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pellucid-constellations · 10 months ago

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Of Oblivious Minds (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! More pining and yearning

a/n: Here is part two! I love writing this little series :) There will definitely be more! let me know what you think ♡♡

Part 1, Part 3

Sometimes you hated being a scholar.

There were plenty of upsides to having such a cushy job, especially when your employer was the high lord himself. You got paid generously, got free access to the best libraries, and never had to pay rent. Millions of fae would kill to have your position.

But as Cassian punched you in the ribs—for the third time—you found yourself questioning your role within the night court’s inner circle.

“Okay,” you breathed out, hunching over with a hand cradling your side. “Okay, please, Cass. Can we take a break?”

Unfortunately, Cassian didn’t appreciate quitters. So, your feet were abruptly swept from under you and your back made contact with the floor. With a soft oof, the wind was knocked from your lungs.

“C’mon, y/n, you’re better than that. I know you are.”

You responded with a wheeze, blinking into the pale sun.

This morning had been rough.

You’d been having some trouble sleeping, but that wasn’t necessarily unusual. Being alive for so long meant you had seen quite a few things, so nightmares came and went with the tide. You were going through a rough patch with them at the moment, and the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with you.

“You planning on laying there for the rest of the day?” Cassian asked, his large silhouette coming to block the light.

You squinted up at him. “Maybe.”

“Yeah, not happening.”

You fought back a whine as the Illyrian pulled you up by your shoulders and steadied you. He nodded, giving you a moment to ready yourself back into position, and then bent his knees. Gods, you were going to be so sore later.

It didn’t take long for you to end up on the floor again, this time on your stomach. Your chin cracked against the padded ring, your teeth snapping together at the impact. The sound made your brain vibrate as you rolled onto your side and held your temple.

Cassian crouched down to the floor beside you and you could make out his worried brow amidst the shakiness of your vision.

“What’s going on with you?” He brought his hand up to brush against your already bruising jaw. “We’ve been working on that move for weeks. You had it a few days ago.”

You breathed through your nose and tried not to groan at the ache rolling through your body. “I think I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

At that, Cassian plopped down to a seat, keeping a hand at your elbow as you brought your own body up to mirror his.

“You want to talk about it?” he questioned.

“There isn’t much to say. I can’t remember them this time. It’s kind of strange—usually I remember them too much and that’s what makes it worse.”

Cassian hummed in contemplation. He was always the one you went to the morning after a sleepless night. Cassian would listen as you talked through your nightmares, and you would do the same for him. He was a logical pillar in your life.

But it was always Azriel you went to in the midst of them. You never talked about what you saw and he never asked. But it was always Azriel in the middle of the night. His shadows were a comfort in the pitch black and he was always quick to wrap his wings around you when it became too hard to breathe.

You hadn’t gone to him these last few times.

The fact that you couldn’t remember your dreams was an unfortunate factor. Because if you knew what was causing you to wake up in a cold sweat every night, at least then you could talk about it. Or take a moment to rationalize.

There was no rationalizing when the only thing you had to go off of was fear and hurt.

“What does Azriel think?” Cassian asked after a small lapse in silence.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when you go to his room at night. What does he have to say about you not remembering?”

You scoffed. And then scoffed again. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I barely do that.”

Cassian stared at you with a blank expression. “So we’re still doing that then. Got it.” He heaved himself up from the ground and then yanked you up alongside him.

“Still doing what?” you asked, trailing behind him as he reached for his canteen. He didn’t answer you, favoring the long gulps of water he was taking. You waited for him to finish and then asked again. He chose to unwrap his knuckles instead. “Cassian.”

The man sighed. “Nothing, y/n. It’s just… It wasn’t a secret that you would go to his room after you had a rough night. Why do you think I never dragged you out here those mornings?” You cringed at his words. He shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Why do you hide it?”

You didn’t have a good reason—well, you didn’t used to. You’d always sneak out of his room after the sun rose and never bring it up again. And there was never a solid explanation for why you evaded the topic. You knew Azriel would never hold it against you and you weren’t embarrassed for others to know that you sought out comfort in a friend. It just seemed like something you should keep to yourself.

Now, though—now there was a good reason to wipe your actions from memory. To pretend they never happened and to never repeat them.

“Cassian, Elain is my friend. Even if I did that in the past—in a friendly way—it would be wrong now.”

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw twitched. “Right. Have you ever actually talked to Elain about her feelings?”

“I don’t need to.” You reached down for your own water, ignoring the twinge in your side and the pulsing in your head. “She never stops talking about him. And they’re always together. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were already seeing each other.”

“Who’s seeing each other?”

The cool tone of Azriel’s voice washed over you and you whipped around to find him standing at the foot of the training ring, blades in hand.

A nervous laugh fell from your lips and you fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. “Um, no one, just some friends I know.”

“Who?” he asked again.

“Oh, you don’t know them. Old friends.”

The Shadowsinger raised a brow, sending Cassian a fleeting look. “I thought I knew all of your friends.”

“You don’t. I know way more people than you. Even though you're older than me. Not by that much, though. Have you talked to Elain lately?” Words were spewing from your mouth in the worst combinations. You were never nervous around Azriel. What in the cauldron was wrong with you?

Azriel’s raised brow turned into a furrowed one and he blinked, assessing your face with a scrutinizing gaze. “Do you have a concussion?” He turned the Cassian, expression going from confused to provoked. “Did you give her a concussion?”

“Honestly, maybe.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” you rushed out, cutting off Cassian’s admission. “I was just leaving though. I’m tired. You guys can fight each other.”

There was so much sudden pent-up energy inside of you that you had no intention of sleeping, but just seeing Azriel made you feel like you were intruding on something. Which was absurd. Azriel was your friend and had been your friend for centuries. Just because he loved Elain didn’t mean you had to avoid him.

But this energy had to come from somewhere, and that somewhere was telling you to avoid him like the Illyrian flu.

Making a break for it, you freed yourself from the training ring and attempted to skate past Azriel with a quick side smile, but he apparently had other plans. He caught your wrist as you walked past, glancing up at a “preoccupied” Cassian before turning to you with his wing out, giving the illusion of a private conversation.

“You’re not sleeping well?” he asked, voice low.

You warped your smile into one that met both sides of your mouth. “I’m okay.”

Shadows crept over his shoulders and along his ears. His expression shifted and pinched and then returned neutral. “You know you can come to me if you need it.”

“I’m okay, Az. Really.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

Maybe before.

“I’m a paper pusher, Az. I’m not out in the throes of battle,” you jested, scrunching your nose as you smiled up at him. “Nothing is that serious for me.”

A lie. Something was that serious—serious enough to keep you up at night for the past week—but you couldn’t figure out what it was.

“That is not what I asked,” he countered, sliding his hand up from your wrist to turn your chin. “You need to ice your jaw. Cassian shouldn’t be so rough with you.”

“I’m okay,” you said again, words a pathetic repetition because your heart was beating so fast now and you needed to leave. Something was pulling at your chest and you needed to leave.

“As you’ve said,” Azriel muttered, his fingers brushing down along the column of your throat. When his eyes flickered up and met your own, something inside of you lost its alignment.

You looked away before the feeling could return. Everything righted itself. You took a wobbly step back.

“Have a good training session.”

You turned on your heel and stalked away, feeling equal parts the betrayer and the betrayed.

“You mean that girl off-continent? The one from a century ago?”

Cassian hummed. “Yeah, her. What I wouldn’t give for a visit from her.”

“You’re a pig,” Mor replied, a scoff sharp on her lips.

“She didn’t think so.”

You were eavesdropping. You didn’t like to, but somehow, in the time you’d spent in the inner circle, you’d picked up the habit. Oops.

Technically, you weren’t really eavesdropping. You had been in the room first. It wasn’t your fault Cassian and Mor decided to speak very loudly with only a few shelves separating you. If they wanted privacy they should have checked the area.

“Is it that hard for you to get laid? You have to search off-continent?”

Cassian’s responding laugh was almost defensive. “I’m sure you’d love to know about my sex life.”

“I really wouldn’t, actually. You brought it up.” Mor paused. You heard her shift on the lounge chair. “I am, however, interested in Azriel’s.”

“Aren’t we all,” Cassian droned. “Pretty obvious that he doesn't have one at the moment. Hasn’t had one in a while.”

You felt your neck jolt at the reveal of that information. Azriel always kept his partners discrete, but you’d always known he’d had them. Many of them. You had no idea who they were or where he met them, but you would hear the girls occasionally... smell their perfume on a few rare nights.

“You think? This whole time?” Mor asked, curiosity raising her voice an octave.

“Mor, I think the sight of other females makes him want to vomit.”

The book in your lap was all but obsolete.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Cassian tsked. “I’m not. He’s told me.”

“I suppose that’s what having a mate does to a person.”

Your fingers became abnormally cold, the center of your chest caving slightly.

Azriel had a mate? No, he would have told you.

He would have told you.

Mor’s sweet voice slammed against your ears, harsh despite its nature. “Do you think he’ll tell her soon?”

Cassian’s reply had you standing on shaking knees. “Hope so. He’s so in love with her it's suffocating. You should see when—”

You were out of the room in a wisp, sliding out the small back door. The book you’d been reading was still clutched in your frozen grip and you held it against your chest as breathing became impossible. With a hand pressed to the wall and your head hung low, you sucked in air, greedy for some type of reprieve.

You were happy for him. You were so, so happy for him.

Right?

The book fell from your grip, clattering to the floor. The pages collapsed in on themselves as it fell face down, and you listened to the paper crumple as your throat closed. Both hands now pressed to the cold wall. Why were you freezing?

This made sense. It made sense.

Of course Azriel had a mate and of course it was… Elain?

No, it couldn’t be Elain. Elain was Lucien’s mate.

Now you were confused as well as consumed. Your body was left aching from training and your mind was in a frenzy and you couldn’t even understand why you were reacting the way you were.

It was completely plausible that Azriel had a mate and didn’t tell anyone about it. He was a private male who kept his lovers to himself, so of course he would keep his mate to himself as well. But he did tell someone about it. He told Cassian. And Mor knew.

Your fingernails dug into stone.

Azriel didn’t love you.

The thought came on so suddenly that you almost looked over your shoulder. It was as if the words had been whispered in your ear by some cruel, vicious wind.

You had never cared if Azriel loved you before, because you knew that he did love you. Like a sister. You were Azriel’s family and he was yours.

But as the thought of Azriel having a mate invaded your mind once more, your shaky legs propelled you forward, running from the creased book and the hallway that contained all of the worst things.

You ran until you couldn't, until your toes hit the edge of the balcony on the far side of the house and the cool air of winter hit your cheeks. You had been so cold inside, but somehow the breeze felt even colder across your skin.

“Y/n?”

You gasped, whipping around and gripping the railing as it pressed into your spine. You couldn’t formulate words as Azriel stood before you. His hands raised up to his waist, reaching for you as he took in the way your chest heaved.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” he rushed.

You only shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Embarrassment and confusion and a twisted sort of fear coursed through you. You couldn't look at him, afraid you would somehow see the bond connected to his chest—somehow notice things about him you hadn’t before. Maybe another shade of hazel in his eyes or a softness to his lips that you had never looked for.

As you considered it now, it was obvious that you’d never let yourself look.

Azriel was never supposed to be yours.

“Talk to me, angel.” Azriel’s sweet whisper brushed against your skin. He was so close to you. You could feel him, but you refused to look.

To see how everything had changed.

“Let me fix it.”

You heard the rush of wind from his wings as he expanded them outwards, followed closely behind by the whirling of his shadows, and it all clicked then.

The images came quickly, dissipating just as fast. But they did their job, sending heavy, hot tears past the tight scrunch of your eyelids.

Azriel with Elain. Azriel with Mor. Azriel with random, faceless women.

Him, in every iteration, with everyone that wasn’t you.

That’s what had kept you up—the dreams plaguing your every resting moment. And you realized then that nothing had really changed at all. That you’d been in love with Azriel for longer than you’d been in love with anything.

Your jaw trembled, your body rejecting the anguish that swept through you. Wind softly flowed from the west, swaying your skirts with a gentleness that made your breath shudder. That kind of gentleness was impossible. The world felt so cruel.

“Y/n, tell me what happened. Should I get someone else?” Azriel pleaded. “Should I get Rhys?”

Rhys could knock you out, and that would surely be a relief. You felt paralyzed by this overwhelming array of devastation. But Rhys would also have access to your thoughts.

You shook your head. “No,” you said, but the word was lost in the wind. Azriel seemed to hear it anyway. “No, I want—I need to—go to sleep.”

“You need to go to sleep?” He touched you now, something he seemed to have been avoiding. His hands came to rest behind your neck, thumbs at your jaw, and you pried your eyes open at the contact. You’d never seen the shadowsinger look so ruined, his hair askew, his eyes wild and panicked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

His expression was beseeching you for something you couldn’t give him. You hiccuped your next words out.

“I’m—’m tired.”

You wished you’d stayed oblivious. That you had never become privy to the depth of your feelings.

This pain was immeasurable.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel angst #azriel fanfic

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himbosandhardwear · 5 months ago

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Eddie scans the room, looking for who or what he's not sure, just keeping his eyes peeled for something interesting. It's Saturday night, a packed house, some of the usual suspects but some new faces too.

One in particular stands out, especially considering his Sears Catalog attire and artfully tousled hair.

There's something about his loose body language that draws Eddie's eye. He's out of place but he doesn't act out of place. Eddie can respect it.

Unfortunately, when their eyes meet, he gets a kicked gut reaction that makes it clear this guy is off limits. The guy looks away immediately, probably thinks Eddie is more likely to pickpocket him than buy him a drink. Oh well. No great loss, he didn't come to get laid anyway.

He makes his way to the bar, gets a shot of Jack and a Miller Lite and waits. Teddy will probably show up before too long, maybe they can bar hop. He sips his beer and looks around some more, noting the older Mexican lady who runs the flower stand on the corner. You wouldn't guess it just by looking at her but she can drink anyone in the place under the table. He should really get her name.

Sears Catalog has moved to a table on the right side of the room, standing with a presumed girlfriend. Their heads are bent close together. He looks up and catches Eddie staring. They both look away again. He's really gotta stop doing that before he gets hate-crimed. It's a known problem, his type being untouchable preppy boys. He's sure if a shrink studied him, they would say it was because he didn't think he was worthy of love, or some shit, but he can't help it. The straighter, the meaner, the cleaner cut, the more Eddie falls all over himself. It’s a miracle he ever gets laid. Thankfully there’s always closet cases. He swore to himself he wasn't going to do that anymore though, he needs to have some self-respect, not let asshole jocks use him and drop him the second an emotion is displayed.

“That outfit is hideous.”

Eddie jolts in his seat. He finds Sears Catalog smirking at him like what he's said is the height of wit.

Eddie wastes no time pouring the rest of his beer over the guy's head.

He stares back at Eddie in shock, almost hurt. Fuck him. He doesn't care, he's not letting some dumbass gymrat hone his bullying skills on him. Not today.

The guy's girlfriend jogs over with a handful of napkins, which is when Eddie splits.

“I told you not to use that line!” He hears her exclaim. Eddie stops in his tracks.

“But…but...he didn't even let me get to the good part,” Sears laments. Eddie can't turn back around, he's frozen in place.

“Yeah, dingus, because it's a stupid fucking line. I'm sorry you had to find out like this but not every guy who makes eye contact with you wants to fuck you.”

“I know that! I just thought… I don't know. Let's just get out of here.”

He sounds so defeated. Eddie did that. He assumed the worst and reacted accordingly. Like an asshole. Like a bully.

They're halfway to the door when Eddie's feet unstick themselves from the floor. He rushes to intercept.

“What was the rest of the line?” He shouts.

Sears turns, eyes wide, unsure.

His…friend? Looks Eddie over, unimpressed. “What's it to you?”

He winces. “Just…uh…I guess I thought you should know, some of the guys who make eye contact do want to fuck you, they're just too stupid to realize they're being hit on.”

Sears and Mean Friend make their own eye contact. Mostly ‘Beat it' and ‘Are you serious?’ and ‘Yes, oh my god, please go.’

Eddie respects their bond.

Once Mean Friend has sufficiently rolled her eyes and threatened Eddie with bodily harm should anything worse than beer befall her friend, she stalks off into the night.

“You should take it off.”

“Huh?” Eddie responds, stupidly.

Sears smiles. “That's the rest of the line. ‘Your outfit is hideous. You should take it off.’”

Fuck, it really is a terrible line. Something a middle aged creep would use. If he'd waited long enough to hear it the first time it would've made him laugh though, which would have broken the ice.

“Awful. Zero out of ten,” he says while grinning. “Looks like you already offended one guy.” He looks at Sears’ wet shirt, appreciating his own handiwork.

“I'll keep workshopping.” His hand comes up slowly, like Eddie might react badly again. “Steve.”

It's his honor and privilege to clasp Steve's hand in his own.

“Eddie. And can I say, your outfit looks great. It would look better on my floor.”

Steve practically twinkles at him. “Stop, I'm already a sure thing.”

He uses the hand still in his grasp to pull Eddie forward and smash their lips together.

When their grandkids ask how they got together, Eddie is going to have to lie.

#different first meeting #steddie #ficlet #my writing

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13lov · 1 year ago

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tethered pt. 2 | jjk

✰ pairing. — emo!jk x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 10k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, friendship betrayal, mention of drugs/alcohol, smut [ cunnilingus, rough sex, ...idk how else to describe it ] reader and jk are both 18+, minors dni.

✰ a/n. long awaited part 2! the amount of love i received from part one was overwhelming and it means to world to meet that so many people instantly fell in love with this couple. another part is already in the works!

✰ taglist. @ahgasegotarmy116 @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @littlestarstinyseven @skzthinker @cuntessaiii @nikkiordonez12 @ilikekpop-c @busanbby-jjk @xjjk187 @aloverga @kookcobain @mzeji @bxcndd @hoseokteardrop @canyon-lwt @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @jksteponme @parkinglot-nights @chromekingkong @jk97bam [ if i didn't tag u it's because tumblr didn't allow me to! ]

part one | masterlist | ao3 | buy me a coffee?

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out?” Somi is glaring daggers at you upon opening the front door, arms crossed across her chest as she eyes you. Her lips are twisted into a disgusted snarl, you’ve never seen her this upset before.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “Find out about what?”

She cocks her head to the side, squinting her eyes at you. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Fuck, you’re screwed. If there were a list of all the reasons why you shouldn’t have had sex with Jeon Jungkook, the simple fact of him being your best friend’s brother would be number one.

With closed eyes, you let out a relieved sigh. As much as you wanted to wait to tell Somi about hooking up with Jungkook, it’d be an enormous weight off your shoulders not having to hide it any longer. It’d only been a few days since it happened, but you really hate keeping secrets from her.

“How’d you find out?” You question, chewing on your bottom lip.

“My parents told me, duh.”

Holy crap, Jungkook told his parents the two of you had sex? Why the fuck would he do that?

“They did?” You ask, completely bewildered.

“Well, yeah!” Somi finally uncrosses her arms, demeanor completely changing as her gaze softens, “Why didn’t you tell me your sister got engaged?”

Thank God you didn’t elaborate any further.

“Oh! Because they probably aren’t gonna last.” You respond, stepping into the Jeon household once Somi allows you to enter. It’s been a few days since you’ve been here, mostly due to the fact that you were completely avoiding Jungkook.

The empty condom in his trash bin had been plaguing your mind nonstop, you could barely even sleep from how embarrassed you were. Why did he fake his orgasm? What if he didn't fake an orgasm and just shot a blank? Did you do something wrong? Was he not attracted to you? Why was the condom empty?

Seeing him in person would’ve only intensified the thoughts roaming in your head, so you avoided him at all costs up until now. You’d promised the Jeon siblings that you’d finally see Twilight with them and their friends despite not being able to function correctly around either of them.

Somi snickers, following you into the living room. “Ooh, that’s not nice.”

“It’s true, though,” you explain, “she’s still so young, only a few years older than your brother. I mean, can you picture Jungkook getting married in a few years?”

The regret from that question fills you almost immediately.

“Sure,” Somi responds, pausing to greet the eager doberman charging at her. “As long as he finds the right person. He’d get married in a heartbeat.”

You want to ask what Somi’s definition of “the perfect person” would be for Jungkook or the type of girl she’d be willing to set him up with. It’d probably be the unnamed, mysterious redhead you recently dreamed about curb stomping (yikes!).

You don’t respond to this, taking a seat on the sofa when the sudden shout of your name has you flinching. It’s Somi’s parents, excitedly greeting you with open arms as you politely stand to properly hug them. “I feel like it’s been so long since we’ve seen you! How’s your family? We just heard the news about your sister!” Mrs. Jeon ambushes you with questions, all while cradling your face.

“About how she’s making the biggest mistake of her life?” You half-joke.

Mrs. Jeon playfully waves a hand in your direction as she steps into the kitchen, her husband only a few feet behind. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure the two of them will be very happy together.” She turns to her husband, grabbing his hand, “I just can’t believe Imogen is getting married. I still remember when she first started high school.”

Mr. Jeon sighs in disbelief. “I know,” he mumbles, nodding at you. “You’re up next soon, huh?”

“Maybe she can marry Jungkook,” Mrs. Jeon comments, opening her fridge, “set him straight.”

“Gross, Mom. Don’t wish that on her.” Somi groans in disgust as she plops down next to you.

Well, that answers your previous question.

“We should probably get going, right? To make it in time for the trailers?” You ask.

“Yeah, we should.” Somi responds, tilting her head up towards the staircase, “Jungkook! Hurry up and come downstairs! We’re ready to go!”

“Gimmie a minute!” He shouts back, and a chill runs down your spine. It’s been too long since you’ve heard his voice. The last time you saw him, he was lying naked in his bed; you’re not sure how you’ll survive being around him all night knowing what your last encounter was like.

As promised, Jungkook is sliding down the staircase a minute later and nails the landing. He’s wearing a black Twilight shirt featuring the leading couple, black cargo pants, and, of course, black sneakers. He looks like his usual self until you take a closer look and notice the reddish-black eyeshadow that decorated his eyes. It wasn’t much, just enough to make his eyes pop, and it complimented him perfectly. A second later, you see the black nail polish neatly coated on his nails. You have to blink a few times to ensure this is real life and you’re not trapped in a wet dream.

He strolls into the kitchen, ignoring the stares from his parents before digging through the fridge. His mom clears her throat, crossing her arms at him.

“What?” He asks, retrieving a two-liter Mountain Dew bottle.

“Seriously, Jungkook? The makeup? The nail polish?” She questions, clearly frustrated.

Jungkook cocks his head, unscrewing the soda bottle’s lid. “What’s wrong with it? Somi’s wearing the same thing.”

“Son, you know that’s different.” His father interjects.

Jungkook takes a swig of the soda before responding. “Why? Because she’s a girl?”

“It’s not like that, hon. It’s just…we didn’t make a big deal of it when you first started the piercings, and the tattoos, and the hair dye, but this…it’s a little much. Don’t you think?” His mother asks.

You want to step in and remind his parents that Jungkook is old enough to make his own decisions and express himself as he pleases, but it’s not your place. Instead, you cheer silently when Somi surprisingly interrupts the discussion. “Did you guys seriously force him to come back home just to criticize how he presents himself, or would you rather have a peaceful summer?”

“We aren’t trying to criticize him, Somi. We’re just looking out for our child.” Mr. Jeon responds.

“It’s a special occasion, Dad. Is it bad that I wanted to look nice for—” Jungkook abruptly cuts himself short, quickly glancing in your direction before returning his attention to his parents. “...to go see Twilight with my friends?”

What was that about?

Silence passes, and the three stare at each other until Mrs. Jeon sighs defeatedly and says, “No, there’s nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. I hope you guys enjoy the movie.”

“We will,” Jungkook responds, closing the soda bottle lid and placing it back in the fridge. He heads for the front door, beckoning you and Somi to follow behind. He’s eager to leave the house, quickly swinging the front door open and jogging towards his car.

You and Somi say goodbye to her parents with a promise to be home by eleven before following in Jungkook’s footsteps, who already has the car running. As you wait for Somi to finish locking the front door, Jungkook rolls down his window and shouts, “Hurry up! Let’s go!”

“Will you calm down?!” Somi throws back, rolling her eyes as she finally removes the house key from the lock.

You follow her towards Jungkook’s car, sliding into the backseat as you pretend not to notice Jungkook watching you through the rearview mirror. He wants you to look at him, but you refuse, busying yourself by buckling your seatbelt and convincing Somi to do the same. Once Jungkook is convinced you’re not going to do so much as glance at him, he puts the car in drive and pulls into the road.

Somi talks your ear off in the backseat about whatever comes to mind while you keep your eyes on the window. It’s hard to not notice Jungkook glancing back at you through the mirror at every red light or stop sign, but you don’t dare meet his gaze.

The movie theater’s parking lot is crowded when you arrive; it takes Jungkook a few minutes to eventually locate a spot. A smile is plastered on his face as he parks the car, eager to see some of his closest friends after being separated for months. He informs you and Somi to disregard anything foolish he friends may say, claiming they arrived early to smoke behind the movie theater, so they’re more than likely too high to function properly.

Jungkook shrugs when Somi asks why people do that, shoving his hands into his pockets as the three of you approach the theater entrance. "Some people say it makes the movie experience better."

You want to ask Jungkook if he's ever been high, but you can barely even bring yourself to look in his direction, let alone ask him a question. So you're silent as the three of you enter the movie theater, instantly spotting Jungkook's bandmates in the far corner.

Well… Jungkook's bandmates and one other guest.

The bubbly redhead greets you guys first, running up to Jungkook with open arms as if they haven't seen each other in a million years. It makes you want to vomit.

You look away as they hug, directing your attention to the concession stand employee who had already been watching you. His name tag reads 'Beomgyu,' and he resembles a younger version of Jungkook, with the same dark hair and similar lip piercings. His eyes stay on you until a customer blocks your path, and you're back to watching Jungkook reunite with his friends.

"Hey, you were the one at that party, right? With Somi?" The redhead asks, squinting her eyes at you.

"Yeah." Is all you respond with, because why in God's name is this girl talking to you right now?

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Scar," she introduces herself, extending a hand for you to shake.

Somi interjects, grabbing ahold of your wrist while glaring at Scar. "Your name is Scarlett."

She drags you along to the ticket booth, mumbling about how she doesn't like nor trust Scar. When you ask for her reasoning, she responds with, "I don't need one. I just don't like her."

At least you're on the same page about that.

Still, you can't help but wonder why Somi has a distaste for Scar. You have your petty reasoning for disliking her, but Somi (more than likely) has better knowledge of Scar's personality, so whatever reasons she dislikes her could be legitimate.

You're thinking of this as Jungkook orders the tickets for everyone, asking the employee to give him a minute when the friend you recognize as Yugyeom starts tapping his shoulder. "We should go see Saw instead; it just came out."

Jungkook looks genuinely confused at the suggestion. "What? No, we came here to see Twilight."

"So?!" Jaebeom chimes in, eyes red as the devil, "Come on, dude, you've already seen Twilight. Don't you wanna see something new?"

"Fuck no, we're literally in the middle of buying the tickets." Jungkook reminds everyone.

"I kinda wanna see Saw, too."

"Same."

"Yeah, me too."

"I do, too."

Jungkook whips his head around at his sister, "What? Even you?"

Somi scoffs, "Well, yeah! Twilight just seems boring in comparison."

"Come on, guys," the employee interrupts, "you're holding up the line."

Jungkook turns towards you. "Do you still wanna see Twilight?"

Truthfully, you want to go home; but seeing how excited Jungkook was for the movie made you feel something, so you nod. He lets out a relieved sigh.

He moves out of the way to allow his friends to buy their tickets first, slipping his sister cash to pay for hers, which she initially rejects. "I don't need your money," she claims.

"Just take it, Somi. I brought it for you."

From what you can make out, it's enough to cover her ticket and grab something from the concession stand. The pair of siblings may bicker a lot, but it's nice to know Jungkook still looks out for his younger sister whenever he can.

Somi reluctantly accepts the money and purchases her ticket; you watch as Jungkook follows suit, ordering two tickets for Twilight and stopping you from opening your purse. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, it's fine. I have enough." You reassure him.

Jungkook laughs to himself, "Why are the two of you like this?" He questions, fishing out crumpled dollar bills from his pocket and handing them to the cashier, who sighs in annoyance, straightening and inspecting each bill before placing it in his register.

You don't know why Jungkook insists on being so nice to you despite your persistence in not speaking to him. A part of you wonders if he thinks this is some kind of date now that the two of you will be separated from the group. It doesn't matter. You don't know why you're overthinking it.

Once all the tickets have been purchased, the seven of you head towards the concession stand. Somi debates pushing herself to the front of the long line, claiming that the theater should make accommodations for those whose movie is starting sooner. Or something like that, you can't really focus with the way Beomgyu is staring at you. You're used to guys always staring, but they tend to shyly look away upon making eye contact.

Beomgyu is quite the opposite, staring you down every chance he gets. Your skin feels hot, and you're suddenly anxious under his gaze.

When the group ahead of you has finished ordering and is heading off into their theater, you're sure to stick close to Jungkook as you approach the counter. Beomgyu eyes him over once before returning his gaze to you. "What can I get for you guys?"

Jungkook takes the liberty of ordering a large popcorn for the two of you to share and doesn't even get mad when you request a slushie instead of a fountain drink. He doesn't let you pay, swatting your hand away when you absentmindedly reach for your purse. "You seriously have to stop doing that." He mumbles, handing Beomgyu the cash.

Beomgyu quickly prepares the popcorn and Jungkook's drink but takes his time making your slushie. He's sure to fill it to the brim, and you're worried it may accidentally overflow and leave a sticky mess. "You didn't want candy or anything?" He questions, handing you your drink.

You shrug, "Maybe Twizzlers, but—"

Before you can finish, Beomgyu is reaching under the counter and sliding you a pack of Twizzlers. "On me."

"Oh, are you sure?" You ask, hesitant to accept the free candy.

Beomgyu sends Jungkook a cocky smirk before he responds, "Yeah, enjoy the movie."

You thank Beomgyu and pretend to not notice the death glares the two boys are sending one another before walking with Jungkook to your theater. "That guy was weird." He comments.

"Yeah." You agree, but it's definitely not true. Beomgyu was friendly and clearly interested in you, unlike Jungkook, who sent you nonstop, draining mixed signals. If his definition of weird is someone straightforward, then you should start going after weirdos.

Once you're settled in your seats in the back of the theater — per Jungkook's request — he clears his throat and says, "So, I tried messaging you on Facebook. Didn't get anything back."

"Oh, sorry. I haven't been using Facebook that much." You reply, hoping your lame excuse is believable enough.

He nods, eyes bouncing between you and the movie trailers playing in the background. "Yeah, I figured." He says. When you don't respond, he continues, "I would've asked Somi for your number, but I didn't want her to get suspicious or anything."

"That's smart." You admit, nodding in agreement.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook asks suddenly, his full attention to you.

You finally make eye contact, and the expression on his face makes your heart sink. He looks genuinely concerned and confused by your sudden coldness. You hate being so mean to him, but you're too embarrassed to explain the real reason why you've been avoiding him. So you nod and say, "Just a little tired."

It's clear he doesn't believe this; the same expression is still on his face as he refocuses on the movie trailers.

You hate how awkward it feels to be around him now. Never in a million years would you have guessed the two of you would end up like this. A week ago, you would've been overjoyed at the idea of being on a movie date with Jungkook, and now you're considering leaving early and catching a taxi home.

The two of you remain silent as the rest of the trailers play on, and Jungkook immediately sits up in his seat when the lights finally dim and the curtains are pulled back further. He's reticent throughout the movie, aside from a muffled chuckle occasionally; he even side-eyes anyone making too much noise.

You enjoy Twilight nonetheless, agreeing with Jungkook that you do, in fact, dress like Bella Swan from time to time. When he asks if you liked it as you're exiting the theater, you tell him it was very nice and that you hope there'll be another movie.

Jungkook smiles at this, tossing his empty cup in a nearby trash bin. "I'm sure there will be. Maybe they'll even cast you as Bella's stunt double since you already have the clothes."

"Shut up." You tease, and it feels nice to joke with him as usual. You may finally have the courage to tell Jungkook why you've been so distant these past few days.

Saw doesn't get out for another few minutes, so you're stuck waiting in the lobby for Somi and everyone else. Jungkook gestures towards the nearly empty slushie cup clutched in your hands, "You get free refills on that, I think."

You take his word, strolling over to the concession stand. Beomgyu spots you immediately and gestures for you to skip around the line. You shake your head, but he still beckons for you to come over. You feel bad, but the line has gotten longer since you were first here, and you really don't want to wait in a long line just for a refill.

"What flavor?" He asks once you've slid him your cup.

You tell him anything is fine and he gets to work, combining the cherry and blue raspberry flavors. "How was the movie?"

"It was good. The vampire stuff was cool."

"Have you seen Saw yet? It just came out."

"No, I haven't."

"It's so good; if you wanna give me your number, maybe we can see it together sometime."

What is it with guys offering to take you out to a movie they've already seen? You're not complaining; it's just odd.

Beomgyu is clearly interested in you and has offered to take you out. You'd be silly to pass up on this guy just because your current relationship with your longtime crush is at a standstill. So you accept, scribbling your phone number down on a napkin with your name underneath. He promises to call you once his shift ends and that he looks forward to seeing you.

When you turn to meet up with Jungkook, he's gone. You catch him storming out of the theater, hauling ass to his car.

You run to catch up to him, calling out his name and begging him to slow down.

When he finally does stop, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. He gets angry all the time, but this was something completely different. "So you were just using me, huh?"

What? What is he talking about?

"Using you for what?"

"To lose your virginity. You just wanted to get it over with, right?" His voice is slightly hushed now but still loud enough for you to feel embarrassed about anyone passing through the parking lot.

"Jungkook, what are you talking about?"

"You used me to lose your virginity, so when you date other guys you can tell them you've had sex before. Is that what this is?"

This accusation hurts, considering that Jungkook was the only guy you've ever been interested in romantically and sexually. You don't know where this theory originated, but you don't like it.

Jungkook continues before you respond, "I tried reaching out and talking to you, and you just blew me off! And yet, here you are, giving your number to random guys! Am I not good enough for you?!"

"It's not like that, Jungkook!" You don't mean to raise your voice at him, but you can't help it. Both of your emotions were at an all-time high.

"Then what is it like?!"

Here goes nothing.

There are already tears forming as you go to explain yourself. "I didn't reach out to you because��because I was embarrassed."

"You were embarrassed to have sex with me?"

"No!" You yell in reassurance, "No, no, no. Of course not. I was embarrassed because I know you didn't finish. I just thought maybe I did something wrong or didn't do enough."

Jungkook quirks a brow at you, "What makes you think I didn't finish?"

You really hate that he's making you explain this. "I saw the condom afterwards; it was empty."

"You went digging in my trash can to find the condom?" Now he looks more disgusted than confused; this is going so horribly.

"No! I saw it when I went to get my phone off the charger."

Jungkook takes a minute to process everything, scratching his chin in deep thought. You can't tell what he's feeling, but he does look hurt. It makes you regret avoiding him in the first place.

"So, you were prepared to never talk to me again over an empty condom?" Despite his stern demeanor, he's clearly shaking as he questions you.

You want to say no, that it wasn't a case, but you can't bring yourself to lie to him again. So you say nothing. Jungkook nods at your lack of response before turning around and walking towards his car. You remain still, frozen in place, watching as he sits on the hood of his car and smokes a cigarette.

If it weren't for Somi finishing her movie within the next few minutes, you would've walked the entire way home.

This bitch is driving you crazy.

Your older sister, Imogen, is home for a few days to start her wedding preparations. The fake bridezilla persona she's putting on bothers you the most, bursting out in tears at the most inconvenient times or having a breakdown about selecting a theme. Deep down, she doesn't care about any of this bullshit; she's like you about parties or big events.

"This is literally the biggest day of my life, and you're being so fucking difficult." Imogen snarls at you, pouring herself a cup of coffee. You're sitting a few feet away on the kitchen counter, staring out the kitchen window. Despite Imogen's occasional yelling and snarky comments, all you can think of is Jungkook.

It's been an entire week since the movie theater incident. You haven't stopped by the Jeon household not once, telling Somi you fell ill and don't want to get her sick. It's another lame excuse, but she buys it, opting to talk to you on the phone daily until you recover.

You have yet to speak to Jungkook; it's not like you've tried. The idea of messaging him on Facebook and not receiving a response makes you anxious. It's hard to believe you subjected him to the same torture not long ago. It doesn't help that Scarlett is suddenly all over his page, commenting on nearly every one of his posts, writing on his wall, or tagging him in pictures. Your recurring dream of curb-stomping her is back in full force.

You sigh at your sister, "Whatever you say, Imogen."

She waves dismissively at you, "Please, don't even talk to me right now."

You hop off the counter in annoyance and stomp off towards the staircase, mumbling, "Fucking drama queen."

"Language." Your mom warns you, flipping through one of the several bridal magazines your sister has stacked on the coffee table.

Imogen scoffs, setting her mug on the counter. "I'm the drama queen? Whenever I talk about my wedding, you throw a fucking fit!"

"Why are you pretending to care about this stupid wedding and that stupid boy you barely even know?!" You shout back from the staircase.

"If my wedding is so stupid, then don't come!"

"I don't even want to go to your stupid wedding, with your stupid fiancé and your stupid red velvet cake that no one's going to fucking eat!"

This is probably the dumbest fight you've ever had.

Imogen doesn't respond to this, advised by your mother not to and to let you stomp up the stairs in a furious rage. You make a beeline straight to your desktop, waking up the computer with a mouse shake and entering your password.

Facebook is already open once you've signed in, Jungkook's page staring right back at you. You're ashamed to admit you'd been cyberstalking him, but you had no choice. Seeing him in person would've been too much, but you still want to ensure he's doing okay.

There's a new post up when you refresh the page; you chew on your bottom lip as you anxiously wait for it to finish loading.

It's a picture of his dirty Chuck Taylor's perched upon a wooden stool. You recognize the background immediately; he's in the treehouse in his backyard. You and Somi would spend hours up there as kids, giving each other manicures and exchanging secrets; now, you can barely look her in the eye without bursting out in tears. You hate how complicated things have become.

A light tap against your door has you swiveling around in your chair. It's Imogen, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed. "Who's that?"

"Somi's brother." You respond, scrolling to a photo that actually shows his face.

Imogen steps further into your bedroom, squinting her eyes at the computer screen. "Oh, yeah. Hasn't changed much, has he?" When you remain silent, she asks, "Would it be wrong of me to assume he's the real reason why you're so upset?"

You sigh, letting your shoulders drop. "You'd be very correct, actually."

She nods in understanding, sitting on the edge of your bed. "So, what's going on? You like him?"

"We kind of like each other, I guess." You mumble. Honestly, you're not quite sure how Jungkook feels about you at the moment.

"And Somi doesn't approve of it?"

You snort, "Somi doesn't know. There was nothing to tell her at first, but things have changed."

"Are you guys dating?"

"No. We actually haven't talked in a week. I may have hurt his feelings."

Imogen nods towards your desktop, “Where is he now?”

You shrug, “Home, I guess.”

She stands, stretching out her limbs. She glances around your room, locates a jacket dangling lifelessly from your doorknob, and tosses it to you. “Let’s go.”

Taking an impromptu trip to the Jeon household had you sweating. What if Jungkook doesn’t even want to see you? What if Somi catches you talking and asks what’s going on?

Each concern you raise is instantly shot down by Imogen, claiming you’re creating excuses to avoid seeing him, how you’re only imagining the worst possible scenarios. You appreciate her overwhelming support but can’t help the nervousness creeping through your body as her car approaches the Jeon household.

“Remember, be apologetic but not desperate,” Imogen informs you, putting her car in park in front of the house.

“I am desperate.” You remind her.

“Well, don’t let him see it. You got this.”

You thank your sister one last time for the advice before stepping out of her car. You’re careful to avoid being seen from windows as you make your way into the backyard; not entirely sure what you’d say if Somi were to catch you.

You scale the tree quickly, silently praying the old wooden steps are stable enough to hold your weight.

You sigh in relief once you’ve reached the top, only to groan at the sight of Scarlett sitting across from you. She looks up from her iPod with a bright smile, quickly pulling out her earbuds as you enter the treehouse. “Hey, stranger! Watcha doing here?”

Her enthusiasm really makes you sick. “Came to see Jungkook,” you pause to glance around the tiny, wooden deathtrap, “but he’s nowhere to be found.”

“He’ll be back soon; went to use the bathroom,” Scarlett informs you, running her hands through her hair. “So, you guys really like each other, huh?”

What? She knows about that?

“Jungkook told you?” You question, trying your best to appear unbothered. You’re unsure where she’s going with this, but you have no reason to trust her.

Scarlett nods, “We tell each other everything. So when he told me you guys weren’t talking, I may have devised a plan to help you come around. You do use Facebook, right?” She smirks

Holy shit, all the posts of them together were to make you feel jealous enough to have a conversation with him; and your sworn enemy was the mastermind behind it. It was all a ploy to get under your skin, and you fell right into the trap.

“You’re a stubborn little thing, though. Didn’t think it’d take you so long.” She comments, slipping her jacket on.

You shrug, “I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me.”

“Jungkook always wants to talk to you. I don’t mind it, though. You seem good for him.”

Aside from Somi, Scarlett is probably the last person you would’ve expected to be supportive of your relationship with Jungkook. So, to hear she’d been secretly rooting for you behind the scenes nearly gives you whiplash. You almost feel wrong about your dreams of shoving her face into the pavement.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “So, nothing is going on between you guys?”

Scarlett grimaces as if you deeply offended her, “Of course not! Don’t get me wrong, he’s cute, but not my type. His sister is cute, though.”

Woah.

“Somi? Jeon Somi? You’re into her?” You ask, completely stunned.

“Hell, yes. Hey, do you think you could set us up? Jungkook would never.”

“You do know that Somi can’t stand you, right?”

Scarlett excitedly nods, “I know, it’s kind of a turn-on.”

You hold your hands out to stop her from elaborating any further. Scarlett has surprised you in more ways than one in less than five minutes. You’re sure any new information would’ve made your head explode.

“I’ll…try my best.” You promise; not quite sure how Somi would feel about the idea of Scarlett liking her.

“For what?” A voice interrupts, causing you and Scarlett to direct your attention to the treehouse’s entrance. And there he is, in all his gothic glory.

“Girl talk, none of your business,” Scarlett responds, making room for Jungkook to crawl in.

“Fine. You keep your secrets; I’ll keep mine.” Jungkook groans, sitting between the two of you.

“Will do. I’m outta here. Got a hot date with a box of hair dye. See you suckers later.” Scarlett waves goodbye as she exits the treehouse, reminding you of your promise before disappearing down the steps.

Jungkook clears his throat, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. "So—"

"I'm sorry," you cut him off, "I should've reached out and talked to you, but I was just too embarrassed and didn't know how to approach you about it. I really like you, and I wasn't using you to lose my virginity. I mean, you're the only person I've ever been interested in. So, again, I'm sorry."

He sighs, "I understand why you were embarrassed, but I promise it had nothing to do with you."

"Then what was it?"

Jungkook anxiously scratches the back of his head before he responds. "It's just that…sometimes…it takes me a little bit longer to, uh…to finish."

Oh.

"Is it because of your…size?" You can't help but wonder.

Jungkook snorts, "What, you think I'm big?"

"I'm out of here." You joke, faking as if you're about to leave.

"Wait, wait, wait." He stops you, "I was only kidding. I never really thought size played a factor in it, but every guy is different. But, still, that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy us having sex. I mean, you had already finished, and I didn't want to tire you out just for my sake."

Knowing he had a perfectly reasonable explanation makes you feel even worse about spending all that time avoiding him. You want to tell him you wouldn't mind him tiring you out, that the idea excites you, but you refrain.

A beat of silence passes, and you ask, "But, I'm sure if there's something that you're really into, then it wouldn't take as long for you to finish. Right?"

Jungkook nods, "I guess."

"Then, what is it? What are you into?"

He coughs, tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. "Um…I guess I'm into…roughness?"

Ah.

"That's not a big deal. A lot of people are probably into that."

"I mean, it's fine either way, but I mostly prefer when girls are kinda rough with me. Fuck, this is embarrassing."

"It's not!" You reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his knee, "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me."

Jungkook stares at your hand on his knee before placing his own on top. You twist yours upwards and interlock your fingers, not missing the smile that forms on his face. His bangs have swept into his eyes again, and you use your free hand to move them out of the way. "It was my first time, too, by the way."

You snort, "You don't need to say that just to make me feel better."

"I'm serious," he continues, "I mean, I've gotten pretty handsy in the past, but nothing like what we did."

You shake your head, "I don't buy it. You seemed so experienced like you knew what you were doing."

Jungkook shrugs, "I mean, I'm not completely innocent. I may occasionally watch certain videos and read certain stories from time to time."

Porn and smut. Beautiful combination.

He shakes his head, "You still don't believe me; how come?"

You sigh, memories of the night before he left for college flashing in your mind. How you ran home in tears, how he only responded to Scar's comment on Somi's Facebook post. It almost hurts to think about. "The night before you left for school, there was an opened condom wrapper on your floor. I just figured…you know."

Jungkook nods at the memory. "I wasn't gonna go to the dorms the next day. I was planning on running away, that's why I gave you that bandana. After my parents helped bring my stuff to the dorms, I was gonna put everything in my car then take off."

You're having a hard time processing this information. Why would Jungkook plan on running away? What does this story have to do with the empty condom?

He continues, clutching your hand even tighter. "I only told a few people I was leaving, and there was this one girl who came over to say goodbye. She'd been really into me for a while and was heartbroken that I was leaving. We were about to hook up, hence the condom wrapper, but I couldn't do it."

"Why?" You question.

"Didn't feel right. I wasn't into her the same way she was into me. Just couldn't do it." He explains, eyes staring deep into yours. You believe him; you know he's being truthful.

"What made you decide to stay?" You ask.

"For Somi," he answers, "I couldn't just leave her like that. And for you, too."

Though you've felt it for many years, telling Jungkook you love him is too soon. But you want to, so very badly.

"I'm glad you decided to stay." Your voice is barely a whisper now as you try to stop yourself from tearing up.

He nods, "Me too."

You sit in comfortable silence for a minute, clutching each other's hands. You wish you could stay like this forever.

"I just realized you never told me if there's anything you're into." He points out.

You shrug, "Just you." And it's true: Jungkook is the only person you've ever been interested in. Everything he says and does is genuinely attractive to you.

He drops your hand gently, using it to tilt your head towards him, and he kisses you.

You're quick to cradle the back of his head as his hands snake around your waist, deepening the kiss. You move to straddle his lap, slowly pushing him onto his back. He grunts in surprise, breaking away from the kiss. "You—"

"Stop talking." You demand before your lips intertwine with his once again. With one hand on his chest, you reach to grab a fistful of his hair and tug lightly, earning a satisfied moan from him. You're not used to being rough with guys, but you're sure Jungkook enjoys it with the way his erection is already pressing up against your thigh.

Reluctantly, you pull away from him and sit up, staring at him sprawled underneath you in complete awe. "Alright, I'll message you my number so we can text. See you later."

"No! No, no, no. Please don't go." He pleads, holding you in place when you go to stand, "Just stay a little longer, please."

You smile down at him, fighting the urge to stay in the treehouse. "I can't. Imogen is waiting out front. We'll see each other soon, okay?" You promise, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Jungkook nods, fingers drumming against the floor as he watches you crawl out of the treehouse. "Don't be too surprised if I seem extra excited to see you next time." He calls after you.

"Trust me, I won't."

Jungkook is the first boy to ever sneak in through your bedroom window.

He carelessly tosses his backpack in first, cringing when it lands on your carpeted floor with a loud thud. Though you’ve assured him your parents are heavy sleepers, he’s still worried you’ll get in trouble if he makes too much noise and accidentally reveals himself. “Sorry,” he apologizes, wrist gripping your forearm as you help pull him in.

“It’s fine,” you whisper back, “they’re not gonna wake up.”

“Still,” he grunts, using his upper body strength to pull him further into your room. “Don’t want you getting in trouble.”

It’s a day after the treehouse incident; as promised, you sent Jungkook your number and spent all day texting back and forth. Despite not being big on texting, you admire how Jungkook likes to keep you updated on what he’s doing and how he checks up on you to ensure you’re okay.

“We’ll be fine, but just in case, I did make room for you in my closet in case you have to hide.” You inform him.

Jungkook stifles a laugh, “Good to know.” He settles himself on the edge of your bed, moving over once he realizes he’d sat on a pile of clothing. “Oh, were you about to shower?”

“I was,” you answer, moving the clothing over to your nightstand, “but I’ll wait until after you leave.”

He has to stop himself from making a joke about joining you in the shower. He nods, leaning down to drag his backpack towards him, “Guess what I got today.”

“What?” You question, legs folded underneath you as you sit beside him.

Jungkook slowly unzips his backpack, careful not to make too much noise before rummaging through it and clutching something in his hand. He momentarily turns his back towards you, clips something to his shirt, then turns back around.

There’s a name tag on his chest now with his name scribbled in black ink and a little star next to it. “A job?”

He nods, “At that music store, Spin City. Need to start saving up before classes start. Plus, I wanna take you out somewhere nice before summer’s over.”

You gulp, “Like, a date?”

“Yeah. I mean, unless… I don’t know. I just kinda figured…” He trails off, suddenly worried he may be scaring you off.

You grab ahold of his hand, “I know, and trust me, you’re perfect, and I want us to be together. But, the night we saw you at that party, I did ask Somi if she would be upset if I was into you. Surprisingly, she said she wouldn’t mind as long as I talked to her before making a move on you. And, well…”

“We made a move on each other without telling her,” Jungkook finishes for you.

You nod, “Exactly.”

He sighs, “So, I’m guessing that means you wanna wait before we make things official.”

“Yeah. No matter what, I still want to be with you. But it’d be best for all of us to get her on board with this first. Show her how much we truly care for each other, and make sure she’s okay with it. So she knows my relationship with you won’t affect our friendship, and vice versa.” You explain. Jungkook’s eyes never stray from yours, listening intently and nodding at everything you say.

“That’s fair,” he agrees, “It’s a good idea. Do you want me to talk to her? Or for us to talk to her together?”

You shake your head, “She’ll definitely freak out on you; it’s best if I do it alone first, then you talk to her afterward.”

Jungkook leans back against your bed, resting his head on your pillow. It’s funny how different your aesthetics are; he looks perfectly out of place, sprawled on your baby pink pillow surrounded by teddy bears. “When?”

“I dunno,” you respond, lowering yourself until your head rests comfortably on his bicep. “Doesn’t have to be right away. As long as it’s before we move into the dorms.”

“We shouldn’t wait too long, though. It’ll only make things worse.” Jungkook mumbles, pulling you closer to him.

“I know. I’ll have a talk with her soon, I promise.”

You interlock pinkies to solidify your promise and ease his nerves. You hadn’t realized how anxiety-inducing this was for Jungkook as well. The idea of Somi not approving of your relationship had him genuinely worried.

“But, you should know that no matter what—” he starts.

You cut him off, “I know.”

The hands that once purposely dumped slime in your hair are now tugging your panties down your legs.

“Can we try something?” Jungkook asks with a mumble against your lips, your soft blue underwear now clutched in the palm of his hand.

“Like what? I actually make you come for once?” You joke, earning a laugh from Jungkook.

“Don’t worry about me.” He presses another kiss against your lips, “You trust me?”

“Of course.” You respond, sitting up in Jungkook’s bed as he moves backward, never breaking eye contact with you. He pushes your skirt up slightly but pats your hand away when you go to remove it altogether.

“Leave it on.” He commands, bringing himself at face level with your cunt.

You’ve never felt this shy in your life, grateful your bunched-up skirt created the tiniest barrier between having Jungkook see you all flustered. Never had you been this intimate with a guy, especially not a guy you technically weren’t even dating.

His thumb is circling your clit before you have the time to protest, to tell him he doesn’t have to do this just for your sake, but the feeling of his fingers pressed against you has you at a loss for words.

“This okay?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You respond, tilting your head upwards to stare at the ceiling.

Before you know it, his middle and index fingers are pressed against your opening, eliciting a gasp from your lips. At your reaction, Jungkook slips his finger into your entrance, thumb still playing with your clit. He insists on being teasingly slow today, wanting to draw out every moment and observe your reaction.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you in a slow, consistent motion, an amused smirk on his lips when he hears your breathing become ragged. Abruptly, he slips his fingers out of you, moving your thighs to rest them atop his shoulders.

“Wait, you don’t have to—oh fuck.” You’re cut off by Jungkook pushing himself forward, placing a sudden kiss on your clit that has your hips jolting in the air. His hand grabs your waist and licks at your slit, keeping you in place as he gently returns your body to his mattress.

His growing erection is the last of his worries, all too focused on dragging his tongue across your cunt. He flattens his tongue, pulling the wetness upward until he’s circling your clit again. In search of something to grab onto, your hands grip the bed sheets until Jungkook reaches forward, moving your hand over to grip his hair.

His eyes are closed when you look down at him, and you swear you can hear him moan as he eats you out. You try your best to keep the noise down out of fear someone will hear, but you can’t help but yell out when he’s back to fingering you, all while circling your clit with his tongue.

Your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face further into your pussy, and he lets out a satisfied groan. It’s embarrassing how quickly your orgasm approaches; everything with Jungkook is so intense. He knows this, eyes fluttering open to watch your expressions. Black eyeshadow is smeared across his eyelids as his eyes focus on your own, hands gripping your thighs as he tongue circles your clit.

His fingers are relentlessly pumping into your cunt now, contrasting against how teasingly slow his tongue is moving. He pulls his mouth away, lips glistening with your arousal, and asks, “You close?”

You don’t respond directly, but the grip you have on his hair gives him all the answers he needs before he’s diving back in. It doesn’t take much for you to come after that, a final kiss pressed on your clit, sending you over the edge and coating Jungkook’s fingers.

Jungkook doesn’t stop there, still continuing to lick and suck your clit until you’re begging him to stop from the overstimulation.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “Was that good?”

“That was literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You respond. Jungkook lets out a laugh as he crawls up next to you. “I should be upset with you, though.”

“What?” He questions, peppering your face with kisses, “Why’s that?”

“I came over to talk to your sister about us, and you distracted me.”

“How’d I do that?”

“Because! You came downstairs in your eyeshadow. Then you were all like, ‘Oh, hey. I cleaned my room; wanna check it out?’” You mimic a deep voice that sounds nothing like his.

“I apologize for putting on eyeshadow, bringing you to my room, and eating you out. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I guess.”

You both laugh at this as you move to pull your skirt down. “Hey, how’d you realize you like it when girls are rough with you?”

Jungkook shakes his head as the memory returns to him, a shy smile on his face as he glances over at you. “A couple years ago, I was picking on Somi for something. I don’t even remember why, but it got to the point where my parents were telling me to stop, and I wouldn’t. Then, you just started yelling at me out of nowhere, and I don’t know why, but it was the hottest thing ever. I was in awe. I really thought you were gonna slap me. Since then, it’s just been a turn-on of mine.”

“Wow. That’s actually kind of pathetic.” You tease.

He groans, “Please don’t say that. You’re gonna make me hard again.”

Laughter is shared between you once again before you lean your head down to rest on his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat making you feel calm. A comfortable minute of silence passes before you have to address the unfortunate inevitable, “Somi should be here soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles, “within the next ten minutes.”

You sigh, “Next time I come over, I’ll have to tell her about us.”

The next time you stop by the Jeon household, Jungkook has you bent over in the backseat of his car.

His finger digs into your waist as his cock is plunging into you at full force, emptying all the thoughts from your brain. You still haven’t fully adjusted to his size, but you don’t care; the pain of being split open makes you come faster. It feels better.

Jungkook insisted on taking things slow, telling you that you’d need to adjust to his size, but the moment you sunk your dripping cunt onto him, he was under your spell.

Your body lunges forward with every rough stroke Jungkook gives you, hands buried in your hair as he pulls you up against his chest. His hand moves from your hair down to your neck, tilting your head back while applying the slightest bit of pressure against your throat. Your eyes close out of instinct as tears form in the corner of your eyes before trickling down your cheeks. He kisses them away one by one before settling his lips on your neck. You make a mental note to check yourself for hickeys afterward.

You’re coming around him before you realize it, body spasming as you grip the driver’s seat headrest. Jungkook shows no signs of stopping or slowing down; in fact, he’s sped up even faster since fucking you through your orgasm. He lets go of your neck to push down on your back, left hand gripping your waist while the right intertwines your fingers with his.

A few strokes later, he’s finally coming and jokes about showing you the used condom as confirmation.

You shake your head, gesturing for him to pass you the shorts he’d tossed in the front seat. “I can’t believe I let you trick me again.”

“What?!” He exclaims in utter shock, reaching in the front seat to grab your discarded clothing, “How exactly did I trick you?”

“I came over to talk to Somi, but then you were all like, ‘Hey, come look at my car; I just got it washed.’” You playfully roll your eyes, searching around the backseat for your underwear.

“Can I keep these?” He asks suddenly, the most nonchalant expression on his face as your panties dangle from his middle finger.

You scoff, reaching to snatch them from him, confused when he retracts his hand. “I think I will keep them until you talk to Somi. Since it was you who wanted to talk to her first.”

“Then, I guess I’ll get them back tomorrow because I’m definitely talking to her today.”

Except you don’t.

You spent the entire summer sneaking around with Jungkook and procrastinating about having that talk with Somi. It was anxiety-inducing, to say the least, and you had no idea how she’d react. You tell yourself she won’t be upset as long as you assure her your friendship won’t be affected by you dating her brother.

You’re scheduled to move into the dorms within a few weeks, so it’s best to sort things out now before you all live under the same roof, unable to avoid one another. Jungkook doesn’t seem nervous at all. In fact, he’d given you a pep-talk the day before you showed up at their home.

“She can’t stay mad forever.” He pointed out, eyes sealed shut as you do his eyeliner.

“I know,” you mumbled, adjusting yourself on his lap, “but that girl can hold a grudge.”

“Right, but this is you we’re talking about. You mean a lot to her, to both of us, actually.”

His words play in your mind as you enter the Jeon household, following Somi into the kitchen. “Baking something?” You ask, a sweet, decadent scent hitting your nose.

“Brownies for some stupid bake sale my parents are having. Help me clean up?” She asks, pouting her lips at you.

“Sure.” You agree, under the assumption that there wouldn’t be much to even clean up.

Boy, you were wrong. It’s like Somi used every dish in the house to make one sheet of brownies. There’s no backing out now; you already agreed to help, and it’d be best to stay on her good side for now.

She gets to work rinsing each dish before handing them to you to load the dishwasher, moving quickly to get everything done faster.

“What a beautiful friendship.” A familiar voice comments; you fight back a smile as Somi groans at her brother.

“You wouldn’t know; you don’t have any friends,” Somi responds, laughing at her words.

“Neither will you, soon,” Jungkook whispers back, groaning when you swat him in the chest. “Any brownie batter left?”

“None for you. Shouldn’t you be at work?” Somi asks, handing you another dish.

Somi takes a break from rinsing off the dishes to bicker with Jungkook for a minute. You tune out from the conversation, dipping your fingers into the leftover batter bowl and gathering the chocolate on your fingers.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” Jungkook says. When Somi finally directs her attention elsewhere, Jungkook takes the opportunity to grab your wrist, bringing your fingers up to his lips before sucking the chocolate off them.

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head, nervously glancing behind you to ensure Somi hadn’t seen anything. You swat at Jungkook’s chest for the second time, and he laughs as if you’re being overly dramatic. It’s odd how surprisingly calm he is about everything. His demeanor would have worried you if you didn’t trust him so much.

Jungkook wipes the renaming bit of chocolate around his lips before mouthing ‘Good luck.’ You give him a nervous smile, watching as he slips past Somi and leaves out the front door. You get back to work, making small talk with Somi as you help her load the dishwasher.

It’s now or never.

“So,” you start, “we’re gonna be living together soon.”

Somi smiles, “Finally! God, I can’t wait to have some freedom. My stupid curfew is a major cock-block. Right when things are finally getting good on a date, I have to go back home. So fucking frustrating. There’s literally cobwebs in my vagina.”

You snort, loading the final dish into the washer. “Well, you won’t have that problem anymore.”

“I know. And maybe you’ll even find someone worthy even to date you.” Somi jokes, hopping on the kitchen counter.

“Uh, what if I already have found someone…worthy enough?” You question, pressing a few buttons to get the dishwasher going.

“As if.”

“Somi, I’m serious.”

She sighs, still not buying your confession. “Alright then, who is it?”

“...Your brother.”

A beat of silence passes, and then Somi doubles over in laughter, nearly slipping off the counter several times in seconds. It takes her a minute to catch her breath, clutching her collar for support as she regulates her breathing; even tears are forming in her eyes. “Holy fuck, can you imagine? You and my brother? Jesus Christ.”

“Look, there really isn’t an easy way to say this, but we really do like each other. We’ve been…together this whole summer. Well, not officially; I didn’t want to put a label on anything without talking to you about it first.” You finally confess. The weight on your shoulders doesn’t immediately drop as you expected; it’s like the load has gotten heavier.

Somi has a blank expression as she stares at you, eyes darting around the kitchen as she processes the information. “You’re serious?”

You nod.

She shakes her head, “What kind of friend are you?”

Fuck.

“Somi, please, let me—”

She cuts you off, hopping off the counter and inching towards you. “So, what? All this time, you were using me to get close to Jungkook? Out of every fucking guy on the planet?!”

“No! Of course not! Somi, I never even imagined myself in a relationship with him until this summer, I swear!” Your voice trembles as Somi approaches you. The two of you have never been in a physical fight before, but the expression on her face tells you there’s a first time for everything.

“Oh, really? You expect me to believe that, huh? So it’s just a coincidence that you guys suddenly got together right before we’re all gonna be living in the same building?”

“I know it doesn’t sound great, but—”

“I think you should go.” Somi cuts you off calmly, her sudden change in demeanor shocking you. A moment ago, she looked angry enough to hit you, but now, she seems a few seconds away from breaking down in tears.

You nod understandably, telling Somi to take all the time she needs and to call you when she’s ready to talk.

She doesn’t say a word as you exit her house, and you wonder if you’ve just lost the best friend you’ve ever had.

“I’ve never seen her this angry, Jungkook. I thought she was gonna hit me or something.” You groan, ear pressed up against your phone as you rant to Jungkook.

It’d been a few hours since you left Somi’s house; Jungkook had promised to call you during his break to hear how the conversation went. You’re still shaking as the memories flood you, how your best friend in the world accused you of using her. What a fucking joke.

“She’ll get over it, trust me. Y’know, before I called you, she spent five minutes yelling at me over the phone. Five fucking minutes, and I just took it. She’ll be fine.” He says, following up with a loud slurping noise that suggests Jungkook has chosen to have ramen for lunch.

It’s astonishing how calm he’s managed to stay this entire time.

You flip over on the couch, head resting on the armrest as you stare at the ceiling. “I just don’t wanna lose her. She’s a fireball, for sure, but she’s my fireball. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“I just told you you’re not gonna be without her, okay?”

“...Okay.”

There’s a knock at your front door, most likely from the pizza delivery Jungkook had sent to your house.

“I gotta go. The food is here. Are you still stopping by after your shift?”

“Of course. You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” you stand, making your way to the front door. “I’ll save you some pizza.”

He chuckles at that, “You better. I’ll see you later, okay? I love you.”

He what?

“You what?” You pause, hand on the doorknob.

“I love you, and I’ll see you later.” He hangs up.

You don’t have time to process his words; the knocking at your front door happens again.

Twisting the knob, you’re met with Somi staring back at you. “Somi? What’re you—”

“I don’t care if you date Jungkook.” She claims, storming through your front door, “If you guys want to be together, then I’m not standing in the way. But I will not be your friend if you date him, so it’s either him or me.”

You follow Somi into your living room, your pulse quickening upon hearing her ultimatum. “Somi, that’s not—”

“Before you choose…as a girl, and as your friend, I have to be completely honest with you.” She sighs, fingers nervously raking through her hair as she sits on your couch. “I called Jungkook after you left, and he talked to me about you guys.”

You nod, taking a seat next to her. “Okay, and…?”

She sighs again, taking your hand in her own. “Everything he’s ever told you was a lie.”

#bts imagine #bts smut #bts scenario #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #kpop imagine #kpop smut #kpop scenario #agust d #kim taehyung #13lov

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nadvs · 6 months ago

Text

home before dark (part four)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Rafe is being selfish again. When he offered to sleep in your room, it was so you’d feel safe. But that wasn’t entirely why he did it.

He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t for him, too. Something about being around you gives him a sense of quiet when he’s so used to noise.

It’s disorienting feeling a pull to someone he used to avoid, but life stopped making sense to him a long time ago, so why try to find the logic?

Rafe collects the blanket and pillow from the guest bed he slept on last night, figuring he’ll just sleep on your floor.

The way he touched you earlier tonight is playing like a song in his head. When did he get so soft? He’s hardly ever sober for this long. It must be messing with him. It was just a kiss on your cheek, but his heart pounds when he thinks about it.

Then you noticed his gun and looked at him with such disgust that he knows you’d be horrified to learn what his mind sounds like these days. To learn how much anger he has burning through his veins. You’d run in the opposite direction.

You told him you’ve never said anything bad about him. He’d like to keep it that way. So he’ll take all this fake stuff and enjoy it from a distance, far enough removed from you to avoid taking any risks.

You’ve been tucked into bed for a few minutes when Rafe comes through your open door, darkness filling every corner of the room.

After you accepted his offer downstairs, you parted tensely, as if either of you had said one wrong word, the agreement to sleep in your room together would lose all legitimacy.

Rafe’s tall figure quietly makes a bed on the floor a few feet away. He lets out a low grunt when he lies down, turned away from you.

You stare at his back, thinking about how he said whatever you did wrong wasn’t on purpose. You should probably let it go. He’ll never talk about it. But the curiosity is relentless.

After a few minutes of watching Rafe turn from his back to his side over and over, you break the silence.

“Is your brain doing it again?” you ask. Your voice makes the knot in his chest loosen.

“What?” he rasps.

“Is it not turning off?”

He doesn’t respond. You talked about this hours ago at the party, but it stayed with you. He’s not used to this much attention on him. He usually has to fight for it.

“If it isn’t, maybe I could bore you to sleep,” you offer.

“I bet you could.” A second later, Rafe feels a pillow you threw from your bed hit his chest and roll beside him. He smirks in the dark.

You clarify, “I meant I could distract you.”

“For real this time? I don’t need another interrogation.” You love that you can hear a smile in his voice and hate that you can’t see it. Little by little, he’s acting like your friend again.

“Since when is asking one question an interrogation?” Last night, all you did was ask why he was helping you.

“See?”

“Oh, my God,” you sigh with a laugh. “Okay, let me think… I can tell you about the errands I ran today?”

“I’ll be out cold in a minute.” You laugh again and Rafe smiles up at the ceiling. Making you feel safe feels good. Making you laugh like that feels even better.

“Rude,” you say. “Pass me that pillow so I can throw it at you again.”

In the dark, you watch him reach for the pillow on the floor and tuck it under his arm. You breathe out a chuckle.

You pull your duvet up to your chin, unable to believe that the same Rafe who ignored your every attempt to talk, who wouldn’t even hold eye contact with you, is on the floor of your room, joking around with you.

You start to ramble about the shopping you did after he left your house this morning, getting into every menial detail, down to the long line at the gas station.

At first, Rafe can’t imagine falling asleep to this. Your voice humming through the dark is soothing and even though you’re trying to make your story boring, he’s interested.

But eventually, his eyelids get heavier. You’re dozing off, too, but it’s not until you hear his breaths grow deeper that you allow yourself to succumb to the fatigue.

Your senses are blurred and bleeding into each other like paint on a messy canvas, and while you’re confused, you know one thing for sure: you’re terrified.

Ty’s behind the wheel and the car is barreling down the busy freeway at a vicious speed. It’s storming and he’s laughing and you can’t scream. You can’t even speak.

Anne’s car is coming right for yours and Ty won’t slow down no matter how hard you try to gain control of the wheel and you brace for impact, but suddenly you’re in your fifth grade class and you’re crying and everyone is staring at you.

You wake up to big hands holding your shoulders, gently shaking you. A low and soft voice whispers your name, coaxing you to wake up.

Your eyes open to see Rafe standing over you in the dark and you realize your cheeks are wet with tears. Consciousness slowly wraps around you. It was a nightmare.

Your adrenaline pushes you to sit up, your chest heaving. His hands drop off of you, but he’s still standing and leaning over your bed, inches away.

“Bad dream?” he asks over the sound of your shallow breaths. Your whimpers are what woke him up. Hearing you crying in your sleep like that was painful.

You rub both eyes with your knuckles and try to catch up with reality.

“I was in the car with Ty and he was driving too fast and then I saw your mom-” You immediately shut up. In your fog, you forgot what you’re allowed to say and what you’re not, and by the way Rafe stands straight, you know you messed up.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching for his hand. His fingers are still and don’t curl around yours. The fact that you pull him towards you shows just how disoriented you are. “Can you sleep up here?”

“What?”

“Can you sleep up here?” you mumble dazedly. Rafe’s already sinking onto the mattress before you finish asking your repeated question.

You turn to face him when he lies down. You curl into a ball, your hand still gripping his as you try to breathe slower. You remember your other pillow is on the floor and you lift your head to shift your pillow to the middle so that he can rest his head on it, too.

Rafe stares ahead, listening to your fast breathing and his loud heartbeat. He’s struck that even when you’re in a half-asleep trance, your instinct is to make sure he’s comfortable.

And to ask him to lie next to you. To be close when there’s nobody around to prove your pretend relationship to. You actually find comfort in him. He thought he was starting to find it in you, too, but then you mentioned her.

You shudder when Rafe’s hand twists out from yours, losing the anchor reminding you that none of it was real. But then you realize he did it to put his palm on your cheek.

“You’re good,” he reassures you. He frowns when he feels a tear on your skin. “It’s alright.”

You nod under his touch, your eyes shut, swallowing hard and cupping his wrist. He’s still trembling from withdrawal.

The dream took you to when you were ten and Rafe’s desk was empty and your teacher told the class he lost his mom a couple of nights ago, so you’d spend the period making sympathy cards for him.

It’s important we show him he’s not alone, she said and you were so upset that you didn’t know how to do that when you were supposed to be best friends. You stared at a blank piece of paper for long enough that your teacher told you that you could work on something else.

You did eventually make him a card. And you visited. And you called. And you tried talking to him over and over.

But nothing you did or said was ever good enough. He shut everybody out and you were no exception. Maybe someone else would be mad at him for it, but you couldn’t ever find it in your heart to be. You still can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you say into the dark, wishing he knew just how heavy the pain you carry for him is. You feel frantic now, the emotions washing over you with no mercy, as if you just learned she died all over again. “I’m sorry for everything. You were just a kid-”

“Don’t,” Rafe interrupts. “Just sleep.”

You sniffle and he swears he can feel his heart crack but he can’t indulge you. He can’t open the wound he pretends isn’t still bleeding. He can’t talk about how his life crumbled into ruins and he’s still sitting in the rubble.

He lost his mother, his security, and eventually his mind, and there’s no point in talking about what he can never get back.

Rafe’s hand slips off of your cheek but your fingers remain wrapped around his wrist. He lets you keep holding onto him as you fall back asleep.

The sunlight is coming through slitted blinds when Rafe’s eyes open. He couldn’t see your room last night, but now that he can study the space that is so you, his mind starts racing.

You’re asleep next to him, head tilted towards him on the pillow you’re sharing. He gazes over your pretty features, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips.

How could someone so sweet hurt him so fucking bad? Last night was brutal. You mentioning his mom without any warning was like a sharp jolt of electricity. He was an idiot to think he could find comfort in you.

You’ll always remind him of it. Of the helplessness and the horror and the agony. He can’t handle it. Even if you never talk about it again, your presence alone is a reminder.

You shuffle awake and reach out for him, but his side of the bed is cold. He’s not on the floor, either. You look out the window to see his motorcycle is still where he parked it last night.

When you come down to the front room, Rafe is in the same chair he sat in the night of the storm, grudgingly playing with his ring, staring ahead with a hard frown.

He sees you and immediately stands up, eyes darting away from you like the last few days didn’t happen at all. All his coldness is back.

“Finally,” he grunts. You watch him stalk past you with screwed up lips. “Lock the door behind me.”

You realize he was waiting for you to wake up. And now he’s acting like you’re contagious with something he’d rather die than catch, rushing out of your home, triggering the alarm when he opens the front door.

You follow him to punch the code into the security system and then quickly open the door he closed, watching him stride down the steps towards his bike.

You’re in a haze. Last night, he held you so gently and you fell asleep inches away from each other. This morning, he can’t get away fast enough.

It’s what you said. You mentioned his mom. You knew it was out of bounds, but you were so frightened and disoriented and spoke without thinking.

“Wait,” you say to his back. But Rafe continues on his way, making you feel just like you did in your nightmare. You’re speaking but it’s like nothing is coming out.

“Please don’t go back to ignoring me,” you call louder, a shake in your voice. This makes him pause. You swing the door shut behind you and close the distance, stepping out into the brisk morning air.

You face him and he looks absolutely wrecked. Guilt digs its sharp claws into your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I was out of it.”

Rafe stares down at the paved ground, his jaw tightening.

“You’re always gonna remind me,” he mutters.

His sentence is simple, but it carries the weight of your broken friendship. It hits you that you could never mention the past again, not a single memory or anything about his loss, and it still wouldn’t be enough. You’re a constant reminder.

“That’s why you never wanted anything to do with me?” you say. Rafe looks at you again. Your eyes have lost all their light.

It’s just a part of the reason the bridge between you can’t ever be rebuilt, but talking about it with you is torture, so he’ll let you believe that that’s all there is to it.

“You can go,” you say quietly, stepping back. If being with you just brings back painful memories to him, you won’t subject him to it any longer.

Every muscle in Rafe’s body aches as he drives home. His head is hammering with pain and his bones weigh a million pounds and he’d kill for a hit of anything right now. He needs the escape.

Just when he thought he found a place to slow down, you reminded him of why he’s always running. As soon as he’s sure your ex is done bothering you, he’s out.

As you watch Rafe drive away, the gate opens when the sensor detects a vehicle leaving the property, and you notice the mailbox is open.

You pick up the mail to see an envelope with your name handwritten on it. Panicked, you rush back inside, locking the door. You know it’s Ty, finding yet another way to contact you.

You would’ve noticed the mailbox was open when you got home with Rafe last night. He did this overnight or early this morning.

When you finally find the courage to read his letter, dread forces its way into your body so roughly that you’re not sure you’ll ever feel happy again.

You feel some relief when Sarah texts in the group chat a couple of hours later asking if anyone wants to go shopping. It’s the distraction you need.

It’s late afternoon when you meet her and your mutual friend Lia at the mall, trying to get your mind off of Rafe’s coldness and Ty’s persistence and your own pain.

Afterwards, Sarah invites you both to her house and soon, the three of you are sitting in her room, chatting and listening to music.

The door is open and when a figure passes by, you look up to see Rafe. He glances at you for a second, then goes right back to ignoring you, continuing on his way without another second of hesitation.

When he got home, he took a couple of shots before he fell asleep in his bed. He woke up still partly buzzed and he can’t handle seeing or talking to you right now.

Sarah shakes her head in the corner of your eye. She noticed him, too.

“Jesus, Rafe, that’s how you treat your girlfriend?” she half-shouts. Two pairs of eyes land on you as your friends await your reaction.

“We’re in a fight,” you say, anxious that the topic has come up and that you’ll have to lie your way through it.

“Already? Didn’t you just start dating?” Lia says.

“Yeah, it’s sad,” you say with a downcast laugh.

Rafe chews on his thumbnail as he kneels against the hallway wall. He should’ve kept walking, but he’s secretly hanging onto your every word.

“I still can’t believe you guys are together,” she says. “I didn’t even know you liked him.”

“I did,” Sarah laughs. You look at her with wide eyes. “Come on, you never let anyone say anything bad about him.”

“Why do you?” Your eyes jump to Lia.

“Why do I what?” you say, trying to play it off.

“Like him,” Lia replies.

You figure while all of this is a sham, you can at least answer this question with full honesty.

“He takes care of me,” you say. You think about how you laughed together in your bedroom last night. “And I have fun with him.”

Regret gnaws at Rafe. Even though you’re upset with him, you still speak of him kindly. His growing feelings for you would be so much easier to get rid of if you were like everybody else, writing him off, calling him psycho.

“Yeah, you look like you’re having a lot of fun,” Lia replies with a playful nudge, trying to bring some humor to the room. “Seriously, are you okay? You seem off.”

You believe it. Your mind doesn’t feel any clearer since last night’s nightmare.

“I’m really freaked out because of Ty,” you admit.

“It’s crazy that he’s still bothering you,” Sarah says.

“It is. He won’t stop. I saw footprints outside my front door last night and I think they were his. That would mean he found a way around the gate,” you tell them. “And then there was a letter from him in my mailbox this morning. It was so creepy.”

Rafe’s body stiffens.

“God, that’s like stalker level,” Lia says. “What’d it say?”

The sound of Rafe saying your name interrupts you. You look up to see him standing in the doorway, staring at you. He cocks his head, silently beckoning you to come out.

When you face him in the corner of the hallway, far from Sarah’s room, you cross your arms and let him start the conversation.

“That asshole left you a letter?” Rafe mutters quietly. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Embarrassment turns in your stomach. He was eavesdropping.

“You wouldn’t have answered,” you reply.

“Yeah, I would’ve,” he says sternly. “What’d he write?”

You bite your bottom lip in anguish, choking back your tears.

You’re clearly shaken up. Rafe’s protective instinct overpowers him. He grasps your arm, squeezing gently, giving into his every impulse around you like he always does. You breathe slowly, eyes darting away.

“What did he write?” he repeats. His hand is so warm, a hard contrast from how cold you know he can be.

Your mind turns over the scribbled words on the crumpled page Ty left for you. It was mainly nonsensical, but some phrases stuck with you like a dagger to your heart.

“That he and I are meant to be,” you recall. “And that I know deep down we’re supposed to be together and he’ll keep waiting until I realize it.”

“What a fucking creep,” Rafe snarls, dropping his hand off of you. He’s not going to miss the next opportunity to beat the hell out of the guy and get him away for you for good.

The intensity of your nightmare and the shock from your argument still hurts, and as you look at Rafe, his hair falling over his forehead, his skin pale and his lips pursed in anger, you don’t have it in you to ask him to continue doing this for you.

“You don’t have to do this anymore,” you say. “I’ll stay with friends until my parents get back.”

“What?” Rafe’s pulse quickens. This thing with you isn’t real, he knows that, but it feels like you’re breaking up with him.

“We’re just hurting each other,” you tell him.

“No,” he says. “No. I’m keeping you safe. I’m taking care of you.”

He can’t possibly be hurting you. He can’t be fucking up yet another thing in his life.

“Rafe,” you exhale, defeated. “This whole thing was a bad idea. I’m just a reminder to you. And you’re…”

“I’m what?” he asks.

“You’re always going to keep me at a distance,” you say.

You hang on to what feels like your last shred of hope. You wait, hoping he’ll deny it, hoping he’ll finally meet you in the middle. You thought you had infinite faith that he’d let you in again. But after this morning, you’ve reached the end.

“Listen, I’m…” Rafe begins. Being with you hurts sometimes, but he can’t allow you to be in any danger. “I’m not letting you deal with him on your own.”

“I won’t be on my own,” you respond. He scoffs. Your friends couldn’t scare him off like he can.

“I can’t risk anything happening to you,” he says quickly. “Just… we’ll keep doing this until he finally gets it, alright?”

You’ve been barely grasping onto hope and his words are enough to keep you from letting go. That’s when you accept the fact that you’re doomed. You’ll never give up on him.

“Alright,” you say. Until he finally gets it. Your time with Rafe is limited. But nonetheless, it’s time.

He breathes out in relief. The possibility of disappointing you is more painful than he imagined. He can’t mess this up.

You leave him standing in the hallway, knowing you’ll have to walk away for good when all of this is over. You wonder if you’ll be able to do it without it breaking your heart.

Later in the evening, Sarah invites a few more friends over, who then invite their friends, and soon, the backyard of the Cameron estate is buzzing with conversation and laughter, the beach a glittering backdrop to the spontaneous party. You’re not surprised the space filled up so fast. This is all Kooks do these long summer days.

You find relief in the fact that Ty probably wouldn’t come. Not to Rafe’s house. You stand by your group of friends under the setting sun, the crowd growing around you.

When you spot one of Ty’s friends, your stomach sinks. If he’s here, maybe your ex is, too. It’s best to be cautious.

You search the crowd for Rafe. You noticed him a little while back, drinking with his friends, but he’s nowhere to be found now.

When you break from your group to ask Rafe’s friends where he went, they only offer you shrugs.

You slip into the quiet house, your heart starting to pound at the possibility of Ty finding you and Rafe not being around.

You find Rafe’s name in your phone and dash up the grand stairs, your phone to your ear as you decide to hide in Sarah’s room until you’re sure you’re safe.

It rings once before he answers.

“You okay?” he says.

“Where are you?”

“I’m - uh…” Rafe starts to clean away the lines of coke he made on his nightstand. He never hid it before, but with you around, he’s ashamed of his drug use now. That he needs it. That he couldn’t stay away. He finished his first line before you called. “I’m in my room.”

“I’ll be right there,” you say.

He panics, spilling the powder in his rush, wondering how many seconds he has left before you catch him mid-relapse.

The door opens and he catches your eyes darting to the hardwood floor, covered with coke he didn’t clean up on time.

Rafe’s at the edge of his bed, glaring up at you.

The last time you were in this room, he was just an innocent kid, and now he’s hunched over and drugged up and living through grief you’re not sure he’ll ever be able to bear.

He tries to shove past the shame, focusing on what he’s supposed to be focusing on.

“Is he here?” Rafe asks, standing up, filled with a rush of energy from the drugs.

He approaches you, his pupils blown, rubbing his nose. You stare up at him with concern. He’s so obviously trying to hide the fact that he just used.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I saw his friend and I thought I should find you in case he came.”

“Shit,” he mumbles, erratically shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have left you alone out there.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not,” Rafe says, his agitation growing. He was fighting the urge to use as long as he could. Then he told himself he’d just do a couple of lines and go back downstairs, but something could have happened to you in those few minutes. “It’s not okay. I fucked up. All I do is fuck up.”

You watch him pace back towards his bed, raking his hand through his hair. He’s nearly hysterical.

“That’s not true,” you say. Is that really what he thinks of himself?

“You don’t…” Rafe lets out a defeated huff as he sits on his bed, his head in his hands. “You don’t know me.”

It’s a painful reminder. But he’s right.

He stands up again, his breaths heavy. He needs to get this anxiety and anger and fear out the best way he knows how. With a fight.

“He better not be here,” he mutters.

Rafe stalks past you quickly and you follow him as he rushes down the stairs.

He darts towards the crowd scattered across the backyard. You trail him as he pushes through groups, his fists clenched tight.

He realizes your ex isn’t here and turns to look down at you in the middle of the crowd.

“Who’s his friend?” he asks, panting. You can tell that at this point, he just wants to hit someone. He doesn’t care who. And you’re not going to lead him to a guy who hasn’t done anything wrong.

“He has nothing to do with this,” you say over the chattering surrounding you. “Ty isn’t here, okay? That’s what matters. I’m safe. You didn’t fuck anything up.”

The worry in your eyes is almost too much for Rafe. He doesn’t get you. Whatever you see in him doesn’t exist. He feels like he needs to prove to you how wrong you are.

“I couldn’t last two nights,” he says. “I wanted to get clean and I couldn’t last two nights.”

Your face falls. The ground you’re both on feels shaky. You didn’t know he thought so low of himself.

“It’s not all or nothing,” you say. “You don’t have to get it on the first try. It’s…” You almost say an addiction, but you don’t want to insult him.

“It’s a habit and it takes time to break,” you conclude.

Rafe exhales shakily, his body jittery. He looks so upset that you couldn’t leave his side if you tried.

“I need to get away from all this noise,” you say. “Can we go down to the water?”

Rafe curtly nods. He needs to get away, too. The commotion around him is only fuelling his rage.

You stride towards the boardwalk leading to the private beach. The party wasn’t too loud for you at all, but he looked overwhelmed, so you fibbed just to get him out of the chaos.

You quietly walk towards the beach under the dark orange sky. Even with the baggage between you, it feels good to be by his side like this. You just wish it didn’t hurt him to be around you.

You ran up and down this boardwalk so many times as kids. One morning, you fell and scraped your knee and even though you were fine, Rafe put his arm around you to lean on him the whole way back up to the house so his mother could bandage you up.

Now it’s your turn to help him. However you can.

You make it to the sand. The crowd’s sound is just a dull roar behind you now that you’ve reached the beach.

You look over at Rafe to see his chest still rapidly rising and falling as he gazes out at the sea. You wonder why he was hiding it. He never shied away from snorting lines in the middle of a party before.

But by the look on his face, you can tell. He’s ashamed. His words ring in your head. All I do is fuck up.

“You can do it,” you tell him. “You can quit.”

Rafe looks at you and expels a dismissive scoff.

“Doubt it,” he murmurs.

You settle onto the sand, legs stretched out towards the water.

“Why?” you ask.

He stares out at the sea again, the shallow waves curling and tumbling into the shore beneath the setting sun. When he thinks about the hours you two spent out here, it’s like the memories aren’t even his.

He leans to sit next to you, arms resting on his propped up knees. You want so badly to talk about all the silly games and conversations you had out here years ago, but you know better now.

“Why do you care so much?” Rafe finally says, his voice low. You gaze at his profile and notice his lower lip just barely tremble. There’s a fragility in his face that you’ve never seen before.

You take a breath. How can you possibly answer without bringing up the past?

“I just do. Whether you want me to or not.” You say it with a soft chuckle in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

His shoulders slump. Before all this started, he was sure nobody cared about him. Not really. Not when it mattered. But you do.

You bite your lip, desperate to make him feel better.

“I’m not scared of him when you’re around,” you say. “I didn’t think that was possible. And maybe you weren’t downstairs when I was looking for you, but you answered my call right away. So, no, you don’t fuck everything up. You’re helping me when you don’t even have to.”

“I do have to,” he replies.

“Why do you think that?” You know he has a sense of loyalty towards you, a sense of owing you something, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll give you a warmer answer this time.

Rafe’s heart is racing. He’s failed so much. He failed making his own dad like him. He failed staying away from the coke. He’s not going to fail you.

“You’re the only person left who gives a shit,” he admits, unable to say about me out loud.

His words send a shiver through you. Just like in your bed last night, even though there’s nobody around to prove anything to, you touch him. You cup your hand around the inside of his elbow and squeeze.

Feeling your skin on his is a rush for him every time. The only contact he’s had with other people for years has been violent. But you’re so gentle with him and it unravels his anger.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat. Or he tries to. But he can’t. The coke is making him manic. He took too much. He’s overwhelmed by your affection and he can’t stop what his body’s doing in response.

When you watch a tear run over the curve of his cheek, your shock and concern and sadness give you an ache so painful, your breath hitches.

Before he can try to leave, you lean on him, your temple pressed against his shoulder.

He’s humiliated. He’s actually fucking crying in front of you. So much for being the strong person keeping you safe. Behind everything he pretends to be, he’s weak.

It’s odd to cry in front of someone and not have them tell him to man up. You simply nuzzle against him and tighten your grip.

“Rafe!” someone calls in the distance. “Dude, what the hell? Why’d you leave?”

You both look back to see a group of his buddies stumbling down the boardwalk, laughing drunkenly.

“Shit,” Rafe grunts, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. His friends are probably looking for some blow. They can’t see him like this. He’s pissed you’re seeing him like this.

You can see how his guard is suddenly up again, how frantic he is to cover his tears.

“Should I…” you stammer, “try to get them to go?”

Rafe shrugs, at a loss, pulling the collar of his shirt up to wipe the evidence off of his face.

You watch his friends get closer and your mind rushes through how you can possibly get them to leave him alone.

It’s ridiculous, but it may be the only thing that’ll work.

“Maybe…” You take a breath to gain a bit of courage. “Maybe we just do what we did at the party last night?”

Glossy blue eyes land on you. He thinks back to the way you held each other, the way he kissed your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you say, words rushed. “Maybe if they think you’re in the middle of a hook-up, they won’t interrupt? It’s stupid, but I don’t know what else we could do.”

The invitation ignites a fire in him. Suddenly, Rafe’s hand cradles your jaw and he pulls you in. You were expecting a hug or something tame. But he kisses you.

Everything that felt heavy in you lightens. His lips are even softer than you imagined. Your mouths melt together and it feels so natural that you almost forget this is all a tactic.

Everything in and around Rafe blurs when he kisses you. He doesn’t feel weak or fucked up or like a failure. He just feels you. Kissing him back. Tasting him like he’s tasting you.

You hear Rafe’s friends’ voices grow louder and you pull back, glaring at them.

“He’s busy!” you shout. Some of them laugh, others holler, but the guy at the front of the group throws his arms up and turns around.

“Say no more,” he slurs, laughing. “But hurry it up, will you?”

You watch them stumble back towards the house and you realize you can hear your heartbeat. You wish it was from the rush of getting away with a lie. But it’s not. It’s from the lie feeling this good.

“It worked,” you say. When you focus on Rafe again, his eyes are on your lips. Then, he quickly looks away, his hand lifting off of you.

The air between you is thick and awkward and you nervously clasp your hands together.

He looks out at the water again. So do you. You’re not touching anymore. And even though he’s right next to you, he suddenly feels miles away.

(part five)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#yall ive never had a series with parts THIS LONG i dont think #but i just cant put a pause to the story until it feels right lol 😭#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #yet it always ends in

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swe3tte4rs · 10 months ago

Note

Batifamily headcanons feeling jealous about their siblings spending more time with Batmom? Or something like that, however you like to write it 🙊

" Jealousy jealousy " - Batmom!Reader x Batkids

Author's note: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR (late)!!! Love this 🫶. And I feel like this request is VERY my AU!!! Dah, who wouldn't compete for the love of their sweet and loving mother!? (The hatred between them began when Bruce had to set schedules for each one so they wouldn't fight for Batmom's attention... joke)

Also I am very sad, because when I was responding to this kind of request and I saved it as a draft, it was deleted 😭!!! CRYING 💔💔!!! On top of that, I loved the request, it was beautiful 😭! It was about Batmom as Bruce's couple and Bruce introduces Batmom to the batkids... And if it was you who sent it 🫵, let me tell you that I loved it and it will take me a while to upload it 💓!! Lov you all

And (I almost forgot to mention this), This AU of the batfamily is a mix of comics, series, headcanons (I LOVE headcanons of batfamily 💗), video games, movies and webtoon! + My main language is not English, so if you find any spelling mistakes, tell me in a comment!

Request opens 💗💗!!! BUT, before you request anything check my rules.

Dick Grayson / Nightwing

Honestly, I don't see him being jealous of his brothers at all! But since I haven't read all of his comics and in this AU he is a mix, I don't have an opinion. 👀

Let us begin.

I feel like Dick is a real mama's boy, he love his mom and he will prove it.

Dick is very used to having all of Batmom's attention to himself.

But he hides his jealousy very well, or so he thinks…

Jealousy began when Dick started having siblings. DON'T DENY ME GIRL 🤝🤝!!!

When he gets jealous that you spend more time with, I don't know, he'll go to sleep with you and Bruce, but leaving Bruce aside and enjoying your caresses in his hair while he listens to his siblings complain from outside the bedroom. (Bruce hate this, but I feel that at the same time he love it just a little bit. Very little.)

Possibly he will also rub things you did with him that you didn't do with your other children in his siblings' faces.

I think he is the only one (along with Jason) who has a complete album with photos of him as a child. So he'll show it off to others by saying that you loved him so much that you made an entire photo album of him.

He would do the same with Jason, telling him that his album has more photos and with more photos of you and Dick.

I feel like he would start a whole fight against one of his brothers just to carry all the shopping bags by himself so you don't do it. (This idea is similar to "Jason Todd is a total mama's boy" because I was inspired by it, so credit to its respective author 💓)

"Mommy, did you just call me Damian? Oh my god... my heart..." #atotaldramaqueenbaby💋💋👊👊

Jason Todd / Red Hood

Another drama queen...

A mama's boy from head to toe. (My poor baby just needed a fucking mother figure 😭💔)

He is first in everything. Do you need help opening a jar? He already opened it for you and said I love you and then left and returned to a mission.

But that's not what we're talking about right now... Nonono, we're talking about jealousy, guys...

I bet he's the most sensitive of all.

He makes sure you don't show favoritism to anyone, unless it's him, if so he lets it go.

Did you spend an extra minute with one of your other children because you didn't see the time? He is already burning in a pit of jealousy.

I feel like he would start fighting with his sibling and then he would apply the law of silence to you. But it doesn't last long because he can't resist your cute nicknames and your "you're my favorite" (you say that to each of your babies)

"Why do you call him "son"? He isn't even your son!" And he gives you a whole long speech when you were just trying to be nice to Roy.

He even gets jealous of Bruce.

He doesn't care if it's one of his sisters or a good friend of his, you can't call them cute nicknames! And even less if they are the ones you use with him!

He has good hearing, he makes sure that you call him by his nicknames and not by one of his siblings' nicknames.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MA?! Why are you washing Tim's hair with the shampoo you use with me!?!?" You broke him...

Tim Drake / Red Robin

( I haven't read almost anything by Tim, so forgive me if something doesn't add up, but I promise you that I already have more or less what his personality is like.)

Tim does not admit his jealousy, he is calmer compared to his brothers.

He might start scheduling his patrols to coincide with Batmom’s free time, ensuring that he gets to spend some time with her.

I feel like he would feel more insecurity than jealousy

But I also think he would try to take Batmom's attention away from his sibling by calling Batmom to help him do something he can easily do alone.

He wouldn't care if you treated his friends like your children. I think he would be happy.

Umh Well… I think there's not much to jealousy about this one...

Damian Wayne / Robin

Yes, I headcanon that Damian is one of the most jealous once he realizes that Batmom can give him the love that Talia didn't give him.

He is the same as Jason, he has the same percentage of jealousy.

The only thing is that he would start making arguments about why Batmom would have to spend the whole week with him and not with her brothers.

Oh, and he doesn't care what Bruce does with Batmom. Although he is disgusted by the slightest affection they have.

At galas, I feel like he would be glued to you, hugging your waist and making sure there is no threat.

If you're not patrolling, he'd be with you watching some movie. (I DON'T KNOW WHY I IMAGINED HIM WATCHING MEAN GIRLS)

"I say mom Is going to go with me first because I'm the best-" And then he was interrupted by his siblings.

There is a relationship of hate and equality between him and Jason…

"Don't you see that my mother has an engagement ring and I'm next to her, son of a- *you interrupt him*" I feel like he would say this to anyone who flirts with you.

He is not understanding why his siblings get to spend more time with her.

Mama's boy

I would continue writing, but I have no more inspiration and ideas, sorry...

Cassandra Cain / Orphan

WHY DID SHE PUT THAT NAME BRO???

Cassandra, being the quiet and observant one, might internalize her feelings of jealousy.

Cass is the last one to get jealous, honestly.

She understands that Batmom loves them all equally and there is no favoritism.

Although sometimes she doubts…

She would feel excluded every time she sees you spend more time with one of her siblings.

But putting that behind, she would know that you love them all equally and would let it go by speaking with you how she feels.

0,1% jealous.

Stephanie Brown / Spoiler

Depends…

I think she would feel jealous if Batmom shows favoritism towards others.

In itself, I don't think Steph is VERY jealous. Just... a little bit.

Duke Thomas / The Signal

I need to read more about this man 😭

He's the newest one in the batfam, but he was still able to connect with Batmom very well.

Duke is not one to be jealous, he just doesn't care what batmom does.

Although he is a similar case to Cass.

He would feel a little "insecure" seeing the ties Batmom has with his siblings.

But it always ends well with Batmom watching a movie with him.

[You can put more headcanons in a comment if you like!! And suggestions are always welcome <3]

#🍓୧ ‧₊˚ Request answered! ⋅ ✮⋆˙#batmom #jason todd is a mama's boy #batfamily #batmom reader #batmom imagine #batfam x reader #red hood x reader #nightwing x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #batfam #idk what else to tag

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akumakosuke · 9 months ago

Text

T.w: Subbot Amab Kento Nanami x Topdom Amab reader. Breeding kink, overstimulation, size kink (kinda), multiple orgasms, creampie, praise, degradation, cock warming, feminization (calling Kento's hole a pussy), fluffy aftercare.

P.s this has been in my drafts forever!! I completely forgot about it until someone reminded me!

I'm actually going feral right now.

I watched the new episode of JJK last night and good lord MAPPA fed me a full course meal drinks included.

Did you see my husband's looking all sexy and oh so fucking breedable?

I'm writing a separate post for Toji, someone sent me a request for breeding Sugar baby Toji and I'm working on it, this is all about my love, my darling, my glorious Nanami Kento. (I still have the Toji one in the works)

Like most men I crave I literally want to marry Nanami and make him my house husband.

I want to just keep him at home (full of my cum) and take care of him, provide for him mind, body and spirit. I want to make him feel safe, loved, cared for, appreciated, needed and genuinely wanted.

I want to come home from a long ass day of running a huge company, completely exhausted and wanting nothing more than my big strong man in my arms.

I would open the door and immediately be woken up by the most amazing smelling dinner and most importantly a fresh loaf of Kento's favourite thing ever, bread.

I would feel all the tension, anger and tiredness melt away as I closed the door, finally got to take off my shoes and coat.

I would place my bag down and when I look up it would be as if God themselves came down to this meaningless float rock we call Earth and blessed me, a nobody with an Angel of my own.

He would stand there in all his glory, his broad shoulders that seem to relax in my presence, those huge pecs that always seem to fit perfectly in my hands, that slim waist that I know for a fact is still bruised from last night, those muscular thighs that could definitely crush my skull, those veiny hands that used to be so dangerous, he hated that, hold me with such gentle touches.

I would smile and he would try not to, as usual keeping up with his ‘i'm always serious because I'm mature’ act that he puts on as a facade, he and I both know he's just a big softie that genuinely cares about his friends and will do anything to protect them.

I would say something cheesy like “Honey I'm home.” with a smirk because I know he hates those dumb romantic comedies.

His smile would instantly fade and he would roll his eyes and mumble “Idiot.” and walk away.

I would laugh and follow him inside, then with a teasing tone say something like “You're supposed to say ‘Welcome back Dear.’ and then kiss me.”

He would ignore me as usual and change the subject “Go wash your hands they're filthy and I baked a new type of bread, the lady at the bakery gave me the recipe.”

I would come out of the bathroom with freshly washed hands and take a seat at the dinner table and say something like “Yeah, smells good hun.”

He would hum in acknowledgement he's listening and bring over the delicious food he cooked and his new bread then place them on the table.

Then he would stand over me with his hands on his hips causing me to -on not normally casual settings- look up at him in confusion.

He would then place an arm on my chair and turn it, making me fully face him and I would happily admire the view.

He's wearing grey sweatpants and a black swear shirt with that cute pink apron I bought him that says kiss the cook.

I would smirk knowing he only wore that because his normal plain black aprons mysteriously disappeared when the pink one showed up.

He would then tangle his thick hands in my hair, suddenly tugging on it and making me groan in pain, the action immediately makes blood rush to my dick.

He would force me to look up at him and with that ever so stern expression say something fucking hot like “Now that you've washed your hands, didn't you read the apron?”

Then he would give me no time to respond as he leans forward and roughly captures my lips in a heated kiss.

I would easily give in and let him do what he wants, this always happens. In the beginning Kento takes charge, he knows exactly what to do to get me hard enough to fuck his pretty brain dumb.

Kento is a smart man, he knows how to get what he wants. He knows what he's doing when he straddle my lap.

Those thick thighs would flex around mine, squeezing me as his crotch 'accidently' grinds against mine.

He would tighten his grip on my hair, bringing his other arm around my shoulders and deepen the kiss, mumbling a fake apology, as if he doesn't want me to fuck him.

My hands would instinctively find his waist, I would say something like “Don't apologize love, take responsibility Kento.” then I would squeeze his waist and grind his plump ass on my fully hard dick.

He would moan and kiss me deeper, then he would start to roll his hips without my help. The friction from the fabric against our hard length sends shocks of pleasure through our entire bodies but it's not enough.

Then while Kento would be kissing me, his hand around my shoulder would travel down my chest and tug at my belt. Kento would let out a needy and frustrated grunt when my belt doesn't come off instantly.

He's not fucked out enough to be whining in desperation, no I'll have to work hard and drain those beautiful sounds out of him.

One of my hands would quickly travel to my belt, undoing it with ease. Then I would undo his belt, neither of us breaking the ruthless kiss or grinding.

We would unzip each others pants and I would easily lift both of our weights and slip my pants and boxers off, Kento would stand and take off his pants and boxers.

We would groan into the kiss as the cold air of our house brushes against both our erections, both our lengths hard already leaking bits of precum.

Both of us are still sensitive from last night/ this morning but we can't get enough of each other, it's like a drug it turned into an addiction..

It's not just fucking, it's the intimate act of sex, exposing yourself, allowing yourself to be vulnerable and connect on a level more than just our bodies.

He would straddle my lap again and his hand would waste no time and start pumping our lengths against each other.

The only sounds would be our aggressive kiss and the slick sound of Kento fisting both our lengths together with the aid of our pre.

My hands would dig into his fleshy ships, god the muscle will feel hard like marble but his skin would be soft like a fucking cloud.

He would moan into the sloppy, open mouth kiss and I would devour each and every honey dipped noise that falls out of his pretty little mouth.

My huge dick would be throbbing against his, his own length is an impressive 7 inches mine about 3 inches bigger.

It's not a big difference but my baby Kento is a big boy, I would just be a bit bigger but strong enough to pick him up and fuck him till he can't walk anymore.

Then Kento would lift himself off my hips and align my dick with his already prepped hole, then he would waste no time and slam himself back down on my entire length.

Fuck, his hands would instinctively latch onto my hair for some stability, loud moans and pretty whimpers would fall out of his mouth like a waterfall straight from heaven.

My hard length would twitch in pure bliss, surrounded by his soft, velvety walls, sucking me in and holding me hostage with a vice like grip, no matter how many times we fuck he's still as tight as a fucking virgin.

My tip would be poking and prodding at Kento's prostate dead on causing him to cum just from impaling himself on my dick.

Kento's thighs would flex around mine, his hole would tighten and he would pull my hair back, detaching from my lips just for his jaw to go slack and his toes curl as thick ropes of cum spurt out of his red rip, onto both our chests.

Kento would have a fucked out expression, his brain already fuzzy from cumming just once, his eyes would glaze over with tears, he's always been a cryer during sex, not that I'm complaining fuck I love it when he cries.

Kento doesn't cry about anything, he hates crying, the only time he cries is when he's too fucked out to think straight.

The pride of a cumming, crying Kento would straight to my dick as my grip on his hips tighten, bringing him back to reality.

Kento's vision would start to focus on me and he would see a devious smile, to anyone it would look sweet, loving almost but Kento knows it's anything but.

“Did you just cum?” I would ask in a mocking tone, bucking my hips up suddenly sending shocks of pleasure through Kento's body as more pathetic ropes of cum would spurt out from his still hard dick.

He would moan and try to shake his head, his grip on my hair would loosen and his hands would drop to my shoulders, fat tears would stream down his face as he would attempt to apologize “N–No! Fuc-k ’m s-sorry! Sorry~ AHH ah~ nghh~ s-sorr– ah ah ah– sorry.. ’m sorry~ ngh~”

He would mumble out his thoughtless apology, leaning down and kissing my neck, sucking, licking and biting as an attempt to make up for his transgressions.

I would scoff knowing his apology means nothing and let him keep mouthing at my neck, I would ignore my aching dick, it feels like my dick is gonna melt, it's so good.

I would lean in a pepper Kento's neck with gentle kisses, giving him a false sense that i'm not going to punish him then I would say something reassuring like “It's okay love, you don't have to apologize.”

He would continue sobbing and marking my neck, switching to 'thank you's' instead of 'sorry', his eyes would widen when he feels my smirk against his neck and my hands lifting his hips, slowly pulling out my dick inch by inch making him whine.

I would press my lips just below his ear and whisper “Just be a good husband and take your punishment~.” then without warning slam him back down on my length making both of us moan.

Kento would let out a high pitch moan, his body slumping forward, his head resting against my shoulder, his fingers tangling in my hair as tears streaming down his pretty face, his toes curling as incoherent and broken moans fall out of his mouth as I lift him up and slam him back down on my length over and over again.

I would groan as his hole suck's my entire length in every time I pull out till just the tip and slam him back, his warm, wet gummy walls would fit my entire length perfectly, the perfect cock sleeve and he's all mine.

That very thought would make me go crazy as I tighten my grip on his hips and slam him down once more, my tip prodding his prostrate dead on making his head fall back as his jaw falls slack and a strangled moan tries to escape his lips but no sound comes out. Fucking glorious.

“Fuck– such a good slut- taking all of me without complaining, such a whore, my whore~.” I would groan out, rutting my hips upwards so the tip of my cock massages Kentos prostrate, making his brain completely switch off.

“AH~! FUCK- NGH~ MMMHM~ C-CAN'T~! T-too mUch~! S-So gooood~! Ah~ FUCK- P-please~! Wanna CUM! P-PLEASE GOD! LeMme cUm~! WAnNa cuM~ PLEASE SIR~! F-fill me up~! FUCK PLEASE FILL ME UP~!” Kento would mindlessly whine, desperately pleading for release, his large hands clawing at my back as he rock his hips against mine, trying to push himself over the edge but because I'm a cruel bastard I wouldn't let him cum so easily, especially after he came the first time without permission.

Besides cock sleeves don't get to make requests, even if he did ask nicely.

I would snicker, looking at his flushed, desperate fucked out face, eyes rolling to the back of his head, face flushed dark shades of red, sweat glistening across his beautifully bruised skin, his mouth moving spilling an endless stream of pleas for release.

He would be too fucked out to notice one of my hands leaving his hips, only registering the movement when my big, rough hand takes ahold of his leaking shaft, the calloused feeling of my hand on his rock hard, oversensitive dick would send a jolt of electricity down his spine and his eyes with snap open.

He would have cum right then and there if it weren't for the fact my hand is squeezing the base of his dick, hard, making it impossible to actually cum but that doesn't dampen the sheer shocks of pleasure from racking his brain, causing a pathetic whimper as his dick twitches and he has a brain melting dry orgasm.

“Ah~ fuck! Look at you! You're squeezing my dick so fucking tight! Mhm~ good fucking boy! So desperate to milk my cock dry huh? Fuck~! You want it? You want my seed deep inside you-? Fuck, gonna be my cum dump? Yeah, yeah you're my fucking cum dump~! M’ gonna breed you full~! Gonna let daddy take care of you hmm? Let me fuck my cum so deep in that tight pussy~? Imagine how fucking good you'd look stuffed full of my cum~! Gonna get you fucking pregnant~ Stuff you full and plug you up so none of my cum gets wasted~! Ah~ yes-! Fuck fuck fuck~! So good~ So fucking good for me Kento~! Want me to fill you up~? THEN TAKE IT-!”

I would moan out as his hole spasms around my dick, like he actively trying to milk me for everything I'm worth and who am I to deny my glorious husband's request. I would feel my dick twitching, the white hot coil in my stomach ready to burst.

I would wrap my hands around his waist picking him up so just the tip of my dick is still inside his velvety walls before slamming him back down, shoving my entire length inside his perfect pussy, my dick twitching in pure bliss as ropes of sticky cum paint his insides white, spitting ropes of hot cum so deep inside him.

I would be mercifully and release his dick, pathetic ropes of hot, white and clear cum dripping down his softening dick as a powerful orgasm leaves him completely limp in my lap, my throbbing dick still nestled deep within him.

He would nuzzle his face against my neck, tears streaming down his face, his legs shaking as he wraps his arms around me, trying to ground himself as he babbles out a multitude of 'thank yous', still trying to catch his breath as sweat drips down his body.

I would wrap my hands around his trembling frame, fingers delicately tracing the bruises on his hips, my face also nuzzled against his neck as I place soft kisses against his burning skin, slowly bringing him out of the clouds while whispering how good he was, how perfect he is and how lucky I am to have him.

We would sit like that for a while, my soft dick buried deep inside his abused hole, wrapped in each other's arms, softly muttering praises to each other as we got out breathing under control and came down from our highs.

“You did so well my love, so good for me. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?” I would suggest after we've been sitting there for about half an hour, he would have stopped trembling and gotten comfortable, slumped against me while he cock warms me.

He would tiredly nod, not having any strength to speak and I would put my hands under his thighs, slowly lifting him off my soft cock, he would groan at the feeling of my dick leaving his tight hole, my cum leaking out and dripping down his thighs.

I would get up and pick him up, his legs wrapping around my waist and his hands wrapped around my neck, his head resting on my shoulder as I carried him to the bathroom, still muttering soft praises in his ear.

We would get to the bathroom and I would put him down on the toilet seat, being gentle as I do so because I know hes sore, he would hiss as the cold lid of the toilet seat touches his bare ass but the cold feeling would be welcomed.

I would quickly start filling the tub with warm water, getting some bubbles and rose petals to make it even better because Kento deserves it.

Once the tub is full I would gently pick up Kento and deposit him in the tub, his no doubt exhausted body immediately sinking into the warm water, letting it loosen all his muscles.

I wouldn't smile as I get in behind him, putting both my legs on either side of his waist as he rests his back against my chest, my arms wrapping around his chest as I hold him close, once again muttering small praises into his ear.

Kentos body would go completely limp in the warm water, resting his head back against my shoulder, his eyes closed as he relaxes in my hold and lets me take care of him after fucking his brains out.

After a few minutes of simply soaking in the water and basking in each others presence I would start washing him, then wash his hair and gently finger all my cum out of his puffy hole, making sure not to overstimulate him too much.

Once we're both done bathing I would once again carry him to our room and gently lay him on the bed as I grab out matching pajamas.

Once we're both changed I'd climb into bed with him, our automatic position would be us spooning, me being the big spoon with my arm wrapped around his waist, holding his back flush against my chest as he curls up against me.

“You were such a good boy today Kento, you did so well. You deserve to rest now, Darling. I love you baby, get some sleep.” I would whisper in his ear, my voice filled with genuine love and admiration as I kiss the back of his neck, resulting in a pleased sigh from Kento.

“Mhm, I love you too daddy~ Goodnight.” he would mumble as he yawns, closing his eyes as he drifts off to sleep, his mind having been fucked free of any thoughts then slowly brought back down leaving him completely and utterly satisfied.

We would sleep soundly in each other's arms, knowing only safety and comfort in each other's embrace. I would fall asleep with a smile on my face, knowing I have my soulmate wrapped in my arms.

#dom male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #male reader #akumakosuketoughts #jjk x male reader #sub nanami #kento x male reader #bottom nanami #nanami x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x seme male reader #jjk nanami

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latin5mamii · 2 months ago

Text

Angel - Jude Bellingham

warnings: suggestive but not smut (not yet😔) (1,018 words)

genre: childhood best friends to lovers

summary:How could you know that a stupid nickname could change everything?

author's note: I know, I’ve left you hanging with the suspense again, but I promise I’m already working on the next chapter! If you have any plot twist suggestions, I’d love to hear them🤍. I’m currently working on this serie, plus two one-shots ( kyky and judey). I’ll be publishing them asap. Enjoy and let me know if you like where this is going🤍! last chapter

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

Of course, you hadn’t forgotten the kiss—or rather, the kisses—from that morning. The memory was still as vivid as if it had happened mere hours ago. Those lips on yours, the warmth of his body so close, the intensity in his eyes that seemed to pierce right through you, it was all too real, too vivid to let go. That memory is what keeps you awake at night, tossing and turning with thoughts too tangled to bring you peace.

Even now, as you sit next to him in the car, the soft lights from the street illuminating his face, you can't help but think about it. How could you not, when his presence is a constant reminder of every detail from that morning?

The door closes behind you, his body still close to yours. The drive back had been silent, yet the tension between you had only grown, twisting into a knot of anxiety in your stomach.

If you hadn’t felt the touch of his lips on yours, would you still crave him as much as you do now?

He's still behind you, and every fiber of your being wants to turn around, to see what will happen next. But you’re scared—scared of what? Let’s be honest, you can’t be afraid of ruining your friendship because that’s already happened. It happened the moment you saw each other again after so long, even before that kiss. Are you afraid that if you cross that line, there’ll be no going back? Probably.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now,” his words from earlier echo in your mind. But that’s exactly what you’re doing. And you hate yourself for it.

"Angel." His voice startles you, breaking the silence that had grown heavy, almost suffocating. His voice, so soft yet somehow deep and commanding, and that accent—God.

"You’re thinking about something," he says, placing a hand on your shoulder.You can feel the heat of his touch seeping through your clothes, and it makes your heart race even faster. You want to say something, to break the tension that has been building between you, but the words are stuck in your throat.

“I’m not.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you instantly regret it.

Jude raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Are you sure?”

You nod shyly, unable to meet his eyes, and you can feel your face heating up.

"Alright then," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. He steps back, turning away from you, and starts walking toward the hallway.

Your heart drops as you watch him go. “Where are you going?” you blurt out, the question escaping before you can think it through.

He pauses, glancing back at you with that same teasing smirk. “I’m going to bed,” he says casually, as if nothing’s out of the ordinary. “Why? You wanna come?”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse quicken at the implication in his words. Jude’s eyes lock onto yours, the playful gleam in them making it impossible to look away.

For a moment, you’re both frozen in place, the air thick with the tension that’s been building all evening. You don’t know how to respond, torn between the pull of his offer and the fear of what it might mean if you accept.

“What happens if I say yes?” The words slip out before you can stop them, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jude’s smirk deepens, and he takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Why don’t you find out?” he murmurs, the challenge hanging in the air between you.

And then, without waiting for a response, he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing softly as he heads down the hallway. He doesn’t look back, leaving you standing there, alone with your thoughts and the heavy silence he’s left behind.

The weight of the decision presses down on you as you watch him disappear into his room. The door doesn’t close all the way, left slightly ajar, as if to give you the option. It’s an invitation, one that sets your mind spinning.

The door to Jude’s room remains slightly ajar, leaving you with an open invitation. You stand there for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on you, as if the silence in the house has taken on a tangible form. The thought of following him is both thrilling and terrifying.

With a deep breath, you turn away from the hallway and head to your own room. You need to distract yourself, to process what just happened. You change into comfortable clothes, trying to calm the racing thoughts in your mind, but the image of Jude’s smirk and the intensity of his eyes won’t leave you.

Lying in bed, you stare up at the ceiling, replaying the evening’s events over and over. You think about that morning, the kisses that still linger in your memory, the way his touch made you feel. And now, his invitation, something that you both want and deny.

As the minutes tick by, the tension grows unbearable. You toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position. Should you go to him?

But you can’t take it any longer. You slip out of bed, your heart pounding with every step you take towards Jude’s room. You walk down the hallway, the quiet of the house almost amplifying your nervousness. When you reach his door, you take another deep breath and push it open.

The room’s dimly lit, his shadow reflecting on the wall. He’s lying in bed, propped up on his elbows, watching you move towards him. The sight of him there, so relaxed, only heightens your anxiety.

You move cautiously towards the bed,a soft smile playing on your lips. When you finally sit down, you can feel the mattress shift under your weight, and Jude’s eyes follow your every movement.

“I knew you’d show up,” he says. You don’t turn to face him, but you can almost picture the smirk on his lips. To him, you were an open book, and he was always one page ahead.

“What are you scared about?” He shifts closer, the space between you diminishing with each movement.

You look at him, your breath catching in your throat. “I’m not scared,” you reply, though your voice betrays you, quivering slightly.

Jude’s gaze remains locked on yours, the playful glint in his eyes giving way to something more intense. “Then why are you hesitating?” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch sends a shiver down your spine.

You can feel the heat from his body, the way his breath mingles with yours, each movement bringing you closer to a precipice you’re not sure you’re ready to cross.

“Maybe I’m just not sure what comes next,” you admit, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Jude’s lips curve into a knowing smile, and he leans in, his face dangerously close to yours. “Let’s find out,” he says softly. “Let’s see who falls first, yeah?”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

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rafesangelita · 7 months ago

Note

Toxic!Rafe and toxic!reader, where they’re fighting because he wants to go out to a strip bar with Topper and Kelce which reader hates (she thinks they encourage his bad behavior) after she told him no. so when reader goes on insta to look at Rafes story and sees he lied and went anyways after seeing a pic of him in the sniffers row at the bar, she gets all crazy and starts responding to the story with full paragraphs 😭 and so when he starts replying she blocks him mid argument, and he goes home and yells at her until they get all lovey dovey again 🥰 (sorry this is long)

warnings: toxic relationship (?), slight humor, cussing, lying, crying, shouting, arguing, mentions of sex, a little plot twist at the end

“..i don’t know about that, man. y/n has a bitch fit everytime i go somewhere without her, i highly doubt she’d be okay with me going there of all places.” you stood outside your bedroom door, rolling your eyes at the sound of topper’s voice. “who cares what she says? she’s not your fuckin’ mommy, bro.” you suppressed a laugh, knowing rafe has called you ‘mommy’ a numerous amount of times. your boyfriend sighed, staying silent for a moment. “look, i’ll ask her alright? if she says no then i ain’t going.” you smiled to yourself, walking into the room with a fresh stack of t-shirts in your hands.

“here she is now, i’ll call you back.” you placed the folded laundry on top of the dresser. “tell the spawn of satan herself we say hello!” kelce shouted in the background. “aww is that dumb and dumber on the phone? hey, guys!” rafe shook his head, a laugh tumbling out of his throat. he hung up the call, getting up to wrap his arms around your waist. you leaned into him, breathing in his cologne as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “listen, uh, topper and kelce are inviting me out tonight, ‘wanted to know if i can join them..” you arched a brow, turning around in his hold.

“and where do y’all plan on going?” rafe cleared his throat awkwardly. “well.. you know how the guys are, they always wanna go to some new place..” he trailed off, clearly stalling as much as he could. “just say it, rafe.” he swallowed nervously. “a strip club.” suddenly his hands felt tense on your skin, and he couldn’t hold your stare. “a strip club?” you repeated, pulling away from him. “that’s cute, but no.” rafe tongued the inside of his cheek, immediately taking out his phone.

[4:30 PM] to: topper, kelce: i’m in, pick me up at nine.

“what are you doing?” you eyed him as he brought the phone up to his ear, walking around to the other side of the bed. “m’telling them i can’t go, because you’re gonna be all pissed off if i do.” you scoffed, eyeing him carefully. rafe cursed under his breath, praying to god you couldn’t tell he wasn’t actually calling anyone. “hey, bro. i can’t go, it’s a hard no.” he scratched the back of his neck. “yeah, i know. maybe another time- wait, where?” rafe stopped pacing, nodding along to his own imagination. “pizza and beer? that sounds good. nine o’clock? alright i’ll see y’all then.” he shrugged as he pretended to hang up.

“alright, no strip club, but charlie’s pizza instead, is that alright?” you nodded. “that’s fine, but you better text me.” he jumped up, pulling you into a hug that ended with you two falling in bed. “i mean it rafe, i want pizza pictures and everything!” he showered you with kisses, taking his time when he got to your lips. you two stayed like that for a few minutes, making out softly before you pulled away. “you should start getting ready before i get too horny, ‘cause then i really won’t let you go anywhere.” you ran your thumb over his bottom lip, sighing when he got up. “good call.” he laughed, getting an outfit ready for tonight.

nine o’clock rolled around faster than you wanted it to, and sure enough topper and kelce were outside honking like maniacs once they pulled up. “i love you, baby, i’m gonna text you in a bit.” you smiled, watching him holler all the way down to where topper and kelce practically tackled him. “we promise to have him home no later than one, mommy dearest!” you gave kelce the middle finger, shutting the door once rafe blew you a kiss. now that you had the house to yourself you figured you’d shower and unwind, maybe finish the book you had been reading. all was well until you glanced at the time on your phone. 10:45 PM, and still no word from rafe.

you opened instagram, spotting the green circle around your boyfriend’s profile picture, indicating he had posted on his close friends. you clicked on it, your heart dropping at the video of rafe throwing money at a stripper’s ass. “front row seats, baby!” he cheered. just as you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the next story was a photo of a blonde sitting in rafe’s lap, topless and smiling from ear to ear. “this motherfucker..” you closed the app, deciding you saw enough before opening you and rafe’s text thread on imessage.

[10:55 PM] - i don’t know what’s funnier; the fact that you had a whole conversation with yourself in front of me to make it sound like you were just getting pizza and beer with your dickhead friends, or forgetting to take me off your close friends list when you want to post yourself at some sleazy ass strip club. you’re a fucking joke.

rafe had never sobered up so fast in his life, all the blood draining from his face when he read your message. “fuck!” he cursed at himself, his head resting in his hands.

[11:10 PM] my <333: baby i promise i’ll explain everything, i’m telling the guys to take me home right now.

[11:15 PM] - there’s nothing you could say that’ll ‘explain’ what the fuck you did. you sat there in my face and kissed me and reassured me when you were getting your way all along. can you even comprehend how fucked up that is? you made me look stupid in front of your friends who already don’t like me. AND THE TOPLESS PICTURE???? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE???? if i posted a picture with my tits all in jj’s face, how would you feel? we both know he’s one phone call away if i really wanted him.

rafe’s blood was boiling after he read your message, knowing that you could leave him and have someone as desperate and lovesick as jj replace him in a heartbeat. “bro don’t sweat it, man. she’ll get over it.” topper slurred, entering figure eight again. “shut the fuck up, you don’t know the first thing about being in a relationship.” rafe shot back, clenching his fists when the message he tried to send turned green. topper didn’t respond, the rest of the ride home being dead silent.

rafe didn’t even say bye to kelce or topper when they arrived at tanneyhill, instead he rushed inside, eyes immediately falling to you resting on the couch. you were wearing your pink, fluffy robe, rollers adorning your hair while you were typing something on your ipad. “babe-” rafe shut the door, falling to his knees before you. “don’t get near me. you probably smell disgusting.” rafe’s jaw ticked, his patience already running low. “i’m so fucking sorry, y/n. i shouldn’t have lied to you, baby. i promise i’ll never do that again.” you finally looked at him, his bangs falling in his face.

“i know,” you sighed, “you don’t have to worry about me doing anything either.” you got up, attempting to walk past him before he grabbed your leg. “what are you talking about?” you knew rafe well enough to know when he was getting angry, and the way he was looking at you right now only confirmed your suspicions. “you don’t get to do what you did and think it’s all going to be fine and dandy with an apology, rafe. i’m leaving for my parents tomorrow, and don’t ask me when i’m coming back because i don’t know. i don’t think i can live with a liar.” you shoved him away, only making him grab you again, this time throwing you down on the couch.

“you don’t think you could live with a liar?” he narrowed his eyes, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. “has it ever occurred to you that i wouldn’t have to lie to you if you would just not freak the fuck out everytime i want to go out and have fun?” you couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “you’re one to talk!” you screamed in his face, making him stand up. you followed suit, refusing to let him make you feel powerless. “you wanna act like you’re trapped here? fine! play the victim, but don’t forget everything you do to keep me from going out too.” you were pacing back and forth now, running your fingers through your hair.

“you literally slashed my friend’s tires to keep me from going to her birthday party, and all for what? because you found out other guys were going to be there?” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “i paid for the damages, y/n…” he groaned. “so?! it’s the principal! you do the most when it comes to me wanting to go somewhere, but me telling you not to go to a literal strip club is where you draw the line?? fuck you!” you started making your way upstairs, rafe right on your tail as you did so.

“fuck me?! i’m the one who takes care of you! there’s nothing in this world that you want and don’t have! i take you on regular vacations, i take you out damn near everyday, i keep you in all the newest shit, i pay for you and all your friend’s beauty appointments so that y’all could have a girl’s day twice a month, you just have no fucking clue!” he shouted, making you stop in your tracks. you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, breaking his heart in two.

“and what about everything i do for you?” you let out a shaky breath. “i’m what makes this house a home. i wear the clothes you want me to wear, i eat the food you want me to eat, i talk the way you want me to talk. i’m here when all else fails. i’m the one who holds you and comforts you when things get hard for you. i’m the one who makes sure you never feel alone, ‘makes sure you don’t go through anything alone. i do everything you say. on the days you work long and hard, i’m right here waiting for you with my legs open. on the days that you’re particularly tired, i’ll be on my knees, i’ll ride you and do all the work, and i’ll do everything happily because i love you.” rafe was crying with you by the time you finished speaking, both of you standing in the hallway.

“i get up at the ass crack of dawn and doll myself up everyday because i want to look good for you, i want to please you with everything i do. when we go to the country club, i speak of you in the highest regards, and i do it because i want everyone to know that i respect you. i do all of this, and i do it all without the commitment of having a fucking ring on my finger. if that doesn’t speak volumes for you, then i don’t know what does.” you walked inside your shared bedroom, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. he dropped to his knees once again, hugging your waist like you’d disappear if he let go. “we need each other. i need you.” he cried. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him up off the floor.

“i love you, y/n. please, you can’t leave.” you cupped his face. “i haven’t seen my parents in almost six months, rafe. i have to..” he nodded slowly, taking your hand in his. “then we’ll go together. ‘tell them we have a special announcement.” you watched him with a confused expression as he went to grab a small box out the bottom drawer of the bedside table. “rafe!” you gasped, hands flying up to cover your mouth. “i’ve had this for a while now, i don’t know what i was waiting for, but i want to do this now.” he opened the box, the biggest diamond you’ve ever seen lighting up your eyes.

“i know we have to work on some things, but there’s no one else i’d rather do this with.” you gazed into his eyes, a small smile gracing your lips. “okay, let’s do it.”

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corazondebeskar-reads · 2 months ago

Text

get some on my love

QZ!Joel Miller x f!reader

my masterlist | joel fic recs

This is for @justagalwhowrites' Birthday Celebration for Joel. I picked the prompts for QZ!Joel and breeding kink. It, uh. It got away with me. Title from "Gasoline" by Seether because that's what made this get so feral. Please read the warnings.

dedicated to @covetyou bcus it's your tumblrversary bb! and also because of SWAT, the ultimate slutty qz joel fic that lives in my head and pays rent

words: 1.6k

summary: You visit Joel Miller to get what you need.

warnings: dub-con, dubcon due to sex in exchange for drugs, and he kind of springs the breeding kink on her (but there's not a risk), abuse of prescription medications, QZ!Joel Miller, dealer!Joel Miller, smuggler!Joel Miller, filthy!Joel Miller, breeding kink, creampie, menstrual sex, inappropriate uses of period blood, spitting, pussy pronouns (she/her), vulgar language, god i don't even know it's just nasty and they like it, kind of hate fucking, no y/n, no betas no proofreading no nothing lol

dividers by @saradika-graphics

also on ao3

“Well, well. Look who’s come crawlin’ back,” Joel drawls when he opens the door.

You scowl. “You gonna let me in or not?”

He leans against the frame, a lazy smirk curling. “Gee, I don’t know. You had some mighty strong things to say ‘bout me last time.” He does step back, though, ushering you in.

“Pretty sure you said you were never gonna look at my ugly mug again,” he adds as he shuts the door behind you.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter.

He tips your chin up with two fingers. “Yeah, well,” he mocks. “Well, what? No one else want that sloppy pussy as payment?”

“You like my pussy, jackass,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, I do,” he says, cornering you against the door, your back hitting it with a thump. He leers, leaning in. “You know why it’s so sloppy? ‘Cause I fuckin’ ruined it, and you loved it.”

You scowl again, turning your head sharply to the side so you don’t have to look at his smug smirk. The worst part is how right he is.

“Look,” you mutter, heat rising to your cheeks, “I-I can’t pay today. But I need them, bad. I’ll… I’ll make it up to you.”

It nearly kills you to say. The only thing worse than dealing with Joel Miller is owing Joel Miller.

“Whaddya mean you can’t pay today? Cunt closed for construction or somethin’?”

You shove him away roughly, ducking out of his grasp to stalk into the living room. “No, dumbass, I’m… bleedin’, you know.”

His responding grin is feral and full of teeth. “I don’t give a shit. Go bend over the bathroom sink.”

“Are you fuckin' serious?”

“You want the fuckin’ pills or not?”

You could scream. Of course you do. There’s not a part of your body that doesn’t hurt. It’s settled into every joint and crevice, an ache you can’t stretch out or shake loose.

You’d know. You’ve tried. But you’re losing sleep, and the pain makes you too nauseous to eat. His drugs will only take the edge off for so long, but god, you’d do nearly anything for a few hours’ respite.

“Fine,” you whisper finally, and make your way to the apartment’s tiny three-piece.

He follows, watching you with amusement. “Strip,” he says.

You glare, and he shrugs.

“Or don’t. But I ain’t responsible for what happens to your clothes.”

Oh, fuck him. Fuck him. But you strip—all the way, even though you could have left your top on, but because mother nature has you on her shit list, your usual pain is compounded when you’re menstruating. And when you’re ovulating. Really, so many women don’t even have a fucking cycle anymore from all the stress and malnutrition, but noooo, you were cursed with a fertile fucking uterus.

The point was that your titties were sore and aching, and the thought of his warm hands groping and pawing at them sounded nice, so off goes your shirt.

He chuckles when he enters the bathroom. “Well, look at that. Eager?”

“Hurry up,” you snap. “It’s cold, and there’s gonna be a mess.”

“Gonna be a mess either way,” he taunts, his hands rough against your hips.

And ain’t that the kicker? There’s gonna be a mess. Your cunt is already sore, and he’s gonna leave a trail of destruction in his wake.

“Don’t look so grossed out, sugar,” he says, cupping your breasts and looking at you in the mirror. “It’s all natural. Plus, I gotta say, it’s been a long time since I got to do this.”

You’re busy meeting his eyes in the mirror and pulling a face, not catching his last words. He rolls and pinches at your tender nipples, but it’s the kind of pain that sits on the right side of pleasure. As expected, his meaty hands grope unmercifully at your breasts, and you moan in relief at the free massage.

“That’s it. That’s what I like to hear. You ready for me, huh? That greedy pussy o’ yours ready?”

“Uh-huh,” you say distractedly. “Wait—”

“I didn’t forget,” he murmurs in your ear. “Open.”

You open your mouth obediently, sticking your tongue out. He sets a round, white pill on it and turns your head with a firm grip on your chin, his spit landing right on the pill.

You swallow and avert your eyes as he watches your reflection.

“Get on with it,” you rasp.

One hand wanders down between your thighs and strokes through the folds, working you open with two thick fingers scissoring side to side. He doesn’t spend long there, dragging them up to rub at your clit for a moment.

“Make some fuckin’ noise; I can’t tell if you’re wet or not with all this goin’ on,” he grumbles, withdrawing his hand and showing you the slick blood coating it.

You wince, and he laughs. “Y’ain’t scared of your own period, are ya?”

“Fuck off, ‘course I’m not. Doesn’t mean I wanna look at it.”

He grins. The expression is always unnatural on him and usually heralds something vulgar.

You’re not wrong. He brings his hand up to cup your breast, leaving a smear of blood on your tit.

“Somethin’ kinda hot about it, don’tcha think?” he muses.

“If you say so,” you mutter, but you can’t look away. It’s striking, blood against your skin that isn’t borne of violence.

The thick tip of his cock interrupts your thoughts as he pushes down on your shoulder. You bend, gripping the sides of the vanity as he buries himself inside with one slow thrust.

He groans, gripping hard on your shoulder. “S’better than lube.”

“You’re so gross,” you say, shaking your head.

“Yeah? Then why’re you clenchin’ around me like a goddamn vice, huh?”

“You always talk this much when you fuck, or am I special?”

“Oh, sugar, don’t flatter yourself,” he says with a slap on your ass. “Y’ain’t special.”

“You—ahh—you hate-fuck all your customers?”

He snorts. “You ain’t even special enough to hate, honey. And you can hate me all you like, but we both know you’re gonna keep comin’ back.”

As you scowl up at him in the mirror, you almost wish looks could kill. But he’s right. He’d be no good to you dead because no other dealer in this godforsaken QZ will dose you in exchange for sex.

As it is, he only lets you once a week. You need more than that? Gotta pay like everyone else. Even when you can afford it, you find yourself back here or on your knees or however he wants you every fuckin’ Friday, because a free pill is a free pill. It’s 3-4 hours you can nap without nearly killin’ yourself to afford it.

Today’s pill hasn’t begun to set in yet, but that’s the other thing about Joel. He’s good at making you forget.

Real good.

His hands are on your body, roughly gentle. He’s not careful with his touch, but not careless, either. He wants you to come, wants you to shake and fall apart on his dick, so he can flash you that little self-satisfied smirk borne of bravado he’s rightly earned.

And you do. You come for him, with his hands on your breasts and your clit. You tremble and moan and your pussy tries to stake a claim on his cock, clenching and hoping to never let go. But it will, and you will. In the end, you always let go.

He’s a different kind of beast tonight. Panting and grunting in your ear, teeth on your neck, sweat dripping and blending with yours. After he’s rung pleasure from you, he settles one hand on your hip and another on your shoulder and ruts into you like a jackhammer. Like he can’t get deep enough, can’t stop until he’s carved a spot for him within you.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he mutters, pushing you down further. “Fuuuck, darlin’, you want this, huh? You want me to fill you up?”

“Wh-what?” you gasp, air knocked from you with each punch of his cock against your cervix.

“Gonna fill you up good, gonna—nnng— gonna make it stick.”

You reach back and smack him. “The fuck are you—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. He holds on tight and grinds his dick deep. “That greedy pussy, sugar, she fuckin’ wants it. Oh fuck, I-I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy ‘till she’s full o’ me. And you’re gonna take it, right?”

You whimper, holding tight to the sink while he loses his fucking mind or whatever is happening. You don’t know. It feels too good to question.

“Thas’ it,” he rambles. “Gonna look so good, stuffed up, and ev’ryone—everyone—will know you let me fuckin’ breed you.”

Oh god. It shouldn’t be hot. Those words should be stopping your heart, you should be pushing him away, but your dumb cunt has a mind of its own and holds tight to him, each thrust of his cock squelching as you come around him again.

“Jesus, baby, it’s been too long, too long since I got to fill up a cunt like yours,” he groans, hips stuttering, “oh shit, take it—fuckin’ take it.”

His cock pulses inside you, and you think maybe you die and go to heaven for a little bit—just a little, because when you open your eyes, you’re still in Joel’s grimy bathroom—but there’s a sweet moment where you think he’s right. It’s been too long. Far too long since a man’s come undone inside you, let you feel that hot burst and twitching, it’s divine, it’s—well, it’s making you come again.

When he pulls out, you stumble right to the toilet, glaring at him as you try to clean up the mess before it happens. “Gross,” you grumble.

When you look up, the way he’s looking at you makes somethin’ awful churn inside, and it’s not just the apparent buckets of cum he filled you with.

The silence between you is thick. Finally, he jerks his head to the shower. “Get cleaned up ‘n get out,” is all he says, and the door clicks shut in his wake.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #qz!joel miller #dead dove fic #the last of us smut #the last of us fic #tlou fic

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carlsangel · 6 months ago

Text

VIRGINITY (PART ONE)

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl ask for some advice.)

tags: mentions of sex, mentions of loss of virginity, the talk

masterlist here!

read part two!!!

You think about sex all the time. It sounds wrong but it’s true, you’re a teenager, it’s on your mind. You often wonder truly what it’s like. What it feels like, why people rave about it so much, why it’s such a huge part of who people are. It always confused you but you were curious. You’ve seen movies before, the classic make out between two people that would cut to them naked with the sheets covering their top half.

You wanted to know if it was like it was in the movies. That’s why, after a while of you and Carl dating, you’d come to the realization that you would soon lose your virginity. As weird as it sounds, the two of you were constantly worked up. Maybe it was the fact you loved each other so much or maybe because you lived in a world where you could die any second. You were genuinely worried to die a virgin.

Anyway, the both of you had countless make out sessions where you both pawed at each other to no end that you believed would finally end up with him inside of you. Every time you were interrupted. It was never the right time, there was just simply too much going on whenever you two tried. There was always someone in the house, God knows how much Rick hates to knock. You guys always had to watch over the baby and you couldn’t leave her unattended because her naps never lasted long.

You talked about it and you’d actually planned on trying the next time Rick and Michonne were out of the house for a while, as long as you were up for it. You’d have Olivia watch Judith, you’ll figure out some lie to tell her.

When Rick mentioned a supply run that they’d be gone for, you two gave each other a look but acted like everything is normal. Inside, you were excited to have a couple days to yourself. But then it hit you.

You’ve never had sex, how are you meant to know what you’re doing? There was nothing you could look at to give you a clue as to how everything worked. Carl didn’t have a clue either, so he went to the one guy knew to ask. You went to the one girl you knew to ask as well.

“Hey, Glenn?” Carl approaches him while he was working on a car near the gates of Alexandria. He didn’t want you to know he was asking how to have sex, he much rather you assume he knew what he was doing and let him handle it. Glenn looked up from the car and wiped his forehead of the sweat. “Hey.” He responds, looking between Carl and the car.

“I sort of need some advice…if you’re able to help.” His tone is embarrassing, he’s obviously gotten the talk but he was never told what exactly to do. “Uh yeah I have some time.” Glenn places the tool in his hand down on the floor, standing up to wipe his hands off. “What’s up?”

Carl looks at him hesitantly but knows he has to do this. “So um…I know like…what sex is but, i was wondering if you could tell me a bit more how it um..how it works?” He rambles, watching Glenn’s eyes go wide at his words. “Uhhhh….” Glenn thinks for a moment, the moment getting increasingly awkward as he stalled. “Well, use protection.” He swallows hard, trying a tone of voice to make the situation less weird. Carl makes an odd face at him, sort of cringing. “W-well do you need one- a condom? Like is that why you’re…” Glenn’s voice trails off when he realizes that Carl is actually asking so he can act on his advice.

Carl looks at him and nods, hesitating to answer. “Yeah.” He responds, his hands fiddling with the hem of his flannel. Glenn stares at him, somewhat uncomfortable. He pats his pants feeling around his pockets and he reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out a condom, a strip falling from the singular one he meant to take from his pocket. He rips one off quickly, shoving the rest back into his pants frantically. “Just take it.” He sticks it out and Carl takes it and shoves it into his own pocket. “Why do you just have these on hand?” Carl asks, sort of in a disturbed tone.

“Well I- forget it just…” He takes a step back and looks back to the car. He can’t look at Carl but he takes a breath to prepare to give better advice. He continues. “Look, just communicate with her, I think that’s the most important thing okay? You’ll know what you’re doing in the moment.”

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

“They never know where to put it so you’re gonna have to show ‘em.” Maggie tells you handing you a glass of water while you’re sat on her couch. She was very open about this which made you feel more comfortable. She settles into the couch next to you and looks at you intently. “You just gotta know that it’s what you want in the moment. You understand?” She has a light but serious tone.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just scared it’s gonna hurt or something.” You giggle awkwardly. “Well it might, if you bleed that’s normal too.” You squirm a tad at her words. “But you might not. It shouldn’t hurt after you get used to it. Just have him wait while you adjust to the feeling.” She gives you a content smile.

“Okay, I really appreciate this I wasn’t sure who else to go to…” You take a sip of your water and she nods. “If you ever need anything I’m here. Just…don’t get pregnant. That’s another thing, wait till you have condoms. And don’t forget to pee after.” She adds.

You thank Maggie and she decides to walk you out. You look for Carl and Glenn to meet up before dinner. You head towards the gates to see them talking which you find sort of ironic, you had no idea he was asking for advice like you were. He notices you and waves bye to Glenn before walking over to you, Maggie walking over to her husband. Sort of like a trade off.

“Don’t tell your dad I gave you that!” Glenn shouts. Carl gives him some sort of confirmation and returns his attention back to you.

“What’s that about?” You question.

“It’s nothing.”

a/n: the next part will be banger. trust. ANYWAY I HOPE U GUYS LIKED ITTT :> thank u anon for requesting!!! next part comes out maybe this weekend!!! i’ve got some school stuff popping this week sooo it’ll take a little to come out, also it’s smut and i’ve never written that before SO IT MIGHT TAKE ME A LIL

tags: @zomb-1-egutzz

#carl grimes #twd #the walking dead #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #carl grimes angst #the walking dead carl #twd carl #carl grimes smut #rinas writing 🌀

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

Text

Practice On Me — Part Four — Azriel x Reader

Summary: It’s Solstice! Reader decides she should probably be honest with Azriel about some stuff. Things don’t quite go to plan.

Oof. Okay. This could be uncomfortable reading for some. There are some hints and depictions of domestic abuse and also of alcoholism, so if that’s something that might trigger you, please, please do not read this. The last thing I want is for my writing to be harmful to anybody. Read with caution. Take care and put yourself first. Lots of love.

Also, please don’t hate me for this 😭we know I’m a hoe for angst and it wouldn’t be one of my fics if there wasn’t some sprinkled in there lmao.

Word Count: 5k.

Warnings: Depiction of abusive behaviour. Heavy drinking. Some violence.

On a brisk winter morning, when the sun hasn’t yet graced the sky, the last place you wish to be is at the Windhaven crèche, watching over a group of tired, grouchy younglings. Every second thought that passes through your mind is a longing one, lamenting on how desperately you wish to be back in your bed.

But alas, you owe your friend, Vegha, a favour, making you the sole minder of ten restless little girls, all annoyed that their brothers get to join their fathers for training, while they have to stay back and be…girls. A downfall, according to most Illyrian males.

You’re supposed to be watching over them for a couple of hours while Vegha runs an errand. And that time is going very, very slowly.

You’re in the middle of reading a storybook — and, yes, doing all the voices — when the door opens behind you. You feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps Vegha is back earlier than planned, but when you swivel on the child-sized chair you’ve perched yourself on, it’s Azriel who looms in the doorway.

And you…your heart does a silly little thing in your chest.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” He says. “I can wait.”

Your eyebrows flick up in amusement. “Come take a seat, then. It’s story time.”

His lips twitch, and he goes to reach for one of those infant chairs — which you’re not at all sure can handle all his muscle — but this sparks a flurry of complaints from the girls, who all insist that they want to sit with Azriel the most, and within seconds, he’s cross-legged on the floor with the children somehow managing to settle around him without bickering, and they’re all able to command his attention at once.

Happy mediums, and all that.

Your gaze lingers on him as he does all the right things; leaning his head down so he can appear less…huge, while listening with rapt attention to one of the girl’s chattering; steadying another one as they climb over him to get themselves seated; gently telling them all that they have to be quiet if they want to hear the rest of the story. That, of course, achieves immediate near silence.

And thus begins an entire performance of you continuing the tale, and the girls — and Azriel — responding in all the right places. They howl when they’re supposed to make the sound of a wolf, and roar when it’s a mountain cat, and you don’t miss that Azriel helps the tiniest of the girls to remember which animals make what sounds.

Most males in this gods-forsaken place are an intimidating presence to these children, frightening them into silence whenever they’re around, because girls are supposed to be seen and not heard. But Azriel is always gentle, always kind, and they adore him for it.

It’s a combination of all these things that force you to face a truth that’s been rapidly snowballing inside your mind and heart for the past four days — something has changed. Shifted. Has been shifting and changing for a while.

You laid awake for hours that night in the dormitory, listening to Azriel’s breathing as he slept deeply, happily sated from the pleasure you’d given him. Your mind had been too much of a war zone for you to drift off.

Nine years, you’ve called this male your closest friend. Ever since the very first day you’d met him, when a group of males had pushed you to the floor and kicked mud at you, and he’d jumped in and defended you for no other reason than that he’s good to the bone. Nine years, you’ve been by each other’s sides, and it’s been comfortable and familiar and just…right.

But now — now, you think you may have jeopardised that all by going along with Azriel’s request for help. Help with kissing. Touching. Experiencing.

You’ll always want to help him in any way that you can, of course. But you didn’t quite anticipate the predicament you now find yourself in. That you want all of those things and more, not just under the ruse of building your friend’s confidence. You want to explore more with him, feel more with him. You’ve been able to think about nothing else for days.

And it might make you a total wretch, but you want Kaeda to be a distant memory. The thought of Azriel taking what you’ve shown him, shared with him, and putting his all into somebody else…it sours your stomach. Makes you feel sick.

Makes your heart hurt.

And, well, you’re fucked, really.

It’s a kind of hurt that won’t go away on its own. It isn’t avoidable nor ignorable. And so your only option is to confront it, be honest about it. Whatever the outcome may be.

The story comes to an end, and the girls are calmed and sleepy enough that they look ready to curl up on the floor and doze off. Azriel peels himself away from the cluster of clingy children and stands up, strolling over to you.

“Well that was fun.” He comments quietly, taking the book from your hands. “Who knew I was so adept at doing animal impressions?”

“One of your many talents, I suppose.” You smile, drinking in the sight of him. He looks tired this morning. Tired, but beautiful. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His expression sobers slightly, and he tells you, “We’re leaving this morning. For the training exercise.”

Immediately, your stomach churns. Being away from your friends sets you on edge. Windhaven is a lonely, lonely place to be without the love of Rhys, Cassian and Azriel to warm you. And not even Rhys’s mother is here to make it a little more bearable.

Az immediately recognises the bleakness that passes your face. He steps closer, his hand a gentle brush against yours. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He reminds you yet again.

“I know.” You attempt to force an easy, breezing smile. “What’s the plan for Solstice, anyway?”

Normally, Rhysand’s mother would cook a meal in the cottage. You wouldn’t be able to attend, given that you’re always stuck at home with your father, but by the time he would pass out drunk, you’d sneak out and make it to the cottage just as the games were starting. Some of your happiest memories are of being curled up on one couch with Az, Rhys and his mother on the other, and Cassian stood in front of you, making a terrible attempt at playing charades.

But it’ll be different this year. With the High Lord keeping a tight leash on his pregnant mate in Velaris, there will be no meal, no charades. You, Azriel and Cassian would most certainly not be welcome at their intimate family celebration.

“Rhys will spend the day in Velaris.” Az tells you. “Cass and I will be getting drunk. There’s a celebration being held at the dormitories in the evening, so I suppose we’ll all end up there.”

You dip your chin. “I’ll come and find you there, then.”

His responding smile is a gentle one; one that says he sees right through you, right through to the panic that’s eating away at you, and he understands.

There’s no way he sees everything that you’re feeling, though. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

Your body goes slightly rigid as he dips down and presses a kiss to your forehead. His hand squeezes yours, and then he’s pulling away. “See you on Solstice.”

He bids a quiet goodbye to the dozing girls. It’s as he’s heading for the door that you find yourself stepping after him. “…Az?”

He turns, hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“There’s…something I need to talk to you about, when you get back. Something I need to tell you.”

Okay. Shit. You’re really doing this.

Azriel’s eyes rake over you, and then he smiles. “We’ll talk on Solstice.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your head’s not all there today, as you stare out of the window of your father’s forge. Azriel and the others have been gone almost a week, and you’ve spent every one of those days thinking about how you’re going to tell him…whatever it is you’re going to tell him.

You’re not even certain, yourself.

Just that…that things are different. That you know, to begin with, that this was about him and Kaeda — but it’s shifted in your brain at an alarming rate, and now that you’ve shared something so…so meaningful, with him, you’re not sure you can go on acting as though it was all just a favour.

Yeah. That should do it.

And it’s a huge fucking risk, of course. There’s every chance he won’t return the sentiment, and then a giant wedge of unresolved feelings will exist between you.

But you need to — perhaps selfishly — confront this before things between him and Kaeda progress. In case there’s a slight chance that it’ll alter the path it’s heading down.

And you haven’t thought any further than that.

The snow has started again, and you watch the flurries sweep past the window and join the thick layer on the ground. You’ve become so accustomed to the noise of the forge that you hardly notice it anymore — not the constant clanking, nor the heat that the fires swathe the shop in. You used to beg your father to teach you his craft, to allow you to get stuck in and get your hands dirty, but he’s always stubbornly maintained that it’s a male’s job, and that he needs you for the bookkeeping. You’re surprised he trusts you with that.

You breathe a soft sigh, your thoughts once again flitting back to Az. To what he might be doing, thinking, feeling. Whether he misses you as much as you miss him.

But before those thoughts can take a hold of you and sink you deeper into your predicament, the door opens, the bell above it ringing and a gust of cold air momentarily biting you.

It’s rare for females to come to the forge. Very rare, indeed. Which is why, for a second or two, you just stare.

That — and because she’s incredibly beautiful.

Her eyes — the colour of emeralds — sweep the workshop, before landing on you, and she smiles. She has the telltale tanned skin of an Illyrian, but instead of the dark hair that’s so typical around here, hers is red — not orange, not auburn, but blood red. You’ve never seen a shade quite like it.

And if that’s not enough to completely bowl you over, your gaze rakes over her clothing, and you stop, stunned.

Females around here wear homespun dresses of simple brown shades. A few, like yourself, favour basic tunics and breeches. Clothing is just a necessity, not something you lend much thought to.

But this female wears Illyrian leathers. Never, in your life, have you seen females wear Illyrian leathers. It’s simply not a done thing.

But she looks resplendent in them.

They cling to supple curves and accentuate a figure that you don’t think you’d ever be able to achieve with any amount of training. And perhaps the most shocking thing of all — and the most enviable — is the presence of brilliant, beautiful wings at her back. Unclipped. Untouched. Unruined.

How your wings might have one day looked, had your father not destroyed them.

You’re not entirely convinced that an angel hasn’t just stepped into your father’s forge. Or perhaps this is the Mother that everyone worships. Part of you wants to worship her, too, and beg her to bestow upon you her blessings—

You snap yourself out of it before you can fall head-over-heels in love with her. She’s just a customer.

A very, very beautiful customer.

“Good day to you.” She says, approaching the counter. Her voice is like pure music.

You incline your head in greeting. “And to you. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m interested in having some gifts made for my father and brothers. For Solstice.”

Once again, you’re gawking.

Another thing that’s unheard of; females liking their family members enough to have gifts made for them.

You clear your throat, blinking out of your thoughts. “What…what kind of things were you looking for?”

“Personalised daggers.” She answers, and then she grins in a way that makes you want to tell her your life story, and leans closer. “A male can never have too many daggers, right?”

You breathe a laugh. It doesn’t sound natural. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll be needing three. One for my father, and one each for my two brothers. Can that be done in time for Solstice? I can pay extra…”

This female has beauty, leathers, wings, a relationship with her family members, money. She’s magnificent. A few exchanged words, and you’re awed by her.

Who is she? How have you never seen her before?

“It can be done.” You tell her with a flustered smile. “I’ll just need to sit with you and get some details of exactly what you want made, and then my father will get straight to it. I imagine they’ll be ready for collection by Solstice Eve.”

Her eyes light up in a way that reminds you of sunrise. “That’s perfect.”

There’s a second or two where you just…can’t help staring. Her beauty has knocked you speechless.

But once again, you snap yourself out of it and try to retain some semblance of professionalism.

“Can I take your name down?” You say, and clear your throat again. Gods, you hope you’re not blushing. “For the order.”

You grab a piece of parchment and a pen, hoping you’ll remember how the fuck to write.

“It’s Kaeda.” She says, and the pen nearly slips from your hand. “Kaeda Baralas.”

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Solstice morning sweeps in just as abruptly as the fresh onslaught of snow that once again batters the camp.

It’s going to be a rough one. You can feel it in your bones.

You dread it every year, but this year is made even worse by the constant stream of thoughts that have been plaguing you over the last week. About whether telling Az about your feelings is a good idea. Not just because of what it could do to your friendship, but because…

Because you can’t deny that since seeing Kaeda in the flesh, you’re doubting yourself more than ever.

Of course, you can see why Azriel would want her. And why he’d want to be good and experienced for her. And you…you’ve been facilitating that. You’re the practice dummy. Kaeda is the real thing.

At least the chaos of Solstice keeps you busy.

You wake early, and from the noise and foot traffic outside your bedroom window, you know Az’s unit has safely returned from their training exercise. Your relief is short-lived, replaced by the dread of your father hitting the bottle.

Every year is the same. You spend the day trying to focus on your preparation of the huge meal you’re expected to cook, while your father knocks back drink after drink and gradually gets rowdier. You tell yourself that the more he drinks, the better — he’ll fall asleep eventually, and you’ll be out of here.

But then the front door bursts open.

It’s four of your father’s friends who pile into your cramped home, singing at the tops of their voices and reeking of booze. You’re only just able to stop one of them knocking a pot of potatoes off the counter with a careless, wayward wing. They barely acknowledge you, filing through to the sitting room to greet your father. Their voices get louder, and an ache is building behind your eye.

Day bleeds into late afternoon. You try to ignore them, to focus on the task at hand. Cooking is usually enjoyable for you, but with an unwelcome party happening in the next room, you find yourself getting more and more stressed.

By the time your father bustles his way into the kitchen and begins sniffing around the food, you’re close to losing it.

“Isn’t it ready yet?” Your father rudely demands.

You stare out of the kitchen window, at the dwindling light of approaching evening, clenching your jaw. “It is. I’m waiting for your friends to leave.”

“They’ll be eating with us.”

You whirl on the spot. “We don’t have enough food for that.”

“I told you we’d have guests.”

No, he absolutely hadn’t. This is a power play. He does shit like this all the time. Backs you into corners.

“I bought food for two people.” You snap, unable to stop yourself. “Not six.”

Your father’s nostrils flare. You know that look on his face a little too well — the one where his cheeks redden and his eyes turn cold. It’s always, always made your stomach lurch.

He steps closer, and you press your back against the counter, trying your utmost not to look intimidated.

“You’d better rectify that, hadn’t you?” His tone is deceptively gentle. “Be a good girl and find a way to make the food go around six people. You wouldn’t want to ruin Solstice.”

It’s a veiled threat. One you’d be wise not to ignore.

So you stare at him and he stares at you. And when he eventually nods and leaves the room, you turn and try to work out how to make a meal for two a meal for six.

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The mountain of a male beside you jostles your chair so violently that you almost fall out of it.

His hand grabs a roast potato from your plate. He shoves it into his mouth, chews, and grins. “You weren’t going to eat that, were you?”

The entire meal has been like this.

Perhaps it’s your ice-thin temper that has you staring him right in the eye; a thing many Illyrian males consider a great disrespect from females. “Would it matter if I was?”

He swallows and swipes the lone, remaining potato you hadn’t planned to touch. “Not really, no.”

The dinner is usually the only part you enjoy of Solstice. A meal that you spend hours perfecting, of slow-cooked meat and roasted potatoes and a colourful array of different vegetables that are cooked to perfection. It’s the one part of the day where you can just sit and breathe, because even your father doesn’t usually have a bad word to say about the meal you’ve presented.

This one has been pure, unadulterated hell.

To accommodate your unwanted guests, you’ve skimped on your own food, barely affording yourself a couple of mouthfuls. Wine and ale has been spilled across the table, and the conversation around it has only grown more and more uncomfortable — and vile — as the night has worn on. You want nothing more than to get out of here and find your friends, but your father and his cronies show no signs of slowing down.

You sit, staring emptily at the plates, the little remaining morsels of the meal you spent all day cooking. You try to block out the laughter and jeering, the disgusting comments, the blatant disrespect, but it’s all getting to you, riling you up. You’re not sure how long you’ll last without snapping.

Your answer comes when your father looks at you. And he snaps his fucking fingers at the finished plates.

“Clear this up, Y/N.” He says.

You know your father. You know what he can be like, the damage he can do. Your ruined back is evidence enough. And you know the wisest and safest thing is for you to comply and rant about him to your friends later.

But you’re far beyond that point.

You meet his gaze, and your jaw ticks as you shoot back, “Why don’t you clear it up yourself?”

You regret it the second the room falls deathly silent. All the noise is gone in an instant. Every face is looking your way.

But it’s your father’s face you’re concerned with. The expression that tells you you’ve made a grave, grave mistake.

“What was that?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet.

You look away. Wish you could cram the words back down your throat. “Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” The male beside you sneers. “You speak to your father like that, girl? If you were my child, I’d string you up by the remains of those wings you never should have been born with.”

“I’d do a lot worse than that.” Another one remarks, a sickening laugh in his voice.

Throughout it all, your father is staring at you. Saying nothing.

“Did it hurt, anyway? Having them ripped off like that? I bet it did. I hope it did.”

Your final straw is when the pig at your side has the audacity to reach around and touch your back. You tense immediately, and you’re shooting up from your chair, knocking it over as you do.

“Don’t ever lay a finger on me again.” You will your voice to be stronger, firmer, but it won’t comply. You shake as you gather the plates up in your hand. “I’m cleaning this up.”

That’s met with a chorus of laughter, a pelting of comments. You tell yourself to block it out, block it the fuck out, balance as much as you reasonably can in your hands and book it into the kitchen. You dump the plates onto the counter and grip onto the sink basin, trying to draw in deep, slow breaths.

But then there are footsteps behind you. And the kitchen door closes. And you know that’s not good.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes shutter. You release one of those useless breaths before you dare to turn and face your father.

And when you do, his face is…soft. Eyes filled with concern.

But you’re not stupid enough to buy it.

You’re taut as a bowstring as he approaches you, stopping inches away. He drinks in the sight of you, tilting his head. You wait for him to tell you that you look just like your mother — a fact that only contributes to his vitriol. As if it’s your fault that she abandoned him, abandoned both of you.

He thinks it is.

His hand touches your cheek, his thumb sweeping the skin there. You swallow, hoping he can’t feel the way you tremble beneath him.

“What’s gotten into you, my girl?” He asks quietly. “What did I say about not ruining Solstice?”

You swallow. Lower your gaze. “I thought it would just be the two of us.”

“Do I not have the right to invite my friends into my home?”

“I’m just saying that a little bit of warning would have been appreciated. I didn’t spend hours cooking a meal just for your friends to come along and ruin it.”

“Your attitude has become insufferable. Perhaps it’s those three males you’ve been spreading your legs for. Giving you too much of an ego boost.”

You almost want to laugh in his face — laugh at his cluelessness. But your anger wins. Maybe you’re more like him than you ever thought.

“Or perhaps, father,” you snap, “it’s an accumulation of anger and desperation after twenty years of living with a repulsive, sanctimonious—”

He strikes you so hard that for a moment, you’re simply stunned as to why you’re suddenly on the floor. But the thwack of his hit rings in your ears, echoes through the kitchen.

And then the metallic taste of blood is coating the inside of your mouth. It’s streaming down your chin, and you’re not even sure where it’s all coming from, only that it hurts and your eyes are stinging.

Your father stares down at you. And in that moment, you realise that the eeriest thing of all is that he never glares at you. You think you’d prefer that.

He always stares with that emptiness. That icy vacancy. It makes his actions more unpredictable, more dangerous.

He lunges down so suddenly that you flinch, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. Your legs don’t want to comply as he shoves you towards the door.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” He hisses at you, ripping the door open. “Go on. Fuck off, just like your mother did.”

And then he’s shoving you into the snow, a plume of it erupting around you. You hardly notice the cold. You’re too stunned.

Not stunned enough, though, to refrain from biting back at him. Just like a threatened animal would.

“Fuck you.” You sneer, the words contorted by a mouthful of blood that you spit onto the snow. “Fuck you, father.”

The bastard laughs in your face. Just as he’s always laughed in your face. And then he kicks snow at you because he can and steps back into the house.

When the door shuts behind him, you push to your feet. You’re trembling all over. It might be the cold. It might be the shock.

There’s only one person you want to see right now. So you wrap your arms around yourself and head towards the dormitories.

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Halfway through trudging across the camp, your shoes sodden with snow, your lip still bleeding, the emotions begin to hit.

You resent them. You resent feeling anything at all towards the male who is your only blood relative in this hollow, hollow place. The one who took your wings. The one who has tried to keep a firm grasp on the control he has over your life.

But you do feel things. Hurt and rage and humiliation and — bizarrely — betrayal. As if some small slither of hope had followed you from childhood into adulthood — that your father would one day miraculously awaken as a different person. A family member worth holding onto.

He never would.

No, your true family has always been the small, loving group that crams themselves into a cottage across the camp; a place of warmth and welcoming.

Rhysand and Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand’s mother, too. They are your family. They have always cared, since the moment you met them.

It’s for that reason that you persevere with your walk, even though you’re frozen to the bone. You think you might be crying. You’re not too sure anymore. Your friends will make it better. They always make it better.

The dormitories glow in the distance; a welcome sight, for once. You kick through the snow with desperation, and you’re definitely crying, definitely shaking all over, but the sounds of the celebrations coming from inside are a relief. Playful jeering and someone strumming a lute and off-kilter singing.

You push your way through the door. Inside is as crowded as you expect it to be, but you don’t even care. Anywhere is better than at home.

Your eyes — not really taking in much at all — scan the corridors, the common area, looking for any of your three closest friends. You see none of them, but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find Vegha there. Her eyes widen immediately at the state of you. You dread to think how bad you look.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” She blurts. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Fell over.” You know how stupid it sounds. “I…I need to find Azriel. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, I think he skulked off to his room a little while ago. Everyone knows he hates big parties like this—”

Perfect. You’ll hole up in his room together and block the rest of the world out. You’re already turning and pushing through people. You’ll apologise to Vegha for your rudeness later. Right now, you just need Azriel’s comfort, his love. The conversation you planned to have with him tonight is now a distant memory, an issue to confront later. You just…just want him. He always makes everything better.

You don’t notice the drink that gets spilled on you, or the disgruntled groups of people you have to shove through. None of that matters. Azriel is your family. He matters.

Finally, you make it to his room. The soft glow of faelights shine beneath the door — an indication he’s inside. You almost sob with relief as you grab the handle and burst in.

Two faces immediately look round at you.

Azriel’s.

Kaeda’s.

Kaeda lies on top of him, hands either side of his head. Her lips are swollen and inches from his. Azriel is palming at her waist, holding her against him. They’re both fully clothed, but…but you get the sense they wouldn’t have been for much longer, had it not been for your interruption.

Azriel drinks in the sight of you, his chest heaving. He blinks. You…you’re rooted to the spot.

And you fucking wince as Kaeda sits up slightly. Az’s hands fall back to his sides.

The beautiful female eyes you, tilting her head. And you want to get out of there, to fucking run, but you can’t do anything but stand and blink as something shatters inside of you.

“The shop hand from the forge.” Kaeda states in surprise, as if it’s ludicrous to consider that you might sometimes venture outside of your father’s workshop. “What happened to your face?”

Azriel is finally springing into action, then, sitting up and scooting out from beneath Kaeda. “Y/N…”

You cannot bear the gentleness of his voice. It may just finish you off.

All of this might. Staying here a second longer might.

So you, for some reason, shake your head and back slowly out of the room. Azriel lurches up, but you’re grabbing hold of the door handle firmly.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Your voice is all wrong and fractured. You quickly shut the door before it can morph into a sob.

You think Azriel might call after you, but it’s probably wishful thinking. You don’t know. Don’t know anything. Don’t know what to do next.

So you simply walk away.

You suppose you’ve taught Azriel everything he needs to know.

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