#i’ve been going through it if you couldn’t tell

[absfawn]

ㅤ ㅤㅤ❝ 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐢𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮? ❞  

abby remembers the second the light in your eyes left. it was like yesterday. she remembers the night you showed up at her house, completely drenched, from head to toe in the rain, looking at her with the tears streaming down your face. even covered in rain, she could tell just how much you had been crying. she remembers how your hands shook as she helped you undress for a warm shower, and how you could barely hold the washcloth because of how cold your body felt. at first, she wasn’t sure why. why you cried your heart out the second she let you inside, how you clung to her body like she would disappear if she didn’t hold you tight enough. every piece of her broke each time you would grip her shirt in your fist, knuckles turning white, whenever she tried to pull you away just to get you in the shower, to warm you up, but you never budged. you didn’t want to let her go. ever. 

she was quick, like she always is when it came to you, when you slumped onto the shower floor and held your knees against your chest, sniffling and whimpering into your arms. she didn’t care about her dry clothes getting wet, all she cared about was you and making sure you were okay. the stream of water covers her as she wraps her arms around your body and pulls you into her chest, whispering and reassuring you that you were okay. it wasn’t until you opened your mouth and uttered a soft, “we argued about you” that her body tensed, and her eyebrows furrowed at your words. 

“me? why me?”

“why not? you’re perfect” you laughed, but it wasn’t your usual laugh she adored hearing, was used to hearing. it sounded so broken that all she could do was hold you tighter. “m’not sure, i think it makes her angry that i always come to you when m’sad, or when something is getting too much for me to handle and i never go to her. m’scared that i only trust you, and i can’t trust anyone else with my emotions,” you sucked in a deep breath and sniffled. “m’scared of my feelings, the ones i thought i had for her, the ones i have had for you for years and i hate that i keep putting all of this on you” you rambled, not fully understanding you had just admitted one of your confessions to your best friend.

abby was momentarily happy for this moment of confession because she’s been in love with you from the start, but she was also terrified. scared because right now you were too heartbroken and too hurt for her to drop the i love you bomb right onto you. “m’here for you, no matter what the problem is, you know that” she mumbled against your head. “you can bring your things to me, and i will try my best to help you through them, like i’ve always promised you.” even if it killed her to hold back her own feelings towards you.

“s’not fair on you” you couldn’t help but huff and roll your eyes at her. “m’always doing it. it just ruins everything”

“you need to stop thinking you know what’s not fair on me, and what is. that’s my decision, i won’t let you make that for me. m’here for you, no matter what is going on in your life, and in your pretty head, okay?” abby rubbed your back and placed a tender kiss on your temple when you nodded wordlessly. “now, how about we get out of the shower, i’ll find you something to wear, watch one of those shitty movies you love so much and eat ice cream?”

“i’d like that.” 

abby was gentle and patient, like she always is, when she helped you dry off after she managed to get you from the bathroom to her bedroom, clothes already on the bed waiting as you fumbled with your fingers nervously. none of you had to say anything, her actions of getting you comfortable and warm were enough to express how much she cares about you.

she doesn’t rush you to get changed into something warmer, drier even, nor does she rush you to get comfortable in her bed as she makes her way into the kitchen just to find the ice cream you both always used to eat if you had a shitty day. thankfully though, by the time she makes it back to her bedroom, her pride and joy, her safe place, she finds you snuggled up under the blankets and already scrolling through endless movies that you aren’t sure if you really want to watch. 

“did you pick one?” abby mumbled, placing her bowl of ice cream on her nightstand while passing you the other and chuckling under her breath at your soft gasp from the coldness of the fine china. “careful, it’s cold”

“funny,” you grumbled playfully and snuggled more into her bed. oblivious to her soft eyes watching you. “but thank you, and no, i haven’t picked one. they all look boring.”

abby doesn’t reply, just makes herself comfortable on the other side of you on her bed, your body on instinct snuggled more up to her side and slumped your head on her shoulder as you scooped up ice cream and shoved it in your mouth with subtle sniffles. “you feel better?” she couldn’t help but ask into your hair. 

“a little, thank you for being here” you sighed and rubbed your eyes with your free hand. “s’not what someone’s night should be like, always having to fix me and put me back together again, but thank you.”

pressing her lips to your temple, abby doesn’t feel the way you sag more into her body, nor does she feel the heat rising in your cheeks at such a simple action. she’s forgotten all about her ice cream, as you eat yours and keep your eyes locked on the tv, still undecided on which move you’re going to watch. “hey,” abby whispered. 

“hm?”

“i love you,” the meaning to abby was deeper than you’d ever know, but she wasn’t going to place something else on you while you were already dealing with a broken heart. so instead, she wraps her arm around your waist and kisses your head again. her thumb brushing against the skin on your hip that had you sinking more and more into her with each touch. “which means m’always going to be here for you. during the good and bad. i will do my best to help and guide you through the bad days, but there for you, supporting you through the good ones too. i just want you to be happy, and i will make sure i can help you get there. always. i love you.”

because loving you is the easiest thing she’ll ever have to do.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 1

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,235ish

Summary: You discover your mutation. You get recruited for a team.

Warnings: death, gun shots, fire, homelessness, nakedness

Notes: Surprise! I couldn't wait until Saturday. Besides, this is more of a prologue chapter than anything. Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don't ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! Also, help me decide the endings!

It was snowing, but that didn’t matter. Your insides were burning up to the point that you couldn’t stop sweating, soaking through your clothes. There was practically a puddle of sweat beneath you as you pushed yourself further into the corner of your closet.

Your parents were downstairs, having a screaming match. It was their fifth one today. They had been too occupied with their own drama to even notice what was going on with you. A tremor had started in your hands as your fingertips began faintly glowing orange. You placed your hand against the wooden door as you heard the fighting die down. The silence was eery and before you knew it, a gun was going off. You rushed down the stairs, failing to notice the trail of fire being left behind.

Your father was standing above your mother, gun still pointed at her. Your mother was lying on the ground with a bullet in her forehead.

“Go back upstairs, Y/N,” your father demanded, not sparing you a single glance.

“What did you do?” You frantically cried.

“What she had coming,” your father responded. “She wasn’t like us, Y/N. She was— is that smoke?” Your father looked over to see the stairs in flames. “We’ve got to get out of here.” When your father grabbed your arm, only to quickly let it go when his skin burned. “You… You did this!” He pointed the gun at you. “You’re a monster just like her!”

“I— I’m sorry, Dad! I don’t know what’s happening!”

“I do, monster.”

Your father pulled the trigger and your arm came up to try to protect you. Fire shot out of your hand, landing on your father. He screamed out as the fire quickly spread over him. You cried as you watched your father stumble back into the fire engulfing the stairs. 

Yells and screams began cutting through the growing flames as the neighbors gathered outside. Realizing how this could look, you hurried out the back and continued running. What had you done?

~~~

It didn’t take you long to figure out that you had powers of some kind in the form of fire. Now living on the streets, you used your power to keep alive. You discovered your second ability when another homeless person went after you with a knife, cutting your arm. It healed, simply leaving a scar, after a few hours. It was 1965 and you had just turned 35 when you realized that you had stopped aging years ago. This forced you to move around more to keep from being caught.

Coming back from a heist with your bag full, you entered the alley that you were currently calling home. With a slight twitch of your fingers, you lit the trash in the nearby barrel to warm up the alley and provide some light.

“Some power you got there.”

You jumped at the voice, immediately forming flames in your hands. A man stepped out of the shadows, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Who are you?” You asked.

“Major William Stryker and you are Y/N L/N.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve been following you for quite some time.” He sat on a cart next to the barrel. “Tell me, did you mean to start that fire? Or was it a product of what happened to your mother?”

You grit your teeth. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I know things. Like what you are.”

“And?”

“You’re a mutant and someone special. I would like you to come with me. You’ll get training in your abilities and other skills. We could use you on the team I’m putting together.” He could tell you were considering it. “I know that you’ve been on your own and homeless for far too long. You would never have to worry about food, clothes, or a bed again. Not if you’re with me.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t. You’ll just have to come and see.”

You thought about it. This could be your chance to do something more. To learn about your powers and grow them in ways you didn’t think possible. The promise of the basic necessities was also night.

But there was also a chance that the man in front of you was trying to trick you. Taking a breath, you made a decision.

“I’ll go with you.”

~~~

Though the training was hard and the tests they constantly ran on your powers were draining, you never complained. Stryker had held up his end of the promise, providing you with food, clothes, and a place to sleep. He kept talking about his dreams for the team he was putting together and other mutants soon joined.

First, there was Fred Dukes, who possessed super strength and invulnerability. Next, John Wraith, a teleporter, and Chris Bradley or Bolt, who could control electricity. Agent Zero was next as an expert marksman with Wade Wilson, a swordsman who could never shut up, quickly following.

The six of you made an odd bunch and went out on regular missions for Stryker. You never fully understood what the point of these missions where, but you went on them anyway.

“Wade, I will melt those blades if you poke me one more time.”

The team had a day off, meaning that you were stuck in Stryker’s facility for the team until you were needed. The others had decided to plan a game of poker while you decided to read, with Wade choosing to annoy you.

“Where does the fire live?” Wade asked. “Like, is there an ember constantly lit inside of you? And why isn’t your skin hot?”

“Wade…”

“I’m just curious!” He threw his hands up. “Like how does the fire work? Do you— Hey!” Wade’s clothes burned off of him, leaving him naked. “If you wanted to fuck, you could have just asked.”

“Ew,” you cringed, moving away from him.

“Wilson!” John shouted. “Get some clothes on!”

“Why? You jealous?” Wade retorted with a smirk. He stood up and walked over to where the others were sitting. “Take a good look, boys. Take a look and wish you had this body.”

“Wilson!” Stryker exclaimed as he entered the room, with two other men trailing behind him. “Get your clothes on! We have new recruits.”

“Yes, sir,” Wade mock saluted before walking off.

You peeked over your book to get a look at them. Both of the men were muscular and clearly had their walls up. The one with shorter hair seemed more menacing than the man next to him. The man next to him caught your attention more. More emotions were swirling in his eyes. His hair was long, dark, and thick with mutton chops covering his cheeks.

“Sorry, gentlemen,” Stryker apologized. “That was Wade Wilson.” You stood up as Stryker introduced the other members of the team before ending with you. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“A woman is on this team?” The menacing one scoffed. “No wonder you brought us in.”

“Don’t doubt, Y/N. Her ability to control fire can do more damage than your claws.”

“And you two are?” You questioned, getting annoyed again.

“This is my brother Victor Creed,” the other man introduced. He held out his hand to you. “I’m James. James Logan Howlett.”

You shook his hand briefly. “Nice to meet you, James. Welcome to the team.”

next chapter >

[maybe-im-dark]

Mating season

Logan sat at the edge of their shared bed, fingers tapping against his thigh in a steady, anxious rhythm. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t keep his mind from racing. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the restless energy coiling around him, tightening with every second.

Wade was sprawled across the other side of the room, flipping through a comic book with one hand and munching on a bag of chips with the other. He kept sneaking glances at Logan, eyebrows furrowing a little more each time he saw the older man shift.

“Okay, spill it,” Wade said finally, tossing the comic aside and sitting up. “You’ve been fidgeting like a cat on hot coals for the past hour. What’s going on with you, Logan?”

“None of your damn business,” Logan snapped back, sharper than he intended. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to focus, trying to will the tension away.

Wade tilted his head, studying him with that infuriatingly curious expression. “Come on, you know I’m not gonna leave you alone until you tell me. We both know how persistent I can be.”

Logan growled low in his throat, but he could feel Wade’s gaze on him, insistent and unyielding. “Just… drop it, Wade. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Well, I do.” Wade leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked onto Logan’s. “Come on, just spill it. What’s going on with you?”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looked anywhere but at Wade. But then he took a deep breath, and the words spilled out before he could stop them. “It’s… It’s my mating season, alright? My body’s all wired up because of it.”

Wade blinked, taken aback, and then his expression morphed into one of genuine interest. “Wait, you mean like, because of your mutation? It makes you go into heat or something?”

Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heat creep up the back of his neck. “Yeah, something like that. It’s not exactly something I can control.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Wade asked, and Logan shot him a look.

“Because it’s embarrassing, alright?” Logan snapped. “You think I want to admit that I’ve got some animal instinct making me crazy?”

Wade was silent for a moment, his eyes thoughtful, and then he grinned, leaning in closer. “You know, I could help you with that.”

Logan’s eyes widened, and he stared at Wade, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. “You… you’re serious?”

Wade shrugged, his smile softening into something more sincere. “Yeah. I mean, why not? We’re both here, and if you need help, I’m not gonna let you suffer alone.”

For a long moment, they just looked at each other, the air thick with unspoken tension. Then, Logan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, nodding slowly. “Alright. But if you tell anyone about this—”

Wade held up a hand, cutting him off. “Not a word, I promise.”

They stood there for a moment, neither one moving, and then Logan reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. Wade followed suit, his eyes never leaving Logan’s, and when they finally moved to the bed, it was without hesitation.

As they slipped under the covers, the warmth of Wade’s body pressing against his, Logan felt some of the tension ease from his muscles. For the first time in days, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in this.

The lights dimmed, and as they disappeared under the blankets together, the last thing Logan saw was the soft smile on Wade’s face, the kind that promised understanding without judgment.

And for once, Logan let himself believe that he didn’t have to face his instincts alone.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 12 - 'Like Your Home' | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2k

You and Jude were both exhausted, not just physically after probably too many rounds making up for lost time but emotionally, having navigated the long, winding path back to one another. You and Jude had had sex for hours, you couldn’t get enough. So after you felt completely spent, you closed your eyes, letting yourself relax into him, but then you heard something that caught you off guard. Jude started laughing. It wasn't a big laugh, more like a quiet chuckle that came from deep in his chest, but it was enough to make you lift your head in confusion. You looked up at him, your brow furrowed and a smile pulling at your lips, unsure of what was going through his mind.

"What?" you asked, starting to laugh yourself, tilting your head slightly, wondering what had caused this sudden burst of amusement. Jude grinned, his eyes sparkling with a kind of boyish joy you hadn't seen in a while. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, and he let out another small laugh before he spoke. 

"Sorry. I don’t know. I'm just...so happy," he said, his voice soft but filled with that unmistakable giddiness. He looked at you like he still couldn't quite believe this was real, that you were here with him again, in this way. “Angel, I haven’t fucked you in ages and I cannot tell you how often I’ve thought about that.” He laughed. You blinked at him, a smile tugging at your lips despite your confusion. 

"You're laughing because you're happy you fucked me?" you asked, teasingly raising an eyebrow. Jude nodded, his hand running gently down your back. 

"Yeah," he admitted, looking slightly sheepish but still grinning. "I just missed this so much. Being with you like this... I missed being in bed with you." His confession made your heart flutter, and your smile widened. It was backwardsly sweet. You felt the same sense of relief and joy that he did, that this space between the two of you had finally been filled again. The weight of what had been lost, the heartbreak, the distance-it all seemed to melt away in this moment. It felt good. It felt right. You leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his bare chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your lips. 

"I missed it too," you whispered against his skin, your voice soft but full of truth. You cuddled into him, feeling his warmth, his presence, and that giddiness he had spoken of was reflected in your own heart. “Missed how good you make me feel, baby.” You cooed, kissing his bare chest. Jude wrapped his arms tighter around you, his hand running soothing circles over your back as the laughter faded into a peaceful quiet. The two of you just laid there, wrapped up in each other, feeling the joy of having found your way back. But the longer you laid there in that comforting warmth of Jude’s arms, a sudden wave of insecurity washed over you. You couldn’t help it—everything between you felt perfect now, but the time apart still lingered in the back of your mind. You hesitated, unsure if you should even ask, but the question slipped out before you could stop it. “Jude… Did you…did you sleep with anyone while we were apart?” Your voice was soft, almost timid, but the moment the words left your lips, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Jude’s body stiffened slightly, and that brief silence made your pulse race. The fear that you had maybe shattered this perfect moment crept in, gnawing at your chest. He sighed deeply, and for a second, you feared the worst. But then he pulled you closer, his hand gently cupping your face as he tilted your chin up so you were forced to meet his eyes.

“No, angel,” he said firmly, his voice soothing but serious. “I didn’t. I don’t want you to ever have to ask me that again.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “You’re the only one I want.” You blinked up at him, relief flooding your body, and you gave him a small nod, feeling a bit silly for even asking. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “It’s just… I guess I got scared.” Jude shook his head, giving you a soft smile. 

“Don’t be sorry, I know I’ve hurt you, you deserve to know I haven’t, but I’m just for you, yeah?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’d be crazy to want anything other than this—other than you.” You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his words, a smile breaking through the lingering doubt.

“Yeah,” you teased lightly, “I know just what you like, huh?” You teased. Jude’s eyes glinted with warmth and mischief as he hummed in agreement. His hands dropping to squeeze your ass and pull your body flush against his. 

“Oh, you seem to know more than that,” he said, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “So good f’me. Always have been.” He cooed. Your heart fluttered at the affection in his words, and you buried your face into his chest, feeling the tension dissolve into a soft, shared laughter. It was as though the vulnerability of the moment had brought you even closer, deepening the bond between you two. Jude kissed the top of your head and held you tighter, both of you sinking back into that familiar, comforting space, knowing that you were exactly where you belonged—together. You lay there in the silence of the night dipping into the early morning, wrapped up in each other. 

The world felt quiet, still, like nothing existed outside this moment. Jude's arms were securely around you, You had moved for his chest to be pressed against your back, and his steady breaths brushed your hair. 

“I missed you so much, angel… I missed going to sleep with you.” Jude whispered, breaking the silence. His voice was raw, and it tugged at something deep inside you. You shifted slightly in his arms, turning your head enough to catch a glimpse of him. 

“Did you ever think about me when we were apart?” You asked fairly naively considering he was in New York so evidently he had. 

“Every night,” he admitted softly. “Every fucking night, angel. I couldn’t escape you. I hated when we got to a point when your scent started to fade from my sheets, but even then you were still there, in my dreams.” He told you. You felt a rush of emotion, his words hitting you harder than you expected. You blinked back the sudden sting of tears, trying to keep your voice light, even teasing.

“Well,” you said with a playful smile, “I didn’t want to let you go that easily.” You cooed. Jude chuckled softly, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

“I wouldn’t have let you anyway.”  Jude told you through a tired laugh. “Missed falling asleep with you in my arms, ya’know.” He whispered, keeping his voice quiet in the dark room. 

“I did too. You know what I missed?” You smiled coyly. Jude hummed. “I really missed the way your cock pushes into me when we cuddle like this.” You pushed your ass back into Jude so his hard cock nestled  just barely in between your ass cheeks. “I love going to sleep feeling that.” You cooed laced with seduction, getting a second wave having this gorgeous boy back in your bed. It was honest though, you did miss it. 

“Fuck. Angel, c’mon I’m knackered don’t start.” Jude breathily laughed, pulling you tighter to him, further pushing himself against you. Despite his caution, he betrayed himself. “I just missed my hands on you. Missed getting you out of all those silly little things you’d wear to bed every night.” He kissed your temple as his massive hands ran over your warm skin. 

“I know you like that. I come to bed with such cute lingerie sets on for you to see and I just end up naked.” You giggled, placing your hands over his, turning your head back to look up and see the smug greedy smile on his face. 

“Eh, that’s okay baby. I like seeing you climb into bed with them on and I really like taking them off of you. I still appreciate them. Just you know… better on my floor is the saying, hmm?” He smirked squeezing you. You shook your head but couldn’t hold back the giggle remembering that very phrase vividly from when you first met in Greece.  As you cuddled closer, letting yourself sink further into him, you felt his lips graze your bare shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss there. It was such a small gesture, but it meant everything. That single kiss held all the love, the longing, and the promise of everything you’d been through together. You took a deep breath, but it caught in your throat as you felt the tears well up again. The overwhelming flood of emotions, the relief of being back in his arms, was too much. 

“I never thought I’d miss someone kissing my shoulder,” you whispered, your voice cracking just a little. Jude heard it, the fragility in your voice, and without a word, he kissed your shoulder again, more tenderly this time. 

“You’ll never have to miss that again,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. His words wrapped around your heart, and you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They slipped silently down your cheeks, but this time they weren’t out of sadness—they were out of relief. Jude’s arms tightened around you, his lips lingering on your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you belonged. You turned your face into the pillow, not wanting him to see your tears, but Jude noticed. He always noticed. He kissed your hair, then whispered against your ear, “I’ll never stop loving you. Never. Never stop kissing this shoulder.” He kissed you again. And as you lay there, in the quiet, secure in his embrace, you believed him. Every word.

Waking up with Jude after he arrived in New York felt like slipping into a dream, you didn’t want to leave your bed. The morning sunlight peeked through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden hue across the room. You were nestled against him, his body warm and solid beneath you, one of his arms draped lazily over your waist, pulling you close as if even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to be apart from you. His breath was soft against the top of your head, a steady, calming rhythm. You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the comforting beat of his heart grounding you in the moment. It was one of those rare mornings where time seemed to stop, and the rest of the world didn’t matter. You blinked your eyes open slowly, taking in the sight of him—his hair slightly messier than he’d ever want it, the peaceful expression on his face as he slept, his jawline softened in the morning light. For a moment, you just watched him, marveling at the fact that he was there, with you, after everything. You shifted slightly, and Jude stirred beneath you, his grip tightening around your waist as he let out a sleepy, contented sigh. His eyes fluttered open, and when he saw you looking at him, a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Wow. Good morning beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice rough from sleep, but there was a warmth in it that made your heart swell. A sleepy smile pulling on his lips as he took you in. You smiled back, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest. 

"Good morning," you whispered back with a bit of a giggle. For a moment, neither of you moved, content to just be there, wrapped in each other’s warmth. But then Jude shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so that you were lying on top of him, your faces inches apart. His hands found their way to your ass, his touch gentle but firm as he held you close.

“God, I really fucking missed you, angel” he whispered, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you knew just how much he meant it. You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, and you nodded, leaning down to brush your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss. 

“I missed you too.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over his. Jude smiled against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you even closer. 

“You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I’m not sure I can ever let you out of my sight again.” He cooed. You giggled, your heart fluttering at the way he was looking at you, so full of love and something deeper, something unspoken but understood. 

"You don’t have to," you whispered, resting your forehead against his. "I’m not going anywhere." He let out a soft chuckle, his hands tightening around you as he kissed your temple, then your cheek, and finally your lips again, slow and unhurried. 

“Good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with a mix of relief and contentment. You laid there for a while, tangled up in each other, the world outside the window fading away as you reveled in the warmth and comfort of simply being together. The city noise hummed softly in the background, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, wrapped up in your own little bubble. As the minutes passed, you found yourself unable to stop smiling. It felt surreal, having him here, waking up next to him after so much time apart. You could feel the love radiating off him, in the way he touched you, in the way he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in his world. Eventually, Jude broke the comfortable silence, his voice playful as he whispered in your ear, “So, what’s the plan for today? Staying in bed all day sounds pretty good to me.” You laughed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

"That doesn’t sound too bad," you admitted, feeling the familiar comfort of his embrace. But then you lifted your head, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. "Although… Maybe we could go get some coffee… please.” You smiled with a childish smile. Jude raised an eyebrow, his smile widening before he began to tease.

"You can’t mean from your kitchen?" He mocked you a little. You grinned, nodding.

"It’s one of the few things I take pride in making in that kitchen.” You added, leaning in to kiss him again. Jude’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he kissed you back, his hands finding their way back to your waist. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, continuing to cast a golden glow over his bare chest. Your fingers absentmindedly traced the contours of his skin, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your touch. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close, as if neither of you could bear to be apart even for a second, even for coffee. Not yet. You lifted your head slightly, catching his gaze, and the emotions that had been building up within you—emotions you had kept locked away—finally rose to the surface. A seriousness washed over the room. 

“I love you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I’m pretty sure… from the very first moment we made eye contact, I knew this would be the kind of love that could destroy me.” You unintentionally frowned.  The words came out softly, but there was a weight behind them, a truth that had been waiting too long to be spoken. Jude’s eyes darkened with emotion as he processed your words. He reached up, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek as if grounding you both in the reality of this moment. His touch was gentle, but the look in his eyes was intense—like he was feeling everything just as deeply as you were. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath you, and you could feel the gravity of what he was about to say. 

“I know,” he whispered, his voice low and full of raw emotion. “Looking back… it’s been a little like a hurricane, innit? Something so powerful that you can’t control it, even if you wanted to.” He cooed. You nodded, your throat tight as you remembered all the moments you’d shared, the highs and lows, the intensity of it all. It had been overwhelming at times, but as Jude said, it was like a force of nature—uncontrollable, inevitable. He held your gaze, his eyes softening as he continued, “But we can weather any storm, hmm?” He hummed and you nodded. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. You were patient with me… and for that, I’m so thankful. You’re everything I could’ve ever wanted—everything I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have.” Hearing him say those words—words you had waited for, words you hadn’t known you needed so desperately—made your heart swell. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, smiling through the emotion that threatened to overwhelm you. You laid your cheek back down on his chest, letting the warmth of his skin soothe you, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a comforting rhythm beneath your ear. It was quiet, and peaceful, but the love between you was louder than words could express. His hand stroked your back, sending gentle waves of comfort through you, and the quietness of the room felt sacred, like nothing outside of this moment mattered. You felt so safe in his arms, like this was where you were meant to be all along. As if this love, intense and unrelenting as it was, had finally settled in a way that felt whole.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” you whispered against his skin, your voice muffled slightly by his chest. “Not for a second.” Jude’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, like he never wanted to let you go.

 “Please don’t,” he whispered back, his voice soft but firm. “I love you, angel.” The depth of the words hit you both, but then, as if breaking the tension, you let out a soft, breathy laugh. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze again, this time with a lightness that hadn’t been there before. Jude’s lips curved into a smile as he looked at you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “What?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You smiled, shaking your head slightly, but you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up again. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a little giddy now that everything was out in the open. “It’s just… we finally said it. We’re finally saying we love each other.” Jude chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled you closer. 

“I know,” he said with a grin. “Little overdue, no?” You nodded, biting your lip as you laughed. 

“Yeah, about time. Honestly, it was so hard not to say it before. There were so many moments when I just wanted to blurt it out.” You shyly smiled thinking of all the times you almost said it, almost typed it. 

“Oh yeah? Like when?” Jude raised an eyebrow, teasing you.  You thought back to the many times you had come close—so many little moments, like when you’d see him smile, or when he’d do something kind without thinking. 

“I don’t know,” you said with a smile. “All the time, really. When we were lying in bed like this, or even when you were just being yourself. I just wanted to text it to you out of the blue.” You explained. It felt like the phrase was a nervous tick. Jude laughed at that, his chest vibrating beneath you. 

“Yeah?” He asked, interested. You giggled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

“Yeah, but I chickened out every time. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if you deserved to know. If I wanted you to know.” You confessed. He shook his head with an amused grin, his hands running up and down your back soothingly. 

“That’s fair. Probably didn't deserve it. But, I’m glad you finally said it now.” Jude told you. You lifted your head again, meeting his eyes with a smile that mirrored his own. 

“Me too.” You muttered. Jude leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss. When he pulled back, he whispered against your lips, 

“I’ll never make you wait for anything again. Not another kiss, not another second of knowing how much I love you.” He mused and you smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. 

“Never?”  You giggled. 

“Never,” he promised with a grin, sealing his vow with another kiss. And for the first time, everything felt right—no more waiting, no more wondering. You were in love, and you both knew it, and it felt like the most beautiful thing in the world. The only thing you could really focus on was Jude, holding you so close you felt like you were sharing the same heartbeat. His arms had stayed wrapped around you the entire night, like a protective cocoon you never wanted to leave. You felt safe, cherished, and loved. You stretched lazily, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but even as you moved, Jude’s arms never left you. Instead, he stayed close, almost glued to you, his chest pressed to your back as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. You smiled softly to yourself, that familiar warmth spreading through your chest.

“Okay, so I was serious, I really need coffee” you muttered groggily as you slowly made your way toward the kitchen. “But you’re in for a treat. Mon café du matin”  ['my morning coffee'] Jude hummed lowly, the sound reverberating through his chest. His lips brushed against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“You already treated me pretty well last night,” he teased in a hushed tone, a playful smirk in his voice. A small laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. 

“I meant with my coffee, Jude,” you said, glancing back at him with a teasing smile of your own. “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He chuckled again, his breath warm against your skin. 

“Oh, I definitely did. But you know, I could get used to this as well… and definitely that,” he added, his arms tightening around you briefly before he loosened his hold just enough to let you move freely.

“I agree,” you admitted softly, your voice quieter now as you reached for the cabinet to grab your french press. “I’m not ready to leave this little bubble we’re in yet.” You glanced down at yourself, still in his oversized shirt that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs. Jude was just in his shorts, and the sight of him so comfortable and relaxed only made you want to stay in this moment forever. Jude leaned back against the kitchen island, his eyes following your every move. 

“I’m not complaining,” he said with a grin, his gaze heavy as he watched you reach up into a cupboard. The shirt lifted slightly with the motion, revealing a glimpse of the curve of your ass and you could practically feel his eyes on you. As you stood on your tiptoes, trying to grab the coffee grounds from the top shelf, Jude moved toward you, his large frame effortlessly closing the distance between you. He pressed up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached over your head. “Here, let me help,” he said, his voice a low murmur in your ear. His fingers brushed against yours as he took down the coffee grounds, his touch sending a small thrill through you.

“I could’ve gotten it,” you said, though there was no real protest in your voice. His closeness was something you’d never tire of. You turned slightly, giving him a playful look.

“I know,” he replied softly, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “But I like helping.” With a small smile tugging at your lips, you turned back to the counter, setting up the French press. You worked quietly, enjoying the comfort of the moment, the smell of freshly ground coffee filling the air. Jude leaned against the island, still watching you intently, as if you were the most captivating thing in the room and you were to him. 

“I can help, you know,” he offered again with a grin, his hands resting on the counter as he leaned forward slightly. You waved him off with a teasing smile. 

“You can help by staying right there and looking pretty,” you quipped, your voice playful but affectionate. His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. 

“I can manage that.” You reached up into another cupboard for the milk frother, but once again, it was just out of your reach. Jude was behind you in an instant, his hands gently guiding yours as he grabbed it for you. “You really don’t use this kitchen.” He laughed teasingly. “I’ve got you, angel,” he whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck, and it made your heart flutter. You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face was undeniable. 

“What would I do without you?” you teased. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice full of mock seriousness as he handed you the frother. “Probably suffer in silence without my help.” You laughed softly, shaking your head as you finished preparing the coffee. You frothed the milk carefully, the warm, creamy foam rising perfectly in the cup, and finally poured the coffee, the rich, dark liquid filling the air with its inviting aroma. You handed Jude his cup with a satisfied smile, and he accepted it, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment longer than necessary. He took a sip, his eyes still locked on yours. 

“Perfect,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, appreciative smile. “But I think watching you make it was the best part.” You rolled your eyes again, playfully this time, but you couldn’t help the warm flush that spread across your cheeks. 

“You’re so full of shit,” you muttered under your breath, though there was no real bite to your words. Jude placed the coffee cup down on the counter and pulled you into his arms once more, his hands sliding around your waist. 

“And yet you love me,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with affection. You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. 

“Yeah,” you murmured softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I really do.” The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, the world outside the apartment feeling like a distant memory. It was just you and him, in this quiet, perfect moment—your own little bubble where nothing else mattered. And in that moment, everything felt exactly right. Jude took another slow sip of the coffee, savoring the taste with an exaggerated hum of approval. 

“Wait a minute,” he said, his voice tinged with mock seriousness. He set the cup down with a dramatic thud and raised an eyebrow at you. “Why have you never made this for me before?” You giggled, taking a small sip from your own cup, pleased that he liked it. 

“Oh, I mean,” you waffled, “It’s not that I was purposely withholding good coffee from you.” Jude leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, a playful pout on his lips. 

“Feels like I’ve been slighted,” he said, tilting his head as if genuinely offended. “This is really good coffee.” He explained as if you didn’t know. You laughed, shaking your head. 

“Well, you don’t have a French press in Madrid, so it wouldn’t be the same,” you explained with a small shrug. “Plus, these beans are from my favorite cafe in France, so… it’s kind of a special treat.” Jude’s expression didn’t change; instead, he squinted at you in mock offense. 

“Oh, look at me, my coffee is European,” he said, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, his voice bouncing around the kitchen. He heightened his voice into a thick, exaggerated version of your accent and mimicked you in a teasing tone. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, though you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. 

“You’re actually so annoying.” you said, brushing past him toward the sink. But just as you tried to walk by, you felt a sudden tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling you back. Jude wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest as he slid his hands under your shirt, his fingers trailing lightly over your bare skin. His touch sent a small shiver up your spine, and you melted back into him instinctively.

“If I promise to get you a French press,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and filled with playful affection, “and I find these fancy Parisian coffee beans—” he paused to squint at the label on the bag you’d left on the counter, “Café du something or other—will you make me this coffee again in Madrid?” You couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he was pretending to be. You leaned your head back against his chest, letting his warmth envelop you as you smirked. 

“If you promise to get the Maison Flaneu French press.” You stressed the brand. “and the coffee beans, then yes,” you said, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes. “I’ll make it for you whenever you want.” Jude’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. 

“Deal,” he said, and before you could say anything else, he leaned down to press a kiss to your neck, his lips lingering just long enough to send another shiver through you. You smiled to yourself, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest as he held you close, the two of you wrapped in this perfect moment. The teasing, the affection—it all felt so right, like this was exactly where you were meant to be. And as you stood there, with Jude’s hands still resting on your skin, you knew that no matter where you were—New York, Madrid, maybe even Paris—moments like this would always feel like home. As you sipped your coffee standing at your kitchen island, Jude caught you off guard by asking if he could go to work with you. You laughed, nearly spilling your drink, teasing him lightly, 

"I wasn’t even planning on going to the gallery today, but if you really want to, I’ll take you." You explained. Jude, however, was adamant. 

"You’ve been to where I work a hundred times," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I want to see where you do your thing. I’m interested." It was an unexpected request, and it warmed your heart to see how curious and involved he wanted to be in your world. So, with a soft smile, you agreed. You both got ready for the day, heading out into the crisp Manhattan morning, you in a brown cropped cardigan, Jude in a cream jumper. The ride over was quiet but comfortable, both of you lost in your thoughts. The city buzzed with its usual energy as the Uber wound through the streets, finally pulling up outside the gallery district on the west side. When you arrived, Jude leaned forward, squinting through the car window at the sight of your last name engraved in elegant gold lettering on the plate outside the gallery entrance. He clicked his tongue, impressed, a low whistle escaping him. 

"Damn, okay" he murmured, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your name in gold, huh?" Before you could respond, Jude was already out of the car, rounding it quickly to open your door. He reached for your hand, helping you out with a small smile that made your heart swell. His hand felt warm, grounding, and as you straightened up, he kept your hand in his, but didn’t let you walk toward the gallery door just yet. Instead, he tugged you gently back to him, his eyes soft but serious. "Wait a second," he said, and there was something in his voice that made you pause, looking up at him expectantly. Jude gazed at you, and for a moment, the noise of the city, the bustling streets, and even the fact that you were standing outside your gallery all faded into the background. It was just the two of you, standing there, and the look on his face told you he was about to say something important. "Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?" he asked quietly, his voice low and sincere. His eyes scanned your face, searching for your reaction. "I mean, I always knew you were amazing, but standing here… seeing your name on that plate… I don’t know, it just hit me."  You blinked, taken aback. Your breath caught in your throat as his words settled in. 

"Jude…" you started, but he wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his hand now gently squeezing yours. 

"You’re incredible," he continued, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I don’t think I’ve told you enough how much I admire what you do. This place—it’s yours. You’ve built this yourself, this career, and I just… I’m really proud of you, angel." There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a rare moment where he let the layers fall away completely, showing you exactly what he felt. It wasn’t just admiration. It was awe. He was in awe of you—of everything you had achieved, everything you were. It felt special that you had a building of your own. You felt a lump form in your throat, your eyes stinging with the sudden threat of tears. Jude had always supported you in his own way, but his job seemed to take importance so hearing him say it like this, with such honesty, struck something deep within you. 

"You… you don’t know what that means to me." Your voice wavered as you spoke. Jude smiled softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. 

"I think I do, I know footie feels like the biggest thing in the world sometimes around me but it's not. I know how important this is, how hard you’ve worked," he murmured, his thumb lingering on your cheek for a moment before dropping back to his side.  For a second, you stood there, caught in the overwhelming emotion of the moment. The pride in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice—it was everything you didn’t realize you needed to hear. You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that had gathered, and gave him a small, watery smile. 

"Come on," you said, your voice still thick with emotion, "let’s go inside." Jude smiled back, his hand slipping around your waist as the two of you finally made your way into the gallery. But the words he had said outside stayed with you the entire day, a warmth that filled your chest, reminding you just how deeply he understood and valued you. As you stepped inside the gallery, Jude spun slowly, taking in the large white space adorned with the current exhibition. His eyes wandered from the walls to the art and then back to you. A small, proud smile curled at the edges of his lips. He was trying to take it all in—the breadth of what you’d created.  You tried to play it modest, shrugging as you noticed the small line of people forming outside the entrance. There were appointments scheduled for the day, gallery tours, and more. It was busy, but in a way that felt fulfilling. Still, you felt the need to downplay it, like you weren’t completely running an entire space that was clearly a success. "So, what do you think?" you asked, trying to keep it casual. Jude turned his attention fully to you, his eyes soft but filled with pride. 

"It’s incredible," he said. "But of course, it is. You’re behind it." You blushed, laughing it off, 

"You’re just saying that because you’re in love with me." You told him. He gave you a cheeky grin. 

"Maybe. But it’s still true." He cooed. You gestured for him to follow as you began showing him around the space, pointing out the different pieces on display. Jude nodded along, listening as you explained the curation process, the artists you’d chosen, and the themes that ran through the exhibition. After a while, you glanced over at him.

"Want to see my office?" There was a playful lilt in your voice, and Jude raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Your office?" he repeated, as if he hadn’t really considered the fact that either of you had what could be classified as an ‘office job.’ You rolled your eyes at his reaction, teasing. 

"Yeah, someone’s got to actually run this place. You think it just happens on its own?" You giggled and he followed with a chuckle, then tilted his head, giving you a curious look. 

"I guess I never really thought of it like that." He smiled. You led the way, and Jude followed closely behind, his arms suddenly slipping around your waist from behind. He rested his chin gently on your shoulder as you walked, and for a moment, you felt the warmth of him against your back. It was comforting, grounding, like he was anchoring himself to you—and you to him.

"You know," you continued, your voice soft, "I feel like more of a figurehead these days. There’s a whole team that keeps things running day-to-day, but I still have to occasionally show up and make the decisions. Keep the place alive but I keep finding myself out of the country in Spain." You teased. Jude squeezed your waist gently, his voice soft in your ear.

"And Spain really likes when you’re there. Any county is very lucky to have you. Any man even more so, angel. But you’re doing more than keeping it alive. You’ve built something amazing. You should be proud." The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. He was seeing you in a way that felt so validating, so true. You’d spent so long doubting whether you could balance everything—your career, your relationship with Jude, your life in New York—and hearing him acknowledge your success like this was overwhelming in the best way. You reached the office, a modest but well-decorated space tucked away at the back of the gallery. Jude looked around, impressed. It was your sanctuary, filled with art books, framed photos, and personal touches that made it distinctly yours. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he took it all in, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Not what you expected?" you asked, turning to face him. He grinned, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"I don’t know what I expected. But this… this is pretty perfect, like an extension of your apartment, you in a room." You smiled, leaning into him, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you. Jude lifted his hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. "I know I keep saying it," he murmured, "but I honestly am so fucking proud of you. Seeing it first hand is just different." Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart flutter. You didn’t respond with words—you didn’t need to. Instead, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, letting the moment speak for itself. You giggled, catching Jude’s attention. 

"Can I show you my favorite part?" You asked with a glint in your eyes. He nodded eagerly but with a hint of confusion, glancing around the small office. 

"Uh… sure, but where? I feel like we’ve already seen everything." Smirking, you leaned back against what looked like a solid wall, but with a gentle push, it gave way, revealing a hidden door. Jude's eyes widened in surprise before bursting into laughter.

"Why do you have that?" he asked, still chuckling in disbelief. You shrugged, grinning. 

"The previous owners of the building had it installed. Figured I’d keep it for secret escapes." Without further explanation, you led the way through the hidden door, which opened to a small, bright staircase. Jude followed behind, his curiosity piqued. The stairs were narrow and led up to the roof of the building. As you reached the top, the cool New York air hit your skin, and you stepped out onto the rooftop. It wasn’t the highest rooftop in Manhattan—not by a long shot—but there was something undeniably beautiful about it. The surrounding buildings framed a small slice of sky, and the quietness of the tucked-away street made the space feel like a secret oasis in the bustling city. You turned to Jude, watching his expression as he took it all in. "I come up here for everything," you said softly. "To think, to drink, to have friends over. To escape when I need a breather... to paint." You paused, your voice dropping a little. "To cry, lately." Jude’s heart shattered at your admission. He hadn’t realized how much you’d been carrying on your own since the fallout between you two. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He held you close, his chin resting on your shoulder again as he swayed with you in a gentle rhythm, offering comfort the only way he knew how.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your ear. “For all of it.” He murmured. You closed your eyes, feeling his embrace sink into you.

"It's okay now." You whispered back to him. The thing was… you actually thought it was okay. The warmth of his body against yours felt like home again, the weight of everything that had happened finally starting to lift. Jude kissed the top of your head softly.

"Do you think I can add something to the list of things you do up here?" He asked you gently. You turned slightly, curiosity lighting up your face. 

"What’s that?" You asked. He leaned in, his eyes locking onto yours, and you knew before he even said a word. He closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was soft but filled with everything he couldn’t say. You felt the love pouring through it—the promises, the apologies, the commitment—and you melted into him, letting it wash over you. When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you smiling. “That’s a very good addition.” You giggled. In that moment, surrounded by the city, it felt like the world had paused for just the two of you.

After you left the gallery, you walked down the busy New York street, hand in hand with Jude, it was all bizarre. It was like every step, every glance around felt charged, and you were acutely aware of how the world seemed to stare at him—or maybe at the two of you together, more than ever. If people didn’t know he was the Jude Bellingham, they certainly noticed the way he commanded attention—tall, striking, and beautiful in every sense of the word. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him too, still in awe of the fact that he was here, beside you. You felt lucky. You didn’t want to be anywhere but with him. You reached a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change as you nestled closer into him. Jude responded instantly, pulling you tighter against him with a gentle sway, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hair. It was one of those moments that felt too perfect, too intimate to be happening in such a bustling city. The world around you blurred, and it was just you two, back in your little bubble again. But then, his voice cut through the comfort of the moment. 

“Come back home.” Jude asked you quietly.  You pulled back slightly, your brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what he was asking.

“Jude, this is my home,” you gestured around, pointing to the towering buildings and streets filled with life. But you kind of pouted. The sentence felt wrong. This wasn’t your home, it hadn’t felt that way for awhile. Jude was your home but nevertheless laced with fear of really committing, you told him otherwise. “New York is my home.” He shook his head, a soft but sure smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at you. 

“Your home should be with me.” His words sank into you, deeper than you expected. His voice was steady, filled with an unmistakable certainty. “Anywhere can be home if we’re together.” His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers pressing gently into your skin as he leaned in, his lips just ghosting over yours. “Please,” he whispered, his voice a mix of longing and vulnerability. Your heart fluttered, your chest tight as the weight of his request settled. This was what you had been craving from Jude all along—his honesty, his willingness to fight for you, to make it clear that you belonged with him, that he needed you. “I’m not asking you to stop working with the gallery, I wouldn’t do that. I know how important that is, I told you how proud I am for doing just that but… angel just come be with me. Please. I don't want to be apart right now.” Jude unintentionally pouted. His heart sinking at the idea of being apart again, something that had definitely crossed your own mind.

“Okay.” You whispered softly. You bit your lip, the corners of your mouth lifting into a cheeky smile as you nodded. You couldn’t say no. You didn’t want to say no. His eyes brightened at your answer, a quiet relief washing over his face as he pulled you even closer. This was the side of Jude you had been waiting to see, the side that wasn’t afraid to take control, to tell you what he wanted. And in that moment, you knew that you’d made the right decision. You wanted this, you wanted him.

As you and Jude boarded the private plane bound for Madrid at JFK, exhaustion weighed heavily on you. You really hadn’t been sleeping much at all because of Jude. Before he arrived you couldn’t sleep because you missed him. Now, you couldn’t sleep because you were staying up fucking all night. Tiredly, you clung to Jude, both of you in sweat sets, your arms loosely wrapped around him as he effortlessly carried your smaller pieces of luggage onto the plane. The coziness of your clothes, the intimacy of the small gestures—it all felt like the home you were looking for except you were on tarmac. Once on board, Jude, ever the drama queen, made a show of dropping onto one of the plush seats, pulling you down with him in a clumsy, playful tumble. You giggled tiredly, the sound soft and content as you nestled into him, your body melting into his as if it belonged there. After a few moments, you started to shift, slinking off Jude to pull your jumper off in a sluggish attempt to get comfortable. But as you did, the fabric snagged on your shirt underneath, pulling it up with it and exposing a lot more of you then you were anticipating; revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your skin and the lacy black bra that barely contained your generous cleavage. You sucked in some air, your eyes widening as you realized the unintended striptease. Jude's eyes widened comically, his hand darting out to dramatically yank the shirt back down as if you were flashing a stadium full of people. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he teased, covering you up with an exaggerated flourish. "This is a private plane, angel, but it’s not that private." You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, the tiredness fading away for a moment as you swatted his arm.

"Relax, Judey, it's just you and me." You cooed mischievously with a wink. He grinned, still playing up his faux alarm. You’d be lying though if you said your heart didn't race. You glanced around, hoping none of the cabin crew had witnessed your accidental exposure.

"Exactly, and I know how I get when you're taking your clothes off. Gotta make sure you don’t strip down completely." You rolled your eyes, sinking back into his side, feeling his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders.  Jude's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you after your predicament. "Well go on then…if you want to take your clothes off f’me, take your clothes off f’me.” He winked, his gaze burning into you. 

"Oh, really? Now you want to see? And what if I don't feel like putting on a show for you right now?" Feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment and arousal, you tried to play it cool. Jude's smile turned devilish. He pressed a button, and the cabin crew appeared, ready to assist. 

"Actually, we won't be needing anything for a while," he said, waving them off. "If we could just have a few minutes, we’d like some privacy." The attendants nodded discreetly and retreated, leaving you alone with Jude and your growing desire. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Now, take that shirt off f’me, baby. Let me see you." Your breath caught in your throat as you surrendered to his request. Slowly, you raised your arms, your fingers deftly peeling your top up over your head until you and your black lace clad tits were exposed. Your nipples immediately hardened in the cool air, begging for attention. Jude's eyes darkened with hunger as he feasted on the sight of your naked body. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, reaching out to cup your heavy breasts in his large hands. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, arching into his touch, your inhibitions melting away. He unclasped the bra and the fabric fell. 

"Please, Jude," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need. "I want you so bad." He leaned in, capturing one taut peak between his lips, sucking gently while his fingers pinched the other, eliciting a delicious moan from your lips. His tongue teased and flicked, driving you wild with desire. You squirmed against him, your core throbbing and aching for his touch.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he murmured against your sensitive flesh as his hands ideally pulled down your joggers. "I want to taste all of you." Before you could respond, Jude's mouth trailed kisses down your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.  “Let me see more of you.” Jude looked up from beneath you, his eyes locking with yours, and he gave you a wicked grin.  He gently pushed your legs apart, his breath hot on your inner thighs, making you tremble with anticipation. You knew what was coming, and you couldn't wait to feel his talented mouth on more of you. You whimpered, your body already on fire, as Jude's fingers gently parted your folds, exposing your glistening pussy. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin, and then his tongue swiped slowly through your slit, making you gasp.

"Oh, fuck Jude," you cried out, your fingers gripping the plush seat as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. He took his time, licking and sucking, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his mouth, more of his skilled touch.

"That's it, angel," Jude encouraged, his voice thick with desire. He delved deeper, his tongue thrusting into your wetness, finding your sweet spot with ease. Your body trembled as he devoured you, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for his pleasure. Even as you tried to close your legs he pinned them open. 

"I'm gonna cum, Jude! Shit!!” You felt white hot pleasure begin to course through you. You were practically shaking but Jude held you tighter to him as he ate you out. Your voice hoarse and desperate. The sensations were overwhelming, and you felt your orgasm building, tightening every muscle in your body.  “I love you, oh my god fuck I’m cumming!” Jude increased the pace, his tongue working feverishly, driving you over the edge. You climaxed with a shout, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. He didn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your orgasm until you were reduced to a trembling, satisfied mess.

"You wanna be a good girl f’me?" he said, his voice rough with need. You nodded as your breathing slowly returned to normal, Jude rose, his eyes smoldering with desire. “You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Jude moaned as you traded places with him, beginning to work kisses down his neck. You kissed at his chest and slowly started to get onto your knees in front of him. “Fuck you’re perfect.”  You eagerly slid off his joggers your hands trembling with anticipation as you freed his straining erection. His cock was thick and hard, pulsing with each heartbeat. You stroked him gently, reveling in the feel of his velvety skin and the warmth of his length in your hand. His breath hitched as your hands wrapped around his hard cock.  "Suck my cock, angel," Jude growled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Show me how much you want it." He told you. You needed no further encouragement. You wasted no time, immediately leaning forward, you took the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive crown, tasting the salty pre-cum that beaded at the tip. Jude groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding you as you took more of him into your hot, wet mouth. You bobbed your head, taking him deep, your throat welcoming the invasion. Your hand pumped the base of his shaft in time with your movements, and you reveled in the power you had over this gorgeous man. Jude's breath came in harsh gasps as he fought for control, his hips thrusting gently to meet your rhythm. You moaned again around him, the vibrations just about sending Jude over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and forced yourself to take more of his cock down your throat. Spit pooled in the corners of your mouth as you gagged a little around him.  “Fuck, good girl, just like that” Jude groaned. His words making your pussy throb. He started to twitch in your mouth as he hit the back of your throat continuously "Baby, you're gonna make me cum," he rasped, his body tensing. You redoubled your efforts, sucking and stroking, determined to bring him to the brink. Jude's hands tightened in your hair, and with a guttural groan, he spilled in your mouth, his hot cum shooting down your throat. You opened your mouth for him to see his cum dripping from your tongue before you swallowed eagerly, relishing the taste of him, milking his cock until he was spent. You opened your mouth again to show him how good you did. He smiled and shook his head in disbelief as he pulled you off him slowly and brought you back up to him. As he recovered, Jude pulled you up for a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, sharing the taste of his release. "That was fucking incredible," he whispered in between kisses, his eyes burning into yours. "I need to feel you around me now." You straddled his lap, guiding his already re hardened throbbing cock to your entrance. With a slow, torturous descent, you sank yourself down onto his length, your body welcoming the fullness. Eliciting a deep moan from both of you. Your eyes fluttering closed from the stretch. Jude's hands gripped your hips, helping you set a relentless pace, your tits bouncing with each thrust. "You feel so good, angel," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Ride me, ride my cock." You obeyed, your body moving in a sensual rhythm, your core clenching and releasing around his hardness. The cabin was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your erotic moans as you both chased the pinnacle of pleasure minute after minute.

“Fuck! Ffuck Jude, I’m gonna cum. Shit baby, you feel so good, oh my god.” Your head collapsed onto his shoulder as he relentlessly thrusted up into you as your high barrelled towards you.  You could barely speak from how good he felt. 

"Cum with me, baby," Jude urged, his voice hoarse. "Let go. Be a good girl and cum on my cock." Your body tightened, every nerve ending on fire as you spiraled towards ecstasy. Jude's hands cupped your tits, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, pushing you over the edge. Your stomach tightened and your walls fluttered as you came. You cried out, your body convulsing around his cock as you climaxed, your juices flowing freely, coating him with your essence. Jude followed suit, his cock throbbing and pulsing within you as he emptied himself deep inside you. You collapsed against him again, your hearts pounding in unison, the taste of victory on your lips as you joined the exclusive Mile High Club for the first time with him. You snuggled against Jude, your bodies still entwined, satiated and blissfully content.The plane hummed softly around you, the gentle noise blending with the quiet rhythm of Jude’s breathing. You sighed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. 

"I can’t believe you got me like that from me just trying to take off a jumper.” You shook your head very aware there was no possible way the cabin crew didn’t hear you. Jude shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Oh my god…You're such a loser," you muttered teasingly, your voice muffled against his chest. It wasn’t ‘no big deal’ to Jude and you knew that.

"And you love it," he replied, kissing the top of your head. You smiled against him, your exhaustion finally winning out as you settled deeper into his embrace. As the plane glided through the air leaving New York behind, you knew with Jude by your side, Madrid—or anywhere else for that matter—felt like home. You smiled against him, your exhaustion finally winning out as you settled deeper into his embrace. As you lay in Jude’s arms on the plane, the hum of the engines lulling you into a comfortable calm, you felt safe. It was the kind of peace you’d been yearning for after everything you two had been through. Half way through the flight you began a quiet conversation. But as Jude brought up Aurélien’s party, his tone was tentative, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded, shifting slightly to look up at him, 

"Yeah, I heard about it. He texted me." You tried to keep your voice light, sensing the unease creeping into the conversation. Jude knew you’d spoken but you didn’t know he knew that. Jude winced, and you noticed how his hand tightened a little around you. There was something weighing on him.

"Didn’t know you even had his number," he said, awkwardly trying to navigate the conversation. His voice was low, careful. Your brow furrowed, confusion mixing with a bit of concern. 

"He gave it to me after we chatted on Instagram. Neither of us really use the app that much, so it was easier. It wasn’t a big deal, baby." You explained. Both of you felt like you were fast approaching an eggshell ridden path. He nodded slowly, clearly still unsettled. His eyes flickered with something you recognized — jealousy, maybe insecurity. Jude had never been good at hiding how much he cared, and even now, with everything back on track, that worry still lingered. 

"Did you two talk about more than the party?" Hesitantly, he asked. His voice was softer, like he was afraid of the answer. Your stomach twisted a little. You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to hurt him, especially not now, when things were starting to feel good again. Still, honesty was what had made things so rocky and if you were going to rebuild this relationship, you couldn’t hide anymore. You shifted in his arms, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“We… might have talked about the party maybe more than we should’ve,” you admitted quietly, biting your lip as you tried to gauge his reaction. You could feel his body tense beneath you, and the silence that followed was deafening. He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening slightly as he stared at the ceiling of the plane. 

“What does that mean?” he asked, his voice betraying the emotion he was trying to keep in check. He didn’t want to ask — you could tell — but he needed to know. You exhaled, feeling a little scared of where this was going. It was arguably more uncomfortable considering what happened hours earlier in the flights.  

“I mean… it wasn’t anything serious, but I don’t know, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about it.” You tried to sound as casual as possible, but the weight of your words hung in the air between you. Your vagueness seemed to make things worse. Jude’s grip on you loosened slightly, and he let out a shaky breath. 

“What was it then?” He asked. Jude couldn’t figure out what emotion he was meant to feel. You hesitated, knowing that whatever you said next could either calm him down or make things worse. 

“It was flirty I guess,” you admitted, your voice small. “But I swear it didn’t mean anything. I was hurt, and I guess I just needed a distraction.” His face darkened slightly, but he didn’t say anything right away. His eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out if he could handle this, if he could trust that it didn’t mean anything more. You could see the struggle in him — the way he was trying to push down the jealousy, the hurt, the insecurity. 

“I really don’t like the idea of you talking to him like that. I really don’t fucking like the idea of him talking to you like that,” he finally said, his voice tight but not angry. He was holding back, trying to be understanding, but you could feel the weight of his words.

“I know,” you whispered, placing a hand on his chest. “And I’m sorry. But it wasn’t real, Jude. It was just me trying to cope, trying to fill this void that I knew only you could fill.” Jude closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at you again. 

“I get it,” he said softly, surprising you.  You wrapped your arms around him tighter, resting your forehead against his chest. You sat there remembering bits of your conversation you had initially sat in your wardrobe with Aurelian that had moved into your bed that night. The weight of everything you were feeling mixed with the warmth of the champagne you had decided to drink that night, you found yourself slipping into a conversation that felt easier than it should have. Aurélien messaged you about his party, the mundane logistics of the night quickly turning into something else. The champagne had loosened your thoughts, made them flow in a way they normally wouldn’t. You weren’t actually interested in him and Aurelian at the end of the day wasn’t interested in pursuing you. You both weren’t really going to cross that line, but flirting was flirting. He knew maybe it was just to get your mind off things but you knew the moment the conversation shifted, there was a danger in it—but the loneliness inside of you craved something, anything, that would make you feel less empty. Aurélien mentioned how excited he was for champagne that night, and you had laughed, replying with a comment that surprised even you. 

‘I have to be careful with Dom Pérignon… I always get a little too friendly after a few glasses.’

You had thought it would stay light, a harmless joke. But then he replied…

‘No man in the world would ever complain about you being too friendly. Especially not me.’

You blinked at the message, your stomach turning in that way it does when you know you’re toeing the line, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t pull back. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the hurt that had been building for the past month, but you kept the conversation going. The truth was, in that moment, you loved the attention. You weren’t used to being seen this way by anyone other than Jude lately, and with the state of your relationship then, you had felt starved for affection. The cynicalness of it being Aurelian made it all the more enticing. 

‘I doubt that.’

You had typed back, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard as you laid in your bed, the alcohol making everything a little hazy. 

‘It feels like there are oceans between me and anyone remotely interested in being ‘friendly’ with me.’

You were, of course, thinking about Jude. How distant things had become. But the conversation wasn’t about him anymore—it was about you and Aurélien and this strange tension that had been building between you two in the shadows of your messages. But you didn’t want to stay in that uncomfortable place, so you made another joke, something to shift the tone. 

‘But it’s fine, I’ve got Dom Pérignon in bed with me tonight, and that will have to do.’

His reply came almost instantly. 

‘Dom Pérignon is one lucky man.’

You remembered lying there, staring at your phone, your heart beating a little faster, not because of Aurélien exactly, but because of what this meant. You were crossing lines, even if nothing physical was happening. You were venturing into emotional territory that you didn’t even fully understand. You had craved the connection, but when you put your phone down that night, a small part of you knew you were just trying to fill a void that only Jude could fill. The guilt didn’t set in right away. In the moment, you had felt a strange sense of validation, a thrill that someone was paying attention to you when you had felt so invisible for so long. But as you lay there in the dark, the champagne buzz slowly fading, reality crept in the same way it was on the plane right now.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 13 xx

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: hannah’s avery

pairing: avery grambs x jameson hawthorne

synopsis: it’s the anniversary of hannah’s death and avery can’t admit to herself that she’s not okay

warnings: mention of death

a/n: I adored writing this!! should I do more avery x jameson?? bc this is my first fic with those two (crazy right??)

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

Avery Kylie Grambs doesn’t cry. It’s been something I’ve told myself my whole life. I didn’t come crashing down when problems came my way, I braved them and didn’t let them see my pain. I’ve always been a stubborn girl and nothing would stop that.

But sometimes… sometimes Hannah’s Avery cried. The little girl in her mother’s arms when the going got tough. She cried and when she did, she wasn’t weak, she had her mother’s strength to carry her through. My mom’s arms had always been a safe place, she was the only person I could crumble into and fall apart on. She allowed me to be every version of myself. Good or bad.

I hadn’t been Hannah’s Avery since the night my mom died but suddenly I found myself as Hannah’s Avery once again on a dull Monday night. And it was more bittersweet than I ever would’ve thought. I felt a sense of nostalgia, like the girl I used to know was back, the girl I love so dearly that I’d lost. But there were no arms to sob into this time. And what was Hannah’s Avery without Hannah?

I reluctantly pushed myself up off of the bed I’d been curled up on for lord knows how long, in an attempt to pull myself together. I walked the bathroom and splashed my face. The icy cold water hit every cell, sending a jolt of shock through me. I needed to stop this nonsense. I wiped my face and breath, staring at someone unrecognisable in the mirror. Hannah’s Avery was long gone, that little girl had died with her mother. Avery Kylie Grambs seemed to be gone too. So who was she? Reflected in the glass? The girl I was looking at wasn’t any version of myself. She was new.

I turned away, uncomfortable with the change, the newcomer. I walked back the bedroom, looking up at the ceiling. And as pretty as the pattern was on it, I don’t think that was why I was looking up. I slumped down on my bed and ran my fingers through my knotted hair, helplessly tugging out the tangles.

“Heiress?”

There was only one voice like his.

“Yeah?” I replied, with a feigned smile.

“Are you okay?” he asked, approaching closer, faster.

His voice was contorted with concern. Why could he tell I wasn’t okay? How could he tell? No one can ever tell. They aren’t meant to be able to tell. I silently cursed myself for not sticking on my mask well enough tonight, the cracks were beginning to appear and Jameson could see right through them.

“Fine,” I replied, not sounding fine at all.

“What’s wrong?” he was quick to ask.

“Nothing I’m fine,” I said sharply, meeting his eyes. Big mistake.

“You’ve been crying,” he barely whispered, touching my cheek gently.

His touch was so soft I shuddered and pulled away. I couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, I couldn’t afford to be manipulated by my feelings, give in so easily. I was stronger than that.

“I don’t cry,” I snapped, my voice hard, harsh, unfamiliar. I didn’t like the way it sounded, it was so unlike myself, like the girl in the mirror from earlier.

“Oh Heiress,” he said, his voice sweet like honey, “everybody cries.”

I shook my head stubbornly, so paralysed by denial I thought I could still move, “not me.”

“Come here,” he replied, sitting down on our bed and opening his arms.

“No, I’m fine,” I repeated. I could see what he was trying to do. “I don’t need comfort, I’m not upset.”

“I know,” he shrugged, “but just come here.”

I crawled into his open arms and curled up against his chest. I laid there as he traced the features of my face with a tentative fingertip. Some of my previous emotion began to subside and I began to feel better. It would leave, whatever this was. It would be gone in a minute. Or that’s what I thought. I was a naive fool. Within seconds of my optimism the left side of my chest physically ached, pulsations of jagged agony rippled through. I fumbled for the words to explain what I was feeling but my mind drew blank. I physically couldn’t. I looked up at Jameson, our eyes locked together.

“Call it,” I murmured, an unwanted tremor creeping into my voice.

“What?” he asked quietly, stroking my hair.

“Call tahiti,” I whispered, gazing into his large green eyes.

“Heiress,” he said gently, his face mellowing, “I don’t have to do that.”

He was right. He could’ve called tahiti the moment he saw my tear-stained cheeks, or sullen face but he didn’t. He waited. And even thought it was probably killing him, wracking his brain, ripping his heart from inside out, the word never came near to passing his lips.

“I want you to,” I said, sitting up, “I want you to call it.”

“Okay,” he replied slowly, almost hesitantly. Jameson Hawthorne didn’t hesitate. “Tahiti.”

I paused for what felt like hours, the words didn’t want to come out of my mouth. It was like they’d been stuck to the sides on my throat with superglue. I hadn’t ever admitted this pain out loud. I didn’t realise how deep I’d buried it.

“My mom,” I whispered, holding in a sob.

I couldn’t look into his eyes, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it together if I did that and I couldn’t afford to fall apart for the second time today. Avery Kylie Grambs doesn’t do that.

“Oh Avery,” Jameson said with softened eyes.

Not Heiress. Avery. The tenderness in his voice melted my heart and all of my insides. And with those two words I knew he immediately understood, I didn’t have to say anymore.

I loved him more than anything on this earth, I wanted him, I needed him. But needing someone and letting yourself needing someone are two very different things. But that day finally chose the latter. I fell into him, collapsing in a heap of loud, ugly sobs. I’d never felt more exposed to my own feelings, so raw with emotion.

“It hurts,” I choked, coughing up the words that I’d buried alive in my weighted heart.

“I know, but I’ve got you okay?” he comforted. I could hear his beating heart against my ear, reminding me of how lucky I was. For him, for all of this, for the life I was living. “And it won’t hurt forever,” he continued.

“What if it does?” I asked, my voice so childlike it ached.

“Then I’ll always be here to hold you,” he whispered, stroking the length of my hair softly, his fingers rhythmically weaving between strands in a calming manor.

And he was. He didn’t let go. His grip never wavered. He just held me, all of me. He held Avery Kylie Grambs, Hannah’s Avery and the Heiress. I hid my face into his chest and shed the remnants of my pain, his scent offered me comfort, his touch was warm and familiar.

“I love you Jamie,” I said into him after a while. It was so quiet I didn’t know it he’d heard me.

“I love you too Heiress,” he replied with a kiss on the top of my head. He’d heard me.

He always hears me.

a/n: thanks for reading!! hopefully I got the dynamic right?? anyways this is in honour of our lovely excerpt yesterday 🤭🤭

ALSO I am very aware that I promise PART 4 of the mysterious blonde would be the next fic up but I had this random idea and I needed to write it!! and the mysterious blonde pt4 is a much longer fic than this one…

[logical-grave]

✧ Pretty little thing ✧ Ch. 3

♡ Pairing ♡ - Rafe Cameron x Plus Size!Reader

♡ Warnings ♡ - Smut ofc, angst, asshole!Rafe, Semi-Public sex, unprotected sex (they never learn), dirty talk, crude language, creampie.

♡ A/N ♡ - I'm so sorry i disappeared! I promise I'm trying to do better! Hopefully this fic makes up for it lol. Lmk what you think! Definitely some repeated writing lol but I’m trying to improve!!!

♡ Word count ♡ - 3.1k

♡ Part 1, Part 2 ♡

When I told Rafe of the camera, he shrugged it off and bit into his sandwich, crumbs falling down his chin onto his plate. “Rafe, we could be charged with public indecency. I could lose my job too.” I cross my arms as I look at him. 

He gave me a blank look and took another bite of his sandwich, hunched over it with his elbows rudely taking up the space on either side of him. 

“I’m just not sure what the fuck you expect me to do about it.” He shrugged, tossing a chip into his mouth. He reacted more when I took it upon myself to come over unannounced, but now it seems like he couldn’t care less. 

I hated how nonchalant he was being about this whole situation, and it just spoke volumes at how untouchable he thinks he is. I guess if you’re as rich as he is, you start to actually believe it.

I stared at him in disbelief, annoyance brewing internally. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to record us having sex for a while.” He casually drops and the urge to jump over the kitchen island and choke him surges through me, but I don’t act on it. 

Rafe finishes his sandwich and stands up, placing his plate in the dishwasher before leaning against the counter and looking at me. “If you really want me to get rid of it, I'll see what I can do.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as if he’s being inconvenienced.

I give him a fake smile and grab my keys off the counter. “Was that so hard?” The comment comes off harsher than intended, but he’s pissed me off too much in the past half hour alone, and I’ve reached my limit. I turn the corner of the kitchen, but a chest in my view stops me. I look up, and I’m met with the heavy gaze of Mr. Cameron, Rafe’s father. 

“Hello sir.” I step to the side to allow him to walk past me, and he smiles as he looks between Rafe and I. “Well, who’s this, Rafe?” 

Mr. Cameron places a hand on my shoulder, leading me back closer to my previous position. “She’s my…friend. And she was just leaving.” He says with his arms crossed. Jeez, I’ve never had such a warm introduction. I could tell he wasn’t keen on introducing me to his father, adding to the list of reasons to not be happy with my unexpected visit.

Mr. Cameron turns to me, his eyes shifting over different points of my face as if to determine if I was attractive enough to be in the vicinity of his son. 

“Rose was just about to make some lunch, why don’t you join us?” He asks, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, an underlying feeling telling me it wouldn't be wise to stay. “Thank you, sir, but I should really get going, as I have work soon.” 

I politely declined, soothing the goosebumps that arose on my arm, and I started past him, but his hand on my shoulder stopped me again. “The country club, correct? I thought I recognized you from somewhere.” He inquires and I nod, looking at Rafe and hoping he can hear my soft plea of getting me out of this. 

“I’ll walk you out.” Rafe pushes off the counter and towards me, gripping my elbow, but his father doesn’t move his hand. 

“I insist, sweetie.” He says and I hold back a grimace, my mind connecting him to the club creep that almost got Rafe to risk his membership. “No, thank you. I should get going.” I chuckle dryly, sliding closer to Rafe’s side and Mr. Cameron’s hand drops to his side, giving up his hold on me. “Well, you’re always welcome here.” He winks as Rafe pulls me toward the entrance of his house before I could respond, thankful he did so. 

“You’re hurting me.” I pout as I look at his tight hold on my elbow, the squeeze making me feel like a child being scolded by her parents. He doesn’t let go until we reach my car, the pain subsiding as I inspect my arm for any bruising. 

It hurt less when he held me like that when we were fucking. “Don’t do this shit again,” He wags his finger in my face. “I don’t need you showing up at my house with my fucking family here.” 

I faced him with an angry expression, ready to open my mouth before shutting it. “Got it.” I mutter, my fist clenching around my keys, the dull metal subtly digging into my skin.

The fifteen hundred he had given me the week prior was nice and I didn't want to risk potentially lowering my allowance by opening my mouth. It’s one of the things I know for a fact Rafe hates about me yet, I persist. 

I reach for the handle of my car, beginning to open it until Rafe reaches over my head and shuts it. I turn as he sighs and pinches the skin between his eyebrows before looking into my eyes. “I- Just, my dad is weird when it comes to any girl he sees around me. He thinks they're trying to get money out of all the time.” The corner of his lip upturns as a chuckle sounds from him. 

Slowly, I nod and pull on the handle of my car once more, this time he doesn’t stop me. I sit in my seat but Rafe stands, holding my door open and leaning towards me with his arm resting on the roof of my car. 

“I want to see you later. I’ll meet you down at the dock, one o’clock.” He slyly grins, hooking his finger under my chin like he did not too long ago, pressing his lips against mine. It was a new practice he started and he always initiated. I’ve thought about it, yet when I start to lean in, a big red X appears over his perfectly structured face and I stop myself. Rafe parts from me and I push away his face with a chuckle. “I’ll see you, Cameron.” 

I shut the door and pulled out of his driveway, glancing at him as he watched me go.

—

My fingers crossed through his hair as I ran my nails over his scalp once again. Sometimes, he enjoyed the effortless intimacy of his head in my lap. His arm wrapped around my ass to meet his other arm resting under my legs. I knew the weight of my legs would put his arm to sleep in seconds but he didn’t care. In fact, I think he loved the prick of a million tiny needles in his arm as it fell asleep as long as he got to cradle me like this. 

Maybe I’m just telling myself that. Either way as the yacht slowly rocks from the subtle waves of the marsh, he closes his eyes and we settle into the domestic atmosphere that surrounds us, slightly tipsy from the forgotten bottle of Jack Daniel’s we tossed back and forth.

He sighs, his breath breezing over my thigh as I look down at him, taking in his sharp cheekbones and lips that look ready to be kissed. His hand on my ass cheek twitches, almost as if he was making sure I was still here, even in his supposed sleep. His other hand under my legs moved to rest on the side of my thigh as I gasped softly when he hugged me closer to him. Even now, I wondered how the hard fiberglass base of the boat was comfortable for the rest of his body.

Rafe sighs again, this time his eyes open, blinking the sleep away. He tilts his head up, resting his chin on my thigh and pulling me closer to him again. “Rafe, we should head back.” I suggest, my fingers rake down his scalp and slip under the neckline of his shirt, scratching his back. He groans under his breath, not acknowledging what I had said earlier, instead relishing in the feeling of my nails scraping on the smooth skin of his back. 

I stop, making him open his eyes again and look up at me. He moves up now and I sit back on the heels of my feet as he sidles up close to my side, his hand resting behind me, supporting his weight, his chest close to my shoulder. Personal space, be damned. I turn my head and look at him, my hand cupping his cheek as he stares at me. “What?” I look at him and he shakes his head slightly. I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t had my hand on his cheek. I watch his eyes wander over my cheeks, down to my lips, even lower to my chin and finally my eyes. 

And then, he leans in, pressing the soft plump of his lips against mine. His eyes are closed before mine are and I inhale deeply as we kiss. My skin tingles with his lips against mine, the way he kisses is almost methodical yet sloppy with need. He deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing past the seam of my mouth, licking my tongue with his own when he turns his head a particular way. 

His hand wanders, as it always does to my breast, squeezing me through the lace fabric of my dress, pinpointing exactly where my nipple is, causing it to perk up. The kiss turns wet, our mouths gliding against each other as his hold becomes more insistent. His hand smoothes down my side to my hip before clenching his hand on the lace of my dress and pulling me into his lap, the sound of the small rips of his fingernails digging into lace is lost on both of us. I straddled him now, hiking the skirt of my dress higher up my thighs where both of his hands rested. 

I don’t even acknowledge the anxiety of being too heavy to sit on his lap, his hold feeling so familiar, it’s as if I’m supposed to be here. His lips trail kisses down my jaw to my neck, almost considerate of where he places them. He nuzzles his face into my neck, inhaling deeply as his hands grip the round of my ass cheeks, grinding his crotch against my own. 

“Fuck— I need you.” His voice is breathless, desperate, almost as if he’s begging me. He palms at my ass cheeks again, spreading them open to grind up against me once more, making me gasp at the friction he offers as my clit rubs against the rough denim fabric of his jeans. 

He pushes the rest of my dress up, bunching it at my waist, groaning when he sees I’m bare as he’s requested of me. His eyes are dark again, almost black like an abyss, the lust that’s clouding his mind clearly marking his intentions. Rafe tugs on the strap of my dress, pulling it down my shoulder until it snaps against my skin, the rip of the seams making me gasp softly against his lips. 

He grunted in triumph, it seemed. As if the strap of my dress was a harsh reminder that I wasn’t completely naked yet. “Rafe,” His name is shallow in my throat, making me think nothing more should come from my mouth other than breathy moans, the kind he drew out of me. Rafe pulled down on the top of my dress, exposing my breasts to him, my other strap tearing as well. 

He continues to leave sloppy kisses down my neck before roughly palming my tit and kneading it. He rolls my perked nipple between his lips, his tongue gliding over it in a disrespectful tease and I wince, pulling on his hair, making him smirk. “So responsive…”

Rafe parts from me, tugging off his shirt and discarding it behind himself, his other hand already struggling with his jeans. I sit back on his lap as he hooks his fingers to slide his jeans down to his knees, his cock springing up with a bead of pre-cum running down his shaft. His tip had a purple tint, almost pleading to be taken care of. “See what you fuckin’ do to me?” He groans, his hands pulling my hips to hover over his cock, making me shakily gasp. He winces as he slides the tip of his cock through my folds, splitting them as he taps my clit, making me mewl softly. My nails dig into the tan skin of his shoulders as I slowly and cruelly sink down on his cock. “Fuuuck.”

His arm wraps around my waist as he eases me down until I bottom out, a shudder running up my spine as I feel the slight burn of his cock stretching me out. “Oh, fuck.” I feel myself blush, a harsh breath leaving my lips as he fills me up. Rafe’s hands fall onto my hips, his eyes half-lidded as he looks me over. “Fuck, you look so good sitting on my cock.” He mutters, his hand pulling on the lace of my dress again, the fabric ripping from his harsh grip.

“R-really?” I ask nervously, biting my lip as I whimper softly, my hips moving on their own volition as I ride him. He flexes his hips upward, burying himself deeper inside me as he grins up at me. “Oh, fuck yes..." He murmurs, his thumbs caressing my skin. “Look at how you take me..." 

He’s hurting me, I think. His fingers are digging deep into my hips but it only feels like a slight push, the pleasure clouding my mind doesn’t allow me to register it. Rafe grunts as he straightens up, meeting my hips with an upward thrust, his breathing growing heavier with each one. “Come on, lean back for me.” He pants, his hold on my hips loosening, almost reluctantly to allow me to support myself on my knees.

Leaning back, I give Rafe a better view of his cock disappearing inside me, making him groan at the sight, his bruising grip returning to my hips again. “You look so beautiful like this.” He says in a strangled tone, his hand reaching up to press on the sides of my throat before splaying out on my chest. I let out small gasping pants as Rafe drove into me faster, his arms hugging me closer to him, causing me to arch my back, presenting my tits to his mouth. My thighs burn from being held open so long but I ignore it, too infatuated with his touch. Rafe hums, suckling on one of my nipples as his thrusts become punishing, my head falling back as I feel myself slipping into my orgasm. “Not yet,” Rafe pants, “I don’t wanna stop.” 

His words come out akin to a whine or a desperate plea, enough to make my orgasm attempt to still. My eyes fall onto his as I feel all thoughts of reason leave my mind, my lips opening to speak but the words come out quicker than I realize. 

“I love you.”

My mouth hangs open as I process my words. Rafes expression falters, his pace almost hesitant to stop but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops his head in the crook of my neck, grunting softly as I feel his teeth nip at my skin. His hold on me strengthens, almost painful as he continues to use me for his own pleasure. Rafe lets out a guttural groan as he cums, his hips jerking harshly as he spills into me, his cock pulsing and throbbing as my walls clench around him, my own orgasm crashing with his own. 

Rafe huffs, falling back to rest on the bunch of pillows propped up behind him, his torso glistening with a sheen of sweat as he draped his arm over his eyes. “Off.” He urges, lightly smacking my thigh and I wince as I climb off his lap, ignoring the need to squirm as I feel his cum drip out of me, making me squeeze my thighs together. The bundle of nerves in my stomach begins to rage and thrash internally, the inside of my cheek chewed up to the point of no return. “Rafe, I-”

“I’m taking you home.” His words were final, leaving no room for argument. It’s silent between us, the only sound being the rustle of our clothing as we put them back on and adjust them. Rafe is quick to his feet, walking to the back of the yacht to go to the console area of the boat. I debated with myself whether I should go up there as well and I found myself behind him before I could decide.

The silence between us stretches uncomfortably, his hold on the large metal steering wheel making his calloused knuckles turn white. I walk closer to him, his head turning to look at me from his peripheral vision and I take his look as a warning. I toy with my fingers, sighing as I sit on one of the captains chairs, enjoying the low wake under the yacht as we approach his dock. Rafe shuts off the engine, reaching into the storage box and handing me my keys and my phone, still no words exchanged. He moves past me quickly off the yacht, no regard to make sure I make it safely off myself. 

“Rafe!” I call out, watching his frame still at the end of the dock, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He rounds, his face contorted with anger and he stalks towards me in two simple strides. “You know better!” He huffs, “We agreed to fuck. You just provide a convenient distraction, nothing more.” Rafe cruelly states, towering over me, putting me exactly where he’d like me to be. My chest fills with hurt, his words cutting deep and I’m tempted to wince.

“I slipped up! I didn’t fucking mean it!” Rafe lets out an amused cold chuckle. “Don’t slip up, it’s simple.” 

“Fuck you, Rafe.” I spit out, pushing past him to my car. Rafe scoffs behind me. “You go fuck right off, It’s just going to be a matter of time before you’re on your knees for me again, doing what you do best and gagging on my cock.”

I considered turning around, slapping him and spitting in his face. Yet, I don’t, instead choosing to ignore him and leaving him standing under the same moonlight he told me I looked beautiful under.

[realityinsuspense]

one step closer | chapter 3: a broken bowl

--summary: "me and him? in one apartment? yeah, right. nothing is going to happen." ~~ two strangers living together. not talking and just going about each other’s lives. that was your plan. that’s how you’ve always done things, and you’ve gone far doing so. so when you have to suddenly move into a new apartment with your new roommate, you expect almost nothing. almost.

--pairing: mingi x fem!reader

--genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, a little angst, #mingi is cold and standoffish, #eventual mutual pining

--a/n: hey all!! sorry for the slowest update in the world ahfdkafkdj but here is chapter 3! enjoy, and if u would like to be part of the tag list pls let me know :) i just started one hehe

words: 5.2k

~

chapter 3: a broken bowl

Life at the apartment continued on as usual. With the now split chores and clear communication between one another, you and Mingi settled back into that routine. And it was great! Peaceful—just how you liked it. And you’re sure Mingi liked too.

It was Wednesday evening. You were back at the apartment after another busy day of work and you were absolutely exhausted. You were also starving as well, so you headed to the kitchen to prepare an easy meal for dinner: instant ramen—the spicy kind. The thought immediately made you salivate. As you gathered two packs of Indomie from the pantry, you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket: an incoming call from Hongjoong.

It’s been a while since he’s last called you, and you missed him, mentally noting that you had to get lunch with him soon. It was an easy decision—you wanted to talk with your best friend. But before pressing the green answer button, you glanced at Mingi’s door from the kitchen. He’s home early today surprisingly. Knowing he’s behind that door and could possibly enter the kitchen at any moment, you quickly run to your room and grab your headphones; you wanted your conversation to only be heard by you of course.

You pressed the button, and you were greeted excitedly by your best friend.

“Did you get San’s invite to his birthday party?” Hongjoong asked immediately. You grabbed a big pot and filled it with water.

“Yes. Trust me, the amount of times I’ve heard about this party already,” You smile to yourself and adjusted your headphones.

“Ah, this guy…I am looking forward to his birthday nonetheless,” You could tell Hongjoong is also smiling on the other end. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen him too.”

Funnily enough, Hongjoong was also friends with San and Yeosang. He happened to attend the same University as the best friend duo, where they were all classmates for four years. It was only a coincidence that you all so happened to become friends. What a small world, you remind yourself.

“Oh you know San, he’s doing great! Yeosang too…And what about you? How’s your friend?” You teased. The last time you spoke with your best friend, he admitted he was slowly developing a crush on his long time neighbor. It excited you—romance gossip was always the best. You couldn’t help it, as a hopeless romantic yourself.

“Oh stop! Nothing much has been happening,” He laughed . “But I would say, we’ve been talking more and more.”

“What if you invite him to San’s?” You suggested. “I would love to meet him.”

“Ahh, yeah, but I think it’s maybe too soon for that,” Hongjoong said. “But I do want you to meet him one day. He’s great…”

“I can’t wait!” You exclaim. The water on the stove is boiling now, so you dump your noodles in and start separating the packets of seasoning.

“Well, what about you? How’s your life these days?” Hongjoong’s voice rings through your headphones as you carefully stir in the noodles.

“It’s been going good,” You chirp. “Nothing much going on either.”

“Hmmm…how is your roommate by the way? You haven’t told me much, except that he’s a mess.” He chuckles.

“Well that situation has been fixed, but honestly…” You ponder this. How is Mingi?

Ever since the chores incident, life at the apartment has been sailing smoothly again. In fact, you might even think the conversation even improved the atmosphere of the apartment. It felt a little bit more comfortable living there. Moving pasts the silence and nods, you guys now greet each other with a “hello” or “good night” here and there. The air feels less awkward and less tense. Both your schedules still work out, except you notice that recently, he’s been coming and staying home earlier than his previous hours…But you don’t think about it too much. You guys still manage to work it out! Again, you guys still keep to yourselves. Everything is still separate and unknown. Strangers, but not really strangers. Unraveled mysteries. Roommates. That’s what it feels like.

“He’s okay. We really don’t talk much though. We kinda just focus on our own things, you know?”

“Mmm…” You hear Hongjoong’s tone shift slightly. You could tell that it’s his turn to do the teasing now. “That sounds so boring!”

“Hey!” You chuckle. You turn the stove off to the perfectly cooked noodles. “It’s fine by me. I’m just here to live okay.”

Now, where is that strainer?

“Interesting,” Hongjoong says. “So… is he cute?”

“What?!” You exclaim a little too loudly after opening up the cupboard above you. You spot the large silver straining bowl, all the way on the top shelf stacked on top of your other large bowls. Did I really put these here? “What’s up with that? San asked the same thing.”

Hongjoong laughs in response. “Well, you are a single woman living alone with a man. That’s like a couple living together, no? And God knows how long you’ve been single for. I mean-wait, is he single too?”

“I don’t know about all that!” You quietly “yell” into your phone, your voice a low murmur. This is the last type of conversation to have especially since Mingi is just a room away. You glance at his bedroom door again, happily still shut.

For some reason, you feel your face flush. You felt a little embarrassed at the mention of your almost nonexistent love life once again, this time a bit more direct. And to have this thought about Mingi? Of all people! It was absurd. While you loved romance gossip, it wasn’t an exception when it came to you. Now you were finding yourself giving this little speech of justification once more. “Co-ed roommates exist you know? Besides, maybe he does have a girlfriend. But anyway, me and him? Nothing. Nothing is going to happen. And even if there was ‘something’—which there won’t—that would compromise our contract. I’m just here as his roommate to live in.”

You gently push yourself up onto the kitchen counter, your eyes locked on the stack of bowls.

“Relax, I’m just joking,” Hongjoong defends, but you could hear him grinning like crazy. “But, I don’t know…shouldn’t roommates at least bond?”

“Bond over what?” You were leaning over the cupboard, with your arm almost reaching the bowl. If you knew any better, you probably would’ve gotten a chair to help you instead. But you were too distracted, and for some reason, willingly determined, as if you knew that it was entirely possible for you to reach such height. Your fingers just barely brushed over the cool bowl holding the strainer. What you should know, was that willingness did not always equal logic.

And your desperation for reaching for the bowl at the top shelf backfired. Your fingers tried to grab hold of the bowls, but the weight made you feel unsteady, slipping out of your grasp.

CRASH

“Fuck!” You ducked just in time. But the stack of bowls toppled over and shattered on the floor, a big pile of broken ceramic pieces scattered everywhere. And of course, the strainer lying on the floor as well, perfectly unharmed.

“What happened?!” Hongjoong’s voice rang through your headphones. You carefully landed both your feet on the floor, worried of stepping on any broken glass despite the house slippers.

“Oh shit,” Your eyes went wide after scanning the broken pieces—intricate designs of blue were shown throughout. “Ugh…this isn’t good. Hongjoong, I’ll call you later, okay?” He obliged, and you promised to update him. You stood in shock at the mess in front of you.

These bowls weren’t yours.

They were Mingi’s.

And you broke them.

A million thoughts were bursting and running through your mind. Why did I think these were mine*? Why was I so distracted? I should’ve known better. Maybe I’m just really exhausted? Ugh. No excuses. Oh he’s gonna kill me. These looked really expensive. What do I say to him?*

Hurriedly, you begin to sweep the damage that had been done. But barely just starting to clean up, you hear the sound of his bedroom door opening. Fuck. At that moment, you so badly wished his life schedule didn’t change all of a sudden and that he wasn’t home. But there’s no point in hiding. He was going to find out eventually; it’s time to face it.

Your heart rate picks up as you hear the shuffle of footsteps get closer to the kitchen; you painfully continue sweeping the broken mess.

“What was-” Mingi begins as he enters the kitchen. His relaxed face turns tense at the sight of the scene before him, looking down at the broken bowls. “What the hell happened?”

You jolt up and duck your head down in apology. You suddenly feel his eyes glaring into you.

“I’m so sorry, it was an accident! I-I thought that the bowls were mine and I stupidly tried reaching for them and then I..dropped them.” Your words felt pathetic, your body feeling hot with embarrassment. You gingerly lifted your head to make eye contact with him.

You were scared out of your mind for some reason, that same intimidating feeling returning.

Silence. You scan his face for something. But his expression remains tense and indifferent, his dark hair falling just above his dark eyes. It’s hard to know what he’s thinking. But there’s no doubt in your mind—he has to be pissed.

“I can buy you a new set, I-” You blurt out at an attempt to break the painful silence.

“Don’t bother,” He says coldly, his tone full of anger and disappointment. “This further proves my point. I know we live together, but we really can’t bother with each other. Otherwise shit like this happens. The chores was already enough, and now you’re breaking my stuff.”

The words slap you in the face, and you can’t help but feel silenced. It was an accident! You wanted to yell, but you couldn’t find the courage to. You would never break those things on purpose. He must be upset; they must’ve been important to him. But even so…

Even if he was speaking the truth, it still felt mean.

It still hurt.

Mingi picks up some remaining scattered pieces where he stands and throws them in the trash bin. You continue to clean up as well; it feels like you’re holding your breath the entire time until both of you finish cleaning the mess. You were ashamed.

After you hear his bedroom door shut, you let out a heavy sigh, feeling a mix of disappointment and anxiety. Your noodles have gone cold.

—

That entire night, you were fueled with guilt. It makes sense to be upset about broken dishware, but it’s not like you were completely ignoring the problem. Nor were you were trying to break them on purpose. You took responsibility, apologized, and offered to purchase a replacement. Yet, Mingi refused. You began to feel worse after realizing how well you two were finally cooperating, and that living together became easier and more comfortable. He even made stronger efforts in keeping the apartment clean.

The next morning before you left for work, because you couldn’t go on without action, you slipped a small envelope of money underneath his door. It was for the bowls.

Mingi’s being upset with you bothered you to the core.

Well rightfully so, you did just destroy a very nice ceramic set of dish ware. And it didn’t look cheap, so it must’ve costed a fortune. Maybe that’s why he seemed to mad.

It only makes sense to replace it then. Besides, it would be rude of you not to. It was a gesture in your nature and out of courtesy. It was something you could do to fix the problem. But you were unclear of what Mingi wanted. What could he possibly want? What could I possibly do to fix this?

And as you were on your way to work, you felt your phone vibrate. While you were expecting a text from Hongjoong (who you updated on the situation afterwards by the way), you were surprised to find a new message from your roommate. What great timing, you thought to yourself.

song mingi (roommate): don’t need the money.

Well that was fast. But the text made your stomach churn. Seriously, this guy is so blunt. You chose to ignore the message, guilt creeping into you once again. Your thoughts followed you to work, clouding your upcoming busy day.

“That’s weird,” Yeosang scrunches his eyebrows together. “Who gets that upset over a set of bowls?”

Once again, you confided in your work friends. It was lunch time at your guys’ usual table, and you were stirring the spoon in your bowl of soup mindlessly. You were relieved it was finally lunch time, because the whole incident and text message was bothering you all morning.

“Agreed, that was totally unnecessary,” San says, eyes glued to his phone.

“Just forget about it y/n. It was clearly an accident! You’re too nice for your own good.” Yeosang presses.

“Yeah y/n, don’t stress about it too much.” San added.

“But I can’t!” You groan and throw your head into your hands. Yeosang sighs seemingly in defeat and takes a bite of his burger. “I feel guilty out of my mind.”

Just when things were starting to feel okay. Just when Mingi showed some kind decency towards you, it had to go south immediately. Things were just starting to feel comfortable and at ease. You two were finally cooperating as roommates, greeting one another, and being accommodating to one another. It was a peaceful coexistence that has once again been jeopardized—this time by you. Who would’ve thought living would become even more difficult.

“Well, if you feel that bad. I think you should just get him the new set.” San says, finally looking up from his phone, his expression bright and gentle as always.

“Should I really?” You ask weakly. It was just the push you needed.

“You really don’t have to y/n…” Yeosang smiles his comforting little smile. “But we know you, and you probably will anyway.”

My friends know me well.

—

You head back home after stopping by the market after work. Luckily, it was still open, and you picked out a similar looking set—a porcelain white set, except with tiny green floral detailing this time. It was cute, but not as beautiful as the original. The reminder made your stomach sink.

You’re sure this wasn’t as expensive as the original either, despite the sales lady claiming its value. But, you hope that it’s the thought that counts—this was your apology gift. Whether he’ll accept it or not. You only feel right doing this. And it was your fault, so you wanted to take responsibility.

Despite your fears to face Mingi once again, you knew you had to muster up the courage to properly apologize to him. Otherwise, you both couldn’t go on living this way—all tense all over again. Disrupted peace. Awkwardness, discomfort. A step backwards.

You wanted to resolve this as smoothly and quickly as possible. And enough with the overthinking!

We’re roommates for crying out loud, you thought, trying to hype yourself up as you head up your apartment building. Again, you feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. Be more confident, y/n. You’re gonna apologize properly, and then he’s going to take this damn set of bowls whether he likes it or not! You’ve been agonizing in guilt for the past few days, so he better accept this apology!

We WILL be peaceful roommates again!

After opening the apartment door, you hear sounds in the kitchen and make your way there immediately. He’s home.

“Mingi!” You bravely announce, entering the kitchen. You felt a little stupid, but you couldn’t stand the tension. “I-”

But before you could even continue, your eyes land on your roommate leaning against the kitchen counter, and you suddenly feel your face grow hot.

Shirtless?!

Mingi looks up at you with a questioning look, his pink lips pouted. “Hm?”

Standing before you, was an even more revealing Mingi. Only wearing his signature pair of sweatpants, his lean and toned physique stood out—defined abs and muscles, and.. you tried not to stare for too long, but it’s so hard not to take in. The sight was…something else.

You feel embarrassed seeing him like this, but he clearly didn’t. You could barely make out your words, the courage and hype you built up all of sudden gone.

“I- uh,” You awkwardly say. “I bought you this for you.” You place the shopping bag on the dining table. Mingi approaches slowly, and you feel your heart beating faster as he walks closer to you. He peers into the bag and sighs.

“I told you, I don’t need-” He starts. ”I’m sorry!” You interject abruptly, finally making eye contact with him. “I’m sorry! I messed up. I broke the dishes. I broke our deal. As your roommate, it only makes sense for me to do this. I’ve been feeling horribly guilty, and I am really truly sorry.”

Mingi remains silent as he glares at you, his eyes unreadable. His dark eyes scan your face, and you hope to god your face doesn’t look as red as it feels. It would be even more embarrassing.

“I-I know it won’t replace the old one, and I know ceramics can be kind of expensive,” You continue on after he says nothing, spilling your jumbled words incessantly. “Especially the ones you had, which I’m sure were so beautiful by the way. So it must’ve been frustrating. I know it’s a hassle to get new pieces like those. And…and this new set isn’t the same, but it still has some little details on it! They’re green though—but still, very pretty! The lady at the market agreed with me. So maybe it can-”

“y/n,” He says sighing, stopping you. “It’s fine.”

“No! It’s not fine,” You grab the shopping bag from the table and try to shove it into his hands, taking a step closer to him. You look up at him now, his eyes wide—probably shocked by your sudden actions. Gosh, you think, unbelievably close to a shirtless man like this. “From now on, this won’t happen again. It was just a stupid mistake, I swear. So please, just take this as my apology.” You bow your head in shame and at an attempt to stop looking at him.

After a beat of silence, you feel him gently take the bag from your hands.

“My mom made them for me,” Mingi says quietly. “Those bowls.”

You slowly look up at him once more, suddenly taken aback by the comment. And most importantly his tone—a tinge of sentiment.

“You’re right. These won’t replace the old ones,” He says before you could even respond. “But they’ll do for now. I accept your apology, thanks..”

Mingi places the bag on the dining table once again, and returns to the kitchen counter to continue preparing whatever he was making.

“O-okay, yes,” You manage to say finally. “Thank you, good night.” ”Night.” He says without looking up.

A wave of relief washes over you, and you silently head to your bedroom. You were glad that he’s forgiven you, but also feel bad to know that you destroyed his mother’s gift to him. Now that you know that fact, it felt strange. Isn’t that even worse? At the same time though, Mingi didn’t seem too angry or upset like he was previously. And talking to him this time felt a little different.

Maybe your apology was so great, he felt compelled to do so. Anyhow, you were sure that things would get back to normal again. But your mind lingered about what he said. His mom?

We don’t usually bring up things like that, yet tonight…

You shook your head, deciding not to read too much into it. As they say, curiosity killed the cat.

In your room, you glance at yourself in the mirror.

Your cheeks were bright red.

Great.

~

next chapter >

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tags: @hwaskookies @chicksmoothie

[rootedinrevisions]

Breaking an Already Broken Heart

SUMMARY: Struggling with a failing marriage and reeling from Tyler’s betrayal, she confronts him at a bar after learning he had been secretly involved with a mutual friend for years. Already heartbroken from her own relationship problems, the revelation shatters her further. Despite her anger and hurt, she finds herself leaning on Tyler, who, despite being the source of her pain, is also her best friend and the only one who can hold her together.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I said I was going to take a few days away from writing, and I do still plan on taking a lot of time the next four days for my mental health so I can't guarantee when or if there will be any more stuff coming until next week. But writing is almost therapeutic to me so I decided to see if it would help. I couldn't sleep, so I wrote this last night at about 3am, and I wanted to share it.

WARNINGS: Angst. Like the kind that hits you right in the chest and gut.

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The bar was one of those unassuming places—the kind of spot where the lights were low, the air was thick with the scent of old wood and spilled beer, and the music was just loud enough to drown out the noise in her head. It was familiar, too familiar. She and Tyler had spent more nights here than she could count, back when things were simple—back when she didn’t know about him and their mutual friend.

Now, it felt different. The weight of the truth sat heavily in her chest as she nursed her drink, trying to push back the sting of betrayal that clawed at her throat. Tyler was beside her, quiet. His presence, usually calming, only added to the turmoil inside her.

He knew she was upset, knew the revelation had rocked her. But Tyler was never one to push. He just waited, like always, his hand resting lightly on the back of her chair, a silent promise that he was still there, still her best friend, despite everything.

She took another sip, the alcohol burning its way down her throat, but it did nothing to dull the ache.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was quieter than she intended, the hurt slipping through despite her efforts to keep it hidden. She didn’t look at him, couldn’t bring herself to.

Tyler shifted in his seat, and she felt his eyes on her. His fingers brushed the small of her back, a touch so familiar, but now it felt different—like a reminder of all the things unsaid between them. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He admitted, his voice low.

She let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face him. “Well, congrats. You did.”

The weight of her words hung between them. Tyler’s hand remained on her chair, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on the wood, a habit she hadn’t noticed before. His silence frustrated her, but she wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. There wasn’t an apology in the world that would fix this, not when the hurt went so deep.

“I know I messed up,” he said finally, his voice thick with regret. “And I’m sorry. But…” He sighed, shaking his head like he was trying to gather the right words. “I didn’t know it would affect you like this.”

She blinked at him, her frustration rising. “How could it not? You’ve been sleeping with her for years, Tyler. And I’ve been here—your friend, your… whatever we were. I thought I knew you. I thought…” Her voice faltered, breaking as the pain surged forward. “I thought I mattered.”

Tyler’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, without a word, he reached for her drink and set it aside, replacing it with a glass of water. “Drink this,” he said softly.

The weight of everything crashed down on you the second Tyler placed the glass of water in front of her. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about the years of lies that had unraveled in one night, breaking the fragile trust between them. It was the fact that she was already shattered—cracks from her marriage splintering her heart long before the mutual friend threw the truth about her and Tyler into the mix.

She stared at the water, feeling the tears build at the corners of her eyes. Her marriage was hanging by a thread, and she’d spent so long pretending it was salvageable, clinging to the hope that maybe things could still work. But deep down, she knew it was over. Every fight, every cold shoulder from her husband, every too-friendly message between him and "just a friend" had left her feeling small and discarded. 

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not,” he said, still calm, still steady. “But you’ll feel like shit if you keep drinking on an empty stomach.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but she drank the water anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked out for her, and she hated how much she needed it now. She was angry–angry at him, angry at the situation, angry at herself for still wanting him to be the one who held her together when she felt like she was falling apart.

She had come to Tyler tonight because she needed her best friend—the one person who always made her feel like she wasn’t unraveling at the seams. But now, he had made it worse. He had broken a heart that was already broken.

The silence between the two felt heavier now, suffocating almost. Tyler hadn’t said a word since his confession, but he didn’t have to. She could feel his guilt in the way his hand stayed at the back of her chair, tentative, like he was scared she might pull away completely if he pushed too hard.

“I didn’t need this,” she said, finally breaking the silence, her voice shaking as she struggled to hold back the tears. “Tyler, I’m already dealing with my marriage falling apart. I’m barely holding myself together, and now this? You’ve been lying to me, too.”

He flinched at her words but stayed quiet, his gaze heavy with remorse. She knew he wasn’t one to offer excuses, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. She was unraveling, and the one person she thought she could count on had yanked another thread loose.

“I don’t even know what hurts more,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “The fact that my husband might be cheating on me, or that you—you, of all people—have been sleeping with her behind my back for four years. I don’t even care that you slept with her. I haven’t cared about who you sleep with in years. But you hiding it from me? For this long? It feels like a joke. A really cruel joke.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. If she did, she knew the tears would spill over, and wasn’t ready for that. Not here. Not in front of him.

Tyler shifted beside her, his hand resting more firmly against her back, grounding her. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you. I swear I didn’t.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, you did. And the timing couldn’t be worse.” She took a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. “You have no idea how tired I am, Tyler. How exhausted I am from pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

“I know you’re hurting,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry I added to it. If I could take it back, I would.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “The worst part is, you were the one person I thought would always be there when everything else fell apart. I didn’t expect to lose you too.”

For a moment, the two of them just sat there, the weight of everything unsaid settling between them. His fingers brushed the small of her back again, and this time, the touch felt like an apology. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

"You don't have to lose me too. I still want to be here for you. If you'll let me."

Without thinking, she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, the need for comfort winning over her anger. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to fix anything anymore.”

Tyler’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. “You don’t have to fix it all,” he said softly. “Not right now.”

She sat like that for a while, the silence stretching between them, but this time it felt different. Less tense, more familiar, like the years of friendship were still there, holding them together despite the cracks.

When her favorite song came on, Tyler shifted beside her, pulling away just enough to catch her eye. “Dance with me,” he said, offering his hand like he had countless times before.

She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, unsure whether to accept, but something inside her caved. Maybe it was the alcohol dulling the sharp edges of her anger, or maybe it was the familiarity of his presence, but she let him pull her to her feet.

The music was slow, and before she knew it, his hands were on her waist, and her head was resting against his chest. She hated how safe it felt, how his arms around her made her feel like maybe, for just a second, everything wasn’t falling apart.

As they swayed together, she closed her eyes and let herself speak. “I should hate you, Tyler.”

“I know,” he said, his voice quiet but steady.

“But I can’t,” she confessed, the words barely a whisper.

“I know,” he repeated, his grip tightening around her just a little, like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces of her together.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’m so hurt,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But I can’t lose you. Not now. I need you, Tyler. You’re the only one who can keep me from falling apart.”

His arms tightened around her, pulling her against him as if he could somehow shield her from everything breaking down around her. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I’ve always got you.”

And for the rest of the song, he held her close, like he was trying to be the one constant in a life that felt like it was slipping out of control. For now, it was enough. Maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not forever, but for this moment, she let herself lean on him, letting the pain and confusion blur into the background as his arms wrapped around her.

[sugarphoenixlovesfanfic]

better off without me ◦ . ◦

synopsis: Aventurine thinks he knows what's best for the both of you. a/n: angsty oneshot I wrote based off of a prompt from here. tags: angst, aventurine, aventurine x reader, sad ending

ao3 link here!

You watch as the blond gambler saunters into the house, acting as if his very presence didn’t make your heart bloom and wilt simultaneously. 

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?”

The last few weeks blur in your mind. All those days and nights anxiously watching your phone, waiting for a text. A call. A note. Anything to let you know he’d be back, or that he was doing fine, or that he was thinking of you. Maybe even an “I’m missing you” but, clearly, for the gambler that was too much. 

You thought he had changed. You thought maybe there was something blooming, between the long nights and the expensive gifts. 

With the way the gambler was acting, as though nothing had changed, despite not returning any of your messages for weeks, there was nothing.

You ball your fists, tears stinging your eyes, as you rise from the living room couch and come to stand a couple feet away from him.

“Where were you?” you demand, trembling. “Where were you all this time?”

You see a hint of an emotion pass through his face. Could swear that it was guilt, sadness, pity. Even self-hatred. But just as soon as it had come, it was gone, and he was back to his strange grin.

“Don’t you remember? I told you I was going on an assignment before I left.”

“Why didn’t you return any of my calls? Or my messages?” Hot droplets trail rivers down your cheeks, pitter-pattering on the ground. “You could’ve let me know you were okay. Or alive.”

“I was busy, darling. I couldn’t—”

You smack him across the face. 

“Busy? Too busy for me?” You practically scream at him. The impact of your hit knocks off his serene mask, and now he’s looking at you with a stunned expression. “You didn’t have time for just one text back. Just one!

“Just one would have been enough,” you sob, pulling away and clapping a palm over your mouth as though you were trying to stem an open wound.

Aventurine looks away, and this time the expression of guilt doesn’t fade away when it comes. You stand there, waiting for an answer or an explanation, or even an angry insult. Anything. But the gambler doesn’t say anything.

“Do you even care about me at all? Did you ever care, all those nights? All the times we hung out? All those gifts you sent me?” The tears blur your vision now, and you wipe them away.

The gambler still doesn’t respond. 

“Say something!” you yell.

“No, you’re right,” he says, and if your heart was already broken it felt as though he ground the pieces into the dirt with his heel. “You’re right. I’ve been terrible to you.”

“No, that’s not what I wanted to hear,” you say, almost too choked up to speak. “That’s not what I want. I want you to apologize, tell me you’ll try harder next time.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t deserve me,” Aventurine says, looking at you. “You should move on.”

“No!” you yell. Why was he just giving up so easily? “I want to save us, why don’t you understand? Why won’t you try to hold on to us like I am?” 

Aventurine goes quiet again, and you can’t handle it anymore, your body wracking from each sob you let out. 

“Fine. Leave. Go. And never come back again.” The words are barely perceptible in between your cries.

Aventurine freezes for a moment, looking at you as if to verify that this wasn’t a joke. When you don’t respond, he moves towards the door, and you watch him. Just before he leaves, he pauses, looking back at you for a long time, as though committing your form to memory.

And then he’s gone.

You crumble to the floor, crying and sobbing and wailing until you’re exhausted and empty.

♤♤♤

Aventurine looked at the text you sent.

How’s your assignment going? I miss you.

He sighed. It had been five hours since he touched down on this planet, and here you were, checking up on him.

He didn’t hate it. In fact, he loved it. It’s took every ounce of his strength not to reply to you. 

But that was precisely why he couldn’t let himself reply.

The arrangement was meant to be temporary, noncommittal. He’d drop by for a night or two, then move on. Two nights became three, an afternoon became an evening, and a quick text became an hour long conversation. It wasn’t long after that he’d begun to shower you with gifts and affection throughout the day.

During one of your conversations over text, he’d typed in that’s what I love about you into the text bar.

Love? No, this was never supposed to turn into love. 

But one thought turned into another, and suddenly he was recounting all the things he loved about you in his mind. I love your smile. I love your laugh. I love when you pout because something hasn’t gone your way. I love, I love, I love.

And then the thoughts of everything between the two of you flooded over him. The way he bought you gifts, the way you smiled at him, the way you checked on him throughout the day, the way he loved curling up with you at night. 

Disastrous. No one was ever supposed to love him, least of all you. He was a hot mess of a man, distrustful and beaten and broken through and through. He was hateful, and awful. Unloveable.

He hit backspace, erasing what he had written. Replaced it with lol yeah. And decided then and there and he would slowly start to end things. 

To protect you from himself.

So he’d text you a little less throughout the day. Stopped giving you gifts. You didn’t notice it, because it was only a week and then he went to his assignment, where he decided he would cut it all off, then and there. 

He watched as you texted him, and then didn’t respond. Watched as your texts turned from joyful, to confused, to sad, to desperate. You didn’t stop texting him, though. You texted him almost everyday. Ironically, Aventurine realized what the full extent of your love was as he was cutting you off, but he couldn’t turn back now. It was better this way, he told himself. You were better off without him. 

But when he came back, he realized he couldn’t keep himself away from you. He had to see you one last time.

So he paid you a visit, deciding to act as though nothing was wrong, just to twist the knife a little. To make sure you would absolutely hate him. And then when you told him to leave, he left. But not before giving you one last glance, memorizing your form in his mind, your tearstained cheeks he could kiss every day for the rest of his life, your wet eyes he could stare into forever. The anguished look on your face he desperately wished he could turn into a smile.

But there was no turning back now.

You’re better off without him. Yes, that’s what he tells himself as he lays in bed tonight and holds his phone to his heart, your past text messages displayed on the screen. That’s what he tells himself as a single tear falls from his lashes, wetting the pillowcase beneath him. 

You’re better off without him.

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs and comments appreciated!

[dangraccoon]

I Won't Leave You

Crosshair & Hunter

Warnings: intense training, discussion of decommissioning, loss of squad members (OCs that I made to explain why Tech seems to carry multiple roles), resignation to a supposed death

Note: this fic is not clone shipping. Nothing I write is clone shipping.

Mando'a Guide Osik'uram - rude person (literally "shit mouth") Di'kut - idiot

Crosshair’s arms were getting sore from holding up the too large rifle. The weight of it was familiar, but it had been hours of holding it up; his arms were getting weaker. 

“CT-9904,” the surly bounty hunter—who was now his instructor—growled. “How can you possibly expect to be a sniper if you can’t hold still?”

Crosshair knew it was a rhetorical question; he’d been punished for “speaking out of turn” when he’d answered before. He wouldn’t answer him this time, despite the resentment boiling in his gut. Instead he just rolled his eyes under the cover of his helmet. 

“Run it again,” the instructor warned. “Do better this time.”

That all too familiar knot formed in Crosshair’s throat, but he swallowed it down. Soldiers didn’t get nervous, right?

The simulation began and he fell into a rapid rhythm, taking down training droids one by one. 

Simulated sounds of war blared over the speakers; explosions all around him, screams of people being injured, never ending blasterfire. Then the rain started. Crosshair felt the temperature in the room drop. He hated the cold. His hands tightened on his rifle, but did not stop his rhythmic firing. 

The rain grew colder and heavier until it would be nearly impossible for anyone to see clearly through it, but Crosshair wasn’t just anyone. His eyes adjusted rapidly, easily seeing through the sheets of freezing rain. 

He’d been counting, of course. He only had 14 more targets and the simulation would be over. Maybe I can leave after this round, he thought, knowing that this was only the eighth time they’d been through this simulation today. Idly, he wondered how his brothers were fairing in their training today. 

A noise behind him nearly startled him, breaking his concentration and his rhythm. He spun around just in time to see the blue circle of stun bolt about to hit him. 

He woke up in a medical bay, head aching and eyes burning from the bright lights overhead. 

A medical droid hovered next to him. “CT-9904, you are awake,” it told him. “I will alert the medic.”

Crosshair watched the droid go, irritated by its happy tone, then closed his aching eyes. 

“Hey, Cross,” someone said. That voice was far too familiar. 

“Hunter,” he replied simply. 

“You okay?”

Crosshair didn’t answer, his brow furrowing into the deep scowl. 

“Right, stupid question,” Hunter admitted. “Are you hurt?”

“Don’t think so,” Crosshair shrugged. “Head hurts. Lights are too bright.”

Hunter wasn’t sure what to say, but as the newly minted leader of their squad, he figured it ought to be something positive. “Don’t worry, Cross, you’ll get it next time.”

Crosshair sighed. “There won’t be a next time, Hunter.”

Hunter scowled at his slightly younger brother, even though the other couldn’t see him. “Don’t talk like that.”

“We should just accept it,” Crosshair shrugged. “I got lucky during the initial testing; I only outshot Tech by six points.”

“Crosshair, you were made to-”

“I hate that he’ll have to take my job when he’s already got Fixer and Bugg’s on top of his own.”

“Cross-”

“Maybe you could take on piloting, too,” he suggested, ignoring his brother and squad leader’s attempts at redirecting the conversation. “I know you scored higher than me and Wrecker.”

“Would you just-”

“Oh! And make sure you don’t tell Wrecker that 99 and I made Lula for him; I’ve got an image to maintain even after I’m dead.”

“You’re not gonna-”

“You gotta make sure Tech sleeps. I know he’ll be busy with four roles instead of three, but he’ll work himself to death before choosing to sleep. But if you wrap him up in a blanket like a tubie, he knocks right out.”

“Crosshair, please. Please stop.”

He did, unable to continue after hearing the desperation in Hunter’s words. 

“You’re not getting decommissioned,” Hunter affirmed.

“Hunter-”

“No. I was too late to save Bugg and Fixer, but I’ll die before I let the long-necks take away another one of my brothers.”

The regret and guilt that permeated his voice stung. He knew Hunter blamed himself for not helping the others enough, but hearing him now, he realized that his older brother blamed himself entirely for the loss of their brothers. 

“I-” Hunter whispered, not daring to look at his brother. “I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t,” Crosshair promised, reaching out to touch Hunter’s wrist. He looked up to see his brother’s signature smirk. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, ya know.” (I won’t leave you.)

Hunter chuckled as he wiped a stray tear onto his sleeve. A sense of normalcy crashed over him like a wave. “Yeah, well, first time you go off on your own during a training sim, I’m throwing you in the water.” (I won’t let you.)

Crosshair scoffed. “Osik’uram.” (I love you, brother.)

“Di’kut.” (I know, and I love you, too.)

Thanks for reading! - River

Tales of the Clones Master List DangRaccoon Master List Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @padawancat97 @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[magewritesstories]

[ ᴊᴇꜱꜱ ᴍᴀʀɪᴀɴᴏ ] ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ ɪᴛꜱᴇʟꜰ

summary: jess moves back to stars hollow to open a new branch of truncheon books in his hometown, and tries not to murder the girl living in the apartment above him and the town enjoys watching another grumpy business owner fall in love with a bubbly inn manager. TW: none note: in love with him and not even in a funny way, i need a jess

“Are you sure this is the place you want?” Andrew asked for what felt like the millionth time. The bookstore owner gave the 25-year-old a nervous stare as he signed the last few papers.

“Yes, Andrew, for the millionth time, this is the place.” Jess sighed, he couldn’t blame the man for his hesitance, he hadn’t exactly left a good impression on the people of Stars Hollow while living there.

Out of all the places he’d imagined settling down, Stars Hollow, Connecticut was incredibly low on the list. 

But he couldn’t deny the fact that it was a good commerce town, people passed through on business or on their way to Hartford all the time. So when his friends asked him where they should open a new branch of their bookstore, it was the first place he thought of.

Once all the paperwork was finished, Jess had spent the week driving back-and-forth from Philadelphia to Stars Hollow and everything was finally done. 

Andrew took papers, “Okay, I’ll get these to Kirk—” He moved to grab his bags— “Have you met Y/N yet?”

Jess shook his head, Y/N the mysterious person that lived in the apartment above the bookstore, “Nope, haven’t run into her yet.” Andrew nodded, “Well, I better get going.”

Once the older man had left, Jess turned to the bookstore. There were cardboard boxes everywhere, and all the bookshelves had been emptied along with the walls, where the hanging bookshelves had made place for paintings.

Jess started to unload the first box of books when Luke walked in, with you tailing behind him.

“Oh come on, don’t lie,” You insisted, “It is so a different brand.”

The older man sighed, maneuvering his way through the mounds of boxes. “Y/N, for the last time: I’ve been using the same brand of coffee for the past twenty years.”

You crossed your arms, “Liar, I know you did something different with it.”

“Well fine, you got me, I put drugs in yours hoping they would shut you up,” Luke deadpanned, handing Jess a paper bag, “Here’s your lunch.”

You turned to him as well, “Oh, you must be Jess!” You exclaimed excitedly, “I’m Y/N, I live upstairs.”

You stretched out your hand for him to shake. Jess stared at you, it was 9 in the morning, how were you so upbeat already?

“This is the part where you take my hand and tell me it’s nice to meet me,” You whisper jokingly. “Jess Mariano,” He replied, shaking your hand as you give him a bright smile.

“Don’t you have places to be?” Luke questioned, staring at you. You raise an eyebrow at him, “What’re you talking about?”

The older man sighed exasperatedly, “The Inn.” Your E/C went wide in realisation, “Michel’s going to kill me!”

Without another word, you ran towards the door, almost tripping over a box of paintings on your way out, “Sorry!” You excused, and quite frankly Jess wasn’t sure if you were talking to the box or him.

“Wow,” He breathed as he watched you made your way down the street, only to stop halfway to pet Babette’s cat before resuming your run.

Luke nodded, a small smile on his face, “Yeah, that girl’s a storm with skin,” He replied, “So, you need any help with these boxes?”

Jess groaned as Voulez-Vous played loudly upstairs. He couldn’t say anything about it yet, though, per Stars Hollow rules you were allowed to play music as loud as you wanted to until 10 PM.

When Toxic started playing he had enough. He made his way up the creaky stairs. You’d left your door open, and Jess took it as a sign to go inside. 

You were standing on your couch, singing along to the song, using your spatula as a mic. Jess watched you jump off and spin around, before finally coming to a halt in front of him.

“Oh, Jess, hi!” You grinned, not even slightly flustered, “Can I help you?” 

“Yes, you can, by turning that god awful music down.”

Your eyes went wide, “Shit, is it ten already?” He shook his head, “No, you just have bad taste in music.”

You laughed, “Right, you’re the kind of guy that listens exclusively to Metallica and Iron Maiden,” You teased, “Hey, I’m making cookies, you want some?  They’re almost done.”

“What I want is for you to turn down the music,” He deadpanned, arms crossed over his chest. You shrugged, “‘Kay, Roommate.” You reached for the stereo and turned down the music.

“Are you my roommate, ‘cause you’re not the landlord, you rent the place too, but you don’t sleep here— or your not supposed to, I’ve seen you sleeping on the couch— but your not my neighbour either,” You rambled, smiling at him.

“Just keep the music down,” He grumbled, “And if you have to play it at max volume, play some decent music.”

An hour after your little encounter, you came skipping down the steps, a plate of cookies in hand. “You never told me whether you wanted the cookies or not,” You said, putting the plate down, “So I brought them anyway.”

The black-haired man stared between the plate of cookies and your bright smile in confusion. Finally he rolled his chair away from the desk and grabbed something out of the drawer near him.

“Here,” He said, handing you a CD he’d burned himself, “Some acceptable music I think you’d like.”

You inspected the plastic case and grinned, “Thank you.” With one last sunbeam of a smile you turned around and practically skipped up the steps to you apartement.

[justaragdollysblog]

Cottontail

Bunnydoll teeth rotting fluff! as a break from the tasty angst. I also love fluffy Jax/Jax with bunny traits

Synopsis: Ragatha, after Jax always teases her, notices his animal tendencies. It’s time for her to tease, now.

———————————————————————-

The morning was peaceful and energetic, with small chatter amongst the circus cast. The only problem, however, was the apparent lack of their ringmaster. He would typically be here by now.

Ragatha stood next to Jax, her plush hand on his gloved paw as they waited with everyone else. She was getting a bit worried, but brushed it off as Caine getting the adventure in order. It wasn’t exactly uncommon.

She also had been getting teased by the rabbit a LOT lately. They had been dating for about a month now, and the jokes and pranks were relentless. Tripped in the hallway, centipede in her bed, or just plain sarcastic comments.

She had been racking her brain, thinking of material worthy enough to go against him. Jax, an annoying little shit as he might be, had a great poker face. Ragatha internally sighed. She’d never have anything good enough to-

Thump.

She paused, looking for the source of the noise. Nothing else was out of place, at least not that she could tell. She turned to look at the rabbitoid next to her.

Jax stood with an irritated expression, arms crossed, foot stomping on the ground repeatedly. A huge smirk grew across her face.

Oh, this was going to be GOOD.

“You okay, Jax?” She asked, trying with every seam in her body to steady the laughter in her voice. He looked over back at her. “I just wish Caine would hurry his tech @$$ up. Why do you ask, though?” He said in his usual snark.

“Oh, nothing.” She turned away, unable to hide the grin across her face that would rival the one next to her. “You just seem…hopping mad he’s not here yet.”

He jolted a bit, surprised. He hadn’t realized at all he was thumping. It was a typical rabbit trait, one he picked up thanks to his new form. “What are you playing at, doll?” He asked, but the edge to his voice softened.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.” She feigned innocence, giggling now. “Might have something to do with your foot stomping the ground.”

Jax huffed a bit, turning away from her. She could see a small smile on his face, though. “I don’t know what you mean, Ragsy. I’ve never done anything like that. Never have, never will.” He declared, smiling wider now.

“Oh, come on, bun. You seem like you’re all ears about it!” She laughed louder now. Jax chuckled a bit now too. “Dollface, those are so bad.” He playfully groaned, running a hand down his face.

The rag doll smiled genuinely. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop, carrots.” She quickly pecked a kiss to his furry face. His ears twisted around each other, and she couldn’t help but love them even more. Everything about him was so delightfully adorable.

Jax sighed a bit at the nickname but pressed a kiss to her forehead back. “Yeah, yeah. You’re a master jokester, and I’m a rabbit. Are we even now?” He said softly, laughing through his words.

Ragatha sighed dramatically. “I guess so….Cottontail.” She covered her mouth as she laughed. That nickname was equivalent to his for her: Dollface. A pet name that only the two could call each other. A pretty thing just for them.

Finally, Caine appeared and explained the adventure, sending them on their way through the warping portal. Jax held Ragatha’s hand, rubbing soft circles with his thumb on her palm.

The two walked through the threshold, hand in hand, paw in plush. Ragatha gazed at him lovingly. “I love you, Cottontail.” She smiled softly, squeezing his hand.

“I love you too, Doll.”

————————————————————————

WOOOOOOO i love jax w animal tendencies so i wrote this :)))) idk if i’m as happy w it but yeah!

also chapter 2 to the other bunnydoll one (angsty one) comin soon as soon as i formulate the plot of that chapter

reblogs are always appreciated! see u guys next time!!!

[calirph]

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒.

Desired Pregnancies

"I prayed for this child, and the gods have finally answered."

"The midwife says the baby is strong. Our family will grow, just as we hoped."

"After all these years, we will finally have an heir."

"You’ve given me the greatest gift I could ever ask for—a son or daughter to carry on our name."

"I can already feel the baby moving, a sure sign of a healthy child."

"Our child will be the future of this house. I couldn’t be happier."

"We’ve been blessed, my love. Soon, we will hold our little one in our arms."

"The child will unite our lands, just as we dreamed."

"The maesters say all is well. You and the babe are thriving."

"We will raise the child together, with all the love and care we dreamed of."

Accidental Pregnancies Out of Marriage

"I never meant for this to happen. What will the people say?"

"If my father finds out I’m with child, he’ll disown me."

"What are we to do? A child born out of wedlock will ruin everything."

"I don’t know whose child it is, and that terrifies me."

"How can I face him? I’ve brought shame upon our house with this."

"I never wanted this, not like this, not before marriage."

"We must hide this, at least until we can figure out what to do."

"A child born in secret… this could destroy us both."

"Will he even acknowledge the child? What if he denies it?"

"I don’t know how to tell my family. They’ll never forgive me."

Worried Pregnancies

"The maester said it might be too early to tell if the child will survive."

"I’ve heard stories of women who don’t make it through childbirth."

"I fear the baby isn’t moving as much as it should."

"There’s been blood, just a little, but I’m terrified of what it means."

"What if the baby doesn’t survive the winter? The cold is so cruel."

"I’ve had strange pains, and I fear the worst."

"The midwives are worried, and that frightens me."

"What if the child is born weak, or worse, stillborn?"

"The last birth nearly took my life. I fear this one will finish the job."

"He’ll want an heir, but what if I can’t give him one?"

Happy Pregnancies

"I feel so full of life, as if the baby brings light to my every day."

"Every flutter, every kick brings me such joy."

"I can’t wait to meet our little one. The anticipation is the sweetest feeling."

"The baby’s room is ready, and the whole castle is abuzz with excitement."

"I love feeling the little movements, like a secret between me and the child."

"We are surrounded by love and family. This child will be so blessed."

"The midwife says the birth will go smoothly, and I feel so at peace."

"I already love this child more than I thought possible."

"I feel as though I’m glowing with happiness."

"Our baby will be the pride of our house, I just know it."

Confused or Ambivalent Pregnancies

"I didn’t expect this, not so soon. I don’t know how to feel."

"Am I ready to be a mother? I still feel so young."

"I thought I’d be overjoyed, but all I feel is uncertainty."

"I don’t know if I’m meant to be a mother. The thought scares me."

"I should be happy, shouldn’t I? But I’m not sure what I want."

"I don’t know how to raise a child in these troubled times."

"It’s a blessing, or at least that’s what they keep telling me."

"Do I even want this? I thought I did, but now…"

"I thought we had more time before this happened."

"I know I should feel joy, but all I feel is dread."

Desired Pregnancies (continued)

"The gods have smiled on us; this child will change everything for our house."

"I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long, and now it’s finally here."

"We will raise our child with all the love this world has to offer."

"This baby is our future, a symbol of our love."

"It’s a sign—a sign that our family is destined for greatness."

"Our child will grow strong, and together we will lead them."

"I cannot wait to hold our child for the first time."

"This child is everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I prayed for."

"We will have a child to continue our legacy."

"Our bloodline will be stronger with this new life."

Accidental Pregnancies Out of Marriage (continued)

"The scandal will ruin us both, but what else can we do?"

"If the court finds out, I’ll be cast out, or worse."

"I never meant to betray the vows of marriage, but now there’s a child involved."

"He said he loved me, but now there’s a child, and I fear he will leave."

"I must hide the pregnancy, at least until I can flee."

"The church will condemn us, and the court will never accept the child."

"I’ll be shunned if they find out, but what can I do with this child growing inside me?"

"How will I protect the child when I can barely protect myself?"

"A child born of sin, and yet… I still want it."

"This baby wasn’t planned, but I’m starting to love it already."

Worried Pregnancies (continued)

"The midwife said there could be complications. I don’t know what to do."

"I’ve been so ill lately, I worry about the child’s health."

"The roads are dangerous, and I don’t know if I’ll make it to the midwife in time."

"The maesters fear the worst, and I’m trying not to lose hope."

"I’ve already lost two children, and I fear this one will follow."

"The child’s movements have slowed, and my heart is heavy with fear."

"The castle is preparing for a siege, and I’m afraid I won’t survive the birth."

"The baby feels too still. What if something is wrong?"

"They say childbirth is the most dangerous thing a woman can face, and I fear I am not ready."

"I have been so weak; I fear for both the child and myself."

[shiny-kaibernyte]

hey there! if you’re taking requests, can i ask for a drayton and/or kieran x a male! reader who has a very punk/alt style and looks pretty intimidating but is actually very kind? maybe the reader specializes in ghost/dark types too

regardless, i hope you’re taking care of yourself, i love your writing!

I really really like this! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this request! As a Ghost/dark specialist myself, i'll use Pokemon i have on my own team for convenience. If you don't like it feel free to yell at me for taking so long and mucking it up! ANYWAY Happy reading.

Warning: Small amount of Angst

Pretend | Kieran x Male Reader

“Kieran… you really shouldn’t rush this! It’s okay to feel nervous. You're not ready and that’s okay, please… don’t push yourself for something out of your reach.” Sitting opposite Kieran hoping your words would reach through to him, and yet the table seemed to only be a small part of the gap between you. 

A bang echoed through the dining room as Kieran slammed his fist on the floor, his voice coming out in a determined shout. “HELL NO! I’M READY I KNOW I AM! I’ll RETURN TO THAT WASH UP OF A SCHOOL AND SHOW EVERYONE HOW MUCH I’VE CHANGED!”

“Kieran calm down! I meant nothing by it, I’m simply saying, maybe wait another day before going back. After all, the spotlight’s going to be heavily on you… Are you… Sure you’re ready for that much attention?” Raising an eyebrow, a hint of worry in your voice, seemingly in an attempt to break through his facade and get through his shell.

Seems it worked

Kieran’s eyes fell to the floor, his head hung low, gripping his jeans so tightly. His knuckles turned white, and his palms read from the pressure. Tears began falling from his eyes, his voice coming out as nothing more than a shaking quiver of what it once was. “I don’t need you… to tell me that…”

“Kieran! I’m sorry please don’t c-” Barely a sentence out and Kieran’s voice breaks through your own.

“I’m not as strong as you… I can’t make people run from me the moment they see me walking down a hall… I can’t glare at someone like you can… make them show respect to you just by looking at them. You don’t even have to raise your voice… Just looking at you makes people's skin crawl. I’ve seen countless Pokémon hide behind their trainer or out right return to their balls… All because of how you look… Your team being all ghost types only helps you… The way you hold yourself up, I’ve never even seen you break a sweat… even in those outfits… How… how can I even comprehend facing that place again… With everything I have done to not only them… but to you? How can you sit across from me and show me the kindness you never show to others? How… Can you let me call you my boyfriend?”

“What are you talking about Kieran… where is all this coming from?” Unable to comprehend anything he was saying, your words only added fuel to this sombre fire within him.

“I Pretended… that’s how I got through. I held myself up by a thread, I pretended to be strong… I wanted to be stronger, I thought I was stronger than you… I needed to be stronger than you… To prove to myself I could protect you… the way you always have me. I pretended… Even when I never showed it to you, I followed you around like a lost Yamper. It’s dumb now that I say it aloud. Pushing you away from me at every step, and yet I admit how much I wanted to be like you… And yet after everything with Ogerpon… the academy… Area Zero. You never backed away from me…” As if a light switch had been flicked, his gaze was fixed upon your face, staring into you, with a look you couldn’t recognise, the tears that were still running down his face were no longer once of doubt and sorrow, but now determination and pride. “I see now… I don’t need to pretend any more. The thread doesn’t need to be held together any more, because it never existed in the first place. You… you were what was holding me up this whole time, I always wondered why I felt so secure around you. I thought before it was because of your alternative style and your Pokémon… That Chandelure of yours is intimidating, it alone took out most of my team. But now I realise you were simply trying to find me…”

A chuckle, that was all that escaped your lips as your arms crossed your chest, leaning back against the wall behind you. The lights on the ceiling blinding your vision as you stare into them, seemingly trying to find the words to compare what he had said, and yet you came up empty. Kieran’s words ring true in your ears. Seems his momentary outburst was all he needed to realise what you had been trying to do ever since the festival.

“What I'm trying to say is… thank you, for never giving up on me. When I met you, I thought you were this… delinquent waiting to punch the first worm you saw in your way, and yet, the way you smiled at me, was something I wouldn't give up for all the riches in this world. Why you chose me to give your kindness to, I will never understand. So again, thank you a thousand times over.” Kieran finally coming down from his outburst, his gaze softening as he played your meeting in his head.

“No need to thank me… You’re a good guy Kieran, don’t let those doubts get to you. I’ll always be here to hold you up.” That was the exact moment your Pokémon decided to show up. The sound of three poke balls opening echoed through the room, one of which caused Kieran to fall back off the pillow and onto the floor. Chandelure, Phantump and Ceruledge, all showing up at the same time. Phantump seemed to be the most affectionate towards Kieran as it flew around his head on the floor.

Chandelure spun for a moment in a silent celebration. Ceruledge simply stood by your side as you leaned forwards again, looking at your boyfriend on the floor. Kieran suddenly sprung up in almost a comedic way, only to be met by Ceruledge's piercing gaze. Though he wasn’t afraid, inspired is the word that came to his mind. A sparkle in his eye, and a bright determined grin, it would seem foolish to think just a few minutes ago he was crying a river into his jeans as voicing his heart's broken poetry to you. “I’m ready to go back! If I'm lucky enough to call you my boyfriend then I'm not going to back down again. Besides, even though I'm no longer leading the league any more, I still have a score to settle with Drayton.”

Your Phantump waved its arms around in the air, its cheeks puffing out for a moment as if trying to mimic Kieran’s new-found strength. “I’ll be right here with you, ready to scare off those who get in your way” The last part came out as a mockery, you wouldn’t really scare anyone, on purpose that is.

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

Azriel thinks he deserves to do whatever he wants to his spoil of war. As a treat. Eris realizes that he’s actually into that.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Azriel/Eris

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Non-Con. Hate Sex.

Chapters: One-Shot

AO3 Link

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Be Thankful I Don't Take It All

Azriel hated Eris. 

He always had. Here was a male who had hurt someone he loved. Who delighted in cruelty and callousness. 

So was it any surprise he found an unparalleled satisfaction in watching his enemy kneel before him? His throat lifted ever so defiantly so that all Azriel could think of was tearing it out with his teeth? 

He felt intoxicated with the sheer power of it. 

“Look at you,” he said maliciously. “I’ve dreamed of this moment you know.” 

An interesting look flashed across Eris’s perfect (detestable!) face, though Azriel couldn’t be sure of what it meant.

He wanted to shove it into the dirt. 

“Do it.” Eris said in that infuriating sing song voice of his. “I know you want to.” 

But Azriel wasn’t so easily goaded. 

“No,” he said, grasping hold of Eris’s chin with cruel fingers, nails biting into the flesh of his cheeks. “I want you to beg for it.” 

He looked ready to spit in his face. Rage and loathing writ clear in the glint of his eyes and the furrow of his brow. 

“Fuck you.” 

Azriel smiled. 

His fingers on the other male’s chin loosened, only to move up to his pretty red hair and tug viciously. But instead of the cry of pain or stifled grunt he was expecting…something else happened. 

Eris…moaned. 

Not in agony. Not in fear. But in pleasure. 

Even the male in question looked shocked by what had come out of his own mouth, his eyes wide and hunted like a rabbit’s. 

Reflexively, Azriel tugged again, harder this time. 

The sound Eris made was delicious. Heady and quivering and pathetic. 

Something came over him then. Something dark and depraved. Something he never would’ve considered with any other enemy. Something he (rightly) would’ve killed another soldier in his command for doing themselves. 

But Azriel had never been a good person. He wanted Eris at his mercy. For no other reason than that it felt good to see him shaking and pitiful underneath his boot. 

“Is that what you want?” He asked, his other hand reaching down, down, until…yes. There. The telltale bulge of a cock hard enough to pound nails. Azriel brushed his fingers along it and felt a deep, satisfying thrill as his captive jerked and shuddered. “For me to fuck you? Is that why you’re so hard?” 

Eris’s lips pressed together into a grim, flat line. 

“Oh you can scowl at me all you like. I know the truth…” Azriel said and then cupped the other male’s testicles through his dusty breeches. 

Eris moaned. A full-throated sound that seemed punched out of him. 

“There’s a good boy.” The words were condescending. Mean. And yet Azriel felt the way they made Eris’s cock jump. 

“Oh, you like that do you?” He said conversationally. “Are you so desperate for praise? Did papa never tell you what a good boy you were?”

The look the Autumn heir gave him would’ve made a lesser male falter, but all it did for Azriel was make his blood run hot and fast. He wanted to break him. Bend him to his will and make him weep. 

It took barely any effort at all to wrestle the other male to the ground. He tried to struggle but it was obvious, as much now as it had been during the battle, that Eris wasn’t much of a warrior. Oh he could fight of course, but it was like pitting a hunting dog against a wolf. He had never had a chance. 

Azriel felt drunk. Drunk on power. Drunk on adrenaline. Drunk on the sheer, intoxicating lust that came from besting something strong and beautiful and making it squirm with helplessness underneath him. 

He shoved his knee up against Eris’s iron-hard cock until the Autumn heir sang with pleasure and pain. 

“Go on,” Azriel said, shivering at the noises he pulled from the other’s mouth. “Beg me not to.” 

Eris clenched his teeth stubbornly, his answer clear. 

“You can’t,” the Illyrian said with a cruel smile as he leaned even more of his weight against Eris’s groin. “Because your pride won’t allow you.” And then, because he couldn’t stop himself, “And because you like it.” 

He felt Eris’s chest heave as he sucked in great lungfuls of air through those pretty white teeth of his. Unable to wait any longer, Azriel shoved his arm up underneath the male’s chin as his other dove down to tear at Eris’s laces. 

“Have you always liked males or is this a new development?” He taunted, fingers wiggled their way into the other male’s breeches so he could fist his cock in a too-tight grip. He could feel Eris’s heartbeat thudding away just underneath his fingers, quick and strong like a prey animal’s. 

Eris moaned and panted like a trained whore. 

He had such a pretty cock, Azriel thought. All red and flushed just like the rest of him. His own cock was as hard as his sword now, pressing painfully against the leather of his trousers. Ready to pierce and stab its way into the body underneath him. 

He is depraved he thinks. Utterly monstrous. And yet, Azriel ruminated as he stared down at the moaning, writhing creature under him, he had never felt better in his life.

“Look at you,” he said cruelly. Lovingly. “The spoiled little princeling moaning like a whore under a bastard.” 

“Fuck you!” Eris rasped. Eyes blazing with a fury that felt somewhat dulled by their present circumstances. 

Azriel laughed, loud and delighted. 

“Gladly.”

And then he wrestled the other male over onto his stomach. 

Eris gasped as the Illyrian tore his breeches down with such force and eagerness that they both heard the telltale sound of tearing of fabric. 

Azriel hadn’t fucked another male since his lustful, chaotic youth, surrounded by other young Illyrian warriors with more balls than sense and nothing else to fuck but each other. Still, he remembered the mechanics well enough. 

Not that any of that mattered here. This wasn’t about romance. Or even just blowing off steam. This was about conquest. About dominating Eris in the most primal way one could. 

He wanted to dirty him. Mark him. Bite into his pretty pale flesh and ruin him.

It took but a moment to pull his own cock out, already hard and stretched tight like the skin of a drum. He had just enough sense to spit into his hand and coat his fingers before petting them over the tight little furrow that made Eris gasp and shake. When he finally pressed his thumb into it he felt…hungry, riveted, as he watched his finger disappear inside the tight, hot clutch of Eris’s body. 

He shook and panted like he couldn’t breathe. He knew he’s found that sweet spot when Eris started making a shuddering, pitiable noise like he’d been been gutted. He hadn’t even been searching for it. He certainly didn’t care if his red-haired captive got off…but he also couldn’t help but be transfixed by the abrupt change in the other male. 

“Ah. There, is it?” Azriel pressed harder against that spot just to see the heir of Autumn become completely undone, writhing and whining in a way that went straight to his cock. 

Azriel didn’t even think. Already lost to want and lust and heat as he took ahold of Eris by the back of the neck, withdrawing his fingers only to replace them with his cock. There was no warning, no whispered words of comfort he would usually offer up to his lovers, only the hot, punishing intrusion of one body spearing its way into another. 

And it was exquisite. 

Heat like nothing he’d ever experienced before enveloped his cock like a furnace. He wasn’t sure if this were simply a feature of Autumn fae or if it were just something singular to only the Autumn heir, but either way Azriel was obsessed with it. 

“You’re so hot,” he couldn’t help but gasp as he withdrew and then shoved back in again. “So tight!”

Eris shivered and shook and moaned like he were dying. Like he were in pain. 

Maybe he was. 

It certainly felt like they had both crossed some uncrossable line in the sand. Maybe they would both expire here in the dust and mud of the battlefield, never to get back up and rejoin the world. 

He couldn’t say who came first. Azriel only knew that when he reached his end it was like a rebirth. Spilling himself inside his enemy shouldn’t have felt like a new beginning and yet somehow he knew he would never come back from this. Never share this same intimacy with another. This was too raw. Too brutal. Too personal. 

He felt Eris shudder underneath him, all the fight finally leaving him in an exhausted, shivering grunt. 

“That’s right,” Azriel said softly into that pretty red hair. “You’re mine now.”

[unhappycylinder]

I have a funny dps request. This happened to me once, lol

Female reader becomes friends with the poets and is talking about her first kiss on night. Say this happened maybe back in like 1st grade or something. And while she’s talking about it, one of them realizes he was their first kiss back then, and she’s like… Oh, hell, no, not you 😭🤣 Anybody else.

I loved this, thank you so much for the request!!

wc: 1.2k

It was a night like any other, the cool autumn breeze rustling through the trees as the Dead Poets gathered in their secret cave.

Y/N sat comfortably among them, her knees drawn up to her chest as she smiled at the antics of her new friends. She had always known these boys from a distance, but it wasn’t until she had joined their circle that she realized how much fun they were. 

And Y/N fit right in.

That night, the conversation had meandered through various topics: poetry, girls (much to Y/N's chagrin), and the usual teasing banter that seemed to dominate every gathering. But somehow, the conversation took a sharp turn into more personal territory when Knox suddenly asked, “So, Y/N, have you ever been kissed?”

Y/N chuckled, leaning her head against the stone wall of the cave. “What is this, truth or dare?”

“Come on!” Knox pleaded, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “We’ve all shared embarrassing stories about ourselves. Let’s hear yours.”

She rolled her eyes, but deep down, she couldn’t help but feel a bit excited. It was rare for her to be around a group of people she trusted enough to let her guard down. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you.”

The boys leaned in eagerly, their curiosity piqued.

Y/N took a deep breath, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, my first kiss wasn’t exactly… romantic. I was in first grade.”

The group erupted in laughter, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

“First grade?!” Charlie Dalton said with mock disbelief, shaking his head. “That doesn’t count!”

“Oh, it absolutely counts,” Y/N replied, still grinning. “It was during recess. I was hanging out by the swings, minding my own business, when suddenly this boy from my class ran up to me, kissed me on the lips, and then ran away as fast as he could.”

More laughter ensued, and Y/N joined in, the memory of the moment both ridiculous and strangely endearing.

Knox was the first to recover, still chuckling as he said, “So, what happened after that? Did you chase him down?”

Y/N shrugged, leaning back. “Nah, I was too stunned to do anything. I just stood there, confused, wondering what the hell just happened.”

“Classic first-grade romance,” Neil said, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “So, do you remember who the kid was?”

Y/N thought for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration. “You know, I’ve been trying to remember his name, but it’s so blurry. It was so long ago, and it’s not like we stayed friends or anything. He was just some random kid in my class who decided that day was the day to make his move.”

“That kid had guts,” Todd said quietly, earning a nod of agreement from the rest of the group.

“Or he was just a little maniac,” Charlie added with a grin.

Y/N laughed again, shaking her head. “Yeah, probably. But hey, it makes for a funny first kiss story.”

The conversation shifted after that, but something about the way Charlie had been looking at her since she’d told the story made Y/N a little uneasy. He kept glancing her way, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to work something out. 

It wasn’t until everyone was starting to pack up, ready to leave the cave and sneak back into the dorms, that Charlie finally spoke up.

“Hey, Y/N?” he said, his voice sounding unusually hesitant for someone who was usually so brash.

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh… that story you told. About the kiss. You said it happened when you were in first grade, right?”

Y/N nodded slowly, not sure where this was going. “Yeah… why?”

Charlie’s face flushed red, and suddenly, the confident, rebellious boy she had come to know looked… shy. “This is gonna sound weird, but… do you remember what school you went to in first grade?”

Y/N frowned, confused by the question. “Yeah, it was Hadley Elementary. Why?”

At that, Charlie’s eyes widened, and he let out a groan, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, no.”

Y/N’s confusion only deepened. “What? What’s wrong?”

Charlie looked at her, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I went to Hadley Elementary too. And I think… I think I might have been the kid who kissed you.”

There was a beat of stunned silence, and then Y/N’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait… WHAT?!”

The rest of the group froze, their eyes darting between Y/N and Charlie in disbelief.

“No way!” Knox exclaimed, his face lighting up with amusement.

Y/N shook her head, holding up her hands as if to stop the oncoming realization. “No. Nope. There’s no way. You’re joking, right?”

Charlie shrugged, still grinning sheepishly. “I mean, I don’t remember everything from back then, but I do remember kissing some girl on the playground in first grade. And if we both went to the same school…”

Y/N buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly. “Oh, hell no.”

The boys burst out laughing, Knox practically doubling over in laughter while Neil clapped Charlie on the back.

Y/N shook her head, still groaning in disbelief. “Anybody else! It could have been *anybody* else! But *you*?!”

Charlie feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Ouch! That hurts, Y/N.”

She shot him a glare, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. “No offense, Dalton, but first-grade me did not know what she was doing.”

“Neither did first-grade me!” Charlie replied, laughing.

Neil wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “This is too perfect. Y/N, you’ve been reunited with your first kiss, and it’s Charlie Dalton of all people!”

Y/N groaned again, though she couldn’t stop the smile that was creeping across her face. “Seriously, though, why couldn’t it have been anyone else? Anyone!”

Charlie smirked, leaning against the wall with that familiar air of arrogance that Y/N had come to expect from him. “Admit it, Y/N. First-grade Charlie was ahead of the game. I knew what I wanted, and I went for it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Let’s just say you peaked in first grade.”

The boys howled with laughter at that, and even Charlie couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Well, at least now we know I’ve been irresistible since day one,” he teased, shooting her a wink.

Y/N groaned, but this time she couldn’t help but laugh along with them. “Unbelievable. Out of all the people in the world, my first kiss had to be Charlie Dalton.”