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junkissed · 2 days ago

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goodnight n go

★ | member — fwb!vernon x f reader ★ | genre — smut, angst, non-idol au, happy ending, fwb to lovers ★ | word count — 10.2k

★ | synopsis — you keep coming back for more, but every night ends the same. maybe this time things will be different.

★ | warnings — guitarist!vernon, rock band!hhu, mentions of alcohol, vernon has commitment issues (but he gets over it) ★ | smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, consensual drunk sex, car sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering, piv, making out, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk vernon (he's down baddd), some aftercare ★ | notes — thanks to @onlymingyus for always being the best and to @wonustars for proofreading !! i did not intend for this fic to be this long but i'm actually really proud of how it turned out so i hope you like it!! also i often make playlists for my fics but i never share them, but i've been listening to this one for months while i've been writing this fic so i'll link it so you can listen too. if you enjoy this fic, please reblog and let me know in the tags!! reblogs are super important to tumblr and they help motivate me to keep writing more like this :)

check out the playlist! featuring — goodnight n go - ariana grande ; black eye - vernon ; uh oh - tate mcrae ; sunset - caroline polachek ; romanticise this - james marriott ; entertainer - zayn ; & more

“hey, you wanna get drinks tonight?”

as usual, that’s how it starts.

you probably should have said no. you’d played this game before. you knew exactly what hansol meant when he offered to hang out after band practice, because it was never just “hanging out”.

you don’t even know why you still go to practices anymore. for a long time you’d avoided them; it wasn’t really your style, and you were never interested in being a groupie for their local gigs. your roommate seungcheol always invited you to every practice and every time you declined with the excuse of homework or other plans, but cheol finally convinced you to come just one time.

at first, it had been because he wanted you to hear a new song they were working on and he’d wanted to know how you liked it before they played it at an upcoming show. but then he’d introduced you to the rest of his bandmates, and after that there was no going back.

you couldn’t help the way your eyes always gravitated towards hansol, who insisted that you call him his real name instead of his stage name that everyone else called him. from the very first practice, you were captivated by him: the way his long fingers seem to dance along the neck of his guitar so effortlessly, the way his voice rasps when he sings, the way your breath catches in your throat when he grips the microphone stand and rolls his head back, lips parted in ecstasy.

he’s addictive, and it’s exactly the reason why you find yourself in the backseat of his car over and over again.

every time, it was easy to pretend that things would be different. you’d walk into the bar together and sit at the table in the back, order a few drinks, chat for a while about nothing. did you like the new stuff we played tonight? yeah, i know cheol is really excited to perform it saturday. you been doing any writing lately? mmm, a little. i’ve been feeling inspired. we could go back to my place and i could show you. except he never does.

hansol wasn’t a bad guy. he always paid for your drinks no matter how many times you offered to pick up the tab, he was polite, he listened to what you had to say. he just didn’t want more than that, and that’s where it all fell apart. you’d screw around for a while, then you’d part ways and wouldn’t speak to each other until next week. you never went to see them play shows, he never texted, you never called, never went on a real date besides meeting in the same bar down the street every thursday night after practice.

he seemed fine with that. you weren’t. and yet every time, you ended up back in his arms.

he groans into your mouth, pushing his hips into you and pinning you harder against the faded leather seats of his old honda. his lips are sloppy but eager, messily pressing his mouth into yours as his fingers tangle in the hair at the base of your neck. you can taste the beer and smoke on his breath, but for some reason it doesn’t bother you. maybe you’re used to it, or maybe it’s just because it’s him. you don’t want to know which reason is the truth.

he kisses you until you’re dizzy, and you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or from the thrill of kissing him once again. it’s a high you’re convinced you’ll never get tired of, although you’re not quite sure yet if it’s one that he will.

hansol always lets you set the pace, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. both of your shirts met the floor of his car what seems like hours ago, leaving you in just your bra and pants as he makes out with you as if it’s the first and last time he’ll get that chance. his fingers breeze over your waist the same way they breeze over his guitar strings when he plays: careful yet greedy, each touch intentional yet impulsive as he grips your waist.

he drags his fingers higher and it sends a shiver down your spine, arching your hips up against him and rolling your head back against the seat’s headrest. if there’s only one upside to this relationship, it’s that he’s good at this. really good. if he weren’t, then you wouldn’t have spent so many nights letting him fuck you in the parking lot of your shitty local bar. it does something for your confidence knowing that he must feel the same about you, or else he wouldn’t keep inviting you out. at the very least, this arrangement is mutual, even if you wish it wasn’t.

his hips rock against your crotch again, and even through both of your clothes you can feel how hard he is. your mind is clouded, everything’s a haze, and all you can think about is how badly you want him. the warmth of his skin, the gentle scratch of his nails on the back of your neck, his long eyelashes that flutter against your cheek as he kisses you.

you feel your hands slide haphazardly down his bare chest, fumbling over his hips as you tug on the waistband of his jeans. none of it feels graceful, not like the way he handles his music. it’s sloppy, desperate, clumsy, and it’s everything you need right now.

he manages to lean back from you enough to undo his pants and push them down to his knees, but his mouth is back on yours in an instant. somehow you end up on your back across the seats, gazing up at him with slack lips as his thin silver chain dangles over your face. you might not remember a lot of what happens on these nights when you’re with him, but you’ll always remember this moment. him hovering above you with heavily lidded eyes, biting his lip and cursing as he pushes into you, is etched into your mind in a way you simultaneously love and hate. love because it feels so good, hate because it never lasts.

the last half of those nights never stands out in your memory. you remember feeling good, you remember trembling in his arms and gasping and moaning and crying in pleasure, but the images are too fuzzy to make out. you don’t really need to reflect on them anyway; you know he’ll just bring you out next week and do it all over again.

hansol kisses you once more after you’re both finally spent, but the kisses afterwards are always different. more… hesitant, more uncertain. none of the passion and desperation that you’ve come to crave from him. not what you really want.

“i can drive you home,” he offers once he’s finished cleaning you up. for once you think he might genuinely mean it, but you can never be sure enough to take that chance. you want him to drive you home. god, you want him to so bad. to have him come over with you and stay the night, stay another night and another until your apartment isn’t just yours anymore, that’s what you’ve wanted all this time. and it’s what you’ll never have.

“i’ll call an uber,” you answer.

“i’ll wait with you, then.”

the silence that settles over his car is heavy as you climb back into the front passenger seat. you want to tell him to get in the uber with you, stay more than just a couple hours with you in the furthest back corner of the bar parking lot that’s too far to be illuminated by streetlights. you want to argue that he’s too drunk even to drive himself, that he needs to come home with you and sleep it off together in the comfort of your bed, but you know it’s not true and it won’t work. this is a conversation you’ve had many times before. every night you’ve spent with him blurs into the next, always the same.

sometimes you want to laugh at how naive you are, for thinking he’d eventually come to his senses and realize there’s more to you than a good lay before a gig. sometimes you want to grab him and shake him by the shoulders and tell him to grow the fuck up, give him an ultimatum and make him tell you what he wants from you or else put an end to it all. sometimes you just want to cry, to mourn your wasted time when you’re fully aware it’s never going to lead to something more, no matter how badly you want it and how hard you try.

no matter how many times you get your hopes up, no matter how many times you pray and beg and plead with god and the universe and every other higher power to get him to realize this can’t keep going on the way it is forever, nothing ever changes. you’re never going to stop running to him when he calls, and he’s never going to stop calling.

finally another car pulls into the lot, and you manage to pull yourself out of his car. you hear your name behind you and you stumble, swaying on your feet as he rolls down his window.

maybe this time will be different.

he says his usual goodbyes and goodnights, flashing you a loose grin and a wave as his engine sputters to life, and he asks if you’re planning on coming to practice next week.

and you find yourself nodding.

you’re left standing there, your head and your heart pounding, watching his headlights fade as he drives away, until you’ve stood there for so long that your ride starts honking and calling for you to get in the car so you can leave.

maybe next time will be different.

this is going to be the last time, you swear.

you exhale as you stand inside the lobby of the venue, repeating the words to yourself. there’s a chill in the air tonight. the wind blows smoke in your direction from the couple standing by the door, abandoned cigarettes clutched between their fingers as they make out sloppily.

you grimace and turn away, studying the faded graffiti and half-ripped posters and advertisements that litter the walls around you. you mean it this time, seriously. the only reason you came tonight was because it’s the last time. a goodbye, of sorts.

you have to admit, you were a little shocked when hansol texted you after your weekly meet-up after practice. not only did he want to make sure you got home safe after you left, but he’d asked if you’d come to their next performance.

you stare down at your phone in your hand, rereading the texts for what feels like the thousandth time in the past few days just to make sure you haven’t imagined them. but no, there they are, bright pixels staring right back up at you from the screen.

hansol: hey just wanted to make sure you made it back home

hansol: btw we’re playing at the phoenix on saturday and i was wondering if you had plans? i wanna see you

hansol: maybe we could get dinner after or somethin if youre down idk

hansol: hoping youll be there

you’d been tempted to refuse him, out of bitterness or resentment or something else, but you can’t say you weren’t shocked by his offer. he’d suggested every once in a while that you should come see them play sometime, but it was always clear to both of you that it was out of small talk rather than genuine interest in you being there. but this time he’d said he wanted you there.

it was nice to feel wanted, for once. maybe you hadn’t been going crazy. maybe things really were different this time.

you glance at your phone once more to check the time before you slip it into your pocket, taking a deep breath as you walk through the second set of doors into the main room. you can hear the deep sound of wonwoo’s drums warming up, but the stage is obscured behind a ratty set of faded red curtains.

there’s still a few minutes before their set, but the room is already crowded with people so you push your way to the side wall near the back. you don’t really want anyone to see you here, anyway. you don’t want anyone to see that your resolve is paper-thin when it comes to hansol.

you hadn’t told him that you were coming tonight, just sending him a vague response and telling him you’d have to see if your schedule is free. even that felt too generous, after the anguish he’s put you through the past few weeks. he doesn’t need to know that you’re here, just like he doesn’t need to know the real reason you’ve been avoiding ever coming to see him play. and it’s not because you always have other plans.

you’re hoping to just watch the performance quietly from the back, then sneak out without ever having to talk to him, and text him later that you’d enjoyed it. you already knew you were going to enjoy it. you’d heard every original song, cover, and riff they’d ever played together, and at this point you could probably recite their setlist by heart. anyone could see that they were talented together, so it isn’t surprising that the venue is packed tonight. honestly, it’d be for the better if you got lost in the crowd and never saw him face to face.

the house lights suddenly fade into darkness and the crowd starts to quiet, the curtains finally pulling back to reveal the band. seungcheol stands in front of a microphone in the center of the stage, with wonwoo in the back at his drum set and mingyu to his left holding a bass guitar. and then, of course, there’s hansol.

you hate the way your gaze immediately lands on him, standing in the same position he always does, with his guitar slung around his neck by a thick red strap. the crowd starts cheering, and distantly you recognize seungcheol’s voice introducing the group, but you can’t make out any of his words.

your mind flashes back to all the nights you’ve spent sitting on a folding chair in mingyu’s garage, watching them laugh and bicker and fool around. it’s different seeing them actually on a stage for once, the metal of their instruments glinting under the harsh, colorful stage lights.

it’s not a large stage by any means, just a few feet higher than the ground and barely wide enough for all four of them to fit. but their presence is captivating, and it makes the dingy local theater seem more special than it really is. but then again, hansol makes everything seem more special than it really is.

seungcheol finishes speaking and the crowd around you lets out whoops and cheers, but you stay silent. your eyes are still stuck on hansol, watching him scan the crowd as he twists the tuning pegs on his guitar.

even from the back of the room, you can tell he’s nervous. his fingers shake just a little, in a way you know they never do because you’ve watched him tune his guitar a thousand times under the dim interior lights in his car. you watch his eyes dart around the room, squinting to see into the crowd before turning his attention back to the fretboard in his hands.

he’s not the most outgoing guy in the world, but at the same time you know he’s not the kind of person to get stage fright. something is different this time. or, maybe it’s not. you’ve never actually seen him play in front of an audience. you don’t know him as well as you think you do, you have to constantly remind yourself every time your mind starts to wander and you let yourself daydream. after all, he doesn’t know anything about you, and he doesn’t seem to care enough to learn. neither should you.

the band opens with a song you’ve heard a thousand times, then another and another, pausing after every few songs to talk to the crowd. time seems to fly by around you, but everything moves in slow motion when you're looking at hansol. you study the way his hair falls in soft brown waves around his face, his head bobbing to the rhythm as he strums his guitar. it's one thing you've always enjoyed about watching him play; he always gets so lost in the music, and it's fascinating to watch. it's clearly on the list of things he's passionate about, and even if you aren't one of those things, at least you get to see him doing something he loves.

you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. you can't let yourself think like that. you're here to end things, not to reminisce. you shouldn't care if he likes music or not, that's not your problem anymore. he's not your problem anymore.

you zone out for a while, trying hard not to think about him but he's the only thing you can focus on. your eyes wander every once in a while, when you hear cheol's raspy voice in the mic or a particularly cool guitar riff from mingyu, but they always end up back at hansol.

they finish playing what you know is their last song, but the crowd is still bursting with electricity. it’s not long before everyone starts to chant, begging for one more song.

“encore?” seungcheol laughs into the mic, and flashes one of his signature dazzling smiles that sends the group of girls standing in front of you into hysterics. he glances over at hansol and nods. “mmm, yeah. i think we can do one more.”

you fold your arms over your chest. now is probably your best chance to leave. it’s not a very big venue, but from the amount of people here it’s obvious that there’ll be chaos once things are over as people start to file out. though most of them will probably be trying to fight their way to the front instead, giving wonwoo their phone numbers written on stained cocktail napkins and asking mingyu to sign their tits. but just as you’re about to start pushing your way back towards the exit, cheol’s deep voice makes you pause.

“we’re gonna play something real special tonight,” he says, making eye contact with hansol again. “something brand new, that we’ve never performed before. you guys wanna be the first to hear it?”

the room erupts into cheers again, and cheol grins. “yeah, i figured. so, i’m gonna let vernon explain this one. take it away, man.”

you stand still, arms crossed and curiosity piqued. maybe you can wait until after the last song. if this is going to be your last hurrah, then you might as well see it through til the end. just this once, and never again.

hansol clears his throat and looks out into the darkened theater. “this song is about a girl i’m in love with,” he starts. that gets a light laugh out of the crowd, a couple whistles and cheers, and he chuckles into the microphone before continuing. the words that have been brewing in your head for weeks seem to instantly melt on your tongue as his voice rings in your ears, echoing through your mind. that’s not you. that’s definitely not you.

“i hope she’s here tonight, but i wouldn’t blame her if she wasn’t. because i think i kind of fucked everything up.” he swallows, his eyes darting back and forth as he scans across the crowd, searching for something. searching for you? “so if she’s out there, i’m sorry. and i know this won’t make up for it, but i hope you like it anyway.”

the crowd cheers again, louder than they have all night, but the noise quickly dies down once hansol begins to play. the lights go dim, and the room fills with a soft melody from his guitar. the sound is unfamiliar, a song you haven’t heard before, and you realize he must’ve been working on it outside of the band’s usual practices.

even if he isn’t talking about you, the song is beautiful. his guitar seems to sing every note that plays, and you can practically see the air around him shimmering with energy. the rest of the room seems to fade away, the audience that separates you suddenly disappearing. it’s like you’re the only two people around, sitting beside him as he plays just for you.

he’s done that a few times, played you little snippets on his guitar. you can almost picture it now: it’s always right after he parks outside the bar, before you head inside together. he’ll unzip the case and pull his guitar from the backseat, positioning it on his lap. he comes up with a different reason every time; sometimes he’ll ask if the chords he’s been working on sound good together, sometimes he’ll tell you to listen to see if it needs tuning, sometimes he’ll say he just needs to practice this section a couple more times before giving up for the night and getting shitfaced with you off too many shots.

but you always see right through his flimsy excuses; obviously he’s doing it to show off, to impress you or something. but for the life of you, you’ve never been able to figure out why. why should he care about impressing you, if he doesn’t want to go any further with you?

and suddenly, as you stand in the back of the theater, watching his eyes sparkle under the lights and his fingers breeze over his guitar, looking more focused and frustrated and angry and sad and sorry than you’ve ever seen him look, now you finally have your answer.

you don’t want him to be talking about you. he shouldn’t be talking about you. you almost wish he would just be an asshole to you, give you a good reason to yell at him and cuss him out and tell him to fuck off, but he never does. sure, he’s a little dense to the not-so-subtle hints you’ve been trying to drop, but he’s always been good to you, even if it’s breaking your heart in the process. maybe you’ve been the dense one all along.

the show ends in a blur, and the lights come back on as people start to file out. there's cheers and more shouts for another encore, but it's clear the night is over. this is the part you've been dreading; even after days of convincing yourself, you're still not sure what you're going to do.

when the crowd finally clears out enough for you to move towards the stage, you can already see the group that’s formed around the members. cheol is off to one side, giving out autographs to whoever waves their napkins closest to him. mingyu’s helping wonwoo pack up his drum kit, smiling shyly at the girls calling his name and promising he’ll come back out to the lobby to meet them once he’s finished.

and then there’s hansol, looking flustered as people crowd around him, a deep blush in his cheeks as he waves his hands to try and get them to leave. you’re just far enough from his line of sight that you almost hesitate. it’s not too late to turn around. it’s not too late to leave before he can see you, to disappear from his life forever, but your heart won’t let you.

you walk a little closer to the stage, hanging back behind the crowd of people, but he sees. his face lights up with relief, and even from a few feet away you can still see his eyes soften. he tells the people to move, more firmly with his words this time, and he hops down off the stage as they part to make room for him. when it’s clear his attention is no longer on them, they grumble and walk away, talking to their friends about the show and how hot all the members are and how they’re definitely planning on coming back the next time they perform.

hansol reaches you in a couple of strides, stopping just in front of you. he stays silent for a second, his eyes roaming over you almost gratefully.

“hi,” he says finally, offering you a lopsided smile. he wipes his palms on his jeans nervously. “you came.”

you bite your lip for a second before you nod. “i did.”

“so you’re— did you— were you here for the end of the show?” he asks, trying to hide the stutter in his words. it’s cute how shy he is all of a sudden. it’s not like him to be shy like this. but then again, the only times you’ve seen him are when he’s playing with the guys or fucking your brains out while he's drunk, so it’s not like you’ve really gotten to know him. maybe he’s always been this shy and you were just too caught up in him to notice.

you know what he’s trying to say without outright saying it. obviously you were there the whole time, a fact you aren’t the proudest of, but you aren’t about to let him know that. “i heard your song,” you finally settle on, cutting straight to the point.

his face goes through about a hundred emotions in the span of a second, from surprised to happy then right back to shy again. “yeah?”

even though most of the room has cleared out by now, he starts walking as he talks, pulling you through the side door into the quieter backstage area. you follow him around the corner until you reach a private room, a wrinkled sheet of paper taped to the door with his name written in sharpie. his guitar case that you've seen so many times lies open on the floor, his backpack slumped against one wall.

“i liked it.”

he exhales in relief as he turns back around to face you, and you can almost see his whole body relax. “i'm so fucking sorry,” he says, nearly stumbling over his words with how fast he tries to get them out. “i've been really, really stupid. the way i left you the other night… i shouldn't have let you go like that. i regretted it the second you left.”

you purse your lips as you listen. you can tell he really means it, and it's getting harder and harder to stay mad at him. but you can't let him off that easy, not after how long you've been going through this.

“i just don't understand what it is you want, hansol. you treat me like— i don't know, like nothing.” you pause and chew on the inside of your cheek for a second, letting your words sink in. “and then out of the blue you beg me to come to your show, and you play this really sweet, heartfelt song, so how the hell am i supposed to take that?”

he winces, but the wounded look on his face doesn't feel as satisfying as you'd hoped it would. “i know. i'm just… i'm bad with words. i'm better at music.” he sighs. “but that's not an excuse. i didn't ever wanna make you feel like that, not on purpose. i just got scared. but i shouldn't have.”

you stand silently, waiting. clearly, there's more on his mind. he stuffs his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, shifting from one foot to the other.

“i love the way you laugh. i love the way you watch me when i'm playing and it makes me feel like the only person in the whole world. i love the way you smile when you're drunk and the way you kiss me. and it was stupid of me to ever think i didn't want that all the time.” he lifts his gaze to meet your eyes, the fear in his expression more obvious than anything you've ever seen before.

you let out a breath, your voice dropping almost to a whisper. “you should've just said that.”

“i should've,” he agrees.

you offer him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep yourself together. this is not how you thought tonight would go. you didn't even think you'd talk to him, and if you did, you thought it would be a shouting match, screaming and cursing before angrily storming out of the venue, finally feeling vindicated after all this time. yet here you are, standing quietly in front of him and trying not to cry.

he waits for a second, trying to gauge your reaction before he continues. “you're, like, my best friend,” he says, adding a nervous little chuckle to lighten the mood. “i think about you every time i play or whenever i try to write something. it's always about you. you don't know how much i look forward to thursday practices and getting to see you.”

now it's your turn to laugh. “you literally could've just texted me and i probably would've dropped everything to be there, anytime.”

he grins, his smile a little wider this time. “yeah, i know. i tried, the other day when i invited you. that was scary as shit.”

he looks up at you again, his soft brown eyes and long eyelashes shining even under the dim flickering bulb overhead. “i'm really glad you came tonight, though. i wasn't expecting you to, but i really hoped you would.” he offers you another nervous smile. “will you let me try again?”

you don't answer right away, and the look of nervousness starts to seep back into his features. “i promise i—”

but you cut him off, pulling him in by his shoulders and pressing your lips against his. he falters for just a second but his arms immediately wrap around your waist, tilting his head to lean into the kiss, and somehow that one little action feels more natural than anything you've ever done together.

you slide your tongue against his lips, and he lets out a groan into your mouth before he pulls back to breathe. “is that a yes?”

you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and laugh, but instead you just nod. “yes.”

you definitely didn't come here tonight expecting to get laid. in fact, the last thing you ever thought you'd do is sleep with hansol again. but all of that feels like a distant memory as you head out of the community theater together, his guitar case over his shoulder, walking hand in hand towards his car.

the routine is familiar, but nothing is the same. you're not drunk, you're not in the parking lot of a cheap bar, and you don't feel lonely anymore.

he unlocks the doors and you start to climb into the backseat, but he lets out a little noise and shakes his head, and you look up at him in confusion.

“we're going back to my place. or yours, if you want.” he reaches down to offer his hand and help you out of the car. “i said i was gonna do it right this time, didn't i?”

by the time you get back to your apartment, your stomach is in knots in the very best way. your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, and if you weren’t so on edge it would have almost made you laugh, the way hansol looks away and pretends not to notice. you're more alike than you thought, and suddenly you're overcome with a feeling of excitement. now you get to discover all these little things about him: things you didn't allow yourself to see before, things he wants to show you and tell you and share with you.

you try not to let the awkwardness seep back in, but you pause outside your bedroom door, almost as if you're waiting for hansol to tell you what to do. in just one night he's turned your life on its head, and now you're at a loss.

so he takes it as a sign and kisses you, his hands finding your waist and slowly trailing up your body until he's cupping your chin. it's different from all the other times he's kissed you. it's not just the fiery passion you're used to when you can tell he's worked up, but there's a hint of uncertainty in it, more similar to the kisses he gives you afterwards when you're trying to figure out whether to ask for a ride home or not. and then, the pieces finally settle into place and you realize he wasn't kissing you like that because he didn't want you; he was kissing you like that because he did.

you pull away and he freezes a little, and you can tell from the worried look in his eyes that he thinks he's gone too far. “relax,” you laugh softly, your forearms still resting on his shoulders.

he complies, but his eyes still dart across your face in nervousness. despite how badly he wants you, how badly he needs to prove himself to you, there's clearly still so much that needs to be discussed before you can move forward, things that've been left unsaid for far too long.

you inhale and look up into his eyes, trying to find what emotion is hidden there. “what do you want, hansol?”

“want you to be my girlfriend,” he breathes out without hesitating. if it were any other time and place you might've thought he was joking, but you can tell he's dead serious.

“i—” whatever words you had ready instantly die in your throat, not expecting such a genuine answer. “yes. but i meant, like, right now. what do you want, right now.”

his expression shifts in understanding and he grins, though it's still shy. “oh. well…” he pauses again to think. “what do you want me to do?”

you watch his eyes carefully for a moment before you reply. you've wanted him to do a lot of things. you wanted him to be better, you wanted him to be worse. you wanted him to do anything besides being stuck in this weird limbo of friend-zoned friends with benefits. but now that the choice is up to you… you don't want any of that.

“i want you to be honest,” you start softly, almost shy to say it, but you know it needs to be said. “i want you to tell me how you feel. because i can't lie, you really fucked up. i shouldn't have given you so many chances.” he winces at that, but you brush your thumb along his cheek and pull his attention back to you. “but i did. so you need to earn my trust again. and i just want you to not be so afraid anymore.”

he stays silent for a long moment before he nods, as if he's seriously considering your words. “i know,” he says finally. his voice is quieter now, barely above a whisper. “i'm sorry. you're gonna get so fucking sick of hearing me say how sorry i am, but i'm not gonna stop saying it.”

you want to laugh, but his tone is so serious that you know you shouldn't, so you keep a straight face and ask him again. “so… what do you want?”

he lets out a sigh, still holding you face in his hands. “shit, everything. but, first— i really wanna taste you. can… can i?”

you take a step backwards into the bedroom and he follows, tearing off clothes one by one in a hurry until you're both left with just underwear. with the limited space in his car you've never actually been fully naked together before, and the thought of him seeing you is both terrifying and exhilarating.

he leans you down onto the bed and you pull him down with you. he falls beside you, pausing to kiss you once more before rolling off the bed and onto his knees, holding your legs in front of him as he stares up at you.

it's the kind of image that could drive a woman mad. you didn't think he was capable of being this patient, but it seems he's full of surprises tonight. “yes,” you breathe out and finally give him an answer. your eyes are locked onto his, a silent conversation happening between you in the span of a second.

he clears his throat and slowly pries your legs apart, pulling his gaze away from your face to stare between your thighs instead.

“god, this pussy…” he groans in delight as he settles your legs over his shoulders, his gaze transfixed on the wet spot at the seat of your panties.

he slides his palms up your thighs, and for his sake you pretend not to notice the way his fingers are shaking just a little. you lift your hips to encourage him, and he slips his long fingers beneath the hem of your panties before pulling them down, taking his time to slide them off and toss them on the floor behind him.

his hands immediately come back up to your thighs, using his thumbs to press your legs apart to give him a better view.

“so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles to no one but himself. it's like he's in a trance, admiring the dripping mess between your legs like it's about to be his last meal. if he hadn't been so enthusiastic, you might've been embarrassed at the electric shiver that runs through you from his praise. but when there's a man this hot in front of you, kneeling and staring up at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life, it's hard to feel embarrassed for long.

he leans in and presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the feeling. he's never been incredibly rough with you before, but he’s never been this gentle, either. he's touching you so delicately, like a statue at a museum that he's not sure yet if he's allowed to touch or not.

your reaction spurs him on, and he leans in further to flatten his tongue against your entrance and gives a long, slow lick. your hips lift automatically, trying to push him closer and add more pressure.

he curls his tongue through your folds before pulling away, his hands coming up to rest on your hip bones and hold you down. “even better than i imagined,” he groans, looking up at you from his spot on the floor, and the image of him down there makes you so dizzy that you have to lay back down against the bed again.

“more,” you whimper desperately. in the back of your mind there's a distant feeling of shyness at how demanding you're being, but you don't think twice about it. after everything he put you through, he still needs to prove himself to you, that he's not going to break your heart again. but he's doing a damn good job so far. “vernon— ah, fuck!”

“mm, anything.” he presses a kiss against the soft skin on inside of your thigh. “anything you want, baby.”

you don't even have time to process the nickname before he's diving back in, his lips wrapped around your clit as he sucks at you. you let out a strangled noise of surprise, your hand instantly flying down to hold his head.

your fingers tangle in his hair, his tongue so deep in your pussy that you're already gasping and writhing under his touch. you can't tell which one of you has been more stupid for not letting this happen sooner, because it almost seems like he's enjoying this more than you are.

the coil in your stomach already feels like it's about to burst, pent up with white-hot energy that feels hotter than the sun. it hardly takes a few more pointed laps of his tongue before you fall apart into his mouth, whimpering and groaning and begging shamelessly for him.

“you called me vernon,” he says when you finally manage to push his head away, shivering with overwhelming sensitivity. he lifts one hand to wipe at his chin, way too nonchalant after everything he just did.

you're still fighting through the haze of your orgasm but his words bring you back down to earth, and your face fills with heat. “huh? sorry, i—”

“everybody calls me vernon,” he says as he shakes his head, quickly cutting you off. he stands up and moves onto the bed, flopping down beside you. “i liked that you always called me hansol. made it feel special.”

your eyes follow his movements, still laying on your back as you catch your breath. “but…?”

he grins, and you swear there's a hint of blush in his cheeks. “but that was really sexy when you called me vernon. it sounds way cooler when it's coming from you.”

all you can do is laugh, letting your eyes close as you rest your hands on your stomach. “noted,” you giggle. “so should i do it more, then?”

he hums in thought, rolling over onto his side so that he's closer to you. “you can do whatever you want, baby.”

that nickname again. he's already started leaning in to kiss you again, but you grab his shoulders and pull him down to meet him halfway. there's a bitterness on his tongue that you'd almost forgotten about, but you're quickly reminded once you feel his hand sliding across your stomach and down back between your legs. you let out a surprised but happy moan into his mouth, one of your hands moving to the back of his head to kiss him harder.

your legs part, accepting the warmth of his palm as he gently presses it against your sensitive clit. he holds his hand there for just a moment, pausing his movements as he kisses you, eagerly swallowing the whimpers and sounds you give him in return.

after a minute he shifts his hand, carefully pressing his index and middle finger into you. you're right up at the edge again already, clenching down hard around his fingers as he sets a slow pace, pulling them out halfway before thrusting them in deeper than before. you're seeing stars, releasing a constant stream of muffled moans into his lips as he curls his fingers inside you. he follows the rhythm of your hips as you rut against his palm, letting the movement force his fingers even deeper.

his fingers are dripping with your juices, down his knuckles and pooling in his palm, but it only makes him want to fuck you even more. it's not like this is the first time he's fingered you. the guys at the auto shop down the street know him all too well, from the amount of times he's had to take his car in to get the seats cleaned. he always claims that it's because he's a messy eater, and while that's true in some ways, he knows those guys don't buy it for a fucking second.

his fingers are completely buried inside you but he never stops kissing you, breathing almost as heavily as you are. he stops thrusting his fingers and adjusts his hand once more, pressing his thumb against your clit to rub lazy circles over it.

“ver—vern— fuck, hansol!” you finally manage to pull away from his lips, nearly gasping for air as another orgasm rips through you. his other hand slides down your body and it feels like the first time you've ever been touched, his palm so warm and tender against your skin that it somehow makes your high even better. you're shaking in his arms, lips parted in a soundless moan as you clench wildly around his fingers, but he just holds you tighter against his body and keeps pressing kisses along your jaw.

his lips are wet with both spit and slick as he watches you, his eyes filled with stars. usually when you're together, in the dark backseat of his car illuminated only by the moonlight and nearby streetlamps, it's hard to make out the details. it's dark, and everything is fuzzy from both the alcohol and the late hour. but now, he's realizing how stupid he was for never letting this happen sooner. he could've ended up going his whole life without ever seeing you like this, laying completely fucked out under the soft light in your bedroom, your pupils wide and eyes watery and so, so beautiful.

he waits until you've calmed down again, leaning away to give you a little space, but your hand shoots out to grab his wrist and keep him close to you and he can't help but smile. when you open your eyes you're expecting to find a cocky smirk, to see how proud of himself he is for having you in the palm of his hand so easily, but it's not there. just that soft smile.

“now. what do you want?” he says. “i should be asking you that way more often.”

“want you inside,” you pant out. “now. please? i— i missed you.” you shouldn't have said the last part out loud, but at this point you don't care anymore. all your cards are out on the table.

his eyes widen a little at your boldness, but he bites his lip and nods. he can't lie and say he wasn't secretly hoping you'd say that, but he'd be just as happy to sit here on the floor and eat you out over and over and over again. he'd do anything you want at this point, and not just because he feels like he owes you. he does, but it's deeper than that. it's a different kind of feeling, one that makes him want to do cheesy shit like lay his jacket over puddles for you and buy an airplane to write your name in the sky.

as he starts to position himself between your legs on the bed, you watch his face. his expression is outwardly neutral, but little by little you've started to recognize the signs of his happiness. it looks good on him.

but your brain isn't content with that, not just yet. you swallow as a thought crosses your mind, and you can't push it down any longer.

“wait,” you say quietly, forcing the word out before you can reconsider. he stops immediately, his eyes searching your face for anything he can find, any sign that you've changed your mind about this.

“yeah?” he replies, his voice just as quiet, as if he's afraid to speak too loudly and break the tension of this moment.

you clear your throat as best you can manage, though it's kind of starting to get sore from how much and how loudly you've been moaning all night. “just curious,” you start, nervousness suddenly starting to creep in. but tonight is for being honest, and you can handle the truth. probably.

“before, while we were together— well, it doesn't really count as being ‘together’ but you know what i mean.” you pause again, chewing your lip. “did you ever… y'know. was there ever anybody else?”

hansol exhales, still hovering over you. “no. unless you count lotion and my hand, ‘cause there was a lot of that.” your eyes soften and you visibly relax at his words, and he mentally kicks himself for ever making you even think that was the case. that there would ever be anyone else for him but you. “i know i was stupid, but i'm not that stupid.”

“okay.” you pause again, trying to figure out how to get back on track. “sorry, i just wanted to know. i don't care.”

he scoffs, but his tone is more melancholy than angry. he shifts on top of you so he can rest on his elbows, getting closer and brushing his hand over your hair. “you should care. if i had, i would've given you full permission to lay into me, cuss me out, whatever. i would've deserved it. you don't deserve that.”

“i wanted to, trust me.” you sigh. “but you're too nice to me. i thought…” you chew on your lip, eyes searching his as you try to figure out what to say. “…i don't know what i was thinking.”

“i don't think i'm anywhere near ‘too nice’,” hansol laughs. the sincerity in his expression almost makes you feel better. “i'm the luckiest dude on the planet that you didn't decide to, like, slash the tires on my car and egg my house or something instead. i really wouldn't have blamed you if you did.”

“maybe i should then, next time,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face.

he shakes his head. “there won't be a next time.”

the room goes quiet and you stare at each other for a second, letting his words sink in. you can tell he's being lighthearted, but he's not even trying to hide the sincerity behind his words.

“you can… continue now,” you say after a tense moment, breaking the silence. the tension in the room is thick but it's not uncomfortable, slowly but surely melting into a lust that's deeper than any of the times you've been drunk and horny in his car.

he nods, and he reaches down to brush your hair back behind your ear before his hands slide down your body. he seems so hesitant to let go of you, but finally he lifts one hand to grip his cock and position himself at your entrance. he braces his other hand against your hip, shivering as he brushes the tip of his cock up through your folds. fuck, he's not gonna last.

after steeling his nerves as best he can and trying to convince himself not to bust the second he's inside you, he angles himself between your legs and starts to push in.

by some miracle he manages not to cum immediately, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think about literally anything else but how fucking beautiful you are lying beneath him, but what actually happens instead might be worse.

hansol groans once he's fully inside, slowly splitting you open bit by bit until he bottoms out with his hips flush against yours. there are so many words on his tongue begging to spill out, but he can't think straight. holy shit, he can't even think about anything right now. why did he never say anything sooner? why did he waste so much time content with putting in the least amount of effort when he could've been having you like this all along?

“i love you,” he blurts out, and for a split second you think maybe this is all a dream and somehow you passed out at the show and hit your head so hard you started hallucinating this. but then his eyes widen and he winces in that way you've started to recognize, and you almost laugh because now you know it's real.

“shit, i don't know why i said that. i'm sorry. fuck, i'm sorry,” he groans and hangs his head, but despite his embarrassment you can still feel every inch of his dick twitching inside you and it feels way too good to ignore. “you don't have to say it back. i know it's way too soon—”

“did you mean it?”

“what?”

“did you mean it?” you repeat. his attention pulls back to you, a confused yet hopeful look in his eyes that makes your heart warm.

he clears his throat, obviously trying to hide the pink spreading across his cheeks. “yeah. i think i did. and not just because you have the best pussy ever.”

“are you sure? because that's what it sounds like to me,” you tease and try to roll your eyes, but his words make you clench involuntarily around him and he curses under his breath.

“fuck— yes, i’m very sure, i meant it and i'll keep saying it forever if you'll let me.” he lets out a groan, both hands now firmly planted on your waist. “but, god, please let me fuck you now. i'm trying so goddamn hard to hold back and i'll gladly go for another round later but i'm trying to make it up to you right now and it's gonna completely ruin it if i cum in, like, five seconds.”

you can't help your laughter in that moment so all you can do is nod, lifting your hips a little to try and get him going. and he takes the hint, pulling halfway out of you before slamming back in, a loud, deep string of groans leaving his lips.

his pace starts out frantic but he quickly calms himself down, stabilizing himself through his grip on your waist and pulling you to meet his thrusts. he snaps his hips into you at a smooth pace, his cock dragging against your walls with each stroke in a way that has you clawing at his wrists for support as he holds onto you.

hansol may be bad at relationships, but he's never been bad at sex. even on a good day it really doesn't take much to have you seeing stars, but this is different. this is desperate, determined, thankful, and hopeful all wrapped into one movement, sliding in and out of you with a passion you've only ever seen when he's playing guitar.

“ha— ngh— hansol!” despite your efforts to keep it steady, your voice still comes out broken, his name escaping your lips as easily as breathing. you roll your head back against the pillow, and you're suddenly even more grateful that you're at home in your bed instead of alone in a parking lot. this is so much better, better than you could've dreamed.

“fuck, you always take my cock so good,” hansol groans as he leans forward and buries his face in your chest. “i should’ve been telling you that every single time, how good you are. so fucking good.”

the way he fucks you is strangely tender, in a way you're not sure you've ever felt before. it's rough, but somehow in a gentle way. he's taking you apart piece by piece and putting you back together with his hands, his kisses, his touch. none of the times before have ever come close to this.

maybe it's the feeling of a mattress beneath your back instead of a hard plastic seat, or maybe it's the promises hanging in the air between you that makes this time feel brand new. maybe you're just too caught up in the moment to think straight, but for the first time it finally feels like a fresh start. this time is different.

“baby, please, one more for me,” he moans into your skin as his hips begin to grow weary, his breath hot against your chest. “‘m not gonna last much longer— fuck, cum for me one more time, baby. god, you're so perfect. please, let me make you cum.”

at this point he's rambling, almost as far gone as you are, but it's like he doesn't even need to ask. as soon as the words leave his mouth you feel the familiar sensation starting to build again, burning hotter and quicker than before. you almost start to panic because you can't even tell if you have another one left in you, but you look up and meet his eyes one last time and suddenly a wave of calm washes over you at the sight of his soft brown eyes filled with way more love than you're expecting to find there.

you don't even have time to tell him when it hits you one more time, you just grab him and hang on tight as your high tears through you. you struggle to lift your legs and wrap them around his back, pulling him in even closer to you as your walls flutter uncontrollably around him. he invades your senses and you can feel him everywhere, and you can only hope he feels the way you do.

but it's obvious that he does, because “ah, shit—” is the last thing you hear before he pulls out, barely managing to get back in time before he spills all over your stomach, your thighs, your pussy, the sheets. it's everywhere, and neither of you care. his hands are still on you gripping your waist tightly like he can't bear to let go, his cock pulsing limply as it rests against your stomach. rope after rope of thick white floods over your skin, and yet it's like he barely even notices because he's so busy repeating your name, praising you again and again in between swears and shaky moans.

you're panting, your hands shaking as you reach for him, but he's already right there. he's breathing heavily himself as he drops down on the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his head in the crook of your neck.

his weight half leaning against you is grounding, and eventually you feel your heart starting to return to normal as you become aware of the sticky puddle of sweat and cum that you're both laying in. but you just close your eyes and rest, focusing on his body warmth and his palm holding your side and the tickle of air coming from his nose as he breathes against you, and you realize nothing, no feeling in the world, has ever felt better than this.

when he reluctantly pulls himself away from your body to go look for a towel, you already know there's no question about whether or not he's staying over tonight.

once he's done cleaning you off he lifts you up into his arms, laughing and nuzzling his nose into your neck as he sets you down at your desk chair to start stripping the mess of sheets off your bed, and in that moment you can't help but think how lucky you are. he keeps saying that he's the lucky one for letting him have a second chance, but you're lucky in a lot of ways, too. lucky that it turned out he wasn't as much of an idiot as you’d thought. lucky that your heart wouldn't let you give up on him, no matter how hard you tried. lucky that after everything, hope still works sometimes.

after stumbling around your room, tossing blankets and sheets around and looking the happiest you've ever seen him, you're finally settled down together and you're back where you've always belonged, laying in his arms. it's so late that the sun is probably coming up soon and you're exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of a night, but you couldn't care less about what happens next because everything finally feels right.

hansol sighs, his arm curled a little awkwardly around your shoulders as he twirls a lock of your hair between his fingers. “can… we not do this anymore?” he asks finally.

his voice is quiet; not shy or uncertain, just quiet. it's different than what you're used to with him. usually when you're around him everything is loud, it's fast and messy and jumbled, a whirlwind of a night followed by heartache and a pounding headache in the morning. but now he's just… quiet. all the thoughts that normally rush through your head are gone, leaving nothing but silence.

you swallow, confused. although you've already talked out all your worries, you can't help the uncertain feeling that starts to return. “what do you mean? like, right now?”

he exhales like he's thinking, and his fingers pause in your hair. “like… i don't know. i want things to be good between us. whatever we were doing before— anything but that. no more not talking about stuff. no more tension. y'know? i promise.”

“mmm.” you hum, letting his words sink in for a while. you drum your fingers absently against his chest, almost trying to make sure he's still there. “yeah. i think… i think things are good between us now.” you giggle, leaning your head against his chest. “as long as you don't pull that shit again.”

he laughs, reaching up to grab your hand off his chest and hold it there. “oh, yeah, i know. you're way too good to me for even giving me another chance. i'm so sorry i almost fucked it all up.”

“you don't have to say that anymore.”

“well like i said, babe, i'm going to—”

“you can just keep saying ‘i love you’ instead.” you interrupt, squeezing his hand in yours.

he stops short in the middle of his sentence, caught in surprise, but as soon as your words register a grin slowly begins to make its way across his face. “cool. then… i love you.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please reblog or leave a comment or an ask! it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into writing this, so feedback is really appreciated :) thanks for reading!!

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deathbxnny · 6 hours ago

Note

Maybe a part 2 of the arcane characters saying things they regret, but they're apologizing because I can't live after reading a angst 🫠

Making up with Arcane characters after a bad argument. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

(Previous part)

Fine, fine, here is a happy part two guys. Take it as an apology for the tears and pain I've caused.✨️

Content: Swearing, accusations of cheating, slight angst, making up, fluff, potential spoilers for season 2, established romantic relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》VI

She knew that she had fucked up. There was no way to deny or refute it either. And your absence was further proof of that.

You were always there for her, even when things got bad and she became even worse. No matter how much she yelled or drank, you were there afterward to nurture her back to health. It was so unfair of her to expect it still, after all she had said to you. She hated herself. She hated how weak and pathetic she had become. How she can't even stand straight anymore from the alcohol and couldn't win a single game since she had lost you.

And instead of Caitlyn haunting her like she used to, it was only you now. But you were crying every time. Asking her why she hated you so much. Why she couldn't care for you the way you cared for her. Why you were always the second choice despite having been there since the start.

Why, why, why.

Gritting her teeth against the headache, she made her way through the dark, familiar lanes to your small home that you once shared together. She had to talk to you. She really, really had to. Even if it's far too late now after a week of silence in-between the two of you. She had taken the time to reflect and think about everything, especially about your relationship. And it made her realise that nothing in this world was losing you too.

Knocking on your door, she nervously waited as she heard your footsteps quickly approaching her from inside. You opened the door carefully, ironically just how she had taught you, before freezing at the sight of her. She gave you a weak smile, attempting to look calm and friendly, but it still scared you off. "Hey cupca-" You tried slamming the door into her face mid greeting, but her foot was faster to jam itself in the way.

"H-Hey! Wait, please hear me out!" "Fuck off, Vi. I'm not in the mood to hear more of your bullshit. Go back to Caitlyn since I know how badly you want that!" You never cursed, and every word you spoke made her flinch. She, for some reason, didn't expect you to be this mad. But it hurt, and she deserved it. Another thing she underestimated was, unfortunately, your strength since you somehow managed to push her away and shut the door again. "Come on! Please! I... I didn't mean what I said. I just... have been losing my shit ever since what happened. The guilt is killing me, and I know it's not an excuse! You're right, I have to stop this shit! You're right, I need to stop treating your love for granted!"

She didn't know if you were even listening to her anymore, but it didn't stop the tears that burned in her eyes. "I don't give a damn about Caitlyn like that! I never did! It always you for me. You... you cared for me when no one else ever wanted to, and I was such an idiot for not appreciating it more." Her hand slammed against the wood in defeat, her head coming to rest against it as her body trembled. She was so scared of losing you. This can't be the end. "Please. Please just give me another chance to prove myself. I know I'm a fuck up but I swear I'll do better now."

Vi nearly fell right through your house entrance when you opened the door wide with a teary huff. "God, you're such an idiot... get in already before the neighbors complain." You didn't let her reply as you simply dragged her inside and locked the door again. The pitfighter watched you do so with a gentle gaze, one that felt so familiar to you. "... Fine, I'll give you another chance... but no drinking or fighting anymore. Please." You whisper to her, and she nods quickly before engulfing you in a warm hug.

She knows that she isn't fully forgiven yet, but she'll do everything in her power to prove herself worthy of your love again.

》CAITLYN

"You're still up." Caitlyn's voice was calm and gentle now, so different from the stern and cold tone it had before. You ignored her, however, knowing better than to fall for this again. She always got like this when she knew she had screwed up and was trying to crawl back into your good graces. But this time around, you didn't allow it that easily. You refused to speak to her if she hadn't come back to apologize. And yet... you couldn't help but allow yourself at least one sharp dig at her. "And you're late to bed once again. But I suppose Officer Nolan's 'report' was just that interesting, no?" You were perhaps the only person in all auf Pultover that could ever accuse her of something so scandalous as adultery and get away with it.

It certainly would have been amusing if Caitlyn didn't feel so sick at the thought of you believing that.

Sighing, she placed her hat onto a clothing hanger, her jacket following suit. You were facing away from her on the bed, trying to read a book and rest, despite the pain in your heart. It was hard being angry at her when you loved her so deeply. But her insults had struck much deeper than that.

The bed dipped behind you, and soon enough, you felt her strong arms surrounding your body and her nose tickling your cheek. "I'm sorry, my love. I really am. I... have lost my cool, and that was wrong of me." You scoffed at her words, finding them too shallow for the pain she had caused earlier. Yet you struggled to get out of her strong grasp on you. It felt desperate. And you hated the warmth and security that it made you feel. "If that is all you have to say, then you can leave." You hissed out weakly but couldn't find any malice in it. Just heartbreak, that solidified in more tears burning in your eyes. "Because how... how could you ever say that I could betray you? Do you know how that makes me feel? Do you care?"

Caitlyn hummed against the nape of your neck soothingly, a way to acknowledge the plight she had caused you without revealing her own tears. The grief had made her into a monster. A monster that hurt its friends, family, and most importantly, you. It was unforgivable, and yet she wanted to prove herself worthy of you anyway. She wanted to show you that she hadn't changed deep down like everyone claimed. She was still yours.

"... I will find a way to end this war and resolve it peacefully as soon as I can. I swear it to you." She began, her voice low and gentle, as she listened to the sound of your hiccups and sniffling. This wasn't what she wanted. "And I apologize, truly, for what I called you... I know that you are loyal and trustworthy. Much more than I ever could be... I'm still your Caitlyn." The last part was whispered quietly, as she tried everyone in her power to not break down in front of you like this.

She hated what she had become deep down. She knew it was wrong and that her mother must've been turning in her grave at the sight of what she had done. But what she couldn't handle at all was you hating and leaving her.

There was a moment of silence before you turned to face her and immideatly hugged her impossibly close as you cried into her arms. She rubbed your back lovingly, understanding that this was your way of accepting her apology. But forgiveness will still be a long journey she was willing to take.

For now, she'd rest in your embrace thankfully.

》JINX

Deep down, you knew that she didn't mean what she said. She never would do anything to hurt you. Silco's death was just killing her more than anyone could have expected, and it was hard for everyone to deal with. But you just couldn't take the pain and hurt she caused you anymore. You've been there since day one. You were always at her side. You always took care of her when no one else wanted to. And you understood her better than she did herself. But it was ultimately just not enough. Or so you thought.

The young girl that was now dragging you through the lanes reminded you of her too. She didn't speak a word to you, and for some reason, you didn't have it in you to protest against her odd actions either. She somehow seemed to recognize you the second you bumped into her. And that was enough for her to take your hand and lead you to a very familiar hideout. Perhaps it was fate that brought you here again when you needed Jinx the most.

"Hey kid, who's our little guest-?" The rest of the young woman's words died on her tongue, and it left you simply staring at each other. There was a familiar haze in her eyes, one that you often saw when the voices were taking over. She once mentioned that you sometimes became a part of her hallucinations during longer absences, and that reminder alone made your heart ache. You shouldn't have run away that day. But what other choice did you have? She didn't trust you anymore. She didn't think you should be together anymore. Why were you even here?

"S-sorry... I'm just going to leave..." You muttered as your ears rung and that familiar burning in your eyes made your sight blurry. You felt suffocated and somehow also angry, wishing she could just see how much you loved and cared for her. But just as you were turning away to run again, her strong hand was quicker and held you back by your arm. "Wait. Let's just... talk, alright? Like we always do?" That was your thing. Whenever things got bad, you'd sit down and talk calmly to her about it. She used to scoff at it every time... yet she was the one who suggested now for once. Something about it shook you so hard that it made the first tears finally spill at the recognition she had given you for all the work you've put into her.

Jinx panicked a little at that, unsure of how to comfort you, yet at Isha's stern frown and cross of her small arms, she just hugged you for the first time in a while. And god, did she miss it.

Perhaps it was good to show the little girl a picture of you after all.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, I swear, sweetie! I... I won't ever say stuff like that again. Just don't leave me. Please don't leave me. I just, I was just-" You hushed her by just hugging her tighter and shaking your head. "It's okay... just hold me for a while. We can talk later... I missed you so much." You whispered, voice breaking into sobs. Jinx hummed weakly and sighed against your hair, the familiar scent making her relax and feel better at last.

Isha grinned to herself behind you before quickly sneaking off to let you talk things out.

》EKKO

To say that the entire firelight hideout was pissed at him would be an understatement. Absolutely everyone disagreed with the way he treated you, and the side eyes he got very much confirmed this. But the worst part of it all was definitely you avoiding him like the plague.

Every time he entered a room, you were the first one to leave in a hurry. Every time he tried speaking to you, you either ignored him or found an excuse to get away. Every time someone even mentioned his name to you, your mood seemed to dampen. And that hurt so much that it killed him. This isn't how he wanted you to feel about him. He was your boyfriend, damnit it. Yet he acknowledged that he was failing at his job way more than he should've allowed himself to. He had to fix this somehow.

Ekko couldn't just lose you over his own foolishness. You were the one person who motivated him to keep going even on his worst days. You were the light he fought for. The person he battled to come home to every day. He couldn't handle your absence any longer, especially at night when he laid wide awake in your empty bed without you.

And so, he finally had enough and cornered you one night up in the tree during a patrol you had together. One, he definitely didn't pull the strings for to happen. And ever the one to abide by his orders despite your current dismay, you were now avoiding his gaze whilst you watched your sleeping home below. It was peaceful and calm, but the pain lingered between you two too much to enjoy the moment. He didn't know how to break the deafening silence, and it made him think of backing out on his initial plan... until you surprised him by speaking up first.

"I'm... sorry for avoiding you. I didn't mean for this to become your last resort. I just... didn't want to be a burden anymore." "Wait, wait, wait... who said that you were a burden, I... I should be the one apologizing right now. Because I was wrong about every fucking thing I said to you." The words spilled out in panic at the mere thought of you blaming yourself. He never wanted you to feel like this. It made him feel even worse about himself. This wasn't right. "You're not useless. You do so much for us, for me, and I take it all for granted like the asshole I am! And I fully acknowledge that now... I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. There is no excuse for it." He shook his head in disappointment at himself, wondering if this was it now. He'd understand if you broke up with him now... but instead, you seemed to be in the mood to surprise him alot today.

"Did you... like the food I made you?" He blinked at your question in confusion, yet answered honestly. "Best thing I had all week." "Then I guess I'll forgive you... just don't do that again." Ekko chuckled weakly at your words, relief filling his senses whilst he pulled you close to press a kiss to your head. "Would never dream of it... wanna ditch patrol and fly around town?" You mirrored his sly smile, glad he had the same thing on his mind as you did. "Sure thing. But let's make it a race."

He let you win.

》SEVIKA

She took some time to cool off after your argument and returned later into the night with a clearer mind. Sevika had actually reflected on what you had said to her, and she knew you were ultimately right. She was extremely overprotective and stubborn, two things that didn't mesh well and often ended in her thinking you couldn't take care of yourself. Even if she knew better than to actually believe that.

You were strong, especially mentally. It's what drew her into you to begin with. But with the fall of Silco and a war being on the verge of breaking out against Piltover, she had no choice but to make sure that you never left her sight. And if you did, then you had to be somewhere she knew was safe and away from all the chaos she dealt with daily. It helped her focus and stay calm to know that you're okay. Yet despite how much she cared, she still fucked it all up for herself again.

And now she had to fix it, something she was never good at.

She felt awfully guilty at the sight of the things you've lovingly prepared for her, now laying forgotten and cold on the kitchen counter. She truly didn't deserve someone as kind as you. And yet she considered herself too selfish to let you go.

Slowly approaching the bedroom door, she paused to hear if you were awake or not. Unfortunately, you were, but she only knew this from the faintest sound of your sniffling and sobbing that drifted through the wooden door. Sighing to herself, she knocked once, deciding to just rake things slow and as calmly as possible. You had sustained an injury after all, and her mind was reeling at the thought of it getting worse without any proper care. "What do you want?!" Your weak voice yelled at her, and it made her frown. Yeah, you were definitely beyond pissed.

"I want to talk." Her gruff voice said, and it may have sounded like a demand if the underlying care and worry didn't overshadow it so clearly. Your silence made her initially think you were ignoring her until the door slowly opened and revealed your disheveled form. "... well, go ahead." You muttered, one hand cradling the side of your hip that was clumsily bandaged up by you. You were never good at stuff like that.

"Let me take care of the wound whilst we're at it. Can't have ya dying on me because of an infection." She sighed out before simply dragging you to your shared bed and pulling out your medkit. You didn't protest or complain and let her do as she pleased, whilst you carefully listened to her speak with an unreadable expression.

"Listen. I... get it. I really do. The way I treat you isn't right, and I know you're grown enough to take care of yourself, but... I can't risk losing you too now. It drives me crazy to think about. Even if that ain't much of an excuse, and I get that too." She was never this honest before. Usually, she simply deflected or blamed someone else. But here she was, for once admitting openly to being the problem. "Just... be more careful out there. That's all I ask of you. I won't comment on it otherwise anymore though, unless you're in serious danger. I promise." Finishing the last of her bandaging, she hummed at it now looking much securer. This way, you are sure to recover much faster.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded your head at her words, deciding to give her another chance to prove herself. You understood where she was coming from after all. "Okay, fine. I'll accept your apology... if you help me cook." She grinned at that slightly with a casual shrug. "Fine by me, if I get a taste of your heavenly cooking, sweetheart."

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crimsonkingart · 2 days ago

Text

I'll talk about my personal experiences, I'll put the triggers "psychological abuse", "cancer" and "Binge Eating Disorder".

Feel free to not read. As always my english sucks because is not my first lenguage.

In the fact, sometimes, family relationships suck.

In my experience I had a horrible relationship with my brother.

I'll give some examples, my brother was homophobic and racist, I'm bisexual (and gender fluid) so sometimes he insulted me for that reason.

My brother contributed to my binge eating disorder, he called me "fatty shit" or he said "you suck".

(Just for information, italian is more vulgar of english, often offensive words in italian are worst of the translation in english. Anyway.)

And, argh, this is the worst part, when I was younger (around 13/14) he touched my breasts. It only happened once, so I can't objectively say if he was attracted to me because I was little.

The funny thing? He and I had a good relationship before I was 13.

Having a horrible brother in my teenager era led me to develop an interest in the "responsible older brother" trope.

I love reading fan fiction where the characters love each other deeply, have a brotherly relationship and protect each other.

But what about the sphere of human relations in reality? I consider my friends my family, I consider my friends like sisters and brothers, and I often fall in love with them, (sometimes it's romantically sometimes it's sex attraction), but it's always a total and profound love. I would tear my heart out for them, because I know how important it is to have deep bonds between friends.

This year my brother died, for cancer, but the incredible thing is that: at his funeral I met people who loved him and thought only good things about him.

Now when I think about my brother it's like... I have a piece of a puzzle that doesn't fit with the others.

One of his friends, his bestfriend, they were like brothers, told me that he always talked about me and that he loved me. The worst thing? His friend is sincere, his friend really thinks my brother loved me, but he doesn't know that my brother was an asshole with me.

My brother, when he was in the same room with me, didn't even talk to me, except to insult. It's just so strange have memories so different from other people about him.

When I was a little girl my brother adored me, he played with me for hours and we slept in the same bed. I have good memories from my childhood.

Then he distanced himself and the relationship got worse.

I love my brother, because I have childhood memories in which he was a caring brother, and I hate him deeply because he contributed to destroying my self-esteem and bullying me like a pro.

(He destroyed half of it, the other half it's fault because "school bullying". I avoid the details, there is no need now.)

I was afraid of him, he hit me and... I can describe him as a kind of bomb. Most of the time he was mean with words, but he could explode, he could lose his temper and I thought, if he doesn't do it today, he will in a month.

Or this, I was constantly afraid that he would judge me when I ate. And I still have this fear. I'm afraid that he could "come back" and judge again.

And I know that objectively he can't, but I have this fear so visceral.

When I fight with my friends or I break up a friendship I feel like I lost someone who was the love of my life.

Because mu connection with them is very deep.

In real life we are driven by trauma, pain, negative experiences and positive experiences. Reducing families to just "friendship" is completely ignoring the complexity of the human soul and boundaries.

forcing every character into romance or found family ruins character discussion imo

#crimson talk #personal #maybe too much personal #maybe I'll delate it later

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ashwhowrites · 1 day ago

Note

Hello, I saw that your inbox is open again, so I'll share my idea: it's a little dirty, embarrassing and funny. Imagine Eddie and the reader, who have been together for a while, being caught by Uncle Wayne while making love. Eddie is shocked and tries to protect the reader (perhaps by covering her with his body), and then Wayne lectures them both. After the reader leaves, Wayne scolds Eddie for being thoughtless and disrespectful and doing it in the worst possible place. Eddie responds with smug pride, saying, "I didn't do anything she didn't want." It seems like a fun scenario to me; I hope you can bring it to life.

-🧚🏻‍♀️

A little blurb since it's quite short. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Caught

Y/N moaned as Eddie trailed kisses down her neck, her back against his mattress as he settled on top of her. Her nails scratched down his back as his cock slid in and out of her.

"Quiet baby," Eddie warned in her ear. She pushed her lips together as she tried to keep quiet, knowing Wayne was in bed just across the hall. "Don't want to be interrupted do we?" He teased, purposely snapping his hips against hers to push himself deeper inside of her.

She glared at him the best she could with her heavy eyes. "You are such an ass," she groaned, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as his fingers worked on her clit.

"You weren't saying that when you were begging for me to fuck you," he teased. She couldn't reply when he sped up, the sound of their bodies smacking against each other.

"Ed-OH MY GOD"

Y/N screamed as Eddie's door flew open and Wayne stood as he covered his eyes.

"Shit!" Eddie said, quickly sliding out of her and moving to cover her body.

"Get dressed and meet me in the living room, now!" Wayne demanded, closing the door behind him.

Y/N felt her face burn in embarrassment, and horror on her face. She looked at Eddie and he began to laugh.

"It's not funny, asshole!" She said, smacking his arm as she pushed him off of her.

"It's not my fault you can't keep quiet," he was smug as he threw on his pants. Y/N ignored him as she quickly got dressed.

She grabbed Eddie's hand as they walked out, shame in her bones. Wayne was standing in the living room and they quietly sat on the couch.

"I understand you guys are in a serious relationship, but sex comes with a lot of responsibility. You need to be mature and do things correctly..."

For the next few minutes, Wayne went on a rant about protection, sexual diseases, and pregnancy. He did a good enough job to scare Y/N off. She quickly left the two boys in the living and raced home.

"Really Eddie? With me in the house?" Wayne shook his head.

"You know what it's like! You've had to have had a smoking girlfriend before," Eddie tried to reason.

"Edward, this is about you. You need to treat your girlfriend with respect. You need to use protection because I swear if you get her pregnant I'll kill you. I get that it's your bedroom but be considerate about the location and who's all around. It was thoughtless, disrespectful, and the worst time to do it with me here. I'm not saying I want you to do it when I'm gone. Just don't do it!" Wayne ranted, hands on his hips as he stressed out.

Eddie leaned against the couch, spreading his legs and crossing his arms. He had a smug smile as he thought about how she was whimpering underneath him.

"Trust me, I didn't do anything she didn't want," Eddie smiled.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie Munson smut x female reader

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frehyun · 2 days ago

Text

Coffee Machine Love

boyfriend!jisung x afab!reader x coworker!hyunjin

warnings: swearing, threesome, unprotected sex (don't), oral sex (m and f receiving), mxm things, slight bondage, one (1) slap, sub!hyunjin, idk how to label the other two so I'll go with soft switch!jisung, soft switch!reader

genre: fluff, smut, coworker AU

word count: 4.2k

author's note: i'm alive again! Hyunsung has been running rampant on the tour lately so I couldn't resist writing something about them! do not ask me what the project is about, do not ask me what the company is even for, i don't know either, please forgive me 💀 hope you enjoy reading and i'd love to hear your thoughts! <3

masterlist

divider by @firefly-graphics

Your boyfriend was practically trembling beside you as you bite into your sandwich, unbothered by his leg steadily moving up and down. You follow his gaze and weren’t surprised at all when it landed on one of your newer coworkers a few meters away at the coffee machine. If you knew Jisung at all – and you like to think you do – you could guess that his eyes zeroed in on his hands deftly working around the piece of electronics that broke every couple of weeks. His long and slender fingers expertly taking the poor coffee maker apart to fix whatever went wrong this time.

Your gaze travels back to the man beside you and you have to hold back the smirk growing on your face when you see him practically drooling over the other man, probably wishing that the fingers wrestling around with the inner small machinery were wrapped around his neck instead.

“It’s 9 in the morning, relax” – you chuckle and slap your hand on his thigh to wake him up from his stupor.

Jisung gives you an incredulous look, like he can’t believe you’re not as mesmerised by the newest addition to the office as he is. He narrows his eyes at you because he knows he can’t say anything about your betrayal while he was still within hearing distance.

The front cover of the coffee machine clicking back into place makes both of you jump.

“If he’s tense because he hasn’t had any coffee yet, that can be fixed now” – the man of Jisung’s dreams exclaims from across the two of you, his smooth voice like honey.

Now you were swooning too. Great.

Jisung almost chokes on his own spit trying to answer him as fast as possible, waving his hands around in dismissal, “no, no”, he chokes out, “she’s just being silly, I was…uhm- I’m just nervous because of a project. Yeah.”

What the fuck was he talking about? He could’ve just said ‘yes, I need a coffee, thank you so much, man I haven’t asked about his name yet, you really saved my morning, let me thank you by sucking your dick” or whatever and it would have been fine.

Luckily for him, the guy just gives one of the cutest, goofiest smiles you’ve ever seen and it hits you right in the heart. Maybe Jisung was onto something.

“Is that so? Well, if you ever need any assistance, feel free to call on me! They’re barely giving me any work and I’d rather help someone than sit around and do nothing for my remaining work time.”

Jisung nods fervently, stuttering something between ‘yes, oh my god, thank you’ and ‘you’re an angel” but it just comes out as ‘yes, you’re my angel’, making you and him visibly cringe. This couldn’t go any worse.

The guy, however, giggles sweetly as he moves to leave the room and this is the first time you notice how long his legs are, how lanky and tall he is.

“I’m Hyunjin, by the way. My room’s down this hall, I’m sure you can’t miss it. Feel free to stop by anytime!”

He doesn’t wait for either of you to answer or introduce yourselves back to him, so the two of you are left to watch as he strides down the corridor.

“Oh my God, he’s into idiots.”

“He wants me so bad.”

Jisung lightly slaps your shoulder at your remark.

“You liked me first! That says more about you than it says about me!”

You roll your eyes at him and get back to your sandwich before your break is over. Unfortunately, your mind is now also filled with Hyunjin.

The way his hands delicately but deftly repaired the cursed coffee machine.

The way his shirt perfectly spanned over his broad shoulders as he leaned over the counter.

The way his ass looked in his slacks.

And God, when he turned around, his smile making his eyes into little crescent moons, a dimple appearing on the side of his cheek. His full and plush lips. His kind and soft eyes.

You groan into your sandwich and kick at Jisung’s shoe.

“You infected me with the Hyunjin disease, are you proud?” – you say with red-tinted cheeks.

“Extremely. We desperately have to check in with him if he’d be into two people wanting him. But like, in a way that doesn’t scream ‘We’re desperate!!’, you know?”

You can’t help but agree with him.

And so began your and Jisung’s mission to scope out whether Hyunjin would be interested in you two.

You didn’t want to kick down his door and straight up ask him, in case that scared him away, because even if he declined, he seemed like a nice guy and it wouldn’t hurt to have him as a friend. So Jisung and you really did stop by his office later that week to ask for his assistance with a made-up project.

His office only housed him, so he was allowed to decorate it how he wanted to, potted plants scattered around the sunny spots and little trinkets here and there that made the place seem more lived in than any other office you had ever been to. His desk was neat, the pinboard beside it home to various little reminders and sketches presumably made by himself in that endless free time he mentioned. You had to admit that he was quite talented, his pencil lines precise as they combine into the image of a beautiful flower bouquet.

“So, the two of you are on this project, after all? I thought it was just him” – Hyunjin nods towards your boyfriend, who was inspecting a little bear figure on his shelf.

Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind you two sniffing around the place.

“Because he failed to mention that last time, he got nervous when you caught him off-guard like that” – you sigh and shake your head, leaning back against his desk.

You don’t miss how Hyunjin’s eyes seem to flicker down to where your hips pressed against the wood for just a second and a small smile finds its way onto your lips.

He tilts his head and apologises with a candid smile, saying that he didn’t mean to scare anyone off. If only he knew.

Jisung and you had previously come up with an elaborate plan on what your project entailed. It was a simple project that required a little bit of knowledge from Hyunjin’s division that the two of you weren’t a part of. Easy enough to make it seem like you actually needed his help. Also easy enough to pretend the project was real.

The thought that all of you probably had too much free time on your hands crosses your mind.

“So you just need me to work my magic a little bit and your head of department is gonna be happy?”

“Hopefully!”

“What is this even for? Didn’t we showcase this to upper management a few months back already?”

How did he know that? Why didn’t you think of that? You shift against the desk and Hyunjin’s eyes flit back to you, his gaze now trained on you intently, waiting for your reply.

“They just wanted a redo of the model since the first one got deleted in that data leak a while back” – Jisung lies casually, suddenly disinterested in the décor.

Hyunjin seems to accept that answer as he nods, eyes still on you as if he was gauging your reaction. You shift again under his gaze, looking into his eyes and giving him a slightly shaky smile.

Seemingly satisfied with whatever he was observing, the three of you proceed to go over the rather uninteresting details of what needs to be done.

During your little discussion, Jisung makes a not-so-subtle attempt at situating himself closer to your colleague under the guise of ‘I want to watch you work, it’s fascinating’.

It’s still crazy to you that all of his attempts have worked so far. You’re still close to Hyunjin as well, perched against the corner of his desk, his arm almost brushing against your thigh whenever he needs to reach for something or move the mouse around in a larger motion, mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’ when he does accidentally touch you.

Jisung almost leans on his shoulder with the way he’s sitting so close beside the older man.

While Jisung seems genuinely interested in Hyunjin’s work, you take this opportunity to further check him out as he works. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on his hands again as they work their way across the keyboard, his long fingers flexing to reach the keys.

While having them wrapped around your neck is certainly an enticing idea, you rather wonder what they would look like prettily bound together.

You could swear there was a slight reddish tint to Hyunjin’s neck and ears ever since he was practically caged in by your and Jisung’s body.

You sigh, more to yourself than anything. This was gonna be a long and grueling mission, but at least it didn’t seem like Hyunjin hated being around either of you.

That same evening, you find yourself in your boyfriend’s lap, grinding needily against him, your arms around his neck, while he busied himself biting and licking at the expanse of your skin of your neck.

“He’s really nice” – you suddenly say and Jisung hums in agreement between bites, his hands finding their way to the backs of your thighs, guiding your movements to be harsher against him.

“He was so flustered when you got closer to him, his neck and the tips of his ears all blushy and red” – you ramble on and it seems to spur your boyfriend on, his breathing growing more ragged, his movements more desperate.

“I think he’d rather enjoy being under us than above us, don’t you think? He seemed to lose all his previous bravado when it was just us three in a small space. I bet he’s cute when he’s begging on his knees, just imagine it” – Jisung lets out a broken moan in response, his grinding against you coming to a halt.

“Ah, shit” – he whispers against you and you giggle lightly.

You lean back to take a look at him, his honey skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. He shyly looks anywhere but you and you take his face into your hands to force him to look at you.

“It’s pretty hot that you came from just that” – you plant a soothing kiss against his lips as he whines about your words. You card your fingers through his hair, softly scraping at his scalp as he’s still slowly coming down from his high.

“I’ll make it up to you” – he murmurs and taps your thighs, signaling you to get off him to return the favor.

And he does make it up to you, his face buried between your legs until you finally reach your high as well, fingers tangled into his hair and pressing him against you.

“We really have to do something about this” – he sighs as the two of you settle down on your bed.

You hum, nuzzling your face further into his chest, too tired to try and come up with a plan on how to break it to Hyunjin softly that two of his coworkers want him romantically and have been lying to him about needing his help.

The next couple of work sessions with Hyunjin were rather uneventful. There were some moments where either Jisung or you got closer to him, ‘accidentally’ brushing your hand against his thigh, ‘accidentally’ going shoulder to shoulder with him, ‘accidentally’ sitting as close as possible so that your thighs would touch. Without fail, Hyunjin would turn slightly red at the contact but never shying away from it nor seeming uncomfortable. Sometimes, you could swear that he even reciprocates the touch, his thigh pressing against yours more firmly, his body slightly leaning towards your hand whenever it brushed against his bicep.

Hyunjin was wonderful to work with, he took instructions well and added his own flair to whatever you wanted from him in a way that elevated your work immensely. Outside from your little mission, you three got along really well, which encouraged you to further pursue getting closer to him.

You were now situated across from him, enjoying your lunch. You didn’t expect your previously innocent conversation to take such a turn when Hyunjin seemed to have found the courage to ask a question he had been dying to ask for quite a while now.

“I gotta ask… I don’t want to misunderstand. Are you… flirting with me?”

Jisung almost chokes on his rice. You stare at Hyunjin.

“I mean! I know you two are in a relationship and everything but… I can’t help but feel like you two are getting… awfully close at times. Not that I mind!” – he hastily tries to explain himself, his neck getting redder by the second again.

“Wow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m impressed it took you this long to notice, actually” – you can’t help but tease him a little.

“What? So both of you ARE flirting with me? For real?” – Hyunjin’s eyes were as big as saucers, his mouth hanging open a little. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The two coworkers that he’d been working with (and found extremely attractive) for weeks did actually flirt with him whenever you met up.

“Yeah. You’re cute. Jisung’s been losing it over you ever since that coffee machine incident a few weeks back” – you admit easily and receive a glare from Jisung beside you.

Hyunjin chuckles out of disbelief and the nervousness creeping up in him.

“The project… It’s not real, is it?”

“Nope” – Jisung answers swiftly, popping the ‘p.’

Hyunjin should be mad that the two of you made him do extra work for free, but for some reason he isn’t.

“Uhm…so what? Is this just a ‘your vibe matches with ours and we want to play around a bit’ or is this something… more serious?” – you could observe him starting to fidget with the ends of his sleeves, nervously biting the skin of his lips and your gaze immediately softened.

This was important. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t make him believe you’re just here to play around with his feelings. That’s no what you’re here to do.

“Listen, I know this is a lot. I mean, two people who are already in a relationship coming up to you like this. This is definitely something serious, not just playing around. We really like you” – you reach across the table with your palm up, giving him the chance to take your hand if he wanted to.

He sheepishly takes your hand into his, his large hand filling yours out with ease, yet as you gazed over to him with a gentle smile on your face, he seemed so small, so unsure of himself.

“If you don’t want any of this and want us to stop flirting with you and would prefer to be friends, that’s fine by us as well. Just be honest with us, I’d hate it if we made you uncomfortable or did something you didn’t want.”

While Jisung is decidedly quiet beside you, he’s nodding along to what you’re saying, softly smiling at him.

Hyunjin grabs your hand tighter and shakes his head slightly, his eyes still big.

“N-no. This is all fine. I’m okay with this”, he swallows around the lump that formed in his throat, “I like you two as well. I thought I was just imagining things, wishing they were really happening. I’m glad that wasn’t the case.”

There are two ways one can react to this.

One, smile at him, telling him you’re glad he’s reciprocating.

And two, clapping your hands and audibly going ‘fuck yes.’

You stare at your boyfriend.

“Really?”

“What? He’s hot.”

Hyunjin giggles at that and you have to begrudgingly remember that Hyunjin seems to be into idiots as much as you are.

You groan and theatrically put your head on the table while Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 are laughing with each other, getting rid of all the tension that was previously building up in your small break room.

You jolt a little when Hyunjin’s hand removes itself from yours and instead starts patting your head in pity.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be that bad.

Your relationship with Hyunjin develops beautifully, he was as romantic as they come, regularly bringing the two of you flowers, writing little encouraging messages when he knew you and Jisung had to attend a particularly exhausting meeting.

It was nice getting to cuddle not only one but two people you loved dearly, waking up in the morning to two pretty faces whose cheeks you wanted to squish.

Another pleasant development was that Jisung and you could test out your theories, which is how Hyunjin found himself kneeling on your bedroom carpet, looking up at you with large eyes, his cock heavy and red between his legs. While Jisung is busy getting something from your dresser, you cup your hands around Hyunjin’s small face.

“Please…” – he whines at your touch, already so beautifully needy even though you haven’t done much yet.

He had been driving you insane at work today, teasing you at every opportunity, ‘accidentally’ letting a touch linger too long on your hip, a kiss a little bit too passionate and lasting a second too long. You knew he was just driving you up the wall on purpose and you guess he got what he wanted but that also meant that you were allowed to torture him a little to get back at him.

“Please what, princess?”- Hyunjin nestles his face against your hand and sighs contently.

“I need you so bad…” – he murmurs against your hand, giving a little kiss to your palm and you suddenly want to hand him the world served on a silver platter.

Seeing as Jisung has finally found the rope hidden in your dresser, you bend down to take Hyunjin’s hands into yours.

“Get up, love” – after helping him find his footing again, you teasingly give his cock one generous pump before tying his hands together with the rope and practically tossing him on your shared bed.

He lets out a whimper as you climb after him, hungry eyes zeroed in on his leaking cock. Your hands ghosts over his tip, barely touching him. Another whine leaves his lips as his hips buck up towards your hand, desperate for any kind of relief.

On the other side of his body, Jisung busies himself with kissing up his chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses up his body.

The new unspoken mission was to fuck Hyunjin silly and find out what shades of red he could turn to.

While you still refuse to give in to Hyunjin’s needs, ghosting your fingers across the length of his dick idly, you watch as Jisung put his fingers underneath his chin to tilt his head up to force him to focus his eyes on him.

“You’re gonna be a good boy, aren’t you?” – he asks him sweetly.

Hyunjin nods frantically in response and lets out a tiny ‘yes’, hoping that this would mean one of you would finally touch him properly.

Jisung smiles down at him before kissing him deeply. You take the opportunity to wrap your hand around his length at the same time and start pumping him agonisingly slow.

You love how squirmy Hyunjin gets when he’s needy, writhing underneath both your touches, not knowing what to do with his body, where to turn next, which touch to chase. You know it kills him that he can’t hold onto Jisung’s shoulder properly or put one of his hands on your thigh with the way his hands are rubbing against the ropes.

You make a mental note to unbind his hands in a bit so his wrists don’t get chafed up too badly.

One of Jisung’s hands finds its way down to his chest, playing with his nipples leisurely as he kisses him, the other lightly wrapping around Hyunjin’s neck, not applying pressure yet. It still forces a delicious moan from his lips.

“You’re being so good” – you say in a low voice, slowly undoing the ropes around his wrists. You pepper a few kisses on the slightly reddened skin up to his fingertips, kissing them delicately one by one.

Jisung whispers something in his ear that makes Hyunjin laugh breathily and while you wonder what’s so funny, it warms your heart to see the two of them so at ease with each other.

You give a light slap to Jisung’s ass to get him to move further up and he yelps loudly.

“That’s for not including me in the joke. Now get your cute butt up there.”

“Boy secret” – Hyunjin cheekily says and giggles again. You playfully roll your eyes at him and as revenge, move down to take the head of his cock into your mouth. The sudden warmth makes his giggles die down into a loud whimper, his face contorting from pleasure.

Jisung, as instructed, crawls up the bed and takes a handful of Hyunjin’s hair into his hand, angling his head towards him.

“You want some too, pretty boy?”

Hyunjin licks his lips in preparation and nods up at him, opening up his mouth obediently before wrapping his plush lips around his length and sucking.

As Hyunjin gets closer to his climax, his hand gently pushes your face away from him, to signal you he’s close while he can’t say it verbally.

You let Hyunjin get further away from his high as you watch him and Jisung fool around fondly, your hand splayed out on his tummy. You feel awfully neglected, the slick between your thighs only an indication of how aroused you were.

Jisung was still blissfully lost in the warmth of his mouth, rutting his hips into him over and over, small gasps and praises leaving his lips that only spurn the older man on. Deciding that Hyunjin had enough time to come down and that it was unfair that they were the only two getting some action, you throw your leg over his hips before sinking down on him, eliciting a long, muffled moan from him.

The vibration of his whimpers are enough to tip Jisung over the edge, some of his cum still making it onto Hyunjin’s tongue as he hastily pulls out and drops to sit beside him, catching his breath.

Seeing as Hyunjin can now focus entirely on you, you grin down at him, bracing yourself against his chest as you deliberately start to move your hips against him, his hands immediately coming up to grab at the flesh of your thighs.

“Focus on me now, angel” – you sigh, chasing your and his high, your hips steadily moving up and down in a rough pace.

Hyunjin throws his head back against the pillows as he lets out a strangled moan, tears already formed in his glossy eyes.

“You’re so pretty, so pretty, just for us, Hyune” – you say between gasps, your climax steadily approaching as you ride him.

“So fucking pretty. You were made for us.”

All your pretty words seem to work wonders on him, his hips meeting yours in shallow thrusts, desperately trying to get the two of you off and snap the tension that had been building.

You don’t know when he moved but Jisung’s warm lips press kisses into your shoulder, his hands now also on your hips, guiding you alongside your other boyfriend.

“I love you, I love you” – Hyunjin chants and the chord between you snaps, the two of you coming undone in eachother’s embrace, your juices mixing as you come.

Once your head clears, you lean down and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss, whispering an ‘I love you too’ against them. You grab Jisung by his shoulder to also press a kiss to his lips before plopping down beside Hyunjin, utterly exhausted.

Your boyfriends take care of the cleanup before racing to get under the covers with you.

“Glad that stupid fake project brought us together.”

“I think I did a pretty good job at it even though it was fake, don’t call it stupid!”

“Not our fault you put so much effort into it.”

“And do what? Half-ass it?”

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t aware it was fake! Do you think I half-ass all of my work?”

“I don’t know? Maybe?!”

With a grin on your lips, you let out a loud sigh at their bickering, as you settle back against the warmth of their bodies. The bed feels a lot more complete now that Hyunjin was by your side as well. Their scent surrounds you, their voices fill your ears, their warmth warms up your body and a peaceful calmness finds your heart.

Surrounded by enough love to let you drift off to sleep even amongst their yapping.

It doesn’t take long for them to notice you slumbering between them and smiles filled with affection grow on their faces. They decide to leave their squabble for another day with a soft goodnight kiss before they too settle back against the pillows and hope for sleep to find them in the embrace of their lovers.

(extra photos from today's concert because look at them)

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purinfelix · 3 days ago

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doctor's orders ₊˚⊹♡ - franco colapinto

summary: as if your hospital placement hasn't been stressful enough, you're thrown a new challenge - an injured biker, and his big mouth w/c: 1.7k words

a/n: u ever see a man so beautiful that you just want to patch up all his injuries and kiss him on the forehead and tell him it'll all be okay? ( ALSO LOOK I WAS PLANNING ON POSTING THIS BEFORE I FOUND OUT ABT ALL THE DRAMA BUT ITS TOO LATE NOW SO HERE WE ARE ENJOY THIS ANYWAYS SDJFKS)

"Sorry, but am I in the right place?"

If it weren't for his half-torn jacket and pleading eyes, you might've punched him in the face out of frustration right there and then. You just didn't have time for this, not now, when the emergency room was as full as ever and you were rushing back and forth making sure everything was under wraps. You weren't sure why - you were only a nursing student after all, but your advisor had said something about "real world experience" before slinking away for his lunch break, over an hour ago. Leaving you here to deal with this chaos. And now, a very good-looking man with some very bad-looking injuries.

"Yeah, please just have a seat and fill out this form, I'll be with you in a minute sir," you rattle off your pre-practised phrases hurriedly, shoving a clipboard into his arms and pacing off somewhere else. Behind you, you hear the shuffling of his boots as he returns to his chair in the waiting room, the one next to him occupied by his helmet.

It's a while before you talk to him again, at least half an hour, but the way he talks to you definitely doesn't reflect the time he's been waiting - or the amount of pain you're assuming he's in.

“Hello,” you pause, scanning the form he’s filled out with his details for a name, “Franco.”

“Hello Doc,” he smiles at you atop the hospital bed you’ve got him sitting on.

“Biking injury?”

“Yes ma’am,” he gestures to his helmet and scuffed racing jacket that are piled on the stool in the corner.

“How bad?”

“Not that bad, you should see the other guy,” he jokes, and even though it’s corny you offer an amused smile.

“Right, okay then Franco, I’m going to have you take off your shirt.” When you look up from your clipboard, he’s posed comedically with his hands over his chest, donning a shocked expression.

“Woah, so forward doctor! At least take me out to dinner first.”

“I need to see your injuries,” you sigh, and he only offers you a sly smile as he hops off the bed to do as you say.

As a nursing student, you’d definitely seen your fair share of gross things - one only needed to look back to you lesson on pressure injuries to see that. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the gory mess that revealed itself as he peeled off his shirt, which was already caked with dried blood.

“Holy-“ you start, before stopping yourself in the name of professionalism - but it’s too late and he whips his head around with a concerned look.

“What? Bad?”

“Some would say so,” you try to steady your voice and sound as convincing as possible, already setting aside your clipboard to gather the things you need. You’re not sue if you should be doing this, or whether you even have the qualifications to - but you’re pretty sure waiting any longer might put him in danger.

You pat the top of the bed to signal for him to sit on it again. “I need you to stay still for me, okay?” you say in the softest, most comforting tone you can manage.

He nods and does as you say, and for the first time in the somewhat short period you’ve known him, his mask of confidence slips - revealing a slight vulnerability, and even a hint of fear.

“It’s going to be okay, I’ll be quick,” you continue to reassure him, and he nods again. “This is going to sting a little though,” you warn as you reach into your side tray for a cotton pad soaked in iodine. Touching it gently to the smallest of his cuts, he lets out a hiss of pain, his back straightening up as he jerks away.

“Sorry,” you mumble, though you continue to dab at his wounds. “Do you want to tell me how this happened?” You’re hoping the conversation will at least distract him as you work, or at the very least give you some information to fill his file with. But he only shakes his head reluctantly.

“Aright then, what should we talk about?”

There’s a beat of silence before he responds. “You?”

“Well, who’s the forward one now,” you joke, though the weak laugh he lets out tells you he’s far from kidding. If he were any other patient, in any other situation, you’d be prepared to refuse this request as per hospital guidelines. But from the shaky tone in his voice and the sight of his injuries, you can tell just how much he needs this - and so you oblige.

“What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with,” he pauses to let out a pained groan as you continue cleaning his wounds, “your name?”

With one hand holding the cotton ball to his back, you lift the other to tug the lanyard holding your student ID off your neck and into his line of sight.

“Nice photo,” he laughs as he takes it, pointing out your less-than-flattering headshot.

“Don’t,” you threaten, though you feel comforted at the sound of his laughter, a more genuine one this time.

“It doesn’t do you justice, you’re a lot better looking in real life.”

“Alright, remind me to check you for a concussion later as well.”

“No, I’m being serious!”

“Just be quiet will you,” you huff, and he does as you say - giving you time to toss away the soaked-through cotton balls and reach for your bandages.

“Student?” he pipes up again, eyes scanning your card.

“Yeah, I’m here on placement.”

“So you’re not a nurse?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but shouldn’t an actual doctor be doing this? Or at least, I don’t know, watching you?”

“It’s been really busy this afternoon so my supervisor is,” you pause, trying your best to come up with a sensible excuse, “helping other patients.

“Right,” he hums.

“Why, am I not doing good enough?”

“No I didn’t say that!” You let out a laugh at his defensive tone, and the way he whips around to look at you apologetically with round eyes.

“I’m kidding, though if you would feel more comfortable I can get you an older doctor.”

“No, definitely not! I like you,” he blurts out, and it’s clear he hasn’t thought his words completely through by the way he continues to ramble a second after. “I mean, you know, an older doctor would probably like give me a lecture on road safety or something,” he follows up. As he turns around you can see the slight red tinge at the tips of his ears, causing you to let out an amused hum in agreeable as you finish patching him up.

“Wait since you’re not a proper nurse yet,” he pipes up again a sly expression on his face, “do you still have to follow all the rules and things like that?”

“Well, yes, I’m basically working here,” you reply, a little concerned.

“So does that mean it’d be unprofessional for you to give me your number, you know since I’m your patient and everything?”

This is the first thing he’s said that’s managed to actually catch you off guard, and even years of medical school isn’t enough to help you come up with an answer. “Wh- well, anyways I’ve done the best I can but you have gotten knocked up pretty bad,” you say, opting to switch the topic, “so I’d probably recommend staying overnight just so we can keep an eye on you.”

You turn to pack up the equipment you haven’t used and grab his clipboard to make a couple notes. Behind you though, he lets out a pained groan - piquing your interest.

“Don’t worry, it’ll just be for one or two nights and we’ll try our best to make it as comfortable as possible.”

“I know doc, it’s just that-“ he starts, turning around to face you.

“Why, got a girlfriend to get home to?”

He lets out an amused scoff, “as if, I just have other things to get to.”

“Right, well,” you clear your throat, a little embarrassed at having made a wrong assumption, “we physically cannot let you go, not in this state - consider it doctor’s orders.”

He sighs again, though his tone is less annoyed now, and slightly more nervous. “I’ve just,” he pauses, searching for the right words, “I don’t know, hospitals kind of creep me out.”

You spin around, a newfound tenderness in your expression as you look at him, “Oh, I see.”

“I know it’s embarrassing, you know, since I’m a biker or whatever but-“

You take a couple steps closer to him, eyes scanning over his bare chest and up to his right collarbone which dons a thick scar which you can tell is from a surgery a long time ago. You gesture to it with a gloved hand, “That got anything to do with it?”

His expression turns a little shy as his hand comes up to feel at what you’re taking about, “partially.”

“Don’t worry, they used to freak me out too but, I-, we, will make sure it’s as comfortable for you as possible.” He still looks a little reluctant but slips his shirt back on and heads to grab his things. The two of you walk out of the emergency room and out into the hallway. The hospital seems to have quietened down a little, the chaos from earlier being replaced by a sort of serene quiet as patients and doctors shuffle around. The two of you make your way up to the inpatient unit, where you manage to find Franco his own room for the night.

“Plus, this way we’ll have plenty of time for you to fill me in on the details of how you ended up like this, and maybe how you got that lovely scar if I’m lucky enough.” You say as you gesture for him to go inside the room that’ll house him for the next day or so.

“And if I’m lucky enough, maybe time to talk you into giving me your number,” he laughs as he sits down on the bed.

You shake your head as you let out a soft laugh, already walking out of the room, “Goodnight Franco.”

“See you tomorrow, Doc.”

taglist: (reply/send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)

@spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one #purinfelix #jet writes ★

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maybe-im-dark · 1 day ago

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I said it before and i'll say it again! These two have to meet! They would hit it off immediately! Best friends for life!

Rocket Logan

🤝

Subjected to cruel and inhumane experimentation.

Lost people they truly cared about.

Have anger/trust issues, along with low self-esteem, due to trauma.

Meeting respective teams changes their life directions.

BONUS:

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lostintransist · 1 day ago

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COD Men and Bad Brain Days

This is my self indulgant way of dealing with the titanic amount of stress that is making my brain whisper of the void. I will stick around, I have to much to be a menace about but why not think about how they would deal with it? Plus if my mother (derogatory) gets to outlive me? Absolutely not.

CW: Suicidal thoughts mentioned

Johnny: Froze a bit once he understands what you are saying.

"Bonnie, why? What? I don't understand?" He holds your face so tight as he flicks his gaze between your eyes.

You laugh lightly, "There is nothing to understand Johnny, sometimes my brain just starts throwing around death as an option. I've learned to tell people so they can help me keep me present. I don't want to die, and I have no plans. I just need you to know that if I randomly start crying I'm okay. I already have an appointment with my doctor and my therapist scheduled to look at my meds."

The concern doesn't leave his face as he pulls you in for a hug. Johnny is always watchful of you but it definately takes on a new level after telling him about the thoughts coming back.

Kyle: Pulled the car over the moment he realizes what you said to him and rests his head on the steering wheel.

"Thank you for telling me, what can I do for you?"

Fighting back the tears you blink and fan your eyes.

"Nothing really? My therapist challenged me to tell someone the next time these thoughts pop up, and I trust you enough to know you won't freak out." You watch him carefully take in several deep breaths before he sits upright and looks at you.

If his eyes are a bit shiny with tears? Neither of you mention it.

"Want to get a drink and sit in the sun for a bit?" He offers.

"I would love that." The tears flow this time. Kyle holds your hand until he is forced to let it go to get out of the car.

Gary: He would find you mid-breakdown because dammit you thought you were past this? It had been years since the last time your brain betrayed you like this and life was going good for once? Yes, you were under some stress but not enough to warrent this overreaction by your brain.

He would pull you into a hug as he sits next to you on the floor and hum lullabies and the randomest collecitons of songs that live inside his head. When you can finally breath without a hitch in your breath he would ask what is wrong.

"My brain is lying to me again. Saying that being dead would be easier than dealing with all this stress," you sniffle into his shoulder.

"Being dead would be easier," he observes calmly.

When you shoot him a glare because that is NOT helpful, he smiles and rubs a thumb through the tears leftover on your face.

"But I know you don't want that, and I'll keep you present and healthy. Let's get some food delivered and then go over some of the things I can take off your plate until things settle down, alright?"

When that causes a new round of tears Gary orders dinner from his phone before coaxing you to the couch with the promise of your favorite show (He can't stand it but knows it will help.)

Simon: The hug he would give you after you hold him? Soul altering. He holds you until you feel real again and presses a kiss to your head. If you find something helpful he asks that you share because he has dealt with his own share of suicidal thoughts ravaging his already messed up mind.

He starts picking up tasks around the house, starting the shower or making dinner, as a way to help you. He checks in at least once a day. He isn't overbearing about it, knowing that the fact you told him is a huge sign of trust and he wouldn't dare abuse it.

John: Oh this man, he would be calling your doctor and therapist and setting up an appointment for you the instant you fell asleep for one of those exhaustion naps. He would book you for a hair cut, a massage, and to get your nails done before the week is out.

He's lost good friends to suicide and the idea that you might disappear? That your thoughts might get to loud to hear that he loves you? He would never recover if he lost you like that. John makes you cry again when he explains everything he has set up for you but he shows his love through actions and these are things he can control. If he could mount a full scale invasion on your brain to kick out whatever makes you think of death as an option he would in a heartbeat.

Masterlist

#Sometimes I just need a fictional man to squeeze me until my brain starts acting right #cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #price x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #roach x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader

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retrobutterflies · 21 hours ago

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Ambrosia | billie eilish

Billie Eilish x Female!Reader

Summary: Your avoidant attachment style can only work for so long until it's time to face the music.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Bi panic, hurt/comfort, fluff

A/N: If you've gone to see her on tour, you and I are in a fight.

You had been acting off. You knew it. And you weren't a very good actress so you could tell your friends knew it too. But no one had said anything, at least not yet. You had tried to drop hints of work being stressful or your lease ending soon but they were halfhearted and pitiful attempts to camouflage your real turmoil.

You could tell Billie knew it too. Her eyes lingered on you a little longer when someone would say a joke and everyone would laugh and you would be quiet in the corner consumed by your thoughts. A few times she called your name to pull you back into the conversation, a quirked eye brow and side smirk barely concealing the confusion or concern lingering in her eyes. Sometimes it was a gentle nudge in the side or handing you a fresh drink to pull you back from your mind. And it would work for a while until you couldn't stop focusing on how close she was sitting to you on the couch or how every time she would laugh her body would lean into yours and you would feel her warmth and smell her perfume. And then you would be sucked right back into the buzzing thoughts of panic and fear and confusion and you would be plotting your escape route before you imploded.

Tonight was harder than usual. You had been in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping your third beer that was finally giving you a little buzz, softening your brain for the time being. Oliver had come up to you with an award winning grin and glinting eyes. He was a friend of a friend but he seemed to be at every party you were and slowly but surely you started talking and flirting every time you saw each other. You knew if you wanted someone to dance with or chat or make out in the bathroom you could find him and he would give you his charming smile and an enthusiastic yes.

Only tonight it was different. Everything had felt different since your startling realization on the floor of your room a month ago. You noticed him before he reached you and instead of the usual feelings of excitement or anticipation, all you felt was anxiety. Your stomach had been in knots on and off all night and suddenly at the sight of him they were back to full power.

"I thought I'd never find you," he mused, strolling up to you and leaning his torso against the marble counter top. "I thought maybe you were avoiding me."

You let out a soft puff of a laugh, taking a larger gulp of your beer before replying, "I'm avoiding everyone.”

He quirked an eyebrow, pushing back a brown tuft of hair out of his forehead. "For any particular reason?"

You pursed my lips, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, thinking about how to respond. "Just, tired, I guess," was your intelligent response.

"Just tired, you guess," he echoed, eyebrows raising further as he tilted his head at you. His eyes were piercing and you could feel him trying to peel back the layers of your newfound shell.

"Too tired to even dance with me?" he asked, giving you a soft, playful nudge in the side. You tried to give him a smile though you were sure it looked more like a wince.

"I'm sorry, Oliver, I'm just–" You struggled to find the words, the knots tightening in your stomach, "–out of it today."

He let out a hum, taking a sip of his IPA, and stared at you long and hard.

"Is this about a boy?" he questioned.

You winced but it only seemed to encourage him.

"So it is. C'mon, I'm not upset that you have a crush, I’m just upset its not on me," he joked, nudging you again. When you didn’t respond he continued.

"So," he repeated, "Who is it? I promise I'll keep it a secret."

You shook my head, taking another large sip of your drink like it could wash away the anxiety blooming in your chest.

"Is it Ben? You guys used to talk didn't you?" he continued, eyes now scanning the busy kitchen and through the archway peaking into the living room.

"Or Sebastian? I know he's always had a thing for you. He glares at me sometimes," he let out a chuckle.

"Oliver–" You tried to cut him off.

"Wait no, it's Griffen isn't it? God, I should've guessed that first."

"Oliver, stop, please," You put a hand up to rub the spot between your forehead that was starting to ache.

He looked back at you and frowned. "I get it, you don't have to tell me. I have been told I give good advice though," he said.

You looked up at him. His big brown eyes were sincere and there was a time when they used to make butterflies erupt in your stomach. But now it was like any fascination you had had with him before had puffed out like a candle.

"Listen, I appreciate that, but–" You let out a breath, trying to choose your words carefully, "this has nothing to do with a boy."

"You sure?" he replied, skeptical. Your stomach twisted again.

"I'm sure," You breathed.

He left you alone after that, strolling away to find his next playmate. You stood there for a while, people watching and sipping on your beer. It didn't take you long to notice Billie with a few of your friends, perched on a couch in the living room, a perfect view from the kitchen. Someone said something and she laughed, throwing her head back, hair glinting in the low lighting. You stared for longer than you should've.

And then she finally noticed you. Her eyes caught yours and her smile morphed into a softer more tentative one. The anxiety that had been appeased for the moment roared back to life and you felt your heart rate quicken to the point that you could feel your pulse in your neck. You looked away, clenching onto your near empty beer can before sliding it onto the counter. You looked up to see the far door to the balcony and before you could think your legs were taking you there.

It was surprisingly empty and the chill of the autumn air felt refreshing against your burning cheeks. You leaned your elbows on the metal railing, taking in a few deep breaths as your eyes scanned the glowing lights of the city skyline.

You felt like you were going crazy. Everything you had known about yourself had suddenly flipped on its head on a random Tuesday and now you couldn't function normally. You were overthinking everything. All of your relationships, all of your friendships, all of your actions. How could you have not known? How could it have taken you this long? Don't people usually know right away?

"Hey," her voice hit you like an electrical shock. You jumped slightly and usually this would've made her chuckle but you could tell she knew something wasn't right. "Sorry," she said, her voice a hair softer, "I didn't mean to scare you."

You finally turned to look at her as she was closing the sliding door behind her. Her eyes seemed cautious and she took slowed steps towards you like you were a frightened animal.

"No, it's fine. Sorry, I'm–" losing my mind, "just a little tired."

She came to stand next to you, leaning her arms on the railing as well, and nodded. A few pieces of dark hair fluttered in the crisp breeze and your eyes lingered for a moment. You took in her side profile, the slope of her nose, flush of her cheeks, the pinched wrinkle between her eyebrows. She was quiet for a while, eyes looking out at the city, seeing through it like it wasn't even there at all.

"You seem to be tired all the time now," she finally said, her voice low and soft. You could hear her attempt at light humor, trying break the tension that had settled between you as the weeks went on but you could read her well and you could see the worry etched on her face and feel the apprehension in her words.

"Yeah," was all you could muster to reply. Your mind flashed back to all of the plans you had turned down or cancelled on last minute under the ruse you were tired. You turned your attention back to the city, trying hard to focus your eyes anywhere but her face.

You could practically hear the thoughts buzzing in her head, all the words and questions she had for why you had suddenly sunk into yourself. And why you had suddenly started avoiding her. She let out a soft sigh. You could feel her gaze on the side of your cheek but you couldn't bring yourself to look at her.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, voice even softer than before.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You weren't sure how to respond. Any wrong word and you might very well burst into tears.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" You replied. You tried to sound nonchalant but even you could hear the slight waver in your voice. You moved your hands to grip the railing, an attempt at grounding yourself so you didn't lose your resolve in front of her. You were already thinking about an escape route, maybe to the bathroom to cry or maybe straight out the front door where you could call someone to come pick you up.

She paused for a moment, staring at you. You could tell she was trying to read between the lines, hear the words you weren't saying. And you knew if you met her eyes she would be able to pull them from you in an instant.

"You know," she paused again, her eyes still boring into the side of your face, "usually I don't pry because you always come to me when you're ready but–"

She let out another sigh, finally pulling her gaze away and back towards the twinkling night. She tapped her fingers softly on the railing. You could hear her rings making gentle clinks against the metal. It was a tell tale sign she was nervous or agitated, or maybe both.

"You're worrying me a little." She took another breath. "And I just want to make sure you're alright because I can tell something is bothering you even if you're not ready to tell me what it is yet."

You could feel your eyes start to sting and your hands were starting to freeze from clenching the cold steel of the railing for so long but you didn't dare move them for fear their fidgeting would give you away. But your throat had tightened to the point that you weren't sure you could say any word without it sounding strained and threatening tears.

"And–" she started again, her voice taking on a slightly pained sound, "if I did something that upset you I'm really sorry. I know I can be a lot sometimes but I don't want that to make you uncomfortable or . . ." She trailed off, grimacing at her own words.

You finally plucked up the courage to look at her. She looked pained and you felt the anxiety in your stomach turn to dread. She looked so worried and it was obvious that your strange behavior had been affecting her for a while now. And somehow she knew she was the cause.

"You started acting strange after the last time we hung out and I–" she scrunched her face up in regret, "–didn't mean to do anything that would make you uncomfortable and sometimes I get too comfortable and I forget to check myself–" she let out a frustrated sigh. You turned your gaze away sharply.

Your mind spun back to that moment a month ago, both of you sitting on the floor of your room. You didn't even remember what you had been talking about but you remembered your stomach had cramped from laughing so hard. And your faces were so close together. And she had started playing with your hair, first brushing it behind your ear and then twirling a strand or two. And then her finger had brushed so lightly against your cheek once, then twice, then it travelled down your jaw then towards your neck and left goosebumps and tingles in its wake and then so suddenly like a bolt of lightening you had wanted her to kiss you.

Your whole life you had thought you only liked boys. You had only ever had crushes on boys and dated boys and then suddenly you wanted a girl and you had to double back through every interaction in your life to see if you had been deluding yourself, refusing to acknowledge this second side of you. And it was an earthshaking realization that you hadn't even known yourself and that you had been so blind to it.

And then the worst part about it was that it wasn't just any girl but it was your best friend. The most major, important, integrated person in your life and suddenly you had feelings for her and you had no idea what to do.

"I just–I didn't mean to let it get–" she cut herself off, letting out another frustrated huff.

You couldn't risk looking at her. Your eyesight was already blurring from the moisture building up in your waterline and you knew if you made a sound it would cause them to start falling, ruining any last shred of dignity you had left.

You could feel her gaze on you again, penetrating and heavy and from the corner of your eye you could see her shoulders sag and her head dip slightly.

She was quiet for another few seconds before murmuring a quiet, "I'm sorry."

It made your heart clench painfully and you wanted to turn to her and reassure her that nothing was her fault and you were just dealing with your own inner turmoil but you could already feel a few tears escaping your eyes and rolling hot and fast down your wind-bitten cheeks.

She took your silence as rejection and pulled back suddenly from the balcony. "I'll, um, leave you be for a little. If, uh–" her voice sounded pinched and low and you could picture the look of defeat on her face and it made you feel like throwing up.

"If you need a lift home, just, uh, let me know," she murmured.

She turned around and took a few steps to the door, hand resting on the handle. You turned to look at her, sudden panic and desperation clawing at your neck at the thought of her leaving even though a second ago that was all you had wanted.

"Bil–" Her name got caught in your throat that had tightened so much you felt like you were choking.

She turned quickly, shock filtering across her features as she noticed the tears.

"Are you crying?" her voice held a quiet tone of surprise but it was enough for the rest of the tears you had been desperately holding back to break free.

You cupped your hands over your eyes, a hiccup of a sob leaving your lips, and pressed your sleeves into your eyelashes in a piteous attempt to dry up your tears. You heard her whisper your name before you felt her in front of you.

"Please don't cry. I didn't realize–" Her hands went to your shoulders, squeezing slightly before pulling you forward until you could feel her torso pressing against yours and feel her arms winding around your body.

It was useless fighting your emotions. They had always won before. It was silly of you to think you could beat them now. You felt yourself sink into her, your hands moving to wind around her neck, pressing your cheek against her warmth.

"I'm–I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were so upset. I–" she sounded like she couldn't find her words, still surprised by your reaction. Her arms tightened around you, one of her hands reaching up to cup the crown of your head.

She dragged her hand down the back of your head, fingers raking through your hair, brushing against your scalp. We stood there for a while, your tears soaking into the sleeve of your shirt, her delicately stroking your head, dolling out a few hushed apologies even though there was nothing for her to be apologizing for.

Finally, when your choking whimpers and nearly ceaseless tears quieted down, she pulled back. She pulled her sleeve over her hand and pressed it gently against your cheek and with slow and deliberate movements she wiped away the wetness on your face. It was an intimate enough gesture to bring more tears to your eyes but she tutted at you.

"Come on, baby. I don't want you to run yourself ragged," she cajoled though her voice was still hushed and the worry never left her face.

'Baby' hit you right in the chest. She had called you that before, and more often in recent memory, and though it had always made you feel warm it had never quite knocked the breath out of you like now.

She swiped her thumb over your eyelid, then the other, brushing the new tears from your lashes. Then she swiped the delicate skin under your eyes, once, twice, maybe a third for good measure. You couldn't tell where the flush in your cheeks from the cold stopped and the blush began. Her eyes now held yours and in the darkness their hue was almost as dark as the deepest part of the ocean and you could see the lights of the city glittering in her irises like she had plucked all of the stars from the sky and sprinkled them in her eyes. And for a second time you were breathless.

"Why don't I take you home?" she breathed, eyes now flittering around your face.

You wanted to reply with something witty, something to ease the tension even a hint but you couldn't find your words. All you could do was give her a nod. She held out her hand to you and like it was second nature you took it. Her rings were cool against your skin but her hand was warm and soft and she gave you a reassuring squeeze before gently tugging you back inside the apartment.

She didn't bother to say goodbye to anyone. You were sure she was doing it for your sake. You knew you looked like a mess. Her car was parked on the street and she opened the passenger door for you and waited until you were seated before shutting it and going towards the driver's side.

She didn't say anything, only turned the radio on to a comfortable buzz before starting in the direction of your apartment. You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window and shut your eyes tight, trying to take in the small moment of peace before you knew you would have to finally explain yourself. You could feel her heavy glances and for a moment you swore she was going to reach out to touch you but she didn't and soon enough you were pulling into the parking garage of your apartment.

She pulled into one of the designated spots for your unit, the other one reserved for your roommate. It was essentially hers since you didn't have a car and the familiarity of her pulling in like normal when she hadn't done it for a month had your heart clenching again.

The elevator ride was quiet as was the walk to your unit. When you opened the front door, your roommate and her boyfriend were cozied up on the couch, watching the newest slasher flick. You had calmed down enough to offer them a pleasant greeting as you took your shoes off and they turned their attention from the glowing TV to respond. You could see the peaked interest on your roommate's face at the sight of Billie standing next to you who she hadn't seen since that fateful day.

"Let us know if we need to turn the volume down," your roommate said and you gave her a small smile before leading Billie down the hall and to your room, shutting the door behind you.

For the first time ever, she looked somewhat lost being in your room. You were so used to her sprawling on your bed, borrowing your clothes without needing to ask, using far too much of your body wash when she took a shower and now she was lingering by the door, arms crossed over her chest like she was too scared to touch anything. You dropped your bag onto your desk and sunk down to sit on the bed. You patted the spot next to you.

"You can come sit," You said, before adding, "If you want."

She relaxed slightly and nodded, shrugging off her jacket onto your desk chair before taking the space next to you. You sat there in a thick silence. You opened your mouth to speak but your courage was depleting at a rapid rate and your eyes kept flashing back to that moment a month ago, seeing you both like ghosts sitting on the floor in front of you. She finally broke the silence first.

"I just want to say that," she took a steadying breath, eyes focused on her hands that were wringing nervously in her lap, "I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable and I'm sorry that I overstepped a boundary."

You let your eyes wander over her face. Her brows pulled together, furrowing slightly as she thought back to that day.

"I know you don't have those feelings and I–" she shook her head, pieces of dark hair falling into her face making her brush them back behind her ears.

"I shouldn't have let myself get close like that. It wasn't fair to you," she admitted, letting out an irritated exhale.

She was quiet again. You weren't sure if she was waiting for you to answer or trying to find the words to keep going. You felt your pulse quicken as you stared at her. She lifted her head and her eyes met yours and again you were breathless. She had always been beautiful but you had never let yourself view her as anything more than a friend. And now looking at her you had the crushing realization that you didn't think you could ever view her as anything but anymore.

"Billie," your voice was quiet and you didn't realize what you were going to say until the words were spilling out of your mouth.

"I love you."

She blinked at you, eyes wide and flickering between yours. And then she grimaced. You couldn't help but feel the wash of rejection settle in your chest.

"Don't say that," she said, shaking her head and looking like you had just slapped her.

"Why?"

She stood up abruptly, like being close to you was suddenly suffocating her. She crossed her arms back in front of her chest, eyes looking around your room but focusing on nothing.

"Because you don't mean it," she muttered, her eyes following the myriad of pictures and polaroids you had decorated over your wall, her face smiling back in more than a few of them.

"What do you mean?" You almost laughed at the absurdity. "Of course I do."

She shook her head again and turned back to look at you and you were taken aback at the sudden anger swirling in her eyes.

"You fell of the face of the planet four weeks ago," she snapped. Her eyes were narrowed and her thick liner made them look darker than normal.

"You barely answered my texts. I thought I had done something horrible. And then when I realized what I had done you were no where to be found for me to apologize. You iced me out so fast it made my head spin!"

You couldn't help but gape at her. She bit her lip, her eyes now glimmering with her own tears threatening to fall. The sight of them made your insides coil up so tight you almost felt faint.

"One second we're talking about the future, laughing at the possibility that we could ever live apart from each other and the next second you're gone like I was suddenly nothing to you," she exclaimed, her voice raising in a mix of anger and pain. A couple stray tears rolled down her cheeks and she angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"You can't just leave me like that and then . . . and then–" she let out a shuddering breath, "say you love me."

You felt your tears resurface, stinging against your lashes as you stared at her. Guilt was wrapping around you like vines and you couldn't believe you didn't realize how much you had hurt her from pulling away like that.

"And it's not fair because you don't even mean it. Not–" she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment like she could force her tears back.

"It doesn't mean the same thing to you,” she finally met your eyes, "Not in the way that it does to me."

"Billie, I–" You felt your breath get caught in your throat, "I'm so sorry."

She stared at you for a painstakingly long moment before the anger seeped out of her and was replaced by dejection. She sunk down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"No–" she rested her forehead against her knee, her face now hidden from your gaze, "I'm sorry. I just–You'd think at this point I'd be able to deal with it better, you know? But it doesn't seem to get any easier."

You got up from your spot on the bed and sunk down to the floor with her.

"You have feelings for me," You suddenly realized, eyes scanning her as if you were trying to see what you had been missing all this time.

She let out a humorless laugh. "Brutal, isn't it?”

She chuckled again, raising her head to rest her chin on the top of her knee.

"You don't even like girls. And I can't seem to like anyone but you," she admitted, her voice rasping at the end. It sounded like she had accepted her fate long ago and you couldn't help but feel the pang of regret in your chest at wishing you had realized this so much earlier.

"I tried to make it go away. But sometimes I would just let myself pretend just for a second that you felt the same way," she let out a heavy breath.

"The last time I was here, I just, I let myself pretend a little too long and I got carried away."

She met your eyes and a few rouge tears dropped down her cheeks. Instinctively, you reached out and brushed them away, cupping her face and swiping your thumbs across the swells of her cheeks. She closed her eyes and you watched her face relax for a fleeting moment before the anguish was creeping back in again.

"You can't do that," she whispered, eyes blinking open as she pulled her face out of your hands. "You're only gonna make it worse."

We stared at each other for a few moments, the air heavy and thick with emotion. But you could feel your resolve strengthening after she bared her heart to you. You figured it was only fair to do the same.

“I love you,” You repeated, this time more firm than the last.

She winced again like the words were painful to hear.

“I mean it,” You said, “I love you.”

She shook her head, not believing your words or maybe thinking you didn’t understand her.

“You don’t,” she denied, opening her mouth to retort again but you cut her off.

“I do,” you insisted. “Please, just–Let me explain.”

She closed her mouth, blinking at you before giving you a short nod.

"I grew up in a very traditional household," you started, taking a wavering breath to ready yourself. "My whole life I was surrounded by nothing but heterosexuality. My parents, my relatives, all of my friends. And I had always liked boys but it had never crossed my mind that I might like girls too."

"And when I met you I knew you were going to be so special to me. It was kind of frightening how quickly we grew attached. But I had always valued my close friendships with girls that I just–" you shook your head, eyes straying to your hands nestled in your lap, "I hadn't realized that sometimes my feelings went beyond the scope of platonic."

"But last month, when you were here and we were talking I . . . I had this sudden realization that I wanted you to kiss me.”

You looked up to see her eyes boring into you. She kept so still like she was worried one wrong move and you would close back up.

“I had to . . . comb back through my life to make sense of it. I didn’t realize–I thought you just knew. I thought it was so crazy of me to only realize now and . . . how stupid could I be for not knowing I felt like this.”

You shut your eyes, thinking back through all those memories you had replayed over and over again.

“And then I thought back to moments between us,” you let out a shaky exhale, feeling your eyes sting, “How close we get, the things we talk about. How I don’t let anyone do the things you do. How I always look to you first for anything.”

You could feel her penetrating gaze even with your eyes shut.

“And then I just . . . I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Your friendship is so important to me but I didn’t know how to be around you without confronting these new feelings. And I couldn’t,” you winced, letting out another shaky sigh, “I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you because of them.”

It was so quiet for a moment you thought maybe she had left. But after a few beats of silence you heard her shuffle towards you and then slowly her arm curved around your back and she was pulling you into her.

“You could never lose me,” she said so softly it was nearly a whisper, her voice thick with emotion.

You bit your lip hard to stop it from trembling. Her other hand found your face and cupped your cheek, nudging you to look up at her. You opened your eyes to be met with her anguished expression, eyes glossy in the dim lighting, eyeliner smudged at the sides.

“And you’re not stupid,” she said, brows furrowing further.

“But how could I not have known–”

“That doesn’t make you stupid. There’s no calendar for this shit,” her thumb danced softly over the plush of your cheek, so light, so delicate, you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“So you believe me?” you finally asked after another bout of silence.

“That you love me?” she questioned, a rasp in her tone. You nodded.

She moved her hand to stroke back your hair from your face, thumb lingering on my hairline as she brushed back the soft baby hairs.

“Yes,” she finally conceded, eyes roaming around your face like this was the first time she was able to openly admire it. Her face drew closer and you could feel the warmth of her breath graze your lips.

“You just can’t go cold on me like that again,” she breathed, her eyes so blue and captivating like this was some sort of spell she was weaving on you. “I felt insane.”

You let out a weak chuckle. She mirrored your smile, eyes straying to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, making her eyes meet yours again, “I really am.”

“I know, baby,” she replied.

That was all it took for you to lean in and kiss her. She took a sharp intake of breath, maybe in surprise, but her lips responded to yours in an instant. They were so soft, velveteen and silky, and you could smell her sweet perfume overwhelming your senses. And she tasted like honey and mint and ambrosia and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t kissed her before.

Her hand raked through your hair, curving around the back of your neck, massaging the tendon as her kisses grew deeper and sweeter. You felt your mind start to mellow into a hypnotic buzz where you couldn’t think much past her and her satin lips and her soft exhales fanning over your face. Her other hand slid around your torso, palm centering on the small of your back, before she was pulling you into her and up onto her lap.

“Fuck,” you breathed between kisses, wrapping your arms around her neck so you could press yourself in further.

Slowly her kisses strayed from your lips, tracing the edge of your jaw. She nudged her cheek against the underside of your jaw making your head lift so she could press fiery kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. You dug your fingers into her hair, tightening your hold when she found an extra sensitive spot making her let out a pleased hum against your skin that vibrated and tickled.

“Bil–” You could barely speak, so consumed by her ministrations.

She littered kisses on your neck and over your pulse point where you were sure she could feel how fast your heart was beating. You felt her grin against your skin, nipping softly before apologizing with a searing kiss. Your body was turning lax and her arms tightened around your torso, anchoring you to her.

Then her lips were moving back up, leaving a wake of tingles as they climbed before they found yours again. You kissed back eagerly, trying to convey everything you weren’t able to in words, your guilt, your fear, your worry, your adoration, your love. And she drank you in, evaporating the remnants of your anxiety and doubt.

It took you a moment to realize one of her hands had slipped under the back of your shirt, her palm warm and pleasing against your bare skin. She dragged her nails lightly down your spine and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation. You felt her smile against your lips and after pressing one, two, a third, another kiss she finally relented, pulling her head back so she could look at you.

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed. Hers were half-lidded and penetrating and her lips were a bright pink, bruised and swollen. Her free hand reached back up, pushing your hair back and stroking her fingers delicately along your cheek.

“I love you too,” she murmured, voice so soft you could’ve missed it.

A flood of warmth filled your chest and a blush rose on your cheeks and she seemed unable to stop herself from leaning in and pressing a kiss against the flushing skin.

“I really missed you,” you confessed, sighing in contentment as her lips lingered on your cheek.

“Not as much as I did,” she said, leaning back again so she could look at you. She rested her head back against the foot of the bed, looking at you low through her dark lashes.

“No I was going crazy,” you admitted and she let out a spluttering laugh. You smiled for the first time in what felt like forever, gaze lingering on her squinting eyes and the small dimple that appeared on her chin.

“Dude, I was out of my mind. I wouldn’t shut up about you. I literally wrote a fucking song because you were ignoring me,” she confessed.

“No way,” you laughed, delighted at the thought that she would ever like you enough to write a song about you.

“I did,” she affirmed, snickering, moving both of her arms down to rest behind your back, tugging you in again so you sat higher on her lap.

“Will you let me hear it?” you asked, moving your hands down to her neck, finding the soft baby hairs at her nape and brushing your thumbs against the sides.

“I was really in my feels,” she warned.

“That’s okay,” you said and she smiled at you so softly that you felt a swirl of butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Okay,” she said, biting her lower lip, eyes flashing back down to yours.

“Really?”

“Mhm, you just can’t make fun of me though,” she replied and you let out another soft laugh at the thought.

“I’ve never made fun of you in my entire life,” you said unable to stop your smile and she guffawed at you.

“Still a shit liar I see,” she retorted.

“I’ve never lied either,” you said, grinning and she squeezed your side making you let out a shocked giggle.

“‘No, I’m fine Billie. I’m just tired. Nothing is wrong and I’m not ignoring you’,” she paraphrased, poking fun now at your sorry excuses for avoiding her.

You groaned half in regret, half in embarrassment.

“I mean, it’s not entirely a lie. I was sleeping like shit,” you admitted.

She hummed, eyes seemingly now noticing the darker shadows lurking under your eyes, your makeup long gone from all of your tears.

“I was too,” she said, taking a deep sigh, “How do you think I had time to write a whole song?”

You laughed again and she smiled at you. All of the worry and sadness that had clouded her face for the past few weeks had finally left. She looked like she had her sparkle back and you felt breathless at the thought that it was because of you.

“Would you, um,” your eyes flickered between hers, suddenly nervous, “wanna stay the night?”

She let out an affronted laugh. “Did you think I wanted to leave?”

“I was just checking. I didn’t wanna push you or anything,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at her but unable to quell your smile.

“I know, baby. And I appreciate it,” she cooed, leaning in to kiss your cheek again.

“I like when you call me that,” you confessed, the words leaving your lips before you could even think to stop them.

“Yeah?” Her grin deepened and you nodded, your cheeks warm. She hummed again.

She stared at you for another long moment, eyes scanning your face, her hand reaching up to brush your hair back. Your eyes fluttered shut at the comfort.

“You’ll tell me next time when you’re this upset?” she asked, voice softer now.

You blinked open your eyes. Her worry was seeping back and you felt the guilt pool in your stomach again but you pushed it back, confident in the fact that you couldn’t ignore her again even if I tried.

“I promise.”

She stared at you long and hard. And then she leaned in and pressed another silken kiss to your lips.

“Good because otherwise I’m breaking down your door,” she mumbled against your lips and you couldn’t contain your laugh. And then she pressed in further, kissing away all the guilt and fear that lingered, replacing it with nothing but the touch of her lips.

A/N: If there are any spelling or grammatical errors no there aren't (me gaslighting you)

#billie eilish fluff #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish angst #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader

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morikosa · 3 days ago

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐡?

Summary: You just wanted to make a joke to your sensei, but you had no idea he'd get so angry.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI — Spanking, Smut, Top Gojo Satoru, Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Gojo Satoru is His Own Warning, Possessive Gojo Satoru, teacher x student

"Do you think you're funny, little girl?" he growled, his voice laced with anger and disappointment. Making jokes about fucking another man?"

He glared at you, his blue eyes cold and unyielding. He pinned your delicate body over his knee, your soft ass was red and sore from the relentless spanking. He ran a hand over the heated flesh, eliciting a sharp cry from you.

''Ah!''

He spanked you again, harder this time, making you jerk forward. "Say you're sorry," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Apologize for your filthy mouth and your stupid joke."

He could feel you squirming, and hear your sobs, but he didn't care this time. This was a lesson you needed to learn. "Count, sweetheart" he ordered, his hand poised to strike again. "Or I'll start all over again."

''T-ten''

''Too slow" Gojo snapped, bringing his hand down hard on your already sore ass. "Start over."

Your eyes widened in shock, not again... not again!

''N-no, S-Sense-KYA!''

Your pleas were interrupted when he spanked you. Gojo's lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Ten, again." he said, his voice a low growl.

You wet your lips, pain radiating through your ass with every impact. You began to count, your voice shaking. "One… two… thr-"

Smack.

The pain was unbearable, tears streaming down your face. "Three… four… fif-"

Smack.

"S-six… sev-"

Smack.

"Ei-eight… n-nine… ten!"

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up so you were kneeling in front of him. You squealed cutely, "Now, say you're sorry, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider forgiving you as a good sensei."

"Sorry!" you cried out, tears streaming down your soft cheeks. "I'm so sorry, sensei-! *sobs* Please, I can't take anymore!"

Gojo chuckled at your pitiful pleas, "That's right, cry for me, little girl. Maybe next time you'll think twice before opening that smart little mouth of yours."

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, he released your hair and pushed you down onto your back. He loomed over you, his blue eyes filled with a fierce intensity.

"You're lucky I love you." he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Gojo paused, his hand resting on your reddened flesh. He murmured, his voice softer. He rubbed your back gently, feeling you shudder beneath his touch. His silence scared you…

He looks at you for a moment and says, “You should be thankful I didn't throw you out on the street. You should be honored to have the strongest sorcerer in the world. But you say nonsense and make me angry. I just wanted to come home and hug my girl, but she makes jokes about cheating on me.''

He withdrew his hand, leaving you feeling empty and cold. "Now, stand up and bend over the bed." he ordered, his voice stern once again.

Oh god, what have you done? At that moment, the full weight of your actions bore down on you. You just wanted to play a silly joke, an attempt to provoke jealousy, but it had backfired severely. The coldness in his eyes, the icy tone of his voice, all of it was a direct result of your reckless actions.

You loved him, more than you could ever express. The thought of losing him caused a sharp pain in your chest, a physical representation of the emotional turmoil you were enduring. You didn't understand how things had spiraled so quickly, but there was no going back now.

You hesitated, but you knew that defying him at this point would only make matters worse. You slowly stood, your small hands trembling, before you bent over the bed, presenting your sore bottom to him.

You held your breath, awaiting his judgment, your heart a heavy weight that threatened to suffocate you. You were painfully aware, now more than ever, that you had gone too far, and the only thing left to do was face the consequences of your actions.

He laughed when he saw your wet pussy, a cruel sound that sent shivers down your spine. "You're a natural-born whore, aren't you?" he taunted, his fingers circling your slick entrance, teasing you without entering. "Soaking wet from a few spanks. Pathetic."

He leaned down, his breath hot on your ear. "Tell me, did you like being spanked? Did it make you horny, you little slut?"

He punctuated his words with a sharp slap to your ass, making you gasp and squirm. "Answer me." he demanded, his voice harsh.

"Y-yes, s-sensei…" you whimpered, your face flushing with humiliation and arousal. "It-it made me wet…"

Gojo tsked, shaking his head. "Such a naughty student~ I guess I couldn't teach some morals to my sweet student," he muttered, pushing two fingers roughly inside you. "But don't worry, I'll give you what you really want."

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. You moaned, pushing back against his hand, seeking more friction. He chuckled, slowing his pace.

"Not so fast, little slut~" he said, his voice mocking. "I'm in charge here. You'll come when I say you can come."

He increased his pace, adding a third finger, stretching you. You gasped, your small hands clutching the sheets, your knuckles turning white. He could feel you're getting close, your inner walls tightening around his fingers.

But just as you were about to come, he pulled his fingers out of your tiny cunt. You whimpered in frustration

''Not yet, little girl. You will cum on my dick''

He watched you, he chuckled darkly, enjoying the control he had over your delicate body. He pushed you up, spinning you around until your tits were pressed against his broad chest. His erection, achingly hard, pressed against your back, demanding release.

He grabbed a handful of your hair, tilting your head back. "Beg for it, Y/N." he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Beg me for my cock, and I might grant your wish."

His free hand reached around, rubbing your clit again, just enough to keep you on the precipice of orgasm. He wanted to see you beg, to hear you plead for what he knew he would give you eventually.

Your eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping your lips. "P-please, s-sensei, I need it… I need your cock…"

He smirked, loving that he had brought you to this point. He spun you around, positioning his throbbing cock at your entrance. "Good girl~" he praised, thrusting into you slowly, filling you completely.

You let out a sharp gasp, your eyes widening in surprise. He began to move, setting a steady pace that gradually grew more fervent. His strong hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he fucked you

As he thrust in and out, he captured your lips in a passionate and rough kiss. His thick fingers tangled in your silky hair, tugging softly as he kissed you deeply.

"Cry for me, little girl." he growled against your soft lips, his voice hoarse with desire. "Scream for me as I make you mine."

He slammed into you harder, his pace growing more erratic, as he plunged into you, seeking his release. His breath hitched, and his thrusts grew more frenzied, his skill precise in the way he hit that sweet spot inside of you.

He was closing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the heat building up inside of him, coiling like a serpent ready to strike. His thrusts grew more frantic, his movements uncontrolled as he chased that glorious peak.

"Let me feel how tight you are around my cock." he urged, his words thick and guttural.

The pressure within him was becoming unbearable, his cock swelling inside of you, so close to the edge. His free hand slid between your swollen folds, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

He could feel your inner walls clenching him tighter, your orgasm surging through you. That push was all he needed, his body tensing as he came inside of you, his hot seed filling you to the brim.

After a short while, he pulled out and collapsed next to you, his muscular body slick with sweat. A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he gazed at the afterglow of their coupling. "Good girl." he murmured, planting a tender kiss on your forehead, basking in the sweet aftermath.

His fingers trailed over your reddened ass, and you hissed from pain when he touched it. A sympathetic frown tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew he'd pushed you to your limits, but you pissed him off.

"I'll apply the ointment in a moment, to soothe that soreness," he assured you, his voice softening. There was no malice in his tone, only concern. "But don't make me punish you like this again, Y/N"

He gathered you in his arms, cradling you against his chest, his hand stroking your hair gently. The warmth of his body enveloped you, making you feel safe, despite the tenderness in your ass.

"You're mine and only mine, Y/N" he whispered, nuzzling the top of your head.

246 notes · View notes

eternalbuckley · 1 day ago

Text

my last words before reading: i have finally found a day when i feel kind of ready to read the last chapter, i've honestly kind of tried to drag it out but i really wanted to finally read the last chapter of these two babies 😭🥹

my words after reading lmao: first of all, i just realized it's been a whole month since you've posted the last chapter, so it's a sign idk lmao. anyways! babe! i literally have no words, this entire series, your writing and everything is literally perfection. it was such a joy to read this series, i'll definitely go back and read it sometime again!! that's for sure, thank you for sharing this with all of us, it's such a beautiful ending and i'm so happy that everything worked out for our two babies, they deserve all the good things. i'll always be thinking about them hehe, i'll miss them so much <33

a few reactions i had while i read:

Are you gone? He knows you have been taking a few more weeks off from your work to stay here longer, but why are you not here? You slept in his bed, hugging him, talking to him until he fell asleep. Did you have to go? Were you on your way to Beesbury? Anxiety hits him like a truck, his limbs tingle with nervousness as he looks around the room, not finding one trace of your belongings — you always leave something behind in his room, whether is a pair of socks or bras, there is always a lingering feeling of your presence in his room.

oh baby 🥺🥹🥹

“Aemond?” You stand up, stepping to watch him slowly before reaching to cup his face as soon as you stand in front of him, smiling softly when he visibly relaxes under your touch, “Hey you.”

EEEEEEK heheehehe

“But I’ll be all alone when you leave,” he replies, dropping his forehead on your shoulder, and sighing in defeat. He probably regrets moving back to this place, but he had no choice back in the time. Now? Now he has a reason to go back to Beesbury, he has hope in there, someone he loves.

oh my heart- i love him your honor

“Damn, dude,” Aegon grimaces at Aemond, looking at his brother’s body before faking a gag, “Why are you naked?” “Why are you naked?” Aemond shoots back, raising an eyebrow at his brother, taking a sip from his coffee but cringing at the awfully bitter taste, “Who made this thing?”

GOD these two- GIMME THEM NOW!!!

taking a sip from his coffee but cringing at the awfully bitter taste, “Who made this thing?” “I did!” Helaena replies, crossing the kitchen to bring out another plate to fill for Aegon, “Your girl was tired this morning, so I took it upon myself to make coffee for you. Be grateful.”

also this part specifically, i love how the topic with the coffee was literally clem & aemond's thing because she always made him a coffee no matter what was going on between them. i love it so much, the symbolic behind it 🥹

“I’m naked because it’s Naked Sunday!” Aegon says, sitting next to his mother, resting his chin on his hands, “Also, this kitchen can only handle one naked Targaryen, and you, baby brother, are nowhere near as hot as you think you are.”

he can have his next naked sunday in my bed- huh what who said that

“Wow,” you whisper, dropping back on the bed as you look at the ceiling, trying to figure out what you just read. It is a lot of information to process, a letter of confession that Aemond was aware of.

i wasn't expecting the letter of alys but god damn my eyes aren't as dry anymore

“Why am I so hard to love? Is it because…because of my face?” He looks down, kissing his teeth before he talks again, “I don’t think I can do more than what I’ve done for her, that was… I gave her everything.”

okay now i'm crying completely 😭 my poor baby fuck this isn't fair you're not hard to love GOD DAMN IT

“Hey, look at me,” you turn his face towards you, rubbing your thumb over his wet hair, “Being in love is hard because it requires effort and patience, but loving you isn’t! I feel free when I’m with you, I feel at ease and safe! Loving you is something I wish to do for the rest of my life because I know how it feels to have you as a friend and a lover.”

exactly.

“So, what is your plan for the rest of the year?” Gwayne asks, sipping on the glass of wine while he looks between you and his nephew, “With the long-distance thing?”

GWAYNE CAMEO YEEEEAH

“Hmm,” she hums, swirling the wine around in her glass, “I’m gonna miss my kids a lot, that is all I can say. I’m glad Aemond will be with me and Daeron, but I’m going to miss my girls so much.”

"my girls" 🥹🥹🥹

You put the plate down before wiping your hand and moving towards the door, holding your breath as you open it, gasping when you find Aemond waiting for you, with a suitcase by his side nonetheless.

AHHHHHhHHHHHHH

“Because my boyfriend is a bit… let’s say protective of me. I thought maybe your girl would be the same,” you gasp when he presses you against the door, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Trust me, young lady, she is much more protective than your boyfriend,” he chuckles, reaching to pull out something from his backpack, and handing it to you without breaking eye contact, “Don’t tell my girl, but I got a gift for you.” “Now I’m interested,” you say, grabbing the wrapped gift before you start tearing on the paper wrap, gasping when you find a wooden portrait of yourself carved on the pallet so delicately. The details are absolutely phenomenal, the highs and lows, the curve of your lips, everything about this gift is perfect.

god i love them, i'm tearing up again lmao

“I also have another gift,” you look up at him with tears running down your face, but the look of happiness and your smile ease his worries, “I thought maybe I could stay here while we both go and search for a new house—‘mmf!” You cut him off by kissing him, pressing your lips to his passionately while he wraps his arms around your waist to tug you closer, his body moving against yours in sync. “Is that a yes?” He breaths against your swollen lips, grinning until the dimples on his cheeks are evident. “Yes, yes,” you say between kisses, laughing as you hold him close, “A thousand times yes!”

FUUUCK 😭😭 god i'm so happy they got their deserved happy end fuuuuuck i'm sobbing

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Warnings: Angst, fluff, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 3.7k+

A/n: this chapter is pretty short because it’s their closure!!!! Check the end of the chapter for my last notes on this series🥹 COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SO APPRECIATED!!

-> series masterlist <-

Chapter 10, the finale: falling forever

He is warm, his body is on fire. He feels as though his skin is burning from the inside. He can not see, his vision is black, but he can hear. There are screams from somewhere far away from him, and it is getting closer, and closer.

He is trying to escape from the voice; it is ear-wrenching, and it makes him nauseous, yet he can not see. He tries to move his body, to open his eye, somehow to get away from whatever is coming in his direction.

There is a light at the end of the path. A path? Where did that come from? He does not care, he needs to get away. The sound grows louder with each second that it passes, getting closer to him with every step he takes.

As soon as he reaches the light, a loud bang comes out of nowhere…

Aemond sits up on the bed, gasping as he is startled by whatever that dream was, but he is interrupted by the loud bass of the music playing through the mansion, making his head throb terribly.

That probably lasts around half a second before he notices you are not here, your side of the bed is empty.

Anxiety hits him like a truck, his limbs tingle with nervousness as he looks around the room, not finding one trace of your belongings — you always leave something behind in his room, whether is a pair of socks or bras, there is always a lingering feeling of your presence in his room.

He pushes the covers off of him, grabs his glasses from the nightstand before he puts them on, and rushes out of his room only in his shorts to find you.

He darts out of the room, practically running through the hallway, passing Daeron on his way on the staircase while he is walking upstairs. Aemond’s shoulder knocks his brother, stumbling him back to the wall while himself holds a hand up in apology.

“Damn, bro, no one’s getting murdered, slow down,” Daeron yells, shaking his head as he walks his way up the stairs.

Aemond on the other hand groans and follows the noises of giggles and laughter, jogging towards the kitchen with his hair unruly and tangled, glasses on the bridge of his nose while he pants and enters the kitchen.

There you are; smiling and chuckling while you talk with his mother and Helaena cooks breakfast for everyone. You look positively radiant and glowing this morning and it seems you were dragged out of bed by his sister, spending the entirety of your morning with the girls.

“Brother?” Helaena asks, making you and Alicent turn around, finding Aemond trying to catch his breath while he looks at you with wide eyes.

“Aemond?” You stand up, stepping to watch him slowly before reaching to cup his face as soon as you stand in front of him, smiling softly when he visibly relaxes under your touch, “Hey you.”

He does not say anything, he just looks at you, his bare chest moving up and down with each quick breath he takes. He looks at you with a tired eye, the cold sweat on his forehead making him uncomfortable.

“Are you okay, Little nerd?” You caress his cheek, waiting for him to answer, “Do you need anything?”

“I…” he whispers, closing his eye as he relishes the warmth of your embrace, embarrassed by his sudden outburst, “I thought you left…”

“Oh, come here,” you gently pull his face to your neck, kissing the side of his head as he gently wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close and breathing in your scent, “I’m not gonna leave without saying goodbye, okay? Besides, we still have one week left!”

“You won’t be alone, sweet boy,” Alicent says, sipping on her tea while she grabs her book from the table and starts reading, “Daeron and I are still here, Cole is too! We try our best to be as interesting as her.”

“Mother,“ he sighs, raising his head to take a good look at her. You do too, dropping your hand from his neck to wrap around his middle, looking at Alicent with a shy expression, “I didn’t say you’re not interesting, don’t twist my words, please.”

“I’m not twisting them,” she replies softly, closing her book to give him her full attention, “I know you will feel alone when your girlfriend leaves, but we’ll do our best to keep you satisfied until you see her again.”

“I’m not a child, I can keep myself entertained, but I appreciate the gesture,” he gives her a small smile, squeezing your waist before he drops a kiss on your forehead, “Maybe I’ll move back to Beesbury, who knows.”

“You said you wanted to sell the house first, am I wrong?” Helaena asks, handing him a cup of coffee, as she places a plate of omelet in front of her mother, crossing her arms as she looks at him, “Maybe you can stay with Aeg in the city if you don’t wanna get bored in this peaceful place?”

“I am more than happy to stay away from that bag of dirt, thank you,” Aemond rolls his eye, scoffing at Helaena who snickers and laughs when Aegon steps inside the kitchen, just as topless as his brother with a disheveled look.

“Damn, dude,” Aegon grimaces at Aemond, looking at his brother’s body before faking a gag, “Why are you naked?”

“Why are you naked?” Aemond shoots back, raising an eyebrow at his brother, taking a sip from his coffee but cringing at the awfully bitter taste, “Who made this thing?”

“I did!” Helaena replies, crossing the kitchen to bring out another plate to fill for Aegon, “Your girl was tired this morning, so I took it upon myself to make coffee for you. Be grateful.”

“Sorry, baby,” you kiss his jaw, resting your head on his chest as you look at Aegon and Alicent’s pursed lips as they look at you with a deep scowl, clearly not used to someone being so openly affectionate in front of them.

“Every day is a Naked Sunday,” Helaena groans, dropping Aegon’s plate of pancakes in front of him, leaning on the kitchen island while she looks at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Disgusting how cute you look together.”

“Don’t be jealous, maybe you’ll find a way to get your big bad wolf to—“ Helaena jumps towards you and presses the palm of her hand to your lips, keeping your mouth shut as she glares at you.

“If you don’t shut the fuck, I’ll kick your ass and murder you in cold blood!”

“Who is this big bad wolf—“

“You have a boyfriend, sis?”

“Helaena—“

“Everyone, please, I’m just teasing her! She’s single, don’t worry,” you slowly lower her hand, winking at her before you press a quick kiss to her cheek, muttering a halfhearted apology, “Anyways, you told me there was some stuff you wanted to get rid of.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Aemond nods, tugging at your hand before he heads out of the kitchen, you following him upstairs. The silence is much welcomed, you know he is still thinking about his nightmare even if he does not show it.

Your relationship evolved throughout the past few weeks, but you can feel and see how he is still battling with the idea of you leaving him, and summer ending is not help either; you will move back to your place, and he has to stay here and for the first time, you fear the same. However in love, you might be, the distance can and will somehow damage your relationship, with Aemond being left alone with his mother and you working back at your city. You do not know whether you should tell him sweet white lies that you will be fine and you can easily manage this to help him overcome his fear of abandonment or tell him the truth about how this distance might make things bumpy.

“Um, there are several unopened boxes in my closet and I don’t wanna look at them, so can you please take them back with you?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he shuts the door behind you, “I know it’s a lot to ask for but… I don’t really wanna get into them anymore.”

“Sure thing, love,” you say, cupping his cheeks in your hands, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips before you move to pull the boxes out, sitting on the edge of the bed as you bring one to your lap and open it.

“Oh! This is…” you pull a wooden pallet, observing the curved edges on the top of the pallet, slowly dragging the tip of your finger over the surface, “This is beautiful, Aemond! Did you make it?”

“Hmm,” he hums, flushing slightly as you keep marveling at the wooden portrait, “I did…I think she liked it too.”

“Oh, I bet she did!” You say, raising the wood to take a better look at it, smiling softly at Aemond, “Alys for whatever she is, I’m sure she appreciated the effort.”

“Yeah, but she sent it back,” he sighs, reaching to pull out a set of fresh clothes before he goes to the attached bathroom, “I’m gonna take a shower, I can’t sit all sweaty.”

“Okay, love, I’ll be waiting,” you giggle when he bends down to give you a quick breathtaking kiss on your lips, then moves up to kiss your forehead, before he leaves for the bathroom, “I am so tempted to join you in your shower now.”

“Not a chance, I’ll get even more sweaty,” Aemond chuckles and locks the door from the other side, leaving you smiling to yourself, looking down at the portrait with mixed feelings.

You put the wood down, reaching inside the box to pull out a letter, examining the opened envelope before pulling the paper out.

Alys Rivers Targaryen

“Oh?” You read the name on top of the paper, frowning as you look at the bathroom door, thinking if you should really be reading this, finally deciding to do since the envelope is already opened by Aemond, “Fuck it, let’s see.”

Aemond, my dearest love.

There are many things I would love to say to you, but I’m afraid things will not go as you have hoped for, as I have dreamed of. Our faiths are written this way, perhaps.

I became the woman I am because of you and your kindness, there is no reason to hide the truth from you anymore. You helped me more than I could ever dream of, you were the backbone to my life and made me reach places in my career I couldn’t do it alone; for that, I am forever grateful.

I don’t wish to do this, but our relationship grew more suffocating as we grew closer, as the talks of mindless sex turned into marriage. It was my idea, yes, but it scared me how much you were willing to be a part of it.

That is when I realized I needed to get away, perhaps for a few months before the wedding and come back, but this feeling of being special, bonded to the most special family in the continent kept me satisfied until it wasn’t enough.

You, Aemond, were enough, maybe too much because of how your fear of not being loved properly forced you to become someone who pushed my boundaries left and right. I couldn’t breathe when you spoiled me with lavish gifts and career opportunities — it felt good, so good to be able to get my hands on the job I always dreamed of — so I kept quiet and let you do whatever you could do for me in hopes of getting some relief from the negative thoughts I harbored for you.

I love you, even though I’m writing this on the day of our marriage and I want to flee from this place. I love you because you made me happy whether it was your name giving me more opportunities, or your love for me that led to my improvement in my studies.

I hope you find someone who can channel your pure love to their heart, and cherish it forever, something I wish I could do but I am not capable of.

I tried, Aemond, I tried to show my love, but the more I tried the less enjoyable it became.

From Alys.

“Darling, could you please help me with my hair— fuck, did you read that?” Aemond stands in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist while water droplets drip from his hair on his chest.

“I did,” you sigh, sitting up while rubbing your hand over your face, thinking about what to say to him without making him nervous, “It’s…I don’t know what to say. This is an explanation for everything.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting down on the bed next to you, “Is it weird that I got mad when I read it?”

“What?” You ask softly, turning around to face him fully before grabbing the brush from him, gently combing through his wife, “No, love, you had every right to be mad. I mean… I understand her battle, she wasn’t ready even though it was her idea but again, you didn’t deserve that—“

“She didn’t even apologize…” he sighs, closing his eye while you push his hair out of his face, “I don’t need an apology but that is the bare minimum to ask of her.”

“I know, and I’m sorry about it,” you smile sadly, “But she is in the past, and we don’t know what the future will bring us. So let’s enjoy our moment together, okay?”

“So, what is your plan for the rest of the year?” Gwayne asks, sipping on the glass of wine while he looks between you and his nephew, “With the long-distance thing?”

“Well, we have decided to keep things going a bit slower and give ourselves some time to get back into our daily lives,” Aemond explains, his hand rubbing circles on your thighs as he looks at his uncle, the soft hues of sunset creating an angelic halo around his face.

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful,” Gwayne nods and looks at Alicent who has been pretty quiet since everyone gathered around the table for one last dinner before you go back to Beesbury, “So, sister, care to share your thoughts?”

“We’ll miss you even more, Mum,” Helaena glances at you and you nod in agreement, giving Alicent a sympathetic smile as she chuckles and takes a large gulp from her wine.

“Hey! What about me?” Aegon yells, pouting while he frowns at Alicent, waiting for her to say something about him too, “I’m your oldest! They say you will never love anyone like you love your oldest, ey?”

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll miss you too,” she gives him a cheeky smile, making him pout even more and you all laugh, nudging Aegon until he lets go of the act and joins everyone in the conversation.

“Can I ask something?” Daeron says suddenly, looking at Aemond with a skeptical look, “Why don’t you move in with her? You said you wanted to sell your previous house and go house hunting in Beesbury! That way you can spend more time with her and you won’t be apart for long.”

“I think… I think we are not ready yet to take such a big step, Daeron,” he replies a bit hesitant but he means it, or at least he means it on his behalf because when he sees how your smile falters a little, his heart drops, “Maybe, maybe we can but… I don’t think it is possible now.”

“Oh, okay, I just thought—“

“Aemond is right,” you smile, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, “We need some time apart to weigh our relationship and what we need to do in order to maintain the healthy boundaries we have set up. Rushing Aemond into such a huge decision is not something I would like to force upon him.”

“Great then,” Gwayne says, raising his cup, “To you and the second chance this girl gave our boy!”

“To Clementine! Ooo!”

Your house is so quiet. Ever since you have gotten back from the summer break, you notice the odd silence that you hear daily. You have never felt it before, or at least not mind it, but now, after spending months with Aegon and his antics, Helaena and her chats, and Aemond’s constant conversation about his books, you can notice the silence.

You sigh, stirring your pasta with a dull expression while you think about Aemond. You have texted him of course, more than once — to be honest, it is much more than once, you have been bombarding his text messages with sweet love texts, long paragraphs about how much you miss him and how unnerving and miserable you are without his hugs and kisses.

Aemond on the other hand seems to be handling this distance pretty well. He had been spending much-needed time by the pool before the air got chilly and enjoyed his time with his mother and Daeron in the mansion while he kept you updated, sending pictures of him and Vhagar, of the Tangerines Cole bought for him, the new collection of books he purchased.

All in all, he has been handling it pretty fucking well and it has started to piss you off.

You sigh again, bringing the spoon to your lip to taste the sauce, humming as you turn off the stove and move to grab yourself a plate to fill.

Suddenly a knock comes, filling the unbearable silence for a second. You think for a second about any possible guests you might have; Helaena is at work, your parents are not in town, and your other friends are too busy working and chilling.

You put the plate down before wiping your hand and moving towards the door, holding your breath as you open it, gasping when you find Aemond waiting for you, with a suitcase by his side nonetheless.

“Little nerd!”

“Hey you.”

You throw yourself in his arms, wrapping yours around his shoulders as you breathe in his scent, relaxing in his embrace immediately.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, holding his face in your hands while you grin at him, looking at him with unshed tears of joy, “How are you?”

“Well, I have a girlfriend in this town and I thought maybe I should check up on her,” he says, his grin matching yours as he leans down to bump his nose against yours, enjoying the little sigh you let out.

“Oh, you little cheater,” you bite the tip of his nose gently, fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, “Then what are you doing here, hugging me? Won’t she be mad?”

“Why are you so worried about her?” He asks, playing along while he pushes you both inside the house, pulling his suitcase behind him inside.

“Because my boyfriend is a bit… let’s say protective of me. I thought maybe your girl would be the same,” you gasp when he presses you against the door, nudging your cheek with his nose.

“Trust me, young lady, she is much more protective than your boyfriend,” he chuckles, reaching to pull out something from his backpack, and handing it to you without breaking eye contact, “Don’t tell my girl, but I got a gift for you.”

“Now I’m interested,” you say, grabbing the wrapped gift before you start tearing on the paper wrap, gasping when you find a wooden portrait of yourself carved on the pallet so delicately. The details are absolutely phenomenal, the highs and lows, the curve of your lips, everything about this gift is perfect.

You cut him off by kissing him, pressing your lips to his passionately while he wraps his arms around your waist to tug you closer, his body moving against yours in sync.

“Is that a yes?” He breaths against your swollen lips, grinning until the dimples on his cheeks are evident.

“Yes, yes,” you say between kisses, laughing as you hold him close, “A thousand times yes!”

Notes: I am so grateful for anyone who has come this far with this story, has read and commented on the chapters! You guys mean the world to me! I am forever honored to have you as my readers and having this series as my first ever completed multi chapter story🥹😭 thank you, my loves, and thank you Clem & Aemond for being my roman empire💕

#⚘; — my recs ✧♡#go and read and share the entire series if you haven't read it yet. please and thank you

356 notes · View notes

bat-mom-writer · 3 days ago

Text

Four Left Feet

(Sons) Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne X

Reader(mom)

Bruce Wayne(husband) X Reader(wife)

Summery: You want to teach your sons tango, but it turns into a mess of fun.

Rating: Fluff

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Why we doing this again?" Tim mumbled, tugging at his collar as he stared down at his feet.

"Yeah, it's not exactly a Bat-skill," Jason quipped, earning a playful swat on the arm from Dick.

You, watched the three young men with a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. Dick, ever the charmer, had agreed to the lessons with ease. Tim, the cautious one, was probably just here to appease you. Jason, well, you hadn't quite figured out his angle yet. Damain, the youngest, was still too young to fully grasp the concept of dance, let alone tango.

"Because, my dear wards," you began, your voice as smooth as silk, "grace and poise are just as important as strength and strategy." you gestured to the grand ballroom, the chandeliers casting a warm glow over the gleaming wooden floor. "Besides, I've seen you four dance before at charity galas. We're just… fine-tuning your skills."

"Fine," you said, turning on the music. The dramatic opening notes of a tango filled the room. You stepped forward, extending your hand to Dick, who took it with a grin. "Now come here, I'll show you how it's done."

Dick's posture straightened as he stepped closer, your palms touching. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the room around you melted away. "Your left foot forward," you instructed, guiding his leg with yours. "Now, right, left." Dick followed your lead, his movements surprisingly graceful for someone who'd spent more time fighting in the shadows than gliding across a dance floor. You felt a surge of pride. Maybe he had picked up some moves from watching Bruce.

The tension grew as you stepped back, pulling him closer. "To the right," you say, your breath brushing against his cheek. The tango was a dance of passion and control, and it was clear that Dick was trying his best to master it.

Tim, Damian, and Jason watched on, their initial skepticism giving way to curiosity. "Okay, okay," Dick said with a playful smile, finally finding his rhythm. His movements grew more confident, his steps quickening to match the tempo of the music. The smile on your face grew wider.

With a dramatic flourish, Dick spun you around. The fabric of your dress fluttered out like a cloud of moonlight. As he pulled you back in, your bodies connected in a perfect arc, the tension palpable. The way he moved, the way he led, it was as if he'd been born for this.

Jason's eyebrow shot up, a hint of admiration in his gaze. "Alright, I might just have to give this a try," he said, taking a step forward. His tone had shifted from mocking to competitive.

You turned to him, holding out your hand. "Come here," you said, your smile challenging.

Jason grinned and stepped up, taking your hand. He didn't even pretend to do the tango, instead opting to mess around, pulling you into a series of improvised moves. His movements were rough around the edges, but there was a playful grace to them that spoke of a natural athlete.

"You're not even trying," you chuckled, trying to keep your balance.

"I'm just not a 'tango' kind of guy," Jason said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now follow my lead. One, two, five, ten, four."

You couldn't help but laugh as you allowed him to lead you through his chaotic improvisation. He was a whirlwind of energy, making up steps as he went, turning the elegant dance into a playful romp around the ballroom. Despite the lack of structure, there was something infectious about his enthusiasm, and you found yourself enjoying the moment.

"And now, for the show stopper," Jason said, his grip on your hand tightening. Before you could protest or ask what he had in mind, he dipped you low, your back almost parallel to the floor. You let out a gasp of surprise that turned into a laugh as he held you there, his strength surprisingly gentle. The room tilted around you, the chandeliers spinning in a dizzying display of light.

"Jason!" you exclaimed, your heart racing, but his smirk told you he had it all under control. With a swift pull, he brought you back up to standing, your cheeks flushed with excitement.

With a smirk still playing on his lips, Jason executed a dramatic bow, the kind that would have earned him a standing ovation from a Broadway audience.

"Your turn, Tim," you said, turning to the youngest of the bunch, who was now watching with a mix of envy and apprehension.

Tim took a deep breath and stepped up, his eyes darting to Dick and Jason before returning to yours. You placed one hand in his and rested the other on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I've got you."

As the music began, Tim's gaze remained glued to the floor, his eyes flicking up only briefly to check on yours. His steps were tentative at first, as if the floor might give way beneath him.

"Relax, Tim," you murmured, your voice a gentle encouragement.

Tim nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. The music swelled, and you began to guide him through the steps, moving slowly to help him find his rhythm. His movements were rigid at first, his mind likely racing with thoughts of missteps and embarrassment. But as the song progressed, you could feel him start to let go, his body loosening up as he began to trust both you and the music.

"Look at me," you instructed, lifting his chin with a gentle touch. His eyes met yours, and you saw the fear begin to dissipate, replaced by a flicker of determination. You stepped back, pulling him closer in a traditional tango embrace. "You're doing great."

Tim's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, but he managed a small smile. As the music grew more intense, so did the dance. You could feel him trying to keep up, his movements becoming more fluid as he allowed the music to guide him. His steps grew surer, his body moving in time with yours, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest.

"Good," you said, your voice low and encouraging. "I believe I could make a tango dancer out fo you yet."

Tim's eyes widened in surprise, and he stumbled slightly, breaking the rhythm. "Don't push it," he murmured, his smile a little self-conscious.

You rolled your eyes playfully, then chuckled. "Oh, come on. You can do better than that." With a sudden, surprising twirl, you spun him around, watching as his expression shifted from concentration to shock, and then back to determination.

Tim's feet stumbled a bit, but he quickly regained his footing, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity. "I thought I was the gentlemen here," he said with a smirk.

You winked at him. "Sometimes, it's good to keep everyone on their toes. Sometimes literally."

Damian watched the two of you with curiosity, his young eyes taking in every move. He tapped his foot in time to the music, the only indication that he was absorbing the lesson. He was still too young to truly understand the dance, but the rhythm called to him, and he was eager to join in.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. Despite being Bruce's biological son, he was the most unpredictable of the bunch. "Alright, little one," you said, holding out your hand. "Let's see what you've got."

Damian looked up at you with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He was only eight, and his understanding of the tango was probably limited to what he'd seen in cartoons, but you had a feeling he'd surprise you. He took your hand, his small palm fitting perfectly in yours.

"Okay," you said, crouching down to his level. "We're going to start slow." The music softened, a more gentle tune playing to suit his age. "Just follow me. Left foot, right left, good."

Damian's eyes narrowed in concentration as he stepped in time with the beat. His movements were awkward, his feet stumbling over themselves occasionally, but he had a fiery determination in his eyes that was impossible to miss.

"Good," you said, keeping your voice soft and encouraging. "Remember, it's about the passion, not the perfection."

Damian scoffed, his little brows furrowed in concentration. "I have passion," he said, trying to mimic the intense gaze you'd shared with the others. "But I do not find it in this… tango."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing through the ballroom. "Fine," you said, ruffling his hair gently. "But keep an open mind. You never know when you might need to charm a lady at a gala."

"Mother, I'm eight," Damian said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "The only woman I would find myself dancing with is Jason."

The room erupted in laughter, even Jason couldn't help but chuckle at the innocent jab. "Hey! I have you know I would look dashing in a dress," he said, striking a dramatic pose.

You couldn't hold back your laughter any longer, it bubbled out of you like a fountain, filling the air with warmth. "Oh, you certainly would," you said, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. "But let's focus on the tango, shall we?"

"Yes, let us get back to work," Jason said, a glint in his eye. "Now step out of the way, Mother," he teased, gently pushing you aside. "Let the master be the teacher. Come here, Damian."

Before Damian could protest, Jason had him scooped up in his arms, his little legs dangling in the air. You watched, a mix of amusement and concern playing across your face.

"Jason, what are you doing?" you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

"Teaching him the 'Bat-Tango' move," he said with a wink.

Damian's eyes widened as Jason held him close, moving him through the air in a series of twists and turns that were more acrobatic than graceful. The boy's laughter filled the room, echoing off the high ceilings at Jason's movements.

"Put me down!" he squealed, his giggles only adding to the chaos.

"The trick is to not put your dance partner down for any reason," Jason said to the others, as he spun him around in mid-air.

Dick, ever the showman, took your hand again. "Well, whatever teachers say," he quipped, and before you had a chance to react, he swept you into the air, your legs hanging lose. Your heart skipped a beat, a thrill shooting through you as he whirled you around the room.

"Dick!" you exclaimed, half in protest, half in delight. His arms were strong around you, moving with the same precision and grace as when he fought crime as Nightwing. The world around you was a blur of color and light as he danced with you in a way that defied gravity.

Jason fake gasps, stilling holding Damian, "You dare to challenge the 'Bat-Tango'?"

"I do," Dick said, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "And not only do I, but I dare say, I do it better."

With that, he spun you around faster, your dress billowing out around you like a cloud of silk. The wind from the spin kissed your cheeks, your hair swirling in a dance of its own. You gasped, half in shock, half in exhilaration.

"Is that all you've got, Grayson?" Jason called out, noticing the heightened tempo. He swung Damian around with surprising agility.

"I'm going to be sick," Damian complained, his little face a mix of excitement and queasiness.

"This should be called the 'Ragdoll-ango,'" Tim quipped, watching from the sidelines as Jason continued to whirl Damian around in a series of moves that were more suited to a circus act than a dance floor.

"You dare in the Bat-tango?" Jason repeated, his voice filled with mock indignation as he set Damian down gently. The little boy stumbled a bit, his legs wobbly from the dizzying experience, but his eyes were alight with excitement. "For your insulative comment, you're my next partner."

With that, Jason reached out and grabbed Tim, who squeaked in protest. "I was joking!"

But Tim's protests fell on deaf ears as Jason whirled him around in a series of moves that were more wrestling than tango. The room was filled with laughter and the sound of their footsteps echoing off the polished floors.

"Okay, okay! Put me down before I throw up on you!" you called out to Dick, your voice a mix of playfulness and actual dizziness. Dick set you down gently, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the dance. "Show-off," you murmured, though your own smile was just as wide.

"But you love me non the less," Dick quipped, his hand still holding yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand gently.

"Yes, I do," you replied, your voice filled with warmth. Despite the chaos, there was something beautiful in the camaraderie, in the way the boys had come to see this as more than just a dance lesson, but a chance to connect. You looked over at Tim, his cheeks flushed from the spinning. He was trying to regain his balance, his eyes on the floor as if the answers to his disorientation lay there.

"Okay, okay! Jason, I think you've tortured him enough," you called out, a hint of laughter in your voice.

Jason looked at Tim, his face a shade greener than before. "Oh, come on," he said, his grin not quite reaching his eyes. "It's all part of the training."

"Training for what?" Tim managed to ask, his voice wobbly. "Barfing in public?"

"Jason, drop him," you said, your tone firm but playful, as if you were speaking to a mischievous dog.

Jason's eyes narrowed slightly, and he bent his knees, preparing to set Tim down. But his grip didn't loosen. "Jason," you repeated, your voice a gentle warning.

Jason smirked, his eyes flashing with playful rebellion. "No, Jason." you said again, your voice carrying an underlying current of seriousness. But the look on his face told you that he had no intention of stopping his little game.

"Jason, no!" you called out, but it was too late. With a mischievous grin, he dashed away out of the ball room and into the hall, Tim's legs kicking in the air like a ragdoll.

Dick's eyes lit up with the chase, and before you could blink, he had scooped Damian up into his arms. "Come, little brother, we must save our brother from our brother!" he declared with a dramatic flair.

"Oh brother," Damian muttered, his expression a mask of feigned boredom. Dick sprints off after Jason, Damian being swung side to side with each stride.

You watch them disappear down the hall, the laughter fading into the distance. The ballroom feels eerily quiet in their wake, the music continuing to play but the dance floor now abandoned. You take a moment to catch your breath, a soft smile lingering on your lips.

"Guess I wouldn't get to teach any tango," you murmur to yourself, the words carrying a hint of amusement.

Suddenly the music began again, "Not with them at least."

You whipped around to find Bruch standing beside the sound system, a knowing smirk on his face. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the chaos with a hint of amusement. You couldn't help but smile back at him. He'd been so busy with Wayne Enterprises that he'd missed the start of the lesson.

"I couldn't help but notice that we have a few… unorthodox… tango moves going on here," Bruce said, stepping onto the dance floor.

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist the smirk that tugged at your lips. "I had it all under control until Jason decided to turn it into an acrobatics show."

Bruce chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling in the chandelier light. He stepped closer, extending his hand to you. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Care to show me what you've been working on?"

You took his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin against yours. As the music played on, you stepped into Bruce's embrace, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, as if you'd been doing this dance for years. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close, his eyes never leaving yours. The tension between you was palpable, a silent communication of trust and understanding.

"You tease," you say with a playful smirk, your voice low and intimate. "You already know how to tango."

Bruce raises an eyebrow, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. "Do I?" he questions, the corners of his mouth lifting. He's footwork is precise, each step measured and deliberate. The dance floor seems to shrink around you as you glide in perfect unison. The tango is a dance of passion and control, and in that moment, you could feel the full extent of Bruce's control, not just in his dance, but in his life as well.

"Well, I'm a bit rusty." he admitted, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. But his movements said otherwise. He was as smooth and in command as the night he'd first swept you off your feet.

"Such a liar," you whispered, your eyes locked with his. His gaze was intense, as if he could see straight to your soul.

Bruce leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Am I?"

You met his gaze, a challenge in your eyes. "You're just showing off again."

"Only for you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. His movements grew more intimate, the tango becoming a silent conversation between your bodies. Each step was filled with a subtle tension that spoke of the love and trust that existed between the two of you. Despite the chaos of the evening, in this moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world.

The music grew louder, the strings more insistent, as Bruce spun you around the room, the fabric of your dress swirling around your legs like a second skin. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the faint smell of leather from your cloths, but it was the scent of Bruce, the scent of home, that filled your senses.

As the tango grew more intense, the boys' laughter and shouts from the hallway grew fainter, until it was just the two of you, dancing as if the fate of Gotham rested on the beat of your hearts. Bruce's grip was firm, yet gentle, guiding you through the intricate steps with a confidence that was as reassuring as it was thrilling.

With a dramatic dip, he lowered you, your back arching gracefully, your hair brushing the floor. The chandeliers above cast a dizzying pattern of light and shadow across the room, making it feel like you were dancing in the heart of a diamond. For a moment, you were suspended in time, the world around you fading away as you looked into the depths of his eyes.

Then, with surprising gentleness, he pulled you back up, your bodies molding together as one. The music grew softer, the steps more deliberate, as if the world had slowed to match the tempo of your hearts. You could feel the tension in the room shift, the playfulness of earlier replaced by something deeper, something raw and real.

Bruce's hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, his thumb tracing gentle circles. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his chest, the steady beat of his heart. The tango was a dance of passion, and in that moment, it was as if the dance had become a physical manifestation of your love.

The music reached a crescendo, and Bruce spun you out, only to pull you back in, your chests brushing together. The air was charged with energy, and the room seemed to hold its breath as you moved in perfect harmony. Your heart pounded in your chest, the thrill of the dance mirroring the excitement of your early days together, fighting crime side by side.

As the song approached its end, Bruce's steps grew more deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours. He leaned in, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you, but instead, he whispered, "You're right, I am showing off."

You grinned, "Know it," and with that, the dance ended with a dramatic flourish, leaving you both standing in the center of the ballroom, breathless.

The sudden silence was broken by the distant sound of yelling, echoing down the hall. The laughter and shouts grew louder, and you couldn't help but worry that the boys had gotten into some kind of trouble.

You sigh, "Lovely while it lasted." The brief moment of tranquility dissipates as the chaos of your unconventional family life crashes back in.

Bruce's smile grew into a chuckle, his eyes alight with amusement. "Yes, it was," he said, his voice a warm rumble in the quiet room. "But the night is young, and I suspect we'll have more opportunities to dance like that."

The words hung in the air, a promise of future moments of shared intimacy and joy, a stark contrast to the life of shadows and danger they often led. You leaned into him, feeling the strength of his embrace, and whispered, "We shall dance again soon, Mr. Wayne."

With a chuckle, Bruce took a few steps back, his hand still holding yours, and bowed deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. It was a gesture that spoke of respect and affection, a reminder of the gentleman he was beneath the cape and cowl. "I await for it," he said, his voice filled with warmth and mischief. He kissed the back of your hand, his lips lingering for a beat longer than necessary. The touch was electric, sending a jolt through your body and igniting a fire in your soul.

You curtsied in response, your heart racing from the intimacy of the moment. "I'll hold you to that," you whispered, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

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