#in your summary you are absolutely not ready to write a fic that deals with it

[wander-wren]

so funny going to a new fandom with a wildly different cultures like. what are you guys doing. can you be normal please

[entishramblings]

Haunting Me

[Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: I have been struggling to write (like usual), so I figured I would whip out a no pressure Legolas fic. ANYWAYS, I strangely loved writing this!!! Thanks for the request XOXO

Request: @goose-gremlin — “Could you maybe do a Legolas x Reader on their period?”

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is a member of Greenwood's Guard and is struggling with menstrual/period pain. Legolas takes care of her.

Disclaimer: I don't know elvish. I use the gracious elvish dictionary. Sue me lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: blood, menstruation/period, pain, PMS, slight nakedness (not anything spicy you filthy fools), fluff, sweet precious elf boy

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

(Y/N)’s nose twitched, the pungent, musty scent of the incoming vile beasts invaded the fresh earthy tones of the Greenwood forest. Her keen ears picked up on subtle scurrying, the sound carried by the drift of the soft wind. Her jaw clenched and her fingers adjusted the grasp of her sword as she felt the aura of the trees shift—a surge of adrenaline fueling her anxiety, worsening the pain in her abdomen. Briefly locking eyes with the other elves in her sector, spread among the trees alert and ready, she knew their moment of action was imminent.

(Y/N) summoned the little energy she had through a deep inhale, praying to the Valar that these spiders wouldn't be in such a frenzied state. Because, if so, fuck that. For at the present moment in time, she really didn't have the capacity to deal with that absolute, motherfucking horseshit.

Because, truly, getting killed due to slowness from fatigue and cramps from one’s bloodmoon cycle would be rather unfortunate and deeply regrettable. However, facing expulsion from the guard and losing her reputation as one of the hand-picked defenders of the royal line because of it would be even worse.

(Y/N)’s gaze narrowed as Prince Legolas, leader of the Greenwood Guard, raised a closed fist.

Nêl (Three).

Tâd (Two).

Mîn (One).

He opened his palm, signaling the command: Kill them. Kill them all.

With a firm thud, (Y/N)'s boots landed on the soft soil as she sprung from the trees. She was quick with her blade, hunting the spiders as if they were meaningless prey. Her weapon was an extension of her form. Every movement was fluid and graceful, a testament to her mastery of combat. Despite her pain, she spun and twisted with ease, severing the arachnids' limbs effortlessly.

As she fought, she made sure to keep an eye on the Prince, knowing that if anything were to happen to Legolas under her watch, the king would surely banish her. Besides, she harbored no desire for him to meet his demise. She found him rather…admirable. Nothing more than that—of course not.

As (Y/N) advanced upon one of the vile beasts, her senses tingled with warning. Abruptly, she halted in her tracks, narrowly dodging an arrow that whizzed past her stomach. Her eyes narrowed as she wiped her head to see just who fired that arrow. A scoff escaped her lips as she locked eyes with him: Rekón.

When the battle came to an end, (Y/N) strutted towards Rekón, who was wiping the edge of his blade upon his thigh.

“What the hell was that out there?!” She snapped at him.

“What is it you speak of?”

“You nearly put an arrow in me!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps, you should have been faster, Shadowfoot.”

She scoffed at Greenwood’s nickname for her. “You're lucky I am fast. I can assume you don’t want elven blood on your hands—especially my blood.

He sheathed his blade and crossed his arms. “Don’t exaggerate, (Y/N). It’s unbecoming. Besides,” he leaned in and his voice lowered, taking on a snarky tone, “I don't care if you're handpicked by the King to be the Prince’s shadow, you're a pain in the ass.”

“Really, Otuuk Fe`Saign (warg kisser)?! I could have you and your ass in the mud faster than you could say—”

The rather tense interaction was interrupted by Legolas clearing his throat beside the pair. “What is going on over here?” he demanded.

(Y/N) huffed, not taking her eyes off the man before her. “Rekón here nearly redecorated my abdomen with a fucking arrow!”

The Prince sighed. “You know we can’t always calculate every motion on the battlefield, (Y/N). I am sure Rekón meant no harm.” He paused, turning his attention to the ellon. “Rekón, in the future, mind your arrows.”

“That’s the reprimand he gets?! Are you fu—“

Legolas looked at the elleth. “Watch your language, Shadowfoot. I expect this attitude to be gone by the time we enter my father’s halls.”

With that, Legolas walked away, calling out orders to burn the spider carcasses and move out.

As he disappeared into the mess of elves, (Y/N)’s brows pulled downward in a grumpy frown. “Princeling Ass,” she murmured to herself.

Unbeknownst to her, as she turned away, Legolas' gaze followed her, seeking out her form and lingering as she walked away.

….

The sun had not yet risen when the Prince’s sector of the Greenwood Guard arrived back in the Palace. The warriors dispersed into the armory, diligently stowing their weapons and armor in their designated places. (Y/N), however, did no such thing. Instead, with a persistent scowl etched on her face, she marched through the room and passed through the arched exit of the armory—presumably heading towards her chambers. Legolas's gaze tracked her suspiciously as she departed.

As the day progressed, the members of the Prince’s sector resumed their usual routines. Because it was their first day back from patrol, they were exempt from basic guard duties and standard positions. Instead, they utilized the early hours of the morning to bathe and rejuvenate themselves before gathering in the dining hall for breakfast. The remainder of the day was theirs to unwind and compile their patrol reports—the King sought to stay informed about all occurrences and perspectives during patrols, for a darkness seemed to be spreading among his trees.

At supper, Legolas moved among the tables in the dining hall, gathering last-minute reports from the warriors in his sector. As he did so, he scanned the long wooden benches, searching for the scowling gaze that had accompanied the last couple of days of patrol; however, there was no such gaze and no such person that it belonged to. Simply put, there was no sign of (Y/N).

She had missed all three meals and had failed to submit her patrol report.

Legolas cleared his throat before he addressed the elves from whom he was collecting papers. “Have you seen Shadowfoot? I need her report,” he inquired.

They shook their heads, more interested in their food than one missing shadow.

Legolas sighed, but refrained from pressing further. If anyone knew her whereabouts, they would have mentioned it.

Therefore, he made his way to her quarters.

When he arrived, he knocked softly on the door, but was met with silence.

"(Y/N)," he called out, his voice carrying through the wooden barrier.

Still, there was no response.

After a moment’s hesitation, Legolas reached for the door knob and twisted it slowly. The wood swung open quietly under his touch, exposing the darkness of the room beyond. Moonlight filtered in through the opened window, casting shadows that danced across the floor, the curtains billowing gently in the cold night air.

Legolas carefully stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him. As he took in his surroundings further, surprise crossed his features. He didn't know what he had been expecting since he hadn't been in (Y/N)’s quarters, but it most certainly was not this.

The room was a complete mess. Clothing lay strewn about, along with various trinkets—small hand-carved boxes, beautiful natural rocks, and melted candles absent of flame. Several stacks of books were piled beside the bed, a few of them open and their pages still. Her weapons were scattered haphazardly, some resting on the floor, others on the table or atop the dresser. Legolas even noticed a few knives embedded into the wooden door—a sight that would surely displease Ada.

It was chaotic but calm in a sort of strange way. Typical for (Y/N), he supposed.

The Prince moved to walk further into the room, but was quickly halted against his will. His foot had gotten caught and, if it wasn't for his swift reflexes, he would have face-planted upon the stone flooring.

Legolas sucked in a sharp breath as he stabilized his form. Glancing down, he discovered the culprit—a crumpled tunic tangled around his boot, its fabric caught between the lacings.

He immediately sighed in dismay.

The blond-haired Prince reached down to untangle the stubborn garment. It proved to be a more challenging task than he had anticipated, requiring a few moments of quiet curses and annoyed grunts before he managed to free himself. Carefully, he folded the fabric and placed it upon a nearby chair.

Cautiously, he advanced to the large bed. At first, he could not spot the warrior within, given that the fluffy comforter and mountain of pillows were blocking his view. However, when he pulled back the blankets slightly, sure enough, she was buried deep within. The pillows were arranged around her like a protective nest and she was laying on her side. Her hair was splattered across the cushioned fabric and her expression was…one of pain. Her brows were pulled tight, her nose crinkled, and lips slightly parted.

At this, Legolas frowned, for he was now troubled deeply.

Diligently, the Prince reached out to brush some hair from her face, but just as his fingers made contact with her cheek, his action was interrupted.

(Y/N) suddenly sat up, a knife in hand. With wild eyes, she tried to slam it into his carotid artery.

He reacted quickly, Legolas intercepted her arm, preventing the blade from reaching its target. For a moment, they both froze in that tense position, the gravity of the situation sinking in as they processed what was happening.

(Y/N) was breathing quickly and she appeared very disheveled and confused. It seemed to take her a moment longer to grasp the situation fully.

"Jukkete (fuck)," she breathed out, trying to catch her breath before snapping at him. "Legolas, I almost killed you!"

The Prince still held her wrist. “(Y/N),” he began, “Are you alright?”

She huffed. "You know better than to sneak up on me like that, Princeling!" With a sharp twist, she pulled away from his grasp and settled back into the blankets. “What are you doing here?”

He raised his brows. “Princeling?” he questioned, a hint of amusement in his tone.

(Y/N) only grunted in response.

He sighed. “No one has seen you all day and—“ his sentence abruptly halted as he noticed a red stain upon the comforter. “(Y/N), you are bleeding!” He exclaimed. Without hesitation, he grasped at the blankets, in an attempt to detangle her form from them, as he continued his babbling of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured on patrol?!”

“Legolas,” she interrupted, her voice firm.

“Is it from Rekón’s arrow?! I thought you said he ‘nearly’ hit you?”

“Legolas,” she tried again.

He yanked the blanket further.” Because I swear to the Valar if it was from him, I will—“

“Legolas! Stop!” She snapped, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not injured.”

His jaw clenched in frustration. “(Y/N), I have been a warrior for all my life, I know the site of blood. That is blood. You cannot lie to me. I am your sector leader, your Prince—“

“Legolas! It’s my bloodmoon cycle!” she interrupted, sitting up to glare at him once more.

An awkward silence settled into the dark room.

“You are in pain,” he stated.

“I’m fine.”

His brows raised again. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you're a princeling ass,” she retorted.

“No. Because for the last three days of patrol, your demeanor has been notably irritable, as you are now. You've been favoring your left side, your jaw has remained tightly clenched, and your skin a shade too pale. Not to mention, you've consistently had your hand on your hip, I'm assuming in an attempt to try and alleviate discomfort, and you even vomited behind a tree on two occasions. And, here you are, Shadowfoot, in bed, sleeping the day away in dirty clothes and not caring that you lay in blood.” He paused before finalizing his evidence. “You are in pain.”

“You have been spying on me?! I am supposed to be your shadow.”

“I have been keeping an eye on you,” he clarified.

“Why?!”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because you are a member of my sector. You are my responsibility.”

“You are my responsibility,” she corrected.

He released hot air from his nose. “I am required to keep an eye on all of my warriors, whether they were hand-picked to guard me or not.”

(Y/N) huffed, shaking her head. “Did you know Sethna took a pretty nasty hit to her leg?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” he gruffed.

“Legolas, did you know about it or not?”

A rather long moment of silence extended into the night before the Prince reluctantly responded in a low tone. “No.”

“Then you don't watch every warrior like you watch me.”

He inhaled slowly, trying to steer the conversation away from what (Y/N) was insinuating. “Is Sethna alright?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

Legolas nodded slowly, before returning to the main topic. “Why didn't you tell me you were in pain while on patrol?”

She rolled her eyes before muttering his name. “Legolas.”

“Why haven't you seen a healer?” he persisted.

She exhaled slowly, knowing Legolas wasn't going to let this go. “Because the healers document everything, and those records get attached to evaluations.”

“So?”

“So, I would be dismissed from the guard and relieved of my position!” she snapped.

He snorted lightly. “You would not be dismissed from the guard nor relieved of your position.”

“Others have gotten so for far less!”

Surprising her, his normally collected tone turned into a rough reply. “That doesn't mean that you would have!”

She frowned, her once loud voice now subdued. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He sent her a warning look, his eyes cautioning her against probing further.

Silence reigned for a third time that night before Legolas spoke softly. “Rest. I will draw you a bath.”

“Princeling, I do not need you to draw me a bath. I do not need a bath at all. Like I said, I am fine.”

He shook his head. “You are in pain. Let me help you.”

“Legolas–”

He cut her off. “(Y/N), do not try to argue with me on this. That is an order. Shadow or not, I am your superior and you will listen.”

With that, he stood and made his way into the bathing chambers, leaving the elleth alone with her thoughts.

She let out a slow, contemplative exhale before sinking back into the embrace of the bed once more. Lost in a haze of exhaustion, she must have drifted into a brief slumber, for it was only moments later that Legolas returned, his thumb brushing against her cheek. His voice, barely above a whisper, reached her ears. “(Y/N),” he urged softly. “Come. The water is hot. It will alleviate your pain.”

Groggily, she opened her eyes, confusion evident in the furrow of her brow.

“Come,” he repeated.

Gradually, she sat upwards, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the mattress. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, praying to the Valar for the pain to settle.

“If the pain is too much, I can carry you,” Legolas offered in a gentle tone.

She scoffed, her eyes opening to glare at him. “I can manage on my own.”

With that declaration, (Y/N) stood up and took a few cautious steps forward. But before she could proceed further, a sharp gasp escaped her lips as the agony surged through her body, causing her to double over.

A comforting warmth enveloped her lower back as Legolas placed a reassuring hand there. He remained silent, respecting her pace and refraining from pressing his earlier offer.

A small whimper escaped her lips, tears threatening to escape from her eyes.

Legolas’ hand began to move in soft circles. “It will pass, Shadowfoot. I am here,” he whispered.

Slowly, she resumed her movement, inching her way towards the bathroom. Upon reaching the basin's edge, she gripped onto the sides tightly. She squeezed her lids shut once more, focusing on her breath.

Standing only inches behind her, Legolas spoke softly. “(Y/N), please, will you let me assist you? I hate to see you suffer.”

She exhaled through her nose, seemingly debating his offer. After a moment of contemplation, she relented. “Fine,” she stated, “but if you breathe a word of this—”

“I will not say a thing. I swear it,” he assured.

She nodded, accepting his promise.

“Let's get you undressed and in the bath then.”

With caution, his nimble fingers found the hem of her tunic and began to lift it over her head. Ensuring her stability by placing one hand gently on her hip, he then carefully guided her trousers downward, assisting her as she stepped out of them. Shaking slightly, she lifted each foot into the tub, one at a time, as the Prince's firm hand remained securely on her waist. Slowly, she lowered herself into the water, his touch barely trailing up her back as she descended. Her eyes closed and a sigh of relief escaped her lips, settling into the soothing heat of the water.

Legolas cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will just be in the other room. Call out if you need me.”

She simply hummed in response.

The Prince swiftly left the bathing room, making his way to the door leading to the hallway. Peering out, he caught sight of a maid. He called out to her and motioned for her to approach.

“Yes, my lord?” she inquired politely.

“I need you to fetch a new set of bedding and obtain the following herbs: valerian, boswellia, and athelas,” he instructed.

She nodded in understanding.

“And please, keep it discreet. I have an injured warrior in here who wishes for the injury to remain quiet.”

The maid nodded once more before hurrying off to fulfill his requests.

Legolas returned to the room, feeling the cool breeze from the open window once more. With determined strides, he crossed the space and closed it firmly, halting the chill from entering any longer. He then took to light some of the candles, casting a warm glow within the room before moving to the empty fireplace. He quickly grabbed kindling and wood from the basket beside the silent hearth, setting to task. Before long, the flames crackled loudly among the stone, radiating a comforting warmth that dispelled the lingering chill.

It was then when the maid entered, a large basket brimming with fluffy fabric in her arms. Placing it beside the bed, she then retrieved a pouch from the top. Approaching the Prince, she bowed her head. “The herbs you asked for, my lord.”

“Thank you,” he replied, accepting them graciously.

The maid took to changing the sheets, making no mention of the blood. Legolas cleared a space upon the table in (Y/N)’s room. Placing a cast iron pot—one of which was kept in each room—over the now vibrant flames, he filled it with water from a pitcher. As the water began to boil, he used a small bowl to grind the fresh herbs into a paste with a pestle. Once sufficiently smashed, he ladled some of the boiling water over it and allowed the mixture of herbs to steep, filling the air with its earthy aroma.

The maid, having finished her task of making the bed and straightening up, bid an awkward farewell to the Prince before exiting the room.

Legolas sighed, taking a seat in the chair beside the table, his ears attuned to any sounds from (Y/N)'s direction—just in case.

Nearly 45 minutes passed before she emerged from the bathroom. She was clothed in soft trousers and a loose top that hung off her shoulder, her hand pressed lightly against her abdomen.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, breaking the quietness of the night.

She turned her head towards him. “You are still here?” Her gaze swept across the room, trailing off as she took in the sight of the lit candles, crackling fire, and fresh bedding.

Abandoning the chair, he approached her and gently put his hand upon her bicep. “How is the pain, (Y/N)?”

As if suddenly drawn from her thoughts, she registered that he was indeed beside her. “I, uh, it has lessened a bit.”

He nodded, guiding her to the bed. Pulling back the clean sheets, he motioned for her to get in. Surprisingly, she complied, settling into the comfort of the fresh lavender scent emanating from the blankets and pillows.

Legolas briefly left her side before returning with a cup of tea, mixed from the healing herbs. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he lifted the cup to her lips, encouraging her to take a sip. “Drink this. It will help.”

The steam kissed her face as she took the cup from him. As she drank, the warm liquid flowed down her throat and into her stomach, providing instant comfort. When she finished, she passed the cup back to him. “How do you know how to make such a tonic?”

The Prince placed the cup upon the side table. “My father used to care for my mother during her bloodmoon cycle, before she passed from this world. She too had excruciating pain. He taught me the right herbs to mix, the benefits of heat, and—” he paused, his hand moving to her lower back, where he began to massage lightly. “—what points to press to alleviate pain.”

She exhaled slowly, letting her eyes flutter closed.

“He had said, ‘One day, you will have a wife who too suffers such pain. This you must learn for her.’ And I listened.”

(Y/N) did not open her eyes. “I am not your wife.”

Before he could stop himself, his lips betrayed his secrets. “You could be.”

At this, she opened one eye, as if she was trying to subtly evaluate what his words meant based on his body language. Sensing the sincerity upon his expression, her other eye opened too. She put her full attention on him. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, the tips of his elvish ears reddening, though the warm glow of the fire hid his embarrassment. He turned his head away. “Forgive me, (Y/N). I—I didn't mean to be so…so forward.” He hesitated, then looked back at her, seeing her flabbergasted expression. “I–I suppose there is no hiding it now. The reason I keep such close watch over you is because my heart won't let me do otherwise. I fear, well, I fear that you are not just a shadow following my path.” He exhaled softly. “(Y/N), you haunt me in the most beautiful way.”

She shifted from the pillows, drawing closer until her face was mere inches from Legolas’. “You–you care for me?” she whispered.

His hand tenderly cupped her cheek, his thumb moving in a soft motion. “More than I could ever put into words.”

“Legolas,” she whispered. “Your father did not assign me to your sector. I was supposed to be appointed to protect him. I—I requested to be assigned to you.”

The Prince’s gaze met hers. “Why, (Y/N)?”

“Because you too have been haunting me.”

Legolas wasted no time. He pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s in a gentle kiss and she responded eagerly. She tasted of herbal tea and hope, while he tasted of honey and peace. His hands gently cradled her face, while hers found their way to the back of his neck, fingers entwining in his hair. The scent of fresh lavender surrounded her, mingling with the aroma of pine that clung to him. In their embrace, their minds intertwined, both haunted by the other's presence—in the most beautiful way.

Slowly, they parted. Legolas pressed a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead before speaking softly. "Lay down. Rest. I will watch over you."

She looked up at him. “Won't you lay with me? I am cold.”

He snorted, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like the stem of a flower being plucked from a spring meadow. “You only want me to alleviate your pain, don't you?”

She grinned back at him. “Perhaps, Princeling. Though, I did not lie, I am cold.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Legolas kicked off his boots and drew back the covers. He allowed his body to melt against (Y/N)’s, providing warmth as he gently began to massage away her tension.

A content sigh escaped the woman’s lips as she snuggled further into him, eagerly stealing his warmth and accepting the pain relief he offered.

“Princeling,” she murmured, “You better not breathe a word of this either.”

He chuckled lightly, “I will not say a thing, Shadowfoot. I swear it.”

…

Everything Tag: @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @hey-its-nonny @mirclealignr @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @desert-fern @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @sotwk @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnotjapanese @mgchaser @heavenshumour @heavenshumour @clairealeehelsing @starenemy @ceruleanrainblues @casuallyeating-blog @cheari @aheadfullofsteverogers @imthebadguyyy @beehivehappy @queenmariex @newjsns01 @dontfearrr @annoyingstrawberryballoon @caffinated-and-sleepy @california-beach-babe-kay @fxckinggxd

Everything But Spice Tag: @goldfearless @Brethil13 @insert-random-blog @cauliflowertree @heranintomyknife23times @mxmia @unethicallypleistocene @amessofmultifandom @caffinated-and-sleepy

Legolas Tag: in the comments

[covetyou]

when we begin again

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap word count: 4.1k summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.

A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go. This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"Hrrrmph!"

Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.

It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.

Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.

"Joel -"

Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.

Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.

Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.

"You want me to stop?" he growls.

"No, I just -"

"Then quit your complainin'."

You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.

"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.

"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.

"I never said that."

"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."

And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.

Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.

So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.

In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.

Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.

You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.

Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.

"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"

Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.

"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."

He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"

There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.

And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.

You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.

"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"

You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.

"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.

You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.

"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"

"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."

You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"

"Mm."

"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"

"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."

And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -

"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."

There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.

You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.

"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."

You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.

The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.

And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.

Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.

"Let me -"

But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.

You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.

"Your hand, Joel, I can -"

"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.

Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.

"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"

"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."

He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.

"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."

His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.

Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.

"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."

You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.

You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."

It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.

"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"

"Yours."

"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."

Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.

"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.

A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.

The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.

"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."

Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.

You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.

"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.

Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.

When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.

Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.

Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.

"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.

Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.

"Oh."

Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."

With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.

"What're these for?"

"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.

"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"

"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.

He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.

"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.

"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.

"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."

"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.

Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.

"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."

You weren't going to argue with him there.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

[wordsarelife]

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: theo and you get your happy ever after

warnings: i don’t think there are any! let me know if that’s not true :)

note: here it is!! finally the epilogue is here! i loved writing this series so much!! please let me know what you thought of this chapter and/or the story in general!

!!!make sure to keep your eyes on the extras that are coming tomorrow (and feel free to request drabbles/ fics on future or past situtations in the don’t blame me universe, or questions you still have!! i will be thrilled to answer them!!)!!!

word count: 3.9k

note: not really happy with the outcome of this chapter, but whatever..

previous chapter | masterlist |

"mommy?“ a voice called and your head snapped to the side. "can you give me one of those paper towels?“

you rolled your eyes smiling at his antics and nodded, before you threw one in his direction.

"mate, you know i love you, but please stop acting out your mommy kink on my girlfriend“ theo hit mattheo's shoulder.

"well, y/n is the closest thing i have to a mother right now" mattheo argued dramatically "she takes care of me when i'm sick, she cuts apple slices for me—"

"—we've been on tour for two months" theo shook his head "it's not like you're never gonna see your mum again, get a grip"

"it's alright" you smiled. "i don't mind"

mattheo nodded "see?"

“yeah, whatever” theo shook his head “just get ready, please? we start in ten”

after the concert a few months ago, cursed legacy had gotten their record deal. dave had been impressed by their show, he wanted them to play opener for the rest of the following tour leg.

as soon as the school holidays began you joined them, traveling around the country.

theo and you couldn’t be happier. everything was going great and you were ready to tackle life together.

since the concert, theo had not stopped writing songs and they were only a month away from releasing their second album, soft death.

he was always talking about how you were the muse behind most of the songs. and you had to admit that they had never had so many love songs played (or written) before.

during the tour they had made many new fans, their followers growing while were getting more and more attention. they were already playing a few songs from the new album constantly and about you was a fan favorite. your favorite was echoes of devotion, which theo had written for you. it was the second song they played every night.

“see you later” mattheo took a look to his phone, checking the time, before he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek and quickly walked away.

theo rolled his eyes before he turned to you and gave you a long and passionate kiss, before he too took off after mattheo to get on stage.

you collected your things, before you started walking. you already knew that it would be hard to feel normal again once you were home in a month and college would start. how could you ever live a normal life after being treated like royalty?

you took your stage pass and walked in the direction of the tents. you hadn’t seen the rest of the band in hours. the reasons were simple enough. draco and blaise had made it their personal chore to walk around the venues before every show, claiming something about a good luck charm they absolutely needed. they had asked you to accompany them on a few occasions, which you did but quickly regretted after they spent the entire time talking about their hook ups from the night before.

they had already adopted the rockstar life style.

quite the opposite of that was enzo. he spent hours in the back of the bus, or in his hotel room, talking to april on his phone. she had come to a few shows, but she couldn’t be there constantly because of work and so they had decided to face time or text in any given moment. you rarely saw the boy without his phone.

april had been scared that their relationship would not last. she had feared that enzo would quickly realize how limiting a relationship was when there were a few hundred girls basically licking the ground on which he walked.

you had told her that enzo wasn’t like that, but you could still understand why she was feeling that way and promised to keep your eye on him.

enzo had done nothing more than proof the both of you terribly wrong. most of the time he did not even look into the direction of other girls, let alone talk to them.

that the rest of the band was busy could’ve been to your and theo’s advantage, making it possible to enjoy time for only the two of you, if there hadn’t been matt, who made it his personal task to follow you around like a lost puppy.

you loved him, you really did. during the time the both of you had only grown closer, going back to the sibling like relationship you had once had, but at times you wished he was anywhere else.

especially that one time when theo and you were making out on the couch of the tour bus and mattheo came barging in and acted like he didn’t know that he had just interrupted something, before he planted himself in the middle of theo and you and started playing star wars on the tv.

"good evening!" enzo's voice roared through the microphone, after they had come out and played only angel. the crowd cheered. "the next song we're gonna play is about a very special someone. our front man's girl to be exact. he's a very smitten man, so naturally, this is a very emotional love song, feel free to hold up your flashlights.. here is echoes of devotion!"

the crowd cheered once again, while you clapped your hands, your cheeks as red as the curtain next to the stage. theo's voice was always what started the song, he looked just as cheesy as you did, even if enzo had made it a habit to say the same lines every night, you and theo were still flustered about his words.

my love, like orpheus, i'd come,

to tread through shadows, my body numb,

but truth be told, in my hearts embrace,

i fear i'd falter, lose the race.

the music only set in after that. a steady and slow beat that was always responsible for your shiver as it guarded his voice through the chorus.

for i'd turn back, just like him,

my gaze would brake, our future grim,

your fading form, in shadows deep,

my love, too strong, my soul to keep.

the song was balancing right between breaking the crowds heart and animating them to sing along. it was the perfect mix of love and heartache, often making your eyes swell with tears, when you saw theo react the same way.

the song had a special place in both of your hearts. for one part, it was comparing you and theo to your favorite myth, which theo had done knowingly. and second, it reminded you both of how hard love could be, how even loving people deeply could led to hurting them.

it was one of the first songs theo did not sing entirely on his own. the second verse was accompanied by background vocals of the rest of the boys, making it sound almost dreamy and ethereal.

like orpheus, with his lyre's song,

i'd sing to you, all night long,

but in that moment, with fate's cruel twist,

i'd choose your eyes, and lose what's missed.

the second chorus was a little different to the first one, deeper, as theo had said.

for i'd turn back just like him,

the current stronger than we swim,

i'd face the darkness, lose my way,

for one more look, i'd gladly pay

"i don't understand" theo's voice was only above a whisper, making sure no one could hear you both in the treehouse. it was far too late for both of you anyway.

"what?" you had asked, looking up from the ipod in your hand.

"orpheus, that's his name, right?" the boy brushed his hair back, revealing his forehead. he hadn't gotten a haircut in ages, exclaiming something about girls finding him more attractive that way. you had spontaneously laughed at that prediction, considering you were the only girl he talked to. but the boy was fourteen and suddenly very interested in appealing to the opposite gender.

"what about him don't you understand?" you had the same tone in your voice your mother did when she would explain something to you and your brother.

"well, why does he turn around?" theo shrugged his shoulders, as he turned, facing away from you, to continue to paint doodles on the wall of the tree house. "he could've saved her if he had been stronger, if he had loved her enough he could've made it"

"it's not about that, theo" you had mused "orpheus looked back because he loved her so much, because the only way he could've saved her was if he had loved her less. but he didn't"

"i don't know, pixie" you send him a look upon the name, which he obviously couldn't see, your annoyance bouncing off of the back of his head. "i would be able to save you" his simple statement made the air freeze between the two of you, hitting deeper than it had been meant.

"then you don't love me enough" your voice was only a faint sound, but loud enough to make theo stop in his tracks.

without him noticing the irony of the situation, he turned around to look at you, his blue eyes crashing into yours. the softness in them almost made you shudder, asking yourself if the way you were feeling about him was totally normal. you did not have much experience with boys, but theo was different anyway, he was not like them, he was yours, without any requirements.

"no, i think i do" he whispered back, realizing that the quick act of him turning around had come right after you had simply doubted his love. he knew in that moment that it would never take much for him to turn around for you.

maybe it was the quiet of the night, or teenage hormones mixing up in the air, you weren't really sure later, but theo leaned across the space between you, gently grasping your lips with his, connecting them in a featherlight kiss.

there was no sound in the little room. there were only theo and you. and only your lips were touching.

for you're the melody that guides my soul,

through tempests wild and rivers cold,

i'll brave the depths, defy the night,

to hold your hand in morning light.

so here i stand, before your eyes,

with trembling heart, and no disguise,

to say, my love, in honesty,

i'd turn for your like orpheus for eurydice.

later that night, after the concert was finished and the band was saying their goodbyes, ready to leave the stage, you were waiting for theo behind the stage.

blaise and draco came down first, each of them ruffled your hair, before they walked away to find snacks.

enzo winked at you, holding his hand up for a high-five, which you gladly accepted.

matt plastered both of your cheeks with kisses, laughing deeply as you tried to slap him away.

all of the boys (except for theo of course) had grown to be like your brothers, but enzo and matt stood out the most. enzo was like the little brother you never had, especially because of his relationship with april.

mattheo had been protective of you ever since leo had brought you with him the first time at the age of five. he had looked out for you ever since, often joining forces with leo, when he forbid you from doing something.

even if you sometimes acted annoyed at him, you knew deep down that you needed matt, just as much as you needed your organs to survive. he had been (unlike theo at certain times) a constant in your life, you had never quite managed to get rid of. matt had made it clear to you that he wouldn't leave you alone. both of you were everything that was left of leo for the other.

you could see it in the way matt acted, when he would text you the most random things or when he was lifting you off the ground after he had predicted you would miss the single stair in front of your feet.

and he could see it in your face, as you scrunched your nose when you found something disgusting or when your eyes lit up at the mention of ice cream. or sometimes, in the rare moments when his heart ached the most, when you would laugh, and immediately stop, as you both realized how much it sounded like your brother.

it was impossible for either of you to forget leo, if you had still so much left of him.

the cologne was the first thing that entered your nose and just a second after, theo rumbled down the stairs, heavy footsteps echoing over the instruments that were already being played on stage.

he was wearing a white shirt, he had gotten it himself, your name written over his heart with a cursive lilac thread. his hair was messy and a little bit sweaty. you remembered the heat of the stage lights from the night of the concert months ago and your skin burned.

his jeans were dark and loose, you had joked that he needed to wear skinny jeans, because he was in a boyband. you had to search for a picture of harry styles, for him to believe that that used to be a thing.

his face lit up when his eyes fell on you. he pecked your lips, as he threw an arm across your shoulder. another kiss to your hair following.

"my dad messaged me" you said as you walked further behind the stage.

theo perked up at that "will he meet us for dinner?"

"yeah, yeah" you rolled your eyes, uninterested in talking about the boring information. you grinned, as you halted in your step, taking his hand in yours, as you almost jumped up and down from excitement. "we will probaly see a whole lot of him in the future"

theo raised his brows, confused what you were hinting at. your smile grew bigger as you could see the realization set in on his face.

"cadence?" he asked, not quite believing it.

you quickly nodded your head, your excitement resulting in a giggle, as he threw his arms around your body, pulling you close to his chest.

theo had applied to the college months ago. your father had just texted you to tell you that he was in. the mail was only being sent out the coming week and he wanted theo to know. that's also why your father had a lot of connections in the music world and was friends with dave fraser, the guy that had given the guys the record deal. he had worked at the college for the past twenty years, it was a big one, similiar to juilliard, but stationed in england.

while theo would go there, you had applied to many schools close to his (which included, but was not limited to oxford and camebridge). the acceptance letter for camebridge had come last week and the joy on theo's face had been incomparable.

"so it's happening" theo muttered in your ear "we'll both stay"

"i'm going nowhere" you assured, as you intertwined your hands, leading theo back to the tour bus, that would start driving to it's next destination in only a few hours.

"me neither, for now we have seen enough of the world to last us for a few years to come"

"are you joining in?" matt asked when the two of you entered the bus. the rest of the boys were sitting around the table, matt sorting poker chips and enzo's phone was propped up in the middle of the table, april's laughing face on it's screen.

"hey guys!" april smiled.

"hey stranger" you giggled.

"mate, could you please grab the cookies y/n's mum send her?"

"hey, those are for me" you protested.

matt shrugged "well the bus was only for us and i'm still sharing it with you"

you sighed, before you gave theo the okay to get them.

"only two more weeks and you're coming home" april was close to screaming of excitement "it's so boring without you guys. i even began missing blaise"

"hey!" blaise protested, as he grabbed the phone and turned it in his direction, so april was able to see the offended expression on his face.

"yeah, sorry" april muttered "now turn me back"

actually, even if you enjoyed all the special treatment you were receiving on this tour, you couldn't wait to go back home. you couldn't wait for life to be a bit more normal again, even though you were sure that it wouldn't take long before the boys would have their own concerts.

you couldn't wait to watch them grow, but for now, you savored every moment, as long as they still belonged solemnly to you.

"who's gonna start?" mattheo threw the last of the chips down, looking between the rest of you for help.

"i thought you read the rules" draco exclaimed confused.

"well, no" mattheo shook his head "blaise was supposed to"

blaise shook his head repeatedly, claiming to not have been part of mattheo's scheme. the boys began fighting, pointing at each other accusingly.

theo and you exchanged a glance, before you suggested to play a few simple rounds of uno, which everyone agreed on and quickly quieted down.

now everything was finally right and if you could talk to her, you would like to tell your younger self that everything would be alright one day and that she didn't have to be as scared of the future.

a few weeks later, when you were back home, theo helped you pack your things up in your room.

the rest of the tour had gone by in a breeze, and even if all of them decided to concentrate on studying at their respective schools, the band still existed and even dave fraser promised that the career of cursed legacy was far from over. soft death had already been recorded and was coming out in two weeks.

"what's that?" theo asked as he fished a folded piece of paper out of your backpack.

"oh" you furrowed you brows. "i thought i had thrown that away" you shrugged.

"well, what's on it?"

"after i first listened to pixie dream girl, april made me write down my feelings and burn the papers. she was scared that i would do something i would regret" you send him a look.

"okay..but why do you have it if it got burned?" he pressed.

"because i wanted something to remind myself how i felt about all of this"

"am i allowed to read it?" theo asked expectingly "it probably won't be nice"

"i don't care" you shrugged "go on"

theo unfolded the paper, his breath hitching as he read the words you had written. he looked up in surprise and you smiled. "that's—" he mumbled, but couldn't find the right words, surprise and love making it hard to concentrate.

"not mean?" you helped.

theo grinned, before he folded the paper up again and put it in his pocket "i want to keep it"

you smiled and nodded.

and after all this, you stupid stupid boy, you had written that day, you are still the only one my heart wants to know.

you and theo kept your eyes on each other, not one of you daring to look away. you could see every version in him, every stage of his life was readable from his eyes. even that night was readable and you wondered if the was thinking about the same thing you were.

"what was that?" you had asked, your voice raised above the normal whisper.

"what?" theo muttered, feigning innocence. you would've almost believed you had imagined the kiss, but the lipgloss on theo's mouth was telling a different story.

"you kissed me"

"ugh, no?" theo shook his head, crossing his arms defensively.

"ugh, yes?" you outstretched your hand, pointing to his lips. "there, cherry lipgloss"

theo rubbed his mouth in a quick gesture, getting rid of the evidence "where?" he asked, fluttering his eyes.

"right there!" you insisted, fighting back a laugh at his attempt to play it cool.

theo smiled softly, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of fondness and mischief. "okay, fine. maybe i did."

your heart raced as you struggled to find the right words. "why?"

his expression softened, and he reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "because... i wanted to."

"okay" you nodded, your voice only above a whisper. "but friends don't—“

"i know" theo had interrupted you. "i'm sorry"

something had shifted between you that night in the tree house, or at least for theo it had. it was like you were the only girl that mattered, like you were the only one that mattered. something about that scared him immensely.

you waited for him to say something. to explain to you what it meant for you, for your friendship. but his eyes were as big as yours and his mind wandered twice as fast. "we are friends" he muttered finally, as if to remind himself.

you nodded, taking it as answer enough.

the years turned faster than the pages of a book, you grew older, stayed inside your rooms when it got dark outside and you and theo never spoke of the night in the treehouse again.

neither of you had known what to say so you rather said nothing.

theo's last words to you that night, replayed themselves over and over again in your mind for the years to follow, even if both of you continued being friends normally.

"i couldn't help it" he had muttered, right after both of you had climbed down the ladder and were ready to go your separate ways.

you smiled at his honesty, as you held back a giggle. you couldn't see his face in the dark, the candle in the lantern you had brought with you had burned down completely, but you had a feeling that he felt the same mix of awkwardness and simple happiness you did.

"will you do that again?" you asked, feeling brave now that he was unable to see your face in the darkness.

air escaped from his nostrils, as he stifled a laugh at your question. "i'm not sure" he said.

"okay"

the air between you was quiet and still and you turned around before you softly walked the path between both of your houses in the direction of the balcony you had climbed down a few hours ago.

the sound of his voice had you stop in your tracks.

"but if it some day comes over me, and maybe it will.." he paused, seemingly searching for the right words.

you listened to him attentively, as your heart fluttered at his implication. it was like you could almost see the colour of his eyes, even if he was standing a few meters across from you, his body standing out against the light of the lantern down the street.

he was standing, his body facing in your direction and simply knowing that he was looking at you made your tummy churn. was this what friendship was supposed to be? or was it something different? was this love? did love really feel like that or where you going crazy?

theo cleared his throat, as he raised his voice so you could hear him clearly over the distance between you "just... don't blame me"

taglist: @7s3ven @madi-potter @shereadsandcries @getosbeloved @mischieftom @wolfstar-jpg @t00thfairy20 @chcrrysblog @aestramjackson @elina3011 @kr1nqu @hopeless-y @mitskiswift99 @fallingblackveils @ahead-fullofdreams @helendeath @schaebickel @chubbychasermattheotruther @punkprincess03 @subparslytherin @girlbooklover555 @sakanelli-afc @cobrakaisb @ellen3101 @simp-for-fantasy @the-sylver-dragon @ess-perspective @starsval

[st4rbe0m]

PAIRING ▸ Choi Yeonjun x reader

SUMMARY ▸ On a hazy summer evening, where the air hung low above everyone like a buzzing, heated static, you met Choi Yeonjun in a new light. And he met you, not for the first time maybe, but definitely in a more impacting way. A second, first meeting. And with that second, first meeting came the idea to strike a deal - a mutual agreement to help both parties out favorably, till the end of summer. Luckily, or unluckily, it just so happens that the summer doesn't last forever.

GENRE ▸ strangers to lovers, highschool au, fake dating au, suggestive scenes, includes kissing, jock Yeonjun, kinda nerdy (?) reader (they're friends with Soobin and Beomgyu if that helps), fluff with angst, includes underage drinking and swearing.

PLAYLIST ▸ High School in Jakarta by NIKI, I Like Me Better by Lauv, Bubble Gum by NewJeans, Ghosting by TXT, Ditto by NewJeans, small town by Clara Benin.

WC ▸ 12.9K words

A/N ▸ She's finally here 😭🥹 I'm quite proud of this one guys. It's loosely based off my own high school relationship (which unfortunately, didn't end as great as this fic did). It's also my first time writing such a long story, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it, and please do let me know how you guys felt about it. Love you!!

PART OF THE ANTHOLOGY SERIES

The world as you know it is ending. There’s meteors and asteroids crashing down, balls of fire and smoke rapidly descending on your world. The world you’d built since middle school. 

Not the world as we know it, of course. No, the world with its 8 billion population and sprawling cities and countries wasn’t coming to an end - but it was your world, with its own islands and own niches coming down to debris rapidly. 

Your world meant the things you did - it meant how you stayed up all night on school nights to play Minecraft with Soobin and Beomgyu, your two closest friends since childhood. It means the music you listened to. Usually that included whatever preppy tune that used to overtake the charts. The One Direction boys’ perfect harmonies were all the rage of 2014. Justin Bieber had the hearts of young girls by the fist. But that was middle school. That was 2014, which ended a few months ago. 2015 was the incoming year of the new batch of freshmen in their town’s high school. 2015, and there’s new artists and new bands and new games. It’s 2015 and the world you crafted with wide-eyed dreams and glitter pens is over, and the swooping lurch of reality hits you square in the chest just as the summer heat settles over everyone. 

The First Summer - summer before freshman year 

“Soobin, can you pay attention maybe? Fucking hell.” Beomgyu’s loud usually. Beomgyu’s louder when irritated however. And today he decided to be loud, irritated and angry, and the unnecessary screaming match between Soobin and Beomgyu was just the strike of the match of patience you had needed. “Enough!” Seriously, if you’re gonna fight this much, just beat each other up! I’d rather have you both in battle than this silly screaming match.” Your voice is shrill and the annoyance is heavy. Yet, it does nothing to affect the pair. Instead, all they did was give short laughs. “You can’t shout at us like that you '', the pouty eyes and whining tone of Beomgyu softened you up immediately, and you grinned back with a retaliation ready. “Beomgyu, let Soobin text his sweetheart next door, or else he’ll wilt like a plant deprived of sunlight.” The statement leaves the both of you in a fit of giggles the moment the entire sentence left your lips, and left Soobin to be the pouting one this time. “What do you both even know? To be in love with someone?”, the dramatics were oozing off Soobin, the sore subject of his very strong feeling for his next door neighbor making him more susceptible to teasing from you and Beomgyu. “And what do you know? You haven’t confessed either!”, accusatory, as you told him. It would be wonderful, absolutely delightful for Soobin to pull up his big boy pants and finally ask the other girl out. Not only because they’d make a delightful couple, but also because maybe he’d shut up about the qualms of unrequited (which honestly was quite requited if he just stopped being so blind) love. 

“How’s the existential crisis popping along, you? Are we still the lamest duo you could hang out with that will kill your nonexistent street cred?”. Chucking a throw pillow at the boy, you sighed, the dramatics being your concern now. “You guys don’t get it, do you? This is highschool. The real deal. The next four years of people’s cherished memories.” “You want to peak in highschool badly, don’t you?” “Shut up Soobin!”

They wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t get how highschool mattered to you. How being 15, then 17, then 18 happens only once in life. You’re young in love as a teenager once, and you’re living life on the cusp only one. Romanticizing highschool was a silly cliche, and you were by no means a daydreaming romantic (Eh, maybe sometimes). But living, to experience, to feel, to love, meant something to you. It meant something to the little girl who watched those romcoms in the darkness of her room on a blue light screen. Watching how wonderful guys fell in love with wonderful girls. Watching how the boy loved the girl regardless of status quo. High School was a lake and you were a small pebble ready to skim its surface with accuracy and precision. 

“Are you Machiavelli or something? Stop making that scheming face, seriously. It’s giving me the creeps I’ll be honest. This just resulted in another pillow to the face.

The summer heat, a slow wave of buzzing energy that rolled over the entire town, made most of its residents lethargic. But lethargy wasn’t an option for 15 year olds, especially 15 year olds in the Y/L/N household. Several nags and a good scolding from your mother had you working at the convenience store two blocks down. A job that you were certain of, might just be the first of its kind in the way it could kill the employee of boredom. “At least you get the AC. And us!”. Huening Kai was an absolutely wonderful person. Honestly, there was no way to say anything negative according to you, which made Taehyun roll his eyes often. The two boys would frequent the store often. The first day because Kai was craving an ice pop to battle the heat. But once the pair had seen you prettily working the register all by your lonesome, and the boys not having anything interesting to while away their time with, began to visit you on your shifts, eating the almost expired stock and chitchatting. 

Even from the corny sentence Kai had just said, you could only bring herself to frown, but not get annoyed at the sunshine boy. The summer reinvention was in full swing. Calling it a reinvention made you uncomfortable sometimes. It was just a few tweaks right? It’s not like you were going to lose yourself completely.  A harmless fine-tuning of the machinery, shinier gears and fancier covering.

Convenient store afternoons were idyll - no customers, and usually no Kai and Taehyun, who’d take the most deep afternoon naps they could take. Today, however, they’d decided to forego the naps, and they hung around the back, to analyze which candy was the best for the summer. 

You're sitting at the till, bright light shining right through the spotless plexiglass, hair gently swooping over your face, illuminating the strands. There’s a slight breeze from the droning AC that cools whatever sweat was beading your forehead. A lazy afternoon, light and airy, with the low hanging summer making the world around simmer like a boiling pot. It was this afternoon, that the bell tinkled as the convenience store’s door opened, the sound jingling faintly over the sound of buzzing cicadas and grasshoppers. It was this afternoon, uneventful like the rest, until it wasn’t - that you looked up to meet the eyes of Choi Yeonjun. 

“Any ice cream?”, the older boy asked, eyes shining like two pebbles under a clear lake on a summer’s day. Breaking out of your stupor, you just nodded, a bit frantic considering how you were caught in such an awkward way. Brushing whatever hair that had surrounded your face, you got up with a slight metallic screech of the chair you sat at, stumbling to where the freezer was. Opening up the box, you gestured to an assortment of cold treats that were laid out for the customers. Humming to himself, Yeonjun just scanned the ice creams, then shifted his eyes to you. You, who was already staring at his sharp side profile, the way the sunlight seemed to poke out from the sharp bridge of his nose to the way his lips seemed more plump than they were with the way he was chewing at them. Making eye contact with him, he simply asked with a slight smirk, “What do you suggest?”. “Huh?”, you asked dumbly, not catching his question with the way you were busy ogling the older boy. “Which flavor do you like?”, “Oh! Personally, I’d say you can never go wrong with chocolate. The chocolate chip choco cones are wonderful for this season. But if you need something to beat the heat, a lime popsicle would be the best.” “You seem to have a PhD in ice cream.”, the boy teased, as he eyed the way your cheeks grew warmer and your pupils widening slightly at his jest. “Oh sorry if that was too much! Um yeah, I guess th-that’s my suggestion.”, hurriedly avoiding his eyes and going back to gesturing at ice creams. A pale veiny hand reached into the ice box to pick out two ice creams - a choco chip cone and a lime-berry popsicle. Slightly waving the two at you with a smile, he proceeded to strut up to the counter, head turned back at you as he said with a voice that made your heart constrict and release butterflies, “ Why not both then? Can’t go wrong with recommendations from the master, can I?”. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was quite obvious now. You were absolutely enamored by Choi Yeonjun. Hurrying up to the counter and reciting his bill, he paid the money and a bit extra with a wink, for the “pretty cashier at the register who has a thesis on sweet treats.”. And just as easily he’d appeared, with a flirtatious smile and charm to knock any girl off her feet, Yeonjun was gone from the store, with ice cream and quite possibly your senses and bearings. “TweedleDee and TweedleDum, you can come out now. I can see the tops of your head. I can also feel your annoying presence”, you groaned as a sheepish Hueningkai and Taehyun appeared, both clamoring about how they didn't “mean to eavesdrop” and how “they were leaving the back store room when they say the interaction between you and Yeonjun take place.” But honestly, that wasn’t your biggest concern right now. The two kids were harmless, anyways. What concerned you was how the image of those dazzling eyes wouldn’t leave your head. How smooth his voice was when he spoke to you. For someone ready to break out of the daydream land you found yourself in, Choi Yeonjun was insistent to keep you under. And for him, maybe going breathless was worth it. 

The Second Summer - summer before junior year

It’s 2018 and it’s the end of your life. Well, to be fair, your life has been “ending” since freshman year, and your two friends have been watching you become the one who cried wolf every single time. “You don’t get it Soob,” with the cellphone perched on your shoulder, “I don’t know how you and Beomgyu aren’t freaking the hell out right now.” Soobin lets out a disinterested hum, deciding to conference Beomgyu in, because why would he be the sole victim to this torture? Sitting down on the bed with a force and a breath of indignation leaving your lips, you just continue your rant. “Soobin and Beomgyu. This is the year it gets real. College prep. Entrance exams. Volunteering and extracurriculars. Don’t you get it? At least Rin gets it. Rin’s with me-” “And that must suck for you, Soobin” a teasing Beomgyu interrupted, while Soobin stayed wordless, probably sulking behind the phone, too pouty to retaliate. This sudden remembrance made you laugh, and joining in on the fun, you said, “Yeah Soobs, how have you still not gotten the balls to ask her out?”, but you regretted the words that came out of your mouth, immediately anticipating what was coming and what's next. And just as you predicted, Soobin launched off on his monologue, “Crushing on Yeonjun isn’t a problem then huh? What about that? You’ve spent a year and half pining for the most wanted guy in the school, Y/N? Isn’t that funny?”, all the words spilling out in a single breath of a sentence. “Alright Soobin, I’ll lay off your case if you lay off mine. Besides, it’s easier to target Beomgyu, no?”. And with that the bickering went off again, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A lot has changed since that summer in freshman year, with the chance encounter with Yeonjun. For one, you stopped working there the moment summer ended, which disheartened you slightly considering you would see less of Huening Kai and Kang Taehyun, the two boys you’d grown quite fond of in this short span of time. But the missing soon expired the moment the duo entered highschool themselves in your sophomore year, growing slightly closer to your friend group despite the year’s gap in age. They were the new addition along with Rin, Soobin’s neighbor and longtime crush, to your lunch table. A moment in time where SAT scores and classes, crushes and heartbreaks ceased to exist, and it was just your friends and you, suspended in an emulsion of feelings of friendship, and youth. 

Another thing that had changed since that summer was you yourself. Though your reinvention didn’t go the way you had planned - you still had matured. The crybaby 14 year old had grown into someone who knew how to stand up for themselves. The same person who’d spend nights crying because of mismatched schedules was moving up the academic ladder. 

And reappearing on that same lunch table on the first day of sophomore year, and then sticking it out till the end of the academic swing, with a whole new set of expectations crammed into binders and assignments, and the promise of new memories to make, was your friend group and you - a couple of kids ready to take on the world. Hand in hand, laughter shared and fondness obvious, it was going to be a good summer. You could feel it, in the jokes Beomgyu shared and the shrieking laugh Kai let out without fail. Grinning along to their antics, your eyes scanned the lunchroom.

One thing hadn’t changed with the seasons, and that was your fascination with the school’s IT boy, Choi Yeonjun. A wonderful enigma - athletic, kind and good looks all combining to create the most perfect gentleman you in your years of living had had the chance of meeting. He sat at the table diagonal to yours, and with a piercing heart did you remember that with all the changes, Yeonjun changed too - in the sense that he’d gotten a girlfriend. A girlfriend whom he adored, which was obvious to anyone with two eyes. 16 nearing 17years old and a heartthrob with a heart of gold himself, it was written clear as day in the leaflets of destiny, that Choi Yeonjun would be someone who would make a mile-wide crater of an impact on people’s lives. And as your eyes moved away from where Yeonjun sat with an arm slung around his girlfriend, the disappointment was quite evident in them, that you found yourself locking eyes with Rin, who held a look of pity. Shaking your head and offering a smile that said, “No worries”, you shifted your attention back to your friends. 

Choi Yeonjun may be at a school lunch table less than a foot away from you. But anyone who had lived through the apocalyptic land of highschool could tell that in reality, he was miles away. 

And this summer, he would be light years away - no longer a friendly customer at a convenience store where you no longer worked, but rather a fading memory of a golden summer’s afternoon, where you could for the first time, feel sparks lighting up inside your eyeballs when they looked into his. The first time your heart would do somersaults to be in his presence. The first crush. Your first crush, the golden boy. 

Being in the middle of the food chain of status quo meant having its own advantages and disadvantages. And a certain disadvantage was that sure, you were moderately more liked then the people above you, and you weren’t picked on nor where you shunned into isolation. But it meant that a very mediocre position came with a mediocre life. Your friend group wasn’t the type to be firstly favored to be invited to parties and blowouts with the older kids like some of your peers were. And frankly, your friends weren’t the type to be dying for those coveted invitations either. They were the ones who’d rather watch the Scream movies in order despite the fact that the entire group, minus Taehyun, were deathly afraid of horror movies. And honestly, you were all content with that - to make bad predictions to the endings and have Taehyun poke fun at the way you all fell for the jumpscares every single time.

But to reach to maybe even the periphery of Yeonjun’s area meant having to put yourself out there, just a little bit. And the time was no better than now, when Miyawaki Sakura, the foreign exchange junior you had the opportunity to help out when she first arrived in the beginning of the year, invited you to a blowout on the last day of the school party being held at her place. The lovely Japanese girl, who’d been meek and as quiet as a mouse had blossomed just like the flower her name signified, and grown out of her shell to be one of the rather popular girls in not only her year, but the entire school. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, but also possessed the kindest of hearts - evident in the way that even after her rise to popularity, she hadn't forgotten the helpful sophomore who had shown her the ropes around school. 

Scoring the invite wasn’t an issue but rather convincing your homebody, introverted friends to tag along was - Taeyhyun and Kai were already on their ways to their respective family homes, so it was between Rin, Soobin and Beomgyu and if luck would have it, all three. 

“Guys please. We always have some other time to do these things - Rin I promise you, I’ll sit and finish the lego set with you myself. Soobin, Gyu - be so serious right now. You’re missing the hottest party of the year to watch freaking anime? Guys please!”. The whining and pleading and pouting along with shining up big puppy-dog eyes at all of them was all you had in your arsenal. “Y/N.” A single, serious utter of your name has you shooting another helpless look Soobin, putting quite possibly all your charm into this one. “We’ll go. Shut the hell up now.”

Jumping up from where you were sat on the floor of his bedroom, you shot off to where he and Beomgyu were on the couch, browsing through streaming services for new animes, to engulf him a bone-crushing hug that had him releasing his own expletives and swears, begging to be released, but chuckling along, nonetheless. Pulling Rin along with you, with a complaint from Soobin and Beomgyu about where the two of you were going off without them, giving a loud laugh, you just called out - “It’s a party, we have to dress up!”

Rin was humming along to whatever pop music had begun auto-playing as the playlist you both had put together for the process had exhausted itself, and it was something neither of you paid mind to, too busy concentrating on fixing eyeliner wings and choosing the right accessories to match your outfits. It wasn’t that you and Rin weren’t friends - no it was great having a girl in the group to help you handle Beomgyu and Soobin’s antics. But it was rather that Rin was the closest to Soobin, which had made conversation stall a bit. Yet the silence was friendly and not awkward at all. A few more beats and a song later, Rin off-handedly mentioned something that had you freezing in your spot. “Now that Yeonjun’s single, it won’t hurt to make your move Y/N.” “Yeonjun single, since when?” you asked perplexed. “But they were sitting together at that table just last week?”. “That’s the thing, Y/N. Right on that very day, Yunha and Yeonjun unexpectedly broke up. There’s no news on why, or how. But many speculate from what they saw that Yeonjun was the one who cut it right off, the one who initiated it.”

Your mind was spinning. A perfect guy and a not-so-perfect girl. What could’ve gone wrong with them? What made them fall apart like that? And so much so - it wasn’t that you were one of those people who would see him as an object on the market again. No, he was fresh off a relationship he recently broke off - and it surely would leave a stain on any person’s life. So many questions and so many feelings, and the nagging reminder of your own crush on Yeonjun felt like an anchor inside you, pulling at your heartstrings in a way that made them creak the most bittersweet tune. A boy you’d loved from afar, was now slightly closer in the binoculars you viewed him with. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still distances away. 

“I don’t think so Rin”, came your thought-out reply. “Freshly broken up with? I don’t stand a chance. Not to mention that it’s not only me, but half the school that likes him”. Looking up to where Rin sat snickering, you pointedly asked her, “What?”. Halting her laughter, she just said with a warm twinkle in her eye, half turned towards you, pulling a hair brush through her locks. “The school may have a crush on Yeonjun, but you, Y/N, are head over heels.”

And this was something that weighed heavily on your mind all the way to the party, crammed in Soobin’s mini SUV which he borrowed from his parents for the night after incessant begging and pleading. Rin had a point, you thought, when you glanced at her from where she sat up front next to Soobin, the two lost in their own lovesick bubble. You really were head over heels of Yeonjun, and it had you tripping on your feet and falling more often than not. Pulling up the street crammed with several other cars, the bass reverberating through a specific house on the cul-de-sac lined curb made it obvious what the destination was. Finally managing to tightly squeeze the car into a spot far down, the four of you made your way down to the house, now emitting different sorts of LED lights and boosting party hits, with a hand wrapped around Beomgyu’s, both of you stuck in your own conversation that was continuing from the car. 

Standing at the door were two heavy-set boys, part of the school football team - Seo Changbin and Lee Chan, both coincidentally being Yeonjun’s closest friends. The fourth of their little musketeer squad was Jung Wooyoung, the wild spirit of a boy, filled with spunk and charisma, was probably inside the house, tearing up whatever makeshift dance floor the party provided. Nodding slightly in recognition at you, no doubt already informed about your invite by Sakura, Changbin just shot you a charming grin, accented with the obvious amounts of copious liquor he’d already downed before your arrival, and said, “You know Y/N, I’m not going to lie, I always thought you were too pipsqueak to come to one of these”. He’d given a look to Chan to man the doors himself for a while, and an unspoken second agreement between the both you couldn’t quite decipher. “Well, I couldn’t turn down Sakura at all”, you laughed sheepishly, flanked by Soobin’s lanky frame who was clutching on to Rin, and Beomgyu next to Changbin, all of you crossing the threshold to the zone of booze, loud music and people ready to share some skin. Changbin seemed insistent to talk to you, for some reason, as he continued, “Whatever magic Kkura played on you, I’m glad it worked, because you’re here.”, he beamed with a confident sort of happiness. “O-oh, me too.”, blinking at the sudden confession. “I’m glad I’m here too. This is Yeonjun’s house, is it?”, you cringed slightly at yourself. Of course it was, everyone knew this was his party. Barking a short laugh, he said, “Yeah, of course. Resident party boy couldn’t help himself on the first day of summer.” You had no idea where Changbin was leading you to, but judging from the way you guys were walking towards an ajar patio door, you figured he wanted you in the backyard to hear you better over the music, where the number of partygoers were much less. Why he wanted to hear you at all, was still a mystery. 

With all the questions and slightly flirty lines being thrown at you from Changbin, you’d managed to completely ignore how you’d lost your friends in the crowd, how Soobin’s comforting presence was not near you, or how you couldn’t hear Beomgyu’s raucous laughter anymore. Finally breathing in the fresh gale of air as you guys stepped on to the wooden flooring of his back porch, it seemed Changbin’s agenda was made clearer - the way he cupped the curve of your cheek, staring deeply into your eyes. And it made you brake in your steps, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Y/N. You’re cute. I’m cute. Cuter, maybe”, he giggled with a wink, as the thought that he might be quite tipsy had already washed over you. “Let’s get out of here?”, he said, beckoning towards the back gate of the house. And you, were absolutely fucking frozen. Here was an attractive boy asking you out, and all your stupid mind could think of was how badly you wished this was Yeonjun, and not his friend. And maybe you wished too hard, because from right behind the waiting figure of Changbin seemed to materialize Choi Yeonjun, black hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, smiling lightly as he met your eyes. The sharpness of his nose and the way his eyes seemed to crinkle around its corners. God damnit. Even in the worst of your moments, you seemed to be absolutely haunted by this six feet tall soccer player. 

“Hey, convenience store. Is this guy bothering you?”. Your mouth was open, but it seemed that no words would be coming out anytime soon. Glaring at his friend for icing his game, which just hardened when Yeonjun put an arm around his friend’s plentiful bicep, he just ushered Changbin away from you, still smiling at you as he explained, “He’s quite drunk right now. I’m glad you didn’t answer him anything, I’m surprised this dumbass can even stand on his own two feet, with the way he was pre-gaming before. Again, my bad, uh- what’s your name again? Can’t keep calling you convenience store now, can I?”

Here was Choi Yeonjun, talking to you about more than just ice cream flavors and homework. Here was Choi Yeonjun, helping you from making a dumb move with a drunk guy. Here was Choi Yeonjun, awaiting your response while you continued standing there mum. 

“U-uh yeah! It’s Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. I worked at the convenience store, yes. But I stopped working there now!”

There was some odd spirit cursing you, for sure. If there was a god of embarrassment, he seemed to have taken a liking to you. 

It seemed that Changbin, who was now reeling from the alcohol in his system, hunched over, ready to hurl, which seemed to distract Yeonjun from your nervous rambling. Hauling his friend over to the side of the patio, he entered with a Changbin hanging limply on his side. Looking back to where you still stood, he just smiled and asked, “You planning to help me out here?”

The floor of the bathroom where Changbin was sitting, curved into the toilet bowl, spilling his guts out was cold. Cold enough to make you and Yeonjun move to the baby blue ceramic tile bathtub, knees pulled into your chest while Yeonjun’s long ones were draped over the rim of the tub. Honestly, your jitters are much less now. The nerves had already made you almost forget what a disaster the first meeting with Yeonjun was, and it seemed he paid no mind to it either. “So Y/N, how do you know Kkura?”. And thus began a short and simple conversation with Choi Yeonjun in a baby blue bathtub, while his friend hurled in the toilet next to you both. 

“I don’t know how to do it.” The conversation was streaming steadily like a river, and the topic started digging deeper. Yeonjun asked about highschool, and how it was going for you - your plans for the summer and then junior year, the same way you asked him and how he felt about his last year in school. “What do you mean?”. “I wish I had a guidebook, you know? To tell me what sorts of things I should do, how to be someone in highschool who makes memories. Who lives. I’ve been trying ever since that last summer of middle school, and I’m still coming up short.” This just made Yeonjun let out a few giggles in amusement, which had you snapping your neck, shocked how he found your problems so funny. Shoving him lightly with your shoulder, you laughed too. “It’s not funny! I’m serious. Everyone except me knows what to do!” “Including me?” asked Yeonjun, head tilted towards you slightly in curiosity now. “Well..” and the look he gave you spurred you on. “You’re the Choi Yeonjun. You’re popular, smart, funny and talented.” “I know”, a lazy grin that had you clenching your fist in response to the butterflies. “So you get it right? You know the ropes.” This had Yeonjun’s smile faltering a bit, as his gaze dropped down to the floor. “If I knew Y/N, I’d know why I’m never enough for my girlfriend.” But as sudden as that confession was, he seemed to return to his original state. And you didn’t like that one bit. Sliding up a bit closer to him, you offered a token of friendship. “Wanna tell me about it? Sounds like you need a listener, and that’s something I’m good at.”

“Well, for starters, the rumor going around that I dumped her is false. It was the other way around. I would say it’s not that the relationship was running smoothly, but I guess I was holding on to that bit of whatever we had, floating a piece of driftwood. Splintering me, but I was holding on. She let go, I guess.”

You’re not sure what it is about you that has him baring open his soul so vulnerable only to you, but you’re glad. Because you saw the boy as more than just a shimmering silhouette in the distance now. He was much more up close, and much more beautiful.

On a hazy summer evening, where the air hung low above everyone like a buzzing, heated static, you met Choi Yeonjun in a new light. And he met you, not for the first time maybe, but definitely in a more impacting way. A second, first meeting.

The Second Summer - June

The days after the party at Yeonjun’s - where after you both had let each other read each other’s stories like open books on display, he’d walked you home due to “his extremely generous and chivalrous nature” (his words, not yours.), you’d been caught yourself far too many times revisiting that night in your head, replaying the smiles and the laughs, the banters and the jokes. You had something else too. Something that your friends were unaware of. Sure, you’d told them about your escapade with Yeonjun and why you were so absent at the party, which had led to hours of teasing from both Soobin and Beomgyu, with Soobin, roping Rin on to the antics kept making smooching noises at you, and Beomgyu, in the most Beomgyu-esque fashion ever would loudly and immaturely sing “Y/N and Yeonjun sitting on a tree” on the top of his lungs. But something you had yet to reveal to them, mainly because your patience would give out if you had to hear more taunts from them. But in your phone, locked away in your contacts, Yeonjun’s number.

“Lemme get your number, tubs”, he’d said with cheek as he called you that nickname he’d decided on the spot and a tongue poking out cutely from his lip, as he thrust his phone into your hands, still strolling along with one hand in the pocket of his black baggy jeans and the other brushing your own, sending sparks shooting right down your knuckles. Typing the digits in, he smoothly pulled your own phone out of your purse that he was carrying upon his insistence, and entered his own number, no doubt saving it under some sort of stupid name. “Why am I Tubs?”, you asked curiously. “Because I just had the best conversation of my life in a tub with you, tubs. Can’t let someone like you fade away now, can I?”. The street was lined with harsh white lamps, and little moths fluttering around the buzzing lamp made shadows dance around on the pavement. “So would you actually use a highschool guide if you got one?”, “Yeah, why not? A Popularity 101 or Escape High School for Dummies might be nice.” Humming, he seemed to be contemplating something, that you had to nudge him out of with an inquisitive look. “Nothing, nothing”, he said, shaking his head reassuringly. “Just something I thought of. Something that might help the both of us out.” “What do you mean?”, you asked him. “I’ll tell you about it. I’ll text you.” And just as elusively he’d entered your life, he left you on the front of your doorstep, with a promising smile and an electricity that wouldn’t leave your palms. 

The nickname had left a blush warming your cheeks that you hoped he hadn’t noticed. And when his contact lit up your phone screen, it was the same blush making its appearance on your face again. 

[Yawnzzn] 11:32 AM: meet me at the convenience store, tubs. kinda wanna talk to you ab smth

While the text’s ominous nature did leave you a bit nervous, the excitement of seeing him again, as a friend, as someone he wanted to hang out with by his own volition, overshadowed it. You knew it had to do something to do with what he’d referenced that fateful night. And skipping down the avenue, past the winding streets of the suburbs lined with trees and their apple green leaves, you made it to the convenience store on the corner, where Yeonjun stood staring into the ground, head bent, wearing a new pair of washed up baggy denims, a white form fitting shirt and a red-and-black cap turned backwards on his shaggy mop of black head, that seemed to highlight the brown undertone in the sun. Spotting your appearance from the sound of footsteps, he smiled and beckoned you into the store where you followed him, settling down on the outdoor seating arrangement shaded by the roof of the store. The sweat was starting to bead on the back of your neck which you tried your best to ignore. Focusing on the boy in front of you, meeting his twinkling gaze just set off an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. 

“Alright, before I say what I have to say, promise me you won’t be weirded out, okay? And I swear it only sounds as complicated.” He seemed nervous, and slightly uncomfortable about what exactly he was asking, which just made your fingers twitch slightly in anticipation. Anxiously biting your lip, you just nodded for him to continue, mustering up the best reassuring slight smile you could manage. “What if I taught you how to master highschool? And in return, could you pretend to be my fake girlfriend?”.

You blinked at him once. Then again. Honestly, you were awaiting that burst of ebullient laughter from him, where he’d then say how he was joking. Why would I date you Tubs? I’m not mad, he’d say. But none of that came. Instead there was still a patient Yeonjun eagerly awaiting your response. Sputtering in confusion and disbelief, you just asked him, “What? Why? Why do you need a fake girlfriend? Why do you want me to be the fake girlfriend?”. Giggling at your discombobulated state, he just waved his hand in the air in a gesture to relax. “Look. I’ve thought long and hard about this. You need a High School for Dummies, and I want to, well, show Yunha that I can be the boyfriend she needs me to be, you know? When she sees what a good boyfriend I can be with you, she might want me back!”. His radiant smile of excitement was throwing shadows over the cracks in your heart. Of course, he wanted her. Perfect, wonderful, Yunha. This would be severely, severely bad for your heart.

“I’ll do it.”

Recounting this debacle was shaping up to be exactly the kind of drama you were expecting from Soobin,Beomgyu and Rin. “You’re not serious. She’s not serious guys.” Rin was still in the denial stage of the process your friends were going through - with Soobin on anger and Beomgyu on grief, clutching your plushie on your bed and looking at you with sorrowful eyes as if you’d kidnapped his dog in front of him or something. Soobin’s mouth seemed to fly at miles a minute, berating you for how badly this would obviously end.

“Maybe this will help me, Soobin! To finally get over him! Clearly staying away just made me yearn more.” This just had Soobin turning more red. 

The both of you had drawn up unspoken rules about this of course - that the agreement would continue until the goal was met. Hopefully, it will happen by the end of this summer itself, Yeonjun had added. There was, of course, an agreement of mutual platonic feelings from both parties. Strike one in the deal.

You didn’t like doing things that your friends disapproved of, who despite their silliness and playfulness, were still your best friends. But God, did holding hands with Yeonjun as he led you through the colorful lights, bustling stalls and zooming rides of the carnival feel good. His hand was encasing yours and tugging your fingers, which had your own heartstrings cinching with each pulling movement. There was a wide smile on your face as he sped towards the stall selling animal headbands, insisting that you both needed matching ones. 

“You know, Yeonjun. If you’re secretly a furry or something, you can tell me. It’s okay, I won’t judge. I mean I will, but you know”, you said in faux sympathy while patting his shoulder jokingly, which had him adorably pouting at you. “Shut up, don’t you want to know what makes me so cool? These headbands do. Chicks and dudes alike dig my childlike whimsy.” He said proudly, which just had you raising an eyebrow at you. Stubbornly placing the matching fox ears on you, he pulled his cellphone out while explaining - “Okay, so step one. Kiss my cheek in this photo so that I can upload it to my story.” Kissing Yeonjun (albeit on the cheek) was like tasting heaven to you. Surely your heart would give out, if you even got closer to him. Kiss on the cheek?

“Come on, quickly! I wanna get a corndog after this”, he said signaling at the dimple on his cheek. Breaking out of your stupor, you hesitantly pushed your lips on to the soft flesh of his cheek, as he titled his more towards you, making your lips plant firmly against his dimple. Your mind was raging as the brightness around you, and his body warmth made your head spin. The sound of the shutter of a camera from his phone seemed to push you off your rollercoaster thoughts,moving quickly away. “Nicely done, Tubs.” he praised, examining the picture and wasting no time to post it. The sudden ding on your phone made you check the device, seeing the same picture being sent to you. “Set it as your wallpaper. Gotta make the gimmick more believable.”, he added nonchalantly. Nodding, you did as he told, until he said in an afterthought, “Plus, I look sexy as hell in that picture.” Scoffing at his confidence, you jokingly said, “And what makes you think I wanna stare at your face every time I open my phone?” “No rebuttals on the sexy part I see”, he winked at you. 

If your chances at surviving this date with an intact heart weren’t already horribly low, Choi Yeonjun was hell-bent on leaving you an absolute goner by the end of the date. 

The second date commenced equally as smoothly, with you taking the initiative this time by taking him to a pottery studio which doubled as a cafe - painting each other small trinkets to keep to remember the good friendship you were both fostering. And as you both opened up more to each other, you found yourself regretting what you’d said to Soobin. Because if anything, being close to Yeonjun just had you spiraling more into this lovestruck rabbit-hole. And you had to dig yourself out, fast.

One of those moments where clarity hit you about digging out, you’d decided to meet up with a fellow classmate of yours - Hwang Hyunjin. Hyunjin was a family friend of yours and you both had been quite close in your childhood years. Your mothers were best friends, who honestly wanted their kids to end up together. But they also didn’t want to force any unwanted romance on you both as children, which is why they’d left the matter alone all together. If it happened, it happened. If it didn’t, it didn’t. 

Your mothers shared such a deep friendship that they even had their own anniversary - the day they first became friends. And along the years, it turned into quite a wholesome celebration for them, celebrating their friendship together. And this anniversary was coming up soon, which is why when Hyunjin had texted you, asking if you wanted to help in throwing a little surprise party for the both of them, you’d eagerly jumped at the opportunity, ready to do anything to distract you from the boy you were so hopeless for. 

Pushing the grocery cart around as Hyunjin mindlessly added to things that might be required for the party, you both idly chatted, catching up with each other’s lives. Hyunjin was a quite good looking guy, and had all the girls in your class breaking their necks to get a good look at his prince-like beauty. Maybe you would’ve been one of those girls currently, if a different guy didn’t have your head up in the clouds. 

“And what’s up with you and Yeonjun? Don’t play with me and tell me, ‘cuz I saw that story of his? Does the shy Y/L/N finally have a man? The most fine, coveted man in school, even?”, he said, his cute dumpling smile and nudging making you blush slightly. “Well, we’ve been hanging out and stuff, I guess? He’s a good guy.”, you said bashfully. Hyunjin opened his mouth to say something but froze midair. Looking forward to seeing what had halted Hyunjin, you made eye contact with Yeonjun’s warm caramel brown ones. 

“Hi Y/N”, he said with a slight edge to his voice, eyeing you and Hyunjin suspiciously as he did. With a clipped voice, he also threw in a “Hey Hwang”, out of whatever courtesy he could find within the unexplainable pit in his stomach and the slight anger clouding his vision as he kept staring at how Hyunjin had an arm loosely wrapped around your shoulder while he was teasing you. He didn’t like that hand. At all. And he needed it off of you, immediately. 

“Hyune, take the items up to the cashier, please? I’ll be with you in a moment”, you requested, gulping as he left your side understandingly, leaving only you and Yeonjun standing in the fresh produce aisle. “Tubs, looks like you don’t need my help getting cool at all, if Hwang is the kind of guy you hang out with.”, he said light-heartedly, even though he felt nothing of the sort currently. Seeing you with another guy had put him off so much, so suddenly that it had him reeling. But, of course anyone wouldn’t be mad if their fake girlfriend was with someone else, right? Even if the word ‘fake’ gave him a bitter taste in his throat?

“Hyunjin is my family friend! His mom and my mom are best friends, you see. And we’re throwing them a little party, you see.”, you explained, suddenly feeling shy in his gaze, intense and burning right into you. His eyes seemed to soften at this, and he nodded. Feeling this odd urge to add more, you hastily spit out, “Do you want to come?”. The invitation was out of the blue and frankly had you feeling stupid. Who the hell would want to come to this? “You bet. I’ll be there in my finest suit and everything”, he added jokingly. “What time?” “Huh?” “What time is it starting?” “You actually want to come?”. “‘Course I do. Gotta impress my in-laws, right?”, he said cheekily. 

“You’re burning up, Y/N-ie!” Hyunjin later said, as he felt your skin as he had gone to poke your cheek. “Was it something in the store?”. Seeing how frozen you were, he slyly put two and two together and asked, “Or was it someone?” 

There were some streamers put up in the living room, and some balloons blown up by both your dads, who’d also become great pals because of their wives. You and Hyunjin were setting up the table, when the doorbell rang. “That can’t be them already?” you asked perplexed. “No, their spa appointment only ends at 6PM, I checked thoroughly”, said Hyunjin’s dad. Moving towards the door, confused about who it could be, you opened the door to find Yeonjun, casually dressed and clutching two small bouquets. “I’m not early, am I?”

When your moms arrived, your mother was pleasantly surprised to find you chatting happily with a boy who was not Hyunjin or any of your friends. Noticing the knowing twinkle in her eyes as you introduced her to Yeonjun, you silently promised her an explanation as you both moved around the room to where Hyunjin was, as your dad beckoned the parents over to the living room while letting the youngsters socialize on their own. With the three of you moving towards the backyard while cracking jokes, you could feel the one-sided tension between the both melting away, which made you glad. Settling down on the lawn chairs on the yard, the three of you streamed through various topics to talk about, with Yeonjun and Hyunjin bonding over their mutual interest in dancing. “I didn’t know you danced.” you’d voiced a bit quietly to him as Hyunjin went to his house just next door to get some beers for the three of you. You hadn’t drank before, so you were planning to sit this one out and let Yeonjun and Hyunjin get tipsy. “Yeah, it’s just been something I’ve always wanted to do. And my teacher before sophomore year reckoned I’d be good too.” “Why’d you stop?”, you asked him. “It was interfering with soccer practice. And soccer gets me into college - dance doesn’t.”. He seemed a bit shut off about the topic, and sensing how this was a sore spot for him, you didn’t press for much. “Well, there’s a life outside college. A life where you could do both - and maybe more dancing like you want.” you offered him in reassurance, which seemed to spark an interest in his eyes. Looking gratefully at you, this look on his face seemed different this time, like there was something deeper simmering beneath the cool guy smack he’d always give you. Your hand which was quite close to his own, hanging limply across the handles of the chair, suddenly was encased in warmth, with his own palm giving yours a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, Y/N. I’d like to show you one day, perhaps.”

And indeed, there was something cooking underneath that aloofness of his, because for the first time, he wished that he could show you his dance skills as his girlfriend, and not just a platonic agreement of the season. 

“Beer wench has arrived!” exclaimed Hyunjin, as he set down three bottles of Beer Lite on the wooden table in front of you. “Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but I’m ready to get cracking. Now Yeonjunnie, did you know that when Y/N was 11 she-""Shut up Hyunjin! You swore you wouldn’t talk about that!”. 

Hyunjin and his parents had departed as the evening neared its close, and the sky was black with dark maroon clouds spread out shielding the glimmering stars. Yeonjun had insisted on helping clean up for the party, claiming it was the least he could do as a guest. He was helping your dad clean up stray paper plates and napkins, until you showed him the way up to your room to get a garbage bag to dispose of the waste. His lanky body was right before you as you both bounded up the stairs, and opening up the door, a sudden realization hit you - Yeonjun was going to see your room. Your kind of messy, lame, postered up room. He was already two strides in when you were frozen up, terrified for the teasing onslaught that was bound to begin anytime soon. “No way, you listen to HONEY too? I freaking love that band.”

This was odd. No teasing. No making fun of your weird posters or your figurines and stuffed toys. Only a very heavy compliment on your music taste. Whistling long as he eyed the rest of your room, he seemed to giggle at the obscene number of plushies on your bed, which you took offense to. “It’s our year of the lord 2018 and you’re gonna make fun of plushies on the bed? Really, Yeonjun?”, you told him off with feigned disappointment as he laughed at this, chuckling while shaking his head. “Not making fun, just admiring.” His speech was only slightly slurred, indicating that he was only barely on the cusp of tipsy and sober. Moving towards your closet to bring out a garbage bag, he ambled up to stand right behind you, his arm resting against the wooden frame of the wardrobe as you ruffled around till you found what you were looking for. “Alright! Let’s go then”, spinning around only to bump your nose slightly against his hard chest. This caught you off guard, breath catching in your throat as you stabilized yourself by lightly holding on to his forearm. “Yeonjun?” you asked unsurely as your eyes hesitantly looked up to his pupils blown wide as he stared at you in an entirely different way. Like you were the only person he wanted to look at for the rest of his life. His lips were tantalizingly plump and pink, like easy to grab, low hanging fruit, the smell of cranberries and beer wafting on to your face gently in the most tempting way possible. Inhaling sharply, you saw how his vision flitted between features of your face, as if he was memorizing every curve, every mole and every lash. Eyes blown wide as saucers, you could only stand in bated breath, expecting nothing and everything at the same time. His lips were scanning your lips, and you swore your legs would give out right then and there, from the way he licked his own lips while eyeing yours. 

A call from downstairs seemed to separate you two like similar poles of a magnet, coughing slightly and silently going downstairs, garbage bag in your hand. There was a soft smile on both of your faces as you handed him the bag, going to join your mom in washing the dishes. Your currently flustered state was all the explanation your mom needed about who Yeonjun was to you in your life.

You and Yeonjun ambled by the door just killing time, neither of you wanting to say goodbye. But he knew it was time to go. Standing on your front porch, he offered the last sucker-punch of feelings to your gut as he said, “You know what, Tubs? I still don’t think you need my help. I think you’re the coolest person I know.”

The night when you laid in your bed, an hour after bidding him goodbye, you found yourself staring at the HONEY poster and smiling like a lovesick fool. This summer, you swore, was going to be beautiful.

The Second Summer - July

If you smile at your phone any longer, you’re afraid the shape would be etched on to your face forever, and everyone would know you as the lovestruck idiot who can’t stop smiling. At Least that’s what Soobin says, and obviously he’s never wrong. But even you had to admit, the rate at which you and Yeonjun had spent every waking moment together, including digitally over text messages, was just abysmal. Something seemed to have shifted in him ever since that encounter in your room, and it seemed like he’s exploded with affection. Almost everyone in your school knew that the both of you were in a relationship. A fake one, a snide voice in your head reminded you. That’s what this was for, anyways. A way for him to show Yunha how perfect he was. He wanted to be perfect for Yunha, and you were just practice. But the dark thoughts seemed to evaporate from your mind as another text message from Yeonjun lit up your phone, the wallpaper - the photo of the carnival - just making you more giddy. He’d invited you to your new date/hangout (you weren’t sure which word to settle on during this convoluted situation), a movie night at his place, after you’d relentlessly teased him for not knowing some of the most famous rom-coms. He’d apparently already watched Princess Diaries, which was a shock to you at first, until you found out it was only because his friend Chan had insisted that it was pure cinema, which it was. So tonight, you’d decided to make him watch the second installment of the series, a superior romance with just the right amounts of tension and tropes. He was picking up snacks from the supermarket while he was messaging you, asking you your preferences, the thoughtfulness melting your heart. Your leg was bouncing up and down in excitement as you laid on your bed, ready as ever for the night. 

At 7PM sharp, you had made your way to his house, rapping sharply at the door. He’d confirmed previously that the house was going to be empty save for his younger sister, since his parents had already jetted off for an anniversary couples vacation, leaving their two children in charge of the house. Fully expecting Yeonjun to open the door, you were surprised to find a smaller girl standing at the door with unblinking owlish eyes. From the similar fox-like features to the jet black hair, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that this was Yeonjun’s younger sister, Yena. She seemed to smile, metal braces glinting under the yellow porch light as she welcomed you in. His sister, who was due to start freshman year herself this fall in the same school as you both, seemed to spend no time in starting to talk to you, treating you like a friend she’d known for a long time. “You’re her, right?”, she seemed to ask mid-ramble, “You're Y/N. God that idiot can’t ever shut up about you! Of course, I see why considering how gorgeous you are, but please, some of us are sick of hearing about how much you like spending time with her!”, her voice growing louder and angled towards the staircase you both stood at the bottom of, clearly as a dig towards Yeonjun. His loud footsteps ran down the flight of the stairs, hair damp as if he’s just hopped out of the shower and bangs flopping against his forehead, clad in gray sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt. “Yena, don’t you have idols to ogle at on your iPad like a middle schooler?”, he asked with a huff of annoyance towards his sister, who just promptly stuck her tongue out at him, and walked away, not without giving you a teasing wink before she did. Clearly, this targeted teasing seemed to run in the Choi family genes. 

“We’ll watch the movie in my room, so that the little parasite doesn’t bother us”, he explained as he grabbed your hand to pull you up, almost like it was natural to him. A faint “I heard that!”from Yena in the living room made you chuckle wholeheartedly, loving their sibling dynamic. The sound of your laugh seemed to liven up Yeonjun even more, who could feel the warmth in your hand in his igniting a spark in his heart. So much for pre-made plans of how things go. It is the first time, he thought to himself, that someone’s made me feel this way. And I like it.

Settling down on his queen sized bed, the navy blue duvet and bed covers complimented with gray pillows surprised you, because to be honest, you were expecting some sort of Pokemon bed covers. Which earned you a frustrated and angry sound from Yeonjun, who in his annoyance often behaved exactly like a toddler. Endearing. 

Pressing on the button on the remote, he settled down comfortably right beside you, elbows touching yours as a bowl of popcorn mix was precariously balanced on both of your thighs, his body heat making you feel like a furnace. 

It got worse as the movie continued. Every minuscule move he made, every tiny shift or brush of him against you had you writhing in your head, having to restrain yourself from just imagining. Imagining what it would be like if you were both a regular couple having a regular date night, with your head on his chest, just above his beating heart. He would run his fingers through your hair that would probably soothe the next ten years worth of worries in your life. He could cup your chin and just dip down, giving you a taste of what it was like to be kissed by the magnificent boy. But that beating heart you fantasized of listening to, was currently beating for Kim Yunha. 

You’d never had your first kiss. You frankly saw no big deal of it, and you didn’t want to share a meaningless kiss with some boy who’s name you’d probably forget in twenty years during those eighth grade spin the bottle games at birthday parties. You didn’t know what your first kiss would feel like. If it would be the sparks and fireworks, the bubbles of champagne kind, or the comfortable one, like the breeze that enters through your window at night. Like home. The kiss you currently craved, you guessed, would taste as sweet as candy.

“Hey, hey she did the foot pop when she kissed him! That’s what she wanted in her first movie right!” Yeonjun exclaimed, deeply interested in the movie while you dealt with the dilemma in your mind. He added on, “Oh man, a foot pop kiss would be fun. Different to the kisses I’ve had. Have you had any of those, Tubs?”. His questions seemed to fly over your head, until he asked again, inquisitive eyes looking at you, the dialogue a dimmed background in how close he was. Gulping, you didn’t really feel shame or embarrassment as you told Yeonjun about your lack of experience (read:none) in that department. It was Yeonjun, of course. You couldn’t find anyone else to admit this kind of information to. 

Yeonjun doesn’t know why he’s said it; it flew out of his mouth faster than he could register. But all he did know is that he did want to kiss you. To give you your first kiss. A foot-popping, rom-com, magical kiss. You deserved it. He wanted it. 

“Wanna kiss me?”

His voice has a low timbre to it when he asks this.

There’s an ocean ringing in your ears in the midst of your raging emotions - confusion, shock, and above all, glee. To be kissed by Choi Yeonjun, was like plucking a star from the sky and handing it to you. 

Your neck moves almost mechanically in a single nod. And then his lips are on yours. 

There’s colors yet darkness behind your eyelids that flutter close. Your lips are moving softly and shyly against his, which are gentle yet firm. Like he wants this as bad as you. Like tasting you wasn’t a chore, but a reward. 

You think Yeonjun tastes like popcorn and excitement. He thinks you taste exactly like summer.

The Second Summer - August

The windows in the car are slightly fogging up, and beating heat outside isn’t quite helping. The heavy and quick breaths, the faintest moans of pleasure, from the bitten lips to the few scattered hickeys on your neck, as his lips, as unrelenting as ever, kept devouring your mouth would make anyone feel shy enough to look away. His eyes are slightly dimmed and he looks up through his eyelashes at you from where he’s nibbling on your collarbone, which sends a searing flame down your spine and making you whine a sound barely audible to anyone who wasn’t in the kind of proximity to you that Yeonjun was in. The whine just got more loud as you complained when he pulled away from his ministrations as the sound of his phone dinging from messages from the rest of the Three Stooges which was his friend group - all of them asking how long exactly would he take to go on a simple beer run for the party they’re holding tonight at Wooyoung’s place. Shushing your complaints with a sweet peck on your swollen lips, he said, “Sorry Tubs, but these guys won’t leave me alone unless I get their alcohol. ‘Swear they’re like impatient babies about this stuff.” Starting the car as you got out, he held your wrist just as you were about to close the door, tugging as he asked, “I’ll see you at the party, right?”, eyes gleaming with hope. Smiling, you reassured him with a simple yes, and walked over to the short distance to your house, where the rest of your friends had already gathered, waiting in your bedroom. Already bracing yourself, you opened the door to find Beomgyu funnily gasping and shouting about the marks and your messed up hair, with Rin high fiving you and Soobin, while pretending to be a mad dad at you, just hugged you with a smile that had broken through. “You know Y/N-ie, not even Olympic athletes are this dedicated to reaching the goal like you did. I’m proud of you kid.” “What’s up with all this ‘kid’ stuff, old man?” you asked him laughing as you plopped down on the beanbag next to Rin who was sorting through your wardrobe trying to find the perfect outfit for you to wear to the party, which would be your first public, public appearance with Yeonjun.

If you weren’t going to lie, you were quite nervous. Yunha was supposed to be at this party too. And Yeonjun and you hadn’t talked about the ‘deal’ you both had made, the one which would end with him being with Yunha again, at all since that kiss in his room. The rest of the days since then had since been blurred into kiss-filled memories highlighted with more dates and more memories with him. With not a single mention of what happened before, or what would happen later. If this was the only way you could have Yeonjun, in an unspoken way, the self-destructive, addicted part of you was okay with that. But all good things did come to an end. You had spoken to Beomgyu about your predicament, who had been nothing but a patient and attentive listener to you, despite the boy’s regular nature. He offered you some advice - the kind that you knew was so realistic that only Beomgyu could offer it. 

“Confront him about it at the party tonight. Perhaps being this publicly out with you might make him remember your contract too. Then you guys could come to a conclusion, hopefully a good one.”

You’re fidgeting with your fingers on the way to the party, non-verbal and staring out the window in Soobin’s car as the three of them sensed you needed your space, left you alone. Tonight was an important night. 

Jung Wooyoung’s house was no joke. A sprawling mansion with five private jacuzzis, countless bedrooms and more space than required, the party teeming across the entire property seemed to be in full swing when you all arrived. A text alert on your phone from Yeonjun made you look away from the sheer grandness of the house,

[Yawnzzn] 10:26 PM: come meet me at the jacuzzi marked number 3. it’s the one behind the fountain 🙂

Fountain? Jacuzzi? God, was Wooyoung rich. The number of amenities had your head spinning, and it was almost like deja vu, the way you found yourself separated from your friends again at a party. Fortunately enough, this time you’d told them about the message and about meeting Yeonjun. Beomgyu had given an extra reassuring look when you left, silently cheering you on for what you were planning to do tonight. Pushing past sweaty bodies and handsy couples, drunk teenagers and passed out bodies on the floor, you tried to find your way to the location that Yeonjun had messaged. The enormity of the house didn’t make it easy, and honestly you were getting quite dizzy from all the overstimulation around you. But you had to find him first. 

Finally spotting a cluster of palm leaves and an artificial water fountain, made of polished rocks and lighting from below making the water look ethereal, you ambled your way there, pushing past the leaves to get behind the fountain to where Yeonjun said the jacuzzi was. Making it past the rocks, you saw the jacuzzi, where your boy sat with his feet in the glowing blue water, the shadows of the water rippling across his face. There was your beautiful boy, sitting right next to Kim Yunha. 

You didn’t know what to say. Or do. He was looking at her the way you swore he looked at you, with all that hope and all that endearment in his face. Then his face fell, with a tinge of visible anger clustering in his furrowed eyebrows, when you heard the words in her voice, “So what, you gonna extend your contract with your pathetic little fake-girl? Or are you just man up and come back to me?” There seemed to be some sort of satisfaction in the smirk Kim Yunha wore, amplifying when she looked right at you, gleaming with some sort of vengeance. As soon as she did, Yeonjun did too, with a look of utter bewilderment and helplessness. Sort of like how you felt. 

It was like piercing a knife right through you, hot and searing which led to the same kind of tears running right down your face. The look you wore had something inexplicably sharp poking Yeonjun deeply in the chest. He was trying to get around the wet floor, trying to reach you, screaming something. 

But you didn’t hear anything. It was like there was that ocean in your ears again, raging violently this time. Your breath was quickening like falling sand. You didn’t know what to think right now. The summer was supposed to end, and this was the end of your summer, and fuck, he got what he wanted, didn’t he? And left you with nothing. You didn’t know what to do, so you did the only thing you could do, and you ran. 

The Second Summer - Yeonjun’s Summer

If you had asked Yeonjun how his summer was going, he would just say one thing. “This summer, I fell in love.”

74 missed calls have accumulated in your phone over the past three days, where you’ve laid just rotting in your bed. Your eyes are probably still puffy from the way that when you think the tears have ended, they begin again. Rin spent the night over the first night, after hearing your broken recount of the events that had happened to the best of your abilities, amongst the gut-wrenching sobs that wouldn’t stop and the horrible ache in your heart that just wouldn’t stop. The second night, it was Beomgyu, accompanied by Taehyun and Kai, who had come back from visiting their family and been filled in by the rest of the gang on the current happenings. Beomgyu seemed quite angry at himself, after all he was the one who had suggested that you seek out Yeonjun at the party. But when you limply just grabbed his hand while tears streamed down your face noiselessly, the three boys just gathered around you in a circle, encasing you and trying their best to shield you from pain; even though the pain was deep inside you, like a hurtful wrench determined to dig right into you. 

Soobin was here on the third night, declining all the calls from the boy who broke your heart, who seemed to be relentless in his attempts. He had gotten what he had wanted, didn’t he? He got his precious girlfriend back, and was he stupid enough to expect the both of you would continue to be friends? “I don’t get why he called me there if she was going to be there as well”. Your voice is as frail as a dying leaf in winter, thin like paper and watery that had Soobin himself tearing up for his friend. 

You did have quite a lot of unanswered questions that would remain a mystery to you, you guessed. Did everything really mean nothing to you? Was I the only one calling it everything? Do you miss me? I miss you. I miss you a lot even though I shouldn’t. I miss you all the time. I hate you. I miss you. 

Another buzzing call on your phone had you break out of your headspace. “Soob”, you began in a watery voice, “I’m gonna go shower. Maybe get rid of this stench and sadness on me. You go home and get some rest, okay?””But-” “Trust me.” He understood that this was something you needed, and giving you one last hug, he walked out, leaving you alone in the room where you first felt Yeonjun. 

He’s been driving around aimlessly for the past three days. Ever since that night, he’s been sleeping in his car, which had gathered protests from the rest of his friends. But he couldn’t stomach going into his room, where he’d kissed you for the first time. He was haunted now, by the most beautiful ghost. A ghost whom he’d hurt. 

He has been cursing out Kim Yunha in his mind continuously, but not as much as he’d been cursing himself. When she’d overheard the conversation he was having with Changbin, Wooyoung and Chan about how he was ready to cut the contract-deal bullshit between you both, to finally put an end to the Yunha business, and finally ask you to be his as much as he already was yours, he should’ve taken some action. He shouldn’t have fallen for her innocent act, where she pretended to be actually interested in hearing about you. He should’ve cut her off immediately, and then run to you and kissed you long and hard.

But he didn’t. He didn’t and now you were hurt because of him and he couldn’t find you at all. There seemed to be no activity about you. You hadn’t blocked him, but you didn’t pick up his calls. His texts were still going through, but left on delivered. He was lost, and you were the only one who could compass him back to shore. 

He doesn’t know when to pin-point to the moment being the moment when he realized that he’d fallen hard and fast for you. Every date with you made him crave your presence more. Funny jokes seem funnier when he hears your laugh. Movies were more entertaining only when you were sitting next to him, pressed up to him so that he could smell your shampoo and hold your hand, the pads of his fingers tracing every crease on your palm. Or maybe it was when you became the first person to take an interest in the real him - the Yeonjun who liked dancing and animal ears and popcorn and ice creams from the convenience store. Maybe he was a goner the moment he sat in that bathtub at the party with you. Losing an anchor like you meant he was back to being adrift at sea.

It’s the 4th day of being on no-contact with Yeonjun. Since that fateful day where your heart had been shattered to pieces. You’re back at the convenience store you’d worked that summer, on some sort of heritage tour of the moments you had before you were crushed. You walked on over to the ice cream box, chuckling sadly when you noticed the exact ice cream you’d recommended him still being there. You weren’t sure how or when you’d stop remembering him in the small things. But in some deep, deep part of you, you wanted to remember him. You wanted to remember how high you felt around him. 

“Y/N.”

It's like the temperature in the store drops significantly when he says your name. You’re refusing to turn around, shoulder seized up and taut. He’s here, he’s here, why the fuck is he here?

“Y/N, please.” He doesn’t want to get too close to you just yet. He wants to give you the space you need. But fuck, if he just didn’t feel the largest wave of relief in his chest when he spotted you entering the convenience store. 

“Y/N, Tubs. Please. Just hear me out. Please? I promise you it’s not what it looked like.”

He sounds so utterly desperate and broken that it makes your heart ache enough to make you turn around, making you gasp at his disheveled appearance.

There’s dark eye bags under his eyes which have lost any spark they held before. Despite the brightness of the sun outside, he seemed to look almost gray in color. Like life was sucked right out of him. His concerning appearance had you shuffling hesitantly towards him, which he was ever-so welcoming to. Opening his mouth, his voice was hoarse, as began explaining everything. 

You’re both seated outside that store again, where that godforsaken deal began. He seems much lighter now, and much better. His hand is inches from yours, and hesitating to close the gap. The moment is so tender, so precious, that even one wrong move has him fearing that you’d leave, and he’d be broken again. “Is the deal over then?”, you ask him, which has his eyes widening. “Fuck the deal, baby. I’m so sorry that it even was a thing. I like you, Y/N Y/L/N. I might even just be in love with you, and I’m mad enough about you to admit it. You’re like breathing to me, Y/N.”

He’s here again, and he’s so, so beautiful again. This time, it’s you closing the gap between your hands, his palm bringing back fond memories to your mind. “Well, Yeonjun, I hope the deal is over. I’d like to declare it over, because I would prefer it a lot more if you became my real boyfriend, instead of my fake one.”

It’s the summer before junior year and you’re only sixteen, but you swear that this is love. You may not know much, but you’re sure. Reaching here might’ve been hell, like fighting modern Sparta. But you wouldn’t have ended it any differently, with you and him and a summer in a convenience store, eating ice pops and sharing frozen kisses. 

Bonus: The first fall

You’re standing in front of your locker. The first day of school jitters were significantly lesser compared to your previous years. Picking up the singular post-it that had seemed to have found itself in your locker, you turned it around to find Yeonjun’s scrawling handwriting saying only one thing. I love you. And just as you grinned from the message, the boy in question wrapped his arms around your torso, planting a sweet kiss on the right side of your neck, and then deeply inhaling your scent, which made you laugh happily. “Cool people write post-its by the way. That should also be a tip you should consider for your highschool journey.” “Of course, my cool boyfriend. I’ll definitely keep in mind that post-its are for cool people.” If Yeonjun was a star, you were his star charter. You’d still have to get through the battleground of high school. But doing it with Yeonjun just made the whole journey much sweeter, didn’t it?

“Just for the record, I still don’t like him.” ”Shut up Soobin!”.

[bearw-me]

This is kinda dark so if you don't wanna do it it's cool. Can I request Carmilla running into a son reader? [Years before she had her daughters she had a son but she was too strict/serious on her boy which led to him...taking his own life. The experience made Carmilla realize she mightve been too hard on him so when hid sisters come around she showers them with love] The reader thinks carmilla is going to scold him, scream at him or anything but she just hugs him hard and tells him she's sorry and that she loves him

i'd like to put my author's note up here before you guys read what i wrote/make a little disclaimer!

TW: mentions of harm

I wouldn't write the act, per-se, but i had absolutely no problem with your request because it doesn't really involve those details (fic wise) this one is mostly about comfort and a nice reunion!

just before you go, know your best-friend mal is always here for you <3 this and every other fic i write is my silent love-letter to you

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐨 — 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

𐐒 includes : carmilla carmine x son!reader, odette, clara 𐐒 cw : angst, hugs, kisses, comfort 𐐒 summary : after a few decades in hell, you decide it's time to stop putting it aside and visit your mother for the first time since you've appeared in hell. as anxious as you are, she receives your visit with open arms. 𐐒 word count : 1.1 k

The metal body of the cab rattled against the broken highway, the sights of Pentagon city flashing past you in a pink florescent blur. You sighed, slumping into the leather seats.

Were you really doing this?

The thought made your stomach bubble with new found nerves. Rolling and wrenching the muscles in your stomach so hard you suddenly had to lean forward in your seat. Forced to stare at all the dust and garbage littered about the floor.

"Oh god I'm gonna be sick," you mumbled to yourself.

"Don't throw up in my car kid," the driver growled at you, suddenly adjusting his rearview mirror so that he could keep an eye on you.

You tried not to roll your eyes, taking a quick glance out of the window just in time to witness the change in districts.

"Might wanna keep your head down kid! We're in Carmine's district now," he laughed, a hoarse sound filled with cigarette smoke.

You had never actually been in this part of hell. After all these years you've been here, watching as the districts had shifted between hands in the great soul exchange. . .

All those years until you realized she had fallen here just like you.

And you didn't really know how to process that thought just yet.

The once chaotic district was now more silent.

Shadows skulking between buildings and alleyways, making deals to sell weapons and bartering for money.

You grimaced, opting to let those images blur in your mind and let your head fall against the rattling window.

What possessed you to see your mother after all these year? Who knows. . .

It just felt like it had to be done.

Soon, the tall white building had come into view, a place you heard the overlords of hell met up.

And today, Carmilla would be here, same with your-. . .

Odette and Clara.

You stepped out of the cab, soles hitting the pavement with a tap. You paid what you owed to the driver and waved a quick thanks as he sped off, the devil on his heels.

That left you alone, standing like David against Goliath with the empire she had built.

She's. . . kept herself busy.

It's all you could think about. Staring at the gleaming tiles of the building with hesitance.

What would she say to you? Should you have told her you were coming? That you were here?

The sickness that seemed to be plaguing you had come back in waves.

The last time you had remembered seeing her, you were both alive on Earth, screaming at each others faces.

"One day, mi hijo, you will have to do everything for yourself! You will have to take over the business! YOU have to carry all that burdens us and I NEED you to be ready for that! Why can't you just see that! I won't always be here for you! YOU NEED TO STEP UP TO THIS!"

But. . .

You just couldn't do everything she had wanted of you. The standards, the rules, the burden. . . it was all too heavy for one person to carry.

And now here you were, on the white-waiting room couch unannounced.

To sayy. . . what exactly?

You bit at your nails in thought, leg bouncing up and down as you waited for your name to be called.

It was pretty empty today.

No one was really sitting in here with you.

That was a great thought.

A deep, strung-out exhale shook its way out of your lungs.

Nerves, you figured.

You didn't even know what to do with your hands, running them through your hair and rocking back and forth in your seat, wondering if it was too late to just stand up and leave-

"Um. . ." You stopped completely, turning your head towards the sound of your voice.

Just before the office doors, two small sinners stood side by side, holding a clipboard up to their faces as they eyed you with surprise.

Odette and Clara.

There was no mistaking them.

"That's. . . me?" You rose from your seat like a ghost, not really feeling anything but utter surprise.

It was the first time you've ever seen them. The same cream colored hair, the same eyes, they even stood en pointe like her.

Odette and Clara.

"Come with us," Clara beckoned, her curly hair and grey skin. . . did she look like that too? Now that she was a sinner?

Thank goodness the girls turned away from you quickly, giving you just enough time to wipe a stray tear from your eye. Estranged siblings that you've never even met. . . and you were so full of emotion at just the sight of them.

Did they know who you were?

You watched them wearily, the two exchanging quick glances at each other and occasionally, at you.

"She's right in here," Clara trailed off.

Odette glanced at you through her round glasses, a hint of worry lifting her eyebrows up "She wasn't expecting you today."

"Alright," you shrugged. I mean, it was a fact you already knew, but to hear the two of them say it to you was the final slap of reality you weren't sure you entirely needed.

The two of them opened the doors for you, watching intently as you shuffled into the room, and back at each other incredulously.

"Ay dios mio, I said I didn't have time for meetings. . ." you heard her mumble, face covered by a laptop screen, hunched over and lost in her work.

It was how you remembered her.

"Mamá," you called out, finally taking a seat in front of her desk, unsure of who or what you'd find on the other side of that screen.

With that one word, she froze still, a pair of demonic red eyes peering over the top of that silver screen.

"Mamá," you said again, a choked sound now that you realized it was her.

It was actually her.

A sinner, your mother, an overlord, who was finally before you.

It was like all the things you had planned on telling her had thrown themselves together and crumbled beneath the sight of her.

"Mi hijo."

"Mamá, I know you're mad at me," the tears came without warning, and you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, unable to keep looking at her as the sobs wracked through your body, pleading for her forgiveness "I tried my best! I tried! I-"

"Mi hijo, I'm so sorry," your mother flew into your arms, the familiarity of her love so striking that you became undone in her arms.

She cried into your neck, a sound you've never heard before "Oh mi hijo, no heavens could ever keep me away from you, never, and I and never letting you go again,"

"I love you mi hijo."

[littlemissmiller]

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐢𝐦

Pairing: drug dealer!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

Summary: (au) Your last summer before college and Coriolanus is still just as in love with you as the first time he saw you, but all of high school you’ve been taken. Meanwhile Coriolanus isn’t looking forward to college, but at least he can still make money dealing drugs. During the last week of school, he notices how fragile your relationship has become and something makes him think he still may have one last chance with you before the summer is over…

Warning: 21+ (mentions or drugs/ drug use) eventually smut, mentions of masturbation (m and f), mentions of oral (m and f receiving), jealously, slight obsession, possession, toxic relationship, slight stalking

Word count: 4k

A/N: hello all! my first series! soooo i’ve had this idea in mind for a while, but it felt like a summer write/read and i figured since a good amount of y’all are high school age or older this would appeal more and now that the school year is over i figured y’all have more time to read too. also i have another joel fic so that is coming soooon (closely followed by a billy fic) i’m so excited about this one like…i had so much fun writing it and i’m guesssing it’s gonna be like 12 chapters long…idk we shall see :) i hope you enjoy

Series Masterlist | Playlist

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Coriolanus is ready for the summer. He’s so sick of school, even though he excels at it. He barely has to study and usually did his homework last minute and still got all A’s. His grandma had encouraged him to go to college next year, even though school didn’t quite interest him anymore. He thought about joining ROTC once he got to campus, but truthfully, why would he give up his little side deal for some army pricks and a “free” ride to college when business was about to be booming.

In his sophomore year, Coriolanus had taken up dealing drugs. Mainly he stuck to weed or psychedelics like mushrooms or acid, and occasionally ecstasy. He didn’t dare sell hard shit and he always made sure his stuff was clean. He had help. From time to time, his friend, Sejanus, would steal from his mother’s medicine cabinet. Xanax, Valium, whatever Mrs. Plinth’s psychiatrist would prescribe, he would manage to steal a few whenever his mother decided not to take her meds that day. It was a system that worked well for Coriolanus, and a system that he would need to maintain. Which is why he decided to go to college only about an hour away from his town. Being from a small, rural town in Illinois didn’t leave Coriolanus many options except the big public school close to the city. A booming college town, where Coriolanus knew he’d be able to expand his “customers” and still manage to keep up his means of getting the drugs he sold.

Luckily enough for him, Sejanus was attending the same college as Coriolanus. Which meant “visits back home” were opportunities for Coriolanus to stock up on his stash and sell. He would be able to tag along with a homesick Sejanus frequently, or at least that’s what Coriolanus predicts given how nostalgic he has seemed to become in the last couple of months. It’s Sejanus’s new favorite hobby. Recalling old memories and moments from the past. Some of which Coriolanus didn’t even realize how much those mundane moments Sejanus’s brain clinged to. How much he cared about their hometown and especially his family. Coriolanus didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he was going halfway across the country, unlike you.

You were bound for California, had big dreams of becoming a cancer researcher for a children’s hospital, and absolutely over the moon to be going to Stanford. Coriolanus wasn’t as thrilled. He had long desired you, wanted you as his own, but since the first week of freshman year you had been so out of his grasp. Too distracted by someone on the football or basketball team, and by your sophomore year you had gotten with one of those football players, Devon. Coriolanus still saw you around however. You and him had shared every AP science course since sophomore year and you considered Coriolanus to be a school friend. That was all. Yet, all of the science classes you and him had spent together left plenty of room for you to chat about Devon. And for some reason you felt safe to talk to him about whenever he would do something to upset you. But you never left him.

So, Coriolanus had watched you from afar, longing to have you all to himself. As high school went on, you only grew more and more beautiful and Coriolanus would often imagine you laying bare before him on his bed. When he was home, he couldn’t help but jerk himself off to the image of you with your hand on your wet core, playing with your clit in between your fingers. That’s all he could picture as he pumped his length in the shower most nights. One hand against the wall the other stroking himself as he pictures you begging for him to fuck you. Your soft pleas tumbling from your beautiful lips like a prayer.

Why couldn’t he have you? Why did some himbo athlete have to have you when Coriolanus was clearly superior to him. He didn’t blame you though. Devon was popular, which made you popular by default and after being in a relationship for so long, he knew it wasn’t easy to just leave someone like that. If anything he blamed himself for not getting to you first. For not asking you out when he had the chance.

Not thinking you’d be interested, the one time Coriolanus had gotten an opportunity to ask you out was freshman year. It was after biology class right before winter break and Coriolanus wanted to take you to a movie. You were his lab partner that day and it’s all that was on his mind. When just the right moment arose, he first asked if you wanted to meet later that night to finish the lab so they would have less homework over break, but mainly to see if you were free to hang out. Coriolanus was quickly let down when you informed him that you would’ve liked to, but your family was going out of town to visit your grandparents for the holidays.

“I’ll just have to finish it when I get back from break.” You had sighed

And that was the only real time he’d had talked to you still single. What a pity given it was the last week of school now. Exams were nearly over and Coriolanus had told himself to give up on you, but he couldn’t seem to let you go. Even though it was the last week, and graduation was this weekend, he still desired you deeply. More than the day he met you. Coriolanus watched you in AP Literature as the class went over the study guide. You twirled your hair, bored and just as ready for the relaxing summer break as he was. He tried not to gawk, but he couldn’t help it. You looked so god damn precious today. Your green plaid skirt just barely followed the dress code and your white shirt was ruffled around the edges and fit your body nicely. Your black converse high tops dangled above the floor. All he wanted to do was take you into a bathroom stall, bend you over, bunch up your skirt and admire your ass. He bet it was soft and round. He imagined a pair of cotton, white panties under it all, soaked. His cock started to harden in his jeans, so Coriolanus moved in his seat to hide his stirring erection.

The bell rings about ten minutes later and thankfully he’s settled down enough to where his bulge isn’t quite so obvious. He snatches up his book bag and looks up. As the last few students file out, you are asking the teacher a few questions. Coriolanus gets up and heads for the door. As he passed you, you finish your conversation and quickly move to catch up to him.

“Hey!” You shouted

Coriolanus paused at the door, turning his head to look at you

“I know it’s exam week and you are busy, but this physics lab is going to be the death of me.”

Coriolanus couldn’t believe it. Were you about to ask for his help outside of class? You had always been going to him for help with your science classes. Even though you had managed to score higher than him on every exam in science, for some reason physics was killing you. So all semester, you had been asking Coriolanus for help during class, but only during class. You never asked to finish your work with him after school.

“Are you asking for my help?” He smiles

Personally, you don’t want to take away from his time since Coriolanus seemed like the type of man that valued his free time and didn’t like to bother with school outside of school. In addition, his mysterious, stern demeanor was intimidating and you didn’t know if you were bothering him while he was trying to make money. You knew he dealt drugs and frankly, the idea of that scared you too, so much as you need his help and your science classes and in all honesty, you were just afraid to ask him for anything at all.

But Coriolanus always assumed it was because of how protective Devon was. Which was also true. He didn’t like you talking to other guys outside of class, and he was particularly wary of Coriolanus. It was no secret that he was handsome. Coriolanus had built his own reputation as someone who slept around. And as much of a neanderthal as Devon was, he damn well knew that Coriolanus looked at you like you’re his prey.

“Yes” you sighed

“I don’t mind.”

“Really”

“Not at all. I’m free tonight.”

“Thank you so much. You have no idea, I’d seriously be lost without you.”

“Of course!” He chirped

“I appreciate it. Wanna meet up at Panera after school?”

“Sounds good.”

You smiled, waved and walked off

Fuckfuckfuck you said “lost without him.” That felt so personal. And your sweet smile. Why are you so perfect. Your hips sway as you walk away and Coriolanus’s cock starts to get hard again, until he see’s something that makes him want to repulse. Your boyfriend approached you from the other end of the hall. Devon came up to you,hugged you and groped your ass. What an obnoxious ass, can’t he tell you don’t like that kind of attention in school. He gave you a sleazy smile and Coriolanus turned his attention away.

After school, he headed to Panera as instructed and waited for you. You pulled up, your boyfriend dropping you off in his 2016 White Mercedes C-Class. You walk inside and find him sitting in the back.

“Hey. I’m going to order food. Did you get something?” You asked

“Nah I’m not all that hungry.”

“Okay!” You smile and walk to the counter to order.

You came back quickly, sat beside Coriolanus, putting your book bag between them. You pulled out you physics textbook, laptop and the lab. As you explained why you were confused, Coriolanus explained the material to you, but was so tempted again. So tempted by the way your knee peaked at him and when you crossed your legs, letting more of your thigh show, he nearly fell apart. He hated how desperate he was for you. How badly he wanted you. He’d do anything just to hear you instruct him to get on his knees and bury his face in between your thighs.

When your food came, he refocused his attention on your homework. Why couldn’t he control himself? Why was he so drawn to your temptations today? You always looked so beautiful, but Coriolanus felt feral.

“Ugh what am I going to do next year without you in my science classes!” You sighed

There you go again. Making everything sound personal and intimate. Clever as always, Coriolanus replied.

“Well good thing you have my number right?”

“Yeah, but we won’t be in the same class and I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother” he follows up quickly

“You’re always so sweet. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime…” he smiles

Your phone buzzed, it’s Devon. You pick up and he seems annoyed. You tried to calm him down but somehow he figured out that you’re here studying with Coriolanus.

“You’re being ridiculous ok. Let’s just talk when we get back to my house…busy…with what?” You speak in a harsh whisper. “Ok whatever… just come back and drop me back home. Ok please?”

Coriolanus acted like he didn’t notice, but he watched in agony as tears welled up in your eyes. You took a deep breath, close your eyes, and swallowed your sadness along with the last sip of your Cola. Even though he should mind his own business, he couldn’t contain himself. He had to ask if you were ok. Besides, it's not like you don’t already confide in him during class anyways.

“It’s ok. I’ll be good.” You said, your lip quivering

You excuse yourself to refill your drink and Coriolanus packs up his things.

What a fucking insecure dick.

Coriolanus knew that you’re not the type to cheat. If anything Devon would cheat on you in a second. As protective as he was of you, he seemed to have a different set of rules for himself. Coriolanus saw Devon at parties, how’d he flirt with other girls when you weren’t around, or check out the cheerleaders at games. Yet you couldn’t have any real guy friends, and he truly couldn’t stand Coriolanus.

“You sure? I could give you a ride home since he seems…”

“No it’s fine…he’ll be here soon anyways. I appreciate your help.”

Your lip quivers slightly and you hide your face as you pretend to yawn. It’s something you’ve learned to help you to hide your tears and prevent you from falling apart into a big mess. But Coriolanus saw right through it because he had seen it before. He wanted to hold you, tell you to dump Devon and be with him instead. He would kiss you, to show you just how serious he was. He imagined delicately stroking your chin with his thumb and forefinger, guiding your face to his and kissing you deeply. He would be slow, tender, his lips simply ghosting over your own. He would still hold you daintily, his breath fanning over your face as he told you how much he loves you.

You look outside, turning away from Coriolanus, stifling your cries as a single tear rolls down your cheek. Coriolanus can’t help it; he has to say something.

“You know if you ever need someone to talk to I don’t mind. Sometimes it’s easier to tell someone you’re not as close with. Because then it’s like you’re speaking into a void and it doesn’t really matter what you say. But at least you got it off your chest.”

You pause for a moment and look back at him. You contemplate the offer and as much as you want to just talk his ear off about all the ways in which your boyfriend sucks, you’re afraid that he’ll just be more upset with you, thinking somehow he’ll find out.

“It’s ok. I’ll just vent to my mom when I get home.”

“You sure?” He asks, trying to hide his desperation

You reach out and touch his forearm gently. Your affections burn on his skin, your fingertips branding him.

“I’m sure. Thanks anyways.”

You release him, giving him a small smile. You feel like you should apologize and he simply smirks in approval, his eyes following your hand as it leaves him. Then your phone buzzes again. It lights up with a text from Devon and Coriolanus glances outside at the parking lot. He sees your boyfriend pull up, park, and exit his vehicle. For a moment he thinks your boyfriend is about to walk in, but he simply pouts against the car like a grumpy toddler.

“Good luck with your other exams. I know you’ll do fine.”

You walk off, quickly gather your things and walk out the door. He watches you leave and his eyes peer out the window. You trot along to Devon’s car innocently, scared like a newborn deer. He stares at you hawkishly, arms crossed. He shoves his body back into the car once you make it onto the other side, starting it up and you disappear behind the door as it closes. Coriolanus hangs his head in frustration and sighs. You didn’t deserve him.

You belong with him. You belong with Coriolanus.

He felt a tinge of unease thinking about it, not wanting to become as possessive and obsessive as Devon, but he really meant it. He felt he would know how to treat you like a queen. Give you lots of nice things or if you needed cash to buy something you wanted, he’d give it to you. Sell more weed and Xanax to get you whatever you want. But if he could have you, hold you, treat you right, and tell you how much he loves you, he felt like you would want it just as much as he did.

When he gets home, Coriolanus heads up to his room. His cousin and grandma were out shopping for their dresses to wear to his graduation. Coriolanus had picked out a nice pair of black slacks, and a white button up. He wasn’t one for ties normally, and given the heat, he didn’t want to feel too constrained. It was hanging up in his closet, facing him as he enters his room, along with his cap and gown. He sits down at his desk, placing his book bag down and getting his laptop out. He decides to check his grades one last time even though he already knows what it will say. He logs on to his school's website.

Coriolanus C. Snow

Student ID: 1008452024

Current Standing: Senior (Academic Honors)

Current GPA: 4.0

Accumulative GPA: 4.3

Spring Semester 2024

AP Physics A

AP Literature A

European History A

AP Calculus A

Political Science A

Latin Studies A

The corners of his mouth slid up into a half smile. He was of course not upset with himself, but knew that school was the only thing he was really good at, but completely hated. He was still going to go to college, just to get a degree of anything and why would he miss out on the opportunity to sell to his target market. Even though he hated school, and was dragging his feet to go to college, Coriolanus had bigger ambitions. He thought that even if it meant four more years of school and lectures, getting a degree might lead him towards a better career. Coriolanus often heard of people getting into politics and getting intern jobs working for Senators and Representatives. It was truly the only thing that appealed to him. Even though he excelled in nearly every course, politics and civics seemed to have taken over his attention more than his other subjects. And his teachers noted how he seemed to have more interest in those classes versus science or math. So he thought that maybe college could offer an opportunity for him to get him to a place of power, which not even he realizes how much he desires that kind of control.

Then his phone vibrates, taking him off guard and away from his thoughts. It’s you. He immediately picks it up. He can sense your emotions through the phone and the immediate sniffle you give him, confirms his suspicions.

“Hey what’s up?”

“Oh I just had a quick question on this lab I realized I left the last question blank. Do you think we could FaceTime real quick?” You ask tentatively

“Sure.”

You transfer the call to FaceTime him and he picks up. He put the phone against the wall and your beautiful face appears. It’s slightly blurry because of the connection, but Coriolanus can still make out your beautiful features although they are covered by your clearly upset face. You had been crying, hard, your eyes slightly red and puffy.

“So what’s up” Coriolanus continues quickly

“Yeah so it's talking about how I’m supposed to connect my parts of the equation to the students equation in the problem but also explain the reasoning for why part b) works with part a) and show mathematical reasoning.”

Coriolanus smiles and begins to break down the problem in the lab and you start to frantically scribble down on your page, occasionally glancing up showing that you understand and are following along. All the while, he’s just as focused on your beautiful, round eyes, as they concentrate on his words. He tries desperately not to picture those same pretty eyes looking up at him, you on your knees, naked and sucking his cock. He knows that your eyes would look just as attractive and engaged by him. He shakes his head to refocus, but he’s hard under his desk. Luckily it’s just a video call, because his bulge is ever so apparent. Once Coriolanus finishes explaining it, you smile and sigh in relief.

“That makes sense. Thanks Coriolanus…”

“See, next semester I can still help you like this, you know.”

“I guess you’re right” you smile back “is that your bed?” You ask, pointing behind him.

“Yeah.” He confirms, turning around to look at it.

“I like the comforter. Your room looks cool by the way” you follow up

His bed sheets are navy blue plaid with red and white stripes in a grid style pattern. He looks around his room and admires his decor. Coriolanus occupies a room on the top floor. It wasn’t quite cramped like an attic, but it was close to the roof. It was cozy, with a slanted wall. The back wall was uncovered brick, with a wood ceiling. Coriolanus had put a few of his favorite band posters up as well as some vinyl covers. He tried to keep things simple with his bed against one wall and his desk against the other. He had a laptop that sat on his desk and a TV that screwed onto the wall above his desk, which he easily fit his PS4 under.

“Maybe you should come see it in person sometime” he suggests, not realizing what he has said.

When he does, he mentally kicks himself for being so forward, and your eyes dart down to the ground in your own room.

You stupid ass.

As he curses himself, you glance back up with a smile

“Hopefully I can see it at your graduation party. Assuming you're having one?” You follow up

“Possibly. I wasn’t sure, but my family wants to throw me one. What about you?” He asks

“Oh yeah I’m sending invitations out to the whole grade. We are having it at our country club, me and Devon. It's kinda a combination party I guess.” You explain

“Oh fun”

“It’s gonna be at the end of June so when you get the invite, let me know. You can text me and I’ll tell my dad.”

“Yeah sure. Well I won’t keep ya any longer.” Coriolanus nods, his lips sporting the most charming smile and you match his expression.

“Ok well, if I don’t see you much at school then I’ll see you this weekend at graduation?” You imply, unsure if he would even bother going since he almost never attended non-mandatory school events.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there for sure”

“Hey just real quick, earlier today with Devon, it’s just he gets a bad temper and makes assumptions”

Coriolanus nods, not wanting to scare you off, but he’s invested in having you tell him what more upsets you.

“I’m sorry, that sounds frustrating.”

“Well I guess you’ve always been there to listen so I just wanna say thanks for all these times. You know it’s funny though we get into these fights and I talk to you and feel better then he goes back to normal, well at least for a while then he gets back into his ways, so I’m just hoping he’ll mature more in college. Stop acting like a toddler sometimes” you smirk

Oh you poor thing, you don’t even realize how bad he truly is. You don’t even realize you're stuck in his toxic cycle. Coriolanus wishes he could swoop in and take you away. Treat you better. Coriolanus gives you a sympathetic smile and continues to show he’s listening to you. After a few silent moments, you say goodbye and hang up. Coriolanus feels like he can breathe again. You overwhelm him to a degree he didn’t even think was possible. Which he feels it between his legs, his cock is still rock hard.

Fuck you get him so worked up it’s unbelievable. He knows he’ll have to handle his member in the shower before dinner, but for now he smiles to himself. Coriolanus leans his chair back, mouth agape as he sighs at the ceiling. Maybe he could have a chance with you after all. He doesn’t want to get too hopeful, but something tells him he might just be able to get his chance with you before the summer ends.

꧁🝮❤︎︎🝮꧂

[tragedybunny]

Pretty Baby 2

༺Summary༻

Astarion is a brat on several occasions and is duly punished for it. In between, he and Mommy (Fina) deal with some emotional issues.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Tav

༺Warnings༻ NSFW - PiV Sex, Anal Play, Femdom, Mommy Kink, Feminization, Forced Orgasm, Chastity Cage, Porn with Feelings, Porn streaming, Pegging, Astarion being a brat

༺Word Count༻ 3783

༺A/N༻

So, it's chapter 2 of a fic I never planned to write. Lol. And somewhow now we've got plot and feelings involved. Hope you all enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing it. And huge thank you to the best of betas and friends, @icybluepenguin

The chat is populated by Tav's and other characters from my friends, they all helped makes this a delight.

Check out two similar fics if you dig mine. Decadent Torture and Careless Whisper

Read On AO3 Chapter 1

“Hush, a little more, then your punishment is over.” I let go of his cock, turn off the plug vibrating in his ass, and give him a short reprieve. 

Drawing gasping breaths, he looks up at me with pleading, tear filled eyes. God, his eyes are pretty; startling crimson, soft, and round. Normally, I cave when they're all watery like this. But not tonight - tonight is for lessons. 

I play with the little pink bow on his white thigh high stocking. Leaving him with only those, his white bra, and of course his collar, made him such a fetching picture for our little teaching session.

He'd spent most of the night on his knees in the naughty corner, those stockings peeking out of his pleated white skirt, a little pink cashmere sweater completing his look. I'd posted a few pictures that had his audience nice and worked up.

Demi_g0ddess: oh looks like Little Star was very bad today can’t wait to see what Mommy does to the little brat Bookworm420: didn’t realize Mommy was a thicc queen this might be too much for my ovaries

The chat had been crowded when we set up for the stream. Before the camera went on, I told him what to take off and how to prep, but not what I was planning. 

We went live and I made him give a little introduction. 

“I've had a very bad attitude lately and Mommy wants to make sure I'm thoroughly punished, so she's letting you all watch.” Every word was said petulantly as he leaned into playing the brat. 

Ari147: wonder what he did… Drag-onme: who cares, as long we get to watch the aftermath BardlockLongdick: is that a leather couch animal cruelty is not sexy.

“Go on,” I prompted, gesturing for him to get ready. 

The clothes he stripped were folded and set to the side, the chat cheering him on. When he kneeled down, I handed him a vibrating plug that made his eyes go wide. 

“Mommy, please…” he pleaded, but obediently went to work prepping and inserting it, cheeks flushed a deep red. I let him position himself in my lap, head propped on the arm of the couch. Then I started typing, Astarion watching with dawning horror.  

Mommy: Little Star has been an absolute brat about wearing a chastity cage while I’m out of town, because he wouldn’t be able to touch himself. So, tonight, I’m making him come as many times as I think he can handle. 

Demonbbyy: poor little thing got himself into a lot of trouble  TestyZesty: Mommy is way too nice about it but I’m still going to watch.

And here we were- Astarion, covered in his own semen, whimpering in my arms. I drag my finger along his cock, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. One more and I think he’ll have learned his lesson. I push the button on the remote for the plug.

“Fuck,” he whines the word. 

Penguino: aww, Mommy, I think he’s had enough  TestyZesty: nah, he’s still coherent  keep going Demi_g0ddess: Zesty, we’re sharing a brain cell  DrowDaddy: this chat is very mean tonight

I put a generous coating of lube on my hand and begin to work his shaft again. He pants and moans, desperate sounds falling from his lips as he builds to another orgasm. 

The chat continues to go feral as he whines and cries. I'm gentle this last round, languidly rubbing, letting the plug do its work. “That's it, one more for me. You've been so good for your punishment.”

He squirms at the praise, tearfully whimpering, hips weakly bucking as I take him to climax again. My other hand turns up the intensity on the plug. 

“Pleeeease,” he cries, voice ragged.

Another spurt of cum and he goes limp. I turn off the plug and lean down to kiss his sweat soaked forehead, letting him recover for a moment. He's so pretty like this, spent and helpless in my lap.  “Now, are you ready to apologize for being such a little brat the past couple of days?” 

He doesn't hesitate. “I'm sorry, Mommy,” he whimpers, tears running down his face. 

“Good baby. Almost done.” 

He tenses. “But...”

“Shh. They get to see because of the attitude.” He makes a noise. “Don't turn this into a spanking session,” I warn and he gets quiet. 

I take a warm, moist towel I'd set up earlier and clean up his pretty cock. The chat is losing it. 

KneelForMeSweets: and we get to see the cage  can he act up every night 

It's a pretty pink little chastity cage, just perfect for him. I slide the ring on first, then put the tube over his cock before locking it down. He's so quiet, I can hear every breath and the sniffles he's still fighting. 

Once they get a good look, I shut down the stream. 

Mommy: I'm going to go get this little brat cleaned up. Hopefully, he's learned his lesson.

Bitchybambi: I hope not, I want to see what you do next  KneelForMeSweets: she can DM me for ideas.

I kill the video and give him a proper kiss as he clings to me, spent and shivering. “Come on, you. Bath time.”

Astarion is unusually quiet during our aftercare session, and when he's settled into bed in a pair of oversized pajamas, I pull him close, and he snuggles into my neck on instinct. 

“You know, if you think it's too much to wear it, you don't have to.” I run my fingers through his curls and cover his face in soft kisses. He's done stints in the cage before, but I'm starting to doubt myself on this one. It would kill me to ever hurt him for real. 

He doesn't move; if anything, he burrows deeper into the crook of my neck. “It's not, and I am sorry for being a pain. It's just…”

He makes a small, frustrated noise and I keep petting him. “Take your time.” 

For a few minutes, he just takes shaky breaths, and then he speaks. “It’s this whole going back to school thing. I'm nervous, and you're going to be gone for the next two days. And what if this is a dumb idea and I can't do it.”

“It's not a dumb idea, you really like fashion design, baby. And why do you think you can't do it?” 

“Remember the last time I was in school? I failed out.” 

“Astarion, you didn't want to be a lawyer and you hated law school. You only went because Caz-” I feel him tense in my arms, “because he made you.” 

“I know.” He sounds teary again. “But it doesn't mean I don't feel stupid.”

“Love, my pretty little wife, you are not stupid. You’re capable and creative. And you know I won’t have time on this stupid team building trip, otherwise I’d bring you with.” 

“Still going to miss you, though.” 

“I know, baby. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The next morning, Astarion drives me to the airport. I put the keys for his collar and the cage in my jewelry box in case of an emergency or if it’s too much for him. It's cold and rainy, and he’s adorable in oversize sweats with sleepy eyes. After he unloads my bag, I pull him in for a hug and feel it pressed against me. A wave of lust courses through me; I can’t wait to come back and have a nice little session with him. 

“Call me when you land, Fina.” 

I don’t know if he realizes how much I’ll miss him. Astarion and I have rarely been apart since we met in grad school. It's just as hard on me to get on that plane and be without him.

We get one quick call before I’m off to the first of many “activities” the firm planned. I can’t be too angry about it, they pay a ton, and it finances my trophy wife’s lifestyle. I tell Astarion I’ll call him after dinner and karaoke hour. 

The whole day isn't that tortuous, and most of my coworkers get into the spirit of things for karaoke. I still make my exit as soon as I can to get some time in with Astarion. 

To my surprise, I see he's streaming. Sprawled out on the bed in a sheer black satin chemise that's ridden up his thighs enough to show off his beautifully caged cock. 

Instead of anything salacious, he's painting his nails. Not every stream is as action filled as last night. Some of them are just mundane things like now. I can’t fault the audience, I'd still pay to see him too, if he wasn’t mine already. I slide into the chat without announcing myself. 

Ari147: nothing fun tonight? :( 

“I’m afraid not, darling. If I don’t get any fun, neither do you.” He blows a cheeky kiss to the camera, and readjusts, spreading his legs more. One hand idly traces unpainted nails along a thigh while he blows on the ones he just painted. 

He’s such a filthy little tease. 

Mommy: glad to see you’re behaving yourself tonight

He sits up straighter, eyes lighting up. “Hi, Mommy. Missing all this?” His hand climbs higher, running up his abdomen to his chest. 

Demonbbyy: if she isn’t, I’ll take him   Mommy: settle yourselves down

Astarion leans over, getting on all fours to look directly into the camera, licking his lips. “Well, are you?” he pouts. 

Mommy: you know I am, and I’ll prove it when I get home 

His breath hitches. “That’s all for tonight, darlings. I want to give Mommy all my… attention.” 

The stream goes blank and he’s video-calling me seconds later. “Hi.” He smiles giddily. “I thought you might be a little later.”

“What can I say, I do actually miss you a lot. How was your day?”

We chat for a while and I watch him finish his nails, still in his chemise, which hides nothing as he shifts around. He seems less nervous about the school situation, which I chalk up to actually talking about it. 

“Alright, I should probably get to sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.” 

The morning call goes smooth enough, but the day is filled with seminars and an afternoon paintball session. Why do HR departments always think that’s a good idea? Astarion starts texting me around lunch, chatty little messages that I don’t have time to properly answer. Then the attitude creeps in. 

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk to me.”

“I. Am. Busy. Astarion. I’ll call after dinner.”

I forgot dinner is an awards banquet that traps me for longer than I’d anticipated. It never seems to end, and I start trying to text him during it. No response, and a part of me begins to stress that he’s not doing well. He’d tell me though if he wasn’t, I’m pretty sure. 

I practically run up to my room after dinner, skipping the cocktail hour after and all the great networking. All because he has me nearly panicked with worry. So of course, when he doesn’t answer his phone, I’m furious to find him on stream. 

He’s not actually wearing anything, sitting on the plush white rug, a cozy glow from the fireplace providing ambient lighting.

BaasaNova: weren’t you supposed to be in a chastity cage while Mommy is gone 

He gives his hard cock a firm stroke and moans dramatically, red eyes dancing with mischief. “If I’m getting ignored, I’m not going to listen. Besides, she’s busy, so what she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her.”

Bookworm420: this seems like a bad idea I don't want to see you get in trouble. 

It isn’t about disobeying me, or any other kink related thing. He really thinks I’d ignore him on purpose. And that stings like nothing else I've ever felt. 

I wait and lurk while he continues to touch himself. He's bubbly and flamboyant, basking in the praise of the chat. Normally, I'd be entranced by his hand working that gorgeous shaft, now I'm getting more furious. 

Finally, with an exaggerated cry, he comes all over himself. While his hand gives a few more lazy pumps, he glances at the chat. 

Mommy: I hope that was worth it 

His eyes get wide and he sits up straight. “Shit.” 

The stream dies just as he starts calling me.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…” he whimpers before I can say anything.

“Astarion,” I cut him off. “I want you to know that I still love you and that isn't going to change. But I'm so hurt and angry right now that you could decide I would ignore you on purpose.”

“Please, I just…” 

“No, we're not going to talk about this now. I'm going to give you until I get home tomorrow to get your thoughts together. But right now I'm too angry to talk to you. So I'm going to go to bed and will call you in the morning.”

 He sobs. “No, stay on the phone with me. Please, Fina.”

I sigh and relent. “I love you, Star.”

We lay in silence for a long time, the occasional sniffle coming from his end. Finally, I'm too exhausted and have to sleep, and reluctantly tell him goodnight.  

There's a subdued call in the morning and I tell him I'll get a cab at the airport, I don't think he should be driving while that upset. Then I'm on the way home. The anger has mostly worn off but this stunt of his still hurts. 

When I get home, hev hasn't left the bed, completely naked, almost hiding under the covers. I don't even think twice before getting under them with him and pulling him to me.

“I'm sorry,” he says softly into my neck, reminding me so much of the day we first kissed. The day I'd needed to take care of him after what Cazador had done to him. 

“I know. Tell me what happened.” I bury my face in his curls and kiss his head. 

“I started getting nervous again and started to panic, and I wanted to talk to you. And I got upset that I couldn't. I know you wouldn't just ignore me.”

“Then why didn't you say you were anxious? I could have made time if I had known you were panicking.”

“I didn't want you to think I was weak. Especially after you told me that you believed in me.”

“Astarion, love, you are always going to be one of the strongest people I've ever met.” My hands rub his back, fingers finding the scars of years of his adopted father's “discipline.” “I'm sorry too, I think I pushed you into something you didn't need while you were nervous. Even if you said you were alright with it.” 

He gets quiet for a moment before answering. “It isn’t your fault. You’re always the best you can be to me.” 

“Still, maybe we should take a break from some of the more performative things.” I feel him tense and kiss his cheek to reassure him. 

“No, it makes me so happy to be like that, to be so completely yours. Don’t take that away.” 

“Let's talk some more tomorrow. There's no need to rush anything.”

“Alright. And, well, you did say that you were going to show me how much you missed me?” His voice pitches soft and breathy. 

“Astarion, you horny little gremlin,” I tease. 

“Please, Mommy. I know I was very naughty, but don't I deserve a little treat?” 

I already feel slick between my legs, even if I'm not sure that I should let him do this. 

“I know what you're thinking, but I can handle some relatively vanilla sex right now. I want to be loved.” He gives me his best wide-eyed pleading look. 

“Alright, baby.” 

I sit up, and he helps me undress, leaving kisses wherever he can reach. My hand reaches out to wrap around his stiffened cock and give a few languid strokes. I catch his eyes wandering down to my breasts with naked longing. 

Relatively vanilla, he said.

“Come here.” 

I lay back, and he follows, slotting between my legs. His cock pushes into me as his lips latch onto a nipple, and he sucks frantically. “There you go.” I stroke his hair, and he starts fucking me with wild, desperate thrusts. “That's what you needed, huh, baby.”

He whines and sucks harder, teeth scraping until pleasure blends with pain. Molten heat builds in my core with each snap of his hips, and I doubt either of us will last long. 

“So good for me,” I pant as I feel myself contract around him and my body tingle with bliss. That does it, and he gives one last jerky thrust as I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him in tight to take every drop of him. 

He collapses on top of me, still suckling, and I let him stay that way, fucked and comforted.

After a very nice Saturday in our pajamas, we talk and settle some things between us. Astarion is still very nervous about school in a couple of weeks, but doesn't want to change the things he loves about our relationship. He even insists on punishment for his bad behavior.

We agree on three days with the chastity cage, the two he originally was supposed to have and one extra. No clothing at home, so I can see it at all times. It kills me not being able to play with my wife's pretty cock. But you know, discipline hurts me more than it hurts him, or something.  

And at the end of the third day, a very serious lesson. So, I arrange something special, to be shared with his audience, like he shared his misbehavior. He's been waiting in the bedroom while I set things up.

“Safe word, wifey,” I order when I come to collect him. 

He stares at my too short, black latex dress with my pale pink strap-on visible where it rides up over my thighs, and blushes. “Objection.” 

“Good, baby.” I lead him to the living room where the camera is already at the right angle to watch as I bend him over the couch arm, pushing his face into the cushion right next to the waiting paddle. I watch him shiver with anticipation and spare a glance at the chat. They’re in rare form tonight. 

DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Back from my two week ban just in time.  Thornyonmain: Hggnnnnnn, god he looks so good like that am I enjoying the impending pain too much Bitchybambi: Nah, he's asked for this  Demi_g0ddess : You're so right, bestie Penguino: Aww, you guys, have a little sympathy

Picking up the paddle, I run it over the curve of his ass and hear him whimper. My hand pushes down on his back, commanding and reassuring. The first smack is light and I give him a moment. He trembles but says nothing. 

Another one, slightly harder, he whines but doesn’t say anything. I keep going, watching his pale skin burst into red blossoms with each impact. I can feel him shaking under my hand and hear when he starts to cry. 

“You’re being so good,” I coo.

He sobs in response. It’s been awhile since he had a serious spanking session. I keep whispering praise as I go, letting him know how well he’s doing, how much I love him. He’s a teary mess when I’m done, and I can feel the warmth coming from his skin. 

“I’m sorry I was naughty, Mommy,” he whines through tears.

“Shh, shh, I know. I think you deserve a little reward for taking the punishment so well.”

l take the lube I have waiting and coat my fingers. He whines for a totally different reason when I spread him open and push a finger inside his tight hole.

“Fuck,” he mewls when the second one enters. 

He pants through clenched teeth while I work them inside of him, getting him ready to take me. Each stretch and flex draws a new noise and when he’s ready, I coat the strap in lube and press the tip of it against his entrance. Even with a stinging ass, he rolls his hips into it, desperate and needy. 

I gave him a little playful smack on the marks darkening to bruises. “Behave.” 

He yelps but stills. Slowly, I slide it into him, relishing each little moan as I fill him. Then my hips rock, and I thrust deeply, before stilling again. 

“Please,” he begs, desperately. 

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, Mommy.” 

I reward him with another deep thrust, and began to move my hips with a quick rhythm. Under me, Astarion is losing himself, keening wails and pleading whimpers accompany my every movement. 

I'm aware just how achingly empty I am; later we’ll take care of me. Right now, I focus on making him properly blissed out. 

I know his cock is straining against the cage, leaking helplessly, as he reaches the edge. My fingers dig into his hips and I fuck him as deep as I can until a wordless shout rips from him and his whole body is shaking again. I press my hips tight to his, as deep into him as I can while his orgasm ebbs away with multiple whimpers, only pulling out when he’s stilled. 

Turning back, I give the chat a good-bye and end the stream.

SquidDomme: He has in fact not learned anything DrowDaddyG: I think he'll try to be better, he's such a sweet boy BardlockLongdick: Maybe you all should try opening a Bible instead of this website DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Anyone know how I can get an air horn noise to play in chat (I'm joking, please don't ban me again)

Then I remove the strap-on and save it for later clean up. “Come here, wifey,” I say, sitting on the couch. 

Sluggishly, he obeys, coming to rest his head in my lap. I run my fingers through his hair and let him come  down from the experience. 

“I love you,” he murmurs into my thighs.

“I love you too. No more bratty behavior, right?” 

I feel the little smirk he makes. “Absolutely, lesson learned.” 

We both know he's lying, but I trust none of it will be super hurtful again. “Good little wife.”

Tag list:

@micropoe10  @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

 @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin 

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @misscrissfemmefatale @bg3obsessedsideblogg @captainaceofspades @wickedwitchofthewilds @asterordinary @talented-bitch @waking-electric @snowfolly

[daisynik7]

Can I request All for you by Janet Jackson for Aki Hayakawa - fluff

All For You

Tell me I’m the only one. Soon we’ll be having fun.

Pairing: Aki Hayakawa x f!reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

cw: fluff, grumpy/sunshine trope, alcohol consumption (everyone is of age)

Summary: Aki Hayakawa has been training you for the past two months, helping you acclimate into your new role as a Public Safety Devil Hunter. From the start, you were smitten, unable to contain your cheery attitude whenever you’re with him. He’s closed off, strictly business, and never cracks a smile, but in his own subtle ways, he shows you that he cares. One day, after a successful mission, you test your luck to see if your love is truly unrequited, or if Aki just needs that extra push to admit his true feelings for you. A little bit of liquid courage might also come in handy. 

Author’s Notes: Ahhh, my first Aki fic! Thanks for the request anon, I LOVE Janet Jackson, and this is the perfect song for the y2k karaoke party! I hope you like this! It’s short, sweet, and very fluffy, so it’s been a nice break from the shameless smut I’ve been writing LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thank you for reading! Banner created by @/saradika.

It’s been two months since you started working for Public Safety. Two months of grueling training, both physical and mental, and two months of being stuck with the notoriously grumpy Aki Hayakawa. But you’re not complaining, considering how absolutely head over heels you are for him. 

In this case, it’s true what they say: opposites attract. While you’re the type of person to always have a happy expression on your face, Aki is the opposite. You have yet to see him crack a smile, even the tiniest hint of one. No matter how hard you try to bombard him with your joyous affections and shameless flirting, he remains unfazed by it. Though, you’re certain he doesn’t hate it. If he did, you would have already been chucked off to someone else to have to deal with you. That’s why you continue your efforts; because deep down, you know he likes it. Likes you. 

He doesn’t say it in words, but he doesn’t have to. His actions display them perfectly. Subtle glances during moments he thinks you’re not looking, though you always are. Small gestures to show he cares about your safety and well-being, like always switching spots with you when you’re walking on a sidewalk, making sure he’s on the side of the street. Putting out his cigarette whenever you arrive because he knows you don’t like the smell. Holding the door open for you, sharing his umbrella on rainy days, always volunteering to be your partner during group missions because he doesn’t trust anyone else to be with you. Sure, maybe he’s just that nice of a guy, a true gentleman, a man who proves chivalry is not dead. Or, maybe he really likes you as much as you do him. Is it wishful thinking? Probably. You’re growing impatient waiting for validation, so tonight, you decide to take matters into your own hands. 

The Public Safety Department is out to celebrate a successful mission. It’s the first time you’ve all been together in a while, so many of you are ready to let loose.  Your team sits together in one corner of the restaurant, a round of beers already being passed down as soon as you take your seat by the wall, directly across from Aki. Kishibe, the most senior Devil Hunter, takes a spot next to you, while Kobeni, your dear friend and main confidant on the team, sits by Aki. As usual, he’s quiet, sipping on his drink without so much as a peep. His eyes flit towards you as you grab the handle and take several heavy gulps of beer. You’re going to need some liquid courage in you for what you’re about to do. 

Kishibe doesn’t say much either, downing his liquor silently, leaving you and Kobeni to fill the void with random small talk until appetizers are served, and she stuffs her mouth with gyozas and chicken yakitori. When you’re almost done with your beer, Aki’s shoves the plate of dumplings to you. “You should eat,” he mutters, staring at your empty glass. 

You grin at him. “I will, if you feed me.” You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out playfully.

He rolls his eyes at you, a small blush surrounding his cheeks. “Stop acting like a child.”

Feeling particularly wicked, you turn to face your neighbor. “Kishibe, can you feed me?”

The older man chuckles, already finished with three pints. “Alright.” He pinches a gyoza between his fingers, dips it in the sauce, and guides into your mouth whole. From your peripheral, you notice Aki scowl, grabbing at the pitcher at the center of the table to refill his cup to the brim. 

You giggle, chewing it into smaller pieces to swallow, batting your eyelashes with your hand covering your mouth. “Thank you, Master.” 

Kishibe laughs again, clearly amused by this, glancing at Aki across the table. “Is this what you have to deal with?”

“You have no idea,” Aki grunts, chugging his beer halfway. 

For the next hour, you continue to focus all your attention on Kishibe, and none on Aki, who sits still with his shoulders tense and a permanent frown on his face. It helps that your senior is playing into it, not questioning your brazen behavior, fully aware of your crush on Aki because you have admitted it to him plenty of times before. Aki’s had several pints now, a red glow surrounding his cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. He hasn’t said a word as you blatantly flirt with Kishibe in front of him. You’re feeling a buzz now, more reckless with your emotions. Suddenly, you’re annoyed with yourself and with him; you stand up, wobbling slightly, murmuring something about going outside for some air. 

You’re slumped on the steps in front of the restaurant, breathing in the fresh night air, cool against your hot skin, feeling defeated. Your dumb plan to make him jealous backfired, leaving you just as confused as before. Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel and just accept that Aki will never reciprocate your feelings.  

You’re alone for a few minutes until the door swings open and you see Aki walking towards you. a glass of water in one hand, the other tucked in his pocket. He passes it to you, saying, “Drink this.”

Pouting, you take it, sipping it slowly. “Thanks, I guess.” You add the last part spitefully.

He sits next to you, sighing. “Why are you doing this?” His voice isn’t his typical monotone; there’s actual concern behind it now. 

“Doing what?” You set the water beside you, crossing your arms. 

“You know what.”

You shrug, leaning back on your hands, staring up at the sky, blinking at the moon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about it.”

He turns to face you, swallowing loudly. “Why are you being like this? Are you in love with him?” 

This catches you off guard. “Huh?”

“Kishibe. Are you in love with Kishibe?” His brows are tight, eyes imploring you for the truth. And it’s in this moment that you realize your plan actually worked. And now you feel guilty. 

Before this gets out of hand, you decide to stop the games and be honest with him. “No Aki. It’s you. It’s always been you. You’re the only one.” You look at your shoes, avoiding his gaze, embarrassed by your confession, nervous for his reaction. 

“Then why were you – ”

“I was trying to make you jealous,” you interrupt him, explaining yourself. “I’m sorry. It was childish and immature and just plain dumb and I’m sorry. I understand if you’re upset. You can hand me off to someone else if you want. You don’t have to deal with me anymore.”

He copies your posture, leaning on his wrists, hands so close to touching yours. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not upset,” he says softly. 

You look at him, surprised at his response. “You’re not?”

And finally, after two months of yearning for it, he smiles at you. “Not at all.”

You can’t help perking up at this, scooting even closer to him. “Does that mean…?”

“Yeah. It does.” He places his hand on top of yours, squeezing it gently. 

“You have to say it,” you demand, flipping your palm over to interlock your fingers with his. 

“Do I have to?” he groans, still grinning. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, belly fluttering, grin wide and eyes bright. “Use your words, Aki. Or else I’ll get confused again.”

He shifts forward, nuzzling his nose to yours. “I like you. Happy now?”

You close the gap, kissing him on the lips, smiling. “Very happy.”

[irwinsblender]

Hey! Feel free to just ignore this request if you're not comfortable writing it ofc. But I had an idea for Ashton with a neurodivergent!s/o who gets burnt out quickly/often and Ashton is always there to take care of them and reassure them that they aren't a burden

(totally self indulgent but I love your work so figured I'd ask! )

this is my very first request so thank you for sending it in! i haven’t written any ND fics before so i tried my best and i apologise if it’s not the greatest!

—

burn out

pairing: ashton x neurodivergent!reader

summary: you’ve been getting burnt out a lot recently and feel bad about it, but ashton is there to reassure you

warnings: mentions of autistic overstimulation and burn out, anxiety

word count: 4.3k

✩ ✩ ✩

laying in bed on a friday morning after an exhausting week at work was exactly what you needed. the past few days you’d been given a lot of work to deal with, lots of emails sent to you, along with a few lengthy discussions that came up. it had been a lot for you.

of course, it would help if you weren’t meant to be going into work today.

ashton being the early bird that he is, was already up and going about his day. he knew your schedule like the back of his hand, knew by the time he got back from his morning walk that you’d be eating breakfast and getting ready to leave.

however, when he got home, everything seemed too quiet. your car was still on the driveway, no noise coming from the kitchen, no sounds of movement from upstairs.

by that, he knew you’d either overslept, or, you weren’t feeling good. this time would be the latter.

ashton slipped his shoes off, placing his keys in the dish on the entryway table. instantly heading towards the stairs to go up and check on you.

you being autistic wasn’t something ashton was ever worried about, he loved you, and would do anything it took to make sure you were okay. in the time you and ashton had been together, he’d learned new things about you, and continued to learn more and more every day.

when you first met, you were anxious and worried about oversharing or infodumping, as you did often when one of your special interests got brought up during conversation.

it was your second date when ashton asked you if you’d had any pets before, and you would not stop talking. you’ve always had pet cats and were very much in love with all their fluffy cuteness. you rambled on and on about what type your favourite was and then what type your pet cats were as well as giving random facts that most people probably didn’t care about.

you frantically apologised afterwards, but ashton had a huge smile on his face the whole time. he was thrilled to see you so enthusiastic talking about something you loved. after seeing his reaction, you knew he was the perfect guy for you.

one of the first times you came to ashton’s house he showed you his home studio, his drums, guitars, recording equipment. it really intrigued you and you even asked him to play the drums for you. you were absolutely fine with it.

it didn’t take long for him to ask you to move in, and you were over the moon about it. enjoying when he would play music for you, or show you songs and ideas he’d been working on. everything was perfect.

so, the day ashton had been practicing with the guys in his basement, he didn’t expect to find you in your shared bedroom with tears streaming down your face, trying to cover your ears as much as you could.

at first he didn’t know what to do, he tried to talk to you, tried to comfort you, but nothing worked. until he eventually found that pulling you into his arms slowly and holding you as tight as he possibly could allowed you to have something else to focus on.

after that day, you both had a conversation about how a few things would need to change. schedule wise, and in a sense of that he needed to communicate with you whenever he was thinking about playing his drums, or having the guys over to practice.

there were never any issues, ashton had always been very accommodating for you and how you wanted to go about things. he immediately changed things, no questions asked, all he wanted was for you to be comfortable.

within your new agreement, for the music side of things, ashton would ask you if you were okay with him playing his drums first.

a lot of the time you’d say yes, and you’d join him for a while to listen. other times, you’d decide to stay in the bedroom, the sound of him in the basement while you were in there wasn’t too bad. almost muffled if you kept all the doors closed.

other times the noise would end up being unbearable and you’d either resort to putting on your noise cancelling headphones, which ashton had bought for you after realising how much the noise affected you at times, or, you’d have to ask him to stop.

over the past few months you’ve had to ask him to stop, or wait to play the drums until he’s at the studio, many times. for some reason, you’d been getting worked up at the smallest things more often than you usually do.

even though he’d had lots of days away at the studio, he’d also end up coming home and have to do the dishes, clean things up in the living room and bedroom because you’d never got around to doing it.

mostly because you’d been in bed all day, wanting to get up to get those chores done, but it’s as if your body was saying no. you were just too exhausted.

ashton had learned that even when you’re exhausted from work, from every day stresses, you would not admit that you were getting burnt out. you hated admitting defeat and each time you got burnt out, it would take a lot of convincing from ashton to let you know it’s completely okay to rest and not worry about other things.

today, you woke up feeling more exhausted. you should’ve left the house already to get to work. even if you got up now, you’d still be late. you were most definitely burnt out and as usual you wouldn’t be accepting that.

ashton knocked gently on the door, alerting you of his presence before coming inside. as he opened the door, he saw you curled up in bed, blankets pulled up to your chin with you holding the corner with one hand. you were awake, just hadn’t moved since you left your slumber.

you glanced up at him as he walked over, watching as he knelt down beside the bed where you were laying. he offered a comforting smile before talking.

“morning, love,” ashton brushed your hair behind your ear. “are you doing okay?”

you nodded your head, almost not having enough energy to verbally explain how you were feeling. you didn’t want to tell him how exhausted you were feeling either.

“you were meant to have work today, weren’t you, baby?” ashton asked, you nodded again. “did you let your boss know you aren’t coming? or do you want me to type out a quick email for you?”

you looked over to your laptop on the desk, and then back to ashton. he got the idea. not hesitating to grab your laptop and bring it over to the bed with him. he sat down next to where you were laying, typing in your password and finding your emails to send a message to your boss to let him know you’d be taking a sick day.

it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for ashton to be the one to send your boss a message. there had been a few times where ashton knew you needed a day off, or that you were too exhausted to do it yourself, so, he did it for you. he’d never mind, it’s not a bother at all.

it was done within a matter of minutes, closing your laptop and placing it over to the side so he could easily lay himself down next to you.

he started off gently, not sure on how exactly you were feeling. he lifted the blankets, slipping underneath them, placing his hand on your forearm, rubbing up and down for comfort.

you let him, his warm touch always brought comfort to you when you were feeling like this. he settled closer to you, wrapping his arms around your stomach to give you a tight hug.

“how many emails did i have?” you asked. not what ashton expected as the first thing for you to say today.

“i didn’t see,” he told you honestly. “i think a few people had sent links to files, but that’s all.”

“i need to look at those,” you said, shuffling slightly. “i’m meant to have a write up about those files by monday. i should’ve been finishing it at work today.”

“someone else can finish it,” ashton tried to tell you. that’s what usually happened. “it’s okay for you to take a day away from your work.”

“no, they were expecting me to finish it,” you pushed out of ashton’s grip, trying to see where he’d put your laptop. “it was my job to do it, so i should be doing it.”

“hey, hey, baby,” ashton softly got your attention again, urging you to lay back down properly. “there’s no hurt in you taking a day for yourself, relax today, watch some tv or a movie, rest up until you feel like you can get out of bed.”

you didn’t want to argue over it, so, you let out a long breath as you nodded. you laid your head against his chest, snuggling up closer to him.

“the guys won’t be here for another few hours,” ashton reminded you. “i’ll text them and tell them i’m cancelling so i can spend the day with you.”

“what? no, no, no, you don’t need to cancel,” you shook your head. “you guys have album work to do.”

“the guys can work on things without me for a couple days,” ashton tried to reassure. “they have home studios and we have some days at the studio next week. a few days without me there won’t hurt.”

“you don’t need to cancel.” you repeated.

ashton sighed. you were always stubborn like this. you hate knowing that you’re the reason that he can’t practise or record music here. you always felt terrible if he did have to cancel, this is his job after all, he should be able to play whenever he wanted to.

he’d cancelled too many times to count in the last couple of months. every time it was because of you. you couldn’t ask him to cancel again, it’s too frequent. he still had to work, this is what he loved doing and you were getting in the way of it.

“just because i’m not working today, doesn’t mean you can’t,” you looked up at him. “i’ll watch tv, like you said. and i can do some more colouring in that book you got me.”

ashton thought about it. colouring did keep you calm. another of your current special interests had been colouring recently. ashton had bought a book full of different drawings, flowers, landscapes, buildings and even people, which you took to immediately. it seemed to help occupy you enough to calm you down.

you usually liked doing it with ashton, he had a book of his own. but, you could compromise today. you’d colour things by yourself while he works on music with the guys.

“you know it’s okay for me to cancel, baby,” ashton told you. “i’m happy to spend my time with you instead, make sure you’re okay.”

“i’ll be okay,” you tried to convince. “go work on your music, you know i love hearing you play.”

“you’re sure?” he asked.

“i’m sure.” you replied.

ashton wasn’t sure about this, going by how you’ve been feeling today. but, he wouldn’t argue with you over it. he’d work on music with the guys but check on you through the day. his friends were always understanding anyways, so it should all work out.

of course, once ashton actually had to leave you alone, things didn’t feel right. you didn’t feel right. but, you told him you’d be fine, so you will be fine.

ashton was downstairs, he’d offered to make you breakfast, which you said no to. telling him you didn’t feel hungry. more that you just didn’t have the effort to eat.

he made you food anyway, placing it into a container in case you decided you were hungry later on.

currently, ashton was in his basement with the guys. he was sitting at his drum kit, ready to play the part they would be working on. as he gets given the all good to start playing, he went all out. the sound of his drums being heard throughout the whole house.

at that exact moment, you were sitting up in bed. you had been colouring in the book you and ashton had talked about earlier. you were on a page of flowers, they looked pretty, however, you would feel better if ashton was here with you.

with the sound of the drums, you were starting to lose the ability to focus on what you were doing. you couldn’t decide on what colour to use next, let alone where to use it.

taking a breath, you closed your eyes. you did tell him it would be fine for him to play today. and you wouldn’t be going to interrupt his practice.

you reached to pick up your phone, seeing a flood of work notifications. you should’ve been doing work today, clearly they needed your help with things. maybe just one look at your laptop wouldn’t hurt.

big mistake.

you stared at the screen as if something would happen with you doing so. ten emails in your inbox, asking questions about the topic that was discussed the previous day. the thing that had stressed you out more than you were already becoming.

you couldn’t deal with it.

too many emails, there were too many meetings and discussions yesterday, today you’re exhausted and now ashton is playing the drums and the noise almost feels as if it’s vibrating through your eardrums.

at this point, you knew you needed your headphones to cancel out the noise of the drums. you glanced around the room, over to the desk, then to ashton’s nightstand and over to yours. your headphones weren’t in here.

you tried to think back to where you put them last. in your work room, in the living room, in the kitchen… in the basement. you’d left them in the basement, ashton’s home studio basement, where the noise is currently coming from.

now what were you supposed to do? you couldn’t go into the basement while the guys were working, going down there would mean the noise getting louder which you didn’t think you’d be able to deal with.

you were stuck in your bedroom. alone.

you started shaking your legs back and fourth under your covers, leg bouncing is something you often do when you start feeling overwhelmed or anxious, with the addition of chewing the inside of your cheek.

you didn’t know what to do. you couldn’t do anything but sit here and hope their practice ends soon. you didn’t know how much longer you would last without breaking down, feeling tears already welling up in your eyes.

if only you’d just asked ashton to cancel today.

in the basement, the guys had gone over a couple of songs a few times, including lots of drumming. ashton stopped for now, joining the guys at the desk where they have music and lyrics written down on paper.

while checking over a few things for a new song, ashton picked up his phone. it wasn’t like you to not send a few texts while he’s in his studio. you normally liked to check on how things were going, or to ask how the guys are. ashton frowned, catching the attention of calum.

“everything alright?” he asked. then seeing who’s texts ashton was looking at.

“think so,” ashton said. “i’m just used to getting my phone blown up with texts while i’m down here.”

he turned his phone off, placing it in his pocket. going back to what he was doing before, looking over music sheets.

“do you wanna grab those from over there?” michael asks, pointing to the paper by the couch.

luke went to stand up when ashton beat him to it, walking over there to get the paper from the table. he would’ve just picked them up, if he hadn’t noticed your noise cancelling headphones on the couch.

he knew they shouldn’t be down here. did you both really leave them in here last time you were down here? they were normally with you at all times. especially not leaving them in the basement where the most noise comes from.

the guys noticed he wasn’t completely focused on practice today anyway, but after seeing he’d picked up the headphones, they knew something was going on with you.

“do you wanna maybe call it a day?” luke suggested, joining ashton by the couch. “if things aren’t great today, we can just work at my place, we’ll let you know about any changes we make to lyrics.”

“yea,” ashton agreed. “that’s probably best.”

the guys would always be fine with leaving early, or changing plans. it wasn’t a problem. after deciding on what to do, they were gone in under twenty minutes.

ashton held onto your headphones, planning on taking them upstairs with him. he went to the kitchen first, seeing the container of food he left you, still sitting on the counter. nothing had moved since he was last in there, meaning you hadn’t left the bedroom yet today. had you had anything to drink either?

that’s when ashton became more worried. he slowly made his way through the house, going upstairs. your bedroom door was closed and it’s quiet. he couldn’t hear any movement from inside.

knocking on the door gently, he pushed it open slowly, seeing you sat on the bed. you were rocking back and fourth while seeming to be staring into space. and the most noticeable thing, you were tugging at your hair, something that ashton had come to learn that you do when you’re too overstimulated by things, as well as tears noticeably dropping down your cheeks.

he walked over to you, sitting down on the edge of the bed in front of you, “baby, hey.” he offered a comforting smile as you looked at him.

by him being here, you knew the drumming would have stopped. it wouldn’t be loud anymore, however, the tears didn’t stop falling. you let out quiet sobs, sniffling at the same time.

“i found your headphones in the basement, i didn’t know they were in there,” he softly said. “here.”

he tried taking your hand that was pulling at your hair into his. you let him, gradually letting go of your hair. he placed your hand in your lap. allowing him to place your headphones over your ears. they shouldn’t be needed now, but at the chance there are any other surprise noises it’s best for you to wear them.

without speaking, you pointed behind him, over to the basket by the desk. he stood up, seeing you were trying to motion for something. he turned briefly.

“you want your dragon stuffie?” he asked after picking the stuffie out of the basket. gaining a nod from you.

it had been your favourite stuffie for years now, a weighted one at that. it helped to give you something focus on when you were overwhelmed or anxious. as well as bringing you comfort.

he placed the stuffie on your crossed legs, one of your hands instantly holding onto the tail to squeeze and pinch the material. the deep pressure of the weight always helped you.

ashton moved to sit beside you on the bed, placing his hand lightly on your shoulder, he tried to pull you into his embrace. not too quickly as it could make things worse, but you seemed to be okay with it.

feeling his arms go around your body, you leaned into him. head against his chest as you laid back between his legs. he tightened his arms around you to further help with the pressure. which allowed you to slowly start to relax.

your crying continued for a while longer, it taking you time to completely feel calm again. ashton was patient, as he always was, allowing you as much time as you needed.

the stress from work the past few weeks had definitely got to you, how you’d been overloaded with things to do, too many meetings and way too much talking involved. now this on top of it all had become too much.

ashton pressed delicate kisses to your forehead, caressing his thumbs back and fourth against you where his hands were holding you to try and help you relax more.

you both stayed sitting in the quiet, he wouldn’t talk, or move, until he knew you were ready and feeling okay again.

he’d noticed you’d stopped sniffling as much, seeing you were wiping a few more tears from your cheeks. hoping you were starting to settle, he loosened his grip slightly, seeing you were fine with that.

after a few more moments, you were twisting in his arms, leaning on your side against him to wrap your arms around his torso as he continued to hold you.

you looked up at him, defeated look on your face. he leaned down, pressing a few more soft kisses to your forehead. showing you he’s here, he’s got you and he won’t be leaving your side until you were ready.

you sat like this for what felt like forever. it had to have been at least an hour before you’d properly calmed down to a point where you felt like you could actually talk to ashton.

slowly, you reached for one side of your headphones, lifting it off of your left ear. it was quiet. the only thing that you could hear was ashton’s steady breathing above you.

with that confirmation, you removed the headphones completely. you sighed, reaching for one of ashton’s hands so you could hold it in yours.

“i’m sorry.” you spoke. ashton frowned at you, confused as to why you were apologising. “you should’ve been in your studio, but instead you’re up here with me.”

“baby, it’s okay,” ashton tried to reassure. “i was thinking about you the whole time, so it was best for us to cut things short for today.”

“but, if i had just been at work—“

“love,” ashton cut you off. “it’s okay if you aren’t feeling good, i’m completely okay with changing plans last minute so i can take care of you instead.”

you shook your head, “but im getting in the way of your job, ash,” you argued. “music is your life and you’ve had to constantly cancel practice or recording sessions, because of me. i’m ruining everything.”

“baby, no, no,” ashton sighed, hating hearing you say things like that. “you aren’t getting in the way of anything and you most definitely aren’t ruining things.”

you shook your head again, “if i can’t deal with things, you have to do the chores around the house, you have to cook and clean on top of looking after me,” you said. “you should be having fun with the guys, instead for the past few months you’ve been at home with me because i can’t deal with a little bit of work and noise.”

this was the same every time ashton had to cancel plans. you’d feel terrible, you’d apologise for things that are in no way your fault. you are the way you are and there’s nothing wrong with it, although, you always felt like there was.

“you’d be better off without me,” you looked down. “you’d have a simple life, you could make music whenever you please without me getting in the way all the time.”

“baby,” ashton sighed. “you don’t get in the way of things, there’s nothing wrong with you feeling overwhelmed and burnt out sometimes. i’m happy with helping you through it when you feel like that.”

“it’s just been getting more and more often,” you fiddled with your dragon stuffie. “you shouldn’t have to keep changing your plans just because i keep having a hard time.”

“i’m happy to change plans as many times as i need if it means being here to help you deal with things,” ashton reassured. “you can’t always predict when you’re going to get burnt out or tired, so whenever it happens, i promise, i’m always going to be here no matter what.”

“i just feel like i’m becoming something you always have to deal with,” you continue. “like i’m a heavy weight in your life, stopping you from doing things.”

ashton knew what you were trying to say to him. without explicitly saying it, you were referring to yourself as a burden. it was truly how you felt every time this happens, how else could you feel?

“angel, no, please don’t say that,” ashton shook his head. “i don’t have to deal with it, you’re the person i love and continue to love every single day. the day you walked into my life, you became my top priority, not because i have to deal with you, but because i want to be here for you, i want to make sure you’re always happy.”

he pauses for a moment, running a hand through your hair soothingly, “you mean the world to me, and i love spending time with you, especially when you need it most,” he smiles as you look up at him. “you’re not a burden, you never have been and never will be. i love you, so so much.”

he leaned down, kissing your lips softly. you smiled after that, leaning your head against his chest. he always knew what to say to try and make you worry less and feel better.

“thank you for being here for me.” you said quietly.

“always, my love.” he hugs you tighter against him. “now, how about i make you a hot chocolate? i know that always helps.”

“please,” you squeezed his hand in yours as a thank you. “i love you, ash.”

before he went anywhere, he reassured you some more. but you knew that things would be better with him with you through this. things were always better when ashton was by your side.

✩ ✩ ✩

[nicoline1998enilocin]

I had a dream last night... when tony (he was not iron man in my dream) came home very tired after a hard day at stark industries, I cooked him his favorite food and we ate together, then I ran him a bath (and got in the bath with him 😉), after the bath I gave him a back massage in our bed and after the massage I rode him so deliciously to help him relax even more, hearing his delicious moans and groans, telling him that I love him... after the sex, we went to sleep cuddling and whispering sweet nothings to each other, and in the next day, I brought him breakfast in bed... I treated my hubby like the king he is...

Can you pleeeease write this for me (x female reader)? I need to make this deram eternal 🥹 thank you in advance, I'm a big fan

Like a King

PAIRING | Husband!Tony Stark x Wife!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.1K

SUMMARY | Your husband had a bad day at work, so you decide to treat him like an absolute king. From a nice home cooked meal to a warm bath and a massage, you're pulling out all the stops to make him feel loved and to turn his day around completely.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Established relationship [ Husband & Wife ], age gap [ Tony is in his early to mid 50's, Reader is in her late 30's ], smut [ Daddy kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, post-sex cuddles ].

A/N | Thank you so much for this request, sweet Nonnie; I hope I made your dream come to life with this fic! If you ever have another dream like this, please don't hesitate to tell me about it again because I was living my best fantasies while writing this! 🖤

Also, your comment about you being a big fan honestly made my day?! Like, I love you so SO much, Nonnie, that is the biggest compliment you can ever give me! 🥹

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🩷

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist

Today's your day off, and you're currently at the gym when you're getting a call from your husband. Usually, he only calls during work when something's up, so all the alarm bells in your head immediately go off, and you stop what you're doing.

''Hi Angel, is everything okay?'' you ask when you pick up the phone.

''Not really, Gorgeous. Today is very stressful, and a huge deal just fell through, so I'm going home early today,'' he sighs, and you can hear the defeat in your voice.

''Alright, I'll finish my workout and swing by Stark Industries to see you. How does that sound?'' you ask.

''Sounds perfect, and I can't wait to see you. I love you, Gorgeous,'' he says.

''Love you too, my Angel,'' you say before hanging up and finishing your workout.

Thirty minutes later, you changed into a casual outfit and ready to head to your husband. You park your car in the garage, and JARVIS lets Tony know you've arrived and he's ready to go when you arrive at his office.

You knock on his door to the office, and it swings open. You're pulled into a tight embrace before you can even realize what's happening, but you also let it happen, knowing this is what Tony needs right now.

''Hi, my sweet Angel,'' you say when you pull apart and place your hands on his cheeks, rubbing your fingers over his soft skin.

Your lips place a soft, sweet kiss on his lips and feel him relax under your touch so the two of you stay like that for a little while. Exchanging small kisses, not feeling the need to say anything but being perfectly content with each other's presence.

''Shall we go home? I will cook you a nice home-cooked meal, and afterward, we can take a bath together; I can give you a massage and cuddle together,'' you offer, and he nods.

''Let's go,'' he says, telling his secretary he won't be in for the rest of the day, and no one can bother him, not even if the building burns down. Right now, Tony needs nothing other than to be loved and cared for by you.

When the two of you arrive home, you send him to your bedroom to change into something more comfortable while you start dinner, preparing one of his favorite dishes.

You're going for some easy comfort food today, so a creamy baked mac and cheese sounds like the perfect option, and Tony thinks so, too.

When you're preparing the sauce, he walks down the stairs and over to you in the kitchen, just needing to be around you for now. His arms wrap around you while you're softly swaying to the music, and when you feel Tony's arms around you, a big smile appears on your face.

''It's smelling delicious already,'' he says as he places soft kisses on your shoulder while swaying back and forth.

''How about you sit down and read a book or nap until dinner? It's gonna be another 20 to 30 minutes, and as much as I'd love to keep dancing with you, I can't cook if you're attached to my back the entire time,'' you say as you turn around in his hold.

''Alright, but only if I get extra cuddles later tonight,'' he says, and you nod.

''You can get all the extra cuddles you want after dinner,'' you say before sending him out of the kitchen.

When your mac and cheese is in the oven, you set the dinner table, and you come to check up on Tony, who appears to be completely entranced by his book, so you just leave him for now.

About 5 minutes later, your oven dings, and you put dinner on the table, ready to get Tony and have dinner together, and finally talk about why he had such a bad day today.

You walk over to Tony and put your hands on his shoulders to notify him you're behind him, and you bend down to kiss him. He tilts his head backward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, and you can't help but smile at it.

''Dinner's ready,'' you say, and he puts his book to the side and quickly gets up, ready to guide you back to the dining room where the food is waiting to be eaten.

He pulls out your chair, and once you scooted in, he softly kissed the top of your head. This routine you've developed over the years still warms your heart.

Once he's seated, too, you put some food on your plate before Tony puts quite a lot of it on his, as he's feeling so hungry he could eat a horse.

''It truly smells amazing, Gorgeous, you've outdone yourself once again,'' he says, and you feel a pink tint on your cheeks, blushing at his compliment.

Over dinner, the two of you talk about Tony's day and the deal that fell through so you can understand what's going on in his head and why he's feeling the way he does.

At the end of dinner, you can tell Tony feels a lot better; he doesn't seem as tense, but there's still some tension inside him, and you have the perfect way to get rid of it.

''Do you want me to run a bath for you, my Angel?'' you ask when the dishes are done.

''You don't have to. You've already done enough today, and you deserve some relaxation too,'' Tony says, but he can see the glint of mischief in your eyes.

''Well, who said I wouldn't join you?'' you say, and with that, Tony bends over and grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you with a loud squeal before making a beeline for the master bathroom.

When he's there, he's finally putting you down, and you can run the bath with extra bubbles and your favorite peppermint-scented bath oil, which reminds you of Christmas year-round.

Once that's going, Tony can't keep his hands off of you any longer, and he wants to see your amazing body underneath his fingertips.

Your clothes find their way into the laundry basket one by one as Tony keeps undressing you like a present, giving kisses everywhere he can and ghosting his fingers over your soft flesh in places he can't reach with his mouth.

When the water is done and Tony's undressed, too, he steps in before lending you a hand and guiding you into the tub, ensuring you don't slip.

Once the two of you are seated, you can't help but lean into your husband's arms, your head resting against his shoulder while you enjoy each other's touches and presence.

''I still can't believe I got lucky enough to find you in this lifetime,'' Tony starts as his hands roam over your thighs and sides, never touching where you need him most.

''I get to live with the most gorgeous woman and call her my wife. God, I still can't believe you've said yes to marrying me and growing old with me, but I'm very glad you did,'' he says, placing small kisses on your neck and shoulder now and again to reinforce his words.

The two of you stay like that, whispering sweet nothings and giving longing touches all over each other's bodies until the water turns cold.

You get out of the bath, followed by Tony, and he drains the bathtub before helping you dry off. You do the same, and he lifts you onto the counter so you're at the perfect height for him to give you sweet, slow kisses.

After a good amount of time, you've finally convinced him to lay down on the bed for a back massage so you can work out the knots in his shoulders and back, arguing how good he always feels once you're done and he can't say no to you.

You turned on some soft jazz music for a bit of a mood booster, drizzled some massage oil in your husband's back before going to town on the pressure points.

''Oh, f-fuck, that feels amazing, Gorgeous. Yes, right there, OH!'' he groans out, and if anyone else would hear him, they would not believe he's getting a back massage.

''Hm, you're doing so well for me, Angel,'' you say as you put some extra strength into massaging his shoulder blades, earning yourself deep groans when you feel the knots come loose.

When you're done, you rub the rest of the oil over the bottom of his back before turning him onto his back and placing yourself right onto his thighs so your hand can grab his rock-hard, throbbing member.

''Hmm, someone's been enjoying himself,'' you say before crawling down the bed and wrapping your lips around his tip while sucking in your cheeks.

''Oh, shit, yeah, that's it, Gorgeous, keep sucking like that,'' he growls, and you slowly take more of him into your mouth, wrapping your hand around the parts your mouth can't get to.

Hearing those delicious sounds from him only makes you feel wetter, and you feel slick dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets from how turned on you are.

When he almost reaches his orgasm, he pulls you off and up to him, so he can taste himself in your mouth while his cock prods your soaking-wet entrance.

''Hm, Daddy, please fuck me,'' you moan softly, and with one smooth motion, he's pulled you onto his cock, stretching your cunt to the max with his sudden motion.

''FUCK!'' you exclaim as he's buried deep inside you and starts bouncing you on his cock without letting you adjust. Your boobs bounce up and down deliciously for Tony, and he lets you set your own pace, letting his hands wander to your nipples to play with them.

''D-Daddy, gonna cum for you,'' you say after a little while, and with that, Tony groans as he plants his feet on the bed, bending his legs and thrusting up into you until you come undone all around him.

''Jesus, such a good fucking girl for your Daddy,'' he says, and his back arches off the bed as he spills deep inside you without warning. He cums so hard that it drips out of you almost immediately and makes a mess all over his cock and balls.

''Hmm,'' you hum softly as you lay on Tony's chest, completely fucked out and very comfortable.

''Come on, pretty girl, just need to clean you up,'' Tony says, but you groan in response, holding onto him tighter because you don't want him to leave yet.

''Stay,'' you croak out, and he does just a little longer, but eventually, he has to get up and clean both of you up, so he grabs a warm washcloth to clean you after cleaning himself in the bathroom.

''Alright, let's get you into a pair of underwear and a shirt, Gorgeous,'' he says, and you agree, letting Tony put a pair of lacy panties and one of his oversized shirts on you before climbing back into bed.

''I love you so much, Gorgeous; thank you for turning this shitty day around and making me feel a thousand times better,'' Tony says, and you smile softly.

''Love you too, Angel,'' you say before drifting into a deep slumber while Tony pulls you onto his chest so you're almost holding on like a koala bear. Soft kisses keep finding their way to the top of your head while he whispers sweet nothings and rub circles over your back until he hears your soft snores.

The next morning, you've woken up earlier than usual, so you decide to make good use of it by preparing breakfast in bed for your amazing husband.

When you're walking into the bedroom, you see he's just waking up, and when he sees you with the tray in your hands, his face splits open in a wide grin at the sight.

''What have I done to deserve all this love from you, Gorgeous?'' he asks.

''Being the best husband I could ever wish for, and calling in sick today because I have a whole day planned that doesn't involve getting out of bed,'' you say, a mischievous smile appearing on your face.

''Done!'' he says when you've put the tray down, and he pulls you on your lap. The two of you fed each other breakfast before being tangled up in a twist of limbs and bodies until the sun went down and came up the next day.

Married life has never felt better than it does now.

[azrielsoulmate]

Forever and Always

hi babes! this, as you can see, is not a fic based on any of the (!!) absolutely amazing requests you have sent me, which i will be working on tomorrow. it is tho something i started writing about a month ago and finished tonight. do let me know your opinion on this piece, i’m always open to feedback! apologies if i made any mistakes in this fic, english isn’t my first language

also don’t get fooled by the title this isn’t based off the taylor swift song, although there is a couple references to her music :)

summary: Your mate, Azriel, finds you walking back from work in a storm after overworking, yet again.

genre: fluff

warnings: none, reader overworks herself (unsure if this counts?)

word count: 1573

enjoy!! :)

The streets of Velaris were covered in rain and, as you stared through the window at the way the water seemed to put a glow off the pavement, all you wanted to do was to finally be over with the paperwork and get to bed. You’ve been a part of the inner circle for over five hundred years now, as you joined it at the same time as Mor - after the incident in Autumn. Your job always has been dealing with paperwork, because you all in all weren’t the one to fight, or go to missions, really.

After a while you decided it was time to get home, and looking at the clock you realized it was nearly midnight. Turns out walking home in a literal storm, while being excruciatingly exhausted, is not a nice experience, to say the least. But through the mist and your state of being-half-asleep you managed to make out a winged figure landing just in front of you. After hearing him say your name, you all but collapsed into his arms. He chuckled.

“Tired, my love?” You looked up at him, humming, and a frown appeared on his face. “You shouldn’t overwork yourself like that” he sounded worried and a smile was threatening to show on your face “What, are you worried about me, shadowsinger?” Azriel was still frowning so you continued “Whatever are you doing here anyway?”

Before you could even blink he picked you up and as you screamed in surprise he said “Taking you home” his voice was deep and low, yet somehow loud enough to tear through the sound of wind surrounding the two of you.

You got to the House of Wind, where you’d been living recently, and you readied yourself for Azriel to put you down, but when he didn’t you looked up just to see him completely unphased, as if unaware of your stare. His hold on you was firm, yet still gentle, as if afraid that you would disappear from his arms if he didn’t hold you close enough.

He placed you down on the bed and as you opened your mouth to say something, you heard his warm voice “I will run you a bath” he said as he headed for the bathroom “Oh, no you don’t have to it’s-” “I want to. You’re awfully exhausted, sweetheart, and you look as though you’re about to pass out. I wish to take care of you, if you’ll let me” You stared at him with wide eyes, and all you saw in his was care and love. He walked up to you, kissed your forehead and entered the bathroom. You felt your heart warm up, blood rushing to your cheeks and you realized how lucky you are to have this. How grateful and content you are with the life you got to live. You thought about the spymaster in the room next to you, and unconsciously, you smiled. Because you’ve waited your entire life for him, for your mate, and for that romance novel kind of love.

Soon enough however, your trail of thought was interrupted “May I expect you to come here tonight, love?” Azriel said in a teasing tone, and you looked up to see him leaning against the doorway, yet you didn’t meet his playful stare, instead deciding to settle your eyes on the smile on his lips “Whatever could be going through that mind of yours?” you met his gaze smirking as you replied “You hope it’s you, do you not?” “It’s the only thing I dare to dream about” You shook your head, hiding the blush that threatened to slip onto your cheeks, and entered the bathroom.

The sight awaiting you there made your heart warm. Azriel had run you a bath, he even used all your favorite scented oils. You turned to send a tired smile his way, and started undressing yourself. He however crossed the room in three strides and helped you unbuttoning your shirt

“So fond of the idea of taking my clothes off?” you teased but he, without stopping the swift movements of his hands said “Always am, love” you rolled your eyes, but as he was done and offered a hand to help you into the bath, you took it, your eyes never leaving his. Twin flames, souls, and four hazel eyes. You got comfortable, basking in the hot water and Azriel’s contrasting cool shadows delicately caressing the skin on your neck and cheeks. The window was very slightly opened, the cold midnight air flowing in and the presence of Az made you oh so calm. You felt the corners of your mouth rise into a smile as he gently poured some water on your hair and started washing, massaging your scalp. You couldn’t help but humm at the sensation, and felt Azriel sending you love and adoration down the bond you two shared. The shadowsinger noticed you slowly closing your eyes, dozing off. He could not help but smile, could not stop the blood from rushing onto his cheeks at how safe you felt around him. At the fact that you trust him so much, feel so comfortable and, well, safe with him. Him, who for years felt so unworthy of your love, of you. For he was the shadowsinger, the feared spymaster who’s past, present and future he thought to be forever stained with blood and scars - his own and that of his enemies. Yet, in came you with your dazzling smile, charming personality, and you never, not for one second, seemed to put any mistrust in him. As if you saw him, sensed some sort of invisible string between the two of you and just refused to let go. Even when he tried to pretend not to reciprocate your love - for your own safety, you saw right through him and his antics. You got him figured out, and even though he never saw you coming, he will never be the same, this love so brave and wild, you so brave and strong. He admired your features, the round of your cheeks, how you looked so gentle and light, completely peaceful falling asleep in a bathtub. He kept this oath to himself, to you, that he would never dare lose that. Never would end this age of golden, good and simply just right love. He, whatever might be happening, would never let this end, would never give a reason for your trust in him to break. And he swore to keep this oath just as close to his heart as he kept you.

As Azriel finished washing you, he took you into his arms, holding you close to his chest, and gently placed you on your shared bed. You stirred lightly, yawning “What’s going on?” he glanced down at you from his place next to your wardrobe where he was picking up something for you to wear, a slight smirk daring to slip onto his face “You fell asleep in the tub” he stated. “Oh.” you said flustered, because fuck, you really must’ve been more exhausted than you had thought “Sorry, Az” you frowned.

“Sweetheart,” he was now standing directly in front of you, and placed a tshirt, of his, on the bed next to you “you seriously need to stop overworking yourself like so. You know, not only is that not healthy for you, but also you are wasting time I could be spending with my amazing mate” he slightly teased, but there was a seriousness in his eyes and voice that you didn’t miss “Working. Doing important court work, darling, is not wasting anyone’s time, certainly not yours” you countered, which followed by a long yawn made this whole argument of yours seem less serious. You dropped your gaze to your lap, frowning, but Azriel put his warm hand under your chin, willing you to look up at him “I’m sure you’d hate me barging into your office and carrying you out of there the next time you work too long?” he said in his teasing mannear, but you genuinely wondered if he was actually capable of doing such a thing. You groaned loudly, throwing the shirt Azriel prepared for you over your head, and got under the soft covers. Az stood in front of you with a fond expression adoring his features, but after a moment he too got into bed. You turned the night light off as your mate made his way to you on the bed, placed his arms on your waist and cradled you close to his chest. You couldn’t stop the contented sigh leaving your lips at how well your bodies melted into each other. As if tailor made to fit together. He kissed the back of your head humming and tightened the grip on your middle as he extended his huge wings to drape over you, making you even warmer.

“Az?” you asked quietly

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you for taking care of me tonight” you said, sending him feelings of warmth and adoration. “It’s all a pleasure” his voice was gruff and laced with sleep “And you know I’ll gladly do it until the end of time, sweetheart” and you knew he would.

“I love you” you whispered, settling in, finally falling asleep. But you swore that through the mist of dreams already surrounding you, you made out his quiet response of “I love you too, forever and always.”

[edensbuttercups]

Is this a joke? Pt. II - Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Read part one here!

Summary: As the Uranium mission unfolds, Jake deals with his feelings and the knowledge that he'll have to talk to you once he gets back.

A/N: Finally here with part two! It's been an up and down week in terms of writing motivation, but the love this fic has received honestly warmed my heart. So, here we go with part two! I hope you all enjoy ♡ Has this been proofread? Absolutely not, in typical me fashion 😌

(also, half thinking of a part three with how the date would actually go, maybe a shorter part but 👀 I am open to ideas and/or suggestions 😌)

Words: 3.5k

As always, requests are open and comments are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading and hope you're all having a good day ♡

He could hear it all.

Waiting, hands gripping the controls, ready to takeoff if he was needed.

Daggers descending below radar.

Hangman sighed when he heard Maverick’s words, feeling the tension rise. It was the quiet before the storm, waiting and knowing that even shit hit the fan, he’d have to be in standby until deemed necessary. Unwillingly, he let his mind slip back to you. Your words echoing in his brain just as much as the ones on the radar had. I have a crush on you.

Now, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair, because he had a crush on you. And as much as he should’ve been happy, should’ve jumped for joy, wrapped his arms around you, kissed you like he had craved so many times before, he couldn’t be, because it was real now. It wasn’t something he could dream about before bed anymore, resting his head on the pillow and thinking of what it would be like to tell you how he felt, hold your hand and call you his, no, now he had to face it. He had to choose words that he knew he’d be terrible at choosing, to tell you something that he’d be terrible at conveying. And the worst part of it all was that he had left you there, after such a revelation, and you probably hated him now. And he deserved it.

Sir, dagger two and four are behind schedule.

He listened in, cursing under his breath. “C’mon Rooster. You can do it.” he whispered to himself only, no one there to hear him. It felt small, the space around him, unbearably warm while on ground, beads of sweat slowly running down his brow, feeling like he needed air, needed space, needed time, while also feeling safe there, feeling useful.

You woke up that morning with a knot in your throat, the memory of what had happened still very much vivid in your mind, along with the knowledge of what the dagger squad was probably facing right now. Plucking your phone from the bedsheets, you looked at Rooster’s message again.

Roos 🐓: leaving now. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll text you when we get back, and drinks are on me!

You smiled at his words again, chuckling at his ways, always leaving with a smile even if you knew how much these missions stressed him, having told you the way he felt sometimes, the air not quite enough when things could go wrong so easily, when he thought about his dad while up there.

And then there was Jake. Confident in every way, except for that time he came knocking at your door at 2am after Bob and Natasha got hit by a bird strike and Coyote G-locked. Pretended he was fine, pacing in your living room, apologizing and trying to keep his jokes going, shaking his head in a silent laughter when you approached him, seeing the way his eyes softened when you stopped him in his tracks, a hand on each shoulder. “Are you okay?” That night stayed between the two of you, and even between you there had been no more talks of it. It lived in your mind, though, the way Jake had wrapped his arms around you, the height difference making it seem like he was the one comforting you and not the other way around, and if he cried then it was never mentioned, never acknowledged. He fell asleep by your side, far enough to not feel like he was overstepping, close enough to hold your hand through the night. The next morning he left with a soft smile, thanking you when you handed him his coffee, as if that was what he was thanking you for, ready to put on his usual front in front of the squad. And that was how Jake was. He was a mocking, teasing type of friend, one that you could joke with and pretend to hate as much as you wanted, but that ultimately won your heart by showing you those sides of him that were truly him.

You sighed, setting the phone down again and sitting up, letting your feet dangle off the bed. Radio silence would await you until they were all back, and even if that didn’t help with the incessant static in your mind, you moved on with your day, pretending that you weren’t worried, or hurt.

Hearing Rooster call bombs away had been the first part that caused Hangman’s nerves to grow, the tension in his hands making them tighten as he listened, following each word coming from the radio with a forced attention, ready for his signal. Then, bullseye was called, a smile growing on his face, a silent cheer shared with, once more, no one but himself, but the knowledge that they had made it, not him specifically, but the team. Barely the time to celebrate went by before tension rose again, the enemy missiles getting launched one by one, a mess of voices and screams over the radio, and then, just when things couldn’t get worse, they did.

Dagger one is hit! Maverick down. Dagger one status!

A jumble of words before the order to go back.

Recommend dagger flow south.

Hangman heard the panic in Rooster’s voice, understood the history between him and Maverick, knew what losing someone felt like. “Dagger spare, request permission to fly air cover” He spoke quickly, concisely, ready to takeoff. He had probably messed up his chances with you, but that didn’t mean he had to lose Rooster as well, seeing now just how much of a dick he could be with the people he deep down cared for. “Negative, spare.” he heard back, sighing in defeat. There was nothing he could do. Nothing. Useless, waiting for them to come back, a celebration bound to happen only on paper, one of them lost.

Dagger, you are not to engage.

Hangman almost did engage, but didn’t. His job was to follow orders, and that’s what he did. Yet dagger two did not. Rooster hadn’t followed directions, flying right back to where Maverick had fallen, ignoring everything and everyone else and heading straight back into danger. After all, he had more courage than Hangman had.

Dagger two is hit. Dagger two, do you copy?

There was nothing more painful than that silence. They couldn’t lose someone two people in one mission. Couldn’t lose Rooster. If Hangman was to come home to you, hoping you’d at least listen to him, how could he come back without your best friend?

Hangman let out a low chuckle when Rooster signal was traced again, and fully laughed when it had been clear Maverick was along. Soon enough, no matter how good they were, he got the all clear to help them, flying out to save their asses just in time. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables to their locked and upright position and prepare for landing.” He wasn’t hiding the smile he was brightly wearing, adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he flew side by side with Maverick and Rooster, never happier to see both of their faces. They were okay. “Hey Hangman. You look good.” He could only see Rooster’s eyes, but it was evident that he was happy to see him, and god was he happy to see them. Alive. “I am good. I am very good.” He did feel very good indeed. This was the part of his job that kept him going, the adrenaline all the more intense when something bad almost happened, and while he never wanted to lose anyone again, he welcomed the feeling.

Celebrations done and hugs shared, everyone dispersed, preparing to go home again, each member of a team talking to someone while they still buzzed with adrenaline while Maverick talked to the Admiral. All except for Hangman. Everyone noticed, but no one approached him, knowing he had his times and not minding the silence his absence brought, yet Rooster eventually walked towards him, sitting by his side with a loud huff. “So what’s up, Hangman?” Rooster finally asked. He had been thankful of Hangman saving him, and despite not having had the best of relationships with him, his reaction to your words only adding to that, he seemed to have gotten over that once they landed, seeing a truthful relief in the aviator’s eyes. Hangman took a sharp breath in, looking down with a smirk on his lips. “You sure you want to talk about it?” He asked, looking up at Rooster. It felt weird, after so long of teasing and mocking to just open up to him, even if he was the only person he could open up to, considering that he was the only other person, besides you and him, to know about what had happened. “Hard to pick sides when you only know half the story. And realistically, I’m not going to pick your side, but you know.” Rooster shrugged, smiling nonetheless, glad to see the blond man relax, taking a seat by his side as he let out a breath he had been holding, glad for the mission to have gone the way it had, but still nervous to make his way back home. “She told me she’s got a crush on me.” Hangman muttered, letting his head fall back. “Yeah, and you just cut her short with a we’ll talk when I get back.” Rooster mocked, raising the pitch of his voice in mock-tone, rolling his eyes. “She told me.” He then added, noticing how Hangman’s eyes were back on him. “Was she upset?” He asked, and Rooster hadn’t always been the best judge of Jake “Hangman” Seresin, but if he had to judge him now he’d say the blond man was actually genuinely concerned.

And he would be right.

Jake had spent the night before the mission falling in and out of sleep, words left unsaid ghosting on his lips, along with worry in his chest, even if he hadn’t technically been chosen to fly, if not for backup, but the team he had warmed up to was, and he had grown to care for them, even if he didn’t always show it. “She… was… fine?” Rooster spoke after a moment of thought, glaring at Hangman when he rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t answer my question.” He said, letting out a frustrated groan. He hadn’t want to make you upset. He knew he had, and that wouldn’t change that he was mad at himself for it, but still, he didn’t like hearing it. “Do you like her back?” Rooster asked instead of fixing his prior sentence, letting that go. “Clearly.” “So why did you leave?” Hangman sighed, closing his eyes and trying to find some words that wouldn’t earn a That makes no sense, Hangman, or something along those lines.

He knew it didn’t.

It didn’t make sense to run away when the person he did like told him they liked him back, and yet he did. It didn’t make sense to crave your touch even when he had never felt it like he wished, especially not when he’d never get to feel it now that it had messed up. And it didn’t make sense to be here, confiding his secrets and feelings to Bradley fucking Bradshaw, and yet. “I was going to tell her that I have a crush on her.” he said, grimacing at the way the words felt as he pronounced them. He raised a finger when he saw Rooster move to speak, not wanting him to chime in just yet, not having said enough words to potentially save his reputation, or what was left of it. “I had time. Not telling her meant I could choose the moment, be in control of the situation, see how it played out, say it was a joke if she happened to reject me.” “What a way to own up to your feelings.” Rooster mumbled, rolling his eyes but letting him go on. “But she told me, now. Power’s in her hands. I’m the one that has to answer, and I can’t hide behind anything if…” Hangman stopped mid-sentence, frowning as he thought about what he was afraid of. “If she doesn’t like you? She said she does. That’s solved. And power being in her hands…” Rooster sighed, shaking his head, “this ain’t about power. It’s about liking each other.” He waited for Hangman to add something, anything, but he was just looking ahead, studying the floor with particular interest. “Hangman, you know about it. People flirt with you, you flirt back-” “Yeah, but they don’t like me. They like the idea of the confident Navy man that could easily swoop them to bed and rock their world.” He said smirking, before his lips fell back down. “She doesn’t.” Rooster hummed, understanding where he was going with his words. “She likes you.” “I don’t know when last time someone actually liked me.” Hangman revealed, knowing he’d regret being this open with Rooster, but allowing it to happen for now. “Okay, listen. I hated it, trust me, before today you were probably my least liked person.” Hangman scoffed and Rooster’s words, but nodded at him to go on. “But she made me change my mind about you, in some small stupid way. She likes you because of the way you are when no one’s looking. She sees something more, something I don’t see, and arguably, maybe she’s the only one that does, but either way, she likes you.” Rooster went on, not allowing the blond aviator to add anything else until he was done. “She went on about you every time we were together, asking about how you were doing, how you were, yet openly bickering with you when you were around. It was, and is, infuriating. But what’s more infuriating is you letting this chance go, breaking your heart alongside hers just ‘cause you’re afraid.”

Rooster didn’t add anything other than that, didn’t give Hangman the chance to reply, just stood and left, walking back towards Bob and Fanboy, clapping his hands over their shoulders and pulling them into a hug. Hangman knew he’d join them in a few minutes, put on his smirk and go back to his usual self, but he allowed himself a moment to consider his words, his fear. Rooster was, ultimately, right, and he was being scared of something that he shouldn’t have been scared of in the first place.

Time seemed to slow down when they landed back in Miramar, everyone still chattering and bubbling with energy, leaving him sitting in the back until most of them had risen to their feet, eager to get off. Hangman descended the stairs slowly, having, for once, allowed - and insisted - for everyone to go ahead, getting to the tarmac before he did. He saw Rooster turn back to him and ignored him, trying to prepare himself for the conversation he was going to have with you, clenching his hands into fists. He gave Rooster the chance to walk up to you, keeping his steps slow as he walked towards you, weighing his words. I’m sorry for leaving without saying anything. I like you too, I’m just afraid to give you the power to break my heart. I’m not good at relationships. He cursed under his breath, knowing that as much as there words echoed the truth, there was no way he’d actually be able to speak them.

Rooster knew Hangman was approaching when your eyes left his to land on the blond aviator behind him, a small smile on your lips, expression softening, before you let it go back to a more distant one, smiling only when you met Bradley’s eyes again. “I’m so glad you’re back.” You hummed, ignoring the man that was now steadily approaching. “You should listen to what he’s got to say.” Bradley said in reply, reaching to hold your hand, then letting it go when he saw your nod. You were going to listen, yes, but seeing him there, okay and alive, you felt the emotions you had felt on that night bubble back up, buried by the worry and rising once it had gone, and you weren’t sure you could do much more than listen with the sadness and anger taking over again. “Need me to stay?” He asked before leaving, nodding once again when you muttered a no, thank you, watching him walk towards Hangman and pat him on the back as he went to join the others, leaving the two of you alone. “Can we talk?” He asked you when he reached you, expression pleading for something, anything, when the stare you gave him was colder than it had ever been. “Drive me home?” You asked instead, not wanting to be around the others in the off chance you’d end up crying. Drinks at the Hard Deck had already been planned, but you had a few hours before that, and could easily pull yourself back together when he told you that he didn’t feel the same way. Hangman nodded,

You walked in, keys jingling until you left them by the door, closing your eyes when the door shut behind you. “I’m sorry.” Hangman mumbled, voice low and raspy, and you hated it. Hated it because had it been any other word, it would’ve had you blushing, but this made you feel bad, for you more than for him. “I should’ve known. I pushed it.” You said instead, sitting on the couch with a huff, grabbing one of the pillows and holding onto it. He paced the floor, much like you had that first night, going back and forth and back and forth until you stopped him by throwing a pillow at him, laughing when he lost his balance and almost fell. “Fighter pilot and yet a pillow takes him down.” You teased, smirking. “Not my fault, you’re an excellent shot.” He answered back effortlessly, a smile making its appearance back on his face. “Am I?” Hangman nodded, smirking as he picked the pillow up, setting it at the foot of the couch and sitting on it, looking up at you from there. “I’m angry with you.” You added, shaking your head when he tried to speak. “Not ‘cause you don’t like me back, that’s fine. It’s not something I expected from you, anyway, it was just a secret I couldn’t carry anymore. But I’m angry ‘cause you left with barely a word, and you didn’t text before leaving, and as much as I know why you didn’t… I was still worried. I care for you, and I knew there was a chance I wasn’t going to see you again, and I just-” “Stop.” You looked down to see him, eyes closed and cheeks red, his eyebrows drawn together. Shifting slightly, you waited, not sure as to what he was going to say, but hoping his next words wouldn’t be the ones telling you that your whole friendship was over. “Kiss me.” “What?” It takes you a minute to respond, expecting to hear anything but that. You smirk, rolling your eyes at your next words, but go on anyway, quoting him. “Is this a joke?” “I’m not good with words.” He hisses, rolling his eyes too. “Ah, but you’re good with kisses, you sl-” Before you could mock him he reached for your arm, yanking you down so that you fell in his lap, his lips easily finding yours in a bruising kiss, letting go of a shallow he wasn’t aware he had been holding, groaning when he felt you melt against him, your hand reaching to rest over his shoulder, slowly trailing up into his hair, tugging on it slightly. “Don’t tease.” He hums, smirking as he pulls away, lips red and pupils blown, a completely different image from the one that was pacing in front of you a few minutes ago. “Wasn’t.” You say innocently, leaning your head into his hand as if comes up to cup your cheek, a softness taking over his features you hadn’t seen often, not with anyone but you, anyway. And you realize, then, that it had been foolish to think he’d want to end your friendship, his looks always different from the ones he reserved for his friends. “I promise I will find words to tell you how I feel, but for now just know that I like you too.” He whispers, watching you closely and pecking your lips again, happy to finally be able to. “You owe me a date.” You hum, running a hand in his hair again, loving the way his perfect strands get messed up under your touch. “I owe you a lot more than a date, but how does tomorrow sound?”

Taglist: (For those that didn’t explicitly ask me to tag them, I hope you don’t mind being tagged, but I thought you might like to read part 2!♡) @alana4610 @bookaholics-stuff @addietagglikesbands @asshlyyyy @malfoysqueen54

[boobo13cambridge]

🌹 Masterlist 🌹

Kylian Mbappé 🇫🇷

Fics

Cliché? Most definitely. | Kylian Mbappé

Genre:  Strangers to Lovers AU | Romance | Angst | Fluff | Smut

Summary: Once upon a time, there lived a girl who couldn't figure out her life and a boy who had the world at his feet. Neither had time for love, and both were absolutely miserable with their current predicaments. As the saying goes, expect the unexpected. Cliché? Most definitely. Does Lady Faith care? Not one bit. These types of stories have always been her cup of tea. At this point, all there is left to do is send a quick prayer that these two don’t get dragged to hell and back to satisfy an ancient deity’s hunger for drama. Alas, the odds don’t look promising. It’s been a while since Lady Faith personally took an interest in two young mortals' lives. The last time she was so meddlesome was with a certain singer and an athlete. What a disaster that was. Now, Faith looked at her two protagonists, and with a quick smirk, let history write itself. 

Chapitre Un. Rien autour n'a de sens

The Summer We Were Young | Kylian Mbappé

Genre:  Strangers to Lovers AU| Romance | Comedy | Fluff | Of course, it has to be angsty | Smut

Summary: Once upon a time, there lived a young woman named Naaz who couldn’t wait to get the hell out of her parent’s house and jet set to the French Riviera to live out her hot girl summer dreams. Tired, burnout, and angry against the world, she decides to be selfish for once and books a ticket to the beautiful city of Nice.

Unfortunately for her, things never seem to work in her favour. Along the way, she meets the most infuriating man in the world who seems to make it his life goal to make her blood boil and her generationally acquired anger issues to resurface landing her in the most precarious situations. On his behalf, Kylian was just trying to have a good time and forget about the disastrous season he just had. Dealing with loss after loss, the world-famous footballer just wanted to catch a break as he faced great uncertainty regarding his future. Get ready to follow Naaz and Kylian as they prepare to face a summer that will change their lives forever. 

Chapter One. Ridin' in the drop-top with the top down

Requests

Ay, Ay, Captain | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Y/N watches as Kylian play and lead his team to victory at Stade Bollaert-Delelis, feeling proud and overwhelmed. Five goals in one game? Surely, he served something special for such a feat, non?

Honeymoon | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After an eventful journey, you and Kylian finally get to relax on your afternoon.

Meilleur buteur | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Kylian becomes Paris Saint-Germain's all-time top scorer. You couldn't be any prouder of your other half.

Somebody to Lean On | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After being eliminated from the Champions League, you join Kylian while he channels his frustrations into working out hours after the training session is over. 

Magic Kingdom | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After spending the day at Disneyland Paris with his niece and nephew, Kylian wants to start a family with you

Hold On, We’re Going Home | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After attending a charity event with Kylian, who looked dashing in his black suit, you feel particularly needy. Once you arrive home, you realize he hungered for you just as much. 

Unexpectedly Expecting | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After feeling unusually exhausted and nauseous during your weekly gym dates, you find out some really happy news

O Re Piya | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: It’s the day of your brother’s wedding, and you're running late. The main culprit: your handsy husband who can’t seem to control himself seeing you in a lehenga. 

A Mother's Remedy | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: You fall asleep on Kylian after spending the whole day taking care of the triplets who had the flu.

I’ll take care of you | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Kylian is feeling stressed as the news that he will not be extending with PSG comes out. He seeks comfort in you. 

Send That Picture Promise I'm A Keep It | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: What’s it like texting when your husband is a really busy athlete? 

Drifting Apart | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Y/N and Kylian’s relationship is crumbling as they navigate the most difficult moments of their lives. Will they stay or fall apart due to the pressure?

↳ Part I

Sheila Ki Jawani | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Y/N is late and Kylian decides to teach her a lesson about tardiness.

Kim Namjoon 🇰🇷

Comfort| Kim Namjoon

Summary: After reading an article about your boyfriend Namjoon's personal information being tracked, you feel quite angry and the only thing you can do is comfort him.

Tom Riddle 🐍

The Heir and His Son | Tom Riddle Sr and Tom Riddle Jr

Summary: Tom Riddle Sr raises his son and it makes all the difference.

↳ Chapter One

↳ Chapter Two

[azsazz]

Warrior Status

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Multiple Anon Request(s): "I’m not sure if requests are open, but maybe Az dealing with his kids as teenagers? 🥰"

"I absolutely love the children you made up for the inner circle!!!! Based on them, I had the idea to ask for a fic about them as teenagers; I feel like that dynamic would be fun to read about. Obsessed with your writing, and wanted to mention that I always look forward to your posts. I have your notifications on, so whenever u post I literally drop everything to read them❤️❤️"

In other words: Az trying to cope with his two oldest sons about to partake in the Blood Rite.

Warnings: Sparring/fighting but otherwise none.

Word Count: 2,483

_________________________________________

“Again, Baz,” Azriel demands, weapon raised high in his fighting stance.

They’ve been at it for hours, sparring with his son. They’d already run through hours of fighting fist to fist, and Azriel had more bruises inflicted by the young half–Illyrian than he’d like to admit. Now, they fight sword to sword and would finish the night with one last round of hand-to-hand combat, the shadowsinger analyzing Baz’s skills. He’s dripping sweat and feels centuries older than he is. Working as the spymaster of the Night Court and raising six kids will do that to a male.

A shadow alerts him to someone coming at him from behind and he ducks beneath Baz’s sword, twisting around just in time as his oldest – Wren – brings his own weapon down in a mighty swing, meant to cleave him in two. Azriel’s sword catches Wren’s, stopping the attempt with ease.

His free hand slides to his favorite knife strapped to his thigh. He unsheathes Truth–Teller, looking as sharp and menacing as ever, using the short blade in tandem with his longsword to block the onslaught of attacks from both of his sons.

Had they forgotten that he’d been doing this for centuries with his own brothers?

“What are we doing this for?” Baz snarls, his temper smoldering as he dodges a blow that would’ve cut his head clean from his shoulders, “We’re ready.”

“You’re not,” Azriel disagrees, parrying in defense. On the outside he’s cool and calm, stoic as he’s always been since he’s mastered himself, but on the inside his stomach coils with nerves, worried for his sons’ well-being as their day to partake in the Blood Rite nears. 

They’re nowhere near ready, by what his shadows and own eyes tell him. Wren still leans too far on his back foot when he strikes and godsdammit if he has to tell Baz one more time to keep his fucking elbow up–he exhales a steady breath, trying not to get too worked up about the flaws he witnesses. They might as well be as trained as the first years.

Baz self-corrects on his next swing and Azriel notes it with a clenched jaw. The nineteen year old has better control of the few shadows he has, a dark whisper of the mistake his father had seen in his ear, the young warrior scolding himself for it.

“What do you do when you wake up and are completely alone? No weapons, no wings, no siphons, with your brother and cousins at different points of the mountain?”

“Fight my way to them,” Baz responds, chest heaving. There’s a wicked glint in his eye, one of bloodlust and it reminds Azriel so much of himself when he was his son’s age, angry with the world and ready to tear apart anything that got in his way. “Obviously.”

“You could hardly hold your own against me hand-to-hand earlier,” Azriel comments, the cut and thrust he sends towards the more reckless of his sons shoves him off balance as he drives him around the ring, his shadows keeping a watch on Wren, who seems to be content to watch, his nose still dripping blood from where his father had drove the butt of his sword into it. 

Baz desperately tries to counter his father’s blows but Azriel does not yield.

“If you want to survive the Blood Rite you have to know these things,” the spymaster says, frustratedly.

Both Wren and Baz are nearly at the age to partake in the Blood Rite and Azriel couldn’t be more nervous. He remembers his time in the bloody test like it was yesterday. Waking up cold and alone and half-naked, his brothers were nowhere to be found. He’d fought tooth and nail against the full–blooded Illyrians, who’d made it their first task to kill him before assuming the climb. Many of them did not get the chance to reach the summit as the shadowsinger plowed through them to get to his brothers. 

His solution to all of his pent up anxiety is to make his children spar with him after every training day, making sure they’re prepared for the absolute worst.

It’s been centuries since he’d been in the Rite with his brothers, the three of them separated and having to fight their way back to each other, up the mountain itself to get to the onyx monolith at the top, securing their status as Carynthian warriors, but he’d never forget the hardships they’d all had to face to reach the summit.

“You don’t have to make it, you just have to survive.”

“We will,” Wren grits, wiping his nose on his sleeve as he comes to his little brother’s aid. They’ve been sparring together for years now but somehow their father’s skill still seems to surprise them. The seven cobalt siphons adorning his body only prove how proficient the male is at fighting.

And even though Baz has the same amount of siphons Azriel does, and Wren with five of his own, they still don’t even compare to the warrior that their father is.

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t have faith in us?” Wren asks angrily, aiming a clear cut to the back of his father’s thigh. The spymaster winces, hissing as he’s caught off guard but he retaliates with his own swing that neatly disarms his oldest son.

“I do,” Azriel pants, dipping low to avoid the left hook Baz throws his way. Always one to abandon his weapons and favors the feel of flesh against his knuckles, his son. Azriel pushes up from his crouch, delivering an uppercut that has his second oldest seeing stars as he falls back into the melted snow mixed with mud and blood beneath them, effectively ending the spar. “But me having faith in you isn’t going to help you reach the monolith.”

He offers down a hand but Baz ignores it, pushing himself to his feet and retreating towards the cabin with Wren by his side. Azriel disregards the hurt in his chest as he trails them, brushing his fingers through Jax’s hair when he reaches the home, the younger boy sitting on the steps, watching them intensely.

“Good job dad,” he compliments. They hadn’t let him join but he’s only a few years off from entering his own Blood Rite, the fifteen year old absorbing every training and spar that he can with those observing eyes.

He’s the best in his class and will be participating in the tradition by himself, unless Zuzu decides to join as well. She seems to be enjoying her Valkyrie training with her aunt, and it isn’t a requirement to become a full warrior in their legion, but knowing his little girl, she won’t let Jax go through it alone. That stubborn little girl will do anything to prove she’s as good as her brothers.

“Thanks, buddy. Why don’t you go wash up before dinner? I’ll be in in a minute.”

The teen nods, scrambling up the steps with a holler to his siblings, calling dibs on going first in the after dinner game the six of them had seemed to make up, something about rolling dice to get the highest score…he’s sure he’s missing some rules but he can’t be arsed to remember  right now.

Azriel takes a powerful leap, spreading his aching wings wide, flapping them a few times to get airborne. He just needs a few moments alone.

__________

“All your father wants is for you to make it out of the Blood Rite alive,” you explain softly, using a damp cloth to wipe the drying blood from Wren’s nose. Your oldest flinches, his face still tender, and you soothe his hair from his forehead with an apologetic look. “He will be proud of you boys no matter what echelon you become, you know that.”

“It doesn’t fucking seem like it,” Baz mutters, arms crossed against his chest as he toes at the carpet with his socked foot.

“Language,” you scold and your son just rolls his eyes.

“Mom,” he sighs, exasperated. Your second oldest huffs as you gesture him over to the seat next to his brother so you can examine his wounds.

You’d gotten pretty good at patching up cuts throughout the years you’d been with Az, and you’d even gone so far as to read up on a few things from the library during your spare time, and had been watching Madja fix up your children’s scrapes and bruises for nearly two decades after that. You could easily be a healer if you wanted to.

“Baz,” you mock, assessing his face. It’s been a long time since he’d lost his baby fat, growing into a young adult, sharp jaw like his father’s with a mouth to rival his Uncle Cassian’s. 

Azriel must’ve been agitated enough for him to have placed a well aimed hit like this, he normally stops himself before laying too much damage on his sons. They must’ve been more mouthy with their father today during training than they usually are. The Illyrian and fae blood in him will take care of the bruising within minutes, Baz has nothing to worry about.

“Nyx and Gideon don’t have to do extra training everyday,” Wren protests, and your heart aches a little because when did they all decide not to call each other by their nicknames anymore? “Every single day mom, can you believe it?”

You can believe it, pressing your lips in a tight line. Azriel is one of the most powerful Illyrians in history and he loves his children so much that this must be tearing the male apart, having to watch his sons going through this without his help. He hated all of the Illyrian traditions, would murder the entire race if he could, but the Blood Rite was the worst of them all.

“He’s worried,” you tell them, sitting between them when they scoot apart to make room. You wring the damp cloth between your hands, staring at it like it’s the most interesting thing in Prythian. “We both are.”

At the waver in your admission they cling to you. Your sons may pretend to be all big and bad, but they’re softies just like their father, aching at the sound of you unhappy. 

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Baz says, his voice raw with emotion. You lean your head against his, sighing when you hear Malos yelling at Jax in the other room. 

“I’ll talk to him.”

__________

Your mate hadn’t said a word since he’d arrived back at the cabin in the Illyrian war camp. You’d built one of your own, next to Rhys’ mother’s because your family was too large and rowdy to share the space with Azriel’s brothers and their families. 

He hadn’t even come by for dinner, and tried to ignore you calling out to him through the bond, but when he felt that frustration burning hot across the tether of emotion between the two of you, that he was in deep shit he responded softly.

It’s silent as you climb into bed next to him, lying flat on your back and staring up at the dark ceiling, all of your children sleeping – or pretending to – in the other rooms of the house.

“Wren and Baz are sneaking out,” he sighs, tossing an arm over his eyes. He doesn’t know why his children even try, his shadows note everything that they do, always have. He gets that they’re young and reckless and he was too when he was their age, so he lets them off the hook most of the time.

“They’re probably going to get a drink with their cousins after the days that they’ve had,” you respond, and there it is, the reason for the rift between the two of you. Azriel worked his sons to the brink.

“What did they tell you?” he murmurs the question as he rolls onto his side to face you, afraid of what they might’ve said.

“You’re running them ragged, they’ll be too exhausted to fight in the Rite if they have to with the rate you’re going,” you tell him gently, caressing his cheek with your thumb. He looks so tired, exhausted with worry, and you can’t wait for the Blood Rite to be over, but then you’ll have to deal with your mate worrying about your other four children, even though they’re years away from their own Rite’s.

“When they have to,” he corrects, clenching his jaw. It isn’t going to be easy for his sons, they’re less Illyrian than he and everyone seemed to hate him and his brothers when they were young. He can only imagine what the rest of them will try and do to his sons.

“They’re smart boys and have gotten training from the finest Illyrian warriors for almost their entire lives,” your voice is gentle, caring. “They don’t think you’ll be proud of them if they come out as anything less than Carynthian.”

His jaw slackens in shock, “Of course I would,” he protests, “They can be any echelon and I’d be the most proud. Look at Nesta for mother’s sake, she’s Oristian and could easily defeat a Carynthian. The title means little to me.”

“I know,” you sooth, letting him cuddle into your side, resting his head over your chest as you wrap an arm around him, mindlessly drawing circles across his back. “But they don’t know that.”

“Do they hate me? For going too hard on them?” he’s scared to ask, his voice is the smallest you’ve ever heard it and your heart cracks in your chest.

“No, absolutely not,” you respond firmly, giving him a jostle for good measure. “They love you so much, Azriel. Wren and Baz seem to think that you don’t have faith that they can do this. I think it’s getting to them a little more than they know.”

He sighs, shutting his eyes as he squeezes you in a hug. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

You run your fingers through his ink black hair, watching him. Your beautiful mate, always thinking he’s done something to upset his children.

“You didn’t fuck up, you just need to explain to them that you’re worried. Be open with them and I think you’ll be surprised,” you explain, kissing him on his forehead. He peers up at you, hazel eyes gleaming with thanks and love settling between the two of you, the bond buzzing.

“I love you (Y/N). More than you know.”

You return his smile, a dust of pink warming your cheeks. “I love you too, Az,” you admit, the butterflies awakening in your stomach like they always do when he says those words to you. You share an intimate kiss, soft and sweet. “Do you have any energy left for me, perchance?” you ask cheekily, squealing out a laugh when he rolls you on top of him.

“For you? Always, my love.”

[somber-sapphic]

Hi! Can I request 1, 35, and ill timed with Yelena and sick reader? Love your writing!

Old Wives' Tales

This is my first Yelena fic! This is also unedited! Mostly because it's 2am!

[[Summary]] Most of the avengers would kill to get out of a press conference. Not you. You would do whatever you could to make sure you got to go. (yelena x reader)

-----

You had been looking forward to the press conference all week. Most of the others absolutely hated dealing with the media. Natasha voiced her hatred outright and had even recruited Clint and Wanda (who were clearly only supporting the assassin because they were dating) to boycott any sort of press event. Fury had shut it down, insisting that it was a part of the job and that people needed to view all of you as a unit. 

Tony loved the attention, Bruce didn’t really care about any of it as long as the big guy didn't come out, Cap was, of course, all about the people, Strange enjoyed showing off his intelligence in any way that he could and Thor always looked bored. Yelena only went because she had little choice. Natasha decided that if she had to go, so did her sister. 

You, Tony, and Cap were the three who truly loved the conferences. It was fun for you, it was some of the only times that you could snap back at the public for the way that they saw some of you, mainly when it came to the three women. For some reason, they were more okay with the men destroying cities than with the rest of you accidentally knocking down some statues in a battle. Calling them out on it and watching faces go red was quite entertaining. 

Imagine your dismay when you woke up three hours before the conference with a blocked nose and full sinuses. Your throat felt like someone had force-fed you gravel and your body was unnaturally heavy. Damnit. You were sick. You hadn’t been sick in years but could recognize the feeling anywhere. It went without saying that you were no longer looking forward to dealing with reporters. 

With a hacking cough, you heaved yourself out of bed, swaying when your feet hit the floor. All of the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy and vulnerable. You fell back onto the bed and clutched your head in your hands, groaning quietly. This was going to be an incredibly long day. Suddenly the idea of sitting under harsh lights and arguing with misogynists sounded like a nightmare. 

You took a final deep, bubbling breath and stood up again before shuffling to the bathroom to get ready. Despite knowing that there would be someone to do your makeup you applied a small amount, simply enough to make yourself look less like a walking zombie and more like a semi-living human. 

It was difficult to do proper makeup with shaky hands and blurry vision, but you pulled it off with minimal screw-ups. You’d thought for a moment that you could handle doing mascara and eyeliner but after accidentally drawing a dark black streak on your cheek. Then you’d had to do the makeup again, leading you to give up on doing anything close to your normal look. 

You threw back a shot of cold medicine and chased it with two Tylenol tablets swallowed with a gulp of water. Your throat burned and you coughed into the sink, wincing at just how much worse that made it. The fever you could deal with, but the sore throat was really getting to you.  

There was this old wives tale that you only vaguely remembered, but you knew that it had something to do with salt water. After a quick Google search, you found yourself in the kitchen mixing a teaspoon of salt into a glass of warm water. The internet had recommended less salt, but your logic said that more would make you feel better faster. 

You took a sip and nearly gagged as you attempted to gargle with it, the salt burning your throat even further. You only managed to keep it in your mouth for a few seconds before needing to spit it out. Wrinkling your nose you did the same thing with the rest of the glass, managing to keep the disgusting water in your mouth for longer each time. 

When it was gone you rinsed your mouth with clean water and took a big sip, thoroughly annoyed when you found that your throat seemed to hurt even worse than it had before. So that had failed. Of course, it did, why would it have worked? Why couldn’t it just make you feel better?

You checked your phone and sighed, wondering what you were supposed to do for three hours. If you had thought it over better you may have waited to do any sort of makeup and instead set an alarm that would let you sleep for a little bit longer. But no. Now you had to figure out what to do with yourself. 

Then, it came to you. Some people swore by exercise to cure minor illnesses and you needed to train anyway. Screw the makeup. You made your way down to the gym and changed into a tank top and leggings, pulling your hair up in a tight bun before you entered the actual training area. 

You made your way over to the punching bags and began to hit one, growing tired after only a few seconds. That didn't matter, it was good for you. It would be good to sweat out the germs and you’d get in a bonus workout. 

Twenty minutes later you had moved onto the obstacle court and were drenched in sweat, struggling to avoid said obstacles. You had fallen on your ass twice and there was a fresh bruise on your cheek which would of course hurt much worse when that was the only pain that you’d have to focus on. 

“Y/n! What on Earth are you doing?” You stopped and turned around to find Yelena stalking toward you, wearing a nice dress and a scowl. You opened your mouth to respond when the blonde’s expression turned to one of worry and you felt something slam into your back. The breath was knocked out of you and you fell to the ground, curling up to protect your head. 

You stayed in that position until you felt calloused hands on your shoulders, coaxing you out of your protective ball. 

“Idiot.” The young widow grumbled, pulling you to your feet. She held you steady and glared into your eyes, her face softening as you felt yourself wanting to cry. She could tell, of course, she could. There was no bullshitting Yelena Belova, especially when you didn’t have the energy to put on a mask. 

“The germs aren’t leaving.” You complained, your voice a mere whisper. The woman raised an eyebrow and nodded, pressing her hand against your forehead. You whined and pulled away, swatting at invisible bugs as you did. 

“Okay weirdo, you sure are delirious. Come on, let's go.” She ordered, wrapping an arm around your waist. You sniffled and put your head on her shoulder, nearly letting the tears fall when she pulled you closer. 

It wasn’t often that Yelena would show affection where others might see the two of you, it simply wasn't the kind of person she was. But in private she was incredibly loving and attentive, she was an absolute sweetheart who would quite literally kill to keep you safe. Well, she may also kill for fun. The woman had a violent streak. 

“We’ve gotta go, Lena. We have-”

“Shut up.” You shut up. It just wasn’t a fight that you would win, nor a fight that you wanted to start. You’d rather just let her do what she wanted and maybe she’d cuddle with you. She’d definitely cuddle with you, it was a matter of whether or not you’d get a lecture about neglecting your health or not before the cuddles. 

Yelena half-carried you to your shared bedroom, not complaining about how much work you were making her do. It wasn’t intentional, but it seemed that forcing yourself to train had sapped every ounce of energy that you had left and you were struggling to make your body move the way it was supposed to. 

Your clear lack of strength came to a head when your knees gave out under you and you found yourself crumpled on the floor of the hallway containing everyone’s rooms, Yelena unable to keep you standing any longer. 

“Damnit, Y/n, are you alright?” The Russian woman asked, maneuvering out of the tangle of your combined limbs. That was it, that was all that you could take. You had been doing such an okay job at keeping yourself steady, making sure that your illness was on the sidelines, hyping yourself up for the press conference that you had been so excited for but now you were starting to break down. 

Tears slipped down your cheeks and you hung your head, body beginning to shake as you let yourself give up. Yelena cupped your face in her hands, her striking emerald eyes searching every part of your face for anything that could tell her how to help. 

“Hey, hey why are you crying?” She murmured, quickly rearranging the two of you so that you were leaning against her instead of the wall. You knew that your nose was running and that you looked absolutely disgusting, you were amazed that she was willing to be so close to you. She usually shied away from sick people. 

“Talk to me kotenok. Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.” Her kind words just made you want to cry harder. Rather than forcing you to answer Yelena held you tighter, pulling your head down onto her chest. She pressed her lips into your hair and whispered to you in Russian, promising you that everything would be alright. 

“I-I don’t f-f-feel good.” You finally managed, speaking into her shoulder. 

“I know Y/n, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sick. But that’s why I’m here, I get to help. Even though you’re kind of an idiot.” You let out a waterly laugh and smiled, sniffling thickly in an attempt to get rid of some of the snot. Gross. 

“Gross.” Yelena echoed your thoughts and pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe your nose with. Where she had gotten a tissue and why she had one you didn’t know, but you were grateful. 

“Thanks, baby.” You mumbled, giving her a weak smile. She snorted and kissed your forehead, rolling her eyes at you. 

“Alright germ bag. Ready to get up again?” The blonde helped you back up and the two of you went back to stumbling down the hall, your tears subsiding slightly.

Maybe you could convince Yelena to let you join the press conference via Zoom. Then at least you’d get to be a part of it. If not though, at least she was there to remind of you of your bad decisions all while making you feel like the most loved human in the whole world.