#i tried to add new ones i swear

[just-a-lil-critter]

beloved, you're so far away

and all I want to do is stay

I can't help but adore you so

lost in the way vermilion eyes glow

burnt notebooks and caramel smoke

we're tied by memories & dreams bespoke

you apologise with words said too late

as we fight through feelings of love and hate

chasing the same dream— to save, to win

I keep fighting to be your everything

side by side even when we're far apart

for you are my home— you are my heart

till then I cherish you in childhood names

hoping someday you'll feel the same

✧.*• The End •*.✧

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[blockedbykei]

𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

🏐 — tsukishima kei x f!reader

— synopsis: tsukishima has always struggled wrapping the stupid bandages on his fingers. the new manager seemed to know how, but his pride was too stuck up for him to ask help. luckily, you knew him too well.

— warnings: swearing, blood

🏐 —

The ball slams onto the squeaky floor, the synthetic leader creasing as it meets the shined court. Tsukishima smirks at his opponents’ quick glance at the rolling ball.

“Was that your best, King?”

“Shut up,” Kageyama sneers. Hinata forbearingly chases after the ball. The blonde smirks, adjusting his glasses.

His legs ache, though he didn't have the care to complain nor request to take a break. Testing his endurance was good—he still had limits to test, he still had so much energy to drain. He wasn't going to waste his time tending for the ache.

Something that he wouldn't mind wasting his time on though, was fixing the bandages around his ring and index finger. They were loosening up, untucked from one another. So he looked at Daichi, motioned to his fingers, and his senior's approving nod permits his body to exit the court and onto the bleachers.

"When was the last time you changed those, bruh?" Tanaka blurts. He rubs his hand on his shaved head, his sweat dripping off his temples. "That shit's dirty."

"Just this morning. I'm not unhygienic." Tsukishima bluntly replies. "It got dirty from the ball. Have you seen that thing? When was the last time you changed those balls?"

Sugawara sits beside him, his towel being patted on his forehead. "Two years ago, probably."

Tsukishima fiddles with the thin straps of his bandages, tucking it underneath the wrapped gauze, but it irritates him when it refuses to stick. So he tries and he tries again; from the court to the bleachers, he thinks. A person could only do so much trying.

"Hey, (l/n)!"

His head snaps towards your direction, seeing you enter with a bag full of refilled water bottles. He'd politely take the bag off your shoulders, showing chivalry to remove the image of his isouciant demeanor. But Daichi had already beaten him, as well as carrying the other two bags brought by Yachi and Shimizu.

His fingers absentmindedly twirl and twirl as he stares from afar. His heart pounds uncremeniously against hist chest, like the sound of continuous free spiking against the court floor. He dislikes the feeling of sudden emotions.

But when you were the end of those emotions, he'd bear his hatred.

And Tsukishima had been staring for too long that he hasn't noticed you approaching him with that kind, everloving smile. He doesn't return it.

"Kei," you softly greet. His first name, never given verbal privilege to say but somehow it just felt right for you to say it. "Struggling with that?"

"Hm? O-oh. Yes," his back straightens, forearm on his knee. You sit down beside him but not beside him. He feels like whining. "Can't get the stupid thing wrapped properly."

"I can help—" you offer.

"I got it," Tsukishima tucks his arm against his chest like it was something you'd steal from him. You laugh through your nose. "Not my first time doing it."

"Just let me help," you wrap your hand on his wrist and yank it towards you, the bandage seamlessly falling off his calloused palm onto your lap. Tsukishima feels heat rising to his ears— feels the obnoxious stares of his teammates smiling teasingly as they bounce the balls from their hands to the floor.

And so your soft fingers caress against his, your thumb in the apex of his palm as you hold his hand firmly. Tsukishima puts the weight of his hand on yours, watching your eyes meticulously follow the movement of your fingers wrapping the dirty bandage around his ring and pinkie finger.

"Your scar looks cool," you say. "Where'd you get that?"

"From, uh, Ushijima's spike during our match against Shiratorizawa." His voice falters with embarrassment. "He was strong. An idiot though," he adds the last remark to aid his ego.

"Wow, Kei complimenting Ushijima."

"Followed by an insult," he looks up at you through his eyelashes and feels like he could collapse on the spot. Suddenly the ache on his legs didn't bother him anymore, like they'd been healed by your essence.

You tuck the bandage in. "He may be strong, but he can't block like you," you take his hand in yours and lightly tap it with the other one before standing up. You pick up a waterbottle from your bag and offer it to him. "Drink up. Can't have you dehydrated."

Tsukishima takes the bottle from you. You smile at him, and the edges of his lips quirk up to give you a half-smile, like some sort of gratitude. And you walk away from him.

He could've done a lot more than just speak like he wasn't thankful for your assistance. Instead he watched you walk away, wistfully.

🏐 —

Stupid fucking fingers.

There's blood dripping on the asphalt ground. Tsukishima hisses, Hinata gasps and covers his mouth.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He had bowed so much his back could break. Tsukishima didn't care, he only wanted to shove his entire fist up Kageyama's laughing ass.

Blocking balls was one thing. Blocking Hinata's spike, however...

"Idiot," he says lowly, though loud enough to enlighten Hinata of his disdain. "Shit, could you be careful next time, Shoyo?"

"What's going on?" You exit the gym, locking it behind you. "Is that blood?"

"Yes! Because this Pipsqueak thought we were on some real match. Spiked it at me when we're only three feet apart!"

"Calm down, Kei."

And then he did. He did calm down. His chest went back to it's steady pace as he clutched his hand, the blood's flow weak. You walk towards him and take his hand in yours, then you drag him to the locker room.

"Please don't tell me your scar opened."

He could laugh at that sentence, then again not everyone knows everything. He shakes his head and rubs his nose. "Just a wound from one of my fingers."

"Okay, sit here." He sits on a chair as you reach for the first aid kit.

Tsukishima likes you.

Straight to the point, he admits it to himself that he likes you, and he's proud of that. He could never admit that to anyone else though. Maybe it's because you were nice, and he couldn't bring himself to be mean to you and if he ever was, you put him in his place. Maybe he likes you because you're beautiful. Not just pretty, but beautiful. And you were skillfull at bandaging his fingers. That hit a special spot in his heart.

You sit on the desk in front of him and he offers his hand willingly, placing it on your thigh. You dabbed the antiseptic covered cotton on his bleeding wound. Tsukishima barely hisses from the pinching pain. Instead, he looks at you from the scratched lens of his glasses.

You look at him, laugh a little, and push his glasses up his nose.

Tsukishima blushes.

"Be careful next time, Kei," you advice, placing the cotton aside and start bandaging up his wound. "You're the smart one in the group. They could all go to shit if you get injured."

"Eh, I have you to heal me," his words slip past his lips before he could think about what he would say. His eyes widen a little. And his blush, could it be from embarrassment as you noticed his reaction, or could it be from the way you smile at him and massage the lines in his palm as a retort.

"You're cute," you raise a brow, tucking the bandage in.

"You wrap my bandages all the time." He puts his hands on his lap. And you still sit there, in front of him, on the desk. "You're my little healer."

"Is "little" an insult or?"

Tsukishima laughs. He laughs. Then he takes your hand and plays with your fingers, his fingertips tracing every ridge, every bump of your hand. You watch him as he does so, feeling yourself smile bigger and bigger at every second.

So he takes that chance to lace your hands together. You both blush, looking away from one another.

"Take it as an insult," he finally says. "Healer? Don't take it as an insult. I'll be calling you that from now on, though."

You roll your eyes, jumping off the desk. "Okay, Kei."

You both leave the locker room, hands still together, and his bandage still intact.

🏐—

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[leftmysoulbythesideoftheroad]

i wish i had more of a sense for time. i think it’s my adhd, but i just can’t keep track. i’m binging a blog and trying to figure out how far back harry potter posts have to be before i can need to block them. like. i want to be fair. i loved harry potter when i was young. when did i find out about rowling being what she is? maybe when i was 22-23? so that’s 6-7 years ago. and i may even be wrong about that because i honestly can’t link it to any other significant event in my life, which is the only truly meaningful way i can keep track of time. like i graduated in 2012 and the most traumatic thing happened to me in 2014, so if i can tie a memory to those events, i know roughly when it took place. but like. what happened in ‘13? fuck if i know. and that’s incredibly frustrating

[lovscb97]

tags: step-brother!park jongseong x fem!reader, d/s dynamics, dom!jay x sub!reader, manipulation lowkey?, implied male masturbation, kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, use of nicknames (baby, princess, jjongie, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), spit kink, begging, daddy kink, unprotected sex (plz don’t), breeding kink, choking, praise kink, creampie, fluff and uncertainty at the end, etc

wc: 4.12k

add. notes: ok i know i said i would Not upload soon much less written work either but guess who lied!!! no but fr my mood was pretty terrible yst morning bcs of some stupid classmates not contributing to group work but u know what i had food n ice cream w my friend n i felt a bit better at the least. it still doesn’t excuse their actions but ya anyways bcs of my peace of mind n bcs i finished my part for my presentation, i present to u a Very long stepbro jay fic hehe.. some parts or sentences may look familiar but that's cus i acc sent them to a blog here as anon messages LMFAO but yea i hope u guys enjoy :3 icon creds to @/purinkiss btw!

. . . 

ever since your parents’ divorce, your entire world shattered. it only got worse when your dad announced he’d be bringing home a new woman, much less one who had a child the same age as you. of course, you disagreed at first, throwing harsh words at him up until the point he forced you to meet the delinquent, dragging you by the arm to the restaurant where you were to have dinner with whoever these random people who were about to become part of your small family circle were. you’d even made a firm promise to yourself to not entertain them and to be petty, whether that translated through snide remarks or rolling your eyes, and you swear you really were going to go through with it—

that is, until you met jay.

jay was nothing like you’d imagined him to be. in your head, your new, soon-to-be stepbrother was an ugly, rude and snobby brat who didn’t give two cents about joining your family, the jay you met in reality though? everything but that. he was sweet, and polite, and absolutely fucking gorgeous; blonde hair swept back with a strand falling over his forehead, lean shoulders outlined in the tight fitting black shirt he’d decided to wear for the occasion, and a smile worth a thousand bucks or even dying for. any words that were previously on the tip of your tongue died down when he took your hand in his to shake it, the soft feel of his skin and his bright grin making your insides positively melt and the thoughts of your parents split dissipate within seconds. 

your stepbrother’s attitude and good looks carried through the months you spent with him too. if anything, it became even more reinforced with him taking care of you whenever you needed him. he’d handle sharp objects for you while making your favourite food, hold your hand on the street if you had to cross the road, carry your bags when they got too heavy, rush in front of the door to open it for you, and so, so much more. you were at a privilege to be able to watch him walk around with nothing but a simple shirt and sweatpants around the house too, shamelessly raking your eyes over his attractive features and boring them into his back when he leaned over the stovetop to cook you ramen. 

part of you felt like a perv, for behaving this way and finding him good looking even if he objectively was. you knew it wasn’t like you could help it, you had eyes and they obviously saw what was in front of you, but you tried shoving it down anyways. it also didn’t help that jay constantly hovered around you and made your relationship out to be so.. domestic. he’d narrow his eyes when he caught you talking on the phone to your friends about your latest hook-up, lecturing you on the use of safe sex and how college boys were no good for you until you were red in the face with embarrassment, or he’d offer for the both of you to hang out together after classes ended for you every other day, draping a blanket over your figures and scooching in close to you up until you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. your dad and his new wife thought nothing of it despite your mind spinning, cooing over how well you two got along and relishing in the fact that their children were such good siblings already.

oh, if only they were aware of the twisted fantasies swirling in jongseong’s mind.

because from the minute jay saw you, he knew he had to have you. your pretty face, your soft-spoken voice, and of course, your fucking body. he felt like he was about to lose his damn mind when he first saw you walk around the house in nothing but skimpy shorts and that stupid pink top that left nothing up to the imagination. to an extent, it almost felt like you were teasing him on purpose, especially when he’d find you seated on the couch with your exposed thighs and the subtle dip of your cleavage peeking through the measly clothes that practically coaxed him to sport a hard-on right then and there. it’d be the dead of night when he’d finally find some relief after a day of watching you parade around the kitchen, wondering what it would feel like to grip your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pull your nose flush to his pelvis with him nestled deep inside your throat. and it was only when jongseong came all over his hand and sheets for the nth time after fantasising about you that he realised he needed to do something about this, whether that went against his moral compass or not.

it started with light touches. 

jay would grasp your shoulder to move past you when you were in the way, barely mumbling an ‘excuse me’ to alert you of his presence so you wouldn’t practically jump out of your skin when he did so. his hand would linger in yours for a second too long when he tried not losing you in crowds, gently commanding you to stay close to him in that stern tone of his that made your panties stick to you. it was common etiquette, you thought, he was just doing his job as a brother would normally do for his sister, but the only thing in jongseong’s mind was to make you let down your guard, let it down so much that he could swoop in at the perfect time to take advantage of it. he knew it was wrong, so sinister and dark to want to fuck his own stepsister to the point the only way he could get it up was to the thought of you, but jay didn’t care about any of that at this point, far too fucked out in his own head to think of having eyes for anyone but you.

and as expected, all throughout this, you didn’t suspect a thing. how could you? jay was so perfect, so well-mannered and so attentive. he listened to you rant about anything trivial in your life and drove you around when you wanted to meet up with your girls. he’d wake up late at night if you had a bad dream, consoling you even through the sight of your tears making him worked up, and rub your back softly when you needed to be taken care of. he’d let you sneak back in the house after you’d told your dad you were going out to the library to study, making up excuses for you when your lies fell short. he had your back, and in turn, you had his, so you would’ve never thought of him as anything but a gentleman and big brother.

until everything he did grew into more. 

until having an arm behind your carseat while looking into the rearview mirror turned into placing his hand on your thigh, inches away from the seam of your skirt. until sitting next to him while watching a movie with a shared blanket turned into him nuzzling against you under the covered fabric. until having dinner with both your parents present at the dinner table turned into his foot grazing against yours ever so slightly.

until your honey-like voice calling out for him to help you get the glass on the top cabinet turned into full blown moans of you getting eaten out on the living room couch, echoing throughout the empty house because of-fucking-course, your parents were out for the night on a dinner date.

you weren’t even sure how it happened. one minute, you were struggling to reach on your tippy toes, your mouth instinctively moving to utter jay’s name because he was the only one besides you at home who could help out, but the next, he was pressing up against you to the point of grinding himself into your ass, causing you both to inhale sharply. you vaguely recall turning around, ready to ask what your stepbrother was doing when you’d caught sight of his darkened eyes, practically eyeing you like a piece of meat. and by the time anything even registered in your mind, his lips were already on yours, and his hand was dragging you over to the couch in record time.

“j-jay, we shouldn’t be doing this.” you stuttered out, your voice meek and quiet as you tried not to roll your eyes back at the sight of him slurping up your juices. he didn’t respond, instead opting to move his mouth up to focus on your clit, sucking it into the hot cavern and rolling his tongue against it to the point it had you seeing stars. you knew it was wrong, going against so many moral standpoints and rules, but god did it feel so good. you quickly came to understand that the jay who was going down on you currently was nothing like the jay who engages with you in your day to day life. that jay is gentle, well-meaning and answers all your questions despite how dumb they may seem. but this jay? he’s fucking filthy, messy to the point you can tell your juices are dribbling down his chin.

“fuck, you taste so good.” he gasps out when he finally decides to pull away. “thought about this so much when jerking off.” your eyes widen at his crude admittance, and you know you really should be disgusted at it, but something about the idea of jay being alone in the darkness of his room, hand wrapped around himself while saying your name under his breath only makes you wet, even more so than you already are. at the back of your mind, something screams at you to stop, but you’ve already gotten a taste of what your stepbrother can provide you, and you’d be damned if you didn’t stick around to find out more about it. 

“this is wrong.” you quietly admit anyways, even if it’s not what you want to say. but jay just hums, leaning down to hover above your figure as his arms cage you in underneath him, doing very little to help the fact of how much smaller you feel below him. his lips ghost the shell of your ear as you shiver at the proximity between you two, and he gently nips at it, leaving you biting your tongue to hold back the noises you long yearn to let out. “i know it is, baby, but doesn’t it feel so fucking good?” jay questions with a low chuckle, pulling away to cock his head to the side. you curse internally at the way the nickname sounds coming from him, a dust of light pink spreading across your cheeks because fuck, how can someone be so alluring at all times?

“don’t you want to feel even better, princess?” jay’s voice draws you out, and you hold back a moan at the way he grinds his clothed bulge against your bare opening, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s slowly convincing you over to the dark side. “don’t you want your big brother to spread this pussy open and fuck it ‘till you’re crying from how good it feels?” you almost nod, trying to resist the urge to buck your hips up to catch the sensation of his lower region against you once more. instead, you choose to turn your face away from his striking gaze staring you down, but jay just grips your jaw and turns you to face him once more, the action only making your insides swirl with delight.

“still, what if your mom and my dad find out?” you mumble, and jay just grins wickedly. he swoops in, dipping his head down to capture your lips in a searing kiss that makes you giddy with joy, sneaking his tongue past the opening of your mouth to lick into it. when he pulls back, there’s a thin line of spit connection you both, prompting you to squirm at the sight to which jay’s chest rumbles with laughter. “you’re so fucking cute, y’know that? been dreaming of having your pretty body underneath me since i met you.” he admits lowly, your wide eyes only spurring him on further. “wanna know what i think?” you slowly nod, unsure of where this is going. jay’s voice drops an octave lower as he leans in close and whispers—

“i think you’re a dirty, little slut who deserves to get fucked by her big brother.”

you can’t help the whimper that escapes you at his words this time, and that’s all the confirmation jay needs to sit up and tear off his shirt, bringing to life all the fantasies you’ve had about his body this entire time. you can’t stop yourself from reaching out a hand to touch him, nails grazing across the ridges of his toned stomach and the dip of his v-line that’s hiding the very thing you’ve been craving under his sweatpants. meanwhile, jay just watches you with lust swirling in his orbs, a small smirk playing at his swollen lips as he takes in the picture of your innocent little face ogling his figure. “you like what you see, don’t you, pretty?” he murmurs, biting his lip at the way you nod in shame. “don’t worry.” jay grunts, standing momentarily to loop his fingers inside the edges of his pants. “you’ll get what you’re craving real soon.” he winks before he’s yanking the only thing separating you both down, exposing himself in all his glory to your awaiting eyes at last. 

“goddamnit, it’s pretty.” you think to yourself when your eyes finally settle on your stepbrother’s dick. the tip is an angry shade of red, dribbling with a few beads of precum that your face falls at when jay swipes them away with his thumb as he wraps his large hand around himself. your disappointment is short-lived, however, because he’s back on top of you soon, holding the very same thumb up to your awaiting mouth to taste, to which you eagerly wrap your lips around, the salty flavour of him invading your senses. “good girl.” jongseong commends as you suckle at the tip of his finger, the praise going straight to your core. he pulls his hand away from you after a short while, that same wet thumb snaking its way down to find your clit and pressing against it, which does nothing but rip a noise of satisfaction from you. jay continues to rub at your engorged nub, his gaze fixated on the sight of your pussy as if he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“shit. i can’t wait any more.” he growls after another second, retracting his hand to wrap it around himself instead, pumping once or twice before he’s pressing the head against your awaiting entrance. you watch with bated breath as he rubs against your folds, slicking up with your oozing juices until your patience starts wearing thin. “jay,” you huff after a minute, legs kicking up in frustration as your stepbrother glances at you teasingly. “what do you want, angel? use your big girl words and tell me.” he smiles, almost innocent to the point you even forget the compromising position you’re both in.

“want.. want you.” you admit shyly, averting your eyes to a forgotten corner in the room as jay tsk’s. “look at me when you speak, whore.” he spits out, his entire demeanour changing in an instant. it only makes you leak even more, and you swallow thickly, eyes pleading. “please fuck me, please. wan’ you to do what you said, spreading me open and using me until i cry, please, please, please. jjongie, daddy, please, i—“

you don’t even get the chance to finish because by the time both the nickname and title leave your mouth, jay has long lost his composure, instantly pushing inside you as he attempts to bottom out his large cock. he hisses at the way your warm walls envelop him, and the only thing you can do is cry out at the way you’re being stretched out to your limit, finally having the emptiness inside you satiated with the presence of your stepbrother’s dick. “fuuuck, that’s it, look at this tiny, little hole sucking me in.” jay curses, and you flare red in embarrassment at his nasty words, ignoring the way they only make you gush around him even more. 

“i’m going to absolutely ruin you, baby.” is the only thing jay says before he’s pulling out and slamming himself back into you, leaving you to cry out as his mushroom tip instantly hits that one spot deep inside. his thrusts are erratic, filled with a fervour none of the other guys you’ve ever slept with had, and you think the way he’s fucking you now is definitely going to rectify his promise of fucking you until you’re crying, the occasion seeming to be very well on its way of happening. 

“fuck, there is no way this is the last time we’re doing this.” jay groans, the noise of skin slapping and your moans echoing throughout the living room as he continues absolutely drilling you. each drag of his cock drives into you with sheer power and raw desire to completely destroy you it seems, and you’re sure nobody is ever going to top it. “gonna use you everywhere, every time i please. you want that too, don’t you? tell me you do, princess. tell me and daddy will fuck you like he means it every single time.” he blurts out. the only way you can respond is through incoherently mumbling and the nodding of your head, far too dazed out already at the way your stepbrother is pounding into you, which only draws a breathy laugh from jay. “seems i’ve fucked you dumb already, huh? cock that good? so good it’s got my baby all dumb?” he taunts. you only whine at his words, drool spilling out from the side of your lips which jay wipes off with a chuckle.

“i’m already close, god.” he sighs, his movements unrelenting and balls tightening with the way they slap against your ass. “want me to cum inside you? for daddy to breed this pussy full? maybe i should do it and make you walk around with my seed lodged deep in your messy cunt.” jay hisses, his hand snaking it ways to your neck as he continues talking. “bet you’d like that ‘cause you’re a filthy fucking bitch. letting your stepbrother fuck your tight cunt as he pleases.” slender fingers wrap around the skin and tighten their grip slightly to restrict your airflow, and that’s all it takes to abruptly push you over the edge, leaving you dropping your mouth open in a silent scream as you cum. jay continues fucking you through your high, making out your small mewls amongst the lewd sounds of his cock shoving into your hole. 

“good girl, good fucking girl. did so well for me, came so much all for daddy. you’re so, so good to me, princess. fuck, i love you.” jay blabbers as he lets go of your neck, too lost in chasing his own peak to even realise what he’s just admitted. you don’t catch it fully either in your haze of overstimulation that he continues to fuck you through, but some unconscious part of you mutters it back as best as you can somehow. jay’s heart swells at the way you take him, so small and pliant for him to just use for his own good, and he leans in to smash his lips against yours, drinking in your loud sounds as his movements start to falter with his upcoming release washing over him. 

“just a bit more, pretty, just a bit. such a good fucking girl for daddy, letting him use your body, fuck. i’m gonna cum deep inside you, angel. gonna reward you with my cum. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? like me to creampie this precious hole?” jay stammers out, the coil in his stomach close to snapping. he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up his exterior, sweat dripping down his forehead and closed eyes as his tired hips continue ramming his cock into you. he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, cracking his orbs open to find your fucked out face mumbling for his cum, your legs wrapping against his waist to keep him locked into you. 

“cum in me, daddy, please cum in me. wan’ your cum, i’ll take it like a good girl. please, daddy.” you babble, and that’s all it takes to send jay over the edge too, loud groans leaving his mouth as he shoots thick ropes of white inside your walls, painting them with his release. he cums for what feels like forever, holding your body close to his as his cock throbs inside your spasming cunt that’s still greedily sucking him in, urging him to fill you up. he finally stops after seemingly a good minute, panting against your neck where he’s buried his face into as he lets the post-orgasm bliss wash over himself.

“fuck,” jay heaves a breath once he’s finally recovered, making sure to use his softening cock to keep you plugged up in fear his cum will drip down and stain the couch, much less make your scandalous activities known to both your parents. he knows he’s going to have to face the reality of everything soon, but for now, he chooses to ignore it, propping himself up with an arm as he takes a look at your tired face that’s still so beautiful even after he basically fucked you within an inch of your life.

“you okay?” he asks softly after a while, prompting you to open your eyes and look up at him. there’s so much love and adoration in them that it makes jay feel all gooey inside, and when you nod with a small smile on your lips, he can’t help but lean back in and kiss you, desperately wishing this won’t be the last time he feels your mouth on his. “you think we made a mess?” you wonder out loud with a giggle once he’s pulled away, and jay just laughs breathlessly at you, brushing a strand of loose hair out of your face to take a proper look. “i’ll clean it up if so, don’t worry, baby.” he reassures in a quiet voice, leaving you to hum in agreement as a response.

“jay.” 

“hm?”

“..what now?” 

jay inhales when you bring forth the question he doesn’t have an answer to, looking down at you to find your worried expression staring back at him. he coos when you jut out your bottom lip, brushing a thumb against your cheek smoothly as he sighs. “don’t worry about that now, princess. just sleep.” he murmurs. 

he can tell you’re not entirely satisfied with his admission, and that you want to say something more, but even if you do, you choose not to, instead opting to follow his advice and shutting your eyes by letting the fatigue from what you’d just been through take over your body. jongseong watches as you slowly close off your thoughts and mind, gently resting his body weight on top of you in favour of pulling you closer. he tries to avoid thinking of the inevitable that’ll come to wake him up, but he’ll deal with that later, choosing to bask in this moment with you for as long as he can before he has to face reality. instead, he presses a small kiss to your cheek, nuzzling it with his nose before closing his own eyes. he eventually drifts off to dreamland, where his thoughts will still be filled with your face.

. . . 

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[bluerosefox]

Assassin Heir? Crime Fighting Furry? NOPE NO THANK YOU!

"Danyal, its time to end this game and return with me."

Danny should had known Clockwork had something in mind when he sent him on this mission. He knew he should had been suspicious of the time keeper when he noticed the little 'this is going to be fun' smile on his face when he sent Danny off into the portal.

"Get back here you demon spawn 2.0!"

But how was he supposed to know that he'd wake up in this world version of himself in a pit full of corrupted (AND NASTY) ectoplasim at the tender age of five or that when he swam up to the surface he'd be meeting face to face with what was apparently a cult.

"-O just spotted him a block away! I'll try to cut itty bitty bridie off!"

An Assassins Cult his, new to him, loving yet a little insane mother was in charge of (though during the few months he stayed in the compound he heard rumors and gossip from maids and others alike that if his grandfather returned from the dead he'll take over once again, no doubt punish Talia for creating another heir after the failure of the last one, most likely was going to kill Danny and that... that was can of worms Danny didn't wanna deal with yet)

"Ten bucks says they try to stab RR when we get the feral thing home"

"...Losers bet...."

Danny had lived with his mother for a while after being brought back from the 'dead' for apparently the first time, it turned out training a five year old with an actual sword and a dumbass hidden revenge seeking teacher was a terrible idea.

"I swear if this one tries to murder me like the others I'm asking Zatanna if there is a curse on me."

He dealt with her high demands of perfection, the endless training, and the constant comparisons to his apparent older brother Damain... Who didn't know Danny, or rather Danyal existed.

Nor did his father (when Danny, using his powers he's kept hidden since 'waking' up in this Realm, he sneaked his way around the base and discovered how he came into the world. And tbh he couldn't blame his mom how she made him, she was an assassin first and foremost, being naturally pregnant would had painted a target on her for to long... but he also felt it was unfair and an asshole move on his unsuspecting father as well)

"As your elder brother I demand you to stop running!"

Now don't get him wrong, he did like his new mother (total badass assassin lady and all that) and he knew she loved him in her own... deadly way. But yeah, she really shouldn't be taking care of kids. He could tell she struggled with wanting to be a normal mother but her first instinct after so many years was to be an assassin first.

Something she was trying to engrave into Danny with as well.

"Ah, hello Beloved. I see you've learned of our Danyal."

"Talia. Back away from him and leave Gotham now."

"I can not do that. The League needs an heir and since Damian refuses to return... I have decided to create a new one and I shall not be leaving until he returns with me."

"Talia."

Hence why when Danny, or rather Danyal al Ghul had gotten decent control over his powers he decided to leave the League. Again nothing wrong with the life his mom leads, to each their own, but he... really, really didnt want to be an assassin. Or an assassin heir.

So here he was, after almost a year on the run, using his powers and training to out smart and out maneuver his mother and her many band of Assassins, in Gotham. One of the last places he ever wanted to run to cause he knew his father and brother lived here.

It was just his luck that his mother had managed to intercept his train ride that passed into Gotham for a few hours and forced him to run into the city...

Add her assassins into the mix and running into Robin, who heard from Oracle his mother had been spotted chasing a young boy across the city, that same night.

After that it became a full on "catch me if you can" chase for not only his mother but for the batclan as well.

And after two whole days of chase, it seemed like the final showdown was about to begin because everyone was on top of this rooftop, his mother and her assassins on one side, his father and the batclan on the other and Danny well... he was right in the middle of all of it.

He just had to hope no one would notice him once the fighting started...

[coryndoll]

hate to be lame

rafe cameron x reader

— in which y/n, caught in a situationship with rafe, struggles to admit she might love him, constantly holding back her feelings while fearing that confessing could make things more complicated.

inspired by: “hate to be lame” (major) & “ceilings” (minor) by lizzy mcalpine

warnings: super long omfg, me treating this like a music video again LMAO, situationships, swearing, mention of drug use, no hard concepts just rafe who can’t commit to you (yet)

authors note: this has been in the works for a good few weeks lowkey. i literally studied lizzy mcalpine mvs top to BOTTOM to rly portray this mini story as best as i can. hope u guys enjoy!!

i tried to add as much as i could for ppl to notice (hopefully), but ESPECIALLY like parallels of the beginning n the end of the oneshot with the opening of the door and saying “hey”!! i wanted this to be little short film core

your room is cold, and you feel your fingers tingling as you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. the clock ticks softly, but each minute feels slower than the last.

you aren’t sure why, but today you’re more anxious than usual, counting down the seconds until rafe shows up. it’s not like you have any real plans, just the usual aimless drive or hanging out.

but the thought of seeing him again—his smile, the way he looks at you, even when he’s not saying anything—makes waiting almost unbearable.

you’ve been more than friends but less than boyfriend and girlfriend for the past five months now. you know it’s wrong, but you know you’ll do the same thing you’ll be doing until you reach six months: push it aside and just enjoy the moment.

you can’t tell if rafe is only there for the pleasure, but if that’s the case then you wouldn’t be hearing about his dreams or the way he struggles with trust. and you’re foolish enough to believe that maybe he’s just scared, and that’s why he can’t commit.

right on time, his texts come in one after the other.

‘ hey ’

‘ otw ’

‘ 5 minutes ’

a faint smile tugs at your lips as you send him a quick ‘okay,’ watching the message sit there, unread. but when the notification changes to ‘read’ and there’s no reply, you drop your phone on your bed and get up.

just as you’re finishing, the faint sound of a knock echoes through the house, and you know that it’s him. you head downstairs quickly, and when you finally reach the front door, your hand hesitates on the handle, but you push them down and swing it open, revealing him standing there. his gaze flickers over you, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“hey,” he says.

and there’s that smile again, “hey.”

rafe’s ring-clad hand grips the steering wheel tightly, veins visible beneath his skin as his knuckles flex. his other arm is draped out the open window, resting easily on the door. you glance over at him, watching the way he seems so effortless behind the wheel, like he was born to be in control, and the engine hums beneath you.

you can’t help but steal glances at him, the way his jaw sets when he focuses, the flicker of light as it catches on his ring every time he turns the wheel. you wonder if he knows how these small details, the smallest shifts in his posture, have started to consume your thoughts.

you know what this is supposed to be—casual, undefined—but sitting here, so close to him, makes it harder to convince yourself that it’s just that. just casual.

and sometimes it makes you wonder—does he feel it too? does he fight the same pull you do?

you and rafe end up at a two-story building, bright and welcoming downstairs. it’s one of those places you’d mentioned a few times, new on the island, somewhere you’d been dying to try.

upstairs, you grab a table in the open air, no roof above, just the sky. pillars hold up a net laced with flowers and plants, the same ones woven into the building’s logo on the far wall. a bar counter curves along that wall, half-circling it. it’s gorgeous.

you’re laughing, enjoying lunch with him. he looks beautiful, just by being there, the way he always has. doesn’t matter what you are—friends, strangers, stuck in this limbo of a situationship—you’ve always felt this way about him.

rafe leans forward, arms crossed on the table, telling you a story that keeps you laughing, each detail funnier than the last.

eventually, the day drifts into the afternoon, and you find yourselves in town, just hanging out. you drag him into a bookstore, then a music store, even a museum, wandering from place to place. hours later, when you’re hungry again, you make a quick stop a small convenience store.

you’re tucking your phone into your purse when you glance outside, noticing the sky’s turned dark, and more importantly, it’s raining.

“alright, catch you later, simon. thanks!” rafe says, grabbing the snacks off the counter. he raises his free hand in a quick wave as he turns, glancing down at you with a smirk while you follow him out.

rafe hands you your snacks, and you take them with a small smile, watching him closely to see his reaction when he realizes it started raining while you were inside. his brows raise as he looks outside, then down at you again. both of you are thinking the same thing—you parked a block away, and now you’ll have to rush to the car without getting soaked.

you pop a piece of candy in your mouth, staring at the rain across the street, when rafe reaches out. “c’mon,” he murmurs, and you take it without hesitation.

the two of you make a break for it, trying to walk as fast as possible without slipping or getting in the way of traffic. the rain pelts down around you, but you’re laughing, and rafe’s grinning as you both duck under the first marquee for cover.

you both continue walking, the car finally coming into view just up ahead. he has to jog around to get to the driver's side. as he moves, you step out from under the last marquee and into the rain, letting it soak through your clothes and into your skin. you tilt your head up, eyes clamped shut, nose scrunched, savoring the moment, even if it’s just a few seconds of quiet, cold rain.

“get in the car,” rafe calls out, his voice cutting through the sound, and you glance over at him, already opening the door.

you shoot him a look, digging into your bag of candy, before tossing a piece at him like he’s ruined the moment. it bounces off his shoulder and he slides into the car without another word, but you can tell he’s amused. with a sigh, you climb into the passenger seat, still dripping wet.

before you know it, the car slows, the tires crunching against the gravel as rafe pulls up to his house. it’s massive, even more so than you remember. cold and impressive, it stands there like a fortress—his world.

for a second, you’re lost in thought. rafe pulls into the garage, parking to avoid the rain still pouring outside. he gets out, crumpling the empty chip bag in his hand, twisting off the lid to his drink with the other to take a few gulps before shutting the car door.

you linger inside a bit longer, popping another candy into your mouth as your eyes wander around the camerons’ garage—messy, yet somehow still clean and wide open.

rafe rounds the front of the car, heading for the door that leads into the house. without a word, he slips inside, leaving you behind in the garage. he does leave his keys on the table beside the door, trusting you to lock the car for him since you’re still in there.

you sit there a moment, your head tilting as you look over at the driver’s seat, replaying the small moments in your mind—running across the street in the rain, how he’s paid for you, or the simple ‘hey’ when he picked you up earlier.

a small, soft smile touches your lips before you finally get out of the car. you crush the candy wrapper in your fist, grab the keys to lock the car, and slip inside the house, the garage door clicking shut behind you.

after hours of being at the cameron’s, only the soft patter of raindrops now begins tapping against the glass, just as you settle into the familiar bay window. you tuck your legs beneath you, leaning your head against the window frame as you stare out into the backyard.

you’ve sat here so many times before—usually with sarah, the two of you giggling about nothing in particular, watching the sky and talking about anything. but tonight, it’s just you and rafe.

the house feels quieter without her, without anyone really, except for the occasional murmur of rafe’s voice as he takes his phone call from the other room. he was quick to excuse himself when the phone rang, retreating upstairs where you couldn't overhear. not that you’d pry, but it’s not like you don’t know about rafe’s involvement with deals in the outerbanks, drugs, cash, or both. you turn a blind eye.

he walks back into the room eventually, his footsteps quiet but still pulling your focus from the window. you feel him glance at you, almost like he's about to say something, but he hesitates when he notices the way you’re sitting there, staring out at the rain.

he knows you too well—years of history have given him that advantage, not just the past few months of this undefined mess you're both tangled in. he’s seen you like this before, especially today, always itching to be outside when the rain falls, drawn to it in a way he’s never really understood.

without a word, he walks over to the door leading to the backyard. the soft creak of the door handle catches your attention, pulling you from your thoughts. you watch as he stands there for a moment, his hand resting on the doorframe, looking at you.

no words pass between you, but the way he gestures outside, a playful tilt of his head, says everything. it’s almost like a silent ‘after you’ as if he’s jokingly daring you to go out into the rain.

a smile breaks across your face, and before you know it, you’re up. you brush past him, feeling his presence right behind you as you step outside. the cool rain meets your skin, soaking into your clothes almost instantly, but you don’t care. rafe is close, following you out into the yard, his chuckle barely audible over the sound of the rain as it picks up.

the two of you don’t need to say anything. you just move, running across the wet grass, spinning around to feel the individual drops as they fall on your face. you pause every now and then, standing in place, arms spread out wide to feel the rain cover you like a blanket. but the peace never lasts long before rafe is at your side again, tackling you to the ground with a sudden burst of energy. you both fall, rolling across the grass in a fit of laughter, his weight pressing into you briefly before you push him off with a shove.

you end up on your backs, lying there side by side in the rain. your breath comes in short bursts from all the laughing, and there’s a calmness that settles over the two of you. you turn your head to look at him, and there’s something in the way he looks back at you, rain dripping down his face. it’s just you and him, the world around you disappearing into the sound of the rain, the hum of your heartbeat in your ears.

in that moment, you feel something deeper. something that goes beyond the undefined territory you’ve been navigating for months. there’s a connection—stronger than before, pulling you in, making you wonder how you ever let yourself fall this far. you feel it with every glance, every brush of his hand against yours as you lay there.

and then, almost without warning, it’s over. you’re in the car again, the engine quietly rumbling as rafe drives you home. the rain hasn’t let up, the windshield wipers swishing back and forth, and the streetlights blur past as you sit in silence.

you sit in the passengers seat, wrapped in rafe’s oversized hoodie, the warmth of it settling against your skin, but the comfort feels fleeting. your clothes had been drenched from the rain, and now, you’re dressed in his.

you don’t want it to end. when you were out there with him, laughing in the rain, time seemed to stretch. it was simple, effortless—like the world stopped just for you. you find yourself wishing it could stay that way, even for just a little longer.

but now, here you are, in his car, the night creeping closer to its end as he drives you home. you rest your head against the seat, staring out at the blurry glow of the streetlights through the rain-streaked windows. in your mind, the memories play on repeat, each one a familiar echo of nights like this.

there’s a pattern—you recognize it now. the closeness, the laughter, the silence when neither of you acknowledges what this really is. a situationship, something more than friendship but never quite a relationship. yet, despite it all, you don’t care. being with him in this confusing, undefined space feels better than being without him.

the car slows as he pulls up to your house, and the quiet reality hits. you glance at him, but he doesn’t say anything, just pulls out his phone when he gets a phone call, but he glances at you when you just sit there. it’s enough. you step out into the cool air, the dampness of the rain lingering in the night as you head inside.

the house is quiet, save for the faint clink of dishes in the kitchen. you walk in, and as you make your way to the fridge, your mom looks up from the counter, her eyes catching on your borrowed clothes. “whose clothes are those?” she asks, her voice casual but curious.

you shrug, opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. “rafes,” you reply simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you don’t stick around for her reaction, turning and heading for the stairs, the sound of your footsteps fading as you make your way up.

as soon as you reach your room, you dive onto your bed and roll onto your back. your phone buzzes in your pocket, pulling your attention. with a sigh, you pull it out and open a group chat with your friends. for a second, your fingers hover over the screen, and then, without thinking too much, you begin typing.

how do you know when ur in

your fingers pause over the last word. the L word. it feels too heavy, too real to even finish typing. your thoughts stumble, second-guessing. do you really want their advice on this? what would they even say? maybe it’s not something your friends can help you with. not this.

with a slight shake of your head, you delete the message, watching the cursor blink on an empty screen before you lock your phone and drop it onto your chest.

just nights later, you get word that some pogues are throwing a party at the boneyard, but it’s not just any—it’s sarah’s friends.

you look over to rafe as he gets out of the car, his eyes scanning the beach. topper and kelce are already talking by the car, but rafe’s focus is sharp, as if nothing really starts until he steps into the mix.

he walks around to your side, opening the door and offering his hand. you take it so he can help you out of the car. his grip is firm, the way he holds you close as you step onto the soft sand beneath your shoes.

his arm is slung across your shoulder, and he gives you a playful shake as he leads the way toward the party.

even though he doesn’t say a word, the pressure of his touch says enough. it’s protective, almost possessive, like he’s staking a claim. you glance at him.

he wants you close, needs you to be within his reach, and you know it’s not just casual. it’s the way he is, the way he’s always been with you—controlling, protective. he walks slightly ahead, his arm guiding you forward as if he’s leading you, ensuring you’re exactly where he wants you to be.

and despite the way your body tenses beneath his touch, despite the chill that runs through you as his fingers press into your back, you let him. you tell yourself it’s just rafe being rafe—always wanting control, always needing to know where you are. it’s intoxicating in a way, the way he holds you there, the way he’s so sure that you belong with him.

your skin prickles, not because you’re afraid, but because there’s a part of you that knows this isn’t normal—this isn’t how it should feel. yet, despite that little voice in the back of your mind, you follow him. you always do.

you make your way into the heart of the party with your friends. the air smells like salt and smoke, laughter and music filling the space between the flickering bonfires. rafe’s hand slips from yours, but he doesn’t stray far, keeping close as he weaves his way through the crowd.

people greet him—some with a nod, some with a smile—but it’s like there’s an invisible line drawn around the two of you, keeping the rest of the world at arm’s length. and you don’t mind. not when it feels this good.

it doesn’t take long before rafe comes back with some drinks, and without missing a beat, he pulls you in closer to him. you laugh, sip your drink, and enjoy the chaos of the night, but there’s a quiet satisfaction that hums underneath it all. it’s the feeling of practically being his—of knowing that he knows it too.

the night spirals into a blur. somewhere between the music and the shots, you’ve lost count of how much you’ve had to drink. the warmth of the alcohol buzzes through your veins, making everything feel softer, the edges of reality blurring. but topper is there to catch you when you start to sway just a little too much.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice warm as a faint smile appears on his face.

“yeah, just a little tipsy,” you giggle, leaning into him, feeling the world tilt slightly.

as the night wears on, you find yourself laughing at everything, dancing wildly under the stars, the sound of waves crashing nearby blending with the music. but by the end of the night, it’s clear you’re done. you’re not sure if it’s the drinks or the way rafe is nowhere to be seen half of the time.

“this party is lame,” rafe comments as he finds you, topper, and kelce by a bonfire. he’s holding one of the red solo cups but he’s uninterested.

kelce shrugs, “to you, maybe. ‘cause there’s no snow.”

rafe weaves his way through the boys to reach you. “you’re staying with me tonight,” he says, and you don’t argue. you just nod, letting him guide you to the car, his hand gripping yours like an anchor.

once you reach his car, he opens the door for you, his hand lingering on your waist as you slide into the passenger seat. “you really had a good time, huh?” he teases, starting the engine.

“best night ever,” you reply, a goofy grin spreading across your face. you look over at him, feeling a warmth blooming in your chest, the alcohol making everything feel more intense. you just wish you saw more of him that night.

when you arrive at his house, he helps you out of the car. you stumble slightly but he catches you. “easy, easy,” he mutters, leading you inside.

even when his words are dry, and his touch is barely there, you cling to moments like this, convincing yourself it means something.

still, being this close feels good. it always does. you want to tell him—everything. to spill out the truth that’s been gnawing at you for weeks, months. but you know better. don’t ruin the moment, you think, your teeth worrying your bottom lip. it’s too good to ruin. too fragile to risk.

you want to tell him everything, to let it all out. but you can’t. not when he’s like this, not when he looks at you like nothing’s changed.

and now, you’re lying in his bed, the room spinning just a little. the pillows are soft beneath your head, and rafe is standing at the edge of the bed, watching you. his expression is unreadable, but there’s a slight furrow in his brow, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“just get some rest. you’ll feel better in the morning,” he says.

he’s standing over you, and for a moment, your thoughts are louder than the room. he looks at you like he always does—unreadable. it feels like the words are stuck, heavy and burning at the back of your throat. maybe he already knows. he has to. with how often you’re by his side, how you’ve never left, even when he’s cold and distant. it’s so obvious, isn’t it?

“okay. thank you for taking care of me,” you murmur, your words slurring slightly, the alcohol clouding your mind. you look at him, trying to read his expression, wanting to see something—anything—that suggests he cares.

you bite your tongue, trying to keep it all inside, but then the words start slipping, slow at first, like they have a mind of their own. “i love—”

you catch yourself, the words teetering on the edge of your lips. your heart races as you realize what you almost let slip, a rush of fear flooding through you. what are you doing? your heart is pounding and you feel like within a second, you’re able to turn completely sober.

silence. it’s so loud it’s almost suffocating. you force yourself to look up, desperately searching his face for a reaction, anything. but there’s nothing. his expression doesn’t change, not even a flicker of surprise or discomfort. just that same calm, indifferent look he always has.

it’s like he didn’t even register it—or something worse.

“go to sleep,” he says, his voice flat. he takes a step back, glancing towards the door, like he’s already moving on. “i’ll be back.”

all you can do is nod, your heart still racing from the near-slip. “okay,” you whisper, and you pull the blanket tighter around you.

you can’t breathe. you can’t move. your heart is still racing as you watch him leave, the door closing softly behind him. you sink back into the bed, pulling the covers over yourself, but the warmth is gone.

your head spins with everything unsaid, and you can’t shake the feeling that it’s too late.

he doesn’t care. he doesn’t care the way you do. the words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken. a chill runs down your spine as you replay the moment in your head, the way he dismissed your feelings without even a second glance.

he doesn’t care that you almost admitted you loved him? that, or . . . yeah, rafe already knows. and in some way, that scares you more than anything.

you can remember the first time you met rafe—back when you were kids, in middle school. you’d known of the cameron family, but you’d never been around enough to meet rafe specifically. for so long, it felt like you were in two different worlds. but in middle school, rafe finally noticed you, only to say something rude.

it stung, but you were kids. that was the odd beginning of your friendship. it was rough at first, barely getting along most of the time as barely acquaintances. still, you liked being friends with sarah, even if she was a few years younger. you two weren’t super close because of the age gap, but once you hit high school, you didn’t mind looking out for her when she needed it.

only then did rafe approach you again since middle school. he told you to stay away from his sister, as if you were some kind of bad influence. you weren’t, and you told him as much, calling him stupid. that was the end of it—for that day, at least.

you two shared more classes that junior year than you would’ve liked, which meant seeing him nearly every day. you never went out of your way to be rude unless he started it, and he always did. if he saw you, he usually took the chance to say or do something to get under your skin. still, it wasn’t like he was out to get you—it was more like an unspoken routine.

things only lightened up in senior year. you ended up helping him at some volunteer event he didn’t want to go to, and neither did you. you’d brought a flask, figuring it would take the edge off the boredom, and it helped break the ice between you two.

by the next week, you crossed paths again. you drove yourself to and from school, but your tire went flat one day, probably from driving over something sharp in the parking lot while pulling in during the morning.

you didn’t know how to change it, and as luck would have it, rafe spotted you on his way to his friend’s car. he stopped and helped you out. ever since that day, it felt like something shifted, and the foundation for your friendship started to take root.

“y/n,” rafe calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. you immediately turn to your window, tearing off your blankets as you make your way over to peek between the blinds.

there he is, leaning casually against the door of his truck, chewing some gum and fiddling with the wrapper. without wasting time, you rush to pull on your shoes and grab your bag, ready to head out.

now, you’re leaning against the rail of kelce’s boat, staring into your cup as the wind whips around you. it’s the usual sandbar party, and you’re already en route, cruising across the water.

the sun is bright, forcing you to squint when you glance up, scanning the boat for familiar faces. kooks everywhere—laughing, drinking, pre-gaming before the afternoon on the beach. in one hand, you clutch your drink and a pair of sunglasses, in the other, your phone.

you absentmindedly toss your hair off your shoulder, then peer over the rail to watch the water rush past beneath you. two people approach—a boy and a girl, probably friends of kelce’s since everyone got an invite to ride with him.

they linger nearby, the girl shifting nervously until she finally speaks up, “i like your top.” her words come out fast, almost as if she’s afraid you won’t hear her.

you glance her way, taking her in with a brief nod. “i like your . . . shoes,” you reply, offering a small smile. the girl’s wearing sneakers—not exactly the best choice for a day at the beach, but you’re just poking fun.

she seems to miss the teasing tone, accepting the compliment with a hesitant, “thanks.”

the boy steps forward now, smoothly joining the conversation. “how long you been in the outer banks?” he asks, like it’s no big deal, just another casual question.

you tilt your head slightly, thinking for a moment. “most of my life. you and your girl new to the island?”

the boy looks quickly at the girl, and she immediately looks away. “no, we’re just friends,” he says, glancing back at you while you watch them both closely. there’s something unspoken between them, though—especially when the girl throws him a quick, hurt look. clearly, there’s more to their story.

you extend your hand, breaking the tension. “y/n.”

“jasper,” he says, shaking your hand, and for a moment, his gaze locks with yours. but your attention quickly shifts to the girl beside him. you hold out your hand, waiting for her introduction, and after a brief pause, she reaches out.

“i’m isabelle,” she mumbles softly, her voice almost getting lost in the wind.

you give her a genuine smile. the teasing earlier probably didn’t help, but this feels like a better moment. you shake her hand, but something catches your eye. the light glints off the bracelet on her wrist, a delicate piece of jewelry that stands out against her skin. instinctively, you pause, twisting her hand gently to get a better look.

“that’s really pretty,” you say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. isabelle looks a little flustered, glancing down at the bracelet herself before offering an awkward smile.

“my mom gave it to me recently,” she explains, her voice soft, almost like she’s revealing something personal.

you raise your eyebrows, nodding like you figured. “she has good taste,” you say, pulling your hand away and giving her a playful grin. “i wish i had one like that.”

isabelle smiles, this time with a bit more warmth, as you take a sip of your drink. beside you, jasper checks his beer can, frowning slightly.

“i’m out,” he says, looking toward where kelce and rafe are talking. “kelce said he had some in the cooler. be right back.”

you watch him go, your eyes drifting toward rafe as he talks with kelce. for a second, you catch him looking at you, the briefest flicker of attention before he refocuses on jasper approaching. jasper’s probably asking where the cooler is.

you glance over at isabelle, who’s now standing beside you, her posture awkward, her drink clutched tightly in her hand.

you tilt your head at her, curiosity getting the better of you. “is he sure that you and him are just friends?”

isabelle looks startled, her eyes widening as she whips back around to face you, blinking rapidly like she’s been caught off guard. she looks away, the blush creeping into her cheeks as she stares down at her drink.

“he’s sure,” she mumbles, her voice small. “i’m not.”

you wince. the way she said it, the quiet frustration—it all sounds way too familiar. but you wave the thought off. it’s not about you right now.

isabelle looks at you, her lips twitching upward in a shy smile. “i’ve liked him since we were kids,” she admits, the words spilling out now like she’s been holding onto them for too long. “we’re only here for the summer, and our parents are best friends with kelce’s, so . . . i don’t know. it’s just complicated. i don’t think he can even read any of the hints i throw at him.”

you place a delicate hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. “well, if he doesn’t see that, then he’s stupid,” you say with a small smile, your tone light but firm. “seriously, he’s an idiot if he can’t tell.”

you give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “he’ll either figure it out, or you’ll find someone who’s not blind,” you say, shrugging. “either way, you’ve got it.”

isabelle shakes her head and looks down at her drink, swirling it gently, the ice clinking softly against the plastic cup. she’s quiet for a second, like she’s not sure if she should even bother saying the rest. but then she lets out a sigh, giving in.

“you know,” she starts, voice low but steady, “sometimes i wonder if he even notices. like, i’ve tried. i really have. but sometimes i feel like he’s just choosing not to see it. maybe it’s easier for him that way, not having to deal with what comes next. and . . . what if i’m wasting all this time waiting for something that’s never going to happen? that scares me the most. i don’t want to look back and feel stupid for hoping.”

isabelle glances up, her brows furrowed, a soft laugh escaping her that sounds more like a breath of frustration. “but what really gets me is the fear of losing him completely. like, what if this—this friendship, or whatever it is—is all we’re meant to be? if i tell him, and he doesn’t feel the same . . . i ruin everything. so maybe i should just keep this, even if it’s not everything i want, than lose him altogether.”

you listen in silence, your chest tightening as isabelle’s words sink in. you nod slightly, acknowledging how close to home they hit. it’s like she’s pulled the thoughts straight from your own mind and laid them out between you.

all those late nights you spent wondering the same thing about rafe, the moments you brushed aside the hints you were giving him, thinking it was easier for him not to notice. you regret the other night at the party. that’s probably the furthest you’ve gotten to practically telling him how you feel.

because dealing with what comes after—if there is even any after—would change everything. maybe you’re scared of that too. of ruining whatever it is you already have, even if it’s not enough anymore.

isabelle takes an innocent sip of her drink, like she hadn’t just spilled her deepest fears. she glances around, shrugging softly. “anyway, that’s how my love life is going.” she laughs, but it’s hollow, like she’s trying to play it off as nothing, like it doesn’t really matter.

you don’t respond right away. instead, you find yourself staring at her, watching as she shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to do with the vulnerability she just shared. your gaze drifts, following the trail of sunlight dancing over the water as the boat cuts through it.

isabelle’s words replay in your mind, over and over, threading together with every uncertain feeling you’ve been holding onto about rafe. you’ve been walking this fine line with him for what feels like forever, stuck between wanting more and being afraid of losing what you already have. and now, you’re not sure which way you’re leaning anymore.

you pause for a moment, thinking. the words hang on your tongue, but you’re not sure if you should ask. finally, you look at isabelle, your voice careful, like you’re testing the waters. “so you’re just never gonna tell him?” you ask, the question feeling like it’s aimed at both of you.

isabelle shakes her head quickly, like she didn’t mean for it to sound that definite. “no, not never,” she says, shrugging. “this isn’t something i’d take to my grave or anything. maybe when we’re older, when things aren’t so clustered for us right now. i think if we were around each other more often, maybe then i’d say something, but that’s not something i can risk under our circumstances right now.”

you just nod, absorbing her words. there it is—that’s what sets you and isabelle apart.

you get it, the fear of telling someone how you feel, whether it’s like or love, especially when the timing is off or the distance makes it easier to hide. but you and rafe? there’s no distance, no gap keeping you apart. you’ve been inseparable for years, always around each other, no excuses. and yet, here you are.

you blink a few times, but you don’t say anything, the weight of it settling between you and isabelle like a silent understanding. you both turn your attention to the horizon as the boat nears the shore of an island not far from figure eight.

you lean into rafe’s side, his arm draped casually across your shoulder, pulling you in closer, while he talks to the group—kelce, topper, isabelle, jasper—all standing around in a loose circle.

laughter flows freely, and the air smells like sunscreen and the salt of the ocean. people all around have set up umbrellas, towels, coolers—transforming the stretch of beach into a party that’s as chaotic as it is carefree. music blares from portable speakers, the kind you feel in your chest, vibrating through the sand.

volleyball games erupt further down the beach, and the sound of drunken laughter and splashing water fills the air as people float lazily on oversized inflatables.

someone cheers as a girl stumbles down to the water, pulling up her shirt in a flash of skin before diving in, the moment met with more hollering and clapping. it's all easy, light—everyone’s just letting loose, and you’re swept up in it.

you find yourself spending most of the afternoon alongside isabelle, both of you lounging in the sun, sipping drinks and sharing amused glances as the day carries on. there’s this unspoken ease between you now, something that started back on the boat. you talk without pressure, just floating through the day’s moments together.

but there are moments with rafe too. he finds you in the crowd, his hand slipping into yours as he tugs you away, guiding you through the chaos. he hugs you close, his breath warm against your ear as he leans in to say something you can’t quite hear over the noise, but it doesn’t matter. wherever he goes, you follow, and the two of you string each other along from one spot to the next, like you’re tethered together.

and then there’s that kiss. it happens just before you leave the sandbar, when the sun has started to dip lower in the sky. it’s abrupt, initiated by rafe, but it feels like something he needed to do, like he couldn’t let the day end without it.

his lips are warm, lingering on yours longer than usual, and everything else falls away. it’s like you’re the only two people left on the beach, the distant chatter and music fading into the background.

when he pulls back, it’s only for a second before he leans in again, his hands tightening on your waist, not wanting to let you go. you stare up at him after, your heart thudding in your chest, adoration in your eyes as you hold his gaze.

but now you’re home, and the contrast is stark. the dim lighting making the space feel colder, emptier. the energy of the sandbar is gone, replaced by an unsettling quiet. you sit on your couch, your leg bounces up and down, restless, as you stare blankly ahead.

the silence of your empty house is deafening. the faint ringing in your ears from the silence draws you into your thoughts—back to yesterday, back to the way rafe held you close, the way his presence felt like an anchor.

you felt safe, maybe even whole, when you were with him. but now, sitting here alone, the difference is almost suffocating. it’s strange how quickly it can shift—one day surrounded by people, warmth, noise, and the next, alone with only your thoughts, replaying every detail, every touch, every feeling.

the way things are now, it’s safe. there’s no risk, no line to cross that you can’t uncross. but if you were to tell him, to lay it all out there, could you handle the fallout?

because what if he doesn’t feel the same?

but then he kissed you. like he did yesterday, so suddenly, so effortlessly, pulling you into him like it’s second nature. it’s like he knew exactly when to pull you back in, just when you were starting to think too much. and just like that, all those questions you’ve been holding onto, the ones that sit heavy on your chest every time you’re near him, dissolve. because when he kisses you like that, it’s easy to forget everything else.

they vanish, swallowed by the feeling of him, so close, making you feel like maybe you don’t need to figure it all out right now.

but even then, just for a second, it’s on the tip of your tongue. you almost say it, almost let it slip, but you stop yourself. you always do.

i love you.

you convince yourself it’s not the right time, not the right moment, or maybe it’s not something you should say at all. and just when you’re about to pull away, to push the thought down like you always do, he kissed you again.

and just like that, you’re right back where you started. questioning, doubting, but never fully letting go. the feelings circling around inside you, waiting for the next time you’re close enough for them to surface again.

the next few days blur together, each one melting into the next. it feels as though you’re standing still, trapped in your bubble of emotions while everyone else rushes past you, moving faster and faster.

your best friend’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, calling your name with a playful urgency, like she’s been doing for the past few moments. you blink, looking away from the raindrops on the window and finally focusing on her, the light in her eyes breaking through your haze.

“what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, still slightly disoriented.

she laughs, a warm sound that pulls you back into the moment. as she continues talking, you lean into your pillow, letting the comfort envelop you.

the conversation drifts toward summer plans—what they have been up to, the adventures they’ve had. your friend shares her own stories of beach trips and spontaneous late-night drives.

“we should definitely go to that new froyo place tomorrow,” she suggests. “i heard they have all these crazy flavors. oh my g— remember last summer when we tried to make our own?”

you smile at the memory, letting it wash over you. just as you’re settling into the rhythm of the conversation, your mom pops her head in, breaking the moment. “dinner’s almost ready,” she calls from the doorway.

“thanks, mom,” you murmur, your voice soft as you turn your head slightly to give her a smile. she nods, and with that, she slips away, leaving the door ajar.

as soon as she’s gone, you lean back down, resting your elbow on your pillow and propping your head on your hand. your gaze drifts to your phone, almost expectantly, fingers itching to scroll through your notifications. you’re not even sure what you’re hoping for, but the silence feels heavy, and a part of you longs for a message.

your friend watches you closely, an amused smile creeping onto her lips. “do you want to text him?” she asks casually, the knowing glimmer in her eyes saying she’s onto you.

“him?” you feign innocence, raising an eyebrow. there really isn’t anyone else in your life who fits the bill like rafe, but you can’t just assume. she, however, sees right through you.

“come on, y/n. you know who i’m talking about.” she gets comfortable on your bed, sinking into the pillows as she watches you, her interest piqued. “what’s the deal with him anyway?”

you hesitate, slow to respond, feeling the weight of the question. you can’t seem to pinpoint how to explain what’s been going on. “things are good,” you say finally, the words feeling vague and hollow even as they leave your lips.

the look on your best friend’s face shifts immediately, arching an eyebrow. “good? really?” she prompts, tilting her head as if trying to pry more out of you.

you roll your eyes, exasperated by her unwavering gaze. “fine, it’s complicated,” you admit, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. you grab your phone, sinking deeper into your pillow, scrolling through your notifications as if the action could distract you from your tangled thoughts about rafe.

or maybe even check if you even have a notification from him.

she watches you scroll through your phone, her eyes flicking to the slight frown on your face. she doesn't speak right away, just sits there, observing. then, she reaches over, placing her hand gently over your phone and setting it back down on the bed.

“nevermind. you know, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy overthinking like this,” she says softly, shifting to face you more. “sometimes you just gotta rip the band-aid off and stop worrying about what might go wrong. otherwise, you’ll be stuck forever.”

you glance at her, unsure if you want to hear it. but she’s already readjusting her position, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues. “god knows i would’ve done things differently with cooper, but you know.”

you lean your head back, letting out a dramatic exhale at the mention of his name—cooper. you’ve heard enough stories to last a lifetime. but you pull your head forward again, looking at her as she reaches over once more, this time placing her hand over yours.

“i just think you should really do it,” she says, her tone more serious now.

you sigh, rubbing your eyes with the arm you’ve been propping yourself up on.

“whatever,” you mumble, shaking off the tension. “let’s go eat dinner. i’m starving.”

after dinner, your friend excuses herself to use the bathroom, leaving you and your mom at the table. your mom finishes up her plate before glancing at you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “was it good?” she asks.

you don’t say anything, just smile softly and nod. she smiles back, the corners of her eyes crinkling with affection as she gets up to collect the dishes from the table, already moving to tidy up and call it a day.

you stand too, silently helping her by stacking the plates and utensils as she handles putting the leftovers in containers. the clink of dishes and quiet movement fill the space.

when you walk over to the sink, you place the plates inside, fingers lingering on the faucet handle. but you stop. turning around, you fiddle with your hands, the words you've been holding onto threatening to spill out.

your voice is quieter than usual when you finally ask, “how do you know if you love someone?”

your mom pauses in her search for containers, her hand resting on the cabinet door as she looks over at you. she sets down the lid she’s holding and turns, studying your face carefully. “what do you mean?” her tone is soft, open, and it catches you off guard.

you bite the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to phrase it without sounding like some naive girl, like a kid who thinks she’s in love. you lean back against the counter, gripping the edges behind you. “i’m in this situation—literally—with this boy, and—”

your mom cuts in, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “is it rafe?”

you freeze for a second, caught off guard, but the way she says it, almost amused and without judgment, relaxes you. of course she knows. it’s not like you two ever really tried to keep anything a secret. the island knew, your friends knew, but hearing your mom say it so casually makes your lips curl into a sheepish smile. “yeah,” you admit quietly.

your mom crosses her arms, leaning against the counter opposite you, still smiling. “what’s going on?”

you exhale softly, unsure where to even begin. “i don’t know,” you start, “we’re close, obviously. and he’s been . . . we’ve been spending so much time together lately, more than usual. but it’s confusing, you know? like, he doesn’t commit, but then there are these moments, like, i feel like there’s more between us. and i don’t want to ruin what we have, but i also don’t know if what we have is enough anymore.”

your mom watches you carefully, absorbing everything you’re saying. her expression softens as she considers her words. “i remember when i was your age,” she begins, her voice taking on a reflective tone. “i was in a similar situation with your father. we weren’t perfect—far from it—but i knew i loved him. i knew it because i was scared of losing him, but more than that, i was willing to fight for him. and i did.”

you blink at her, surprised. she rarely talks about how she and your dad got together, and when she does, it’s usually brief.

“we had our ups and downs,” she continues. “but in the end, it was worth it because i didn’t give up on what i wanted. and that led me here,” she says, her smile widening as she gestures lightly, “to you.”

you look down, her words settling in. “so you’re saying i should, what? take a chance?”

“i’m saying if you think it’s worth it, if you believe in it, then don’t be afraid to fight for it. but you have to be sure, really sure. because if you’re not, it’ll show. and rafe? he’ll see it.”

your mom moves toward you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “whatever happens, just remember, you deserve to be happy. don’t settle for anything less.”

you’re still absorbing your mom’s words, turning them over in your head, when she leans slightly, nodding toward the back door. “go,” she says, her tone gentle yet resolute.

you blink, caught completely off guard. “wh— now?” your voice comes out confused, almost a laugh. you glance toward the window, where rain streaks down the glass. “mom, it’s pouring.”

she waves a hand, like the rain is the least of your worries. "i know. go put on a jacket. tell rafe how you feel."

your chest tightens, a swell of uncertainty rising up again, but there’s something in the way she looks at you—something that makes your heart stutter. “mom,” you start, your voice uncertain, but she interrupts, her expression soft but determined.

“listen,” she says, stepping closer, her hands gently shooing you toward the door, “it’s when you get to the end of your life that you realize how important the choices you made at the beginning were. you’re young, y/n. you have your whole life ahead of you to figure things out.” she pauses, her eyes meeting yours. “but you don’t want to look back, wondering what would’ve happened if you’d just taken that chance.”

your breath catches in your throat. you can’t deny that a part of you has been afraid—afraid of what admitting your feelings for rafe might do to your friendship, to the years of closeness you’ve built. but there’s something about the way she says it that strikes deep, a kind of clarity you’ve been avoiding.

“and,” she continues, stepping back just slightly, "even if it doesn’t turn out the way you hope, you both know you’ll always work out as friends. you’ve known that for a long time now.” she smiles then, soft but sure. “so go.”

you stand there, rooted in place, feeling the weight of your indecision lift—just a little. your mom knows. she’s always known. and the more you think about it, the more you realize she’s right. the fear, the hesitation—it doesn’t outweigh what you already know about rafe. about how solid you two are, even in uncertainty.

without another thought, you step forward, pulling her into a tight hug. “thank you,” you murmur into her shoulder, voice muffled but heartfelt. you linger for a second longer, breathing in the familiar scent of home, of comfort. “i owe you for this. and for the dishes next time.”

your mom chuckles as she pulls back. “all you owe me,” she says, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “is handling your friend when she gets back from the bathroom and realizes that you’re not here.”

you grin at that, shaking your head slightly as you turn away. then you rush toward the front door, grabbing a jacket from the table, your fingers fumbling for your car keys. the adrenaline starts kicking in, buzzing beneath your skin, and your heart beats faster—not from fear, but from excitement. clarity.

the rain hits your face as soon as you step outside, cool droplets splashing against your skin, soaking through the jacket almost instantly. but you don’t care. not this time.

you hurry toward the car, slipping behind the wheel, and as the engine roars to life, there’s only one thing on your mind. you’re not running away anymore—you’re going straight to him. straight to rafe, to tell him everything.

your mom is still standing in the kitchen, smiling to herself as she wipes down the counter. your friend emerges from the bathroom, stretching dramatically.

“ugh, i have the biggest food baby right now,” she groans, rubbing her stomach with an exaggerated pout. “like, seriously, i think i might be in my third trimester.”

she stops mid-step, suddenly noticing that you're nowhere to be seen. her gaze flickers around the room, confusion settling on her face. “where’s y/n?”

your mom just smiles, glancing up from the counter with a knowing look.

the rain pounds against your windshield and your fingers grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white, as the tires cut through puddles, water splashing up on either side of the road.

it’s dark outside, the kind of dark that makes the world feel like it’s closing in, and yet you drive, the rain blurring everything except for the weight of what you’re about to do.

you can hardly believe you're doing this—driving to rafe’s house, of all places, on a night like this. it’s pouring. but the rain, the storm, the darkness—they almost feel fitting. like the weather outside mirrors the chaos that’s been brewing inside you for months.

you think about him. about rafe. about the time you’ve spent together—the laughs, the touches, the kisses, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

you think about the nights he’s held you close, his breath warm against your neck, and the mornings where he pulls away just a little too soon, leaving you wondering if you imagined it all. it’s like being on a tightrope, balancing between something beautiful and something terrifying.

this thing with him, it’s not really a relationship, is it? it’s more like a maze with no exit, a constant loop of confusion and longing, of wanting more but being afraid to ask for it.

you’ve told yourself a thousand times that you’re okay with it—that whatever this is, it’s enough. but it’s not. and deep down, you’ve always known it’s not.

you’ve spent so long trying to figure it out. is this love? do you love him? or is it just the idea of him? the way he makes the world feel quieter when everything else is so loud, so overwhelming. you’ve wondered if maybe you just needed someone, anyone, to make you feel like you weren’t going through life alone. you’ve questioned if it’s love or if it’s desperation.

but then you remember the way his eyes soften when he looks at you—like he’s seeing past every wall you’ve ever put up. you remember the way his touch feels like it’s grounding you, like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. and it hits you, harder than you’ve ever allowed it to before. you do love him.

you’ve probably never loved anyone as much as you love rafe cameron. and it’s terrifying.

because how do you tell him that? how do you tell someone you love them when you’ve spent months pretending you’re fine without a real answer, pretending that this . . . undefined space you’ve both been living in is enough?

your mind is racing, your heart too, as the road blurs in front of you. the rain is relentless, but you barely notice. all you can think about is him. about how you’ve spent so long holding back, holding yourself in this limbo, waiting for something—anything—to change. but nothing will change unless you make it change.

you’ve waited for him to make the first move, to say something, to define what’s between you, but you’re done waiting. you love him, and whether or not he feels the same, you need him to know. you need to say it out loud. maybe for yourself, more than for him. you can’t keep living in this. you deserve more than that.

the rain is pouring harder now, like the sky is trying to drown the world, but it doesn’t matter. nothing matters except for the fact that you’re almost there. almost at his house. almost at the point of no return.

your heart is in your throat when you pull into his driveway. you sit there for a moment, the engine still running, the rain beating down on your car, and you just breathe.

but then you remember his smile. his laugh. the way he makes you feel like you’re floating and falling all at once. and you know you have to do this. you can’t keep living in the in-between.

you throw your jacket over your head as you step out into the rain, the cold water soaking through your shoes, your pants, everything. it’s freezing, but you barely feel it. you walk up to his front door, your steps heavy, heart even heavier. you knock, once, twice, and then wait.

your heart feels like it’s about to explode. everything you’ve wanted to say, everything you’ve felt—it’s all bubbling up inside you, ready to spill out the second the door opens. you’re nervous, terrified, but ready. so, so ready.

the door creaks open, and there he is. rafe.

he looks at you, rain-soaked and trembling, and it’s like something clicks in his eyes. like he knows exactly why you’re here. like he’s been waiting for this moment, too.

you smile, a soft, trembling smile, your heart in your throat. “hey.”

he stands there, staring at you with that familiar look, the one that’s always made you feel like maybe—just maybe—he’s been feeling the same way all along. and then he smiles back, a small, understanding smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“hey.”

[xinganhao]

🎸 vernon dates rockstar!reader. (2)

vernon x rockstar!reader who's a foreigner in an international rock band (2) a.k.a the one where vernon tours in your city ➤ see also: series masterlist

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: international rockstar!reader, f!reader, long distance relationship, established relationship, pet names, fluff, best read in order + headcanons under the cut.

🗺️ vernon chwe's guide to new york .ᐟ

📍 Socrates Sculpture Park, 32-01 Vernon Blvd., Astoria

your first date that's not over discord or facetime takes place in new york. vernon's just a little too prideful to have you come all the way to sokor for him and a part of him wants to play it safe. there's a smaller chance of him being recognized abroad than if he were to have you in seoul, so he books the red-eye flight and crashes on your couch for the weekend. he's still a bit jet-lagged when you drag him out to your location of choice. new york has its fair share of parks. vernon is expecting the usual— nature, buskers, the likes— only to find that and so much more. you'd taken him to an artist's park. there's exhibit sculptures, and multimedia installations, and he's just absolutely blown away. you can see it from the look on his face, how taken aback he is by the sheer thoughtfulness of your pick. he doesn't really know the extent of it, not yet, until you clue him in. "do you know what street we're on?" you prompt him as the two of you halve a greasy slice of pepperoni pizza. he raises his eyebrows in response. "i chose this place because it's on vernon boulevard," you say, and oh. oh. (or: this is where vernon realizes he's going to be pretty down bad.)

📍 The Bowery Electric, 327 Bowery

it's far from the first time vernon has seen you perform. he's seen all most of your videos on the internet, has watched you at festivals and concerts. there's something different, though, about the way you take the stage at the staple east village hangout. you're in your element underneath the blue and pink neon lights. your sound is full, and your eyes are bright, and it steals the breath from his lungs. you do an entire set until you're sweating and your chest is heaving. he wouldn't be able to look away even if he wanted to. everything about you is so cool. your oversized flannel, your secondhand fender. he thinks there's no way he can adore you more until you announce that you want to do a quick cover of a 'friend's song. the amps crackle. the drums kick up. you start to croon running 'round the whole city for someone to look me in my eyes and tell me pretty lies, and vernon swears he can just drop dead then and there. you come up to him afterwards, one corner of your lip twitching in to a smirk. as if to say 'so? what did you think?' (or: this is where vernon first thinks he might actually be in love with you.)

📍 The Basilica of St. Patrick's Old Cathedral, 263 Mulberry St.

when you tell him that you're taking him to church for a date, vernon is admittedly a little unnerved. at this point, he's already fairly sure that he loves you. you haven't said it yet, so he tries to keep his own admission under lock and key. a church, though? "are we going to elope?" he jokes to you, trying (and failing) to not sound nervous. thankfully, you roll your eyes and laugh instead of taking offense. "you wish," you shoot back. that puts him at ease enough for him to be completely normal with you in the back of the cab. when you get to the cathedral, though, he immediately puts two and two together. "is this—?" he starts to ask, his mouth agape. there's a smug look on your face as you nod. it's the church in one of vernon's favorite films, the godfather. he's barely even walked past the doors of it before he blurts out, "god, i love you." he freezes. you freeze. and then— "you sure you're not the one who wants to elope, chwe?" you tease. vernon's ears are burning red with shame, but then he hears the quiet way you add, "i love you, too, by the way." (or: this is where vernon learns just how good it feels, to say and hear those three words.)

📍 Staten Island Ferry

throughout at least half of the ferry ride, vernon is convinced you're going to break up with him. he's been a pretty terrible boyfriend. comeback season had been brutal and the upcoming world tour meant that he would have even less time to make up for his shortcomings. he's tried, he's been trying, but it's been hard. and so as the two of you hang on the back of the ferry's lower deck with the manhattan skyline receding, he thinks: this is it. he's going to lose the best thing that has ever happened to him. you start the conversation with "i'm sorry," and vernon resist the urge to get to his knees. you surprise him when you go on to say, "i've been pretty shitty to you lately, huh?" you talk about your temper, your schedule, your occasional unresponsiveness. your voice wavers in the slightest when you mumble, "i understand if you want to—" no. "no," vernon says quickly, immediately. before he can think of it, his hand is already reaching out to hold yours. the surprise and hope that fills your face is almost enough to bowl him over. "i don't want that," he reassures you. "i'll never want that." he means it. he surprises himself with just how much he means it. (or: this is where vernon decides that he's in it for the long run.)

📍 Little Bay Bridge Pier, Queens

vernon's attempt at planning a date on your turf ends up to be an utter failure. you don't see it that way, at least. you're too nice to call him out for the way everything kind of went to shit, from his credit card declining at the restaurant to the museum he wanted to see being closed for renovations. by the time the day is coming to a close, he's desperate for at least one thing to go right. vernon is not a religious man, but he prays, then, to every higher being and deity known to man. please, give me this. he's convinced they all hate him, though, because while the both of you are sitting by the pier— about to try what he researched to be the best churros in queens— a rat steals the snack. vernon briefly considers throwing himself in to the water. he doesn't know if he should be annoyed or relieved that you're laughing it all off. he settles for something in between. "this is not a laughing matter," he huffs, even though there's the smallest smile on his face. it's the only thing he can do to hide his disappointment. then, a little more seriously, he says, "i wanted to do right by you." it's a grace that you know how to deal with him. there's a fondness in your eyes as you press your lips to the back of his knuckles, the action making his heart skip a beat. "hansol," you say sweetly. not vernon, not v. not babe or baby boy or anything else. you assure him, "you're always right for me," and he wants so badly to believe you. (or: this is where vernon changes his prayer; this time, he begs to never wrong you.)

[leniisreallycool]

Salt

Hmm, still a little bland... Needs salt. You sprinkle a little more salt into the saucepan. Whisking with one hand, you set the salt shaker down with the other. But you're a little careless, and the shaker tips over onto the counter with a little smack! Little crystals sparkle in the dim light of the kitchen. Without even thinking, you scoop up the spilled salt with your fingertip and flick it over your left shoulder.

"Hey! What the hell's your problem?!"

You turn to see Mammon hovering right next to you frantically blinking his eyes, instinctively reaching to rub them but pulling his hand back.

The comedy of the situation hits you like a truck and you burst into hysterical laughter. Your back hits the counter and you brace yourself on it, unable to support your own weight. Tears stream down your face faster than you can wipe, and all the while you cackle like one possessed.

Through the veil of tears clouding your vision, Mammon obviously has no idea what's going on anymore. First you throw salt at him, and now you're laughing? Are you okay? He reaches out towards you, then pulls back. "Are ya cursed or something?" That only makes you laugh harder.

That's the last straw and Mammon dashes out of the kitchen, calling for his brothers.

"W-wait-" you wheeze between breaths, but that's as far as you get.

By the time Mammon returns with the other demon brothers, you've managed to calm yourself a bit. The mad cackles have subsided to occasional giggle and most of your tears are dried.

All seven of them start to speak, but seem to think the situation is a delicate one and decide to let someone else start.

"What happened? Mammon said you were under some kind of curse," Beel asks after a moment of observation, somewhere between confused and concerned.

"No, no, that's not- there wasn't a curse," you reply, rubbing your eyes. Laughing like that always makes you sleepy. "I threw salt over my shoulder, but Mammon was standing right there, and it got in his eyes."

Now Lucifer is the one to speak up. "Are humans in the habit of... throwing salt around?"

"I've never heard of anything like that..." Levi adds.

Belphie shares a look with Satan. The "how can we prank Lucifer with this" thoughts are so loud you half wonder if they're actually twins. The thought sets you off giggling again.

You've never seen Lucifer move so quickly. One second he's standing near the kitchen's entrance with Asmo clinging to his arm in worry, the next he's by your side, gently holding you elbow and checking your forehead (for fever? Through gloves?). You laugh harder.

"I don't sense any malicious magic. Perhaps it's a more advanced spell than I originally thought..." Lucifer gently squishes your face.

You'd be doubled over cackling if Lucifer wasn't supporting your weight. "No- there's not- there's no curse!" you wheeze, nearly choking on laughter.

The other six promptly begin speculating what could have brought on your strange behavior. "Maybe they are something weird?" "They haven't touched any of my cursed books recently..." "Are you sure they're not just sleepy? Tired humans act weird." "It ain't my fault! I haven't stolen any cursed objects recently! Quit lookin' at me like that!" "I hope it's not poison from the new facemask we tried earlier! I thought it was human safe, but maybe I was wrong..." "I knew I shouldn't have bought that new cursed game off Akuzon... These things are always my fault."

Their speculation isn't helping your situation. At this point your laughter is silent again, and your tears soak the front of Lucifer's shirt. Your face aches from the strain of grinning so wide and your lungs cry out for air.

Eventually, what feels like hours later, you're able to calm down enough to speak again. Your body sags in exhaustion and Belphie keeps glaring at you in worry.

"I'm not cursed, I swear," you say. "Just- in the human world, we have this superstition. I'm not sure where it started, or when, but it started with the belief that spilling salt was due to the devil, because at the time, salt was so valuable they used it as currency. That's also where we get the phrase 'worth their weight in salt'. But basically if you spill salt, you have to throw some over your left shoulder into the devil's eyes to keep him from harming you again. And Mammon was hovering over my left shoulder, and he's the Avatar of Greed..."

"So it's standard human weirdness, then," Mammon says, staring at you like he does when he's pretending not to be so relieved to realize you're okay.

You nod, rubbing your eyes. "Pretty much. Everything lined up perfectly and honestly it couldn't have been better if I planned it."

"Alright, well, you're taking a nap with me. Satan can finish cooking." Belphie grabs your arm and drags you out of the kitchen. For once, the others don't argue.

[fireboltposts]

When SKZ finds your well-organized Korean notes

A/N : This idea randomly popped up in my head when I was learning my Spanish. Picture credit to the owner. Also this is the first time I've tried writing for all the members together.

• Where each member suddenly stumbles upon your neat and well-organized notes for learning Korean. They knew you were studying but didn't realise you went so far as to maintaining an old diary of 2013 for writing down random notes, swear words, grammar rules, slangs, idioms, vocabulary, tests where you had graded yourself with a red pen with marks like 16/20 or 19/25 and your signature like a school teacher and even some phrases learnt from the boys.

• Chris

He found your Korean diary on a random Tuesday evening while he was searching for his laptop charger. He wondered what on earth were you doing with a 2013 diary when he had gifted you the latest one on New Year's Day. Not one to read someone's diary, but his interest was piqued because of a SKZ bookmark hanging out of the diary. He opens it curiously, flipping through the pages that contained grammar rules, self-graded tests with your signature (which he can't help but giggle at), and even an entire section labelled "what Channie taught me", containing phrases and words he had previously taught you, that he himself had forgotten, which little notes on the side in pencil on how to pronounce stating that "Channie says it like this". He smiles to himself, feeling a surge of warmth as he realizes you're working so hard to understand and connect with him and the group on a deeper level. He chuckles at the part where you had stated that he says a word in a certain tone and he's a little surprised to see how observant you were to how he spoke Korean that you had noticed such little things even he didn't know. He is moved by your dedication and effort. It meant so much to him that you wanted to understand him better and also the rest of the boys.

• Minho

Minho's looking around your room when his eyes fall on a notebook open on your bed, with pages full of neat handwriting. Intrigued, he walks over and begins to look through them, noting how well-organized and thoughtful each section is. The color-coding in different color ink, the little drawings, and the way you’ve broken down each concept and it’s clear you’ve put a lot of effort into learning. He spots a few phrases he's used like "Don't be silly" written in Hangul. He feels a strange pride in knowing that you had gone through so much trouble of noting down things he has said and how observant you were to the other members' words and he feels a soft warmth on his chest. When you notice him looking, he gives you an approving nod. "Your notes are impressive," he says, with a faint smile. "You’re serious about learning, huh? I respect that." He’s not overly sentimental, but there’s a hint of admiration in his tone. "Just make sure you don’t learn any bad habits from the guys. I'll teach you the proper way to speak," he adds with a teasing glint in his eyes and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips.

• Changbin

Changbin flips your notes open curiously and starts reading. The first thing he notices is how neatly you've written grammar concepts and phrases with example sentences using names from the K industry like "Changbin ate an apple", "Joshua cannot swim", "Jaejoong, go to the market !". As he goes through, he can’t help but feel a sense of admiration for your dedication. You’ve put in so much work, and it’s clear that you’re genuinely interested in understanding the language. He chuckles when he sees a section labeled "Cute Phrases learnt from Binnie," where you’ve written down a few things he’s said, noting them with little hearts and stars. When you return, he grins at you, holding up the notebook. "These are really impressive," he says, giving you an encouraging smile. "You’ve put in a lot of effort. If you keep it up, you’ll be fluent in no time!". There’s a hint of pride in his voice as he looks at you, feeling touched that you care so much about connecting with him and the rest of the group in their language.

• Hyunjin

Hyunjin finds your notes when you’re both sitting on the couch. He’s flipping through some things on the table when he spots them, open to a section on descriptive words. At first, he’s just curious, but as he goes through them, he realizes how detailed your notes are. You’ve even added pronunciation tips in English and marked down specific tones you’d heard him use, adding little side notes in pencil like, "Try to sound softer, like Hyunjin." Seeing his own influence in your notes makes his heart race. He’s touched to know you’re paying so much attention to the language, even noting his speaking style. There’s something endearing about how you’re working so hard to speak Korean well, not just to understand him but to match his expressions too. "Wow, you’re really serious about this, huh?" he murmurs, glancing over at you with a soft smile. He leans in closer, resting his chin on his hand as he flips through more pages, admiring your hard work. "If you ever want a study buddy, I’d be happy to help. Maybe I could teach you some new words too… you know, personal ones that only we would know or swear words, whichever you want", he winks, enjoying the thought of having something special shared between the two of you.

• Han

Han stumbles upon your notes one day while you’re hanging out. He flips through them casually, but the more he reads, the more impressed he becomes. Your notes are detailed, organized, and incredibly thorough. You’ve written down vocabulary, grammar rules, and even broken down complex sentences into parts. He’s particularly amused when he sees a section labeled "Funny Phrases" with things he’s said, complete with little notes like, "Han said this when he was being silly." He feels a warmth in his chest, touched that you’ve been paying attention to his quirks and speech patterns. When he looks up at you, there’s a playful glint in his eye. "I didn’t know you were working this hard!" he exclaims. "Your notes are so good; I think I’d actually want to borrow them myself!". Han’s admiration is genuine, and he’s a little flustered by how much he enjoys seeing your dedication. "Anytime you want to practice with me, let me know," he offers, giving you a shy smile. "We could make it fun, you know, with little games and stuff and next time I'll take a test and put my signature on there and an A+ and a smiley if you get it all correct", he said with a wink.

• Felix

When Felix flips through the pages and finds your neat handwriting in Hangul , he's charmed by how much dedication you've put into it, especially when he saw you noted expressions and idioms he used labelled as "Sunshine Lixie's expressions", complete with little stars. His heart flutters at the sight. "Your notes are amazing!" he says, his eyes lighting up. "It’s so cool that you’re learning, and it’s adorable how you even have a section just for my phrases." He pats your shoulder proudly, feeling touched and a bit shy. "I could help you practice anytime you want," he adds, his voice softening, secretly hoping to spend more time with you.

• Seungmin

Seungmin finds your notes by accident when he’s helping you clean up after a study session. He notices them lying open on the table and can’t resist taking a look. As he reads through the pages, he’s impressed by your organization and the level of detail. You’ve made vocabulary lists, highlighted grammar points, and even written down little notes to help you remember certain words. He brings it up later, saying, "Your notes are really impressive. You’re actually doing a great job, and if you keep at it, I think you’ll become fluent in no time." He looks at you thoughtfully, adding, "If you ever need help with pronunciation or understanding something or maybe adding some more to the "Seungmin's Tips" list, I’d be happy to help."

• Jeongin

When the maknae finds your neat diary that you've kept for learning Korean, he is a little surprised but also very impressed at you progress as the self graded "test scores" went higher and as he also remembers some difficult words meant for upper Intermediate learners you'd used a week ago while talking to him. He chuckles when he sees his own "Innie’s Words" section, where you’ve noted down phrases he’s said. Later, he brings it up with a smile, saying, "Your notes are really detailed. It’s so cool that you’re putting in so much effort to learn our language." There’s a sense of pride in his voice as he looks at you, genuinely impressed by your dedication. "If you ever need help, I’m here. I could even teach you some more slang, if you’re up for it Y/N ! And next time, I hope to see you score full marks on your little self tests".

A/N : Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you liked it. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[alisonsfics]

too good to me

pairing: carmen berzatto x reader

summary: after weeks of stress and being on edge, carmy blows up and yells at marcus, but carmy holds such a special place in your heart that you go to his apartment afterward to see how he’s doing

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, arguing, general angst and then fluff

You all knew that something had been on Carmy’s mind. The past few weeks, he’d been more than just anxious. He was really putting his perfectionist tendencies to the extreme. It had been three weeks since officially opening The Bear.

Carmy knew that the first few weeks were crucial to a new business, especially one as volatile as a new-age restaurant. He’d been stressed, which was nothing new for him. But, it was more extreme. He had gotten into an hour-long screaming match with Richie about what specific angle the hostess stand should be pointed.

Everyone was trying to keep Carmy calm, but it had to be done carefully. If he picked up on a tone that was too sympathetic, he’d yell “I’m fine,” and storm off.

With everyone walking on eggshells around him, the tickets for the orders got a little jumbled and in a backwards order.

“Somebody better fucking fix this.” Carmy said, running his hand through his hair. You’d seen him do that move a hundred times, and it usually meant that everything was getting overwhelming. “It’s alright, Carmy. I can handle this. Just go take a quick break outside for me, please?” You asked him.

You were Carmy’s weak spot.

He’d always had a special place in his heart for you. He was wrapped around your finger. If anyone else had told him to take a break, he would have told them to fuck off.

Carmy walked around the corner, where Marcus walked up to him with a new pastry in hand. “Hey, chef. I was thinking we could add a new pastry to the menu for that special event next week?” Marcus asked. It was a perfectly innocent question, especially since Marcus didn’t have any urgent work to be done. In that moment, Marcus was just lacking in reading the room.

“Tonight’s service is a disaster, and you’re wasting your fucking time doing this?” Carmy yelled, smacking the dish out of Marcus’ hand.

That was too far. Farther than Carmy had ever pushed it.

You inserted yourself between the two men. “Marcus, you okay?” You asked him. He nodded his head, but looked down at a small cut on the back of his hand. You placed your hand on his forearm. “Go get that cut washed, and then help Sydney sort out those tickets please.” You said, remaining calm.

“Yes, chef,” Marcus said, walking towards the sink.

Carmy was frozen in place, like even he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “You,” you started to say, turning around to face Carmy.

“I know,” he said, softly.

“Go home, Berzatto. You need to cool off.” You said, trying to be firm but also gentle. Carmy huffed and ran his hand through his hair again. “But I just…one more—” he started to say.

“Home, Carmen.” You repeated, firmer this time. You called him many things: Carmy, Carm, Bear, and the occasional pet name, but never Carmen.

He walked away, but you heard him slam his hand against the wall as he left.

Still rattled from the whole encounter, you tried to get back on your game. “Syd, you’ve got this,” you encouraged your friend, as she directed the kitchen. The rest of the service was a little bumpy as all of you were still a little distracted.

At the end of the service, you were all silently cleaning up your stations. Normally at this point in the night, you were all catching up and joking around with each other. But instead, you all were recalling the night’s events in your heads.

You lightly knocked on the door of the office, where Sugar was sitting and looking through some forms. “Hey, Nat. You mind if I head out a little early? Richie said he’d clean up my station. I was gonna go check on Carmy and see if he’s alright. I’ve been really worried about him.” You told her.

“Yeah yeah, go for it. I think he’ll want to see you. And it’ll be good for him to talk to someone, and you’re the only one he really talks to.” Sugar told you, pulling you in for a quick hug before you left. She hesitated. “Let me know how he is…I’m worried about him,” she told you, softly.

“I will, I promise.” You said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. You turned to leave the office. “Carm’s lucky to have you,” she told you as you walked away. You turned backwards as you kept walking. “The feelings mutual,” you added.

You walked up to Carmy’s apartment and knocked on the door. “Carmy, it’s me, please let me in,” you said.

You heard silence on the other side of the door. You fished your spare key out of your pocket and slid it into the lock. You turned the key slowly and let yourself into his apartment.

You walked into his dark apartment. You saw Carmy’s silhouette as he sat on the couch, staring out the window.

“I gave you that key for emergencies.” He said, coldly. You flipped on the light switch, bringing some light into the dark apartment. “I think what I saw earlier calls for a little intervention, don’t you?” You asked. Carmy sat in silence, continuing to stare out the window. You walked around to the front of the couch so you could face him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, still refusing to look at you. Carmy felt guilty about what he’d done. He’d never yelled at you before, and he was ashamed that you had to see him scream like that. Carmy cared more about your opinion than he did about anyone else’s.

You walked towards Carmy, only stopping inches in front of him. “When was the last time you ate?” You asked, blatantly. He leaned back against the couch, trying to add some more distance between you both. He shrugged, genuinely not knowing the answer to your question.

You dug into your work bag and pulled out a takeout box. You stopped by Carmy’s favorite burger restaurant in Chicago to grab him some food. You knew Carmy would sometimes forget to eat when he was feeling anxious. “Eat it,” you told him, handing the box over to him.

He reluctantly opened the box and started eating. You set your work bag on the ground and sat down on the chair that faced the couch.

Carmy shifted nervously in his seat as your gaze was set on him. He was unnerved that you weren’t talking about what happened at the restaurant.

Carmy could normally read you like the back of his hand, but something about your current expression was throwing him off. He couldn’t tell if you were going to scream at him or not.

“Are you here to yell at me like everybody else? I already know I screwed up. I shouldn’t have yelled at Marcus, and I shouldn’t have argued when you told me to leave.” He told you, hoping he could apologize and avoid you yelling at him.

“You know that I’m not here to yell at you. You really fucked up, but Marcus knows that you were just stressed. I’m here to make sure you’re doing okay because I’ve never seen you blow up like that” You said, finally showing your cards. Carmy frowned, looking guilty.

“God, you’re too good to me. I acted like a piece of shit today, and you’re still trying to make sure I’m okay.” He said, still amazed by the love you had for him. He was looking at you like you were his whole world.

He set down the takeout box and used his hand to call you over to him. You stood up and walked towards him, and he patted the seat next to him.

You joined him on the couch. You both were sitting so close together that you were practically in his lap. He turned his body so he could face you.

He let his hand rest on your thigh, feeling more grateful for you than he ever had. You let your fingers caress his bicep, “you deserve to be okay. I want you to be okay,” you said, softly.

You studied his face. You noticed the small bags that had formed under his eyes. You wondered when the last time he’d actually gotten a good night’s sleep was.

You softly brushed his hair out of his face. When he was stressed, Carmy liked to pull on a certain strand of hair right in the front. You knew him like the back of your hand. You noticed all of his quirks; quirks that most people never picked up on.

Carmy watched as you gently tried to soothe him. He was sure you could see the adoration in his eyes.

“I hope you know how perfect you are. You always know exactly what to say.” He said, smiling at you. He pulled your hand away from his hair and interlaced your fingers. He’d wanted to kiss the back of your hand, but couldn’t push himself to do it.

“Do you wanna talk about why you’ve been so stressed recently?” You asked. You were treading lightly, but you wanted to understand what was making him so anxious. You hated seeing him push everyone away, and you wanted to help in any way you could.

He shrugged. “It’s just the restaurant,” he said, not knowing how else to explain it.

“The restaurant is doing amazing though, Carmy. You have no need to stress about that. You’ve been doing such a great job.” You told him, sincerely.

You watched him get a little more nervous. He was looking down at his lap, avoiding meeting your gaze. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to silently reassure him.

“You can tell me anything, Carm,” you said, softly.

“You just mean so much to me,” he started to explain. You were a little confused as to where he was going with this conversation. The room was silent as Carmy gathered his thoughts.

“Everything at the restaurant has been going so well. Every time my life has ever gone well, something terrible has happened next. I feel like I’m just waiting for everything to…I don’t know, crumble? Losing the restaurant would be terrible, but losing you and the rest of the team would be devastating. You guys are my family.” He told you, his voice cracking with emotion.

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You quickly pulled him into you arms, giving him the tightest hug you could. He clutched onto you like he was scared you’d disappear if he let you go.

“You aren’t going to lose anybody,” you said, holding back tears just from watching how emotional Carmy was.

The soft leather scent of Carmy’s cologne occupied your thoughts as you held him close. You both stayed attached like that for a few minutes. The room was silent, but a comfortable silent.

When you both finally pulled apart, Carmy dried the tears off his cheeks. “Nothing bad is going to happen with the restaurant. We’re all family, and that doesn’t go away based on what happens with the restaurant. You will never lose me, or any of us.” You promised him.

You earned a small chuckle from Carmy when you held your pinky up to him. “You won’t lose me either,” he said, dutifully going through with your pinky promise.

You both stared into each other’s eyes, unsure what to say next. The tension in the air nearly made it hard to breathe.

“I should probably get going and let you have the rest of your evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said, standing up from the couch.

You had never felt so awkward around Carmy. Just the task of walking to the front door felt like a giant opportunity to embarrass yourself. Carmy also quickly jumped up from the couch, feeling equally self-conscious.

His hand lightly grazed your back as he led you back to the front door. “Thank you for coming over and talking to me. You really helped calm me down.” He said, sincerely. You smiled and nodded your head at him.

“Make sure to call me if you ever need to talk about anything. I promise that I’ll always be here to listen,” you assured him.

The tension returned.

You both chose to avoid it.

“Well, goodnight,” you both quickly said, at the same time. You rushed out the door, and Carmy closed it behind you.

The door clicked into place and seemingly broke you both out of your trance.

You both realized you had missed the perfect opportunity. The perfect opportunity to finally confess those feelings that had been weighing you down.

You lowered your head, almost shamefully, and started walking down the hallway.

Carmy leaned his head against the closed door, wondering how he could have missed it. The girl of his dreams was walking down the hallway away from his apartment, away from him.

He started to walk towards his bedroom when he suddenly thought “fuck it,” and turned around.

At the same time in the hallway, you had the same thought.

Your heart beating in your ears, you turned on your heel and headed back towards Carmy’s apartment.

Carmy started walking back towards the front door. Before he could reach the door, he watched the knob spin and the door fling open.

You were back and standing in front of him.

Realizing you both had the same idea, Carmy quickly closed the gap between the two of you. His strong tattooed hands cupped your cheeks as he finally kissed you. You kissed him back immediately, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

He moved one of his hands away from you, but just a second, so he could quickly close the front door behind you.

He pushed you against the back of the door. The back of your head bumped against the door causing you to grin against the kiss. “Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” he asked, cupping the back of your head. You quickly nodded your head. “I’m fine, I promise.” You said, grabbing his collar and pulling him back to kiss you.

He smirked against your lips at your eagerness to not break the kiss for even a second. He held onto your waist and pinned you against the door, while you wrapped your arms around his neck and toyed with his hair.

His lips felt perfect against yours. The kiss was somehow everything you’d dreamed of but completely unexpected.

You shifted your weight against him, gently nudging him away from the door. Carmy picked up on what you were doing. You noticed his signature smirk as he guided you towards the couch.

You fell back onto the couch, pulling Carmy down on top of you. All his weight landed on you, causing you to wince. “Sorry, that more violent than it was supposed to be.” He said, sheepishly. He quickly shifted his weight, so he was holding himself above you.

You both were giggly as these little mishaps continued to happen. It suited your relationship. You both had always been able to joke with each other, especially because of your matching sense of humor. It made sense that when you both finally got together that Carmy would accidentally bump your head against the door. But it didn’t make things awkward. You both were so comfortable just giggling with each other.

“Get back here, Berzatto,” you said, connecting your lips again. He quickly obliged. While Carmy loved laughing with you, he had been waiting years to kiss you and wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled as he kissed you. You quickly slipped his tshirt over his head and tossed it to the side.

Then, you both heard a strange muffled sound. You pulled out of the kiss and gave Carmy a concerned look. It sounded like someone was in the apartment.

Your face completely changed when you realized what it was. “Carmy, that’s your phone. You butt dialed someone,” you whispered. His eyes also grew wide. He quickly grabbed his phone out of his pocket, hoping he could hang up and not say anything.

Once his phone was in his hand, he realized it was a FaceTime call and he was now face-to-face with his sister.

“Oh, shit. Sugar?” He said, the shock clear on his face. You immediately held your hand over your mouth, trying to remain completely silent.

“Hey, uh yeah. You called me? Are you okay?” She asked, confused by the whole situation.

“Oh, I must’ve done it on accident, sorry. Listen, I’m really sorry about yelling tonight. I’m gonna come in tomorrow and apologize to everyone though.” He said, sincerely. You were finding it so hard to not giggle. He was on the phone with Sugar while lying directly on top of you, and you just had to stay silent.

“It’s okay, Carm. Everyone knows you’ve been going through a lot. Y/N was going to head over to your apartment. Did you talk to her?” Natalie asked, genuinely invested.

Carmy quickly nodded his head. “Yeah, she came by earlier and we talked. I’m doing a lot better. Yeah, she’s umm—” Carmy stalled as he tried to come up with a lie.

Natalie picked up on his hesitation immediately. “Oh shit. Is she— are you two— wait is she there now?” She asked, putting it all together. You froze, trying to anticipate Carmy’s next move.

He quickly sat up on the couch before pulling you into his lap. “Hi, Nat,” you said, smiling at the camera and bracing for her reaction. You both watched her jaw drop.

“Did my two favorite people finally confess their love for each other? Oh, you guys,” she awed, being able to read you both just from the way you both were blushing.

Carmy buried his face in your neck. He knew how long Natalie had been rooting for this to happen, and he was having a hard time controlling how red his face was.

“You’re good for him. I’m really happy for you guys,” she said to you. You smiled in return and thanked her.

“Well, I’ll let you both get back to it.” She said, winking at you both and ending the call.

“So, how long before everybody knows?” He asked you. You just laughed in response, knowing it wouldn’t be long.

“I think she’s already sent an all-caps text to Sydney and Richie, and the rest of them will know before we go into work tomorrow.” You told him, honestly.

“We could just stay here tomorrow. We don’t really need to go in, right?” He said, pressing kisses to your cheek.

“Would that be the responsible thing to do?” You teased him. He chuckled and pecked your lips. “You know I would spend every second with you, whether it was responsible or not.” He told you.

You giggled, stopping him from kissing you. “Awww we’re only fifteen minutes in and I’m already your biggest weakness? You big softie,” You continued to joke around with him.

“You’ve always been my weakness, sweetheart,” he said, quickly picking up and carrying you to his bedroom.

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[soulofapatrick]

Wheels up in thirty - Aaron Hotchner x Female reader

Summary: You and Hotch finally get physical and its so much better than you had ever thought it could be

Words: 1.9K

Warnings: smut; p in v; somewhat rough; dom/sub; kinda porn with no plot; plot if you squint

Notes: I need to be stopped, Hotch needs more fiction

Y/N's POV

I’m not sure how I ended up here again, straddling Hotch’s waist in just my panties and him in just his boxers. His hands are gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises as he guides me along the length of his clothes crotch. The tip has escaped his waistband, red and angry and dripping precum that I want to lick up but I can’t move. 

“H-Hotch.” I choke out in frustration when his phone starts ringing, mine buzzing across the room in my to go bag that was thrown haphazardly across the room somewhere. 

He surprises me by ignoring it, instead choosing to make me rise to my knees to he can shimmy out of those black boxers, dick springing up and I think I almost come right then and there at the sheer size and girth of him. His left hand goes back to my hips, slotting in the dip as if my body was made just for him. His right pushes my panties aside so grip the base of his girth, lining myself up before slowly beginning to sink down. The stretch burns but it’s oh so beautiful, this being the first time we’ve gotten this far. 

I still remember Hotch admitting his feelings for me one night after a particularly stressful case, both of us sat in his office on the sofa. Everyone else had gone home but I had nothing to go home to so I sat there with Hotch, the heat of his skin searing as he turned and kissed me. 

“Hotchner.” My head flies down to see Hotch has finally answered his phone, his hand on my hip not haltering its gentle push and pull. It has my jaw falling open at the pure scandal of what Hotch is currently doing when he says, “JJ, we’ll be there as soon as.” He swallows hard when he realises he said ‘we’ “Yes. Alright see you soon.”

His head falls back into the pillow when I rock my hips gently, hanging up and throwing his phone in the top drawer of his bedside table, cognac eyes fluttering open to meet mine, darkening so much they’re almost black. He sounds so wrecked already, a light sheen of sweat over his skin, his dark hair pressed against his forehead and the sight of him alone has me rocking my hips even more slowly, grinding into him. 

A surprised sound leaves my throat when one of his hands tangles in my hair ad tugs as he’s suddenly flipping us over. My nails are digging into his biceps until he moves one hand between us to rub circles into my clit to distract me from the new angle that has him buried to the hilt. I swear I can feel every bump and ridge of him against my fluttering walls as I find his now damp messy hair and tugging almost harshly but he just moans, loud and dirty, “C-Can I?” He sounds like he’s choking, trying to keep his hips as still as he can as to give me time to adjust to the new angle. 

I don’t reply, just wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his lower back and he gets the hint. He pulls out until just the tip is in before slamming back to the hilt, dragging such loud moans from both of us, his lips move down my chest until they’re enclosing around one of my nipples, one hand finding my hand and intertwining our fingers while the other hand digs into my hips to stop me shifting up the bed as he sets an almost brutal pace. It adds to the almost overwhelming pleasure and I don’t think I’m going to last long with how I’m already clamping around him and my thighs are shaking and Hotch can tell as there’s a smile etches into my skin as he moves his lips back to the soft spot just below my jaw. 

“Come for me princess.” His thumb rubs along my bottom lip and I’m sucking it into my mouth, tasting the saltiness on it and without warning my back is arching, yanking him into a bruising kiss as my body writhes and tries to move away from him as he continues to pound me into the bed, my eyes rolling into the back of my head, “That’s it darling, I’ve got you.” Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes as I come down from my high almost too quickly, body trying to wriggle away from him but his hands are flying to hold me in place as he continues to whisper lovingly into my skin, “One more princess, just one more.” 

“Aaron,” I choke out, “P-phone-“ His phone is buzzing frantically in the bed side table but he ignores it so I do too, wanting everything Hotch has to offer me. My nails are raking down his back as another builds so quickly, my legs trembling and he’s picking up the pace, hips slamming into mine hard enough to bruise but it just adds to my heightened overstimulation. His every touch is like fire against my skin and his kisses are messy with lips crushing and teeth clashing but it’s perfect. I get lost in the heat of his body flush against mine, the smell of arousal and sweat heavy in the air and the salty taste as I reciprocate the hickeys all over his neck to try and stave off my second orgasm knowing I’m not going to last, knowing I’ll have to worry about the hickeys covering both of us later. 

Apparently it’s too much for Hotch as his hand that was holding my hand moves to lightly grip my throat, his breath hot against my shoulder as his thrusts get sloppy. He’s hitting that spongy spot every time and suddenly, without warning his hips are slamming into mine once more and I can feel him shoot thick rope after thick rope against my walls, filling me up. The feeling mixed with the pressure on my neck has my vision whiting out and I think I can hear myself almost screaming Hotch’s name as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over me and I think I pass out fro a moment or two. 

My eyes are fluttering open to Hotch stroking my hair, “There you are sweet girl,” he’s cooing, lips pressing sweet and gentle kisses to my skin, “I’ve got you, come back to me princess.” He’s gentle with every movement as he slowly pulls out, both of us wincing a little and I try to raise myself to my elbows but they give way almost immediately and he feels it as he’s chuckling, “Stay right there, let me grab our clothes. You can rest in the car.” 

Oh god, the case. I must look just as much of a mess as Aaron looks as he climbs off the bed. I can feel his seed leaking down my thighs and staining the sheets but I’m too spend and sated to care, groaning weakly when Hotch's hands are back on me, the fabric of a damp cloth wiping away as much of the mess as he can before his hands are guiding my legs into my panties and jeans. He’s then pulling me to my feet. Bad move as my legs are shaking so much they give way and he’s catching me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he buttons my jeans up with one hand. A sweet kiss is pressed to my neck as he sits me back onto the bed, in the spot that isn’t soiled before he’s fumbling around the room again then my bra is being put in place and clasped with ease. 

“I’m so proud of you princess.” Hotch praises, a soft sound leaving him when my thighs clench together involuntarily at the praise despite my body not being able to take another orgasm, wanting to snuggle into his strong and safe arms and sleep. But his famous Hotch jumper is being pulled over my head and I’m weakly pulling my arms through the sleeves as he cleans himself up and gets into a fresh pair of boxers and suit trousers.

My jaw drops when take a proper look at Hotch as he reaches into his bedside table to answer his phone that is buzzing again. He’s standing there, phone to ear, listening to who I’m guessing is Emily telling him off for not answering their frantic calls. I currently don’t care, unable to take my eyes off the hickeys of varying sizes and colours all over his neck and chest and the raised and raw scratch marks going down his back, some of them speckled with blood. It’s a mixture of embarrassment and pride that fills me, knowing that we’ve left physical marks on each other. 

“Yes Emily, I have Y/N. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. We’ll meet you at the jet.” With that Hotch hangs up, cognac eyes landing on me again and darkening slightly as he takes me in, my legs still shaking a little before he has to shake his head and find a suit shirt and jacket. 

We make it to the runway with three minutes to spare and the hickeys and marks still very visible as it was cover them and miss the jet or make it and ignore everyone’s comments. 

As we step into the cabin, the atmosphere shifts. Eyes dart towards me and Hotch, lingering on the conspicuous mark adorning both our necks and the fact I’m wearing Hotch’s jumper. Whispers flutter through the air like wayward butterflies, tinged with curiosity and amusement, as the team members look at the scene before them. 

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he exchanges knowing glances at Emily who sighs and hands him some money as JJ attempts to stifle a giggle behind her hand across from them. Garcia, ever the theatrical, widens her eyes in exaggerated shock, her hand flying to her mouth in an ever so theatrical gesture of astonishment. 

Rossi, ever the observant one, arches one eyebrow in amusement, his lips quirking into a sly smile as he takes in the sight of us. His gaze holding a mixture of amusement and approval, silently acknowledging the feelings finally accepted between me and Hotch even if it was done in a very unprofessional way. 

The comments come in a flurry, a blend of teasing remarks and playful backer, laced with the underlying affection shared among the members of the team. Despite the teasing, there is an unmistakable sense of camaraderie, a bond forged through countless missions and shared experiences, that holds everyone together even in the most unconventional of moments.

Hotch presses a gentle kiss to the side of my head, moving his hand from the small of my back as I smack Morgan’s arm lightly, passing them all to fall into the seat next to my best friend - Spencer - who hasn’t said a word. I rest my head on his shoulder and smack his leg as I feel his shoulders moving with silent laughter, everyone going back to teasing me and Hotch as the case can wait until we get there. 

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka

[star-suh]

Product Testing

Park Jisung x Male Reader

cw: top jisung, bottom reader, cheating, yn has a girlfriend, straight to bi ig, rimjob, fingering, blowjob, handjob, face sitting, breeding, shower sex, they almost get caught, ripped clothes.

—

“i'm so happy you can finally meet my family” yn's new girlfriend give little cute happy hops. the newly made couple was walking towards the girl’s house. yn was nervous, rumors said that she has a very serious brother, someone that would make even the devil himself would run away from him. even though he knows that's just bullshit he still was scared of meeting him.

the door opened, a lovely lady and a man were there behind the door. they smiled and greeted yn and he did the same. seeing only the two of them yn felt relieved maybe he wasn't home ‘what a lucky day’ he said in his head.

he was exploring the house when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, they were heavy and loud, each one of them echoing in the empty walls of the house as if they were in some kind of movie. “so you're yn, right?” he said with not a single emotion in his face nor his voice. “y-yes i am”.

“why are you stuttering” jisung smirks, “are you that nervous of meeting me?” he trailed his index finger on yn’s arm “hmm?”. “n-no no” yn tried to brush it off and disguise the embarrassment “i’m just so happy that i can finally meet you all”. “you're very happy then. you did it again” he rubs the other's back and leaves towards the kitchen.

“what the fuck” yn whispers, there's something in jisung’s aura that makes him feel weak.

the hours passed and yn felt as if he was being teased by jisung, he always sits manspreading in front of yn, grabs his bulge whenever he is looking at him. yn can swear that he is not wearing any type of underwear under his shorts. the night came, “oh shoot it's already night, i have to go” yn was getting prepared to leave when his mother-in-law stops him, “sweetie it's too late why don't you sleep here with us?”; “but not in my daughter's room” the father adds.

“no, it's ok. i can take a taxi” he said; “i insist” the woman said, showing a smile. she was so cute that he couldn't decline the offer. “ok, i'll stay. the sofa looks comfy”; “if you want you can sleep on jisung's room” jisung's dad tells yn who turn his head to look at the other male, he was smirking at him and saying “i don't mind sharing my room”...

seeing that there wasn't a futon for yn to sleep on the floor he has to share the bed with jisung. “good night” yn blurted out, throwing the sheets on top of his body. “good night” jisung replied. yn side eyed at him seeing he was shirtless and the bulge on his pajama shorts was more visible, he indeed wasn't wearing underwear. “like what you see?” jisung laughs and jumps onto the bed “don't act as if you weren't checking me out a few seconds ago” he said that with his mouth inches away from the other's ear, “it looks like you came here for me and not my sister”.

11 pm and yn can't sleep, jisung was breathing against his neck, it sent shivers down his spine. and not to talk that his bulge was being pressed against his ass. ‘he must be having a wet dream’ he thought ‘there's no other explanation for this’. but then he hears something, “guess you're liking it, seeing how you're not doing anything about it” jisung starts kissing his neck. “w-why are you doing this ji-jisung” his words coming out like whispered whimpers. “take it like a product testing, you know?, like when you have to try something to see if it’s good for other people” his tongue leaving a wet stripe on yn’s ear, “i have to see if you're good enough for my sister. you get it?”. yn nodded, he just gave in into the pleasure jisung was offering.

he pulled down yn's shorts and ripped his underwear so he could have easy access to his hole. yn grabbed jisung's bulge and massaged it later pulling it out from a side through a sleeve of the shorts “you're indeed not wearing underwear.. perv” he stated.

jisung smeared the pre-cum coming out of his tip on his brother-in-law's hole. “you're writhing” jisung uttered, “you want my cock that much?” his warm breath caressing the back of his neck and ears. yn was a completely mess, he was in a fucked up state, he didn't know what to say or how to act just letting jisung guide him into the forbidden pleasures. “wanna suck me, pretty boy?”, yn nodded trying to hide his flushed face. he went under the sheets and went straight to the action, leaving a trail of kisses from the tip, down the shaft and finally his balls. jisung moaned quietly, remembering how they're not alone in the house, “for a beginner you're doing pretty good” he heaved. yn licked and sucked on the other's dick trying to put it all the way down his throat, savoring the salty clear liquid that comes out of it. “how is it?” yn asked still under the sheets, tears pooling on his eyes and hair sticking out on his forehead because of the sweat. jisung licked two of his fingers to introduce them in yn's tight ring of muscles, slowly they were going in and out “look at your filthy hole, so inviting” he pulls out his digits and looks how the hole clenches into air “look at it, it's winking at me” he jokes. they were so focused on pleasuring each other that they didn't hear anyone knocking at the door.

“i'm coming in” yn's girlfriend opened the door, both guys got scared but thanks to jisung quick reaction he managed to hide yn under the sheets and the latter did the same hiding jisung's dick with the short sleeve. “oh hey dear sister, what brings you here?” jisung asks with surprise laced in his tone, “nothing, i went to the kitchen for a glass of water and came here.. to see how you two were” she stated. jisung's heart was beating fast he felt like at some moment it would come out of his chest “we're good, but your boyfriend here is quite the bad bed companion” he signals towards yn and lifts just a bit of the sheet to show her he was sleeping “he moves too much in bed” he jokes and his sister just laughs "so cute. goodnight see you tomorrow”, she waves goodbye and closes the door.

“holy fuck that was close” jisung wipes the sweat on his forehead with his hand. “we're almost got caught” yn says, concerned. “no shit sherlock. i felt like i would just faint at some point of the conversation” jisung lets out the sighest sigh he ever sighed.

resuming with his “product testing” jisung made yn sit on his face and ride his tongue. the wet muscle going inside of him, “so tasty” jisung murmurs. yn masturbated and spits on his brother-in-law's dick while the latter keeps on eating him out. “let's go to the bathroom” jisung proposes “it’s safer there, we don't want someone else sneaking on the room”. “you know we can just lock the door?” yn commented with a serious face and a sarcastic tone, “shut up and let's fuck” jisung guide him towards the bathroom while kissing him.

in the shower jisung railed yn against the glass, his sweaty body shape being imprinted on it, his breaths fogging the clear surface. “fuck jisung slow down. you're gonna rip me” he whimpers, his legs trembling due to the pleasure. “i can't, you're so tight. it feels too good” he responded. jisung lifted yn's left leg with his left hand to have a better access to his puckered hole. his dick going in and out in a fast pace, his balls slapping against it. with his right hand jisung pushes yn's head against the glass and proceeded to lick his cheek and then making eye contact with their hooded eyes “you're taking me so well yn. what if i want to keep tasting this product?” he said while gripping his ass cheeks, “i wouldn't mind” the other whispered. the top laughs “that's my yn” he mutters.

“i'm gonna fucking cum, where do you want it” jisung asked with a hurry, his dick already throbbing. “in me ji-jisung fill me up. i want my brother-in-law's semen”. jisung cupped his face with his right hand so yn can face him and kiss him. as he does so, his dick was filling him up with loads and loads of semen. after that jisung knelt and sucked yn not stopping until he milked the last drop out of his dick.

after their steamy sex session jisung helped yn clean himself in the shower, introducing his fingers on his hole toh help him push out all the cum, “this is the hottest thing i've seen in my life” he says with emotion, licking his lips.

next day they woke up, had breakfast and spend the morning as if nothing happened last night. he was saying goodbye to his girlfriend, her parents and lastly her brother, the both hugged and jisung whispered something on his ear “hope i can taste that ass more like a deeper inspection”, yn laughed and wave goodbye but not before winking at him and mouthing a yes.

[simpxxstan]

svt + nerdy y/n!!

a/n: this is absolutely self-indulgent. i'm sorry if i'm writing slower than usual, i'm trying to get back on track!

sfw content. gender neutral reader and established relationship.

very mildly suggestive (pg13 audience only!). nerd here refers to anyone with academic interests or a general high level of interest in uncommon/niche topics. i've tried to make the concept of nerd as inclusive as possible.

seungcheol

not a nerd himself but will encourage you 100% to be a nerd- buys you new pair of glasses when your eyesight worsens, new documentary CDs and even membership of a hundred foreign journals.

defo has a sapiosexuality kink- you can guess how attracted he is to your intelligence. but he's the smarter one on the streets, so he'll take care of you in every way possible while you stay in your little geeky bubble.

it's always baby let me recharge your phone bill for you; baby please eat your meals on time; baby you can't stop drinking water because of exam stress; baby if you're pulling an all-nighter, call me over, i don't want you to stay up all night alone.

jeonghan

loving jeonghan involves so much cuddling and lazy time when you both just lie under the blankets, his head is on your stomach and your fingers in his hair. it's at these moments that he encourages you to read out for him and he hums along whenever you pause to check if he's fallen asleep.

but jeonghan draws the line sometimes. he is supportive- but only when you're not trading off your time with him for the sake of peering into books.

you can sit with me and solve bivariate normal distributions or whatever you have to do, he whines into your ear. but you keep tickling me and i mess up the calculations! he laughs at this, i can't help it if you're just so ticklish, baby.

joshua

three years ago, joshua would've laughed if someone told him he would be more interested in the latest discoveries of astrophysics than in who's winning the la liga matches. but here he is- successfully converted into a nerd entirely because of your influence.

joshua was ridiculously easy to convert. all it had taken was the shiny, lovesick look in your eyes when you'd ask him if he wanted to watch a documentary on alternate universe theories with you, and he'd said yes in a heartbeat. and then it had just been a spiral into the metaphorical black hole. and he does NOT regret it, as long as he gets to spend time with you.

josh is this getting too boring? you'd quietly ask after an hour of the documentary, guilty for being too absorbed in it to even look at your boyfriend and see how he's faring. but joshua is melting at your concern, so even if it was a little bit boring, he'll reassure you sweetly, not at all baby! this is so new and interesting!!

jun

yes he may be from china, but clearly you know more about his own roots than he does! whenever you're watching news, jun loves it when you fill him up on some quirky background info that he didn't know about, but adds so much value to the context of the news.

in awe of your academic capabilities and keeps bragging about you to everyone. feels so proud when he can contribute to something you're passionate about too. he CANNOT fathom why someone as nerdy and intellectual as you should want to be with him.

junie, you're so smart! you praise him after he reports a profit he's making on a stocks investment. he shyly giggles, not like you, baby. you shake your head, i may be book smart. but you're street-smart!

soonyoung

hyper and calm partners!!!! he used to get annoyed with how you would pore into your books all day and how focused you were on your studies, but now he sees the charm in it all. it makes you happy, and in turn, he gets to wrap himself around you and be as clingy as he likes.

he really tries to follow with your nerdiness, his enthusiasm is there he swears! it's just not his fault that his attention span is so low and he ends up staring at your lips more than actually listening to you.

baby are you even listening? you ask, pouting. it drive him even more insane and he ends up giving in to his instincts and kissing you. yes baby! i heard everything!

wonwoo

WILL BE GEEKY WITH YOU! i imagine the two of you sitting next to each other at a table, him focused on his games and you're focused on your studies, your feet in his lap, and you're both sharing the same cup of coffee.

he loves collecting pretty little diaries for you, because he knows you write little poems and trivia in those diaries. whenever he's out on tour, he's bringing a locally-made diary for you, and if possible, he customises it with your name imprinted on it too.

wonwoo, there's a new adaptation of pygmalion getting shown in the theatre! do you want to go watch? i want to take notes from this adaptation and write about it on my blog... you need not even explain so much, wonwoo bought the tickets already when you began to talk about it.

jihoon

feels so giddy when he comes home from work and the first thing you do (in between his kiss attacks) is tell him a new fact you learnt today in whatever is your latest obsession.

jihoon loves his personal space, so when he's found you who's equally fond of your personal space and interests, it's literally a match made in heaven. they say it'll put distance between the two of you, but it really does quite the opposite!

jihoonie, can you help me learn this table? maybe ask me randomly and i'll try to answer. jihoon wants to tell the table to self-destruct from the entire world because you're near to tears trying to mug it up. but he doesn't. instead he says, love, how about i make a song for you which simplifies this? like a mnemonic but nicer.

seokmin

man was too desperate to get out of school to understand why you choose to be a nerd. but it's hella cute, so he doesn't need to understand. he's obsessed with your quirky habits- the way you bite your lips when you're finding a topic difficult, the way your glasses slip down your nose and you irritatedly push it up again, the way you crave the hot chocolate he makes when you're under exam stress.

admires your smartness so much! WILL brag about it to everyone he meets. WILL bring up the fact you told him yesterday, in today's conversation with his members just to show off your smartness.

posts stories about you being so cute while working hard for your exams but it's just you with oiled hair, acne breaking out like hellfire, and cramming notes at breakneck speed (you don't talk to him for an hour after this, but he doesn't get why you're so embarrassed, he only sees cuteness.)

mingyu

another one who WILL be nerdy with you. mingyu's always been a curious boy- even as a child, he would be drawn into new ideas easily. nothing is different now, and mingyu sits with you often when you're studying, his hands often wandering to your shoulders to massage them, and bringing you a regular supply of ramen and snacks.

you have a habit of repeating to yourself what you read, so mingyu steps in and asks you to talk to him and explain the topics to him as if you're teaching him. safe to say, he gets VERY turned on after such mock 'teaching' lessons and eventually loses focus on what you're saying.

gyu do you remember that paper i wrote last month? yeah, it got selected for a journal. you say it so nonchalantly that any other person would think you're showing off. but mingyu knows how much it means to you, and you're only downplaying it because you think mingyu won't think it to be a big deal, as most academic snobs tend to do. but lucky for you, mingyu knows exactly how precious an achievement it is to you, so he shows his appreciation to you instead of merely saying it (by showering you with kisses that make you tingle all over).

minghao

OH oh. will listen to your rants with the sweetest subtle smile on his face. will buy encyclopedias and reference books for your mini library. will take you to speaker sessions, workshops and other such informative events across the city, even places you've no idea about.

the most ardent supporter you could have asked for, he is in awe of your mental capabilities and your intelligence. you both have a lot of quality time where you're just sitting together and doing your things, but minghao values it like no other activity in the world.

hao? there's a new parcel at the door. you call him when a delivery arrives and he's at work. open it. he may not be around to see your reaction, but he can sure imagine the grin that's bursting out on your face when you squeal his name into the phone on seeing the hardcover special edition version of your favourite collection of essays.

seungkwan

lots of wide-eyed wondering at why you would want to stay rooted at a spot and read books over playing badminton with him. he wants to complain that you've chosen your academics over him, but that'd be a lie, so he can only half-heartedly whine about it.

comes around to your point of view as soon as you start showing him documentaries (on animals living in the Himalayas, as per your latest obsession). it begins with him finding the animals cute, to eventually finding you cute when you animatedly talk about them. and once he's totally converted, it's fairly easy for you to convince him to help you with exams.

expect eye rolls, smug smiles and hair being brushed back nonchalantly when the questions he had asked last night from your texts actually matched with the ones asked in the exam. i told you, baby, he whispers in your ear. now i want my reward, you've been drowned in books for way too long and not paying any attention to your boyfriend.

vernon

it was a surprise to him as well when he realised he's got a massive sapiosexuality kink. as someone who's run as far away from the education system as he could, he doesn't even know why he finds it so attractive when you're being nerdy. but, well, he does.

he loves hearing you talk about whatever it is that you're learning lately, and sometimes something or the other catches his attention. and then, you know he'll dive right deep into it to know all about it, until his curiosity is satisfied.

nonie, what's the video you sent me? you ask him when you return home from uni. i wondered if you've watched this one. it explains the theories of why the harappan civilization disappeared so well. you can only smile at his enthusiasm, i bet you've been looking at conspiracy theories again, nonie. the guilty grin on his face says it all.

chan

chan listens so well, but you can't really blame him if he doesn't retain the information. he's elated simply to have you wrapped in his arms as you talk about what happened in your classes today, and his nose in the crook of your neck so he can smell your lovely scent. intermittently nods his head (just wants to rub his nose on the soft skin of your neck) and hums in agreement of what you just said (suppressing moans when he can feel your heartbeat quicken when he presses kisses to your neck too).

it doesn't matter what your new niche is, but he's indulging it. he admires your ability to stay focused in a field as demanding as academia, and he's all for you to go ahead with your interests and education as long as you want to learn.

you wake up to post-its on your forehead every day when chan has had to leave early for work: get out of the house and get fresh air. shampoo hair today, interview tomorrow. practice the introduction speech again. drink water and take vitamins. STOP DRINKING COFFEE. and you giggle at each of them, because they're all things you've tried to remember for yourself and forgotten, so chan reminds you like this, but his cute handwriting and the little XOXOXOs he's drawn all over make your heart melt.

[mirohlayo]

Hi could you write how F1 drivers would react to reader being really shy and blushing all the time?

Thank you!!

Hello !! This request is cute, so here's the cutest thing I've ever written (I think?)

F1 DRIVERS AND YOU

BEING REALLY SHY

( include piastri, norris, leclerc, sainz, hamilton, george, verstappen & ricciardo )

warning : none just reader being shy and a blushing mess

note : f1 is coming back and i think i'm gonna scream because hell i can't wait

─ OSCAR PIASTRI

this boy is a bit like you and it's one of the reason you're genuinely yourself around him. he's humble and also shy, well he gets shy easily, but seeing you mirror his personality is probably one of his favorite thing in the world. sometimes it's you who make him all shy, then he became a blushing mess. and when it's not you then it's oscar, who absolutely melt at your shyness and the way you become red in a second. maybe you find it embarrassing but it's just precious to him. it's you, and it's perfect.

─ LANDO NORRIS

lando is such an extrovert and sassy boy. that's why it was uncommon for him to meet such a shy and timid person like you. but as the time goes on he started to completely fall in love with this side of you. he finds it adorable, the way you always blush because you're too shy to properly say something. it's so cute. he thinks the subtle tint of pink on your cheeks is the cutest thing he has ever seen. but he knows sometimes it's hard for you to get comfortable, so he often helps you when you need some help and reassurance.

─ CHARLES LECLERC

boy absolutely adores you. he's obsessed with the way you blush very fast, it's one of the things he adds on his list of favorite things he loves about you. sometimes, he would make fun of you, seeing you blushing and start to stay quiet because you're in your shy mood. but it's always in an affectionate way, he'll never make you feel sad or uncomfortable. he knows the limits. it's teasing but yet he can't help it, he'll never get tired of your cuteness.

─ CARLOS SAINZ

he didn't really know how to react at first. or how to act. he's not so comfortable with shy people. but he learned to love and appreciate you. you being yourself. now he would be lying if he said he doesn't like how your cheeks turn red so easily. it's new to him but he's so interested in you. he loves you the way you are. he likes to scan and examine you and your gestures, how you react. because then he learns about it and after he knows how to act so as not to rush you. he wants to take time to get to know the shy but adorable you.

─ LEWIS HAMILTON

the purest boy with the purest person ever. which is you. this man is so mature and he can definitely say you're the shyer person he knows. and that blushing is now something normal for you. you keep blushing all day, it became an obsession for lewis because damn he can't get enough of this cute picture of you. plus with your shy personality it's impossible for him to not adore you. and love you. every day he gets the chance to see you like that and he always asks for more, because he swears his heart beats faster when he's the one making you blush hard.

─ GEORGE RUSSEL

boy is so funny over this. i think he would more tease you than actually cherish you being all shy. but it's love teasing, he loves to keep pointing at your shyness and your blushing face because deep down his heart begs to see you like that. he tries to play it cool, but he would never tell you that he feels himself melt down a bit every time you're shy with him. like he's completely yours but you're still hesitant about things and he finds it adorable. because he'll always let you do anything with him. just ask him, you'll see.

─ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he's definitely not the best at it but he truly shows you how he cares about you being so shy. when you have trouble to talk or ask for something he's always here to help you. because ain't no way his precious girl goes through that kind of stress alone. also you have this habit of covering your face when you blush because you find it a bit embarrassing. but max always takes off your hands over your face when you're hiding because he thinks it's so cute and adorable, the pink color on your cheeks. definitely adorable.

─ DANIEL RICCIARDO

poor boy was so lost. his goofy extrovert person didn't know how to act with such a shy and timid person like you. like for real he didn't know how to not mess up everything. but as the time goes on he gets more and more comfortable. he puts so much effort into your relationship, he really doesn't want to lose you or push you to far. and then when you finally opened up to him, when your shyness fades away a bit, oh his heart didn't survives how he made you blush like crazy. it is the prettiest thing ever to him. and he'll also get a silly nickname for you. just to tease you yeah.

[coffeeshopguest]

Hi! Can I request Sebastian from stardew valley during your honeymoon smut? If not, that’s totally fine

-✨🖤✨

ofc you can, I wasn't quite sure where to take it or lead into it, but I honestly really like how it turned out :) hope it was what you wanted :)

Farmer's Honeymoon

Word Count: 1520 Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Warnings: 18+, smut, smoking, fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, vaginal sex (should be all, lmk if I missed any!) 

The wedding was beautiful, and you'd even convinced Sebastian not to smoke over the entirety of the service - the entire town had made it (which wasn't surprising, considering there was only about 30 people in the entire town). It was beautiful, perfect. Just what you had envisioned. Other than one, small, teeny problem.

It was summer. Sebastian thought that would be the perfect time to get married - and you'd tried to explain it wasn't. One - it would be too warm. But mostly for the second reason that you couldn't leave your farm. When you addressed this to Sebastian he shrugged it off. "We can always take a trip in the winter, I want to marry you in the summer. We can do a mini-honeymoon in town," and that was that. 

And so it was. Sebastian and you were eloped in the town center, and after the celebration, you two headed back off to the farm. Sebastian officially moving in with you. Upon reaching the farm, he slid down onto the porch, staring out at the field. "We - we don't have to stay," you voiced, moving to sit beside him. "We could leave - save up and run away somewhere new and exciting." 

Sebastian laughed, he fished out a cigarette from his jacket pocket, glancing at you, "mind?" he asked as he set it in his mouth.

"Go for it," you answered, he happily lit the cigarette, looking out at the sun dipping in the sky. He thought for a while about your words, perhaps tempted by the offer.

He took a long huff, blew it out, then spoke. "I wanna stay. I know all I used to talk about was leaving but...I don't know. It's home. Shitty, boring, dusty, small - but...home," he thought for a while. "Besides, your farm is here..." he added, he pondered what else to add. Taking along drag, flicking some of the ash down onto the dirt and stomping on it. "It looks pretty, I know I've seen it here or there but...it feels different at night. Calmer."

Your head fell against his shoulder, humming a little. You two sat while he finished his cigarette and then he stood, he gently offered you a hand. "C'mon," he said softly, "Wanna celebrate our marriage," he mumbled it, a small devious look overtaking his face. You raised an eyebrow but took his hand.

"What were you thinking?" 

He tugged your hand, opening the farmhouse door. "What do you think I'm thinking?" he answered, basically dragging you across the house towards the bedroom. Sure, you two had done it a few times before marriage. Okay, a lot. But Sebastian seemed set on this being special. Once he'd reached the bedroom, he lightly guided you to the bed, laying you down on your back. "You want me to?" he whispered, eyes wandering you. Despite still being fully clothed, his gaze made you feel naked. Your head bobbed, words not forming. Sebastian's face fell ever so slightly. "Use your words, c'mon baby," he encouraged, leaning to kiss your lips. "Don't nod, tell me." 

Over the course of your relationship with Sebastian you'd learned a few things. He needed words, confirmation, noise. He climbed onto the bed, slightly on top of you, eyes focused on you. Waiting.

"God...yes, please," you whispered out, his face formed a smirk, that was all he needed. After all this time he still needed a yes and it drove you up the wall with excitement. 

He slowly leaned down, connecting your lips, his hands immediately reaching for you, tugging off any piece of clothing in his way, gripping what skin he came in contact with. Soft moans escaped him, slight groans. He pressed his clothed self against you, causing a soft reaction from you - a small whine. "More, need more," you insisted. He pulled back, examining what clothes he'd left you in. Just panties, his eyes wandered your naked form before he quickly and easily tore those off. Literally tore. "Seb~"

"It's okay, I'll buy you more," he assured, not at all phased by the action. He captured you in another kiss, hands moving to find your breasts. Grazing your nipple with his thumb, you pathetically lifted your hips trying to gain some sort of friction. He pulled his body a little further, watching your needy state. "Mh, god...so pretty," he mumbled. His hands moved down your body, slowly, reaching your thighs he spread your legs for him, examining your wet pussy. "So pretty," he repeated, slowly running a finger between your folds. You shivered, watching him.

"Seb- more...need more," you insisted pathetically, he didn't react immediately, finger lightly tracing around you, before he quickly shoved it in. Your body reacted quickly, a long guttural moan escaped you as your back arched a little. 

"Fuck, I feel that," he grunted a little, "fuck he you're tight," he slowly pulled his out, glancing up at your face. Another thing he always did - watched. Watched for your reactions to know just what felt good and just what he needed to do. He slipped the finger back in, watching to see how you took it. You bit your lip to fight back the moan that erupted and in reply, he instantly shoved a second one in. "Oh come on, give me it, moan for me," he encouraged, his other hand rubbing softly against your clit - urging you to an orgasm. 

 "Oh, fuck - Seb," you whimpered out, his eyes locked on you, glancing down at your pussy, making sure he was pumping in and out well enough, watching your wetness soak his fingers. "Gon- gonna cum..." in reply, he pumped faster, rubbed harder. You gripped the sheets of the bed, moaning out Sebastian's name. And finally, you let go. Tightening around his fingers, he coaxed out the remainder of your orgasm before pulling his fingers out. 

He wasted no time ripping off his suit, undoing the dress shirt, and tossing it to the floor. (He never cared for suits). The dress pants came next, falling to the floor you could finally see the extent of his bulge. He quickly removed his boxers, throwing them aside. He climbed fully on top of you, a hand gripping yours and lacing the fingers together. "Ready, baby?" he purred softly, never wanting to do anything you wouldn't want. 

"Yes...yes," you answered, squeezing his hand. You whined when he moved his hand away, shivering as it traced its way down your body, to your hips. He lifted you slightly, positioning himself. "Condom?" you mumbled, looking at him. Eyes glazed, still coming down from your last high.

"Mind if I skip it tonight?" he asked, you shook your head.

"Fill me..." 

He smirked, always loving when you gave an order. He would do his best to fulfill every desire you had, he slowly and gently pushed his tip against you. Eyes glued to your face. He gave you the tip first, you groaned out and Sebastian had to remind himself to take things slow. The urge to slam in and thrust as hard as he could was tempting, but he wanted to draw out the session and make you feel as good as he possibly could. So, as you adjusted, he took his time shoving in. Watching. Waiting. Once he was sure you were adjusted, he slowly pulled back out, slowly shoved back in. Your hands wandered, looking for his shoulders, his back. You gripped him with your nails, digging into his skin. 

He groaned as your nails dug in, knowing you'd leave marks. "Mh, god...ready for more?" he whispered, you whimpered and nodded pathetically - and this time Sebastian didn't ask for words. His pace sped up, hands holding you firmly in place as his hips trusted. The room filled with sounds of your moans, his soft grunts, and skin against skin. He managed to last until your nails dug deeper into his back, clawing down it. "Can't-fuck can't hold it...cum for me baby..." 

You didn't need the words, with one hard thrust from Sebastian you bit his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming and waking up the whole town. Walls clenching tightly around his cock. He grunted, slowing his pace, letting you cum all over him before he shot his load into you, a soft moan - almost a whimper - escaped him. He waited for a moment, head thrown back and eyes shut tight. "God...keep squeezing like that and I'm not gonna...gonna stop cumming.." he grunted out, when you both came down from the high he pulled himself out.

His eyes flickered to your pussy, dripping with a mix of your two's cum. "Fuck, you're so gorgeous," he mumbled, kissing your lips gently. "I'll clean you up, baby," he added, standing and heading for the bathroom. 

Sure, it wasn't a trip away - but every day and night Sebastian made the honeymoon feel absolutely perfect.

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