#if I hadn't been told that my voice is okay

[3amfanfiction]

For the worms: Johnny prescribing to the idea “sharing is caring” when his newest girlfriend makes it past the two months mark (something previously thought impossible), don’t worry guys, it’s not “my girlfriend” she’s “our girlfriend”

Oh Temp you know the way to my heart. I love a good 'our girlfriend' moment. There's something so delicious about the entitlement of it, it lends a certain flavor that tickles my fancy. poly 141 x fem!reader. 7k words about (unknowingly) being the team's girlfriend. This is nothing but smut, enjoy!

~~~~

He knew you were the one the first time he met you.

You got him, in ways no one else ever had. You got his energy, his excitement, his need for stimulation. He knew he could be a lot but he also knew he'd never been too much. He'd just been waiting for someone like you.

He never listened when the guys wanted to dog on him saying no one would put up for long with how much he talked. He was a chatty guy, okay? He had a lot of thoughts running through his head and he wanted to share them with people. You never knew which thoughts were going to be strokes of genius until they're spoken after all.

And while he would talk about anything under the sun, he talked about his team most of all. Probably more than he should if he was being completely honest but it was hard not to talk about the people he loved. He was talking about you to them just as much after all. The two halves of his life overlapping as often as he could make them.

But you loved it. You loved him. It was obvious every time you told him to make sure he ate lunch as he was headed out the door, lunch bag swinging from his hand, bursting with goodies you'd packed up the night before. Every time you texted him first, took his trash with yours to throw away, brushed your hand down his arm in greeting, always winding up with your fingers tangled together as he pulled you in for a kiss. Your whole existence showed how much you loved him.

It was fate. It was perfect. It was another sign it was meant to be that it was your 2-month anniversary when you broke the news to him as you were walking him to the door one morning. He'd stayed over the night before because he knew he was going to be working late tonight so you both celebrated one day early. And what a celebration it had been. He'd stolen his three kisses at the door and was getting ready to step over the threshold when he realized just how big your heart was and the fact that you truly were listening whenever he spoke.

"Tell your team I said hi," you said, smiling sweetly up at him, sleep shirt rumpled and hair a gorgeous mess, "there's extra muffins for everyone in your bag."

Oh.

He hadn't realized—but that was okay—he should've noticed—poor lass, had he not been holding up his side of the relationship? The part where you support your partner and their needs and wants? He hadn't seen what you wanted but he understood now. You'd made your feelings known and who was he to stand in the way?

Beaming down at you he peppered your face with kisses, holding your cheeks firmly between his wide palms. Words broken up with the showering of kisses, "I'll tell them love, don't you worry—I'll tell them."

Best anniversary ever.

—

You were pleased with how your day had gone. You'd spent it picking up the house, doing a grocery run, you spent a good few hours on your hobby, and started on a dinner that would get you through lunches for the rest of the week. Your day left you feeling good so you threw on your comfiest t-shirt and sleep shorts combo and camped out on the sofa while dinner finished in the oven.

It startled you when you heard a key being inserted into your lock but you were reassured when you heard Johnny's voice on the other end. You weren't sure how he managed to talk his way into getting a key to your house so quickly but he had a way of lovingly worming his way into any opening you left. He had nearly convinced you to move in with him just last week before you realized what he was doing and put a stop to it. The man had a golden tongue.

In more ways than one.

You popped up over the couch to say hi when you were met with more than just your boyfriend. Another person stood looming at his back, dwarfing the man who made you feel small. You weren't sure what face you were making as you looked up at them, unsure of what was going on but not immediately worried. Johnny had told you enough stories that you were able to clock the man standing with him almost immediately.

"Love, this is Simon."

Right on the money.

"He's come for dinner. The other two were jealous they were gonna miss out on your cooking but they had prior plans. Just know they'd be here if they could."

What? Why was he making it sound like a hallmark moment? You tilted your chin up for a kiss as he came over to the couch, holding still while he cupped your face and pressed his hungry mouth to yours. You pulled away abashed at the racy kiss in front of company. Putting your hand to Johnny's face when it was clear he was coming in for a second go you addressed them both.

"I didn't realize either of you were coming for dinner." Your voice dropped to a whisper, "Johnny! I'm not even dressed."

"You look perfect love," he assured, looking over your outfit. "Besides, it's only Simon. And I've seen you in less. Much less." He leered at you with a smarmy smile and you couldn't help but laugh. He had a point, and you were decent, just a little rattier than you'd prefer when meeting someone for the first time. Hopefully Simon wouldn't hold it against you.

You climbed off the couch and went to greet your guest before moving to the kitchen, calling out to Johnny to set the table and get drinks ready. You hadn't planned on feeding anyone other than yourself tonight but with a creative side dish or two you had enough to go around. You'd just need to find something else for lunch but that was a problem for tomorrow. For tonight you had people to feed and you wouldn't let them go hungry.

By the time dinner was over you had a new appreciation for your boyfriend's teammate. While not particularly verbose he wasn't shy about making his opinions known. And his opinions seemed to be overwhelmingly positive.

"That was the best meal I've had in ages, dove."

You felt your cheeks heat as you smiled at him, "Thank you, Simon. It's one of my favorite dishes, I'm glad you liked it."

You looked over to see Johnny beaming as he looked back and forth between the two of you, happy as a clam to see you getting along so well. He looked like he was mentally patting himself on the back at the successful dinner. Like he had orchestrated something that was finally coming to fruition. It would be worrying if you didn't know your boyfriends penchant for good naturedly dipping his fingers into things. Nothing to do but wait and see what scheme he was cooking up in his brain.

—

You had piled the last dish into the sink when Johnny came up and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing along your neck. It sent a shiver down your spine at the unexpected touch, goosebumps popping up all along your arms before you relaxed back into him.

He was warm—heat radiating off him in waves as he pulled you to stand in front of him, turned to face him with a smile. He grinned back at you, overjoyed at having your attention.

Raising your arms you looped them around his neck, pressing close as you leaned up for a proper kiss. For all that he had sprung company on you, you were happy to see him and you had missed him today. You'd quickly found that he carved a niche out for himself, wiggling into your psyche like he belonged and conforming it around him. Now when he was gone you were left staring at an empty hole that used to be filled.

Your thoughts were pleasantly scattered, a warm contented haze settled over your mind when you felt another body slide up behind you.

You yanked your head away from Johnny only for the back of it to thud against Simon's shoulder, him penning you in between the two of them. Your felt a little like those sheep you saw in videos, held in place by a machine while they were manipulated to their owners liking. You tilted your head with a frown, trying to push back on him or away from Johnny, whichever would get you a little bit of space.

"What are you doing?"

You froze as one thick arm curled around your waist, big hand spread wide over the pudge of your stomach while the other snaked its way up your torso. He gripped your chin firmly from behind, moving you to face Johnny once more.

"Don't stop now, it was just getting good."

Johnny didn't hesitate for a moment to dive back down and press his lips to yours once more, moaning into your mouth and humping his hips forward subconsciously. You tried to turn your head to catch your breath but Simon kept you still, holding you trapped in the heady spill of Johnny's tongue and lips as they devoured yours.

You were limp by the time he eventually pulled back, a panting mess with spit-slicked lips and blown-out eyes. You looked up at him with your mind reeling until you felt another set of lips making their home on the column of your neck.

You flinched . . . or you tried to. You didn't get far with how Simon was pinning you back against his body. You turned worried eyes up towards Johnny, sure this was about to set him off, maybe start an argument about boundaries and how you were with him, Simon wasn't allowed to swan in and start taking liberties for himself.

Instead what you saw was Johnny's pupils eclipsing his irises as he strove to burn the image into his retinas. Greedy want was present in every line of his face as he watched his teammate kiss along his girlfriend's neck. That look mixed in with the shock of teeth Simon had just introduced caused you to let out a ragged gasp, filling the quiet kitchen air with your sound.

"Fuck LT," Johnny croaked, "Just like that."

"Johnny, what—" your voice wobbled as you squirmed in place—Simon finding every sensitive spot along your neck with ease. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, lass. When you told me this morning . . . I hadn't realized this was something you were wanting. I didn't see it." He looked contritely down at you, eyes flickering over to where Simon was pressing hot, wet kisses just behind your ear before darting back to yours, "But we're here now. All of us—as a team."

"I don't understand, I never said I wanted thi-IS." You ended on a yelp as the man at your back took the tip of your ear between his teeth and pinched. You swatted back at him, pushing against his forehead as he chuckled. It was almsot mean, like he liked the sound of your squeal.

"Settle down," he smirked, releasing your ear after a moment, holding it long enough to drive home that he was releasing you of his own will. "no need to cause a commotion. Like he said, we're here now."

The to stay was heavily implied by the weight of his words.

Before you knew it Johnny had leaned down once more, taking your mouth in his while Simon made headway on covering every inch of your neck with his teeth and tongue. It was a whirlwind. Groping hands slid under clothing to pull them off while trailing kisses on every new bit of cleared skin as they urged you to the bedroom. By the time you were sprawled back on the center of the mattress you'd been stripped as bare as the day you were born. Limbs akimbo. Chest heaving with gasped breaths. Unsure how you ended up here.

You watched the two men finish removing the last of their clothes before they crawled in with you, bodies pressing a wash of hot skin to yours, causing you to arch into the sensation. Simon took possession of your mouth while Johnny dove headfirst between your legs.

Your gasp at the first long stroke of his tongue along your seam was all the opening Simon needed. Caught between the double sensation of tongues, it was no surprise you quickly became a panting mess. You attempted to keep your hips from hitching but it was a losing battle, your body's instinctive reaction to get closer to the source of euphoria.

Meanwhile Simon had coaxed your tongue into his mouth and was nibbling and sucking on it in turns, your jaw cradled in his wide palm, tilting you exactly as he wanted. When you pulled your tongue back into your own mouth he took that as leave to begin tracing your lips with the point of his, dipping just inside to take sips at your mouth. Acting as if you were something to be savored. Enjoyed.

He reached down to pinch at your nipples, tugging them into hard peaks only to soothe them with his thumb when you complained. The first time you pulled away with a yip he pressed apologizing kisses down your neck and collar, ending at the abused nipple to take it into his mouth. He laved the sensitive flesh, whispering sweet words into your soft skin.

"Sorry, pretty girl, didn't mean to be so rough." Kisses and light nips with his teeth. How were his kisses so good? "We'll start gentle, yeah? Only soft touches for you tonight."

Moving back up to your mouth once more, he held you still while Johnny had you moaning, keeping your mouth fused to his, not letting you pull away for a single breath. You had to suffice yourself with stealing air when you could, an endless battle between your need to breathe and Simon's consuming kisses. You were lightheaded and woozy by the time you were able to properly pull away.

Drinking down greedy gasps of oxygen—anything to stop your swirling head. You looked down your body to see Johnny perched between your thighs, his bright blue eyes visible as he looked up at you from the cradle of your hips, paused to watch the two of you with adoration. You reached a free hand down to grab his hair, holding him in place and grinding your cunt against his mouth. Your fist clenched tightly as he went back to eating with gusto.

It was impossible for you to stay still, continuously squirming and humping your hips up into his face, chasing your high. Simon reached down and pressed a firm hand to your pelvis, pinning you in place.

"Don't you know how to keep our girl still? Do you let her squirm like this whenever I'm not here?" At Johnny's broken protest he scoffed, "Christ, I knew you needed direction, Johnny boy, but I never realized it was this bad."

Johnny muffled his dissenting keen into your wet heat at his words, humping down onto the mattress like he was the one unable to stay still. Simon looked at you and grinned meanly.

"Well, doll? How about it? Does he give you what you need or does he let you walk all over him?"

You were unable to do anything but shake your head in negation, no verbal response forthcoming. Simon turned to look down at Johnny once more.

"Well? Do I need to show you how to do it properly?" He cocked an eyebrow as he looked down his nose when Johnny drew back from your warmth, separating to draw in a few deep breaths, "It doesn't look like you know what you're doing down there." Simon reached down and palmed the back of Johnny's head, pushing him further into your cunt. "Get a good taste. I wanna see drool dripping down your chin by the time you're done. You should have slick up to your ears and she should be drenched down to the bedsheets." He ignored both of your moans, "Didn't realize I'd have to order you around in the bedroom too, just an unruly little pup, aren't you?"

The constant flow of words from his lieutenant only caused Johnny to become more fervored. Licking into you with abandon, he shifted to free one hand, moving up to press two fingers all the way to the knuckles in one fell swoop. Your wetness ensuring he slid in with no difficulties, a smooth glide with only the stretch to betray the insertion.

You couldn't help the moan that slipped out. A great climbing thing that started deep in your chest and worked its way out of your throat with a rumble. It was the work of moments for you to be right on the edge standing at the precipice, looking down onto your first orgasm of the night.

"There we go Johnny, you've got it now. That's just what she needed, huh? Needed a couple of fingers stuck up into her, something to squeeze. We can help her out with that."

Listening to Simon continue to rumble filth into the air and watching him lean down to press his mouth to Johnny's ear, whispering murmured words you couldn't make out was all you needed for that final push.

The heat that had been steadily building coalesced in your lower back and thighs, the visual of the two of them all the spark you needed to set it alight. Your toes curled and your back arched as you tried to get closer to where Johnny was sucking on your clit with pursed lips. A sobbed Johnny! all you were able to verbalize through the onslaught.

Coming back to yourself you were met with Johnny and Simon watching you with avarice, greedy for every expression that crossed your face. You focused on Johnny and saw an absolutely drenched face. He heard what Simon had said about slick from ear to ear and had made sure to accomplish it. Order received and all that. You would be mortified if you didn't feel so good.

You were limp as they moved to rearrange you, Simon sliding in behind your back as Johnny moved to kneel between your thighs, hard cock bobbing in the air. You felt Simon's wet head kissing the small of your back and tried to grind back—give him some sort of satisfaction in this ménage à trois you had happening.

He reached down to snag your hips, stilling you and pressing his mouth directly to your ear, hot air brushing the sensitive skin as he murmured, "None of that now. My turn will be later, we're focusing on Johnny this time."

And focus on Johnny you did. He shuffled himself forward, wasting no time in sinking home into your wet heat. Dual groans punched out of both of your chests as he fully seated himself in one go. You panted—breathing through the stretch as he did the same, trying to stop himself from reaching the finish line prematurely.

Simon didn't wait for you to regain your composure, he held two fingers up to your mouth tapping on your lower lip, "Suck pet," before he dragged them down to your clit, circling the puffy bundle of nerves still sensitive from Johnny's prior ministrations. He picked up a steady rhythm as Johnny gave the first tentative thrust. You couldn't help but clench down, enjoying the hitched moan it pulled out of him.

He recovered quickly and set out to pull those same moans from you, wanting every sound that dripped from your lips. He was relentless in his chase, making sure to use all the tips and tricks he'd picked up over the last couple of months to wring out every iota of satisfaction he could. He leaned forward, pinning Simon's hand between your bodies.

"Tell us how it feels, love," he panted into your mouth, pressing bruising kisses to your lips. "How good is my cock making you feel?"

Try as you might, you couldn't do more than chant his name, a steady stream of Johnny falling from your tongue. He was consuming your every thought, everything bound up in a tangled snarl that was added to with each slick glide of his cock.

Simon pulled his fingers away from your clit but didn't move his hand, keeping it pinned as he reached further down to do something to Johnny. All you were witness to was the way his eyes went wide and unfocused, a little furrow making its appearance on his brow as he paused and pressed into Simon's hand. He let out a sharp yip at whatever Simon was doing before finally moving back, giving the other man room to return to strumming your clit unimpeded.

You were caught between the push and pull of the two of them. Simon resting at your back to whisper lewd words directly into your brain while Johnny made his home inside of you, carving out a space that would always remember him.

It was overwhelming.

You normally turned into a pile of putty with only Johnny's hands on you. Now that there were two of them? You felt like you never knew where the next touch would come from. You would only just find a way to breathe with the circling of your clit for hands to suddenly make their appearance at your nipples. Come to terms with fingers at your nipples just to feel teeth latch onto your neck. They kept you guessing with each movement.

Johnny was doing an admirable job of building you towards your next peak, soft rolls of his hips stroking every sensitive spot inside of you, but apparently it wasn't enough for Simon.

"Hitch her hips up, Johnny. I want you fucking her like you mean it." He stared Johnny down, "If you can't put your back into it then I can relieve you."

"I know how to do it," Johnny sniped back, "Don't forget, I've been in her bed a lot longer than you have." You jolted, unused to having such a harsh tone in your house, let alone in your bed.

Simon saw your jerk and quipped back, "Behave, pup. I won't have you barking and growling around our girl." Simon slid out from behind you, laying you gently back on the pillows with one lingering kiss before coming around to Johnny's side. "Now are you going to listen to what I say or do you need me to step in?"

Johnny chewed on his words, still slowly pumping into you with soft propels of his hips. For a moment you were certain he was going to push back, to dig his feet in and argue with every word that came out of Simon's mouth. Your boyfriend was sweet, but not exactly levelheaded. It surprised you when he came to a decision and listened to what he was being told. You'd have to sneak aside later and get tips and tricks from Simon before he left. Anything to make your life a little easier.

Taking your hips he stuffed a pillow underneath, angling you upwards as he slid back inside. Your matching moans at the new position caused something almost gleeful to cross Simon's expression.

"There we go, I knew you had it in you to mind. You just needed someone bigger to put you in your place, didn't you?"

Johnny had no rebuttal beyond the stuttering of his hips at the comment, swallowing heavily before resuming his rhythm. The steady thwaps filled the humid air of the bedroom, playing background to your whines, Johnny's harsh pants and Simon's filth.

"There we go, just like that," he murmured, voice low and soft, "You're taking it so well sweetheart, is our boy doing a good job for you?"

"Yes," you panted, eager to agree to anything as long as they didn't stop, "So good."

"You hear that Johnny? Said you're doing a good job."

Johnny outright whimpered at the praise, hips stuttering and breath catching in his throat. Simon leaned over Johnny's shoulder and pressed his lips right against his ear. You watched his jaw move as he spoke—voice too low to make out any of the words. Johnny's face was a rictus of pleading pleasure. His expression frozen except for small twitches of his eyebrows, gaze shuttered and staring at your face as he panted. He lasted a few more thrusts before burying himself deeply with a low cry.

Simon laughed scornfully, "Ah poor Johnny boy, did you come already?" He listened to Johnny's overstimulated whine as he grabbed his hips and kept Johnny pushing into you, the wet squelch only proving that he was fucking his spend deeper inside. "Well I don't care if it's too much. You came before our girl, we can't have that." He gave a mean smile, "you're gonna keep fucking her until I tell you to quit."

"I—I can't Simon," Johnny panted, overstimulated nerves causing his muscles to spasm and twitch. "I can't go anymore."

"You want to stop? Then ask me nicely. Go ahead," Simon taunted, a wicked grin curving along his mouth, "Beg."

It was exactly the right wrong thing to say. You watched as Johnny's mouth fell open and his head tilted back, shiny tears springing up along his waterline to spill out from the corners as you felt another warm wave of heat inside. His second orgasm seemed to wring every bit out of him—his face locked in a pained grimace.

He tried to jerk backwards, tried to pull his hips from yours but Simon wasn't having it. He dug his fingers tightly into your hips, arms wrapped around either side of Johnny's waist and pressed firmly against his back, pinning Johnny between the two of you and not giving the whimpering man an inch of space.

"I told you, you're not done until she comes." Using his own hips he helped propel Johnny into you, helping you move to grind on Johnny's dick at the end of each thrust. "You know what you need to do to finish this."

"Please," the other man burst out, unable and willing to withhold any longer, "Please, Simon, need your help. Need you to help me." Tears continued rolling down his cheeks.

"That's all I needed, sweet boy."

Moving one of his hands he dropped his thumb onto your clit after swiping up along your slit, pausing to tease right beneath the head of Johnny's cock on a pullback just to hear him whimper again. With the slick pressure rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves combined with the relentless fucking and stunning visual you were falling apart within moments.

Light burst behind your eyes and your ears started ringing. You knew you were clenching tightly around Johnny's cock but you were unable to spare the thought to see what he looked like as you came. You fell back into your body as the sensations died down, literally falling back onto the bed where you had been arched so sharply only your shoulders were still touching.

As you became aware of your surroundings you watched Simon allow Johnny to pull back, both of you whining at the sensation of him pulling out completely. He flopped to one side of the bed while his chest heaved like bellows, a ruddy flush covering his face and chest. Shiny sweat lined his brow, glistening in the dim evening light.

You didn't have time to rest or take in your boyfriend for long before you were grabbed by the hips, Simon's fingers digging into your plush sides as he pulled you into a position he liked.

Your legs were thrown over his forearms before you realized it, feet dangling in the air and hands coming up to grasp onto his shoulders. As he leaned forward you acutely realized how powerless you were, pinned completely beneath his bulk, no leverage to be seen to get you out.

You looked at him with wide eyes, your own heaving chest causing your pebbled nipples to brush up against his torso, teasing little flicks of sensation to add to everything running through your body.

He notched himself at your entrance with a groan, swiping back and forth, coating the head in your wetness. Finding an angle he liked, he began pushing in.

You whimpered at the burn as he stretched you, even still after Johnny had just had you. You shuddered thinking about taking him without being stretched first, likely a harrowing undertaking. He continued rocking back and forth with small thrusts, each one inching deeper and deeper. Each withdraw causing more of both yours and Johnny's come to escape.

"I know it's a lot, but you can take it. All the way in, all the way to the back, sweetheart."

It knocked the breath out of your lungs when he seated himself inside. A heavy weight felt through your pelvis as his length pried apart muscle to make room for itself. You were afraid you'd feel him inside for the rest of your life. Another gaping chasm when he wasn't there.

It took him the space of a few heartbeats to get situated before he began to move with rhythm, a strong, steady roll of his hips knocking you up the bed with each drive.

Whatever remaining thoughts you might have had spilled out your ears. Nothing able to penetrate the fog he was putting you in with his movements. Your brain became a haze—no worries, no fears—nothing but the feelings he was stoking inside you.

Each time he slid in full you felt him kiss your cervix at the back of your channel. The quick pinch only increasing the pleasure you felt. The mix of the two giving gradients that weren't usually seen, hues bursting behind your eyelids at the sensation.

Proportionately large, he touched every soft spot inside of you simultaneously, a constant wave of endorphins flooding your brain and leaving you a gibbering mess. You clawed at him looking for purchase but unable to find any, inescapably swept away in his tide.

How did you end up here? Under the body of your boyfriends best friend. Because he was his best friend, no matter that Simon would never verbalize it. They were two sides of a coin—better together.

You let your head flop to the side, looking at Johnny passed out and half hanging off the bed on the far side, snuffling breaths a steady back-drone to the slap of skin on skin from you and Simon. You were out of your mind with pleasure, brain unable to spark two neurons together to come up with a thought. It was all white noise to you, unable to focus on anything other than the sensations Simon was drawing from your body.

That was why it was so jarring when two more bodies made their presence known standing beside you on the bed, wide shoulders blocking out the light leaving them draped in shadows.

You let out a huff of a startled scream, no breath in your lungs to get proper volume when hands came up to tweak your nipple and tuck your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

Simon gave a rumbling groan as all your muscles clenched and you bucked up in fear, tossing your head to try and get them off of you. You started to whimper and bat haphazardly at their hands trying to pull yourself away from Simon at the same time but the grip he had on your hips didn't allow you to go anywhere.

"Shh," he gentled, "you're okay, nothing here's gonna hurt you, sweet girl." He never slowed his thrusts, "It's just the rest of the team. That's Gaz and that's the captain." Bone-jarring thuds as his pelvis met the fat of your backside, sharp slap slap slaps echoing through the room.

"What?" you stammered, "I—I thought that—"

"Didn't think we'd let anything happen to you, did you?" he asked with furrowed brows, "Let something happen to our girl?" he scoffed in amusement. "Try again."

Oh. That's—that wasn't—you weren't—

But you couldn't verbalize any of your thoughts. You'd thought you'd been at the end of your stamina before but these two men brought fresh energy to the bedroom. Looking at both of them you recognized Kyle and John from all of Johnny's stories.

"Have you been taking good care of our girl, Simon?"

"Yes sir, Johnny gave her two and I'm working towards a third."

"Good man."

With the team complete the dynamic subtly changed. Where before it had been Simon giving the orders, he now defaulted to his captain, happy to let him take the lead as he directed Kyle and Simon to his own beat.

It was the work of minutes for John and Kyle to strip each other and climb into the crowded bed to join you.

You were too fucked out to muster any proper response so you let them move you as they pleased, content to be a doll placed into the perfect position.

Kyle moved to cuddle up to you up near your face, the cut of his abs all you could focus on for a second before you dragged your gaze up to his face. He smiled down at you charmingly, perched up on an elbow to hover over you, ensuring he was all you could see for a moment.

"We've heard so much about you," he murmured, holding his smile while looking gorgeous enough to stop your heart. "I can't believe we're finally all here together."

Heard so much about you? What had Johnny been telling them? What had he been sharing about your personal life to his team that they thought this was normal? You didn't get a chance for the thoughts to make more than a fleeting impression before they were gone again—the finger on your clit requiring your full attention.

You looked down past Kyle to see John with a hand between your thighs, stroking at the bud before dipping down to gather the wetness that was still being pulled out of you by Simon who hadn't paused. He ran his fingers along where you two joined, dampening his fingertips before resuming his stroking. You couldn't keep still at the sensation, legs jerking and jumping as your nervous system tried to make heads or tails of what was happening to it.

He made short work of coaxing you back into another orgasm, sparks lighting up behind your eyelids as you convulsed, squeezing Simon between your legs and gripping the hand that Kyle had threaded through yours for dear life. Your hips stuttered in their movement, caught between chasing the last sparks of pleasure and pulling away from the steadily overwhelming sensations John was easing out.

It was a relief when he pulled away, letting you begin making headway in catching your breath once more. You watched him reach up with his slick hand to clasp Simon by the back of the neck.

"All right, my boy, now for you."

Simon took this as all the permission he needed to chase his own end with a vengeance. He rutted into you with no finesse, using you for his own gratification as he allowed himself the orgasm he had been denying. It took no time at all before he sunk as deeply as possible, holding there as he emptied himself into you. You felt the heat of him filling you, his cock acting like a stopper keeping it all tucked tight and high inside your channel.

When he eventually pulled back a wave of fluid came with him, dripping down to the bed and coating your thighs. You couldn't do more than gasp—still working on catching your breath. Your head flopped over to look at Kyle, holding your hand clenched in his. He smiled at you and came in for a kiss.

At this point you didn't even think of turning your head away. You simply laid there and let him into your mouth, this man who you technically hadn't even met but who you felt like you'd known for years. All of Johnny's stories doing a wonderful job of painting these three men in such a way you were sure you'd met them a hundred times before.

Kyle's kiss was all consuming. He masterfully played with your lips and tongue, keeping you chasing him while he devoured you. It was wet and obscene and so, so good. He tasted faintly of peppermint, remnants of gum or a mint he had chewed earlier. It had you searching the corners of his mouth, looking for his flavor.

He smiled into the kiss before pressing two quick pecks to your lips and pulling back, giving you space to think. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been fucked six ways from Sunday," you managed, cueing a round of laughter from the three men. By now you'd caught your breath and were watching them with wide eyes, waiting to see what they'd do next. Simon had moved to sit over next to Johnny as John patted at your hip.

"Do you think you have one more in you or are you calling it?" he asked, looking unbothered by what your answer might be. Like he knew this wasn't the only time he'd have you in this position and being lenient was no trouble.

You nodded your head firmly, "I can keep going."

"Atta girl."

You felt your face heat at those words as your gaze darted away, embarrassed at how much you liked it. Even while you were spread out bare for them to view this felt like a peek behind the curtain, a glimpse of something too personal to make light of. You had a feeling you could climax from him whispering those words in your ear with his deep rumble at just the right time.

Without a doubt John realized what effect his words had on you if his amused grin was any indication. Thankfully he let it be, not calling attention to your expression. You didn't know he was shelving the thought until later; he had no intention of not pursuing the lead.

Helping you up he turned you so you were on your hands and knees facing Kyle with John's heat radiating into the back of your thighs. He checked in with an Okay, sweetheart? which you reassured him on before he pressed close as Kyle shuffled forward. Slotting his hips into yours he dragged his leaking cock through the mess between your thighs, the damp head bumping against your clit in a tease with each thrust.

"We've heard a lot about you," John noted, trailing a hand along your spine, enjoying the feel of smooth, soft skin. "Soap has practically talked our ears off since you met. Along with how amazing you are, he makes sure to tell us how pretty you are and how nice you smell." You felt him leaning over you and pressing his nose to the crown of your head, "I've gotta say, he was right on all accounts."

A shudder worked its way down your spine at the praise.

Pulling back, he lined himself up with your opening and slid inside in one smooth stroke. As your mouth dropped open to moan Kyle tapped the tip of your tongue with his cock, encouraging you to stick it out for him. He pressed inside when you did and you groaned deep in your throat at his flavor, salt and musk invading your nose as he cupped your head gently between his two palms, holding you steady.

You thought you had been done before, no longer able to continue, to ride the wave of ecstasy any more. They proved you wrong with their wandering hands tweaking nipples and strumming your clit.

It felt like it had been years and minutes both as they bounced you between the two of them. You would grow accustomed to the shape of Kyle in your throat only for John to pull you back, rearranging your organs with the strength of his thrusts.

You didn't know which way was up, your only concern was timing your breaths to Kyle's thrusts, keeping your teeth tucked away from any sensitive skin. Hollowing your cheeks you fought to keep suction, John doing his level best to ensure you couldn't find a comfortable rhythm.

The whole time you were spinning tighter and tighter. A wave building down deep behind your bellybutton, fed with each thrust from the two men. Your body welcoming them in.

The wave continued to build, higher and higher. Larger than you'd ever thought possible. It was awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measures.

What was going to become of you when it crashed? Were you going to be able to be put back together or would you be destined to live out your life as shattered remains, always thinking back to the last night you'd been whole, the last night you hadn't needed others to hold you together like Kintsugi.

John continued thrusting behind you, never stopping, never faltering. He was relentless and driven and you were the finish line he had set his eyes on. You were the end goal that he would see through, come hell or high water.

It sparked something dark deep within your psyche. Something decadent.

Your last climax of the night rolled over you. Starting down low in your abdomen it grew and grew, fed into by each of the men that you had let into your bed tonight. It became too large to ignore, this gaping maw of want that was flooding your blood and your brain, changing your chemical makeup in its wake. You were pretty sure you screamed.

Both of their pants came harshly now as they fought for some semblance of control beyond the tight clutch of your cunt and throat.

John finished next, stamina no match for the silken glide of your cunt, sucking the oxygen from his blood with each press inside of you. But Kyle was shortly behind him. If you didn't know any better you'd say the sight and sound of his captain coming is what pushed him over the edge.

Certainly something to think about later.

It's comforting hands that helped you lay down once you were done, tucked between Simon and Kyle, Johnny still passed out with his foot and arm draped off the side. You were curled into Kyle's chest as you watched John pull on a pair of boxers.

"I'll go get us some water and towels, you all stay put."

You were far to exhausted to think of the ramifications of what had happened here tonight. Instead you were content to curl into warm skin and enjoy the feeling of Simon's arm thrown around your waist.

When John came back with the water you had a moment of laughter when you realized the bed was packed full with the four of you currently and there wasn't a spare inch for John to lay down. Instead he went to sit at the foot, tapping Kyle's feet so he would curl his legs up a bit.

"Anybody broken?" He asked, staring at you while he spoke. It was clear he expected you to be the one to voice any discontent.

"Nope," you yawned, crashing hard now that you were laying still, "right as rain."

"Good. We'll talk this all over in the morning sweetheart. For now, sleep."

Kyle kissed your forehead while Simon curled around you tighter. Tomorrow. You could figure it all out tomorrow. That sounded like a wonderful plan considering you were already drifting away to the soft sounds of breathing.

Next

[zhenne]

dr.zayne + reader blurb

wc. ~715

warnings. fluff, gn reader, use of y/n, medical procedures (echocardiogram), established relationship

a/n. i’m fr giggling @ this, it’s so stupid. i saw this tiktok and i instantly thought of zayne lmao

You’re sat on the edge of the examination table, swinging your legs slightly as you watched Zayne flip through your chart. The familiar scent of antiseptic and clean linen filled the small room, but it didn’t feel sterile or cold—not with him standing there, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

“You know,” you say, tilting your head, “it’s a little weird having my boyfriend as my cardiologist. Feels like you have way too much medical authority over me.”

Zayne hummed distractedly, still focused on the file in his hands. “It’s not weird. It’s convenient.”

“For you, maybe,” you muttered.

He finally looked up, one brow arching. “It’s been over a year since you started your job with the Association,” he said, cutting straight to business. “I know how physically demanding it is, and I also know you’re not exactly great at pacing yourself.”

You’re about to scoff something along the lines of, “Excuse me?” but he ignores the signs of protest, flipping a page in the file.

“Your condition presented some arrhythmia issues in the past, and I just want to make sure the increased workload isn’t putting unnecessary strain on your heart.”

“I feel fine,” you assured him. “No dizzy spells, no palpitations, nothing.”

Zayne sighed, closing the folder. “Y/N.”

The way he said your name—gentle, but firm—made you shift slightly. You knew that tone. It was the same one he used when you pushed yourself too hard, the same one you pretended not to hear when he told you to take it easy.

“I know you feel fine,” he said. “But I’d rather check now than wait for a problem to show up later. A routine ultrasound gives me a clear picture of how your heart is handling the extra strain. That way, if there is anything, we catch it early.”

You exhaled slowly, studying him. His arms were crossed now, his fingers drumming absently against his bicep. He was worried—not in a dramatic, overprotective way, but in the quiet, steady way that made it impossible to find the fault in the logic.

“Okay, Dr. Zayne. I trust your judgement.”

—

Ten minutes later, you’re laying back on the exam table and your shirt has been replaced with a thin hospital gown that’s pushed a few inches from your clavicles. The gel on your chest cool against your skin as Zayne guided the ultrasound probe over the left of your sternum with practiced ease. The dim light of the room cast a soft glow on the monitor, where the rhythmic movement of your heart pulsed in shades of gray and white.

"Here," Zayne murmured, pointing at the screen. "That’s your left ventricle, doing its job, nice and strong. And this—" he adjusted the probe slightly, "is your mitral valve—working exactly as it should. Aortic valve looks good too, no signs of narrowing or backflow. And your coronary arteries—" He traced the movement with a gloved finger against the screen. "Nice and clear. Everything is moving and functioning as it should.”

You watched the screen, listening to the steady whoosh of blood flow amplified through the monitor’s speakers. His voice was calm, methodical, the same tone he used with all his patients. But you knew him too well—there was an extra softness when he spoke to you, a quiet attentiveness that betrayed how much he cared.

You stayed quiet for a moment, your eyes following the rhythmic motion on the monitor. Then, with careful composure, you asked, "So… is it a boy or a girl?"

Zayne froze mid-scan. For a beat, he just stared at the screen as if he hadn't heard you correctly. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he shook his head.

"It's tachycardia," he said flatly.

You blinked. "Wait, what?"

He turned to you with a smirk. "Your heart. It's racing. Probably because you're trying not to laugh at your own joke."

Your lips parted, feigning offense, but the amused flicker in his eyes made it impossible to hold back a grin. "I was being serious!"

Zayne scoffed. "Uh huh. And I suppose you were hoping for a left ventricle with your eyes?"

"Wouldn't that be adorable?"

He chuckled, shaking his head as he wiped the gel off your skin with a warm towel. "You are impossible."

[mitamicah]

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh your songs are so freaking neat, your voice sounds so freaking pretty. I said it before and I will say it forever. Love love love. Ahjhhhhhhjhhhhhhhhh. The videos are so well done too. So freaking talented 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛.

Oh yes ahhhhhhhhhhjjjjj, so good. Nostalgia is such a nice feeling (to me it counts as an extra emotion) (that can be so beautiful but also hit you very hard) so so so good. Red cardinals are so cool. Asaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh.

Thanks for listening to me screaming.

*Me (Bojan) looking lovingly at you (Jure)* Thank you so much for the nice words, Jay 🥹💚

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[inkskinned]

it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.

[softbabybelle]

CORRUPTION𓍯𓂃 r ֶָ֢cameron 003.

rafe cameron x shy!reader

 𝜗𝜚 summary : rafe has been trying to get you alone for far too long and now that he finally has, he won't give the moment up for anything.

𝜗𝜚 words : 2.3k

𝜗𝜚 c!w : smut, humping, thigh riding, public!sex, finger sucking, risk of being caught, praise kink, kinda degradation kink.

part 1, part 2.

days had passed since the incident with rafe cameron and the boy who's name you didn't wish to remember.

this time, you hadn't gone out of your way to avoid the boy but instead went back to normal, almost as if nothing had happened between you two at all. you sat on the couch of tannyhill, giggling at something on sarah's phone with your legs crossed.

now, that simply wouldn't do.

rafe had been eager for a minute alone with you which seemed almost impossible when his sister was hanging off your side every minute you spent at tannyhill.

he was sitting on the living room couch, the one across from you both, scrolling on his own phone, a finger to his mouth as he gnawed at the completely bitten down nail.

his eyes kept travelling over to you, skimpy little summers dress clinging to your form while the skirt part began to ride up your thighs as you moved against the couch.

dirty thoughts swarmed his head, thoughts that shouldn't be repeated out loud. thoughts that shouldn't have been in his head to begin with.

he thought he was sure to be damned to hell for the things he was thinking.

and then, ironically enough, the gods seemed to smile down on him. it was as if all of his prayers had been answered and every beg and grovel had finally been listened to by an angel.

the angel who's name was wheezie, standing in the living room door frame. "sarah." wheezies hair was a mess, thrown into a bun with loose strands of hair sticking out every which way, she looked tired, so awfully tired and dreadful as she stared forward at her sister who's head instantly snapped up. "please help me. i'm trying clean out my wardrobe but it's too much."

a laugh fell from sarah's mouth. "no way. it's your mess, clean it yourself."

but that was when wheezie's arms crossed over her chest, cocking a brow. "I'm sorry, who covered for you and topper last night?"

"wheezie!" sarah exasperated, glancing out into the hallway. ward and rose were upstairs but sarah still didn't wish for them to hear about the late night activities she'd been getting up to with her boyfriend.

defeated, she turned her head back to you, who was sitting so sweetly on the couch, that same sickly sweet smile crawling up on your features. you liked watching the cameron siblings interact, even if it wasn't always so pleasant, there was something oddly homely about it. "'s okay, sarah, 'm fine down here."

"okay." she sighed, getting up from the couch. "okay, you just―just hang out for a while and i'll be down soon, okay?" she watched you nod. "okay, come on, let's get this over with."

and suddenly, tension ran thick through the air.

it was you and rafe, alone.

his legs were spread apart on the armchair he was seated on, eyes running up and down your body. you seemed to notice your dress riding up and instantly tugged it down with pink cheeks. you swallowed thickly. "I, uhm―i wanted to say thank you." your eyes finally looked up to reach his.

the minute he heard your voice, his phone was turned off and tossed away. his head cocked to the side. "what for?" teasing. for he knew exactly what for.

you squirmed in your place. "for everything you did with max."

"didn't seem too grateful when you ran away, hm?" he didn't mean the bitter words that slipped from his lips. he watched the way you hung your head low, eyes glassing over. instantly, a kind of guilt washed over him and he leaned back further into the chair. "c'mere." and he patted his thigh, watching your eyes flicker down. you glanced out to the hallway and he had to roll his eyes. "'s okay, nobody'll see you. they're all too busy."

you did as you were told, crossing the room and landing in his lap.

there was something so sensational about being in his lap again.

memories flooded your head, pictures and images of you and he, in this same predicament inside his bedroom, his lips tainting yours. you couldn't help but latch your eyes onto his lips.

"you wanna tell me why you keep runnin' away, hm?" you don't answer, eyes searching anywhere but his face. he doesn't allow it, turning you slowly towards him once again. "asked you a question, sweetheart."

you fought words inside your mouth, all threatening to come tumbling out. "was scared." is all he's met with.

"scared of what?" his head dips, his eyes trying to reach yours, trying to look in and gauge your emotions. "scared of me?"

you shook your head, fingers reaching out to trail across the fabric of his sweater. "i... liked it when you kissed me." you admitted and he watched as a blush fell across your face, red reaching the tips of your ears. "i liked it a lot but 'was scared that sarah would find out 'n i don't―"

"sarah doesn't need to know anything." he answers quickly. "besides, who you kiss..." his fingers trailed across your bottom lip, sucking in his own bottom one between his teeth as he gazed down at them, sweet like honey. "is none of her business, yeah?"

you nodded too quickly, too eagerly, too convinced by his words too quickly. "'m sorry, rafe, 'm really sorry."

"think i know how you can make it up t'me." his fingers left your lips and placed themselves against your hips. "you wanna make it up to me?"

"yes, please." came out too swiftly.

he couldn't help but smirk at your eagerness. "'m gonna kiss you again, okay?" and suddenly, you could feel heat pooling in the bottom of your stomach. he leaned in, his breaths falling hot against your face, his scent filling your senses. and just as his lips brushed against your own, he whispered. "you gotta promise me something first, 'kay?"

you licked your wet lips. "anything." wanting nothing more than for rafe to lean in and seal the kiss. you'd do anything he ever asked.

"no runnin' away this time." his fingers pinched at your jaw, holding it so your eyes could reach his. "you want this? you take it 'n you don't go pushin' me away again, alright?" a curt nod. "words, princess."

"promise." you spoke quickly. "promise, rafe, please."

his lips quirked.

but he didn't keep you waiting.

when his lips crashed into yours, you were very aware of the fact that you were sitting on the couch of tannyhill, the living room door wide open. all it took was for ward or sarah to come down the stairs and they'd see what you'd been up to.

they'd see that you weren't such a good girl after all.

but you couldn't seem to care.

you were too focused on his hot hot lips, tongue slipping into your mouth as he deepened the kiss, hands pinching at your waist, holding you in place.

your mind began to unravel, all you could think about was him. rafe cameron. you were sitting on his lap, kissing him, again. and you swore it was a feeling unlike any feeling you'd ever felt in your entire life. it was making you so desperate, so messy, so wet.

and you were sure he could feel it too. he tugged on your waist, rolling your hips against him.

you let a whimper be swallowed by his mouth.

his lips finally broke from yours for air but he didn't allow himself enough to fully regain his breath before they were latched beneath your jaw, sucking and kissing harshly.

again, he rolled your hips. you weren't sure if it was him moving you or you doing it by yourself now. you could feel him growing hard beneath you, you could feel him pressing himself up against your clothed pussy and all you could think about was how much you needed everything off.

you needed to feel him, skin to skin.

it seemed so close yet stretched so far away.

his hands ran up the skin of your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress up as he went. "r-rafe." you whimpered out, head turning to the door. "someone could see―"

"'s what you asked for, isn't it?" his hands were rough against you, tugging the dress upwards, not caring for the family who remained upstairs. "isn't it?"

you swallowed thickly. "yes." you stammered out. "b-but―"

"you still wanna make it up to me, don't you?" his brows knitted together in this false sense of sadness, as if you'd done something awful to the poor man. you'd felt suddenly guilty for even suggesting that you stop.

you felt yourself ease against him, your own brows pinching together. "'m sorry, rafe, swear 'm sorry. i'll do anything, jus' please don't be angry―"

"'m not angry." he assures you, fingers brushing up and down your thighs, inching too high. "jus' need you to do something f'me, can you do that, sweetheart?" you were nodding like a puppy, eager to do anything he would ask of you. he maneuvered you so you were situated on one of his spread thighs and not his lap anymore. "y'gonna rub yourself on my thigh like the pathetic good girl you are, okay?"

you'd never done anything like this before.

suddenly you began to panic. "rafe, someone'll hear 'n―"

"nobody'll hear you, baby, jus' gotta be nice 'n quiet, yeah?" you still looked hesitant, top teeth clamping down on your bottom lip. "would make me feel so good, princess 'n you jus' wanna make me feel good, isn't that right? yeah, baby, jus' wanna make rafe feel good, you're such a good girl, aren't you?"

and you don't know how, why, or when but suddenly, you're doing just what he told you.

your hips are stuttering as they move against his jeans, you can feel your panties growing wetter and wetter with every jolt of movement.

rafe doesn't appear to be doing much, hands skillfully moving your hips while he leans back against the armchair.

"there you go, good girl." his cock twitched in his jeans, watching your hesitant, shy face as you moved oh so slowly on his jeans. "lift your hips f'me, sweetheart." you did as you were told, pausing to lift yourself up from his thigh. his hand moved beneath you, tugging your panties to the side and rubbing gentle circles against your clit.

"oh." fell so sweetly from your lips that to anybody else, it would have appeared almost innocent. but rafe was well aware of how dirty you really were.

he landed you back on his thigh, letting you rub yourself against him, this time, it was your bare pussy that ran up and down his jean-clad thigh.

he groaned at the sight of you, free hand coming down to fix his situation that was suddenly growing in his pants. he pulled at the jeans slightly, trying to make his growing bulge less noticeable but there was simply too much to hide.

your eyes cast down to his hand, then to the bulge and you found a little whimper leaving your mouth.

his eyes studied your face, watching you lick your already wet lips and rubbing yourself against him a little quicker. sweet, poor, innocent, you was so turned on by his growing dick. and he could feel it by the dampness of his jeans turning wet hot

you really were filthy.

a particularly loud whine left your lips and rafe realised that perhaps it wasn't a smart idea to start this whole thing off while his whole family was home.

but he couldn't stop now. that'd be cruel. especially seeing how worked up he'd gotten you.

he trailed his fingers up to your lips and tapped on your chin.

you didn't even need to be told, you simply opened up. he stuck his digits right in, feeling your flat tongue against them and spit coating them.

"so filthy, baby." he uttered so softly, as if he were complimenting you. "what'll we do with you, huh?" you only whimpered around his fingers. "'s okay, sweetheart, gonna get that pussy stuffed jus' like you want. just gotta be patient, yeah? can you do that f'me?"

and you're sloppy against his thigh, sloppy against his fingers. you can feel juices rubbing against his jeans and dribble forming at the gaps between your lips and all you can do is not so dumbly.

a stutter of your hips.

a grin on his lips.

"you gonna cum, already, huh?" it didn't take long, but you were already approaching your orgasm. he wished now more than ever that he could take pictures with his mind. that he could frame this moment and pull it out every time his dick got hard. he slipped his fingers out from your mouth. "gotta ask like a good girl before you cum."

your hands pawed at his shoulders. "please, rafe." your mind was turned to mush. "please, please, please."

he shrugged so cruelly. "'m hearin' a lot of beggin' but i don't hear you asking me yet."

"p-please, can i cum?" your face was red hot, embarrassment flooding your features quickly. "please?"

he smirked, leaning back against the armchair and removing his hands from your waist. you were a big girl, you could finish yourself off. "go on, princess."

he watched as your hands pawed at him, hips stuttering and eyes rolling backwards, mouth falling open. it was such a pronographic, filthy scene. and yet, he knew by tomorrow, you'd be prancing around in the same little dress and everyone would see you as the same lovely good little girl that you pretended to be.

and rafe thought that was enough to make him cum in his own pants.

[drunk-person]

Bravery in love

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: For Prince Aemond Targaryen, bravery was in war and fighting. Until he met his wife and learned about different forms of bravery.

WARNING: No age restriction. Unhealthy amounts of cuteness and softness, a tiny bit of pain, and one paragraphs of sexual innuendo.

Word cont: 3.500 k

Author's note: Okay I saw a really cute video of a baby discovering that she could move her legs whenever she wanted and she was so cute and I ended up writing this story which is basically a giant fluff hahahaha. English is not my first language so be kind if you can 💕💕.

♡-♡-♡

The sun was already high in Kings Landing on a beautiful warm spring day, the beauty of the season lifted everyone's spirits, but no one had a bigger smile than Princess Y/n, Prince Aemond's wife as she ran to the bedroom door to tell them to call her husband.

The two had been married for two whole years at this point, an arrangement made between Aemond's grandfather and her father. Initially Y/n was apprehensive about the marriage, considering the many terrible stories she had heard of women who had married before her. But upon meeting Prince Aemond, her heart melted for him before she even realized it.

He seemed cold and hard at first when she arrived at the capital, but then suddenly he was so shy and so sweet when they were alone in the garden to talk for the first time. And when Y/n said she liked stories, he smiled, turning his face to the side and told her that he also really liked stories.

Later that night, when Y/n returned to her room, she found a book with a black leather cover and the title "Rhaenys, the bravery of love" next to a very small blue flower. The young lady thought she would faint right there when she touched the soft petals of the flower.

Then came the wedding and after that nothing but happiness with her husband. Every day the two became closer and trusted each other more, to the point that Aemond told her his deepest sorrows and she in return confided hers, and little by little she realized that everything her husband wanted most was just be loved, and that's what she did, she loved him.

Y/n felt happy in a way she never thought would be possible, there was only one problem, it had been a year since the wedding and her belly still hadn't shown any signs of growing. And it wasn't as if she and her husband weren't trying, after they both became acquainted Aemond became thirsty for touch and planted his seed in her every day, sometimes more than once a day, which made her even more worried.

The cruel whispers had already taken over the fortress. Words like "infertility" and "dry womb" became common when they thought she wasn't listening. And as broken as Y/n's heart was, she tried hard to pretend to her husband that it didn't hurt that much. She knew how much Aemond wanted a child, and it was her duty to give him one, guilt plagued her when she thought about it, thinking that she couldn't do so little for a husband who gave her everything she asked for without blinking.

On a winter afternoon with the weather colder than usual in the capital, Y/n was sitting alone in the garden admiring a pair of nightingales that had made a nest in a nearby tree when she felt Aemond's soft but possessive touch pulling her towards him.

-What are you doing here in this cold weather? You'll freeze. - His low voice sounded against her ear and she just smiled weakly.

-I like coming here, it's where we had our first conversation, remember? - She looked at him. - It always makes me happy to think about that day when I don't feel cheerful.

-And why would the most beautiful lady in the realms be sad? - Aemond looked at her deeply, Y/n felt as if he saw through her soul and still trying to hide his sadness, he looked down at the ground.

-Wife. - His gloved fingers guided her chin up and she couldn't escape his gaze again. - I know something is wrong, tell me.

And Y/n could no longer contain herself, the tears that were very well kept ran loose down her face as she hid them in her husband's chest, sobbing and trembling while holding on tightly to him, as if he would evaporate before her.

-I'm sorry, husband! - She sobbed against his chest.

-Y/n, my dear, did someone hurt you? - His voice sounded calm but with barely contained anger as he pulled her closer and closer in an act of protection. - Tell me who it was and I will kill him myself.

-No one has hurt me, husband. - She leaned against him, still pulling on his jerkin. - It's just me and my apparent inability to grant you a child.

-It is not up to you to grant me a child. - He said, looking at her firmly as he brought his hands to her face. - That depends on the will of the gods, when they feel it's time, they will send us a son. Until then, I don't want to see you crying because of this. - He stroked her cheeks with his fingertips and Y/n smiled, her face still slightly wet.

-Now let's go in and have some tea, I don't want you to catch a cold. - He guided her inside by the waist.

That night, amidst moans and groans of love and burning passion, Rhaenys was conceived to the joy and pride of her mother and father.

To Aemond's relief, Y/n had an easy and uncomplicated pregnancy; she just had a burning desire for him and wanted him inside her every hour of the day without rest, something he granted without discussion after a extensive research to find out if it would not pose a risk to his wife or the baby.

The birth was not much different, it was late summer and the weather was starting to get cooler, but even so, it was a difficult time and Aemond did not leave Y/n's side at any time, and the maesters did not dare ask him to leave the birthing chambers more than once after the absolutely deadly look Aemond gave them at the first request.

And when Y/n cried and told her husband that she was scared, he grabbed her hand tightly and whispered only for her to hear.

-I know you can do it, my sweet girl. - Leaving a kiss on her sweaty chest.

-I am not as brave as you. - She cried while shaking her head and holding onto her husband's hands.

-Remember that there is also bravery in love. - Aemond spoke softly, but confidently as he squeezed her hand.

And after hearing that with restored strength at the thought of her little baby, Y/n pushed even harder as she screamed through the pain and could finally hear the sweet cry of her little girl. At that very moment she burst into tears of pure relief and emotion, and when the maester placed her in her arms wrapped in a bloody white cloth she could swear she saw her husband shed a tear or two too.

And with passionate smiles the two chose the name of their little daughter in honor of the conqueror who gave the title to the first gift that Aemond gave her on the day they met. And from that sweet moment on, little Rhaenys became the pride and joy of both their lives.

Almost 7 moons later, already in spring Y/n now felt that her happiness was complete. The sparkle in her eyes could be seen from miles away as she played with her little daughter who had begun to sit up on her own. With each new discovery Rhaenys made, Aemond and Y/n celebrated as if it were a victory in a tournament.

One of the sweetest moments was the day she discovered she could control her own legs. It was something so simple, but so sweet. They were sitting on the bed talking while Rhaenys absentmindedly played with a small wooden sculpture in the shape of a dragon, using it to scratch the teeth that had bothered her since birth.

Suddenly, when they both looked, Rhaenys was laughing as she slowly raised her left leg and watched with a look of delight, only to do the same with her right leg and then lean forward trying to grab her own legs, smiling and babbling.

They both smiled and looked at her full of love, everything was perfect and Y/n had never felt so good in her life. Except for the fact that two days later she discovered that the court had not stopped talking about her. Y/n was walking distractedly towards her own chambers when she heard the whispers and low laughter of other ladies.

-So long to be able to give the prince a child and when she does, it's a girl. - The mockery was clear in that voice.

-Poor Prince Aemond, how much longer will it take until she can give him an heir? - Another lady laughed while whispering. - He'll have to settle for just a daughter, it seems.

Y/n felt her eyes watering at the same moment and accelerated her pace towards the rooms while breathing deeply trying to contain her tears and with a deep sigh she entered her own chambers while wiping away a tear that escaped. As soon as she raised her head and looked at the room she almost smiled at the scene before her.

Aemond sat on the carpet with his long legs crossed with his little Rhaenys held in his arms, his voice sounded softly through the room and now Y/n smiled genuinely when she saw what he was doing.

-Say Kepa. – Aemond smiled gently at his daughter. - Kepa. - He spoke more slowly while gently caressing the child's back.

Her husband was always trying to teach her to say "father" in Valyrian, and the little girl just babbled as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and smiled toothlessly at her father. Aemond swore that she was almost able to do it and that she had even said a syllable to him when they were alone. The prince, feeling like he was being watched, raised his head and smiled softly when he saw his wife standing near the door.

-Your muña is back byka sõvion. (Little butterfly) - He murmured softly to his daughter as he gently shook her and made the little girl smile. Aemond's loving gaze gradually faded as he noticed his wife's melancholy and he carefully placed Rhaenys on the carpet, leaving a soft kiss on the crown of her slightly curly silver hair.

-Umbagon va se ritz byka sõvion. - (Stay on the carpet little butterfly) He whispered as if his little daughter could understand every word and she just screamed and babbled while slapping her hands on the carpet.

The prince walked slowly to his wife and pulled her closer to him, caressing her hips with the tips of his thumbs.

-What's wrong, Issa jorrāelagon? - Aemond murmured against her forehead, leaving a kiss there and then brushing his nose against hers.

-People can be very cruel sometimes. - She sighed against her husband's neck, and Aemond felt his own blood burn in his veins at the prospect of someone being cruel to his Y/n.

-Who had the audacity to say anything to you? - Aemond's voice was restrained, but anger dripped from the corners of his lips and Y/n just shook her head quickly as she laid her head on his chest.

-Just nasty whispers.

-What kind of whispers? - He continued with his voice carefully restrained as he pulled her closer and closer, holding her tightly.

-Does it matter to you that I gave birth to a girl? - She looked him in the eye with pain. - Would you rather have had a son?

-Sīkudi nopāzmi. (Seven hells) - Aemond practically growled with his face contorted with rage as he held Y/n's face firmly between his palms. - Qilōni istan se wretched gīs qilōni naejot vestragon bona naejot ao? Ivestragon issa ābrazȳrys! (Who was the wretched soul who dared to say that to you? Tell me, wife!)

Y/n looked at him confused, not understanding what he had said other than ābrazȳrys. And breathing deeply, trying to control his own nerves, Aemond repeated more calmly while rubbing his wife's arms gently.

-Tell me who was wife. - He asked, looking deeply into her eyes. - Who dared to say such a thing to you?

-I just heard it when I was passing by. - Y/n had seen who it was, but she wouldn't tell him because she knew her husband would do something about it.

Aemond snorted again and pulled her back to him.

-Wife, I don't want you to listen to such nonsense ever again in your life. - He murmured to her. - You and our daughter are everything in my life, and although I wish to have more children, if we had no more besides Rhaenys I would be the happiest man in this cursed land for having you.

-To issi issa glaeson. - He sighed as he tucked a lock of Y/n's hair behind her ear.

-What does that mean? - She asked slightly emotional.

-You are my life. - He repeated, looking firmly into her eyes as he squeezed her hands in his. - And there is nothing I value more than you and our byka sõvion.

He smirked as he looked at Rhaenys who had laid down and was now trying to shove her own foot into her mouth while spluttering and laughing.

-You know me better than anyone else, wife, and I'm honest when I tell you that I've never been happier in my entire life than I am now. Our family brings me joy.

The smile on Y/n's face could warm even those beyond the wall as she jumped on her husband and hugged him happily.

-I love you, husband. - She sighed against his neck, Aemond didn't respond, but he never responded, at least not with those exact words, his heart was much more complex than that.

More moons passed, and Aemond became increasingly enchanted by his daughter, his eyes shining with each evolution and discovery that the little girl made. He never wanted to miss anything, he liked to be there for every little new thing and he made it clear to Y/n that she should call him anytime and that's what she did on one special day.

-Send for my husband! As soon as possible. - Y/n hissed at one of the maids who was passing by the hallway. The young woman nodded and ran without even looking back towards the training courtyard to look for the prince.

-Your grace, forgiveness for the interruption. - The girl said, looking at the ground. - But your wife urgently requested your presence.

Aemond's chest was briefly breathless when he heard that, and without caring about anything else, he dropped his sword on the floor and ran towards his own chambers.

He entered the room calling for his wife with wide eye, but his expression changed from fear to curiosity when he saw her with her index finger against her lips in a clear sign of silence for him, while with her other hand she pointed to the foot of the sofa where Rhaenys was standing for the first time as she tried to walk on her own.

Aemond's jaw dropped, and he felt tears coming to his eye, his little girl was almost walking.

-You forgot. - Y/n smiled and gently pulled off her husband's eyepatch, throwing it on the table. She had convinced him not to wear it around Rhaenys. At first he hesitated, but it proved to be a good thing since the little girl was completely enchanted by the sparkle of the sapphire in her father's eye, always reaching out her hands towards him and gently rubbing the area while she babbled. And Aemond wouldn't admit it out loud, but that small gesture of affection made him feel loved in a whole new way that he had never felt before.

Still with tears in his eye, Aemond turned away he slowly approached the couch as he crouched down next to his daughter, who, upon seeing him, screamed with excitement and took an excited step towards him. And as if all of this wasn't the most magical thing that had ever happened to him, Rhaenys began to babble as she tried to walk towards her father.

-Ke - She babbled waving her free hand towards him and Aemond felt his heart warm. - Ke-pa.

-Konir sagon paktot byka sõvion, māzigon tosh kepa. (That's right, my little butterfly, come with daddy) - He whispered to his daughter with a slightly cloudy voice.

-Kepah! - She screamed in that sweet baby voice as she took her hand off the couch to clap her hands and before she could fall on her butt on the floor, Aemond caught her, preventing her from falling while two tears ran down his eye. Rhaenys looked at him with wide eyes, a little scared after almost falling, but Aemond caressed her back affectionately, calming her.

-Ziry iksos byka sõvion, kepa kessa dōrī ivestragī ao ropagon. (It's okay, little butterfly, daddy will never let you fall.) - He smiled as more tears fell and Rhaenys looked at him enchanted as she once again caressed the sapphire attached to her father's eye. - Dõrī. (Never) - He reaffirmed with a look of pure love.

Rhaenys had said her first words and Y/n did not understand what her husband was saying to her daughter, just a few words that he had already taught her and the sweet nickname he gave Rhaenys, but her heart was so warm that Y/n thought it might be on fire. She could see the love overflowing from her husband's eyes in an uncontrollable way and at that moment Lady Y/n knew that only she and her little Rhaenys were enough.

About a moon later Aemond decided it was time to introduce his daughter to Vhagar. And after a short trip in the house on wheels and a walk along the edge of the royal forest they arrived at the immense dragon. Y/n already knew her, she had even flown on Vhagar with Aemond, but even so she was a little afraid for Rhaenys, something that she told herself was completely unfounded because of all the people in the world she knew that the only one who would never do anything that could put her Rhaenys at risk was Aemond.

The prince had barely approached the dragon with his daughter and she was already looking at him curiously, still with her head lying on the meadow. And while Aemond spoke to her in Valyrian, Y/n just smiled in love, the smile only got bigger after Rhaenys laughed and screamed as she took her little hands to caress the dragon's scales while babbling some incoherent things to her father.

-She'll be a formidable dragon rider one day. - Aemond stated seriously as he smiled sideways at his wife who just rolled her eyes unable to imagine her little girl on a beast that size, but she knew she had to get used to the idea, she was a Targaryen after all.

-If she's as good as her father, she'll be the best of them all. - Y/n smiled as she caressed her husband's back and left a kiss against her daughter's soft hair.

At the answer, Aemond smiled and pulled her by the waist closer to him and his daughter while leaving a sweet kiss on her lips.

-You've told me more than once that you're not brave. - He murmured against her lips as he gently brushed his own lips against hers. - But you were brave to love me when no one else tried. Thank you for being everything I wanted, everything I needed.

After saying that he extended a small flower with blue petals to her and smiled a little shyly as he made Rhaenys more comfortable in his arms.

And with tears in her eyes, Lady Y/n reached out and took the small, soft flower between her fingers, then hugged him and her smiling daughter, knowing that in her husband's strange and rigid language, that was an I love you.

Since Aemond was courageous enough to ride huge dragons, engage in sword duels and so many other dangerous things, but simple words terrified him. She didn't need them, she knew how to read her husband's heart, eyes and actions that told Y/n every hour of every day that he loved her, and even if he didn't love her, she was brave enough to love for both of them.

And with that thought she smiled and kissed him sweetly on the lips as she held both him and her precious Rhaenys close, her beloved most precious possessions.

[lemonturquoise]

Midnight Antics

Sylus x Reader

Luke and Kieran swallowed hard, their nerves frayed as they faced their boss’s anger. The stern look in Sylus’s eyes was a clear sign of his disappointment, and the tension in the air was almost palpable. Although they were partly responsible for letting you go out with your friends, their main concern was the lateness of the hour. It was already midnight, and you still hadn't returned. Their anxiety had mounted with each unanswered call, making the waiting seem endless. When Sylus came down the stairs, his stern expression only heightened their dread.

Suddenly, the main door burst open with a loud crash. “Sylus!” You stumbled into the house, your movements unsteady as you clung to him. Your disheveled appearance and slurred speech made it evident you were quite drunk. Luke and Kieran let out a collective sigh of relief, their tension easing as they saw you finally home safe. "I miss you” you mumbled, your voice thick with intoxication. Sylus, trying to maintain his composure, gently but firmly grabbed your chin to make you look at him. "Where have you been?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and frustration. Your gaze was unfocused as you struggled to respond. “I… hmm… went out with my friends” you replied with a giggly hiccup. Sylus’s irritation deepened. “And you didn’t even bother to let me know?” His tone was sharp, and his grip tightened slightly. “Ouch!” you exclaimed, pulling his hand away with a wince. “I told Luke and Kieran about it and thought you weren’t coming home tonight” you added, your laughter fading into another hiccup. Sylus lifted you into his arms and carried you to your room.

He threw you on the bed, and you swayed slightly, trying to steady yourself. “I need to change” you said, your voice slightly slurred. As you struggled to change out of your party clothes and into something more comfortable, Sylus watched with a mix of exasperation and concern. Your attempts were clumsy and slow, revealing just how drunk you were. After you managed to change, you stood on the bed, trying to balance as you almost reached Sylus's height. The sight of you struggling to stay upright while trying to look him in the eye softened his irritation. You started pinching both of his cheeks with a playful grin. “Come on, don’t be mad.” you laughed, though your laughter was somewhat incoherent. “You’ve surely had a lot to drink, huh?” Sylus tried to hold your hands to stop you from pinching his cheeks. “Sleep now. We’ll talk tomorrow.” he said in a cold tone.

As he walked to the door to leave, he heard the soft sound of crying. He turned around and saw you lying on the bed, tears streaming down your face. Your sobs were muffled, and Sylus felt a pang of guilt. He sighed deeply and approached you. “Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice softer now. “You’re mad and you don’t love me anymore.” your voice breaking with emotion. Sylus looked puzzled, but then his lips curved into a faint smile. He sat down beside you, his earlier frustration wearing away. “I’m not mad. Just don’t do it again.” he said, gently patting your back. “Really?” you asked, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “Yeah, now go to sleep.” he reassured you. You suddenly threw yourself at him in a tight hug, nearly making him lose his balance. As you clung to him, Sylus found your state and the way you misinterpreted his feelings both warm and cute.

He was about to say something but was cut off by your playful pinching of his cheeks once more. Sylus managed to disentangle himself from your embrace with a tired smile. Despite the late hour and his earlier frustration, he found your antics charming. “Alright, enough.” he said with a small affectionate smile. “I’m going to my office for a bit. We’ll talk things through in the morning. Go to sleep now, kitten. I love you, okay?” as he kissed your forehead.

He settled you back into the bed, your crying subsiding as you relaxed into the blankets. “Goodnight, Sylus. I love you too.” you murmured, your voice now soft and content. Sylus left the room and headed back to his office, feeling a mix of relief and lingering fondness.

[felinecyan]

Meddle About

[Katsuki Bakugo x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When something… intimate happens between you and the explosive boy, you seek out the comfort and advice from your fangirl best friend.

WC: 6832

Category: Fluff, Slight Spice/Lime, Mixed Signals

Might be ooc (I blame Chase Atlantic for this one), but I wanted to post something… interesting since it’s OFFICIALLY my birthday 🗣️🗣️

『••✎••』

Here you were, pacing back and forth in your best friend's dorm room. You hadn't said a word, only muttering incoherent thoughts to yourself while your eyes flitted around the room as if you could find the words written on the walls.

Mina watched you from her bed, leaning forward on her hands, which were planted on her mattress. She had her legs crossed beneath her, and she was rocking herself slightly. Her mouth was agape with excitement and confusion, and her eyes were wide as she watched you.

You felt bad for disturbing her sleep, but you were too overwhelmed to wait until morning to talk to her about what had happened. When it happens, you can't even wait an hour to tell someone about it, much less eight hours. So, with your impatient nature, you hunted her down after five minutes of attempting to calm yourself down and failing.

Mina, who had been sleeping soundly at the time, was jolted awake when you burst into her room and slammed the door shut. It wasn't until she heard the lock click that she realized the situation.

You were freaking out, and it had something to do with a boy.

When you first started at UA, the two of you had promised each other that you would never keep a crush a secret from the other so you could gush and squeal over the boys together. Of course, it had always been Mina with a crush, and you were giving advice. She had had her eyes on several guys throughout the year, but you had remained unfazed.

Until...

"Okay," Mina began. "I'm not even going to ask why you were walking around the dorms at one in the morning. But, seriously, tell me what happened!"

Your hands, which had been tangled in your hair, fell to your sides as you turned to look at her. Your cheeks were flushed, and your heart was racing. You didn't know how to begin. You wanted to just blurt it all out, but at the same time, you were afraid.

"I... uhm... well..." you stuttered, wringing your hands nervously.

"C'mon, I'm dying here!" Mina whined, bouncing in place. She reached her hands out and grabbed yours, tugging you forward until you were sitting next to her on the bed. "You're acting as if you had your first kiss or something."

You stared at her, blinking slowly as you processed her words. Then, without warning, she froze. You were afraid she had short-circuited. Her mouth hung open, and her eyes were as big as saucers. Her grip on your hands tightened as she gasped loudly.

"No," she whispered. "No way."

"Mina..."

"You did!" she exclaimed, her voice rising to a volume that could probably be heard throughout the dorms.

"Keep your voice down!" you hissed, grabbing a pillow from behind her and smacking her across the face. She didn't react, her mouth still open.

"Tell me everything," she demanded, her voice lowered. "How did it happen? When did it happen? Who did it happen with? I want to know all the details, so spill."

"Mina..."

It was rough to have her pressuring you. She was always good at doing that. It was part of the reason why you ran straight to her. You knew that she would force you to talk about it, and you needed to talk about it. You didn't want to stop talking about it. You didn't want the night to end, and you didn't want to forget about it.

"I'm listening," Mina told you, squeezing your hands once more. "Don't be afraid to get all the gushy details. You know I love that stuff."

You couldn't stop your eyes from rolling as you took a deep breath. You decided to spill her favorite part first.

"I can't get it out of my head, Mina," you whispered. "I didn't even realize he could do that. I didn't know he was capable of it. I was so dazed by his actions that I didn't know what was going on. It felt like I was dreaming. I don't even know how it escalated so quickly. I just found myself against the wall, and he was looking at me, and his eyes... oh, his eyes, Mina, his eyes."

"Who the hell are you talking about?!" Mina interrupted. She looked like she was going to burst from anticipation, and you were slightly enjoying keeping her in the dark. Especially since she had no idea it was the guy who she least expected it to be.

"Do not yell," you warned her, pointing your finger at her face. "You won't believe me, but I swear it's the truth."

"What?" she asked. "Who was it?"

"Promise me you won't freak out."

"Okay, now I'm nervous," Mina said. She moved backward on the bed so her back was pressed against the wall. You watched as her fingers dug into her blanket, her knuckles turning white. "Now you have to tell me. I'm terrified, so you have to. Who was it?"

You took another deep breath, your heart beating loudly.

Now or never.

"Bakugo."

You were ready for your ears to bleed. You were expecting her to scream bloody murder, and you were ready to clamp your hand over her mouth to shut her up. But, instead, she broke out into laughter. And it wasn't her usual laugh, either. It was loud and obnoxious, and she threw her head back and cackled.

"Yeah, right," she breathed out, wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh, that was a good one. I almost believed you. Now, really. Who was it?"

Your jaw dropped, and you could feel anger boiling inside of you. She didn't believe you? I mean, yeah, it was completely unbelievable with how he acts with everyone, but you didn't joke around like this. And you were honestly offended that she thought you were.

Mina laughed again and again and again. Every time, it became harder for her to breathe, and her laughs turned into snorts. Her face was bright red, and her shoulders shook violently as she giggled. It wasn't until she finally opened her eyes to see the glare on your face that the laughs eased up.

"I mean, it's a good joke," she chuckled. "But, seriously, tell me who it really was."

You didn't say a word. Instead, you just gave her the most deadpan stare you could muster, which still took her a moment to register. Once she did, however, that smile of hers fell off her face faster than you could blink.

"Wait... you're not joking?"

"Do you really think I'd come here in the middle of the night if I was?"

She stared at you with a shocked expression on her face. She was speechless, and you were waiting for the reaction you expected. You were sure her brain had exploded.

"You mean to tell me," she said, her voice shaking. "That Bakugo... the hot-tempered, vulgar, rude, foul-mouthed, explosive asshole just kissed you? He kissed you?! Are you serious?"

"Mina, please, not so loud!"

"Are you serious?!" she screamed, leaping off her bed. "You have got to be joking. There's no way that happened. No way! It had to be a dream or something. I can't even see him doing something like that. Of all people, it's him? I even see Mineta before him! He's like... not capable of showing any emotion that isn't anger."

"Mina!"

"What the hell happened?! I want to know all the dirty little details!" she yelled, rushing forward and grabbing your arms. "How did you get that maniac to do something so... un-Bakugo-like? What did he do? How did he kiss you? Was it nice? I can't believe he kissed you! He's never kissed anyone before!"

"Mina, shut up!" you hissed, covering her mouth with your hand. She kept mumbling against your skin, and you felt her tongue swipe across your palm. You grimaced, pulling your hand away from her and wiping it on your pants.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" she squealed, jumping up and down. "How did you do it? Oh, I'm so happy for you! Why didn't you wake me up sooner?!"

"Mina, please. It's late," you told her. "Be quiet; he can probably hear you."

"Wait... how long ago was this?"

"Uhm... maybe twenty minutes or so."

She stopped bouncing, and her jaw dropped.

"You kissed Bakugo twenty minutes ago," she said. "And you just came to my room?! Why the hell are you even here? You should be with him! Get your ass back to him and make sure he kisses you again!"

You were taken aback by her sudden outburst, and your cheeks flushed. The thought of going to him now sent a wave of anxiety through you, and you were beginning to regret waking Mina up.

"I can't go back there," you told her. "Not yet. I can't... I can't look him in the eye."

"Why the hell not?" Mina questioned, furrowing her brows. "This is a huge! He still hasn't even called me by my actual name. But, he kissed you? That's insane. He's gotta be a secret softy or something. I need details."

"Mina, you don't understand," you said, sighing. "I- I never felt like this before. I'm... I'm stuck. My mind is blank. I can't get him off my mind. It's driving me crazy. I didn't realize someone could affect me like this."

Mina stared at you for a moment before a smirk appeared on her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at you with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "How did he do it?" she asked.

"Mina," you said. "I just told you that—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but did he just walk up and kiss you or what? Like, how did it happen? You have to start from the beginning."

You rolled your eyes but obeyed her orders.

And the truth was, you honestly still didn’t know how it happened. You were yelling at each other over something dumb, as usual, but then the conversation took a strange turn. You had no idea where it had come from, and the memory was hazy, but you remembered what he had said.

"You wanna know what I fucking think?" He was seething, his fists clenched at his sides. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were burning holes into your head.

You didn't remember what you had said, but you remembered what he replied and the way he walked towards you.

"I think," he growled, and you were backing away from him. "You're so fucking desperate for attention that you're willing to do anything. Just admit it. You're so lonely that you'll try to make friends with anyone."

The scoff you had given him was followed by a few insults that you didn't remember. In all honesty, the things that were said weren't worth remembering. It was always the same old fight. But, for some reason, it was the actions in between that had caught you off guard this time.

You didn't realize how much you were trying to create space between the two of you, but every time you took a step back, he took one forward. You were trying to keep your voice steady and strong, but your hands were shaking, and your legs were weak.

It was only a matter of time before you were backed against the wall, and you could feel his breath hitting your face. Your eyes were wide, and your breathing was heavy. You couldn't focus on his words because his body was too close.

He noticed, too, because his insults were slowing down, and you could feel his eyes studying your face as it was turned away from him. When your gaze met him, the room became still. You were frozen in place, unable to move. He just... stared at you.

Neither of you said a word, but there was something in his eyes that changed the atmosphere of the room. It was like a flip had been switched. He was no longer angry or irritated. His eyes were gentle, and his gaze was intense. You had seen his gaze before, but you couldn't figure out why it felt so different.

Until you saw the flicker of his eyes. A millisecond change that anyone could've missed, but you didn't. You caught it as you caught the next one. You felt him move forward, and your mind went blank. Your senses were overrun by him. You could feel the heat from his skin.

He could probably hear your heartbeat; it wasn't very subtle. Your mind was racing, and your vision was hazy. All you could see was... him. And maybe you were just imagining it, but there was something in his eyes that showed you he wasn't mad anymore.

He looked different now, and it scared you. It scared you how you started counting his eyelashes. It scared you how much you wanted to reach up and run your hand through his hair. It scared you how badly you wanted to know how soft his lips were.

And he could tell because he leaned closer. Closer than you didn't think possible. Your breaths mingled together, and your noses brushed. He wasn't there yet, though. His mouth was just barely touching yours, and the feeling sent tingles down your spine.

His gaze was intense, and he looked like he was holding back. You could feel his chest pressing against yours, and he was taking shaky breaths. It was so strange, seeing him like this. Your eyes locked onto his, and you were sure he saw the curiosity behind them.

And then... his gaze fell into a look you've never seen before. Something was swimming behind those crimson eyes, and you found yourself drowning in the intensity. He was staring into your soul, and somehow, you could see the meaning in his eyes.

He was giving you a choice. He was asking a silent question. His eyes were pleading. They were begging. His face was so close to yours, and you were frozen. The way he was looking at you, you could see it. You could see what he was thinking.

He was waiting for you to do something. To push him away, to smack him, or to speak out. He was waiting for the rejection, the denial, the refusal. But you did none of those things because, for some reason, you didn't want to. You were enjoying the closeness, the intimacy, the... vulnerability.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe you were just insane, but the way he was looking at you made your stomach flip, and a strange warmth filled your chest. It was the way he was holding himself back, the way you could see his fingers trembling, the way his breath was unsteady.

For some reason, seeing him so weak, so open, so defenseless made you feel... something.

He was waiting for a response. It was up to you. You were the one in control, and if you had said the word, he would have walked away. But that's not what you wanted.

You didn't want him to go.

And, so, you had tried to speak out, but the words were caught in your throat. They wouldn't form, and the air was thick. Your tongue was tied, and your fingers were shaking. You were afraid. Afraid of the unknown.

He was patient. His gaze never faltered. His eyes were still looking at you with the same intensity, and you were getting lost in it. He didn't move closer, but his breath fanned across your lips. Your mind was blank, and you had no idea how long the two of you stood like that.

All you knew was that you needed him to do something. You needed him to know he was allowed to, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. You were terrified, and the anticipation was driving you insane.

So, you used another way to answer.

You grabbed him, jerked his body forward, and pulled him as close as you could. He wasn't prepared for your sudden movement, and the air was forced out of his lungs. His hands found the wall, and his arms caged you in. You could feel his muscles flexing against you, and his eyes widened as they looked at you.

He didn't expect it. He wasn't prepared. It was a shock, but he wasn't about to deny himself the opportunity. Not when you were offering it to him. So, his eyes fell back into that look, and his head moved closer. He hesitated, and his lips grazed yours. You could feel the way his heart was beating.

The first kiss was chaste and barely there. You could've missed it, and you might've imagined it. But then he did it again, this time with enough pressure to make you aware. To make your eyes fall shut and a small sigh escapes your lips.

The next one was a little deeper, and he lingered a bit longer. His movements were slow, and he was giving you plenty of time to push him away, but you didn't. You couldn't. Because the moment his lips met yours, you lost all self-control.

Your body melted against his, and you found yourself falling into the kiss. You were sure you'd end up a pile of mush on the ground if his hands hadn't shifted to your hips, holding you up. The grip he had on your sides was gentle but firm, and the tips of his fingers were digging into the flesh of your hip bones.

Your hands had found their way into his hair, and your fingers tangled themselves in the blonde locks. You were always curious about his hair in that regard, and you were pleased to find it softer than you'd expected. With its jagged spikes, you'd expected it to be sharp and stiff, but it was just as smooth as silk. You really needed to get a hold of his hair products.

But you didn't have time to dwell on the subject because his mouth was moving against yours, and your entire being was focused on the feeling of his lips. Damn, he knew exactly how to use them.

You were already lightheaded, and he barely did anything. It was only a matter of time before you couldn't even think anymore. All you knew was his scent, his taste, his touch, and his breath. He was overwhelming all of your senses, and you could feel your mind shutting down.

But, before you could, you gathered enough sense to do something that caught him completely off guard. When he pulled you even deeper, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, and your hands tightened in his hair. He froze for a second, his movements stopping completely, and you were terrified that you'd crossed a line.

However, that fear was quickly erased because he let out the most guttural sound you'd ever heard. It was low and deep and... fuck. It sounded like a growl, but it was filled with need. It was hungry and rough and sent a jolt straight down to your core.

A moment later, he was kissing you harder than before. He was practically attacking you, and you were glad he still had ahold of your hips because those legs of yours would have given out long ago. His mouth was moving so fast that it was hard for you to keep up, and your lungs were burning.

It felt like a dam had been broken.

He devoured you like a starved man. There was no hesitation, no fear, no nervousness. It was pure desperation, and you weren't doing much better. His kisses were hard and bruising, and his grip on your waist was tight.

When he went to your neck, that was it.

Your head fell back against the wall, painful, but you couldn't care. You couldn't focus on anything except the way his mouth was working its magic on your throat. Your nails were digging into his scalp, and you could hear his sharp breaths.

If all kisses were like this, then you have no idea how people survived without them. It was addicting. The feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth against your skin was euphoric. Your mind was swimming, and your heart was pounding.

Mina was squealing in front of you, but you were too lost to care. You were back in the moment, and the memory was flooding through your body. The feeling of his fingers gripping your hips. The warmth of his mouth. The heat of his body. His hair was so soft. The sound of his breath. His lips. His tongue.

"I... don't remember much after that," you told Mina, your eyes unfocused. "The next thing I remember is me leaving the room and going straight to yours."

She was grinning at you. It was a wide, Cheshire-like smile, and her eyes were gleaming. She looked like she was about to explode, and she was holding herself back.

"This is insane," she said, her voice cracking. "Actually, I take back what I said earlier. This is better than the best day of my life. The fact that it was him—I mean, I'd expect this from someone else, but the thought of him being that good is... wow."

You sighed. "Mina, please. What am I going to do? I'm... I'm..."

"Lost in the clouds?" she offered. "A mess? Unable to function like a normal person?"

"All of the above," you said, running your hands over your face. "I just... I don't understand how someone could make me feel like this. He's a dick, Mina. He was literally insulting me just a few minutes ago, and then... this."

She hummed, tilting her head and looking at the ceiling. Her smile never left her face. "So, what now? Are you guys dating, or...?"

"I didn't ask," you told her. "I just ran out."

"Wait, I thought you meant running away, as in after talking it out and stuff?"

"I mean, running away, as in pushing him and sprinting down the hall to your room."

Her eyes widened. "What?!" she exclaimed. "You're telling me that after he gave you the best kiss of your life, you ran away?!"

You nodded.

"Are you insane?!"

"Maybe a little," you said. "But I was so overwhelmed, and it was too much. I couldn't stay there, or I'd have done something embarrassing."

"You mean something more embarrassing than leaving? Girl, you need to get back there and find out what the hell is going on between you two. I can't believe this. I just..." She let out a frustrated groan. "He's probably pissed off. And confused. And, honestly, I can't blame him."

"What? You think he's regretting it?"

"Oh, honey," she said, her expression changing. "You've got it all wrong. How do I know more than you about this situation? That boy doesn't show anyone this kind of side, I mean... shit, and you're telling me he was the one to initiate it?"

You nodded. "Yeah, he was."

"Well, then... damn. You're special. If he didn't want it, he would have punched you or something, but the fact that he went and did that... then there's no way he would ever regret it. Hell, if I were in his position, I'd have taken you right there, too."

"Mina!" you shrieked, smacking her shoulder.

She laughed. "What? I'm your bestie. I gotta have your back. Now, listen, you've done messed up by running away. There's no way he wouldn't take it as an insult; his ego's too big. So, what you need to do is get back there and tell him what's going on. Be honest. Don't lie, and don't sugarcoat. Just tell him the truth."

"But--"

"No, no buts. No ifs, no ands, or anything. Bakugo is the type to appreciate honesty. You can't be wishy-washy with him. I've learned that after seeing him treat everyone. He doesn't hold back, and neither should you. The good thing is that you know he really likes you; otherwise, none of this would've happened."

You bit your lip.

"Even as sudden as it was, it was a choice," she told you. "He knew exactly what he was doing. That kiss wasn't some spur-of-the-moment thing. He knew what he was doing and what he was feeling, and there's no way he would have done it if he didn't want to."

You thought about her words. "You're right."

"Damn right I am," she said, leaning forward and grabbing your shoulders. "He doesn't regret it. At least, not in the way you're thinking. If he's regretting anything, it's letting you run away without saying anything. So, what you're going to do is march back there and kiss that boy senseless. Got it?"

"But it's almost two in the morning," you said.

"If you think you both are sleeping anytime soon, you're delusional," she stated. "The guy is probably pacing in his own room right now, trying to figure out why the hell you rejected him. He's a wreck, and I'll bet you anything that his thoughts are just as bad as yours."

You frowned. "I guess, but..."

"But what?"

"It's just... he's Bakugo, and I'm... well, me. There's no way this could ever work out. He's too focused on being the best to date anyone, and I'm not the kind of person he'd go for. We're complete opposites. We fight all the time, and he's always yelling at me over something. Even now, I'm still wondering what the hell he was thinking when he kissed me."

"You need to stop doing that," Mina said, her tone firm. "You can't think like that. I told you he wouldn't have done it if he didn't see anything. Sure, you guys don't get along all the time, but that doesn't mean it's a lost cause. The fact that he's showing interest in you is enough to prove that he's attracted to something."

"Okay, fine, but what is it? What does he see in me? Why did he choose me? Why did he—"

"Girl, shut up. I can't handle any more of your doubts. This is a waste of time, and it's just making your brain more and more confused. Stop. Thinking. Go get him and just talk. I swear, you're gonna give yourself an aneurysm if you keep this up."

"Fine," you relented, throwing your hands up. "I'll—"

Then, there was a knock on the door.

You paused, staring at Mina. She stared back, her eyebrows furrowing. The two of you were quiet, not moving, not breathing. Then, another knock came, this time a bit louder.

"Iida?" you asked, your voice quiet. "We were pretty loud, weren't we?"

"Probably," Mina replied. "I hate that guy sometimes. What the hell does he have against us having fun? It's not like we were causing trouble."

"He's just being a good student," you said. "We should probably—"

Another knock and this one was harder. And something in the back of your mind was telling you that it wasn't him. It was different.

You and Mina shared a look before she shrugged and got off the bed. She went to the door, and you stayed seated. You were nervous. The tension in your stomach was building up again.

The thought was already in your mind, but it wasn't until Mina's face fell that you knew for sure.

She turned to look at you, her expression unreadable, but the emotion was clear in her eyes. It was the same look you'd given her before when you talked about the kiss.

And, you knew.

He was here.

"Where is she?" His voice held annoyance, but you could detect the change in tone.

"Bakugo," Mina said, trying to cover for you. "Why are you here? Is everything okay?"

"Cut the crap," he said, his voice a growl. "I know she's in there, Raccoon Eyes. Just... I need to talk to her."

You were frozen.

You were afraid.

You didn't know what to say or do.

Your heart was pounding, and your palms were sweating. You couldn't breathe.

"Send her out here," he said. "...Please."

Mina looked back at you. The pure shock in her eyes told you she'd heard him use the word, and you couldn't help but think the same. Bakugo wasn't a person who asked nicely. Ever. But the way he said it made it sound like it pained him.

You both stood there for a few moments. It was a stalemate, and neither of you could speak. Now that he was here, all the confidence Mina had built up was gone, and you were back to square one. You felt helpless.

Then, there was a sigh, not from him, but from her. It was the sound of defeat and the sound of surrender. She turned back to the door, opening it up to reveal those damn eyes of his.

His expression was hard and unreadable. It was blank, and his eyes were cold. They were the same ones you were used to seeing, the ones that held no emotion, the ones that only held anger. But they weren't as harsh as usual. They were softer.

He looked past Mina and saw you on the bed. The moment his gaze locked on yours, you knew you were going out in that hall whether you wanted to or not. His stare was strong, and it was demanding. It was like the world would crumble if you didn't follow his order.

So, you did.

You got off the bed and made your way to him. Your feet were heavy, and your heart was racing. With every step, the pressure got worse. When you were close enough, Mina shoved you towards him and then closed the door.

It was just you and him now.

You didn't know what to say. He was quiet, and the silence was killing you. It was making your head spin. You felt nauseous, and your stomach was in knots. It was too much.

"You..." He spoke, his voice low. "You're the most annoying person I've ever met."

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Your throat was dry, and your tongue was like sandpaper.

"Do you have any idea how frustrating you are?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "You're such a fucking mess."

Back to this.

"Yeah, I get it," you told him, finding your voice. "I'm a mess. It's been established. But you know what, Bakugo? So are you. You're an asshole."

"Me?" he laughed. "You think I'm the asshole? You're the one who ran away. I didn't do shit."

"You're the one who cornered me," you shot back. "What the hell was that, anyway? Insulting me into a corner, and then—"

The pause of your sentence spoke louder than any words you could have said. It was a statement, an unspoken accusation, and the meaning was clear. It was obvious.

His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. "You know, if I had a dollar for every time you pissed me off, I'd be richer than All Might."

"If I had a dollar for every time I had to hear your rants about being the future number-one hero, I'd be able to retire," you retorted. "You're so fucking arrogant."

"Well, at least I know what I'm good at. You made that much clear, didn't you?"

Offended, you stepped closer to him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You knew exactly what he meant. It was obvious. He was calling you out, and the fact that he had the nerve to even use those words after the incident in the common room made you see red. So, you might've done something that would get you in house arrest, but it was worth it.

You slapped him. Hard.

He didn't seem fazed, though. In fact, the only thing you did was piss him off even more. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, towering over you. "Are you that much of a dumbass? How the hell did you make it this far in UA with that stupid brain of yours? Do you have any idea how dumb you are?"

"I'm not an idiot," you said through gritted teeth. "I have my strengths, too. I'm not weak."

"Oh, really?" He was mocking you, his voice a challenge. "Then, why did you run away?"

"That's—"

"What? It's not because of weakness? Then, why did you leave?"

You didn't have an answer.

"Exactly," he said. "You're a fucking coward. You ran away from your problems, and that's all you do. That's all you're capable of. You don't know how to deal with situations, and you just run."

"I'm not—"

"You are," he said. "Every damn time. You ran from me. From arguments, from training, from everything. It's all you ever do. And you don't seem to care, do you? You don't care how much it pisses me off. You just do it anyway."

"Bakugo—"

"Tell me, damnit," he interrupted, his eyes flashing. "I... I let you in. I let you see something, and this is what I get? A slap and an escape? How the hell is that fair?"

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did," he growled. "And it fucking hurt, okay? You don't know how much I..."

The silence was back, and it was more deafening than before. The tension was thick, and the air was heavy. You could feel the heat rising, the pressure building.

You had no idea what to say.

He was right. Mina was right. You had messed up, and you knew it. You knew you had hurt him. The pain was evident in his voice. But it didn't excuse him for being an ass about it.

"Why'd you come here?" you asked. "What did you expect to get out of this? Was it just to yell at me and make me feel bad?"

"No, moron, I came to ask if I fucked up. If I had crossed a line. I know what it looked like, but with your stupid ass, I don't know."

You rolled your eyes, but he made sure to keep them locked on him.

"You pulled me in. You returned it," he said, his voice dropping. "You even deepened the damn thing. What was I supposed to think, huh? You're not telling me anything. You're not giving me anything. If anything, you're taking. So, I'm asking. Stop running away, damnit. Talk to me."

The sincerity of his words struck a chord in your chest. He was right. He was absolutely right. You were running away. You were avoiding him.

You were a coward.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice soft. "I shouldn't have done that. I... I didn't know what to do, and I was scared."

"What the hell are you scared of?"

"This," you told him. "Of you. Of the kiss. Of... what it meant."

"You're acting like you're the only one involved here," he said, his voice holding an edge. "What about me? Do you have any idea what I'm feeling right now? I'm just as confused and scared as you are, but you know what I'm not doing? Running away."

"I didn't mean to, it's just—"

"You did," he said, interrupting you. "You did, and you knew it. You were running, and you didn't want to deal with the consequences. That's what it was, wasn't it? You didn't want to face the truth. You didn't want to face me. You wanted to run. Like always."

"It's not like that."

"Then, what is it?"

You paused.

"Exactly," he said. "Nothing. You don't have an excuse. You were just being a coward. That's all it is. So, tell me. Tell me why the hell you ran. Tell me what the kiss meant to you. Because if you don't, I'll—"

"It meant everything!" you cried out, only to remember the late hour and quiet down. "It... it meant everything, okay? And I didn't want to lose that. I couldn't. It was... It was everything. It was so much. Too much. I didn't want it to be ruined. I didn't want to ruin what fucked friendship we had."

His expression was unreadable, and it made your stomach sink.

"So, I ran. I didn't know what else to do," you confessed, your voice quiet. "And... I didn't want you to find out the truth. Because if you did, you'd... I'd... Everything would change, and I didn't want that."

"We changed the moment that damn kiss happened," he said, his tone firm. "I'm not blind. You're not subtle, and I can tell that you've had feelings for me. And I think... I've had them for a while now, too. But if you're gonna act like this, if you're just going to run from your problems, then there's no point in doing anything. I can't have a relationship with someone who's just gonna hide and run away. It's not fair to either of us."

"Bakugo..."

"Don't 'Bakugo' me," he growled, his eyes burning. "What are we gonna do about this, huh? Are we gonna keep dancing around each other and pretend it didn't happen? Are we gonna pretend it doesn't exist? Because if we do, I'm not wasting any more time. It's not worth it. I have better things to focus on."

"It's not like that."

"Really? Because it seems like it."

"But—"

"Tell me, damnit. What the hell are we gonna do? What's it gonna be? I can't wait around forever, and I won't waste my time. I don't have the patience for it. If you're not willing to do anything about it, then there's no point in trying. It's just a waste of time. So, decide. Now."

He didn't ease up, and his gaze didn't falter. He was staring straight at you, waiting just as he had said. But you didn't know what to say or do. He was putting the ball in your court, and he wasn't budging. He wasn't backing down.

"Well?" he asked, his voice harsh. "I'm waiting. Make your choice."

"I—"

"It's not that hard," he cut in, his eyes narrowing. "Either we try this, or we don't. So, make a damn choice. If not, I'm walking out, and I won't look back."

You knew the decision was easy. It was obvious. It was obvious, but your mind was spinning. It was hard to concentrate when his hands were on your arms, and his eyes were burning holes into your soul. It was impossible to think.

But, you knew. You knew the answer. You knew what you wanted.

"Do it."

The words left your lips without hesitation, and for a moment, he faltered. His expression changed, and his eyes widened. His grip on your arms loosened, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. He was silent, and his eyes were focused on yours.

"You don't want me to run?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper. "So, make me stay."

The words were simple. They were easy. But they were enough to see the twinkle in his eye. It was enough to see the shift in his demeanor and feel his grip tightening. His body was pressed against yours, and his hands were on your arms. He was leaning forward, his face inches from yours. His breath was hot, and his eyes were dark.

In an instant, you were flung back into the same position you had been in hours ago. His lips were on yours, and the intensity was there, stronger than ever. The kiss was rough and passionate. He was pushing against you, his grip firm. He was in control, and he was demanding.

You kissed him back, and the emotions were overwhelming. They were consuming. His hands met the small of your back, pulling you into him. He was firm, his touch strong and his kiss powerful. It was rough, but it was gentle. It was intense, but it was loving.

The kiss was everything.

The moment his lips left yours, you found yourself wanting more. You couldn't help but pull him back in, kissing him deeper and harder. He met your desire, his movements matching yours. You didn't know how long the kiss lasted, but the moment it broke, you knew.

You knew that this was right. You knew that this was what you wanted. You knew that he was the one.

"Katsuki," you whispered, his name leaving your lips in a breathy sigh. "Katsuki, I..."

"I know," he breathed, his voice husky. "Me, too."

Then, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. He held you tight, his warmth enveloping you.

You knew this feeling now; you understood it. This was the love that Mina had been talking about. This was the emotion she had been describing. This was what it was like.

It was the best damn feeling in the world.

[lifeofpriya]

I Mean It - Franco Colapinto

[gif credit goes to @argentinagp]

summary: your friendship with franco takes a surprising turn when his protective instincts kick in...

"Oh god, it's Chad again," you murmur under your breath, watching him stumble towards you with his friends in tow.

"Who's that?" asks Franco, not taking his eyes off the road. His grip on the steering wheel tightens almost imperceptibly.

You roll your eyes, the neon lights from the street outside flickering in the car's cabin. "Chad. He's had a thing for me since high school, but I've never given him the time of day."

Franco's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection. "Well, maybe he just needs to realize you're not interested." His voice is calm, but there's an undercurrent of something else—concern, perhaps.

You sigh, watching Chad and his entourage draw closer to the car. "I've told him plenty of times, but he's like a bad penny."

Franco's jaw clenches as he shifts gears. The engine purrs beneath you, a comforting sound in the growing tension. "Why don't you let me handle it?"

You glance at him, surprised by his protective tone. "It's okay, I can handle it."

But as Chad knocks on the window, his leering smile plastered across his face, you feel a shiver of fear. You've dealt with this before, but something about the way he's looking at you tonight sends a chill down your spine.

Franco doesn't miss a beat. He rolls down the window, his eyes cold and sharp. "What do you want?" he asks, his Argentine accent more pronounced than usual.

Chad's smile falters, glancing from you to Franco and back again. "Just saying hi to my old classmate here," he slurs, gesturing towards you with a sloppy wave.

"Hi's been said," Franco replies curtly, his eyes never leaving Chad's. "Now if you don't mind, we're busy."

Chad's friends snicker, but his smile turns sour. He leans closer, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. "What's going on here, then? You two on a date?"

You tense, ready to speak, but Franco beats you to it. "It's none of your business what we're doing." His voice is even, but the muscles in his neck stand out, a clear sign of his growing irritation.

Chad's eyes narrow, his grip on the window frame tightening. "It is when they're with me," he sneers, his hand reaching for the car door.

Without hesitating, Franco's hand shoots out and grabs Chad's wrist, his grip firm and unyielding. "Back off," he warns, his voice a low growl. "Or you're going to regret it."

Chad's friends exchange uneasy glances, taking a step back. They hadn't seen this side of him before—the fierce, protective side that only emerged when someone threatened someone he cared about. You sit frozen in the passenger seat, heart racing.

"Take your hand off me," Chad spits, trying to pull away.

Franco's grip tightens, his eyes never leaving yours. "You heard me. Back. Off."

Chad tries to jerk his hand away, but Franco's hold is like steel. The unspoken message is clear: no one messes with you on his watch. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of his protective stance, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the intertwined hands—Chad's meaty and desperate, Franco's firm and unwavering.

"You don't know who you're dealing with," Chad slurs, his voice shaking slightly.

Franco's eyes flick to Chad's face, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea." He releases Chad's wrist and the other man stumbles back, almost falling.

Chad's friends grab his arms, whispering in his ear, trying to calm him down. His cheeks flush with a mix of alcohol and embarrassment. He glares at you before stumbling away, his words slurred and angry. "You'll regret this, you little tease."

Franco's gaze follows Chad until he's out of sight. Then, he turns to you, his expression softer. "You okay?" His hand reaches over to give your knee a gentle squeeze.

"I could have handled that myself, you know," you murmur, trying to regain your composure.

Franco's hand lingers on your knee for a moment before retreating back to the steering wheel. "I know," he says softly. "But I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

You nod, feeling a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, relief, and a flutter of something more. You've never seen Franco act like this before, not even when he's racing against the clock. "Thanks for that," you manage to say, your voice shakier than you'd like.

He nods, his eyes flicking back to the road. "No problem," he says, but you can see the tension in his jaw. He's not one to get involved in other people's drama, especially not like this. But there's something about you that makes him want to protect you, even though you've never talked about being more than friends.

The car rolls to a stop at a red light, and you both sit in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound. You can feel the warmth of his hand where it touched your knee, and you're suddenly very aware of how close you are. The chemistry between you has always been palpable, but this is the first time it's felt so intense.

The light turns green, and the car jolts forward. You clear your throat, trying to break the silence. "So, do you do that for all your friends?" you ask, trying to keep your voice light.

Franco glances at you, his eyes lingering for a moment. "Only the ones who are worth it," he says with a small smile.

You laugh nervously, your heart racing. The air in the car feels charged with something new. You both know there's a line that's been crossed tonight—a line you're not sure either of you is ready to talk about.

Franco's eyes flick to you again, a question in them. "Do you want me to take you home?" he asks.

You nod, the adrenaline from the encounter with Chad starting to wear off. The thought of being alone with him, in the quiet of the night, sends a thrill through you. "Yes, please."

The rest of the drive is tense, filled with the unspoken words hanging in the air. You can't help but steal glances at Franco, his strong profile silhouetted against the glow of the dashboard. His focus is solely on the road, but you can feel his eyes on you every now and then, checking if you're okay.

When he pulls up to your house, the engine's purr dies down to a gentle rumble. He puts the car in park but doesn't turn it off. The silence between you is thick, charged with the unspoken tension of the night's events.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Franco asks, his voice gentle but still holding a hint of the steel from earlier.

You nod, trying to ignore the way your stomach flutters when he looks at you with genuine concern. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for, you know, not letting him ruin my night."

Franco smiles, his eyes searching yours. "You don't have to thank me for that." He pauses, his hand hovering over the ignition. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head. "Not really." The words tumble out before you can stop them. You're not ready to dissect the mess of emotions swirling inside you.

Franco nods, his hand dropping to his lap. "Okay." He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in the dim light. "But if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

You appreciate his understanding, the sincerity in his voice. "I know," you murmur, reaching for the door handle. The cool night air seeps into the car as you open the door.

"Hey," he says, stopping you before you can step out. His hand grazes your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. "I mean it."

You look back at him, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race even faster. "Thanks," you murmur, feeling the weight of his words. You've known each other for years, but this is a side of Franco you haven't seen before—vulnerable, caring, and fiercely protective. It's intoxicating.

As you step out of the car, the cool evening air brushes against your flushed cheeks. You pause, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Would you, uh, want to come in for a bit?" You hadn't planned on asking, but the words just slip out.

Franco's eyes light up, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah," he says, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I'd like that."

You lead him inside, the warm glow of your house a stark contrast to the dark, quiet street outside. The door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly, the air feels different—electric. You both know that this night has changed something between you, and you're both equally terrified and excited by it.

\\\

In the cozy living room, you offer him a seat on the couch. He sits, his movements deliberate and cautious, as if he's afraid to shatter the delicate moment. You sit opposite him in an armchair, the space between you feeling both vast and suffocatingly small.

You start with small talk, asking about his racing career, the upcoming races he's excited for, trying to keep the conversation light. He answers, his eyes never leaving yours, and you can see the excitement in them when he talks about his passion. But there's something else there too—an unspoken question, a silent plea for you to acknowledge the shift in your friendship.

As the conversation lulls, the air between you crackles with unspoken feelings. You bite your lip, wondering if you're reading too much into his protective behavior earlier. Maybe it was just a friend looking out for a friend.

Franco clears his throat, breaking the silence. "So, that guy," he says, his voice low. "What's the deal with him?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "He's just an old classmate who doesn't get the hint."

Franco's gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours. "But he's more than that, isn't he?"

You swallow hard, noticing the way the shadows play across his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the concern etched into his brow. "Yeah," you admit. "He's been bothering me for a while now."

Franco's jaw tenses, his hands clenching into fists on the armrest. "If he ever bothers you again, you tell me. I won't let him get away with it."

You nod, feeling the gravity of his promise. "I know."

Franco leans forward, closing the distance between you. "But I'm not just talking about Chad," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't like seeing you upset or scared."

You look down at your hands, twisting in your lap. "I know," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. "But it's not your problem to deal with."

"It is when it involves you," Franco insists, his eyes never leaving yours. "I care about you."

The words hang in the air, and you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks. You've had a crush on him for what feels like forever, but you've never dared to hope he felt the same way. "Franco…"

He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I know we're just friends," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "But I can't ignore how I feel anymore."

You look up, your heart pounding in your chest. "How do you feel?" you ask, the question a whisper in the quiet room.

Franco leans closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I think you know," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

You can't help but lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a brief moment. When you open them again, you find him staring at you with a look that makes your heart ache. "I've had feelings for you for a while now," he confesses, his voice a soft rumble. "But I didn't want to mess up what we have."

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "You wouldn't mess it up," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "I've had feelings for you too."

The confession hangs in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that's been building between you for so long. Franco's hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you.

You lean closer, the space between your faces shrinking until you can feel his breath on your lips. "Then why did you wait so long?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Franco's hand slides around the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your skin in a gentle, soothing motion. "I didn't know if you felt the same," he admits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or rejection. "I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

You lean into his touch, the warmth of his hand spreading through your body. "It's okay," you whisper. "I've felt the same way."

Franco's gaze lingers on your mouth, and you can see the moment he decides. He leans in, closing the gap between you. His lips are soft, tentative at first, as if asking for permission. You give it, your eyes fluttering shut as you lean into the kiss. The chemistry that's been simmering between you for so long ignites, sending sparks through your veins.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more needy. His other hand finds its way to your waist, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase the years of unspoken longing. You wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. The world outside the confines of the armchair fades away, leaving only the two of you.

As the kiss breaks, you both lean back, panting. The air is thick with anticipation, your hearts racing in sync. "I've wanted to do that for so long," you murmur, your voice hoarse with emotion.

Franco's eyes are dark with desire, his hand still resting on the back of your neck. "Me too," he whispers, his thumb caressing your skin in a gentle rhythm. "But I didn't want to push you."

You smile, feeling the warmth of his palm against your cheek. "You didn't push. I wanted it too."

Franco's smile widens, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. Finding none, he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours in a soft caress that sends your heart racing. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate, as if he's savoring every moment.

You melt into him, feeling his warmth envelop you like a blanket on a cold night. His arms tighten around you, and you realize that you've never felt safer, more cherished. It's as if he's been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

"I should have told you sooner," he whispers against your lips, regret lacing his words.

You shake your head, your heart hammering in your chest. "It's okay," you reply, your voice a breathy whisper. "We're here now."

Franco's arms tighten around you, his warmth seeping through your clothes. You press closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, the comforting thud echoing in your ear. The weight of his confession settles on you, a warmth spreading through your body that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment.

You pull back slightly, needing to look into his eyes. "What happens now?" you ask, your voice a whisper in the quiet room.

Franco's gaze holds yours, filled with a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. "Whatever you want to happen," he says, his thumb tracing small circles on your cheek. "We take it slow, we talk, we figure it out."

You nod, your pulse racing. The idea of navigating a romantic relationship with your best friend is both exhilarating and terrifying. But the way he's looking at you now, with so much care and longing, makes it feel right. "Okay," you murmur, your voice barely above a breath.

Franco leans back, giving you some space. He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want to rush anything," he says, his voice steady. "But I can't ignore this anymore."

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "Neither can I." The words feel like a confession, a secret you've held close for so long finally spilling out into the open.

He smiles, a soft, gentle smile that makes your heart flutter. "Good," he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, it's slower, more deliberate, as if he's committing every sensation to memory.

The kiss lingers, and when you finally pull away, you're both left breathless. The silence stretches out between you, filled with the unspoken promise of what's to come. You can feel your heart racing, your skin tingling from his touch.

"I should go," Franco says, his voice gruff. He doesn't move, though, his hand still cradling your cheek.

You nod, your heart racing. "Okay," you whisper, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. You stand up, and he follows, his hand slipping away as you both regain your footing in the new reality of your relationship. The space between you feels charged, the air heavy with unspoken promises and the weight of what's to come.

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - next

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It could be argued that where one places one's identity is what keeps then grounded in themselves. And when one's identity is threatened, then, and only then, can you see what a person is at their barest, most vulnerable form.

Toji doesn't like feeling vulnerable. In fact, there might not be anything he detests more.

After the incident with his hands, Toji would go on to swear his interest in you was transactional. I mean, how could he NOT want to know more about his employer? He found himself thinking of you even when he wasn’t at the house, what were you doing? What kept your time so rapt? What did you think of him?

Toji would lay on his back, the couch in his apartment had been a popular spot since Tuesday. He hadn't seen you or your dog since the night you let him go. Pet him with a feather-light touch and sent him away.

You had taken off less work when you had become ill...

Despite his lack of work and true to your word, you had paid Toji double for that night. He would never complain about more money but he couldn't get the thought of you out of his mind.

He found himself waking from dreams of a soft voice and a gentle hand, he tried to recall every moment of the previous night in excruciating detail. Everything about it,

Your face when you reprimanded the veterinary staff, your voice when you told him everything would be okay, the way you had gently stroked at his hand when you wiped the blood from his palms. The way you had whispered...

"I'm sorry, was it too much?"

Toji drags his hands across his face.

"Yeah."

He stared at the hands you had put so much care into, so grimy, guilty of such sin.

He kept your towel, by the way, It lay on his bedside table.

With every passing day Toji craved to return to your presence once again. He wanted to peel back your layers and see what you looked like at your core. You had been so shy with him, yet, so ready to stand for what you wanted.

This difference was stark. When the pair of you had met, you had been barely awake, and badly ill. Clad in baggy pajamas. He had thought of you as ill-prepared, silly and frumpy. When you reconnected the other day, your blouse had clung to you, he recalls watching your back tense as you spoke with the hospital staff.

He wanted to see more.

Toji felt a strange need to wait before responding to your eventual text, but he couldn't find a good reason to.

"Mr. Fushiguro, are you healing well? The dog and I have been staying home and taking it easy, I hope the same is true of you. I wanted to reiterate how sorry I am that you had to go through all this, and thank you for protecting my boy. When you get the chance, please allow for me to pay for the cleaning bill on your car, additionally, I would love to treat you in some way, please let me know your favorite place to eat."

Toji began typing only to delete his words and try to rephrase.

"It wasn't a serious injury to begin with. Don't apologize again. Are you taking me out?"

He hit the backspace... "to eat?"

Toji knew thats not what you had meant. But he couldn't help but wish to see you again. Speak to you. Watch you. Learn you. He watched as an ellipsis appeared at the bottom of the screen and vanished. He reread his message, had he been too forward?

Eventually you responded.

"It was serious, you were hurt, and I AM sorry that it happened to you while you were taking care of my dog. I cannot express how grateful I am. You are a hero."

Toji choked out a laugh at the word you used. He pushed himself up onto his elbow, smooshing a couch cushion in the process. He did not respond, awaiting your answer to the question he cared about.

You replied to his text, "Is that what you would prefer?"

and then, "I wouldn't want to take up your time."

"I never do things I don't want to do." His response was quick, he didn't have to think.

Again, you typed for some time before, "Oh, well if that's what you'd like."

A date was set.

Toji had insisted that you pick a place to eat.

The few days before your meeting you felt sort of panicked. Anxiety was a norm for you. You had always had quite the... sense of urgency, one would say. Your desk was pristine, your calendar forever in order, your work was always completed early, and well.

That was why your first meeting with Mr. Fushiguro had shook you so badly. You hated for people to see you as anything short of perfect, you hated to be venerable.

This anxiety was always the double-edged sword it sounded like, success clung to you in the way you needed it to. However, it had become an integral part of your identity, and now, you could not go without. The dread, the disappointment, the hurt that surrounded you when you did not succeed was like nothing your peers could understand.

You needed to prepare for this lunch. It consumed your thoughts as you turned in your final report for the day and went to sit with the dog. Questions had arisen within your mind when Mr. Fushiguro had sent his text.

"Are you taking me out to eat?"

"I never do things I don't want to do" he had said.

Thoughts of "why does he want to meet in person" prevailed. He was good at his job. Your dog had never been so easy-going. He could be left alone for longer, he had more energy to play, he drank more, and he had started fearing the delivery man less.

He deserved every cent you gave him, but maybe he was looking for a little more. That could be worked out, you supposed. Actually, you realized, maybe he's looking for a referral? That would make sense, maybe he wants to get in contact with more people like you, lonely... workaholics with dogs that deserve better.

Your eyes met your pooches', and his innocent, loving gaze lit a fire of cuteness aggression within your soul. Grabbing his fluffy neck you shook him a little while smooching the top of his head.

You would be more than happy to make a list of people in the market for a dog sitter that are willing to pay a competitive rate so long as you write him a nice recommendation. The man had saved your boy, it was truly the least you could do.

Before meeting, you prepared a list with names and numbers. You figured he would be pleased with your efforts, your impressive skill in finding him more clients.

A few days later you awkwardly played with your hands as you sat at the table of a nice brunch restaurant. You had sent the address as soon as he asked you to pick. You wanted to give him plenty of time to look online at the menu, prepare when to leave his place, and decide what he would like. (If only you knew how different this man was from you...)

Even with all your planning, you showed up early, you thought of what you would say when he arrived, how you would stand and shake his hand, thank him again, and try to put him at ease.

Unfortunately, nothing goes to plan when it comes to you and Mr. Fushiguro, and none of that happened.

In your time working with officials, presenting before boards of directors, and handling the communication between groups, you had learned how to read body language well, and even without yelling and obvious disruption, you could scan a room and tell when something was amiss.

The table you had selected was against the window, you faced away from the entryway, even so, just by looking at the guests around you, you could tell that something was transpiring at the front door of the restaurant. You turn,

"I'm sorry sir, our seating is for reservation only." The host was saying. Was saying in a antagonizing tone, was saying to a large man in slacks, a t-shirt, and zip up. Was saying to Mr. Fushiguro.

You stood quickly, the last thing you wanted was to upset the man, you began to speed walk in their direction.

"Yeah, I'believe I've got one of those." He looked up at the host, as if just seeing him for the first time.

The host nodded slowly, and breathed a sigh, the look he gave Mr. Fushiguro was nothing short of offensive, a slow up-and-down of his appearance before raising a brow, "This space has an implied dress code sir-" the host began

"Mr. Fushiguro!" You called before reaching the counter, "I'm so glad you could make it, it's an honor to see you again!" You rush out, quickly turning to the host before you could even make eye contact with your guest, "Excuse me, I believe we're done here."

"I- yes of course, ma'am." He did not offer to take you to your seats but you were glad to keep your eyes on the table as the burly man trailed behind you.

"I'm so sorry, I should have waited for you outside, that was my fault- they shouldn't have-"

"It's fine." He pulls his chair out and sits.

"If you'd rather eat somewhere else I would be happy to-" you begin.

"Nah. I don't care, lets order big."

You smile at his choice of words. Straight to the point.

It was odd, to not feel the need to maintain a constant stream of conversation. You knew what you would order, of course, but you played pretend as he looked.

"You always eat from places like this?"

Your eyes shot up, he was looking at you over the menu, "Huh? Oh, no... I usually just pack whatever, you know?" You smile and shrug at him.

"Hmm" His lips puckered out in a cute way, his eyes go to look to the side, "You prob'ly should... stuffs gotta be nice... no prices on here though." Shaking the menu, he looks to you.

You shift back to the tall piece of plastic in your grasp, "Ah.. no, just, just get whatever, it's on me, of course" You suck a breath through your teeth, "I must thank you, you know."

You try for laid back, easing the conversation into your gratitude.

"Yeah. I know. Y'don't gotta keep sayin' it. It was seriously nothin'. Just doin' my job." He waves a hand back-and-forth, emphasizing just how "nothin'" his efforts were.

"Mr. Fushiguro... please don't-" You wanted to smack your forehead against the table, but that wasn't appropriate, so you settled with avoiding his gaze.

"Toji, please." He held up a palm, stopping you.

"What? Oh... well, yes, please don't call it nothing, you saved my dogs life, and put yourself in danger too."

He rolls his eyes, and you want to gasp at his... nonchalance.

"Yeah, whatever." He might have gone on to say more, but a waitress had arrived and he pointed at you to order first.

You didn't want him to have to request anything from you, so when the wait staff had left you began your proposal.

"So, Mr. Fushiguro, I was thinking-"

"Toji." He seemed to look though you at that moment.

You look down, why must he be this way? "Toji... I was thinking," You meet his gaze again, a smile, "You're great at your job, I've never known my boy to be so relaxed, I figured you might be interested in the contact information of some of my co-workers. I would be more than happy to refer you if you were-"

As you continued speaking his eyebrows narrowed more an more until eventually, "Huh? I ain't lookin' to work for anyone else."

What? Well that made no sense... "Ah... you're not? I suppose I assumed you were. Was there something else you wanted to discuss?"

"No?" He made a face as if thinking of what you could possibly mean.

"No? If there is something I could do to accommodate you in any way, I would love to do it." Why would he ask to meet you in person if not to request something?

"What'dya mean? I'm plenty accommodated now." He leans back in his seat, a wide breadth between his arms. "You think I wanted ya here to ask for somethin?" He squints at you.

"No, no! I just figured....." You staggered, "well, why else?" You smile at him, he looks incredulous.

"If I was gonna ask you for somethin' I woulda asked." He tilts his head upwards in an intimidating way.

The food that afternoon had been good. Toji didn't get to learn much about you at all though. Your words racked his mind.

"Why else?" He would scoff that night at the thought. Why else? Well... why else? He didn't know either. He just wanted to see you again.

Toji never asked for anything, it was others that asked stuff of him, so your wide eyes, and indulgent smile stuck to his mind like scotch tape he couldn't remove.

Toji didn't realize- but he was hurting, because deep down, his identity was being threatened. For years he had been viewed as a sex symbol, a womanizer, a pleaser. Could it really be that you didn't want that from him?

Could it be true that you thought he wanted to meet...to ask for your co-workers contact info? Don't make him laugh. You couldn't have been more wrong. It hadn't even crossed his mind.

Why hadn't it?

He wanted to know you but dammit he hadn't learned anything. You were breaking him down and he didn't know what to feel.

He was laying on his couch, eyes pulled to the rickety ceiling fan. Your frantic attempt to preserve his feelings this morning brought a chuckle from him.

Damn you. What were you doing to him?

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

pt. 5?

—

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taglist is sadly now full! If you ever want to be taken off of the tag list please just let me know :] (if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings)

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 15

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 14 | Series Masterlist | Part 16

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.6k

Chapter Summary: You learn the root of Bucky's obsession with you.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, masturbation, dirty talk, tension, backstory, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, slight feels, talk of violence, angst, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and this chapter is... something. Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You hadn't opened your eyes yet when you felt Bucky’s fingers brush along your stomach in an almost hypnotic motion. You didn't know what time it was or what was going on in the world outside, but you knew you were in his arms and would be in his bed soon enough. Sleeping with someone next to you wasn’t something you were completely used to. It had been so long, and when it did happen it was always by choice.

You hadn't exactly kicked Bucky out though, had you? No, you invited him in. If only to prevent him from putting another hole in the wall. Natasha said she’d bill him for it, but you were going to make Bucky pay her extra for the inconvenience.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmured, his lips touching your neck. “Your breathing changed.”

“Mmm. You listen to me breathe?” you mumbled. That tracked for him.

“It’s a beautiful sound,” he said, your eyes finally opening when he pulled you closer. Whether it was sleep, being beside you, or both, it had an effect on his… anatomy. You went still when he rocked his hips once, letting you feel just how hard he was. “God, waking up beside you is a dream come true.”

Your fingers dug into the pillow under your head as he rolled his hips again. His fingers didn't drift south, didn't tug at your pajamas. He also didn't stop that slow grind and you hated that a bit of wetness gathered between your thighs. “Did you have good dreams?” you asked, your voice surprisingly even.

“Mmm. I had very good dreams,” he answered, his voice rough. “Would you rather I tell you or show you?”

Neither. That was what you told yourself. “What about me?” you asked. “You don’t want me to tell you about my dreams?”

“Tell me,” he urged, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I dreamt about you, Bucky. You laying beside me in bed, holding me close. Just like this,” you said, his groan permeating your skin. “Do you want me to keep going?”

His teeth gently sank into your shoulder, making you gasp. “Yes,” he growled.

“Okay,” you smiled, pushing your hips back just a little to tease him. “I dreamt that you touched me. So hot it made me feel like I was on fire.”

Another groan escaped. “Where, Kotyonok? Where did I touch you?” he asked, his voice strained.

“See, here's the thing…” You suddenly pulled yourself from his grasp and turned in time to smack him in his face with the pillow. His shocked expression was worth it. “I don’t remember the rest of my dream because some entitled jerk pounded on my door in the middle of the night and punched a hole in the wall.”

He chuckled as he sat up, his hair falling in his eyes. It was a gorgeous sight and it wasn't fair. “Did you just hit me with a pillow?”

You did it again, your frustration fueled more as he kept laughing. “Sleep is precious to me,” you said, nodding to his lower region. “You’re lucky I don't smack that with the pillow.”

He took it from your grasp before you could try. “Okay, it was shitty of me to show up when I did. I’ll give you that,” he said, reaching out to touch your cheek. “But I really did miss you.”

“I understand that, but it was one day,” you argued, shivering when his thumb moved along your skin. He went a single day without you and lived to tell the tale.

Pain filled his eyes. “But I already went so long without you.”

You sighed, pulling away and searching for your phone so you could check the time. “I need caffeine before we have our talk.”

Bucky looked down at himself. “And I need to take care of this.” He smirked at your expression. “Don't worry. As much as I want to be inside you, our first time won't be here.”

That was a relief. “But you do plan to fuck me here at some point.”

“Natasha let that slip, huh?” He stood up with a stretch and you looked away. “I plan to make love to you and fuck you, too. The best of both worlds.”

“How considerate.” You stretched, too, his eyes following you. “Let me use the bathroom before you jerk off in there, please.”

“You're welcome to listen,” he smiled.

He’d probably put on a show if he knew you were listening. “I’m going to sit in the other room once I’m done and order breakfast. Would you like anything?”

He looked touched that you considered that. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, please.”

“Okay,” you said, rushing to the bathroom before he could follow.

“I might just jerk off in bed if you’re in there,” he called out as you shut the door.

“Be my guest!”

You swore you heard a chuckle as you went about your business, going to the bathroom, brushing your teeth. Ignoring him didn’t last when you heard a soft groan. Jesus, the man had absolutely no shame.

“Fuck, doll, I’m so hard for you,” he moaned.

You counted to three in your head and brushed your teeth a little harder, faster, trying to block him out. Maybe if you ignored him he'd shut his mouth. Maybe.

“Are you wet for me? Come to bed and let me take care of you. I'll make you melt on my tongue.”

Spitting harder in the sink than you needed to, you gripped the porcelain once you rinsed your mouth out. You had no doubt he’d eat you out like a starved man. Would he make you take him in your throat soon? Fuck your face until you drooled and cried or would he be gentle and let you get used to the weight of him on your tongue?

“I know you can hear me.” His voice was sinful, dark, and you scrubbed your skin so hard when you washed your face you were stunned you didn’t hurt yourself. “Sure you don’t wanna come out and see what you do to me? Maybe show me your pretty pussy? I can jerk off on it and spread it all over those pretty lips.”

You bit your lip, wishing your knees didn’t feel weak. “Bucky, please.”

He groaned louder, his breathing labored. Your breathing was a little heavier, too. “Say it again, I’m almost there.”

All you had to do was open the door to see if his pupils were dilated, if there was heat in his cheeks. Was his hair still a mess from sleeping? Would he make a show of stroking his cock? “Bucky, hurry up,” you demanded.

He chuckled, a breathy sound. “Can’t wait for you to say that before I fuck you.” Your eyes shut as he let out another obscene groan. “Before I fill you full of me.”

“Just go to the sitting area,” you muttered to yourself, not looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You left the bathroom with the hope of avoiding his gaze, but you made the mistake of looking at the bed. He was in the middle of it, looking every bit like a king. His lower half was covered by the blanket, but you could see that his right hand was under there, still stroking himself. His chest heaved, his eyes half lidded as you stared at each other. You had to break yourself from that spell, even if the man was jerking off to the thought of you.

“Like what you see?” he rasped.

You swallowed hard, but smiled. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, right? Right,” you said, proudly walking with confidence from the room. “Clean up after yourself when you’re done.”

“I’ll clean you up, too, after I make a mess of you,” he stated, a long moan following as you plopped down on the sofa.

Guess he finished.

Once it was quiet enough in the bedroom, you ordered breakfast. You still needed a shower, if only to cool yourself off and get rid of the wetness that seeped out thanks to Bucky. You weren’t sure if you trusted him not to join you or try to watch and had a feeling he’d make you shower and bathe with him once you moved in.

Bucky, for his part, didn’t come out until there was a knock on the door minutes later. Any trace of his earlier transgression was gone, looking more put together, but there was still tension in the air. You remained silent as he thanked whomever was at the door once he checked the breakfast cart himself and wheeled it to the small table. He even pulled out a chair for you, staring at you with a soft gaze until you went to join him.

“Feel better?” you asked.

“Not really,” he admitted, setting the food out with a frown. “Orgasms take the edge off, but having you close and not having you is difficult.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you uttered.

He sat down and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Why did you invite me in this morning?”

“I told you I was tired,” you said, which you were.

He hummed, taking a bite of his eggs. “You could’ve told me to leave, have Natasha call security, anything, but you didn’t do any of that. You didn’t make me sleep on the sofa either,” he said with a knowing smile. “Admit it, you wanted me in bed with you.”

“I will not admit that,” you said quickly. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

He shrugged. “Maybe you were testing to see if I’d stay true to my word and not force myself on you or maybe you actually missed me more than you want to admit to yourself. Either way, I’m glad you did. Best sleep I can remember in a long time.”

Admitting anything would be admitting defeat and you couldn’t do that to yourself. “It wasn’t even a full night’s sleep,” you pointed out. It was after two in the morning when he showed up.

“Doesn’t matter. I still slept well because I was holding you,” he smiled softly, nodding to your plate. “Please, eat. The food here is really good.”

You poked your food around before you dug in. He said things like that and it fueled your guilt for not giving in or fully accepting your new life. You weren’t going to romanticize anything he did though.

“You said we had some things to talk about,” he said after a minute. “I’m all ears.”

You took a large sip of your coffee first. “Yeah, like Ray following me. It was meant to be a day to myself and you had me followed,” you said, watching for his reaction. As expected, he didn’t look the least bit ashamed. “I don’t expect an apology from you because you’ll harp that it was for my own good, but you can understand my frustration that you didn’t let me know, right?”

That was one of the things that bothered you the most. The half answers and missing pieces and being kept in the dark. How much of it was for your own good and how much was it because he didn’t want you frightened more?

“I did have you followed and my instinct proved to be correct that you needed eyes on you. Also proves that you need to move in as soon as possible,” he said, your heart sinking. Of course he was twisting this to justify himself and get what he wanted. “But I get your frustration. It’s a big change for you, having eyes on you at all times.”

“Because of you.” You ignored the flicker of hurt in his eyes. This was all because he chose you. “Why Ray?”

“He’s good at his job, I trust him, and you seem to trust him,” he replied. You did to an extent. “I’m glad he suggested this place to you since you weren’t exactly interested in spending the rest of your day at home.”

You were glad for that as well. “Well, it was nice resting somewhere that didn’t have cameras or bugs around the place. Natasha was also nice to talk to,” you said. Meeting her didn’t fully ease your stress, but she helped.

Bucky ignored the camera comment. “She can bend the will of many men to do what she wants,” he said. There was respect there, even a hint of fondness. “Unsurprisingly, she’s protective of you, which is good.”

Likely because of whatever she experienced growing up she looked out for others, though you wondered if part of it was because you were Bucky’s girl. “She offered me a place here in case I ever need space or time to myself., I plan to take her up on that offer.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Because you don’t want to be near me.”

Putting your hand on his across the table, he immediately reacted to your touch. It was time to take a lesson from Natasha’s book and sway him. “Because we both need that space and moments to ourselves, just like we both need our friends. And any time apart will only make things more meaningful when we’re back together,” you stressed. Like you were stubborn in accepting your fate, he was stubborn in not wanting separation from you in the slightest. “I already feel like a prisoner of sorts in this relationship, so is it really too much to ask for a bit of a longer leash?”

“I’ll worry when you’re not nearby,” he admitted.

Your heart clenched, but you couldn’t allow that sweetness to manipulate you. “Because of men like Helmut Zemo?” you asked. Bucky gripped his fork tight. “You know, it’s a little convenient that the day you give me to myself is the day he shows up.”

What if it was a ruse for Bucky to not give you more days to yourself?

“I can see why you’d think that. I'd be suspicious if the roles were reversed,” he said, a hardened look crossing his face. “But I don’t want him anywhere near you and wouldn’t set you up that way.”

You were still a little suspicious, but the way Bucky, Ray, and Natasha reacted regarding Zemo told you that none of them had any idea he’d pop up. “Why not?”

“Because he isn’t a good person and shouldn’t have gone near you,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m not a good person either, but he’s something else.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. There was a story there and you needed answers.

“He’s rich, powerful, like me in many ways, but the difference is he once had a wife and kid who were his whole world. Something I’ve longed for and never had.”

You tried not to tense up, but that was where you came in for Bucky. He wanted you to make that dream a reality. “Had?” you asked, noticing he referred to Zemo’s family in the past tense.

Bucky nodded sadly. “A few years ago they were… collateral damage in a deal gone wrong. The loss changed him. He grew colder, more ruthless,” he explained. You were glad you finished eating because you weren’t sure you could stomach a bite after that. “Our work relationship has been shaky ever since then because he blames some of the men I’ve worked with for what happened and I feel like he’s been biding his time and waiting to strike.”

“‘Collateral damage’? It was his wife and child,” you said. Zemo may not have been a good person, but you had no doubt his family was innocent.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound heartless,” he said.

“And what? Him setting his sights on me, is it a game? Is he going to hurt me?” you asked, tears instantly filling your eyes. You were afraid all over again. “Will he try to kill me?” you whispered. Bucky’s associates were loyal to him as far as you knew. If Zemo blamed them in some way, what better way to hurt them than to hurt someone their boss cared about? A loss for a loss.

“No,” he said fiercely, pushing his chair back so fast and hard that it hit the floor. A tear fell when he rushed around, dropping to his knees beside your chair. “I don’t know what his angle is yet, but I’m going to find out and I won’t let him hurt you.”

“How can you guarantee that?” you asked.

“I can’t, but I have to try because I can’t lose you, too,” he whispered, wiping your tears away. “We don’t even have to wait until the end of the month for you to move in. I can have your apartment packed up while you’re out with your friends.”

You pulled away from his touch. “No,” you whispered back. Moving in sooner wouldn't help. “You owe me more answers.”

He let out a breath. “Kotyonok-”

“No!” you snapped, moving back in your chair. “Why are you so obsessed with me? And don’t just tell me that it was the connection of seeing me at the club and realizing we’re two lonely souls meant to be together. There is something there that no one is telling me and I need to know.”

Whether it was for closure or sealing your fate, it would drive you crazy to not know.

Bucky took your hands and pulled you up, a detached look taking over his features as he led you to the sofa. The look frightened you more than his leers or glares. Had you pushed too far?

“I told you my dad was an unfaithful partner to my mom, but he was worse. Much worse,” he began, gently squeezing your hand. “We always had money, more than we knew what to do with, but it was never enough for him. He stole from his partners and was careful to cover his tracks, but he slipped up one day. And when that day came, he shifted the blame to my mom. Convinced them enough that they believed him when everyone knew my mom would never steal a penny.”

Your mouth fell open when he audibly exhaled, a broken sound. “Bucky… I…” You didn’t know what to say.

“They didn’t kill her, but they nearly did. She couldn’t even see me when I showed up because her eyes were so swollen. She was hardly breathing,” he continued in a hurt tone, pulling his hand free of yours to remove the glove from his left hand. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you the night he showed up at your apartment. His hand was made out of some sort of metal. “Lost my arm getting her out of there.”

He held it out so you could touch it. “You lost your arm?” you asked, your fingers grazing the metal ever so gently. You had never seen anything like it.

He shuddered. Could he feel that? “It was worth it for the woman who brought me into this world, raised me, and loved me unconditionally,” he said without regret. “And my dad? He just kept whoring around, and told his associates that she had to learn her lesson the hard way. He couldn't admit the truth.”

Your eyes misted over. How could his dad do that to his mom? To Bucky? “I’m so sorry.”

He blinked rapidly and you wondered if he had tears in his eyes, too. “It took her a long time to recover and she never fully did, but she tried to make the best of it. She still had her spirit, and kept her distance from my dad in our home. Some of my friends even made sure my dad wouldn’t go near her,” he said, smiling wistfully. How could she handle staying there? Was it for her son? “Because she never fully recovered though, I almost lost her again over four years ago.”

“What happened?”

“Before I answer that.” He shifted to face you, awe in his eyes. “Have you ever saved a life?”

“What?” you asked, thrown by the question.

“Have you ever saved anyone?” he asked again.

“No, I’m not a hero. I…” you trailed off before a vivid memory filled your mind. “Actually, I did once.”

“Yeah?” he asked, but he sounded as if he already knew.

“Yeah. There was this older woman walking across the street with a friend or relative one day, I’m not sure,” you said, wincing when he gripped your hand. “Bucky, you-”

“Tell me what happened,” he begged.

“She stopped and put a hand to her head while her friend kept walking. I could tell something was wrong and before I knew it I rushed toward her and grabbed her hand when she started to collapse. I pulled her out of the way just in time before a speeding car hit her,” you explained, remembering it like it was yesterday. Your heart had raced so fast when she crumpled in your arms. “Her friend understandably freaked out and flagged a car down to take her to the hospital. She kept thanking me for saving Winnie, but I was still worried about her.”

“Winnie.” Bucky swallowed hard and loosened the hold on your hand. “That was her name?”

“Yeah.” You gave him a strange look when he inhaled sharply. “I stopped at the hospital to donate flowers like usual and I asked one of the doctors I knew pretty well if anyone named Winnie had checked in. I knew she couldn’t tell me yes or no and I didn’t have any other information to give her, but I did ask if she could make sure she got a vase if she was there.”

“Did you ever see her again?” he asked, his voice thick.

You nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I did. I went back maybe a week later and she spotted me by chance as she was being wheeled to her room. She said I could stop in if I wanted to, so I did,” you smiled softly. “She said my flowers brightened up her room and I asked how she knew they were from me because I never put my name on the cards. She said she just knew. I made sure to bring her flowers the next time I visited.”

A sniffle pulled you from the memory and Bucky looked like he was trying hard not to break down. “You kept visiting her?”

“I did. She didn’t always say much because she was tired some days, but seemed to like it when I read to her. Said her son liked to read to her, too, but I never saw him stop by,” you answered sadly. She was a kind woman and it broke your heart that she didn’t get a lot of visitors. “Then one day, her room was empty. No one could tell me anything. I don’t know if she went home or passed or what happened. It was like she just vanished.’”

“She was brought home before she passed away days later,” Bucky said, his hand shaky as he took his wallet out.

You stared at him. “How do you…” He said he knew you donated specific flowers to the hospital. The same kind of flowers you gave to Winnie. “Bucky, what are you-”

“I lied to you during our first date when I said I wish you could’ve met my mother. You did meet her and she did love you,” he said, showing you a photo in his wallet. It was a younger picture of Bucky. He looked full of life and the woman smiling was the very woman you pulled out of the path of the car. “You just didn’t know it.”

“Winnie…” you whispered, feeling like the wind was knocked out of you. “She was your mom.”

The kind woman you saved by chance was the mother of Bucky Barnes.

“Her full name was Winifred. I only visited her during off hours so it wouldn’t attract any attention. Used a fake last name for her records, too, so no one would know that a Barnes was in the hospital,” he said, tucking his wallet away. “She used to talk about this sweet woman who saved her and brought her flowers, but she couldn’t remember her name. With her mind slipping, it didn’t surprise me and I was too caught up in other things to fully look into it because I knew she was safe and this person didn’t mean any harm.”

Your mouth was agape, trying to process everything when he bitterly laughed. “You…”

“Dad never stopped by, of course. Not that I would’ve let him, the piece of shit.” His metal hand curled as anger flashed across his face. “And this person couldn’t have been like my dad and the cowardly men who thought it was okay to beat up a woman. Men like Alexander Pierce, Brock Rumlow, Jasper Sitwell.”

Those were some of the names Zemo mentioned. “Oh, my god.”

“You know, one of the last things she said to me was that she hoped I found my other half one day. To love her completely, hold her tight, and never let her go,” he said, an odd smile on his face. “I only wish she was alive so she could see us together.”

You gasped. He took those words to heart, twisted them into something dark and possessive. “I-”

“I told you that traditional dating never worked for me,” he cut you off. “Seeing you in my club, it all made sense as to why.”

You couldn't find the words, too lost to speak up if you tried.

“And imagine my surprise when I had my men look into you just to get facial recognition footage of you saving my mom on the street that fateful day. And footage from the hospital with you sitting there talking with her, bringing her happiness without asking for anything in return,” he said, cupping your cheek as you tried to get over the shock. “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you, but that just solidified it more. You saved my mom, and gave me more time with her. That’s something that no one else could ever give me.”

Your lip trembled. You saved his mom’s life, gave him more time with one of the only people he seemed to love and respect. No, that couldn’t be. That couldn’t have been you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I had scared you enough. Would you have listened or believed me if I told you that so soon?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know,” you breathed. You weren’t sure what to think anymore.

“Don’t you see now why I’m so desperate to keep you close? To keep you safe? Had I looked into it then, we could’ve met and been together this whole time,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours. “But it’s okay. Fate stepped in and brought us together now.” He traced your lips with his thumb. “We’re going to make up for all the lost time, and never be lonely again, Kotyonok. That’s a promise.”

Something fell apart inside you and you weren’t sure when you began to openly weep, but he silenced your cries with his lips. Maybe he was crying, too, you couldn’t be sure, but he held you tight against him and didn’t let go. You didn't fight him, couldn't fight him. You were the one who asked for answers after all and you got them, didn’t you?

And knowing what you knew now, walking away from Bucky was never going to be an option. He would never allow it. Fate wouldn't allow it either.

A lot to unpack there, lovelies! Bucky sort of behaved. He believes fate brought you together . What do you think? And what will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[alchemistc]

He's been good. He's been - pretending to be good well enough that no one has been suspicious.

It's just -

That was it. That was The One.

And sure. He can get back out into the world. He can fall in love again. There is a beautiful man somewhere out in the world who will make him laugh, make him cry.

He's just not sure he wants to put the effort in anymore.

For a hot second he'd really thought -

Not that it matters, anymore.

He's pretty sure his leg is pinned. The cockpit is more smoke than air, at this point. He can feel his toes, but honestly that might be more a curse than a blessing.

He's been staring at the phone in his hand for the last five minutes. Ever since he realized he didn't have the leverage to try to move the bracket keeping him from slipping free of the broken, crunched in door frame.

It's selfish. It's the most selfish fucking thing he's considered since he decided to break his own heart instead of letting someone else.

But logistically he's got about seven minutes until there's too much smoke and not enough air in here, and that's only IF the fire doesn't catch somewhere else.

He's got enough bars. And there are two numbers he could call. Two ways this could go.

The phone rings through four times, and on the fifth, someone answers.

"This is a bad time, Tommy," Eddie says, and Tommy feels a little hysterical. The laughter comes in fits, only slows when he gets a nice good whiff of smoke straight up his nose.

"Sure is."

The tone shifts. "Are you okay?"

"It was a bad idea anyway."

He feels woozy. Glances down at his leg and realizes that stain he'd thought was shadow is... definitely blood.

"Listen. I'm - when Evan gets the call, don't let him go alone. It's my fault for not updating my ICE."

The silence on the other line is deafening. "Tommy, where are you? Don't - don't make any decisions you can't come back from." It's a panned line he'd heard at the VA the half dozen times he'd gone.

"Yeah I didn't really make this decision myself. I'm just - I'm losing a lot of blood, here, and there's not a lot of ways for the smoke to get out of this cabin, and -."

High alert has a very specific sound and feel to it.

Eddie's cursing, something is shuffling, he's snapping his fingers in the distance. God, they're probably at work. "Where are you?"

Tommy rattles off his last known coordinates. "I already told dispatch, Eddie. I'm just. They're not gonna make it in time, and I need you to promise me you won't let him be alone when -."

It'd been a trip he would have been riding shotgun for, if Tommy hadn't made sure he wasn't. He's grateful for that, at least.

He's really not expecting much, he thinks. Eddie doesn't have to go far out of his way to support Buck. It'll hurt him, true. But Tommy's gotten pretty used to being the cause of that. And. He'll be dead, anyway, so he won't have to carry that guilt for long.

And then Eddie betrays whatever vestige of friendship they had left, because it's not Eddie's voice that responds.

"Hey asshole. Do you have enough leverage to break the window?"

He's got a good voice. A little gruff, a little heavy.

Tommy doesn't want this.

"No."

"Actually no, or are you just accepting your fate again without even talking about alternatives."

It's not how he thought he'd go. Dramatic final hour phone call, the end of their relationship as a metaphor for the bleakness of his situation. "I'm sorry, Buck."

He's having trouble focusing his eyes. There's a beat behind his ears that keeps slowing down. He thinks he might be hearing sirens but -

"Evan," Tommy says for the first time in six months. "I'm so sorry, Evan."

He says - something. The tone of it is there, even if he can't quite make out the words.

Tommy blinks. Coughs.

There's a phone in his hands.

Why is there a phone in his hands, he's supposed to be flying a -

He'd crashed it, actually.

Well shit.

Damn.

Eddie's gonna be so pissed if he has to find out second hand that Buck's going to get a really fucking shitty call in a few hours.

He should call.

---

When he blinks open his eyes, he finds his fingers first, nearly has a panic attack when they don't move they way he wants them to, except - oh.

There are fingers interlocked with his.

Tommy follows the line of the arm, even though he knows.

"Sorry," Evan says, and there are tears unshed at the corners of his eyes but he looks mad as hell. "You only get one dramatic exit out of my life in a calendar year."

[rosyhoneydew]

A quick love letter to my Bucktommy family in the form of a fix-it <3

Bucktommy | fix-it | Teen | 1141 words | warnings: this is angsty at the start and tiptoes toward addressing biphobia so please care for yourself and don't read if that will exacerbate your hurt.

They're three beers deep when the doorbell rings again.

It's been a fucking night. He hadn't really had much to say to Eddie when he got there, thankfully he hadn't had to, especially considering Eddie was clearly in the midst of his own kind of night. It feels better, not being alone, at least. But the alcohol mixes with his head and twists the moment in his apartment further. How come every time I want to move forward I get pushed back?

He's not even paying attention when Eddie goes up to get the door, just fiddles with the bottle in his hand more, peeling the label into tiny pieces and laying them on Eddie's coffee table for him to pick up later.

"Shit-" Eddie stumbles as he makes his way. And then Buck can feel a little breeze as he goes to tell whoever it is that this isn't a good time.

"Oh thank god-" Buck freezes, determined not to turn around. "I wasn't sure you'd be home but I think I fucked up."

That's Tommy.

"I panicked a little. Evan asked me to move in and I think I freaked out."

"Uhh-" Eddie adds.

"We just got done talking about my ex who I had to end an engagement with and it just- it felt like he was trying to make up for his own freak out about it and-" Buck hears him take a deep breath, "I didn't want to force him into doing something he didn't really want to do, you know? He- he should get to make sure that's what he really wants." He takes another breath. "Are you not wearing pants?"

"Umm-"

Buck's heart rate had steadily ramped up hearing Tommy speak, but it's when he stops that Buck feels tears prickle at his eyes. He whips around then, still nestled into Eddie's couch, betrayal in his voice when he speaks.

"I did!" and shit. He didn't really mean to shout that.

"I'm gonna..." Eddie trails off as he heads into his bedroom.

"Why do you think I didn't make sure that's what I wanted?" he demands. He hadn't thought he'd be so angry, but this felt like something to him, and Tommy's running. Again. "Because that girl hit on me at the restaurant?"

Tommy looks shell-shocked. Like he's still grasping the fact that Buck is here, so Buck just keeps talking.

"Or because I haven't dated a man before? So I must not know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Buck-"

"Don't call me that."

"Evan," Tommy steps a little closer, and Buck leans toward the cushions, petty, but feeling raw still. "That is not why."

Buck levels him with a look.

"Okay, what you said is fair enough," he relents. "I didn't mean to make it seem like you couldn't make your own decisions about this."

"What did you mean?"

Tommy looks away for a moment, a flicker of pain on his face.

"I meant... what I said," he lands on. "You would break my heart, Evan."

"You don't know that." The tears finally crest over his lower lids and make their way to his mouth. "You can't just give up every time you're scared that I'm going to leave you, Tommy. It's not fair, you're not even giving me the chance to stay."

Tommy's lip wobbles a little now too, but he stays and listens.

"I wanted to stay, I wanted you to stay. With me. Permanently. Why would you think I would leave you?"

He cries now, and Buck hasn't ever seen him cry.

"I don't know," he gets out, choked and soft. "I see you, sometimes. With the 118 and everyone's families and I... I don't feel like I fit, Evan. I don't get how I fit into that."

"You fit into it because you're my boyfriend. My partner."

"I am?" he asks, treading closer ever slightly to the couch.

This time Buck leans his way. He sets his bottle down and looks down at his hands.

"Did you mean what you told Eddie? You fucked up? Because I fucked up, once, at the beginning of us, and you gave me that second chance and I'm so glad you did, Tommy, because these last few months have been better than I could've hoped. I don't want to let that go because of this so... yeah you can be, if you want."

Tommy rushes to the couch, he sits as close as he can get and grabs Buck's hands firmly. Warm and sure.

"I want that. I want us again. Please."

"You can have it," Buck whispers, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. He squeezes Tommy's hands. "Just don't leave again, please."

"I won't, I won't."

Then there's a kiss at the crown of his head, and Tommy's other hand rubs soft circles over his back. He murmurs sweet nothings in Buck's ear all the while.

I'm sorry. I'm glad you were here. I missed you as soon as I walked out the door. I'm staying. I'm staying. I'm staying.

They sit like that for a while until a throat clearing from the hallway has them both lifting their heads to find Eddie, fully-clothed.

"What were you guys doing before I got here, by the way?" Tommy asks, humor back in his voice.

"Well, I was drinking my sorrows away. I don't know what Tom Cruise was doing."

"Ha ha," Eddie says, making his way to the couch, no qualms about forcing them to scooch over to make room. "We can talk about my shit tomorrow. You guys worked it out I guess?"

Buck looks up at Tommy, smiles, and kisses him with a loud peck just to make Eddie huff and roll his eyes.

"Yeah," Tommy says, looking at ease. "Although..." he starts.

Buck turns to him, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know that moving into your place is going to work," Tommy admits.

Buck sits up a little, mouth just opening to speak when Tommy cuts him off.

"I want to live with you, Evan, but your place is barely big enough for one person, so maybe we can workshop location, yeah?" he smiles a crinkly smile, the kind that always lets Buck know he's feeling fond, feeling secure.

It's Buck's turn to huff now. "It gets good light," he grumbles.

Tommy kisses his temple again, Buck gets the distinct feeling that he will be getting kissed quite a bit in the near future, and he chances a quick look at Eddie to see if they're being annoying.

Instead, he sees Eddie smiling too, he's looking on like he's proud and it makes Buck want to tear up again. Eddie gives him a nod and Buck nods back.

A weight lifts off his shoulders then. In the arms of the man he's growing to love and accepted by his family.

~~~~

I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who read, commented, shared my fics, sent me nice messages about my writing for these two, and to everyone who created content for them while they were canon. I'm thankful for every minute of it :)

[mira-says]

Snooping Shadowsinger

Read on AO3

Summary: Azriel finds a solstice gift in your closet. He wants to open it.

Warnings: Fluff, anxiety, mild smut at the end

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's note: Let's pretend this came out before Christmas, okay? Okay, enjoy ❤️

💙🌲💙🌲💙🌲💙🌲💙

Azriel shuffled through the items in his drawer, searching by feel more by sight. He was running late, the warmth and softness of your body had kept him in bed later than usual. He recently discovered a new aversion to the cold skies of Velaris, or the cold anywhere. Not only for himself, but for you. He wanted you to feel warmth when he arrived back at the house after a long day to wrap you in his arms, and he honestly would prefer to just not leave you at all.

Spring could not arrive quickly enough. But first, Azriel would celebrate his first solstice with his mate. It was a week away, and he knew you were excited. He would keep his complaints on the weather to himself.

Sighing, Azriel closed his drawer and turned toward the closet. "Y/N," he called as he opened the door to the sizable space filled with a generous mix of both of your clothes. "Did you put my sheath somewhere?"

"Your... shit?" You called from the bathroom, the sound of water muffling your voice.

"No, love, my sheath," Azriel emphasized. "For my dagger? The one that goes over my ribs."

"Oh, no, you know I don't touch your daggers."

"I know, I-" Azriel crouched on the floor and spotted the dark leather mixed with the rest of his clothes from the day before. He'd been changing into a sleep shirt last night when you'd slipped into the closet behind him and, well, neither of you made it to bed with any clothes. "Found it."

You said something in reply, but Azriel didn't hear, his eye catching on a bit of silver paper deep in a corner of the closet. Pushing a pair of boots to the side, he discovered a small box wrapped up with an elegant bow. He blinked. A solstice gift.

The water turned off in the bathroom and Azriel quickly pushed the boots back to where they had been mostly hiding the gift from view. He picked up his sheath and the rest of his discarded clothes before exiting the closet. 

As he closed the door, you appeared in the bedroom, hair still wet and wrapped in a fuzzy towel. Azriel's heart jumped. You had been mated less than a year, and he wondered how long it would be before he could he could see you and not want to immediately pull you closer.

His desire must have been obvious on his face because you stepped towards him with a mischievous grin and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"You're going to be late," you murmured, stepping back.

Azriel reached out to grab your hips before you got out of reach. He tugged you back towards his chest, and pressed his lips to the top of your head. "I'm already late, what's a few more minutes?"

You chuckled and pulled away, but not before giving Azriel a deep kiss that set the bond humming in both your chests.

"You'll make me late, my love, and you know I can't be late today."

You were right. Rhys had told you at dinner last night that the deal with the Spring Court would go through after all. A solstice miracle, you'd called it. You had to be there to make sure the signing went smoothly.

"When do you think you'll be back?" Azriel asked.

"Around midnight, probably. Don't wait up for me, okay?"

"I won't," Azriel lied. He'd always wait up for you. Your eye roll said you knew it, too.

A few minutes later, you had winnowed off to the Spring Court and Azriel had finally trudged up to the roof of the House to train with Cassian and the Valkyries. But he found he couldn't focus, his mind kept drifting to the box he found on the floor of the closet. The solstice gift. 

Was it for him? Surely you hadn't been so careless as to leave his gift so poorly hidden. But then, it was your first solstice together, maybe no one had told you yet about his inescapable habit of peeking and prying. He was sure that he told you to give your gifts to Rhysand for safekeeping. Maybe you hadn't had a chance yet? Maybe you'd--

Azriel was startled from his thoughts as his back hit the dirt.

"Awake now?" Emerie's voice sounded above him. She was crouched by his side, an annoyed look on her face. "Aren't you the one always going on about keeping focused, even while sparring?"

Azriel huffed and to rose smoothly to his feet. "I also tell you to finish your fights. Don't let your opponent get back up."

"Who said I was letting you get back up?"

Azriel tried to brace his legs into a more study position, but there wasn't time as he felt another sharp kick to the back of his knees, sending him back to the dirt. He turned to see Nesta, meeting her too-satsified smirk with a glare.

"Leave the poor male alone, his mate had to leave town this morning." Cassian called over to them, unable to stifle his laugh.

Azriel bit his tongue. That wasn't an excuse he'd accept from any of Valkyries, and it certainly wouldn't be one he'd accept from himself. He stood back up, dusted himself off, and mumbled an apology to Emerie for being distracted.

He kept his footing for the rest of the session, but it wasn't easy. You'd left a gift in their closet. He needed to know more.

Cassian followed him down the stairs after training. "Are you okay? You know Y/N will only be gone a few more hours, and Rhys is with her. They'll be fine."

"I know, it's not that." Azriel knew you could take care of yourself even without Rhys.

Cassian put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Then what is it?"

Azriel sighed. Maybe he was being ridiculous. Maybe Cassian could help him make sense of it.

"I found a solstice gift in our closet this morning."

"From Y/N?"

Azriel nodded.

"For you?"

"I'm not sure," Azriel admitted. "Why would she just leave it there for me to see?"

"Are you sure she meant for you to see it?"

"Well, I mean, it was hidden, but not very well." Azriel sighed.

"Brother, nothing is hidden 'well' from you. Maybe she didn't think you'd notice."

Azriel hummed uncomfortably. "What if... What if she did want me to notice? What if it's like a test or something to see if I would open it?"

Cassian laughed. "Well, are you going to open it?"

Azriel didnt answer. Cassian laughed harder. "Please tell me you're not actually going to open your solstice present from your mate a week before solstice!"

"I could redo the wrapping. She'd never know."

"She'll smell you on it!"

"It's in our closet, it will already smell like me." Azriel narrowed his brow thoughtfully. "But I guess I could have my shadows open it, and they could see what it was. That way I wouldn't really be looking."

Cassian's laughter died. "Azriel, you can't be fucking serious."

Azriel began to pace. "It's our first solstice, Cass. I just want it to go well."

"And you think snooping in your gifts will make it go well?"

"I... I don't care about the gift, but you know I don't like surprises. What if I don't react the right way and she gets upset? Or what if she's spent too much gold on it? Or not enough? Gods, it's not like I'd expect something expensive. But what if I spent too much on her gift in comparison and she feels bad?"

"Az-"

"Fuck, I did spend a lot of gold on her gift. Maybe--it's just--why would she leave it there in our closet?"

A shadow curled around his ear, whispering your arrival a heartbeat too late. Azriel turned and his heart dropped as you stood at the balcony with Rhysand, a mixture of guilt and amusement crossing your face.

"Surprise, we're back early," Rhys said dryly. "We thought Tamlin would want to make signing the deal more of an event, but apparently not."

"You were the one who wanted to make it more of an event," You accused. "Now get out, I need to scold my mate."

Rhys shot Azriel an apologetic look before taking back to the skies, Cassian following close behind. You chose to ignoring his muttering of "stupid, stubborn bat" as he he passed.

When they were out of earshot, you cocked your head at Azriel.

He sighed. "I guess you heard all that?"

You didn't say anything, just started up the stairs and gestured at him to follow.

In your room, you went straight for the closet. Azriel stood by the bed, feeling a wave of guilt as you reappeared with the gift in your hands.

"Y/N, I'm -"

"Read it." You held the gift up to his face, your fingers holding away the bow that he could now see had been covering the gift tag.

To Rhysand, From Y/N

"Oh." Azriel said lamely. Well, that explained why you hadn't given it to Rhys. You put the gift back in the closet, and he found he couldn't look you in the eye when you returned.

You pushed him lightly to sit on the bed and crawled onto his lap, tilting his face back and forcing him to meet your eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

You felt his anxiety through the bond. "Love, I'm not actually mad at you."

"But I said-"

"I know what you said. It's not a big deal, I promise. You found a solstice gift, and you were curious. Honestly, even if you'd opened it I wouldn't have been mad, but I guess I'd have to get another glitter explosion spell."

Azriel choked on his laugh. "You're getting Rhys a present that explodes glitter for solstice?"

"Yes," you said seriously. "He'll finally have something real to pick off his clothes."

Azriel couldn't help the grin forming as he thought of Rhys covered in glitter. He looked back to your eyes. Soft, warm, and light with love.

"I am sorry, really," Azriel began again. "I don't want you to think that I don't trust you or anything, I'm just... Nervous."

He cringed internally at his own words but you just nodded.

"I know," you murmured, running you hand soothingly down his cheek. "I know you, love. And Cassian warned me about your snooping before your birthday this summer."

Azriel felt a blush rise to his face. You smiled and kissed his slightly pink cheek.

"Also, I got you a very nice present," you teased. "It is appropriately expensive, I promise. And you can act like you hate it for all I care because I know you will still be with me no matter what."

"I will," Azriel promised.

"And I will be with you. You're stuck with me, my sweet, snooping Shadowsinger."

Azriel felt the last of his anxiety fade as he pressed his lips to yours. He rolled you onto the bed pressing you to the mattress as he kissed you harder.

"Maybe I can give you one of your solstice gifts right now," he said, kissing down your body, removing your clothes as he went.

"I don't think it counts as a solstice gift if you give it to me everyday anyway." 

"Smart ass." He shook his head at you before removing your undergarments and dipping down to lick at your core.

With your taste on his tongue, and your sweet moans reaching his ears, he knew you would be the best solstice gift he'd ever have.

💙🌲💙🌲💙🌲💙🌲💙

Thank you for reading, let me know what you think! ❤️❤️

[illbegottenfaith]

walking away with your kiss on my cheek...

your relationship with theo starts to sour as you begin to suspect him of keeping secrets from you (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - first part of a two-shot I've written! Ngl this thing has gone through wayyy too many drafts and revisions so it’s barely an u healthy relationship, more like unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I have a couple of slightly more intense takes on the trope lined up as well :)

tropes/warnings - mildly (veryyy mildly) toxic/unhealthy relationship descriptions, established relationship, mentions of infidelity, miscommunication, angst

word count - 1.9k

When it came to love languages, Theodore Nott’s was distance. Many of his past relationships had failed once he'd deemed them too suffocating. Nobody had suited him quite like you did. The two of you had somehow stumbled into a mutual understanding of what you wanted out of a relationship. Some considered what you shared too casual to be considered a relationship. You had your separate schedules and commitments, and in your downtime, you kept one another company.

But it worked for the two of you. The best relationships are built between people on the same page, and your perfectly aligned perspectives made the little time you spent together that much sweeter. In fact, things had been going along swimmingly until Katherine entered the picture.

She, or at least the idea of her, entered your life one foggy morning. You were dead on your feet. The aconite you had been tending to as part of your Herbology project demanded your every waking moment outside of your classes. You were just about to fall asleep into your soft-looking, pillowy scrambled eggs when Ivy half-yelled into your ear, as she was prone to doing.

"Didn't know Theo got a new girlfriend!"

Your head snapped up and you groaned. Okay, maybe she wasn't yelling as much as everything sounded ten times louder with that throbbing behind your right temple. You blinked blearily at your friend.

"Huh?"

"Someone's been spending an awful lot of time with Katherine."

It took you a moment to register that you had no idea who Ivy was talking about.

"Katherine Sawyer," she repeated. "Theo's been getting pretty cosy with her, hasn't he?"

Something must have shown on your face, because she immediately dropped the suggestive lilt to her voice.

"I mean - I'm only kidding. It's just that I saw them in the library again last night for, like, the third time this week. I thought you knew." She peered closer at your dark eye bags. "Damn. Are you getting any sleep?"

You shook yourself out of the shock and gave a small smile. "Of course I knew," you lied. If being with Theo had taught you anything, it was how to lie convincingly. "I'm exhausted, that's all."

"Yeah, you look it," Ivy agreed sympathetically. "But really, I was kidding. It's not like he'd do anything. Not Theo."

"Right." You smoothly changed the subject. "So how's your project coming along?"

Still, it bothered you for the rest of the day. Why hadn't he told you about Katherine? He knew you weren't the jealous type, especially when it came to perfectly innocent interactions with the opposite sex. Unless there was a reason for him to keep it from you. You had thought that neither of you was the type to keep secrets from the other, but maybe you had thought wrong. And if he hadn't told you about Katherine, well, what else was he not telling you about?

You dismissed the thought. You were too sleep-deprived for this. It just wasn't like him. Theo would never pursue another girl, not while he already had one on his arm.

Right?

These thoughts were still circulating in your head when you found him reading in the Slytherin common room that evening. You approached him as you always did, but something about what Ivy had said that morning made you hesitate. He didn't look up from his well-worn copy of The Divine Comedy in the original Italian until he felt you sink into the couch beside him. He gave you a strange look before pulling you into his lap, nestling his head in the crook of your neck, the way the two of you usually curled up together when one of you was reading.

"Don't be going shy on me now," he teased lightly. You shushed him, tapping the paperback. As you settled your head on his shoulder, he glanced at your face. "You look tired," he noted quietly. You pulled a face.

"Who knew aconite could be such a bitch?"

Theo turned the page. "I knew. I'd say I told you so, but - ow."

You had sharply tugged at the short hairs at the nape of his neck as a warning. You laughed softly as you ran a soothing thumb over the mildly irritated skin, kissing it better. It was moments like these that made it difficult to harbor any sort of suspicion or resentment towards your boyfriend. As moody and mysterious as he liked to come off, to you he was an open book.

But he still hadn't told you about Katherine.

A few weeks later, Theo and a few others were about to leave for a two-week cultural exchange trip to Durmstrang's. Ivy had dragged you down to the Great Hall where everyone was saying their goodbyes, before disappearing into the crowd in search of Ivan.

Somewhat reluctantly, you walked up to your own boyfriend. Between his trip preparations and your Herbology project, the two of you hadn’t had a minute together for the past week and a half, a new record, even for a relationship as casual as yours.

“Got everything?”

Theo nodded. In his soft, fitted navy blue sweatshirt pushed halfway up his forearms, he looked effortlessly put together. You weren’t scruffy yourself, either. That was why you had any kind of relationship at all, wasn’t it? The two of you made an attractive couple, at least when you acted like one.

You looked over at Ivy, whose boyfriend was humoring a much sappier farewell than yours and Theo's. Scratch that, Ivan lived for Ivy's oddities and eccentricities. Right now, Ivy was kicking a fuss over a fortnight being simply too long of a time to be apart while Ivan promised to call every single night. Occasionally, you had wondered what it would feel like to be in a relationship like theirs, where two weeks apart would be nothing short of agony rather than routine.

As you turned back, you noticed Theo had been following your gaze. He cleared his throat delicately.

"So...two weeks."

"Mhm." You weren't the type of couple to explicitly express affection, especially of the vulnerable kind. You'd miss him, of course, even if you didn't say it. Would he miss you? You shook your head internally. No, you decided, you wouldn't ask. You'd only seem clingy and that wasn't the kind of couple you were. "Be good, have fun."

He adjusted the strap of his duffle bag. You fixed the collar of his jacket. You wondered if he'd tell you about Katherine before he left. From somewhere else in the Great Hall, one of his friends called him over. He pressed a final chaste kiss to your cheek. You watched him walk away with a hollow sort of feeling in your stomach. Merlin forbid you express any kind of attachment to your boyfriend.

He glanced back at you one last time, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, and just like that, he was gone.

Gone.

He didn't say a word about Katherine.

As the two weeks crawled by achingly slow, you tried to convince yourself that you didn't feel the lack of Theo. You had gone longer without talking to him. Hell, before you started dating, you'd only occasionally meet through mutual friends.

But you had never spent time apart feeling this acrid bitterness towards him.

Unbeknownst to you, your friends had picked up on your frutration, especially in the way you had thrown yourself into your work with renewed vigour, doing your best to keep conversations from straying to topics related to Theo.

"I'm going to the owlery to check for letters from Ivan," Ivy was saying one evening, pulling a woollen hat onto her head. "Wanna come with?"

You barely spared her a glance, writing carefully. "Can't. I have this essay to finish."

Ivy deflated visibly. "Don't you want to see if you have anything from Theo?”

You shrugged. You couldn’t be disappointed if you didn’t expect anything.

“Have you heard from him at all?” Ivy pressed.

You gave her a warning look. “Ivy. Stay out of it.”

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t you call him? I'm sure he misses you."

You laughed derisively, nearly stabbing a hole in the parchment. You might have done that any other time, but you were too mad about his imaginary affair with Katherine.

“Miss me? Theo doesn’t miss me.”

“How can you be so sure? You don’t know what he’s-“

“Because if he missed me,” you finally snapped, "he’d call. Or send me an owl. But he hasn't, alright? He hasn't called and I haven't gone to the owlery because no one's missing anybody. He's doing perfectly fine without me, just as I'm doing perfectly fine without him."

No one's missing anybody.

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You stubbornly watched Ivy turn blurrier and blurrier as you failed to blink them back. Your gaze landed on your essay, and the spots where your tears had caused the ink to run. Your essay was ruined.

You pressed a trembling hand to your eyes as you finally caved in, a pair of warm, comforting hands almost immediately coming to rest on your shaking shoulders. As miserable as you had been, you hadn't acknowledged the pain, let alone how it was eating away at you. Once you started crying, it was as though you didn't know how to stop.

“Why won’t he call, Ivy?” you choked out. "Doesn't he think about me?"

"Of course he does," Ivy soothed. "He's probably just insanely busy."

You sniffled. "How busy can a person be? One phone call, one letter, anything - is that really too much to ask?"

Ivy hesitated. The silence stretched out between you like the confirmation of a truth neither of you wanted to admit. She said it anyway.

“Maybe he thinks you don’t need that from him."

You laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Well, he got that part right.”

You sounded ridiculous even to your own ears. It was a testament to your friendship that Ivy didn’t try to argue with you. She gave your shoulder one last squeeze before standing, her footsteps soft as she made her way to the door. “I’m going to the owlery,” she said, lingering for a moment. “If there’s anything for you -"

"- burn it."

" - I’ll bring it back.”

You focused on the ruined essay in front of you. Messy smudges had formed where your tears had fallen. It was beyond repair, much like the knot in your chest that no amount of rationalising seemed to untangle.

As the door closed behind Ivy, an unbearable silence descended upon your dorm. You pressed your hands against your temples, willing yourself to stop thinking about him, about how easy it seemed for Theo to carry on without you. Maybe that was the worst part—the inescapable realisation that you weren’t half as essential to him as he was to you.

You stared at the blurred words on the parchment, feeling the ache settle deeper into your chest. There was no scintillating revelation, no blinding eureka moment. Just the quiet, gnawing thought that maybe this was all you’d ever be to him—an afterthought.

And maybe, you thought bitterly, crumpling your essay, you deserved it for letting yourself believe otherwise.

Part 2