled in his hair as he kisses you like he’s starving for it.

he tilts his head, deepens the kiss, and it’s filthy. slow. wet. your hips roll against his without thinking, and the noise he makes, low and guttural, goes straight to your core.

“fuck,” he groans. forehead against your collarbone. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you arch into him, tug his shirt over his head, and he follows suit, fingers slipping under the hem of yours, eyes flicking up for permission. you nod, and he peels it off slowly, reverently, like unwrapping something precious.

his hands trail over your skin like he’s trying to remember what it feels like to deserve you.

and then his mouth is on your neck, your shoulder, trailing down until you’re gasping his name, your back arching as he presses kisses across your collarbones.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, like it hurts.

as you reach for his belt wanting to make him feel good, he puts his hand over yours. “there’s something i need to tell you.. before we take anything further.” he says like he doesn’t even want you to know. 

“what is it, hee?” 

god. that nickname. 

it’s what all his close friends call him, however when you say it. he wants to lay the world at your feet. 

“i’m.. uh�� a vir-virgin…” he mumbles. you would have missed it had you not been paying close attention. 

you laugh. 

heeseung leans back into the couch, hoping, praying, wishing it to swallow him whole. 

as you observe heeseung, you realize he must be serious. “you’re a virgin? but you– you always used to talk about your hook-ups and how every week it was like you had someone new hanging off your arm??? what do you mean you’re a virgin?” 

he whimpers. he fucking whimpers. “i’m not proud of it, okay? i always came really close to hooking up with girls but i um. i couldn’t you know.. get it… up.” 

you sit there quietly, giving him time to compose himself and continue. 

“everytime i tried to lose my virginity, i couldn’t get hard unless i thought she was you,” he speaks, not gaining enough courage to look you in the eyes. 

you stare at heeseung for a moment, trying to process what he just said. the weight of it settles between you like a delicate secret, and suddenly the playful teasing tone you’d had before feels completely inappropriate.

you can see it in his doe eyes — how embarrassed he is, how much he wants to crawl out of his own skin. the corners of his lips are tugged in a tight line, as if holding in every emotion that threatens to spill out. but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. it’s soft, gentle, but laced with a teasing warmth.

“you’re a virgin?” you ask, letting the words linger a little longer than they should, pretending to be surprised as if he hadn’t just told you, twice.

heeseung’s face reddens, and you see him shrink further into the couch. you could almost feel his desire to hide, to escape. but you don’t let him. instead, you move closer, shifting between his legs, and place your hand on his thigh. a gentle, reassuring pressure.

“god, heeseung,” you tease softly, your lips curling into a smile that isn’t cruel, but playful. “how could you keep that from me? you’ve been all… big talk and ‘i get all the girls,’ and here you are, this nervous little thing, blushing at the thought of being with me?”

his eyes flicker with uncertainty, but you lean in just enough to press your lips to his ear. you feel him tense under the touch, and the subtle shiver runs through his body, telling you everything you need to know. he’s not as confident as he makes it seem.

“you should’ve told me sooner, you know,” you whisper, your voice low, just enough to make his breath hitch. “i would’ve been patient. we could’ve taken it slow.”

heeseung groans softly, his hands gripping the fabric of the couch like he’s holding onto some semblance of control. you smile knowingly, watching the struggle on his face. but it’s not discomfort — it’s desire. you can feel it in the way his eyes refuse to leave yours, in the way his body reacts to the gentleness in your touch.

“i… i don’t want you to think less of me,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it anyway. “it’s just… with you, it’s always felt different.”

you gently trace your fingers up his chest, watching as his breath quickens. you’re giving him space to breathe, to process, and then you lean in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss.

“stop worrying about that,” you say quietly, your lips just barely touching his. “i don’t think less of you. if anything, you’re hotter right now than ever before.”

the vulnerability in his eyes shifts. he’s still nervous, but the weight is lifting. and for the first time in a while, you see him start to believe that he doesn’t need to hide anything from you.

then, you shift your focus, teasing him once more with a playful grin. “but you know, heeseung… i could help you with that. we could take this slow, maybe help you get comfortable with what it feels like to be with me. you trust me, don’t you?”

he nods, slowly, not trusting his voice. he’s ready. maybe more than he thought.

and you take that as your cue. you kiss him again, deeper this time, letting the heat between you grow. his body responds to you almost immediately. hands shifting from nervous to eager, pulling you closer as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

“let me take care of you,” you murmur, your hands trailing down to his belt. this time, you don’t hesitate. you undo it slowly, giving him time to react, but he doesn’t stop you. instead, he leans back into the couch, peeling his shirt off, chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

heeseung’s eyes search yours one more time, a silent question in them. you nod gently, giving him permission to be vulnerable, to trust you fully.

and when your hands pull his pants down, you can feel the heat of him, see the evidence of his desire. you take your time, enjoying the way he reacts to each touch, savoring the way he trembles under your hands.

you start by rubbing over his bulge when your eyes widen. 

he just stares back at you, not blinking, but incredibly nervous. “is– is something wrong?” he stutters out. 

“wrong? no, heeseung. you’re huge.” 

he blushes and hides his face in his hands. his veiny hands. you’ll definitely need to put those to use later. 

you softly drag his hands away from his face and tell him to never hide from you. you think he’s beautiful like this. 

after he calms down, you look back into his eyes that resemble a deer, and he nods. signaling you to continue. 

you finally trail your eyes down to his raging hard on, you can almost see it pulse. 

his breath quickens the longer you take to begin touching him.

you start by teasing his swollen tip, arousal evident in the stain on his gray boxers. he sighs heavily, tipping his head back.

as you rub your hand down to his base, you get a feel for how thick he truly is. 

he’s hard. aching. even at the slightest touch, his eyebrows furrow and he holds back soft groans. 

you rip your hand off his clothed bulge. “if you want me to continue, you need to let me hear you, baby.” 

that was his breaking point, he quickly nods his head yes looking at you with pleading eyes, “can you please touch me? it hurts.” 

not wanting to tease him any longer, you rip his boxers off his thighs and his throbbing length slaps against his lower abdomen reaching just above his belly button. precum smears on his abs and you get the urge to lick it off.

so you do.

you gently move his dick away from his toned stomach, swiping your wet muscle along his abs, sucking to leave light marks. 

the noises he makes are downright pornographic, and you think you’ll never be able to hear them enough.

moving your attention back to the hardness in your grasp, you begin to lick up his shaft, tracing each vein with the tip of your tongue. his head is still tipped back, frustrating you a bit because you want his attention on you. 

so… in one swift motion, you take him down your throat until his tip hits the back. his head shoots up and he moans. loud. 

heeseung is in heaven. the feeling of your throat constricting around his cock, he never wants you to pull off of him. he gently pulls your hair into a ponytail, hands shaking when you start moving.

his apartment is filled with filthy noises: wet, loud, and obscene. 

he can hear and feel your gag reflexes kicking in but you don’t budge. you continue to move up and down, not wanting to stop until he cums. 

his tipping point was you taking him even further down your throat, nose brushing his pelvis. he thought you were going to take a break for air but you didn't. 

you stay.

swallowing around him.

the pressure in your jaw is almost unbearable but when you feel his thighs shaking, you know he’s close. and you need to ruin him. 

hollowing your cheeks, you take him a bit deeper, hands coming up to play with his heavy balls. he can’t hold back anymore. the sensation of you taking his whole cock down your tiny throat and the stimulation of his balls in your hands. he groans. 

desperate. low. deep

and spills down your throat. warm, wet, and sticky ropes, pour out of his tip. taking up all the space you had left, some spilling out from the corners of your mouth.

you swallow all that you can, then pull off from his dick. 

heavy breathing is the only thing that can be heard. heeseung threw an arm over his eyes, chest heaving, trying to regain control of his senses.

meanwhile, you haven’t stopped clenching your thighs together. 

you didn’t even notice you were staring until he clears his throat. he just looks so gorgeous all fucked out.

“wow. did you– swallow.. it?” he asks through pants. 

you answer him like it was the most natural thing in the world, “yeah, because it was you” 

he moans, again. and that’s when you notice he’s still hard, still aching. 

as you move to straddle his lap, he grabs your thighs and wraps your legs around his waist. “not here, i want our first time to be special” he says softly, with a kiss to your temple. 

he carries you to his bedroom on wobbly legs and gently lays you down on his bed, hovering on top of you. he plants wet kisses all over your face, trailing down to your neck, collarbones, until he reaches your covered chest.

looking at you with big, lust filled eyes, he waits for your green light. you nod and he fumbles with your shirt then bra clasp, eventually tearing the fabric away. 

“you’re stunning,” he says completely awestruck by your half-naked form. 

as he continues staring, he licks his lips, slowly lowering his head wrapping his soft lips around one of your perky buds. 

you instinctively arch into his touch, one of his hands wrapping around your waist as his other hand gently kneads your other boob. soft gasps and whines slip from your lips as you try to grind up in search of any friction where you need it most. 

he senses your desperate pleas and starts moving his body to slot between your legs, face in front of your clothed core. you wiggle your hips trying to convince him to speed up and touch you where you need it the most. 

“can i…?” he practically begs, “yeah” you sigh as you relax into his plush sheets. he drags your sweats down your soft legs planting kisses along the inside of your thighs, all the way down to your calves. he makes his way to your panty clad pussy, pressing a soft kiss to your bundle of nerves aching for him. 

you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before.

he looks so good between your thighs, you want this image ingrained into your brain forever. 

he brings his thumb up to press on the wet spot that’s formed on your panties, groaning, “fuck, you’re so wet.” 

“all for you.” 

he replays those words in his head and his patience snaps. tearing your underwear in half, he wastes no time. tongue lapping and the wetness between your legs, like he’s been deprived of any liquid all his life.

you’ve never met someone this desperate to eat you out. or anyone for that matter.

he mumbles against your core, “guide me, please, wan’ you t’feel good, mmh.”

your hands take place in his silky soft roots, gently tugging on the strands. 

through whimpers, you tell him to focus on your clit, and surprisingly (for a virgin), he finds it fairly quickly. 

he briefly sucks on the nub, flicking it with his tongue to soothe it. “fuck, hee” you moan out into the space of his bedroom. 

he groans against your pussy, carefully bringing up his fingers so he can push his tongue into your awaiting hole. the moment he starts fucking you with his tongue, you arch your back and grind into his face, needing more. 

he heard his friends talking about “prep” and “stretching girls out,” so he wonders if you need to be stretched out to take him. you said he was huge, did you mean it? he has no idea, he’s a pathetic virgin who has only shoved his dick into his right hand. not even a pocket pussy or fleshlight. 

to your dismay, he pulls away for a brief second asking if he should use his fingers. “please, i need you to stretch me out, i can’t– take you without prep,” you rush out feeling your high not far away.

“shit, okay baby,” he mutters back before bringing his middle finger up to spread your juices around. 

your hips jerk up when he focuses on your clit, surprised by the stimulation. 

slowly, he pushes his finger in, getting used to the warm sensation of your walls. 

you clench around his thick digit, feeling fuller than when you finger yourself. as he pumps it in and out, you tell him to add another one and he does. 

moaning in relief, you arch into his touch as his tongue finds its way back to your sensitive clit. 

between him lapping like a dog and the feeling of two of his fingers pumping in and out of your tight hole, you feel a familiar band in your stomach building up.

your moans increase and heeseung feels dizzy, taking in all that you give.

he curves his fingers all while sucking on your bundle of nerves, causing you to tip over the edge and that band in your stomach to snap. 

you come crashing down, chanting his name like a mantra as heeseung helps you ride out your high. 

as you lift your head and meet his gaze, he looks more fucked out than you do. hooded eyes, tongue lolled out of his mouth, gaze consumed with lust. you pull him by the collar of his shirt until your lips collide in a mess of tongues and teeth. 

your makeout session unfortunately doesn’t last long as heeseung starts whining into your lips. 

that’s when you realize his cock found your bent knee, not so subtly grinding against it, trying to relieve some of the ache. 

“feeling needy, are we?” you tease, earning a playful roll of the eyes from heeseung. 

pulling back, you drink in his bare torso– he’s always been muscular as he was very popular with the ladies (until he got into bed with them). 

dragging your hand up his chiseled abs, his stomach tenses and his dick twitches. 

you found his second biggest weakness, besides you. his abs. 

deciding to end the teasing there, since you’re also becoming increasingly impatient, you flip him over so you land on top of him with a quiet, “oof.” 

as you settle your bare core on his rock solid cock, you start grinding, placing your hands on his chest for support. 

he can’t hold back the guttural groans spilling from his mouth. not believing you’re really on top of him right now. this isn’t just one of his wet dreams. 

he thought this couldn’t get any better, but when he struggles to get out a weak ask for a condom, you just respond with “no, i’m– on pill. need to feel you. all of you.” 

and to that, he moans, not believing his ears. 

it’s his first time. and he’s about to have sex with YOU. raw. he thinks he’s dreaming. there’s no way you’re real.

you gently angle his dick towards your awaiting hole, sinking down until his fat tip is inside you.

instantly, you both sigh in relief, starting to feel the pressure ease up. 

if you feel a stretch at his tip entering you, you don’t know how you’re supposed to fit all of him inside you. he’s the biggest you’ve seen and he doesn’t even know it.

your attention is drawn back to the man consuming your brain when he whines. “m-more, please.” he’s becoming needier the longer you stay at just his tip but you don’t know how to tell him you’ve never taken a size like him before.

“hee-heeseung i need a sec, you’re– fuck. so thick,” you say between moans. 

his grip on your hips tightens, a silent way of telling you to take your time. 

when you finally deem yourself ready, you sink lower, wanting to speed it up, bracing the stretch to come. 

you feel him pulsing inside you and that’s all you need to sink all the way down, him bottoming out inside you. 

it’s his first time feeling anything other than his hand wrapped around him, and he whimpers, loud. it’s overstimulating in the best way possible and before he knows it you move up to his tip and bounce back down. his dick twitches and you feel it. every vein, every pulse, every movement, even his heavy breathing. 

heeseung, not in control of his movements, bucks his hips up, making another non-existent inch to fit inside your stretched out core. 

you moan soft and loud, eyes rolling back, as the pain turned into pleasure. bouncing faster on his girthy cock, you uncontrollably clench around him, causing heeseung’s grip to tighten. you know it’ll bruise tomorrow, but at the moment, he feels too good for you to care. 

the room smells of sex, and the only sounds that can be heard are skin clapping and your shared noises. 

heeseung must notice your legs becoming tired because before you know it, you’re flat on your back with heeseung on top of you, cock never slipping out from your pussy. 

his large hands grab each of your thighs, pressing them to your chest.

his pace is slow at first, testing the waters, getting a feel for a rhythm. 

as his hands stay pressed to your thighs, he slowly drags out and pushes all of his dick inside you. 

you feel him deeper in this position, a bulge forming in your lower belly. 

when he notices, his eyes stay glued there.

you wonder what he’s looking at but the moment you look down, you’re met with his hand pressing slightly on the bulge causing the loudest moan to leave your lips. 

he signals you to hold your thighs as one of his hands holds himself up and the other focuses on how he can feel his dick inside your guts with every thrust. 

his pace suddenly quickens when you clench hard around him, making his hips stutter briefly. 

endless praises leave his pretty lips, telling you how good you feel, how hot you look laid underneath him, taking whatever he gives you. 

feeling a familiar, yet new sensation building rapidly, you try to warn him that you’re close but somehow, he already knows. “i know baby, let go whenever you want.” he mutters back, feeling just as close to his high.

“fuck– where do you want it?” he rushes out, not wanting to cum inside you if that isn’t what you want. 

but apparently, all the gods are smiling down on him as you release your thighs from the grip you had on them and wrap your legs around his waist. “inside,” you moan. 

and at that, he cums. hard. ropes of his hot, gooey, cum spill inside you. tipping you over the edge.

with a loud groan, clear liquid comes rushing out from you, spraying all over his sheets and lower abdomen. soaking his dick. 

heeseung moans. again. raw and unfiltered at the fact that you just squirted all over him (he’s seen enough porn and heard too many stories from your shared friend group to know what squirting is). 

as you come down from your high, heeseung is somehow still cumming. it spills out of you, creating an even stickier mess on his bed. but he doesn’t care. 

not when you’re beneath him, chest rising rapidly, trying to catch your breath. 

heeseung’s cock is still lodged inside you, holding half of his cum inside you, not wanting it to go to waste. 

as he collapses on top of you, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, holding your trembling body close to his.

you were the first to speak, “i didn’t even know i could do that,” talking about how you squirted all over him. “guess we both had firsts today,” he softly chuckles. 

his breath is warm against your skin, his arm tightening just a little around your waist as if anchoring himself in the moment. you don’t respond right away, too caught up in the quiet thrum of your heartbeat, the lingering warmth between you, the way his fingers begin tracing gentle, absent-minded shapes against your spine.

“i didn’t expect it to be like this,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the hush of the room.

“like what?” he asks, voice low, like he’s afraid to shatter the calm.

you shift slightly to face him, resting your head more comfortably on his chest. “soft. safe.”

Hheeseung lets out a breath that sounds like relief and something deeper, something reverent. “yeah,” he whispers. “me neither.”

for a while, neither of you say anything. he pulls the blanket higher over both of you, his other hand brushing your hair back with such tenderness that it makes your eyes sting. he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering like he means it.

“you okay?” he asks, voice still rough from earlier, but softer now, like the edge of him has been smoothed by your touch.

you nod, then glance up at him. “are you?”

heeseung meets your gaze, and something in his expression shifts. vulnerability bleeding through the cracks he used to hide behind. “i am now.”

your heart squeezes.

he licks his lips, nervous. “i’ve been so stupid with you. all this time, i kept pushing and pulling, thinking maybe if i kept it messy, it’d be easier to walk away if i had to.” he pauses, his voice thinning. “but tonight just… made me realize i don’t want to walk away.”

your breath catches. “heeseung…”

“i don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he says, eyes searching yours. “not the sex, not the closeness. i want you. the fights, the tension, the way you drive me crazy and still somehow make me want to be better just by being around you. i’m so in love with you, it hurts.”

your lips part in surprise, and he laughs quietly, self-deprecating and shy. “too much?”

instead of answering, you lean up and kiss him, slow, deep, and full of all the things you couldn’t say until now. when you pull back, you rest your forehead against his, smiling as his thumb brushes over your cheek.

“i’m in love with you too, idiot.”

he grins, wide and a little teary-eyed, and pulls you closer like he’s never letting go.

and you know he won’t have to.

pls reblog & leave feedback <3 hope you enjoyed the read ◡̈

[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250417

[elalfywhore]

partition • pazzi x reader

tonight was all about paige, as much as you loved to be the center of attention; you had to let her have her night.

azzi had already talked to you about this earlier in the day while she was getting glammed up, asking you for no fits, no snarky comments and no bratty behavior. the night went amazing; the draft had ended hours ago, team dinner was done and now the club was coming to an end.

it was about 4am when you checked your phone, you were sitting on paige’s right leg and azzi on her left; the three of you wearing dallas wings hats as paige felt up both of your thighs. you guys had spent the last 4 hours dancing and drinking the night away with your friends but now, your feet are killing you and you want nothing more than a street hot dog and your bed.

paige however; looks just as alive as she did when they called her name as she bites her lip, admiring yours and azzis bodies in your dresses. while your guys’ relationship was a secret the section at the club was private; you were pretty sure the bottle girls had to sign some kind of nda to work here tonight.

“you tired, baby?” paige asks, making you glance up from your phone. she must’ve noticed how your energy had plummeted in the last 30 minutes. “no, i’m okay.” you smile, assuming she’d want to stay out and continue to finish her time. “are you sure? you look tired?” azzi asks, making you shrug this time. “c’mon, let’s get going im ready to go anyway.” paige says, patting you and azzi both on your butts; signaling to get up.

you all get up and grab your belongings, saying your goodbyes and making the long journey to the car.

“that was so fun, im so proud of you.” azzi says, smiling to paige as you walk about a foot ahead of them but in the middle. “thank you, babe. couldn’t have done it without you two.” paige smiles, reaching to pinch your cheek; making you giggle and speed up your walk a bit.

once you guys get to the car you remembered what you had forgotten in your drunken state; the dallas wings sent paige a limo for the night, assuming she’d be riding with all her friends but it was just the three of you in reality. “i forgot about this” you blurt out, face a perplexed. “did you?” azzi giggles, letting her hand come to graze your hips. you hear the car door open and watch as the male driver gets out the car, coming around to open the door for the three of you.

“good evening, i hope you had a great time, miss buckers.” he greets politely, gesturing for us to enter the door. “i did, thanks man.” paige smiles, grabbing your hand guiding you into the back of the limo. once your sat inside you look at the exterior as she helps azzi in. it’s spacious, the couch wrapping all around the back in a U shape, it’s all white with an led rim that’s shaded to a light purple. there’s a small table in the middle, bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne, a few glasses set on the table.

you throw you head back, thinking it’s time to relax but as the car door shuts and paige finds herself comfortable between you and azzi; you realize it’s a different time. “hope you’re not sleepy yet, mama. we still got 30 minutes until we’re back to the hotel.” paige licks her lip before biting it, grabbing you by the back of the neck; leaning to plant kisses on your lips. you moan into the kisses as paige’s hand goes up your thigh, hiking up your dress. “drove me crazy in this little fucking dress tonight.” your eyes roll back after paige says that, planting one more kiss to your lips before biting your bottle lip; pulling her head back slowly before letting your lip go.

you sit up, now fully awake and watch her shift to azzi a bit. “and you looked so fucking sexy tonight.” paige pulls azzi into a kiss, pulling her dress up and allowing herself to massage the soft skin of her thigh. you almost moan at the sight of time making out. shifting in your seat, you burry your face into paige’s neck, sucking at the skin as your hand makes its way into her top, letting your fingers graze her nipple. paige and azzis kiss breaks after a bit and azzi also gets to work, sucking on paige’s neck and really just trying to feel whenever she can.

paige is a moaning mess, heavy breathing and eyes rolling back. something tells paige’s to open eyes and when she does she realizes; the partition was down. she’s too drunk off of you guys to ever care to much yet she still calls out, “driver roll up the partition, please and turn on some music.” you and azzi don’t pay much mind, both of you now basically grinding down on the seat, trying to get any kind of relief.

the car is soon filled with the sound of luther by kendrick lamar and sza.

“god, i love you two so much.” paige moans, neck now filled with hickeys but she doesn’t even mind. you and azzi murmur out your love yous back and her hands come to the back of each of your heads, pulling you two off her neck. paige bites her lip as she watches your and azzis eyes interlock; mischief in your eyes. “hi, baby.” azzi whispers, face moving towards yours. “hi, az.” you whisper back shyly. your lips soon interlock, tongues grazing each others. you feel azzi move, trying to get more comfortable, getting on her hands and knees on the seat; making you follow, your ankles crossing as you arch your back.

“so unreal.” paige whispers, biting her lip and you gasp when you feel her hike up your dress, putting your ass on display and revealing your black thong. she gives you ass a few smacks before moving to azzi, lifting her dress up as well and smacking her ass a few times; making her moan into the kiss. your guys’ hands all over and in between paiges lap as she manspreads, one of each of her hands come to grab at yours’ and azzis asses; leaning back to admire the view of her girlfriends kissing in front of her.

you and azzi moan into the kiss loudly at the same time, both feeling a single one of paige’s fingers slip inside of you with no warning. azzi’s hand comes up; tightly grabbing onto your hair as paige starts to finger fuck the both of you. “look at my dirty girls.” paige teases, now slipping in a second finger in both of you. “do my girls like that?” paige’s forward, making you and azzi pull apart; moans spilling out of the both of you as paige continues her assault on your pussies. “feels so good, daddy.” you whine, leaning forward to give paige a few pecks on the lip. “feel good, mama?” paige asks azzi, who’s clearly trying not to cum so soon. “feels so good, fuck.” azzi moans are so soft, the type that make you feel like you can float on them.

as paige and azzi kiss you see a golden opportunity, immediately reaching to unzip paige’s pants. paige moans into the kiss, lifting her hips up to help you pull her pants and boxers down. you moan at the sight, your girlfriends kissing, azzi bent over facing you but you can still see the round of her ass and paige’s hand sneaking around her, paige’s pants now down at her knees; pretty pink pussy on display; all three of you still in your dallas wings hats. azzi pulls back from the kiss, looking down to admire paige’s wet cunt, glistening in the light purple lighting.

you’re the first one to touch, allowing your middle fingers to connect with her clit, wet and sticky; rubbing soft circles on it. paige bites her lip, looking down to watch you play with her; fingers still fucking you and azzi. it doesn’t take long for azzi to join in, sticking her pointer and middle fingers inside of paige, fucking her with the same sensual speed that paige is fucking you two at. you’re all moaning messes, shoving your face back inside of paige’s neck, licking and sucking all over as you feel your orgasm approach.

“think…think m’ gonna cum, daddy.” you whimper, warning paige. “yeah? did you ask if that was okay?” paige whispers back, a bit scarily to you; realizing you’d probably have to cum on whatever condition paige wanted. “can i cum, please daddy?” you pull your face from her neck, letting her see your pouty little face. “ask azzi, baby.” you look to azzi, who’s eyes are screwed shut and you can tell, she needs to cum too. “mommy, can i please cum.” you whine out, getting impatient, your hips now trying to jut away from paige a bit. “i’m gonna cum too baby, c’mon, cum with mommy.” azzi moans; pulling you into a kiss.

your tongues swirl as your orgasms hit, your movements on paige halting for a moment but she doesn’t mind, just happy to see you guys playing so nicely. paige helps you both ride out your highs, enjoying the feeling of your warm, wet holes pulsating around her. “good girls.” paige groans, pulling her fingers from both of you. you bite your lip, seeing how wet her fingers are from azzi as she brings them up to your mouth, “open up, baby.” she moans as azzis fingers start to move inside her again. you open your mouth, letting paige’s fingers inside; savoring the sweet taste of azzi, sucking on her fingers like a long popsicle. once her fingers are all clean paige brings her fingers that were inside of you to azzis mouth, she opens without needing to be told; immediately moaning at the taste.

you start to rub circles again, making paige moan out; now being stimulated by you and azzi. azzi releases paiges fingers with a pop. “so good for me.” paige groans, leaning back in the seat again; her hands going to untie the top of your dress, helping pull it down to your hips, letting your tits free. she immediately does the same to azzi, pulling down the straps of her dress to release her boobs. her hands come under both of you, reaching to play with both of your boobs, jiggling the fat in her hands.

“you gonna eat my pussy for me, baby?” paige asks you making you bite your lip with a nod; making you pull your hand away from her clit. azzi pulls her hand away as well and they watch and you get off the seat, it feeling good to get into a new position and onto your knees in between paige’s legs. you pull her pants down to her ankles and she spreads her legs wider, giving you easier access. azzi uses her left hand, helping guide your head towards paige’s pussy. you almost moan the feeling of the warmth radiating off of her pussy as your face gets close. the first taste is like heaven as you immediately take her clit into your mouth, sucking at the bud.

“holy shit.” paige groans, helping azzi readjust to sit perked up on her knees; her tits at perfect eye level with paige. you moan at the taste of paige and the view above you, azzis silk press becoming a bit frizzy with sweat but she still looks beautiful as ever; moaning out as paige takes her nipple into her mouth. paige’s arm wraps around azzis lower back, pulling her closer to her and the other hand goes to play with azzis other nipple. azzi throws her head back, her hand still pressing your face into paige’s pussy.

paige’s pussy tastes sweeter than normal, you’re not sure if it’s maybe the cherry liquor you’re still tasting on your lips, azzi’s vanilla lipgloss or maybe the fact that she just won first round pick in the draft but whatever it is; it’s making you weak in the knees. you nod your head in her pussy, eyes rolling back as you lick up her clit with the minimal movement your allowed with azzis hand. azzi looks down to check on you, noticing how fucking submissive you look she can’t help but to pull you back by your hair and lean down; making paige release her nipple for a second, she grabs you by the cheeks, squeezing with her other hand, “open wide, baby.” her voice is so alluring you do as she says, your mouth soaked with paige’s wetness and now her saliva as she spits in your mouth.

you swallow like a good girl of course, gasping for a breath before azzi shoves your face back into paige’s pussy. paige leans forward a bit, one of her hands grabbing at your dress that had bunched up at your waist and the other coming down to spank your ass. “good fucking girl, how did i get so lucky?” paige praises, leaning back again after delivering a few more smacks to your fat ass. “im gonna bust.” paige groans out making you lick her pussy faster. her hand also comes to grab a bunch of your hair, joining azzis. “c’mon, princess make daddy cum.” azzi moans, biting her lip at the sight of you two.

it doesn’t take many more licks and nods of your head before you feel and taste paige spilling down your chin, “fucking shit, baby.” paige groans hips bucking into your face as her and azzi hold your head still.

you gasp for air when they finally let you go, leaning your back against the seat as paige lays there limp for a second, azzi pressing soft kisses to her neck. “you did, so damn good baby.” paige praises, her hand coming down to reach for you; helping you back onto the seat.

you guys hear the music turn down and the partition cracks just a bit, “we’ll be at the hotel in 5.” the driver calls out, rolling the partition back up and turning the music back up. “fuck, let’s fix ourselves.” azzi says, starting to pull the top of her dress back up. you watch as paige starts to pull her pants back up, pouting as azzi puts her tits away and paige covers her pussy. “don’t worry, baby. i got something waiting for you at the hotel.” paige smiles, noticing your pouty face and knowing you’d want to go again. “really?” you beam, making azzi giggle as you start to fix yourself. you turn away from paige and azzi, just trying to figure out which way is which on your dress. “something real good.” paige comes behind you, one knee on the seat as she grabs onto your shoulders, starting to thrust her hips into your ass. you gasp out in excitement, “you brought the strap!” making azzi scoff, “actually i brought it, paige forgot to pack it.”

you crouch a bit in the limo, almost being at your girlfriends’ heights in your 6 inch heels. paige let’s you go, as you grab onto azzi; your dress still not fixed, ass and tits still out as you straddle her lap. “thank you, mommy.” you press a soft kiss to her lips, letting her taste paige who still lingered on your mouth. “you’re welcome, now let’s get you fixed.” azzis quick to squeeze your ass in both her hands for a second before pulling your dress down and fixing the top, re-ting what paige un did a while ago. “my pretty girls.” paige smiles, making you both look over at her, her phone in hand taking a picture to savor the moment.

the next morning hit like a hurricane, there were clothes and shoes all over the room, sex toys spread all over the bed and even some on the floor as you woke up in the middle of your girlfriends.

the sun was peaking through the curtains as you looked to see them still asleep, spotting your phone on the side of paige you reach softly for it.

3:39pm

your phone reads, you immediately feel a grumble in your tummy, turning to azzi to wake her up. “azzi, baby wake up.” you whisper making her groan, “please baby.” you whine. “what?” she grumbles, eyes not open yet. “i’m hungry.” you pout. “ask paige to order something.” she says, turning away; immediately falling back asleep.

you turn to your blonde girlfriend; realizing azzi was too sleepy to help. “paige, wake up.” you whisper, shaking her a bit and she opens her eyes immediately; stretching her long limbs. “what happened, babe?” her morning voice sending a jolt straight to your pussy that you decide to ignore. “i’m hungry.” you whine out, “here.” paige turns, grabbing her phone and handing it to you. “doordash something for us.” making you smile in victory. you turn away from paige, allowing her to spoon you, one of her hands going between your thighs, enjoying the warmth of it.

azzis turns back to face you, joining in on the cuddles, still probably half awake. you cuddle in the middle of them; keeping paige’s brightness on low as you place your guys’ order. sitting the phone between you and azzi; you relax, deciding it’s just best to sleep until your food gets here.

[theskeleton117]

Aw shit, here we go again

1. He was pretty young when he got the crown since he just kinda found it unlike the rest that had to wait until a certain age for it

2. His recklessness was what made the crown stick with him for the time that it did. Lamb actually was able to keep the crown because Narinder cooled down and Lamb didn't

3. He was pretty much the favorite child, but the bishops weren't really all that dysfunctional

4. Revival. He's the only one who knows how to do that in this AU

5. Dislikes a lot of their battle tactics, but he generally had a high opinion of them, even if he often rebelled against their decisions

6. So, immediately after the imprisonment, Narinder hates them, but with some hindsight, Narinder just misses them

7. Favorite was Heket since she'd occaisonally help him get away with things Shamura normally wouldn't allow. He doesn't have a least favorite exactly

8. A katana, a wakazashi (fancy word for shorter katana) and a scythe. The swords were just because Shamura used those and taught Narinder them. The katana was actually a gift from Shamura while the wakazashi was just something Narinder made. He lost the wakazashi upon being imprisoned, keeping the katana. Shamura later gave it back to him. The scythe on the other hand is a purely ceremonial weapon that he doesn't use

9. He created the 4 witnesses that the bishops use through constant revival, so those. To sum it up, those witnesses are mindless murder machines that just do what they're told without any thought

10. Yep. Lamb. I discussed this in my Lamb post somewhere

11. He cares about them a lot. That's just kinda it

12. I would assume so ig?

13. Lil scratch scar on him right eye

14. Nope. Just general cat. If I could draw him instead of just doing gatch tho I'd probably choose a specific cat type for him

15. I'd say it's kinda short but also kinda messy

16. Honestly I've decided upon reading this that it is now. Must alter his design now

17. I'd say like 7.5. Very ears

18. Had it from birth. Assigned 3 eyes at birth. He's A3eab

19. You know I actually never gave him the ones on his wrists. Never thought about that. Anyways, nothing notable from that wasn't already there or wasn't already expected

20. Nope

21. Maybe, but I don't know any that would make sense to develop after the imprisonment, but I might look into that

22. Weirdly. Normally slower but generally inconsistently

23. No blood relation, but Narinder was good friends with Forneus

24. I'd say he's caring towards them. He kinda acts similar to them as Shamura did to him when he was young

25. Rarely wears it. It's also ceremonial and usually used in tandem with the scythe. Not his style

26. It wasn't a prophecy, rather his own actions. The prophecy was only about the lambs and only showed up after he was imprisoned, had nothing about him

27. Since it wasn't a prophecy, I'm gonna talk about how others viewed it afterwards. To start, almost everyone knew that Narinder fucked up, even his supporters knew that. The real debate was in whether his punishment was too much

28. Question doesn't apply, see question 26

29. Here's something I've thought out quite a bit. So basically, he was practicing revival. I've seen a lot of people decide the reason thay was 'bad' is some arbitrary tradition from the bishops but in my case it's more serious. Revival directly damages the souls of those revived until they end up as husks of what they once were, at most only abel to follow orders. That's actually what happened to the witnesses. Narinder was doing this to try and find a way to stop Lamb's possible death as they had been hit with some sort of venom that would kill them slowly over time, and all that experimentation was thought to be too inhumane by the bishops, and even by Lamb themself

30. Mostly shame. Shame for the harm that he caused to get there. This shame often causes anger for him and that causes him to make more shit decisions

31. Yep

32. He certainly does, as he never wanted to in the first place. It shows in him occasionally helping them with things related to their injuries

33. Oh he fucking does. He's had a lot of experience with lamb culture from Lamb, and generally he liked their culture. That was one of his biggest regrets

34. Lamb was first introduced as his apprentice that he was forced to have, so obviously he was originally annoyed by them, but they were generally quite polite, if a bit timid. Narinder began to grow fond of them not long after, though

35. Narinder held out hope that this regeneration of Lamb would still somehow love him the way the other original did, so he, for the most part, never truly expected it. When Lamb decided he was done with Narinder's deals and chances, Narinder was crushed, even if he only outwardly displayed anger

36. Before imprisonment, yes. However this is clearly asking about after, and after imprisonment, it was always bittersweet. On one hand, it's still Lamb, sorta, and he still enjoys Lamb's company because even with the change in personality between regenerations, he enjoys Lamb's dumb ass. But on the other hand, Lamb reminds him of the version of Lamb that he knew and misses

37. Well, he has a lot of disagreements with them, but deep down he lives for the stuff that he gets to do with Lamb. Most fun he had in years

38. He doesn't understand why anyone would do it if there's other food around simply because "With most of them, there's no way to cook them that makes them taste edible"

39. Yeah so NariLamb actually ends after Lamb's regeneration for a while. Narinder takes on only two lovers, and both of them can barely be considered such. He had a slight thing going on with Goat, even if they were never really officially lovers per se. And then other than Goat, NariLamb started back up for a small bit but ended

40. It changes depending on when it was. When he furst joined, it was figuring out what he was gonna do with himself. Was he going to stay, leave, maybe rebel? By the end of that era, he had tried doing the last two before settling on the first. After that, it was struggling with his feelings towards Lamb and the lack of reciprocation of those feelings

41. He just uses he/him

42. He's just cis male for now (cuz he's boring /j) although I have considered maybe changing that for him but for now he's just cis

43. Similar case to Lamb where while I never included it in his design, I imagine he has a red moon necklace. In Narinder’s case, it's more of a way to memorialize the lambs that he was responsible for the deaths of

44. Oh definitely. I doubt all those meetings with Ratau and Forneus didn't have any drugs involved. I didn’t have anything prewritten but some crazy shit prolly

45. Sorta yes sorta no. He's doesn't tell anyone who he is, but Lamb occasionally does. It's not a secret, just not outwardly told. Regardless, plenty of people recognize him, even if it's not really a majority

46. Not great at that, but I can give examples of similar personalities sometimes. Before his banishment he was kinda like Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars (who he kinda shares a lot of other similarities to in my fic), and afterwards he's more like a lot more hardened and less cocky than he used to be

47. Definitely shy about talking about Lamb before their execution. In fact the topic is off limits to talk about to Lamb if they ever are able to bring it up. He enjoys talking about lamb culture and mythology even after their fall, because that was basically his special interest for a bit

48. He only really told Lamb to do that to free him. He doesn't consider sacrifice a good idea normally, but his desperation to get out of that hellhole was rampant enough to tell Lamb what amounted to "Just look out for yourself, fuck your followers"

49. You know on the Lamb when when this question was asked I answered French fries based on a random gut feeling based on the type of person Lamb is but I'm getting none of that for Narinder. I don't imagine Narinder’s favorite is fish, but he does like fish. No clue exactly what his favorite would be tho

50. I imagine Narinder’s general role in my fic, relative to Lamb, since a lot of side characters have something to offer to Lamb's character, is kinda the reverse of Ruri. The cat devil on Lamb's shoulder as opposed to the cat angel of Ruri. Narinder, while preferring Lamb doesn't *kill* followers, does support a level of manipulation. For example, I imagine Narinder heavily criticizes Lamb's choice on the level of transparency he has with his followers. Ruri and Narinder sorta balance each other for Lamb here and allow him to not skew to much in one direction of influence here for how he runs his cult

50 narinder questions

1. When did your Narinder aquire the Red Crown? Was he born into the role or did the crown choose him for a particular reason?

2. Why does the red crown find him worthy as a bearer?

3. What did his childhood look like? Did he live with the other crown bearers?

4. Does the Red Crown give him any unique powers such as the power of rot (a la TROD AU)?

5. How did he feel about Shamura pre-exile?

6. How about post exile?

7. Which sibiling was his favorite? Least favorite?

8. What weapon did he use prior to exile?

9. Do you have headcanons about who his witnesses or ‘bosses’ would be pre-exile? If so, who are they?

10. Did Narinder take any lovers before his exile?

11. How did Narinder feel about his priests, witnesses, and followers?

12. Does he have a dedicated meow button?

13. Does your Narinder have any unique features?

14. Is he based on any particular breed of cat such as a puma or a British shorthair?

15. Describe his fur. Is it unkempt? Well-groomed? Curly? Kept short?

16. Is, and I cannot stress this enough, his tail so, so fluffy?

17. How ears is he on a scale of 1-10? (This is not a typo)

18. Was he born with his third eye or did he gain it later from the crown?

19. Any notable scars post-exile other than around his wrists?

20. Did your Narinder have any disabilities prior to his exile?

21. Does he have any new disabilities upon being spared?

22. How does he pass the time in exile?

23. Are the kits, Aym and Baal, really his children?

24. How does he feel towards Aym and Baal? Ambivalent? Caring? Annoyed?

25. Why does he wear the veil? Or does he forgo it entirely?

26. How and when was the prophecy that he would rebel against the others revealed?

27. How did the others react to this prophecy before it happened?

28. Did he feel doomed by the prophecy? Relieved? Offended? Vindicated?

29. What exact rebellious act got him chained in the first place?

30. What are some of the biggest emotions he feels about being chained?

31. Deep down.. does he agree that it was necessary?

32. Does he have any remorse for harming his sibilings? If so, does he ever show it?

33. Does he care that an entire species and culture was ended because of him?

34. What was his first impression of the lamb?

35. When did he realize the lamb might turn against him? Was he blind to it until it happened or did he have a gut feeling long before then?

36. Does/Did he enjoy the lamb’s visits?

37. How does he feel about the lamb after being spared?

38. Does he support or partake in cannibalism?

39. Does he take a lover other than the lamb after being spared? If so, describe them!

40. What is his biggest struggle after being spared? Fitting in with the cult? Seeing the lamb’s face daily? Chronic pain?

41. Does your Nari use any pronouns besides he/him? If so, what ones?

42. Was he born male, female, intersex, or do you have no opinion on his sex?

43. Does he ever wear jewelry or makeup?

44. Has he ever used catnip? If so, what happened?

45. Is identity kept a secret from the cult? If so, do any of the followers recognize who he really is?

46. Describe his personality.

47. Is he shy about any topics? Does he enjoy talking about anything in particular?

48. Does he ever rethink the concept of sacrificing followers now that he is one?

49. Is his favorite food anything other than fish? If so, what is it?

50. Free headcanon space!

Back by… well no demand actually but 1400 notes made me think y’all might be interested, so come get your cat-lore-generating questions.

And please! If you reblog from someone, send that person an ask. It’s ask meme courtesy.

[jo-com]

₊˚🍰₊ ⊹ ➛ Voicemails

Lando Noriss x Ex!Fem!Reader

୨ৎ Summary: A series of voicemails Lando left in the quiet aftermath of your breakup —

୨ৎ Genre: Post- Breakup, Angst

୨ৎ Note: Been wanting to write again so here it is! Not proof read and there are some grammatical errors. Hope y’all enjoyyy

ARCHIVES ⭑.ᐟ

Voicemail 1: Hey baby…i uhm just wanted to check up on you. I know that we agreed on not calling or texting each other but fuck i miss you so much, I regret ever hurting you like that.. please call me back, love you always.

Voicemail 2: Sooo, i was buying these snacks for me and then I saw your favorite food and just.. it reminded me on how much you like eating them and out of habit I picked it up and bought it hahaha… Just wanted to share this, sorry for disturbing you.

Voicemail 3: I know i promised to stop doing this and just move on, you've just been on my mind lately... [sigh] why am i doing this to myself.

Voicemail 4: Hey… I drove past your street today. I wasn’t planning to, it just… happened. Funny how everything reminds me of you, even when I’m trying not to look. Anyway… I hope you're okay. That’s all.

Voicemail 5: It’s late. I couldn’t sleep again. I keep reaching for you in my dreams, and waking up to nothing. I know this is selfish — I’m sorry. I just needed to feel like you were still out there, even if you’re not mine anymore.

...

A long and deep breath left pass your lips— hearing his voice and the things that came out of it made your heart ache even more. The hurt and feeling of loneliness was still evident from the way you've isolated yourself from everything.

You wanted nothing more than be freed from this torment of hearts and just block him all together but at the same time you were holding onto something that you knew was never going to be the same again.

The tears you never even noticed was now sliding down your cheeks, "Fucking hell" you mumbled under your breath.

You quickly wiped it away— not letting yourself show any vulnerability or any kind of weakness.

...

Voicemail 6: I saw your favorite movie on TV tonight. I almost texted you to tell you, like I used to. It’s stupid, I know. You’re not waiting for my messages anymore… but I guess some part of me still is.

Voicemail 7: Do you ever miss me? Even for a second? I keep asking myself that, like the answer will change something. I don’t even know why I’m leaving this. I just— I miss who we were.

...

After hearing the last message he sent, every being in your whole body was screaming to just answer him, but like they say “The heart wants what it wants, but the mind knows what it needs.”

...

Voicemail 8: I saw this coffee place you would’ve loved — all moody lighting and weird art. I almost took a photo to send you. [chuckles] Old habits, I guess. Anyway, I didn’t. Just thought you’d find that funny. Or maybe you wouldn’t. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.

Voicemail 9: Do you ever feel like you made the right choice, but it still hurts like hell? That’s where I’m at. We ended for a reason... I just wish reason didn’t feel so empty.

...

You've contemplated for a while now and decided to call him back. With shaky hand you went to your contacts and saw his number that was pinned at the top— you forgot you ever did that, it was a long time ago but i guess you just got used to it and forgot along the way.

Every cell of your body was now filled with adrenaline, heart beating so fast, hands shaking abruptly and your chest heaving like crazy, as if you were but to explode with this overwhelming feeling.

The long silence filled your empty room, it was defining to say the least.

With a deep sigh, you finally gathered all your strength and pressed the call button. Your legs bouncing of the ground as you waited for him to pick up.

"Y/n?" he spoke— answering on the first ring.

You hesitated on speaking and was just focused on his voice that was calling out to you. You can practically hear the excitement and confusion on his tone.

You let out a lengthy cough that hid your shaking voice and finally answered him. "Hey..uhm I just called to say that you should stop with the voice messages."

Everything became silent for awhile, it was eating you up to say those words but you two needed to stop torturing one another and just move on.

Lando sighed deeply, "oh okay sorry to bother" and hanged up.

It left you broken— hearing his voice crack from your words. You never wanted this but was for the best.

Or so you thought.

You spent your whole day reliving the conversation, it just bugged you that it crushed him. You’ve decided to just go with the flow and fuck whatever your mind says— your heart clearly belonged with his so what the hell.

...

NOTIFICATION

1 Unheard Voice Message from My girl💞

"Hey Lan… I don’t even know if you’ll listen to this. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. But I need to say this. I know we ended things, and maybe we both thought we were doing the right thing at the time. But looking back, it feels like we got caught up in something we didn’t fully understand. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t care. That was never the case. I’ve heard every voicemail you left. Every word. I couldn’t help it. I just needed to hear you, even if it was through all that distance between us. I miss you, Lando. I miss what we had. I don’t want this misunderstanding to be the end of us. If you’re willing, I want to try again. I want to fix this. I just need you to know that. Call me back, Okay?"

[eightpackdiaz]

was listening to so high school and i got struck with a kingdon vision…an exes (to lovers) au

(there’s like 2k words under the cut, i dont know what came over me)

so mel and frank met in her first year of undergrad, he was already in his third year, and the way they met was…almost cliché, really, it’s the first day back from summer break, and half his classes already are swamping him with work so he walks his ass to the library because he wants to be a doctor, and he will do well in school, and he will prove his father wrong. except he gets there and the tables are full, because of course they are, it’s still summer and the library has AC so people are there and not even half of them are actively studying. But he looks for a table and there’s one little two person table right next to the back window and he can see a girl already sitting there. She has her back to him, so all he sees is a loose blonde french braid, the back of a pink tshirt, and a very neat pile of books to her right. He feels bad asking because he also doesn’t like sharing the table, but he really needs to start studying, so he walks up to her.

Once he’s in front of her, he forgets what he is going to say for a second. He can’t really see her face, but he can see glasses, and a face covered in sun-kissed freckles, and he thinks his heart is beating a little too fast, and oh fuck. she’s looking up at him with a tiny smile and, wow, okay, maybe that’s what it feels like to meet someone who is your type (even if he previously thought he didn’t have *a* type).

She says “can i help you with something?” and he white knuckles his backpack strap to keep himself from doing something stupid like reaching out and adjusting her glasses, he powers through

“Hi, sorry, do you mind if i sit here? i really need to get started on my papers, and people are here and they’re not even doing homework! how’s that okay? anyways, sorry, i know it can be annoying to share a table, but i promise i really just need to study” why is he rambling?!, he hasn’t been a rambler for years and now she’s looking at him funny but she doesn’t look put off yet, that’s good.

“of course you can! i understand, it can be upsetting that people don’t use the library for actual studying. my name is melissa, but everyone calls Mel, nice to meet you” she punctuates this last sentence with the cutest little wave he had ever seen anyone over the age of 5 make, and woah okay he’s staring, he needs to get a grip

“i’m frank! nice to meet you, are you new here? i don’t think i’ve seen you before, i would remember” okay why is he sounding flirty, he need to stop he said he was only gonna study and he really meant it, but she doesn’t seem to register it or simply chose to ignore it,

she gives him a bigger smile and says “i am! first year of undergrad, i take it you’ve been here longer?”

“i’m starting my third year of biochem, hoping to go to medical school after!”

“me too! not biochem, i mean, i want to go to medical school once i finish mine, i’m in biology!”

and so they start studying, he’s doing his best to not be fidgety and annoying, but he can’t help it and he finds himself stopping himself like four different times, until she very obviously catches him the last one.

“i understand if you need to fidget, it won’t bother me, and i’m sure it would help you focus more, i sometimes need to stim to really concentrate”

and he just looks at her, in awe, because this is the first time someone *isn’t* bothered by his fidgeting

And so they have little snippets of a conversation during their hours of study that day, at the end he tells her that he would like to do this again, and she smiles, and tells him she would too, and before he knows it they’ve exchanged numbers, with mel explicitly stating “i do prefer phone calls because i have a hard time deciphering people’s tones via text” and as he sees her walk away he gets a feeling deep in his bones that his life is never going to be the same again

during that first week they study together three times, he’s not ashamed to say he reached out the very next day after that first meeting, and actually, he’s not ashamed to say he reach out all three of those times, but every single time he called, he was met with a bright and warm “hi frank! how are you doing today?”, so all things considered he’s more than happy to keep doing it.

studying with mel is amazing, really. they’re a great team, he learns a lot from her, and tells her that. he has the wild thought that if they were to practice together, they would save s lot of patients.

they’ve been study buddies for about three weeks when for the very first time, they hang out without the pretense of homework, he invited her to go with him to try a new pizza place he heard about, and truly, he has no expectations.

he likes her, of course he does, shes so beautiful, and so smart, and her eyes are so bright, and even when he can tell that she’s missing her sister she never lets that affect the way she treats others, always so kind and patient. she’s in no uncertain terms someone who he knows he’s gonna fall inlove with, he just knows she doesn’t see him that way, and he’s okay with that.

mel is the funniest person he’s ever met. he spends half the dinner laughing and he thinks that maybe she doesn’t first get most jokes but my god her own sense of humour is amazing, and they have enough rapport now that she can appreciate some of his darker jokes, especially because since day one he now follows them immediately with “its a joke”, and it’s great, and god, he wishes this was a date.

he feels it important to note that whilst she does recoil to most people’s touch or proximity, after that very first day she has been okay with him standing or being near, he doesn’t touch her much, doesn’t want to test his luck, and also doesn’t think his heart could handle it. but he’s always near, always almost touching, and she lets him, and he feels like he has done something right.

so for about two weeks after that, they start hanging out more and more, yeah he has a friend group, and she’s making her own friends but they make time for each other. they meet for coffee on the way to campus, or meet in between classes just to talk about anything other than school, and little by little he can tell that this crush of his is becoming more.

they’ve known each other for about two months, when they’re in his apartment, his roomates aren’t there (yes he made sure of this, no not like *THAT*) and they’re watching a movie, and they’re sitting in the sofa and then she leans her head on his shoulder.

his heart is going a mile a minute, she initiated the contact and god, her hair smells like strawberries, and he can feel her breathing through his tshirt, and he feels her check move so now he knows she’s smiling.

the movie ends, and she looks up, they hold eye contact for about 5 seconds before he blurts out “wouldyouliketogoonadatewithme” before he chickens out

she just blinks, and he sees her trying to process it, but he waits, he will always wait for her.

“yes, i would like to go on a date with you. i like you, and i could tell that you liked me too, but figured maybe i was confusing signals because you didn’t ask”

and so he explains, that no, he very much does like her but he is a coward. she just smiles and says “i would never call you a coward”

and so they go on a date, he’s had a handful of first dates in his life, but he has never felt this at peace in one before, there’s nerves of course there’s nerves, but it’s like his system knows, it’s like it’s saying “there you are, i’ve been waiting for you” and it lets him feel calm.

the date is amazing, he asks if he can hold her hand, and her answer is to take his hand and swing their joined hands between them and he thinks his heart will explode. at the end of the date, he walks her to her house. he asks if he can kiss her, and he sees her thinking about it, but he waits, he will always wait for her. she nods, short and determined. he leans in, projecting his movements so she knows what to expect.

he swears he can see fireworks when he closes his eyes, he feels like floating, her hands are clutching the front of his shirt and he decides that it’s his favourite thing ever. they part, he bids her good night and takes a deep breath after she enters her house, he feels delirious to think it, but one day he’s going to marry that girl.

he meets becca after dating mel for six months. becca’s funny, and crazy smart. she tells him in no uncertain terms “i told mel to find someone to kiss at college, so you’re welcome” the responding blush in mel’s checks is what frank’s dreams are made of.

they have a lot of firsts, firsts for him, firsts for her, and firsts together.

they date for about two years. he knows this is it, he knows he’s never going to love anyone the way he loves her, he’s known it from the very first time he sat in front of her.

then he gets accepted to med school in the other side of the country, and he knows she won’t want a long distance relationship because they’ve talked about it, and she loved him but this was a boundary for her, and he applied there because his mom moved to pittsburgh last year after the divorce, and he misses her, and because he really likes their medical program, and because mel from the very beginning told him to stick to his life plan because as much as they love each other, they both have dreams, and those dreams might be similar but they’re not the same.

The day he gets the acceptance letter, they both know their relationship has an expiration date. They are officially together right until the morning he’d set to move away. They wanted to break up amicably, they still love each other so deeply, he thinks knows she will always be his one true love. They kiss goodbye, and they’re both crying, and as soon as they part she says “i love you, and i want you to be happy, so please. try to move on, we can be friends in a few months, but first, we need to try to move on”

the day they become friends again never comes. he loves her so much it aches, but he knows she’s right, and he also knows they might never see each other again, and he needs to focus on med school, and if he can do something is make his mom proud and prove his dad wrong, and

goddamn it, its been two years and he still can feel the ghost of her touch, he can still hear the way he used to call her name, he can still….he needs to stop. he needs to get laid, he needs to move on. she probably has moved on already, he doesn’t know, because he’s been too much of a coward to check, and because she said to be friends when they move on, and he hasn’t moved on so why even try to reach out.

abby is the polar opposite of mel, she’s also clearly into him and he thinks she’s fun and attractive so he goes for it, he knows there’s a saying about getting under someone ti get over someone, and he’s drunk enough that he doesn’t care that she’s not who he really wants her to be.

“i’m pregnant” abby says into the phone, it’s late, and he was studying for an exam, and he’s in the middle of his third year of med school. what the fuck is he going to do.

abby and him are friends, they like each other, they fuck sometimes, and she wants to keep the baby, and he likes her enough to think that he light convince himself one day that he loves her.

so life goes on, they get married because her parents want that, they have tanner and he loves his son, and there’s a pandemic, and his just starting his residency and the world is falling apart, but things get better, him and abby are still really good friends, he tells himself he’s not lying to her when he says he loves her, because he’s not, she’s the mother of his kids, and he does love her, she’s just not. well.

it’s just another random thursday, and he’s leaning on the desk in front of him because his back is killing him and he’s only been here like 20 minutes, but he’s trying to space out his pills so, he is doing his best, and then robby wants to introduce the….

he knows thar braid. he hasn’t seen her face, and robby is talking but he knows that…

“…second year resident, dr melissa king, fresh from the VA” robby says, like this isn’t taking the air straight out of frank’s lungs. he blinks, looks away and at the computer because this can’t be happening, she’s here. his life is falling apart, his back is killing him, abby is angry at him for god knows why, but shes here, his mel is here.

“everyone calls me mel. i’m so happy to be here” he wonders if she hasn’t realized he’s right behind her. he’s looking at that braid, he’s standing behind her and he can’t stop staring, and he’s suddenly 20 years old again.

[nquesoxlies]

https://www.tumblr.com/nquesoxlies/780567152604463104/let-people-be-upset-about-their-favorite?source=share

tbh there's also something a loooot of ppl need to learn calling "setting realistic expectations." i personally wouldn't want eddie back without an on-screen conversation between him and CHRIS about what CHRIS wants, otherwise his entire plot in texas would feel kinda moot with a throwaway "yeah chris is fine with coming back to LA :)" since this plot was big enough for eddie to drop everything to go finally make things right with his son. i didn't expect for him to show up for the two-parter. meanwhile, everyone i saw who was momentarily disappointed bc no tommy was like "ah well, we know we're almost definitely getting him next episode bc of leaks" and went on to enjoy the episode as a whole

its genuinely fine to go "aw no eddie? :(" its Not fine to review bomb an episode and repeatedly bitch about the director not putting ur favorite man in the episode when it makes 0 sense for him to come back so quickly and without showing us that he IS still working on being a better dad to chris. hell, go write fanfic about it where eddie IS back instead of review bombing!!! that's probably a way more fun use of time than review bombing!!!

honestly, these fans make me dislike eddie more and more ngl which isn't even the actor or the writers faults at all. if he leaves the show then it's not going to impact me that much unless his ending is fully unsatisfying, and that'll be more of a "cmon, writers, you knew this was where this was going, do better." i have never watched the show only for eddie like these people have. came into the show expecting to love madney + henren and ended up very emotionally invested in bathena while enjoying buck and eddie as well. i'm on the same page as a lot of ppl who have been here longer than i have been: we love the entire show rather than just eddie. honestly, i think half of these people don't even like buck. i already know most of them don't give a shit about the rest of the show from insulting ravi over him distracting buck with tommy to turning josh into the "number 1 b*ddie cheerleader" to ignoring henren unless they can use them as a "gotcha!!! you don't actually care about queer rep!!!" like.

@ BoBs: do YOU? because every time there's queer rep that threatens ur fanon ship, u actively get homophobic about it down to, what, 600? of you PROUDLY admitting you would commit a hate crime to make your stupid ship canon--including both real men and fictional characters like josh and tommy in your "i'd hate crime for them teehee!" bullshit.

idk queso its just wild to me how often i also see the "eddie diaz pretty pretty princess who wants to paint his nails!!!" like. painting ur nails isnt gendered, the fuck? BoBs see anyone gender non-conforming and goes "wow, inherent sign of queerness, i am very smart :)" while feeding directly into toxic masculinity with the idea that if you don't adhere strictly to what's deemed masculine, then clearly you're queer. even if you say you're straight and know you're attracted to women and only women, you're gay because you (checks notes) have emotions and cry over your friends and did ballroom dancing when you were younger.

anyway if im being petty then i kinda hope that eddie leaves to focus fully on chris and making a life for the two of them in el paso and ravi takes his place on the team so that we get indian rep permanently on the show for a bit! i think he could bring some new life into the team (regardless of whether the show goes on for one season or more) and it'd be nice to see buck in a mentor position to him. plus i'd love to see his dynamic with the rest of the team <3 i am still available to play his love interest who is there for a single episode before being relegated to one-off mentions <3 /hj

Yes to alllllll of this, Annie!!!

What's ironic to me, based on something you mentioned, is the nail painting. They want sooooo hard for RG to actually be gay yet an actor who does paint his nails (for self-harm reasons) they call a slur and tell him to die.

Like???? Wtf are we doing???

(I know your ask is about the characters but that shit will always rub me the wrong way about Ryan stans)

[gunwoo-bh]

The Night Shift - Part 3 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. Warnings: definitely swearing, no smut, the word fucked being uttered, teasing, such slow burn A/N: EVERYBODY. Let me start by saying how much I love Y'ALL so much for the love these two chapters have gotten. This one is a tad shorter but finally reader and Yoongi are interacting. I have created a masterlist and I will update links tomorrow, but it's late right now. I hope you enjoy this. I'm so excited to keep writing this for as long as you'll have me!

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 2

“I’m not giving a daily shift report, Eunji! That’s ridiculous!” 

Your shoulders are shaking, amused by your friend’s silly request. As you walk the halls to the library, you say hi to some students you know, your phone held precariously between your shoulder and ear. You stop by a display case, checking your reflection and your outfit. You’d been putting more attention into your outfits recently. You always did care to look put together, but you did have a pretty low-key, low-maintenance style, which, with your busy schedule, was of the utmost importance. Except when you were hoping to bump into a certain someone.

“Anyways…I should go back. I never leave the desk unattended for this long. I’ll see you in a few hours. You sure you still wanna go on a run?” You ask, lowering your voice while swiping your ID at the turnstiles. 

“Yes, yes, and yes! I swear I won’t flake on you this time.” You hear the guilt in her voice, lips curling.

“I know you won’t. Okay, gotta go for real this time. Go to sleep.” You playfully order.

She teasingly mocks your tone, “Yes, mom!” Both snorting, you finally say goodbye as you return to your post. 

A couple of weeks had passed since the Tangerine Incident, the term your friends had so affectionately decided to codename your encounter with Yoongi. Since then, no more fruit-related surprises have been left at your desk. You don’t even think you’ve seen him since, making you think this was a one-off. You don’t hide your disappointment, but in all fairness, you know that you could have reached out, too. Something you do notice about the man, though?

Min Yoongi is elusive as fuck.

You’ve been keeping an eye out for him in the library, but since that day? Nothing at all. You even saw him around campus beforehand, but no glimpse of him at all. It’s like he disappeared. 

“Fuck it.” Whispering the words to yourself, you decide you’ll talk to his friend Namjoon tomorrow. What’s the worst that could happen?

You wipe your hands on your jeans for what feels like the hundredth time this hour. You never anticipated being nervous like this.

Your class is almost over, and any moment now, you have to speak to Namjoon. Right when your shift finished, you skipped sleep to go to the store. And whether it was lack of sleep or not, you got the idea to make Yoongi a ‘thanks for the tangerine’ gift. Didn’t consist of much past a note and some tangerines neatly arranged in the smallest of baskets, a tangerine plushy also tucked in the middle of it all. You hid the gift in a simple bag sitting discreetly at your feet. 

You snap your head up to the front of the class when the teacher announces a quiz next class, effectively ending the class, and this is your cue. You quickly pack up and grab the bag at your feet, and you’re just lucky Namjoon is talking to a classmate as you approach. 

“Hey, Namjoon?” The man in question turns his entire body in one swift movement, and you know he recognizes you because he’s not even surprised. “Hi.”

His face lights up, “Hey!” He says your name as if to make sure he’s remembering it right, and you can’t hide the shock on your features. You never expected him to know you. 

You’re honest with him, “I didn’t think you knew who I was…to be honest.” 

He laughs, and what’s even more shocking to you is that it’s earnest, “I do know who you are…”

You huff a laugh, “Seems like it…”

You both laugh, and you appreciate his social awareness because he waits until everybody has left the class, leaving the two of you only.

“What can I help you with?”

Oh yeah, I came here for a reason. You quick glance to the bag in your hand and back to him, “I’m not, like, keeping you from anything, am I?” 

He smiles at you, seemingly enjoying your nerves, “Nah, I’m all good…”

“Okay…” trailing off, you inhale deeply before handing him the bag, “so, I was wondering if you could pass this on to your friend…”

You see the quirk of his eyebrow before catching on, “Oh! Uh, Yoongi. It’s for Yoongi.” You spot the way his lips curl into the smallest grin. “He uh, he’ll understand, I think, what it is.”

You’re grateful Namjoon doesn’t check what’s in the bag, just takes it from you and looks up to you, grin still ever present, “Can I ask why he’s getting a gift from a pretty girl?” It’s light teasing, you know that, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling heat rise in your cheeks. 

“It’s not…it’s not what it looks like…” you’re stuttering, completely caught off guard before straightening yourself out.

He reaches out to grab your shoulder with his free hand, eyes gentle and apologetic, “I’m teasing…I’m sorry.” He puts his hand to his chest, keeping his eyes on you.

You release a breath you’ve been keeping, laughing softly when you realize everything is fine, “Okay, truth is, he was nice to me the other night, and it might be much, but this is me saying thank you. I just…I haven’t seen him around to give it to him.”

He looks like he’s contemplating your words but shrugs, “I’ll make sure he gets it.”

You sigh in relief, your entire body finally relaxing, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

You both stand there in silence for a moment before you grab your bag, “I should go. I have one more class before heading off to work…”

You give him a quick bow and thank him again, turning to walk away before he calls out for you. You whip around with eyes wide, and he smiles, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” 

This makes you smile, nodding and thanking him. You walk down the halls to your next class with relief washing over you. It’s done. Now, whether or not you ever speak to Min Yoongi is all up to you, him, or the universe. And that brings you relief like no other. 

It’s finally Friday. 

You stretch in your chair, bones cracking and sighing, a smile stretched onto your lips. 

This week has felt particularly long; the pressures of school building the further into the semester you got. You look at the essay you just finished after days of constantly rewriting it. Eunji and Hwayoung even had to pry you away from your laptop the day before because you nearly threatened to throw it at the wall of your shared apartment. 

What’s even more surprising is that because of an exam you prepared for, you got the day off, meaning your Friday night was actually free for once, and yet, here you were in the library. But for school work. 

You really never leave this place.

You get up to stretch your legs, grabbing your phone and earbuds to listen to music while walking around. You glance at the time, keeping track of it before you need to meet your friends at a restaurant to celebrate Eunji’s birthday. You appreciate how well they know you, choosing to do dinner with you and clubbing in Itaewon with just the two of them afterward. 

You return to your floor, and as you round the corner, you are startled into a full stop at seeing Yoongi standing next to your table. He looks up at that moment, and your gaze shifts to the familiar orange fruit in his hand. A blue post-it is in his other hand, and you mouth the air, removing your earbuds as you step closer to him. You both feel caught, but you’re the first to smile, albeit shyly. 

“Hi?” You sound unsure, but you stand across from him, the table between you.

He licks his lips, his eyes never leaving your figure, “Hey…”

You glance down at the tangerine, nodding in its direction, “Is that for me?”

“Mhm.” You watch how he lets it go, shoving the post-it in his pocket. Damn it. You really wanted to know what he’d written on there. “You working tonight?”

You shake your head, “Birthday plans.” He perks up, prompting you to correct yourself. “Not mine, though. No, that passed already.”

Silence falls on your conversation, but it’s not uncomfortable. You don’t know what is going through his head while he’s watching you, and you don’t want to be the girl reading too much into it. But you can almost swear he was actually taking all of you in. And you have to be honest with yourself, too. He looks handsome in his grey hoodie, light blue loose-fitted jeans, and pair of Air Jordans. His backpack slung over the one shoulder, half-open. 

“Did Namjoon pass on my basket?” 

The question seems to hit him like a freight train because he suddenly blushes, mouth hanging as he mouths the air. His eyes flit about the table, like his brain is processing how to answer your question. He’s not embarrassed about the basket, but he’s embarrassed about something. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Your eyebrows quirk, an infectious grin plastered on your lips.

“I wanted to.” He breathes out loudly at your words. “You didn’t have to leave that tangerine that night either…” You remark. 

He opens his mouth to speak, shutting it when the words don’t come as easily to him as he hoped. His cheeks are pink, and he’s licking his lips nervously the entire time he thinks of something to say.

But he seems to settle for accepting his fate, “I wanted to.” 

You snort softly, a giggle following as you cover your mouth. You don’t notice how his eyes soften when you do that, the way he relaxes. God damn it. You’re completely charmed by his seemingly standoff-ish but caring nature.

“Then,” you reach forward to grab the tangerine on the table, “thank you again.” You maintain eye contact with him as his gaze follows the length of your arm to your eyes. “Do I get to know what that post-it said?”

Right away, he says, “Nope.” 

You snicker, and he tilts his head as you shake yours, “Okay. I guess I’ll have to settle for that for now.” 

“For now?” 

“Oh, yeah, for now. I will find out what’s on there.”

Yoongi is delighted at your confidence, gazing at you getting ready to leave. He feels an incredible amount of fondness for your interaction. You never let go of the tangerine, slipping your jacket on and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” You say, smiling fondly. 

You start turning when he calls out to you, and how your name slips from his mouth causes your heart to skip as you look back, “Yes?” God, do you have to sound so eager?

“Gimme.” His outstretched hand makes you frown until he steps close enough to take the tangerine out of your hand. And what he does surprises you. He starts peeling it for you. You watch his fingers work at removing it, entirely focused on his task, and you take this moment to truly look at him up close. 

When he’s finished, he keeps the peel in his hand, giving you the tangerine back as you gently take it from him, “Thanks. Again.” He grins at that, holding your gaze.

“Go, don’t be late for those birthday plans.” 

You’re nodding as you start walking away from him. He’s close behind, and when you leave the building, you notice him headed in the opposite direction. Glancing over your shoulder to watch his back retreating, you summon confidence from God knows where and call out to him this time. You’re giddy with his amused look when he waits for you to speak. 

“I don’t bite,” his jaw goes slack, “don’t be a stranger, mhm?” 

You bite your lower lip while walking backwards, giggling when you twist your body around at the last possible moment and leaving Min Yoongi completely and utterly shaken to his core. And fucked. So fucked.

I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

[my-castles-crumbling]

First Lines of My Fics

Thanks @thebibutterflyao3 , @where-is-vivian , @shoopsthereitis , and @courfee for tagging!

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway!

note- I'm skipping the really smutty ones because I don't want to link them on here....

No Socks - Rated M (Rosekiller)

“So?” Regulus demanded as soon as Barty stumbled into their shared flat, last night’s outfit still on his thin frame. “So, what?” Barty asked, throwing his keys onto the counter, not bothering to pick them up when they skittered across the marble surface and landed on the floor.  “So, what?” Regulus repeated dubiously.

James Potter, Reluctant Cat Dad - Rated G (Jegulus)

James sighed and looked into beautiful gray eyes, trying not to let them pull on his heartstrings. But he was weak, and gave up far too easily, his heart melting. “How the fuck did we get here, love?” he murmured, truly dumbfounded about how they had ended up in this predicament.

Infuriating - Rated T (Dorlene)

“Black, you absolute tosser!” Marlene McKinnon’s laughter-filled voice filled the small, echoing Potions Classroom, and Dorcas Meadowes didn’t even bother holding back an eye roll and a little scoff. Instead, she just gave herself credit for not telling the other girl to shut up in front of the entire class.

That's Alarming - Rated G (Jegulus)

There were few things Regulus Black valued more than sleep. Perhaps reading. Or music. Or a nice dark roast coffee. But either way, sleep was of the utmost importance. He was even more prickly than normal without at least eight hours of it, and miserable as well, so he always prioritized getting his rest. Which is why he was ready to kill everyone in his path when the fire alarm was pulled at 2:47 am on a Tuesday night in his university dorm, and he was forced to evacuate into the parking lot.

Mint and Sunshine and Hope - Rated T (Jegulus)

It was a coincidence that they had  arrived at Sirius and Remus’s flat at the same time. An annoying coincidence, to be sure, but Regulus couldn’t fault James for it. He’d learned, as he’d grown, that there wasn’t much he could fault James for, really. 

In My Head - Rated T (Jegulus)

The realization comes to Regulus in the middle of the day. He is sitting with Barty, listening to his best friend complain about some stupid thing that happened at his ridiculous job taste testing at the pet food plant, and suddenly his whole body goes cold. Because as Barty is talking, his brain is completely obsessed with something– some one else. And it makes him realize… “Oh fuck,” he mumbles incoherently, unable to even feel his lips properly. “Right?” Barty asks loudly, clearly under the impression that Regulus has agreed with him in some way. “It was a huge problem! And then I told that arse in corporate to suck my-” “No,” Regulus says, thoughts a million miles away. “No, I-” Because this is not about Melanie from Corporate, who clearly has it out for Barty, at least according to him. This is about James Potter.

I love you. I'm (not) sorry. - Rated T (Jegulus)

James took a deep breath, fiddling with his suit jacket and trying to power through the sinking, sickening feeling that had somehow taken up residence inside his chest. His heart thundered against his ribcage like it was determined to escape the very bounds of his body and he felt almost faint. He looked around the large room, taking in the beautiful decorations, the stunning white flowers, the luxurious aisle already scattered with petals, the twinkling lights strung from the ceiling. It looked like heaven. It felt like his own personal hell.

Any Ideas? - Rated T (Jegulus)

“I still think the fake arrest idea is the best one,” Sirius mumbled, laying spread-eagle on the floor and staring at the ceiling. He waved his wand, a pair of plastic handcuffs spinning around the tip as he moved his hand lazily. “Moony, you’d like to see me in these, eh?” A snort sounded from somewhere in the room.

Burn - Rated T (Jegulus)

The Cruciatus Curse– incantation: Crucio– is one of the Unforgivable Curses. It is known by many as the ‘Torturing Curse,’ as it subjects the affected to excruciating pain. Long-term exposure to this curse can cause lasting mental and physical effects, including but not limited to fatigue, confusion, coldness and chills, nightmares, and even insanity.

Thinking - Rated T (Wolfstar)

“Do you feel any different?” Sirius blinked at the circle of people staring at him with bated breath, tilting his head from side to side as he thought about the question. “No,” he said honestly, pursing his lips. “Damn,” James frowned, sighing. “That would’ve been hilarious.” And the game continued.

NPT (I'm not sure who's already been tagged so if you have, I'm sorry!): @microdamage @wolfpadx @arviyya @deepseagre3n @whoopsiesnodaisies @locomotiveodyssey

[aro-of-argentum]

Red Dahlia- Chapter 11

WC: 6,857

Notes: MDNI- This chapter has smut in it, like pretty close to right away, the reader and Jason take the next step of their relationship, Oral sex (female receiving), Penetrative sex (with protection), Jason is very touchy-feely and so so domestic, Jason gives the reader a new gift and takes her to work

Also! This is the end of the first arc of this story and so I will be taking a few weeks off of posting so that I can write ahead enough to consecutively post the next arc as I have with this one, even if I get busy with school again. Thank you for reading, I will see y'all soon :)

Beta'd by: @teaspacebar

Previous Chapter, Masterlist, Next Chapter

Chapter 11:

“And everybody’s been putting condolence cards and stuff into your locker, so did you want me to clean it out for you in the morning, or-”

“Marcy, it’s fine, I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure? There was a rumor around work that someone in your family died, so everyone-”

“Marcy,” You interrupted, “I got it. I’ll take care of it when I get on shift tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay,” She relented. “I’m sure everyone will be happy to see you.”

It made you smile to hear that. “I’m excited to get back. I’ve been going a little stir-crazy sitting at home.”

“You haven’t been out to see Jason?” She asked.

“No, he’s been at home with his family. He’s coming over tonight though since he got the all-clear to be up and moving around again.”

“Aw, and the first thing he wanted to do was come see you, that’s sweet.” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, and then she made a gagging noise.

“Hey, what did we say about leaving my relationship alone?”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll call you later.” She took on a conspiratorial tone when she added, “Have fun tonight.”

You could only shake your head and sigh. “Bye Marce.”

“Bye, babe.”

Just as you were hanging up with Marcy, your phone buzzed a text notification: Jason, saying he was on his way. You shot back a quick, “Drive safe,” before beginning to pull ingredients for dinner from the fridge so you could begin prepping. You’d barely gotten anything done by the time you heard a knock at your door. Your eyes narrowed as you double checked the time and noticed he’d gotten to your apartment far faster than he should have. Drive safe, my ass, you thought.

Jason’s face broke into a warm smile when you opened the door. “Hey, Sweetheart.”

Any irritation you’d had at his driving habits dissipated instantly when he reached for you, encircling your waist in his arms and burying his face in your hair. You returned a soft, “Hey,” as you wrapped your arms around him too, smile spreading across your own face to finally be able to touch him again.

He gave a dramatic inhale and almost groaned, “Oh fuck, I missed you. I swear they were trying to kill me this week.”

You tried to ignore the way his breath felt against your neck as he spoke and focused instead on keeping up the conversation with sarcasm. “Aw, poor baby. What did your loving family do to you while you were away?”

He caught your tone but chose to answer earnestly anyway. “Locked me in my room, mostly. They set up a guard rotation so I couldn’t sneak out.”

You pulled away from him slightly to be able to look him in the eyes. “Are you really that much of a flight risk?”

“I am when you’re all the way across town, yeah.”

His answer made you snort but your face heated all the same. “Well, you’re here now,” you said as you moved your right hand to his cheek and stroked your thumb over his cheekbone for a moment before leaning up to kiss him.

He met you halfway and pressed his lips to yours, right hand finding its way to the back of your neck while his left stayed draped around your waist. As the kiss deepened, you felt his grip on you tighten. Jason pulled your hips to his and the contact made you gasp slightly, allowing his tongue access to your mouth. The shift in mood was immediately tangible and you found yourself floating in the moment of devolving self-control. Before you completely lost yourself though, you pulled away to speak up.

“Jay, I-” Your sentence was cut short as he lifted you onto the kitchen island and reattached himself, this time to your neck, and began sucking a bruise into the skin below your jaw. You moaned, and your hands flew to touch him, one balling the shoulder of his shirt into your fist, the other finding purchase in his hair, and the slight tug you gave made him groan into your throat. You knew you only had a moment left to protest before any care you had about the food you’d begun to prepare would vanish. “Jason,” You started, trying desperately to focus on your words, not the way he’d dragged your hips to the edge of the counter and was rocking his own into them. “I was making dinner, I-”

He immediately unlatched from your neck, and his hips slowed, but didn’t stop as he took a moment to calm his breathing before responding. “If you don’t want to do this right now, I will wait, but Sweetheart, I am more than happy,” he emphasized his point with a nip to the back of your jaw and a roll of his hips, “to cook for you after.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at his words and goosebumps broke over your skin at his breath on your neck as he spoke. The choice was an easy one. “Dinner can wait,” you managed between heavy breaths. Jason was quick to react, and a yelp of surprise escaped your throat as you were pulled from the counter. Your immediate reaction was to cling to him; pressing your chest to his with a death grip on his shirt, and your legs wrapped around his waist like a vice. The action made Jason chuckle in your ear.

“Relax, Sweetheart, I’m not going to drop you.”

And you knew that. You could feel the hold he had on you, the way one hand cradled your back and the other palmed your thigh. You weren’t going anywhere unless he decided you were. The walk to your bedroom only took Jason a few strides, and he was on you again the moment your back hit your bed. Your desperation only grew as his hips ground down into yours, and you broke the kiss to pull Jason’s shirt over his head.

When your touch turned soft, the need drained from your actions, Jason froze. His gaze trailed to where your fingers lightly traced over the scar on his shoulder, left behind by the bullet that had made a home there only a couple of weeks ago. There was worry in your eyes when he finally looked back at your face.

“I’m okay,” He reassured you with a nod, holding himself above you. “It’s fully-”

“I almost lost you that night…” Your thoughts processed aloud as your mind wandered, fingers still tracing the healed wound.

“I know,” his tone was almost placating as he spoke, “but you didn’t. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Jason took your hand from his shoulder and pressed it into his chest over his heart. “I’m right here.”

Your other hand reached up to his cheek and Jason leaned into it. “Show me.”

The request was simple, and Jason found himself eager to comply. He only had time to respond with a nod before you pulled him back down to kiss you again. He’d convince you like this over and over if you’d let him.

Getting each other undressed was quick work, and you knew you’d have to go searching for where Jason threw things, but that was a concern for later. Now, there was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, kissing up the insides of your thighs, leaving little bite marks here and there before quickly soothing them with his tongue. You began to squirm.

“Jay, skip it,” you pleaded. “I want-”

“Sweetheart, trust me,” He interrupted. “You want me to prep you.”

You shuddered at the thought and a gasp rushed into your lungs when you felt his tongue delve into you. Your fingers found his curls instantly, and you looked down to find those green eyes staring at you, watching how much you liked him eating you out.

“Fuck,” came out of you as a broken groan. You saw his eyes squint a little as though he was smiling at your reaction before he began dragging his tongue along the inside of your walls.

Jason had a pride in himself about the way he was finding he could make you feel, about the way your hands balled into fists when he- The thought was interrupted by the drag of your nails against his scalp and the pull of his hair that elicited a depraved moan from him.

The noise felt like it vibrated through your entire body, and for a moment, every muscle flexed. “Jay-” You pleaded; his name almost choked in your throat by your own breathlessness.

He pulled away from you only enough to speak. “I need you to hang on for me, Sweetheart. Just a couple more minutes.”

“Jason-” Whatever response you’d had for him was completely lost to you as the man going down on you readjusted his attention. He began sucking on your clit as two of his fingers pushed into your core. You moaned at the stretch and the change of stimulation and felt yourself tighten around his fingers.

Jason hummed in approval as he continued his efforts on your clit and waited for you to relax enough to begin working you open on his hand. He paid close attention to each time you gasped and moaned and made note of how he’d done it for later. The chanting of his name sounded like a grounding, an anchor, coming from your mouth. There was no floating away or wishing for something else; not when he could be here, with you, like this. Jason’s eyes trailed up to watch your face, only to find that you were staring down at him, and a rush of arousal traveled down to his already impossibly hard cock. He needed you to be ready for him, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer, so he slowed his movements with his hand until he had nearly stopped and slid a third finger inside you.

A small gasp left your throat and your eyes fluttered shut as you adjusted, and when you gave a nod, Jason began picking up his pace again. Immediately, you could feel your orgasm building, and you found yourself grinding down into Jason’s face and hand in search of more friction.

He took it in stride, matching your movement and encouraging it, eager to get you there. As his fingers pumped in and out of you, Jason began to drag his fingertips along your walls and you lurched, a choked moan escaping you as your grip in his hair tightened. Jason groaned into you and the combination was enough to push you over the edge. The tension that had built up inside you finally snapped, and Jason worked you through it as you floated in a blissful haze. When he finally withdrew from you, you whimpered at the loss.

“Don’t worry, I’m still here,” He reassured you as he moved up the bed to lay on his side next to you. Immediately you brought your lips to his, and Jason groaned, hips rocking forward on their own. “Condoms?” He asked breathlessly, barely detaching from you.

“Top drawer, nightstand,” you answered, pointing to the correct side.

As Jason began to pull away, you nipped his bottom lip with your teeth, and he let out a huff. “Fuck, Y/n, you are going to be the death of me.” He shook his head slightly, lopsided smile looking almost cocky as he reached with one hand to open the drawer and pull out one of the small metallic packages. He opened it with his teeth, opting to keep his other hand on your waist, before sliding the latex on. He positioned himself between your legs and rocked his hips forward to drag his dick over your folds. A hum of appreciation rumbled in his chest at finally getting some of the sensation he craved.

“Jay please,” You whined, growing impatient, “just fuck me.”

He chuckled lightly, “Okay, I hear you.” He reached down to line himself up with your core. “Ready?”

You nodded and gave a “Yes,” that was dripping lust, until your exhale was cut off by a shuddered gasp as Jason began to push into you. You gave a choked scoff in surprise as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate him. If this was what he felt like after prepping, you thought, you were glad he didn’t let you start with this.

“Fuck,” he grunted above you, “Sweetheart, I need you to relax, baby, breathe.”

Ironic that he was telling you to breathe when it sounded like he could barely catch a breath himself. But you did your best to follow his instruction anyway, eventually relaxing enough that he was able to slowly start rolling his hips to work himself further inside you, a little at a time.

Once he had fully buried himself in you, Jason paused to take in the feeling of you flexing around him and he groaned.

“Jason, move.”

Jason found he was more than happy to listen to the instruction you’d given, pulling out almost all the way, only to force himself back in to the hilt.

Your response was a choked gasp of, “Oh, fuck,” and you felt him push a little deeper as the man adjusted his position above you.

His movement started slowly at first, trying to savor the feeling of dragging through your walls, and he reveled in the way your hands explored his lower back, encouraging him, pulling him deeper. But his control disintegrated when you moaned his name and your nails dug into his back at a particularly hard thrust; his regard for taking his time was gone.

It only took a moment before you could feel another orgasm building. Jason used his bruising grip on your hip as leverage to pull you into his every thrust, and you could feel his desperation grow as his rhythm grew harsher. Your back arched as much as you were able given his hold on you, and the slight change in angle had him hammering into your G-spot. You could feel the way you clenched down around him as you called for him, and Jason let out a stuttered moan.

His breathing became ragged as he tried to speak. “Do it again,” he growled, and you weren’t sure if he was asking or demanding. “Say my name.”

“Jason,” you could barely repeat it before a sharper thrust forced a gasp into your lungs.

“Again.” He ground the word out through his teeth, eyes locked on your face as it twisted in pleasure, the pleasure he gave.

“Jason,” it was begging this time, and you focused everything you had left on being able to keep begging, nails dragging along his back as you attempted to keep some grip on reality.

And it drove him crazy. Jason could feel how close he was, thrusts becoming erratic as he tried to hold out. He wanted you to finish first; he wanted to feel you come undone on his cock. “Fuck, Sweetheart, what do you need? I’m close.”

You nodded as much as you were able with your head thrown back. “Me too, I want-” Your sentence cut off as you shuddered, and you knew you were about to burst. “Jay, kiss me.”

Just as his lips crashed to yours, your orgasm flooded over you. Your mouth opened in an uncontrolled moan and Jason drank it down eagerly and he continued to pound into you. But the spasming of you around him and the pull of your fingers in his hair pushed him over the edge, and Jason buried himself to the base in you with a choked groan.

There was a moment of quiet as Jason allowed his head to hang in the open space next to yours, and his hips gave a few weak involuntary thrusts as reaction to the aftershocks rippling through you. You hissed at the overstimulation now beginning to set in. “Jay, too much.” You said weakly.

Chest heaving over you, he nodded, “Okay baby, one second,” and between his attempts to slow his breathing, Jason carefully pulled out of you.

He was out of the bed for a moment, though you were too delirious to figure where he’d gone, before he returned to your side. His hand reached up to cup your cheek and the sleepy smile you gave him melted his heart. His thumb dragged briefly over your bottom lip before he leaned down to kiss you, slowly and lazily. When he broke the kiss, he spoke just above a whisper. “I don’t think I will ever have words for how gorgeous you are right now.”

You hummed in appreciation of the compliment. “I could say the same to you.”

He huffed a chuckle and questioned, “Oh, yeah?” with a single raised eyebrow.

“Mhmm.” You nodded and reached up to gently drag your fingers across his forehead, where sweat had made his black and white curls cling to his skin. He was glowing, and just a little red from the blush forming on his cheeks and ears the longer you stared. And those green eyes of his, soft as ever, and filled with adoration. “You’re beautiful, Jason Todd.”

-

You awoke from what you could only assume was a brief nap to the smell of food cooking in the other room. You grabbed new underwear from your drawer, and Jason’s shirt from the floor before entering the kitchen.

“Smells good,” you stated with a hum as you planted a soft kiss on his exposed shoulder mid-stride.

“Yeah, thanks, I-” Jason’s sentence cut off with a groaned huff as he turned just in time to see you pull yourself up to sit on the counter. “Fuck, Sweetheart, I’m cooking,” He started instead as he approached you, “you can’t come out here dressed like that and expect to eat anytime soon.” His hands reached for your legs and started stroking slowly up the outsides of your thighs as he slotted himself between your knees at the edge of the counter.

“Said the man being all domestic in my kitchen, wearing nothing but sweatpants,” you replied with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You leaned forward and gave a chaste kiss before continuing, “Besides, I’m starving. If you want another round, you’re gonna have to feed me first.”

He wore a cocky smirk as he chuckled slightly, leaning in to kiss you again. “Understood.” Another kiss. “So, dinner and then…” And another, during which he briefly caught your bottom lip between his teeth.

“So, dinner and then we’ll see. I have work tomorrow.” You pushed him back slightly with a hand on his chest as you peered over his shoulder. You nodded to the stovetop behind him. “Your pot is going to boil over.”

“Shit.” The slight fear in his eyes as Jason pulled away from you made you giggle, but he managed to remove the pot from the burner before the contents overflowed.

It was only a few minutes later that dinner was ready, and you both sat down on the couch to eat.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” You asked, turning sideways in your seat to lean against the armrest and lay your legs over Jason’s lap in the spot next to you.

-

You woke up to your alarm blaring and groaned. Even after two weeks off, you’d have given anything to stay home today. Your sour mood was quickly overshadowed by affection as you felt a heavy arm fall over your waist and pull you back until you were pressed against a wall of muscle. When you felt Jason press a kiss to the back of your head and hum a sigh, you knew the alarm had probably woken him too. You turned in his grasp, though at first you had to fight his grip, before he realized you weren’t leaving.

“Jason?” You asked softly, hesitant to wake him if he was somehow still asleep.

“Mhmm?” He hummed in response, still not opening his eyes.

“When did we get off the couch last night?”

“You fell asleep after dinner. I didn’t want your back to hurt.” His answer was nonchalant and half-mumbled, but it made you smile all the same.

“You carried me to bed?” You questioned, fingers trailing lightly down the line of his jaw, now covered in the slightest hint of stubble.

“Mhmm,” he hummed the affirmative as he pressed a halfhearted kiss to your forehead, and his breathing began to slow again.

There was a pull in your chest toward sleep, wanting to stay in the comfort of Jason’s hold and rest with him. But you had to get up. You had work in a few hours. It only took a moment for Jason’s breath to even out the rest of the way and you knew he’d fallen back asleep. As carefully as you were able, you pressed a kiss to his jaw and pulled away. He stirred, but didn’t seem to wake, and you slowly slid out of bed, slinking off to the shower. You did your best to be quick, and when you returned to your bedroom to get dressed, you found Jason, lazily scrolling on his phone, still laying in bed. He dropped the device from his view and squinted pointedly at you.

“You left,” he accused, voice all gravel and breaths still deep from having just woken up.

The sight and sound of him only made you smile. “I had to clean up, I have work in a little while.”

His expression could have been something close to a snarl if he hadn’t been so sleepy looking. “Fine.”

“I still have a couple hours before I head out,” you tried to appease as you began pulling your scrubs from the closet to lay them out. “I can make breakfast before I go. Do you need to shower or anything?”

“Um…” Jason found himself nearly at a loss for words as he stared at you moving around the room. He watched as you slid your clothes on over skin that he wanted nothing more than to touch all over again. The tank top and shorts you wore clung to the curves of your body and Jason wanted to trace every line.

“Jay?” You stopped what you were doing and looked at him expectantly, head cocked to the side.

He nodded, a blush heating his ears and the back of his neck at having been caught staring. “Yeah, I probably should. Breakfast would be great.”

You chuckled as you watched him get up and out of your bed surprisingly quickly for someone who’d been half-asleep only a few minutes ago. “Towels on the shelf are clean!” you called after him.

“Cool!” He shot back with a thumbs up over his head as he continued to walk, not slowing until the bathroom door was closed.

A small smile crossed your features as you walked to the kitchen to get breakfast ready, figuring some eggs and bacon would do. You listened to the shower run as you threw the meat on the stove and mixed the eggs, and by the time you’d almost had everything finished, you heard the water turn off. A moment later, you caught in the corner of your eye, Jason walking by in nothing but a towel toward your bedroom. Your mind began to wander until a pop of grease landed on your arm. You hissed an inhale and gave a soft, “fuck,” as your attention returned to the task at hand.

“You alright?” The man asked, coming back out of the bedroom now in dark pants. He slid up behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist, resting his jaw against the side of your head, bare chest pressed against your back.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, running your unoccupied hand over his arm as you leaned into him. “Why are you always walking around my house shirtless?”

Jason let out a scoff of shock. “What, you don’t like it?”

“No, I love it, actually. But it’s a bit distracting.”

You could feel the boost in his ego and hear the smirk in his voice when he responded, “Oh is that what happened a minute ago? I was being distracting?” He planted a kiss on your neck in the same place you’d found a hickey in the mirror this morning as if to emphasize his words.

The roll of your eyes could not have been any bigger. “Yes,” you admitted, “But I have things to do today, so you being distracting is not something I have time for.”

“See, you say that,” he started while his hands began to wander down your sides and found the bottom hem of your shorts. “But this is what you’re wearing first thing in the morning.” He played with the elasticity of the fabric as he spoke.

“This is what I wear under my scrubs, Jay.” You said it in an almost chastising manner, as though it were entirely obvious. “It’s just an extra layer to make it easier to change if I need to at work.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh and squeezed you around the middle slightly as you continued to cook. “I guess that makes sense, like wearing compression gear under my suit.”

You nodded. “It’s exactly like that. Here.” You split the eggs in the pan in half and pulled a few pieces of bacon out and onto a plate and handed it to Jason before serving yourself the same way.

He thanked you, and the pair of you ate in the kitchen, him leaned against the counter you sat on top of.

“You know?” Jason questioned as he took your plate from your hands and rinsed them both off in the sink before returning to stand directly in front of you at the counter. “I think you like sitting up here because it makes you feel tall.”

You chuckled softly, a smile crossing your features as looked at him in the eyes without having to crane your neck as you normally would at this proximity. “Okay, and?” You returned his questioning tone. “Is it such a bad thing that I can see more than your jaw from up here?” You reached to touch the area in question, your fingers stroking gently over the skin, which you noticed had been shaved clean of the stubble you felt this morning. Pity. “Or that I can kiss you without standing on my toes?” You leaned in for a kiss but froze just before making contact and Jason made a choked noise of surprise at your audacity. “Or should you be the only one who gets to be tall?” You asked, leaning back to give space, and found that his jaw hung open in shock.

A mischief entered his eyes as Jason ran his tongue over his teeth. “Oh, Sweetheart, you are playing games you already told me we don’t have time for this morning.”

“So, no teasing anymore either, then. Got it, rules are different now.” You said with a sarcastic nod.

“Now, when did I say that?” Jason asked with a smile, reaching to place his hands on either side of your neck just under your jaw, letting his thumbs trace little patterns into your skin. There was a moment of pause as he seemed content to just look at you, before Jason used his grip on you to pull you back toward him and kiss you.

It was slow and careful as the two of you made out. Your hands found their way to the man’s waist and pulled him closer, but you were careful not to elevate the tension too much. When you broke for air, Jason was the first to speak.

“Did you want me to drive you to work today?” He asked, excited glint in his gaze.

“Jay, you don’t have to, I can walk just-”

“Okay,” He interrupted you, “Let me rephrase. May I drive you to work today, please?”

You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Sure… Any particular reason?”

“I have stuff to do on that side of town anyway today, so I might as well, and…” He trailed off for a moment, looking almost guilty as he palmed the outside of your thigh. “I’d really like to show off.”

“Show off what, exactly?” You asked, a conspiratorial squint on your face.

“Well, you, mostly. But also, the present I brought you,” he said with a smirk.

True confusion overtook your features. “I’m sorry?”

Jason disappeared for a moment, leaving you in the kitchen alone as he retrieved his bag from the bedroom, setting it on the couch to dig around in it. “Do you remember I told you that if you liked going riding, I’d get you your own gear?”

“Yes…”

“Here.” He pulled a neatly folded pair of pants and a jacket from his duffle and presented them to you. “They should fit better to your size than the ones you wore last time, and if you need, I can have them tailored.”

You could only nod in response as you got down from the counter, overwhelmed by such a thoughtful thing. You took the garments from him and got dressed in your room, sliding the pants and jacket on over your shorts and tank top. The suit fit like a glove, and you smirked to yourself at the idea of what Jason had to go through to get it like this without your help. When you walked back out, you could feel the exact moment Jason’s gaze fell on you. It was heavy.

Jason hadn’t expected to be so taken by the image of you wearing the suit he’d had made for you. It was just typical riding gear, with some upgrades in the armor. No chance of road rash if the thing could take a bullet. Except seeing you geared up like this stirred something dangerous in him, especially since you were in his colors. This was as close as he figured he could get to marking you, without fully putting his name or symbol across your shoulder blades. This way, you’d look like you belonged there riding with him, regardless of whether he was in the helmet.

Both pieces had a base of solid black Cordura with stitching in just the right shade of red, and while the pants only had other small details in red like the beltloops and pocket linings, the jacket was a bit more complex. The shoulder and center back panels were a dark grey color to match the gunmetal zippers, and the detailing like pocket edges, sleeve cuffs, and the bottom hem of the jacket were all done in the same red. The last piece of the jacket was the only part he was concerned might have been over the top: a blood red hood. He watched as you pulled the hood up over your head and looked at him with an eyebrow quirked. Goddamn if you didn’t look good like this. But he didn’t want the gift to feel like an attempt to control you.

“If it’s too much, then-” he started.

“No. I love it,” you were quick to interrupt as you looked over yourself. A thought occurred to you however, and you voiced it to the man in front of you. “Are we worried it’s a little on the nose though?” you asked, running your fingers over the edge of the hood.

“Nah,” he huffed the word and shook his head as he approached you. “Designers use our uniforms as “inspiration” for avant-bullshit all the time. And besides, Alfred seems to think that even just using my visage will help keep small fish off you; something about not wanting to deal with the trouble if the actual Red Hood might be over your shoulder.”

He rolled his eyes playfully to try to keep the mood light, but you could tell this was important to him. The way Jason’s hands dragged over your sleeves like he was inspecting the article for flaws told you this was much more than him gifting you an outfit. You felt the material, and noticed it was thicker than that of the jacket you wore last time, but it was lighter in weight. And it had a striking resemblance in texture to- “Is this armor?” You asked, looking up to meet his eyes as the realization dawned on you. “Like yours.”

Jason nodded shallowly, “Everything except the body plates, yeah, it’s the same stuff my uniform is made of.”

“So, what I’m hearing is: I’m basically indestructible now,” you observed, mischief in your eyes and shit eating grin on your face.

“Oh-ho,” he let out a humorless chuckle as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him. “Don’t do that to me.”

You looked up through your eyelashes at him, hands resting on his chest as you spoke. “What? You don’t want me running around letting the world know I’m untouchable because I’m part of Red Hood’s territory?” His grip on you tightened, and for a moment you thought you’d made him upset until you saw the way his eyes had darkened. A small smile crossed your features as you realized what was happening. “Is that a thing for you?” You questioned, doing everything possible with your inflection to make sure that he knew you weren’t making fun of him. “Jason…” your tone dropped slightly, and you reached up to stroke his cheek with the back of your knuckles as you continued, “do you like the idea of me being marked as yours? You want everyone to know I’m spoken for?”

In a flash, his fingers were closed around your wrist to stop your movements. “That’s not a conversation to have right now if you’re still planning on going to work today.”

So, yes, he’s very into that. “Noted. Thank you for the gear.” You gave a soft smile as you tried to pull the conversation toward a less risky topic.

Jason nodded, his grip on you softening as he breathed a small sigh of relief. “Of course. You liked being on my bike, so I wanted to make sure you’re covered just in case something happens on the road. And aside from that, it should be light enough that you can wear it any time you want extra coverage, without it getting too hot or heavy.”

“Okay,” you acknowledged as you processed his words. “And “coverage,” in this case means…”

“It’ll stop blades and most small firearms,” He stated. “Plus, burns, abrasions, and other types of impact shouldn’t be an issue. BUT-” He emphasized and made sure he had eye contact with you before continuing, “You can still get hurt, so I need you to still be careful. It’s a jacket, not a forcefield.”

“I know, Jay. I hear you. I promise I will be careful, okay?” You waited for him to nod in response to indicate he’d heard you before you spoke again. “Thank you for protecting me.”

Jason felt a swell of pride in his chest hearing you say that, and he leaned down to kiss you before responding, “Always,” and kissing you again. “Are you ready to go?” he asked, thumb on your chin as he tilted your head up to look at him.

You hummed in affirmation. “Almost. I need to get my scrubs in my backpack.” It only took you a few moments to get the garments rolled and put in your bag alongside the other clothing, snacks, and book you always kept in your bag for work, and then you were back. “Ready now.” You noticed that while you were out of the room, Jason had gotten dressed the rest of the way, into gear that matched yours, aside from the hood, absent from his jacket. There was a warmth in your chest at the fact that it wasn’t only about putting you in his colors, but getting the two of you to coordinate. For someone so convinced he’s incapable of good, you thought, he’s incredibly endearing.

Jason held your hand the whole way as he led you to the alley with worn-out parking lines on the side of your building. You almost found yourself surprised to see the bike was even still there, but you figured that likely had more to do with whatever anti-theft technology was installed on it. There were also two helmets mounted to the chassis by the gas tank. They were both sleek black, with gunmetal hardware and red linings you could see through the open visors. The slightly smaller one had one difference though, in the form of a subtle matte-black design pressed over one side: a dahlia.

“Those are new,” you pointed with a curious look on your face.

“Well, yeah, if I was going all out with everything else, I figured I might as well, right?”

You gave a soft smile, “Sure. Same level of protection I assume?”

“Obviously.” He shot you a scrutinous look as though to say, ‘you know better.’

“Can I ask how they’re mounted?”

He tugged on his helmet to show you it wasn’t budging. “They’re attached with the same electromagnetic signal that locks the bike up, so it doesn’t get stolen. We all have it on our work bikes, but since I’m going to be parking this one outside the manor garage more often, I figured I should probably get it installed.”

“I hope it wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass. You shouldn’t have to alter everything for-”

Jason cut you off with a short “Hey, stop,” before continuing with, “I am happy to make changes in my life to better accommodate the fact that you are in it. And full honesty, I probably should have done it a while ago anyway.” Satisfied you weren’t going to protest anymore; Jason redirected the conversation. “Now, c’mere Sweetheart.”

When you approached him, it was with such affection in your eyes that Jason couldn’t remember a time in his life that this wasn’t standard, that you were not his priority. And he didn’t want to. He pulled you into him by your waist and kissed you deeply, trying to show you how much he cared for you, how much he loved you. He would do anything you asked of him with no regard for consequence, he realized with no surprise, and Bruce was going to kill him for it when he found out.

When the kiss broke, Jason was quick to slide your helmet over your head, immediately followed by his own, and you heard a small crackle in your ear before, “Can you hear me okay?” You looked up to Jason in surprise at how much clearer this was than the last time you’d borrowed a helmet with a comm link in it, and you could tell by the way his eyes scrunched through the open visor that he was smiling. There was a chuckle through the same speaker and then you heard him say “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You’d never felt so spoiled in your life. “You did all this for me?” You asked, almost breathless with awe.

Jason shrugged as he finished fastening his gloves, “You needed gear. I wasn’t about to have you wearing the old hand-me-down shit that just hangs in the garage. I wanted you to have the best and be- What?” He asked, finding that when he looked at you from where he sat on the bike, your helmet was cocked at him.

“Nothing, I just,” love him. You loved him. “I think you’re pretty incredible.”

He huffed an almost sarcastic laugh. “Okay, Sweetheart, get on the bike.”

You took his outstretched hand and relied on his aide for balance as you swung your leg over the back of the motorcycle. As soon as your weight settled behind him, Jason started the engine and pulled out of the alley. The ride to your job was filled with easy conversation, but far too short, and when he pulled up to the front lot of the hospital, Jason was quick to find a spot in the row closest to the doors to park. The pair of you dismounted and Jason helped you out of your helmet before removing his own.

“Hey, kick ass today,” he flashed a brilliant smile that made your heart flutter as he spoke.

“Don’t I always?” you questioned as you pulled the front of his jacket down to you for a kiss goodbye. It was only about a second before you heard a wolf whistle from behind you, and you snapped your head to find Marcy and one of the other nurses staring from the coffee cart on the sidewalk outside the front door. You looked up at Jason apologetically, “I gotta go.”

He nodded, an understanding smile over his features. “I’ll pick you up tonight if I’m not already at work.”

“And if you are?” You questioned.

“Then we’ll do the usual,” he said with a shrug, throwing a wink your way. “Either way, I’ll see you later, Sweetheart.”

“Bye, Jay.”

Tag List: @4rachn3, @lettucel0ver, @m-0ona, @chrrybkt

[yayasvalveplay]

YAYA IM BACK FROM WORK IM GLAD YOU GOT UNJAILED LETS GOOOOO 💕

Anyways I don't got much to say or post unfortunately 😭

just me with brainworms of random small stuff that I'm just gonna throw at you like a darts hope ya don't mind 💕 LIKE TRONUS NEHEHE

Alright for the DW Win AU, I was thinking of my sweet baby boy Tronus because im genuinely GENUINELY surprised that I hadn't talked about him in the au smh I must fix that 😤

Alright, I think that he absolutely almost DIED when he was born, Tronus was born tiny and unfortunately, in this au- his chest still gets fucked up 😔 the medics at the time didn't know the exact cause of why Tronus was born with a mutilated/melted chest; but their theory was that since Tronus was born after Optimus's 3rd miscarriage, the stress Optimus was in after losing the sparkling before Tronus had affected the boy. So when Optimus finally gave birth to Tronus, Megatron was there, he usually was when Optimus gave birth.

Immediately something was wrong, the medics were disturbed and immediately put Tronus in an incubator. The sparkling was clearly alive and crying... but it was the type of crying that sounded like he was in pain before it weakened.

Whatever glimpses Optimus had, Megatron fully saw and Optimus saw his shocked expression before he demanded the medics fix this now.... Optimus demanded begged to see his sparkling. But the medics refused, knowing it would cause Optimus to panic, so with Megatron's approval, they put him to stasis. It was already traumatic to have a miscarriage, but the knowledge of his baby already close to death right when he was just born would've broken Optimus.

Things are tense and quiet, especially for the siblings and sire. It's the first time, there is the knowledge that the baby could possibly die at any moment now from the damage.

When Optimus eventually wakes up again, the incubator is at his side. He sees Tronus, resting, his tiny face almost peaceful... but it finally fegisters to Optimus that the light illuminating his sparkling's face is the light from his tiny exposed spark, unguarded and wrapped in melted metal.

Fortunately Tronus does live, but since then when the medics couldn't find a way to fix him with causing direct damage to his spark. One of then even recommended grimly that it would be best to put the boy out of his misery. No one liked that

So he now wears a chest piece to cover his spark.

Oh Tronus. It is a shame we haven't talked about him in this au at all. It is a crime.

But ohh I can hear this. Hear Optimus's quiet voice after having just pushed out an alive baby. He knows it's alive because he can hear it screaming. He's demanding to see it, to hold them close to his own spark. And all he gets is worried looks. Hushed whispers to not worry.

But he's worrying. He's so much worrying. That's when he starts demanding to see his baby, where is the sparkling he just birthed? That's when Megatron gave them the ok to put him into a medical induced sleep.

I want to say he was asleep 3 days and in that time the medics constantly made sure Tronus had a watcher, and a medic on hand if his vitals were to drop. And only when he was deemed strong enough was he allowed to be placed hear Op and awake him from his sleep.

Optimus would roll onto his side, placing a soft and tender servo over his sparkling. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "He's alive." Megatron would say once he comes in seeing Op awake.

"He's hurt."

"The medics did what they could without damaging him."

"Will ge live?"

"Most likely. For a sparkling of mine, he will survive."

And as for the medic that suggested putting the boy out of his misery. He was met with an unhappy Sire. Who also had to watch his mate loose 3 sparklings because he didn't put in the precautions he should of had in the first place.

I could see Megatron grabbing that medics face and almost crushing it.

But he's alive and well. Sure he has to wear a chest piece cover. But it's a price to pay for not having his spark exposed to those who wished to harm the kids of Megatron.

[splish--splash--avertedeyes]

Ok I mentioned I'd post a snippet in my last post so here it is. I say snippet, this is a full 1.7k words of Scar eating Grian out. Fun times.

It is part of the childhood friends au where Grian is trans. By this point he's been on HRT for at least a few months. I dunno when exactly in the timeline this takes place lmao

Anyway have this writing <3 yay

The moment Scar sits on the bed, Grian crawls onto his lap, sets a hand on his face, and guides him into a kiss. Scar eagerly kisses him back, hands resting on his waist as he deepens the kiss. 

It’s been a week since Grian last saw Scar. A week without being near him, without being able to touch him, without kissing him. He knows that Scar goes on a week-long trip with his family every summer, he knows this. He goes every year, but he wasn’t able to go with them this year so he was left at home without his boyfriend. 

He tries to press himself closer, to kiss him even harder, desperate to feel Scar against him. Scar’s hands move up to cup his face and the two continue to kiss.

It doesn’t take long before Grian starts trying to grind against Scar. Scar moves a hand to hold him in place and chuckles, pulling away just enough to speak against his lips. “Already so needy, huh?”

“Shut up,” Grian grumbles. “I missed you! It’s been a week.” He leans in to kiss him again. “Also I need you to fuck me now. My hand hasn’t been cutting it.”

Scar gives a full-bodied laugh at that, especially as Grian pouts down at him as he pulls away a little. He doesn’t fully give in, but he does grind his hips up a little, smiling at Grian’s whine as his hands move to his shoulders as he tries to hold onto something.

Grian opens his mouth to say something, but Scar doesn’t give him the chance as he leans in and kisses him again. One kiss turns into another, and then another, and then he finally pulls away only to leave a trail of kisses down his neck. Grian tilts his head back, a low moan leaving his lips as Scar bites down by his collarbone. 

Grian continues to grind against Scar as he lavishes his neck with attention. It’ll be a pain to hide those marks later, but right now he’s focused on Scar and hopefully getting him to fuck him already.

“Scar….”

“Okay, okay.” Scar pulls back and Grian almost whines at the loss, but then Scar is gently maneuvering him until he’s laying on the bed, Scar leaning over him. He sits up for a bit, just enough to throw off his shirt and toss it to the side. While he does that, Grian scrabbles at the button on his own pants before he manages to undo it, kicking them off of him and then leaning up to help Scar out of his own pants. 

With that done, Grian lays back on the bed, now only wearing his shirt and boxers. He hadn’t worn his binder when he went over to Scar’s, having hoped they’d be able to do this. He missed him.

Scar kisses him again, mainly just to feel the slide of their lips, while one of his hands moves down to his thigh. He strokes the inside of his thigh before slowly making his way to the juncture of his hips. Grian pulls away enough to huff, opening his mouth to tell him to move faster, when his hand cupping his cunt cuts him off as he gasps.

Two fingers stroke along the outside of his cunt, Scar grinning as he feels the little bit of dampness from the wet spot on Grian’s boxers. He moves his fingers up and down slowly, watching as Grian slowly gets more and more impatient.

“C’mooooon Scar,” Grian whines, pouting up at him. Scar chuckles, hand continuing to move, never increasing his pace.

“Yes?” he asks, using his other hand to move the hair away from Grian’s face so he can look down at his boyfriend.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Oh, but you just sound so pretty…” He leans in and kisses him, and Grian nearly melts into the kiss for a moment before remembering himself and pulling away.

“Scar.”

“Alright, alright,” Scar relents. He moves a little further down the bed and his fingers dip into the waistband of Grian’s boxers. “Ready?”

“Please, Scar.”

Scar gives a quiet laugh, and then he’s pulling them down and getting his first full view of Grian’s cunt that night. He’s wet, practically glistening, but more importantly, Scar can see the way his dick pokes just out of his folds, hard and shiny from his slick. He feels his mouth damn near watering.

All thoughts of fucking Grian get thrown out the window as he stares at his dick. He needs that in his mouth immediately. He still wants to tease him a little though, so he leans down to press a quick kiss to it, which Grian whimpers at. He pulls back, breath fanning over it, and grins as he sees it give a little twitch. It’s only a moment after that that Scar is leaning in and wrapping his lips around his dick and sucking.

“Oh!” Grian gasps, legs jerking at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. His hands find their way onto Scar’s head, burying in his hair as he tries to hold on to something. Right from the start, Scar is relentless, determined to please Grian as much as possible. Grian was startled at first, but as Scar continues to suck his dick and flick his tongue over it, he slowly starts to grind against Scar’s tongue. Hesitant at first, so Scar moves his hands over to cup his ass and encourage the grind, wanting to get Grian as close as possible. He wants to drown in him, wants his senses to be filled with nothing but Grian. The way he smells, the way he feels, the way he tastes.

It takes a bit, but eventually Grian starts to grind more and more against his tongue. Scar can tell he’s getting close as his grinding gets quicker, more frantic. His mouth goes slack as he lets Grian chase his pleasure against him, uncaring of anything else but coming. Scar can tell when he reaches his orgasm as Grian cries out and he goes stiff with a few more jerky thrusts against his tongue before relaxing.

Scar could pull away fully, check in and see if he still wants Scar to fuck him (he can feel his own arousal hang heavy between his legs, desperate for release) but the sight of Grian’s hole winking as he comes down from his high has him leaning in and licking a stripe along his cunt.

He does pause, at least, but while Grian whines, he doesn’t push Scar away, despite the hands still on his head. So he continues, licking another stripe before dipping his tongue in. Grian pants above him, making such pretty noises, and really, what else is Scar supposed to do? He wants to make his boyfriend feel good. 

Grian’s grinding starts back up again, practically fucking himself on Scar’s tongue. He squeezes Grian’s ass and he whimpers, hips jerking briefly before he continues the grind. Scar tries to bury his tongue as far into him as possible. He can feel his jaw starting to ache, but he’s determined to get Grian to come again.

When Grian gets close, he pulls at his hair, pulling a muffled groan from Scar. He pulls away just enough to focus on his dick again, just briefly, and that’s enough for Grian. He moans as he comes, grinding against his tongue again. 

Scar moans too, relishing in the sounds Grian makes as he goes over the edge, moaning Scar's name. Scar flicks his eyes up to look at him, letting out a groan at just the sight of him. He looks so hot, so overwhelmed with pleasure. Pleasure that Scar caused. The thought makes him feel warm. He’s the one that made him come, made him feel so good Grian couldn’t do anything but grind against him as he sought to tip over the edge. His hands dig into his hair still, pulling just slightly, and he feels so good as his vision goes white and he groans.

It takes a moment for him to realize what happened when he pulls away from Grian’s cunt, and he immediately flushes. He can’t believe he just came from that. Pleasuring Grian was enough for him, he didn’t even touch himself.

He moves away, sitting up and watching as Grian slowly puts himself back together. He’s collapsed on the bed, eyes closed as he catches his breath before he opens them and looks up at Scar.

“You,” he starts, “are a menace.”

Scar smiles and shrugs. He hopes Grian can’t tell how embarrassed he is. “You didn’t stop me!”

Grian huffs. “Yeah, yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “Give…give me a moment, and I’ll return the favor.”

Scar winces. “That’s not necessary -”

“No, no, you made me come so hard twice, of course I’m gonna help you out, too.”

“No, I mean…” His words trail off and he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

Grian blinks and then sits up. His mouth drops open slightly when he sees what happened. Scar hadn’t even taken his boxers off, but there’s a wet spot at the front and his dick has started to go soft.

“Oh,” Grian breathes out. “Did you -”

“Y-you just looked so good!” He rushes to explain. “And, and you sounded like you were really enjoying yourself and I - I couldn’t help it.”

“Oh,” Grian repeats. And then, “Shit, that’s hot.”

Scar buries his red face in his hands. He whines. “Grian -”

“What! It is! You came just from - from - and you didn’t even touch yourself! It’s hot!”

Scar peeks at him from between his fingers, seeing the way he looks at him. He sighs and moves his hands away, moving further up the bed and leaning in to kiss him. Grian eagerly kisses him back, hands going back to run through his hair. Scar settles in between his legs to continue kissing him only to wince a moment later at the feeling of his cum in his boxers. He pulls away, giving an apologetic smile to Grian, to pull his boxers off and toss them off to the side. Then he resettles and continues kissing Grian.

“I love you,” he murmurs, pulling away just enough to say the words against Grian’s lips. Grian doesn’t respond, just dives back in to kiss him some more, before finally pulling away a moment later.

“I love you too,” he says. “But you better actually fuck me next time.”

Scar barks out a laugh. “Of course.” And then he leans in to kiss his boyfriend some more. 

[eviesaurusrex]

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇᴛɪᴍᴇ | ꜱ. ʀᴏɢᴇʀꜱ

Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader

request: ok I had an idea, idk if you gonna approve it. Thought abt reader having a pregnancy scare, and of course scaring the shit out of Tony and Steve, 'cause like imagine Stark thinking he'll be a grandfather hahahahaha. Well in the end was just a scare and reader is kind of relived, because bringing a baby into this superhero shit is complicated, but at the same time she's kinda sad, cause maybe this baby was just the beginning of a happy life with her lover Steve

word count: 4.6k

warnings: pregnancy scare, talks about the menstrual cycle, anxiety, established relationship, internalized misogyny (kind of), fluff, angst, swearing, mentions of sex, but also a tad of sadness, talking about the future, family planning, Tony (yes, he is a warning), my inability to write endings, not entirely proofread

author’s note: This request is from @imadeadpoett and I was really excited about it, then life came in the way lol. I don’t know if this is any good, but here we fucking-finally are. This request is super old (almost 3 years, whoopsie), but I was in such a Steve-mood, I just had to complete it anyway. Enjoy! The dividers are by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics <3

It couldn't be.

She stared at the calendar on her phone, eyes unmoving, thumbs hovering above the screen's glass, not ready to allow realization to sink in. The highlighted week lay forgotten in the past, the color screaming at her, reminding her of something significant that hasn't happened, asking question above question.

It wasn't unusual for her to have her period late—her cycle wasn't the most reliable, especially not when work almost toppled over her and putting her in a position of sleepless nights and weeks filled with stress. Her rising and boiling anxiety every time Steve changed into his suit, adorned his shield, and went on a mission only contributed to it all. But being this late? It couldn't be.

Steve.

The thought of him made YN flinch, her heartbeat kicking up, the sound of blood rushing in her ears all-consuming. She hadn't thought about him until this moment. What would he do? What would he say? They had never discussed a potential future filled with a house, a dog, and kids, not with all the world-ending events they had faced in the past years. There had never been the perfect timing for such a conversation, never found a quiet moment to ponder on those thoughts and wishes. Did he even want to have kids? Did he want to become a father? Could she even have his babies without complications caused by the serum running through his veins?

"Oh God…," YN whispered, barely above her breath, blinking rapidly to keep the rising tears at bay. Her hands had started shaking, the phone screen had turned black at the lack of interaction, her breathing labored as if she had taken all the stairs in the compound. Cold sweat started gathering at her hairline, and a single droplet rolled down her spine, making her shiver in the most uncomfortable of ways, her thoughts running a mile a second.

Would he leave her? Would he hate her and never talk to her again? Would he demand her to have an abortion because he couldn't stand the thought of procreating with her? Did he even love her? What was she supposed to do?

A big, gentle, warm hand rested on her lower back, making her flinch once again at the contact, this time in surprise, and her wide eyes found Steve's handsome face looming right next to her. He crouched beside their bed to be on eye level with her, baby blue eyes darkened with worry, his forehead creased just as much. His other hand found its natural spot on her thigh, and as he squeezed it softly, the first tear escaped her fortress and rolled down her cheek.

"Hey, darlin'," he greeted her with that soft tone of his, thumb erasing the stray tear. "What's wrong, pretty girl?" YN felt her bottom lip quiver, knowing how much she worried him. Gosh, she loved him so much it almost hurt. "I am so sorry." The broken whisper was the first thing escaping her, eyes now filled with unshed tears waiting to be spilled. Steve's hand on her lower back had started lovingly rubbing her back—up and down, up and down—in soothing repetition. "I didn't know I was mad at you," he tried to joke with an attempt of a smile on his lips that quickly vanished when her bottom lip quivered even more, and the first hiccuping sob forced its way out of her body. "Okay, love. I know, bad timing. I'm sorry." His hand squeezed her thigh again, kissing her shoulder. "Tell me what's wrong, what you're sorry about, and we can fix it, okay? Everything will be all right."

Did he really believe that? Would he look at her with the same look in his eyes when she spilled the catastrophic truth? Would he still be crouching next to her, trying to comfort her? Or would he end up running and packing all his stuff in order to escape this massive pileup, vanishing right in front of her eyes and leaving her with the anxiety running havoc in her body?

A body she perhaps didn't occupy alone any longer.

Her heart skipped a handful of beats at that thought, and she knew she had to tell him. Right now. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not in two weeks—now. And it scared the hell out of her.

"YN, nothing will be too much to handle, I promise. I will stay right where I am, pretty girl." He always knew what to say at what moment, what thoughts ran through her head and made her palms sweaty and her hands shaking—and he always knew how to soothe her being. She could not live without him anymore; the thought alone was almost unbearable. So, instead of sticking her head into the sand, YN took one deep, steadying breath, nearly choking on another fearful sob, before speaking up and uttering the one sentence that could change their lives forever.

"I am late."

Glancing up from her interlocked fingers—her phone had been dropped onto the soft duvet at some point—to Steve after those words, she waited for a reaction, watched his features morph in the seconds of processing the simple three-word sentence, which wasn't simple at all. His blue eyes were still trained on her face, still watching her, but his brows were furrowed in confusion, his soft lips slightly parted in shock, his cheeks first flushing before his face was drained of its color—probably as realization sunk in. It broke her heart to witness all of it, and tears started to threaten her eyes again. "I am so incredibly sorry, Steve," she dared to whisper into the dense silence of their shared room, feeling the guilt burn inside her like acid. It had been her responsibility, after all—she was the one with the uterus, she was the one with a cycle cursed by some entity, she was the one who took the contraceptive despite not knowing if it would even work in the presence of enhanced sperm of a super soldier. Bruce hadn't been sure either, still tinkering with Dr. Cho, both making the couple promise to always use condoms—which they had.

Always.

Every single time, they had gotten intimate.

With one exception…

Steve seemed to come to the same conclusion because his eyes widened, and immediately, he shook his head violently. "No. No, YN, it's not your fault. There are always two people involved, darlin'—you and me. I am just as much responsible as you are, maybe even more so. You did nothing wrong, I am not mad, and we will manage everything that comes in the future, okay?" His hands had cupped her face, his thumbs softly caressing her cheeks and wiping away every remnant of a tear that dared to leak out of her eyes. "You're really not mad?" She needed to ask, needed to make sure she heard correctly. Steve smiled softly and kissed her cheeks. "Of course not, pretty girl. Just as you're not mad at me for not thinking of that condom when you swept a poor soldier off his feet in your stunning dress."

Tony had thrown a party for Pepper's birthday, and after not seeing Steve for several weeks due to back-to-back missions, she had wanted to make him drool—for them to end in one of the closets like a pair of horny teenagers surely hadn't been part of her bingo card for that night, let alone for Steve not having a condom on him. She could scold her horny past self for ignoring it and for thinking they could dodge the bullet.

"I practically jumped you in there," YN mumbled, almost ashamed of her actions, and let Steve pull her onto his lap after he had found his spot leaning against their headboard. She curled into him, savoring his inhumane warmth, and watched him just as closely as he did, but he still wore a soft smile on his lips while she was still on the verge of tears. "And I pulled you into the closet, not even wanting to make rounds and small talk—like a caveman. You can't blame yourself, sweetheart. It was a team effort." His voice was so soft and still infused with the same warmth he had shown her since day one that YN slowly relaxed into him, slowly not expecting the worst outcome possible.

She leaned into his palm when the blond cupped her cheek once more, his eyes raking over her face, searching for something. "What should we do now?" Her question came out quietly but calmly, despite her heart still racing in her chest and the panic still clinging to her. "What every couple does in such a situation, darlin'," he returned with a reassuring nod and kissed her forehead lovingly. "Do you have something here or do we need to head to the med bay?" Ever since the move, they couldn't just head down the block to their favorite Target, and it bothered her now even more than usual because if they went to the med bay, they had to record whatever they took for inventory purposes. And she didn't want anyone to know, anyone to find out. Not yet, at least. She still wasn't sure what to think of this herself.

Her expression seemed to say everything Steve needed to know because he kissed her lovingly on her lips, pecking the soft, plump flesh several times after, making her stop biting her bottom lip anxiously. "It's all right, love. We can wait until they're all done with dinner," he suggested in a whisper, and YN could only nod at that, snuggling closer into his arms and into his chest, sighing deeply when his strong arms wrapped even tighter around her. "Are you hungry? Anythin' hurtin' or symptoms showing?"

Even while they sat in such a storm of emotions—she knew it affected Steve just as much as herself, her ear pressed to his chest could listen to the rapid gallop of his heart—he still thought about her first, never letting anything step in the way of how he cared for her. It warmed her freezing body and anxious heart, and once more, YN had to ask herself how the hell she had gotten so lucky. "Sweetheart," the soldier whispered when she didn't answer and blinking, YN slowly shook her head. "No, not really. The hunger, I mean." Did something hurt? Did she miss any symptoms except for her traitorous bitch of a period? "And no, I don't think so. My period is just missing." Like a damn child in an IKEA store. "On second thought, I think my breasts are a bit tender." It had bothered her the last couple of days because YN had initially thought her bras went to war against her while being in the midst of a project with a deadline speeding up toward her.

Steve pressed yet another lingering kiss to her forehead, taking away more of that stubborn tension still remaining in her body, still bothering her, still reminding her of the unknown future ahead of them. "We can work with that," the blond murmured softly into her hair and gathered her body closer to his—if that was even possible—and one of his hands started to gently rub her back again. "Do you want to talk about it?" The quite loaded question pushed YN to look up into his blue eyes, worry and uncertainty mirroring hers right back at her. "I'm not sure what we or I should say, to be honest," the Stark whispered, immediately feeling like the biggest coward of this century, like the most insane woman ever experiencing this situation.

She knew they had to talk about it—they had quite a handful of topics to discuss. How would they handle a positive test? Would they keep the baby? Could they even keep it—super soldier serum and all? Were they even ready for this sort of commitment after they hadn't even tackled the topic of their future before this disaster of a day they now had to face? YN knew she would spend the rest of her life with the man from another century because, despite the fact that she could count her exes on one hand, she knew Steve was it. He was her endgame, and she desperately hoped she was his as well.

And despite knowing all of that with a clarity that scared her back into a shock-like state, the Stark couldn't bring herself to acknowledge all these points in the face of uncertainty. Perhaps it would be easier when they had clarity, when they knew what would await them in eight or nine months. Or perhaps she just didn't want to face the possibility that she had royally screwed up just like her father when her mother had dropped her on his Malibu doorstep and disappeared forever.

"That's okay, sweetheart," Steve spoke softly, his hand cupping her cheek anew and kissing her lips lovingly. "We don't have to talk about it until we know the facts. And even then, we don't immediately have to jump to the topic. I am entirely okay with letting the information sink in first before we look for answers. Yeah? Whatever you're most comfortable with, honey." She blinked against the gathering tears in her eyes while she watched this incredible man going along with whatever she wanted, whatever she desired most in this weird and unexpected situation. "I don't deserve you, Stevie." It got almost drowned in a small hiccup escaping her with a single stray tear that was quickly erased by Steve's thumb catching it on her cheek. "Nonsense. It's the other way around, YNN." He nudged her chin with his finger, making her show a weak but growing smile before pulling her favorite fluffy blanket around them and kissing the crown of her head while getting comfortable.

"Whatever happens in the next hours, I'll always be by your side, love."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Staring down at yet another pregnancy test, YN felt on the verge of tears again, as if she might break down entirely in the next few seconds if the universe didn't stop trying to give her a heart attack.

They had snuck down into the medbay almost an hour ago while the rest of the team either enjoyed a night out or a cozy night in, all scattered around the compound and far away from this part of their home. Employees had said their goodnights for today, so they were the only two people in the southernmost wing, overlooking the glittering lake just outside the windows. And ever since entering the sacred halls of Dr. Cho and Bruce, YN had lost hope bit by bit—because every damned test showed both positive and negative.

Steve rounded the partition wall with a glass of water, blond brows furrowed just like hers. "Again?" He even sounded as indignant as she had only a couple of seconds ago. With a huff, she pushed the stick toward him, watching him bending at his waist to get a closer look at the traitorous piece of plastic, and exhaustion settled into her body.

Exhaustion and fear because, as of now, she clearly had to ask Dr. Cho for a blood test, and then, everyone would know sooner rather than later. She wouldn't even have time to consider her options before everyone would have one, bombarding her with questions to which she didn't know the answer.

YN wanted to run. Far away from here to sit out the storm someplace quiet.

"Hey."

Steve had crouched down in front of her where she had dropped onto a rolling stool and wrapped his hands around hers, dwarfing them while doing so, and quickly, he kissed her knuckles one by one, his thumbs rubbing slow, comforting circles into her skin. "We don't have to do it here, YNN. We can just as well find a gynecologist in the city and let them do a pregnancy test." Already preparing to agree to his plan, YN opened her mouth, and then…—

"A what?!"

Ice-cold shock drowned her body when her father's voice echoed through the quietness of the medbay, and his very being appeared right next to the pushed-back partition wall, bone-deep shock evident on his face. Tony Stark rarely got shocked, and if someone achieved this feat anyway, he usually was quick to cover it up with a joke and his well-known sarcasm. But now? He was as white as the wall in his back, his eyes as wide as saucers, and his lack of words as jarring as possible.

Steve was already back on his feet, one hand settling on her shoulder to squeeze it in warm reassurance while trying to handle Tony—his future father-in-law if things would go as he had planned without hinting it for YN to pick up on. "Tony, let me explain…—" The soldier started, never feeling as scared in his life as he did now in the face of the man whose approval he wanted to gain the most because he knew how close these two were. He had picked up on it since his first day in the team and knew ever since how hard he had to work for it in order to be tolerated at best.

"No, no, no. You don't explain shit to me, Capsicle. This is not happening. This is a dream. A glitch I stumbled into. Simple as that," Tony shot back, looking around him to find the aforementioned glitch, which was nowhere to be found in the pristine environment they sat in. His brown eyes settled on the couple, dark brows furrowed, face morphed into a kind of displeasure YN had never witnessed before, and it made her sick. She never wanted to disappoint the man she loved almost more than life itself—right next to Steve—because that wasn't their dynamic. He had always been the proud father despite their rocky start, about which she gladly barely held any memories, and she had always been the proud and perfect daughter without feeling the pressure of having to be perfect. Tony would love her either way, she knew that. But this? In his eyes, she did what he had done all those years ago when he had knocked up her biological mother and had to live with the consequences of such actions.

Swallowing drily, YN wrung her hands in anxious movements. "Dad, this is… it's not what it looks like." A skyscraper-high lie, and still, she couldn't hold the words back. "It's not what it looks like? Are you shitting me right now, YN?" The older Stark inhaled and exhaled deeply but still couldn't get a grasp on his emotions. "It seems to me that you two haven't been cautious enough, unlike you promised not only to Dr. Cho and Bruce but also to me! It seems to me that you two didn't doge this bullet because you two were too caught up in whatever you did—which I just don't want to know, for heavens sake—and this is now the outcome." He huffed in disappointment and shock, staring both of them down and making them close their mouths one at a time before shaking his head. "I thought you wouldn't end like me, kiddo. I really thought you'd be smart enough not to try to make me a grandfather ahead of my time. Damn it!"

Careful, YN glanced up at Steve with a questioning rise of one of her eyebrows and watched his features morph in their quiet exchange before she looked back at Tony, who stared at the ground at his feet. "So…," the woman started, making her father look up again. "You're… mad? Disappointed?" She couldn't read him, not today, with her very own emotional turmoil still running havoc inside her. "Disappointed? No, I'm not disappointed, bumblebee. Shocked? Certainly. Befuddled? Most definitely. I have never regretted you, you know that. But I will be mad for a while because I am way too young and too much in my prime to be the grandfatherly type. I won't have life advice sessions with the little one, and I won't ever wear grandfather's clothes, are we clear?"

Without thinking, YN moved and wrapped her arms tightly around her father, pressing her cheek against his chest and letting out a deep breath she didn't know she had held. "There, there. No need to cry, kiddo." Tony patted her back and pushed her hair back with his other hand, nudging her chin and wiping away the stray tears. "Just… be more careful next time. We don't need a bunch of mini super soldiers running around here and forcing me to child-proof the entire tower, hm?" Nodding with a shaky exhale, YN looked between Tony and Steve and let the man exchange her from one to the other, morphing into Steve's side and feeling relief seeping into her body at the heavy sensation of his arm around her shoulders. "Be a blast, FRIDAY, and let Helen know we need her down in the medbay," Tony spoke, and the tower's AI immediately went to work. "I need a drink. Let me know when… you know." With that, the man vanished, mumbling in disbelief to himself until his voice echoed off in the hallway. The couple shared a long look, words unnecessary for the time being.

"Have you ever thought about being a dad?"

YN spoke the question softly into the quietness of their room. They lay on their bed, meeting in the middle, face to face, fingers laced together, warm breaths mingling in the space between them. Steve watched her intently, blue eyes roaming her face before he was pulled back to her eyes as it had been ever since the soldier had first met her.

"I never had a reason to think about it back then—I wasn't particular a ladies' man." She rolled her eyes playfully at the obnoxious wiggle of his brows, making her giggle nonetheless. "So no. At least not until I asked this stunning woman I met at work out on a date, and she gladly accepted the question of this poor soldier, who knew she was way out of his league," Steve continued with a soft smile, and her breath hitched. "I knew if I ever wanted to have kids, it would be either with you or no one at all." Tears threatened her eyes again, and YN sniffled quietly, blinking against them. "You really wanted to have a family with me?" She couldn't believe what had wandered through his mind without her suspecting a thing—usually, she was so good at reading people. "Of course, sweetheart," Steve smiled then, pulling her closer and kissing her soft lips. "I know I'm not your first love, but I always intended to be your last, you know?"

Her heart ached oh so beautifully at his whispered confession, making her emotional all over again, and forced her to take a deep, steadying breath when Steve asked the question in return: "I know your upbringing wasn't the most normal, but have you ever thought about…?" YN sighed and pressed her lips to his fingers she held in a tight grip, eyes locked with one another. He was right—she hadn't had the best of starts in this world and a rocky upbringing, and she knew it still haunted her in some way or another. "I don't know if I would make a good mother because I never had the proper role model for it. Maybe I would suck so bad at being a mom that our child would hate me. But I know what a mother shouldn't do, so maybe I could compensate for that?"

Pepper came too late into their lives to make things right before they had turned downhill, but YN knew how a mother should act from the years during her teenage years, during which she had Pepper at her side, so maybe… "It's a learning curve, sweetheart. No one is perfect from the start," he soothed her, pulling her flush against him and wrapping his arms around her. "We will be all right whatever the test result will say. It will be difficult and a huge adjustment, but I'll do everything I can to be as present as possible." He would bench himself and let Sam take over if that was the thing they needed for the best possible outcome of this uncertain situation.

The sound of an incoming message relieved YN from answering for now, not really knowing what to say to this perfect man she had the fortune to call hers, and with trembling fingers, she fished the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. Sharing a look with Steve, she gained an encouraging nod, and with yet another deep inhale, her finger opened Helen's message with the test results attached. Eyes jumping over the black letters and written words, realization sank in, and a sob escaped her.

"Woah, hey. Hey, hey, darling," the blond whispered. Without questioning the meaning of it all, he just pulled his girl into his strong chest, wrapped his body around her, and shielded her from the world. YN still held onto her phone, pressing it against her chest, almost cradling it while tears rolled down her face and sobs filled their room. "It's all right, darling. Everything will be okay. We will manage. We will do whatever you want, whatever you decide, my love. We can keep the baby or think about other possibilities to…—"

Shaking her head, YN gently put her fingers over his lips, forcing Steve to grow quiet in the middle of his loving reassurance. "It's negative." At that, the blond had to blink slowly, trying to get behind all of it before he seemed to come to a conclusion, and realization grew in his features. "Oh, YNN…" She tried to smile under the still-flowing tears and softly shrugged, almost helplessly. "I don't know what came over me," the Stark started to explain. "The thought of building a family with you is just so… and then I thought 'Maybe this isn't so bad after all', and I started to-to hope, and then it was negative, and I am relief, I am so relief, but I'm also…" Another sob escaped her, the inner turmoil almost unbearable in its intensity.

"YN, darlin'. Look at me." His warm, big hands cupped her cheeks again, nudging her to look at him, and his loving smile started to mend this sudden emptiness in her. "There is my pretty girl." Holding tight onto her, the soldier didn't allow her to look away again, to pull into herself again. "We have so much time, so much of our future together. This won't be the last time we'll wait for a pregnancy test result—and next time, it will be intentional and only filled with joy, okay? This is not the end, sweetheart, I promise."

A shaky breath escaped her at that, and with a quivering lip, YN had to reassure herself. "Really?" And Steve smiled, kissing her with all the love he felt for this incredible woman in his arms. "Really. Whenever we're ready, we'll try, and I promise you, I'll get you knocked up in no time." That tickled a laugh out of her, making her shake her head at his teasing antics. "You are unbelievable, Steve Rogers," she smiled as she wiped away the tears, forcing a grin on his lips. "And still, you love me," he retorted teasingly but turned serious when YN kissed him and nudged his nose with hers.

"That I do."

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a like, a comment, and a reblog—it would be so much appreciated <33

[samaraj]

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings - Smut, age gap (reader is 25)

Summary - You’re marrying the hottest F1 driver and don’t want to wait to lose your virginity.

It had been a whirlwind affair where you caught Lewis’s eye and the man who once claimed he’d never marry, was suddenly putty in your hands. You dated for 3 months before he proposed and you could clearly see that he’d fallen for you. The once playboy was a complete gentleman. Maybe he was older and wiser? Or maybe he just wanted you like he’d never wanted a woman before? When you told him you were a virgin he seemed even more obsessed with you, and you were equally hot for him. But you knew waiting for your wedding night would just add to your nerves. Which is why you needed to have him before you said I do

Lewis had picked you up from your apartment and you were planning to have dinner at his luxury penthouse. You grew nervous as you watched him get some plates out and secretly wished he hadn’t worn a black singlet that allowed you to watch every muscle rip on his chest and arms.

“Can I stay over?” You watched as a plate almost slipped out of his hand, your fingers fiddling with the large diamond on your left hand.

“Sleep over? Here?” Lewis paused. “Baby you’ve never..”

“I want to … you know”. You chewed on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to have that pressure on our wedding night”.

“Love ..” Lewis left what he was doing to cup your face. “It’s ok .. there’s no pressure from me alright? There’s no rule that you have to do the deed on your wedding night anyway”.

“Lewis ..” You laughed. “It’s what everyone does, except they know what they’re doing”.

“I know what I’m doing”. Lewis smirked. “It’s ok baby”.

“You don’t want to?” You played with the nape of his neck. “Do you think about it?”

“You know that i do”. Lewis ghosted his lips over your ear. “But I wanna respect you love”. Truth was, he wanted nothing more than to devour you. The past few months had been so out of character for him. He was used to having a different woman in his bed all the time. But then again he’d never loved those woman.

“You do respect me”.

“You know what I mean”.

“You are respecting me because whether it’s now or later you’re my first”. You kissed his lips lightly. “I don’t want to be stressing out on my wedding day. We also have a big holiday planned ..”

“And?”

“Well I don’t want to be in a discomfort on a long haul plane trip”.

“Right”. Lewis studied your face.

“You’ve been with a virgin before?” You watched as he wetted his lips with his tongue. “Lew?”

“No I haven’t”.

“What?”

“Love .. the women I’ve been with defiantly were not virgins”. Lewis sighed. “I don’t want to talk about them or compare anyone to you baby”.

“Ok”. You smiled softly. “But you know ..”

“Yeah love. I know what I’m doing”.

“This isn’t about me just being stressed. I want you Lew”. You breathed in deeply. “I wanted to find the right person, this has nothing to do with saving myself for my wedding night.

“You said that ..”

“I said ..” You kissed his lips softly. “The right person Lew. You’re my person”.

“Love ..”

“I want you tonight”. Your eyes searched his as you felt his hands move to your waist. “Do you want me?”

“You have no idea ..” Lewis laughed into your neck. “My wrist is sore”.

“Oh ..” You smiled as his lips kissed your collarbone. “I could help you?”

“Fuck baby you can’t say things like that to me”, Lewis groaned. “I’m just a man remember that”.

“My man”. You shivered as his hands started to unbutton your blouse.

“Your man”. Lewis’s lips ghosted over your ear lobe. “Is taking you to his bedroom”.

His hands motioned for you to jump up and you did. Legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you down the long hallway, his lips attached to yours. Your mind was hazy but immediately started to wonder. How would you compare to those other woman? Would Lewis enjoy it?

“I want you to teach me”. Your lips moved to his ear. “Teach me what to do Lewis”.

You felt his hands grip your but as his leg kicked the bedroom door closed. He deposited you gently on the middle of his massive bed. The silk sheets cooling your skin.

“Relax baby”. Lewis stood in front of you as he removed his clothes, everything except for his fitted back underwear. Your eyes roamed across his body to the six pack on his stomach before dipping lower. You gulped at the huge bulge in front of you.

Lewis simply smiled before unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them off your legs. You sat up and removed your blouse before lying back down clad in nothing but your white lace underwear and bra.

“Fuck baby look at you”. Lewis crawled over your body, taking the weight onto his arms while he kissed you properly. Open mouth, hot, wet with his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hips instinctively moved again him, feeling his hardness.

His lips descended to your neck then the valley between your breasts. Before you had a second to breath, his mouth captured your nipple and sucked on the white lace.

“Look at me”. Lewis’s voice was rough. “Eyes on me baby”. His fingers reached around and unclipped your bra, the cool air hitting your skin as Lewis sucked you bare. His mouth alternated between each breast while his fingers tweaked whatever nipple wasn’t in his mouth.

You watched as his mouth sucked on you, sometimes his tongue would dart out and circle your areola. Your toes immediately curled, your hips moving against him.

“I’m going to taste you love”. Lewis wasn’t asking as his lips moved down lower and he settled where your legs were. “Spread your legs for me”.

You could feel how wet you were already. Would Lewis like the way you tasted? Had you groomed yourself ok? You felt your doubts beginning to rise but Lewis rubbed your thighs as he eased your legs apart. You tried to keep them open just a little but his hands spread you wide open and your knees fell languidly against his mattress as his mouth moved straight to your lace covered core. Immediately your body relaxed as the new sensations made your stomach tighten.

“Good girl”. Lewis moaned. “You ok if I go under?”.

You nodded and felt him move the lace aside before his mouth was on you again. This time you moaned loudly as his fingers opened you up for him.

“Fuck baby you taste so sweet”.

Your body relaxed as his tongue flicked across your clit before dipping lower. “Is this all mine?”

“Yes”. You breathed out. Your toes curled against the silk fabric beneath them. Lewis’s fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear and before you knew it they were being slid down your legs before your thighs reopened.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good”.

His hot mouth worked your clit while you felt one of his fingers collect your wetness before sliding in slowly. You moved up so that you could watch him and immediately your stomach tightened. He was naked in between your spread thighs lying on his stomach. Through your pleasure you hadn’t even noticed him removing his underwear. His hips were moving slightly against the mattress, his eyes watching yours as he ate you out and fingered you for the first time.

“Lew”. You panted as your hands clutched at the silk sheets.

“Relax baby. You’re so tight”.

“Talk to me”. You felt your stomach tighten as your breath quickened.

“God love”. Lewis flicked his tongue across your clit as his finger started to work into you faster. “You taste so sweet, feel so fucking good. I’m in heaven .. is this pussy all for me?”.

Lewis had never spoken this way before. Always the gentleman. But you knew he had this side to him and you desperately wanted to hear it.

“I can’t wait to be inside you. I can’t want to feel you grip my dick”.

That was all it took for you to scream his name as your body shook. You prayed his neighbours didn’t hear.

Lewis worked you through your orgasm. His finger moving slowly inside you before withdrawing. Your eyes opened wide as you watched him lick his finger clean. Heat instantly rushed to your face.

“You ok?” Lewis smiled as he stroked your thighs.

“That was .. did I?”

“Yeah baby. First of many”.

“You’re so good Lew”.

“Am I?” Lewis laughed. “Want to see how good?”

“Yeah”. Your voice was horse as he moved up your body. His hands kept your thighs apart as he settled on top of you and kissed you. You could taste yourself and to your surprise you were ok with it.

“Keep your legs spread baby”. Lewis whispered against your neck as his hardness moved against you. He moved up slightly as his hand found your wrist and bought it in between your bodies. “Touch me. This is what’s gonna be inside of you”.

Your hand felt his silky hardness and you gasped. He was long and thick and you had no idea how he we going to fit inside you.

“You’re so big”. You choked out.

“I’ll fit love. But you have to relax ok?”

You stoked him while he fingered you again. You watched as his gaze dropped as he watched what was going on in between your thighs.

“You’re so wet”. Lewis groaned. “You like it when I talk dirty love?”

“Yeah”.

“It turns you on hey?”

“Lew ..”

“Fuck I love you”.

Suddenly you felt a stretch, not painful just slightly uncomfortable.

“Lewis?”

“Two fingers baby. I gotta get you ready for me”. Lewis kissed your neck. “You can take it love”.

“Oh ..” You felt your walls relaxing. This man was playing you like an instrument. Within a few minutes you felt your hips moving slightly, a moan slip from between your lips. You felt the bed shift and suddenly your hand was empty.

“You ready baby?” Lewis groaned as he stroked himself with your juices.

“Go slow?”

“Course love”.

And then it was happening. He positioned himself just inside you then fell forward, his lips on yours as he pushed slowly. You groaned into his mouth, already feeling full. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you open to him.

“Pretty girl”. He whispered in your ear. “Gonna make you my woman yeah?”

“Lew”. You panted as he pushed in more, meeting your resistance.

“It’s going to hurt for a bit”. Hot breath ghosted across your ear. “Then it’s going to feel so good baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good”.

“I want you”.

“Relax love”. His hips moved but your resistance was firm. He knew that he needed to do this quickly. His fingers flicked your clit while he pushed in suddenly, causing you to cry out.

“Lewis!” You felt like you’d been torn in two. He was fully seated inside you, your pubic bones flush against each other. Tears ran down your face as Lewis wiped them away. “It hurts”.

“I know baby. You’re doing so good love. It will pass”.

“You’re so big. I don’t think I can do this”.

Lewis kissed your jaw, staying still inside of you to let your body adjust.

“You can. Just relax”.

“I don’t think I can”. You felt his fingers rub against your clit and suddenly the pain lessened.

“Give me your pussy baby”. Lewis moved tentatively. “Good girl . Want you so fucking bad”.

Your thighs rested flush against the bed as you relaxed and felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. He looked like a god above you .. sweat glistening on his body as he watched himself start to move in and out of you.

“You’re so tight, fuck”. Lewis panted. “You feel like heaven”.

“God Lew”. You started to tremble as you watched his gaze drift between to your eyes then in between your bodies.

“Ok?”

“Yeah”

“Can I go all the way now?” Lewis snapped his hips experimentally. “Jesus I’m all the way in and out baby”.

“Are you fucking me now?”

“I can do whatever you want. I can love you and fuck you baby”.

“Show me how”. You were panting as Lewis started thrusting into you, his hands pulling your legs up to get a better angle. He hooked one up over his shoulder when you started to moan.

“I’m fucking you now babe”.

You felt yourself getting wetter and you were suddenly aware of everything. The smell of sex, your pornographic moans, the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the words that left his mouth.

“Oh Jesus, fuck”. Lewis moved your leg down and sat back on his heels. His hands gripped behind your knees as he thrusted into you. “Baby is this ok?”

“Yes!” You almost screamed as the coil inside of you started to unwind. “Lew .. oh my god”.

“Heaven”. Lewis panted. “Tight little pussy, just for me yeah?”.

Suddenly he withdrew and flipped you over. His hands moving you onto your hands and knees. You had no time to be shy or react before he was sliding back inside you, hands gripping your waist

“Fuck me Lew”

He didn’t need to be told as he thrusted into you at a fast face. His hands found their way to your breasts before moving to your neck. You wondered briefly if he’d be into holding you there one day as you noticed him apply slight pressure before moving quickly to rest on your shoulders.

Your body started to shake as you felt your walls contract. You were close and by the way that Lewis’s thrusts started to falter, you knew that he was too.

“You gonna cum on my dick darling?” Lewis panted. “I can feel you .. you’re squeezing me”.

“I’m close”. You were a mess. Panting, throat dry.

“I’m gonna cum inside you ok?”

You’d had the talk. No pregnancy protection as you both wanted babies as soon as possible. And with the wedding just 8 weeks away it seemed irrelevant now.

“I want it”. Your knees started to buckle. “Please Lew”.

“Gonna give it you baby. Gonna fill you up. Never done it before .. you feel fucking amazing”. He pulled yo until you were up on your knees leaning with your back against his chest. His hands squeezed your breasts before falling in between your legs, his fingers rubbing quick circles on your clit. His thrusts were long and measured and he started whispering in your ear, telling you how perfect you were, how much he loved you and how he loved making love to you.

“I’m cumming”. You screamed as your orgasm washed over you. Lewis was right there, gripping your hips as he emptied his load inside you with a loud moan.

“Holy shit”. His head fell to your shoulder as he came in spurts, wondering how he’d ever survived without being inside of you. “I love you. God I love you”.

“Love you too. Lew ..” You struggled to speak. Your body was aching and your heart beat rapidly against your chest. You rested against his chest as he pumped into you a few more times before easing out of you slowly. You whined as he pulled out and he immediately lay back against the pillows, pulling you into his arms as he spooned you.

“You ok?” He kissed you softly on the shoulder as his hands rubbed your waist. “Was it too much? I wasn’t too rough?”

“You were perfect. It hurts yeah but it was my first time”. His arms held you tight against his chest. “Was it ok for you?”

“You’re kidding right?” Lewis chucked. “I’ve never had anything close to that. You were my fantasy baby”.

“I could be pregnant now”. You turned to study his face as he smiled.

“Could be”.

“I hope I am”.

“First time lucky?” Lewis chuckled. “It would be amazing but I don’t care how long it takes. Trying is a lot of fun”.

“I love you”. You kissed him. “I’m so glad I waited for you”.

“Baby I’m so glad I found you”. His hands wiped the tears that fell down your face. “I waited a lifetime for you”.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

hey bub

how’re ya doing? i feel like i haven’t asked that in a while. take a sec to self assess. HAH! talk about therapy. bringing back the ol’ Trauma Therapy from Death Itself, huh? but seriously, how’re doing right now? god, i can’t wait for you to be able to move and stuff again. you’re kinda hard to read when you’re in the same position without face muscles to show physically anything.

…

you want more nicknames from Dove? hah, ok. crazily enough, most people wouldn’t call their companion “Death” if that were their name. little strange, huh? anyways, you know how i said i never told anyone about… all that? well, i did tell dove her my name. i won’t say it, but it’s after a story where a woman’s lover is sentenced to death, and she sets her house ablaze while inside. we weren’t even scandinavian, we were french for fucks sake! it wasn’t a name i liked.

i’m off topic. ok… yeah, she would call me that sometimes, much to my dismay. she loved it. she called me Angel a lot. sometimes, she’d talk about me under the guise of “a friend”, she’d always refer to me as angel then. i think they thought she was hallucinating me. oh, if only they knew. oh! sometimes i was raven, or more commonly, “my raven”.

i would watch her as an actual raven from time to time, i remember she would be talking to someone, and she’d see me, and in the middle of speaking, she’d smile and laugh a little bit. she was funny.

…

fucking hell, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to spill all of that. well, there’s more for ya!

everyone, curlings, friends, this is a real picture of mr Grant David Curly from when he was an infant. yep. you can’t deny that that doesn’t look exactly like you. your hair. was almost white when you were a baby, you had a full head of curls by the time you were 9 months old, plus, you were a porcelain skinned rosy cheeked little baby. this is how me and Robin see you. small little baby.

ignore the depressing lyrics, focus on the killer beat near the end.

i love ya!

🖤🖤

Heya.

I'm... Same as ever, really. Tired, achey, but powering through. Hah, yeah. I keep forgetting you're watching me. Hello!

Really? Never occurred to me not to call you that. ...French, eh? Hah, sorry. I don't know that story. I do know about being ablaze though. Wouldn't recommend.

Angel's nice. Raven, too. Hey, I just found out that corvids are the smartest birds. I guess you had to go along with the bird theme, huh? Hahah.

She sounds great. Wish I could've met her. Please, again, you don't need to apologize! I think it's nice.

For fuck's sake— it is not! I was a perfectly ordinary-looking baby with no wings whatsoever. Hah. Where are you getting these? I'm a full-grown man, even if I don't look it.

Well. Okay. ...Yeah, no, that beat's pretty killer. Nice. Thanks!

Love ya too.

[that-fish-who-writes]

Why are there no day four sophella week 2025 posts yet RAWR anyways here's my rushed contribution :3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6475294

it's under the cut as well but I'm going to pressure you to leave kudos :D

(wordcount 1600ish)

Marella writes letters. 

It starts as whispers. The ink on parchment, barely a breath, but somehow heavier than anything she’s ever held. The words spill out, from memories she’s shared with Sophie, to words that don’t quite say ‘I love you’ but don’t quite hide it either.

She buys gifts that mean far too much to be platonic. All of them are set alight, burned, desperately tried to be forgotten. Because Sophie.

Because Sophie, with her gleaming smile saying Marella’s name sweetly like she means something.

Because Sophie, who smells like vanilla and wildflowers and something else Marella can’t quite name. 

Because Sophie, who will never look at Marella the way Marella looks at her.

And still—

“Hey Marella. Dinner at six?” 

“Sure.” Sure.

—

They get there ten minutes late because Sophie forgot her phone and they had to run back, but Marella doesn’t mind. She never does. 

The restaurant is warm, with lanterns glowing gold and an open-air space occupied by tables and chairs corrupted by vines. Sophie is glowing under the lights. Laughing— laughing like it doesn’t mean anything to her, when Marella is struggling to keep her heart from spilling out.

“I like the chicken curry here.” She says absentmindedly, scrolling to the menu, even if she always gets the same thing every time. 

“Well we have come here more once we’re rooming together in uni then!” Her words are too eager. Too hopeful.

There’s a subtle twitch in Sophie’s face and Marella knows she’s resisting the urge to pull an eyelash out. It’s almost invisible, to those that aren’t watching but Marella is. Marella is always watching Sophie.

Marella’s face falls.  “What?”

“I… I was going to talk about this.” Sophie sucks in a breath. “I want to room with Biana instead.”

Her heart drops into her stomach. Of course. Why wouldn’t she? Pretty, perfect Biana with all of Marella’s strengths and none of her flaws. Miss Perfect who doesn’t write letters she never sends for all of them would be answered. Marella can’t do this anymore. 

“Right.” She shifts her eyes.

She stands up, pushing the chair back and Sophie follows her, grabbing her wrists.

“Marella, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Leave me alone.” She mumbles bitterly, walking out the door, planning to slam it but Sophie catches it, trailing her into an alleyway.

“I didn’t think you’d be upset, Marella please hear me out.” Sophie stammers, running after her. “Biana and I just have a lot of the same schedule, and I’d have to walk a shorter distance to my classes, so—”

“I get it.” Marella scoffs.

“Oh, you do? Thank heavens. I was so worried, anyways—”

“You know there never was a measure for these things but if there were a measure for love my cup would be overflowing and yours would be bone dry.” Marella snaps, spitting at her.

“...What?” 

“Sometimes I wish we’d never been friends. If being friends means this.”

Sophie glares at her. “Oh. You don’t get to say that to me. No. Over simple living arrangements?” Sophie spits in disbelief. “Marella, you cannot be serious! You do not get to say that to me! 

“I’m sick of being second place! I’m sick of being left behind. I’m not asking for you to include me in everything, for I know I don’t even like most of the things you do, but goddammit Sophie, I want to see you try!”

“You’re not second place! We already spend so much time together!” The girl snaps, turning around. 

“It doesn’t look like that to—”

“It’s not a fucking huge deal—”

“It is to me!”

“Why? Why is this some earth-shattering revelation to you, Marella?” 

“Because I love you!” Marella screams and she stops, exhaling, her breath inches away from Sophie’s wet lips. 

Because I love you.

—

It was rather painful, how quick Marella fell for Sophie.

The first thing she notices about her is her hair. Blonde. But in the sunlight, it looks like molten gold. Marella’s favorite color. There’s a reason why she tends to fall for people like Fitz, and why she braids her locks with yellow plastic bands. Not because it makes her hair look more blonde and less ginger, but because it’s shiny. Yellow is the first color the eyes are naturally drawn to in a crowd, running out of a storm, and Sophie is a hurricane.

Sophie turns around, and Marella is done for. She’s heard that those are numerous, abundant for humans, that blue eyes are praised and eyelashes are fluttered towards, but looking at Sophie, she can’t imagine why. Her eyes are so warm, so cozy, unlike the harsh blue gazes of other elven counterparts. Brown eyes are like hot chocolate, like toasted marshmallows. They radiate heat, and more importantly, warmth.

Sophie locks eyes with her.

Oh. 

…Oh. 

Marella isn’t a stranger to crushes, the exciting thrill of something new. The rush, the feeling of something different. But Sophie? The two are strangers, yet there’s something about Sophie that’s so familiar, so like home. Something about Sophie that says, gently, softly, warmly ‘Hey. We’ve met before. We’ve loved before.’ 

There’s something so beautiful about Sophie, something that Marella can’t quite name. She’s heard about slow love. This is not it. She falls, deeply, madly, truly in love with Sophie. Maybe not, maybe not yet. She believes in crushes, and dreamy princes, but she doesn’t quite believe in love at first sight. This though. This is pretty darn close.

Marella can spin words to tell a tale, and craft stories to enchant, but there are no amount of letters that can deny that Sophie has bewitched her heart from the moment they’ve locked eyes.

“Do I have to make it any more obvious, Sophie?” She chuckles sadly, the sounds in her mouth long and drawn out. “I’ve been in love with you ever since the day we met.”

—

Sophie doesn’t remember the day she met Marella.

She knows that logically, it should be somewhere in the middle of grade school, where she enrolled in foxfire halfway through the year. She just can’t remember the exact moment. Marella has… just always been there. Constant. 

Her mind has just been littered with Marella. A footnote after every sentence, after every page. Marella doesn’t haunt her heart but she’s always on the back of Sophie’s mind. She doesn’t remember the day they met. But she can recall memories of them playing in the backyard, of gossiping about boys and Marella comforting her after a particularly bad break-up with Keefe. 

And it’s starting to run through her mind now, the way that sometime’s Marella’s gaze lingers for too long, or that she sours when Sophie talks about going on dates. She’s known Marella as loud, red-hot firecrackers and fireworks, but being given this, the burning, lingering, flame that’s yearning, she doesn’t know what to do. Something quiet, silent, that she can’t notice. It’ll burn her. 

Marella knows how obvious she is. And Sophie doesn’t want to hurt her. But Sophie does not like Marella like that. It’s not the kind that Marella wants. And deep down it hurts too, that Marella has always wanted her in a way she doesn’t want to give.

—

Marella’s not the one who kisses her.

Sophie’s lips are warm. Hauntingly soft.

For a moment, Sophie lets herself lose her thoughts in the kiss, and Marella just doesn’t care. She’s hungry, she’s yearning, and she’s been starved for far too long. Sophie runs her lips along the curve of Marella’s lower lip, and the girl lets out a sigh. 

It’s not enough. Sophie pushes in, deeper, harsher, more desperate and Marella gasps for air. She, breaking her own heart, breaks the kiss. For Sophie, this isn’t some confession of love, but it’s panic. It’s a tether. It’s a ‘Don’t leave me please.’ She’s imagined this moment hundreds of times. Still, it hasn’t actually happened yet. She pushes the girl away. Sophie looks at Marella, hurt.

“You don’t love me.” Marella hiccups. “Don’t— Don’t do this. Please.” Her voice cracks, as she looks up at Sophie.

“You don’t know that.” Sophie replies, uncertain, her voice wavering. 

Marella shakes her head, her tears spilling out. “No. I do.” She whispers, her words blubbering together. “I know all too well.”

She knows though. Because the look in Sophie's eyes are screaming ‘I’m not queer.’ and her mouth is seconds away from spitting out ‘I don’t know—’ “I don’t know why I did that. I'm sorry.”

Marella scoffs. Because oh, she knows. Sophie isn’t the slightest bit interested in her. Sophie has never wondered, not like Marella, dreaming what their hands would feel like interlocked, yearning for the warmth, the familiarity of Sophie under her. Sophie has never  looked into Marella’s eyes, not once and was warm. Sophie has always looked there and saw fire.

Fire that burns. Because Marella is a blaze, hungry for Sophie, devouring, rummaging, searching for the smallest bits to consume. Fire that is so visible people notice, and people talk. Except Sophie is far too oblivious to see. To recognise it as danger.

“Mare, I—”

“It’s Marella!” Marella shrieks, falling to the ground. Sophie drops down, following her immediately, steading her, hugging her and comforting her. And oh, Sophie is so warm. And in the end, it’s not words or her sweet whispers that get to Marella. It’s this hug. “I can’t be friends with you if you do this. I can not just be friends with you.”

Marella lets out a shaky breath. “You don’t love me” She repeats. And really, there’s nothing Sophie can say to make her feel better, because what do you say to someone who’s loved you in silence, in eternity?

Sophie still chooses the worst fucking answer possible. 

“I know.”

[blubushie]

where did everyone who was on 4chan go? are they going to invade twitter again?

From what I've seen it looks like they've all flocked to 8chan. There's a lot of refugees on /pol/ and /b/ right now. I haven't checked any of the sister chans yet besides wizardchan and don't really care to.

I wouldn't say that 4chan would even bother invading Twitter anyway, considering that Twitter is already a cesspool of fascist propaganda and 85% bot population. This sentiment is shared by the refugees as well.

Knowing them, they'll keep to an imageboard—8chan, endchan...

The folks on /r9k/ and /x/ will probably skip over to wizardchan. Especially the robots—wizardchan often has themes of depression and cope and, from what I've heard recently, self-betterment that might actually genuinely have a positive influence on the neet robots.

It's genuinely kinda amusing and almost... poetic to me how this has all happened. The perpetrators of the hack came from soyjack.party (Sharty), which is an offshoot site that originally started from 4chan's /qa/ board, but it eventually devolved into a weird culture with constant soyjackposting and finally it got locked down by the jannies and nuked permanently after they raided /lgbt/ a few years ago. The actual site was built in 2020 but a lot of people migrated to it in 2021 after they were banned from 4chan for the /lgbt/ raid and the /qa/ board was nuked. But they got their original start on 4chan, so in a way 4chan kinda went full circle and kinda Ouroboros'd itself. The last raid 4chan ever did was on itself.

Anyway Hiroyuki (owner of 4chan since 2015, also the founder of 2channel, another imageboard) has said on Twitter that the site will be back up "later".

No fucking clue if he means later today, or some point in the future (my guess is likely the latter).

Technically it won't be too difficult to get back together—sure, the sourcecode leaked, but that's not really... needed? All they have to do is fix the exploit that allowed the site to be hacked anyway (which was a PDF decoding library with no backwalling). You can upload PDFs to some boards (first to mind is /sci/ and /tg/) but the site actually allows a few different file formats to be uploaded because it can't tell the different between .txt and .pdf files. So somebody uploaded a postscript with commands and basically gained entry to the site. The easiest way to fix it is, for the time being, just removing the ability to upload any text files.